#patten appreciation

[totaly-obsessed]

Happy New Year! Appreciation

Request a player | with @alotofpockets

[alotofpockets]

Woso Batmans Appreciation

Request a player | with @totaly-obsessed

[noisemx]

Dave Van Patten -

[fear-is-truth]

void. ── patrick bateman x reader

⟢ WARNINGS: fantasying about violence, sex & murder ・ foul language・sexism・ reader discretion is advised .ᐟ

⟢ TAGS: bateman’s pov・fem!secretary!reader ・“y/n” used i’m so sorry

⟢ WORD COUNT: 1,875

a/n: english is not my first language, but i loved the book & movie sm (might write a part two.)

VOID

I flip through the pages of GQ, my attention divided between an article on the season’s latest must-have suits and the image that keeps surfacing in my mind.

Paul Allen’s assistant. She started working here a few weeks ago, and ever since, I can’t seem to get her out of my head. It’s irritating as hell. She’s not like the women I usually deal with—clones of one another, in varying shades of blonde. This new girl is different.

It’s not like she’s anything special—at least not in the usual sense. I remember watching her, studying the way she fumbles with a stack of papers, fingers trembling slightly. I wonder how they’d feel like wrapped around my cock.

She’s not like the others. Not like Evelyn, with her relentless neediness, or even Jean, who’s dependable but she is, well, Jean. Reliable, dependable, and utterly forgettable.. y/n—there’s something about her that feels different. Unspoiled. Innocent in a way that’s almost laughable in this city, like a virgin lamb wandering into a den of wolves, completely unaware of the danger that surrounds her. And it makes me want to ruin her.

It’s intriguing. It’s also fucking annoying.

I toss the magazine aside, the pages crumpling as they hit the sleek surface of the desk. My eyes drift to the window, where I can see the city stretching out below, a concrete jungle full of meaningless, vapid people.

My reflection stares back at me from the mirrored wall, and I adjust the knot of my Charvet tie, admiring how it complements my gray wool suit by Cerruti 1881. Everything is meticulously in place: my Valentino loafers shine under the soft glow of the overhead lights, and my skin is flawless, practically glowing from the morning routine of an intense workout and the application of a moisturising mask from Jean Paul Gaultier. I run a hand through my slicked-back hair, appreciating the perfection I’ve crafted.

I feel a pang of something—sadness? Anger? No, it’s more like emptiness. A void that no amount of money, no designer suit, no fucking (and later slaughtering) prostitutes can fill. I’ve been feeling it more often lately, especially when I’m alone with my secretary who’s in love with me. She’s always there, always willing to please, but she doesn’t challenge me. She doesn’t excite me. She’s just… there. I pity her, in a way, though I doubt she even realises it.

“Van Patten,” I reply coolly, leaning back in my chair. I feel the leather creak beneath me, a sound that irritates me more than it should.

“Going to Harry’s Bar later?” he asks, stepping inside without waiting for an invitation. Typical. I stare at him, considering the offer. Harry’s is fine, but the thought of spending the evening listening to these idiots prattle on about which bar serves the coldest martinis or which girl they’re planning to fuck next, makes me want to drive a nail through my skull. Still, there’s a game to be played.

“No,” I say finally, my voice flat. “I have plans.”

Van Patten shrugs, clearly not giving a shit, and turns to leave. But then he stops, his gaze shifting to the hallway behind him. I follow his eyes, and there she is—her, holding a stack of files that looks too heavy for her.

“Oh, by the way, have you seen Allen’s new assistant? McDermott’s been talking about wanting to fuck her her non-stop. I’d like to fuck that pretty little thing too.”

I don’t react outwardly, but inside, I feel a flicker of something—anger, perhaps. Not for her, but for myself. For the fact that I’m letting this get to me. Because I too want to fuck her. “McDermott’s an idiot,” I say coolly, eyes narrowing slightly. “She’s not his type.”

He snorts. “She’s not anyone’s type. Too shy, too pure. She looks like she’d freak out if you even touched her. You know how some guys love that innocent act. Wouldn’t last a day with someone like Bryce or Preston. They’d eat her alive.”

“Get out, Van Patten,”

My thoughts drift to Allen’s last dinner reservation—Dorsia, of course. Bastard. I can’t even get a table there without months of planning, but Paul Allen—stupid, oblivious Paul Allen—walks in like it’s nothing. It makes me want to crush him, to take everything from him. Including her.

Once he’s gone, I stand up and adjust my suit jacket, smoothing out non-existent wrinkles. I step out of my office, my eyes scanning the hallway until I find her.

She is standing near the copier, a stack of files in her arms, her head tilted slightly as she tries to figure out the machine. She isn’t flaunting anything, and yet, she still manages to catch my eye. The black dress she’s wearing is Donna Karan, I’m almost sure, though the cut is a bit too conservative for my taste. It clings to her figure, revealing just enough to pique my interest but not enough to satisfy it. Her shoes, I note with some disappointment, are Manolo Blahnik. Not quite as stylish as something from, say, Azzedine Alaïa— not predictable choice, though not without merit. The impression of someone trying to fit into a world she doesn’t fully understand. Cute.

“y/n,” I say, my voice cutting through the hum of the copier. She jumps slightly, looking up with wide eyes that are both fearful and curious. Interesting.

“Mr. Bateman,” There’s no coyness in her voice, no flirtation. Just that same goddamn innocence. My mind wanders, imagining what it would be like to run a blade across her soft, supple flesh and watch the light fade from those innocent eyes Her skin parting under the sharp edge of a knife, the warmth of her blood spilling out, the sound she would make. But as quickly as the thought comes, it dissipates, leaving me with a hollow emptiness that I can’t quite explain. It’s a thought that would normally excite me, but with her, it feels… wrong. Unnecessary. Maybe even wasteful.

I realise I don’t really want to hurt her. At least not in the way I’ve hurt others. Quite unsettling, I feel… disappointed in myself, as if I’m losing my edge.

“Call me Patrick, or Pat.”

I correct, though I don’t know why. I’ve never cared about what people call me before. I glance down at the papers she’s holding.

“Your boss is not in yet?” I ask, knowing full well he isn’t.

“No, he’s not,” her voice is breathless, carrying a slight tremor—I wonder how my name would sound on her tongue when I’m fucking her. I also wonder what sounds she’d make. Soft kittenish noises, maybe. Doesn’t seem like the type to spew profanity, but one can really tell.

“I’m just trying to get these copies done before he arrives.”

I nod, pretending to care.

“He’s lucky to have an assistant like you,”

A blush spreads across her cheeks, and she stammers out an thank-you, though I barely register it. My focus shifts to the gold chain around her neck—Tiffany. Cheap, sentimental. It doesn't belong here, but it suits her somehow, in that unsophisticated way.

“Though, if I were you, I’d be careful. He’s not exactly known for his discretion.”

“I’m…sorry?”

I smile, she’s taken the bait. “Paul’s habits aren’t exactly… discreet. Let’s just say he’s not very particular about who he spends his nights with. Or what he picks up from them.”

She blinks, the implication sinking in, and I see a flash of something in her eyes—concern, maybe disgust. Good. Let her think about that. It’s too easy to manipulate her, to plant seeds of doubt in that pretty little head of hers. I flash her a smile, one I’ve perfected over years of dealing with people who are far beneath me.

“I’m sure you’ve heard the rumors,” I continue casually, “about what’s going around these days. AIDS is a nasty business. You can never be too careful.”

“But don’t worry,” I add quickly, my tone lighter. “You seem like someone who’s smart enough to avoid trouble.”

She doesn’t respond, just nods slightly, still processing what I’ve said. I can see the effect my words have had on her.

“Did you know,” I say, shifting to something more conversational, “that Ted Bundy once worked at a crisis hotline? Spent his days talking people out of killing themselves. Ironic, isn’t it?”

I don’t expect her to catch the reference—most people don’t. It’s just another way to distance myself from them, to prove my superiority. But then, she surprises me.

“Yes, I read about that,” she says quietly, looking up at me with a mixture of curiosity and something else—understanding, perhaps?

“It’s strange, how someone can seem so… normal, but be so twisted underneath the mask of sanity.”

I pause, taken aback by her response. She got it. She actually understood. For a moment, I feel a flicker of something—something almost like respect. But it’s very fleeting, quickly replaced by the familiar emptiness.

“Exactly,” I reply, my voice smooth as glass. “People are rarely what they seem.”

There’s a brief silence, and I let it linger, watching her as she processes our exchange. I’ve rattled her, but I’ve also piqued her interest. It’s a dangerous combination, one that I’ll need to manage carefully. But I’m feeling bold.

“By the way,” I continue, “I was planning on having dinner at Dorsia tonight. Why don’t you join me?”

She looks up at me, confused, unsure, and I feel a twinge of satisfaction. She’s still trying to figure me out, to understand what I want. It’s amusing, really, how little she knows.

“I don’t know, Mr. Bate– Patrick,” she says, her voice faltering. Her innocence, her reluctance—it’s intoxicating like pure, uncut cocaine.

I smile again, this time more warmly, but it’s just a mask. “Come on, doll. It’s just dinner. Besides, it’s not like your boss will miss you for one night.”

“Okay,” she agrees quietly. There’s that softness in her voice again, that genuine gratitude that I don’t understand.

“Excellent,” I say, satisfied. I turn to leave, but not before giving her one last look. She’s already turned back to the copier, but I know that she’s not thinking about the papers anymore.

She makes me feel… something, though I’m not sure what. It’s frustrating, maddening even. But it also gives me hope. Maybe she’s the key to filling that void. Or maybe she’ll be another disappointment, like the rest. But tonight, at least, she’ll be mine to toy with.

Hopefully that will be enough to stave off the void for a little while longer.

read part ll here

 fear-is-truth 2024 — all rights reserved. do not modify, repost, translate, or plagiarise my content.

[issdisgrace]

Heyy! I have a request.

Literally Patrick Bateman x reader. Patrick is lowkey down bad for the reader 😫

IDK BUT IM SO GAY FOR HIM

HIS

WARNINGS: None

A/N: I hope this is what you wanted and I hope you like this anon. Also thanks for the follow up message telling me it was x male reader. I appreciated that.

I watch as Y/n discusses something with Paul Allen. His hair was neatly gelled back like usual. His black Giorgio Armani suit, crisp and well tailored to his body and his black Christian Louboutin’s shining, no creases or scuff marks on them. The silver Rolex on his left wrist complimenting the 2 silver signet rings on his left pinky and right index, respectively. He looked like a statue of a Greek god, sculpted to perfection. I wonder how sculpted he is underneath his clothes. Patrick stops. He’s your superior. You shouldn’t be thinking of him in such a way. But look at him, he’s gorgeous. God his voice so deep, so smooth, so perfect like a well-tuned baritone violin. The smirk that dances on his lips fitting him perfectly. Oh god, Patrick stops. 

I pull my thoughts from Y/n and back to the conversation at hand.

“So, Bateman heard you got a new business card. Let us see,” Bryce says. 

I pull my silver card case from the inside pocket of my Valentino Couture suit. Flipping the case open, I take a card out and set it down, sliding it across the table.

“Bone and the lettering is something called Silian Rail.”

“Impressive, but not as impressive as this,” Van Patten says sliding his own card across the table. However, before he can say anything further, he is interrupted.

“Bateman, Patrick Bateman, just the man I was looking for.” I know who it is without looking up, Y/n. I can smell his Dior Fahrenheit cologne. It smells of wood and leather with a nice citrus undertone. My heart skips a beat as I look up at him and meet his eyes. “I have an account I want to bring you in on. I’ve heard good things about you. Heres my card so you can call me later and we can discuss the details.” Y/n says, pulling out a sleek ebony card with Cortez lettering in silver from his own silver card case. The card was just as perfect and as gorgeous as him. Grabbing it from him our fingers brush and I feel a shiver go up my spine. Slotting his card away in the inner pocket of my suit jacket. 

“I’ll definitely give you a call.” I say, reaching out for a handshake. 

“Good to hear.” You say reciprocating the handshake. I feel myself getting a little hot under the collar. Now I’m hyper aware of just how close I am to him. This is the closet I managed to get to him since last year’s Christmas party hosted by whoever. His hands are soft, with a slight roughness to them. I wonder what they would feel like around my neck. I quickly shake myself out of that thought. I pull my hand back despite wishing I could continue to hold his hand. Y/n then bids goodbye before leaving. My eyes trail after him, his cologne still lingering in the air and the only thought in my head is how am I going to get into his bed.

[spinstertheuncommon]

Gotham's Sewist - A Bachelor's Suit [Part 2/2] | Bruce Wayne x reader

Part 1 here

Series master list

A/N: i tried my best to make it gender ambiguous, however if there's any gendered language in reference to what the reader is wearing please notify me (nicely)!

Timeline: Reader and Bruce are 27

Note: Alcohol consumption (no inebriation of reader or bruce), swearing, cannon typical violence, reader kind of crashes out, abelism against young people, reader has a small panic attack which is described through the allegory of swimming,

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

++two months down++

making something for yourself was never your forte. you did begin as a sewist making and mending your own clothes, and through an extensive folio and 4 scholarship opportunities, you eventually graduated with enough respect on your name to work with May. May was what could only be described as a pocket rocket. she was 70, but ran circles around your 20 year old self, taking several orders per week. she had a production speed like no other, so when she got shot down it wasn't something you ever really considered. you always joked that she could just outrun death, but it caught up to her with a led bite in the jaw. just regular goons in regular Gotham. She had told you that no one in her life had such a passion for fashion like you did. so, the shop became yours. but May was such a capstone for the community, that many regulars never came back. numbers dwindled, not enough to cause proper harm to your business, but enough that things became slower.

Slow enough for you to actually have time to make yourself an outfit for the Wayne Gala.

and you were shitting yourself.

sure you could whip up a 3 piece suit for your new celebrity crush and his son, even throw in a gift for the kind butler in the form of custom cufflinks to match the other two suits. you could stay awake and embroider every single golden, art nouveau, stained glass patten into the suits, taking great care to not be tacky, just the right amount of class to match the embossed invite and stained glass window at the Wayne manor foyer. you didn't want to be creepy, but the amount of image tabs open on your ancient laptop of their door may warrant some form of restraint. maybe even revoking your invite.

an invite you have nothing to wear for.

Crunch time it is, then.

++one week left++

You had nothing. Nada. Zip. It felt like purgatory. Constant drafting of capes and cuffs, patterns and draping, drawing and pinterest boards alike. No colour stuck, no fabric you liked. All you had were scrapped plans for client work, and it's not like you could walk around in question marks. So you sat surrounded by swatches, sketches strewn about. You had called several ex classmates, seeing if any of them could give you any idea. All four of them had told you to match to the suits you made for the Waynes. Serves you right for asking them.

But then again, you had left over silk lining.

And many other drafts of embroidery.

Am I really gonna do this?

++the gala++

Jeeze Bruce goes all out doesn't he? You were prepared to taxi your way there, already standing at the curb to flag one down, when Alfred rolls up, claiming Bruce sent him to collect his 'special guest'. In the lux limo is a single serve bottle or champagne, small cut flowers, and hand written thank you notes, from both Bruce and Dick for their suits, Alfred thanking you for the cufflinks when he arrived. You take the flowers, adorning them (hair, breast pocket, lapel pin, etc). They're white stephanotis', complementing the gold and white of your formal atire. You adorne them, wanting Bruce to see your appreciation of his extravagance.

Speaking of extravagant, Alfred pulls up to the entrance, each side of the barricades flocked with paparazzi. Leading to the great arched doorway was a wine red carpet, flush to the stairs. Oh fuck I have to walk that, shit.

Alfred comes to your door, propping it open. The crowds are curious, why is the Wayne butler escorting another guest? Bruce and Dick are already inside. So who are you?

You knew it was bound to happen. As soon as your cane hit the carpet there was a cacophony of camera flashes. A chorus of conspiracies. A-

A hand reached infront of you. Alfred's. Panic meeting professional, you lock eyes. No going back now, he tells you, come swim in the deep end.

And in you jump.

You remember being taught how to swim. It wasn't something you were the best at, you weren't winning any carnivals, but you could float. You never really had a problem with keeping your head above the water, not until now. Nothing you knew could compare to the horror of those 48 seconds. Not even a full minute where you in the fray, but the tides ripped you from consistencies. The only thing there to ground you was the warm, guiding hand firm around your upper arm. One that doesn't let go until you are more than safely tucked away inside the exibit.

Once your mind clears, you lean into your cane, adjusting to the dim lighting. Figures flounce around down the hall, looking through glass cases that line the walls, drinking golden liquor and chatting circles around each other. Your eyes scan around, and land on the case next to you. A dreamy, couture dress flows off the maniquin. The coveted silk may look pearly white from afar, but the closer you come, the more you can see that its mother of pearl beads upon a sea blue silk. You just know that if it spun the curves and colour would dazzle a stadium of people.

Some days you forget why you do your job, why you bend over backwards to craft jackets and fitted suits in time frames of mere minutes. But this, the ephemeral beauty of a dress from centuries ago, is why. To make a lasting impact with your art.

While mesmerised, you almost missed the broad figure standing behind you, until you spied his reflection in the glass. It sounded like a good plan to use the rest of the silk at the time, sustainability and all, but you realise you may be seen as coming on strong to Bruce, with you now matching him, a yin to a yang.

Fuck me I should've just worn my graduation outfit.

"I see you got the flowers?" A half lip smile brushed his face. If you thought he looked good when you saw him at the manor, then this version is ethereal. It feels a bit self aggrandizing, but the way the gold embroidery pulls at the hues in his eyes, and the fine knit wool cascades his shoulders to not constrict, but also not undervalue his muscular build. Just like you had planned, from his slight off centre hair part, down to his shoes. But the one thing you didn’t account for was the boutonnière. On the left lapel, parallel to the edge outer seam, was a small coupling of stephanotis’, exactly matching yours.

Oh he definitely planed this. Well done, Bruce.

“Yes, as well as the champagne. Real expensive bottle too.” You turn back to the dress, presenting as unfazed, but seeping some kind of heat from your cheeks. Embarrassment? Flattery? Anger? Who knows.

“Mmm, yes, it’s one of my favourites, that’s why it’s being served tonight. Did you enjoy it? I can get you a glass.” He moves closer, hoping to catch your eyes again, the same eyes that seem to loosen every muscle in his body through one look alone. A look he craves. One he keeps getting lost in, despite his best efforts. He’s never had the issue of caving to another person, but with you it’s innate. He’s not sure he likes how much power you have.

But you want to feel powerful.

And so, you play against him a bit.

“No, i found it quite bittersweet, actually. I didn’t finish it.” Tilting your head away from him, touching sneak a small glance his way.

“No?” You hear in his voice that he knows it’s a game, but you don’t sway. Why would you loose?

“Mmm, sorry my tastes don’t match your high class.” You face him again, smile full of sarcastic apologies. Bruce cocks a brow, smirking, trying to crack your resolve.

Your stalemate was quickly interrupted by a tiny rocket of energy barring into Bruce's side.

"Hello Y/N!!" Dick Grayson-Wayne chirps, prying himself immediately back off of Bruce. You can tell he hadn't properly managed to learn how one fits in at these high price events, especially when there's little to no children his age here. His shirts untucked and unruly, spilling above his buttoned jacket. The cuffs, although stitched in place have rolled to make themselves uneven. His hair unruly, no matter the gel inside of it.

"Hello Hun. What's kept you busy lately?" You kneel down and ruffle his hair. You figured its easier for it to be stylishly messy than try and tame it again.

"Well I've been helping Alfred in the gardens, but also I bought a new..." he rambles on, talking about a fighting game he's been playing. You take this time to unbutton his jacket and untuck his shirt, evening out the collar as well. You nodd along, grabbing his hands to roll each cuff back down to sit flat and even.

Bruce knew you were kind, always bending over backwards to make life easier for others, but the way you seamlessly cared for Dick, he really shouldn’t be swooning. He never really felt ready to take on a kid. He did it to offer Dick a life lived out of conviction rather than blind vengeance, to not end up like him. But then, the way Dick weasel his way into Bruces heart, Bruce couldn’t help but crumble. Despite only knowing him for just over a year, he would die for this kid. For any kid, really. That's all apart of the job.

Right?

Who knew his words would be challenged so much.

+++++++

Dick ended up dragging you around, showing you all the displays that he likes, or thought you may like, or, just anything, really. He felt he could talk to you, instead of being talked at by rich people trying to get close to Bruce. He's not like them, born into silver spoons and pockets pulling them down. He was like you, wooden spoons and hand stitched pockets. He was comfortable, and so were you.

You were scared that you'd be left to the wayside, which you wouldn't've minded, you could occupy your self, but it was the feeling of being an outsider. No one to talk to, but no. You had Dick. Sure its a bit weird to see a 27 year old running around with a 13 year old that they're not related to, but he made you feel less lonely. Especially against the constant whispers, the looks at your cane, the vulture eyes. It made you feel disgusting.

But Dick grounded you. Him, and Bruce, I guess.

It's not like Bruce wasn't trying to talk to you, but he got swept away by clients and colleagues and even competitors. It was his gala after all. When would he get any private time. All needing eyes are on Bruce, until they're not.

And they're all on the gunman instead.

BANG! BANG! BANG!

Three shots were fired at the chandelier in the main room, sending it careening to the floor, right onto the crowd. Shards fly everywhere, pushing the wave of party goers away from the destruction. You turn, hoping to grab Dick and run to the exit, but he was gone.

Fuck

You couldn't find anyone. Dick, Bruce, not even Alfred. In the fray and frenzy of the Gotham elite, all trying to save their own arses, you get swallowed whole. You eventually make it to a wall, sliding yourself into a corner to at least break for impact, seizing no chances to get out. Your body aches, the world is spinning, and your knees are practically falling apart.

Stupid fucking cane why do I need you so badly?!!

You curse, but maybe your biggest adversary could be your biggest asset. The 20 or so goons cornered everyone left inside the room, about 60 of us, going around and asking for wallets, jewels, and phones to go into these bags. They got to you, pushing past those infront to reach you in the corner. But you didn't have anything, just 40 bucks for emergencies and your phone thats about 14 generations behind the newest. Its cracked and some of the screen doesn't light up, but it does the job. You comply out of fear, putting them in the bag. But the goon snatched them before they hit the bottom, eyeing them in disgust.

"Are you kidding me? This is what you have? Where's your real shit? I know people like you, people who think they can get away with thow away objects for a robbery, thinkin im dumb? Well I WONT FUCKING HAVE IT!" His gun goes off, right into the wall beside your head. All the hostages dived for the floor. You felt cold, clamy, and unable to breathe. He was unpredictable.

You can run from a knife, not from a gun.

But you can frighten a gun man.

With a clattering sounded just behind him, the goon spun, shooting at it. Seconds later, he was knocked across the floor.

The Bat caught your eyes with a promise of a conversation. Something that held you in the room for what happens next.

Pounding fists and fired guns send further pandemonium. Bodies run and tumble, but yours stay locked.

you're trapped, watching the batman. Watching...

Hm.

Hnmm.

Shit.

That's.. definitely Bruce Wayne.

Like, he would definitely be the first person to be held hostage here, but Bruce was no where to be seen. And nor was Dick, but both Batman and Robin were on the scene in seconds.

And everything fell into place for you.

The looks of familiarity from Bruce.

How comfortable Dick was around you.

The fact you were booked by Bruce Wayne of all people.

Of course he didn't find you through "suggestion", he was the fucking suggestion.

You were pissed.

At yourself, at him, at yourself again. At yourself a third time.

But no, you weren't gonna say anything. Cause why would you? You have the upper hand now.

Okay who are you fooling?

Bruce just threw a man into seven others like a bowling ball.

Damnn

++++++

You sit in the alleyway across from the museum, already been discharged by the paramedics, with only real mental scars to hold. The thwap of a kevlar woollen cape sounds behind you, already knowing whose attached.

"Are you okay?" You ask.

He scoffs.

You smirk, beating him at his own game.

"Come on, let's talk."

"I've sent Robin home, come with me. Please."

++++++++

He pulled you up to the roof of the near by conservatory. Settling you both down so you could see the street and bustle, but not be seen yourselves.

"Throwing your cane. That was brave," he pushed, biting his cheek. He wished he could've been more extroverted as a kid, maybe talking to people on a genuine level could be easier. Or maybe he would still be sitting here, wishing things would fix themselves, and you could be with him his friend without facing danger at every turn.

"Thank you..." you mumble, mind elsewhere.

"'M sorry your night was ruined. You made it clear what seeing the works ment to you. I'm sorry you didn't get to enjoy it uninterrupted."

You scoff, "are you kidding? I had a great night."

He did not believe you one bit, and despite the cowl, you could see the guilt. He blames himself for this?

"What? I got dinner, a show, and an after party. That's way more excitement than what I've had in the last 10 years. I.. I kinda needed it to be honest."

The guilty eyes fall confused, laces with sorrow. You've seen that look, many times over. In grocery stores, in the doctors office, even just on the street. You pick up your cane, and lightly prod B in the shoulder. He’s one of the only people that has never given you that look before. And you never want to see it again.

"Hey, nah uh, no pity. It's not impossible for me to have fun, it's just… also not my priority. But tonight, it was. I mean it wasn't exactly my plan, but it was a brilliant surprise." You chuckle. It felt odd to enjoy the fact that you got shot at, maybe even something you should get looked at by a professional, but it was more than that. It was surviving. Surviving not only the attack, but the gala, the deadline, the social mess that you are. You survived all the turned noses and beady stares, all the whispers. You survived. Isn't that cool?

"We should get you home," Batman stands, offering you a hand. You take it, unconditionally, letting him pull you up.

"But what about-" you look around for the little boy wonder.

He wraps his arm around you, moving you both closer to the roof ledge. He grapples across the roof, and connects his stormy eyes to your less bloodshot ones. You give him the slightest nodd, and a second later your in free fall, but you've never felt safer. Wrapped in arms you've measured to high heavens, both in and out of costume as you now know. arms that will yearn for you in them from this night onwards, no matter how long it takes the brain attached to those arms to realise.

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Hey guys! This was a long one lol

I reckon my posting has ended up being a little more sparatic than I wanted originally, but I had back stocked most of these posts with only have two more before I've got no drafts left. So I may be posting once every week/ week and a half.

I'm also dabbling in my brain on writing some oneshots, imagines and headcannons, as I've now decided that if no one will write what I want to read I'll do it myself. These would also be smaller things to hold attention between gs updates. As of rn, I have ideas for

▪︎ Wonder!Reader who will most likely be muscualr femme rep, and in the young justice universe (season oneish)

▪︎ Super!Reader x Jason Todd

▪︎Medical drama Damien + reader

▪︎Damien's twin (maybe hijabi reader? Cause Talia is muslim ¿sometimes?)

▪︎blue lantern reader x young justice

And ofc the sewist timeline. I've written about 30 different prompts for instalments for this story so it may take me a year, it may take me a month who knows.

Do not copy, steal or repost my work! Thanks!

[lordofthesoups]

Nosferatu 2024 thoughts:

Well im back from seeing this movie and the main thing i have to say is: absolutely amazing movie.

Wonderful adaptation/remake, i would argue that its more of an adaptation instead of a remake since it takes time to develop characters and storylines that are not there or are underdeveloped in the original due to the film being silent and the limited time it runs for. However there are many homages to the original, multiple scenes/shots from the original are shown. Such as the set from the beach and the Counts first lines word for word with the original title card. They also include the cat from the opening!!!

I appreciate that they didnt try to make Orlok exactly the same since no one in my opion can do Orlok as well as Schreck. This would be another reason that i would say it is more an adaptation than remake, which i personally prefer.

I enjoyed how even though the film was’nt wholly expressionist it still had elements while fitting into modern cinematic story telling. It contained the camera angles that one would expect from expressionism as well as parts of the set looking as if they could be straight from a Decla props department!

Somehow it manages to feel like it runs for the same amount of time as the original despite being longer. It lengthens the plot in a way explores the characters further and doesn’t feel like unnecessary scenes are being tacked on for the sake of it. Allowing it to follow the same story patten and pacing as the 1922 version.

Amazing film, an excellent take on the original source material which treats the original with the respect it deserves and doesn't try to recreate it. Making it able to be enjoyed as a separate piece of media while still being cohesive with the original story telling. Honestly, its the best film ive seen this year (realising that its January its also the best film ive seen last year).

I would say it treats the original coding of the film with great respect (both the Queer coding and the coding of sexual assault) as well as again being able to explore them further than the original especially the allegory of sexual assault through the use vampirism as seen in the original.

My only complaint is the fact that they either cut or skipped the scene where Orlok drinks the blood from the cut on Hatters thumb. There is the set up for it but it doesn’t actually happen to the point that it feels like its missing which is a shame. But that is my only complaint about this movie which is one thing missing in a sea of many great things.

The design of Orlok especially the moustache and how emaciated he was reminded me of this political cartoon from the Weimar Republic. Titled Clemenceau the vampire in reference to how the treaty of Versalles bled the country of their money and resources.

I am unsure if this was intentional or not but it what i thought of upon seeing him.

Yeah really good film. A very well done adaptation in my opinion and can be watched and enjoyed without knowledge of the source material according to my family who i dragged along to watch it with me. 10/10 would recommend (please check online for content warnings and other stuff before watching however should you decide to listen to this recommendation)

[vintagetvstars]

CLOSED! Preliminary Hot Vintage TV Men List

Alright folks! We have one week left on submissions for the Hot Vintage TV Men's Bracket! As promised here is a list of all the Hot Vintage TV Men who have been submitted and passed our preliminary eligibility checks. There are a handful of guys on this list and one or two not on it that we are currently still debating on so reminder that this list is not final and subject to change.

Currently we have 231 Hot Vintage TV Men!

Also in advance of the competition I'd like to remind anyone submitting propaganda for someone that starred in a show that aired only partially during our timeframe or was under 18 for a part of a shows filming, to please make sure you are only submitting propaganda that is from within our timeframe and when the actor was 18 years or older. This is also just good to keep in mind in general as several people submitted actors for shows that aren't eligible for our tournament either because it was outside our time period or in one case the actor was underaged for the entirety of the show (though many were eligible for other shows they were submitted for). We do our best to screen for these things but sometimes it's hard to tell or it’s a show we don't personally know well enough so we appreciate help from y'all letting us know if you do catch anything.

List below the cut

Preliminary Hot Vintage TV Men List

Dick Van Dyke

Alan Alda

Hugh Laurie

Peter Falk

Adam West

Donnie Wahlberg

Kevin McDonald

Scott Thompson

David Duchovny

Henry Winkler

Leonard Nimoy

Scott Bakula

James Garner

Tom Selleck

Dave Foley

John Astin

Joe Lando

Patrick Troughton

William Shatner

DeForest Kelley

Michael Ontkean

Russell Johnson

Kyle MacLachlan

Bruce McCulloch

William Hopper

George Clooney

Jeffrey Combs

Michael Horse

Mark McKinney

Jensen Ackles

Alejandro Rey

Mitch Pileggi

David Cassidy

Jeremy Brett

Anthony Head

George Takei

David Selby

Rod Serling

Paul Gross

Desi Arnaz

Tom Baker

Richard Dean Anderson

David Keith McCallum

Richard Chamberlain

Charles Shaughnessy

David James Elliot

Vincent Van Patten

Darren E. Burrows

David Hyde Pierce

Randolph Mantooth

Ricardo Montalban

Gene Anthony Ray

William Hartnell

Patrick McGoohan

René Auberjonois

Alexander Siddig

Reece Shearsmith

Michael T. Weiss

William Shockley

Spencer Rochfort

Danny John-Jules

David Hasselhoff

Conner Trinneer

Patrick Stewart

Jonathan Frakes

Paolo Montalban

Scott Patterson

Armin Shimerman

Anthony Andrews

David Schwimmer

Blair Underwood

Sylvester McCoy

Andrew Robinson

Pierce Brosnan

Thorsten Kaye

Anthony Starke

Darren McGavin

Clint Eastwood

Joseph Marcell

Michael Vartan

Richard Ayoade

George Maharis

Michael J. Fox

Dwayne Hickman

John de Lancie

Andre Braugher

Robert Carlyle

Dean Stockwell

Matthew Perry

Robert Fuller

Michael Hurst

Dana Ashbrook

Jonathan Frid

Dirk Benedict

Martin Milner

Demond Wilson

Robert Conrad

Telly Savalas

Peter Davison

Michael Praed

Jason Bateman

David Tennant

Brian Blessed

Miguel Ferrer

Micky Dolenz

Wayne Rogers

Mike Farrell

Michael Dorn

Cesar Romero

Eddie Albert

Nate Richert

Nicholas Lea

Brent Spiner

Dick Gautier

John Corbett

Jeremy Irons

David Suchet

Raymond Burr

LeVar Burton

David Wenham

Clint Walker

Larry Hagman

John Goodman

Matt LeBlanc

Tom Smothers

Erik Estrada

Jeremy Sisto

Colm Meaney

Stephen Fry

Ted Bessell

Ron Perlman

Luke Halpin

Ted Cassidy

Kevin Sorbo

John Cleese

Colin Firth

Colin Baker

Fred Rogers

Ben Browder

Keir Dullea

Randy Boone

Kent McCord

Jimmy Smits

Mark Lenard

Jon Pertwee

Fred Grandy

Mark Hamill

Ted Danson

Adam Brody

Noah Wiley

Eric Close

Lee Majors

Jamie Farr

Tony Danza

Kabir Bedi

Seth Green

Rik Mayall

Hal Linden

Diego Luna

Peter Tork

Sean Bean

Sam Neill

Eric Idle

Ted Lange

John Shea

Ron Glass

Tony Dow

Mr. T

John Hurt

Avery Brooks 

Billy Dee Williams 

James Marsters 

Robert Vaughn 

Kevin Smith 

Davy Jones 

Luke Perry 

Robert Duncan McNeill 

Simon MacCorkindale 

Keith Hamilton Cobb 

Chad Michael Murray 

James Earl Jones 

Bruce Boxleitner 

Timothy Olyphant 

Andreas Katsulas 

Valentine Pelka 

Peter Wingfield 

Sebastian Cabot 

Michael Nesmith 

Timothy Dalton 

Michael Shanks 

Joshua Jackson 

Michael O’Hare 

Robert Beltran 

Simon Williams 

Paul Johannson 

Daniel Dae Kim 

David Boreanaz 

Boris Karloff 

Robert Wagner 

Brandon Quinn  

Walter Koenig 

Richard Hatch 

Christian Kane  

Francis Capra  

Nathan Fillion 

John Forsythe 

Patrick Duffy 

Tony Shalhoub 

Ioan Gruffudd 

Garrett Wang  

Joe Flanigan  

Rider Strong  

Michael Tylo 

Bruce Willis 

Skeet Ulrich  

Jeff Conaway 

Paul McGann 

Scott Cohen 

Mario Lopez  

Martin Kove 

John Stamos 

Judd Hirsch 

Johnny Depp 

Tom Welling 

Matt Bomer 

Grant show 

David Soul  

Bob Crane  

Tim Russ 

Rob Lowe 

Neil Patrick Harris 

[askhelenrichardson]

*Within a few minutes, I set out a whole tray of tea stuff, including multiple types of tea, sugar, cream, and biscuits from my jar. The teacups are stained glass, with pattens that repeat until should be too small to see.*

Yes, yes, here you are!

-Lady Grey Anon

[Helen picked some up and made herself a cup. She enjoyed the tea.]

Thank you, I really appreciate this.

[She gave a soft half smile.]

[forgaeven]

edit: a young rheowyck

ignoring how he looks like a botched edward cullen, pls appreciate his floral-patten vest <3

[bornforastorm]

i felt very strongly Pete Strickland’s s1 arc was about prioritizing himself— accepting Perry didn’t appreciate (love) him in the way he needed and saying, “Okay I’m not doing this anymore, I have to put myself and my morals and my self respect first.”

AND i stand by that, i do think that’s his arc, and in s2 his arc is deciding he can’t do it. s2 is full of arcs about choosing the common good over self advancement (Perry taking the case at all is an example of this, and his decision to take jail time. see also mateo taking 30 years so rafael can have any adulthood at all) and choosing family over selfishness (again mateo and rafael, paul choosing his family and his community over sticking with perry, perry sticking up teddy’s picture)— and I think pete’s arc is part of that, but instead of choosing what’s best for his wife-and-kids family (his cushy DA’s office job that makes him morally miserable), he chooses to do what’s emotionally right to him, which is doing whatever he can for perry. he chooses perry over everything!!

his “sometimes I get caught up in things and I don’t feel good about it but I do it anyway” applies to Milligan getting him to incriminate Perry, but it also applies to the whole situation. The idea that he should leave Perry (they break up!! they Break Up on della’s porch at the end of s1 and tim van patten said i’m right) was a thing he got caught up in and did anyway. And it’s complicated because Perry asking him to bribe a juror is also an example of this!! he didn’t feel good about it! He weighed his feelings, broke it off, then was so miserable and unsatisfied he went back. Being friends who sometimes drink together is not enough for him, he’s gotta be ensuring perry’s happiness and success at every turn

something something pete prioritized himself and then realized he’s actually happiest with perry no matter what that means, no matter what the consequences are, something something pete’s so in love it’s bad for him

[alotofpockets]

Anna Patten Appreciation

woso appreciation masterlist | with @totaly-obsessed

[finishinglinepress]

FLP CHAPBOOK OF THE DAY: Hard Feelings by Elizabeth R. McCarthy

On SALE now! Pre-order Price Guarantee: https://www.finishinglinepress.com/product/hard-feelings-by-elizabeth-r-mccarthy/

Elizabeth McCarthy lives in northern Vermont with her husband. She self-published her first poetry chapbook The Old House in 2020, and her second chapbook, Winter Vole was published by Finishing Line Press in 2022. Elizabeth’s poems appear in several magazines and literary reviews such as; The Washington Post, The Main Street Rag, Silver Birch Press, Blue Heron Review and many others. Elizabeth is a member of the Poetry Society of Vermont and an online member of The Lockdown Poets of Aberdeen, Scotland. #poetry #Vermont #nature

PRAISE FOR Hard Feelings by Elizabeth R. McCarthy

Hard Feelings, Elizabeth McCarthy’s second poetry collection, is filled with close observations of birds and other wildlife found in the Vermont countryside. Through metaphor and simile, form and imagination, the poet transforms these observations into the language of poetry. In the title poem, the last wild apples of the season are likened to grudges that linger and ferment, becoming “sour little/hearts that/rot in place.” In “Scuttled Memories,” an extended maritime metaphor evokes the sense of time passing when we leave our grief and regrets “stuck in the wooden hull/of memory.” Yet these are ultimately celebratory poems, full of the joy of discovery, like the old milkweed seeds that “burst open/the pod door — escaping/to whorl and dance/in the autumn sun.”

–Angela Patten, author of The Oriole & the Ovenbird, In Praise of Usefulness and other books.

In Elizabeth McCarthy’s beautiful, new collection, Hard Feelings, we enter a world of sandhill cranes, field crickets, spring peepers, odd cats, and cleansing rain. Present and thankful for ordinary moments, McCarthy shares her deep connection to nature and the whispered wisdom she receives. She speaks to us of her preferred world, “where understanding / is the sunrise.” Reverently hanging items of laundry in the summer sun, McCarthy writes about, “pinning them in silent prayer,” and we experience the day through her appreciative eyes. These are poems that offer solace, even when processing grief. Above all else, these are poems of hope, “for those who / believe in destiny / delivered in the night / of each new month.”

—Cristina M. R. Norcross, Founding Editor of Blue Heron Review; author of The Sound of a Collective Pulse and other titles

Please share/please repost #flpauthor #preorder #AwesomeCoverArt #poetry #chapbook #read #poems

[riderborn]

✧   ⸻   [  grace van patten,  cis woman,  she / her  ]     ;     congratulations on surviving the parapet,  cadet  waverly dunbar, and welcome to the rider’s quadrant !  at  twenty - five years old, you should know exactly what it takes to make it to graduation, especially being so warm and selfless. though, i do suppose your tendencies to be callow and paranoid may make it hard to survive until threshing. other cadets say you remind them of watercolor bruises blossoming against your fair skin from hours in sparring, weeping into your palms after your first kill, the stark contrast of floral scented shampoo and the metallic scent of blood, but we’ll have to see how true that is. remember: if you want a dragon — earn one. 

I.   BASICS .

full  name.   waverly  rose  dunbar. age.  twenty - five. gender.  cis  woman. pronouns.   she  /  her. current  location.   rider’s  quadrant. status.  single ;  unattached. orientation.   bisexual,  biromantic. siblings.   two  older  brothers. signet.  not  yet  manifested. dragon.  not  yet  bonded. allegiance.   the  rider’s  quadrant.

II.   APPEARANCE .

hair.   golden  hair  that  falls  to  her  collarbones,  typically  worn  in  a  french  braid,  a  tight  ponytail,  or  in  loose  waves. eyes.   the  color  of  dark  chocolate. height.   five  feet  six  inches. scars.   none  yet. relics.   none  yet.

III.   MISCELLANOUS.

position.   first  year.  second  wing,  flame  section,  first  squad  member. strengths.  warm,  selfless,  approachable. weaknesses.  callow,  paranoid,  uncertain. hogwarts  house.   hufflepuff. alignment.  lawful  good. zodiac  sign.   pisces. media  inspirations.   violet  sorrengail  ( fourth  wing ),  beth  greene  ( the  walking  dead ),  lexie  grey  ( greys  anatomy ),  dani  clayton  ( bly  manor ),  missandei  ( game  of  thrones ),  jennifer  jareau  ( criminal  minds ),  primrose  everdeen  ( thg ).

IV.   BIOGRAPHY.

raised  by  a  rider  family,  waverly  always  knew  she  was  destined  to  be  a  rider.  from  a  young  age,  she  watched  with  envy  as  both  her  parents  &  both  her  older  brothers  experienced  the  inexplicable  bond  between  a  dragon  &  its  rider  &  she  always  knew  that  that’s  what  she  wanted.  growing  up,  people  often  told  her  she  should  plan  for  something  else  instead  --  she  was  tender-hearted,  empathetic,  &  soft,  &  everyone  insisted  that  those  qualities  wouldn’t  make  a  good  rider.  in  response,  she  simply  held  her  head  higher,  shutting  them  all  out  &  leaning  on  her  family’s  support  to  chase  her  own  dreams.  she  didn’t  spend  her  childhood  training  to  be  a  rider,  however.  her  interest  in  being  a  rider  is  one  thousand  percent  about  an  insatiable  admiration  &  need  to  appreciate  a  dragon  up  close  &  wanting  to  experience  that  bonding,  &  has  literally  nothing  to  do  with  the  thrill,  the  stakes,  the  gore,  or  the  power  that  comes  with  being  a  rider.  all  of  those  things  are  moreso  the  negatives  in  waverly’s  brain,  the  things  she  has  to  ‘tough  it  out’  through  in  order  to  achieve  her  dreams  of  seeing  the  world  through  the  clouds.  for  that  reason,  much  to  the  quadrant’s  dismay  after  her  two  stellar  rider  brothers  have  passed  through,  waverly  isn’t  much  of  a  fighter  &  has  continuously  come  out  on  the  bottom  in  every  way  that  counts  so  far  in  basgiath.  she  barely  made  it  across  the  parapet,  i  imagine  she  was  one  of  the  last  few,  limbs  trembling  &  collapsed  once  she  got  across...  but  she  still  made  it  !  where  she  lacks  in  brawn,  she  makes  up  for  in  dedication.  she  works  hard  in  her  classes  to  learn  all  she  can  about  being  a  rider,  &  volunteers  at  every  opportunity  to  take  on  more  duties  or  more  learning.  she’s  optimistic  about  it  all,  despite  the  fact  that  she’s  literally....  getting  &  going  to  get  the  crap  pummeled  out  of  her  &  has  a  very  slim  chance  of  survival  but  tbh  she  thinks  the  chance  of  bonding  with  a  dragon  is  worth  it. 

personality - wise,  she’s  like  a  ray  of  sunshine  that  doesn’t  know  when  to  stop.  she’s  like  prim  everdeen  crying  over  that  mean  cat....  &  she  probably  barfs  at  the  things  she  sees  at  basgiath  even  more  than  violet  did  tbh...  but  she’s  also  captain  america  getting  the  shit  kicked  out  of  him  &  then  standing  up  &  being  like  ‘i  could  do  this  all  day !’  even  when  it’s  like  baby  no  you  really  can’t....  she’s  sensitive  but  hides  it,  both  out  of  fear  of  being  targeted  by  other  cadets  &  bc  fake  it  til  you  make  it.  in  the  same  vein,  she  can  be  super  naive  bc  she  just  genuinely  wants  to  see  the  best  in  ppl,  but  is  also  a  Paranoid  Pisces  so  like.  she’s  in  a  constant  dilemma  &  anxious  quite  a  lot  but  yanno  that’s  how  i  like  my  muses :  suffering < 3

V.   WANTED  CONNECTIONS.

other  cadets  who  give  a  found  family  vibe~  people  she  feels...  semi-safe  around

the  rhiannon  to  her  violet,  someone  who  wants  to  show  her  the  ropes  &  help  her  not  seem  so  helpless...  or  simply  can’t  stand  to  see  her  get  her  shit  rocked  lol

corruption  moment...  someone  who  is  kind  of  like  ‘grow  up’.  bad  stuff  happens.  get  used  to  it !  a  little  tough  love  if  you  will

someone  super  protective  over  her  please  please  i  will  give  my  first  born

ppl  to  kind  of  play  with  her  feelings  a  little  bit...  make  her  your  fiddle  &  PLAY  HER

i’d  LOVE  a  professor  who  is  kind  of  helping  her  out  a  little  more  whether  it’s  bc  they  pity  her  or  because  they’re  skeptical  of  whether  she  deserves  to  be  here  or  not

anyone  who  doesn’t  like  her  simply  bc  they  think  she  doesn’t  have  what  it  takes  ( she  probably  doesnt )  or  because  they  just  annoy  each  other...  i  want  someone  to  bring  out  a  meaner  side  to  her

anything  &  everything  else !

[hcneycoated]

thirty-one. she / her. pst | this blog is currently under co, but for now you can find my guidelines and muse list under the cut . — open starters. / wanted opposites & wanted plots can be found linked on my other blog.

muses (under co, including but not limited to)

adrian, drew starkey — 28. he / him. bisexual. drug dealer. a rolling stone and the life of the party. bad boy with a chip on his shoulder. charismatic and engaging, but always has one foot out the door. afraid of ever getting too close. alice, sydney sweeney — 25. she / her. bisexual. model. a pretty face with an appreciation for all the beauty that life holds. shallow, seductive, and not the relationship type. benji, jacob elordi — 25. he / him. heterosexual. rich kid turned travel vlogger. hopeless romantic meets non-committal fuck boy. who knows what you'll get. caleb, rudy pankow — 22. he / him. heterosexual. (but curious) your cliche frat boy, more interested in adding bodies to his count than seeking anything meaningful. communication & commitment-phobe. cassie, madelyn cline — 25. she / her. bisexual. con artist, targeting men using her appearance to dissolute any suspicions. daisy, grace van patten — 21 - 24. she / her. bisexual. (closeted) devout catholic, full of guilt and repression. the good girl afraid of stepping out of line, or having a single hair out of place. elodie, olivia rodrigo — 21. she / her. bisexual. fun loving sister of a musician, getting the invite to all the hottest events and slowly making a name for herself via social media. evelyn, mia goth — 26. she / her. bisexual. cult escapee, trying to find her purpose. level of unhinged varies. eliza, zendaya — 25. she / her. bisexual. actress with resentment toward fame and an endless bitterness toward the world around her. always gets what she wants, but at what cost? haven, rachel zegler — 23. she / her. bisexual bartender at coyote ugly inspired bar. a free thinker, who hates limitations and being told no. ivy, jenna ortega — 19 - 22. she / her. bisexual. student and youngest of six. has an aversion to social gatherings, especially with her own age group. always seen as mature for her age, and hates being treated like a little girl. josie, tara yummy — 22. she / her. more soon. olivia, sydney sweeney — 25. she / her. more soon. paris, sabrina carpenter — 19 - 24. she / her. bisexual. influencer turned adult film star / onlyfans model / cam girl. the star of viral leaked sex tape: one night in paris. more info @soromantique ( alternate fcs available ) sadie, margaret qualley — 26. she / her. bisexual. model. more soon. stella, olivia rodrigo — 19 — 21. she / her. bisexual. resident good girl with people pleasing tendancies, no matter the cost. easily influenced, naive, and all too trusting. assumes the best in everyone to a fault. vienna, tayor swift — 35. she / her. bisexual. rich bitch, bored, and looking for satisfaction. bored trophy wife looking for some fun OR rich single aunt vibes (lingerie designer) loves to be in control. ( alternate: meghann fahy ) whitney, sabrina carpenter — 20 - 25. she / her. bisexual. trailer park trash turned wanderess. a southern gal who belongs nowhere, and to no one. has a handful of skeletons in her closet, and she does what she needs to survive. pretty face with a very ugly past. the kind of girl your mama warned you about. multi verse: psychotic & unhinged au's available. ( alternates: lily-rose depp & madelyn cline ) *trigger heavy* willa, sydney sweeney — 24. she / her. heterosexual. (but curious) divorced ballet instructor trying to find her spark again. the sweetest thing, with the worst judge of character.

GUIDELINES.

first off, i am 30+ years old, and considering the nature of my blog i only write with those above the age of 21. all faceclaims must be above the age of 19, and all muses at least the age of 18. this is non-negotiable.

this is a sideblog, i cannot follow back from this account. any follows will be from the blog linked above, @sugrrcoated

i am using this blog to branch back out of my comfort zone, so i will be playing a mix of males & females while venturing onto the dash. i do not like to apply the 'doubling up' rules, as i prefer to just reply using whoever i have muse for, regardless of gender. i am not here to use you, just as i expect you aren't using me - please always follow your muse, we should both be inspired by our writing. with that said, i do prefer m/f or f/f ships, not currently interested in m/m but may dip my toes back in with time.

my kink list is in the works, please feel free to inquire. my hard limits are snuff, gore, vore, scat, beastality, and race or age play.

please do not god mod, it's as simple as that - I WILL stop responding. this also goes for plotting - i am all for collaborating and making it work together, but if you steamroll & dismiss every idea i have, don't expect me to want to keep contributing. i am very easy going and flexible, please do not take my kindness as weakness. i tend to match energy, and vibes, so let's keep things fun.

i love options, whether it's rapid back and forth, to long, in-depth responses. i love to plot, but am also fine jumping in and seeing how it goes. basically, i am flexible and will go at your flow / pace. i am always open to multiple threads / ships with my writing partners, but i prefer to start with one or two, and go from there as we see fit.

i will always use gifs until the smut occurs, then i'll often forgo them due to many gif maker rules.

my activity will fluctuate, sometimes i never shut up, and other times i can go weeks without being online / available. i work full-time and try to keep my social life active, please do not pressure me for replies, but if you come to me in a friendly manner to check in, i will always update you asap. this is a self-proclaimed low-activity blog, please bear that in mind, thank you.

i don't have many banned faceclaims, the few include: camila cabello, dakota johnson, demi lovato, amber heard, miles teller, henry cavill, johnny depp, armie hammer, and ansel elgort. i reserve the right to add to this as i please, but generally, i am not picky with the faceclaims i write against.

and lastly, i find that i get burnt out if i play muses who are too aggressively dominant. i enjoy writing against them, but it's simply not in my nature and not something i find enjoyment in exploring from that side of things. however, with that in mind, i do have a handful of muses who lean dominant. i tend to play more into the soft dom energy, but give myself wiggle room to explore further depending on muse / plot / what the mood is. please respect this and don't force me to write that role in extreme plots. i will only let us both down! <3

[butchmalewife]

ive started doing embroidery recently and i think its making me even more appreciative of life in general. the way ever detail is sewn with so much care and time and in the end theres a beautiful patten a beautiful full picture which you created thread by thread.....youll prick your hand a couple of times but youll only smile at it (or cuss) and keep sewing and trying to go thru the next hole as close as possible to start that mini journey you keep repeating every phase of the pattern.. does this make sense to you guys. i think embroidery and sewing are in a way a representation of life itself.... do u guys get it. i hope u get it. i love embroidering and i love life