#so I will simply listen to a different podcast instead :)

[haru-dipthong]

The difference between あのー and えーっと

As I touched on in my japanese goncharov post, it’s amazing how much novel research, entertainment, and art are locked behind a language barrier. Even though as english speakers, we are privileged to have many things translated into our language, it’s a simple fact that most things will not be translated into most languages.

I am a huge fan of ゆる言語学ラジオ, a japanese podcast about linguistics. The hosts recently released a book, 言語沼, which goes into detail about some of the subconscious rules native japanese speakers follow but aren’t consciously aware of (an english equivalent might be that adjective-ordering rule we follow e.g. big brown cow, not brown big cow). I’m finding it fascinating, and I wanted to discuss some of it here in english, because I think people learning japanese would find some of these things really useful. It’d be a shame if this knowledge stayed stuck behind the japanese language barrier when the people who would find it the most useful can’t speak japanese fluently enough to read it!

The book talks about how most Japanese people will think of 「あのー」 and 「えーっと」 as having the exact same meaning - they’re both “meaningless” filler words. Despite their belief that they’re the same, those same native speakers will subconsciously only use あのー in one particular type of situation and 「えーっと」 in another, and even feel confused or annoyed if they hear another speaker use one in the wrong context.

So what’s the actual difference? 「えーっと」 is used when the speaker is taking time to remember or solve something. For example, the following exchange is very natural:

Person A: 7 x 5は？ Person B: えーっと、35だ

This makes it a pretty versatile filler word! You can use it pretty much anywhere. Another example would be when you’re talking to yourself, trying to remember where you left your keys.

えーっと、鍵どこ置いたっけ？

On the other hand, あのー is much more specific. It can only be used when you’re taking time to figure out the best way to phrase something. For example, when you’re trying to get a stranger’s attention.

あのー、ちょっといいですか？

In contrast, if Person A was addressed with 「えーっと、ちょっといいですか？」by Person B, they’d feel it was rude because instead of considering how to say something, B is considering what to say, which gives the impression that they hadn’t even figured out what they needed to ask before addressing Person A.

This gives 「あのー」 a more ”polite” feeling than 「えーっと」, even though neither is actually more polite than the other. They’re just used in different circumstances.

Let’s quickly look at the example with the lost keys again. If you replace the filler word:

あのー、鍵どこ置いたっけ？

It is very unnatural. The authors of the book jokingly say that it sounds like you’re talking to a ghost, because 「あのー」 is only used when you’re figuring out how to phrase something, and you wouldn’t worry about that if you’re talking to yourself.

Also, did you know even japanese children properly use each filler word in the correct situation? Despite almost all japanese people (even as adults) being unaware of this rule, they’re subconsciously abiding by it even as children - just from listening to their parents follow the same rules!

It really is amazing how good your subconscious mind is at acquiring language, and how terrible your conscious mind is at it. If you’re not already, I highly recommend integrating a lot of simple language content (e.g. youtube, kids shows, etc) into your study routine - listening to people talk is simply the fastest way to become fluent in your target language.

[merrybloomwrites]

It's Just a Game, But Really

Summary: When your brother starts dating Taylor Swift, you figure your wild dreams of dating Harry Styles are now definitely crushed. But some meddling from Jason, Travis, and Taylor may make some dreams come true after all.

Word Count: 3K

AN: This idea randomly popped into my head months ago and I couldn't get it out until I fully wrote it. I feel like this falls into the category of "Crack treated seriously" lol

Also, I understand this is niche, but as an Eagles fan (pls don't come for me) I've watched the entire Travis/Taylor relationship unfold and just thought this would be silly. Writing Jason and Travis was pretty fun too since I've been listening to their podcast for years and it was a cool challenge to write in their voices

Finally, I took creative liberty here and while I normally try to keep details as close to reality as possible, I've changed some things. So the Packers vs Eagles game that happened in Brazil now takes place in philly, and the Chiefs game on Christmas is now against Baltimore so it would be plausible to have the dinner scene in PA. None of this actually matters, this is fiction lol

Title from "So High School" by Taylor Swift

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Growing up with two athletic brothers had been quite an experience. Hundreds of hours were spent at sporting events, often bundled up to watch them play ice hockey or attend the late season football games. In your family, it was important that everyone supported each other.

It went the other way as well. Your brothers attended every spring concert, theater performance, and dance recital you were in. They were your biggest fans, always cheering you on and bringing flowers to give you.

They also took time to learn about your interests. Instead of getting annoyed when Taylor Swift’s music would play through the house, they started listening.

Especially Travis.

He liked the music, and thought she seemed pretty cool. He didn’t admit it, but you guessed that maybe he had a bit of a celebrity crush on her.

Life continued to change as your brothers left for college, then moved to different cities when they got signed to two different NFL teams. You missed them, but it was great seeing them succeed.

Jason and Travis still made time for family, even when Jason got married and started a family of his own. You and Kylie became friends right away, and you immediately loved having another girl in the family. You couldn’t wait for it to be Travis’s turn to find someone. But preferably not through his dating show.

When Taylor Swift announced her Eras Tour, you desperately wanted to go. So you were highly disappointed when you weren’t able to get tickets.

And then Travis surprised you with tickets to her show in Kansas City. By this point you had moved in with Jason and Kylie near Philly, but Travis assured you that he’d take care of all the travel logistics to get you to the concert.

You flew in the night before, getting to spend the day with your brother before heading to the stadium. It was weird to be there for a concert, having attended numerous games there before. It was cool to see how it was transformed into something almost unrecognizable.

Being there with Travis meant getting to be seated with a great view in a cordoned off section. It also meant Chiefs fans coming close to the barrier to talk to him before the show. Watching your brother trade friendship bracelets with these people was a strange moment, one you never would have imagined happening.

Through all that, there was one bracelet he had that you noticed he wouldn’t trade. Taking a closer glance you see what’s written on it and give him a confused look.

“Travis, what in the world is this?” you ask.

“Friendship bracelet,” he answers simply, dodging your true question.

“Obviously. But why is your number on here? Who is this for?”

He laughs nervously but before you can press it further another fan comes up to say hi. You can’t help but wonder what his plan is for that bracelet, even though you have a pretty good idea who its intended recipient is.

The concert begins and you have a wonderful time, dancing and singing along, Travis just as excited beside you. As it ends, Travis speaks with one of the staff members, looking slightly disappointed but not too bothered. Once again you’re left wondering what that was all about.

It’s a couple weeks later and you’re listening to the latest episode of Travis and Jason’s podcast when they bring up Travis attending the concert. Sure enough, he confirms he was trying to get that bracelet with his number to Taylor, and you have to commend him on his creativity and optimism.

What you don’t expect is for Taylor to find out about that and get in touch with Travis. Now a year later, your brother is in a happy, committed relationship with Taylor Swift. She’s come to family dinners, you’ve been next to her during Chiefs games, and she’s made it so you could come to a number of concerts on her tour. You cannot believe that this has become your life. And you have to give your brother credit for his powers of manifestation.

One afternoon you’re hanging in the living room while Jason records the podcast in the basement. He calls out for you and you go down to see what’s going on.

He hands you a set of headphones so you can hear Travis as well, and fills you in on the topic.

“So,” Jason begins. “Fans are starting to give you credit for Travis and Taylor getting together. Do you think that’s fair to say?”

You laugh for a moment that this is why you’re called to speak on what should be a sports podcast, before answering, “I think that’s fair. I mean, he did the work but I would say my childhood Swiftie obsession planted the seed.”

Travis replies, “You don’t think I would have found out about her on my own?”

“Oh you totally would have. But I got the ball rolling ages ago. Timing is everything, what if you’d been too late?”

“Alright, I’ll give you that. We can say you had a hand in this.”

“So that means you owe me,” you say.

Jason chimes in, “Yea Trav, your turn to manifest for Y/N.”

“You want me to manifest a boyfriend for our little sister?” Travis questions.

“Oh, right, wait, don’t actually do that. I forgot, Y/N’s not allowed to date until she’s forty,” Jason says, leading you to roll your eyes at his overprotectiveness.

“Ok, but if I were to try, who would it be? Y/N, who’s your celebrity crush?” Travis asks.

There’s no way you’re answering that on camera, especially with who the answer actually is. You clench your teeth and lift your eyebrows before cheekily saying, “Oh, no, I cannot answer that on the pod. That’s uhm. That’d be messy.” You then shrug and laugh, trying to play all of this off as a bit.

While Travis tries to dig and get you to answer, it clicks for Jason and he says, “Wait, I think I know who it is. Is it, uhm-”

“Don’t you dare say anything!” you exclaim to shut him up.

“Alright, alright. I won’t spill your secrets.”

“Well at least tell it to me later,” Travis says, to which you reply, “Absolutely not. I’m afraid you may actually try to meddle.”

“Who, me? No way,” he replies only to be met with an unimpressed look from you.

The boys drop the subject and you head back upstairs as they finally talk about football again.

You assume that they’ve moved on, and you’re happy when they don’t bring up your celebrity crush again.

You’re even happier when Jason tells you he’s taking you to the season opener Eagles vs Packers game in Philly. You’re super excited to be able to experience an Eagles game alongside your brother. You’re also glad you can be there for him in case it’s hard for him to watch them play without him for the first time since his retirement.

What you’re unaware of is the plan that Jason and Travis had made behind your back.

“So now you’re on board with trying to set up our little sister?” Jason had questioned during a phone call a couple weeks prior.

“Yes. And I have a way of making it happen,” Travis had answered.

“And you want me to help Y/N meet and potentially date a popstar who happens to be your girlfriend's ex-boyfriend?”

“Yes.”

“And he’s a Packers fan?”

“Yea, that is the unfortunate part. And you’re not really helping them date. That’s all on them. But you could at least help her meet him at the game.”

“This is ridiculous,” Jason says. “But I’ll do it.”

And that’s how you find yourself walking through the tunnels of the Linc with Jason before the start of the game and bumping into Harry Styles.

“Hello, I’m Harry,” he says cheerfully, holding a hand out for you to shake.

Mustering up all of your chill, you smile in return while reaching out to clasp his hand and say, “I’m Y/N. It’s so nice to meet you, I’m a big fan.”

“Well, thank you for your support,” he says.

“You kids want a picture?” There are few times you want to kill your brother, but him butting in while you’re talking to Harry Styles is definitely one of them.

“That’s alright,” you say, trying not to impose on Harry too much. So you’re surprised when Harry says, “Of course, let’s get a photo!”

You stand next to him, and his arm wraps around your shoulder and you hope your expression doesn’t show how crazy fast your heart is beating while Jason takes the picture.

“It was so nice meeting you both, I’ll see you around!” Harry says as he walks away.

Before Jason can begin to tease you, you say, “Don’t even say a word.”

He listens to you and instead just laughs as you keep walking.

After some quick hellos to the stadium staff, you’re led up to a box.

“I thought we just had seats today?” You question.

“We did. But when I was talking to Mark he said we got upgraded.”

When you step into the box you’re once again surprised by the presence of Harry Styles.

“Okay, we are definitely in the wrong place,” you murmur to your brother.

“Oh good, you guys found us!” Harry says. You look to see who he’s talking to and get shocked to see it’s you and Jason. “There were some open spots so I asked if you two could join us,” he explains.

“Wow, thank you!” You manage to squeak out.

Suddenly you’re realizing what is about to happen. A four minute encounter in the hallway? Easy. An entire three hour football game? There’s no way you make it through without embarrassing yourself.

And yet, halftime comes and you’ve so far managed not to make a fool of yourself. In fact, you’re even impressed by your witty banter as the Eagles and Packers go back and forth taking the lead.

“So, I read about these botanical gardens nearby,” Harry says.

“Longwood?” You ask.

“Yea, have you ever been?”

“A couple times. I went with Jason, Kylie, and the kids earlier this summer. They’re really nice. If you’re thinking about going, I highly recommend.”

“I actually got a couple tickets for the fountain show tomorrow night. I was wondering if you’d like to go with me.”

Quickly processing that Harry is asking you to hang out with him, possibly go on a date with him, you reply, “I’d love to!”

“Fantastic! I can pick you up in the afternoon?”

“Sounds good to me, thank you.”

You exchange phone numbers and give Harry your address, still in disbelief that all of this is actually happening.

The game resumes, and as the Eagles make their comeback you can’t help but cheer and get wrapped up in the game. And even as Harry’s team starts losing, he still stays happy and continues to joke around with you.

When the game ends and the Eagles fans celebrate, you say to Harry, “I hope this doesn’t affect us hanging out tomorrow.”

“Not a chance, in fact I think that will cheer me up,” he says with a smile.

“Hey Y/N, I’ve gotta go talk to a couple people. You hanging here or coming with me?” Of course, there’s your brother interrupting again. And while you’d rather stay with Harry, you don't really want to be separated from Jason in the post-game chaos. So you say goodbye to Harry with the promise to see him the next day.

On your way back home you put up with the teasing from your brother.

You beg him to be on his best behavior when Harry picks you up the next day.

You know he won’t.

So it’s no surprise that he gives Harry “the talk”, telling him that if he hurts you at all then he’ll have to face two NFL players.

You’re hanging in the living room with Kylie and the kids while this happens, and when the two boys come back Kylie asks,”He wasn’t too scary, was he?”

“No,” Harry replies. “Just scary enough I’d say. Shall we get going?” He addresses this last question to you and you agree, more than happy to get out of the house before Jason takes his big brother role too seriously.

When Harry drives away he lets out a deep breath and you say, “You good?”

“Yea, just- Your brother is scary.”

You start to laugh at the fact that Jason managed to actually shake up Harry Styles. But you decide to help him out by saying, “He seems scary, but it’s mostly all talk. Unless you do something to hurt me. Then you should be scared.”

“Oh I feel so much better,” he says, laughing along now.

The two of you have a wonderful time together at the gardens, especially since Harry manages to somehow fly under the radar. The fountain show is fascinating, and you stand together, Harry’s arm around your waist sending butterflies through your belly.

It’s late when you get home, and he walks you to the door like a gentleman.

When he asks if he can kiss you, of course you say yes. He leans in for a soft kiss before saying goodnight, not leaving until you’ve made it safely inside.

Jason is waiting up for you, and as you tell him about your night you watch his gruff exterior fade away. He looks truly pleased by all you have to report and you’re glad that he seems to approve of Harry.

For the next couple of months, it all goes well. Your relationship with Harry flourishes. You get to see him more than expected since he starts working out of a studio in NYC, only two hours away from where you are.

There is one mild bump in the road, occurring on a Friday evening when Jason and Kylie are supposed to be out at a party with the girls.

You’d been planning on a quiet night home alone. But then Harry had surprised you by showing up at your front door, a bouquet of flowers in hand.

One thing led to another, and before you know it you’re both on the couch. You’re straddling his lap, his hands sliding under your shirt as the two of you make out.

As much as Harry had surprised you, Jason surprises you even more by suddenly coming home and walking right into the living room.

Harry notices him first, and in an effort to save this interaction he pushes you off of him, luckily managing to shift you to the open spot next to him on the couch.

There’s a moment of oppressively awkward silence as Jason stares at the two of you, speechless. Without saying a word he walks to the mud room and grabs the diaper bag that had clearly been left behind earlier.

As he passes through the room to leave he says, “You are adults. Just- don’t be stupid. There are enough kids in this house already.”

Without waiting for a reply he leaves the house. After another moment you and Harry break into nervous laughter.

The mood is pretty much ruined but you still have a nice night watching a movie together. Harry stays with you but has to leave at lunchtime the next day.

That afternoon Jason knocks on your bedroom door, asking if he can talk for a minute.

“Sure, what’s up?” You say, not expecting the conversation that follows.

“I just wanted to ask how things are going between you and Harry,” he says.

“Oh! Good! Yea, things are going well. I really like him,” you answer.

“And you’re being safe?”

“Oh my god, Jason! We are not having this conversation,” you say as your cheeks warm at the implication.

“Well you’re living in my house, I just, you know. I feel responsible for your well being.”

“I’m safe. Very safe. You don’t have to worry.” You hope your words will convince him to drop the topic.

“And you trust him? Cause I mean, he’s a big time Popstar. Bet he’s broken a fair number of hearts before.”

You find yourself needing to defend Harry and ask, “Have you had this conversation with Travis about Taylor?”

“Fair point,” he concedes. “I just don’t want you getting hurt. You’re sure about him?”

“I am.”

“Okay then. That’s what matters. I’m only looking out for you.”

“I know. But Harry and I are happy. I promise.”

With that smoothed over, the next few weeks continue drama free.

And then comes Christmas.

Due to scheduling, Harry had yet to meet Travis. You’ve talked to your brother about him, and you know Travis has talked about all of this with Taylor. So while you’ve been told that it’s no big deal that your boyfriend and your brother’s girlfriend are exes, you’re still a bit nervous for Christmas dinner.

It’s a late meal, since you have to wait for Travis to get there after the Chiefs vs Ravens game, and you spend the afternoon entertaining your nieces and helping prepare the food.

Finally Travis and Taylor arrive, and for a moment you can’t help but feel self conscious. The room is full of NFL players and international pop stars. You excuse yourself to the kitchen for a moment to collect yourself. When you walk back to the living room, Harry greets you with the biggest smile, and those feelings of self doubt melt away. Because those big accomplishments and accolades aren’t what matter to him. What he cares about is how kind you are, how fun and loving you are. He wraps an arm around your shoulders, pressing a kiss to your head and you blush knowing your whole family is watching.

But looking up at them you see nothing but support. Your mom is practically glowing seeing all her children with their significant others, and quickly organizes a family picture.

It takes some time to get all three of the little girls to cooperate, and by the time the photo is taken, dinner is ready.

There is something surreal at seeing Harry and Taylor pass the potatoes or bread basket, never having imagined this is how your life would turn out.

But that night, as you all agree to break the internet by posting the family picture, you know you wouldn’t want it any other way.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

AN: I wrote the first half of this as the Eagles lost to the Commanders, thus breaking a 10 game win streak soooo that was a bummer.

I wrote the ending after watching the Eagles beat the Cowboys, so at least that turned back around!

I think this may be the silliest thing I’ve ever written.

[s0akie]

I won't ever forgive Johnny Sims for the decisions that he made for episodes 161 and 162. It was genius and absolutely gut wrenching.

Back in the first few seasons, when we first started listening to the podcast, we were not that invested in the characters yet- Tim, Sasha and Martin only started appearing on tape midway through season one. They all had little tid bits here and there, and both Martin and Sasha had what- A single episode or two dedicated to them?

So, losing Sasha back then was not as devastating as it could have been. We did not know her as a person. We did not get the time to be attached to the characters yet. Her death's purpose, for us, was to cement the actual horror of the podcast, the fact that a person believed to be part of the main cast had simply died, in a situation she could not have prevented- Her death set the stakes, as well as introduced the Not!Them properly to us.

By the time we lost Tim, we only remembered him as a bitter and angry man. We had spent the majority of the show with a Tim that had fallen into a deep, deep depression, and that version of Tim is the version we knew. Once again, his cheery attitude was only there during season 1 and the few times we'd hear him in season 2, and even then the bitterness had started to settle.

Now, as we listened to the first two episodes of season 5, bracing for the worst, bracing for the apocalypse and the screams of terror and yells and arguments, we instead get hit with Jon's Birthday tape from before the show even started. We listen as we get to hear Sasha and Tim again at the same time Jon does, we then get insights on how they were as people, how happy they used to be, their goals, their ambitions, their relationship and friendship and how it could have grown, and we mourn them.

Now that we are fully invested into the show, we are forced to go through the grief we had managed to avoid the first time around. We are forced to mourn Sasha, to wish she had stuck around, to wish we had more time to simply know her.

We are forced to mourn Tim, his pre-depression self, we wish it could have gone differently, that he had appeared on tape just a little more.

It's just that, a gut-punch, a "Hah, you thought you were safe four seasons ago? Back when you first lost Sasha? Well fuck you, cry now. Realize. Bitch."

God I love this show

[yanderefarm]

I feel powerful now...... anyway i want to potato and bitch Nephite's creepy brother

-🥔

i have never once imagined cotton as a hot guy. i literally set up another different hot boy!!! the pastor's son!!! he's an omega waiting to be revealed and disgraced smh.... but noooo you want cotton the creepy alpha bro podcast listener.

cw;; drugs, noncon, castration, forced fem, abuse, amputation, dead dove

anyway imagine catching cotton trying something with nephite. either trying to kidnap him to give to his friend or just trying to hurt him. you save nephite and he asks you to leave cotton alone they're family after all. but no. you're sick of this guy being a total creep to his brother and giving you dirty looks and just being a bitch. you promise not to hurt him just teach him a lesson.

nephite helps you lock him in the basement and he has no idea what exactly you're doing when you go down there just that you're really not hurting him. instead you're pumping him full of drugs. aphrodisiacs, estrogen, medicine specifically designed for bitching. you even get someone from the city to help you castrate the new omega. you assume the process of completely changing him into a pretty little omega will break his ego.

unfortunately he manages to escape. that's fine. for an alpha there's nothing more fun than playing predator to a scared little omega. he really thinks he'll get away, he really thinks he's still an alpha. so when you catch him you don't say anything, don't even mock him before your cock is buried in his cunt. you mate him hard and rough like the real alphas he idolizes, taking what's yours and painting his insides with your cum. when he takes your knot and his body cums it finally breaks his will. he accepts that he's your omega. unfortunate that's too late.

you get your doctor friend to come back and remove all his limbs so he can never think about running away again. you dress him up in a nice new dress and show him what he's become in the mirror. he's exactly what an omega should be.

you reintroduce him to your lovely wife. you explain to nephite that his brother actually always wanted to be an omega, he asked for your help to turn him into the ideal omega with the limbs removed and all. cotton's ideal omega atleast. you apologize for claiming him without nephite's permission but he just begged you to. some part of him hoped that when nephite was alone with him he could ask for help, get out of there, get his life back. he didn't realize his younger brother was also deranged. nephite beat his defenseless body half to death for trying to steal you away before you stopped him, like you knew what he was doing the whole time.

cotton improved your marriage. he gave your wife the freedom to say no or simply get cuddles and kisses because you would use cotton's body like a toy whenever you wanted, relentless and loveless as you fucked him. and nephite had a punching bag for all his anger at anything, the cult, other omegas, very very occasionally you. he would beat his brother bloody with a terror that cotton hadn't known he possessed and then nephite would come back with you smiling and bubbly as he apologized for hurting your toy.

[staticvn]

the foxes : random headcanons (because i need to let it all out somewhere)

• Renee & Matt are both huge fans of atla and the pjo series. Dan likes it as well but not as much as they do. They also tried to convince Allison to watch it with them and despite saying it’s “not her thing” she really likes it.

• Renee keeps her own garden. Mostly plants and flowers though. She tries for some veggies as well but they never grow right

• At some point, Andrew would stop smoking completely. The withdrawals are crazy and he’s cranky as hell through the whole thing but yeah.

• Renee would definitely love visiting churches and cathedrals in different countries. Not only cuz she’s religious but also because she loves the architecture and art a lot.

• also also Renee would keep the coolest looking patterned stuff. Fox shaped & cat paw carved ceramic mugs, knitted sweaters with a lot of patchworks and so on.

• Renee taught Neil ASL. For no particular reason just that it’s a good thing to know. After that she also tried teaching some of the other foxes but mostly just the basics.

• Kind of surprise to everyone, Aaron would be really good at chess. Neil and Matt on the other hand… very much not. He sometimes has chess matches with Kevin but Kev always loses which genuinely drives him mad.

• Aaron knows latin- not just the medical terms that med students have to know but like the language. So you bet that whenever someone gets him angry he starts to yap at them in latin just to make a point of some sort.

• Andrew would like those old/retro gameboys

• Andrew always beats everyone in mario kart with Nicky often being either close second or complete last - no in between.

• Nicky is the #1 pancake maker. He was kind of awful at it at first but after many many tries he perfected it for the twins

• Kev is also the #1 cook in healthy but completely flavourless prison-looking meals (though it is not his fault. i blame the nest.)

• if the foxes would ever have escape room night best believe Neil would be the first to figure it out and in record time as well.

• Kevin is a mosquito magnet and won’t stop complaining about it…like ever. (had to google synonym for bitching btw)

• to fight off the “eboy Andrew” allegations im fighting back with “absolute loser Andrew” where he wears too big sweaters, reading glasses, has crooked teeth, and searches through different cryptid or internet mysteries- related sites for too long (…projecting but still)

• Neil hates coffee. his favorite tea is peppermint or earl grey.

• the monsters watch cartoons in the morning if they don’t have classes i said what i said

• Neil definitely got into photography (or sketching or both) at some point. there is just something so symbolic about that i just can’t wire up my brain rn to figure out why.

• Kevin listens to podcasts instead of music while working out because he is simply that type. sigh

ok im done

[shiorimakibawrites]

Cat Man Do: Part 2 (Daredevil Fan Fic)

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem! Reader Seconding Pairings: Foggy Nelson x Marci Stahl, implied Karen Page x Frank Castle Word Count: 11,000 Summary: It is a day of discovery for you. Warning(s): Swearing, sexual fantasies, referenced masturbation, kissing, dirty talk, referenced marking/hickies, oral sex (female receiving), vaginal fingering, unprotected P in V sex, referenced oral sex (male receiving), referenced animal abuse (not graphic) Series Masterlist Matt Murdock/Daredevil Masterlist General Masterlist Tag List: @loves0phelia, @nowheredreamer, @beezusvreeland, @indestructeible, @what-i-call-men, @reblog-reblog666, @flynnethenerd, @mattmurdocks6thscaleapartment, @yarrystyleeza, @bellaxgiornata, @reluctanthalfwayofoptimism, @bluerobin35 Also posted on AO3

Cat Man Do

Part 2 of 2

“And that’s the last of it,” you said to yourself as you put the last of the dishes into the drying rack. While you dried off your hands, you did a quick survey of your handiwork. The apartment was now back to its normal state of relative tidiness. The only remaining mess was the nest of blankets that Trouble had burrowed himself into and presumably napping it.

It had been tempting to peek. Very tempting. But you knew yourself. If you did that, you wouldn’t be able to resist petting him. Then you would probably give into the urge to see if he liked any of the cat toys you still had . . . then boom, the housework would be completely forgotten.

It wasn’t that you hated housework. It was just boring. Which made any number of procrastinating distractions rather appealing. Listening to music or podcast on your phone usually helped. Singing along with your favorite songs or learned something interesting made it feel like the dull but necessary work wasn’t taking so long. Thought you had to avoid certain ones while doing housework because sometimes they got you arguing with the people in the magic box instead of doing what you were supposed to. Like ironing your work clothes . . .

Other days, your brain decided to turn whatever was coming out of your phone into white noise and simply daydreamed. Today was one of those days. Fortunate for getting your work done, those daydreams stayed innocent. Imaging Matt having his way with you on your kitchen table, for example, would have been rather distracting. Case in point, even just the thought of that fantasy was making you squirm.

Keeping them sweet didn’t prevent Matt from taking the staring role. Far from it. Which was embarrassing for all different reasons. It was one thing to have sexual fantasies about an attractive man. Picturing that same man saying three little words with that deeply fond smile on his face had different implications.

Implications that made you feel stupid. You knew falling in love with your boss was a bad idea. The king of bad ideas. Mousy secretary falls in love with her incredibly attractive boss is the premise for a romance novel, not a recipe for true love forever. You were going to get your heart broken. Probably not today. Maybe not tomorrow. But someday.

You weren’t looking forward to it. Watching women hit on him already felt like a knife to your heart. Watching while he meet someone else and fall in love with them was going to be agony. Assuming you stayed around to watch. Which you likely wouldn’t do. You weren’t that much of masochist.

The worst part was that you wanted Matt to find his special someone. The person who would make him laugh and help him find joy. Someone who would comfort him when he was sad, take care of him when he was sick. For him to know that someone loved him, that they wanted to stay forever . . . you wanted that for him.

Maybe it was selfish but you just wished that special someone was you.

You knew it was unlikely. Matt had never stated an interest in you beyond friendship. Yes, he flirted. But Matt flirted with everyone. And yes, you had gone on all those outings with him. But those were friend outings, not dates. And yes, on those occasions when Matt asked him to guide him, it seemed like he was reluctant to let go of your arm afterward. Or how he kept holding your hands after they had gotten warmed up after forgetting your gloves last week, only dropping them when the office phone rang . . .

But he never said anything. Sometimes it seem liked he might. Moments where he said he had something to tell you, something that he wanted to ask, that seem like maybe . . . then nothing. Either the universe intervene – phone calls, fire alarm, sudden loud argument between two food truck drivers – or it wouldn’t be exactly what you were hoping for. Like asking if you would be his plus-one at some fancy party being thrown by Columbia Law alum next weekend. That wasn’t a date. It was just practical since he and Foggy had only gotten their invitations to said party this week . . . It was a very deliberate snub considering Marci had received hers month ago . . .

Granted, you hadn’t said anything to him either. In part because you wanted to avoid ruining what you already had. You genuinely liked being Matt’s friend. You valued that relationship and didn’t want to lose it. Or make things incredibly awkward. But big part of it was simply that you weren’t ready to hear ‘I’m flattered but . . .’

You’d probably never be ready. Because no matter how kindly someone tries to let you down, rejection always stung . . .

“Enough moping,” you told yourself sternly. You had a mystery to explore.

But first you were going to check on Trouble. He had been rather quiet. Too quiet. He might simply be asleep but your experience said that sometimes the too quiet cat was a cat getting into mischief. You walked over to the blanket cocoon and peeled back the layers until you found the lithe, brown form. A pair of yellow-green eyes blinked sleepily at you. You couldn’t resist. There were few things cuter than a drowsy cat. You reached over and started lightly scratching behind the ears. Trouble purred and bumped his head more firmly into your hands.

“Hey there, sleepy kitty,” you said. “Enjoy your nap?”

He made one of those trilling noises which only made your smile grow. And encouraged you to keep petting him. Which wasn’t a hardship.

“Your coat is so soft, Trouble,” you said. “Feels like velvet.”

Like your new dress, the one you had let Marci and Karen talked you into buying for the fancy party. You hadn’t intended to buy anything when you accompanied them to the stops. You had fully intended to just wear one of the dresses you already owned. But then you saw it.

A pretty black dress made of velvet that looked like it was your size. Curious, you had checked. It was. Moreover, it was marked off enough to within your limited budget. Which made it very tempting. A temptation that Marci enthusiastically enabled. Come on, at least see how it fits . . .

It fit perfectly, hugging your curves just right. Offered tantalizing glimpses of skin without showing off more than you were comfortable with. You had felt beautiful wearing it. Which meant Marci and Karen didn’t have to push very hard to convince you to buy it. Karen sweetened the deal by reminding you that Matt loved velvet. And that maybe feeling so pretty would give you the confidence boost you needed to tell him how you felt.

Something that both Karen and Marci seemed very certain would be received well. You weren’t nearly so sure but you brought the dress.

In the name of making you feel as pretty and confident as possible, Karen and Marci decided you also needed new shoes and underwear. When you objected that you couldn’t afford to do that, Marci countered that she would pay. Which was why you were now the proud owner of a pair of heels that cost a frankly ridiculous amount of money. Because when Marci decided to treat someone, she didn’t believe in going cheap.

The underwear set had been more reasonably priced but still seemed like a lot for a bra and panties. Even if they were made of high quality silk and lace. But they had looked good on you too and Karen had asked you to imagine if everything went well and the night ended with your dress on Matt’s bedroom floor . . .

You didn’t know what had flustered you more. Your own imagination or that evil, knowing grin on Karen’s face or Marci supplying lewd details of Matt’s sexual prowess. Not from her own experience but she knew people who had slept with him. People whose stories she trusted to be accurate.

Karen insisted that the underwear had to be dark red. Saying with a mysterious smile that Matt would find it hot. Which just confused you. For obvious reasons, purely visual elements like color didn’t hold any appeal for Matt . . .

“Why?” you mused out loud. But since Karen wasn’t here to pester, your only answer was a questioning meow from Trouble. Which probably had more to do with you getting so lost in your head that you had stopped petting him than anything else.

“Sorry, Trouble,” you said, resuming the pets. “Got distracted. Trying to figure out why Karen thinks Matt would find me wearing red silk underwear sexy.”

Trouble made the strangest sound you had ever heard from a cat. Like he couldn’t decide which cat noise to make and kept switching tracks part-way through each one. If he had been human, you would have said he was sputtering.

It was such a funny reaction that you couldn’t help giggling.

Matt’s current form prevented him from blushing. Which he supposed he should be thankful for. His sputtering already had you giggling. He could only imagine your reaction to seeing his cheeks go what he had been told was a lovely shade of dusty pink.

What was Karen up to? Telling you something like that?!

The fact that it was true was immaterial. Now he would have fantasies about running his hands over your curves, feeling your petal soft skin encased in silk . . . and the idea of you wearing Daredevil red immensely pleased that possessive streak that ran deep inside him . . .

But he didn’t need help coming up with impure thoughts about you. He already spent far too much time touching himself while imaging you spread out on his bed, exploring every inch with his hands and mouth, the sounds of your pleasure filling his ears . . . Fantasies that were going to be a lot more vivid now that he knew exactly what those noises sounded like and just how sweet your arousal tasted . . . even if tasting it from the air was a poor substitute for tasting it directly from the source . . .

Matt shook himself. He shouldn’t be thinking about that.

You turned your attention toward your pack and the mystery inside it. You moved the pack over to the couch and started pulling out the suit.

The red color was brighter than you expected, dark scarlet instead of the maroon it had looked under the dim light of your flashlight. The webbing between panels wasn’t black either. It was a deep, deep red that almost black. Like those really good cherries that you loved but could never remember what they were called. It was was just as heavy as you remembered, with the heft that reminded you of an old friend’s bulletproof vest. But more flexible . . . actually, looking at all of the webbing interwoven into it, you’d guess a lot more.

“It seems Daredevil is a bendy vigilante,” you mused outloud. “Probably not as bendy as Spider-Man but that guy is made out of silly-putty. Or at least his spine is.”

The suit was a little scuffed but otherwise looked fine. No holes, rips, or tears that you could find. No visible blood . . . you sniffed. You couldn’t smell any blood either. Just sweat. Something clean that you recognized as saddle soap. The fainter odor of plain soap along with something very familiar.

“Huh,” you said, eyeing the suit. “Daredevil and Matt wear the same cologne. Small world.”

Next, you checked the pouches on the belt. There weren’t that many. They contained a prepaid cell phone that you set aside to look at more closely later, zip ties, fold-up cash, and business cards. Curious, you shuffled through the cards. Nelson & Murdock, Alias Investigations, Chikara Dojo, FEAST, Helping Hands . . . . Each business or charity was separated by paper clips or rubber bands.

“Curious,” you murmured, wondering why . . . maybe he just didn’t want to spend time shuffling through them looking for a particular one? Or didn’t think he would always have time to do that? Maybe he had folded up the cash for the same reason. As long as he remembered how each card was bundled or bill folded, he could get out the right one without looking at them.

You turned your attention to the phone but was immediately stymied. The phone refused to turn on. It didn’t look broken. Which probably meant that it needed to be charged. Guess you weren’t the only one who forgot to put their phone on the charger. Or maybe Daredevil used a phone while fighting crime a lot more than anyone would expect. You grumbled as you got off the couch. You weren’t sure if your charger would work with this phone. Thankfully it did but the batteries were practically dead. Investigating the phone would have to wait.

In the meantime, you inspected the helmet. It was the same color as the suit but not the same materials, something more rigid. But it seemed to be in good shape. You couldn’t see or feel any cracks. You traced the edge of the characteristic horns and mask. You were unable to resist to urge to put the helmet on your own head. It probably looked ridiculous. There was nothing superhero about your oversized tee shirt featuring a gray cat calling itself ‘purr-fect’ and sweat pants. But you were curious. What did the world look like to the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen?

The answer was very red. You had expected a reddish tint from the color of the lenses. But it was more intense than you expected. It was also less . . . clear than you would have thought. The lenses weren’t opaque – you could see through them. But tinted dark like a pair of sunglasses.

“Odd,” you said, wondering why Daredevil had what was effectively sunglasses built into his helmet. It seemed peculiar. Especially for a vigilante that operated almost exclusively at night. And had a known habit of cutting lights to places before going in. The consensus in the hero forums was that Daredevil must be able to see in the dark. But, you frowned, even the best night vision still needed some light . . . even nocturnal animals couldn’t see in total darkness . . .

“If he has superhuman night vision,” you thought outloud, pulling off the helmet. “Maybe his eyes are really light sensitive?”

Trouble meowed loudly. It sounded almost like a no.

“Vetoing that theory, Trouble?” You asked, glancing over at him. He had crawled out of the blanket cocoon and was doing the big stretch. Which, by the rules of cat companions everywhere, you had to comment on. “Ohhh, big stretch!”

He meowed again. You laughed. It was almost like he was answering you.

You smiled and shook your head. Despite Trouble’s rejection, the theory was plausible. Someone whose eyes worked very well at low light could very well be someone that found bright light painful. And while he worked at night, New York City wasn’t all that dark after sundown. Nowhere near as dark as it was out in the forest.

Granted, Hell’s Kitchen was darker at night than most of the city. Streets lights and other sources of lighting that had gotten damaged in the Incident still hadn’t been repaired or replaced. Somehow there was never enough money in the budget. At least not for something like street lights. Some of the landlords were similarly disinclined. Others had died during the aforementioned alien invasion and similar attacks on the city. And many of those estates were a byzantine nightmare of disputed wills, shell companies, and other assorted legal headaches.

You knew this because Nelson & Murdock was one of the many laws firms attempting untangle this particular Gordian knot. The progress had been slow and uneven. Matt and Foggy had muttered many unkind words about property law, estate law, the lawyers involved in creating this mess, and especially the lawyers trying to keep the knot intact because the mess benefited their clients . . . which yes, was their job. But they didn’t have be so smug about it . . .

The color of the lenses was another question mark. Why red? Then you remembered something you had read . . . red lenses or red lights helped people kept their eyes dark adapted or helped them adjust to low-light conditions quicker. Of course that little nugget had been discovered during a romp through Wikipedia Wonderland. So massive grain of salt . . .

Of course, it could simply be aesthetics. It fit with the Devil theme. You imagined that seeing the sudden glint of those red lenses from out of the shadows would be quite intimidating.

“Or maybe he just likes red,” you muttered to yourself, putting the helmet down on the coffee table.

You drummed your fingers against your thigh, staring at the suit . . . why? Why would Daredevil abandon his suit and (possibly) walk into the night wearing (possibly) only whatever was under the suit?

“Which couldn’t be much,” you mused, your face flushing at the thought. Most images of the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen were either low-quality, out-of-focus, or too shadowy to make out much. But from what you could tell, the suit was close-fitting. No much room for anything but him in there. Or nothing at all. Which was an idea that made your flush worse.

Matt might have been the leading man in your fantasies but he wasn’t the only one to appear. You had entertained thoughts about Daredevil. Very dirty thoughts. Which was really saying something considering some of the ones involving Matt . . . but there was just something about the vigilante that could made you feel feral.

You had the feeling that those fantasies were about to get more vivid. Because now, you knew what the suit looked like up close. What it felt like under your hands. Granted what it felt like without Daredevil actually in it. Which was, if you were being perfectly honest, a little disappointing. You might be carrying the torch for Matt but that didn’t stop other men from being attractive. Or your mind from idly (and somewhat guiltily) wondering if Daredevil’s suit struggled to contain his muscles the same way Matt’s suits struggled to contain his . . .

Something touched your thigh. You jumped before realizing it was just Trouble putting one of his paws on your leg. Probably looking for attention. You reached down to start petting him, scratching him behind the ears. Which he seemed to enjoy, purring as he crawled onto your lap. You were easily tempted away from your mystery.

“You’re a total lap cat, aren’t you?” you asked. Your only answer was louder purring.

You were starting to feel almost sleepy, sitting here with a purring cat in your lap. Especially on a day like this, gray and unusually quiet for New York. Which made the notification chime from your phone inordinately loud. Checking it required disturbing Trouble. Which he made very clear that he didn’t like.

“I know, I know, you were comfortable,” you said, checking the notifications. Mostly text messages from friends and family making sure you were okay. You had just sent off a couple of replies when you caught something out of the corner of your eye.

Looking away from your phone, you peered at the suit. What . . . oh. There was something inside the crumpled suit, a bit of fabric peeking out. Curious, you sat down your phone and touched it. Silk. You gave it a gentle tug and the cloth came out.

Immediately, you felt your face flush again. It was underwear. Specifically a pair of men’s black boxers. Black silk boxers. The Devil of Hell’s Kitchen wore black silk boxers. For reasons you couldn’t really explain, this made you giggle.

The universe was a peculiar place. One where a blind defense attorney and a vigilante had interesting things in common. They both liked silk. They wear the same cologne. And estimating from the suit, Daredevil and Matt were the same height and had a similar build.

And apparently knew a lot of the same people. Matt carried a lot of the same business cards, personally knew the owners. Though you were a little unclear on how he had met some of them. Jessica Jones, you could see. She lived and worked in Hell’s Kitchen and her zero-tolerance policy for assholes often got her trouble with the cops. But the others were less clear . . . It didn’t help that when you had asked, the story you had gotten had been rather vague.

It wasn’t the only story where Matt, Foggy, and Karen got evasive. Another sign that there were secrets in the office of Nelson & Murdock. And not the normal client-confidentiality type secrets . . .

Glancing back at the suit, you noticed something else. Something you couldn’t believe you had missed. It didn’t look like it had been stripped off. None of the zippers or other fasteners were undone. You frowned, looking closely at it again. How could he have gotten it off without undoing any of the fasteners?

All thoughts of Daredevil were driven out of your head when Trouble let out a pained yowl. You snapped your head up to see him fall off the couch, writhing and twisting like he was having a seizure. You rushed toward him but then something weird happened. Trouble began to grow and swell, becoming bigger and bigger . . . body twisting and jerking the entire time . . . until what was laying on your floor wasn’t a cat. It was a man.

A very familiar man. Matt Murdock lay there, his body still twitching and spasming. His chest heaved and his forehead was beaded with sweat.

You couldn’t believe your own eyes. Had that really just happened? You pinched yourself. It hurt. So not a dream. You reached out and touched Matt’s shoulder. It was solid and warm under your hand. The muscles still twitching from . . . whatever that was. But gradually the twitching stopped and the tension in Matt’s jaw eased.

“Sorry,” he said. His voice was strained. “Didn’t want you to find out this way.”

Find out what? That he turned into a cat? Or . . . you looked at the suit. Then it clicked. All of the pieces suddenly made sense. Matt was Daredevil. The suit didn’t look like it had been stripped off because it hadn’t. The person wearing it had merely gotten much, much smaller.

“You’re Daredevil?” you asked, just to be sure.

“Yes.”

“And you turn into a cat?” you asked. You hoped not. He was a very cute cat but that transformation had looked like hideously painful.

His lips twitched into something like a smile. “Not usually. This was the first time.”

“Okay,” you said. You took a deep breath. Than another. Your boss was Daredevil. He had been turned into a cat. You had taken him to your apartment. He might have observed you having a dirty dream about him. This was fine. You were fine. Everything was fine.

Another breath. “Expected development?”

“No. Magic spell. I think.”

“Magic spell?” you repeated. “Like actual magic? You know, nevermind. Of course, magic is real. Why the hell not? We were invaded by aliens. There is a Norse God living uptown. Why wouldn’t magic be real?!”

You were babbling. But you couldn’t help it. It didn’t help that Matt was really smiling now. With the dimple and everything. Which had always left you flustered. Especially when combined with that fond look. Even if it almost immediately faded to something sober and tentative.

“Let me sit up and I’ll explain everything.”

“Okay,” you said. But as he started to push himself into a sitting position, you noticed something. Something that left you even more flustered. Matt was naked. Completely naked. Not a single stitch on him. You could see his . . . everything. Feeling your cheeks burn, you jerked back and whirled around to face the wall.

“Sweetheart?”

You felt your heart beat faster at the pet name. He had never called you that before. At work, he was entirely professional. And when you were at Josie’s or an outing, he just called you by your name.

“Clothes,” you said, feeling little frantic. You needed answers – to so many things – but you couldn’t have that conversation with him while he was naked. You would get . . . distracted. But none of your clothes would fit him . . . wait, the boxers! Where . . . you looked . . . there!

You scurried forward and snatched the boxers off the floor. Keeping your eyes firmly on his face, you went and dropped the underwear into what you hoped was his lap. “Your boxers. This isn’t a naked conversation.”

A soft huff of laughter. “No, it isn’t. Thank you, sweetheart.”

Sweetheart again? It wasn’t a slip of the tongue? Your cheeks couldn’t get any warmer but they sure tried.

You turned away again to give him some privacy while he dressed. For a given value of dressed. Considering it was only underwear. You fidgeted with the hem of your shirt and tried not to think about that. Or his . . . everything. You had limited success.

“I’m decent. You can look now.”

‘That’s debatable,’ you thought after you turned to face him. Yes, everything that needed covering was now covered. But the boxers fit him snugly enough that very little was left to the imagination. Not that you really needed your imagination anymore . . . . And that wasn’t even taking into account the rest of him.

You had known he had muscles. You just hadn’t realized he had quite so many muscles . . .

Matt realized that you had gotten distracted when it took a couple of times calling your name to get your attention. He was well aware that you were attracted to him but it was still gratifying to his ego to experience your body’s reaction to him. And the way the temperature and blood shifted to your face when you realized that you had been caught staring was rather cute.

But he soon sobered, remembering what you had just discovered. What he needed to explained. “Do you remember how I lost my eyesight?”

“I remember,” you said.

“Those chemicals didn’t just blind me,” he said. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He squared his shoulders, bracing himself for your inevitable reaction. Then he explained how his remaining senses had been enhanced to a superhuman degree. How he could hear everything happening around him, for several blocks. Further if he was focusing on someone he was familiar with. How he could very likely find Foggy, Karen, or you anywhere in this city if he needed to.

That his other senses were just as keen. Did his best to describe his world on fire. The others had poked fun of his metaphor but it was the best one he had found. He felt the usual frustration at not having the right words, the perfect words, to describe how he experienced the world. Words that help someone else understand his world without the misconceptions.

But such words didn’t seem to exist. He had to make do with the ones he had.

He took another deep breath, continuing in a very firm voice. “My senses do not change the fact that I cannot see. There are things my senses cannot tell me. Like what color anything is. Times when my world on fire isn’t as reliable as I would like such as when I’m tired or ill. My cane and other adaptive equipment aren’t props. I’m not pretending to be blind. I am blind.”

“Someone actually said that to you?” you said, sounding shocked. It was the first time you had spoken when he had started talking.

“Yes,” he said, trying not to remember how Foggy had spit out those words. Hardly the most painful thing that had been said that awful night . . . but the clear disgust in his voice had stayed with Matt for a long time . . .

“Who?” you demanded, your heartbeat sharply rising. He heard the shift of bone and muscle as your hands curled into fists. It was sweet that your first reaction was defend him. If it was completely unnecessary.

“Doesn’t matter,” Matt said, waving it off. “They didn’t really understand the explanation at first. Neither of us were in the right head space for the conversation. We’ve talked more since then and now they get it. And they apologized for that particular misunderstanding.”

You sighed.

You weren’t entirely surprised. Matt tended to be forgiving. Along with a rather concerning habit of ignoring or downplaying things when he was the one being treated poorly . . . And, as you silently reminded yourself, you didn’t know the whole story. That wouldn’t make what they said okay but it might make it understandable . . .

Regardless the decision to forgive or not to forgive was ultimately Matt’s, not yours. And he had obviously chosen to forgive whoever it was. Best to let it go and change the subject.

“Do you want some coffee?” you asked. “Or something else to drink?”

That bit of gravel in his voice might do all sorts of tingly stuff to your insides but he had been talking for a while. His mouth must be getting dry.

“As long you are making it anyway, coffee would be great,” Matt said.

“Coming right up,” you said and went into the kitchen. As you set up the coffee to brew, you did your best to process anything you had just learned.

Matt was Daredevil. It explained a lot. Foggy and Karen certainly knew. It was the only explanation for why they went along with Matt’s very obvious lies about how he had been injured. And why they didn’t seem . . . well, you couldn’t say that there was no concern. You had seen the pinched look of Foggy’s face when Matt was moving like it hurt him to breath. The worried, accessing look Karen gave particularly colorful bruises.

And yet, they had accepted every single one of his excuses from the plausible to the silly without question. Told you there was nothing to worry about when you expressed concern about Matt’s well-being. Even through sometimes neither looked like they really believed that . . .

Now you realized that they were concerned. It was just a different kind of concerned. Because they weren’t wondering how Matt kept getting hurt. They weren’t racking their brains trying to figure out who was hurting him or if all those worrying signs were related to some kind of health problem. Like maybe he was having seizures or something like that but was refusing to see the doctor . . .

But every theory you came up with kept hitting the wall for not being able to explain why Foggy and Karen didn’t seem to share your concerns. Why they clearly loved Matt but ignored that something troubling was obviously going on with him. . . . It hadn’t made any sense.

Now it did. Matt was Daredevil. They knew he was Daredevil. And knew his injuries were from fighting crime.

Matt had super senses. Which meant, you realized with a certain amount of horror, he had absolutely heard you moaning his name while touching yourself this morning. You buried your face in your hands with a soft groan. There was no hiding your non-platonic feelings anymore. The cat was out of the bag. Pun fully intended.

“What’s wrong?���

You jumped. You weren’t expecting his voice to be so close. He wasn’t crowding you or anything. His position by the edge of the counter that divided the kitchen from the living room was a couple feet away from where you were standing in front of the coffee pot. But you hadn’t heard him moving around. Apparently he didn’t need to be cat shaped to walk silently through walls.

“Sorry,” he said, though the little twitch of his lips belied that apology. “Didn’t mean to startle you.”

“Somehow,” you said, willing your heart to slow back down. “I doubt that.”

“Do you?”

“I saw those lips twitch,” you pointed out. “You think making me jump is funny.”

“That is quite the accusation,” he said with mock seriousness. “Do you have any evidence?”

Using his courtroom voice was cheating. Especially when he was only wearing boxers. Pure cheating. You pulled out your stubborn streak, standing with your fists on your hips. “I know what I saw. I will not be fooled by your twisty-turny lawyer tricks into saying otherwise, Mr. Murdock.”

“That sounds like a challenge, sweetheart.”

The pet name said with that almost purring voice sent tingles down your spine. And brought renewed heat between your legs. Rather annoyingly the cocky smirk on his face did nothing to diminish that ardor. Maybe if he had been wearing more than boxers . . . or if he didn’t look so good half-naked . . .

A soft cough brought you back to the present. You felt your cheeks get warm again, realizing that you had been so busy staring at his abs that you hadn’t noticed him talking.

“Distracted?” he asked, a teasing grin spread wide across his face.

“No,” you said quickly, feeling the warmth in your cheeks intensify.

He hummed, tilting his head slightly to one side. “Lie.”

“What?”

“Oh, did I forget to mention that I can tell when someone is lying?” He said, feigning innocence. It wasn’t a very convincing performance. He was far too amused.

“No, that detail hadn’t come up yet,” you said. “How?”

“Mostly your heartbeat. It changes when someone is lying.”

Suddenly, something you had observed at the office now made sense. Your job was more on the reception and secretarial side but sometimes you acted as their paralegal. When acting in that role, you had seen Foggy subtly nudge Matt who would give a little shake or nod of his head. You hadn’t know what to make of it at the time. Now you realized that Foggy was checking to see if their client or whoever else they were interviewing was telling the truth.

When you asked about your theory, Matt was quick to confirmed it. A moment later, the coffee finished brewing. You pulled down the two mugs, then doctored them to each of your coffee preferences.

“You seem to be taking this rather well,” he remarked, after taking a sip of his coffee.

You shrugged. “It’s not that surprising once I started thinking about it.”

“It’s not?”

“No.”

Matt chuckled. “What, you didn’t believe that I got that black eye tripping over a curb?”

“Not even a little bit.”

“Come on, I thought that one was very plausible.”

“Only for someone who doesn’t know you,” you said. “Or your friends pretending for the sake of your secret identity.”

He laughed. “Fair enough.”

You drank more of your coffee, enjoying the comfortable quiet. To avoid getting distracted by his half-naked body again, you kept your eyes on his face. Which probably wasn’t the best plan. Matt’s handsome face was a distraction in its own right. Especially when he wasn’t wearing his dark glasses. It wasn’t the first time you had seen him without them but the sight always pleased you. It meant Matt trusted you. Not with all of his secrets, obviously, but enough that he didn’t feel the need to hide himself.

Along with those lovely hazel eyes, there were further delights. The generous mouth, good cheekbones and that strong jaw dusted with facial hair. Heavily dusted today. He hadn’t shaved lately. So he had the very start of a beard. You had never seen Matt with a beard. You bet that he would look good with one . . .

“Penny for your thoughts?” Matt said, interrupting your attempts to imagine him with a beard.

“Nothing important,” you said. “Just noticed you hadn’t shave lately and was idly wondering if you were growing a beard.”

Matt made a thoughtful humming sound. “It is tempting this time of year but they get so itchy during the summer.”

“That sounds like the voice of experience,” you said.

“It is,” he said. “Wore one for a couple years during college. Shaved it off just after starting L1.”

“Any particular reason why?” you asked, making a mental note to ask Foggy if he had any pictures of bearded Matt. You needed to see them. For science. Or something.

“An especially muggy day in August when the air conditioners decided to stop working. And the girl I was seeing at the time liked me clean-shaven. Said my beard was too rough when I kissed her.”

A salacious grin spread across his face. “Among other activities.”

“Did she?” you said, trying and failing to sound nonchalant. Because your mind had immediately become consumed with imagining the delicious contrast between prickly beard on your thigh while his soft lips . . . warmth flooded your cheeks.

You saw Matt’s nostrils flare. Then the tip of his tongue slipped out to run across his lips. He made a soft moan that went straight to your cunt. It was impossible not to get worked up. Not with those images in your head. Not with that sound. You were equally unable to stop your breath from hitching as he stepped closer. And closer, stopping just shy of touching you.

“Can I kiss you?” he asked. His voice had always done things to you but that huskier timber really made you shudder. There was only one answer you could give.

“Yes.”

And he was kissing you. Gentle at first, a delicate press of the lips with your head cradled in his hands. But it didn’t remain that way for long. Not after all those months of pent-up desire. Now that you didn’t have to resist kissing him, you all but devoured his mouth.

Matt matched your eagerness, seemingly just hungry for your mouth as you were his. Even the need for air barely kept your lips apart. The entire world might as well have disappeared. You were aware of nothing else. Only that mouth kissing you and greedily swallowing every moan you made. Only those large, warm hands sliding down your body, skimming the sides of your breasts until coming to rest on your hips. Only his body against yours. The edge of the counter digging into your back barely even registered.

At least to you. Matt made some grumpy-sounding noise, then his hands were gripping your hips and lifting you up onto the counter. Your startled yelp turned into a moan when he slot himself between your legs. Any lingering doubts you had about him finding you physically attractive were dispelled at the feeling of his growing erection rubbing against your core. You couldn’t contain a second louder, stuttered moan. Even with too many clothes in the way, it felt incredible . . .

“If you want me to stop,” he rumbled, nuzzling your neck. “Tell me to stop. Tell me no.”

“Don’t stop,” you said, your voice dangerously close to begging. But you didn’t care. You had wanted this for so long. “Please don’t stop.”

“I won’t, sweetheart. Not unless you want me to.” he said, then one hand abandoned its place on your hip to tug lightly at your shirt. “May I?”

“Yes, yes,” you said, rising your arms to help Matt pull off your shirt. Despite the heater chugging away, your skin still immediately pebbled. Your nipples had already tightened into peaks. You kissed him again as your shirt was tossed . . . somewhere. You weren’t paying attention to your shirt. All of your attention was Matt and the hungry, almost feral look on his face.

Matt ran his hands over your body, exploring every inch of bare skin from the tips of your fingers to the waistband of your sweatpants. So soft, even softer than he had dreamed. Keeping his hands to himself the next time you were at work was going to take some serious self-discipline. He blazed a trail of kisses down your neck until he found a spot that had you shuddering.

There, he applied little nips and lathed at the skin until he was satisfied there would be a mark. One that by happy coincidence should peek out from behind the collar of your work blouses. Good. That should let any would-be suitors know that you were taken. It was selfish but he didn’t want share this delightfully soft skin with anyone.

Or how responsive you were. He greedily took in all your reactions. The dancing rhythm of your heart. The breathy moans as his mouth continued its downward journey. The gasps when he started lapping at one peaked nipple while squeezing the other breast in his hand. The way you cried out his name when he latched onto that nipple and sucked. The way you arched your back, begging for more. How your nails bit into his shoulder when he obliged, swirling his tongue around the hardened nipple. The whines when he removed his mouth from that breast . . . and how it turned into a wordless cry when he gave the other breast the same attention.

Best of all, the scent of your arousal soaking through your panties. All because of him. You smelled just as sweet as you had been this morning. Only this time he wasn’t a cat. Soon, he would be on his knees. Soon, his face would be buried in that wonderfully drenched pussy . . .

Soon . . .

You were burning. A fire that Matt had lit, then steadily built with his hands and mouth until you burned with need. An urgency that the man himself didn’t seem to feel. He moved at a speed that could be best described as languid.

“M-matt,” you whined.

“Yes?” he asked, lifting his head from your breast. Seeing his lust-darkened eyes and kiss-swollen lips made the growing ache in your cunt worse. “What does my sweet girl need?”

My sweet girl . . . . Your cunt clenched desperately around nothing. “Need you.”

“Gotta be more specific than that,” he said. “Tell me what you want.”

You were half naked on your kitchen counter and fully ready to have sex with this man and yet somehow that question still managed to fluster you. “Maattt.”

“I’m not a mind reader, sweetheart. You have to tell me what you want,” he said, sounding almost conversational. But his voice was too husky, his eyes too hungry, for that. The way his thumbs rubbed the skin just about the waistband of your sweatbands was another dead giveaway.

Your mouth opened, then closed.

“No need to be shy, sweet girl,” he continued, pausing to give another little nip to the top of your right breast. A spot that you hadn’t realized that so sensitive until he started lavishing it with attention. “No one but me will hear you.”

Biting your bottom lip, you considered that. He was right. It was just you and him. And you trusted him . . . Maybe you should start with something simple?

“My pants and underwear,” you said, managing to keep your voice steady. “I want them off.”

The smirk he flashed you was all kinds of wicked. “As you wish.”

His fingers hooked into the waistband of your pants and started tugging it down. Along with your panties. In a sharp contrast to his earlier leisurely pace, he quickly yanked down the clothes and tossed them aside. Like with your shirt, you found yourself too distracted to notice or care where your clothes went.

Matt gripped your knees and spread your legs wide. He then sank down to his knees, shifting forward until he was tantalizingly close to where you desperately wanted him. The sight once again had your cunt clenching around nothing. A deep rumble, almost like a growl, erupted from him. It matched the feral expression spreading across his face.

“Tell me what you need,” he demanded, his voice a growl full of gravel. You shuddered. You had never heard him speak like that. But it worked you up just as much as his courtroom voice. His hands tightened on your thighs. “My fingers?”

He lifted one hand away from your leg, then ran a single thick finger through your folds. You gasped when that finger brushed over your clit, then groaned with disappointment when that fleeting touch was all you got. Then felt your mouth go dry when he raised the finger to his mouth and licked off your slick. Especially when Matt let out a low moan, briefly closing his eyes in clear pleasure.

“Or my mouth,” Matt continued. You gasped when he leaned forward and gave the entire length of your cunt a single lick. You tried to lift your hips but Matt’s hands clamped down on your thighs and pinned you down to the counter.

“Matt!” you pleaded but the grip on your legs remained firm.

“Tell me,” He said, then blow a puff of air against your desperate cunt. He nuzzled your inner thigh, his rough stubble sending sparks down your spine. “What does this beautiful pussy want?”

“Maatt.”

“Tell me, sweet girl.” He kissed your inner thigh. Then another kiss. It rapidly became clear that your desperate cunt wasn’t going to get the attention it wanted unless you said the words.

“Matt!”

“Tell me.”

“Your mouth,” you begged. “Please, I need – fuck!”

Matt did another long, slow lick up your entire slit. After a teasing swipe across your clit, he turned his attention to your soaked entrance. There he lapped with soft, little licks which were obscenely loud. Like he was messily eating an ice cream cone. One that he clearly enjoyed, making a low noise that sounded remarkably like purring. The vibration contributed to making your own, much louder moans. Instinctively you tried to squirm but his hands kept you right where he wanted you. You could feel that familiar pressure start to build.

He pulled away. No! You started to protest but was cut off by Matt lifting your legs and throwing them over his shoulders. Then his mouth was back on you, his tongue circling your entrance before slipping inside you. Your hands scrambled for something to hold onto as his tongue fucked into you again and again

That something ended up being Matt’s hair. But he didn’t seem to mind, rewarding every tug on the hair twisted tightly in your fingers with a loud groan. Then his tongue slipped out of you, switching its attention to your clit. You cried out. He altered between teasing licks and stronger lapping as you chanted his name.

Matt wrapped his lips around your little bud and sucked. You almost screamed. Your legs began to tremble as you started hurling toward your peak. Then he thrust two thick fingers inside you. Your thighs squeezed his face between them. Close, you were so close . . . then his fingers curled. You fell over the edge calling out his name.

Your cunt clenched tightly around his fingers. Fingers that continued to work you through your orgasm. His mouth remained latched onto your clit, sending wave after wave of white-hot pleasure. Only you started to whimper from oversensitivity did he lift away from your clit. He withdrew his fingers, replacing them with his mouth. You let out warbling moan as he noisily lapped at your entrance.

By the time he pulled away, you were a limp puddle on your own kitchen counter. Despite your recent orgasm, your cunt clenched again. Because Matt looked thoroughly debauched. His hair mussed, eyes half-lidded, those pink lips swollen and glistening with your slick. While you watched, his tongue slide out and slowly licked it off.

Matt knew you were watching him. It was obvious from the way your heartbeat sped up. The hitch in your already heavy breathing. The fresh slick dripping out of your cunt, even more tempting now that he knew just how sweet you tasted. He settled for the slick clinging to his two fingers, putting them in his mouth and sucking them clean. Not as nearly as good as getting it directly from your cunt but the strangled groan you made watching him do it was its own reward.

Fingers now clean, he carefully lowered your legs from his shoulders and rose to his feet. Matt heard you shifting, pushing yourself back into an upright position. Then, your hands reached out and tugged his head down to kiss him. You moaned into his mouth at the taste of yourself.

But you didn’t stop there. Your hands leisurely made their way down his torso until you reached his boxers. Your fingers dipped under the waistband, then hesitated.

“May I?” you asked.

“Please,” he answered, eager to see what you would do.

Permission granted, you peeled his boxers down. His cock eagerly sprang free of its confines. As Matt finished pushing his boxers off, you felt a tinge of nerves. His cock hadn’t looked small during your brief glimpse earlier. But it had been flaccid then. Now that his cock was fully erect, you realized he was rather more . . . impressive than you had first thought. Or even imagined and Past You had been rather hopeful that he had a big dick . . .

“Sweetheart?”

The clear concern in Matt’s voice had your head snapping up. He was frowning at you, his brow furrowed with worry.

“You know you don’t have do anything, right?” he asked, his tone deadly serious. “If you want to stop right now, we will.”

“No,” you said, rapidly shaking your head. “I want to.”

He frowned, his head titling slightly to one side. Listening, you realized. Doing his human lie detector thing. “But?”

“I’m just a little nervous,” you said, tapping your fingers against your bare thigh.

“Why?” he asked.

You felt your cheeks warm. “It’s . . . um . . . you’re . . . ah . . . bigger. Than any . . . of my exes.”

“Is that so?” Matt looked distinctly smug. “I can be gentle. But if you’d like to wait –”

“No,” you interrupted. Because nerves wasn’t your only reaction to seeing his cock. Feeling suddenly bold, you reached over and wrapped your hand around his cock. And feel another tinge of nerves and anticipation at realizing that Matt wasn’t just long, he was thick. You started stroking him, slowly adjusting the firmness of your grip as you watched the reactions on his face. He moaned, his hands finding their way back to your hips.

You noted, with a certain amount of satisfaction, that he looked a lot less smug now.

Feeling more confident, you continued, “I don’t want to wait. I want this.” Your thumb swiped across the tip, smearing the weeping pre-cum. His hips jerked and out of his mouth came a beautiful groan that you immediately wanted him to make again. “Inside me.”

His hands tightened on your hips. That feral look was creeping back in. “I don’t – ah – have a condom.”

“Don’t want one,” you said. You knew it was a dumb thing to do. Reckless. But you were tired of all of the barriers that had been separating the two of you. The thought of another one just rubbed you the wrong way.

Your hand slide off of his cock. A faint whine escaped his throat. Tempting you to put your hand back. But it felt . . . coercive . . . to be giving him a handjob while asking him if he wanted a condom after you had just made it clear that you didn’t want one. Especially since you knew Matt had a people-pleasing streak.

“But I, um, have a box of condoms in my bedroom. If you’d rather wear one,” you offered, feeling renewed warmth in your cheeks. It had been an impulse purchase during one of those rare periods when you were both determined to tell him your feelings and confident it would go well . . . only to chicken out once you were actually in front of Matt.

“I don’t think many man would rather wear one,” he said. “As long as you were sure . . .”

“I am.”

“Okay,” he said. “When did you buy these condoms?”

There was a peculiar note in his voice. He sounded almost . . . jealous? But that couldn’t be right. Why would Matt be jealous?

“Last month,” you said. “Past Me, um, had a moment where she, ah, . . . was very confident that you’d agree to a date? And that sex might happen afterward?”

A smile spread across his face. “Past You would have been right. Past Matt would have agreed in a heartbeat.”

“What about Current Matt?” you asked, daring to hope.

“Current Matt agrees with Past Matt,” he said. “I would love to go on a date with you.”

Your heart gave a leap. “You would?!”

“Of course,” he said, utterly matter of fact. Like he was stating something obvious. The sky is blue. Grass is green. Matt Murdock wanted to go on a date with you. “I’ve wanted to ask you for a while.”

“Why didn’t you?” you asked.

“In part because you didn’t know about Daredevil,” he said. “Not telling a one-night stand is one thing. Not telling my girlfriend is something else.”

“Girlfriend?” you repeated.

“Yes,” he said. “If you would like to be.”

“I would like that,” you said, smiling.

“Good,” he said. Then he suddenly laughed.

“What’s so funny?”

“All the ways I pictured asking you to be my girlfriend,” Matt said. “Standing in your kitchen naked wasn’t one of them.”

“Me neither.” You giggled. “We’ve done this all topsy-turvy.”

“We have,” he agreed. “Normally, I’d take you to dinner before burying my face in your sweet cunt.”

The reminder sent fresh arousal pooling between your legs. Despite that toe-curling orgasm, that particular body part was eager for more. A desire that only increased when his pink tongue darted out to slowly lick his lips. Then he made another soft moan. The same soft moans he had made while eating you out . . . your heart raced as something finally clicked together in your mind.

“Can you taste, um, . . ?” you trailed off, feeling your cheeks burn. You couldn’t say it.

“How wet that pussy is for me?” Matt said, his eyes darkening. “Yes. Having my mouth on you is better but from the air, the aroma of it, is still . . . intoxicating.”

Part of you was embarrassed. Especially when you thought about this morning, that Matt hadn’t just heard you touching yourself. But another, larger part of you was powerfully turned on. There was something very hot about knowing that just the taste of you, the smell of you, was putting that hungry look on his face.

You squirmed. Then something else occurred to you. “Technically you have taken me to dinner many times.”

“Very true,” Matt said, then chuckled. “Foggy has been saying that we’ve been dating for months.”

“Karen said the same thing,” you said. “Maybe they are right?”

“Definitely,” Matt said. “And we’ve been idiots.”

“Total idiots,” you agreed, then pulled him down for another kiss.

You could still faintly taste yourself in his mouth. Before you knew it, your hands were buried in his hair. Matt used his grip on your hips to pull you over to the counter’s edge. He pressed himself against you. Despite the intervening conversation, he was still hard. Feeling himself grind his cock against your cunt had felt good before. But now? Without any clothes in the way? It stoked that banked fire inside you into an inferno.

You wanted . . . no, you needed him. You didn’t care that you were in your kitchen. You needed that cock filling your achingly empty cut. You needed him to fuck you stupid.

“Matty,” you whimpered, breaking away from the kiss. “Need you.”

“What do you need, sweet girl?” He rumbled against your throat. “What does your pretty pussy need?”

This time you didn’t hesitate. “Needs your cock. Needs you to fuck me.”

He growled. You expected him to line himself up, to start fucking you right then and there. Instead he shifted his grip to your thighs and lifted you off the counter. Startled, your hands abandoned his hair in favor of his shoulders to steady yourself as he carried you out of the kitchen. Given the small size of your apartment, it didn’t take to figure out where he was taking you.

Sure enough, soon he was lowering you down onto your bed. He kissed you deeply as his knees encouraged your legs wider. Not that you needed much encouragement. He grinded against you, coating his cock in your slick. Sparks raced down your spine every time the head nudged your clit. It was so good. It was not enough. Your cunt clenched desperately around nothing.

“Stop teasing me,” you begged. “Please . . . fuck me.”

Which was apparently all he needed to hear. Matt took himself in hand, lining himself up with your entrance. Then, finally, he was inside you. You gasped, nails digging into his back. It was just the tip of him but the stretch was noticeable. Despite the clear hunger on his face, he didn’t move. Stayed right where he was while your cunt fluttered around him until you were ready for more. Slowly, he pressed in deeper and deeper. Until his cock was fully sheathed inside you.

You felt so good. So deliciously full. No one had ever filled you like this. Then Matt started to move, gently rocking his hips into you. Pleasure washed over you with each back and forth movement of his cock so deep inside you. You couldn’t stop moaning. You could feel yourself climbing back toward that precipice.

“Taking me so well,” Matt said, then groaned when your cunt clenched around him at the praise. “Ready for more, sweetheart?”

Your answer was another stuttered moan.

“Words, sweet girl. I need words.”

“More,” you managed to moan out. “More. Mo-”

You were cut off by sharp snap of his hips. His first real thrust into you. You cried out wordlessly. Cries that only got louder as the thrusts got faster and deeper. Instinctively, your hips began to move. You thought he couldn’t get any deeper. You were wrong. As soon as you matched his rhythm, you felt him sink just a little further inside you.

“That’s it, sweetheart,” Matt grunted. “Just like that.”

Matt was always handsome. But there was something indescribably beautiful about how he looked now. The pull and flex of his muscles as he moved in and out of your body. Skin kissed with sweat. Hair, a fluffy chaotic mess. His face, for once, with no sign of worry or stress. Just pure pleasure. The grunts and moans spilling out of his mouth with each thrust only added to the beatific vision on top of you.

Your climax had been steadily building but now you were teetering on that edge. Just a little bit more . . .

Matt must have sensed it somehow because his next thrust was slower but impossibly deep and hard. You gasped, your back arching. He did it again. Your body began to shake, toes curling . . . Close, you were so close . . .!

“Matty,” you whimpered.

“Let it go, sweetheart,” Matt grunted. “Cum on my cock.”

Another impossibly deep thrust and you did.

Matt groaned as your cunt gripped his cock tightly as you cried out his name. He never stopped moving, drawing out your orgasm until you were a babbling, shaking mess underneath him.

Only then did he start chasing his release. He pumped into you hard and fast, his entire world narrowed down to you. The delightful pain of your nails raking up and down his back. Your heart pounding in his ears. The guttural noises you made as he fucked you. The obscene sound of skin slapping against skin, the wet squelch of your cunt as he moved in and out . . . you were so fucking wet. All for him. Because of him.

He wasn’t going to last much longer. Not with the way your cunt kept clamping down on his cock like a vice. Feeling his balls start to draw up, he tried to withdraw. He intended to release himself on your stomach. But you loudly protested, back arching and frantic hands grabbing his ass in a bid to him keep inside you.

“Don’t stop, don’t stop,” you begged. “Please, don’t stop.”

“Gonna cum,” he managed to grit out.

Your hands only gripped his ass tighter. “Cum inside me. Wanna feel it.”

Truth. “Sweetheart.”

“Matty, please.”

That did it. He couldn’t resist your begging. With one last hard thrust, he buried his cock deep inside you and came.

Breathing hard, it was tempting to collapse on top on you. But he couldn’t. He was too heavy. He carefully pulled out of you and collapsed next to you. Still catching his breath, he gathered you in his arms, pressing your back against his chest. Perfect. Matt liked a good cuddle afterward. Didn’t understand what some men had against it. Your soft, naked body against his, smelling like sex and his pheromones? Yes, please.

For a moment, Matt attributed your little restless movements as simply getting comfortable. But quickly he realized that wasn’t entirely it. He reached between your legs. Felt you jolt when his fingers found your clit. Then moaned as he started rubbing gentle circles. You were already very sensitive. It didn’t take long for you to reach your peak again.

Matt buried his nose in the back of your neck. In a little while, he’d need to get up and get a washcloth. Clean up the mess he had made between your legs. But not right now. Right now, he was just going to enjoy having you in his arms.

The storm broke that night, after dumping almost ten feet of snow on the Big Apple. The powers that be had crews out clearing the streets and restoring downed power lines bright and early the next morning but it took several days to get the city fully up and running again.

You and Matt weren’t trapped in your apartment the entire time. Just a couple days. Despite the fact that neither of you were used to living with anyone, it was . . . comfortable. You cooked together in your tiny kitchen without much trouble. He did his share of the housework without prompting or complaint. You discovered during the brief power outage that, in addition to being a lie detector, Matt was a human furnace. Also that he was cuddler.

Once his phone was charged enough, Matt called Foggy and let him know that he wasn’t dead. He made Matt put him on speaker-phone so he could tell you both ‘I told you so.’ A sentiment echoed by Marci and Karen. Among many, many others.

The sex continued to be mind-blowing. And frequent. Because you both were having a hard time keeping your hands to yourselves. A shower became Matt fingering you, then fucking you against the wall. Watching a movie turned you kneeling between his legs, taking his cock into your mouth. Blissful Puddle was a very good look on him.

By time Daredevil slipped out of your window on the third night, your cunt had been given quite the workout and you had lost track of your orgasms.

Life went back to normal. Well, as normal as dating a vigilante could be. You worked. Matt saved people, in and out of the courtroom. You and Matt still went on your outgoings together, only with a lot more hand-holding and kissing. And often followed by enthusiastic sex in either your places or his. Matt quickly fulfilled his promise to introduce you to his silk sheets. You were very happy.

Tonight as you headed up to Matt’s apartment, you were filled with curiosity. Matt told you that he had a surprise. Then you reached his door, he pulled his usual trick of opening the door just as you raised your hand to knock. Just to make you jump.

“Having fun, Trouble?” you asked, entering the apartment.

“I don’t know what you are talking about,” he denied. But his eyes were too filled with mirth to make his protests believable.

“Lie.”

His lips twitched. But you were distracted away from whatever smartass remark that was about to come out of his mouth by movement behind Matt. You looked and to your surprise, it was a cat. A little brown-and-gray tabby standing in front of the slightly ajar bedroom door, its tail curled into a question mark.

“When did you get a cat?”

“I didn’t,” Matt said. “You did.”

“Me?”

“Yeah, assuming you want her.” He smiled. “I promise this one wouldn’t turn into a vigilante.”

“Certain of that?” You asked. The question was only partially teasing. The recent events had only cemented your desire for another feline companion. But, as much as you were happy with how things had worked out, starting to get attached to a cat only to discover that you couldn’t keep it wasn’t fun.

“Very. According to my magic expert, she’s just a cat.”

You filed away ‘magic expert’ as something to pester him about later. “Where did you find her?”

“Dumpster,” Matt answered, his expression turning grim. “Inside a knotted pillowcase.”

You stared at him in horrified disbelief. Not at Matt’s story. You believed him. But at the sheer cruelty. You knew people could be cruel. You weren’t that naive. But it still shocked you.

“Someone actually did that?”

“They did.” His voice reflected the same anger, the same horror, you were feeling. “Not the first time I’ve found something like that. Wouldn’t be the last.”

He took a deep breath. Visibly reigned in his temper, saving it for the streets or the heavy bag. “Normally I take the animals to an all-night shelter but they’re full right now. They’d still find somewhere for her with one of their fosters or something . . . but I found this one by the same dumpster where you found me. So I thought, maybe it was a sign.”

You smiled. The cat redistribution system at work. And that was that. The cat was officially yours.

You named her Blizzard.

END NOTES

Gordian knot is a legendary knot that became a metaphor for an intractable problem solved by bold stroke. Or in this particular case, one which Matt and Foggy dearly wish they could solve with one bold stroke.

That red light/red lenses thing comes from Wikipedia so treat it with the appropriate level of skepticism.

In Nelson vs Murdock, Foggy had every right to be hurt and angry with Matt. But even if it was deserved, doesn’t make what he said less painful to Matt. Personally, I think Foggy had hit that point of angry-hurt where you just want the other person to feel as badly as you do. And since Foggy is Matt’s best friend, he knows exactly which words will hurt the most. Moreover, I think he was too upset that tonight to really absorb Matt’s explanation about his senses. Hence some of his caustic comments during Season 2.

I have no proof that this incarnation of Matt has ever worn a beard. But shh, we’re having fun here.

It is my understanding that New York City during August is not only hot but miserably humid.

[allaboutthemoonlight]

How to Maximize Your Productivity Living with Limited Time

Hello, friends! Today's post is a little longer, but it's something I felt I needed to share.

We all have different commitments—school, work, hobbies, etc.—and in today's fast-paced world, our schedules are overflowing, leaving little room for us to breathe. It's easy to feel overwhelmed and struggle with the constant juggle of work and obligations, leaving many of us feeling perpetually busy and struggling to find balance in our lives.

So, this week, I wanted to talk about time management and productivity, specifically task management systems that will help you efficiently plan out your life and find time for absolutely everything.

Over the last two months, I've experimented with a plethora of different productivity and task management systems and want to share five strategies that will help you maximize your productivity and have time for all the things you love.

Embrace slow productivity

This is probably my favorite tip I’ve ever encountered and felt compelled to share.

After listing to a podcast hosted by Jordan Harbinger and Cal Newport where they talked about shifting mindsets concerning the work we’re doing, my outlook on productivity has changed.

Slow productivity is founded on the idea of “resourcing your work so it garners a sense of fulfillment rather than leaving you feeling overwhelmed”. To really embrace slow productivity is means not over-loading your plate

That can be difficult because we’ve been conditioned to believe that beibusy and doing more is a sign of progress; however, it’s important to understand that doing less things =/ accomplishing less goals. In fact doing fewer things often makes our work more sustainable, allowing us to work at a natural pace and pay more attention to quality instead of quantity.

This is probably my favorite tip I've ever encountered and felt compelled to share. After listening to a podcast hosted by Jordan Harbinger and Cal Newport where they talked about shifting mindsets concerning the work we're doing, my outlook on productivity has changed.

Slow productivity is founded on the idea of "resourcing your work so it garners a sense of fulfillment rather than leaving you feeling overwhelmed." To really embrace slow productivity means not overloading your plate.

That can be difficult because we've been conditioned to believe that being busy and doing more is a sign of progress. However, it's important to understand that doing fewer things does not equal accomplishing fewer goals. In fact, doing fewer things often makes our work more sustainable, allowing us to work at a natural pace and pay more attention to quality instead of quantity.

Here are some steps to help you embrace slow productivity:

Prioritization: Identify the most important tasks or goals and focus on them first. Emphasize quality over quantity and aim to produce meaningful results rather than simply checking items off a list.

Break Tasks into Smaller Steps: Break down larger tasks into smaller, more manageable steps. Personally, this has helped make tasks feel less overwhelming and helped me maintain focus and momentum.

Set Realistic Expectations: Setting realistic expectations is crucial. Understand the time you have and what you can accomplish within it to avoid overcommitting, particularly to tasks that don't align with your priorities.

Finding a planning system that work for you

Effectively managing your time requires a solid organizational framework. The planning system you choose plays a crucial role in maximizing your productivity. This means finding the right digital or tactile analog tool that works for you.

Digital Tools: There is a crazy amount of digital planning tools available that comprise different features such as to-do lists, task and project managers, and progress trackers. I’m slightly biased here, but apps like Notion, TickTick, obsidian, Trello, or Asana are good for organizing tasks, setting deadlines, and tracking progress on a project. Additionally, using a calendar app such as Google Calendar, outlook or, Fantastical can you schedule your time effectively and avoid overcommitting.

Pen and Paper: If you’re someone who prefers the simplicity and tactile experience of traditional pen and paper planners, processes such as bullet journaling or simply using a journal to keep note of all your commitments offers a flexible system for organizing tasks, events, and notes in a customizable format. One perk about using pen and paper is that it offers a level of permanence that can’t be found in digital tools. Once you write something down (depending on the tool you write with) it’s permanent.

Hybrid Approach: You can also combine both of these methods to create an experience that works for you. For example, you can use a digital calendar while also keeping a bullet journal as a task manger or place to reflect.

Personally, I find that the hybrid approach works best for me.

Time blocking

Time blocking works because it provides a structured approach to managing your time effectively.

Time blocking is the process of dividing your day into blocks of time dedicated to specific tasks or activities—allowing you to minimize distractions and maintain focus on the task at hand.

Here’s what I’ve found to be the best way to implement time blocking:

Identify Priorities: Start by identifying your most important tasks and goals for the day or week. These are the activities that align with your overall objectives, values, and contribute to meaningful progress.

Choose Time Slots: Next, choose specific time slots in your schedule for each task or activity. It’s crucial to be realistic about the amount of time needed for each task, and consider factors such as your peak productivity hours and natural energy levels.

Time blocking may seem antithetical to flexibility. However, regular review and adjustment is a good way to make modifications in response to changing priorities or interruptions.

<3 Luna

[petit-papillion]

It's crazy how misinformation keeps being spread. I saw a person on twitter who had a lot of followers and a podcast about f1 saying ferrari asked what tires carlos thought it was better and carlos answered "soft". And then they gave the soft to charles and hard to carlos.

When someone posted the transcription of the radio (from twitter user team55) that shows carlos answered "hards or softs" they said the transcription was wrong.

When someone mentioned ferrari wanted to give charles hards but charles refused, they said its not true and the only reason they gave charles soft was because carlos said it was the better tire.

I went back to listen the radios and the person is simply lying.

Ferrari asked carlos what he prefer between mediums, soft or hards and he said "hards or soft"

Ferrari told charles they were thinking about putting hards and he said "no that's stupid".

So whats the point to make up things like this ? Just so people can keep the narrative that carlos is the strategy master and ferrari favors charles ?

And it's one thing if it was just a random account but it's someone with a plataform. there's a lot of fans that don't have access to f1tv there are just believing what this person said.

Hi Anon! I feel like the F1 broadcasts have hugely contributed to this perception of Carlos being a strategic mastermind by being very selective about what they broadcast from team radio. Drive to Survive gets picked on for painting false narratives, but the main broadcast is, at times, just as bad. They pick and choose team radio, sometimes don't broadcast everything that was said or omit follow-up radio that puts the original one in a different light, or don't transcribe it correctly ("There was a cut." when Charles said "There was a cat." comes to mind). I do like that they put "I'm OK." on screen when a driver has crashed and they know from team radio the driver is okay. And I also understand it takes a little while to transcribe team radio. But to my recollection they have never actually said it's just a standard message they use, and instead they make it seem like they are quoting the driver, who in fact may have said, "I'm in the fucking wall." or "Red flag! Red flag! I'm in the middle of the track!!!"

Anyway, on to your point: why make things up? For the same reason drivers lie (and yes, they all do at one point or another) when they are on team radio or talking to the media. To make themselves look good/innocent. And some go to far more extremes than others. Fans are no different: we are biased towards our fave and have a really hard time accepting when he does something we don't like or agree with, as our meow meow just can do no wrong. Some people come up with excuses, others with just blatant lies. See recently Lestappen fans when Max chose Lando, Daniel and Checo as his top 3 friends on the grid, and they said he had to pick Checo because he's his teammate, otherwise he would've said Charles. Could be true, but that would still only put Charles as his 3rd best friend. Wouldn't Max have put Charles as his undisputed number 1 if they are really that close?

Sorry, I digress. The point is, we all need to use critical thinking to the best of our ability, check facts when we can, and try not to stay in a vacuum of like-minded people, but it's unavoidable to have false narratives slip in when it is being fed to us every race weekend. Commentators are biased and although we expect them to be objective, they often are not. I stopped listening to Sky, but it is incredibly clear Crofty's favourite driver is Norris, Chandhok is a Carlos-fan, etc. And you are right, not everyone has access to F1TV to check the onboards, but in this case, they do have access to Twitter and can look at more than just the tweets telling them lies.

In case anyone needs proof of what Charles said:

🎥 bliss_n16

[yvonest]

The Secret to Breaking Free from Phone Addiction: Make It Boring

Many people struggle with phone addiction, often fueled by endless doomscrolling. The solution? Make your phone boring. Your phone isn’t designed for constant use, and your brain isn’t meant to be constantly fed content. Overusing your phone not only shortens its lifespan but also wastes your own time. I recently started lowering my screen time, and it’s been a surprisingly successful journey so far—one that’s helped me regain focus and enjoy life offline.

────୨ৎ────

Taking control of your phone habits is easier than you think. Here are some tips that have helped me so far:

1. Start your mornings differently

Avoid using your phone first thing in the morning. Starting your day without it helps you focus on other tasks and sets a productive tone. The less you rely on your phone in the morning, the less tempting it will feel throughout the day. Though it's hard at first, it's so worth it.

2. Delete social media

Social media is the biggest culprit of phone addiction.

You don’t need to live under a rock, but cutting out apps like TikTok, Instagram, or Snapchat can make a huge difference. Keep apps you truly need for communication, but limit their use to just that. Without the constant pull of social media, your phone becomes less distracting—and that’s the goal.

Deleting social media doesn’t make you an outcast or boring. You can still stay informed by talking to people around you and keeping up with what truly matters. It might be hard at first, and you might feel tempted to reinstall the apps, but it gets easier. Over time, you’ll start finding better ways to spend your free time, and boredom can even lead to new creativity.

3. Find a hobby

Breaking free from your phone is much easier when you have something else to focus on. Explore new hobbies—there are tons of Tumblr posts with ideas, so you’re bound to find one that suits you. Whether it’s journaling, drawing, learning an instrument, or even baking, the key is to find something you genuinely enjoy. (Reminder! You don't have to be good at it to enjoy it!!!)

Having a hobby not only fills your time but also helps you feel more accomplished and creative. Instead of reaching for your phone out of boredom, you’ll have something far more rewarding to do.

4. Discipline

Breaking free from your phone starts with self-discipline. Set clear boundaries for when and how you use it, like avoiding your phone in the morning or during meals. It might feel hard at first, but every time you resist the urge to check your screen, you’re building stronger habits.

Discipline doesn’t mean being perfect—it’s about making conscious choices. Over time, these small actions add up, and you’ll find it easier to focus on what really matters instead of falling back into old scrolling habits.

5. Unfollow accounts

A cluttered feed can easily lead to endless scrolling. On Tumblr, for example, I simply scroll past posts that don’t catch my attention—whether it’s a fanfic, a meme, or a picture. If it doesn’t interest me, I don’t bother to glance at it. Instead, I focus on content that is more useful or enjoyable to me.

By unfollowing accounts that don’t align with your interests, you can make your feed more purposeful. This way, you’ll spend more time on content that adds value to your day. The more intentional you are with what you follow, the less likely you’ll waste time on things that don’t matter to you.

+If you can't make it boring, make it useful

If you can’t make your phone completely boring, at least make it useful. Find something that genuinely interests you—whether it’s a hobby, learning something new online, or listening to informative podcasts. It’s already a huge improvement over mindlessly scrolling.

A high screen time isn’t always bad; it just depends on where you put that time to use. After all, we live in a world surrounded by modern technology. For example, I really enjoy classical music. I spend time researching composers I love, creating playlists, and even discussing it with friends. Another example could be blogging, like I do.

By filling your phone time with things that add value to your life, you can make it enjoyable and purposeful. Make your phone fun, but also meaningful.

♡

[mysticbewitched]

Hey mystic

I was gonna link an ask from earlier but i cant seem to put links in here for some reason and google is not helping. Its the one about the non-dualism community and how toxic it can be. I just wanted to say I am glad others agree. I wouldn't consider myself a beginner to loa manifesting or shifting. I just think its crazy how someone says things like "just be" and someone asks them to clarify it and they respond by saying something like "do you need help drinking water."

Trends come and go, I'm sure once ND is no longer new someone else will unearth some old spiritual practice and claim its above LOA as well. I just wish everyone would be accepting and encouraging instead of what seems to be condescending because they think they know something no one else does.

Lastly I heard you say on the podcast the person you were gonna do it with is no longer in your life, sorry to hear that. I only bring this up because I believe I saw a post saying you manifested this person into your life and then they changed (I could be wrong though). I also manifested someone back (an ex) but it was a 'manifestation' and all i ended up creating was misery.

You don't have to answer this if the last part is too personal, but if you want send me a message. Just wanted to say I think you have some great views that resonated.

Great podcast btw

I completely agree with you and I'm glad that others are able to see the madness that I'm seeing.

What they usually mean by telling you all, "just be" is they're telling you to realize your true self as awareness. They're telling you to just recognize your divine nature in the present moment and enjoy knowing yourself.

I don't see why they don't just tell you to turn within and recognize your true self as awareness in this present moment without all the riddles.

I agree that everyone here should turn within themselves and listen to their inner guidance instead of relying on the "others" for advice, because then the constant search and craving for more answers will never end. However, at the same time, it's the polite and helpful thing to do to let your readers know exactly what they're looking for while you advise for them to look within themselves for the truth: realizing divine the source of your true self.

If everyone knew what they were looking for, I think they would have an easier time turning within and trusting their inner voice to lead them to answers.

I feel as if the lack of clarification on exactly what to look for is unnecessary and it can come off as mind games instead of just being direct with the readers and telling them all, "you're turning within to realize your true nature. Hint: you are always *aware.*"

I happen to notice from time to time as well that some of these bloggers feel the need to use the whole "words are meaningless" nonsense as a moronic excuse to bully or put down other blogs amongst themselves or with their anons for simply viewing things in a different perspective and I don't think that's cool for anyone to do.

That behavior isn't right. It's just plain mean.

Everyone is entitled to their own perspective and share their own views, but to publicly put down specific blog names for everyone to hear and make fun of them together? Very condescending and cold.

Oh, believe me, I'm waiting for the next spiritual trend to come out of nowhere. I wonder what it's going to be next. Now my curiosity is in flames.

To end things here, I want to thank you so much for your kinds words and the lovely compliment.

Your feedback and appreciation for the podcast means so much to me. I'm so very glad to hear that my perspective of things resonated with you.

Thank you for enjoying my podcast.

[on-my-way-to-the-woods]

Anyway, uh, it's been busy so here is a brief (lies, it's not brief, but I promise I'm only giving the highlights) summary of the last month.

Break for very long post

The Last Month - Abridged

F & I are splitting up (sorta). The hardest one to write, but it's going up top 1. because it came first and 2. because if I don't start with it I simply won't write it out. It's been slowly moving towards this for awhile now, but it's real now. Mostly, it's a case of conflicting needs and conflicting disabilities, so it's been rough on both sides. We're still living together, and planning to continue that way (even if we weren't though, who could afford the rent?) so it's still family of a sort, but not like it was

I uncovered a major issue at work (~2 days after F had me start sleeping on the futon) and it was a mess but we got it resolved within two days

Less than an hour after finding the issue mentioned above, I got the call that the relative I was planning on visiting in a week died

I figured risking air travel was probably a bad idea. It'd probably end fine, but I've not yet been trapped somewhere with one of the worse perfumes and a metal box hundreds of feet in the air with no ability to leave for several hours seems like a poor place to risk seeing exactly how far these reactions can go. (I don't want a joint funeral, I'm not catholic). So I chose to drive through the night instead - which is also a bad idea, but what can you do? Packing with no idea about how things are going to go was it's own mess.

The drive went surprisingly well. I took as few stops as possible and I have a new odor reducing respirator that is helping a lot - so it was only a handful of reactions & I was ready to stomp them out each time (yay albuterol & xyzal). Pretty much drove straight through except for gas and a 30min catnap here and there (don't try this at home kids, I'm setting a bad example). My good friend driving-though-the-dark-alone-listening-to-a-horror-podcast kept me awake just fine (I love you Left Right Game) (but again, don't try this at home)

Did the funeral things, got super sick in the church but was alright at the other venues. I must have looked really bad in the church though because my family didn't make a single snide remark about me bringing my dog on the trip during the entire time I was there.

Helped out with moving things around the house and dispersing some possessions. I drove a bunch of clothes (fragrant 🤦 but I had them in trash bags so it was mostly okay) back with me to donate to the various queer orgs around here. They'll appreciate the old natural fiber clothes more than the goodwill where most of it was going.

Made a detour specifically to bring my dog to the Atlantic. She had a blast. Nova has now officially crossed the country (W->E and also S->N).

On the drive back I went hiking the farthest I've been from a city in a long time and I felt so fucking alive. On the one hand, stunning experience - did 7mi (11km) in snow no problem as a short hike (since I was trying to make it back to bring F to a medical appointment) and I would have stayed out all day if I could. On the other hand, it's a little concerning if the only place I feel like myself is that far away from people. I can't afford a house & land in the middle of nowhere…

Also stopped by a place we used to live and walked our old neighborhood route. Nova was excited, but confused.

Wound up in a different park after hours and it might have been haunted

Made it back the day before F's appointment. Slept. Discovered that the one provider I liked less than the others (despite them all being equally friendly) uses perfume so I've just been allergic to them instead of disliking them for no reason (I kinda suspected so, but it was proven this time)

Had a rheumatology appointment to see if they had ideas about what my issue might be. This is the first time I have seen a doctor realize what it means when I say I'm having these reactions to fragrances, you could see it play out on her face: oh shit, fragrances are everywhere. Several times throughout the appointment she'd pause as she had a thought and then ask questions that were clearly checking in on my life outside of just the symptoms (e.g. "how do you get groceries?") which is something I haven't seen since F's GP (whose interest was in public health) moved away. I think it went well. She's running the usual bloodwork, partly just to check and partly because she knows that having ruled out some things already will make it more likely for me to get care from an allergist.

Toured more houses for rent, it just made me incredibly sad. You can see traces of someone's beloved home in some of these old houses, but landlords own them now and they just don't bother. Rotting garages, fences in pieces, trash in the yard, holes in the walls, doors that can't open all the way anymore. 'Just let the tenant do the work and foot the bill, people are desperate, we can let the house rot around them while they pay for the privilege and just buy another when it pops up.' (I have feelings on the matter)

Finally got my covid & flu shots. I had timed it specifically for when our favorite pharmacist works, but I hadn't considered the holiday rush would mean they have two on duty. I instead got our least favorite pharmacist (she does not like F) and it was an impressively bad experience. Sure love it when you tell a provider something has given you side effects every time and they tell you it won't do it 🙄 /s

Rheumatology bloodwork is back, I love receiving results online. I'm very interested in what she'll say at the follow up this week. By my read (science nerd, but no relevant medical training), it's… odd. A little contradictory, but it's indicating some shit is up - however, none of the main contenders would explain my fragrance reactions.

Got to volunteer with a conservation group in a safe area for me.  Had a fantastic time, was able to be around people and move and do something productive and satisfying.  Went back again and will continue trying to do these as I can.

Went with F to her allergy appointment and, ironically, had reactions myself the entire time.  Not just in the waiting room, but everywhere in the building.  Maybe it was their disinfectant? Hoping it was just a fluke because I used to be able to go there, even while dealing with this.

My allergy appointment went poorly, there's another (long) post about it, but the gist is that I now have VCD in my chart (despite the fact he said he doesn't know what is wrong with me and said maybe I should go to Mayo Clinic) & tests he didn't mention

I am currently arguing with insurance over >$10k and I'm not having fun

[stirthewaters]

I Love You

SUMMARY: After being somewhat neglected by Wednesday, you head to the library, deciding on self harm to make sure that you won't remember, and you won't feel anything.

WARNINGS: Angst, self harm, descriptions of gore, mentions of suicide, attempted suicide, trauma, child abuse

A/N: SEND IN THEM REQUESTS! Personally I think this story concludes itself but if you guys want more than lmk

================================================

You can tell that your mental health isn't doing so good.

Normally you're feeling good; spending time with your friend group and your girlfriend, listening to music, and taking walks in the evening (even though it's past curfew).

You're a pretty nice person; not over the top with giggles and smiles, but you know what makes you happy and you're comfortable pursuing those things; your friends, Enid, Yoko, Ajax, etc, they make you happy. And of course, your girlfriend, the Wednesday Addams.

When the raven-haired girl arrived at Nevermore, it didn't take long for you to realize that you had completely fallen head over heels for her; her brooding and mysterious personality held you captive, not to mention the fact that she was simply stunning.

The two of you had become friends, having a sharing of horror novels and scary movies, and after a couple times of going to her dorm to watch a new horror film you hadn't seen yet, after a couple of times of her coming over to your dorm to listen to a new rock album, you admitted your feelings, and to your surprise, she had returned them; albeit a bit hesitantly and stiffly.

But lately, the Hyde had been taking up more and more of your girlfriends time; every afternoon instead of hanging out with you, the raven-haired girl would trek out into the forest in search of clues, and by the time she returned to your dorm, you were asleep.

And sure, you knew that being in a relationship with Wednesday meant that she would be a bit rusty; she had said so herself; more or less that is. When you had confessed your feelings, she had told you that she was currently deep in a case, and that she couldn't be very committed to you, but you had shrugged it off.

And you knew that you had been warned about it, but the fact that aside from school you were hardly seeing your own girlfriend was starting to sting, and knowing that you didn't have any excuse, you'd been starting to feel worse and worse as time crawled by.

So even you have to admit that you're not doing great.

Your routine itself is starting to get repetitive and draining;

Get up in the morning.

Head to class

Finish school for the day

Hang with friends

Go back to dorm for movie with Wednesday

Repeat

Except for scratch the second to last bit; that wasn't really happening anymore.

You've been starting to skip hanging out with Enid; what you truly longed for was the hesitant touch of your girlfriend as you watched a movie, one hand around your shoulder, the other stroking your hair.

So you've been taking time to yourself; which admittedly wasn't the best idea for someone with a bad view of themselves and draining mental health, and spending your time in the library.

At first it was fun; you'd dance to the music that you have on your iPod, or listen to a podcast while drawing; but the activity itself has gone dull, and you're starting to feel depressed.

______________________________________________________________

After school, you head for Ophelia Hall. At this point, it's instinct, except for the noticeable differences in your attitude and appearance. Your steps are heavier, your hood pulled over your head, and your typical perky expression is nowhere to be found.

You hesitate when you arrive at the door to Wednesday and Enid's dorm. You can hear muffled voices inside; they're arguing. Now normally you would be expecting this; the roommates arguments never tend to be too serious; but this time you hear your name slipping in and out of the conversation.

"You could at least spend one night with her!" Enid. She seems noticeably upset.

"She understands why I can't. I'm too deep in the case to take a break," Wednesday snarks back.

"You don't know everything about her, Wednesday. She's acting different lately," Enid snaps. "As someone who actually tries to spend time with her, I would know."

Turning on your heel, you head for the library. Of course, she assumes that you're fine. Wednesday doesn't do emotions. But it stings to see that your girlfriend is dismissing how you're feeling. Feeling tightness clawing at your chest, your footsteps becoming brisker as you hurry to get to the library before you start crying; you hate crying.

Once in the library, you feel your head aching as you want the feeling out. You want to feel nothing. You'd try to commit suicide, but you know you're not brave enough for that. You bury yourself in the farthest corner of the room, causing two vampires to scuttle away.

______________________________________________________________

"Come on, can we at least just have dinner together or something?" You plead to your father, who sits on the couch, bottle of beer in his hand as he scowls at the TV facing him. "Get out of the way, I'm trying to watch my show," he snaps, gesturing angrily with his hands. "Some father you are," you scoff, turning on your heel to leave.

"What was that, young lady?" Your father growls, grabbing the hem of your shirt to yank you backward. "I said you're a bad father. Want me to repeat?" You snap, anger broiling. Your father stands, expression crude and menacing. "Say that again," he growls. Too angry and bitter to hold back, you attempt to push him away, but he grabs your hands and shoves you backwards and into the wall, sending multiple picture frames shattering to the floor.

You look at your hands in horror as blood begins to flow. Angry and scared, you pull yourself to your feet, trying to back away, but your father continues to advance, lifting his fist to swing.

______________________________________________________________

Snapped into reality, you realize that you've been breathing so hard that you're light headed, and your cheeks are wet. You shake your head. Crying is bad.

______________________________________________________________

"Stop crying for God's sake, it's really getting on my nerves," your father snaps at you, flicking on the light switch in your room. "Crying is for the weak. Crying is for babies. Got that? Are you a baby?" He growls, glaring at your crying form in bed. Wiping your tears, you shake your head, trying not to let your watering eyes overflow. He slams the door closed, turning off the light, and you wrap yourself in your blankets, sobbing silently, trying desperately not to let your clawing fear get the better of you.

______________________________________________________________

You need these feelings out. Out. You want to feel nothing. You're not worth loving. You are weak, you are pathetic. You shakily open your backpack, taking out a long glinting hunk of metal; a pocketknife.

Ignoring the pain, you let out a shaky laugh in spite of yourself as you dig the blade under your skin, dragging it along the length of your arm. The cut, although not deep, ranges from your wrist to your elbow, and you smile at the sight of the blood dripping from it; it's so pretty. You dip your finger into the blood, smearing it all over your hand as you marvel at the sheer beauty of the color itself.

================================================

Wednesday knows. She knows. After her heated discussion with Enid, she realized that she had been an unfaithful girlfriend, and she wanted to kick herself. Sure, she wasn't the best at detecting others emotions, but even she had to admit that she was being negligent, and hadn't taken the time to notice the change in your behavior.

So instead of mapping out the woods to execute the location of the Hyde, she decides to find you and perhaps take a walk instead; something that you've been asking to do for a while.

"Where's Y/N?" Wednesday asks when she finds Enid and your group of friends in the quad. This is where she expected you to be, and she's a bit surprised that you aren't.

"Finally taking my advice, hmm bestie?" Enid grins at her.

"I don't have time for games. Where is she?" Wednesday rolls her eyes. Enid shrugs.

"I'd check the library. She's been going there more often."

Wednesday turns on her heel, not bothering to thank her, and strides quickly for the library.

______________________________________________________________

By the time you've found the pain pretty much unbearable, you have a museum of different cuts up and down your arm, and you're holding back tears. Somehow it's having the opposite affect of what you've intended. On the bright side, you now have a pool of that beautiful blood surrounding you as you sit on the floor, breaths shallow with the effort of suppressing your emotions.

When you hear the clomping of boots entering the library; you're positive it's a hallucination, and you look up with a loose and tired smile to see Wednesday standing in front of you, her typical deadpan expression replaced with one of shock.

"Hey Wens," you giggle, clearly affected by the amount of blood you've lost. "Come to kiss me?"

She drops to her knees, looking at you. She looks angry, but her eyes are glistening with tears as she rips out part of her sleeve to start making a tourniquet.

"You foolish idiot," she mumbles harshly, "why would you do this to yourself?"

You laugh again, voice slurred.

"I miss you Wednesday. Like I realllllyyy miss you. But I can't complain because complaining is for weakness," you're starting to become dizzy, mixing up reality with memory.

"Don't close your eyes," Wednesday spits, hauling you to your feet. "If you die, I will kill you."

Unable to stand, you look at her with another tired smile.

"Love you..." you groan, head swimming as you see Wednesday shout something unintelligible, pitched abruptly into darkness as a tear slips from your eye.

_

Wednesday is furious with you, and, though she will never admit it, scared. What kind of an idiot decides to hide in a library to harm themselves? If she had ever expected self harm from you, she would've assumed it would be in a secluded part of Nevermore.

As she carries your limp body through the halls toward the nurse, she glances anxiously at you as she plows through the crowd; this is all her fault and she knows it. Students stand and gawk at your form trailing blood as she races into the nurses office.

"Fix her," she chokes out. "Now."

As the nurse gets to work bandaging your scarred and bloody arms, she sits anxiously in a chair she dragged up beside the cot they laid you in, glancing back and forth between the heart monitor and you, holding your hand as she strokes it softly with her thumb, angry with herself for being so ignorant.

She knew that you had been hesitant to tell her about your past before, but at this point she's going to have to get you to admit what. After knowing so much about psychology all these years, she can tell that you're either doing this for attention or doing this for some other reason; and the latter seams more reasonable for you.

Nights and days go by. The nurses start making less frequent checks, assuring her that you'll be fine. She can't help but wait anxiously for you to wake up, eating only when Enid and Ajax come with food for her since she refuses to leave your side.

______________________________________________________________

When you wake, you're greeted with the sight of Wednesday sitting beside you, looking at you with anxious eyes. You smile wearily.

"Hey Wednesday."

[whitefoxgirl]

🦊Culture Shock🐰 A Jungkook Series Episode 3: Food (ft. Jimin)

Summary: Jungkook starts a podcast with his best friend who is a foreigner to discuss different topics they were shocked culturally about.

Author's Note: Hello my beautiful readers! Requests for BTS scenarios are open because I'm feeling uninspired! I wanna finish the Namjoon series with a BANG! And writing for others might get the wheels rolling~

Author's Note PS: If you'd like to be tagged, reblog with this. I am tagging people who reblog, but if you wish to be tagged comment or simply reblog and I will add you :)

Pairing: Jungkook x BFF!Reader (not dating, just two best friends) Fandom: BTS Warnings: Brief mentions of suicide, cringy, full of crack moments. Genre: Fluff, crack, angst Word Count: 2.3k

Taglist: @7ndipity; @yoongimentita7; @ancoraesisto; @lovemeforeternity, @hrtss4jk, @ellelabelle

🡸 Previous episode Next Episode➔

[PODCAST INTRO/THEME]

Jungkook: *sighs* *singing* 여러분~ 🦊: *whisper screams* Jungkook: *singing* 너무 보고싶었어!~ 🦊: *whisper screams* *giggles* Jungkook: *giggles* *singing*여러분도, 나 보고싶었어?!~ 🦊: *whisper screaming* No~ We didn't miss you~ Jungkook: *gasps then laughs* Jungkook: Welcome to episode 3 everyone. 🦊: This week has been... Jungkook: Exhausting. 🦊: Yeah... We were scheduling with our guest today and he's so busy. Jungkook: Super. 🦊: That's how you know you got too much free time, and you need a girlfriend. Jimin: *snickers* Jungkook: *deadpan/trying not to laugh* You trying to deny our relationship? 🦊: *groans in disgust* *imitating Cody Ko* EW! DUUUUUUUUUUUDE!!! Together: WHAT THE FUCK!~ *trio laugh*

🦊: If you heard laughter right now, I can assure you, you're not hearing voices. That is in fact... *pause* *sighs in relief* the voice of an angel. Jimin: Stop *chuckles* Jungkook: If you guys think we flirt, you guys have to listen to Y/N and Jimin. 🦊: Which, again, we're just friends. Jimin: Strictly! Friends! 🦊: Yeah. Jungkook: And even though in the comments people are trying to figure out who Y/N's crush is, I can assure you it is not Jimin. 🦊: DON'T give more clues than that! Jimin: He does listen to the podcast, so... Don't expose them. 🦊: Thank you, angel Jimin: You're welcome, baby

Jungkook: Oh my god... ANYWAY. Y/N brought Jimin because they're bored of me already. 🦊: For sure! You annoy the SHIT out of me *giggles* Jungkook: Love you too~ 🦊: No, but, I brought Jimin here today, because he was on the trip Jungkook took to my home country Jimin: Yes. It was really fun and I opened my eyes to the amazingness of the mango. 🦊: Yeah. This brings me to the topic of the episode which is! Jungkook: 음식! Jimin and Jungkook: Ko! Mee! Dah! 🦊: *giggles* 🦊: Comida!~ Trio: Food!~

🦊: @yoongimentita7 Jungkook: Mentita~ Little mint!~ 🦊: They requested that we talk about the differences between our food or how our families met. Jungkook: I think today we'll only talk about food since us meeting each other's families should be an episode of its own. 🦊: yoongimentita, thank you so much for your request!~ Jungkook: And @lovemeforeternity, thank you so much for suggesting this subject! 🦊: Yeah!~

Jungkook: I think Jimin's story is much more interesting. Jimin: *sighs smiling* Yeah 🦊: So for context, when I was getting to know Jungkook more, I was telling him that I miss my country because they had Puerto Rican mangoes, and if you're not aware, Puerto Rican mangoes are small, which is why instead of giving you a sweet sensation, it gives you a bittersweet sensation. Jimin: I was eavesdropping *laughs* *Jungkook and 🦊 laugh* Jimin: And I groaned in disgust because I don't like mangoes. 🦊: Shooketh. Jungkook: *chuckles* Jungkook: Y/N was telling me all of the things they miss and they mentioned a couple of fruits, but when they said "mangoes" Jimin-hyung stopped in his tracks and looked at them like they were crazy. 🦊: *giggles* He did!~ Jimin: I just didn't believe that I would like it, because it's just messy and hairy. 🦊: It is. Which, Puerto Rican mangoes do have hair, bUT! they stick together rather than- Jungkook: Spread around 🦊: Yeah! 🦊: So... Jungkook, Jimin, and a couple of other friends and I took a vacation in my home country. Jimin: It was amazing. 🦊: Jimin left the country with like.. 20 phone numbers. Jimin: *laughs* Yeah~ Jimin: I just didn't believe Y/N when they said that Puerto Rican mangoes were... *scoffs smiling* Basically the solution to my mango-hating agenda. Jungkook: So... Literally, the first thing that Y/N did once we landed, was call their mom... Ask her to cut down a few mangoes, and then took us to their childhood home. Jimin: And let me tell you guys... It was... A. MA. ZING! 🦊: *claps* WOOOOOO!!!! Jimin: *giggles* It was bittersweet. It had hairs, but since they stuck together, they didn't get stuck in between my teeth. 🦊: And it wasn't the one they sell in Korea, which is what we call a "pineapple mango". And those mangoes are... Huge, super sweet, and... what we say in Spanish "empalagante", which- Jungkook: Which, if you have eaten anything sweet, continuously, you definitely know that feeling. Like... Your- Jimin: It's like your tongue gets sticky with sweets 🦊: Sticky... *smacking her lips repeatedly* Jungkook: *smacks his lips repeatedly* *scrunches his nose* Just overly... sweet, it's just ugh~ Jimin: That's another reason why I didn't like mangoes. 🦊: He didn't know the wonders of different types of mangoes. Jimin: *chuckles* I didn't Jungkook: I remember Y/N cutting Jimin-hyung's mango. They just cut a line and peeled the skin like a fucking sticker. 🦊: *giggles* Which is the CORRECT way to eat it. Jimin: It was... so messy. THAT part I didn't like. 🦊: *imitating Thanos* It is inevitable. Jungkook: YOU DID NOT JUST DO THANOS AFTER THE LAST EPISODE

*trio laughs*

Jimin: But I can still remember the taste of it *sighs* It was... bittersweet, soft yet hard, it was orange and small so- Jungkook: Yet it still looked big on Jimin-hyung's hand. 🦊: Oh my god!~ Leave his hands alone!~ Jungkook: *laughs* 🦊: He got more bitches than you. Jungkook: *gasps* How dare you?~ Jimin: Well!~ Jungkook: HYUNG! *Jimin and 🦊 laugh* 🦊: 너무 귀여워!~ Jimin: 맞아, 귀여워~ Jungkook: Honestly, that was an AMAZING mango, and I understand why Y/N was so sad about not being able to eat them. 🦊: And they can't import it here because it's like... 40 United States Dollars to get one from Puerto Rico to Korea. Jimin: And how do you specify that? Like... Just straight up say "I want a Puerto Rican mango" Jungkook: Yeah, what even is a "Puerto Rican" mango. 🦊: Like how can you describe... Both: I want a small, bittersweet mango Jimin: *gasps*... You two sometimes freak me out. 🦊: *giggles* We spend TOO much time together. Jungkook: That's why I don't have a girlfriend. 🦊: *scoffs* Anyways, mine should be last *Jimin and Jungkook laugh* Jimin: YEAH! YEAH! It should!

Jungkook: So, for American food, it wasn't that surprising, since we have American food in Korea. 🦊: It's low-key expensive here too. Jungkook: Yeah, but now with what you told me. Jimin: Inflation Jungkook: It's basically the same price in both countries 🦊: Crazy Jungkook: What was surprising was tasting plantain. Jimin: We had a lot in Y/N's home country. 🦊: A plantain is like a banana, but it's used for cooking, like tomatoes. They're bigger and harder to peel and they can't be eaten raw. Jungkook: Nope *in between chuckles* Made THAT mistake 🦊: *chuckles* Jimin: We ate a lot of Latin cuisine. Rice with chicken, stuffed potatoes, pasteles, a- Jungkook: Just a lot of stuff. Jimin: Yeah! 🦊: I have no idea what your culture shock is gonna be *giggles* Jungkook: Oh! That's because I never told you because I didn't wanna make you feel bad. Jimin: Awwww!~ 🦊: *gasps* Jungkook: So, we had a lot of Latin cuisines, but the ones that upset my stomach the first time eating it was Puerto Rican cuisine. 🦊: Really? Jungkook: Yeah! Now it's whatever because I eat it whenever you cook it and it doesn't upset my stomach 🦊: You got accustomed to it Jungkook: *imitating Y/N* For sure!~ 🦊: *sighs smiling* Jimin: We got accustomed to it now because you bring us food in between anything. Practice, shoots, anything. Jungkook: *snickers* Our unpaid personal assistant. 🦊: Oh my god... Jungkook: Well, the first time I ate Puerto Rican cuisine... *sighs smiling* *chuckles* 🦊: What?~ Jungkook: There's a lot of spices, right? 🦊: Uh-huh~ Jungkook: Like, "sofrito", "sazón", "adobo" 🦊: *smiling* Uh-huh!~ 어쩌라고~ Jungkook: *laughs* I just remember after eating my "arroz con gandules" BOOKING it to the bathroom

*trio laugh*

🦊: *gasps* 잠깐만! 레알?~ Jungkook: 레알!~ Jimin: I had to take some medicine because my stomach couldn't handle it 🦊: *gasps* I mean... I get it, Koreans barely use seasoning, you guys just rely on spice Jungkook: True. I remember the first time that Y/N cooked for me. They were adding all these things and boom boom boom, salt, pepper, adobo, garlic, and this and that. I was like "What are they doing?" 🦊: I'm seasoning it!~ *giggles* 🦊: This is a great segway to my experience. My~ Trio: CULTURE SHOCK!~ Jungkook: *deadpan/trying not to laugh* I hate it here 🦊: *in between giggles* My culture shock was YOUR cooking. Jungkook: Really? 🦊: I just remember the first time you cooked for me. I told you that I wanted some Korean BBQ, but we were pretty far away, I don't know why... Jungkook: We were on vacation with some friends 🦊: Right right right 🦊: So, we didn't wanna go out, and I wanted some BBQ. Seokjin-Oppa busts out the grill, everything's normal. Jungkook: Yoongi-hyung wanted to cook but you insisted it had to be me 🦊: Yeah! Because, at that time, I had cooked so much for HIM, I wanted to taste HIS cooking 🦊: So, he's opening up the... what was it? Jimin: 삼겹살 🦊: Yeah, the 삼겹살 package, in front of the grill. It's already hot and then just *stutters* I can't even SAY it! *laughs* *Jimin and Jungkook laugh* 🦊: He just PUTS it on the grill like a madman! I was thinking to myself *imitating Tati Westbrook* Oh my god~ Time and place~ *Jimin and Jungkook laugh harder* 🦊: I was like... Where's the salt? AT LEAST salt! But NOTHING. And it's not like the grill was seasoned because you can season your grill before you cook Jungkook: Exactly 🦊: Nope... No seasoning Jungkook: OKAY BU- Jimin: 어땠어, 어땠어? How was it? 🦊: *sighs in defeat* it was delicious~ Jungkook: Okay!~ Okay!~ 🦊: *chuckles* I was just shocked you know? In my country you season EVERYTHING Jungkook: Guys, one time, we were eating something and they mixed mayonnaise and ketchup, which, normal, I do that too. But they added cruSHED GARLIC 🦊: OKAY But how was it?~ Jungkook: *sighs in defeat* It was delicious~

Jungkook: That was your first one 🦊: Yes Jimin: Tell them your most memorable one Jungkook: *laughs* Jimin: The way they explain it is so funny!~ 🦊: Oh my god... Okay~ Jimin: *giggling* 🦊: So, I always wanted to eat 떡볶이. Jungkook: Which, if you guys don't know, 떡볶이 is a cylinder-shaped rice cake with Korean chili paste or 고추장. 🦊: There's a lot of things in it, but that's the- Jimin: The basics of it. 🦊: Yeah, so I always wanted to eat it and *laughs* *Jimin and Jungkook laugh* 🦊: Guys... *in between laughs* It was the most ass-ripping, gas-inducing, PAPITO, I saw hell. I saw satan himself *strutters* I-You know what, I didn't see satan. I saw the flames of hell as I was plunging DOWN. Jungkook: *laughs loudly* *gets away from the mic* 🦊: My ass was ripping itself apart like HAHAHA! Papito! It was in 부산, and it was at this place that Jungkook found. He ordered it for me, but the owners were like "They're a foreigner, they won't be able to handle it". Jungkook: I thought I trained them for this moment, but apparently not. 🦊: So, the owners compromised and gave him the 떡볶이 with MILD spice *gets closer to the microphone* Guys... it was MILD! Okay? MILD. *Jimin and Jungkook snicker then laugh* 🦊: I remember taking the first bite and I looked at Jungkook and just thought to myself "Que carajo es esto?!" like "What the fuck is this?!" *in between laughs* I SAW- Papito, I saw God, I saw hell. My ass was ripping itself apart *laughs* *bangs the table once* Jungkook: Their eyes were wide and their face was... crazy red. 🦊: It was... HORRIBLE!~ And I looked at Jungkook and said "Papito, this 떡볶이, THIS IS KOREAN 떡볶이, this truly is Korean 떡볶이. Because this is spicy as FUCK, and the owner put it mild for me. If this is 'mild' for them I DONT WANNA KNOW what the normal 떡볶이for you guys is like" Jungkook: *laughs* They said that after we left the restaurant. They were not rude to the staff or anything. 🦊: And, guys, I really tried to, I REALLY did, because the food was really good, but I was sweating. Jimin: *snickers* 🦊: I was sweating, and I couldn't see the fingers in front of me. Jimin: And Y/N doesn't like to waste food so it was really hard for them to just not eat it. Jungkook: Yeah, but Yoongi-hyung saw them struggling and helped them complete it and finished it for them. 🦊: Yeah. *in a sweet voice* 고마워 윤기 오빠~ Jungkook: I helped too! Why don't you ever thank me like that?~ 🦊: Eh... Anyways! Those were our~ Together: CULTURE SHOCK!

Jungkook: Thank you so much, Jimin-hyung for taking your time and doing the podcast. Jimin: Of course! Even though it's been only 2 episodes posted, I love listening to the podcast. 🦊: Really?~ Jimin: I'm an avid listener, yeah! 🦊: Oh!~ Thank you so much, angel~ Jimin: You're welcome, baby Jungkook: But most of all, thank you, guys, for continuing to listen and interact and comment on the podcast, it really gives us strength to continue 🦊: Jimin? Jimin: Yeah? 🦊: Wanna do the outro? Jimin: Yeah~ I'll do it in Spanish~ 🦊: Oh~ Jimin: Mi gente, nos vemos despues 🦊: *gasps* OH MY GOD!~ That was soooo- Jungkook: Stop!~ *laughs* Jungkook: 여러분~ 안녕히 게세요!~ 🦊: Bye everyone! See you next time!~

[power-handmaiden]

Day 54: Not Pounded By My Handsome Sentient Stoker Award Nomination For Camp Damascus Because The Two Of Us Are Too Busy Celebrating The Fact That A Story With An Autistic Lead Character By An Autistic Author Made The Shortlist For A Major Literary Award And Now We’re Donating Some Money To Autistic Self Advocacy Network

I highly doubt anyone following me for tinglerposting is not also following Dr. Tingle, but here's a link to the tingler just in case, since it's up for free with suggested donation to a good cause.

So, I just jump out of my rough chronological order to read a new tingler while it's most relevant, but it turns out this one is actually a really good companion to the one I read yesterday: two tinglers that deal directly with Dr. Tingle's feelings on being a writer and on his readership, separated by 8 years and hundreds of published stories.

The biggest difference in those 8 years is how much unironic attention Dr. Tingle has gotten through his horror writing. In yesterday's tingler he has a very warranted frivolous attitude toward the reader, who is probably just reading his erotica as a comedic work (side note, I forgot to mention yesterday, but listening to it via the podcast episode added a layer to that moment, as the narrator was clearly doing just that) while today's tingler begins with a feeling of high anxiety over the new type of attention that is coming in.

Now, I fully admit that this might be projection on my part, and for as unsubtle as this tingler is it doesn't address this in particular, but... when I look at these side-by-side, I see an autistic experience around indulging in one's interests in the way the attitudes in these tinglers have developed over time. Dr. Tingle has always seemed to have a sense of peace around how the stories he takes seriously as he writes them are humorous to the general public. He's always welcomed the audience laughter, the dramatic readings, the podcast I keep coming back to. There's an expectation for a lot of neurodivergent people that the way we engage in things won't be received on the same level by the general. Often, for the more social among us, even if others laugh, as long as they aren't maliciously mocking we all can have fun together even if the mutual understanding isn't perfect. The familiarity of can become comfortable.

To suddenly be taken seriously after getting used to being seen as an inherently silly imdividual can be terrifying! Even more so when you gain attention for excelling at one thing but you're unsure how all these new attention givers will respond to your "weird" traits- this point in particular is addressed directly, in some unexpected mid-tingler self-consciousness from Dr. Tingle in this one. Usually the "Chuck Tingle" space appears to be where he can just write these ideas without being self-consious about them, but in this one it's where he can be vulnerable and work through his self-doubt.

Also, it's really cool to see how the nature of these meta tinglers themselves have changed because tinglers have expanded in scope over time. In the early ones, sometimes the protagonist has gay sex simply because he's aware it's how the kind of story he's in has to progress, but nowadays, the structure of the tingler encompasses other experiences as well and can instead culminate in a call for a charitable donation.

[tapwrites]

How to Become a Better Writer

It can be easy to stagnate in your writing. To feel like you're spinning your wheels and not progressing.

"But I'm listening to all the writing podcasts all the time!" Unfortunately, it's not as simple as that. Writing podcasts are great (I highly recommend Writing Excuses)... but are best for passively absorbing ideas around the art of writing.

You cannot passively become a better writer.

So what should you do?...

There are 3 main things to really get going in your writing: reading, writing, and getting feedback. (And there's a bonus hidden power up at the end!)

Reading

Read the language and medium you want to write in--regularly. ("Medium" being prose vs poetry vs academic papers, etc.) Why is that?

You need to learn and get a feel for how the grammar of the language works. You can do that with textbooks or a tutor. But if you've got a gut feel for what prose "looks" like on the page, because you've done a load of reading, you'll have a gut feel when your prose doesn't "look" right.

For example, if you've read a lot of dialogue, your brain naturally picks up on the rule that if the dialogue would end in a full-stop (period) but is followed by a dialogue tag... a comma is used instead of that period. And you won't have needed to memorise that edge case rule.

Reading lets you immerse yourself in the form of it, and absorb how it functions along the way. Including all the subtleties of how prose works that is different to everyday speech or communication. And it gives you a great baseline to learn these intricacies more directly, because it can click into place with what you've already picked up through reading.

Consuming stories through any art form--film, comic books, audio podcasts, etc.--helps you figure out your own tastes, your likes/dislikes when it comes to what you enjoy in a story. Which will form your style of writing, as you gain experience.

So reading isn't really required. For some, reading is a lot more difficult than watching a TV show, or writing their own stories. So you can learn these things in other ways as I mentioned.

The reason reading is the go-to recommendation is it is simply the most direct route. You can develop taste, understand story, and pick up on grammar and how the language works... all at the same time!

Whatever route you take, this is particularly helpful in the early days of writing. Seeing books by established authors with the eyes of a writer is a different experience to that of a regular reader. Instead of thinking, "Okay, I understood that part." You think, "Wow, you can do that in a novel?!"

You pick up tricks you can use in your own writing, as you read. And pick up on things you don't like in the way they write. This is "active reading"...

Don't just read: think about how what you are reading actually works on your brain.

You might think about how you would have written that sentence, or how you would've had it played out slightly differently to better hit that dramatic sweet spot.

That's what developing your own style is like, also known as a writer's "voice." Developing taste is when you start to gravitate towards some movies over others, and enjoy reading about certain characters and plots over others. You naturally do this when you've watched a lot of shows and movies. And you'll naturally do the same as you read books, as a writer.

Simply noticing what you like and dislike about what you read leaves you with a better sense of what you want your stories to be like. Both in terms of taste (genre, plot type, kinds of character) and style/voice (how you use the language to tell a story).

Writing

Writing regularly gets you the practise you need. Get used to sitting down and writing words--paper, digital, doesn't matter. And it doesn't matter if it's good. You don't need to show anyone else everything you write. What matters is that you practise the art of writing.

In the past I've used this exercise to get into the habit of writing, without worrying about it being good, editing/polishing it up, showing other people, etc. which actually lets the words come a lot easier. You can get into the flow of writing a lot better if you're not second guessing yourself, and this exercise gives you no time for such an indulgence! [Freewriting Exercise]

This is great for setting up a "mode" within yourself in which you are only creative, and you never second-guess or edit or revise. This is a great thing to work towards as you write, as it'll make the act of creating in the first place much more manageable. Think about it like this: when writing, your job is to slap down messy clay you can build with later.

Just writing something--anything--is productive in itself. And you'll probably start writing better stuff as you go just from the practise, and even find a story you want to develop from it!

But it's also good to finish things--both for the dopamine hit, and to be able to practise editing your work, understanding the structure of your story, and...

Getting feedback

Once you've got something you like but want to make better, get scientific! Ask people for feedback! (Preferably ask people that aren't your friends and family.)

Your goal in getting feedback is to understand how your writing is conveying your story to readers. What effect your use of language has on someone other than yourself.

Some will read it and like it, some will dislike like it, some may even hate it! Thing is, those are all subjective takes on what they read. When someone says a film "is good" or "is bad," they're really expressing that "it has things I like experiencing" or "it has things I don't like experiencing."

A hardcore fantasy fan might say a sci-fi film "is bad" because it doesn't have fantasy in it. Or visa-versa. All it speaks to is their personal tastes, not necessarily about the quality of the film as a whole.

Which means there's no need to worry. It's all just data.

Look at feedback like a scientist would the results of an experiment.

You're looking at your work in a scientific way. You're studying its effect on those readers. And through that analysis, learning how language affects their experience. Use that new understanding to bend language to your will so that it has the effect you wanted for your story.

This means it's not about doing what the readers want you to. Even if they're writers, and you respect their work... they are one reader among many. When it's published, it could be one reader among millions!

Others may have the opposite suggestion on the same piece. You could get 20 differing points of view. Don't give any one comment more weight than any other comment you might receive.

Learn about language and story, through reactions to your writing.

Use their reactions and suggestions to learn about language and story. Don't learn "how to make your story better," even if that's what they're trying to force on you.

Always, always, do what you want to do with your story. If you learn from the feedback and critique, and you end up wanting to tell your story differently, then do what you want and change your story. If you don't end up wanting to tell your story differently, do what you want and don't change your story.

In other words, any feedback can be taken or discarded at your own discretion. You're not trying to find out if your story "is good" or "is bad."

You're on a data-gathering expedition!

This process is vital to growing past writing readable prose and gaining mastery over the language--bending the words to your will and crafting experiences for readers to have.

By looking at things more scientifically, you'll begin to grow faster and faster. There's still a lot of subjectivity to it, of course. But that's the art: shaping another person's subjective experience by words on a page!

And as you do this more and more, you'll be able to write to a better standard even before you've gotten feedback.

"But it feels scary to share my work!"

It does, at first. "What if they don't like it? What if I get criticism?" The context of this process is that you are conducting experiments to gather data, sure. But it can be hard for your brain to get on board with that, and to skip the gut reaction of "oh no they don't like me!"

So here's one extra specific experiment you can conduct if you're worried about people seeing your work--even sharing complete stories we're proud of.

Write something you know isn't the best. Or is actually bad. First-drafts tend to be bad without editing--that's all just part of the process. So just write a little something. This is safe enough; if you lack confidence in the first place, then thinking your writing isn't good is par for the course, even if it's good. So doing this on purpose shouldn't be a big deal.

Now, knowing it's bad, post it somewhere actually requesting feedback on it. Asking people to tell you what's bad about it. You already know there's stuff wrong with it, things you might want to fix already. All that's happening is others are talking about the same things, and perhaps finding other aspects you can improve you didn't spot. That's the whole point of getting feedback: finding things that you'd want to fix that you didn't notice on your own!

But this way, you're initiating all of it, from writing "badly" to people telling you what you wrote "badly." That's what you wanted to happen.

And, even when you're more confident in your writing ability... that's what you'll be using feedback for too. This is like a practise run to get used to the feeling of putting something out there and people talking about what's good and bad about it.

Now, the uber-writers know this one last secret to growing as a writer: Giving Feedback (shh, don't tell anyone).

Giving Feedback

This is the juiciest of them all! You're active-reading... plus plus! Because you also have to put into words what is happening, which is even harder than just sensing you're not into how that writer did that one thing. You also get scientific with it--but from the other side!

That sentence didn't feel right to you. Why? How might it be changed to make it feel less weird? And how do you convey that to the writer so it's useful feedback?

That scene wasn't as impactful as you thought it was going to be. What about the structure of the story let that down? How might you shuffle things around to bring out the drama in that moment?

This is great practise for keeping your editor-brain separate to your writing-brain. You're practising not creatively writing at all, while being in the very analytical mode of finding any problems. You're figuring out how to shape the messy clay into something more purposeful, easier to read, more effective. While being detached entirely from the text, because it's not even something you wrote! This mindset is very useful when you want to get into editor mode and work on your own stories.

This kind of deeper thinking is what you get by giving feedback to people asking for it. And those that are looking for feedback are from all sorts of backgrounds, and all sorts of skill levels when it comes to writing.

You can see a lot of new ideas, new ways of writing, new traps to fall into, and analyse them all to figure out what makes them tick. And they tend to not be entire novels, so you can get a lot of that in a shorter time, too!

Just keep in mind those different skill levels when writing your feedback, however. Back when you were just starting out, if someone who seems to know what they were talking about said to you "it's good," like a family member might do... how would that have made you feel? On top of the world! And if they told you "it's bad," you would've quit writing on the spot!

So many writers have quit writing from bad feedback at an early stage for years!

This isn't to say you should coddle them and pat them on the head and send them on their way. Even if you sense that they're not at the "scientific" stage yet, they are seeking to grow as a writer. And hey, look at that--you're a writer, and you can help them grow!

So, start with a positive thing about their piece. Even if that's "you've got a clear vision of your world!" when you as the reader aren't exactly sure you have a handle on what that world is even if it's vividly described.

Be truthful, but find something that they've got a glimmer of that will help them in their writing journey. In the early days, finishing anything is tough. Having an idea and writing it down is tough. Getting tense correct is tough. Because it's all new to you.

Having a clear vision of their world isn't something everyone has. Sometimes it's so far in the background that you feel like you and the characters are standing in a blank white room. So even if the only good thing is that they have the confidence to have a world and present it to the reader... hype them up on that!

And whatever little slice of being a writer they've got is a good place to grow from. Nurture it, even in a brief comment pointing it out. Make them feel good about it.

Then, based on what their skill level might be, give them something to reach for in what they write next.

I like to make that clear to such writers... in the early days, you shouldn't be editing and revising and redrafting the same 3 opening paragraphs over and over, you should be writing new stuff all the time! So...

Give them something to work on for next time.

...Or next chapter, or whatever. Like, "For your next story, think about how you might show the world from your character's perspective more. What do they notice? What do they think about the statue in the distance? And how would they describe it? This helps the reader get to know the character better, just by how you narrate things. 👍"

Something simple, and understandable, with a hint of teaching them why that might be good for a story. Don't inundate them with your many pearls of wisdom and a full line-edit. Just gently help them take one more step in the right direction.

All of this is scaled according to the apparent skill level of the writer you're giving critique to, of course. A better-written story might warrant a real review of the story as a whole, and a longer list of aspects they could look into improving. Things like that.

Just be careful not to make people run away from writing. It's all too easy to cause.

[skayafair]

The brainworms be brainworming

Note: I want to chat about junoverse! Hit me up if you do too!

It's funny how I expected to ship the hell out of the main pairing just to end up utterly inenterested :D

It's amusing and gives Juno a good character developement, but mostly it's just corroding. Also by all accounts Nureyev should have been the type of character who is usually interesting to me, but mostly I couldn't care less and was slightly annoyed in s5 (made sense tho, so not complaining). And I don't understand why he kept showing up in Juno's life and even offered to run away together just to do his worst to try and disappear for good when things started looking up and settling for them, the whole Dark Matters ordeal notwithstanding. Did he try to shake Juno off because he became scared that his feelings got too real for comfort and he couldn't just "file them away" anymore? Would he have abandoned Juno on some faraway planet if Juno didn't change his mind and actually went with him?

Maybe my attitude was partly why I was so delighted by the ending, except for the fact that it simply made the most sense and the stories rarely go this route in order not to upset the fanbase. Personally I'd have said Nureyev to get lost after the 2nd disappearance but luckily for Peter Juno has a different approach. And their relationship might have not gotten through to me, but I really liked how it was developed: I'm on aroace spectrum and "love from the first sight" sounds ridiculous to me. Attraction, I can believe in, love - nah, this thing's built over time and looots of effort. And that's what they've been doing over the seasons - building it. Juno's resolution - "if you can do this, we'll be together, someday in future, if you can't - I guess we just aren't compatible", his acceptance of the fact made me very glad to hear had to undergo a similar realization in the past. Do I need to say that to me the person behind that door in the last seconds of the episode was NOT Nureyev. Too early.

On a different note, what I wasn't satisfied with was Sasha's plotline. It feels unfinished. I kept expecting it to get its resolution as well, to make me sympathize with her (not justify her actions tho), and I guess Nightmare was supposed to be it, but she just confused me instead. I still don't understand what exactly this whole case meant. Why did she look exactly like young Sasha to Juno but like Juno - to Mick?

I mean... the way Sasha was erasing herself from existance just for Agent W to be the only one left, and with how often neometh was mentioned - and the super-drug they pumped Jet with? - I thought Slip would come into the picture too somehow. It seemed like there was a joint overarching plot for these two lines, but they ended up completely unrelated. And Juno said he needed to reflect on Sasha and understand her even after they shook the DM off of their tail, but I don't think this was developed? Idk. And what with all the hints of "you don't know what I've been through" from Sasha? Did I miss the elaboration? It just feels like her plot line was planned but scrapped at some point.

I've started to listen again since ep 1 and realized I don't enjoy the podcast as much as the 1st time until the Aurinkos come into the picture. All the previous episodes were good, don't get me wrong, - just not as interesting to me personally. So after a few episodes I skipped right to the middle of season 2 and wow. I didn't realize Jet to be THIS hilarious the first time! Now the actual fun begins <3

And since I've already started - Juno was very funny and sooo coherent back in the desert. "Leave me be! I'll die but at least I'll do this by my own will!.. oh shit this guy looks scary and like he'll kill me if I don't shut up right now, ok fine". Aw <3

I think this is the first time when I can actually remember how unreliable and overdramatic our narrator is, take his descriptions of any situations with a grain of salt and not even be annoyed at this :D