#supremely-unsupervised | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

writerunnamed · 1 month ago

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note: I am both shocked, and grateful at the response this story has gotten. I didn't tag anyone, and I expected maybe a few people to be into it but you proved me so wrong. So thankful that you all like it, please don't be shy. Slide into the dms, spam me with asks, lets go nuts together. xo (thanks so much for going through and betaing this chapter @frannyzooey xo) Joel(stepdad), significant age gap, female reader. 18+ legal, reader is 20 (warnings: pov sex, shower sex, really inappropriate dirty talk, slight Dom-Joel vibes, daddy kink, heavy guilt) 4k word count masterlist

The guilt doesn’t creep in, it consumes like a five alarm fire. It’s weight holding you pressed to your bed as the shadows in your room stretch out with the fading of the golden hour light. The darkness helps, but not nearly enough to make any kind of a difference.

He’d left after, closing your bedroom door behind him with your slick still smeared all over his dick and the realization of what you’ve done keeps hitting you. It keeps dropping stones in your gut, further weighing you down, naked, in the incriminating wet patch on your sheets. You hear your mother open the front door an indeterminable amount of time after. Your face burns, your heart races, she has to know. Surely she’d felt it, like a phantom limb while she was working, a ghost knife in the shape of her daughter, stabbing her in the back.

You wait, barely breathing, sheets clutched in the talons of your fingersfor her to storm in, to rip you out of the house by your skin but it doesn’t happen. You hear him laugh, hear them chat as though nothing has happened. Your heart rate steadily lowers, and it becomes apparent that her wrath isn’t pending.

The ax hanging over your head is being held by you, and no one else.

You stay there, uncomfortable, ashamed, cold, until it’s late enough that the house falls silent. Then, and only then do you get up and change the sheets. You pad out to the bathroom and shower, silently telling yourself that it was a temporary lapse in judgment. It was a psychotic episode. It was a hallucination, there’s no way you’d actually done that. It must have been imagined, but then you clean between your legs and feel the soreness and curse yourself all over again.

You do your best to wash him off of you, wash the whole encounter, the whole mistake, and vow to yourself to never give it another thought. You console yourself with the thought that he must feel awful too, surely. He was probably lying there next to your mother, terrified with guilt. The devil on your shoulder, that cruel thing inside laughed at your naivety, practically yelling at you to smarten up. He doesn’t feel guilty, he’s probably snoring, his balls empty, his body pleasantly tired without a care in the world.

Sleep eventually finds you, giving you the blissful respite of the dreamless dark.

—

A week goes by and you can almost convince yourself it had been a dream. Your mother is her normal, distant, distracted self. Joel works and blessedly you have managed to avoid any unsupervised interactions. Your brain however, has splintered and each shard has its role. The first keeps you sane, it does it best to make sure you focus on anything but the event you will not name. Another convinces you that things have almost fixed themselves since… well, that. It fools you into believing that it was somehow a cure. Things feel better in the house. The tension is gone, Joel seems disinterested, your mother is preoccupied. A tentative truce has somehow been enforced.

There is another shard, an unwelcome and unruly and now untethered part of you that screams for a repeat performance. It begs and pleads for you to corner Joel and take what he gave again and again. The other aspects keep it restrained for most of the day. Work, responsibilities, the general needs and demands of the day take up most of your bandwidth but at night, at night it reigns supreme and without opposition.

In the comforting dark of your now tainted space, that illicit part of you floods your mind's eye with the vision of Joel there, in your bed. It recalls the feeling of his mouth on your nipples with crystalline clarity, makes you feel the way he molded your body to take him, the way you came around his cock with that word in your mouth.

You were grateful for the toy, but he’d been so frustratingly right about it not doing much. After him, the toy was a tease. It was barely a taste of what he’d been able to do, but it didn’t stop you from using it. It was the safest option, until you could find someone appropriate.

Or get the fuck out of that house and forget about the whole thing.

More days pass, and that tension filters through your defences, It glides in and fills every angle of the house, every corner with a need borne of your interlude.

Joel’s eyes linger again, he tracks your movements whether your mother is around or not. He smiles, he tests, pushes your limits with a passing hand on your lower back. His fingers linger when he hands you a plate or a mug, he sits close enough for his thighs to press to yours on the couch, the soft light of the tv and the lamp casting shadows across you both.

Your mother doesn’t pay attention, or doesn’t see it. You are not a threat to her relationship, why would you be? In any normal, healthy family this would never be something to be worried about, not in a million years. In a proper family, a stepfather would not fuck his stepdaughter.

A stepdaughter would not fantasize about it either.

The guilt builds the more time passes, but it wars with another, less wholesome feeling. Desire. Unadulterated lust. There is a part of you, a growing, strengthening part that craves him, that bombards you with different ways to have him inside you again, to beg him to fuck you harder, to give it to you longer, to beg for him to come inside you and mark you as his own and this scares you half to death.

Soon though, it eclipses that guilt and takes you to the breaking point.

It comes to a head one day, when you come home to both of them smiling and happy.

“Hey babygirl.”

He smiles when you set your bag down and you ignore the way your body comes to life with that endearment.

“Go on up and get dressed, I’m takin’ my girls out for dinner.”

Your mother beams, sliding her arms around his waist with a dreamy smile. “I got a promotion, Joel is going to treat us.” She’s in a very good mood.

“Oh, I’m alright, bit tired but you two go ahead. Have a drink for me.” You smile your sincerest smile, urging them to leave you alone. The toy floats in your brain, calling to you with the promise of the momentary relief it brings, however paltry compared to him.

“Nonsense. Go on, we’re all goin’.” He raises an eyebrow, and you sigh, already resigned. “Go on, don’t make me ask you again, we gotta celebrate.” There is a playful, yet iron-strong tone that you know in your heart you cannot disobey.

“We can go on our own if she wants to stay.” Your mom combs his hair back with her fingers, fixing it and he lets her, smiling down at her as you make your way up the stairs.

“We’re all goin’-” It’s the last thing you hear him say before you close your door and go about getting dressed.

It’s a pretty fancy steakhouse, a place you’d only ever been to once on a date. He’d put on a nice shirt, and your mom wore one of her nicer dresses. You couldn’t exactly wear leggings, so you’d dug out a dress of your own and trudged along despite your wish to be anywhere but.

He slid into the booth beside you. You said nothing.

Your mother talks about her job, about how happy she is they’re taking notice of all her hard work and you’re genuinely proud of her. Growing up you don’t remember her holding down a job for more than a few months, Joel had changed that too. He’d pushed her to buckle down and take her employment seriously and it had paid off. It was just another one of those contradictory things about him, something you should have loved him for, a genuine, paternal thing but it didn’t mesh with your new dynamic.

Paternal. What a joke.

The food is good, and you enjoy it in relative silence while your mother prattles on about her work, her manager, her team while Joel smiles and looks her in the eye. It’s almost pleasant, almost normal, the three of you, mother, father and daughter in a dark little booth celebrating a win.

It’s almost nice, until you feel his hand on your knee under the table.

You jump, the shock of it making you drop your fork.

“You alright babygirl?” He smiles, genuine concern on his face as heat floods your body and you nod, frantically. With a tight smile you go to pick it up but he stops you, and ducks under the table to fish for it. Your mom laughs it off and you smile, blood pounding when you feel his hand again while he’s reaching for the fork. It moves your skirt up, exposing more of your thigh.

“I’ll ask the waiter for a new one.” He sits up and winks, adjusting himself so he’s a little closer. His hand lands back on your thigh and his thumb strokes at the skin, little circles that make you lightheaded.

“I think I need to use the little girls room.” Your mother puts her napkin on the table and for a moment you think this is your chance. If she asks if you need to go, you’ll jump at the chance – but his hand tightens, just enough to let you know to stay put.

She doesn’t ask, and when she rounds the corner he turns to you, eyes bright with the same lust you’ve been stomping down inside.

“Happy you’re here babygirl, been missin’ you.” His hand slides up until it’s pressed against your core. Your breath comes in pants, and you’re rendered silent.

“Been dreamin’ about havin’ you again. Been fightin’ the urge to sneak in and spread you out on that little bed, eat that pretty little cunt til you’re cryin for me to fuck you.”

He presses close, tilting your face up to press his lips against yours soft enough to tickle. “You been thinkin’ about me?” He presses another little kiss, and you pull away, terrified to see strangers staring at you disgusted.

No one is looking though, and he knows.

“Joel, stop, not here.” You’re frantic, heart racing, pussy leaking.

“Who am I?” he raises his eyebrows, expecting.

You close your eyes, letting out a sigh. “She’ll be back any minute.”

“Say it babygirl, say what I know you’re wantin’ to say. Who am I?” His hand lands on your thigh again.

It’s on the tip of your tongue and you hate that he’s right, you do want to say it. You want to scream it.

“...Daddy.” It’s barely a whisper, but it feels so good.

“Little louder honey.” He slides up, pressing his fingers against your clit.

“Daddy, please–” You give in, and it comes out almost a moan. There’s that sense again, of falling into a trap you hadn’t seen him set but it’s secondary to the self-satisfied smile on his face, to the way your body primes itself for whatever he deems fit. Your thighs clamp around his hand, the restaurant falls away and all that matters is his warm breath ghosting across your face, his strength, the press of his fingers.

“That’s better.” He smiles, and moves away and it’s with an unspeakable relief that you see your mother round the corner again, eyes on her feet while you adjust and move further away. The guilt gnaws at you, but the other thing rages, paints her as an interruption for a moment before you reign it in. She smiles when she slides into her side of the booth.

“How ‘bout we get dessert? I could do with a little somethin’ sweet.” He smiles, and she agrees.

They chat idly on the drive back to the house. She mentions how the excitement has given her a headache, and he urges her to go rest. It’s terrifying, the change in him: his attitude with her, his obvious care and the juxtaposition to his behavior in the restaurant.

Needing a break from the tension he built inside you earlier, you grab a change of clothes and run for the shower, grateful for the temporary oasis.

You try to take your time, to focus on anything and everything except the overwhelming need to be fucked into your matress. A few, blissfully steam-filled minutes later you hear the bathroom door open.

“Mom?” You call out, but after a few silent moments you think you might have imagined it. Until the curtain opens and Joel steps in as naked as the day he was born.

“What the fuck are you doing?” You let out a terrified whisper and your first instinct is to cover yourself.

“Calm down, your mama’s sleepin’. She was feelin’ drained' from work and everythin’ so she took an ambien.” He steps towards you, forcing you to take a step back. “This water’s fit to burn my skin off.” He hisses but doesn’t adjust the temperature.

He steps under the spray while you tuck yourself against the corner, shaking from the chilly tile pressing against your back. Your arm is pressed to your front covering your breasts, and the other is cupping your pussy, hiding your bits from his gaze. In contrast, he’s unbothered by his nakedness. His cock is soft, his arms are strong, his middle a little soft, but his beauty is undeniable. This is a man’s body, and you take it in with increasing want.

Your eyes betray you, your body betrays you, everything inside you seems to scream betrayal when he’s alone with you like this. He tilts his face up into the hot spray. He’s so fucking handsome, so virile, so hung. You kick yourself as you stare at his cock, already knowing that you’re going to give in to him, despite your mother being asleep just down the hall.

“Come on babygirl, get under the water with me.” He reaches forward, taking your hand and pulling you towards him. You let him, heart fluttering like a bird in a cage at the feel of him pressing you close to him. The water cascades over you both, steam billowing out and his hands travel the expanse of your back. They slide over your shoulders, reaching down to cup your backside. He pulls you closer, pressing his mouth to yours and you can’t help but moan.

He smiles, moving his kisses to your neck, your shoulders and that thing inside you wins yet again. Your hands press against his chest, they move over the muscles of his arms that you cannot help but stare at, they caress his back and up to curl through the hair at the base of his neck.

You pull his face to yours for a deeper kiss, the kiss you’ve been craving since he left you wet and trembling in your bed. He groans when your tongue licks into his mouth and then it changes. From an almost sweet exploration, to a desperate need to consume one another. His cock hardens against your belly and your cunt aches at the feel of it.

“Give it to me, I want it.” Someone who cannot be you begs him, clutching at his hair when he licks at your neck, his hands palming at your breasts as your back hits the tile again.

“What do you want, baby?” He lifts your thigh, wrapping it around his hip as he slots his cock at the seam of your cunt. He doesn’t press, just glides it between your legs, never notching the blunt tip of it at your entrance like you hope he will. The head of it nudges at your clit and he rocks it against you, teasing you into madness.

You know what he wants, you want it too. As hard as he is, as desperate as you know he is to slip inside, he has all the patience in the world.

He knows this. He also knows that you are much more desperate than him.

“I want your cock daddy, please, I need it.” You all but moan, some, pathetic, half-human thing burning with a fever, begging to be fucked like a whore. Begging him. The one person you shouldn’t beg this from.

“Such a good girl, such a quick learner.” He finally grasps himself in hand, making sure you watch him as he angles himself and slides home in one smooth, brutal stroke. The moan you let out is a loud, filthy thing.

“Shh, can’t have you makin’ all that noise honey,” He slips his forearm under your calf to open you up wide, his other hand coming up to wrap around your throat. He snaps his hips hard enough to make everything bounce and you cannot imagine ever being this fucking turned on, this hot for another person.

“Or maybe you do, maybe you want your mama to come in here, see how well her babygirl takes her daddys cock.”

You close your eyes at that, it’s too filthy, it’s too depraved but your cunt still drools out its passion for him.

“You get so wet when I tell you how well you take it, even here I can feel her soakin’ me.” He stares at the juncture of your thighs- watches himself spearing you with his cock. Your eyes are half-glazed, admiring the way his neck strains, the definition in his arms, the way his mouth hangs open. His skin red from exertion and the heat of the water.

He’s right, something inside feeds off his praise no matter how fucking wrong it is, you need it.

“Yes daddy, I like it.” You confess, already damned anyway.

“I know baby, I know.” He lets go of your throat and holds onto your ass before sticking his tongue down your throat. You whimper into his mouth, holding onto his neck for dear life while inching closer and closer to the orgasm building in your hips, in the base of your spine.

“Wanna feel her now, come all over me honey-“ he begs in your ear, his hips stuttering slightly and a madness overtakes you as you shove your fingers into his mouth and slip them down over your clit. He moans, pressing his palm into the hinge of your knee, somehow opening you up even more and then it’s there, in your fingers, in your limbs and in your very soul.

“Yes, that’s it baby, yes-“ he turns his thrusts into a grinding roll, and it’s with a horrified glee that you feel him paint your insides in his come. Your eyes glued to the place you’re joined, a curious thought springs up unbidden: nothing in the world could pull you away from him at that moment, with his cock inside and his hands on your body. That realization should scare you but it doesn’t. Would your mom bursting through the door make you come to your senses? Do you really want to know the answer to that question?

“Daddy… I can feel it really deep.” You say the words in what feels like a drunken stupor and he lets out a punched out groan, pulling out to watch as he drips out of the place you now know he fucking owns.

“That’s where it belongs, honey. Nice and deep.” He lowers your leg, but pulls you close and tucks you under his chin.

“Daddy loves you, you know that right? I’m so proud of you baby.”

You’re exhausted, but the guilt doesn’t come as quickly as the first time. It’s hard for it to make it through the comfort of the hot water, the cocoon of his arms, the steady reassuring thump of his heart under your cheek. The soft press of his lips to your forehead.

He stays. He washes your hair, cleans his come from between your legs and the fatherly lines of him blur even more.

It’s wrong. You know it. It’s obviously so fucking wrong. But it feels so right, it feels good, it feels safe for him to shield your eyes from the suds, for him to massage the knots out of your back, for him to kiss you soft, for his fingers to pluck at your soapy nipples.

When you’re done and in bed, you fall asleep, and dream of a steamy bathroom and soft, chapped lips at your temple.

–

The next morning finds you well-rested. That might actually bother you more than it should, comparatively speaking. That he would be the person to fuck you well enough to give you a good nights sleep seems like some cosmically cruel joke. Memories of your mother sleeping in on Saturdays after a night out with him make you groan into your pillow.

Any acceptance, any complicity was far and foreign in the unforgiving light of day. All of the comfort you’d felt in the tail-end of that unholy shower now angered you. It was manipulation, it was coercion, how could you do that? Let him in, in all of the different ways he’d managed to push inside you in the time since you’d been home, past your protective walls and quite literally between your fucking legs. It had to be something he’d done to make you crazy. A temporary insanity, surely,

You let out a huff, noting but almost unseeing the dust motes dancing in shafts of light coming in through the window. The guilt was heavy and hot in your belly, and not only because of the betrayal but because you knew, deep in your soul, that you would not–could not deny him. That was a fact.

The pillow at your side found itself pressed to your face to cover the groan of frustration at the cringy realization that you were just another woman with daddy issues.

Hours you laid there, torturing yourself with so many flavors of guilt.

Guilt at indulging, guilt at craving, guilt at knowing that you’d most likely doing it again, guilt at tentatively imagining other places you wanted him to fuck you. Guilt at the look of devotion on your mother’s face when he smiled at her. Guilt at the dark, cruel little thing that rejoiced at him wanting you so bad.

They were both sitting at the kitchen table when you finally came downstairs. Your stomach dropped at the sight of him sitting there, in his usual place with the paper in his hands. His face gave nothing away when he looked up at you, a talent he shouldn’t have.

“Good morning, sleep okay?” Your mom smiled, moving to the sink.

“Yeah, slept great.” You smile back and you almost feel Joel’s chest puff out. You ignore him.

“That’s good, why don’t you come do groceries with me? I’m going to do a big trip so you guys aren’t starving while I’m gone next week.”

She misses your frown as she empties the dishwasher. Something big wraps itself around you, something foreboding, something inescapable. His paper flicks almost imperceptibly in the corner of your eye and still, you ignore it.

“What do you mean?” You question her, but it’s almost prophetic, because you already know.

“I thought I’d told you, I have a work trip. A conference, because of the promotion. I’m leaving on Monday morning, and I’ll be gone until Thursday. I wanted to leave the fridge full so the two of you don’t have to worry. Want to come?”

She’s still focused on putting away the dishes when you finally meet his eye. Your stomach rolls at the wink he flashes you. You can feel his thoughts like a sunburn, skin tight with the burn of it, at the promise of all of the things you already know he’ll make you do.

The things you know, deep down, you’ll beg him for.

Fuck.

#joel miller #pedro pascal #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel tlou #joel x reader #joel x y/n #joel x you #pedro pascal fanfiction #tw stepdad #daddy joel #daddy k!nk

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ineffectualdemon · 3 months ago

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My various AU Shen Jiu's

Fast Times at Cang Qiong Mountain (Aka Shen Jiu and Shang Qinghua become friends AU): Asshole but not yet abusive not has he burned all bridges. Is walked from the edge by deciding Shang Qinghua is his stupid younger brother. Also Shang Qinghua blocks all his attempts at becoming the fully fledged scum villain. 0% scum villain 100% that friend who goes to far too often

Disciple Shen Yuan Au: he wants to abuse this Shen Yuan brat SO BAD but the little shit keeps manipulating situations so it works out better for Shen Jiu if he doesn't smack that smug look of the brats face. Also he knows by the look in the brata eye that if he hits him he loses somehow and Shen Jiu HATES losing. He has abused others but he does lose the taste for it after awhile. Just because over time his unwilling attachment to the brat has opened his eyes to Shen Yuan's way of being mean with words. He's 100% a dick and would be abusive if it didn't mean losing. Would be a scum villain if left unsupervised so we'll say 60% scum villain

Plant Shen Jiu AU: 0 reform. Would 100% abuse kids if given access again and would kill Luo Binghe if he didn't know it would destroy the world and Qi-ge. Absolutely evil bastard who enjoys ruining people's day. Gets most of his sadism out of his system by a consensual but supremely unhealthy sadomasochistic relationship with Yue Qingyuan. 100% scum villain not at all reformed just has found a new calling in being a Problem without being an actual Villian

#svsss #shen jiu #disciple shen yuan au #plant shen jiu au #fast times at cang qiong mountain

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hellenhighwater · 1 year ago

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Vimes has a long ride to her new forever home tomorrow, so we're giving the sock harness a try, in hopes that she'll be able to take breaks outside of the carrier. It's how I introduced Malice to harnesses too, and she also took to it like a champ. Vimes is already pretty chill about this.

You can make a kitten sized temporary harness by cutting the heel and toe off a stock, and then cutting two good sized slits in either side to be arm holes. Ideally it should be a pretty good sized sock, so it's not putting much pressure on them. Kittens grow quickly, so this is a good way to introduce the idea of wearing a harness without having to buy one that'll immediately get outgrown. Plus they seem to enjoy the slight squeeze.

I wouldn't try this on a kitten who's under three lbs, and I also would never leave them unsupervised like this.

Here's the tiny Meatball Supreme, on a boat!

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allthebrazilianpolitics · 14 days ago

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Brazil institute sues social media giants for $525 mln over usage by minors

Brazil's Collective Defense Institute, a consumer rights group, has filed two lawsuits demanding 3 billion reais ($525.27 million) from the Brazilian units of TikTok, Kwai and Meta Platforms (META.O) for allegedly failing to create mechanisms to prevent indiscriminate use of these social media platforms by minors, according to initial petitions reviewed by Reuters.

Social media regulation has become a hot topic in Latin America's largest country after a months-long feud between X owner Elon Musk and a Brazilian Supreme Court justice resulted in the company paying hefty fines.

The lawsuits demand the companies create clear data protection mechanisms and issue warnings about the risks to children's and teenagers' mental health due to platform addiction.

The lawsuits are based on a series of studies on the possible damage caused by unsupervised use of social media, especially by children and teenagers.

#brazil #brazilian politics #politics #facebook #tiktok #kwai #image description in alt #mod nise da silveira

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koreanbibliophilegirl · 9 months ago

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Made incorrect quotes for Temporal Transcendence(WIP). Why am I so obsessed with incorrect quotes.

Wilbur: You love me, right, Tommy?

Tommy: Normally, I'd say yes without hesitation, but I feel like this is going somewhere and I don't like it.

Tommy: This is such a bad idea.

Wilbur: Then why are you coming along?

Tommy: One of us needs to be able to talk the other Mages out of arresting us when this inevitably goes wrong.

Techno: Here's some advice.

Dave the Blood God: I didn't ask for any.

Techno(been a statue for a whole century now): Too bad. I'm stuck here with my thoughts and you're the only one who can hear me.

Young Tommy: You saved me. I owe you my life.

Techno: No thanks. I've seen it and I'm not very impressed.

Techno: English is a difficult language. It can be understood through tough thorough thought, though.

Wilbur: You need to stop.

Tommy: In my defense, I was left unsupervised.

The Time Mages: Wasn't Supreme Time Mage Jacobs with you?

Karl: In my defense, I was also left unsupervised.

Wilbur: HELP! I TOLD TECHNO I'D COOK DINNER TONIGHT BUT I CAN'T COOK!

Phil, pouring milk directly into the cereal bag: And you thought I could help?

Wilbur: I love you guys, you're the best thing that's happened to me.

Tommy: We're the best thing that's ever happened to you?

Wilbur: Yes!

Techno: I'm starting to feel a little sorry for you.

Tommy: *Screams*

Sapnap: *Screams louder to establish dominance*

Wilbur: Should we do something?

Karl: No, I want to see who wins.

Cop: You’re receiving a ticket for having three people on one motorcycle.

Phil: Shit.

Techno: Wait, three?

Cop: Yeah?

Tommy: OH MY GOD WILBUR FELL OFF!!!

Quackity, a Time Mage, about Tommy: Apparently we're getting someone new in the group.

Sapnap: Are we stealing them?

Karl: New or used?

Quackity: Wonderful responses, both of you.

Techno: Bianca, I'm sad.

Bianca Nihachu: *Holds out arms for a hug* It's going to be okay.

Tommy: Bo, I'm sad.

Bo Underscore, nodding: mood.

Karl: Name a more iconic duo than my crippling fear of abandonment and my anxiety. I'll wait.

Tommy: You and me!!!

Karl, tearing up: Okay.

Wilbur: I turned out perfectly fine!

Tommy: Wilbur, this morning you thought a ghost made your toast.

Wilbur: I DIDN'T PUT THE BREAD IN! YOU DIDN'T PUT THE BREAD IN!!!

Phil: Hey, you want some leftovers?

Techno: What's that?

Phil: You've never had leftovers???

Techno(grew up poor): No, because I'm not a quitter.

Tubbo: On a scale from "damn Daniel" to "fre sha vaca do", how are you feeling?

Ranboo: In between "it's an avocado, thanks" and "how did you defeat Captain America", but as a solid answer I would say "I don't need a degree to be a clothing hanger". How about you, Tommy?

Tommy: Probably "road work ahead".

Techno: I speak many languages, and this is none of them.

(These are for the sequel if I ever get around to it)

Wilbur, pretending to be General Soot of L'Manburg: What's up guys? I'm back.

Nemesis Nihachu: What the- you can't be here. You're dead. I literally saw you die.

Wilbur, sweating: Death is a social construct.

Tommy: You have to apologize to General Soot.

Wilbur: Fine.

Wilbur: 'Unfuck you' or whatever.

General Soot: I really like this whole 'good guy, bad guy' thing you guys have going on.

Wilbur: It's not an act, it's just that I'm mean and Tommy isn't.

Wilbur: I think we're missing something.

Tommy: Teamwork?

Techno: Cohesion?

Nemesis: A general sense of what we're doing?

Tommy: Have you seen a person named 'Technoblade' around here?

Antarctic Empire Citizen: Ugh, yes. He made a horrible mess of the blood fountain.

Tommy: It looks fine to me?

Citizen: IT USED TO BE WATER!!!

General Soot: How did none of you hear what I just said?

Tommy: I've been zoned out for the past two and a half hours.

Tobias: I got distracted about halfway through.

Nemesis: Ignoring you was a conscious decision.

Techno: Why is Wilbur so sad?

Tommy: He took one of those "Which L'Manburg-Era Historical Figure Are You?" quizzes.

Techno: And...?

Tommy: He got General Soot.

Tommy: Please, I'm begging you go to a doctor.

General Soot: I'm sorry is this OUR stab wound? Stay out of it.

General Soot, in a meeting: My policy is if you see something, say something.

Tobias: I saw a squirrel in a tree today!

Soot, with the tone of someone who is used to Tobias: Outstanding.

Soot: This is what I’m talking about people.

Wilbur: I'm 10 times funnier and sexier than you.

General Soot: 10 times 0 is still 0 though.

Wilbur: Joke's on you, I can't do math.

Tommy: Just be yourself.

Wilbur: 'Be myself'? Tommy, I have one day to win the L'Manburg soldiers over. How long did it take before you guys started liking me?

Tommy: Couple weeks.

Phil: Six months.

Techno: Jury's still out.

Wilbur: See, Tommy?

Wilbur: 'Be myself'. What kind of garbage advice is that?

General Soot: I'm an idiot.

Wilbur:

Tommy:

Nemesis:

Techno:

Soot:

Wilbur: If you're waiting for us to disagree, this is going to be a long day.

Nemesis: Whose turn is it to give the pep-talk?

Tommy: *sighing* "General Soot".

Wilbur, trying(and failing) to talk like Soot: Fuck shit up out there, but don't die.

Tobias: *wiping away a tear* So inspirational.

#tommyinnit #technoblade #philza #wilbur soot #tubbo #niki nihachu #nihachu #karl jacobs #quackity #Temporal Transcendence #dream smp #dsmp #Lilly tries to meme #sapnap #(tagged saonap instead of sapnap originally KEKW)#(also the OCs are ancestors of the main gang)

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bumbledees · 5 months ago

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Last(??) Line Challenge

So quite a while back I was tagged by @shootingstarpilot for one of these, but I never got around to it because I was being pelted with rocks (homework) while earning my merit badge in pedantry (certificate of editing). There was also the problem of me having no idea where Rumor Has It and Commit To The Bit were going to go. Today, however, I sat down and banged out an entire rough outline for the series, and in celebration of that I want to post some of my favorite notes. (I did not get around to the clean prose today, unfortunately. I hope it's enjoyed all the same!)

CTTB notes, in no particular order or context:

>Coded to Supreme Chancellor Friendpatine your Pal :) >Cody and Obi-Wan’s Terrible Horrible No-Good Very Bad Stealth Adventure >Cody and Obi-Wan: What the fuck did you do while we were gone Waxer: In our defense we were left unsupervised. >Time to visit Friendpatine! He sees Obi-Wan alive and knows the jig is up. ImperialMarch.mp3 >Who’s ready to get COURT MARTIALLED!!! >Cody’s like… can’t Sith give you bad dreams? Room goes surprised_pikachu.jpeg >Obi-wan pops up like Hello There ^_^ >We learn Krell has just come from Umbara, >So it’s about his secret wife but DON’T bring up his secret wife!! >Obi-Wan and Cody go Tails_Gets_Trolled.JPEG because they’ve just found out about the chips >Obi-Wan and Cody just lie on the ground for a while >Cody assigns the 212th a Fucking Break

As a bonus, a favorite pair of lines from the furthest-out "scene" I've written in the series. That counts as the last of something. Sort of.

wolfflecone: okay i have bad news, worse news, and funny news. what order do you want them in.

which eventually leads to:

uncodytional: I’m disowning all of you

As per usual, tags are free to whoever wants them!

#dee does fic #star wars

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strawberryblondebutch · 3 months ago

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I recently talked about Flood v. Kuhn, a very bad Supreme Court case, and the lessons we take from it when we argue as to whether athletes who do bad things deserve another chance in the league.

I want to talk about that case again. As you may recall, a district judge struck down the Flood camp's argument that forcing him to play for the Phillies was a 13th Amendment violation. If Flood wanted to play in Major League Baseball, he had to do it with the Phillies. But he didn't have to play in Major League Baseball. He could retire.

If Amanda Kessel wants to play in the PWHL, it has to be with Montreal. They drafted her and hold her rights. But she doesn't have to play in the PWHL. Kessel actually has significantly more flexibility in this regard than Flood -- one has a front office job lined up with the Penguins, while the other became an artist in Belgium.

Athletes have certain rights, all of which were earned by pulling owners' teeth. Free agency (which didn't exist as we know it until 1976) gives players flexibility to choose their landing spots. No-trade clauses protect athletes from having to uproot their lives at a moment's notice. You have always had the right to walk away from the game.

Personally, I can think of other reasons to walk away from your team than being 32 years old, coming off wrist surgery, with a front office job lined up. Reasons like:

I'm scared of flying and that's something pro athletes have to do

The White Sox won't let my son run around unsupervised in the clubhouse

God told me to be an opera singer

Even if you don't personally like an athlete, you have to support their rights to walk away, because it's a right all athletes should have. I think Ben Simmons was a tool for how he handled his departure from the Sixers, but it would be wrong to demand the team force him to play when he didn't want to. That's a right he has, and he exercised it knowing the consequences.

#kiera watches hockey #pwhl #pwhl montreal #amanda kessel #wasn't gonna make my own post #but i've also just been reading about laroche #and his insistence that his kid run around the clubhouse #is a helluva worse reason to quit than 'i have a job more in line with my current desires'

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falloutcoys · 4 months ago

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For the ask game! ☔ (love to hear people gush about what they are up to with their fics lol, go nuts 😁😁😁)

☔Is there a fic concept you have that you'd like to just explain and share because you're not sure you'll ever write it? If so, what is it?

Okay see like. three days ago I would have said the Phineas and Spahr make each other worse fic... but.... well that may or may not be being written (who knows if it'll ever be finished BUT)

And I've already told you about the tlt/midst crossover idea...

There's the rewrite of Harrow the Ninth entirely based around that one line "Perhaps there was a dark universe in which you reached for her" where I want to rewrite the entire second half of the book based on "what would change if Harrianthe happened" and oooh boy I think a LOT would have changed. And not for the best. I think Ianthe would suck in an entirely different way and that a VERY important part of the book would not happen (aka Harrow getting stabbed) and god there are many implications to that

wip ask game

#thank you!#my asks #my posts #supremely-unsupervised #i have come to realize that I really like the idea of fics that go #what if this one minor change butterfly effected its way into completely changing the plot

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watchingyoufromthestars · 1 year ago

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I wanted to make a post outlining the Glennry Tangled AU. It is VERY long so it’s going under the cut. And when I say long I mean 3k+ words

The prophecy of the Unsung Hero is a bit different here. I haven’t written it out yet, but it involves the Doodler being released into a host, much like Scary in the Church but a permanent residence. The secret Cult of the Doodler from Neverwinter is now an Order within Oakvale’s palace, Barry the head of operations. He believes his child is the one prophesied to become this all powerful god’s human host. Also, Oakvale is pretty much just Corona, it’s not the commune like in DnDads.

Nearing the end of her pregnancy, Autumn falls ill, so then like the movie the hunt for the Sundrop flower begins. Willy has been guarding the flower for himself for who knows how long, determined to use its powers to live forever. And unfortunately like Gothel, the flower is ‘taken from him’ and whisked away to the palace.

Henry is born not too long after. Within the prophecy is something that alludes to Henry being kidnapped but one day returning ‘when the time is right’, so Barry essentially lets it happen. There’s some kind of dialogue between him and Willy. Barry conveys to him what he believes to be this stranger’s role in destiny but Willy’s like “I don’t give a shit about your stupid prophecy I just want the flower back”. But the flower is a part of Henry now, so his only option is to steal this baby.

He and Barry strike a deal. Willy can keep the ‘flower’ for now, but when the time comes Henry will return to the castle to become a vessel for the Doodler. They agree on sharing the power of the Doodler when it happens, both planning on betraying the other to keep it for themselves. For now it’s just these two slimy assholes that see this baby as something to protect and take care of but for all the wrong reasons. A means to an end with containing the Doodler in a manipulatable container and a source of magic to live forever. But not a child. Not a person.

So Henry grows up in the secluded tower with Willy. A false love, for the power inside him rather than the person who holds it, but it’s not like Henry knows that yet. I want him to still have Rapunzel’s love of painting here, which isn’t too important to the story, but he’s a painter here instead of geologist (which let’s be honest, how the hell would he do that while locked in a tower lol). Also before I forget to add it somewhere else, Pascal is Erin. There’s nothing really that different besides the name change .(idea from @/supremely-unsupervised tyyyy)

Enter Glenn: wanted thief going by a fake name but I don’t know what yet. Could just be Flynn Rider but idk if I can think of something different that ties back to DnDads. Anyways, Glenn is his Eugene, not the name on the wanted posters. The object he steals instead of the Lost Prince’s crown is some important relic, an ornate knife, that's to be used in the future Doodler Vessel ceremony. This will be important later on when they’re in Oakvale and meet Barry for the first time.

The plot follows the movie pretty closely for a while here. Henry asks to leave the tower, Willy says the outside world is too dangerous. Glenn is chased down by Darryl as Maximus (yes. Darryl is the horse). Glenn finds the tower and tries to hide out there, but Henry knocks him out with a frying pan. He attempts to show Glenn to Willy upon his return, wanting to prove he can handle himself in the outside world. Willy blows up and refuses to let Henry leave the tower. Henry instead asks for the paint made from white shells as a gift, which sends Willy on a three-day journey.

Henry strikes a deal with Glenn: the relic in exchange for taking him to see the lights. Here, the lights are a more a marker that one day the Lost Prince will return, rather than hope that he will. Thousands of lanterns in the night sky every year on his birthday, calling out to him that they’re awaiting his return. On the way, Glenn stops by the Snuggly Duckling (which I’ve been calling the Ugly Duckling on accident this whole time oops), run by his friend, Ron. This scene is less an attempt to scare Henry and more a trial run to interacting with society since Henry’s only had Willy before Glenn came along. Really, Glenn just wants to stop by and talk to Ron again. Henry is introduced to all of the regulars they hang out there as often as Glenn (all the characters from the digital scene, they aren’t replaced with DnDads characters). Henry’s very intimidated by them at first, but everyone is very nice which surprises him (so imagine all their softer sides they reveal during ‘I Have A Dream’ except they’re just like that from the start).

Meanwhile, Willy runs into Darryl. Quickly suspicious of why a palace horse would be out here, he runs back to the tower and finds Henry gone. Enraged, he thinks Barry betrayed him by taking Henry back early. He then finds the relic Glenn stole and forms a plan to use this as leverage against Barry to get Henry back and still hold the power over the Doodler in the end.

Cut back to the Snuggly Duckling. Ron, Glenn, and Henry talk for a while before the royal guard barges in looking for Glenn. Ron helps them quietly escape but Darryl continues to sniff them out like the bloodhound of a horse he is. Glenn and Henry are trying to run from the royal guard but are now trapped in a flooding cave. In what seems like their dying breaths, Glenn reveals that his actual name is Glenn Close. Which doesn’t make sense as a sentence but like. You know what I’m saying. Henry says he has magic hair that glows when he sings, and then he realizes he can use that to find their way out of the water, singing his tune just as the water closes over them completely. They narrowly escape the blocked up cave, heaving their way onto the riverbank.

Cut to them sitting by the fire. Henry heals Glenn’s hand from clawing their way out of the cave. He talks about how Willy told him that when he was little, people wanted his magic for themselves, so Willy hid him away where Henry would be safe. He then turns the conversation back to Glenn’s name reveal. Whatever the name is that Glenn was using beforehand, Flynn Rider or something else, it was a character he’d read about in a book as a kid. Same story as Eugene, this kid who had nothing and this character had everything. After they talk, Willy comes out from the trees and approaches Henry, warning him that he won’t like what he finds in Oakvale. Telling him that he should just come back home to their tower. Henry refuses, but Willy only came to start planting seeds of doubt in Henry that everyone else is out to get him and that Willy is all he can trust. This is where we start to diverge a lot from 1-1 with the Tangled plot. Unlike the movie, he doesn’t give Henry the relic. It’s too big of a leverage to practically hand back to Barry because Willy knows eventually Henry will meet with him if they go into Oakvale. He’s counting on Henry learning the truth about Barry and running back ‘home’ to him.

The next morning, Darryl tracks down Glenn and attempts to arrest him (as well as a horse can do that), but Henry calls for a birthday truce, which Darryl reluctantly agrees to. They enter Oakvale and participate in the festival held during the day before the lantern lightings. And now Henry gets his hair braided yayyy they don’t have to carry around all that hair anymore good lord. Alsoooooo maybe maybe might throw in some NPC kids to braid his hair but not Lark and Sparrow (I’ll have something else about them at the end). They’d be more visual easter eggs than the actual kids of the dads because only Ron here could logically be a father to one of them at this point. And Darryl is literally a horse.

Now the Cult of the Doodler and all knowledge of the prophecy regarding Henry is only known within the palace walls, and the common folk of the kingdom are under the impression Henry died shortly after birth. They see the lanterns as a way to honor the prince’s life. The festival during the day was never originally a part of the lantern lightings, but as time went on and people forgot it was originally a memorial, it became more about the lanterns as a holiday than anything to do with the prince.

They come across the large wall mosaic, that of what might be the king and queen of this place holding a newborn baby. Henry, curious about the portrait, asks a bystander about it. They explain that, although the festival has overpowered its original intent, each year on the prince’s birthday the entire kingdom lights lanterns. And Henry looks to the mosaic, and to all his surroundings, and something clicks about the crest he sees everywhere. The Sun plastered on every surface imaginable is the same Sun he’s been painting all over the walls back in the tower. Unsure of himself, afraid of a certain possibility, Henry asks how old the prince is. The villager answers that he passed away twenty years ago right after he was born. Shakily, Henry thanks her for her time and tugs at Glenn to follow him.

Once standing somewhere slightly more private, Henry voices his anxieties. He has the same birthday as the prince; not just the day but the years as well. He points out all the Suns hanging around them. And he points out that the man in the mosaic looks a lot like him. And in his ramble he confesses to Willy visiting the other night when Glenn had walked off, warning Henry “he might not like what he finds in Oakvale”. Unsure of how to comfort Henry in this moment, Glenn begins to speak— he’s cut short by a royal guard. Both of them panic, cornered, but the guard assures them neither have anything to worry about. He only comes to deliver a message: the King wishes to speak with them. And he addresses Henry by name, though it was never given to him. Hard cut to Barry watching from a lower tower, his eyes following Henry as he walks towards the castle.

They’re lead down a hallway filled with various portraits of previous rulers, all looking too much like Henry and ramping up his anxieties. He feels Glenn take his hand, a small comfort letting him know he’s not braving this alone. When they reach their intended room, the door open to the man from the mosaic.

“Welcome home, Henry.”

Lottttttttsssss of talk talk talk here. Barry explains that he knew Henry would return to him today. In fact, he’s been keeping watch since this morning. He’d instructed his guards to let them enjoy the festivities, after all it’s a party in his honor, whether the rest of the kingdom remembers that or not. He wanted to let Henry come to him, but if he did not realize on his own then his guards had permission to guide him once the sun started its descent. Enraged, confused, multiple emotions boiling over at once, Henry demands an explanation for whatever the hell this all is. Barry explains a bit about the prophecy to Henry. How Henry was to be taken away until he was old enough to play his part. Not outright saying that Willy stole him away, but Barry does bring up that Willy’s role was to guard and protect Henry all this time until fate saw fit he return. Henry asks what could possibly be so important, what fate, that his apparent birth father willingly gave him up for someone else to raise. Barry then starts on the Doodler. Insert full prophecy here and how all of it is coming to pass, and then Barry turns to Glenn. He asked for the knife. Seeing the confusion and worry on Glenn’s face, Barry explains that the relic he stole is to be used in the summoning of the Doodler. That a bond is to be broken not only by ripping a god into this dimension but a bond broken between they who spills the vessel’s blood. Barry believes Glenn to be the one who is supposed to cut Henry.

Glenn doesn’t have the knife. In a flicker that only Henry notices, Barry’s eye twitches. Barry repeats himself that they need the knife for the ceremony. Glenn insists he doesn’t have the knife, that it got left back at— he doesn’t say. All of this is bullshit and they don’t have to listen to Barry. He’s not going to participate in some crazy cult ritual and he’s certainly not going to hurt his friend. With a heavy sigh, Barry orders for Glenn and Henry to be taken away. Clearly the ceremony cannot commence but he’s not letting them leave before the knife gets back to them. Immediately Glenn throws a punch at the guard who moved to grab him and yells at Henry to run. The two scramble to make their way out of the room, run down the halls, and out of the castle to the crowded streets where all the lanterns are being prepared. Weaving in and out of the packed streets as guards chase them. Darryl sees them running, but also who they’re running from. Loyalties divided as a guard tries to mount him, he runs away in panic not knowing who to choose. A guard catches Glenn, who screams for Henry to keep running. With tears in his eyes, Henry keeps going.

By the time he’s reached the forest, he’s exhausted. Henry collapses at the edge of the woods, crying as the night sky lights up with lanterns. Yeah that’s right they don’t get their cute boat scene where they almost kiss. Unfortunate. Maybe I’ll rework some other scene in earlier where they almost kiss but idk where that would go.

From the shadows, Willy. The only person he can turn to and one of the only people he can trust, Henry lets his ‘father’ lead him back home.

Meanwhile, Glenn is being led to a cell he’ll be locked away in. Barry might have given him a pass had Glenn played his part, but the knife is missing and now so is Henry again so they’ll just put him in jail until he wants to talk and tell them where the knife and Henry are. Barry monologues a bit to him, and here Glenn learns more about Willy. He realizes that Willy was only using Henry too, but also that Willy knows about all the Doodler shit and the knife is back at the tower (as far as he knows, but all the same Willy has it and can use it).

And then the doors around them close. The slot opens and Ron speaks from the other side, asking for the password. Barry, seemingly calm as ever, demands for the door to be opened. This scene is pretty much the same in that all the characters from the Snuggly Duckling show up to help Glenn escape, led by Darryl who brought them all there. Riding Darryl, Glenn races back to the tower to save Henry from Willy.

Everything from here plays pretty much the same. Instead of realizing he’s the Lost Prince, Henry comes to the realization that Willy was using him too. That his whole life he’s been seen as nothing but an object to be handed back and forth. He just learned his actual father willingly abandoned him only hoping he’d return like cattle for slaughter. And then the whiplash of realizing this guy who’s raised him his whole life, the man he ran back to when there was nobody else to trust, that there was never any love at all. He’s seen Henry as an object from the beginning as well. Henry’s just that damned flower and Willy has been keeping him hidden in his cage.

And Henry sits there and realizes that nobody has ever seen him as himself. Maybe Glenn did, but he’s probably dead by now. And it’s all Henry’s fault but Glenn saw Henry for him.

So the only person Henry has to trust is himself. He refuses to let Willy use him any longer. He’s tired of it all. But Willy won’t take no for an answer. He talks about how he always planned to cross Barry in the end, but he never thought it’d be this easy. All the work was practically done for him. He stands in front of the window, blocking any exit Henry has to escape, and pulls out the ceremonial knife. They won’t do it here, not when people know where this tower is now (because as far as Willy knows, Glenn could’ve told Barry where the tower is) so it’s too risky to perform the ceremony here, but Willy insists they will be summoning the Doodler into Henry and that they’re leaving now.

The rest follows pretty close to the story again from here. Glenn gets to the tower, only to find Henry bound and gagged while Willy fatally stabs him from behind. Willy tries to drag Henry away and out of the tower, but Henry continues to fight against Willy. He insists he’ll never stop trying to get away from him, but if Willy lets him heal Glenn, he’ll go willingly. Willy reluctantly agrees to this. Henry rushes to Glenn’s side, but before he can heal him, Glenn cuts Henry’s hair with a shard from a mirror that broke in Henry and Willy’s earlier struggle. Horrified, Willy begins to age rapidly, trips, and falls from the tower, hitting the ground as a pile of dust.

As the magic dies alongside Glenn, tears begin to stream down Henry’s face. The last of the flower falls with it and onto Glenn, which heals him and saves his life.

I’m not sure how I’d wrap it up from here. Do they run away to another kingdom, far away from Barry and anything to do with the Doodler? Is Barry somehow thrown out of power and the Cult of the Doodler destroyed, leaving Henry to take over if he wishes? I don’t know. But what I do know is that these two get a happy ending. A soft, domestic life where they adopt two beautiful boys that they name Lark and Sparrow. Henry teaches them how to paint (favored more by Sparrow) and Glenn teaches them how to fight and defend themselves.

I don’t know how it happens but I would want Barry overthrown immensely. I want Henry to reunite with his mother who played no part in this. I want Darryl to be everyone’s friend who’s also a horse. I want the Snuggly Duckling to become a much frequented pub where they all hang out. I had a silly idea that Ron makes Darryl a special “horse beer” that’s just a wheatgrass juice.

Anyways I think that’s pretty much everything. This AU has been plaguing me since the idea first popped in my head. I’m glad I managed to outline at least one of my AUs entirely lol.

#dndads #dungeons and daddies #glennry #dndads glenn close #henry oak #henry oak garcia #darryl wilson #ron stampler #willy stampler #barry oak #my god I can’t believe I finished writing this out #this took way too long to write #idk what else to say but goognight

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conradscrime · 1 year ago

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The Murder of Martha Moxley

October 01, 2023

On October 30, 1975, 15 year old Martha Moxley went out with her friends to "mischief night" which was a night where all the neighbourhood kids would pull pranks on the neighbours, such as ding dong ditch and TP'ing houses.

According to the other kids there that night, Martha had been flirting with a boy named Thomas Skakel and even kissed him. Thomas had an older brother named Michael. Their mother had died in 1973 from brain cancer and that was when Michael turned to drinking. It was said that the Skakel's would be given large sums of money and would be left unsupervised a lot.

The last time anyone saw Martha she was apparently with Thomas behind a fence, near the boy's pool in his backyard. This was at 9:30pm.

The following day, October 31, 1975, Halloween, Martha's body was found underneath a tree in her own backyard. Her pants and underwear were pulled down, though it was later determined she had not been sexually assaulted.

Pieces of a broken six-iron golf club were found near her. The autopsy indicated that she had been bludgeoned and stabbed with the club. The club was owned by the Skakel's.

Since Thomas Skakel was the last person to have been with Martha the night before he became the prime suspect. His father however, denied authorities to get any access to Thomas' school and mental health records.

Thomas' live in tutor, Kenneth Littleton also became a prime suspect. He had only started working a few hours before the murder. Neither Thomas or Kenneth were charged and the case was cold for decades.

Over the years both Thomas and his brother Michael changed their alibi's for the night Martha was murdered. Michael claimed he was window-peeping and masturbating in a tree beside Martha's home from 11:30 pm to 12:30 am.

Two former students who had gone to a centre for troubled youths reported they had heard Michael confess to killing Martha with a golf club. One of these students quoted Michael as having said, "I'm gong to get away with murder. I'm a Kennedy." Michael's aunt was the widow of US Senator, Robert F. Kennedy. Michael supposedly had gotten special treatment at this centre.

A man named William Kennedy Smith was tried and acquitted for rape in 1991, and a rumour had begun that he had been at the Skakel house on the night Martha was killed. Though it was never confirmed if he had involvement, the case had a new investigation to go off of.

In June 1998, a one-man grand jury was set to review the evidence of the case. After 18 months, it was determined there was enough evidence to charge Michael Skakel with murder.

On January 9, 2000, Michael surrendered to authorities. He was released shortly after on a $500,000 bail. On March 14, 2000, Michael was arraigned for murder n juvenile court, because he was only 15 years old at the time of Martha's murder.

On January 31, 2001, a judged ruled he would be tried as an adult.

The trial began on May 7, 2002, in Connecticut. Michael's alibi at the time of the murder was that he was at his cousin's house. On June 7, 2002, Michael was found guilty of the murder of Martha Moxley. He was sentenced to 20 years to life in prison.

Skakel and his team fought for a new trial many times, often being denied. However, on October 23, 2013, Skakel was granted a new trial by Judge Thomas A. Bishop who ruled his attorney had failed to adequately represent Michael when he was convicted in 2002.

On November 21, 2013, Skakel was released on a $1.2 million bond and conditions. He had to be monitored with a GPS device and have no contact with the Moxley family. He would not be allowed to leave the state of Connecticut and would be periodically checked in on over the phone.

In December 2016, the Connecticut Supreme Court reinstated Skakel's murder conviction with a 4-3 majority decision. In 2018, they wanted the court to revoke Skakel's bail, and make him continue to serve his sentence in jail. Also in 2018 it was announced there would be a new trial ordered, but by October 2020, it was informed that Skakel would not be retried, with the state's chief saying the state would not be able to prove anything beyond a reasonable doubt.

Michael Skakel remains released.

#true crime #crime #unsolved mysteries #unsolved #murder #homicide #unsolved murder #unsolved case #solved #mystery

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space-mermaid-writing · 2 years ago

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The witchling and the god [Loki x Witch!Reader] Chapter 30

Summary: The Avengers were looking for someone to help Loki fit in with the team. To become socially acceptable, so to speak. He had been given the choice of sitting in a cell in Asgard or serving some sort of community service probation on Midgard. The Avengers and Shield both felt that as long as Loki was on Earth, he should be under supervision. This is now your job. Why? Because you’re a witch. You’re not sure why this qualifies you, but here you are, giving it a shot. What could possibly go wrong?

Tags: Witch!Reader, Magic, Witches, slow burn, everybody lives in the tower, character development, Loki‘s redemption, Stephen Strange is a friend, Loki and Stephen are frenemies, Tony Stark is a good bro, kids love Loki, Tony has stupid nicknames for everybody, eventual smut

Main Masterlist | Series Masterlist | Read it on AO3 | Previous | Next

Chapter’s Note: It’s the final showdown! Dudu du dududu du *kazoo solo* | I produced fan art |Beta by @zaria-04

Chapter 30: Someone on my mind

You are standing in a part of the Sanctum that is unknown to you. Magic has led you here, you were drawn to it. No, not you were. You're just sitting in the backseat of a car with no choice of where to go or what music to listen to. All you can do is to look out of the window and be terrified. Because the car is your body and you lost all control over it. Someone else is sitting in the driver seat.

You hear Stephen's voice as he steps through a portal to you. On the one hand you are relieved, the Sorcerer Supreme can help you, right? On the other hand, you want to scream, to warn him so he doesn't mistake you for yourself.

"Who am I talking to?" he asks you, taking a step closer.

"A witch." A smirk appears on your lips.

"Try again."

"Nah." With a flick of your hand, in which you hold the gemstone of the sword, you shoot a raw blast of energy at him. If only Stephen had shown up sooner, he might have been able to stop you from taking the gem.

In the fight that breaks out now, you can only watch. You try to fight back, to take the wheel again, but you didn't even notice that someone put you in the backseat and buckled your seat belt – not until it was way too late.

Stephen summons one of his spells in the form of a golden mandala and sends it out to you. But you counter it without any problems and dodge it.

It's a weird feeling to wield magic, that is not your own. Your fingers move in unfamiliar ways and you mutter spells you never heard. The gem in your hand amplifies your own magical power and multiplies each of your spells, so you have no trouble keeping up with the Sorcerer Supreme.

"Where is Wong?" Stephen growls questioningly, for the Sanctum is never without supervision. Either he's here himself, or, when summoned, Wong fills in for him.

Your mind is searched for a memory, and a brief encounter between you and Wong flickers in your mind's eye, dating back some time.

"Ah, your friend," your voice says. "Well, let's just say he's sleeping. Funny guy."

You know he's one floor down, lying unconscious in the hallway. You couldn't help it. You'll apologize to him for that later. If there is a later for you.

Stephen is furious. "I've got no time to deal with you right now."

That's right, you remember him saying something about a demon in New York before he left you unsupervised in one of the most important, magical buildings in this world. Man, he really trusted you. You guess that's over now.

You laugh. No, Daegal laughs and he twists your lips into a smug grin. "I don't want to keep you from your business. Go. I promise I'll wait."

That’s a lie. You stand near the door to leave at the earliest opportunity. Daegal has what he came for.

The next attack hits you right in the chest and you double over in pain. Just because you have no control over your body doesn't mean you're immune to pain. You see everything, hear everything, feel everything. And that right there was a nasty spell.

Blindly you reach for the door handle behind you, but the door is already open. Suddenly, something is wrapped around your throat and tightens its grip. The next moment you feel incredibly weak, as if something sucks any energy from you. You turn around and stand face to face with someone else.

You feel as if someone has opened the window next to you. "Loki," you whisper, and it's your own word you hear this time. Your gaze travels down you and you see that the Asgardian has put a necklace on you. It looks like an amulet, large and golden. An intricately crafted piece that once belonged to a princess.

"The others need you." Loki's eyes meet Stephens'. "Go. I will take care of this."

The sorcerer looks at him appraisingly, but the Asgardian is right. Time is short. Stephen opens a portal and jumps through.

Daegal had time to gather your strength. It feels like your powers are slipping through your fingers, like something is absorbing them from you. But Daegal still has enough to fight. The window is closed again and you roar against soundproof glass.

Your throat feels tight, like something is pressing uncomfortably against it. The necklace doesn't constrict you, but you feel the magic emanating from it. Or rather, flowing into it.

"Help me," Daegal whines, sounding afraid. He takes a step forward and wraps his arms around Loki. "Please. It's in my head."

It's a convincing performance. You probably would have acted exactly the same way, used the same words. And for a brief moment, you fear Loki will fall for it.

But Loki is the god of lies. And even if the words are technically true, Daegal doesn't mean them. It's a fine line, one that Loki walked for centuries. His hands light up green with magic and rest against your temples.

The car skids, and for a moment it feels as if Loki is sitting next to you in the back seat. He sees you and he sees Daegal. Then he's gone again, because Daegal has rammed the gem in Loki’s stomach. It's not devastating, because the necklace drains you of as much magical power as the gem gives you. But it's enough to make Loki stumble back a few steps into the hallway.

He glares at you grimly. "You're that wicked witch from the west coast."

"Don't stand in my way. I just take back what's mine," Daegal growls, glaring grimly at Loki. He starts losing control over you, clinging desperately to the wheel of the lurching car.

"You broke into my refugium, took my stuff and then you fucking obliviate me! It took me a while but we have security cameras, you know. It wasn't hard to find you, you have been all over the news. And your little witch girl was an easy target. You shouldn't have made her cry with your harsh words. She was so busy with her own worries that she didn't even notice me in her head."

He reaches for the necklace around your neck and tries to pull it off, but it doesn't work. Instead, you feel the familiar tightness around your neck that always appears just before panic sets in. You are prepared for it, you know your weak point. Daegal doesn't, the feeling makes him uncomfortable and he doesn't seem to know if it's coming from you or Loki.

The Asgardian walks right into your space and Daegal backs away.

"We should have killed you when we had the chance," Loki spats. "But she wanted to spare your life."

"What a noble action of a burglar. I'm so fucking thankful!" Daegal words drip with sarcasm as he prepares his next spell. However, due to the necklace and the part of the artifact that is incorporated into it, it is only a faint imitation of what he had wanted to do.

Angrily, he stares at your hands.

"Knock me out," you shout to Loki, your voice no more than a whisper. "He can't do anything if he can't breathe." You move a hand Daegal is looking at toward your neck.

Punches to the back of the head always look handy in movies, but they can damage the brain. And they kinda hurt – though you're desperate enough to take that, too. But if Loki cuts off your air, your body would go limp and the witch would have no control over it.

Loki understands what you're trying to tell him and shakes his head vehemently. "Absolutely not." Under no circumstances would he do that. There are other methods. But he wouldn't risk triggering you by cutting off your air. He notices you trying to fight your uninvited guest.

"The gem is mine!" Daegal spits furiously. He needs to leave before things get out of hand.

"You've gone mad, witch." Loki creates an illusion in his place and steps behind you. His hands glow green with magic.

"Oh, you think you're clever, don't you?" Daegal snickers. "But I know your secret, god of lies. When you told her, you told me and I-…" He falls silent as Loki puts his hands to your head. It's not difficult for him to enter your mind. You're his Witchling, you are familiar to him. You're home. Daegal has neglected the wards in your head after he broke them down and that makes it easy to bypass them.

You hear steps on the roof of the car. Loki's head appears upside down at the driver's window and looking inside. Daegal gasps and for the first time something like panic sneaks on his face. Loki yanks open the door and grabs the witch to pull him out.

Daegal stubbornly holds on to the wheel and the car starts to lurch. You feel dizzy, motion sick, but you also feel yourself getting more control. You move your leg and kick Daegal out of the car. Now driverless, the car trundles along and slowly comes to a stop.

You climb to the front. Daegal and Loki are no longer visible through the rear-view mirrors, as if they had suddenly vanished into thin air. You close the door and lock it, for good measure. Then you try to start the car, but immediately stall.

"Come on," you curse softly. "Please, don't let me hanging."

You try again, and again.

On the fourth try, it starts - still a little bumpy, but you're back on track. Alone.

You open your eyes. You're still dizzy and feel like you've suffered whiplash. For some reason, you're sitting on the floor, Loki’s arm around you. He looks at you with concern. At some point in the last few minutes, you must have fainted briefly.

When he notices that you're awake, he breathes a sigh of relief. "Are you alright, love?" he asks gently. Gone is his previous aggressiveness.

"I will be." He helps you stand up and you move slowly as a wave of nausea washes over you. It may also be due to the necklace still scratching your throat, draining magic from you. "Just give me a minute," you mumble. And, "Thank you." You have a headache, but you finally feel alone in your mind again. You notice how long you haven't been.

"I’m afraid, we don't have that time." Loki presses a quick kiss to your temple, then turns to the shelf. "Blackheart, the prince of hell, is in the city, and as long as he has been mesmerizing people and absorbing their strength, I doubt Stephen is able to send him back to hell without help."

You try to process the flood of information. Your brain still seems to be running a little slow. Whether it's from your magic being absorbed or you need to get used to using the full capacity of your brain all by yourself again, is hard to say.

"Oh," is all you manage to say, because you have no idea what to do about a demon prince. At least Loki seems to have a plan, because he picks up one of the three boxes in which the parts of Bloodweeper are stored and opens it with a spell. The hilt disappears into his pocket dimension.

Then he turns back to you. "I need the necklace, Witchling."

You take a step back, because you realize what Loki is up to. And that worries you. He notices your uncertainty and takes your hands in his. "He is no longer in your head. I promise. You are safe to remove the necklace. I won't let him take you again."

His words move you, but it's not the actual cause of your objection. "Loki, you must not put the sword together. It's too dangerous."

The Asgardian's expression changes, becomes harder. "I understand your concern, but this is not up for discussion, love. I'll do what is necessary to ban Blackheart from this world. Whether you approve of it or not. So please don't fight me."

You've never seen him like this. He is determined, ready to do whatever it takes to save the city. You know he wouldn't hurt you, he knows other ways to take you out if necessary. You won't stand in his way. You can't. So you nod. "Okay. I trust you."

He offers you a hand and you take it. His face doesn't change, because what he's about to do is a difficult task. Impossible if he were on his own. But there's a team waiting.

You briefly kiss his lips.

The next moment you two are gone from the Sanctum.

There's chaos in the streets of Greenwich Village.

A hole in the size of Blackheart is in the wall of the abandoned building, Stephen had been fighting the prince of hell earlier - the Avengers do their best to hold him off. But their weapons are virtually ineffective. Each wound they inflict on the demon bleeds for a second or two before closing. It doesn't seem to cause him any pain or even so much as discomfort.

Blackheart lunges at Sam. Stephen creates a magical chain and ropes it around the demon's arm. Planting his feet in the ground, he tries to hold him back. This buys Sam time to fly out of reach, but Stephen is pulled forward, his boots skidding across the asphalt.

A spider web catches the other arm of the demon and Peter pops up next to the sorcerer, mimicking his moves. He manages to bring Blackheart to a halt. It's a testament to the boy's immense strength.

"I can hold him," Peter assures the sorcerer, breathlessly.

Stephen doesn't argue, drops his chain and takes a step to the side, to have space for his spell. With his fingers, he paints golden runes in the air, forming an intricate mandala.

With his now free hand, Blackheart grabs the web and hurls Peter through the air. Tony rushes after him as an arrow shoots toward the demon. He catches it before it hits him. A soft ticking sound is heard, then the tip explodes.

Blackheart stands there as if nothing happened. Part of his skin is burned - ironic since he is used to the burning flames of hell. A second passes, two seconds, then the skin heals from the edges of the injury. There’s almost no blood.

Stephen knits his brows together in concentration. The spell is almost completed. He just needs to add a few more runes.

Blackheart is bombarded by various blasts from the team, all of which serve to distract him. Unfortunately, he is not stupid. Searching, he turns and runs with a few steps to the unprotected Sorcerer Supreme. He grabs him around the waist, arms pressed close to his body. The mandala vanishes instantly, the spell lost, unfinished.

"Stephen Strange, you're quite insufferable," it echoes in his head.

"I've been told." Stephen can't move his arms. He flicks his wrists for spells and tries everything to get free. To no avail.

Steve’s vibranium shield hits Blackheart's back, dealing the smallest of scratches, which disappear right away. The demon moves the fingers of his other hand to Stephen's eyes.

"The soul of a Sorcerer Supreme will be an interesting addition to my collection."

Stephen tries to think of a spell that will help him, any spell. He hears the shouts of the team, but doesn't listen to them. Without magical weapons, they can't do anything for him.

But then, surprisingly, Loki appears, jumping on Blackheart's shoulders from behind, in his hands a sword with a bright blue blade, like cold flames. There's no witty remark, no cool one liner. He simply rams the sword between the shoulder and the neck of the demon.

Blackheart hisses and it echoes in the heads of everyone nearby. For the first time it's a truly effective attack. But Loki doesn’t stop at that. He pulls the sword back out and jumps down from the demon.

The wound on Blackheart’s neck bleeds. One second, two seconds, three seconds... more and more black blood seeps out. Slowly, thickly, as if it's not used to leaving the body.

Blackheart doesn't even notice at first, far too busy reaching for Loki. But the Asgardian deftly dodges the tall figure. He cuts into his arm. Not enough to sever it, but it's enough for Stephen to get free. His cloak immediately puts him at a distance and the sorcerer doesn't hesitate to start the binding spell a second time. He assembles the golden glowing mandala while Loki continues to fight Blackheart.

It's insane and genius and very, very brave.

The rest of the team helps to draw the demon's attention away from Stephen.

Blackheart finally notices the blood running down his body and screeches. He isn’t used to this, maybe it’s the first time ever he is bleeding, and there’s a touch of insecurity in his moves. Along with a large amount of anger.

"How dare you?!" It sounds threatening in Loki's head, attacking him like pin needles.

The Asgardian does not respond. He lashes out at the prince of hell without mercy, adding more and more cuts onto his skin.

Stephen completes his spell with a last rune. "Stand back!" he shouts to the others, for all who stand too close to the demon will be dragged into hell with him.

Loki takes a step back, but Blackheart reaches for him. Loki dodges with a roll and stabs him in the flank. He has no chance to get away. The demon’s focus is on him and he seems determined to kill the Asgardian.

Holding the spell with one hand, Stephen reaches back with his other to pull the cloak of levitation from his shoulders and throw it in Loki's direction. At the same time, he hurls the glowing spell at Blackheart.

The mandala wraps around the demon, binding him. At the last moment Loki is pulled back by red fabric. Sword firmly in hand, he hovers in the air, ready to attack again if necessary.

The mandala spins, Blackheart screeches. His red glowing eyes are directed angrily at Stephen. With a motion of the sorcerer's hand the demon is sucked into the earth.

Then he is gone and all that remains is a black scorch mark on the asphalt.

Everyone stares at the spot and breathes a sigh of relief.

The cloak brings Loki safely to the ground and then leaves his shoulders. The Asgardian thanks it with a silent nod before the cloak floats back to its owner.

You rush to the men. Loki had dropped you off in the security of the sidelines before he threw himself into the battle. You're not delusional enough to think you could do anything against an immortal demon of hell, and you had watched with bated breath, glad it ended rather smoothly.

You cup Loki's face and look at him in concern. "Are you alright?" you ask as you look at his bruises and cuts.

He nods, placing his hand on yours. Loki’s gaze falls on Stephen, who has spotted you, and his expression darkens in response. Stephen makes a gesture in front of his forehead, opens his astral eye and steps to the both of you, looking straight at you.

Loki steps in front of you, the buzzing sword still in his hand. "Don't touch her," he growls.

The sorcerer actually seems offended at this innuendo, but before he can say anything, you step around the Asgardian. His protection is appreciated, but you know you have to stand accountable and apologize.

"I'm sorry for what I did."

"It wasn't you," Loki throws in as if that were an acceptable excuse. He wouldn't even be on Midgard if it were.

Stephen's third eye scans you. "I can no longer sense that second magic presence within you," he mutters, blinking as he closes his astral eye. "I should have known what it was the first time I noticed it."

He has been speaking more to himself, but it still draws your attention. "What do you mean ‘the first time’?" you ask, frowning.

"Back when we met in the tower and talked about the necklace, I sensed another presence in you. I was wondering why Loki hadn't noticed it. But I didn't think someone was invading your mind… I thought," his eyes are briefly darting to the Asgardian, "you were pregnant."

A cough that could be a hidden laugh comes out of your mouth. "You thought I had a magical gifted baby with Loki?" you ask incredulously. And because Loki looks actually offended by your tone, you add, "I think I'd notice if I were pregnant."

Stephen's weird statements in your recent conversations with him suddenly make so much more sense. It'd be funnier if it hadn't resulted in a fight with your friend just earlier.

While you were talking the other Avengers approached you.

"Okay, anyone else got the feeling they missed an important part of a subplot?" Tony asks before eyeing the sword. "Is that…?"

"Yes," Loki answers Tony's question without looking at him. The fight against the demon and also the fight against the witch in your head, have cost him strength. Especially Blackheart's claws, because they have left their marks on him.

"Looks less haunted than I anticipated."

"It just helped us to defeat the prince of hell." It is Stephen who answers.

"Will he die?" Steve asks.

"No, he's still immortal. But the open wounds will keep him busy for a while." Stephen's gaze moves to Loki. "So, you stole the last piece of the artifact." It's a mere statement.

"Next time I may just wait for your order to finish the negotiation."

"Let's clean up and go home. If we're done here?" Steve interrupts the discussion, but looks questioningly at Stephen. The sorcerer nods. Yes, they are done here.

"Loki, I need the sword back."

"Of course." The Asgardian grins broadly before he asks, "But don't you want to know how I got my hands on the necklace?"

Stephen's face drops while he is having a deja-vu. Must be his personal circle of hell. "Look, it's been a long day and I-…"

Loki interrupts him at this point, as funny as he finds the situation the two always seem to find themselves in.

"You know, if you had listened to me the last time, you might have connected the dots to the Witchling's mind invasion."

"Alright, tell me your story then." Sighing, Stephen concedes defeat.

Loki's grin is very wide and pleased. "If you insist." He puts his arm around Stephen's shoulder and leads him a bit away while starting his story. You watch them with amusement, but then turn your attention to the Avengers, some of whom are cleaning up the destruction.

Fortunately, there are only slightly injured on your side. You heal a few minor wounds with magic before everyone agrees to head home.

Stephen heads back to the Sanctum to check on Wong.

"You have three days to sort your shit out," he says, turning to Loki, before disappearing through a sparkling portal.

"What does he mean?" you ask the Asgardian.

The corners of Loki's mouth twitch upward. "He's not happy I stole the necklace from the museum."

While that is true you sense that is not the full answer to your question. Still, you drop the subject for now.

"Wanna order food? I'm starving."

The Asgardian has no objection to that, and some time later you're both sitting in the compound with empty pizza boxes in front of you and full stomachs.

Loki kept throwing you weird looks during the meal, as if he was thinking about something. You've given him the space and waited for him to speak on his own.

"How are you feeling?" he finally asks you innocuously.

"It's good to be alone in my head again. I still feel like I'm not fully back online." It will probably take a few days to come back to normal after this long time with another person taking the shots. You think back to the strange dream you had. That was weeks ago. You feel sick when you think about how long Daegal was in your head.

"I'm sorry," Loki apologizes, and you look up in wonder, because he has no reason to.

"Huh?"

"Stephen was right," the Asgardian murmurs as if he himself can't believe he’s saying that. "I should have sensed the presence in your mind."

You push your food aside and take Loki's hand. "It's not your fault. I heard his voice in my head and it didn't occur to me that something was wrong with that. He's a master of manipulation. He slipped through my defenses like nothing. And we had a lot going on that distracted both of us."

"But not anymore. It's just you and me now, love."

"Yeah." You return Loki's smile. "We should celebrate. You just saved the city."

______________________

Suuuurprise, she's not preggers :D

Remember Daegal from Club Enchant and the mission in LA? Well, I did and I made it to y’alls problem...

And yes, I compared mind control with driving a car.

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