#suspend your disbelief because believe me this is reality suspended

[antomander]

The thing about Imodna is that, fucked up as they are, they demonstrate the realities of the dynamics of so many wlw relationships. For better or worse, really. And for two women married to men who bring them to life I think that that is kinda beautiful. Sometimes love is more significant than health and that’s fucked but, baby, if it ain’t human, baby, if it ain’t real.

[sister-lucifer]

Love After Life

Claude Theroux (Ghost OC) x Male Reader

Genre: Smut 

Summary: When the ghostly groom mistakes you for his lost bride on a dark Halloween night, you can’t stop yourself from giving into him. 

Content/Warnings: AMAB Reader, unprotected anal sex, cumming inside, Reader crossdressing as a bride for Halloween, a little dubcon but not really only at first, mentions of death + fire, pet names (my love, my darling, various French pet names, etc), Claude refers to Reader with feminine terms because he has weird ghost brain stuff going on and doesn’t realize he’s not his wife, pregnancy/breeding, does this count as force fem?

A/N: Happy (slightly late) Halloween, everyone! ʚ♡ɞ

THIS IS NOT FULLY PROOFREAD! PLEASE LET ME KNOW IF YOU SEE ANY TYPOS!

Believing in ghost stories is a feat that has always hovered just outside your field of reality, what you know to be true. Sure, you can suspend your disbelief to humor a friend now and again, but nothing beyond that. Of course, curiosity has a nasty habit of overpowering basic logic; when your phone pinged with a video from a friend about the supposedly haunted manor on White Oak Hill, you couldn’t resist giving it a watch. 

You rolled your eyes at the cheesy music that immediately started up upon hitting play, snuggling into bed with your free hand in a bag of snacks. You didn’t expect much at all, really. From the look of the video, it seemed like just another ploy for views from a subpar channel profiting off of kids who are still scared of monsters under the bed. You were far too intelligent for that. 

“The haunted house on White Oak Hill has been circulating once again, now that Halloween is coming around,” the narrator spoke, putting on an obviously forced voice while stock b-roll of a graveyard panned across the screen, “but what really happened to make it so haunted? Stay tuned to find out, but first, we want to tell you about our new merch drop—“

You groaned aloud, immediately skipping ahead. You could not be less interested in whatever they were peddling.  

“…and it was then, in July of 1945, that tragedy struck.” 

Ah. That’s more like it.

“Newlywed French aristocrats, Suzanne and Claude Theroux, had just arrived at White Oak Manor, where they intended to spend their honeymoon…”

Ugh, how cliché. You skipped forward a few more seconds, running out of patience fast. 

“…The couple moved downstairs, still dressed in their reception clothes, and completely oblivious to the fire blooming up in the master bedroom. Somehow, a recently lit candelabra had knocked over, causing the charred wick to burn one of the curtains, and the flames were growing rapidly. In their panic, Suzanne managed to escape, but Claude was not so lucky…” 

The music faded out, as did the visuals. As much as you’d hate to admit it, they had reeled you in. You didn’t even realize how close you’d gotten to the screen throughout that monologue, at least not until—

“…but first, a word from our sponsors.” 

Oh, fuck this! 

The shrill text tone jolts you out of an embarrassingly deep sleep. You wipe the drool from your chin as you scramble to sit up, phone sliding off of your chest. Looks like you fell asleep watching that video. So much for scary—you slept like a baby. 

You pick up your phone and look at the notification. You can’t help but roll your eyes as you type out your reply. 

Unfortunately, you actually had to consider that. 

You’re not exactly strapped for cash or struggling to scrape by, but it sure as hell would make you a lot more secure and comfortable to know you at least have that extra hundred put away in case of an emergency.

…Ugh. 

“Oh my god,” you mutter, stumbling through the doorway of the old house, “this is stupid. This is so stupid…” 

Somehow, you’ve gotten this far without putting all of this to a stop.  Maybe it was the hundred dollars floating just out of reach like a carrot on a stick, maybe it was morbid curiosity, or maybe it was just plain idiocy, but you really let this happen. Wow. 

Each step makes the wooden floors creak underfoot, the boards hissing in protest to your weight. You struggle to keep your balance in the tacky heels you were forced into, which are as uncomfortable as they are humiliating. To add insult to…well, another insult, you aren’t even wearing regular clothes under the dress as promised; they made it nearly impossible to get the damn thing on, and it was just too uncomfortable. You were allowed to keep your briefs, at least. Not that that makes you feel any better. Your dignity is strained, to put it lightly. 

You scratch at your arm rather aggressively, the itchy fabric of the tulle sleeves irritating the skin there. The entire dress is painfully cheap, and promises an unforgiving rash tomorrow morning. You instinctively reach to where your pocket would normally be to grab your phone, only to be utterly disappointed as the words of your friend echo in your head: 

“No modern technology! If he sees you tapping at your weird light box, he’ll freak out! All you have to do is go in, sweep the house, and report back to me.” 

Of course, your immediate response was to question why the ghost hunter wasn’t going in; surely the ‘expert’ isn’t scared? 

The only answer you got was a rather unceremonious shove towards the house. 

You’re in this alone. Great. 

You just hope the house doesn’t decide to collapse in on itself tonight. You don’t believe in ghosts, but the decrepit 20th century architecture and the harsh wind whistling through the broken windows are very real. It seems like the entire manor is trying to chase you out, like it’s angry that you’re here, loudly creaking and moaning with every shift or shake to talk you out of taking another step. No wonder this place has sparked so many ghost stories, it’s scary as shit! 

You stop in the middle of the foyer, taking a moment to drink in the scenery. 

The effects of the fire are obvious, even after all the years of atrophy; the core of the charred blackness lies upstairs, but its countless arms sprawl outwards, clawing at the walls in a desperate attempt to get free. From what you can see, it did not succeed, as the front most part of the house seems to be relatively untouched. 

Most of the house was gutted in an estate sale—what could be salvaged, anyways— but a couple of throne chairs and a matching ottoman still remain, now thoroughly gnawed through by all manner of creepy-crawlies. The entire downstairs is covered in a sticky blanket of spiderwebs, as if you needed more evidence of an infestation. Most of the curtains have been left untouched, except by time, though they do little to keep the house warm without any in tact windows. All of glass has been nearly completely shattered by either nature or vandals. You noticed a few graffiti tags and discarded beer cans outside, but the inside looks like it hasn’t had many people in it since the fire. The legends must keep them out. 

You look around as you try to discern where to go next. Directly in front of you is a large staircase leading to the upper level of the house, and behind it are a few doors that probably lead to a kitchen, a guest room and the like. On either side are long hallways that curl around, preventing you from seeing where they lead. The living area on your left, with the only remaining pieces of furniture, is enclosed on either side by grand bookcases that once held countless manuscripts and novels. The floor is still discolored from where the rug once laid. The grand chandelier of Damocles above your head sways a bit in the wind, and that makes you swallow nervously; you make the smart decision to move a few steps to the side just in case the diamond daggers come down. 

The question is: where do you start?

You could quite easily get turned around in here, especially in the endless hallways of the ground floor. You were given a brief glance at the floor plans, and there was no basement, only the two levels above and below the stairs. The best place to start would be upstairs, you decide— that way you can work your way back to the front door. 

Upon closer inspection, though, you realize that physically going up the stairs might be easier said than done, especially in these tacky pumps. Your eyes follow the steps from the bottom up, and each stair is only more burnt and broken than the last. You’ll have to navigate this with utmost caution. 

Your first step is shaky, but the wood doesn’t feel too unsteady. You’re careful not to stumble or let the heels of your shoes slip off the back of the stairs as you ascend, holding tightly to the rail. You only lift your hand at about halfway up, when you feel the gradually blackening wood starting to flake off and stick to your palm. The higher you climb, the darker it gets, all of the color of the upstairs completely consumed and overtaken by the fire. It’s like walking into Hell, the last vestiges of light fleeing from the sight as you finally reach the last step. 

You linger there for a moment, mouth hanging open just slightly as the reality of the tragedy sets in. Sure, you’d seen pictures, unable to push down the curiosity in the time before your little adventure, but this was…haunting. 

Someone actually died here. Holy shit. You’re staring into someone’s grave. 

You shudder as another breeze passes through, feeling much colder than before. You can only stare into the pitch black hallway for a moment before an irritated creak from the stairs urges you to quickly move off of them. 

Black dust swarms around your ankles as you step onto the upper floor. It seems even more untouched than the lower part of the house. The wind doesn’t come through as loudly here, and suddenly you realize how deathly quiet it got as you came up the stairs. You listen for a moment to see if you can pick up any sound from the outside, but there’s nothing. Not a sound, not a rustle, not a honk from the highway. You don’t even think the rats come up here. Spooky. 

You look to your left, down the hallway. Darkness. Complete darkness. The frail gleam of the moon is practically swallowed by the suffocating black. 

You look to your right, and see the same thing. You catch a brief glimpse of the dim light reflecting on something. 

You look back to the— 

Wait. 

You double take.  The fuck was that? 

You turn back to the right, now much more on guard. You squint into the shadows, sure that you saw something against the wall that barely hovered where you could see it. 

Nothing moves. 

Nothing is there. 

You sigh, rolling your eyes at your own stupidity. You’re letting those dumb stories get to you. You just need to get out of here before you catch a disease or fall through the floor and break an ankle. 

You decide to keep true, headed straight for the center hall and the master bedroom where it all began. You walk slowly, keeping an arm in front of you to feel for spiderwebs in the windowless hallway, but you encounter none. Come to think of it, you hadn’t seen any signs of pests since the stairs. Nothing worth eating up here, you guess. 

You can barely see the slight glint of the bedroom doorknob. It shifts and wavers just a bit as you bob with each step, eventually coming close enough to reach out and grab it. You prepare for the spikes of cold metal against your skin, but the sensation you feel is much different. 

The doorknob is warm. 

Not unbearably hot, no, but warm. Warmer than it has any right to be, enough to make you pull your hand back for a moment. 

You swallow hard. 

It must be because the wind doesn’t come through here, you rationalize; this hall has no windows, there’s rooms on both sides—it’s not as drafty as the rest of the house. That must be it. 

You grasp the knob again, turning it slowly…so as to not break it, of course. 

The door creaks open loud enough to make you wince, like you’re worried someone will hear and come bustling in to scold you for being up past your bedtime. The room looks rather well preserved, and it doesn’t start to sink in how odd  that is until you’ve already stepped inside, and then the door shuts behind you on its own. That startles you enough to crash your train of thought. 

You quickly spin around to look at the door, staring for a few moments to see if it’ll move. It stays still, the ornate wooden carvings looking back at you like sharp eyes, waiting to see if you, too, will make a move. 

The room is, for lack of a better term, dead. Any sound that tries to make its way in dies outside the walls, and even the particles floating in the air seem frozen, cursed to forever hover in the beams of moonlight. A ghostly glow is cast over everything, an ethereal blanket that makes the air feel heavy. You take a step further into the room, and it feels like walking on the ocean floor. You’re numb, yet you can feel your skin clinging to your bones. 

You really shouldn’t be here. 

Then, a flickering light in the corner of your eye catches your attention. It startles you, seemingly appearing out of nowhere, enough to make you jump as you turn to it. The glimmering brilliance blinds you for a moment, and you don’t realize what you’re looking at until your eyes focus again. 

On the bedside table, its illuminating aura casting quivering shadows on the walls, is a sterling silver candelabra holding tightly to three lit candlesticks. The engraved vines snake their way up its arms and around its base, almost as if trying to hold it still. It looks like a priceless antique, but it shines like it’s brand new. A moment ago the room was completely dark, and now it’s aglow with the white-blue candlelight. The flames swirl in your pupils, hypnotizing you with their unnatural hue as they dance like skilled ballerinas, flicking up into a perfect arabesque before relaxing into a soft adagio, beckoning you closer without you even realizing. 

You don’t see how close you’ve gotten until you’re nearly upon it. Your fingers twitch, nearly aching to reach out and hover over the fire. Without a conscious decision, your hand starts to lift, like moving through water. It floats just above the candles, and you feel no heat, nor do you see any smoke. It’s like a projection onto the air itself. 

You barely stop yourself from dipping a finger into the flames. You know logically that you’ll be burned—or at least, you should be—but the fire calls to you nonetheless. For just a moment, everything is different; you aren’t yourself. There’s a dark cloud forming in your mind, and then suddenly it dissipates at the startling sound of a voice behind you. 

You whip your head around so fast your neck nearly snaps. You squint into the darkness, still as a statue, expecting to see your friend standing there or perhaps even a fellow explorer whose curiosity got the better of them. You’re not even sure what the voice said, but it was certainly human…or, at least, something that’s quite good at sounding human. 

You see no one.

You’re just as alone as you were. 

You turn to face the room fully, but you move too fast. Your hand bumps the bedside table, knocking the candelabra off of it. You panic as you scramble to catch the candleholder, not even thinking about the possibility of burning your hands. You manage to reach out at the last second and get your palm beneath it, and you expect to feel the weight of the cool silver against your skin, but you never do. 

You watch with your own eyes as the candelabra phases right through your flesh. 

You think for a split second that perhaps you just missed, but there’s no clatter against the wood floor either. The candelabra disappears with as much ceremony as it first materialized, leaving only a few sapphire embers that jump from the wicks before fading away as well. The moon’s beams on your back is the only surviving light. 

You can feel the freezing of your blood as it crystallizes into solid ice, the unbearable sensation blooming in your stomach before snaking its way down your limbs. You want to scream, but you can only muster a gasp as you stumble backwards in shock. You trip over your own feet, falling back onto the bed. 

Your vision starts to fill with black spots as your mind struggles to wrap around what it just witnessed. You keep seeing that split second in time when you watched it go through you, that single moment where it was halfway through your solid form before it was gone. Unsure what else to do, you squeeze your eyes shut, trying desperately to calm yourself. 

You lay there for a few moments, unable to make yourself get up or move at all. All at once your mind is racing, yet you’re unable to think at all. You try to force yourself to calm down, to will your heart to quiet, but you can’t push the thought of the candelabra out of your mind. 

You’re not sure why, but you cover your face. Your entire body tenses for a brief moment before you finally break your barrier of panic. Slowly, but surely, you relax again. Your chest is still heaving, but you can finally form a semi-coherent thought. 

…What the hell just happened? 

You don’t have an answer for that. At least, not right now. 

That’s okay, you sure yourself. You’re fine. You need to just get out of here. You can lie and say you saw a shadowy figure or something. 

You pull your hands away from your face, blinking a few times as your eyes focus and adjust to the bright light. 

Hold on. 

The what? 

No, you’re really seeing that…?! 

Just above you is a hovering form, glowing in the darkness of the bedroom. For a second it only looks like a luminous cloud, but then the finer features become clear, coming into form like a time lapse of a painting. 

You notice the eyes first. They’re a brilliant blue, even more so than the rest of the body, like heavy gems being cradled by translucent clouds. You notice the hair next, long, silky and wavy, looking like it may have once been blond despite the blue tint, and floating as though in zero gravity. The nose is slender and straight, and the lips are devoid of warmth and slightly parted as if pleasantly surprised. The rest of the body is wrapped in a dark suit, accented with a light blue tie and a matching lily boutonnière with drooping petals. 

You put it together in an instant; the attire, the house, the fire… 

…The groom. 

Your throat goes dry as sandpaper. 

He’s smiling down at you a terrifying amount of genuine affection. He tilts his head just slightly, observing you as your mouth gapes and eyes widen in shock. You struggle for words, but only manage to choke out one thing: 

“Claude...?!”

His grin only widens when he hears his name from your lips. 

“Ohh, my love,” he sighs, his thickly accented voice echoing in the back of your head as if speaking directly into your mind, “I was wondering where you went…”

He reaches out to stroke your cheek, and it feels like cold fog on your skin. He’s trembling as much as you are. 

“You’ve returned, you’ve returned…” he mumbles like a chant. He leans in with both hands on the sides of your face, gently bumping his forehead against yours. The contact makes your entire body shiver, and you have to stop your teeth from chattering. You know you should say something, stop him, move away…but what can be done? 

You’re frozen. 

His hands on your face are starting to make your skin tingle, like pins and needles in your cheek. The sensation lingers when he finally pulls away, and you can’t stop yourself from rubbing the feeling away on your shoulder. 

There’s a beat of silence between you for a moment. He looks down at you, gentle smile never wavering despite the terror that’s surely on your face. He doesn’t seem to realize at all that you’re not happy to see him. Something in his eyes makes you feel like he’s looking through you, or perhaps not truly seeing you at all. 

You bristle when he moves lower, hollow hands grasping at your ankles before sliding upward, lifting the cheap layered skirt of the bride costume. The cold feeling creeping up your leg makes you yelp, and you instinctively kick at him. Your tacky heel slips off and falls to the floor with your foot still floating inside his abdomen. Oh god, it feels like stepping in refrigerated jello. 

Claude pauses. For a moment you’re worried you’ve angered him, that now you’ve invoked

the wrath of a restless spirit, but then he laughs. He laughs as though you’d simply told him something funny, and then his hands continue working their way up your legs. 

“Always so spirited,” Claude chuckles, hands now firmly on your thighs, “I always did love that about you, ma femme…” 

He leans over you, and you want to sink into the mattress as far as possible. Your legs tremble uselessly as they dangle over the edge of the bed, unable to make you run. 

“W-Wait, hold on—“ you stammer, but you choke on your words when he dips down to kiss your neck. Each little press of his lips is like a shock to your system. Normally, you wouldn’t be so sensitive, but the feeling is so foreign and overwhelming you can’t help but arch your back. His hands slide up and down your waist, skirt now bunched around your hips, and you can barely feel the cold through the costume. 

He either doesn’t hear you or doesn’t acknowledge your words. He keeps working his way down your neck, hands moving around to your back and fumbling with the zipper down the bodice of your dress. You don’t realize what’s happening before suddenly the costume is being pulled off your shoulders. 

“Wait, wait—!” you say again, with a bit more volume this time. This makes him stop, pulling away and looking at you with confusion, and maybe even a bit of hurt. 

“Darling, what’s the matter?” he asks, stroking your hair, “Are you nervous? Don’t be…” 

“N-No, you don’t understand…!” you insist, but the longer you look in his eyes, the less you want to fight him. 

“Can’t you tell? I-I’m not…you know…” 

You trail off, gesturing vaguely to yourself. Surely he can tell you’re not his Suzanne…? 

His eyebrows furrow. He’s clearly not understanding what you’re getting at, but then his eyes light up with a realization. 

“…Oh…I see…” he mumbles, looking away from you in thought. You finally relax, breathing a sigh of relief. Looks like you managed to get through to—

“Oh, darling, I don’t care if you’re not a virgin!” 

…What? 

You open your mouth to correct him, but no sound comes out. He kisses you, you think, but it’s so fast you only feel the slight coolness on your lips. 

“It doesn’t matter to me,” he continues, “you’re still my beautiful wife. No more delay, let me show you how much I love you.”

Before you can blink the costume has been pulled off of you. You’re left in only your boxers and one shoe, head spinning as you struggle to make any sense of the situation. 

How does he not see? You think, you don’t look anything like Suzanne, gender disparity aside…! 

No, wait…what was it they said in that old ghost movie? 

“Ghosts see what they want to see.” 

The sudden understanding barely breaks through as Claude dives into your neck again, the other side this time, mumbling and sighing against your skin in slurred French. 

There’s no reasoning with him, you realize, he wants you to be his wife. He needs you to be her. He’s been waiting here so long for her to return, he doesn’t even know he’s dead. 

Oh, god… 

His hands run up and down your bare chest, and the freezing touch makes your nipples harden. They trail lower, like cold water running down your body, pausing at the waistband of your boxers. He floats downward to nuzzle into your thigh, and the sight of him looking up at you with those big, blue eyes makes your stomach flip. 

“Oh, mon amour, won’t you let me…?” he asks, tugging at your boxers, “I simply can’t rest until I’ve had you…”

Can’t rest, he says…

Is that what he’s been waiting for all these years? 

They say ghosts only stick around if they have unfinished business, right? Is this…is this what he needs? 

You suck in a deep breath, unable to look away from his eyes. 

Well…if it might work, it’s worth a shot, right? You’re doing this for him, after all. 

At least that’s what you’ll tell yourself tomorrow morning. 

Fuck it. 

“Yes.”

The way his expression quite literally lights up makes your face go hot. 

He wastes no time, pulling off your boxers with utmost enthusiasm. The fall to the floor, immediately forgotten once he’s dropped them. You resist the urge to suck in a harsh breath as your half hard cock is exposed to the air. You’re already bracing yourself for the inevitable feeling of his cold touch. 

For the first time, you really see him pause. He’s staring down at your length, gears turning in his head but not working quite right, like he’s on the verge of snapping out of a trance. You gulp. If he’s found you out, you might be screwed. 

The silence stretches on for an almost awkward amount of time. 

Then, without warning, the love returns to his eyes, and a split second later his tongue comes out to lick a long stripe up your shaft. You nearly scream, barely managing to cover your mouth in time. Fuck, that’s cold! 

It’s clear that he’s not all that knowledgeable about what to do with a dick, but he’s giving it a hell of a try. He makes sure his tongue doesn’t neglect a single spot on your length, and he doesn’t miss the little squeal he gets when he flicks gently at the tip. He tries to take it in his mouth, but forcing your cock down his throat is clearly uncomfortable for him, even if he can’t choke on it. Nonetheless, he tries, rubbing at whatever he can’t fit in his mouth with his hand. He’s not afraid of moaning, either, and the vibrations it sends through you can never be replicated by any toy. 

You do your best to lay back and enjoy it despite the bizarre situation. You manage to clear your mind for only a moment before you feel two of his fingers brushing against your hole. You gasp, tensing on instinct. You can feel him smirk around your cock before he pulls off of it for a moment. 

“Ahh, there it is…” he says lowly before promptly busying his mouth once more. 

You bite down hard on your bottom lip as two of his fingers slip in, the cold instantly penetrating your core. This seems to be a skill he’s much more adept at; he’s far less hesitant, and far more graceful. He stretches you in just the right ways, exploring your waiting hole with a confidence that easily surpasses any of your past partners. His fingers slip in and move around so easily, without any struggle or pain. You’re almost upset you’ll never feel this again. 

Try as you might to be quiet, you can’t bite back the moan that crawls out of your throat when the pads of his fingers press against your prostate. He chuckles as best he can with your dick down his throat. He presses again, gentler this time, clearly enjoying the drawn out while it gets from you. 

It’s getting harder and harder to keep quiet as he hits all the right spots over and over again. He’s evidently a quick learner, too, as he’s already picked up on the best ways to use his tongue around your length. You can feel yourself twitching in his mouth. 

He slips in a third finger, and as it pushes in you nearly see stars. Tingly static crawls up your body like dye soaking into fabric, invading the deepest crevices of your nervous system. God, that’s good. 

You’re not sure how long it’s been when he finally pulls away, leaving you suddenly empty and far too warm for comfort. You’re too dizzy to question what’s going on when he flips you onto your stomach, but you don’t have to ask questions. You shudder as he leans over you, his chest against your back, engulfing your body with an icy sensation. 

“Oh, ma belle femme, how lucky I am to have you,” he whispers in your ear, voice choked and shaky, “I can feel you trembling underneath me. Just sit still, my darling…” 

You can hear him rustling with his clothes behind you, but don’t bother to look back. Your cock is practically begging for more of his touch. 

After a moment he leans over you again, this time laying his hands over yours. He feels nearly weightless, like a cloud resting on top of you. 

“Je peux enfin t’emmener…”

You don’t have a second to process his words before suddenly he’s pushing into you. You don’t bother trying to hide your voice, and neither does he, droning on and whispering sweet nothings you can barely understand as your mind is completely melted by the feeling of the penetration. 

You nearly collapse against the mattress, but he manages to catch your hips just in time. You claw at the sheets as he fills you to the base, and the blankets do little to muffle your cries. For a brief moment you wonder if anyone outside could hear you, but that worry is quickly pushed aside when you feel him pulling back. You dig your nails into your palm so hard you’re sure it’ll leave marks as you prepare for what’s about to come. 

The first thrust feels like it might break your mind. The head of his pale cock butts hard against your prostate, making you shriek like you never thought you could. You nearly tear a hole in the bedsheets with your desperate attempt

to find some sort of relief, and yet you don’t want any at all. Your body might be shaking like a leaf in a hurricane, but against all logic, your mind is screaming more, more, more!

“C-Claude—!” you yelp as he slams into you once more. 

“Suzanne!” he echoes in turn, ecstasy dripping from his voice, “Suzanne, my love, how I’ve waited for this…!”

He returns to kissing your neck, though much messier than before. He just needs to taste you, sucking and nipping and licking any spare bit of skin he can get to. If he feels so cold, you must feel so warm. 

He’s trying to be gentle, to go easy on you, but he’s struggling. You can feel him forcing himself to go slower. You need to encourage him. 

“Oh, Claude,” you moan, putting on the girliest voice you can muster, “faster! Faster, my love, please, give me more!” 

He’s more than happy to comply, and after a brief adjustment of his hold on you his pace increases tenfold. He’s grunting and huffing like an animal—and you’re underneath him, moaning and whimpering like a girl. 

“Suzanne, my darling, we’re going to do it,” he says suddenly, and you have no idea what he means. He pulls you in closer, pressing you against his chest more firmly. 

“We’re going to do it,” he repeats, “we’re going to have our family…I want to— no, I need to give you my child.” 

The sound that comes out of you is humiliating. 

You’ve never wanted anything more than for him to cum inside of you in this moment. 

“Yes,” you reply without thinking, “yes, yes!” 

He only thrusts into you faster, fueled completely by your mutual desire. Both of his hands are on your hips now, holding tightly and pulling you back against him as he pushes in. The bed is rocking so hard it feels like it might collapse underneath you. Even if it did, neither of you would even consider stopping, not for a second. 

He’s starting to lose his rhythm, you realize. He’s just as sensitive as you are. He wants this just as much, if not more. You can’t even string together a coherent sentence to beg for it, all you can do is let the string of pleasured noises fall from your lips, only occasionally managing to say his name. He chants back ‘Suzanne’ like it’s the only word he knows; it’s the only one that matters to him, at least. 

You jump when he wraps a hand around your cock, pumping it quickly with little to no consistent pattern. He’s practically milking it, rubbing fast and hard and doing everything in his power to push you to your peak. 

“Cum for me, my love,” he huffs, “let me feel you cum around my cock…won’t you give me the privilege?” 

“Of course, my darling,” you reply. How could you say no? 

Your orgasm starts to build faster than you’re ready for. You can barely choke out an understandable warning before your cock twitches and spills its load, spurting into his hand and certainly dirtying the bedding underneath you. He buries his face in your neck as your hole squeezes him deliciously, making him cry out at the feeling. 

“Yes, my love— Oh god, yes!” he almost sobs. He’s completely lost his rhythm now, just rutting into you like a feral dog in heat as he chases his own high. 

He gives one last cry of his bride’s name before suddenly he stills, and his cock spills into you. You’re not sure what it feels like—you don’t think any human experience could ever compare—but it’s certainly not unpleasant. It’s not the warm, sticky feeling dripping down your thighs, at least. 

You nearly black out for a moment, your head spinning like a top with no relief in sight. Darkness is quickly clouding your vision as you come down from your intense high, and you barely register the gentle kiss Claude presses to your cheek before the cold feeling against your back is gone. You close your eyes then, unable to keep them open any longer. 

You’re not sure how long it’s been when you awake again. Logically, it couldn’t have been more than a few minutes, but you feel like you’ve been asleep for years. You slowly move to sit up, and instantly you’re made painfully aware of the soreness in your legs and lower back. You groan, forcing yourself to move to sit on the edge of the bed. 

You’re still very naked, that’s for sure. You look down between your legs, and grimace at the sight of the luminescent ectoplasm glowing in the dim light as it drips from your thighs and ass. 

The thing that really stands out, though, is the state of the room. Whatever you saw before must’ve been some sort of ghostly illusion; now you’re surrounded by nothing but charred black, sticking to your legs and palms and floating about in the air in flaky little bits. 

Yuck. 

You sigh as you will yourself to get up, not enjoying the feeling of your one bare foot on the dusty wood floor. You can barely walk far enough to retrieve the costume dress, let alone bend down and pick it up, but by some divine intelligence you manage. 

After redressing to the best of your ability, you limp back downstairs—talk about a walk of shame. Although, despite your embarrassment, you do note that the house feels…emptier. Lighter. It’s nice. 

You don’t have an excuse for why you’re so disheveled, or why you’re walking so weirdly, or why you’re so sweaty. You don’t care. You’re going to walk out that door, get your last half of the payment, and go home and get a good night’s sleep knowing that, in some impossibly strange way, you did a good thing. 

The one thing you will never admit, though, is that you were very wrong: 

Ghosts are real. 

And you have the wet dream to prove it. 

If you liked this fic, please reblog! it’s free, takes two seconds, and really helps me out. 

Feedback is encouraged and appreciated.

[artist-issues]

every now and then I play with the exercise of "what if we're wrong" because sometimes I get bored and also as an actual exercise. I usually apply this to Christianity/religion, matters of the after life, or about other people.

So sometimes I poke at the big question, if Christianity isn't real, what does that mean? And I don't usually go the route of atheism or bad sci fi, just that the religion is proven to be fundamentally inaccurate to reality, so what does that mean?

Anyway it wasn't until I was reading a really good sci fi story, where this one dude explains to some aliens the concept of "Love your enemies, do good to those that hurt you" and of course the aliens are like what? (Because in the sci fi narrative the universe is functioning under a Dark Forest Theory) And the dude explains its from one of earth's greatest teachers. And the aliens are like, if the inhabitants of the universe could believe that, this universe would be a different place entirely.

And it was at that point where I realized bro... even if it's not accurate, practicing Christianity is still worth it, for a human being. Loving your enemies means loving them like humans. The Poor, the Meek, and those who mourn, those are promises and comforts that we shouldn't toss aside even if heaven isn't real.

I don't know, this is just a terribly simplistic because I'm not the best at putting my English thoughts into english out loud, but that crack gave me a touch of useful coping. I asked my dad, if aliens are proven to exist it doesn't automatically mean christians stop practicing and believing, right? And he said obviously not.

I don't know but have you ever engaged in such a question " what if we're wrong?" And if you ever have what answer had you arrived at?

EDIT: As @atwas-meme-ing correctly pointed out in the comments section of this post, who cares whether or not I’ve played this game: God answered the question through Paul in his letter to the Corinthians: “If in Christ we have hope in this life only, we are of all people most to be pitied.” 1 Corinthians 5:19.

There’s no “good moral teaching” to be found in Christianity if Christ wasn’t God, or if God didn’t exist, or if eternity weren’t real. My rambling logic is below the cut.

I mean, I play that “game” all the time about other things, and sometimes I do it for work. I’ll take two established characters and a setting me and my friends have agreed on, and I’ll “run a scenario.”

But the thing is, once my brain picks out something that doesn’t make sense, or that wouldn’t be in-character for the characters to do, the whole scenario grinds to a halt and I have to start over. I can’t suspend my own disbelief once I notice that something doesn’t line up. Even if I really liked “where the scene was going” before I noticed that thing. Whatever I’m getting stuck on because of it’s out-of-character nature unravels the parts I like, too.

All that to say I can’t even run a scenario in my head where “what if all this isn’t true? What if it fundamentally doesn’t line up with reality?”

I can’t. Once or twice I have tried. But I hit snags immediately. I’ll go, “pretend all of this Christian religion really is just a centuries-old conspiracy humanity’s been patching up the holes in.”

But then that little simulation-checker in my brain goes, “then how do you explain people dying for it? That many martyrs aren’t likely to have allowed themselves to be tortured and murdered for something they knew was a conspiracy.”

And I go, “well, pretend they died because they didn’t know it was a conspiracy, they believed it.”

And the sim-checker goes, “but the original disciples of Jesus, ground-zero of the faith, were all martyred. Not just people who learned from them and came after them and could’ve been hoodwinked: the starting points, themselves. They would’ve had to know it was a conspiracy, if it was a conspiracy, and they still willingly died for it.”

Maybe I’ll pivot and go, “pretend there isn’t objective truth.”

And the sim-checker goes, “there isn’t truth…objectively?”

Maybe I’ll pivot again and try, “pretend that everyone really does just measure morality based on what they’re used to, what their individual society’s trained them to associate with pleasant feelings and reactions.”

And the sim-checker goes, “Okay, where did those societies get the training manual? Where did it come from? Why do so many different societies’ and people groups’ ‘association with pleasant feelings and reactions’ around the world have so many things in common?”

And the answers to all that leads me back to Christianity. Even if I go the longest way round I can think of.

And eventually I quit running those scenarios. Because guess what?

Where’d the ability to run scenarios come from?

How did I get that? How did you?

See, the thing is, we go, “what if all of this isn’t true?” But it’s right there in the question. “Where did you get that desire? The desire for “truth?”” Is it to keep yourself safe, like the natural animals have an instinct toward, or is it to keep yourself sane, because you need some sense in this life to make it through? Sure. Maybe. But why? What’s “sane?” What’s “safe?” Sanity presupposes order. Why do you, and all humans, naturally lean toward wanting things to be “the way they’re supposed to be?” Where’d that come from, that idea of “supposed to be?” And Safety presupposes good being found in avoiding pain and damage and fear. “Good?” Where’d you get that idea?”

The further you dig, even into your own psyche, the less you can run any scenario that has God absent entirely. And no wonder. He designed it.

One more thing.

“I am trying here to prevent anyone saying the really foolish thing that people often say about Him: I’m ready to accept Jesus as a great moral teacher, but I don’t accept his claim to be God. That is the one thing we must not say. A man who was merely a man and said the sort of things Jesus said would not be a great moral teacher. He would either be a lunatic — on the level with the man who says he is a poached egg — or else he would be the Devil of Hell. You must make your choice. Either this man was, and is, the Son of God, or else a madman or something worse. You can shut him up for a fool, you can spit at him and kill him as a demon or you can fall at his feet and call him Lord and God, but let us not come with any patronizing nonsense about his being a great human teacher. He has not left that open to us. He did not intend to.” - C.S. Lewis

I used to lean into the idea you’re saying here. “Even if it’s not true, I’m going to live like it is and believe it just in case. Besides, it makes me better, and makes the world better.” That’s not belief at all. That’s ends-justify-the-means thinking. The teachings that Jesus gave which “make the world a better place” are utterly worthless if they’re coming out of the mouth of a liar. Because why should anyone believe Him? Why should anyone “turn the other cheek,” or “do unto others?” Because it makes us “better?” Who gets to define “better?”

The answer, of course, is Jesus does. The One who taught those sayings. But only if He’s God. Only if He was telling the truth. If He wasn’t God, what right has He, to tell us to give away our possessions to others and let them abuse us and give our lives up? If He was a liar, all of those “good teachings” would be tainted and untrustworthy. Besides, like I just said, they’re all only able to be called “good” teachings if you accept that there is one objective, universal “good.” And we’re right back to “where did Good come from?”

All roads lead back there, to Him. But we humans like to do this thing with God where we pretend there could be any reality outside of Him. It sort of makes sense, how we got that way. After all, when was the last time you noticed oxygen? How often during the day do you consciously inhale and exhale? As often as it happens automatically? How often during the day do you notice oxygen touching your skin or moving your hair or drying your eyeballs? As often as those things happen automatically? No. But it’s ever-present. Without it, you couldn’t live, let alone notice anything. But oxygen has always been around and everything in our lives interacts with or can only exist WITH it. God is much more than that, but that’s as close as I can get to communicating: He’s so good, and He’s so constantly there, everything, all the time, that it’s easy for us to take Him for granted, forget Him entirely, then use our two-pound brain matter to say, “He might not exist.” You might as well say, “imagine a world with no matter.” 🙄 “Ohhhh kay. Then it wouldn’t be a world.”

[studentinpursuitofclouds]

Now that the farmer can have a big ass house with all the beds they want, what if the SVE adventurers (plus canon characters like Marlon) and the RSV ninjas used it as a base of operations when they have joint missions? After all, they wouldn't be collaborating if it wasn't for our dear farmer lol Let's suspend our disbelief and ignore the existance of warp totems and relics and magic for a second. Who would treat it as a fun sleepover/slumber party? Who would be the most normal about it? Who would be so fucking annoyed? Who would share rooms/cook/offer to help with the farm? And if the farmer was married to one of the ninjas or adventurers, how would they manage to balance being a good host with getting some privacy? Don't even get me started with children, I'm sure someone would be stuck on babysitting duty 😂 Anyway Mouse don't worry about replying to this asap, take your time and most importantly have fun!!! sending a tight cyber hug your way 💖

With this situation, Farmer can already film a reality show at their house "My neighbour is an adventurer" or something, it would be hilarious 😂

Love your idea so much, thanks a lot Lotus! Sending you hugs as well 🤗

Warning: there's a lot of text here...

_________________________________________

Isaac:

Isaac will be strongly opposed to the temporary cohabitation in Farmer's house with the "neighbours" for two main reasons. Firstly, it's his pride and the old song about "real adventurers". You know, "only nobles weaklings sleep in their beds until noon, while seasoned adventurers get up at first roster call, and don't need separate outposts to live in" *looks in the direction of one of his colleagues*. Isaac will eat bug meat and sleep outside on his cloak just to prove he's a real adventurer. And secondly, his distrust of the Cult. The Guilds and Cult leaders may have made a truce with temporary co-operation, but that doesn't mean Isaac likes it, and he'll blatantly tell anyone who asks and doesn't ask. But no one asked for the scarred man's opinion, as usual, so here he is in the room of the cosy house in Stardew Valley that Farmer has kindly provided.

Despite the occasional barking in the direction of Jio and Daia, Isaac is a actually acceptable roommate. He doesn't need a big space, only a bed and a bedside table, doesn't rampage, doesn't leave trash, respects the host and the rules of the house, and tries not to interfere with Farmer's family life, if they are already married. Help from him, however, is not expected, but not because of pride. Isaac is not used to civil life. Especially since he's only living here temporarily because of the mission in Stardew Valley and working with the cult, so he'll be busy. Farmer's offer to join them for dinner will also leave him in a bit of a stupor, though he will not refuse hot soup. Everything is so strange, different environment, different life, not like in the Castle Village. There's even something about it (though he's not likely to say it out loud).

Lance:

Well, Lance will gladly accept the Farmer's generous offer to let him stay at their home while the totem shortage and commonwealth with the new clan is resolved. It would save him from wasting time travelling and looking for accommodation in Pelican Town and Ridgeside Village. The price is not an issue, just that the gallant adventurer is still not used to walking around town with civilians, the Guilds and taverns are more familiar to him. He wouldn't be too surprised by the neighbours, as the pink-haired man knew that the Farmer had offered both the Guild and the Cult to stay with them. Relations with the members of the Red Tail Lady Cult would also be ok, even friendly, as Lance believed in their good intentions. Although their methods leave much to be desired, and the adventurer communicates and behaves all the same carefully, so as not to provoke conflict.

In terms of being a roommate - Lance is an excellent neighbour: he respects the rules of the house, the room and things are always clean, and if Farmer allows, he will magically help them in some chores, like cleaning the house (he can do it with a snap of his fingers). Helping out on the farm is a bit different, as Lance doesn't know anything about growing crops other than monster plants. However, he won't refuse help if it's related to his adventurer activities: brewing potions, helping with slimes, that sort of thing. Lance is one of the people who might agree to help Farmer look after their children if he doesn't have an urgent mission. And in the event that he is the Farmer's spouse and lives here permanently, Lance is perfectly capable of finding a balance between living a private life with his partner and providing hospitality to his roommates.

Alesia:

Alesia understands that she is in Farmer's house to save time on important tasks, but sometimes the sniper feels like she's on holiday in Stardew Valley. Still, it's great to be back in her native place, to visit the old Guild, to chat with Marlon a little longer than usual. She's very grateful that Farmer let her and the others stay at their house to save warp totems. Admittedly, the neighbours are giving her.... a bit of a hard time. Alesia's relationship with her Cult members would be something between Lance and Isaac, i.e. unwilling to cause conflict over anything, but not looking for friendship either. They all share a business relationship and Farmer, who pointed out the perfectly rational decision to join forces to fight a common enemy and corruption. But she honestly admits that she doesn't trust the members of the Cult with their methods to fight evil. No offence to Jio and Daia.

As a roommate, she's a dream. Not only does she behave herself at Farmer's house, but she can threaten the other roommates if they start become problematic. Even Isaac will shut up at once, because he knows better than anyone that Alesia is not to be pissed off. Sniper will bring groceries, keep the room tidy, even offer Farmer a taste of her comfort food she's made. Sniper won't be able to help with farming, but if Farmer suddenly needed to feed the cows or carry a couple of bags, she wouldn't mind helping. Within reason, of course, as work is work, and she cannot be distracted.

Jio:

Jio sincerely doesn't understand why they should co-operate at all with the Guilds, who will only get in the way with their moralising and constant surveillance of the Cult's activities. Nor does the elf see any reason to stay the night at Farmer's in Stardew Valley. It's one thing to have these adventurers from the Castle Village, since travelling from that region to here without magic and totems is quite problematic, but why would he and Daia want to do that? Half an hour - and they were already in Pelican Town. But his Lady had insisted that he stay in the house of that old farmer's grandchild for now, so Jio silently obeyed the order.

As for living together with him... *Sigh* If the Republic had a nomination for "Neighbour from Hell" (I don't know if the concept is in Stardew Valley Heaven/Hell, but you get the point), that award would be on a shelf in Jio's room. Because he's... not a good roommate, to say the least. How Daia put up with him is anyone's guess. Naturally, he won't be rude to the host, but all his foul language (human and in elven) will fly in the direction of Castle Village roommates, because Jio has a hot temper when something annoys him (most often Isaac). Always leaves dangerous weapons scattered around the room (not his romm, interestingly enough), bottles of strange liquids and poisons for weapons. You can't expect help in farm chores either, as he's always busy and on a mission. The room is relatively clean (but others have his stuff lying around), so what else do you need from him?

Of course, being Farmer's husband, Jio behaves differently and won't throw dangerous things all over the house, especially if he already has children. But his attitude towards the other roommates, like Alesia and Isaac, is unlikely to change, as Jio still doesn't trust them and fears for the safety of Farmer and their kids. What if they become a tool of the Ministry's manipulation? These adventurers sing about honour, but they have their hands full of blood and black magic, he knows for sure.

Daia:

"Oh, we'll all have a party together, won't we? Everyone will get together, bring some goodies and something drink. It'll be fun~" Daia joked, but to be honest, with this woman you wouldn't know if she was joking or not. Out of everyone, she's the one who's most excited about the idea of staying at Farmer's for a while with Jio's other adventurers from Guilds. The ninja has been wanting to get a better look at the farm for a while now, because there's so much to see here! And she wants to get to know her roommates better ("So this is Lance? Hee-hee, what a cutie. How about we do a mission together~"). Daia genuinely thinks she's going to have a great time here (which really can't be said for the rest of the roommates).

As a roommate, she's in terms better than her partner in Cult, the surly elf, because if you're not scattering shuriken on the floor like Lego pieces, you're already better than Jio. Not counting the constant teasing, which makes Isaac's eye twitch and Jio's voice sit up due to yelling at the girl for her flippant behaviour, it's easy to cohabitate with Daia. For her, it's kind of a normal life she never even dreamed of, so the girl lives quietly in the house and helps Farmer with their chores. Even insists that she be the one to cook a communal meal for everyone. May be the initiator to organise a mini party, "because we're all friends!" (no). Well, at least she, together with the Farmer, can always smooth things over if the other neighbours start arguing. However, she is far from stupid and will exercise caution if the adventurers from Castle Village start going overboard and breaking the rules of their temporary truce.

Marlon:

In general, Marlon didn't see the point of moving into the spare room of the farmhouse, since he lives in Stardew Valley, and he certainly wasn't old enough to walk less. After all, the one-eyed adventurer used to carry Farmer and their belongings on his back almost two or three times a month, from the Mines to their home. So he would quietly continue to fend for himself in his Guild, and wait for the next orders from the Order regarding co-operation with the Cult.

That was until part of the Adventurer's Guild burned down under strange circumstances (it wasn't Farmer, they swear!), and now Marlon is temporarily on the farm while Robin fixes the Guild building.

Poor Marlon thought living in a private room would be quiet, except he forgot to consider that in addition to him, there's the Castle Village and the Cult of the Lady and Red Tail members as well. And it's all one explosive mix. The youths were constantly arguing about something, making noise, and sometimes Marlon could hear the sounds of battle magic (yet, all the rooms were not destroyed). All this noise was weighing on his mind, but in a way, it brought back memories of the old days of his Guild, where the members were also constantly talking and arguing from the very morning, but they all lived as one friendly family.... Marlon himself in terms of a roommate is practically perfect. He would be quiet to the point where Farmer would think he wasn't here. At most, an old adventurer can bark at Isaac and Jio to behave themselves, since they're all guests here.

[queenshelby]

Yes! Mr Murphy (Rewritten)

PART 42: SEX TAPE

Pairing: Cillian Murphy x Reader

Warning: Lots of Angst, Age Gap, Teacher x Student, Extreme Smut

PLEASE COMMENT AND ENGAGE!

The following morning, when you stumbled into the living room, you noticed that your dress had been hung up over one of the armchairs neatly and that there was no sign of Kit. It looked like she had packed up and left without saying goodbye, causing you a mix of relief and concern simultaneously. Relief, because your unease around her presence eased somewhat, and concern, because something about her sudden departure struck you as odd. Nonetheless, you decided to put these worries aside temporarily and focused on preparing for the day ahead.

You made some coffee and took a seat beside the window to read through Cillian's latest script, knowing that he wouldn't mind. Cillian himself was still sleeping peacefully, clearly exhausted from last night's chaos. He deserved a rest. Taking in the view outside, you felt grateful for the serene silence surrounding you. However, amidst the tranquility, there was an eerie sense of loneliness hanging in the air. It dawned on you then that even amidst Cillian's fame and success, his life was far from perfect and neither was yours.

You had recently received some letters from the department of immigration, reminding you that your visa was going to run out within six months and, unless you found a suitable employer who was willing to sponsor you, you knew that you had to return to the US. 

Unbeknownst to Cillian, you had spent countless sleepless nights wracking your brain, trying to come up with ways to prolong your stay in Ireland, yet nothing came close to materialising just yet. Feeling guilty and fearful of burdening Cillian with your problems, you resolved to wait patiently for the opportune moment to confide in him about this issue but it like as though he had bigger issues to deal with right now as, suddenly, his manager knocked on the door.

"Up so early?" you asked after having opened the door for Ben, who was in his sixties and exhausted from last night's BAFTAs. 

"Yes. Where is Cillian?" he asked immediately, and almost rudely, just as Cillian stumbled out of the bedroom, wearing only a pair of boxer shorts. 

"Good morning, Ben" Cillian said with a yawn, rubbing his eyes. "Anything interesting?" he wondered, seeing that Ben usually liked to sleep in past nine. 

"Interesting might be putting it lightly," Ben replied worryingly. "There's some bad news coming our way, unfortunately," he explained, and Cillian's brows furrowed. 

"Oh, really? What sort of bad news?" Cillian asked, sitting down opposite Ben. His curiosity piqued instantly.

Ben glanced nervously across the table at Cillian before breaking the unsettling news.

"So, this morning, I was informed that there's this video on the internet now, featuring you engaging in explicit sexual acts," Ben explained, causing Cillian to choke on his cup of coffee. 

Hearing those dreadful words, Cillian froze, unable to believe what he heard. His face drained of color as his world crumbled beneath him.

"What?" Cillian croaked hoarsely, scarcely able to find words. For a brief moment, time seemed to stand still – reality suspended, disbelief palpable in every cell of his body. He couldn't fathom why someone would do such a thing, seeking vengeance perhaps? Or simply to exploit his celebrity status? Regardless, the thought of this sordid act being public knowledge sent waves of panic coursing through his veins.

"Am I on the video too?" you asked a little calmer than Cillian, but still confused.

"Unfortunately, not, because if you were, you at least could give a statement together when shit hits the fan,"

Ben answered bitterly, his voice dripping with fatigue. His eyes fell onto you briefly, conveying sorrow and compassion. There wasn't much more to add—this was indeed terrible news.

"Then who is on the video? Do you have a copy of it? I mean, is it even me on the video or is it photoshopped?" Cillian queried, barely containing his anxiety as his head swirled with questions. 

"Oh, it's you and you seem rather drunk too, man. This is much worse than the public urination incident," Ben scoffed sarcastically, attempting to defuse the situation slightly as he handed him his phone. 

Despite Ben's efforts to alleviate the gravity of the situation, it did little to comfort Cillian, who remained gripped by terror. All manner of scenarios ran rampant through his mind; all of them potentially damning to his reputation and career.

Reluctantly, he clicked on the video while you sat by his side, hoping fervently that none of it was true. But as the footage began playing, he realized the unimaginable truth: yes, there he was, captured in all his vulnerability.

He could hardly breathe as he watched himself perform intimate acts, oblivious to the fact that they were being recorded. Each stroke of his hand, each whisper, etched themselves indelibly onto his memory, forever marring the sanctity of the most private moments he had ever known. His face flushed crimson with shame, regret surging through his veins like lava.

Seeing him have sex with another woman brought back memories of painful rejections and broken promises.

Your own heart plummeted as well, imagining how it must feel to discover such a compromising video was released online. It didn’t matter how innocently it happened; everything had become muddled, cloudy in your eyes.

The sound of your breath quickened, mirroring the rapid pulse throbbing against his temple. The heat radiating off his skin intensified, giving credibility to the choking sensation rising inside his chest.

"Turn it off!" you choked, holding back tears. "Kit did this and the fact that you had sex with a woman like this makes me ill," you cried, incredulous at the idea of betrayal running deeper than anything you had previously witnessed. Even though your heart ached for Cillian, your rage mounted as you remembered the snarky remarks, the condescending attitude, and the calculated ambition simmering beneath the surface whenever you interacted with Kit. And now, she had stooped so low, trading in the privacy of others like currency.

"She wouldn't..." he began to say, struggling to maintain composure as you interrupted him.

"Yes, she fucking would and you are too blind to see it. Do you know how she talks to me? The things she tells me, Cillian? You have no idea how vile this woman is," you broke down.

Your jaw clenched tightly, feeling anger and frustration seething beneath your calm exterior. In spite of your turmoil, however, you knew that venting this rage directly toward Cillian would accomplish nothing except further strain already fraught relations. So instead, you turned your attention away from him for a fleeting moment, taking stock of the situation at large.

"What do you think Ben?" Cillian finally managed to utter after watching the video, trying hard to regulate his pounding heart rate. As if in response to his question, Ben let out a heavy sigh, reaching for his glass of water which sat on the nearby coffee table. With a quiet murmur, he drank deeply from the glass, his expression grimacing with disapproval and pity for his client and friend.

"Well, we need to handle this swiftly and decisively, my boy", Ben advised sternly, looking straight into Cillian's eye.

"First, we contact everyone involved – the media, any potential legal representatives and Kit," Ben said and, with reluctance, Cillian nodded, understanding the gravity of the situation.

A torrent of conflicting emotions cascaded over you in that moment, leaving you raw and exposed, nauseous with anxiety.

"I am sorry, I..." you interrupted them, feeling nauseous again, just like last night, before disappearing into the bathroom momentarily.

Upon returning, you noticed Cillian wiping his eyes vigorously, struggling to process the magnitude of his predicament. Your hearts continued to beat in tandem, the rhythm matching the crescendo of anger and despair mounting within both of you. Cillian reached out towards you instinctively, grasping your hands tightly, needing something tangible to anchor him during these tumultuous times.

"I am sorry this happened," he apologized sincerely, fully aware of his responsibility in this whole mess. 

"It's not your fault. I mean, yes, you slept with her after we had broken up and it's pretty awful for me to watch you have sex with another woman, but I can't really be angry at you for something you did when we weren't together," you tried to rationalise, doing your best to suppress the jealousy burning hotter inside.

Cillian took a deep breath, letting out a shaky exhale as he attempted to compose himself. "You are perfect, you know that?" he spoke softly, stroking your cheek tenderly. The warmth from his touch offered solace amidst the storm.

Inside his head, he struggled with guilt and remorse over his transgressions, yet the genuine concern evident in his gaze was enough to quell the nagging doubt clawing at the corners of your mind.

Understanding your insecurities, he held you closer, drawing strength from your steadfast presence while Ben made several calls in order to get the video taken down.

"I think a statement from you would be helpful here," he said gravely, gesturing towards Cillian who usually hated talking to the press and, together with his publicist, they prepared exactly this. A detailed statement in which, finally, Cillian threw Kit under the bus after receiving critical information from the agency's team that the video had indeed been linked back to Kit's IP address.

"Who knows what else she is responsible for," Ben said recalling several articles which had been released ever since you came into the pictures as well as past cheating allegations which drove a wedge into Cillian's and Danielle's already fragile marriage at the time. 

As your resentment escalated, so did your desire to confront Kit. Yet, the very notion terrified you, fearing retaliation or further humiliation. After discussing with Ben about the plan of action, including approaching law enforcement and issuing statements, you retreated to bedroom where you laid curled around yourself, wrestling with your demons once more.

Perhaps Kit was right when she said that you were not cut out for this life, that you were naïve and idealistic compared to those who frequented these circles. However, despite your doubts, it seemed impossible to escape the pull of this world.

Hearing the front door open and close, followed by familiar steps entering the room, pulled you out of your introspection. Turning towards Cillian, you saw him pale with exhaustion and worry as he approached the bed.

Reaching out for your hand, he gave it a firm squeeze. "We will make it through this," he promised earnestly, offering some measure of comfort in this chaos.

"I am not too worried about, well, the obvious, I suppose. But I am worried about how this will affect us, because I love you so fucking much," Cillian

confessed passionately, wrapping his arms around you protectively. His eyes reflected an intensity of emotion, conveying profound gratitude for your unwavering support during this challenging period.

Unable to form coherent words due to the lump in your throat, you simply leaned into him, allowing the solidarity of his embrace to offer consolation and respite. There was still so much left undiscovered about one another, yet somehow, this shared experience only brought you even closer together.

"I love you too Cillian, beyond anything I could possibly imagine. This thing with Kit won't change that," you assured him, intertwining your fingers with his, seeking solace in his unwavering affection.

"And neither should it," Cillian replied solemnly, kissing your forehead gently. 

"I did watch the entire video. It wasn't very long but I noticed something stubble," you then admitted shamelessly to break the ice, avoiding direct eye contact. Despite being repulsed by the incident itself, curiosity got the better of you, wanting to understand why someone would record themselves having intimate encounters without permission.

"And what is that?" Cillian asked suspiciously, intrigued by your observation.

"You said my name, not hers," you explained carefully, choosing your words delicately, causing Cillian to smile.

"I thought about you, obviously," Cillian added reassuringly, his face flush from embarrassment.

There was an awkward silence before Cillian continued, "You do something to me that I can't quite comprehend, but you already know that, don't you?"

You giggled lightheartedly, grateful for his sense of humor. Gripping onto his arm tighter, you felt the weight of his words sink into your soul. "Yes, I do. I have you wrapped right around my finger, Mr Murphy" you expressed genuinely, appreciating his vulnerability.

Tags:

@sunbeamseas @saint-ackerman @oatmealisweird @naxxsstuff @amanda08319 @r-m-cidnah @elysiannook @cillshot @infireddabdab @tastycakee @harrysbestiee @lilybabe22 @adalynlowell @henrywintersdearestgirl @ietss @thatgirlthatreadswattpad @ryiamarie @axionn

@heidimoreton @nela-cutie @futurecorps3 @delishen @nosebleeds-247 @thirteenis-myluckynumber @gills-lounge @hjmalmed @lost-fantasy @tiredkitten @sidechrisporn @smallsoulunknown @charqing-qing @hopefulinlove @aporiasposts @shycrybaby @me-and-your-husband @hjmalmed @lacontroller1991 @galxydefender @aporiasposts

@galxydefender @hunnibearrr @saint-ackerman @lunyyx @gentlemonsterjennie1 @ihavealotoffandomssorry @nadloves @lost-fantasy @nolucesn@mcavoy-girl @hjmalmed @bloodybagels @obeyme4life @richiesgroupie @blushykiss @tatumrileyslover @teawithsatanx @orijanko @rhaenyra4ever @xcinnamonmalfoyx @budugu @nadloves @kmc1989 @bloodybagels @obeyme4life @richiesgroupie @forgottenpeakywriter

[linghxr]

My spring 2024 cdrama/cmovie/cvariety updates

I can't believe it's already been over 6 months since my last watching updates post! I've been watching more movies, and I'll also mention a couple variety shows, so it's not just cdramas.

Shows/series:

Some of these were mentioned as “currently watching” in my previous post.

《不良执念清除师》 Oh No! Here Comes Trouble A young man learns to use his supernatural calligraphy powers to help strange beings, with help from his frenemy and a young police officer. This show was like a breath of fresh air and very humorous. That being said, it was difficult to follow all the storylines. If you're going to watch it, I think you should binge it if possible. Content warning: Death, gore

《此时此刻》 At the Moment An anthology of quirky pandemic love stories, not all with happy endings. It's kind of like Love Actually in that the characters are connected across stories. Initially I didn't plan to watch because of the pandemic through line—I thought it would bum me out. But it didn't, actually. My favorite episode was Head of the Family. Content warning: Unhealthy relationships, sex and nudity

《隐秘的角落》 The Bad Kids Three kids accidentally film a murder and try to blackmail the killer, resulting in devastating consequences. I felt the first half of this show was more captivating than the second half—the second half went a bit overboard IMO. Apparently the original novel is way darker so…! But I still recommend it wholeheartedly. Content warning: Death and violence (but not graphic)

《沉默的真相》 The Long Night The murder of a disgraced prosecutor seems like an open-and-shut case, but his past reveals a much more complicated story. This show masterfully weaves together three different timelines. I was so confused after the first episode, but it all made sense in the end. I don't recommend binge watching it—I regretted doing so. Content warning: Violence, death, sexual assault

《双镜》 Couple of Mirrors A young woman's personal and professional lives are turned upside down, and she befriends a mysterious woman with a dark past. You have to suspend your disbelief to enjoy this show. There was a ridiculous number of car accidents! It's a GL drama, but if I hadn't know that, I don't think I would have noticed until the end. Content warning: Death, violence

Variety/reality:

《披荆斩棘的哥哥》 Call Me by Fire In the past I didn't include variety shows, but this time I thought why not? I finally finished all 3 seasons of this show, the male spinoff of 《乘风破浪的姐姐》 Sisters Who Make Waves. It's similar to an idol survival show, but instead of trainees, the contestants are established celebrities. The sets are always amazing, and I might have enjoyed this show more than 《乘风破浪》 honestly!

Movies:

《家庭简史》 Brief History of a Family The description of this movie sounded dull, but I ended up enjoying it a lot! I've seen reviews compare it to Parasite and Saltburn. There is definitely some similarity–it's about a well-off family that takes in a mysterious, quiet boy–but the takeaway of this film is very different. It leaves a lot of room for ambiguity.

《流浪地球》 The Wandering Earth After being on my watchlist for years, I finally got around to seeing this movie. I knew the basic premise: humanity bands together to move Earth away from the expanding sun. I wasn't expecting that it would focus on one family, which gave the movie a more personal feel. I enjoyed it despite not being a huge sci-fi person. Content warning: Death

《美国女孩》 American Girl A family moves back to Taiwan for their mother's cancer treatment after several years in the US, and the eldest daughter struggles to adapt. It's set during the SARS outbreak, but I don't remember that being very prominent. This movie was quite bleak and bummed me out. And I found the ending rather abrupt. It wasn't for me I think. Content warning: Illness, disease outbreak

《你好，李焕英》 Hi, Mom This movie was super popular when it came out. It's about a woman who gets transported back in time and meets her mother (who is young and childless at this point). At first I was confused about where the movie was going—it didn't seem to be building to much. But it had a heartwarming and touching ending. Content warning: Death

《周处除三害》 The Pig, The Snake and The Pigeon After seeing a lot of buzz about this movie online, I had to check it out. It follows a terminally ill hitman who learns he is the third most wanted criminal in Taiwan and decides to kill the two criminals ranking above him. Despite this, the main character is actually pretty likable. I enjoyed the movie despite the violence. Content warning: Excessive violence, death, sexual assault

Currently watching:

《火星情报局》 Mars Intelligence Agency This is a variety show. The cast consists of celebrities who take turns telling funny stories and making jokes. I started watching because my favorite singer 薛之谦 is a cast member. I was unsure about the concept at first, but honestly it's really entertaining!

《摩天大楼》 A Murderous Affair in Horizon Tower I finally started this show, which has been on my watchlist for a while. I'm only 2 episodes in—so far it's mostly been about the past of the titular murder victim. I'm not yet sure what direction the show will go in, but I'm excited to find out.

Abandoning:

《你的孩子不是你的孩子》 On Children I got through 3 out of 5 episodes before abandoning this show. Each episode is the length of a movie, so they drag on. But I totally understand why episode 2, Child of the Cat, was nominated for and won so many awards. The acting was really strong.

《汉化日记》 God Troubles Me I wanted to try watching a 动画, but after a few episodes, I wasn't feeling this one. Each episode is quite short, so it's an easy watch. I think it just wasn't for me.

On my watchlist:

《漫长的季节》 The Long Season

《尘封十三载》 Thirteen Years of Dust

I'm trying to be better about content warnings. But please note, I only included them for things I finished watching, not things I'm currently watching or abandoning.

[tossawary]

Hi! Just wondering, for you what is the difference between transmigrating in as an infant and regaining memories of your past life later, and transmigrating in as a character who a bit older but remembering the past of the character you’re in? I guess it’s kind of moot considering he still feels the weight of both those lives either way, but I was curious about your thoughts on it.

Hey! I think this is a pretty complicated and broad question. Overall, as with any story, there are different ways to write both of those things, different directions to explore, which could make them feel very different or functionally identical. My personal feelings on this can change wildly from story to story, and character to character. SPOILERS for SVSSS.

Let's say that Airplane Bro is the first case (reincarnated as an infant and gained his memories of his past life on the way) and Shen Yuan is the second case (transmigrated into an older character's life and later unlocked some of Shen Jiu's memories). Just to use their particular situations to look at some of the practical realities. I know that it doesn't fit precisely, but it's useful to have examples.

I think that a big element here is personal life choices and personal relationships. Airplane never has to feel like he replaced someone else. He's Shang Qinghua now, sure, but there was never an Original Shang Qinghua in this world. Being there from the beginning, he's been able to control his actions and responses, and build his own personal relationships. His relationship with Mobei-Jun, for example, is entirely his own.

(We don't actually know how much the System interfered in his life, but he does seem to have a degree of freedom that's much more significant compared to his fellow transmigrator. The vibe I got by the end of the Airplane Extras was that the System probably would have let him do whatever he'd wanted if he'd really gone for it, honestly.)

Shen Yuan, on the other hand, knows that he replaced someone else, and Shen Jiu had a miserable life and then made some cruel choices. Shen Yuan has to bear the burden of things he didn't do, even if other characters are willing to sweep it under the rug of amnesia, which has permanently colored his relationships with Luo Binghe, Yue Qingyuan, and Liu Qingge. (The System then forced him to do something terrible to Luo Binghe, whom he loved very much. At the very beginning, it temporarily controlled his every single interaction with any other human being during the OOC restriction period. That's just fucked up.) By the end of SVSSS, Shen Yuan fully inhabits the new Shen Qingqiu he's created and has made peace out of the story he's been given and the relationships he's inherited and made his own, even though he owns a life that partially belonged to someone else (Shen Jiu and the System). He has to live with that history.

Rambling on about Airplane Bro for a little bit to take a look at these two different approaches from another angle...

I typically imagine Airplane Bro slowly regaining his memories over the course of his childhood, because I personally can't fully suspend my disbelief over a fully conscious adult in the body of an infant. I mean, I've read that kind of thing before, and some of the stories have been good. But brains just don't work like that. Newborn babies are such little fragile aliens, barely able to see the faces less than a foot from their face. It's important to me to physically ground fantasy (and sci-fi) somewhat to make magic (and tech) feel both believable and compelling. This is a personal nitpick.

(You could have the reincarnated/transmigrated mind/soul being held mostly separate, slowly integrating, and essentially controlling the body remotely, I guess? But yeah, the "adult stuck in a child body" thing inherently has powerful horror elements (and political elements in regards to children's rights) that a lot of reincarnated stories seem to take on unintentionally and don't always handle well. When I'm writing reincarnation stuff, I usually skip over that backstory stuff in part because it's just so complicated, and also because there are other plots I'd rather explore that I find more interesting. Getting bogged down in early childhood stuff generally isn't really my thing, reading or writing it.)

If Airplane is essentially haunted by the memories of his past life for his entire childhood, I think it would make him strange, unnerving, and generally unpalatable to other people. I think it would be confusing and scary to know things without being sure how you know them. To remember things that seem to belong not only to another life, but another world. It would contribute to his isolation, his emotional detachment, and his choice to identify strongly with his previous life in terms of personality.

And if it's a more gradual process, then he doesn't have to feel like he replaced someone else. He knows (as much as anyone can know anything) that this body has always belonged to him.

If he suddenly remembered a past life, then that would also lead to his detached Airplane Bro personality. But if he suddenly remembered a past life, depending on how you write it, it might feel functionally identical to transmigrating in in that moment but still retaining the body's memories.

Of course, even if it was a gradual process, depending on how you write it, it could seem to him that it was a gradual transmigration and that he replaced someone else. Both approaches are cool.

Transmigration and reincarnation must be such a disorienting experience, liable to make a character doubt reality or their "sanity". When a character transmigrates in but has access to the body's memories, there's often some plot device dream sequence (the transmigrator briefly gets to meet the ghost of the person they're replacement) or System interference to let both the character and the readers know that there's been a switch. What if there's no System popping up to explain exactly what happened? What if the character just has to guess based on these vague memories that they may or may not be able to tell came from another person?

Either way, transmigrators are usually dealing with feeling like an imposter. But I think the transmigrator generally might feel guiltier over taking up or ruining any pre-existing relationships if they know for a fact that they replaced a separate person.

Back to some physical practicalities between our two transmigrators in SVSSS... Airplane Bro has just had... more time to get used to his life here. Coming in as an infant, presuming a gradual adjustment of awareness, he's used to his own body. He's at home in it.

SVSSS isn't fully interested in exploring this topic, so we don't really see Shen Yuan dealing with it, but... suddenly being in a different body would be a WEIRD experience. I can handwave away a lot of brain stuff on "magical System weirdness", so sure, Shen Yuan's mind is somehow his own while retaining some Shen Jiu memories, and he has special muscle memory and spiritual memory that allows him to continue being a powerful cultivation with only minor adjustment.

But... what about things like taste buds? The physical human experience is so wildly varied. Humans are incredibly adaptable, but surely it would be weird at first to potentially have different favorite foods. To like different drinks. To maybe enjoy different smells. To dislike things you used to love. To be a different height. A different weight. To be far more physically fit. To have different teeth. Personally, I move slightly differently and have slightly different mannerisms depending on the length of my hair, having to keep longer hair out of the way. Shen Yuan would adjust in time, sure, but that dysphoria must've been something else at first.

As someone interested in these physical realities of magic, I was a little disappointed when none of these came up more extensively when Shen Yuan switched into a body made out of a plant. I think that even little things like breathing and sunlight would feel intensely different. I'm now tempted to write something exploring Shen Yuan enjoying the sensations of his super magical plant body now.

Okay, I don't know where I'm going with my rambling now, so I'm signing off. I think the weight of different transmigration experiences can feel very, VERY different depending on what you're personally interested in exploring when you write.

[lintwriting]

the logic of bashing fics

I love the parallels between a certain type of character. Tell me if you've seen them before.

Ostensibly “noble” adults generously helping orphan protagonists. For such generosity, they get the orphan's undying loyalty. Within the story, these adults are portrayed as good, or at least ambiguous in morality. Never explicitly evil, as often we're hearing from the perspective of the kids they save--who worship them -- and not from the fellow adults around them. Or, if we do, those adults who DO badmouth them have ulterior motives that muddy the waters.

And, yet... The cracks are there.

For an example: DUMBLEDORE.

With Dumbledore, the cracks are unintentional. The casualty of being in a genre where you need young kids getting into dangerous action without adults getting in the way. What you get is this strategic figure who neglects him to the point of abuse and views Harry's life as his sacrificial pawn in war, where death "is the next great adventure," but this is all painted as a Christ-like sacrifice rather than a disturbing one.

Oh sure, the characters are horrified by Harry's death and abuse, but not to the point of ever questioning Dumbledore's character over it, nor does the audience. In many ways, Dumbledore has groomed Harry into his role as sacrificial lamb, but it's justified within the narrative to us and the characters.

This leads one of my favorite phenomena: people getting unreasonably mad at genre conventions.

For instance, your average action media featuring teenagers will have them putting their lives in danger, and, thus, will create excuses for why adults aren't there to stop them. Your casual viewer will accept these shallow excuses for what they are-- a plot device without much thought put into it. It's a mundane part of their suspension of disbelief, so they can watch magical teenagers fighting monsters. They don't need much thought put into this because they understand that it's just the conceit of the show.

But sometimes it's a little fun to think deeper about the implications of these flimsy excuses. Listicle sites go viral off of these types of "Why Hogwarts Should Have Been Shut Down Years Ago" articles. It's nothing more than a fun little thought experiment to them, but it gets really funny to me when I stumble across people who get genuinely ANGRY and PETTY about this. Seething at the gall of "children's fantasy show writer #218" for writing such abusive parents and not even acknowledging it within the story! I mean, it kind of takes the lightheartedness out of "children fighting--the genre" if you acknowledge that parents shouldn’t be okay with their preteens being sent off to magic fighting, guys. Like high school American football, we gotta brush the danger to the kids under the rug to enjoy the show lol guys.

And who are these angry guys? They're the people who genuinely felt tricked when they realized that the excuses (that everybody else took as a farce at face value) don't make much sense.

Why? Because they bought in WITHOUT suspending their disbelief. Like when kids believe high school will be just as trope-y as their fanfics/TV shows until they get there! Because they were little kiddos too young to know when they first watched these shows that these tropes are unrealistic.

This famously applies to the Bible, where we need to see God as an all-good father in-universe, and therefore indoctrinate kids young and invent "faith" as a genre convention to avoid thinking too deeply about His actions. In reality though (out-of-universe" if you will), when you become an ex-Christian, you realize all the ways god acts as a textbook abusive parent (which you can find out more about on the channel, TheraminTrees), and you feel tricked and betrayed by the religion that you taught you to "think" (read: faith) otherwise.

This especially affects media targeted at an audience that “grows up” with the work, such as Manga or YA book series. So if you’re an adult reading Harry Potter or My Hero Academia whatever magic teen fighting book for the first time, you’re going to write that kind of stuff off as the genre conventions and tropes.

But if you’re a kid, you’re going to take these tropes at face value. And then, when you grow up, you suddenly start realizing that this media you’ve been idolizing is actually not as thought out as you imagined it to be as a kid

You’re in that edgey phase where you realize the nuances of what’s wrong with the world and are searching for media to reflect that (which isn’t exactly a priority for the magic teens fighting genre). You’re going to be disappointed and betrayed and frustrated

And itching for an outlet for all that anger—

And thus, many a meta and Dumbledore bashing fics were born.

read more here: bashing and deconstruction

[cgadzfna]

In The Dragon Republic specifically, do you think Nezha confided in Venka about everything going on with Rin, their growing friendship, all the fighting etc or is everyone else simply drawing their conclusions about the two from observation? Kitay is ofcourse there for Rin but even when she can't bring herself to say anything he's observant and smart, so he'd figure it out. It makes me think about that one moment in chapter 34 I think it was, where Venka's helping Rin get dressed and as soon as she sees Nezha she's all smug like 'have fun' before immediately trying to flee the scene. And even before she walks out Nezha makes a comment about Rin's knot saying it's pretty and Venka continues to tease him, winking when she says it's 'even prettier on the wearer.' That was such a light hearted moment (for a change) and made me curious about how much she knew

Personally, I don’t think Nezha would have confided in Venka. He lashes out when he’s scared, insecure, unsure, etc, all the times he insulted or hurt rin when she presented something that conflicted with his ideals or perception of the world (ex. a southerner at Sinegard, her criticism of jinzha, etc), but when it comes to his deepest feelings he keeps them bottled up until he physically can’t anymore, often because rin pushes him ‘too far’. For example, her repeatedly calling him a coward and unintentionally striking at his deep rooted trauma and him finally blowing up after revealing the story of the Dragon. When she doesn’t push though, he refuses to reveal anything deep, like when he denies calling her name as the Federation dragged him away, as well as him only telling her about his nightmares of her death when he’s convinced they’ll die the next day (and obviously still not revealing all the details of those dreams), and him never revealing his true feelings to her at all, instead stifling then as we see in TDF. He’ll reveal ‘surface-level’ feelings, i.e fear during battle, anger, frustration, etc but not the ones held deepest, i.e, his trauma (aside from that one scene, and only after she pushed him and he’d thought she’d died), and his love and fear for/of rin. So I don’t think he would’ve confided in venka, because I don’t think he can or would know how to. Moreso, their relationship fundamentally changed after he refused to let her fight on campaign with them. that’s when something in their relationship irreparably fractured (and her allegiance subtly shifted towards rin). Even if they were still on ‘good terms’ after that, it wasn’t the same because he’d denied her her autonomy, decided for her what she was capable of handling or not, restricting her from doing the one thing that might give her some sense of self/‘worth’/autonomy back. They didn’t interact much before the campaign started, and he always treated her as if she were fragile when he did. their relationship was fraught, and I think they both sensed that, whether or not they actively acknowledged it. I’m not sure she would have been in the right headspace pre-campaign even if he had told her either (because I think the last thing on her mind with all her other worries would’ve been a budding relationship between rinezha). However, the scene you’re referring to is post-Battle of Red Cliffs, when they’d all just survived a ‘final’ battle of epic proportions, presumed unwinnable, and after she’d already ‘proven’ herself with her archery skills during it. Like you said, it’s a lighter moment, and they’re all in disbelief and relieved so I think she let those comments slip because she’s just glad they’re alive against all odds. The usual somberness/grim reality of warfare is temporarily suspended in that victorious, post-battle haze and they can ‘relax’ a little, hence her words. On a different note, to finally answer your original question lol, I believe venka intuited his feelings herself. She’s spent most of her youth being prepared to be the ‘proper’ wife by her parents, and with her cleverness and perceptiveness, she would’ve learned quickly how to tell where, when, and how a man’s interest in a woman lies, whether it’s romantic, sexual, predatory, etc, as that’s what she needed to watch out for, gauging any potential suitors chosen by her parents. this is reaffirmed when she asks rin how she’d survived so long without feminine wiles, implying that her [venka]’s feminine wiles include knowing when a man is interested and how to handle that (seeing as her life before Sinegard largely revolved around that). Nezha’s interest would’ve been obvious.  Plus, she’s been friends with him for a long time, even if their relationship changed, she would’ve been able to tell, just like how kitay was able to know that nezha would throw himself off a cliff for rin. Great ask OP! i really wracked my brain for this question since I haven’t read the series in a while, thanks for giving me the chance to analyze again! 

[xserpx]

Your opinion on the most recent book you read <3

I've got 2 hours & 38 mins left of it but I'm reading 10 Things That Never Happened by Alexis Hall and absolutely love it! I believe it's the third part of his "Material World" series, after Boyfriend Material & Husband Material, but featuring different characters to Luc & Oliver.

Sam Becker loves―or, okay, likes―his job. Sure, managing a bed and bath retailer isn't exactly glamorous, but it's good work and he gets on well with the band of misfits who keep the store running. He could see himself being content here for the long haul. Too bad, then, that the owner is an infuriating git.

Jonathan Forest should never have hired Sam. It was a sentimental decision, and Jonathan didn't get where he is by following his heart. Determined to set things right, Jonathan orders Sam down to London for a difficult talk…only for a panicking Sam to trip, bump his head, and maybe accidentally imply he doesn't remember anything?

Faking amnesia seemed like a good idea when Sam was afraid he was getting sacked, but now he has to deal with the reality of Jonathan's guilt―as well as the unsettling fact that his surly boss might have a softer side to him. There's an unexpected freedom in getting a second shot at a first impression…but as Sam and Jonathan grow closer, can Sam really bring himself to tell the truth, or will their future be built entirely on one impulsive lie?

I'm not a huge fan of amnesia storylines, and tbh I didn't realise that's what it was when I picked it up. But I think Hall does a good job of making it work in that sort of "assume the audience knows this trope well and is comfortable with suspending their disbelief" way, and the way he frequently has Sam point out the absurdity is really funny.

I love Alexis Hall's humour. I love the Britishisms, I like the Northern accent inflections - I'm not sure if these come across in the prose as well, but the audiobook is brilliantly read by Will Watt - and the first person present tense makes for a very fun, conversational tone.

One criticism I've had of Hall in the past (and, tbf, I think a LOT of romcoms are like this) is that I think he doesn't quite flesh out both main characters as much as I'd like. I think that's less of a problem in this book than (it pains me to say) Boyfriend Material, because he places most of the drama with Jonathan, the non-POV. At the same time, the lack of background for Sam leaves him feeling a little flat at times. The secondary characters are all Hall's usual eclectic mix of kooky, vibrant well-meaning people, aiding jokes and providing enough drama to keep things interesting.

It's basically exactly what I need to be listening to during a stressful week fairly close to Christmas: something incredibly light-hearted and heartwarming, that makes me burst out laughing at work and gives me the sense that, whatever else happens today, at least I've got something that is guaranteed to make me smile. I still think I prefer Boyfriend Material (because Luc & Oliver ❤️) and Rosaline Palmer Takes The Cake (because I really like the balance of seriousness and humour), but I'm happy saying, as long as nothing out of left field happens in the next 2 hours & 38 minutes, it's my 3rd favourite Alexis Hall book I've read so far.

[cassynite]

Genres of reddit drama posts (stuff posted on r/relationships, r/maliciouscompliance, AITA, etc.) ranked by believability

This absolutely happened: Without a doubt this is a real thing that happened to a real person. The issue discussed in the post is detailed, unique but familiar, and grounded in reality; the "villain" of the post exhibits behaviors you'd actually see a real person do, and oftentimes there can be a question of who is actually in the right (especially with AITA posts). The issues discussed might not be all that entertaining at the end of the day, and/or the resolution ends up being unsatisfying. Entertainment value hovers at 5/10, give or take a point depending on what's going on.

This might have happened, and boy do I hope it did: The creme de la creme of reddit posts--bombastic, can't-turn-your-eyes-away drama, but with such a unique situation or such granular detail that it has to be based at least a little bit on a real thing, and if it's an exaggerated retelling of events you're willing to let it slide. Often told in a very distinct voice as well, with satisfying but realistic resolutions. Almost always has a well defined 'hero' of the narrative (not always the narrator; a lot of AITA posts where the poster is TA falls into this category in my experience). If it's not one of the top voted posts recently it should be.

The Soap Opera: There's a 90% chance this didn't happen at all, and if it did the version of events being told is so exaggerated it still might as well just be made up--but damn if it isn't entertaining anyway. Always has very clear heroes as well as villains, and those villains are mustache-twirling cackling caricatures with unhinged personalities and behaviors that you would never see in real life. A lot of Karen stories as well as mom-in-law stories fall under this umbrella. However, it's still unique enough and interesting enough that you want to know what's going to happen next in what is definitely going to be a multi-update saga. It's a soap opera--you know it's fake, but you're willing to suspend your disbelief.

The 2014 fake tumblr post: This tries to be a soap opera but overshoots by a lot; the name I give it should tell you the kind of "and then the whole bus clapped" energy these posts tend to give. The villains of the drama are even more villainous and more over-the-top with their behaviors, and their comeuppance is even more extreme. These Karens end up going to jail for berating services workers; these mom-in-laws get disowned by their families for the way they try to wear their wedding dresses to their sons' weddings to OP. Most likely you find these on those minimum effort garbage robo-voice tiktok accounts that plague my for you page.

The Trained Algorithm: This is a soap opera/tumblr post story that is a little too...similar to something you've already read. It could be the details given or even just the way it's written, that certain style or word choice that if you read/listen to hundreds in a row you can catch on to, a subtle but present sign that this wasn't even made by a person but by machine learning trained on these posts for the purpose of content farming. Tend to be mid to okay as entertainment but ultimately depressing because you can't even pretend it's a little bit true, and having to face the fact that people are so bent on Creating Content for Consumption that they'll resort to getting a bot to right a fucking AITA post of all things makes me have to face the existential horror of capitalism, which is something I read AITA posts to get away from.

The Trash: This is also a bot-churned post, but it's not even hiding it--words are used in teh wrong places, or completely mispelled, and it's obvious that after chatGPT spat this one out it wasn't even proofread before it was shat onto a message board or fed into a robo voice to be posted on tiktok. You can spot these from a mile away, and I imagine that there's a circle of hell that just has to read these as punishment.

[pinewoodpipit]

so long, we become the flowers - Cowboy AU - Post-Fic Meta

Time for another meta post for “we become the flowers”, a.k.a. my cowboy au, now that the final chapter and epilogue have been released!

Here is a link to the first meta post for this fic, posted at the beginning.

Here is a link to the midpoint meta post for this fic, posted after chapter 5 was released.

This is a long post, so I'll put it behind a cut.

-

General thoughts

Yeah… the happy perfect ending back in chapter 5 couldn’t be allowed to last when there was an opportunity for MORE ANGST. I originally killed Greaves in chapter 4 before Fade and Neon reunited, but then I was like “wait… I want more cowboy antics” and pictured a scene of Fade furiously riding out to rescue Neon, and then this happened. I’m really glad because it gives me an opportunity to let Astra and Harbor shine!

Once they've healed, Neon thinks Fade’s new scars after the wolf attack are hot. She just has a thing for scars. She sees them as a symbol of them together rather than the attack, as was stated in the fic, BUT this is just Neon’s feelings bout them. If you asked Fade, she would deny this being their meaning, as she just sees them as memories of the attack and doesn’t think it makes any sense to assign more value to them than that. They’d probably argue about this if they told each other what they felt the scars represent, but ultimately it doesn’t matter. They are what they are and Neon has the hots for them.

At the end of chapter 6, Nathaniel and Neon were knocked out by a fantasy equivalent of chloroform which works closer to how it does in films than chloroform in reality, which doesn't knock you out for long and takes a very long time to work (plus if it does knock you out, it's likely to either kill you or otherwise seriously harm you since it's essentially starving you of oxygen). I wanted them unhurt and hey, I’m already extending fantasy to letting flowers bloom whenever I want. Why not this, too? It’s not important, ultimately, so long as you’re willing to suspend your disbelief for it. It’s a fantasy sleeping chemical, that’s all there is.

The soup Neon and her father made in chapter 8 is loosely based on tinola (a filipino ginger and garlic chicken soup with malunggay leaves and papaya). I don’t think they’d have papayas where they are and I don’t think food importation was particularly great at this point in time so I don’t think it was anything authentic, but the general ingredient profile was based on a tinola recipe I found online. I replaced the malunggay with bok choy, which I also don’t think is incredibly realistic, but I can believe them growing that more than I can believe them growing papaya, hahah. The flora in this fic is very fantasy in that they bloom whenever I like and they have some vegetables which the West most certainly didn’t have, but I don’t want to stretch it too far out of being plausible, so I just push it until my own suspension of disbelief begins to struggle.

On Twitter I sometimes post “spoilers without context” about my fics, and I did a couple of those for this fic. I posted a picture of Old Yeller in one of these posts to hint at Aykut’s death to the rabid wolf and someone asked me if I was going to kill a dog with rabies. I was just like “haha.. no… there are no rabid dogs and I would never kill a dog in my fics”… rabid wolves don’t count, right?

-

Changes

Deadlock was a later addition to this fic. I thought she’d be an interesting person for Fade to meet as someone who knows her town but not her history, and also provided an extra body to go after Greaves. He was set up as a powerful, crafty guy, even with his teammates gone. It wanted to make sure the threat of who he was was handled in a way that felt appropriate to the threat level, so Deadlock got added. It also adds some tension for the thought of lost power, when Deadlock’s pulled away to go track down what they assume will be Fade and Astra’s bodies. I also really enjoy Jettlock as a ship, even if it's tiny, and it was fun to add them into the background here towards the end. I think it's a nice end to Jett's arc.

This fic also got longer from its original plan even after the change from 5 to 9 chapters, with chapter 6 being added into the outline instead of chapters 6 and 7 being one single chapter. I felt Neon’s kidnapping felt rushed without the extra time, and I wanted to flesh out Fade’s recovery too after her attack, as this was an incredibly special time in the development of her and Neon’s relationship. They had her dad’s blessing, they were together all the time, they were living together and learning a little of what married life would be like for them. It was huge for them, and it was really nice to get to spend more time focusing on that. I’m glad I did, even if it meant pushing this fic to easily be my longest so far, surpassing even my and uni’s freckle fic 60k+ collab. After that, I thought adding an epilogue would be nice similar to how I did in my werewolf au, so it went from 10 to 11 chapters. I'm really satisfied with how it is now.

-

Fic art (and more moodboards)

I’ll share all art for this fic separately in its own post, but I wanted to post it here, too. Here are the first things I drew for this au, just preliminary design ideas of Fade and Neon. They’re outdated now, as Neon should have her nose scar and Fade is missing her mouth scar, too, but they helped me visualise at the start.

Here are more general pieces of art relating to the fic!

Lastly, as promised in the first meta post for this fic, I have more moodboards which were made back before the first chapter was even written, along with the character design moodboards! These are boards for the cottage that Fade built Neon in the epilogue. It's SO nice to be able to share this after having kept them secret for so long!

-

Music

In case you missed it, here's the post where I shared the playlist for this fic! (Plus some additional discussion about it.)

[louisbutalsolestat]

(More insane thought’s)

So after reading all the books with characters Louis and Armand. I think I got a pretty go read on their personalities and character traits.

And I agree they need therapy very badly. And if they ever miss a session, they should be punished. Because that not fair to them or the world around them.

Louis I’m going diagnose him as suspended in the land of disbelief. while at the same time, a pathological liar with a very over active imagination. Which would all be fine, except for at some point, he started, believing his delusions. (none of this stops me from loving this character)

Armand has extreme abandonment issues, coupled with psychotic tendencies, and with extreme delusions, which he believes to be true. The problem with his delusions is he also lives outside of reality during them. And doesn’t know it. He is actually unaware of anything that’s happening around him, when he’s having this delusions.

Lestat, while he might just be normal next to these two. (JK He’s insane )

(Time for the joke)

Louis, runs in the house shaken and out of breath: Les! I just saw, Two little man drop out of the sky. Pick to humans up, fly back into the sky and take off in their plane.

Lestat :  you just saw an alien abduction?

Louis : What! No! That’s not what I said at all. See you never listen to me 

Lestat : Louis you just said you saw two aliens

Louis : No! Lestat that would be ridiculous. Aliens aren’t real. I said! I saw two men. Look you always do this! There’s no such thing as God, devil, or aliens. Listen Lestat please and you have go out and see what they were.

Lestat : i’m trying to listen, but you’re not making sense, let me call Armand, hold on.

Lestat calls Armand and Tell him everything Louis said.

Armand : Well it certainly sounds like something.  That must be taken care of right away. 

Lestat : but you would say it was aliens?

Louis : I told you there’s no such thing as aliens. Look give me the phone.

Louis take the phone from Lestat,

Louis : Armand tell Lestat there’s no such thing as aliens

Armand : oh, you’re quite right, there is an invasion of little man. Little man with one mission. Sent by their evil overlord Marius. To spy on, and destroy anything that is good. They must be eliminated immediately for their evil sins.

Louis : that right! Wait?

Lestat inter Voice, remember what the therapist told you. Use your words not your hands, try to see things through their point of view, and try to stay calm. As he take the phone back from Louis.

Lestat : Armand! They could be nice little men we don’t have to eliminate them.

Armand : Lestat what is taking you so long I’m already outside.

Hangs up the phone

Louis : See Armand Said! it’s not aliens, and a whole bunch of crazy shit I didn’t understand.

Lestat: All I want to do is stay home and watch Amadeus. But No! I have to go on a wild goose chase, after not aliens. With Armand. fine as long as I get to slap something…I don’t care.

Lestat find out later, there was never any little man or aliens. Daniel when to play cards with Marius and Gregory. Armand felt left out and wanted something to do. So Armand told (manipulated) Louis to do this. 



[selflessanatta]

Is Belief in Rebirth or Reincarnation Essential to Buddhist Practice?, https://selflessanatta.com/is-belief-in-rebirth-or-reincarnation-essential-to-buddhist-practice/

New Post has been published on https://selflessanatta.com/is-belief-in-rebirth-or-reincarnation-essential-to-buddhist-practice/

Is Belief in Rebirth or Reincarnation Essential to Buddhist Practice?

You don’t need to believe in magnetism to use a compass.

Reincarnation is Useful Bullshit

Do I actually believe, as ontological Body reality, that I have actually existed through endless lifetimes?

No. I don’t.

But I don’t need to.

I don’t need to believe in magnetism to use a compass.

Karma still works when I act as if I’ve lived an infinite number of lifetimes, and more importantly, I have a great many more lives yet to go.

Belief in rebirth is not essential to Buddhist practice; however, you need to think and act as if you will take a rebirth based on your actions in this life.

Is there a difference?

I believe so. I can suspend my disbelief and enjoy a movie or written fiction. Why should it be any more difficult to suspend disbelief in rebirth to obtain the benefits of spiritual practice?

What is the value of belief in rebirth? It opens the door to understanding and living my Karma.

Karma is the belief that our actions have consequences. Often the connection is apparent and obvious, but sometimes it’s not.

We don’t always recognize the connection when there is a delay between the action and the consequence.

When we employ selective memory or willful ignorance, we can pretend the connection doesn’t exist at all. This is particularly useful if we want to do something bad in hopes we can dodge the consequences.

And what about those circumstances when something bad happens that doesn’t appear to have any connection to past actions?

When something bad happens to me that doesn’t appear to be in any way connected to anything I’ve ever done in my life, my first reaction is, “Why me God?”

That question opens a doorway to suffering.

Enter Karma.

Karma

Whenever something happens I didn’t want or foresee, I still feel an initial burst of anger.

How dare Fate, Karma, God, (insert anyone other than me) make this awful thing happen?

Am I a victim?

After giggling at my foolishness momentarily, a nanosecond later, I cut it off by reminding myself that whatever occurs, it happens because of actions I took in the past, even if it was lifetimes ago.

Accepting that whatever happened was due to something I did wrong in a previous life has two positive effects.

First, it cuts off the “why me” victim nonsense that makes me feel terrible.

Second, it makes me even more confident that my actions have consequences, which is what I want.

Third, and most importantly, when I consider my future lives, I know that anything I do will return on me at some point, even if it takes thousands of lifetimes.

There is no escape from responsibility.

Moral Compass

People hurt each other for selfish reasons because they believe they can escape it.

If my actions have no consequences, I would pretty much do what I want.

Most religions and cultures invent a Hell as a catch-all insurance policy against getting-away-with-it while you are alive, hoping perhaps this will motivate a few people to “be good” to avoid eternal damnation.

As a concept, it’s become so burdened by legalese, pointless debates on dogma, and philosophical mental masturbation that it no longer has enough emotional impact to scare people straight, assuming it ever did.

Karma is the shackle of personal responsibility every ego wants to avoid.

Yet, it must be chosen.

People have been imposing their Gods on each other since antiquity, forcing them to see the Light by using Dark, usually extinguishing the flames of heathens and heretics if they refused to accept someone else’s Salvation.

It was never about them, the people supposedly being Saved.

Earning Heaven: Parallels Between Pure Land Buddhism and Evangelical Christianity

Buddhism is different: It’s a path of choice.

You either choose to feel Karma’s navigating field or you don’t.

Here’s how it works.

If I truly believed my actions were absolutely going to come back to me in some form or fashion, and there was no escape, none, no dodging responsibility — when I felt that hit my heart — I didn’t want to inflict my selfish desires on anyone.

The Power of Karma is its ability to prevent me from hurting others.

I use it as a mind hack.

A useful tool to drive my motivation toward virtue.

When you learn to navigate by it Karma is an excellent moral compass, a needle aligning your heart True North, pointing you down the Proper Path.

100% Responsible

Once I started navigating by Karma, I took 100% responsibility for everything that occurred to me.

Why? Because if I act unwisely, hurt people, or do bad things, it will return to hurt me.

I don’t want that.

There is no pleading for mercy. Directing consequence to another. I offered rationalizations and hoped the verdict would go my way.

Potential outcomes down the dark path are unpredictable and undesirable.

Perhaps a rival takes revenge. Perhaps a fraud perpetrated years ago is uncovered. Secrets haunt you at night, disturbing your mind.

Emotionally, you’re always waiting for the other shoe to drop.

I don’t want that.

Regret: What Responsibility Feels Like

Live-with-no-regrets is the anthem of Desire. It’s not wise spiritual advice.

A life without regrets represents a failure to learn from mistakes.

For many years, I continually inflicted subtle emotional pain on my life partner.

I didn’t feel that pain because I didn’t consider her experience, and I likely would have convinced myself I wasn’t responsible for her reaction.

I felt no regret.

When I looked honestly at the behavior, an unpleasant feeling of revulsion arose.

The deeper I dug, the more intense I felt that pain.

Most people recoil when they feel the unpleasant feelings of remorse.

I use it as a warning sign.

It’s telling me that I am considering a behavior that has caused others pain in the past.

If I continue down this path, I am likely to do something that will make me feel that pain with more intensity.

Don’t do it.

Just say no.

~~wink~~

Anatta

[flirting-with-psychology]

101 curious questions. Let’s talk.

What’s your biggest insecurity?

Being awkward

What’s your biggest physical insecurity?

My weight

Do you like the person you feel like you’re becoming?

Not as much as I had hoped to by this point in my life

What’s the one thing you feel like everyone knows how to do except you?

Make friends

Do you suffer from anxiety/depression/PTSD/other?

Anxiety probably

Where were you born?

Colorado

What do you think people say about you when you’re not around?

Idk, I'm not sure if they talk about me

Do you look up to anyone in your life?

Not actively

What makes you feel guilty? How do you resolve it?

Not being a good girlfriend or daughter. I don't really resolve it

What’s your boring hobby (that you still enjoy anyway)?

Social media

Do you like who you are around people?

Not really, I'm too shy and awkward except for a few people I feel comfortable with

Do you know what your plans for the future are? Do you like them?

Haha noooo

Tell a secret.

I'm not sure I really have a good one

What petty event are you still embarrassed about?

My dad took me to see the Rocky Horror Picture Show, and I guess in his day everyone danced to the Time Warp, so he dragged me up to the stage but no one else came up so it was just us and the performers

Do you get wanderlust? Where do you want to go?

Yeah, I'd like to go to Europe. Also stay in those cool really expensive hotels that only rich people can afford even a night in

Romantically, do you prefer men, women, both, any/don’t care, or are you aromantic?

Men

How many parents do you have?

2

Do they get along?

Yes, but they are divorced

Do you swear?

Fuck yeah

How many siblings do you have? Where are you in relation to them?

None

Have you ever had to hurt anyone emotionally?

I'm sure

Has anyone ever hurt you emotionally?

Yes

Do you believe in an afterlife?

No

What lies do you believe anyways?

It's fun to suspend disbelief for reality tv

Would you consider yourself poor, average, or wealthy?

Below average

What does your favorite tattoo mean to you? Or if you had to get a tattoo, what would it be? Why?

I don't have any. I thought about getting a heart on my arm because I wear my heart on my sleeve, or "Carpe Diem" because I like the quote

How many groups of friends do you have? How do they vary?

A couple main ones that I play DnD with

Do you work? If so, what do you do? Do you like your job?

I work for a TV company, it's pretty cool

Do you want to have a partner for life?

Yes

Who have you never forgiven? Why?

Jerks from school, never saw a reason to be friends with them and they never tried to be nicer to me

What are you looking forward to right now?

My trip to my boyfriend's parents' house for Christmans

If you could change one thing about your past, what would it be?

Wish I had figured out how to date in high school or college

What’s your favorite color in context?

What context? I think teal looks best on me

What unpopular opinion do you have?

Cancel culture is excessive and it's ok to like something without supporting everything about the person/people who made it

What’s the last good book you’ve read?

Mistborn (reread) and Shadow and Bone (1st time read)

What’s your favorite book?

Harry Potter

Favorite poem?

Not sure

Favorite movie?

Back to the Future

Favorite song?

All Too Well by Taylor Swift

Favorite food/type of food?

Chocolate or cheese

What kind of food activates your gag reflex?

Lots of foods, I'm pretty picky

What do you feel like you’re missing from your life right now?

Direction

If you could choose your own name, what would it be? Why?

I did choose my own name

What’s the earliest dream you can remember having?

Maybe a recurring nightmare about hooks coming out of my ceiling

What’s the most recent dream you can remember having?

I accidentally broke the record I got for my boyfriend for Hanukkah

What’s the most beautiful dream you can remember having?

The magical kingdom I became queen of

Do you have a car? What kind is it?

Subaru Forester

Are you afraid of death?

A little, but it's not really on my list of pressing things to worry about

Have you ever attempted to take your own life?

No

Describe your dream job?

Being a student forever

Are you religious/spiritual?

No

What do you do to calm yourself down?

Lately, play solitaire

What’s the most annoying thing that happens to you on a regular basis?

Going to my job

Do you live in an urban, suburban, or rural area?

Suburban-urban

What’s the one talent you wish you had?

Being able to talk to anyone

Do you do well or struggle in school?

Did well

Do you have a speech impediment?

Not really, but we joke that I have a "speak impediment" because I do screw up words sometimes and when I asked my friends if I had a speech impediment I accidentally said speak impediment

What’s the most terrifying thing that’s ever happened to you?

Not sure

What’s the happiest day of your life you’ve ever had?

Marching band state finals senior year of high school was a good one

Early, on time, or late?

Late

What quirks do you have?

Probably several

Do you wish you could start tomorrow with a clean slate? Why/why not?

Not really, I don't know what I would do with it

Do you ever get paranoid?

Yeah

Do you believe in human souls? Where do you think they come from?

Not really, but I am curious about where consciousness comes from

What’s one mistake that you’ll never make again?

Agreeing to run the music at a wedding

What fandoms do you belong to?

Taylor Swift and Choices are the ones I participate in a bit

What are your old URLs?

I think my old one was shineslikestars or something?

How often would you say you lie? Why?

Rarely, and only little white lies like "yeah you look good in that"

Do you like the kind of attention you get from other people?

Usually, but I don't get enough attention

Are you in a relationship? What’s your favorite thing about your partner?

Yes, he is a really good cuddler

Are you concerned about the environment?

Not as much as I should be

What stresses you out more than anything else?

The future

Credit, debit, EBT, or cash?

Debit

Who’s your favorite historical figure?

F. Scott Fitzgerald

What’s that movie you know is bad but enjoy anyways?

Not Another Teen Movie

Do you masturbate (be honest)?

Yeah

What’s your kink?

Not gonna answer that

What’s one thing you don’t feel comfortable doing around your friends?

Doing some of my more OCD hobbies like making lists

What’s your most prized possession?

My stuffed dog Bruno

Are you ever proud of yourself?

Yeah

Do you ever tear yourself down?

Yeah

Do you ever tell people how you’re feeling?

Yeah

Do you like when people guess how you’re feeling?

I usually just tell them. If I don't, it means I'm hiding it on purpose to not make the situation about me

Are you worried about someone close to you? Why?

Not particularly, but my parents a little since they are getting older with health problems

What kind of interview questions do you answer to yourself?

What does this mean?

If you could meet anyone, living, dead, or unborn, who would it be?

Taylor Swift

If you had a clone of yourself and the two of you didn’t have enough resources, would you get along?

I probably wouldn't get along with her even if we did have enough resources

What kinds of things confuse you?

Computer code

Do you feel too hot or too cold more often?

Too hot

If you had to live in any past time period, which would it be?

Medieval (if I was upper class) or 80s

What’s your sign? you feel like it matches your personality?

Sagittarius. It doesn't particularly match

Do you believe in astrology?

No

Do you like extreme activities, like white water rafting, surfing, roller coasters, etc.?

I like roller coasters but I don't put them in the same category as extreme activites, which I don't really like

Are you waiting for someone to save you?

Not really, but maybe a tiny bit

Can you remember the last time you made a deep personal connection with someone?

I sort of did with one of my coworkers at the work party last night

Do you like where you grew up?

Yeah

What’s your favorite word?

I don't have one

Would you consider yourself an interesting person?

Not especially

Which people in your life do you wish knew you better?

My friend group

Are you okay?

Pretty ok

What’s been going through your mind lately?

The future

[dear-derek]

2023-06-28

Derek,

I think one of the biggest issues I struggle with is a lack of self accountability.

If I eat a shit-ton of cake, it's because it was right in front of me, and I was feeling bad, and I was brought up with food as my coping mechanism. It was a human moment, I couldn't resist. If I lose a friend, it's because they didn't like me, they ended things. How could it be my fault, when I never actually make any active decisions in relationships? If my life is barelling downhill faster than the speed of light, it's because the universe had it out for me. I was doomed from the start; I have the burden of knowing my own fate.

It feels so much better to be powerless and oppressed, to be allowed to pity oneself and wallow in disgrace like side characters in novels, than to accept the fact that you just fucked up.

I'm a determinist. It's something I love saying because it makes me sound interesting, but I wish it weren't true. To me, it's not something that can or has to be found from experimentation, it's a priori truth: the same way we know 2 + 2 = 4 because that's just how it works. We are experience machines; we indulge in the sensory information around and and internalize them. Instincts were built this way, too, making every aspect of our being fundamentally external and dependant on our environment.

Our own rationalism is further proof of determinism: we do, think, or say something based on what we've come to know, our little thinking minds subconsciously determine the best course of action based on genetics and environmental conditioning Those conclusions appear to the conscious self as desires, maybe impulsiveness, maybe a proper decision. They're still ultimately influenced by what we percieve, not some greater truth we think we've discovered.

Still, I think being a determinist is stupid. Not only does it take all the fun out of life, but it also sets into motion a negative conclusion, because it's based on the principle of innate passivity. Determinism also doesn't take away from the fact that I still experience life. As predetermined as I am, I'm not unthinking. As a determinist, there's nothing I can do to change the fact that I believe what I believe. As a person, with thoughts and feelings that are all completely biased and meaningless but still there nonetheless, I don't want to believe that my life isn't my own.

Still, if something in the world led me to stumble on this piece of knowledge, I don't know if I can reject it. How can you trick yourself into believing in magic when you saw the slit in the magician's rings? How can you believe in santa claus, after noticing your uncle's ring on his finger? I want to suspend my disbelief, but whenever I get close to doing so it occurs to me that that's the fault of my environments, and not a conscious decision. I then cling tighter and tighter to determinism, finding some stubborn solace in the fact that I'm not free, but at least I'm self aware.

But I'm not. People are arrogant, and they're self involved and irrational, and flawed. Logic itself is illogical when processed through their minds, and there's plenty of case studies to prove it. We all think we know the answer; We all think that we're the one to have miraculously solved philosophy. But we're all kind of stupid.

Who am I to decide that this is how the universe is ran? Who am I to accept my flawed perceptions as reality? If determinism states that I am the product of my environment, if it says that my truths are influenced on my subjective experiences, it's impossible for me, or anyone, to objectively understand or concieve of determinism. By its own rules, determinism is an impossible concept.

Why not, then. Why not believe in some sort of agency. A little part of me will always say that this denial is just some kind of coping mechanism, but determinism has filled that role, too. Why not replace it with something that will actually let me live with myself? Reality should not be ignored for the sake of personal comfort, but reality is so malleable and subjective that believing in it inadvertently rejects a big part of it we just can't see.

If I have to be blind, I want to be happy, too. So I'm going to go against my nature and dilute myself in the fantasy that I'm in control. It's probably wrong, but I've got nothing to lose if it is.

talk to you later,