#it costs like hundreds of dollars just to get it back

[piratecaptainscaptainpirates]

Idea for a childhood friends AU:

so it's a dark and stormy and gloomy day a couple months after Stede's birthday, and tonight his father finally agreed to drop him off at Walmart after school so he can spend his birthday money. He always gets just money for his birthday, and he feels guilty for feeling a bit sad about it, because he knows he should be happy that his father just handed him like five hundred dollars, but he just really wants to have someone care enough to wrap a present for him and pick out something he'd like. It just feels like his parents throwing money at him to fix the problem again (the problem is him).

So Stede wanders around the store, and he knows it'll be late before anyone comes back to pick him up, and his father sent along some money so he can grab lunch at the restaurant further down in the shopping center. His father, who has no grip at all on the reality of how much things cost, has sent easily triple what he'd ever need to get himself dinner, so he's planning on using the leftovers to buy just, like, a ton of chocolate. And Stede figures he'll spend his birthday money on a new video game system or something, and when he gets to the game aisle, there's another kid standing there.

Ed took the bus here after school to buy that week's groceries. It's always a bit of a bummer, because his mama says to only get exactly what's on the list for that week so they don't run out of food stamps by the end of the month, and Ed has to look longingly at other kids getting snacks and candy and know he can't have any. They've never been able to jump through the right hoops to get an amount of money in food stamps that would actually really help, Ed's dad makes just too much and no one cares that he spends his entire paycheck down at the pub. Ed keeps track of how much they've got left to spend in his mind, and tonight, he's had to leave off some of the items on his mama's list because he knows how to make these calculations and he knows the cheap boxes of spaghetti will get them a lot further than the dinosaur nuggets she put on there just so he can have something fun. He lives close to the store, it's an easy walk, but he hates having to carry everything back himself so he likes to waste some time in the video games aisle just looking, and imagining what it would be like to get a new game for his birthday when he knows good and damn well his birthday present will always be a trip to the local pizza buffet and two dollars for the arcade games.

so when Stede rounds the corner to see this kid a bit younger than him staring longingly at the latest NES games, all he can think about is how much he wishes he had someone to play with.

And the thing is: Stede has more money in his pockets than he could ever spend, and his parents don't know how much things cost, and this kid is standing there shivering in just a baggy t-shirt and jeans that someone has ironed to make them seem nicer than they are even though they're scuffed to hell and back, and all he can think is man, you look lonely, and I'm real lonely, too.

They get to chatting, and they come up with a brilliant plan. Stede buys a new NES and a couple games, and they're going to keep it at Ed's house so they can play together. They don't know it, not yet, but they're going to have a couple Super Mario-themed decorations at their wedding, because that game was their very favorite. And Stede maybe knows enough about the world already to know he can't just offer to buy Ed a new jacket, they barely know each other and he doesn't want to embarrass his new friend, but he's going to "accidentally" pay for the food Ed's getting, too, not to mention all the fun snack food and candy Ed helps him pick out.

Stede's going to wind up staying for dinner at Ed's house that night, and it'll be the best meal he's ever had, and when they're done playing games Stede's going to "accidentally" leave his jacket on Ed's bed. There's not a time after this that Stede won't accompany Ed on grocery runs, and he's going to make sure Ed and his mama mysteriously always find their pantry full despite the food stamp tally not budging. Ed's going to get to go on two trips to the pizza buffet every year, because his mama treats Stede to one, too, and Stede's going to help Ed apply for a scholarship to the fancy school he goes to across town. They're even, he says, because Ed always lets him check his homework for the right answers.

Just two kids helping each other out in whatever ways they can, and not really knowing when they first meet that neither of them are ever going to go without a friend, not ever again.

[softquietsteadylove]

But also!!! I love the headcanons!!! Can I request more for a different AU? (your choice for which AU, I can honestly say I’d read novels about any of them and I want to know EVERYTHING)

You...you want to hear my headcanons?

Okay!!!! (I'm so excited)

So let's talk Ballerina/Boxer AU, because that's another one with a lot of in-between things I've imagined but haven't appeared in any stories, even if I've alluded to them in the tags.

Mutual pining--my absolute favourite. Thena saw Gil a few times going into his studio across the hall. Sersi immediately called her out on it because Thena does not stare at guys. Thena doesn't really notice guys, for the most part. Until the handsome boxer smiles and waves at her. Sersi is on high alert.

Likewise, Gil noticed her because who wouldn't? He adjusted his schedule so he could come in a little earlier and catch a glimpse of her before class. Once he was smiling and waving and walked right into the propped open door. He felt like an idiot and avoided eye-contact for a week, but she was completely charmed by it.

Thena is all grace but at home she's a little forgetful. She's so exhausted that by the time she gets in the door everything is getting dropped on the spot. Then she comes out the next morning looking for her bag, her shoes, her water bottle, everything. Having Gil around has actually helped her keep her stuff organized better, she just doesn't want to admit it.

Gil loves spoiling her. He thinks it's so cute to get to see his graceful and beautiful swan curled up on the couch in a grumpy little ball. She loves watching tv with her head on a pillow on his lap with his fingers running through her hair. She has no idea what's happening in any of the shows they watch together because she always falls asleep, but Gil gives her the gist of what happens. It's super all-over-the-place and she still doesn't know what happens, but it's sweet.

She used to let him help her with her cool down after classes and rehearsals but it always ends up with them getting up to other things so now she has to ban him until after she's done or she won't stretch properly.

He brings up the locker room incident on at least a weekly basis.

Thena has never been in all that serious a relationship before. She's embarrassed and thinks it's terrible, but Gil doesn't care. He's happy and proud to be the first man she calls her 'boyfriend'. Sometimes he jokingly slutshames himself in comparison to her.

Thena only owns one pair of jeans, and one white leather jacket. Everything else is...what you might imagine a professional ballerina to own. Again, she thinks maybe this isn't a good thing, but Gil doesn't care of she dresses super casual or not.

Once they started seeing each other he immediately got his regular suit re-tailored and bought three new ones, so he could have options for her show nights, or if she went to fancy events and stuff. He just wants to feel like he belongs with his Gorgeous Swan.

Ben knew Thena had a thing for Gil from the first moment she mentioned him. All she said was "Gil, the boxing instructor in the studio across from ours" and he went oh yes, your future husband.

Thena was never nervous for performances until Gil started coming to them. It's not terribly nervous, maybe more like excited butterflies. And when she comes on stage he makes a loud 'whoo!' which everyone hates and is inappropriate for the venue, but she loves it.

Thena is much more eager to experiment than Gil. He's up for it, of course, but she's the one who's actively searching for ways or excuses to get up to wild things together. Unless he's going to ask her about it later, in which case it never happened.

Early on, Gil asked to do her warm up with her, for a change in his routine. It nearly broke him.

Thena is completely at the mercy of her students. First it was them calling Gil her boyfriend before they were really that official, which was why she would get so flustered. She didn't know that he loved them doing that. They go 'oooooh!' every time they see him, which embarrasses her every time. Soon they'll start asking if they're going to get married, at which point she will explode and burst into flames on the spot.

Sersi will say 'yes, they will', like a traitor.

Gil has a more distanced but friendly relationship with his boxing students. His oldest and friendliest student is Makkari, who was the one to tell him to just talk to Thena for a month before he ended up actually doing it.

After her fall, Gil starts subtly asking if and when she would ever give up performing for any reason (he's just worried about her).

Gil would never do anything as petty as retaliate against Lara for how she treats Thena. But he did once see her and her husband getting out of their car one day downtown. He called and had the car towed by claiming it had been there way past the allowed parking time.

When they move in, Gil will move in with Thena, because she has more stuff, it's easier, he's always there anyway, and he thinks her apartment is nicer than his.

The rose he gave her the first night he asked her out is dried properly and sits in a vase on a shelf on her wall above her bed (very romantic).

When Gil meets Jack, Jack asks if he and Aunt Thena are in love, to which Gil excitedly says he's head over heels for her. Thena is eavesdropping and has to stick her head in the fridge to recover.

[posallys]

i will NEVER not be pissed that most colleges cost about 40k A YEAR on average and that if YOUR PARENTS make over 120k AS A GROSS INCOME you're practically immediately disqualified for need-based aid???? like do you really believe anybody can afford to throw an entire third of their annual income to their kid's schooling, when they probably have several thousands of dollars in loan debt themselves??? in THIS economy??? eggs are fucking $7 a dozen where i am right now but GOD FUCKING FORBID i get any financial aid because "well your upper class" NEWS FLASH 120K IS THE NEW MIDDLE CLASS AND JUST BECAUSE MY PARENTS MAKE OKAY MONEY NOW DOESN'T MEAN FUCK ALL WHEN I CAN REMEMBER ALL THE NIGHTS THEY DIDN'T EAT WHEN I WAS GROWING UP BECAUSE THEY ONLY HAD ENOUGH FOOD TO FEED ME AND MY SISTERS I need to hold everyone involved at gunpoint because i really don't think a single fucking one of them understands "oh but you have money :/" there's literally a reason i work FULL FUCKING TIME while double majoring and it's because my parents can't even send me money for fucking groceries, let alone fork out FORTY FUCKING THOUSAND DOLLARS GOD DAMN YEAR for a degree that'll be FUCKING WORTHLESS in three years anyway i worked my ASS off and graduated with a 4.7 to get scholarships because i knew that's the only way i'd realistically be able to afford school. and then the fucking fafsa goes "oh but you have money in your savings! you can pay for your own school" bitch i have 4k and it's for my fucking rent!!!! my parents have like $600 in savings do YOU SEE THE ISSUE that's what being forced into credit card debt for 20 years fucking does it puts you in an unescapable hole so even when you're making good money YOU DON'T GET SHIT!!!!!! NOT TO MENTION THE ABYSMAL CREDIT SCORES MY PARENTS HAVE SO GOOD FUCKING LUCK TRYING TO GET LOANS FOR ME!!! COSIGNER? I'VE NEVER HEARD OF HER IM GOING TO KILL PEOPLE!!!!!!

[s0fter-sin]

wow so watcher just singlehandedly killed their channel

[mostlysignssomeportents]

“Humans in the loop” must detect the hardest-to-spot errors, at superhuman speed

I'm touring my new, nationally bestselling novel The Bezzle! Catch me SATURDAY (Apr 27) in MARIN COUNTY, then Winnipeg (May 2), Calgary (May 3), Vancouver (May 4), and beyond!

If AI has a future (a big if), it will have to be economically viable. An industry can't spend 1,700% more on Nvidia chips than it earns indefinitely – not even with Nvidia being a principle investor in its largest customers:

https://news.ycombinator.com/item?id=39883571

A company that pays 0.36-1 cents/query for electricity and (scarce, fresh) water can't indefinitely give those queries away by the millions to people who are expected to revise those queries dozens of times before eliciting the perfect botshit rendition of "instructions for removing a grilled cheese sandwich from a VCR in the style of the King James Bible":

https://www.semianalysis.com/p/the-inference-cost-of-search-disruption

Eventually, the industry will have to uncover some mix of applications that will cover its operating costs, if only to keep the lights on in the face of investor disillusionment (this isn't optional – investor disillusionment is an inevitable part of every bubble).

Now, there are lots of low-stakes applications for AI that can run just fine on the current AI technology, despite its many – and seemingly inescapable - errors ("hallucinations"). People who use AI to generate illustrations of their D&D characters engaged in epic adventures from their previous gaming session don't care about the odd extra finger. If the chatbot powering a tourist's automatic text-to-translation-to-speech phone tool gets a few words wrong, it's still much better than the alternative of speaking slowly and loudly in your own language while making emphatic hand-gestures.

There are lots of these applications, and many of the people who benefit from them would doubtless pay something for them. The problem – from an AI company's perspective – is that these aren't just low-stakes, they're also low-value. Their users would pay something for them, but not very much.

For AI to keep its servers on through the coming trough of disillusionment, it will have to locate high-value applications, too. Economically speaking, the function of low-value applications is to soak up excess capacity and produce value at the margins after the high-value applications pay the bills. Low-value applications are a side-dish, like the coach seats on an airplane whose total operating expenses are paid by the business class passengers up front. Without the principle income from high-value applications, the servers shut down, and the low-value applications disappear:

https://locusmag.com/2023/12/commentary-cory-doctorow-what-kind-of-bubble-is-ai/

Now, there are lots of high-value applications the AI industry has identified for its products. Broadly speaking, these high-value applications share the same problem: they are all high-stakes, which means they are very sensitive to errors. Mistakes made by apps that produce code, drive cars, or identify cancerous masses on chest X-rays are extremely consequential.

Some businesses may be insensitive to those consequences. Air Canada replaced its human customer service staff with chatbots that just lied to passengers, stealing hundreds of dollars from them in the process. But the process for getting your money back after you are defrauded by Air Canada's chatbot is so onerous that only one passenger has bothered to go through it, spending ten weeks exhausting all of Air Canada's internal review mechanisms before fighting his case for weeks more at the regulator:

https://bc.ctvnews.ca/air-canada-s-chatbot-gave-a-b-c-man-the-wrong-information-now-the-airline-has-to-pay-for-the-mistake-1.6769454

There's never just one ant. If this guy was defrauded by an AC chatbot, so were hundreds or thousands of other fliers. Air Canada doesn't have to pay them back. Air Canada is tacitly asserting that, as the country's flagship carrier and near-monopolist, it is too big to fail and too big to jail, which means it's too big to care.

Air Canada shows that for some business customers, AI doesn't need to be able to do a worker's job in order to be a smart purchase: a chatbot can replace a worker, fail to their worker's job, and still save the company money on balance.

I can't predict whether the world's sociopathic monopolists are numerous and powerful enough to keep the lights on for AI companies through leases for automation systems that let them commit consequence-free free fraud by replacing workers with chatbots that serve as moral crumple-zones for furious customers:

https://www.sciencedirect.com/science/article/abs/pii/S0747563219304029

But even stipulating that this is sufficient, it's intrinsically unstable. Anything that can't go on forever eventually stops, and the mass replacement of humans with high-speed fraud software seems likely to stoke the already blazing furnace of modern antitrust:

https://www.eff.org/de/deeplinks/2021/08/party-its-1979-og-antitrust-back-baby

Of course, the AI companies have their own answer to this conundrum. A high-stakes/high-value customer can still fire workers and replace them with AI – they just need to hire fewer, cheaper workers to supervise the AI and monitor it for "hallucinations." This is called the "human in the loop" solution.

The human in the loop story has some glaring holes. From a worker's perspective, serving as the human in the loop in a scheme that cuts wage bills through AI is a nightmare – the worst possible kind of automation.

Let's pause for a little detour through automation theory here. Automation can augment a worker. We can call this a "centaur" – the worker offloads a repetitive task, or one that requires a high degree of vigilance, or (worst of all) both. They're a human head on a robot body (hence "centaur"). Think of the sensor/vision system in your car that beeps if you activate your turn-signal while a car is in your blind spot. You're in charge, but you're getting a second opinion from the robot.

Likewise, consider an AI tool that double-checks a radiologist's diagnosis of your chest X-ray and suggests a second look when its assessment doesn't match the radiologist's. Again, the human is in charge, but the robot is serving as a backstop and helpmeet, using its inexhaustible robotic vigilance to augment human skill.

That's centaurs. They're the good automation. Then there's the bad automation: the reverse-centaur, when the human is used to augment the robot.

Amazon warehouse pickers stand in one place while robotic shelving units trundle up to them at speed; then, the haptic bracelets shackled around their wrists buzz at them, directing them pick up specific items and move them to a basket, while a third automation system penalizes them for taking toilet breaks or even just walking around and shaking out their limbs to avoid a repetitive strain injury. This is a robotic head using a human body – and destroying it in the process.

An AI-assisted radiologist processes fewer chest X-rays every day, costing their employer more, on top of the cost of the AI. That's not what AI companies are selling. They're offering hospitals the power to create reverse centaurs: radiologist-assisted AIs. That's what "human in the loop" means.

This is a problem for workers, but it's also a problem for their bosses (assuming those bosses actually care about correcting AI hallucinations, rather than providing a figleaf that lets them commit fraud or kill people and shift the blame to an unpunishable AI).

Humans are good at a lot of things, but they're not good at eternal, perfect vigilance. Writing code is hard, but performing code-review (where you check someone else's code for errors) is much harder – and it gets even harder if the code you're reviewing is usually fine, because this requires that you maintain your vigilance for something that only occurs at rare and unpredictable intervals:

https://twitter.com/qntm/status/1773779967521780169

But for a coding shop to make the cost of an AI pencil out, the human in the loop needs to be able to process a lot of AI-generated code. Replacing a human with an AI doesn't produce any savings if you need to hire two more humans to take turns doing close reads of the AI's code.

This is the fatal flaw in robo-taxi schemes. The "human in the loop" who is supposed to keep the murderbot from smashing into other cars, steering into oncoming traffic, or running down pedestrians isn't a driver, they're a driving instructor. This is a much harder job than being a driver, even when the student driver you're monitoring is a human, making human mistakes at human speed. It's even harder when the student driver is a robot, making errors at computer speed:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/04/01/human-in-the-loop/#monkey-in-the-middle

This is why the doomed robo-taxi company Cruise had to deploy 1.5 skilled, high-paid human monitors to oversee each of its murderbots, while traditional taxis operate at a fraction of the cost with a single, precaratized, low-paid human driver:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/01/11/robots-stole-my-jerb/#computer-says-no

The vigilance problem is pretty fatal for the human-in-the-loop gambit, but there's another problem that is, if anything, even more fatal: the kinds of errors that AIs make.

Foundationally, AI is applied statistics. An AI company trains its AI by feeding it a lot of data about the real world. The program processes this data, looking for statistical correlations in that data, and makes a model of the world based on those correlations. A chatbot is a next-word-guessing program, and an AI "art" generator is a next-pixel-guessing program. They're drawing on billions of documents to find the most statistically likely way of finishing a sentence or a line of pixels in a bitmap:

https://dl.acm.org/doi/10.1145/3442188.3445922

This means that AI doesn't just make errors – it makes subtle errors, the kinds of errors that are the hardest for a human in the loop to spot, because they are the most statistically probable ways of being wrong. Sure, we notice the gross errors in AI output, like confidently claiming that a living human is dead:

https://www.tomsguide.com/opinion/according-to-chatgpt-im-dead

But the most common errors that AIs make are the ones we don't notice, because they're perfectly camouflaged as the truth. Think of the recurring AI programming error that inserts a call to a nonexistent library called "huggingface-cli," which is what the library would be called if developers reliably followed naming conventions. But due to a human inconsistency, the real library has a slightly different name. The fact that AIs repeatedly inserted references to the nonexistent library opened up a vulnerability – a security researcher created a (inert) malicious library with that name and tricked numerous companies into compiling it into their code because their human reviewers missed the chatbot's (statistically indistinguishable from the the truth) lie:

https://www.theregister.com/2024/03/28/ai_bots_hallucinate_software_packages/

For a driving instructor or a code reviewer overseeing a human subject, the majority of errors are comparatively easy to spot, because they're the kinds of errors that lead to inconsistent library naming – places where a human behaved erratically or irregularly. But when reality is irregular or erratic, the AI will make errors by presuming that things are statistically normal.

These are the hardest kinds of errors to spot. They couldn't be harder for a human to detect if they were specifically designed to go undetected. The human in the loop isn't just being asked to spot mistakes – they're being actively deceived. The AI isn't merely wrong, it's constructing a subtle "what's wrong with this picture"-style puzzle. Not just one such puzzle, either: millions of them, at speed, which must be solved by the human in the loop, who must remain perfectly vigilant for things that are, by definition, almost totally unnoticeable.

This is a special new torment for reverse centaurs – and a significant problem for AI companies hoping to accumulate and keep enough high-value, high-stakes customers on their books to weather the coming trough of disillusionment.

This is pretty grim, but it gets grimmer. AI companies have argued that they have a third line of business, a way to make money for their customers beyond automation's gifts to their payrolls: they claim that they can perform difficult scientific tasks at superhuman speed, producing billion-dollar insights (new materials, new drugs, new proteins) at unimaginable speed.

However, these claims – credulously amplified by the non-technical press – keep on shattering when they are tested by experts who understand the esoteric domains in which AI is said to have an unbeatable advantage. For example, Google claimed that its Deepmind AI had discovered "millions of new materials," "equivalent to nearly 800 years’ worth of knowledge," constituting "an order-of-magnitude expansion in stable materials known to humanity":

https://deepmind.google/discover/blog/millions-of-new-materials-discovered-with-deep-learning/

It was a hoax. When independent material scientists reviewed representative samples of these "new materials," they concluded that "no new materials have been discovered" and that not one of these materials was "credible, useful and novel":

https://www.404media.co/google-says-it-discovered-millions-of-new-materials-with-ai-human-researchers/

As Brian Merchant writes, AI claims are eerily similar to "smoke and mirrors" – the dazzling reality-distortion field thrown up by 17th century magic lantern technology, which millions of people ascribed wild capabilities to, thanks to the outlandish claims of the technology's promoters:

https://www.bloodinthemachine.com/p/ai-really-is-smoke-and-mirrors

The fact that we have a four-hundred-year-old name for this phenomenon, and yet we're still falling prey to it is frankly a little depressing. And, unlucky for us, it turns out that AI therapybots can't help us with this – rather, they're apt to literally convince us to kill ourselves:

https://www.vice.com/en/article/pkadgm/man-dies-by-suicide-after-talking-with-ai-chatbot-widow-says

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/04/23/maximal-plausibility/#reverse-centaurs

Image: Cryteria (modified) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:HAL9000.svg

CC BY 3.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/3.0/deed.en

[drchucktingle]

POUNDED BY DR. GLOBUS

wanted to post today about recent health journey of chuck. ALL STARTED at texas show when i began to feel tightness in throat. i have learned this is called GLOBUS which is a tingler character name if ive ever heard one. got through appearance and had blast but felt terrible

plane journey home was even worse. first thought i strained my voice, then tested for covid (negative) and then figured it was just some kind of virus. had running nose and hoarse and extreme pain behind face and MOST of all this golf ball throat

figured i would get better as viruses tend to go but I DID NOT. after a few weeks went to way of urgent care and they took one look and said you have EXTREME FORM OF ACID REFLUX called laryngopharyngeal reflux (also great tingler character name)

basically this is when your stomach acid comes all the way back up into your throat and erodes it. they immediately put me on medications name of pepcid plus tums plus gaviscon and on and on. was inhaling a dang pharmacy every morning

problem is, NO CHANGE. in fact it started getting worse. in addition to previous symptoms i now couldnt keep any food down. upset stomach all the time. could barely sleep. plus it is scary to have a sickness that gets WORSE over time like this

more doctor talks. i up doses of medication to combat sickness but does not seem to work. one night wake up and think 'dang i need to go to er my stomach is going to just melt or something' (keep in mind because i cant keep food down i am always hungry too).

i go to hospital and they say 'WHOA we need to intervene right now we are doing some tests and putting you on SERIOUS LIFE CHANGING MEDICINE. but here is catch to do the tests we need you to stop all your medication for 48 hours and it will be HECK but you gotta do it bud'

so i stop all medication in preparation for new SICK LIFE and suddenly… i start feeling better. not just a little but after weeks of this awful way i wake up in ONE DAY and feel fully cured. now heres twist: at the same time this was happening I started taking allergy medicine

you may already know where i am going with so i will just hit you with it. my INITIAL SICKNESS was just extreme seasonal allergies that required nothing more than claritin and flonase. however i was misdiagnosed with ACID REFLUX and medication was making my stomach a wasteland

the second i stopped taking acid reflux meds and started on allergy trot i was better almost instantly. today i feel HECKIN GREAT. (SIDE NOTE: after 4 years of chronic pain i am so thankful to not have some OTHER long term health trot to deal with. DANG)

so what is lesson here? first of all please do not think this is in ANY WAY anti-doctor rant or anti-medicine. my doctors were trying their best and made a mistake, they are just people. ALSO while acid reflux medicine made me sick, allergy meds made me better. i am SO fortunate

but what is REALLY fortunate is that chuck is covered under SWEET BARBARAS HEALTH CARE (she gets very good coverage under the frozen lake). most artist buckaroos, even WILDLY successful ones, do not have health care which is huge issue that should be talked on more.

point is EVERYONE should have healthcare. this whole adventure was bad, but it also only cost me 50 dollars. hundreds of thousands of other buckaroos would have to deal with this PLUS it would completely upend their life to cover medical expenses because of a SIMPLE MISTAKE

so that is my story, usually there is more of a lesson to these rants but this one is really just ‘dang what a trip.’ so grateful for my health and my way and the fact i can get simple allergy medicine over the counter. most of all THANKFUL FOR MY BODY it is such a treat to exist

thank you for reading and remember to advocate for yourself and your feelings both BODY and MIND at the doctor. listen to your trot and do not forget that LOVING YOURSELF AND THE SYSTEMS OF YOUR BODY proves love just as much as loving others. trot on buckaroos

[cy-cyborg]

Tips for wring amputees: its ok if your amputee can't repair their own prosthetics

There's a trope in fiction for amputees to always be these mechanical geniuses who can make and repair their own prosthetics, endlessly tinkering away and improving them. This isn't a particularly trope, and i dont think its harmful or anything, but in reality, prosthetics are REALLY, REALLY complicated, and a lot of amputees cant do their own repairs. And thats ok. Like, prosthetic creation and repair is way, way harder than I think people expect. Well outside the skillset of your standard mechanic, handy man or craftsperson.

People who make and repair prosthetics are called prosthetists. To become a prosthetist, most countries around the world today require you to have completed a bachelor's degree in specifically in prosthetics and orthotics, which covers not only how to make a prosthetics (and orthodics) but a great deal of medical knowledge, physics, how different forces impact "non-standard" bodies, the additional biological wear-and-tear that comes with being an amputee and so much more. This will qualify you to do the job of fitting/making the prosthetic socket (the part that attaches to your body) and putting premade components together to make a functioning device. On top of this, many prosthetists are also expected to have artistic skills, sewing skills, good physical strength and dexterity, IT skills, and more recently, knowledge of 3D modelling and printing.

You want to make all the high-tech components the prosthetists put together to make the full prosthetic? The requirements for that vary country to country, but most will require at least some level study in the field of engineering and/or medicine, on top of what was already required for the prosthetics course.

The reason for all this is because even "basic" prosthetics are extremely finicky, and messing up one thing will have a domino effect on the rest of the body, especially in more complicated prosthetics. It can also result in people getting severally injured if anything is even slightly off. many leg amputees for example end up with spinal issues due to extremely minor issues with their prosthetic that weren't caught until years later, and by then the damage had been done.

Some amputees do learn to do basic repairs. This is most common in places like the US, where a visit to the prosthetist can cost hundred to thousands of dollars (depending on your insurance), but it's also quite common in rural parts of countries like Australia, where cost isn't an issue but access is due to vast distances between major cities. I was personally in this category; as a kid, my nearest prosthetist was 6 hours away. My prosthetist was able to teach my dad, who later taught me, how to do some of the simple repairs, but we still needed to go in every few weeks for the more complex stuff (Kids prosthetic need more adjusting than adults because they're still growing. Also I was rough on my prosthetics and broke them a lot lol).

But even after being taught how to do repairs and having my prosthetics for 20+ years, I only ever did these sorts of repairs to my below-knee prosthetic. I will not do any repairs of any kind to my above knee leg, which is much more technologically complex. Every time I tried, I made it worse to the point where the leg was unusable. I just leave those repairs to the guy who went to university to learn how to do it, and sometimes even he needs to send it off to someone with even more specialist knowledge when it's really badly messed up lol. Last time that happened Australia post lost the package. Not really relevant to this post, I just find the idea of it being sent to the wrong place by accident hilarious, it was one of my more realistic legs too so someone probably had a heart attack when they opened that package lmao.

Anyway, back on track lol.

This isn't even touching on the fact that on some more advanced prosthetics, many features are actually locked behind a security barrier only prosthetists can access. My prosthetic knee has an app on my phone I can pair it to, that allows me to change certain settings and swap between certain modes for different activities that tell the leg to change its behaviour depending on what I'm doing (e.g. a mode for running, a mode for cycling etc). but most of the more in-depth settings I can't access, only my prosthetist can, and he can only gain access to those settings with a security key given to him by the manufacturing company that requires him to provide proof of his credentials to receive it. I don't really agree with this btw, something about being locked out of my own leg's settings makes me feel a bit of an ick, but it's set up like this because people used to be able to access these settings and they would mess with things to the point their leg was virtually unusable. Because altering one setting had a domino effect on all the others, and a lot of folks weren't really paying attention to what they were messing with, all their prosthetists could do was factory reset the whole leg, which causes some issues too. Prosthetic arms are often similarly complex, as I understand it and have similar security barriers in place for more advanced arms. I don't know for sure though, so take that with a grain of salt.

All this to say these are incredibly delicate, finicky and complex pieces of equipment. There's nothing wrong with having a techy amputee character who can do their own repairs, but in reality, that is pretty rare, and its ok to have your character need to see a prosthetist or someone more knowledgeable than them. It's a part of the amputee experience I don't see reflected very often in media. In fact, the only examples I can think of in fiction (meaning not stories based on real people) where this is reflected are Full metal alchemist.

technically I think Subnautica Below Zero also mentions prosthetists are a thing in that world, but its a very "blink and you'll miss it" kind of thing...in fact I did miss it until my last playthrough lol.

[tvseries-writings]

Elevators are deadly traps

Wandanat x reader

Plot: You and your girlfriends get trapped in the elevator but the heat makes you faint and Wanda is not the biggest fan of small, enclosed spaces.

TW: fainting, panic attack

You never believed that drinking water was so necessary; you were never a big drinker and although Wanda always told you, nay, begged you, to drink at least the necessary amount you never listened to her but maybe you should have today.

You watch the busy streets of New York, listening to Natasha and Wanda talk while your eyes don't leave for a moment the view that lurks outside the window of the expensive car that only the black widow, of the three of you, dares to drive; you've never even been a great driver...Let alone drive a car that costs two hundred thousand dollars in the busiest city in the world.

The 93 F makes the asphalt scorching, much more than usual; it is so hot that the air ripples from the heat, distorting the images that pass before your eyes.

Natasha turns right and the Avengers tower enters your view, towering over all the buildings around it. It is not the most beautiful building in New York, contrary to what Tony likes to think, but it is definitely the one that makes you feel the safest.

“Is everything okay malyshka?” Natasha looks at you from the mirror, raising her sunglasses for a few seconds to get a better look at you.

“Yes Nat.”

You lean forward, ending up between the two seats and leaving a kiss on the cheek first to the former spy and then to the Sokovian who turns around at the exact moment you turn toward her to receive a real kiss.

“Hey, that's not fair. Next time one of you will drive.”

Natasha moans, giving you a weak elbow in the side that makes you and Wanda pull away.

“Oh come on Nat, you'll be rewarded” Wanda smiles mischievously, letting her hand slide down the blonde's thigh.

You sit back down, giving them an amused look but as you do so, dizziness makes you close your eyes for a few seconds. Apparently the heat has affected you more than you thought since you've risen just a couple of inches.

“Detka?”

Wanda turns to you, her head tilted slightly to the side as she is wont to do when the Sokovian is angry or worried.

“Yes?”

You open your eyes, smiling as if the nausea isn't wearing you down and the dizziness isn't making you sway even while sitting up.

“Are you okay?”

The car stops, you have probably entered the tower garage but you are so focused on not letting her notice that you are sick that you are not completely sure.

“Yes, of course, why?”

Wanda looks at you as if the answer is obvious but before she has a chance to retort, the driver's side door is thrown open by a rather pissed off Iron Man.

“Natasha, I've told you a million times not to take this car, it costs a fortune.”

“I know, Stark, but I remind you that I always told you I'd keep taking it since you bought it. Although I must admit, I'd like to find the keys in the car already and not have to bypass your office's fallacious security system to get them.”

Natasha smiles, stepping out of the car and tossing the keys toward the multimillionaire; the man rolls his eyes, stuffing the keys in his pocket before walking away at a brisk pace, muttering something about “having to implement anti-widow security systems.”

“You're terrible Nat, you'll drive him crazy.”

You say with a smirk, opening the door in turn; you just sit there, still not trusting your body to keep you stable.

Wanda comes around the car and quickly joins you.

Although you are inside the garage, the temperature is just below that outside and certainly much higher than it was inside the car.

“Are you sure you're okay y/n? You're a little pale” Natasha places a hand on your right cheek and you lean into her touch, turning a reassuring smile to her.

“I'm fine Nat, let's go home. If I'm not mistaken, someone needs to be compensated for her chauffeuring services.”

Your joke seems to make her relax a little, and that gives you the confidence to finally put one foot on the ground. You get up and despite the dizziness that hits you as soon as you do, you manage to hide it masterfully, heading toward the elevator with your girls. Although it is only a few meters, when you enter inside it feels like you have traveled at least twenty kilometers.

“J.A.R.V.I.S. take us to the forty-seventh floor please.”

“Right away Ms. Romanoff.”

As soon as the elevator doors close, you lean against the handrail placed on the wall behind you praying that your condition will not worsen. You observe Wanda out of the corner of your eye; the Sokovian hates elevators but is well aware that she cannot climb forty-seven flights of stairs therefore, after an animated conversation about why she could not use her powers to do so, you had convinced her to use that “infernal contraption”-as she likes to call it-to reach your floor.

A loud roar diverts your attention away from the girl, and before you can figure out what's going on, the elevator suddenly stops; if it weren't for Natasha's lightning-fast reflexes, your face would surely be splattered on the floor or the metal wall in front of you, considering the gigantic size of the elevator. Big Tower big elevator, as Tony likes to say.

“Are you all right?”

Natasha watches you both, helps you to your feet and then draws Wanda into a hug.

“Honey, it's okay, the elevator will probably start working again in a few seconds.”

Wanda nods and does not even give you a glance; she is totally focused on not panicking completely. She hates elevators and now she is hating you too since you forced her into them.

Ten minutes pass and you are still stuck inside the elevator. The temperature, which was previously kept under control by the air conditioning, has risen considerably and the dizziness is only getting worse so, although you are the only one, you decide to sit down in the hope that this will help.

The former spy's phone that suddenly and, when Natasha answers, Tony's voice rings out in the metal box you are stuck in.

“Hey Nat, there you see, there's a little problem, I may have knocked out the power to like well...all of Manhattan so you're going to be there for a while but I'm working on it okay? All right, see you later.”

Natasha is not in time to insult him that Tony ends the call. Natasha mumbles something in Russian and although you know few words of her native tongue, you are pretty sure they are not compliments she is paying him.

Wanda's hand is clasped between yours and you speak words of comfort to her as sweat beads your foreheads. You and Natasha take turns, trying to keep her breathing under control; the Sokovian has had panic attacks before and the last thing you need is for her to have one right now.

“Because I let you talk me into it,” Wanda whines, squeezing your hand before standing up abruptly, starting to pace back and forth in the elevator as her breathing quickens.

“Wanda, love, it will be okay, I know you hate elevators but-”

Natasha gets up to join her and you do the same but realize the shit you've done too late; in fact, it takes less than ten seconds for your body to fall to the floor with a thud.

“Y/N!”

Both Natasha and Wanda scream in shock.

“Honey, open your eyes malyshka come on.”

Natasha falls to her knees beside you, placing your head on top of her legs and shaking your sweat-soaked hair from your forehead.

“D-detka open your eyes.”

Wanda caresses your cheeks and although she is still in a panic, she makes an effort to keep herself lucid for at least a few more seconds.

You blink a few times, and when you open your eyes, the metal of the ceiling reminds you where you are.

“Hey, take it easy, Wands do you have any water?”

Natasha whispers, continuing to caress your face as Wanda frantically searches through her bag before shaking her head. Her breathing is quickening again and she is far too quiet to be Wanda.

“I'm fine,” you whisper and then give the blonde a look that admits no reply as you wave her over to your girlfriend.

“You're not fine, you just fainted, you're probably dehydrated, and we're going to be stuck here for who knows how much longer.”

Natasha regrets what she said as soon as she hears a whimper coming from the sokovian before the latter falls to the floor, burying her head between her knees as you clearly hear her breathing shorten alarmingly. Natasha quickly removes her shirt and rests it under your head before moving toward Wanda.

“Don't try to get up y/n, just stand there, I got this.”

You watch her walk over to the sorceress and gently touch her arm.

“Wands, hey, it's me. You have to breathe love, I know it's hard but you have to do it.”

Natasha strokes her back and Wanda's breathing seems to calm slightly as she lifts her head to look at you.

“There you are, good girl, now follow my breathing. In and out, in and out. So good.”

As Natasha focuses on Wanda, you quickly assess your condition before sitting up and trudging toward them.

“I told you not to get up.”

“I'm sitting up and feeling better Nat.”

You whisper, holding Wanda tightly in a hug and letting her listen to your heart beat at a steady pace.

“You are so stubborn, you-”

Another roar brings her to a halt and then, to your relief, the elevator starts up again. In two minutes, the elevator arrives on your floor and when the doors open, Natasha gives you a worried look-Wanda is massaging her chest while you are still sitting on the floor with a complexion so pale as to make the dead envious.

“Wands, do you feel up to walking?”

The Sokovian nods but Natasha equally encircles her hips with her arm before ushering her toward your bedroom but not before issuing you a warning.

“Don't try to move, don't even think about it.”

You watch them walk to the end of the hallway and extend your leg to block the elevator door sensor. As soon as you see them disappear from your sight, you close your eyes and lean your head against the wall behind you, trying to counteract the dizziness and nausea.

After a few minutes you hear hurried footsteps and then a glass is pressed to your lips.

“Drink malyshka,” Natasha whispers, tilting the glass and helping you drink the water inside. When you finish it, Natasha sets the glass on the floor before taking your face in her hands; you stay like this for a few minutes before she speaks.

“Can you get up?”

You nod to her, and after a few seconds, the Russian encircles your sides with her arms and lifts you off the floor, checking you during every step you take to your bedroom.

“How about I call Bruce? At least he'll take a look at you...”

You shake your head and in doing so lean even more against Natasha.

“No, I'm fine Nat. I just drank a little water, that's all.”

Natasha sighs yet does not retort, helping you sit down next to Wanda.

Although you are still lightheaded and dizzy, your stomach twists as you see how much Wanda is still shaken by what has happened.

“Hey love, how are you feeling?”

You reach out to her, taking her hand and intertwining your fingers. Wanda turns to you as soon as she hears your voice and hides her head in the crook of your neck; you leave a few kisses in her hair before the Sokovian speaks.

“I'm fine, I'm sorry for-”

“No, hey, you don't have to apologize, you know it's not something we control. Neither Tasha nor I do, did you ever tell us to apologize for that?”

Wanda shakes her head and both you and Natasha nod.

“That's right honey, so never apologize for that okay?”

Natasha sits on Wanda's other side as Wanda pulls away from you and lies down on the bed, motioning for you to get on her side. You are about to do so but a sharp dizziness causes you to desist and swing dangerously to the side; Wanda's grip on your shirt prevents a disastrous fall.

“Hey y/n, hey!...Nat, did you give her sugar?”

Wanda sits up to support you better as she watches Natasha shake her head.

“No, I...I just gave her water, now I'm going to get it.”

You want to protest but you can't, you can't even keep your eyes open.

“Detka, honey drink this. It will help you.”

Natasha hands Wanda the glass with water and sugar and the Sokovian places it on your lips helping you drink every last sip; after a few minutes the sugar finally takes effect.

“Do you feel better?”

Wanda whispers, drawing small circles on your back as you open your eyes. You nod slowly, resting your head on Natasha's shoulder and turning a small smile to the Sokovian.

“I really think we should all get some rest, and we'll call Bruce later.”

Natasha leaves a kiss on your temple, giving you a look that clearly indicates how much you cannot retort at the moment. From the look on Wanda's face, she agrees too so you surrender to your girls, letting them tuck you in before hugging you on both sides.

“Rest, I love you,” Natasha lets you both have a kiss before lying down and closing your eyes. You reciprocate her “I love you” before following suit.

You three may be a mess but you are definitely a good trio.

Thank you for reading! This piece sucks but I wanted to write something and will probably delete it later anyway...thanks and have a great day!

Support me on ko-fi

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[mafiaanomaly]

"Sugar"

DI!Sugar Daddy!Miguel O'hara x Fem!Reader Contents: Established exclusive relationship, age-gap (if u squint), bribing, SMUT, BDSM, oral (m and f receiving), bondage, choking, hair pulling, fingering, overstimulation, edging, orgasm control, p in v, unprotected sex, mating press, Miguel is a total dom (Let me know if I missed anything!) Summary: Miguel unintentionally let's his jealousy get the best of him. He wants to teach you a lesson, but how much would that cost?

Miguel O'hara who doesn't normally get jealous.

He hardly ever has to, seeing as you usually immediately shut down anyone's advances.

But today, while at a cafe you both enjoy, he watched as some guy who looked to be around the same age as you dropped smooth pick-up line after smooth pick-up line.

You, seemingly, missed the hints. You'd smiled at him, giggled and gently pat his arm.

Miguel could do nothing but stare, eyes burning holes in the back of the man's head as he slips his number toward you.

His jaw drops when you take it and place the piece of paper in your purse with a smile.

Oh, now he's seething.

The two of you leave the cafe hand in hand, leaving the poor guy confused, and Miguel remains silent the rest of the trip home.

Now, to be fair, you knew what you were doing.

Of course you'd noticed the guy's horrible attempts at flirting with you. You just wanted to see how Miguel would react.

And it looked like he wasn't taking it well...

The moment you step into his house, Miguel slams the door shut behind you.

You ignore him, humming a tune as you make your way to the kitchen.

"Nuh-uh. We need to talk."

Your lips twitch with a smile. "Whatever about?"

You feel him before you see him.

He stands behind you, hard chest pressed against your back as his hands grab onto the counter, effectively caging you in.

His chest heaves with heavy, controlled breaths. "I didn't like that little act you pulled, amor." His words are gritted through his teeth, as if he's having a hard time holding himself back.

This is just too easy.

You turn to face him, placing a hand on his chest and looking up at him with the prettiest pout. "What act, Miggy?"

The glare on his face lasts for only a second before a shiver runs down his spine, brought on by your hand that suddenly begins to travel down his chest.

You watch with wide eyes and a bitten lip as his jaw drops open, eyes darting down to catch a glimpse of you gently running a palm over the slight tent in his pants.

And with a sigh, he surrenders.

His body relaxes as you silently work him through his slacks, your breaths mingling and body temperatures rising.

Miguel's lips hover right over yours, pink and parted in pleasure as soft moans rumble from the back of his throat. "Pull it out."

You do just that, using both hands to unzip his jeans and tug his cock free.

It sits pretty and waiting, tip flushed pink and veins peeking through the skin.

He is truly a work of art.

You almost whimper, drool nearly escaping your lips at the sight of his intimidating length and girth as you pump him slowly, teasingly. Enough to make him needy and restless.

You smile when his hips jerk to meet the movements of your hand. "I'm sorry, my love. Was there something you wanted?"

He groans when you squeeze him around the base, nails lightly digging in. "Your mouth. Give it to me-"

You gasp, feigning shock as your hand completely stops. Miguel immediately curses, pulling his head from you neck and thrusting his hips toward you desperately. But you only smile at him.

"Now now, Mr. O'hara. You know I don't do this shit for free."

You raise a brow, crossing your arms under your chest and staring at him in expectance.

He huffs a breath before feeling around his pockets and grabbing his wallet.

He pulls out two one-hundred-dollar bills and places them on the counter. "Happy?"

You roll your eyes. "C'mon now. What's that gonna do? Pay half my car bill?"

"Fuckin'-" He pulls out four more of the bills, slapping them in the pile. "There's $600 for now-"

7 more bills. "And $700 for the next 2 hours," He throws the wallet to the floor and steps impossibly closer to you, hand reaching around and roughly tugging your hair to force your head back. "You can get the rest later. Now are you gonna stop being a fucking brat, or are you gonna be my good girl and get on your knees?"

The bratty attitude fades, satisfied in getting what you'd wanted, yet slightly fearful of the punishment to come.

He lets go of your hair as you slowly slide down to your knees, all while keeping eye contact with him.

His gaze sets your body on fire. Skin burning hot with the tension between the two of you.

His chest heaves with every breath, eyes wide and never blinking as you wrap your hand around his length once again.

You give a few teasing strokes, relishing in the way his breaths stutter and his hands grip the countertop behind you, hips jerking forward just a little in impatience.

Ignoring the throbbing ache between your legs, you lean forward, tongue outstretched, and lick from base to tip.

The muscles in his arms flex, veins threatening to pop as his grip on the counter tightens. A strangled groan leaves his lips, prompting you to latch your lips to the tip of his length, gently sucking and running your nails along the underside of his dick.

You're unprepared for when he suddenly thrusts his hips, forcing your head against the side of the counter and shoving his cock into your throat.

You choke, surprised, as he grabs a fistful of your hair. "You wanna act like a money driven whore, I'll treat you like one."

You're completely at his mercy.

He watches as you whine, whimper, and sputter around his cock, spit and drool dribbling down your chin.

Watches as your body betrays you, hips grinding into the floor to find any source of relief.

Watches as tears begin to fall from your eyes with every merciless thrust into your filthy mouth.

Your hands cling to his thighs, nails digging little crescent marks into his skin.

You manage to calm yourself down, breathing through your nose and hollowing your cheeks as he hits the back of your throat with every jerk of his hips.

His pace is borderline brutal, one hand gripping the counter and the other deep in your hair, pushing your head forward to meet his hips.

He suddenly grunts, spreading his legs wider and pushing impossibly deeper. "Jesus Christ- I'm so fucking close-"

A gag slips, your throat raw and begging for this to end. But you ignore it, watching the face of your boyfriend contrast and shift as the ending of his pleasure (for the first round) gets closer and closer.

His lips parted, mumbled praises and degrading names falling from them in a rush of hazy lust. Eyes clenched shut as his brown hair sticks to his forehead. "Shit-"

And when he moans huskily and nearly suffocates you with how deeply he pushed down your throat, cumming so much you can't keep all of it in your mouth, you know you're in big trouble.

He slowly comes down from his high, chest shuddering with every breath.

He slips out of your mouth, limp and light red.

His hand grips your jaw, angling your face up to see you better. He sees the white streaks at the corners of your lips and sighs. "Open."

You obey, cheeks flushed and lips puffy as you look away, ashamed.

Empty.

Miguel smirks. "Naughty girl..."

Your back arches, frustrated whines and whimpers falling from your open mouth.

Your body jerks in desperation with every deep stroke of his tongue, hands bound to the headboard above your head by your panties.

For the past who knows how long, Miguel's head has been between your thighs.

His tongue slides along your clit, fingers pumping into your weeping pussy as you can do nothing but cry out to him.

But he remains relentless, continuously bringing you close to your orgasm only to stop short the minute you're about to come.

By the 4th time, you're sobbing. You fight his grip on your hips, trying to scoot away from him when his fingers graze over your sensitive hole. "No-! I- I can't anymore! Please- Migu-!"

He only hums, large hands pulling your legs apart. His nose skims over your clit and you flinch. He stares into your teary eyes. "I'm not too sure if you deserve to cum yet, amor."

He sighs, blowing air over your glistening folds. "You were such a brat earlier... And then you swallowed all of my cum without asking,"

You cry out when he suddenly bites at the ball of nerves. "You're already being a pretty bad girl. How am I supposed know if you're gonna be good for me now?"

You swallow, giving him your best pout and puppy dog eyes. "I promise! I'll be good- I swear!"

Miguel stares at you impassively, thumbs rubbing small circles into the sides of your thighs.

And for a moment, when he completely pulls away, you think he's going to deny you of your pleasure.

But then he stands from the bed and removes his underwear, the last of his clothing, before crawling on top of you.

You stare at him, gaze dazed, as he grabs his cock and strokes a few times before guiding it between your folds.

You curse, hands falling from the headboard once Miguel finally frees you. You instincivly grip onto his biceps. "I'll hold you to your word, princess."

You scream when he mercilessly thrusts his entire length into you.

If you hadn't fucked him last night, that probably would've hurt a lot more.

He hardly waits before he's ramming into you relentlessly, hands gripping the pillow on either side of your head.

Your noises are unfiltered, loud and needy. But he doesn't seem annoyed by them. If anything, they motivate him.

He groans, sitting up and grabbing your legs from behind the knee, pushing them to meet your chest.

You gasp at the new position, whining and moaning as his cock hits you even deeper. "Fuck! Don't- Don't stop! I'm so close-"

Miguel loses himself, lost in the sounds of your pleasure. Lost in the wet feeling of your cunt. Lost in the overwhelming weight of your being.

He looks down at you, a picture of pure temptation, reaching your hands out to him. Begging him for release with lidded eyes and panting breaths.

You scream when his hand finds its way to your clit, two fingers rubbing circles into the flesh.

And you finally get what you want, having no warning for when you throw your head back and come around him so hard you see stars.

Miguel removes his hand from between the two of you, and you expect this to end with him coming inside you, and then finally being able to sleep...

Those thoughts disappear when his hand is suddenly around your throat.

His grip is tight enough to completely cut off your oxygen.

Your eyes widen and a new wave of slick pours from you.

Miguel hovers over you, lips inches away from yours as you gasp for air.

"I didn't say you could come yet, did I?"

Your heartbeat accelerates.

Shit.

[depresssant]

'it's an american wedding. they don't mean too much. we were so in love.'

yandere!gojo x reader

synopsis : a simple senior year predicament landed you in a cage you were sure was bound to drive you insane.

it was always survival over luxury for you

amongst the rich kids, you were like a penny in a pile of a hundred dollar bills. seeing people with expensive cars and brand clothes that probably cost thousands of dollars never really mattered to you. you came from a very poor background and it never really mattered to you because there was nothing wrong with being poor. you really couldn't care less since some people were just unlucky. like you.

however, you didn't know what you were doing in a place like this.

everybody deserved the chance to climb out of poverty to live a good life. that was a belief you held onto firmly because it was the only thing that you kept you going, but you did not belong in an estate like this.

but now here you were, and you couldn't regret it more than you did right now.

"what the hell, satoru?"

the bane of your existence tilted his head and furrowed his brows in that manner that captured the hearts of everyone. if only they saw. if only they knew. if only they realized who this wolf in sheep's clothing truly was⏤that this persona of a kind, cheerful, and loving guy everybody knew and loved wasn't who he truly was. he was the devil walking amongst humans, and he was fooling them all.

"what?" he asked all innocently with his teasing grin and flirty eyes that finally weren't hidden behind those sunglasses that he wore everywhere.

"dinner with my mom? what the hell is wrong with you?"

"she invited me over, babe. what was i supposed to do? reject her offer?"

gosh, he was insufferable. he knew exactly what he was doing, but didn't want to admit it. the idea of his new, profound actions had made that pit of unease which settled in your stomach grow with each little skin-crawling thing he did.

this wolf sauntered around helpless sheep, picking them out one by one until he reached his prey. you. the thing was, you didn't know why he was so fixated on you.

that was the worse part.

he was out to get you, and you couldn't do anything but wait.

and satoru had now picked out your mother.

"leave her alone! she's got nothing to do with this!" you hissed out like a feral cat, but you were good at controlling your emotions. this rolling stone just managed to bring out the worst in you⏤the ugly you didn't know existed.

satoru laughed and wrapped his arms around you in a suffocating hug as he smothered himself into the crook of your neck. "relax." his arms tightened the second you tried to move around. it was a warning. "is it wrong for me to meet my wife's mom? besides, your mom is an amazing cook. i can see where you got your skills from."

your mom.

the three days since you hadn't seen her felt like an eternity. was she worried? was she lonely? was she concerned about this “friend” you were having a sleepover with? considering your history, you wouldn't be surprised if she tore up the entire neighborhood looking for you before you were finally allowed to message her.

satoru's attention on you was like working a full time job in which you only clocked out when you fell asleep. even then, he found ways to ruin it for you, either with his helicopter behavior or die hard need to be touching you every second of the day.

your silence was something he didn't like, so he squeezed your body under his hold. that was enough of a threat. holding back a sigh, you reluctantly returned to running your fingers through his silky, pure snow-colored hair that surrounded his beautiful face like a halo. how could a person this beautiful be so vile?

if only you could save your mother from his poisonous claws.

"you know, your mother told me a few things about you."

"... what did she say?"

his sapphire blue eyes flicked up to stare into your eyes, and time came to a standstill when he smiled. he smiled like an angel but loved like the devil. if the devil could even love. you didn't want to admit that every time you looked into his eyes, your breath halted like the world around you. it went against your deep-rooted hate for him, but you'd be damned if you didn't crumble like ash when he set you on fire with his mere gaze.

satoru explained how your mother gushed and ranted on about how hard-working you were, how you were kind and caring, and how you needed a partner who would support you when times got difficult. he teased you about baby pictures of you, and you questioned whether this really was the same scrawny guy you saved from a bunch of bullies.

back then, he looked completely different from how he did right now. he wasn't some hot jock with a body that girls fan-girled over, no. he was a tall and scrawny kid with broken glasses, a busted lip, and bruises that told you he was clearly being bullied by his peers.

that fateful summer day, you were just taking a stroll through the neighborhood when he came tumbling towards you with four kids you knew all too well. ordering satoru to get behind you, you had beaten the crap out of everyone of those guys and patched him up at your home before walking him all the way back to his house.

he had vowed to meet you again, and well, he had done it.

that kid was so much more different than the guy you knew now, and you would be lying if you said you didn't feel a little solemn about it. he had changed for the worse. you should've know that when he made another appearance in your life. those four guys had disappeared.

satoru just followed you around like a bubbly guy trying to rope a grumpy and moody girl into a friendship, but you could do nothing but regret it now. he tailed you around to get evidence of you and your illegal “activities”. to threaten you.

you wished you never even saved him from those bullies that day. the thing was that you got into tussle with the police quite a lot. you got into fights a lot and had landed up in jail for the fifth time before getting released on probation. the deal was three strikes and you would land up in the slammer permanently. you were two strikes in when satoru got a video of you in a fight...

he used it to threaten you.

that was three months into school, and he had wound up with you in an abandoned warehouse near the place holding a party where the two of you were. he proposed his deal leading to you nearly going ballistic, but those three digits dialing the police were enough to make you settle down. 

satoru's deal was simple. if you became his girlfriend, then he wouldn't show the video to the police.

typical rich kid shit.

of course, he would use any means to get what he wanted. you were no exception.

reluctantly so, you accepted, and the seven month of agony begun. the smothering touches, the constant need to be near you, the controlling and obsessive behavior, the tracker in your phone? he was batshit insane!

you were a very patient person, though. rumors and history stated that most of his girlfriends lasted a maximum of a month before he got bored, so you waited. you waited, waited, waited, and waited! that was your fatal mistake.

how stupid of you.

one evening before prom changed it all.

the cool autumn breeze of the california evening blew at your loose strands of hair, the large palm trees casted shadows that fell down the lukewarm sand of the beach as clear and sparkly waves running along the orange and pink horizon crashed upon the shores, singing a faint tale of time.

"marry me."

staring at that blue diamond encased in a gold ring decorated with silver, you couldn't have helped but feel like chains had begun to wrap around you like boa snakes... slowly beginning to squeeze the life out of you.

satoru's eyes were bright and glowing like the colors of the diamond, and they looked up at you sinisterly with that grin that seemed to make the entire world fall apart around you. 

"we'll go to the courthouse tomorrow. who gives a damn about the elders?" his voice was pleading, but there it was. that tone. he spoke like he was stating. not pleading. "we'll have an american wedding."

and an american funeral.

for when he put the ring on your finger, you died.

...

the sun set, and you looked at the snake wrapped around your ring finger. it glimmered under the dim light of the bedroom like the glowing eyes of a predator staring from the shadows. 'you two were so in love with each other that it had driven the both of you insane!' satoru had claimed, but maybe...

maybe it was just you who had gone insane.

[howtofightwrite]

I’m not sure if this is off topic for your blog, but out of fear for my search history and the police, I wanted to ask if there is a means of someone producing a homemade bomb or something throwable that generates high levels of heat?

For context, the character I am writing is a lab intern that is secretly studying how to get rid of a parasite (think of something like Venom/Carnage) that can only be injured/destroyed with high levels of heat.

Two thoughts come to mind immediately, thermite and white phosphorous. So, in both cases, we're going to be setting metals on fire.

Thermite is more of a process than a specific chemical composition, which means getting the materials to make thermite explosives isn't that challenging. It involves getting a highly reactive metal, and then getting it to oxidize aggressively. Turns out, if you force aluminum to rust on the spot, it gets a bit warm. In some cases (such as with copper) the reaction is energetic enough to cause molten metal to splatter.

Because we're talking about different chemical mixtures, it's a bit hard to predict the exact tempreture, but most thermite reactions (at least, all of the ones I've ever looked up) will burn in excess of 2000K (3000F.)

Rigging thermite into a more portable form isn't that complicated, and crude pipe bomb-like containers should get the job done. Though, this would likely cause further problems.

The second option is white phosphorous. This burns at a lower temperature (around 800C), but this stuff ignites on contact with oxygen. Something you might be able to find in the air you're breathing. White phosphorous is a bit more tightly controlled, and is used in a wide variety of munitions. (In theory, it's used for tracers, as the phosphorous will ignite and glow while the round is traveling to its destination.) Because it will continue to burn in the wound, white phosphorous wounds are particularly horrific (as you'll see, if you ever visit the Wikipedia page.) However, it is already available as a payload for most military small arms cartridges.

A third option is classic napalm. This stuff tends to burn north of 800C. The actual material is a bit more disturbing than you might realize. Nalpalm isn't just a burning liquid, it's more like a burning goop, that sticks to whatever it hits... and continues to burn. Imagine a Vaseline sprayer (except, the Vaseline is ignited just after it leaves the nozzle.) Producing napalm in a modern chemlab, with a reasonable stockpile of ingredients shouldn't be too difficult, though it's unlikely the stockroom would have enough of the relevant chemicals to make much of the stuff. (Nalpalm flamethrowers go through a lot of fuel, so making the stuff on site might not be a great option.)

Using any of these methods will get a lot of attention on your character. While we tend to overestimate just how much casual searches for this kind of information are likely to land you on a watch list (this used to be more true than it is today), actually using them in the field will get an anti-terrorism taskforce crawling down around your character's ears. (Especially if they're making thermite loaded pipe bombs.)

Now, here's the funny thing about all of this: It's unnecessary.

You've got a monster that is vulnerable to flames. The simplest, and cheapest solution, is probably to go buy one of those orange, plastic, flare guns. This'll set you back less than $40 dollars (plus the cost of the included flares.) Then load up on extra flares, (at this moment, they're around $10 per flare.) (If you already have a 12 gauge shotgun, you can skip the flare gun entirely, and just buy 12ga flare shells.)

Those flares burn at similar temperatures to white phosphorous rounds, and are much, much, less regulated. (Though, if you're wandering out and buying up hundreds of flare shell rounds, that's likely to raise a few eyebrows.) (This is also true of normal emergency flares, similar temperatures, and they burn for much longer.)

This is without even thinking about Dragon's Breath shells, which will burn in the range of some of the hotter thermite reaction ranges. (To be honest, it probably is a thermite reaction, but I'd need to look into them a bit more to verify that.)

So, ultimately, the problem for a monster vulnerable to heat is that there are a lot of ways to throw burning metal at it, and let that cook it for you.

-Starke

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[seat-safety-switch]

Have you ever used a thermal camera? It's one of those cool diagnostic tools that lets you see with your lame human eyes just how hot something is. And it costs like a thousand stupid dollars. So unfair. Cats get that for free, probably, and they don't have to go to work either.

Life is full of all kinds of great industrial tools like that. Stuff the professionals use every day, to solve real problems. And if you could just get your hands on it for thirty, forty seconds, while their backs are turned, you could finally get this stupid hobby project back on track. It's not like you were using it 24/7, there, Stanislaw Lem.

There is some good news. AliExpress has been great at democratizing this, because giving weirdos access to industrial-grade equipment at home that they have to finish building and repairing first is a good way to make some quick cash. For three hundred bucks, you can buy either a used Xbox, or a pretty good binocular microscope for doing your own microbiology at home. At this rate, I fully expect to be able to 3D-print an entire living raccoon for about seventy-five dollars in 2040.

Will you be able to identify the brand? Absolutely not, and that worries some people. Here's the thing: I have no idea what "brand" the sidewalk outside my house is. I just trust it to be there when I have to drive on it during the winter because my tires are getting a little bald from all these burnouts. Think I'm getting a little off-topic here.

What I'm trying to say is, when someone offers you a chance to set up your own stellarator at home, you take it. What is a stellarator, you ask? I have no idea either, but it says here that I can get one ordered for about $1800, and I will probably need it eventually, right?

[squoxle]

Secret Obsession 𓆩♡𓆪 P.WB 18+

✰ pairing: pervy!professor!wonbin x camgirl!student!fem!reader | ✰ wc: 4.6k | ✰ cw: MDNI!!! heavily sexual content…literally porn bro | ✰ plot: since your first year of college, you've had a side gig to earn extra cash. during one of your streams, you meet an interesting new user catches your attention.

You watched the comments as they appeared on your stream.

"Please take off your shirt for me, baby. Oh my god...ur so sexy. Take it off for Daddy. Turn around so I can see it from the back."

A part of you enjoyed the attention you received from your little side hustle, but the real reason you did this was to fund your education--or more realistically...your housing.

You leaned back on your bed, spreading your legs as you reached your fingers down to toy with your wetness.

"Fuck baby. ur so wet. i wanna see u abuse that little cunt."

A notification popped up on the side of the screen alerting you to perform a paid request. Someone was paying 80 dollars to watch you finger yourself. That was a hefty amount to say that your viewers were already paying a subscription--and you were gonna end up doing that anyway.

You first inserted one finger to get you started before slipping a second finger in. You pulled them back and forth, grazing your g-spot every so often.

"I wish I was fucking u with my dick rn. Faster baby, please. I'm already so close."

You felt the buzzing from your remote-controlled vibrator beside you. "Oh, I guess someone really wants me to use my toy, huh?" you chuckled lightly. You knew that paying to control the vibrations on your toy costs $150 for 10 minutes.

"yes, please. I wanna see u cum all over your sheets."

You reached over to grab the smooth toy before pushing it into your pussy. You didn't have enough time to stretch yourself, but your viewers liked to hear you struggle. "Ngh!" you groaned.

"If you squirt I'll give you 100 dollars. Cum for me baby. God ur so fucking tight. Let me fuck u one time plz."

The squelching sounds of your wet pussy coupled with your soft moans filled the room as a creamy substance coated the toy. The vibrations intensified causing you to tightly close your legs. You felt your pussy clench around the toy as you came closer to your high.

"open ur legs baby I wanna see u fucking that cunt. i would eat your pussy till you cry. ur moans make me so fucking horny."

Another notification popped up, requesting that you use the rose toy on your clit while you keep using the vibrator. It was 50 dollars, not much, but it was a simple request. Your chest heaved as you pressed the toy against your clit.

Your legs trembled as you climaxed. Fortunately, you were able to secure that extra hundred as you squirted.

"Okay, guys," you said as you slowly caught your breath. "That's it for today."

"aww. please can you just cum one more time."

"I really have to go right now, but I'll be back soon," you smiled. Even though your face was completely hidden you still gave your usual expressions. You waved as the viewers left your server one by one.

The last one there was someone new. This was the same guy...or girl that had been giving you all of those paid requests.

Username: Darkomen302

They had a mysterious vibe about them and you wanted see if there was any inkling to who they were on their profile. Every now and then, a client caught your eye. So this was nothing new.

Their age was listed as "old enough to be here" which meant that they had been verified, but chose to keep that detail anonymous. The bio was even more useless. "I'm the demon you can't stop dreaming about."

No profile picture, no name, no age...this was unlike anything you ever experienced.

A fairy-like tone chimed from your laptop indicating a new message from your secret admirer.

"How much for a private call?"

"It depends on what you want to do," you replied.

"Okay, well I want to watch you play with yourself."

"That'll be $200. I can add it to your subscription if you want."

"What do you mean?"

"I can just update your account. You'll have to pay a little more though."

"That's okay, I'll take it."

You watched as the banner on his account changed from silver to gold, indicating that he had upgraded his account.

"That was fast," you thought to yourself.

"I wish I could call you right now, but I have somewhere to be," they messaged.

"That's alright. Maybe we can do it some other time."

"How about tonight?"

Their eagerness was slightly off-putting, but you've dealt with stranger clients.

“Okay, sounds good. How about somewhere around 9 o’clock my time?”

“What time is it for you now?”

“It’s 2:15pm right now.”

“Oh, well it looks like we’re in the same time zone. See ya then,” he sent a winking emoticon before going offline.

You closed your laptop and got dressed for your first day of class. When you researched your anatomy professor, not a single picture came up.

This wasn't entirely off-putting given that he was a new professor.

Living on campus definitely had it's perks. You were just a few steps away from all of your classes, which meant you didn't have to get up as early to be on time. But it also made you lazy for the same reasons.

You pulled your bag over your shoulder as you walked into the classroom.

"Good evening, class. My name is Wonbin Park, but you will address me as, Professor Park," he announced as he wrote his name on the board. "Or Mr. Park, Dr. Park, Professor P. It's fine with me so long as it's formal."

"No fucking way," you whispered to yourself as you thought back to the first time you unintentionally met your professor...

"Oh my god, he's so fucking hot," you heard one girl whispering to her friend next to you.

"Have some fucking decorum," another student spat at them. "You can talk like that after class...no one wants to hear that stupid shit."

"We're not even talking that loud, relax," one of the girls spat back at him.

"So? I'm telling you right now that if the genders were reversed you'd be saying some shit like that's so disgusting, guys are dogs."

"Whatever," You watched as the girl rolled their eyes at his remark, but he wasn't wrong. They could at least wait till he's not around to talk about him.

"As much as I love to see some good peer interaction, I'd prefer if I could teach today's lesson without the distractions. It makes it kinda hard to focus, not only for me but for others in the class," he smiled as he looked over to your section of seats.

"As I was saying," he turned back to the board "This is just an introductory class to anatomy. A brief overview of what you'll see in some of your later courses like biology and microbiology."

You wrote a few copious notes about the content covered in class. Mainly the contact information, grade system, late work policy, and exam dates. Stuff you thought was too important to forget. You didn't really like asking questions so this should be helpful.

"Alright, everybody. Let's have a little social lesson. I have a cup of popsicle sticks up here by me. Grab one stick and this little prompt sheet. Then go find your partner to mingle with for the next 10 minutes and come back here so we can do one more round," he said walking behind his desk.

After everyone had pulled a stick there were still a few left over. So the professor offered to join the game for the last round before class ended.

"God I hope I get to be his partner," one of the girls who sat next to you whispered, clasping her hands together.

Ironically, you were the one who got paired up with him instead of her. You scanned over the list, thinking of a reply to each of them.

What's your name?

How old are you?

Where are you from/hometown?

What is something that makes you stand out?

What's your major?

Do you have any siblings/pets?

What's your favorite food/drink?

Do you have any hobbies/special talents?

"How about you ask the first question," he smiled.

"Umm...I don't really know which one to ask first," you chuckled shyly.

"Okay, then I'll start. What's your name?"

"_____ _____."

"Now, it's your turn to ask me a question. Since you already know my name, you'll have to pick something else."

"Hmm...how old are you?"

"22," he replied before you proceeded to fill out the rest of the sheet with his answers.

"Can I ask you a question that isn't on this paper?"

"Umm, sure...depending on what it is."

"I'm just curious to know how you became a college professor at such a young age.

"Well I started college pretty early and I took quite a few AP courses in high school which gave me a head start."

"What made you want to teach anatom--" you were cut off by the timer on his phone. The real questions you wanted to ask him would have to wait until later. This wasn't really the time or place for a conversation like that.

"Maybe we can talk more during my office hours," he smiled before signaling everyone to go back to their desks and gather their things.

"Before you guys leave, come by my desk to grab a copy of the syllabus. It's short and will serve as your guide throughout the semester. Please look at the syllabus before you contact me with any questions because you might already have your answer," he said as shuffling sounds filled the room of about 50 students.

You were the last one in line to grab your copy, you didn't really like pushing through people, so going last was a safe option. You still managed to catch a glimpse of the same two girls from earlier giving the professor blowjob eyes as they took the paper from his hands.

You couldn't deny the fact that he was obviously attractive, but these girls were a little over the top, to say the least, and you were certain their subtle actions would escalate in the following classes.

You took your paper and smiled softly as you met his eyes. There was something about the way he looked at you that made your heart skip a beat.

But you refused to be anything like those other girls. Plus you never really needed any extra credit activities. You were smart enough to pass on your own.

Lucky for you, this was the only class you had for today. Which meant that you could go straight home after this 2-hour lecture.

As soon as you made it back to your room, you remembered that you had to do another live stream for your female viewers today. So you prepped yourself for some classic pillow fun.

"Hey, ladies. D'you miss me?" you asked as you came into frame. They often liked to watch you change, which was difficult because you had to keep your face out of view.

"I've been waiting for this all day. I wish I could help you undress."

You stretched your body to pull your shirt over your head, revealing your bra--that you planned to keep on, especially since you were wearing a brand new panty set. You always let the ladies be the first to see.

"The way I would throw you onto that bed and eat you out till you beg me to stop. I'd kill to be your roommate."

You moved the camera to face your bed as you straddled your fluffy white pillow. Just as you began moving your hips back and forth against the plush fabric, your comments were blowing up with requests for you to show your boobs.

"play with your nipples for me, baby."

Even though you didn't really want to take off your bra you did it anyway.

"Oh my god! Fuck yes! ur tits are so perfect."

*Bing* your laptop chimed as a text from your new friend popped up.

"Are we still on for tonight?"

You obviously couldn't respond in the middle of your stream so you just ignored it until a eye-catching comment caught your attention.

"Darkomen302 has joined your stream..."

You continued the rest of your stream, as usual--getting off before thanking your viewers. You were curious as to what all this Darkomen user wanted to do.

"Yeah, we're still on. Sorry, I couldn't respond earlier...I was in the middle of a stream."

"Oh, I saw. You did pretty good by the way."

"Thanks lol. So did you want to just get started now?"

"Yeah sure, just let me finish up something real quick."

"Okay," you texted before closing your laptop.

It had been about 10 minutes before you came back online. You checked your student emails as you waited for a message from your secret admirer.

An email from Professor Park just came in about his office hours and other windows of availability...

Good evening, Miss _______.

It was really nice getting to know a little bit about you today. I'm glad we got paired up. Below are my preferred office hours, but you can contact me anytime using either my work email or personal phone number. (Mon-Thu 4-5pm) (Fri 4-5:30pm) (Sat-Sun 10-11am)

Make sure you stay on top of your assignments and take good care of yourself. I hope you have a good rest of your evening. Can't wait to see you again next week.

Sincerely, Professor Park.

Email Sent: Today 18:21pm

"Okay, well how about we go out for dinner tonight around 8--unless you're busy. In that case, we can just reschedule. Nothing too formal. I just have a few more questions," you responded.

"Sounds great! You can meet me in my office. I'll be working a little longer today."

Before you got a chance to respond to your professor a videocall notification from Darkomen302 popped up on your screen.

"Sorry, if I seem a little pushy. I just couldn't wait until later. I kinda have something planned tonight," they typed.

"That's okay. I'll make sure you finish quickly," you smiled. "Just tell me what you want me to do." You were wearing only an oversized t-shirt and the same panties from earlier.

"Okay, well can you sit back a bit. Just so I can get a better view of your pussy."

You did just as they requested, sitting back to spread your legs in front of the camera before circling your clit.

"Did you want to turn your mic on? It might make telling me what to do a little quicker," you suggested. A part of you was eager to at least know this user's gender. Mainly to give you an idea of what you were dealing with.

"Yeah, sure. But I can't talk too loud."

"That's fine," you said as you continued to toy with your clit.

"Can you hear me good enough?" he asked as he switched his mic on.

"Mmm yeah. I can hear you perfectly," something about his voice seemed familiar, but you couldn't pinpoint it just yet. "Did you wanna turn your camera on too? That way I can watch you cum too."

"Umm..."

"Don't worry. You can keep it titled down just so I can see your dick," as often as you did this, having a little extra visual stimulation always made things better.

"Okay," you heard a bit of shuffling before his camera finally came on. You watched as he stroked himself through his pants.

"Oh my god, that looks so good," you hummed as you slid your fingers down to gather some of your slick.

He gripped his hard dick through his hands as you stroked his ego telling him how much seeing his clothed dick was getting you excited.

"D'you wanna see it?" he asked as his hands travelled to his belt.

"Yes, daddy. Please show me," you watched as he pulled out his hard veiny cock. You jammed your fingers into your pussy, coating them in your juices as you pumped them in and out.

"Ugh, fuck baby. Fuck that pussy good for daddy. I wanna see you cum for me," he groaned.

"Ngh, I want you to imagine fucking me like a good little slut," you said before pausing to spit on your slit. "Tell me all the nasty things you want to do to me."

"I wanna throw you over my desk and fuck you until you beg me to stop," he hummed as he began stroking his dick. "And after I make you cum all over my dick, I wanna put you on your knees and fill your mouth with my cream," he pumped faster.

"Mmm yes, fuck my throat and claim me," you reached for your dildo. This was getting more exciting than you thought.

"I wanna jerk off between your tits while you wear my glasses," you were quickly approaching your climax as you watched him beat off with those veiny hands.

"I'm so close," you moaned.

"Just hold out for a little longer. I'm almost ready," he moaned as he tugged at his dick some more. You listened to his eager whimpers as he came closer to finishing.

You slowed down a bit to give him some time as lewd sounds filled the room. For the first time, you wished he was here to really please you. To rip your pussy apart and fuck you just the way he wanted. Using you as his little fucktoy.

"Ngh~ Are you wearing a bra?"

"No."

"Show me your tits," he spat. "Right fucking now," his aggression was turning you on so much right now that you didn't even blink before pulling your shirt up to expose your tits.

"Ugh, fuck!" he swore. "You're so fucking hot. Ahh fuck! I'm gonna cum," he moaned as white cream shot out from his tip. You watched as it dripped down his fingers.

He continued stroking himself as he waited for you to finish.

"Fuck," you hummed. "We should do this more often."

"Yeah, you definitely help at relieving a lot of pinned up stress," he chuckled softly reaching across his desk to grab a tissue.

"And I didn't know you wore glasses."

"Only when I'm working."

"Sorry, but do you mind if I ask what kind of job you have?"

"No, that's fine. I just teach at a university."

"You seem kinda young. How old are you?"

"Well, I can't answer that question for obvious reasons, but I'm younger than 30. This might sound kinda weird but you actually remind me of one of my students."

"Oh, do I?"

"Yes, the first time I saw her was in the bookstore. I helped her grab something from the top shelf, and she dropped it on the ground when I handed it to her. Then we both reached down to pick it up, and I bumped into her from behind which made her moan a little. Next thing I know, we're fucking in a single-stall bathroom. I never saw her again after that...until I started teaching of course. A little bit before that was when I stumbled upon your streams."

Either this was the biggest coincidence ever or Darkomen302 was your professor.

"Oh wow, that sounds like something out of a movie," you chuckled.

"Yeah, I guess so. Well, I gotta go now. We should definitely do this again though. I had a lot of fun with you."

"Same here," you smiled before ending the call.

You thought back to the first time you saw him today in class. A flashback of his face decorated by the golden sun rays popped into your head.

It was everything from the way he spoke to you to the way he scanned your body with his eyes that told you exactly what was on his mind. And you’d be lying if you said you didn’t feel the same way.

When you felt his hard cock press into your ass, all common sense left your mind as lust took over. You locked eyes with him before tilting your head in such a way to tell him that you wanted to go somewhere private.

Yes, this was stupid. Yes, this was reckless. But you wanted him more than anything in that moment.

You thought back to the way he lifted you onto his hard veiny dick and shoved every inch deeper into you. You could hear his breathing pick up as he fucked you harder and faster.

He gripped at your body as he pleasured himself. He helped you ride out your high by stimulating your clit before you dropped to your knees and swallowed every last drop of his seed.

You fastened your chain as you finished getting dressed for your date with your professor. As instructed you headed straight to his office to meet up with him.

*Knock, knock, knock*

You knocked on his door before he called out, "Come in."

You walked in sheepishly, not entirely sure why you felt this way all of a sudden. To be fair, it felt like the universe kept pulling you together in different ways.

"I'm glad you came," he smiled.

"So when were you gonna tell me that you were a teacher," you asked as you stood in front of his desk.

"Heh, it was kinda hard to do that with your tongue down my throat," he replied. "I didn't even get your name until now," he smiled.

"Hmm...I guess you're right."

"Are there any other questions you'd like to ask me?" he asked as he stood up.

"Yes," you began. Though a million questions raced through your mind, only one managed to come out. "Do you like pasta?" you cringed at yourself, trying your best to hide your emotions, but it was of no use. He could see it all over you.

"Pasta?" he laughed. "Of course I do, but I had that yesterday and I'm kinda in the mood for a steak. I know a really nice restaurant we could go to."

"Umm, I--"

"Don't worry. They sell plenty of pasta," he chuckled, slinging his crossbody bag over his shoulder, before walking over to you.

You watched his movements in shock, your mouth slightly gaped open. "Well, come on. Let's go," he smiled, patting you on the shoulder before opening his office door. "I'll take you in my car."

You rubbed your thighs together as you sat next to him in the passenger seat. You couldn't take your eyes off of the bulge in his pants. You knew he wasn't fully hard at the moment, but you couldn't shake the thought of his dick in your mouth.

When he pulled up to the venue you almost thought it was a hotel from the outside. You followed him in to see an extremely formal dining setting. For a second you felt a bit underdressed as you sat next to Wonbin in the red semi-circle booth, but that all disappeared when you felt Wonbin's hand grip your thigh.

Your eyes jumped up at him. Instead of responding, he just gave you a look with his eyes. Lustful and sirenic. This was a look you knew too well.

"Good evening. My name is Andre, and I'll be your waiter tonight. Would you guys like me to start you off with anything? Maybe some bread? Or water?"

"Umm, how about some chardonnay?" Wonbin replied, still stroking your thigh.

"Alright. And what can I get for the lady?"

"Mmm," you struggled to hold back a moan as he reached his fingers between your folds, pressing against your clit.

"She'll have the same," Wonbin smiled as the waiter wrote down your order.

"Okay, well I'm gonna go start working on those drinks now. The menus are right here whenever you're ready to order something else," Andre smiled before tucking his notepad into his apron.

Just as the waiter walked far enough away, Wonbin pressed into you again. "Agh," you bit your lip.

"You're already wet," he smirked. "You must've been thinking about some nasty things, huh?" he continued, massaging your clit.

"Here you are, sir," Andre returned with a frosted bottle of white wine sitting in a small tub of ice and two champagne glasses. "I'm not sure if you wanted the whole bottle or not," he started.

"Oh, yes. This is perfect. Thank you," Wonbin said as he placed the items on the table.

"Alrighty, well just let me know if you need anything else."

"Of course," Wonbin smiled as Andre walked away again. The waiter also left behind a small tray of fresh and frozen grapes. Wonbin picked one of them up and teased your clit with the icy fruit, coating it in your wetness.

He then popped the cold fruit into his mouth. He picked up another one which slipped out of his fingers and onto the floor. "Oops," he smirked, before sliding under the table.

"Mmph!" you yelped, covering your mouth as you felt his tongue lap at your pussy. "Mmm," you stifled your moans as he sucked and tongue fucked you.

You felt him pull back and blow cool air on your wet lips before climbing back into his seat with the grape in his hand. "I got it," he smiled.

You barely even heard what he said as you looked at him with desperate eyes. Just like earlier, your expression spoke louder than your words as you practically begged for what happened next.

"Follow me," he whispered before standing up and heading to a section toward the back of the restaurant. You hesitantly followed him to a red curtain that concealed a hidden V.I.P. section.

There he brought you to a private room. "This'll be a little more comfortable than a bathroom," he smirked.

He locked the door behind you as you stood in the center of the room, just waiting to be destroyed.

"One more time wouldn't hurt," you though to yourself.

"Make as much noise as you want, baby. Nobody can hear you," Wonbin huffed as he pumped into you. The lewd sounds from your pussy, mixed with your breathless moans.

"AHH," you screamed as he clamped down on your tit, sucking it hard enough that you were sure to wake up with a mark.

After this, you were completely done with him. Right?

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," he spat as you moaned into his ear. He doubled down and started fucking you so hard and fast that you just went completely silent. Your mouth gaped open as the sounds of your skin slapping together took the place of your moans.

You did not want to become the girl who fucks her professor.

He turned you over, placing you on your hands and knees as he plowed into you from the back. You whined as he stimulated your clit while fucking you. You could feel his whole body engulfing you as he fucked you senseless.

"Yeah, baby. Just like that," he groaned, ripping his dick out to spit on your pussy before forcing in two of his fingers. You squirted a little as he stimulated your g-spot.

He pushed you down onto your side, lifting on leg over his shoulder as he fucked you some more.

"God, you're pussy is so fucking tight," he hummed.

You could get in so much trouble...and he could lose his job. Was it really worth it?

"Ngh," you hummed as he slowed down to give you long, hard, and deep strokes. He pulled out to spill his cum all over your stomach as you laid there with your pussy throbbing from the constant fucking.

He leaned down to kiss you on your cheek as he glided his dick between your folds.

❀ Thank you all so much for reading! Make sure to check out other works on my masterlist!

❀ 𝚃𝚊𝚐𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝: @chlorinecake @hoyeonheeseung @addictedtohobi @chaenqen @nikisvanillaccola @hynjinnn1 @melobin @laylasbunbunny @urfavberry @blooqz @adoresohee @billiondollarworth @youaremystarlight @wonbinisbabygurl @neotechclub @seesawh @cherihani @cartimitsuya @iceprincesgf @skywaslavender @mei-sunshine52 @sunnynearthecoast @ylukl5 @cake1box @bahraini-aphrodite @hwadejectedyoung @wonbinkisser

[crackedpumpkin]

ʙʟᴀɴᴋ ᴄᴀɴᴠᴀꜱ || ᴘᴛ. ᴏɴᴇ ||

[ 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 ] | [ 𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ]

“If there is a god out there, please make sure my order isn’t missing any pickles this time.”

“Here ya go, extra pickles on the side,” Mr. Perez, the store owner, grunts as he all but flings a wrapped sub into your hands from behind the counter. You grab it with relative ease, undeterred by how oddly soggy the parchment paper is. It’s a slow day in the sub shop, with many of its usual customers absent. 

“How much?” 

“Five bucks.”

“How’s Didi?” You ask, fishing out a crumpled five-dollar bill in your pocket and handing it to him. You drop another into the tip jar when his back is turned, humming innocently when he faces you with a bag of small cookies.

“The usual. Slightly less of the devil incarnate lately, though. I think it’s because you’re coming over to babysit more often.” You take the cookies gratefully, a small note written in the ten-year-old’s messy scrawl glued to the side. You stash it away in your backpack, ensuring it doesn’t get crushed behind your sketchbook and pencil case.

“Is that y/n?” You hear the clatter of plates being shoved aside, Didi peeking out from behind the blinds that separate the storefront from the stairs that lead upstairs to their house. You smile but realize she won’t be able to see it through your cloth mask.

“In the flesh,” You grin, scooping Didi into a tight hug. You prop her on your hip, transferring the sub to your free hand as she giggles. “Have you made any new friends in school?”

Her lips purse into a pout, fiddling with your hair with sulky eyes. “No…They’re all stinky. Except for Maribelle, because she likes pickles.”

“Does no one else like pickles, then?” You ask curiously, Didi shaking her head. 

“Tommy and Jam like them, but they’re boys,” She informs you in complete and utter seriousness. You’re so tempted to comment, but you know that if you did, she’d sulk for at least half an hour.

“Jam?”

“Yeah, Jam.”

“Are you sure that’s his name?”

“Yeah.”

“Alright then,” You shrug, turning your head to the side so she can’t see the amused glint in your eyes. 

“Are you headed to the bank?” Mr. Perez asks offhandedly, cleaning one of his bread knives with a damp cloth.

“Gotta cash in the moolah,” You rub your fingers together in reference to the cheque that’s buried somewhere in the bottom of the heavy bag on your shoulders. You had recently finished a commission, and your client had tipped you generously, paying you an extra fifty bucks on top of the two hundred she was already paying. 

“Can I come? I wanna come. I’m going,” Didi demands as she braids a few strands of your hair. You look back at Mr. Perez for permission, the gruff man nodding in response. 

“Okay, but make sure you always stay with me, yeah?” Didi nods eagerly, kicking your side slightly as she points to the door. You leave the store with her in your arms, making your way to the bank. 

“Can we buy Legos?” You hum in thought, trying to decide how to reject Didi’s request without being too harsh. She tugs the beanie on your head, and it slides down to just above your eyes. You chuckle, using the back of your preoccupied sub-carrying hand to shift it back up slightly.

“Do you have enough money to buy some?”

“I got money!” Didi’s small hands search her pockets, patting down until she finds what she’s looking for. She pulls out a ten-dollar bill with a triumphant smile, eyes shining with anticipation as she looks at you. 

“Then we’ll buy some on the way back, yeah?” You offer, already seeing the money leave your wallet when you pay for the leftover cost of the Lego set.

“Hmm…Okay!” Didi agrees after a moment of thought, clapping her hands together and urging you to walk faster. You break into a slight jog just to tease her, soon reaching the doors of the large bank. 

You push past the huge glass doors with your shoulder, the sub still in your hands. You couldn’t put it in your bag, fearing it’d ruin your cherished sketchbook and, even worse, the crumpled cheque buried somewhere near it. 

You eye the long lines for each counter, groaning at the thought of a prolonged wait. You scan the hall, trying to find the shortest queue. 

There. You quickly join the line of people waiting, breathing a sigh of relief when you see a few more people join your queue right after you do. The bank is mostly quiet; the only sounds are fingers clacking away on keyboards and hushed conversations of bank account details. 

A trio of men wearing black cloth masks stand in a corner, furtively glancing around and having a hushed conversation amongst themselves. Two large bags are on the floor next to the shortest one, all three nodding at each other before the other two pick up the bags and head towards the door while the shortest approaches the information counter with another bag slung on his hip.

Huh. Maybe they have social anxiety. 

You watch them converse with the clerk, half your attention on Didi, who’s tugging on your hair while braiding it out of boredom. You spot the clerk smiling nervously in your peripheral, brushing it off as the usual horrible customer service interaction.

You focus on Didi instead, jostling her slightly in your arms. She yelps, lips pursing into a scowl when she’s disturbed from her concentrated braiding. You giggle, entertained by her reaction. You lean in, bumping your head against hers in a gentle tease.

The doors slam shut.

You flinch at the sudden sound, turning to see the two men from earlier at the entrance. Each stands in front of the doors, arms crossed with two large rifles in their hand as they quickly adorn ski masks. The man at the information counter now has a gun in their hands, pointing it up at the ceiling and firing a single shot.

The loud bang startles Didi, who instantly covers her ears, pushing her head against your shoulder with a small squeak. You protectively hold her close to you, ready to shield her body with your own in case anything happens. 

“Everyone drop everything, get down on the ground, and lift your hands now!”

You slowly sink to the ground, eyes never leaving the guns in their hands. This situation is the opposite of ideal. Being held hostage isn’t exactly part of your five-year plan for graduation. The doors are guarded by the guards, dark silhouettes blocking the sunlight.

“Hey! I said to drop everything and lift up your hands,” One of the robbers guarding the doors earlier points a gun straight at you with a glare. You look from the weapon to the sub in your hands, reluctant to let go. 

“I said, drop it!” 

You gingerly set it down with a defeated sigh. “You happy now?” You ask him with a scowl. He steps towards you, still aiming his gun at you as he picks up your sub and throws it to the side. It lands with a plop onto the dirty ground, now a ruined mess.

“Wha- My sub!” You complain with an offended gasp, now glaring at the man who just destroyed your dinner. You see the arch of his brow beneath his thin ski mask, exchanging a confused look with his accomplice.

“You do know this is loaded, right?” He questions with a wave of his gun.

“You just threw away a perfectly fine sub! It even had extra pickles!” You argue, still mourning the loss of your dinner. Setting down your sub you could deal with. But flinging it against the wall? That was absolutely uncalled for. “You’re a maniac,” You seethe, your jaw clenched as you shoot him the coldest glare you can muster.

You hear tiny sniffles and a loud hiccup from beside you, looking down to see Didi’s scrunched nose with snot dripping down it and tears streaming down her red cheeks. Her lips are pressed tightly together, but you know she’s about to start wailing.

“Hey, hey, Didi,” You call out to her gently, ignoring the robber that watches you intently. “Let’s play a game of patty cake, okay?” You offer, holding out your hands. She places her small ones in yours, and you curl your fingers to cover her own. 

“I’m scared,” She hiccups, her sniffles growing louder by the minute. You shush her with a reassuring smile, thinking of a way to soothe her. 

“Oi! You sure have a death wish, lil’ missy.” You hear the cock of a gun behind you, turning to see it being pointed straight at you. “I already said: hands up where I can see ‘em.” 

“Look, do you want to handle a wailing child that’s bound to attract attention? Or do you want me to calm her down so none of us get a headache?” 

After a moment of deliberation, he moves his gun down to his side. “I’m watching you,” He warns.

“Yeah, yeah, as if I’d forget.” You huff with a roll of your eyes, crossing your legs and sitting down with Didi in your lap. “Now, where were we?”

You continue playing patty cake with the trembling girl after coaxing her into removing her hands from her ears. The shortest robber, who seems to be the ringleader of the three, is preoccupied with getting the clerk to empty the enormous vault at the back, stuffing bundles of cash into the large duffel bags they had carried with them earlier.

It’s tense.

Everyone chooses to stay silent, their shaky hands and terrified eyes a pleasure to the thugs. You risk a quick glance around, wondering when the hell Spiderman would show up. Isn’t this in his job description? Was he even getting paid? 

Someone knocks on the door.

The two crooks guarding the doors turn instantly, pointing their guns at a familiar figure with their hands raised in surrender.

“Yo! I came here to negotiate, not to fight.”

They look to their ringleader for a response, the latter giving them a nod and gesturing to their guns warily. They nod at each other, hoisting their weapons closer to their chest and opening one of the doors. 

Before they can react, Spiderman drops to the floor, immediately kicking their guns out of their hands. They land on the floor with a clatter. “You should really think twice before opening the door for strangers,” He chides, nimbly avoiding a harsh blow from the two thugs surrounding him.

That’s a nice suit.

Your eyes automatically follow him as he swings, dodges, and takes out the robbers in mere minutes. He’s nimble, avoiding each blow and disarming the vicious crooks that threaten to fire. 

“One step closer, and she’s dead meat!” 

Didi’s body is grabbed from your arms, and you look up in horror as the robber that threatened you earlier holds his gun close to the small child. Tears are dribbling down her cheeks uncontrollably, choking on her stifled sniffles. 

“Woah, woah, woah,” The masked vigilante halts in his steps, hands raised up, “Threatening a kid? That’s not gonna look good on your record, man.”

“Then put your hands up, walk to the wall, and give up!” 

“Wait!” You scramble to your feet, freezing as soon as you do. The robber presses the gun barrel closer to Didi’s shoulder, an ice-cold grip of fear crawling down your spine at the sight. 

You can’t let her get hurt. You rack your brains, trying to figure out a good distraction for Spiderman to take action. “I-I’m pretty sure I’m gonna die, but I just have to say something.”

“Get down on the floor!” The robber shouts harshly, fed up with the kids that keep bothering his easy getaway. You slowly kneel back down, never breaking eye contact with Didi, whose cheeks turn redder by the second. You spot Spiderman’s finger slowly moving to press his web shooter, eyes darting between him and Didi. An idea takes form in your mind, but it’s risky.

You pause, swallowing nervously. “Didi… I’m the one that broke BunBun.”

She screams. 

The ear-splitting sound makes the robber wince, dropping her to cover his ears. Spiderman seizes the opportunity, using his web fluid to grab his gun and toss it away in the far corner of the bank. He immediately gets to work through Didi’s screaming, effortlessly capturing the last robber and throwing him aside in a cocoon fashioned out of his web fluid. 

You grab Didi, scuttling back into your corner of safety and trying to placate her. You gently rock her in your arms, letting her cry into your shirt. The collar is now soaked with her tears, and you’re beginning to regret confessing to the crime of having accidentally broken one of her favourite plates. You’d blamed it on the passing wind, and she bought it.

“Hey guys, y’all are safe now.” You look back up at Spiderman, who leans against the wall near you, scanning the crowd of relieved people who cheer for his bravery. He chuckles, casually shrugging as he tries to brush off the praise. He double-checks if anyone is hurt, his gaze lingering on you for a split second.

He gives you a brief nod and a friendly two-fingered salute, and you tiredly reciprocate the gesture with a still-crying Didi in your arms. His head moves back slightly in a wince (well, you’re pretty sure it’s a wince. You can’t really tell with his mask and everything.), and for a moment, you feel as though he’s sympathizing with you. 

He takes his leave through the glass doors, Spiderman-style, with his web-slinging skills and whatnot. You’re left with the aftermath of the police finally showing up, the crying child deterring them from asking you any further questions besides a short testimony.

“Didi, it’s over now. We’re safe.” You try to soothe her by gently patting her head and hugging her tightly briefly. You’re sure your shirt is soaked by now. It baffles you how a child has so much water in their system that they still sob even after half an hour.

It took an apology, three Lego sets, and a future promise for another at Christmas to get her to stop crying.

— — — — — 

The bed creaks noisily when you collapse on it with an exhausted groan, the sound a subtle sign of the old bed frame threatening to break any day now. The glow-in-the-dark stars glued onto your ceiling shines softly, the chilly breeze of Brooklyn gusting through your open window. You’d dropped off Didi on your way home, reassuring Mr. Perez that she was unharmed.

You shiver, getting up to close the window before hanging your beanie on the clothing hooks behind your door. You turn on the switch to the lamp on your desk, the warm yellow light coating your room with a cozy atmosphere.

Your stomach growls, a reminder of your delicious dinner having been a victim in the whole hostage situation from earlier. You sigh. Whatever. You’d grab a bigger breakfast tomorrow instead. For now, though, a simple protein bar from your snack drawer would have to do. 

You unwrap it and bite down, munching hungrily while grabbing your sketchbook from your bag and laying it flat on your desk. You flip the pages, eyeing the empty pages with distaste. Page after page of drawings that didn’t meet your standards make your heart sink. 

You finally land on an empty page and grab a pencil with your free hand. You tap the end onto the blank paper impatiently, trying to think of more inspiration for your next work. You’d been in a slump lately, and while commissions did give you some extra pocket money to go cafe hopping, it didn’t help much with your lack of artistic creativity.

Your hands itch to sketch out an idea. Anything would do. The only problem is that your brain can’t provide even a smidgen of inspiration. You huff, leaning back in your chair.

You sit up straight and scooch closer to the paper, hoping that maybe that’d trigger some form of idea.

Nope. Nothing. Nothing hits you. 

Maybe it’s the happenings of today as well, what with a gun being pointed at you and helping your friendly neighbourhood Spiderman take down those thugs. You grin, recalling how Didi’s scream had impacted the poor goon, lips tugging down slightly at the reminder of your now empty wallet.

You’d have to find another commission soon. 

Maybe Spiderman would want one?

You begin to doodle absentmindedly, the scratching of lead against paper a soothing sound that practically lulls you into a trance. You recall the red spray paint of a jagged spider against the black suit, the design of it so simplistic and yet representing his personality so well. 

You remember his quick nod to you and silly salute, a chuckle slipping past your lips. How did he look like again? His elbow was bent, and two fingers were placed on his forehead as he leaned against the wall. He’s relatively lean, you recall, and probably taller than you too. It’s difficult to gauge since you were in a rather sticky situation that called for hunched shoulders and hesitant movements.

Your hand moves as if it’s got a mind of its own, recalling the webbed pattern on his suit. You draw and draw, adding shading after a basic outline is done. Your mind is foggy, no other thoughts remain except to transfer your memory onto paper. 

Wow.

You stare down at what you’ve just drawn, taking in the overall sketch with a shaky exhale. It’s the best you’ve done in a long while, with all the details contributing to the final product. 

It’s exactly as you remember, having drawn Spiderman giving you that silly salute while leaning against the tiled walls. You’d even shaded his suit perfectly.

You’re breathless. Is this really your work? From your own two hands, no less? It’s probably a one-off thing, but boy, does it feel good. Maybe thinking about Spiderman is the main reason why.

You giggle at the entertaining thought, shaking your head. 

It’s probably just the adrenaline.

[highlynerdy]

"I do it because I want to protect him from the world, and sometimes from myself. I want to tell him every secret I ever had, and yet I never want to make him choose, to see the hurt in his eyes, to put this, too, on him. I want-I want so many things. Sometimes, I just want."

Turning The Page by @queerofthedagger / art by @schweetheart

I started this fanARTifact in July 2021 and finally, finally finished it in September 2024. Click below to see so many more pictures and read probably too much about the project.

This project was a LABOR OF LOVE because y'all...I failed so, so many times during the making of it. I had grand dreams of all the things that I was going to do and learn and every single time I tried something it was like the universe telling me to go ahead and go fuck myself, we're not doing that. But it's done and I'm pleased with it. I hope Mona and Schweets are. Let's talk about the process.

I read this story back in July 2021 when it came out and immediately wrote @schweetheart on July 23, 2021 to ask if I could use her art for the back because it was such a crucial part of the story.

She graciously allowed me to use it, and even sent me a high res file so I could have the portrait of Arthur printed on art paper.

THEN. My brilliantly stupid self decided that just making the book wasn't enough. I mean, I had already done that for Arthur's journal back in 2020 and I am nothing if not a nutter about learning to do new things, especially for my fanARTifact series.

SO. I'm going to learn to make paper. Yeah. Totally a reasonable escalation in terms of new skills, right?? ......... Nope. I bought a small 5x7 mould and deckle to practice with and some cotton linters to make the pulp. Twas. A. Failure. I didn't have a press or the felts or the sizing needed to make the paper actually, ya know, usable. This was the first time I put the project down for a while.

Moving on to another new skill in late 2021, I decided that I wanted to make the walnut ink myself. Luckily, I was part of a pigment subscription in 2020 (that is a hell of a nerdy statement, even for me) and had all the supplies in my art studio to attempt this endeavor.

I didn't fail this part! Fucking huzzah for small miracles. Now I had two small bottles of black walnut ink to use for the calligraphy that I wanted to do for some of the excerpts. Except now I was stuck again on the paper making part so I put it back down again for an eternity.

Picking it back up in late 2022, I asked Mr. Highlynerdy to make a custom size mould and deckle for me so I could have long pieces to fold for my signatures. It was his first time doing anything like this but he's a buddy and a pal and gave it a try. Surprising no one if you've read this far, we both failed this part. Even now, I'm still not sure we succeeded but eventually we did get something workable. And considering professional mould and deckles cost in the hundreds of dollars...yeah, it'll do.

It took a hot ass minute for me to feel ready to attempt the paper making again but once I was ready, I ordered wet, pre-beaten pulp from Twinrocker. A very curt man on the phone helped me figure out what I needed and added internal sizing to the pulp I ordered. I didn't take pictures of any of the paper stuff because it was very messy and annoying. Once again, Mr. Highlynerdy helped me rig up a drying box with tri-wall cardboard and ratchet straps and a box fan. Once the paper was dry, I used a gelatin mixture to paint on external sizing. Since I'm primarily a painter, I needed the paper to be able to handle ink, paint, pencil. Sizing paper is the only way to do this, but no worries, I won't go further into the nerdy details about this.

Once the paper was ready, I decided to sew the text block. Here's another part where I failed YET A-FUCKING-GAIN. I talked before on Arthur's Journal post about how books were very, very rare in the 6th century (Arthurian period), but BBC Merlin is soooooo anachronistic that it's fiiiiiine to just do what I wanted. HOWEVER. I did want to try to do visible spine binding. But. Unfortunately I had gone ahead and used all of my paper to bind the text block as if I was going to case it in. FUUUUUUUCCCCCK. It's fine. We're fine. Come on, brain. What can we do.

Well, what we CAN'T do is use a piece of leather from my large remnant that I bought for my first journal because someone - FUCKING ME - measured and cut the last piece NOT TAKING INTO ACCOUNT THE WIDTH of the text block. So now it doesn't fit. And refusing to buy a new piece of leather I'm forced to pivot once again.

I decided to cut the leather spine even shorter, buy some wood pieces and sand them, paint them a matte black, and then glue the leather to those pieces. Cool cool cool. We're moving on. I tested a lot of different glues for this and good ol' super glue ended up being the clear winner. Cue putting this project away again for a whiiiillle.

In October 2023, I decided to pull it out again and do the calligraphy and drawings I wanted. This story has so many gorgeous parts but I finally decided on the first page, the last page, and the page about Gaius.

I mixed my handmade walnut ink with my beloved Finetec gold and used the quills I bought from John Neal Booksellers to practice my Uncial. I shouldn't have been rusty after lettering an entire fic for this fanARTifact, but I was.

The little dragon was inspired by medieval manuscript dragons I found.

Narratively, I loved the idea that Merlin's writing would start off soft and delicate and become stronger by the end of the journal. Also, I loved that the end word "WANT" would be just gold because the ink blend changes throughout. Something magical or whatever.

This part needed tears. They might have been real ones...

Annnnnnnnd, the project was put down again until a few days ago when I decided, after getting back into Merlin fic, I needed to buck up and finish it.

I did so many tests for the cover. I tried embossing, carving, and debossing and hated all of them. I settled on painting it with acrylic paints in the shape of a Celtic knot sort of pattern. I originally wanted to do a triskelion but after reading a bit about how some asshole groups have co-opted the symbol for shitty purposes, I decided against it. It's a mix of black and gold and it's hard to capture the depth of it through photos...eh, I did what I could.

Still. Something wasn't quite working with the brown leather and the black covers with the new symbol so I broke out my matte black leather paint and decided to go all black.

All I had left to do was glue in the text block and it would be done! And that still took me a few days to work up the courage. The book opens nice and flat, which will be good for me as I will use it as a sketchbook.

Sitting here, on September 1st, I have completed a project that taught me many new skills and also taught me a lot about humility and perseverance. There was no way I was going to abandon this project, and maybe I should have started over many of the times, but I am quite in love with the final result and I just hope that it does it's inspiration proud. Thank you @queerofthedagger Mona for all you create and share with the Merlin fandom, and thank you @schweetheart for allowing me to use your gorgeous art.

Also, you may see quite a few other fanARTifacts in this photoshoot because I will use any opportunity to show them off lol.

If you read to the end of this, you deserve a cocktail and a cookie. Thank you. 💛✨✨

[imaniwriting]

Rafe Cameron Doing Lines and then being caught by reader who he promised to get clean very very angsty pleasee

(hate but love this at the same time)

Warnings : usage of drugs, underage drinking at party, swearing (tell me if i missed any)

Summary : after rafe broke his promise once again he has to pay a bigger price than his drugs will ever cost

Genre : Angst, Angst, Angst

Rafe was complety lost. He did line after line not caring for a single thing around him, the thought of selling drugs long lost. He had become greedy, any person that walked his way to buy some he had shot down.

“Rafe, dude” yelled topper over the loud music blasting through the speakers. Rafe looked up at him with the 50 dollar bill still held at his nose. “dude i thought you wanted to get clean”

Rafe shook his head chuckling “topper, bro, you know damn well that i only tell y/n that because she keeps bugging me” topper stared down at the boy. “well good luck explaining that one” he had said pointing behind the boy where you stood.

You stared at Rafe anger mirroring in your eyes before he could yell your name you stormed out pushing past coupples that were grinding on each other making disgust kreep onto your face.

“y/n!” he yelled stumbling over his own foot. “y/n please I didnt mean it like that!” he reasoned trying to catch up with you but he was stoned and it didnt help that there was hundreds of people around him.

You quickly got to your car before ripping the keys out of your pocket. But that gave him enough time to reach her. “What Rafe? you wanna tell me that you’ll get clean so i can stop bugging you?” you spit out making him flinch slighty.

He isnt used to you speaking to him like that “baby im sorry, I promise i’ll-“ but before he could finish the sentence you slapped him across the face. “Stop!” you shouted at him. “Stop! Promises are supposed to make you not break them!” you continued now with tears in your eyes “we pinky promised Rafe! God, you told me you could quit anything aslong as you kept me!” you then met his eyes who were twitching lightly. “am i not enough?”

That question made Rafe frown. Did he really make you feel like that? Like you werent enough? He took both of your hands into his cupping them slightly. “Y/n please don’t do this” he said knowing what you were playing at.

He let your hands fall to your side before grabbing your face with both hands forcing you to stare into his eyes. He leaned in to kiss you on your lips but you moved your head to the side. “Y/n please, im sorry baby” he tried to convince you but you just coldly shook your head.

“We’re done Rafe” you said making him let go of your face. He had just lost the love of his life to some stupid substance he couldn’t get enough off. He also just realized that this loss would hurt him more than anything.

Not being able to do coke or any drugs seemed so much easier than loosing you. You placed the car keys into his hand “ you can have this back.” You said his hand trembled not being able to hold the weight of the keys. The keys he had given you on your birthday last week.

“Good bye Rafe” you had said before taking off into the dark night. He wanted to run after you and beg for your forgiveness, god, you wanted that he would but you knew that he would return to his old habits and he’d disappoint you once again even he knew.