#i'm working on personal stories for the investigators

[nothingenoughao3]

Hello, I have been away for four days because I've been using a 15-year-old computer program (Strange Eons) to build an entire gameset for a 19-year-old board game (Arkham Horror 2e) utilizing characters from a 36-year-old movie and its sequel (Re-Animator and Bride), all things that are perfectly normal.

Okay, that's not all I did.

I also playtested them with my partner-in-crime and found that Herbert West stopped Cthulhu from waking up while losing almost all his Sanity in the process.

I'm putting this in the "just got lucky, needs more playtesting" category rather than the "I massively OPed this character" category but it makes a really funny paragraph.

These are their markers. The white space at the top is there because Arkham Horror markers are shaped like gravestones. Cheerful!

[imbecominggayer]

Writing Advice: Noticing Bigotry In Your Writing

Tw for mentions of bigotry and discrimination, obvi

Look Up Common Stereotypes For Your Characters

Seriously, this is the best thing you can do in order to incorperate these stereotypes into a full-formed identity. I'm not saying that you can't write a "sassy black girl" or a "happy disabled person".

It's just that if you have any hope of writing these stereotypes into actual 3-dimensional characters, you need to know what you are working with. Look up "Common {Minority} Stereotypes" or "{Minority} Myths"

It's genuinely not that hard to see whether or not your character is a stereotype! Send an ask to @cripplecharacters if you are having trouble with your disablity representation.

Send a submittion to the thousands of Tumblr accounts whose entire schtick is giving you advice!

Let me tell you:

" The Worst Decision You Can Make Is A Subconscious One"

If you go into writing a minority character the way you do with all your characters aka fantasizing and just going straight for it, there is a chance you might undercut your story with bigotry!

Because everyone has bias. That's not a moral failing on your part but it is something you need to consciously fight against in order to write characters who can stand on their own and not be supported by internalized bigotry.

Which leads me to my second and last question.

2. Why Is Your Character Like This?

Investigate why you made the decisions you have made. To help with that, here is a little questionaire!

When I imagine a cruel person what assumptions do I make about their appearance and psyche?

Based on my previous characters, do I have a tendency to lean into a particular archetype when writing my minority characters?

Is there any narrative reason such as plot, themes, and other important devices that would justify my character's personality?

Why did I decide this character would be this particular minority?

How do I view this character in terms of their minority status? Is it condescending? Is it hateful?

What associations do I naturally have between a minority status and social status, personality, and importance?

Would I have treated and viewed this character the same way if their minority status was completely washed away?

Are my minority characters generally relegated to the side lines and only exist to help non-minority characters in their lives?

Is the level of detail, psychological complexity, story, likeability, relatability, and compellingness of minority characters on the same level as non-minority characters?

Do my stories contain symbolism which portrays cruel bigotry-motivated practices as positive or useful?

Do my stories sympathize with bigotry-infused individuals while not extending that sympathy to those who are oppressed by that bigotry?

Have I ever critically looked at my writing and what it says about my worldview on others?

If you are now considering that you have biased belief systems, that's good! Again, it's much better to be aware and fixing your problems instead of not being aware of them.

I hope my little questionaire made you think about your writing in a new way! ;)

Feel free to add your own important "check yourself" questions!

[dreamsteddie]

Once Steve and Eddie come out to the broader world, Eddie's floodgates open, and before interviewers can even think to ask about his "long-term partner and love of my life" Eddie starts gabbing about Steve almost as soon as a microphone is put near his face.

At first, Eddie refuses any and all requests to be on talk shows or long-form interviews. Steve himself has no desire to be interviewed ever, and Eddie wants the media hype to die down before he makes any big appearances off the stage. He knows that if he does the conversation will be a glorified investigation into his private life no holds bared.

So Eddie takes the occasional question after a show or on the red carpet but always dominates the conversation and finishes quickly. He's always dropping little tidbits about Steve, even if it's just talking about whether or not he was able to make the show or how handsome he looks in their matching outfits today.

Once the hype dies down and the media vultures aim their beaks at another celebrity, Eddie agrees to do a couple of talk shows with the rest of the band.

Everything is normal. The focus is on their next leg of the tour and the music video they released last week that went viral. Right up until the last three or so minutes when the interviewer asks, kindly, how his boyfriend Stevie is doing.

Stevie.

As in Eddie's Stevie.

The name only Eddie and Robin have ever called him. The name that used to make Steve flush so pretty when they first started drifting together. The name that still makes Steve give him one of those pleased little smiles that make his heart pitter-patter in his chest years later.

Eddie's hackles are immediately raised at the audacity of this stranger to talk about his boyfriend so familiarly. His shoulders rise, eyes narrowing ready to say something scathing when the rest of the band notices and steps in. Jeff drops a not-so-friendly hand on Eddie's shoulder while Freak steps in to very loudly tell a funny story about the last time Steve joined them on the road. Emphasizing "Steve" a little too much as he does.

When Eddie finally gets to stalk off stage he's let himself get worked into a tizzy. Logically, it's not a big deal but Eddie has always been territorial when it came to Steve and has been even more on edge since they came out. The idea of anyone outside of their family acting like they know them, know him, just because he's married to Rockstar Eddie Munson and shows up in the occasional gossip rag makes him so fucking mad.

As soon as he's backstage he's dialing Steve's number, impatiently running one hand through his hair as the phone rings and rings. As soon as he hears the beginning of Steve's standard WASPy "Hello, this is the Harrington-Buckley residence, Steve speaking" greeting Eddie launches into a long rant about "the audacity of media vultures."

Steve doesn't say a word the entire time, just letting Eddie vent out his frustrations. At the end, Steve lets the silence linger for a little bit before speaking.

"Hey babe?"

"Yeah, Stevie?"

"I don't know how to tell you this but you've been referring to me exclusively as 'Stevie' since we came out. I'm pretty sure when we made the announcement you said 'This is my Stevie. He's been my partner for six years.'"

".....what?"

"In fact, I'm sure that's exactly what you said because Robin replaced all my nametags at work with ones that said 'My Stevie' because she has the sense of humor of a middle schooler."

"God fucking damn it!"

They hang up not long after. When Eddie looks up for the first time since he dialed Steve's number he's met with the rest of the band and their personal crew all wearing various faces of exasperation.

Sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck, he rocks on the balls of his feet and says "Sooooooo...I may have overreacted."

----

The next day, despite Eddie's hopes that his outburst wasn't that noticeable, his clearly irate face is the subject of every magazine and gossip rag at the grocery store.

Robin frames her favorite one and gives it to Eddie for his birthday.

[arcane-ish]

I'm not sure I love it that much from a thematic point of view because it gives too much power to the father. Not to mention that Vander (who's my bae) was a very flawed person himself.

Doesn't really do justice to the assorted additional families they have adopted in the meantime either.

And in the end their rift does strike me as more complex at this point.

Doesn't mean that I'm not psyched to either their fight together while they don't know who he is yet, nor to their reaction if they figure out who he is.

I'm super curious how it will work out. Do they know rumors of a beast and go hunt it. Do they go where Warwick is and are surprised they are being attacked? Is he going where they are and surprises and interrupts them.

Is Warwick aware and will reveal himself? Do they recgonize him and they or one of them tries to reason with him? Will we get a brush between them where everybody survives and there is an "investigation" phase? (and if there's an investigation phase who takes lead? Jinx because she's smarter or Vi because she's supposed to have cop instincts?)

I'm just sad that with how super rushed everything felt I strongly suspect that not even a fraction I want out of the Warwick + girls story will show up on screen, not with all the other things that are going on and demand screentime.

That said my current dream (since I still hope they will brush on what happened around the infamous bridge fight where Vi and Powder's parents died) is that revoluationary!Jinx actually leads another march on the bridge and memory riddled Warwick jumps in to stop it and ends up in one big chaos.

I wanna say something but like…what can I say, these shots are STUNNING!!

[grimdarling69]

Another de aged Dan and Ellie story or otherwise known as Crack

Pt 1 Pt2

If only Clark hadn't been busy tracking Luthor, he would have been able to save his nephew, his sons best friend.

Once again, Lex Luthor has sabotaged him. He didn't even need kryptonite to do it this time. After Lexs mental breakdown, he had apparently gone off the grid, and unsurprisingly, he wasn't able to hear anything from him. According to the snippets from Lexs staff he had apparently refused to answer to his name, started to hate it, and called his board a " bunch of idiotic bimbos who only appear to work so they could buy expensive cars and whores".

It's definitely a mental breakdown or a possession. Lex doing something to damage his image? Unheard of. Possession didn't seem likely. What kind of person posseses a ceo just to insult his board and completely change their personality? They'd be immediately noticed.

He had been investigating Lex's disappearance for the past month and a half and had only succeeded in not being around to stop his nephew from committing suicide.

Bruce had called out for him, but being halfway across the world he couldn't make it in time, and consequently Damian made it over the bridge and he had been searching for his body for the past 3 hours and he still couldn't find him.

He had never seen Dick so shaken before. Jason had barely been able to stop him from following his brother over the bridge. After he arrived on the scene, Jason started to take his brother home.

"Find his body." He had told him before turning and wrangling Dick onto his own bike

"Stop, Jay. I have to find him. Please... Uncle Clark, please. You have to bring him home. I have to... " He could hear Dick plead with them the whole way back to the cave.

He could only bring their bikes home.

They had now all retired to the cave. He was ignoring Alfred calling Steph and Cass in the other room. Ignoring their desperate denials and begging to be told it was just a cruel prank. Ignoring Dick's full body sobs into Jason's arms, shaking them both. Ignoring Bruce's absent look and ignoring how similar Bruce and Jason's grief was.

Tim, luckily, hadn't broken his leg like what they originally had thought, only popped his knee out at such an angle it looked like it. Alfred had already reset it and listed his usual recovery despite Tim not even pretending to listen to it this time. Duke had already helped him upstairs, eyes red and swollen.

Finally the the tense silence came to an end.

"Did you find anything?" Bruce, one of his oldest and closest friends, asked, his voice calm and steady, his heart unwavering as ever but he knew better.

"I'm sorry."

"Search again."

Just as he was about to fly out again, the elevator opened.

"I found this in Damian's room." Tim hurriedly spoke he was already rushing past him on his crutches to the evidence processing, not even explaining what "this" even is.

"Tim. Explain." Bruce rushing and limped past him following quickly.

Like father, like son.

"What is it?" He turned to look at Dick, he had tear stains but his eyes were dryer his mouth was set in a firm line but he was leaning heavily on his younger brother.

"Tim found something." He responded quietly, and he continued on following his friend.

They sat silently together while Tim and Bruce worked together without speaking like a well-oiled machine firm in it's objective.

He'd say Jason was as still as a corpse with his eyes glazed over unseeing, but that observation was far from appropriate,considering everything.

99% Match found. Partial fingerprints detected unknown. The computer had finally accounted after 15 minutes of silence.

He and Jason waited for Bruce and Tim to tell them instead of jumping like Dick did to get the first look. He doubted Jason could get up, Jason was strong so strong, but he was still so young.

They all were.

Especially Damian, despite all his headstrong confidence and borderline arrogance, he will still only fourteen.

Only fourteen years old and dead by suicide.

He still needed to tell Jon he was buying time by the well-timed expedition of him and Kon already off planet and galaxy on whatever Kon called "brotherly bonding with a little bit of interplanetary fighting and toppling monarchies splashed in and maybe we'll catch a movie on the way home" they had joined some green lanterns to help rescue some new green lanterns who got in between a revolution on accident. He remembers researching for days before letting Jon go, but even just the name of the planet now escapes him.

It all seemed so trivial now.

He had seen what became of Dick and Bruce when Jason had died when Dick had been off-planet, and Bruce hadn't reached out to tell him. He just hoped Jon could forgive him.

"Clark. Where is Lex Luthor." Bruce demanded turning to finally look him in the eyes.

"I'm not sure. Lex went underground a month and half ago. Why? What does he have to do with this?" Clark asked carefully. He had to be careful not to set Bruce off.

" AND YOU DIDN'T EVEN BOTHER TELLING ME? Bruce's voice rose exponentially.

Too late, he couldn't help but think.

"His fingerprints are all over this goddamn envelope. Whatever was inside made Damian kill himself, and you're asking what does it matter!"

"How do we know?" Dick spoke softly, his eyes still glued to the results.

Everybody turned at the same time. Jason's head snapping so fast he winced.

"Know... Know what?" Tim asks him just as softly.

" How do we know Damian is.. is dead?" He spoke again, looking up to glance at them all.

" I know Damian. He's my.. my...He wouldn't just kill himself. He couldn't have. He showed no signs of ever even contemplating it. Not even... Damian would have told me.. Would have trusted me to help him. Lex must have taken him or.. or somehow lured him away." Dick spoke hurriedly or desperate but still completely convinced.

"Chum.."

"FUCK!" Jason exclaimed standing up and kicking his chair sending into the wall hard enough to crack the plastic. His hands shook like they were itching to wrap around someone's throat. They twitched and he ran his hands through his hair, his eyes were greener than ever and glowed so strong there seemed to be a small headlight in front of him almost.

"He could be out there being tortured or worse! And we are just sitting here twiddling our thumbs like FUCKING BABIES!" His voice grew louder and louder until he was screaming into their faces.

"Jaylad-" Bruce started just by hearing that name he knew whatever Bruce was going to say was going to be the complete wrong thing.

"We are going to find him. No matter what it takes. I never gave up on Bruce, and i can't give up in my baby brother either." Tim spoke up, his voice unwavering his heartbeat never stuttering, not even once.

He risked a glance at Bruce. His old friends face was softer, looking at his sons, but his frown was determined, and he tilted his head in the way he always did when he wasn't going to give up.

They were going to bring him home. They just had too.

---------

Crack

Boy, was Damian glad about this storm. He quickly realized that he couldn't use more than one of his powers at one time. He was able to make it to the coordinates of the apparent luxurious island Vlad was hiding out on.

He was expecting actual underground, not just some shell company bought island decked in lead and man-made waterfall galore.

He was absolutely soaking wet and shivering by the time he crashed onto the island. The storm just kept on thundering down on him, plastering his clothes and hair to his face in clumps. He better not get sick from this.

Cold fog escaped his throat, and he shivered even more.

"Daniel! Is that really you?" Lex fucking Luthor called out after he'd been laying exhausted and chilled to the bone in the grimy muddy sand for a few minutes.

"Hey, fruitloop." Was the first and last thing that he said before promptly passing out.

[auroreliis]

Hey there, I hope I'm not spamming your blog too much

Also long ask ahead I'm sorry

I would actually enjoy the idea of Batfam with a reader who tried to impress them/ bond with them trough their hobbies

Normally it's only done in neglect fics(no hate to those I love them) and id love to see the reaction in a more fluffy scenwrio

Dick? Reader shows up to every single a acrobatics completion he takes and cheer for him the loudest , and one day come up to dick and show him they won first place in an acrobatics competitons turns out reader has been practicing in secret to impress dick

Jason? Reader constantly exchanges books with recommendations with him, and pays full attention when they rant about how good/bad a book is, one day reader shily approaches him and offers him a book they wrote and published themselves

Cass?(Warning I know nothing about ballet) Reader always tries to get her tickets to shows she's interested in, and even gets her meet and greets/autograph with her favorite dancers, one day reader offer her a single ticket for a new shows , with the excuse that they could only get that, and turns out that reader is actually the main dancer in the show

And obviously with Damian reader is often with him when he paint, and if damian feels like talking, they ask him about what methods he's using and what "vision" he has for his painting, eventually reader ask him to judge their paintings.

(im skipping Steph and Tim, because

The ask is getting too long and because with Tim, his hobby is genuinely investigating mysteries, so that'd s bit complicated since it's mostly vigilante related work,and I don't remember if Steph has a Really specific hobbie that reader can try, she's would just be happy to spend time with them)

Hey! No worries about spamming :)

If you're trying hard to get along with them, then they get very excited and that leads to fluffy scenarios!

Dick would love to do acrobatics with you and he would make for a great mentor. Usually, Dick is known for being annoying, but this is only when you don't engage enough with him. However, when you do engage with him, he becomes a regular, affectionate older brother.

After you finish your daily acrobatic training, he usually carries you to your room and brings you whatever you want. Water? Of course, right away! Food? Alfred's already making it! You want him to put a film on? Yes, hopefully you don't mind him watching it too :)

Jason adores the fact that you like his recommendations when it comes to books. It's not that nobody else in the manor thinks his suggestions are good, it's just that he most values your opinion.

His favourite moments are when you and him are sitting in the library during the evening, drinking hot chocolate and reading books. Neither of you are talking, but the silence is comfortable. Sometimes, he stop reading to look over at you, but you don't notice, because you're so immersed in the story. He probably looks for more books to recommend to you, intending to sit in the library in silence again.

Tim has many hobbies and many hobbies that you are unable to take part in. However, Tim makes it quite easy to spend time with him. For example, watching films with him is something he suggests often. Somehow, Tim always know what you want to do without needing to hear you say it, so if a new show came out, he immediately runs to you and asks if you want to binge it with him.

Watching shows isn't the only thing you two do, though. Tim also enjoys talking to you about anything. You have a new hyperfixation? Tim is the FIRST person you have to tell, because he probably also has the same hyperfixation lol. Somehow, the two of you resonate on every possible level and that makes any mundane activity entertaining if both of you are present.

Stephanie didn't know what to say when you asked her to play the piano for you, but she couldn't just refuse, so she played for you. You can imagine her delight when you asked her to teach you how to play. It takes a while to learn to play the piano, but that just means she gets to spend more time with you :)

Cassandra is delighted to hear that you like ballet as much as she does. She would practice ballet with you and plan choreographies to challenge you a bit. Whenever a show worth watching came up, she would be the first to buy tickets for the two of you.

Much like with Jason, Cassandra is also comfortable with sitting in silence. She doesn't need to have a conversation with you to feel seen by you, just being in the same room is enough for her.

Painting with Damian has become a regular afternoon activity for you, though by "painting with", I mean "getting painted by", because as much as Damian believes in your ability to make great paintings, he sees something in you that makes you the perfect muse. Whenever he paints you, his paintings end up being brighter, they make his other paintings look bleak in comparison.

He finds himself adding some of your charm to other paintings. Whenever he paints a landscape, it looks empty without your favourite flowers in the field. If he paints a room in the manor, he adds some of your objects, perhaps your sweater is hanging over a chair in the corner, or your headphones are on the table in the living room. Now he is unsatisfied with every painting that doesn't have a hint of your presence in it.

[see-arcane]

See Arcane's Scribbles Substack

Do you like classic horror literature? Do you have a below-average fear of disembodied eyes staring at you from the screen while you try to read? Then have I got the Substack for you!

Mine. It’s my Substack. See Arcane’s Scribbles is where I’ll be compiling a number of preview chapters for works-in-progress as well as a few other eerie odds and ends that might not end up on Tumblr. It’s a hell of a lot easier to scroll through and you can chuck a little support my way too. Hope you’ll give it a gander! Likewise for my official author site.

The Vampyres and Harker

The Vampyres (novella)

Set in the modern day, one very practiced bastard of a bloodsucker realizes that his fellow undead have started disappearing. All suddenly gone to dust and decay. Which would hardly bother him, except the entity responsible is now on his track. The eponymous Vampyre finds himself caught between a desperate investigation to uncover what this impossible psychopomp really is and making moves on an enticingly oblivious new victim he can’t wait to drain…supposing he keeps his head on his shoulders long enough to get a taste. If you're interested in a copy, check out the following links:

eBook - Print

Or to search by ISBN:

eBook: 9798218374594 - Paperback: 9798218374587

(There's also three free preview chapters in the Substack!)

Harker (WIP)

Jonathan Harker opens and closes the story of Dracula. He is the character who spends the most time with the dreaded Count in person. He is there for the torturous stay in the gothic castle, he is there when the monster preys upon his beloved, he is there at the very end of Dracula's vicious undeath. And yet, so many questions are left unanswered about Mr. Harker and what he endured between the lines. What happened in those missing dates within Castle Dracula? What happened as he ran through the Carpathians? And what was the source and result of that eerie change that came upon him on the 3rd of October? It’s about time we found out.

Ko-Fi

In case you want to drop me a buck or commission some art.

Playlists

Some tunes for your contemporary or classic undead horror of choice:

The Vampyres 🩸Harker 🩸Was Frankenstein Not the Monster?

Also I'm on Bluesky if you want to say hi. 🦋

[legitimatesatanspawn]

Okay there's five ways I could write this, all of which are pre-canon by the way. I'm combining all five but here's two pieces of two different scenes.

Snippet 1: "I just don't get it. The new civilian-marketed legs are better than my hero-grade prosthetics," Ectoplasm rumbled as he showed off the artificial limb. "It needs attaching to the new harness but nothing 'plugs in' like wetware cybernetics in the old films."

The cowboy-themed hero leans in to take a closer look. "You know I'm all at sea with those sci-fi flicks. That said, it does look a whole sight better. Light as a feather?"

"And sturdier. Whoever the head technician at Fenton Works is a real miracle worker."

Snipe pauses. "Did you just say Fenton?" At Ectoplasm's nod, he continues. "You know the scuttlebutt that their head swiped some other company's research?"

"This is leagues ahead. I've tried Denterat's civilian prosthetics and while they are decent, they were not the best even before Fenton Works started selling."

Snippet 2: Ever since that brief meeting - truly happenstance as they were both attending their own meetings in Tokyo - Nedzu knew that something about the young human was… It is not a fear quirk or the lure of an animal control quirk. Nedzu has felt the brush of both (and more).

Unlike humans, Nedzu trusts his baser impulses. Fenton felt like a predator. And unlike many humans who felt similar, 'Fenton' is an ambush predator. Nedzu entertained the possibility that the man is a false identity for All For One. Yagi-kun's foe could have falsified his death. Thankfully (hopefully) All For One is dead.

But another reason why this is unlikely to be the same man: the 'ghosts'. The rumors of the dead began just before Fenton's false identity was established. This could be a coincidence, yet Nedzu has spoken with a few of the 'ghosts'. Friends, allies, strangers, and someone Nedzu has not seen since... His rescuer's death had brought another supposedly immoral facility to the public eye. It was quite difficult to explain how a hero died during a routine tour.

The dead don't speak on some matters to the living. Any attempt he made to ask after Fenton's origins was met with silence. That in itself is an answer. Such a fascinating puzzle. Why is someone dead yet alive creating support gear?

*evil grin of The Ponderings™*

You know who DEFINITELY would have Unfinished Business?

Heroes. Professional "If I could just MOVE, just fight a BIT LONGER, save ONE MORE PERSON" Heroes. It's the ultimate and unending Unfinished Business. To protect people. Not just their friends, their co-workers, but the innocent people around them.

That kid, stuck crying in the rubble.

That business man, screaming in pain, caught in the cross fire.

The People NEED them. They SWORE. Their very SOULS burn with the NEED to help. But... the flesh gave out. Injuries. Age. Quirk overuse. They knew... they KNEW, this was not a safe line of work... but... but! Please! Just one more person! Why can't they just make their breaking, dying, bodies MOVE!

Of course they refuse to move on.

They are needed HERE.

Yet? Their hands pass through. Their voices do not reach. A hell of their own, unknown, making. They can't let go, but they can't HELP either. There isn't enough Ectoplasm here. The walls of their reality overly patched up, since that unfortunate leak a few centuries back.

After all, the Zone had dumped near lethal quantities of unfiltered Ecto into the atmosphere. They're STILL dealing with the mutations and fall out, aren't they? At least, they are according to the Zone. (Wtf is a "Quirk"?) And, yeah, someone should PROBABLY do an assessment on the ecological recovery of the Reality. But like?

Do you have any idea how few people have an Obsession for stuff like that? Wait your turn! The list is long and you're not fuckin special, okay? The agents are BUSY.

Now, you might wonder? Wait. If they aren't moving on. Are DEFINITELY Ghosts. Starving as they are. Refusing to die as they may be. Wouldn't... Wouldn't that leave the whole ass area around their Reality an ecological dead zone? If it got over patched and no Ghosts LEFT, thus noticed, and started to try and work on it from the outside? Assuming the COULD?

Yeah. Yeah it would be!

It's called the "New Wastes"!

There used to be some cool Lairs around there. But there was a turf dispute. Someone DID something. Punched a HOLE. And everyone re-died. It was fixed but never quite re-healed. Portals... don't show up there? For some reason? Meh. Wanna brawl?

No. Danny's curious. He wants ANSWERS.

It's his fatal flaw.

Well... that and his inability to keep his mouth shut. But he likes to think he's funny. So... off he goes! And MAN! Does it feel funky out there! Weird textures. Mmmm, Don't Like THAT ™. It's probably a King thing? The Zone here... FEELS wrong.

Not... the way it's SUPPOSED to be shaped, if that makes sense?

And? It feels... if you sorta squint? Like... a LOT of people AREN'T where they should be. But aren't gonna leave until they're READY. Ooof. Great. Someone messed up again. Why does he KEEP FINDING bits and pockets that need straightening out? Unruffling? It's like he has to keep smooth out this giant peice of fabric with all these stains on it. Clean the messes on it.

He feels more like a maid then a King.

Maybe he is?

Pretty sure he's more of a nanny, since the Zone is more of a whiny yet excitable toddler then anything else. Alright, let him in. And fix... whatever THAT is.

So he steps into the Reality and? Huh. Japan. Neat. He always meant to go, never got around to it. Why is that man an otter?

.......oooohohooo, this place was HELLA fucked up by Ectoplasm, wasn't it? This is multi generational exposure. It's in the air. The water, ground, buildings. But stale to the point of stagnation. That can't be healthy. At least a few people he sees have developed ecto-resistance, thank the Ancients.

Danny discovers there are? "Superheroes"? Or just... heroes, apparently. They sell shampoo lines and athletic gear. Villians are petty criminals and psychopaths. All lumped together. He gets fuckin CHASED by the COPS and half the cities spandex patrol, called a "villian" (you know, like the purse snatchers and the DUDE WHO TRIED TO OPEN FIRE ON A CROWD) for flying around trying to assess the situation. Not speaking Japanese fast enough.

Soooorry! He TRIED to answer your confusing barked demands! This isn't his native language! He's translating through Ghost Speech! He knows it sounds unsettling to the living! It's the best he's GOT, man! (Asshole)

He escapes, obviously, because he's not 14 anymore. And honestly? He could top 200mph or so AT 14. He's only gotten faster. Intangible flight means no wind drag, motherfuckers~! OR need to dodge buildings! HA. Try to follow him through THE GROUND!

A few Blob sucked (to remove the ectoplasm) bits of treasure later? And he leaves a pawn shop with local currency. Thank YOU shady pawn shop! Ask him no questions, he'll tell you not lies. Enjoy Pariah's gold.

He does tourist things. Buy foods he's never tried, wanders around. Sees what's needed. Noticed a lot of people struggle with some aspect of the ecto-mutations brought on by the extreme Limnality. Need accessibility aids.

.....well, he IS a Fenton. His parents would disown him on the SPOT if he left with out at least TRYING to help. So he tracks down one the local ghosts. He'll need a guide or two.

He? VASTLY underestimates how desperate a sea of Obsession Starved Hero and Vigilante Ghosts will act, the INSTANT, they realize not only someone can see them... but it's? Their "Boss"? They aren't sure HOW they know that. But they DO. It's THE Boss. Here to help them! Asking for HELP ™ from THEM!

Yes

YES THEY CAN DO THAT

He gets swarmed. Hundreds of ghosts fighting over each other. Shouting. Turning on each other like rabid animals. All worn down and ragged by their Obssesion starvation. He's forced to shout over them.

And? Holy shit, these are only the ones from THIS CITY, too.

Thank Zone, again, he's no longer 14. That he has friends who are Rulers ™ that taught him HOW to Rule. To delegate. Pretend he TOTALLY knows what he's doing. That every action is on purpose.

It takes less then two hours, with all the experienced Unground Heros help, to make himself a Real Boy and buy a building. Put himself into the correct databases. He officially has licenses for things he's never studied. Is a tax paying citizen. Even belongs to several local clubs.

Over the next few days? He sets up his new... oi! Quickdraw! What're they called again? Right. "Lifestyle Support Company" which? Is a dumb name. But, Fenton Works is Fenton Works. Somehow he always kinda knew he'd be inherenting. It's in a cruddy part of town and the prices are cheap as he can safely get um.

He already had two customers, even though half the building isn't even fully set up. Which? I mean... he gets it. Poor guy. Knives for hands. Sharp ones too. The other guy's Obsession made him emotionally react to colors and like three different ones were ruining his life. So, hand Prosthetics controllable by knives and color filtering wrap around glasses.

Took him a lunch break or two.

Changed THEIR lives.

Suddenly his shop is packed. Schedule screaming for relief. And the ghosts? Getting more tangible by the day. See, his work shop? Ecto proofed. Let's him relax. But it ALSO let's him radiate fresh, clean, Ecto out into the air. And as King? With a direct line to The Zone? He puts out a lot.

There start to become Sightings.

People who SWEAR they saw long dead Heros out of the corner of their eyes. Dead vigilantes. That was who through that bottle. Who tripped that thug at just the right moment. Who unlocked the door. The SWEAR. They aren't crazy!

And... at first? Brushed off. Stress does a lot of crazy thing to a person, ma'am. But? How do you brush off, making eye contact with your dead best friend? Your old mentor on the other roof? That vigilante, who you WATCHED bleed out? Can you brush them off... when a vigilante from the dawn of quirks, punches some two bit villian on live television? Calls the Heros on the scene gloryhounds? Goverment dogs?

Runs from the cops and vanishes into thin air?

When this shit KEEPS HAPPENING?

Is spreading?

Are... are you supposed to arrest them for illegal vigilantism? How? They're THE proto-Heros! You don't want your name tied to that! The HPSC is furious. The goverment is uneasy. There are like... 6 dudes and a lady, openly stalking some kid in UA. Trying to mentor him. He looks moments away from a nervous breakdown.

Us too, kid. Us too.

All? While Danny? Is just sitting in his lil shop. Tinkering. Not HIS problem. Gotta let the ghosts here get it out of their system. Get their Obsession's full. Then it's all aboard the Zone Train. He's just here to make sure no one does anything "Too Crazy".

What's HIS definition of "too crazy"?

Wouldn't YOU like to know, weather boy~☆

@hdgnj @lolottes @nerdpoe @babbling-babull @mutable-manifestation @spidori @the-witchhunter @legitimatesatanspawn

[importantstudentbusinessspy-blog]

Hey, neighbor

Masterlist

Pairing: Jason Todd x (f) Reader

Tags: mystery, eventual smut, pwp, incorrect science (im so sorry to women in S.T.EM.), morally ambiguous Jason Todd, neighbors, nerdy reader, smoking

Chapter 1: Jason is assigned to investigate the cute grad student in the apartment below his.

Jason sat by the open window of his kitchen, two guns disassembled before him on a worn-out cloth, the room filled with the scent of oil and cigarette smoke. His shirt was long discarded on the chair beside the one on which he sat as the unreliable apartment AC sputtered and groaned, a constant reminder of the summer heat.

His fingers moved deftly to reassemble the weapon. ACDC blasting from his phone on the windowsill, the music helping him focus amidst the noise of the neighborhood. But the sounds of laughter and the thud of a soccer ball periodically interrupted his concentration. Some kids were playing a game on the street.

As he glanced at the game, a familiar figure caught his attention. The girl from 1B, the apartment below his, made her way up the street up to their building.

He took a drag from his cigarette and watched as you chatted away on the phone, oblivious to the looks you got in your preppy skirt and tucked in V that accentuated your figure and proudly showed your cleavage. Barbara may have given him a boring assignment, but you sure looked a whole lot of fun. At the very least, he could enjoy the view on his investigation.

"Yeah, it's a nightmare," he heard you complain to your phone when you were just at the entrance door to the building. "The subway's been shut down every day this week... I keep having to walk all the way home from the research center in thirty degree weather. Oh well, at least I'm getting my steps in."

Two of the kids abandoned the game and ran up to you before you could unlock the front door. Jason could hear as they bombarded you with questions about your experiments. You told the person on your call that youll text them before you hung up.

Then, you enthusiastically began explaining your work to the kids in an animated manner, mentioning elements and scientific terms, talking about chemical reactions as if you were narrating a bedtime story. The kids listened with rapt attention, nodding as if they understood every word.

Jason couldn't help but chuckle to himself, finding it amusing how you were explaining complex concepts to children, and they hung on to every word. The kids inquired eagerly if you had any samples for them.

You reached into your bag, extracted a vial, read the label, and then froze, right before hiding it out of the view of the kids.

Jason let out a puff of smoke and narrowed his eyes. That wasn't a usual reaction to a harmless substance.

You recovered quickly, informing the kids that the vial in your hand wasn't the "good" one. After a moment of rummaging through your container, you took out another vial, read the label, and then handed it to the kids, who cheered with delight.

"What does it do?" one of them asked.

"Pour some salt into it and see. Not too much though, a pinch is good." You winked.

"Awesome!" The second kid exclaimed.

You beamed at their enthusiasm. Jason found himself grinning, momentarily forgetting about his gun. But his amusement quickly died as he caught a glimpse of the symbol on the vial you clutched in your hand. Poison Ivy. Barbara's intel was right.

●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●

Exhausted from his patrol, Jason parked his motorcycle and climbed off, the engine's growl fading out. As he approached your building steps, his keen senses caught a low whisper drifting from the porch. You sat with your neighbor Melody, engaged in a hushed conversation. You often sat with her on the porch on the days when her husband worked the late shift. The two of you sipping wine from coffee cups in a fun tradition.

Jason's footsteps barely made a sound as he climbed up the steps, overhearing Melody’s animated voice praising his handsome features and enigmatic aura. You reciprocated, painting a vivid picture of his muscles, tattoos, and piercings. A grin tugged at the corner of Jason's pierced lips as he absorbed the words, silently revelling in the compliments.

He cleared his throat once he reached the steps you two were sat on.

Melody’s eyes twinkled mischievously as she quipped, "You're out past your bedtime, hun." She extended her cigarette to him.

He eyed it and then accepted. Tossing the stick in his mouth, before lowering himself towards her held up lighter, he gave her a glazing look, his blue eyes burning in the setting sun as he inhaled from the stick, then he stood back up and leaned against the railing.

As the smoke curled in the air, Jason turned his attention to you. “How's school going?”

You realized you'd been staring. Blinking and trying to recall his question, you felt as though it was off hearing his voice. Jason was nice enough, you guessed, if a bit of a tease at times, but he'd mostly kept to himself. At least, that was your perception of him since he moved into your run-down building on the outskirts of gotham a month ago. "... uhh pretty good. Thanks for asking.”

"Shame about those subway closures, though, huh.” He offered a charming grin when he tilted his head.

"Oh, tell me about it." You rolled your eyes at the reminder. "This city... i swear. Do the closures cause you much trouble?”

He shook his head and gestured to his bike. "Nah, got my bike to help with that shit."

You followed his gaze to the impressive vehicle leaning against the wall. "Cool," you said out loud without meaning to.

"Let me know if you ever need a ride."

That caught your attention, making you turn back to him. The thought of riding on his bike had your heart fluttering, and you caught your friend's gaze beside you as you bit your lip, turning back to Jason, whose brooding gaze zeroed in on your mouth. You tried not to let it distract you. "How about tomorrow? I got to present my thesis at 8 am. Can't be late, and it would help a ton."

Melody stood up. “Well I should go, you two have fun.” She winked at you over her shoulder.

You made a move to leave as well, but Jason's hand on yours halted you. His grip was firm as he leaned in, his tone low. "Meet me here tomorrow at seve forty five." he asked, his hooded eyes gazing into yours.

Your pulse quickened at his closeness, and his voice in your ear sent goosebumps along your skin.

You finally found your voice again. "T- the commute is usually around forty minutes." Refering to his propositioned meeting time.

The corner of his lips twitched, and his tongue brushed against his sharp canine. "You've never ridden a bike before, have you?"

Your cheeks turned red. "No."

"Tomorrow, I'll show you what real speed is."

You looked up at him and swallowed. The words sounding both threatening and exciting. "Okay,"

●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●

He was right about speed. As you held on to Jason, you felt the hum of the engine as he excelarated on the road, passing vehicles on his way. You were scared at first, breathing quickly under your helmet. You were pretty sure you gripped creases onto his jacket. But then that fear gave way to excitement.

Not only were you going one fifty within city limits, but you were doing so while sitting right behind Jason. He steered with such nonchalance, the smell of his ocean cologne invading your senses as his large frame steered in front of you. His confidence was so hot, you had to adjust yourself on the seat a couple times, regretting your decision to wear your checkered skirt as the only thing standing between the vibrating seat and your pussy were your thin panties.

You've finally reached the center, and he parked his bike, getting off first as you sat back, propping yourself by holding the seat behind you. He then reached for you, hads grabbing your waist, and lifted you with ease before placing you on the ground.

"Come on," he removed his helmet, revealing the perfectly messy hair and chiseled face under it. He removed yours next, slightly brushing your hair with his hands as well. "I'll walk you in."

When you scamned your card at the door, he put his hand on your hip, steering you inside, his fingers brushing you on the spot gently.

"Nice place," he commented pursing his lips in an impressed expression when you two were inside. Students and fsfukty were rushing around you, occasionally a curious eye looked Jason up and down. "Is that were you work? He gentured towards a large door at the end of the hall.

"No, im on the fourth floor." You explained.

"Hmm,"

"Thanks so much, Jason." You grinned at him once you were inside. "I owe you one."

He shook his head. "I'll think of a way you could make it up to me."

You swallowed as your mind filled with images of you doing just that. Mostly on your knees. You shook your head. "Well, I should go." You tightened your hold on the straps of your bag.

He winked at you. "Knock 'em dead."

You couldn't help the involuntary giggle. "I'll do my best."

●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●

Jason pulled up to the research center at midnight. He scanned your card against the sensor, and the entrance door let out a beep, letting him pull it and enter with ease.

He passed by the few working students and faculty and casually strode up to the fourth floor, checking every door to find the one he was looking for. The one belonging to you.

When he finally landed on the correct door and walked in, he heard his phone ring and tapped on his headphones to pick up as he studied your work desk.

"So, Jay," Roy Harper spoke in his ear, "About time we hit the streets again."

Standing amidst the small and tidy space of your desk, Jason surveyed the room, noting the orderliness that seemed to mirror the girl who inhabited it. His gaze roamed over lab tools and equipment, finally settling on the vial that he recognized from the other day. Memories of the haunted expression you held when you accidentally almost gave it to the neighborhood kids resurfaced.

Jason held up the vial to study its content and confirm his suspicions about the label. "Miss me already, Harper?"

As Roy went on, Jason recalled the articles and social media profiles that appeared on the screen when he looked you up. You were from the suburbs. Your parents were serving time for robberies in their county jail.

Framed pictures adorned your desk, capturing moments with friends and colleagues. Amidst the cheerful snapshots, there were no family pictures. Though that wasn't uncommon in offices. He continued his exploration, venturing into your desk cupboards, where medals, certificates, and awards adorned - accomplishments in science.

“What a smart girl," he cooed to himself, a hint of a smile playing on his lips.

Roy's voice interrupted his thoughts, snapping him back to the present. "Jason, are you even listening?"

Jason blinked, refocusing on the call. "Yeah, yeah, I'm here."

Roy chuckled. "You're doing it again, aren't you?” He sighed. “You, with your detective shit. I swear to god..."

Jason grinned sheepishly. His gaze fell upon a particular photo. You stood beside an older woman, likely your professor, holding an award. The picture looked recent, raising questions that echoed in his mind. He'd have to start with her.

Roy groaned, but there was no real irritation in his voice. "Listen, I'm sending you a rendezvous point in the city. Meet me there in an hour?"

Jason nodded, his phone pinging and the screen brightening with the address. He took out his phone and snapped a picture of you with your professor. "I'll be there."

●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●

In the dimly lit study of Wayne Manor, Jason handed the vial over to Bruce Wayne, who examined it with a furrowed brow.

"Babs' intel was right," Jason crossed his arms. Dick Grayson stood nearby, his arms crossed, curiosity etched on his face.

Bruce scanned the vial, his fingers deftly manipulating it. "That's not Ivy's toxin. It looks similar, but not viscos enough. I need to bring this to the lab," he concluded and held the glass container out to Dick.

"Hurry, I'll need to return it before she comes back tomorrow." Jason informed.

Dick handed the vial back to Bruce and turned his attention to Jason, a playful grin tugging at his lips. "So, Jay, did she use the pheromones on you?" he quipped, his tone teasing.

Jason arched an eyebrow, a cocky smile playing on his lips. "She's more your style, Grayson. Im not into nerdys,"

Dick chuckled, holding up the vial. "The nerdy ones end up being the most fun!" he retorted, insinuating a connection between you and Poison Ivy.

Bruce handed the vial to Alfred to analyze in the lab and redirected their attention to the matter at hand. "Focus," he interjected, his tone firm. "We need to find out Ivy's whereabouts and her potential connection to this girl. I'll go to arkam tonight. You, too, are on patrol. Jason, keep an eye on her."

Jason mock saluted his adoptive father. "Yes, sir,"

●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●

Once the lab analysis came in and the vial had been returned to your work desk, Dick and Jason were back in Jason's apartment; each nursing a beer even though it was only noon.

Dick scrolled on his laptop, typing away at locations for possible patrol when he snapped the computer shut. "Alright, come on. Old man’s not here, you can tell me, are you more interested in this job. Or this girl?" He raised a brow.

Jason knew you had been home early today after checking out the schedule pinned on your wall yesterday. He also knew that your window was open and it was below his, and he could definitely hear your humming while you did some task.

"Who? y/n?" He said a little louder than necessary. He noticed the humming had stopped. Dick noticed it too, raising his brow at his adopted brother.

Feeling a bit bold, he sat up and turned towards his brother. "She's a cute girl. Likes to wear neat button-up shirts, neatly tucked into her preppy little skirts when she goes to study."

He strained to hear you. You weren't making a sound. "And when she walks home in the heat, the sweat makes her clothes stick onto her body..."

"Oh yeah?" Dick asked, catching on to what Jason was doing as he eyed the window.

"Ill admit, dude, she has a nice fucking body." Jason groaned on purpose.

"What else is nice about her?"

"Well, she always comes back from the library with some cheap, dumb looking romance novels so that she could fantasize when she's alone, and she thinks nobody can hear -"

An object fell from somewhwere beneath the open window, followed by a feminine gasp.

Dick grined. "That's very nice... go on"

Jason shrugged, feeling as though he had his fun. He strained his ears to pick up any more noise or reactions from your window. When he didn't, he shrugged it off, turning back to his brother and speaking in his inside voice. "Well... she's a good kid. She plays it kinda safe. Not really my type, I guess."

●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●

That evening, Jason was going up the stairs to his apartment, about to change for patrol. He heard clicks coming from the second floor and turned his head to see who it was. He nearly froze on the spot when he saw you make your way to the steps.

You were in high heel leather stilettos, which made you almost come up to his nose, though you were on the highest step, and he was one below. A short red velvet dress sat on your dancer physique, with long sleeves and a dip in the front that showed off your choker of the same color. Your hair was up in a ponytail, with small curls falling down each side to frame your face. You wore red lipstick, glossed over, and made you look so kissable. Jason realised he must have been staring. He cleared his throat. "Nice dress."

You rolled your eyes. "Can you please move?"

"Are you mad at me?" He didn't get out of the way, though.

"No," you shrugged, remembering his words earlier today. "Plays is too safe." "Not my type," whatever. Like you cares what he thought of you. You did, though.

"Oh yeah? Well, where are you going dressed like that?" He pressed.

"Somewhere fun.” You snapped at him. “Get out of my way, Jason." You shoved past him.

He smirked to himself, deciding his evening was all booked up. Because there was no way he was going to let you put yourself in danger on the way to fun just to spite him for his dumb big mouth.

[chaotic-archaeologist]

https://nypost.com/2024/08/28/world-news/boy-4-accidentally-smashes-bronze-age-jar-that-was-at-least-3500-years-old/

Your thoughts?

Personally, I'm kinda sick of museums being required to cater to kids so much. If you're going to do this open air exhibit, kids who don't know how to keep their hands to themselves just shouldn't be allowed in. The glass is there for this very reason.

Actually, I'm with the museum on this one. Is it unfortunate that the vase was broken? Yes. Was the vase a valuable piece of the past? Also yes. But I think the museum did something very cool by not having the artifacts behind glass and are handling this with good grace and the sense to make this a learning opportunity.

Sometimes we overlook the fact that museums often attempt to arrest or freeze artifacts in time. They are kept in controlled conditions to prevent them from deteriorating and even treated to reverse damage. Many things on display on museums are elevated beyond their original value, alienated from their original purpose, and closed off from interaction.

It's incredible that this jar survived as long as it did—and its age is what makes it special—but at the end of the day, it is still a jar. It has now experienced the thing that happens to pretty much every jar that has been or will be. After all, decay is an extant form of life. (If you want to read a very well written and interesting take on decay and archaeology, check out this article by Caitlin DeSilvey.)

The article I linked above provides some important context and the update that the museum is planning on using this as an opportunity to teach about the conservation process. The jar's story is not over; it is being pieced back together and in this next chapter in its life it will be able to tell two stories: one of its life and the other of its rebirth. The museum's approach embraces that, exactly like the Japanese art of Kintsugi.

I also agree with the museum's decision not to punish the child or his family. Things go wrong in museums all the time despite their highly controlled environments, and this is why they have artifacts insured. Sometimes the thing that happens is a child, and by and large museums do not seek damages.

I would encourage you to rethink your stance on museums and children. Museums are for everyone. Children have a right to experience museums and what they have to offer just like anyone else. There are also many studies that discuss how going to museums benefits children.

In this case, perhaps the exhibit design was slightly flawed, but the four year old boy accidentally knocked the jar over because he was curious about what was inside and wanted to investigate. Curiosity is exactly what museums should be encouraging. In an ideal world that curiosity would have been channeled into some other kind of engagement, but the folks who work in museums have a lot on their plates and cannot plan everything perfectly all the time. Even if they could, they often do not have the resources to do so.

Finally, the AP article mentions that the boy and his family were visiting the museum to get away from Hezbollah rocket fire. Regardless of your opinions on the current conflict, everyone deserves to have a safe place to exist. That museums can serve as those spaces is an honor.

I commend the Hecht Museum and the people working there. They 1) successfully provided a place of learning and refuge, 2) opted not for a punitive approach—which is often the default Western model for justice—but a compassionate one, and 3) are using this twist of fate to create programming that will further engage the public.

@museeeuuuum and @museum-spaces would you care to comment?

-Reid

[ohcorny]

so! it's been a year since i put never satisfied on hiatus, and 9 years since i started posting it, and rather than make you read everything if all you want to know is "when's it coming back?" the answer is still: don't know! but the answer has also shifted closer to "it isn't" the longer i've spent on break, and i think it's worth being up front about that.

i talked about it a little here a few weeks ago, but the long and short of it is that between taking on better paying work, writing better stories, and looking back at what i'd already done for never satisfied... i just don't think i want to continue it? the year off has been incredibly good for my mental health, and i can't see myself wanting to go back after the two-three years still ahead of me on my current project. that's not to say i never want to return to the characters or the concept, but if i did, i imagine it would be with something completely new, in a different form. after all, i started this comic when i was 21 years old, a lesbian, and a sophomore in college. i am now just shy of 30, a bi man, and overall a completely different person than i was, back when i was writing without a plan and putting all of my insecurities into the comic--insecurities i don't identify with anymore. lord i'm closer to rothart's age than i am to lucy's. hate that

anyway. you have all been extraordinarily kind for following never satisfied for as long as you have, for supporting it as much as you have, and being as patient as you have. whatever form never satisfied takes in the future (god willing, with a more cohesive story structure and A PLAN FOR THE ENDING, WHICH BY THE WAY I NEVER, EVER HAD) i hope to see you there!

in the meantime, as an update on where i'm at with the thing that made me stop working on NS: i finished it! all the pages for Hunger's Bite (if you remember it with a different title: no you don't) have been turned in and now it's just revisions and covers and then........ waiting a year until it can come out. because that's how it is in traditionally published graphic novels! nothing releases for a full year after you finished it! and you're even getting it earlier than was originally planned, because i'm a creature and finished it like three months ahead of schedule. i've also already started thumbnailing the sequel book which i can't talk about whatsoever and will now be working on that for the next two years and then HOPEFULLY the first book will have done well enough that i can sell a third! so you better buy it when it comes out next february!!!!!!

to ease you all into it, i wanted to do a little crossover to introduce the main characters. we have emery, whose design is fully and unintentionally just Seiji Again down to his color palette (but seiji would bully him if they met. like so hard. he's a wimp). then we have neeta, a girl who dreams of travel and cares deeply about worker's rights, and wick, a vampire agent investigating the mysterious and sinister new owner of the 1910s ocean liner emery and neeta call home. he's also gay. but sorry lucy, you aren't his type. you're not mean enough.

the best place to keep up with me these days is probably here, as this first book gets closer to release, i will probably be posting about it a lot. and i will certainly post about it here when there's an official release date and cover reveal! i hope you'll go read it. i really think if you liked never satisfied and its themes, you'll like hunger's bite!

thank you again for reading!!

[juniperskye]

She’s Definitely Guilty.

Based on the following ask: hi !! i love love love your work! (no seriously, you make me giggle and twirl my hair it's kinda ridiculous) could i request something where the reader is being interrogated by hotch (whether she's guilty or not is totally up to you!) he's using all his intimation tactics, the stern voice, the glare, maybe even shouting or hitting the desk. but the reader is kinda just captivated by him, blushing and all hot and bothered (like please yell at me more sir.. 🤭 oh? you think i'm a person of interest? you're totally interested in me aren't you.) anyways ty ty!! <33

Aaron Hotchner x (Fem) Reader

Angst/Fluff

Word count: 2167

REQUESTS ARE OPEN - not edited - please be kind. Requests are open and feedback is welcome if it's constructive! Nonnie I hope you like this because idk this one was hard for me to write lol

Warnings: My blog is 18+, minors DNI, some language, explicit thoughts, reader is horny for Hotch, no use of y/n, fem reader, no physical description other than hair length, let me know if I missed any!

I do not consent to having my work translated or reposted to any other site. That being said I do not own the characters portrayed in this story

“She’s in the interrogation room whenever you’re ready Hotch.” JJ informed him.

“Thank you JJ.” Hotch replied with a curt nod.

Hotch double checked the file in his hand before entering the interrogation room. You had been brought in for questioning in connection with a string of murders. You hadn’t been exactly sure of the reason you were here, but you hadn’t felt worried, considering you haven’t done anything wrong.

The door was pulled open, and all of the air in the room seemed to escape. You couldn’t believe how hot this man was…maybe being brought in wouldn’t be so bad after all.

Hotch looked up and found himself doing a double take. He hadn’t expecting you to be so captivating…could you really be caught up in all this?

As Hotch took a seat across from you, he couldn't help but notice the way your eyes sparkled with a mixture of defiance and curiosity. He cleared his throat, trying to push aside the unexpected flutter in his chest as he opened the file.

"Thank you for coming in, I’m Agent Hotchner. We just have a few questions regarding your whereabouts last Friday night," Hotch began, his voice steady despite the turmoil within him.

You tilted your head slightly, a small smile playing on your lips as you answered his question calmly, your alibi seemingly airtight. But Hotch couldn't focus on the words; instead, he found himself drawn to the way your hair fell gently over your shoulders and the subtle scent of lavender that surrounded you.

As the interrogation continued, Hotch realized that maybe, just maybe, there was more to this case than met the eye. And as he excused himself from the room, he made a silent promise to unravel the mystery not only for the sake of justice, but also to see you again. The case suddenly felt more personal, and Hotch knew he couldn't let it go until he had all the answers.

Days passed as the investigation progressed, with each piece of evidence leading to more questions than answers. Hotch found himself thinking about you at odd hours, wondering if there was a chance you were truly innocent or if you were just an expert at hiding your secrets.

One day, a breakthrough finally came in the form of a witness who claimed to have seen you on the night of one of the murders. Hotch's heart sank as he read the report, but a small voice in his head urged him to dig deeper.

Convinced that there was more to the story, Hotch decided to call you back into the precinct. He wouldn’t let you get away this time.

As you entered the precinct once again, this time escorted by two officers, Hotch kept his gaze steady on you. He noticed the slight flicker of surprise that crossed your face before it was quickly replaced by a mask of composure.

"Please have a seat," Hotch gestured to the chair in front of him, his tone neutral but his eyes piercing into yours. "We have some new information regarding your alibi on the night of the murder. Care to explain?"

You leaned back in your chair, maintaining eye contact with Hotch as you calmly refuted the new evidence presented to you. But deep down, a sense of unease started creeping in. Hotch was different this time, his determination palpable in the air around him.

Hotch listened intently to your words, observing every flicker of emotion that crossed your face. As you finished speaking, he leaned forward slightly, his voice taking on a steely edge.

"We know you were at the scene of the crime that night," Hotch stated firmly. "And I'm not leaving this room until you tell me the truth about what really happened."

You try to remain calm and collected, but you can’t help but feel flustered. A heat creeping its way up your chest and neck, landing on your cheeks. His firm tone had you pressing your thighs together, you were losing control of your body, all because of the man in front of you, accusing your of murder.

With a deep breath, you met Hotch's unwavering gaze and decided to take a different approach. Leaning in slightly, you locked eyes with his and spoke in a voice just above a whisper.

"Agent Hotchner, I understand why things may seem incriminating, but I assure you, there's more to this than meets the eye," you said with a teasing lilt in your tone.

"Help me understand then," He urged you to continue, his eyes searching yours for any sign of deception.

But instead of delving into the details of the case, you leaned even closer, your breath brushing against Hotch's cheek as you whispered softly, "Or maybe we could take a break from all this seriousness. You and I could... explore other ways to pass the time."

Hotch's jaw clenched in frustration, his patience wearing thin as your flirting only seemed to escalate. He leaned back in his chair, a deep frown marring his features.

"This is not a game," Hotch growled, his voice low and dangerous. "People's lives are at stake here, and you think this is some kind of joke?"

You leaned back, feigning innocence as you tilted your head to the side, strands of hair falling across your face in a calculated display. "I never said it was," you replied silkily, your eyes dancing with mischief.

Hotch's patience wore thin as he slammed his fist on the table, causing you to jump in surprise. "Enough!" he barked, his voice reverberating through the room. "Tell me the truth, damn it!”

As Hotch's anger flared, you couldn't ignore the rush of adrenaline coursing through your veins. Despite the gravity of the situation, a devilish grin tugged at the corners of your lips as you met Hotch's intense gaze with a provocative glint in your eyes.

In a brazen move that caught both Hotch and the officers off guard, you leaned forward once again, the air crackling with tension between you and Hotch. "Or perhaps you enjoy playing the tough, relentless interrogator," you murmured, your voice laced with seduction. "But we both know there are other games we could play."

Hotch's jaw tightened further; his frustration evident as he struggled to maintain his composure in the face of your blatant flirtation. The observing agents exchanged uneasy glances, uncertain how to proceed in this unexpected turn of events.

With a sly smile playing on your lips, you pushed further, pushing Hotch's buttons with deliberate intent. "You want answers, Agent Hotchner. But maybe I'm the answer you've been looking for all along," you purred, your words like a dare hanging in the charged atmosphere of the interrogation room.

Hotch's steely facade cracked for a moment, a flicker of something unreadable crossing his features before he regained control. "Enough games," he gritted out, his voice strained. "You either start talking or I'll have no choice but to place you under arrest."

Your smile widened at his threat, a glint of defiance in your eyes as you leaned back, taunting him with your silence. The tension in the room was palpable, a battle of wills raging between you and Hotch. You both shifted in your seats as Hotch tried to figure out how to proceed.

Agent Rossi entered the room just in time to witness the tense standoff between Hotch and you. His expression hardened as he took in the scene before him, sensing the undercurrent of tension that buzzed between you and Hotch.

"Hotch, we caught the actual killer," Rossi announced, breaking the charged silence in the room. "And you're not going to like who it is."

Hotch's eyes flashed with a mix of relief and frustration, torn between the unresolved situation with you and the urgency of catching the real culprit. He turned his gaze towards Rossi, silently urging him to continue.

Rossi took a deep breath before delivering the bombshell revelation. "It's Jenna." He said gravely, watching as recognition dawned on both your faces.

You felt a surge of disbelief and anger rise within you at the mention of Jenna's name. She was your best friend, someone you trusted with your life. And now she was trying to frame you for a horrendous crime. The pieces of the puzzle were slowly falling into place, painting a picture of betrayal and deception that left you reeling.

Hotch's eyes narrowed as he processed the information, a mix of emotions flickering across his face. He turned back to you, searching your expression for any sign of involvement in Jenna's crimes.

"You knew about this," Hotch stated more than asked, his voice laced with accusation.

You shook your head in disbelief, the weight of Jenna's betrayal heavy on your shoulders. "I had no idea," you replied, your voice barely above a whisper. "She was my best friend. I never thought she was capable of something like this."

Hotch studied you for a moment, his gaze piercing yet contemplative. After a beat of silence, he let out a heavy sigh, the tension in the room dissipating slightly.

"We'll need you to give an official statement," Hotch said, his tone softer now, empathizing with the shock and betrayal you must be feeling.

Rossi quietly explained to Hotch that they found all the evidence in Jenna's home, meticulously laid out as if she wanted to be caught. When they confronted her, she admitted to everything, explaining that she didn't want to live in your shadow anymore. She had been envious of your success, your charisma, and the way everyone seemed drawn to you effortlessly.

As Rossi recounted Jenna's confession, Hotch's expression softened with a mix of understanding and pity. He could see the pain in your eyes as you processed the magnitude of Jenna's betrayal. The realization that someone you trusted implicitly had orchestrated such a twisted scheme left a bitter taste in your mouth.

Hotch placed a reassuring hand on your shoulder, a silent gesture of support amidst the chaos of emotions swirling around you. You turned to look at him, surprised by the tenderness in his eyes, a stark contrast to the intensity he usually exuded.

"I know this must be difficult for you," Hotch said softly, his voice a soothing balm to your frayed nerves. "But we need to get your statement to close this case once and for all."

You nodded, grateful for Hotch's understanding in the midst of the turmoil consuming you. As you recounted your version of events and the moments leading up to your wrongful arrest, Hotch listened intently, his unwavering gaze never leaving your face.

Once you finished your statement, there was a brief silence in the room as everyone processed the weight of Jenna's betrayal and the impact it had on you. Hotch broke the quiet tension with a decisive tone.

"I'll make sure Jenna faces the consequences of her actions," Hotch's eyes softened as he looked at you, his usual stoic demeanor giving way to a rare vulnerability.

“Thank you Agent Hotchner, how could I ever repay you and your team for catching Jenna?” You asked, batting your lashes at him.

Hotch's gaze met yours, a hint of amusement dancing in his eyes at your flirtatious tone. He cleared his throat, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he replied, "I think seeing justice served will be reward enough."

You couldn't help but feel a surge of boldness, encouraged by the intensity of the moment and the shared connection forged through adversity. Leaning slightly closer to Hotch, you lowered your voice to a whisper, a teasing glint in your eye.

"Are you sure there's nothing else I can do to express my gratitude?" you asked, your voice laced with playful insinuation.

Hotch's expression flickered with surprise before a spark of something else - maybe desire - passed through his eyes. He cleared his throat again, regaining his composure as he replied in a more businesslike tone, "I appreciate the sentiment, but catching criminals is all part of the job."

Despite his professional demeanor, there was a subtle warmth in Hotch's eyes that gave you pause, a silent acknowledgment of the unspoken connection between you. Hotch's gaze lingered on yours for a moment longer, the air between you charged with unspoken words and untamed desires. As the weight of the moment hung heavy in the room, you felt a rush of adrenaline coursing through your veins, urging you to take a risk, to push the boundaries of this newfound connection.

In a daring move, you slipped a piece of paper out of your purse, scribbled down your number, and slid it across the table towards Hotch. Your heart raced as you watched Hotch pick up the paper, his eyes flickering with surprise before his lips curved into a small, knowing smile.

“My number, in case you think of a way that I can repay you.” You shoot Hotch a wink before making your way out of the precinct.

[the-modern-typewriter]

Hi

It's been brought to my attention that there are people out there who are sadly plagiarising my work again.

1. This is not okay.

To clarify, while I'm very happy for people to take inspiration from my stories (in the same way you might any book you read from a bookshop), I don't want my work used or reposted without credit.

I'm not going to go into lengths on why it is wrong to plagiarise someone else's writing. I don't think my tumblr post is magically going to change anyone's mind, especially as if you've followed me long enough you know we've done this rodeo before.

So.

2. How to tell when writing is plagiarised

It can be very difficult to tell when something is plagiarised, especially if we have never come across the original work before and have no reason to recognise it.

I don't think it's realistic for everyone to vet everything they come across online for plagiarism, but it's also something I don't see talked about a lot for fiction.

These questions to ask yourself are not foolproof and not applicable to everything. But I think they can be a start.

If the writer has posted more than one story, is there a similarity across them? While writing style can change across an author's different pieces, there is still usually going to be a similar feel across stories if they came from the same person. Writers have voices and quirks and little things that are specific to them. If every piece feels wildly different then it might be coming from different places. This is probably going to come down to gut reaction and instinct in the first instance. But that's okay. Because that gut reaction is just there to make you think twice and maybe investigate more thoroughly.

How much are they posting? Can people churn an extraordinary amount of words out? Yes, sometimes. But...as a general ballpark, no. Writing takes time and effort. If someone is coming out with enormous amounts of writing every day or week or month or whatever, then this can be a hint to look a little closer.

Do you ever see hints of their writing process? Can the writer talk about their characters or what they want out of the story or anything like that? Do they ever post a story organically in response to a request or whatever? Not all writers know in-depth everything about their story or characters or plot, but the main point here is that the finished product is the tip of the iceberg. If someone is a writer than there is more going on beneath the surface of the posted stories.

I hope this helps!

[zvaigzdelasas]

Protesters demanding a cease-fire in the Israeli war in Gaza blocked a U.S. military supply ship leaving the Port of Oakland for hours Friday by locking themselves to the vessel. The protesters also blocked the entrance to Berth 20 where the container carrier Cape Orlando is moored. Protest groups say the ship is bound for Israel after being loaded with weapons and military equipment in Tacoma, Washington.

The protest was organized by the San Francisco-based Arab Resource Organizing Center. Police were at the scene of the protest which appeared to number about 200 people, many holding Palestinian flags and signs demanding an end to U.S. military aid to Israel[...]

Three Palestinian supporters were holding on to a rope ladder and refusing to let workers close a door to the military ship. A U.S. Coast Guard negotiator tried to convince them to get off the ship, but protestors refused..[...] Abushamala was one of many demonstrators that blocked a port entrance to the ship. She said she lost several relatives in the war. "One missile killed three generations. An uncle, their son, and their child," said Abushamala. "I'm enraged that our government is still sending aid, missiles to Israel."

Another Palestinian protestor, Noura Khouri, said she also lost a relative in a bombing last week. "It's literally impossible for any of us to sleep, to eat, to work, to carry on with our lives," said Khouri.

Some Jewish people also joined in the protest. "I'm here as a Jewish person, the granddaughter of Holocaust survivors. And I grew up hearing the stories of my grandmother surviving the Nazi's Holocaust, losing her entire family. And today, Israel is weaponizing my history, the history of my family that was killed, to kill Palestinian families in Gaza," said Alameda resident Anna Baltzer.

Just before 3 p.m., authorities removed the three protesters who held onto the rope ladder, and the ship made its way out of the port. Abushamala and other protestors were disappointed. They hope their action will have a lasting impact on lawmakers.

"No more U.S. military aid to Israel. It is within your power. Do not let the fear stop you," said Abushamala.[...]

According to a release from AROC, three protesters who climbed onto the vessel were detained by the U.S. Coast Guard -- the federal agency with jurisdiction on the water. As it is an ongoing investigation, Coast Guard Petty Officer Hunter Schnabel said Friday evening that he could not provide specifics but confirmed "multiple individuals are currently under investigation." The release from AROC called on "communities in cities around the country and across the world to be on alert for vessels carrying similar cargo."

3 Nov 23

[ataleofcrowns]

Chapter 12 Progress [08/APR]

Hey gang, I've started posting updates on my Patreon now that I'm actually making some damn progress on this chapter, so I figured to cross-post the latest update here as well. These are usually for members only but it's been sooo long, the ones I'm posting in April are all going to be for free 🙏🏼

This progress report focuses on a specific section of what I'm working on regarding CH12 and, more specifically, Kham.

About Kham

This one is turning out to be a bigger branching route than I expected. For those not in the know, I described in my dev sneak peek from last month how the opening scene of CH12 will involve the Crown dealing (or not dealing?) with Kham. It will be a bit of a culmination of all the choices you've made regarding Kham so far: did you inform her of the assassins in CH5, did you decide to trust her/were you honest with her in CH6, and did you choose to ask her to mediate for you in CH10?

Particularly that last decision will lead to the biggest difference in scenery: if you asked for Kham's help, you will get a scene at the palace involving her and the peri trader. If you decided not to ask her, however, the story will instead see you investigating the peri trader personally.

Initially, these were both two very clear branching paths with two very clear-cut consequences, but I decided it made more sense to offer additional variation. Choosing not to ask for her help with the peri trader will NOT lock you out of being able to ally with her... but the circumstances of it will be quite different compared to a player who has trusted Kham from the start and asked for her help.

You can, of course, decide not to ally with her on either branch as well, if you don't think she can be trusted. In which case, you should be prepared to make an enemy out of her: there's no fence-sitting on this one, and there won't be any chances to make an ally of her later on in the story. Similarly, if she turns out to be untrustworthy, and you make an ally out of her now, there won't be any takebacksies later... so you might end up stabbed in the back.

This is your one and only shot, so choose wisely.

About D and X

I'm currently working on the branch of the Crown dealing with the peri trader without Kham's involvement, and it's a pretty fun variation. There are some undercover detective vibes going on, and it's nice to write a scene set in the city as opposed to the palace for some variety. Though I've also dabbled in the route with Kham's help, and the Crown really flexes their royal authority in that one. Can go no wrong with either option in terms of entertainment, imo!

What's also been fun to explore further is how the main LI's subplot is starting to affect things in the story. I do have to note that for the branching sequence with the Kham choice, there's a bit of a spotlight on D and X since those two were gone for a whole chapter, so they get to spend some special time with the Crown in the first half of CH12. But R and A will be back for the rest of it!

I'll give you some D and X route crumbs this week since I've been chipping away at that one first, and hopefully I'll also have some on R and A next time:

For people who aren't on D's route, they'll get to find out something special about D that D romancers became privy to in CH11. It doesn't change much for the Crown on those routes, just some D lore you may enjoy and an opportunity to grow your friendship further.

As for D romancers, you all may or may not get a potentially devastating sequence depending on how your Crown handled their little court scene in CH11. If you managed to protect D, then all the better, but if you couldn't stamp out the court's protests... well, let's just say your Crown is going to have to be the one to inform D of any bad news.

Plus there's that damned letter to worry about. I'm sure that won't become any kind of problem at all.

For people who aren't on X's route, things are peachy! Honestly, all of the drama that happens for X romancers is not a big deal for everyone else, since X's romance with the Crown is the thing that causes them to act out. X friendship players are coasting in that regard, you just enjoy seeing X get to be their usual menace self.

For people who are romancing X, people on their low route might start noticing something different about them. Their actions in the high and low romances will be the exact same, but the vibes on the low route will be off, to say the least. You can still recover to a high route! But it will require having to pierce through that mask X is so fond of wearing...

High romancers: kick back, relax, and enjoy your upcoming romance content guilt-free LMAO

That was it for this week!! I wish I could give you an estimated release window, but I've been wrestling with this chapter, and I'm frankly deeply afraid I won't be able to finish it before summer rolls in 💀

Please keep your local struggling writer in your thoughts and prayers, and as always thank you for your patience and support 🙏🏼

[fastcardotmp3]

been thinking a lot lately about how I'm not convinced Nancy would stay in journalism long term because of the utter frustration she would feel at reporting on things she couldn't get actively involved in or the all-around constrictions of the sort of red tape you run into working at a newspaper or a network or anything and THAT has me thinking about what one (of many) careers she might transition to when she gets fed up with it.

hear me out. Nancy Wheeler the private investigator who gets to use all of those investigative reporting skills, who has a bit more wiggle room to bend the rules, who doesn't have to answer to some higher power for the things she says or does, and who can maybe actually help people in a hands on way.

She can find the people who go missing instead of just reporting when their bodies turn up. She can help people stuck in abusive homes escape their abusers. She can help people who were betrayed by business partners or friends or family get money they need to survive back.

She can find people. She can save them. Before it's too late.

Nancy Wheeler, who lies to cops with a smile and asks forgiveness not permission taking a mystery and running with it? Working just enough outside of the law so people don't have to deal with the police if they come to her instead; working to understand what it looks like when the person she's looking for needs protecting from her client instead of being handed over no questions asked?

Not every case has to end like Barb's. Not everyone left standing has to grieve like Nancy. She can change these people's histories before they become tragedies.

Nancy Wheeler will always be a storyteller, she'll never stop putting pen to paper, but maybe journalism was just not the arena for her to do that in. Maybe it's two different things, the stories she tells and the people she helps.

Maybe she gets to do both if she just finds the right avenues.