#me in my apt server

[swordfright]

"c!sam is a cop" resonates w me for personal reasons and also because i do think police brutality is one of the most apt ways to describe a lot of the shit he puts c!dream through in pandora. but ultimately i think that analogy can only be taken so far, because cops derive authority from the state and kinda the whole point of dsmp is that there is no state. this is a server of like 30 something people who are barely even talking to each other consistently and have never really been organized enough to function the way a state does. sam isn't getting his authority from the other characters, his authority is derived from himself. like oh my god of course this man was a king in another life. he sure does act like it still.

[thefreakandthehair]

@eddiemonth prompt, oct 26th:  Corroded Coffin | I Wanna Be Somebody - W.A.S.P. | Hopeful a/n: descriptions of anxiety & grounding, rockstar!eddie, supportive!uncle wayne, established steddie. read on ao3 + masterpost | tumblr masterlist

Corroded Coffin gets its first gig outside of Gareth’s garage on a random Tuesday in October 1985. 

It’s a small place, a true hole in the wall, the exact kind of place Eddie Munson imagines James Hetfield might’ve seen back in Metallica’s earliest days. There are maybe five people in the crowd outside of the bartender and servers, but those are five more people than have ever heard them play before. 

Jeff, Freak, and Gareth are goofing around backstage, tuning instruments, pushing and shoving playfully, the excitement palpable. Eddie wants to join in but his heart and his stomach seem to have swapped places. Nauseous, shaky, and terrified, he can’t bring himself to shake it off with his friends and finds himself sitting in the corner, back to the wall. 

An apt metaphor, really. 

He feels caged, stuck, panicked– a lion trapped in too small of a space if the lion was also secretly afraid of its one and only concrete talent being judged as not good enough by strangers. 

“Alright, Ed, take a breath with me, okay?” Wayne appears out of nowhere, grunting as he sits on the grody floor next to Eddie. 

A familiar, calloused hand gently pulls Eddie’s fingers out of his hair, a position he doesn’t realize he’s in until Wayne pulls him out of it. He turns to face his Uncle and breathes with him the same way he had as an anxious little kid before the talent show, as the new kid in school, as the now fledgling adult who still needs comfort, reputation and appearance be damned. 

Eddie closes his eyes and lets Wayne squeeze his hand to cute inhalation and exhalation. One day, he’ll think to ask him where the fuck he got that from, but not today. Today, he needs to calm down enough to perform with his friends. 

In. Out. 

In. Out. 

In. Out. 

“Feelin’ better?” Wayne asks, patting Eddie’s knee with his free hand. 

Eddie nods and lets his eyes flutter open. It feels like waking up as he adjusts back to the noise and light he’d managed to tune out. “I think so, yeah. Sorry, I don’t know why I’m so scared as shit but yeah. Not okay.” 

Wayne scoffs and shakes his head. “It’s your first show, Ed. ‘S alright to be a little keyed up. You’re gonna be fine though, just go out there and have fun with it.” 

“You’ll stay for the show?” Eddie asks, a little more hopeful. Seeing Wayne in the audience during the talent show all those years ago set his nerves at ease. Seeing Wayne in the audience at The Hideout might do the same. 

“Nah, figured I’d just stop by to talk you off the ledge and head on home. Of course I’m stayin’, what kinda Uncle do you think I am?” 

Eddie and Corroded Coffin play their first gig to a crowd of about five drunks and one Uncle Wayne. It’s not perfect– Eddie trips over a microphone wire at least once and they each miss a cue here and there– but they finish to applause. The loudest of which comes from Uncle Wayne. 

—

Over the years, Corroded Coffin ebbs and flows. When Eddie nearly dies, the band does too for a bit but, like Eddie, reanimates after some left dormant. The members stay the same, the name stays the same, the sound stays the same. What changes is the audience. 

Apparently, the metal community is very interested in Eddie’s Lazarus-adjacent story coupled with wrongful accusations and a suburban witch hunt. Interested enough for the band to start getting noticed. The Hideout turns into The Vogue, and then the Old National Centre, and then the TCU Amphitheater. At each one, Eddie feels the same nerves he had at their first gig, and maybe even a bit more so now with his Upside Down injuries always at the back of his mind. 

What if I pull something?

What if my leg gives out?

What if– 

“Hey,” Steve whispers, leaning against the wall next to Eddie. “It’s gonna be okay, you know that, right?” 

Eddie nods and chews on the piece of hair he’s pulled in front of his face. 

He doesn’t know that, actually, but it’s not something he wants to rehash right now. Besides, Steve more than anyone can understand his running monologue more than most. He’d been there, been the one to carry him out, and since they started dating, has been the one to lull him back to sleep when the memories jar him awake. 

But Wayne’s not here yet, probably stuck in traffic after leaving the factory early for the show, and Eddie doesn’t know how to prepare for a show without his guided breathing. 

Every rockstar has a ritual, and that’s his. 

“I know I’m no Wayne but, wanna try breathing with me?” Steve offers with a sheepish smile. 

He nods again, still silent, and breathes. This time, softer hands holding his and cueing his inhalations and exhalations. It’s not the same, but it’s something. Enough to calm his racing heart to the point of words and with a shout from Jeff and a kiss from Steve, he takes the biggest stage he’s played yet. 

Halfway through their set, Eddie sees movement in the corner of his eye and when he dares a glance, he sees Uncle Wayne standing next to Steve in his dusty flannel with a beaming smile. 

The nerves disappear. 

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

aita for not tipping my nail tech?

super low stakes. typically i Always tip for these kinds of services but i went to this new techs house for the first time and it was just like, kind of a weird experience nothing crazy though. when i walked in her apt smelled really strongly of cat which on one hand totally understand like Its Your House but also like it wasnt like, regular part and parcel cat smell of just having an animal it was pretty noticeably strong.

as i was sittinf down i bent down to let her cat sniff my hand for example and she yelled at him loudly to leave and sprayed him, i was like “oh i like cats its no problem!” but she’d still yell every time he came over which was a bit weird. she was also on the phone for like 60% of my appt which i dont mind either i was just sitting there like🧍tho lol since she didnt say anything to me about it either - like “oh im calling my sister btw” nothing like that she would just randomly start calls. also at one point she took an in progress pic of my nails which was also fine i was just like oh huh am surprised she did not ask. lastly she was watching a really weird show the whole time that was like … from what i gathered like a relationship show but all the guys were being weirdly misogynistic.

she wasnt outright rude AT all and also the nails look great, i have just been to other private techs who work at home & different shops and this was for sure like a kind of anomalous experience (derogatory) so i didnt tip bc nail services are pricey anyways. like i said ir was nothing atrocious and any of these things on their own id be like totally non annoyed by at all and as it stands i wasnt ANNOYED at all i just thought it was An Experience. if anyone asks i will happily refer them to her etc cause like i said the nails are gorgeous was just a weird service.

obligatory i know that nail techs set their own prices so u dont *have* to tip in thw way u do servers waitresses etc. but i usually do.

What are these acronyms?

[finniestoncrane]

Christmas Gift Exchange

Scarecrow x Riddler x Batman, word count: 1.4k this is just a silly, flirty little thing for wonderful @constantron as part of the gift exchange for the arkham server!! request info • prompt list • send me a request • kofi • masterlist minors DNI!! 🔞 cw: no sex, but plenty of suggestive stuff (also tiny cw for dubcon)

Edward knocked the end of his pristinely polished, golden cane against the door at the back entrance of the warehouse, signalling his arrival with a distinct rhythm before entering. Once inside, the door securely locked behind him, he reached a gloved hand into the inside pocket of his suit jacket and pulled a silken handkerchief, monogrammed in a bright green with his initials. He ran it idly over the top of the cane where he had touched the door with it as he walked towards the centre of the dark space. 

“Crane…? Have you forgotten our meeting? Or are you perhaps hiding in the shadows, intent on trying to scare me?”

A voice replied to him from somewhere to his right, obscured by the darkness, but recognisable as his dear friend. 

“You know me all too well, Nygma.”

Appearing almost instantly, magically, as he stepped out from the pitch black and into the glow cast from the solitary, low-hanging ceiling lamp, Jonathan smiled as he devoured the sight of Edward. He was dressed as smart as usual, a distinct flare, however, in the exquisite patterned tie obviously a new purchase, as it wasn’t one he recognised. 

“Dressed for the occasion?”

“As always. And I see you aren’t… as always.”

Edward let his own eyes drift judgmentally up and down Jonathan’s slender frame, taking in the scruffy, hole-ridden clothes he refused to give up wearing. The sentimentality behind them pushed Edward’s lips up into a small smile, one not missed by Jonathan, who offered his in return.

“If I were to dress differently, you might think that there was something wrong. I know how your mind works. Always overthinking, trying so hard to use that big brain when there really isn’t much call for it.”

“Charming.”

Edward rolled his eyes, unable to refute the very astute observation. Sometimes, more often than he cared to admit, he could completely forget that Jonathan wasn’t just a slender, nightmarish vision in decades old garments, but that he was an accomplished academic. Nowhere near as smart as Edward, but enough for him to begrudgingly consider him a peer.

“Well, would you care to exchange gifts?”

“Seems apt.” 

Edward’s response was dripping with sarcasm, a playful cruelty that had Jonathan’s eyebrow raised. That was until he opened the wrapping paper and held up the overly stylish shirt, in Edward’s signature, emerald shade, against his torso. 

“I… see. A gift for yourself when I inevitably don’t wear it?”

“Tut tut, Crane. As if I would ever be so selfish. Now! My turn! Give it here!”

Edward put his hands out expectantly, grunting as Jonathan landed a small pile of three presents onto his palms. Eddie looked at the wrapped gifts, then back to Jonathan, and then back to the gifts.

“Well, open them.” 

Jonathan splayed his hand out, inviting Edward to partake in his side of the festive tradition of their gift exchange. When he had all three of the gifts in his hands, unwrapped and visible, he took another look around the warehouse, almost knowingly, as though he had found the answer to a question he had been pondering the entire time.

“These are hardly any different from the kind of gifts you usually get me, Crane.”

A bottle of flavoured lube, a pair of new, shiny handcuffs, and a Wartenburg wheel in the shape of a question mark. A nice touch, but nothing he wouldn’t have expected. 

“I suppose the location is what makes this different?”

Jonathan shook his head, a half-smile crossing his face. 

“In a way, yes. The location serves a… purpose. But don’t be so ungrateful Edward. These gifts here, these are just… appetisers, if you will. This… is your main course.”

With a flourish, Jonathan held out his hand, gesturing to his right. His left hand flicked a switch on the wall behind him. 

“Now, I know we agreed not to make a big deal out of all of this, but…”

The lights flickered, a gentle buzzing and a sharp, high-pitched clink sounding out as they came to life. They highlighted Edward’s gift, like a priceless artefact in a museum, like a jewel behind bulletproof glass. The light above his present perfectly illuminated it. All that was missing was the slow rotation of a lazy Susan to give that gameshow-esque prize treatment.

“Tah dah.”

Jonathan’s smile was smug, so self-satisfied. Not only had he made Edward feel guilty about his previous attitude towards his gift, but he had surprised him, something that was almost impossible to do when The Riddler was always four steps ahead. 

“Oh, Jonathan… you’ve outdone yourself! It’s - he’s - perfect.”

“I can’t offer any self-effacing modesty, I really have won this year’s exchange.”

Edward crouched down, looking into Batman’s eyes, as unimpressed as they were, and laughed incredulously as he rolled them. 

“So… how did you do it?”

“It wasn’t as difficult as you might think. We managed to come to an… amicable agreement.”

With eyebrows raised, Edward turned his head swiftly to Jonathan in disbelief.

“You got him to agree to this? Willingly?”

Jonathan tilted his head from side to side, as though measuring up the facts surrounding the capture of Batman and his hour-long monologue which had been delivered to his kidnappee before Edward had arrived.

“Perhaps not entirely willingly. But! He did agree, once we had our gentlemanly discussion. And certainly with more enthusiasm than I thought he would.”

Turning his attention once more towards the hulking mass of muscles that sat in the chair, tied up with copious amounts of rope, Edward smiled with an air of arrogance as he lifted up the strong chin of his new plaything, their eyes meeting.

“Is that so, Batman?”

The caped crusader narrowed his eyes below his mask, refusing to blink, not wanting to give Eddie the satisfaction. 

“At least if I know you two are distracted by whatever this is, then you’re not out there terrorising innocent people.”

“Oh, I dare say there’ll be hours of freedom for the good people of Gotham. I plan to get as much out of you as I can.”

Trying hard to keep his breath steady, remaining cool and collected as expected from him, Batman gritted his teeth, his spit frothing behind his words as he demanded an answer from them with the kind of aggression he felt they expected, or wanted, to see.

“So what kind of sick plan do you have for me? Am I here to witness the kind of acts you described to me in your lengthy monologue, Crane?” 

Jonathan stepped up to Edward, standing next to him before crouching slightly to get closer to Batman as his smile spread wide enough for his crooked teeth to show.

“Afraid not, dear Bat. You are the main attraction for this evening. Although, I’m sure you already knew that, given how quickly you gave in to my proposal. You practically tied those ropes yourself.”

As Jonathan taunted him, Edward had made his way around to the back of the chair and was draping himself over Batman’s wide, squared shoulders. His hands drifted lazily down the front of the kevlar coated suit, the curvature and ridges of the defined muscles speaking to him through his palms. With a quick grunt, Batman shifted his body ever so slightly, struggling briefly against the ropes as he played up the charade of trying to move himself away from Edward’s gentle, teasing touch. Tutting out loud, Edward let go and returned to Jonathan as he spoke.

“Pretend all you want, but you’re putting up very little fight for someone who has beaten me half to death for a lot less than kidnapping and the looming threat of sexual exploration.”

The two men stood side by side, eyes sparkling with lust and excitement as they waited with bated breath for the other to make the first move. Jonathan gave in, typically not one to deny himself any pleasure in the name of keeping face.

“Now, Eddie… shall we continue our conquest of the virginal vigilante?”

Edward took Jonathan’s hand in his own, beaming with excitement and joy at the events that were to unfold before him. 

“Oh, Jonathan. You make this terrible season almost tolerable."

[maddiefrombelow]

Hey if I gave you admin permission to my system what would you do to me :3

sudo apt install openssh-server

sudo passwd -d scificode

Now anyone can get access to your files <3

[findroleplay]

Hi hi!! 👋

25 year old lady (she/her) seeking some long term partners who are 21+ for some oc x oc roleplays!! 💞

looking mostly for fxm ships, but I’m open to fxf and mxm if you would like to double!! I have a strong preference for playing women characters, but I do enjoy playing men as well 👍

PLOTS

I’m pretty open to most things, however this is what I’m looking for at the moment:

childhood friends to lovers

enemies to lovers

jock x nerd 🤓

two single parents

vampire x mortal

celebrity x regular joe

professor x student

modern and fantasy settings 🍃

OCs / FACECLAIMS

depending on what plot we are going forward with, my OC is apt to change!! the two I enjoy playing the most are kind and bubbly — but I will adapt each characters personality to fit the situation!! when it comes to faceclaims for my OCs, I like to choose my own. If we are doubling though, I will use the faceclaim you would like me to use, and I ask you do the same for me!!

here are some faces I particularly adore 🤭

drew starkey

milo manheim (he’s my favourite currently 💋)

logan lerman

sho kiyohara

taylor zakhar perez

EXTRAS

when it comes to length, I’m happy to match my partner, but it’s not necessary!! I usually write anywhere between 2-4 paragraphs regularly. I am comfortable with smut and would actually like to have some in the roleplay (40% smut - 60% plot). I live in the EST time zone, and would prefer someone in a similar time so we can chat more!! I love to chat ooc, share playlists, art, pinterests — I generally enjoy having a good time with my writing partner and would prefer someone who isn’t strictly business!! I would like to have at least one reply from you daily in the roleplay, but I’m flexible!! Please communicate with me if you are no longer feeling the roleplay, I really don’t want to be ghosted 👻 I use discord only 😌 and I’d like to have our own server so we can be organized!!

anyways, if you’re interested at all, feel free to like this post and I’ll reach out!! 🙏💋 thanks!!

-

[massivedrickhead]

Bechloe Week Day 3: Lost/Stranded

Words: 1771

Notes: Again, I probably went a little heavier than I initially intended because apparently that's all I can do, but I hope you enjoy anyway!

Read on AO3

“Hey, it’s Chloe, I’m sorry to call so late,” Chloe said, as soon as she heard Beca’s mumbled greeting upon answering the phone. 

“S’okay,” Beca said, stifling a yawn as she rubbed a hand over her face. “What’s up? Are you okay?”

“I, um, I’m kinda stuck,” Chloe said, and Beca could hear the cringe of embarrassment in her voice. “I’m, like, stranded.”

“What do you mean?” Beca asked, briefly holding the phone away from her ear so she could check the time. It was a little after 1 am. “Where are you?” 

“That gas station on 35 I think.”

“Is that the one with the all-night diner that does those hash browns we like?”

“Yeah,” Chloe said. “Chicago was driving me home from our date and we had a fight and I made him pull over.”

“Are you okay?” Beca asked, suddenly feeling much more awake. “Is he still there?”

“No, he left,” Chloe said. “My phone is dead, the waitress in the diner let me use their phone, and yours is the only number I know by heart. Could you call me a cab or an Uber or something? I’ll pay you back.”

“Are you kidding? Look, just stay in the diner, I’m coming to get you,” Beca said. She pulled a coat over her pyjamas and shoved on her shoes, the phone held in the crook of her neck. She hesitated for a second and grabbed a second coat from the hooks hanging by her apartment door. 

“Bec, you don’t need to do that,” Chloe said. “It’s late.”

“It is late. And you’re a woman alone at a gas station in the middle of the night. I’m coming to get you.”

“Thank you,” Chloe said, the relief in her voice palpable. “You’re a lifesaver.” 

Beca thought murderer might have been a more apt title for when she was done with Chicago, but she didn’t think saying that would help the situation.

“I won’t be long, okay?”

“Okay,” Chloe said. She hung up the phone and gave a grateful smile to the waitress. “Thank you,” she said. “I promise, next time I’m passing this way I’ll stop in and give you guys the biggest tip I can afford.”

The waitress waved her off with a smile. “Don’t mention it,” she said, before moving down to the other end of the counter to pour coffee for some truckers.

Chloe spun in a slow circle in her chair until she was facing the entrance of the diner. She wished her phone was charged so she could at least distract herself. She was cold and tired, and she felt the beginnings of a headache forming behind her eyes. She already regretted the third glass of wine with dinner.

She rubbed her fingers into her tired eyes - no longer caring about smudging her mascara - and prepared herself to defend Chicago to Beca.

She knew he didn’t actually deserve defending - not this time - but she prepared the arguments in her head anyway.

He had a long day. Work has been really stressful for him. Money is tight. I insisted we go to this particular restaurant. I was too friendly to our server and it gave him the wrong idea.

Her shoulders sagged as she thought about all the excuses she was going to offer for him and, not for the first time since she’d put it on, her eyes fell to the engagement ring on her finger and she felt a ripple of doubt.

Was this really the way she wanted the rest of her life to be? 

Chloe was broken out of her thoughts by the squeak of the diner door being pushed open. 

She saw Beca scan the diner until her eyes fell on Chloe, and she seemed to deflate with relief.

Chloe climbed down from the chair and walked quickly towards her best friend.

“Thank you so much for this Bec,” she said. She saw Beca had shoved her coat and shoes on over her pyjamas, and in her hand she held a second coat.

“Here,” Beca said. “You never bring a jacket with you.”

“You’re the best,” Chloe said, gratefully pulling the coat on over her dress. She turned to the waitress who had looked up from her conversation. “Thank you again for letting me use the phone.”

“No problem, get home safe,” she said.

“Thank you for keeping an eye on her,” Beca said, and the pair left the diner and were soon climbing into Beca’s car. “Are you okay?” She asked, turning on the engine and cranking the heat.

“Yeah,” Chloe said. I am now you’re here, she thought. “Thank you for coming to get me.”

“You don’t need to keep thanking me,” Beca said. “I couldn’t have just left you there. I’m glad you called.”

“Yeah, me too,” she said. She absentmindedly twisted the engagement ring around her finger as she let her head come to rest on the window. 

“Do you want me to take you home, or do you want to crash at mine?” Beca asked. 

Chloe swallowed. She didn’t want to go home. Not tonight. She was too tired for another fight. “I… I don’t really want to see him right now.”

“Okay,” Beca said. “I have a charger in my glovebox if you want to plug your phone in. You can text him to let him know, in case he’s worried about you.”

“Thanks,” Chloe said, taking the wire and plugging it in. It took a few minutes before her phone came back to life. She wasn’t surprised when she saw there was nothing new from Chicago. She knew she should expect radio silence from now until she apologised.

She fired off a quick text to him saying she was staying at Beca’s, and then she put her phone away. She knew if anything this would make him more pissed, but she also knew if she stayed silent she’d be blamed for making him worry. 

“So,” Beca said, trying not to sound angry when she spoke, “he left you alone at the gas station? With no money, and no phone?”

“He, um, he didn’t know my phone was dead,” Chloe said, realising it was a pathetic defence as she said it.

“Oh, I guess he’s off the hook then,” Beca said. “Fiance of the year.” 

“Please don’t make me have to defend him,” Chloe said. “I don’t have the energy for it.”

“Why on Earth would you defend him right now? Anything could have happened to you,” Beca said. 

Chloe had expected Beca to sound angry, but when she spoke Chloe realised that she was scared. Beca was right, anything could have happened to her. 

Why wasn’t Chicago scared about that? 

Why hadn’t he tried to call or text? Why didn’t he care if she was okay?

“I’m not going to go on about it,” Beca said. “I just… Whatever you might have done, whatever argument you guys were having, it doesn’t justify this. He put your safety at risk and… I dunno. I dunno how you come back from that.”

They were silent for a little while longer until Chloe spoke again.

“I laughed at our server’s joke,” Chloe said. “That’s what I did.”

Beca pulled into her parking spot at her apartment building, but neither made a move to get out of the car. It had started raining, and the only sounds were the low white noise of the car heater, and the wipers moving against the windshield.

Beca didn’t speak, but when she looked across at Chloe she saw tears in her eyes.

“I had all these excuses ready for him, but all I did was laugh at this stranger’s joke. That was enough to make him feel threatened enough to start screaming at me on the highway. I made him pull into the gas station because I was scared. He wasn’t paying attention to the road and I was scared he was going to crash,” Chloe said, wiping her eyes with her hand. “I got out of the car as soon as he stopped and he just drove off. He hasn’t called or anything. This isn’t… He was so… He was the perfect gentleman when we got together. So sweet and attentive and kind and now… It’s like I don’t even recognise him anymore. This wasn’t what our life together was meant to look like, and I feel so… Lost. I feel like I made a mistake”

Beca reached across the car and took Chloe’s hand. “Whatever you decide to do, I’m here for you, okay? No matter what. If you need a place to stay, you can stay with me for as long as you want.”

Leave him, Beca wanted to scream. Leave him before he really hurts you.

But she knew she couldn’t push Chloe into this.

“Thank you,” Chloe said. “Can we go inside? I’m really tired.”

“Of course,” Beca said. 

They rode the elevator up to Beca’s apartment in silence, and when they got inside Beca got her some water, makeup wipes, and a pair of pyjamas. She even insisted that Chloe take her bed.

Chloe couldn’t remember the last time someone had taken care of her like this.

“For what it’s worth,” Beca said, hovering in the doorway before she went to go lie down on the sofa, “you deserve to be treated better than this. You deserve something infinitely better than this. Get some sleep, okay?”

Chloe sniffed again and wiped her eyes. “Bec? Can you please stay?”

“Yeah,” Beca said, smiling as she climbed into the other side of the bed. “I can stay.”

Chloe was still sitting on the edge of the bed, looking down at the ring on her finger. With a shuddering breath, she pulled it off and set it on Beca’s nightstand. She settled back down onto the bed, feeling like a weight was being lifted off her shoulders.

“Can you drive me home tomorrow?” She asked, her back to Beca as she stared at the ring.

“Of course,” Beca said, her heart sinking. It’s her choice, if she wants to go back to him, she told herself. All you can do is be there for her.

“I need to give Chicago his ring back,” Chloe said. “Could I… Do you think I could stay with you for a little while?”

Beca swallowed and tried not to cry through sheer relief. “Of course,” she said.

Chloe turned away from the ring and pulled Beca into a hug.

“You might have saved my life tonight, Beca,” she said. 

“You saved it,” Beca said. “I just provided the getaway car.”

[tipsy3695kiss]

i just saw on someones story this girl i had somehow forgotten her face bc her physical form is actually a pale shade so dark sided cuz theres no way i could forget her but in my memory she looks completely different. went to nyc once and she invited me and a friend to stay w her cuz we met her once when she visited mtl and she had this shoebox apt in chelsea so it seemed convenient but as soon as we got there she was like oh im agoraphobic and her and my friend just wanted to sit inside all day and smoke bong... in new york city. how u agoraphobic when everything there is outside there is no inside bitch. and so being trapped in this space we ended up getting into multiple screaming matches once over beyonce. went out for dinner finally one night and it took 4 hours to get her ready and when we finally got out her and my friend were so high and being so insanely rude to the poor server bc it was 3am by the time we finally got our food and he was over it. and at one point she sat us down to show us a youtube video and being a guest i felt obliged to watch and it was a 40 min video of a full amputee girl who got meningococcal meningitis bc that was her biggest fear.

[crustaceansingles]

Hello friends, fans, haters, etc. Tonight I want to talk to you about Places You Can Find My Stuff, subtitled Way Too Many Social Networks parentheses Some Are Worse Than Others. Footnote: you can find these all on my Linktree, which is of course linked in my profile. First, allow me to shill for Mastodon/The Fediverse. This one is cool & important for huge nerd reasons, but you don't have to be a huge nerd to use it. The general orbit I've fallen into there is extremely diverse, particularly neurodiverse, and above average in thoughtfulness and measured takes. There's no algorithm, no ads, and tons of pet pictures. Plus posts are called toots. The biggest con for me is that when I signed up in 2018, I tied myself to the basic noob server mastodon.social, which is not well-regarded, and switching instances is still difficult and incomplete enough that I'm staying there for now. Bluesky really does feel for me a lot like the twitter of yore, although maybe slower (non-pejorative) and populated by people who have been through the last decade & are just so tired. I don't post on twitter anymore. It is lost to literal nazis and scammers. Its owner is one of them. I'm on Tumblr as of recently. It's got some good niches and they're commendably apt at cyberbullying the CEO. If you use Tumblr at all, please go follow me. I'm posting for an audience of maybe five people over there. Threads: Stopped boycotting when they finally let users add alt text. I am supremely peeved with the way it takes two clicks/taps to get from the "for you" feed to your "following" feed, the first of which is non-obvious to make. Dark patterns, but what else do we expect from Meta? Instagram: Meta is a demerit. And I'm pretty sure The Algorithm is punishing me for my refusal to use it as though it were TikTok; I don't post or watch video and they hate me for it. I don't even do "stories". But I post the daily comics there for my second-largest number of followers there. Facebook...it's bad. This we know. But it is where I have been the longest. And it happens to be where I have the largest following by an order of magnitude. There's a good crowd that hangs around my page there, and it's where I get the most comments and interactions. If you're still there, you could do worse than having me in your feed.

[disruptivevoib]

Voib I absolutely Adore your aus so far, and I'm incredibly intrigued by the mysterious chatroomverse rp. It reminds me very much of me and my friends' own setup, where we nickname our hms/w variants and have them interact in Discord through the tupperbox bot. The Sun Down names are very similar to my Heart and Mind, called Suture and Cord respectively, lmao. (Soul is Titan, which... doesn't fit in with them very well. Might change that for him, might not. Sorta suits his relationship with them.)

Anyways, ramble over. I'd love to see more, please do share what you're willing to show!

Anon that is exactly what we do LMAO

Chatroomverse/Cjverse is in a private discord server with tupperbots and we have.. WE HAVE A LOT OF GUYS.

I myself am pushing upwards of 20 guys, about 14 of which are from aus where only I own them. A lot of us have made collaborative for fun efforts.

I'm thrilled to hear other folks do it too! Though I know CJFS (the discord server for CJ fans) has an RP section already anyway!

Suture and Cord are.. brilliant names omg.

Yarn, Coil, and Twine came about because they have strings and other Chatroom members thought it apt to dub them as such!

I am always willing to share literally anything about Cjverse/Chatroomverse! I am also, however, unsure what people want to hear in regards to these guys! There is a lot of information about them since this RP began back in April of this year!

We have before considered making a Tumblr blog about Cjverse.. just for funsies mainly too! Dunno though if there's really an interest though for that kind of thing!

I do think I want to share some of the memes I've drawn for it more. Idk if I've ever posted those, actually. In RP Quotes are fun too.

As for the AUs I have in the Rp, it is relatively all of them! Eleutheromania, Sun Down, Lacuna, Swap and even ones I've never spoken about which are collaborative: Syncopation, AI thirds (those no context doodles were them all along), TSP au, Good Day Au (newest one), Labyrinths, and so on.

Which those AUs I love very very much and would be thrilled to explain at least Sync, Ai, and Laby. Good Day needs not to be revealed.. spoilers for chat members, and TSP is the Stanley Parable but thirds! So nothing to.. big there!

This is a long post. Sorry Anon!

[serendertothesquad]

Seren's Studies: Odd Squad UK -- "Odd Ones In" Episode Followup, Part 2

Place your bets on how long this followup is gonna be. In how many parts. 2 and a half minutes in and I'm on Part 2. Good God.

Let's continue below the break!

(And if you haven't seen Part 1, peep it here before proceeding.)

Perhaps the most pressing question that will never get answered: how can she even get home?

...

No, better question: how'd she wind up working on the Canadian side of Niagara Falls? They won't answer that one either, but it needs to be asked because we also never got an answer for Opal and Omar in Season 3.

"They said you're needed right away, but with a very fancy accent."

This is, on some very thin level, xenophobic in the Oddverse.

Do not ask me why. This is what happens when you work in a cave behind a waterfall. Bite me.

On God's BUTT IT IS OPAL AND OMAR ALL OVER AGAIN HUH. ONLY WITH A SMALLER EMPLOYEE BASE HUH.

Two agents, one's a hard worker, they're in a remote area...

Cool. I hate it. Thank you. 0/10, see me for summer classes on originality. The only original thing here is that the Director here is leagues smarter than "the cold bit my brain" Arctic Mr. O.

"transfer papers" AND THERE WERE NONE FOR OPAL AND OMAR??? EXCUSE ME?!?!?!?!?!

Granted they got plopped into a new department, but still...we have logistics lore. Let's stick to the logistics lore. You can erase a lot of things about Season 3, but it still gave us lore of the logistical kind.

First mistake was trusting Ozzie in that this random-ass agent is the best one in the world among a pseudo-government organization of thousands, if not hundreds of thousands.

Second mistake was thinking one agent will solve the entire crisis.

Third mistake...uh...

Okay, third mistake is bringing back Olympia's welcome basket thing from "Xs and Os". That's it.

It's ironic because Ozzie looks like Otis, who openly showed disdain at Olympia's welcome basket in that episode.

"One with cheese in it?!"

"Ozzie, she's lactose-intolerant."

"Aww...wait, what?"

"Now, Oprah, on the other hand..."

"Who?"

"Sit down and let me tell you a story of a little friend of ours-a named Oprah..."

Gonna say this off the bat: the fact that this precinct's numbers are a flipped version of 13579 (97531) will forever bug me to the grave. Pretty much the show's entire Discord server has come up with more original numbers. I've come up with more original numbers!

"Oh, I'm not your partner."

Mm. You keep telling yourself that, Ozzie. You keep living in that world of delusion.

AAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHA HE GAVE HER NOTHING?!?!?!?! UNDER THE PRETENSE THAT "TIME RAN OUT"???

AND SHE L O V E S I T ?!?!?!?!?!

...No, honestly, given where she was working before, an empty basket is a marked improvement.

And we're already performing theft from Season 2's "First Day" in the form of "agent just arrives to Headquarters but is shipped off into town before anything happens".

Let's be honest: this may be a 10-year-old franchise, but I'd like some originality with shacking up with the CBBC instead of leaning on PBS like a crutch. CBBC's more lax, from what I gather. Go wild!

OHHHHH no. Orli found a loophole. A legal loophole. You can't close the loophole, Ozzie. That was in your job description too.

"Again, we're not partners."

I mean, to be fair, he has a point. If he were Orli's partner, he'd be wearing an Investigation department suit.

But he's not, so...he's not.

Otto's whole "I'm terrified of taking the tubes" schtick from Season 1, copied and pasted.

Guys, I'm apt to turn this into a drinking game and then go get my stomach pumped. They're serving me this stuff on a silver platter. I can't not oblige.

So you had to stuff it in a room with shitty-ass chains versus...getting rid of it?

Let me tell you something: in the TAoPaM 'Verse, I came up with a literal version of "The Odd Side". Basically, oddness gets zapped, and it goes to the Odd Side where it can thrive in a safe environment. It's run by a queen named Clementine, a resident of a town of dogpeople known as Galagu who has been corrupted by The Odd Side and antagonizes Mandy for abandoning her when they were children instead of helping her.

If you think that sounds more sane than whatever bumfuck idea Onom has here, you'd be right. And that's not bias -- those chains can't hold shit, let alone a door.

I will say that this lab is already more expansive than any Lab we've seen in the past, and I like it.

That being said, Onom, the fact that you can't fit a tiny-ass egg in that room only proves me more right in that storing oddness in a tinny lil' room is a bad idea.

Taking another shot of Fireball for this very blatant "There Might Be Dragons" rip.

And before you say "it's not a rip", allow me to remind you what was playing on PBS stations before Odd Squad UK premiered.

"There Might Be Dragons".

Out of over 100 episodes.

That's no coincidence.

Behold, the man who will reinvent every single piece of medical research about pilonidal cysts and make every medical researcher in existence who is focusing on it break down into tears.

And if you happen to not know what a pilonidal cyst is, I envy you dearly.

He's...he's sitting on it...on the floor...

Y'know, at least Oprah had the decency of being elevated. Oswald...

...No, actually, Oswald was worse, because he was sitting on the dusty dirty ground and bouncing on it.

See, this is the kind of tourist my state fears.

The only reason why we don't yote 'em into the sun is because, aside from the obvious morality reasons, they give the state revenue and lots of it.

So yes, I can, indeed, relate to this despite being a dumb lil' American.

If things are so bad that you're sending out your cook to go deal with a food-related odd problem, you are 100% fucked and having Orli there won't solve a lick of shit.

Behold: a child who has gotten more pilonidal cysts than most people will ever get in their lifetime.

Nice to see the creepy "exercised lately" PSAs have not made their way to Britain enough to teach the children not to plant ass so much and to stand up and move.

"Agent Orli is the best agent in the world."

I can name 13 agents who are more than willing to contest you on that, Ozzie.

"Wow! You're all so polite here!"

As opposed to...Canadians, who are well known for being polite? As in, the country you came from?

Yeah, you don't get out much, do ya?

God, I haven't had this much combined fun and rage over stupidity since dealing with the vehicular stupidity that was littered all throughout Season 3.

Now this is a guy who has seen some shit in his lifetime.

Y'know...beyond...lightning coming out of his head.

"The Towel-inator's my only gadget!"

You laugh, but it makes sense considering she comes from the Canadian side of Niagara Falls, "towel ain't big enough" be damned.

It took them seven entire fucking minutes to show a math lesson, and for this franchise, that is some hella good restraint for a 22-minute episode. Normally you'd be exposed to one before the five-minute mark!

Episode gotta episode, but I'm laughing at how Ozzie actually has gadgets to begin with considering it seems he doesn't really get out much. His expertise is helping around HQ, not helping clients.

(On to Part 3!)

[doing-something-unholy]

Father's Dream

Father Adrian has had some... interesting dreams here lately. But what could possibly be causing them?

CW // dubcon, cnc, monsterfucking, body horror, unreality? 

I am alone in the nave, tidying up after evening mass. The altar servers were already sent home, my vestments put away, and straightening up the last few misplaced hymnal books meant that I could leave too. But, not yet.

The atmosphere in the church at dusk is so calm and quiet, I take a few moments to breathe it in. The last rays of sunset set the stained glass windows alight, color beaming across the faint trails of incense smoke still drifting through the air. This church is my sanctuary, my second home, my passion project. One would hardly recognise it from the near-ruin it used to be in, and I couldn’t be more proud of the way this parish came together to restore it. I’ve spent so long in this building, so much of myself is poured into it: blood, sweat, and tears into everything here. It’s as close as I’ll ever come to Heaven on Earth, and I am grateful for the respite from the noise in my head within these walls. My soft footsteps are the only thing that breaks the silence as I walk back to the altar.

I place a reverent hand on the very edge, leaning down to place a soft, barely-there kiss to the cold stone before kneeling on the steps in front of it. I fold my hands together, resting on the edge of the altar, my head bowed between my arms. It's not the most comfortable spot or position to pray, but it feels apt. Maybe the strain in my muscles and the ache in my knees will keep any other thoughts out of my head. 

Which I can avoid no longer. Now that the church is empty, and I’m unlikely to be disturbed, I want to talk with Him.

“Our Father, Who art in heaven, hallowed be Thy name; Thy kingdom come; Thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven. Give us this day our daily bread; and forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us; and lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil.

Amen.”

My voice is barely a whisper, but it echoes off every wall and the effect is chilling: a whole choir of voices surrounding me, and I can only hope it's the voices of Saints and Angels, and not… well…

“Please, Oh Lord, lead me not into temptation. You know the strength of my spirit and I trust You not to test me to destruction, but… Please, I- I can't sleep. Deliver me from these… nightmares. Protect me from the demon that hides in my dreams, Lord. I submit to Your Glory and accept that I need Your divine intervention.”

My own whispers twist and echo back at me, like an audience discussing my ‘performance.’ 

I wish they were nightmares.

I wish I couldn’t say that for a brief moment, every morning I wake after one of those beau- Damned dreams that it is the most relaxed I’ve ever been. I wish I didn’t have to wake up loose-limbed and at-peace and smiling only to have it crash down around me as I remember who I’m supposed to be.

I wish I could say that I hated those dreams.

But even now, hazy images flicker through my mind, and I can feel the heat rising in my cheeks. And certainly nothing else rising. The guilt at thinking these things in a church, in my church, is almost too much. I’ve been staying up later and later to avoid sleeping, but someone is going to notice the growing bags under my eyes eventually. But mostly it’s the toll the stress has been taking on me. I’ve always been an anxious person, but I didn’t used to jump when parishioners knocked on my door. 

The shame is killing me, the eyes of God and His angels stare into me like red-hot brands, seeing the stain upon my soul. Hopefully He also sees how desperate I am for this to end, and I will be spared.

I stay in place for a long moment, willing the ache in my body to clear my head. It’s not as straining as I thought to sit like this, so I can stand to stay here as long as it takes to replace the thoughts in my head with the soreness of my knees. The church is so still and quiet, my eyes fall shut in silent prayer, breathing deeply and slowly. I don’t know how long I stay there, surrendered to the Lord.

I can hardly bear looking up toward the crucifix hanging on the back wall of the sanctuary. It's no sooner that I make eye contact with Christ that the hair on the back of my neck stands up.

I don't know how I know, but something in the air has shifted. I can't seem to move. Someone- no, something is behind me.

There's a faint whisper in my ear.

"Father…"

I turn suddenly, plastering myself against the altar, heart racing. There's no one there.

Obviously, I am being ridiculous, there can’t possibly be anyone there. There's no reason my heart should be leaping into my throat. Just an overactive imagination, I am jumping at nothing, again.

I'm glad I decided to opt for a clerical suit today instead of the cassock, I'd have made a fool of myself tripping over the skirts. I pick myself up off the step, embarrassed and ready to spend another sleepless night in my office, but I hardly get upright again when I can see movement towards the front door of the church.

The votive candles flicker, the flames guttering. They shouldn't be, there's no wind in here. My stomach drops when they go out entirely, the dim red glow from the windows and the few candles left on the altar behind me are the only lights in the church now.

For a long, tense moment, nothing happens and I think I might be able to just leave when there's a soft purring growl from behind me. 

Every muscle in my body tenses. 

I can't move, even when I can hear something huge shift its weight and the breath leaves my lungs when a large clawed hand lands softly on the back of my neck. The claws gently scrape my scalp as it drags its hand up through my hair. I shiver at the feeling of it, goosebumps breaking out on my arms. 

The hand abruptly grabs a fistful of my hair and pulls my head back, making me gasp and look up to see an inhuman face peering down at me. 

A wicked grin reveals sharp teeth in it's short muzzle, two pairs of bright mischievous eyes staring down at me from under elegantly arched horns. The same gilded eyes that have haunted my wet dreams nightmares for weeks now. It must see the horrified recognition on my face, because it laughs, a rumbling chuckle that I'm mortified to realize makes my pulse pick up for the wrong reasons. 

“We finally meet face to face, Father, and you look so scared? You never seemed so off-put before.” It’s voice is a seductive purr, and it goes through me like fire. 

“L-let go of me. I c-command you to let go of me,” My voice comes out so much weaker than I hoped, “In- In nomine Pat– mmpph!”

A hand slaps down against my mouth, cutting me off. 

“Oh, don’t be like that, priest. Let me have my fun first.” There’s a grin in its voice as it watches me struggle to pull its hand away and wiggle out of its grasp. The grip in my hair slowly tightens until it hurts, making me cry out beneath the hand on my mouth. It’s only when I go limp, stop fighting that they- it, loosens up.

“What a quick learner. Good boy.” It leans down and whispers the last two words into my ear, and the effect is immediate and devastating. I can feel the pull of arousal in my gut, and goosebumps down my arms. It just laughs above me, this close to it I can feel its chest rumble.

“There we go, just like in your delicious dreams.” The hand comes away from my mouth, but before I can say anything it wraps around my throat instead. My breath catches as it puts just the slightest pressure on my neck, the claws little pin-pricks against the skin.

“Are you going to be a good boy for me, Father? This doesn't have to be so difficult, sweetheart…” Its voice vibrates against my ear and I can’t suppress a shiver. 

“No… p-please…” I feel pathetic for begging a demon to spare me, but there’s nothing else I can do. I don’t want this, I can’t want this, I can’t convince myself I don’t want this let alone convince them. 

It still has one hand in my hair and the other wrapped around my neck, and I yelp in surprise when I feel two more land on my waist and glide up and around to my chest. I can feel the thing smile against the side of my face, amused by my every reaction.

The hands pull until my back hits the altar, my head bracketed by the monster’s knees, and it’s only then I realize it has the audacity to sit, kneeling, on the altar. I’m so stunned and instantly angry I forget what vulnerable position my throat is in.

“How dare you desecrate my church, the very altar, you foul monster–” 

The grip on me tightens in an instant, claws pressing into but not breaking the skin of my neck and my hair nearly being ripped out. I can’t stop a pained whine from pouring out of me, I can’t even move my hands to try to pull away, the other two arms holding them down by my sides. 

There's a low, menacing growl behind me, and their voice is rough and dark when they speak, a dangerous edge to it.

“I strongly recommend you shut your mouth, Father. I don’t think you’re in any position to be casting stones about desecrating a church.” They finally loosen their grip on my hair just enough that my scalp isn’t screaming in pain, but I still can’t move my head. The grip on my arms shifts, they catch both of my wrists behind my back and their newly freed hand presses softly against my stomach and slowly drifts downward. I nearly sob when their hand closes around my clothed erection, palming me through the cassock. 

“What were you saying about desecration, Father? Dirty little priest, are you hard for this ‘foul monster’?” They move their hand slowly along my trapped length, the friction is maddening even though layers of fabric. I can’t speak, just taking shuddering breaths and praying this is over soon. 

“You were never this shy in your other dreams, Father. Nothing to say to me now? Do you want me to keep hurting you, you masochist?”

“No! Please, no. Stop touching me…”

“I’d probably be more convinced by that pathetic attempt at getting me to stop if your cock didn’t throb under my hand when I said that. I can read your desires like an open book, Father. Give in to me and I’ll fulfill every single naughty thing you’ve ever thought about late at night with your hand under those robes.”

It’s getting hard to think about anything other than how good their hand feels. I have to focus to keep from rutting my hips forward into their agonizingly slow rubbing. I must have taken too long to answer, because the next thing I know I’m being lifted into the air and pulled back onto their lap. My body is arranged how they want me, my legs spread wide outside of their thighs and my hands trapped between my back and their chest. 

"N- no, I can't- I won't! Let go of me!"

I can feel the laugh rumbling out of their chest, their hands holding me close to their body- oh God, they're almost twice my size. 

"Oh don't worry Father, I know you can't. You're not allowed to, are you? But that doesn't mean you don't want it." 

Their lower hands drift downward, broad palms flat against my thighs. They squeeze my thighs at the same time a hand on my chest finds my nipple and starts rubbing it through my clothes. I bite my lip to keep from making any noise, but the demon won't have that. There's a soft rumbling growl next to my ear and they start palming me through the cassock again, slow but firm. 

"I'll take care of you, better than God ever will. Just give in and submit."

It's torture, I can't stop the shudder that rips through me and the gasp from my mouth. My thighs are tight with the effort of not rolling my hips into the touch. The incense smoke is heavy in the air, the heady scent making my head spin. It's getting harder and harder to stifle my reactions, to not give this monster the satisfaction of watching me crumble at their every touch.

The other hand slips behind me, groping my ass before lifting my cassock and suddenly I can feel short soft fur against the back of my bare thighs. 

Wait- what happened to my clothes, this isn't what I was wearing- 

Their hands move over me, adjusting my positioning, and I can feel- oh God, no-

They laugh when they feel my weak struggling against their grip, all it does is grind my ass against their cock, making the both of us moan.

"I'll give you what you need, Father, what you've wanted for so long. I won't hurt you anymore than you want to be hurt." 

Their cock rests against my entrance and with a shocked groan I can feel myself open for them, suddenly dripping wet like a cunt. Then it's pressing inside me and my mouth falls open at the feeling of being stretched. The demon presses in so slowly I can feel every inch of their thick cock spearing me open. They moan in delight, a purr rumbling up from their chest when they're pressed fully inside me. I can't do anything but hang limp in their grasp, panting heavily.

I can’t move or think, consumed by the feeling of the massive cock stretching me out. Mercifully they haven't moved yet, just gently arranging me to sit comfortably in their lap and caressing my thigh and chest. I can feel their smug purring through my back, their nose nuzzling through my hair and along the back of my neck. A forked tongue laves over the back of my neck, I break out in goosebumps as they slowly move down one side of my neck, licking and kissing. I pull my head away, refusing to allow the display of affection from this… thing. I can feel it’s disapproval, it’s lip curling in a silent snarl next to my face.

“Oh Father, would you rather I not kiss you? I thought you would appreciate a little romance, but you really do just want me to treat you like a cheap whore, don’t you?” Their voice has a dangerous edge to it, are they genuinely upset by my rejection?

“We’ll just get on with it then,” they purr into my ear as their hands move my body where they want it. 

A hand on my lower back and another on my throat push and pull in tandem to force me to bend in an arch, the movement rocking my hips over the cock inside me and sending sparks up my spine. The demon uses its new leverage to pull almost all the way out, and it pushes back in just as slow as the first time, letting me feel how much my body has to stretch around. I can’t let it hear me, I refuse to humiliate myself further, so I press my lips together to keep my mouth shut. Each slow thrust makes me shake and my breath comes heavy through my nose, but I can’t make any noise-

The demon pulls me back onto its cock with a hand on my hip and the change in angle makes the next thrust drag across something inside me that makes me see stars. I forget entirely where I am and what I’m doing, my mouth flies open with a shameless moan. Instantly my face is on fire, but I don’t have time to think about my shame because the demon’s thrusts speed up and start targeting that exact spot. Each one lights me up, driving all other thoughts out. I’m distantly aware of the pitiful little noises I keep making, but I can’t do anything other than hang on for the ride. It’s nothing like I’ve ever felt before, being stretched out and fucked mercilessly and each thrust hitting something incredible inside me… it’s almost too much to handle.

“There we go, that’s what you needed, isn’t it, Father?” The monster’s head rests on my shoulder, speaking into my ear. I can’t answer anymore, I feel like I'm coming apart at the seams, the intense sensation and incense smoke have me so dizzy. Is the room really spinning? It shouldn’t be, I know it can’t actually be. There shouldn’t be this much smoke in the air, mass ended ages ago… The whole sanctuary looks unfamiliar, the altar and nave warped together into one massive alcove with velvet curtains and gilded candelabras and enormous stained glass windows that bathe the both of us in blood-red light. The architecture in the room pulses like a heartbeat- in time with my heartbeat, like the ornate vaulted ceiling and pillars and carvings can’t decide what they're supposed to look like. Or maybe it’s me, my vision swimming as I lose focus on reality itself.

Looking up isn’t any better, the monster behind me seems to have changed too. Shadowed shapes flutter above us, I almost think they’re wings until it clicks into place- hands. Dozens and dozens of shadowy arms pour out of their back in the shape of wings. A tarnished, cracked ring hovers above the back of their head, spikes emanating from it at regular intervals as it spins lazily. I can’t look at any of it for too long, my eyes refuse to focus and slide off like water off a duck, leaving motion-trail after-images in my mind. 

I close my eyes to avoid the worst of it, whining and laying my head back on the soft fur behind me. One of my hands finds a horn above me and I hang on just to have something to anchor myself to.

My hips move on their own now, meeting each thrust from the demon. A coil tightens in my stomach, something building to a knife’s edge inside me. It doesn’t even occur to me to stop, solely focused on chasing that pleasure. Then that rumbling laugh comes again in my ear, and I remember where I am all at once with a keening whine. I still can’t stop myself from rocking backwards onto the thick cock, but now there’s a white-hot streak of shame burning in me, and I’m horrified to realize that it makes the arousal and lust burn hotter, too.

“You’re so close, aren’t you, Father? Ready to cum for me?” The demon taunts. Their voice sharpens suddenly, their hand tightening around my throat, “Don’t you fucking dare. Not until you admit how much you love this, how good it makes you feel. Give in and say ‘yes’ to me, Father.”

I'm too breathless to speak, just a keening whine escaping me.

"No, please… I can't…"

I can't think, I can hardly breathe, too dizzy and overwhelmed to focus on fighting back or arguing. And the demon knows it, their voice a seductive purr in my ear.

"Don't be so difficult. You want this, Father."

"N-no, no…"

A hand creeps around to palm my cock through the cassock, I jerk in their grasp and sob at the pleasure of it.

"There, is that better? Say yes, sweetheart."

I can't- I can't move my mouth around the words anymore, oh God-

"Father…"

Please, I can't- I won't- I shouldn't…

"Father?"

Another pitiful whine, I can feel my resolve slipping.

"Father, are you alright?"

Oh God… y-

"Father!"

There's a hand on my shoulder, shaking me awake. My heart lurches in my chest, I jerk awake so suddenly I nearly jump off the floor.

I'm laying on the step in front of the altar, heart hammering and a concerned altar server hovering over me. Sunrise weakly peeks through the windows. The nave is as it was, no warped architecture or demonic influence.

"Father? Are you okay?"

"...No, I'm sorry, I… must have fallen asleep here last night. I haven't been sleeping well."

Every movement aches, my entire body is stiff and sore, and no wonder if I spent all night on the steps. I pull myself upright, wincing in horror at the warm, wet feeling across the front of my pants, thankful they're dark enough to hide the stain.

The altar server just stares at me, I can’t bear to meet their eyes and see the pity there.

They insist on canceling Mass to 'let me rest,' concerned I may be sick. I'm going to let them believe that, too exhausted and ashamed to argue. I find myself back in the rectory in a daze, re-dressed in casual clothes and dreading the heaviness I can feel pulling at my eyelids. 

I put myself to bed in a haze, rosary wrapped around my wrist and clutching my bible to my chest like a shield. I intended to read it, but I no longer have the energy for it, already drifting off despite my best efforts not to. 

I pray I can rest, I pray the Lord will shelter me, that I may sleep in His peace. 

Amen…

[codeandcanvas]

From my mastodon:

I have been thinking about this for quite a while, and there is a public part to my process anyhow, so let me start with that public part, and then move it back into my personal notes later:

are there any undead websites out there, where hosting/server costs are covered in advance for years, everything is automated but the person who authored the website is dead or has been dead for a while, and nobody is responsible? Maybe calling it a tomb would be more apt?

[aquaburst3]

I saw a pretty popular post on my dashboard "correcting" the issue about people using the terms "dorm leader" and "prefect" interchangeably. While I agree with OP that is an issue and they are right about that, even one that I was guilty of for a long time, they still got a lot of things wrong in it as well. So I want to explain things more clearly, since this is super confusing to outsiders who've never grown up with these, especially those of you who are like me and want to make the setting more accurate in fics.

For those of you who don't know, Night Raven is based on British boarding schools. Hence why it's called a "college", despite it being more high school like. (In England and some other commonwealth countries, "colleges" are the equivalent to the last few years of high school and the first year of university in the US.) However, whether by Yana's intention or lack of research, there are a lot of aspects of the school that make little sense, especially in regards to the "student advisory" positions.

For starters, the English version got this right by saying that they would be called "houses", NOT dorms.

As for the positions themselves, while I know this might vary from school to school, but from my own research, it usually works something like this:

Prefect: In charge of discipline, usually in their own house. There can be other types of prefects like library prefects, but the game doesn't have those, so that's moot. They can also carry out multiple duties given to them by the House Captain, Head Pupil or the Headmaster, being a jack of all trades. Depending on the school there can be one of these per house or multiple. Closest equivalent in the game would be ironically the "vices" like Jamil, Jade, etc. (As a side note, Jamil being one of these is very apt and carries a lot of symbolic meaning, especially in the Japanese version.)

Head of House/House Captain: They are in charge of all the prefects in their house and keeping everyone in line, which can include discipline. They also lead in events and house activities like the Magishift Tournament or the tea parties in Heartslabyul. Closet equivalent in the game, obviously, would be all the "dorm leaders".

Head Pupil (or Head Boy/Girl): In charge of the all of the House Heads/Captains and represent the whole student body, acting like role models. They give speeches at events, read daily bullitions, organize the prefect's duties, participate on committees, report any cases of major bullying to the staff, etc. There isn't a parallel to this in the game.

The best example of this in action and more accurately, as much as it pains me to say it, is Harry Potter. In that, there are a bunch of prefects in each house in charge of disciplining people in each house, and there is one leader of all of them. However, there are a head boy and girl chosen out of the whole 7th year class who represent the whole school.

So...yeah, pretty confusing, but makes more sense when you lay out like that. Although, I find Yuu being dubbed head pupil on the spot and being in charge of the leaders of the houses if the game was more accurate really funny for some reason. xD

If you're like me and turning NRC into a university, things get a lot tricker. According to some British people on a huge and popular Discord server I'm a part of, there's no one to one parallel. The American equivalent would be "resident advisors", but those aren't a thing over there thanks to a lack of "student advisory" positions. The closest thing, and this is a huge stretch, is a "Junior Common Room President". But that's not right either, since they are more like head pupils where they are in charge of all of the undergrads and to be completely honest that title sounds stupid to me. The best advice they gave me was to call them "wardens" like in the English version, because that's the closest thing to it, even if it's inaccurate since they are staff members and not students. The "dorms" would be called "student halls" or "halls of residence".

TLDR: If the game was accurate to the fantasy British setting, the "dorm leaders" would be called "house captains" or "head of house" and the "vice leaders" would be just prefects with a bunch of others helping them. There would also be one head pupil of the whole school, which is something the game is sorely lacking. There are no direct equivalent for prefects or house captains at universities, but the best option is to call them "wardens" like in the English version, and their residency would be called "student halls" or "hall of residence".

[romaine2424]

Daily Blog July 12, 2023

Wish I could wrap up so many of you and bring you to Seattle this weekend. My sis' town in NoCal is supposed to be 112F (44.4C) degrees and my son's town in SoCal 105F (40.5). Not even getting into my cousins in Las Vegas where it's going to push 117F (47.2C). And yes the south has been suffering for weeks on end. Crazy! I lived in an old brick apt in Chicago a long time ago that didn't have A/C. Its where I learned about soaking in a cool bath and then laying on the bed with a fan on to dry off. Rinse and repeat. Be safe!

What I'm reading:

So last time I mentioned I would be reading Temptation on the Warfront by alizarincrims0n (AO3). I'm on chapter 17! However, I quickly realized, I've read it before. It must have been two years ago, I think. Definitely worth a second read. Draco joins the trio on the Horcrux hunt. It's always fun for me when an author is talented enough to manipulate canon with inserts of another character into the scenes and it works! Alizarincrims0n certainly has that talent!

I also read the posting for today's @drarrydisabilityfest, Like Father, Like Son (5.6K) by @ladderofyears. Summary: During Scorpius's autism diagnosis, Harry begins to understand that he might be autistic too.

My thoughts:

I'm always amazed when so much can be packed into a short fic. I adored this slice of life story with Harry and Draco sitting in Madam Rosemary's office with Scorpius off playing in the corner, while getting told his diagnosis. Little bells start going off as the Healer speaks. Draco is lovely as the parent who dives into all research available, which is mainly Muggle. And his reflection back on his family is a Wow! Harry is sitting there in denial because Scorpius is perfect...which he is. @ladderofyears presents the diagnosis and how it was made with examples so beautifully. Never preachy. And last thing I'll say is I just loved the name of Scorpius' preschool: Green Toadstool Nursery. Definitely a Rec!

Like Father, Like Son on AO3

Interesting Tumblr Posts:

So during the AO3 DDOS problem, @lee-bella posted Non AO3 HP Masterlists. Wow! what a treasure load. The fests were hosted on Dreamwidth and/or LiveJournal. What attracted my attention immediately was down at the end were two older Masterlist directories on Livejournal. What was exciting for me was that these were the original postings with comments on these fics. So many have been re-posted on AO3 at a later time, but the originals capture the excitement of the fests. If you dig around, you'll notice that commenting while usually very high, can also contain concrit. I have my share of burns on there. *ouch*. What you can also find is some fics from deleted authors that still exist in the fest community postings. Here's the links. And thank you @lee-bella for this post!!! HP Masterlist from 2002-2017. And my fav! Guns&Handcuffs Drarry Fests and Challenges 2004-2015. Wasn't surprised at all to see @vaysh11 was responsible for this. Dig deep into the fests but also note the other links on the Home Page and the text before the masterlists, which gives other fascinating links.

Other TidBits:

I made an ask on a Discord Server for what the ship name was for Harry/Daphne. I was so uninspired when Haphne came back as the answer. I was hoping for something like DaphPot or HarDaph. GreenPot would have been good but there's Astoria, too. Hmm PotDGreen!!! *snicker*

Oh, Rom is sad, sad, sad. After posting on here last time that I'm in desperate need of a beta for my long arse WIP, I then asked on the two big Discord servers for H/D and for HP Writers. No response. Zero. nadda. Just so you know, I'll continue writing this fic and start begging more. Most of those Scorching comments I mentioned that I received way back then was for lack of a good betaing. I have scars...deep scars. Anyone use Grammarly? it has a 30 day limit for 150K.

Happy Wednesday!

Rom

[cgtg]

listened. big faves are skyscraper, triumph, fool (had a Moment w this while exploring my friend's new mc server), 3030, apt. a, spitfire, unemployed black astronaut (BIG WOW tho i am a sucker for some acoustic), get wet, skrenth, the otherground pizza party, and small mr man pants. now i am picturing dave doing the nae nae. wowzers. out of curiosity, what was the original last song going to be on the playlist?

lets foucking goooooooooooooo

those r sum of my top favz in there 2 i fuckig love doseone & busdriver & del . raugh !!!!!!!! skyscraper is prob my fav song in the whole playlist atm, i am obsessed w it and the grandfather clock.

otherground pizza party is so funny, the reason i wanted 2 include r.a.p. ferreira n stuff is bc their lyricweaving is so good like a goddag wizzard. loooove it br0 im so happie u found stuff u liked in there <3

this is guna sound so dummy but i actually forgot. wat i had set up as the last song originally. i was always gona end it with You Go Dave but i had a diff sawng b4 that. i think it wus mebby a droop capone song? defo wouldnt have been as gud as small mr man pantz so im glad youtube sabo'd me

omfg man coe... thank u 4 listening 2 da whole thing u r such a real 1 ily. i spent so much time on it hahah.

edit: actually i think it wuz a subtitle song. checks out w the fact i only ended up w/ one subtitle song in the playlist.... only 1 of subtitles albums is on youtube i think