#the author that also wrote the telltale heart

[l0ganberry]

Wally carrying one brick with two hands is cute but......

(My brain is not working that I accidentally put one hand instead of two hands. Wtf😭)

[jensungf]

𝐌𝐘 𝐔𝐍𝐈𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐄 🌌 𝐡.𝐫𝐣

summary: he was your best friend. you should’ve been happy when he went to go ask that girl whether or not she was his soulmate. so why was the universe pulling at your heartstrings now?

pairing: reader x best friend!huang renjun genre: fluff + soulmate!au word count: 1.6k warnings: none

6:23pm. you rolled your eyes as you read the time. where the hell was he?

your focus drifts to the onyx swirls dotted on your wrist, and you subconsciously trace all the scribbles making up your tattoo. you had been impatiently tapping your foot for what felt like forever, but in actuality, was about ten minutes. maybe i should just leave, you thought ruefully as the digit on your lit-up phone screen changed once again.

you had been through this too many times for you to simply count with your fingers. it was almost like clockwork at this point. despite this only beginning months ago, you knew the cycle. renjun would encounter someone, and would feel compelled to chase them down and ask if they were possibly his soulmate. unfortunately, it always ended in rejection.

you were always the one to comfort him when he returned with the same answer like always— that they had found their soulmate or they didn’t feel any connection at all. despite your annoyance of having to be inconvenienced at random hours of the day and having your quality time with him interrupted, you knew deep down it hurt you just as much as it hurt him.

yet you never once considered the reality that perhaps he would actually find his soulmate one day, and how that mere possibility would change your entire life.

if renjun was seriously going to confront that girl with a simple question of whether or not she was his soulmate, what was taking them so long? surely he would’ve texted you by now if he was successful, knowing you were still waiting for him. or at least let you know he was on his way back.

you winced at the thought that he might be too busy engaging in other endeavors, ones that involved less talking and more touching. you shook your head in an attempt to rid yourself of those thoughts, burying the odd feelings that made your stomach twist and turn. no, that wasn’t the renjun you knew. he wouldn’t be as daring as that despite his growing impatience to find his soulmate. besides, you wanted him to find his soulmate. there was no reason for your heart to twinge at the chance that maybe this time was the right time. you were his best friend. you were supposed to be happy for him, and hope for the best.

you hastily unlocked your phone, typing out a very annoyed albeit passive aggressive text to your heck of a best friend who decided to abandon you in the middle of your weekly dinner date to chase down a girl. you should’ve just left him moments ago, yet your feet stay planted in your spot outside the moomin plushie store.

“stupid renjun,” you muttered under your breath as you realized that the sky was beginning to settle into a hazy cloud of purple and pink. dusk was always your favorite time of day, yet you couldn’t help but feel a bit embittered that renjun wasn’t here with you to enjoy the view with. just when you were about to click send, a shadow casts over your figure and you lift your head.

“hey,” renjun says simply. his hands are shoved deep into his cream-colored denim jacket and he gazes at the sky instead of at you, causing you to stare quizzically at him.

“so....” you cock your head at his silence and wait for him to answer the obvious question. however, he makes no move to look you in the eyes. you hesitate, unsure what to do at your best friend’s abnormal silence.

usually he would be telling you that it wasn’t the right person and he had made a fool out of himself again or something along those lines, but this time, he remained silent. his eyes still avoid yours and you feel panic bubbling up in your chest. why was he acting like this? had something gone wrong?

“can i... try something?” he breaks the silence, asking quietly, almost as if he would break glass if he spoke any louder. he leans in slowly, and you freeze, your breath hitching. your mind screams for you to move away, to question what he was doing and whether he was in his right mind. yet your heart palpitates erratically and you make no move to turn away. his dark brown eyes gaze into yours, and you feel your head spinning.

despite your daze, you somehow feel your head nod ever so slightly, almost out of pure instinct with no control of your own body.

albeit with great reluctance, renjun takes this opportunity daringly. he closes the gap separating you both and gently presses his lips against yours. you melt into his warmth, closing your eyes as your hands subconsciously reach up to pull him in closer by gripping his jacket. his hands raise up to gently cradle your head and his lips feel like velvet, pliant against your own. the kiss is delicate yet firm, all hesitance dissipating as the seconds pass. you both pull away for air, but it felt as if you had just taken a deep breath of air for the very first time in your life.

people had told you about how they felt when they found the one, and you had never understood what they meant about how one person could make them feel just right until that very moment. how complete you had felt. your heart tugs almost as if you had finally crossed the thin line separating you from friends and lovers, something you never knew your heart had been aching for until now. you had always had renjun in your life, but you never knew how much he made you feel whole until this very moment. like he was the last missing puzzle piece that had finally found its place in your life, and nothing more could rival the feeling of this very moment.

he rests his forehead against yours and smiles meekly. your head was still reeling, and renjun moved his hand to gently cup your cheek. your mouth opens ajar, as you wrack your mind for the right words to say. “i… what? injunnie—”

he cuts you off by pressing another soft kiss to your lips. your eyes widen at his impulsive action, taken aback by how uncharacteristic that was. “i know you have a lot of questions, but i couldn’t resist,” he admits as pink dusts his cheek.

he entwines his hand with yours, fitting like two puzzle pieces as he leads you to the park bench. he looks up at the hazy sky once again with admiration before explaining.

“i never understood why it was so difficult to find my soulmate, when my tattoo was one of the more common ones,” he confesses as he glanced down to his moon tattoo. although it was indeed not as uncommon as yours, you had always admired the beauty it held, how beautifully and different it was drawn compared to the generic crescent symbols you had seen before.

it was as if renjun had drawn it with his own hand, with every tiny detail matching precisely with his art, his masterpieces. you look at yours, your wrist adorned with tiny scribbles of planets, stars, and even the sun scattered around all in one area.

suddenly it dawns on you. the space separating the sun and planets and stars is no longer empty, instead replaced with a replica of a moon. 

renjun’s moon.

“ever since we reunited with each other, i’ve been feeling more and more desperate to find them because i couldn’t help but feel something towards you, and i couldn’t live knowing you weren’t mine. at least— not until now.”

renjun is absolutely glowing when you look up at him.

“i guess you’re my universe, y/n,” he scoffs with a smile. his eyes meet yours, but despite the firmness in his voice, his telltale signs of embarrassment say otherwise.

and you believe him, because when he smiles at you, it’s as if you were the one who put the sun and moon and stars in the sky, as if you were the center of his galaxy. as if you were his universe.

“i never realized how much i needed you, until i saw that girl. she told me that she was the sun to someone else’s galaxy, and that’s when i realized that i had been trying to push away the pull towards someone who was always beside me for too long. somehow who should’ve been with me all along.”

you both locked eyes before bursting into laughter at his cringeworthy yet heartwarming confession. “when did you become such a cheeseball?” you snort. he locks you in a loving chokehold and your heart nearly skips a beat.

“we both wasted our time, didn’t we?” you remark with a carefree smile. all the worries, the gut feeling that made your head spin, the questions of why you couldn’t feel happy when it came to not having him, disappears within a simple kiss. the puzzle was done. the masterpiece was completed, but what was funny was the mere fact that you had no idea anything was even missing in the first place. you looked down at his wrist, now full with doodles of your galaxy. it glowed just like yours.

“we can make up for lost time.”

you nod and bask in his presence, gazing up at the stars scattered across and the luminescent moon peeking out against the darkness of twilight sky.

soulmates were an odd thing— to simply leave it up to a mere tattoo to connect you both when you had been connected since the very beginning. but you couldn’t have asked for anything more, when fate had already decided that you were his universe, and he was your moon.

you completed each other.

author’s note: i wrote this for @yongiefilms to thank her for being such a good friend and also bc i needed an excuse to post smth while i work on my main wip! i seem to have a curse where i cant write blurbs cus they end up turning into drabbles. oops? also i spent wayy more time on the header than the actual story lol ANYWAYS yay to my first renjun fic <3

[lilbabycee]

an hour ago // steve rogers 🥀

↳ summary: steve makes some plans for you that you don’t know about.

↳ relationship: soft dark!steve rogers x reader

↳ word count: 2.4k

↳ warnings: mentions of blood (nothing too graphic), gaslighting, some angst, and some hurt without the comfort

↳ author’s note: hey! i wrote this for the weekly challenge by @captain-a-rogerss​ @donutloverxo​ @optimistic-dinosaur-nacho​ based on the moodboard below - enjoy! ❤️

It was a pretty dress - a lace bodice held up by thin straps, flaring out at the waist into clouds of white tulle that swish around your body like waves and gently brush the smooth skin of your thighs a few inches above your knees. He liked the way that your face brightened when you’d pulled those shoes that you’d had your eye on earlier that week out of the black box that he gave you. You liked it, too - saw your beaming face in a mirror and couldn’t believe that you were the same person staring back at yourself. The shine of your skin was all because of the man standing behind you, arms coiled around your middle and chin resting on your shoulder, the thick hair of a dark blonde beard tickling the sensitive skin of the bare column of your neck. Even though you squirmed in his arms as if you wanted him to let you go, you didn’t - not by any stretch of the imagination. He met your gaze in the mirror and as much as your subconscious tried to fight it, a wide grin split your face in half. 

He likes it when you smile like that - when you aren’t scared of laughing too loud or loving too hard, completely unabashed in your actions because you aren’t worried about what other people think. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from your face when you’d slipped into those heels as if they’d always belonged on your feet and walked around with the poise of a woman who was born to wear clothes like these. He’d escorted you down the stairs with your hand in the crook of his elbow and a proud smile on his face that made the bees in your stomach come alive, basking in the attention and slamming against the sides of your body excitedly. You looked but more importantly felt like a princess.

That was at the beginning of the night. 

Now, you’re running, the gusts of wind cracking whips against your wet cheeks and stirring the torn skirt of your dress every which way as the city that never sleeps stares at you from below. The winking lights of the buildings full of people who don’t want to go home glare at you almost mockingly as your bare feet slap against the cold tile. The way that you wind through the foggy paths of confusion distorting the rational thought in your brain is not dissimilar to the way you dodge and weave through the clusters of people in your way, frantic apologies spilling from your lips out of courtesy when you step on a toe or spill a drink. 

Spill a drink - you look down only to be reminded of the ruby-red Cabernet Sauvignon that tarnishes the once-beautiful dress on your body, a color that reminds you so acutely of your own blood that you have to look away, feeling the acidic tang of bile rise in your throat. You can almost smell the pungent odor of copper, certain that you must be imagining it until your eyes zero in your hands - more importantly, the rivulets of red that stream down the fingers of your right hand that is clutching your dress. 

You’d dropped your glass when you’d found out what he’d planned - shattered it, really, but that distinction wasn’t important when you first broke it, nor is it important now. The tiny shards of glass stuck in your skin are no longer the primary source of your pain; rather, that comes from the way that your heart fell out of your body and exploded right there on the floor between the both of you. You’d left the fragmented pieces where you were standing right before you ran away, not even attempting to salvage any of the broken parts before you took off. That coupled with the weight of the heavy ring on your left hand, your chest feels as if it’s caving in on itself. 

You’re getting looks now, low whispers ripple through the well-dressed people who’ve all come here just for you. They try to point discreetly, raised eyebrows and bewildered glares following you as you continue to sprint away from the flocks of party-goers. Running away won’t solve anything, but when he put that ring on your finger you knew you weren’t ready - far from it. So yes, you’re delaying the inevitable but that’ll have to be good enough for now because you’re not at all ready to face your boyfriend.

And then the perfect opportunity arises. You round a corner so quickly that you almost sprain an ankle, only to stop short when you see what’s in front of you. Not only is the area around it completely free of people, but the pool is also fully empty. With a cursory glance over each shoulder, you decide that it’s your best option - stay in there for as long as possible because if someone merely looks out in this direction, they’ll assume that no one is here. You know he’ll find you eventually but you’re panicking, your anxiety bubbling up over the low flame of the anger that festers deep within your body.

So you dive in as gracefully as you can considering your attire but in your haste, it’s only when your hands break the surface of the water that you remember that they are still covered in blood. The thought is left up in the air as soon as your head is underwater. Opening your eyes as best as you can in the chlorinated abyss, you see a darker corner of the pool right across from you where the light doesn’t reach and push yourself towards it, hoping that it’ll conceal you for the time being.

Once you get there, you risk coming back up to take a breath, pushing the water out of your eyes only to scream when your vision is less blurry. A shadowy figure is crouched right in front of you, weight on his toes and elbows resting on his knees with his hands clasped together. Droplets of water roll down your skin and your dress hangs heavy on your body: you’re definitely soaking wet but underneath Steve’s hot gaze, it might as well have been the contrary - the fire burning through his eyes would be more than enough to dry you off.

Your eyes roam his form slowly as you swallow down gulps of air, noticing how not a single strand of his long, slicked-back hair is out of place. His black three-piece suit might as well have been taken straight off of the rack, black tie straight and jacket unwrinkled, and his beard looks as soft as it was when you ran your fingers through it an hour ago. 

The sole indication of his ire is the clench of his jaw, that telltale muscle ticking rhythmically like the hands of the clock on the timer of his patience. 

The left side of his face is shrouded in shadows, but it does nothing to hide the curve of his full lips, a smile that feeds the anger in the pit of your stomach. If you had been asked three days ago - hell, an hour ago - how that smile made you feel, you’d have said that it was the smile of the man who hung the stars in your sky, the man who would steal the moon for you if you asked. 

But that was then. And this is now.

“Found you, sweetheart,” he rumbles, his words fueling his smirk and causing it to spread into a full-blown grin. You’re paralyzed in shock, thinking that you would’ve had more time to mull over your predicament. This doesn’t hinder him; he repositions himself to kneel, giving him more leverage to grasp you underneath the arms and pull you out of the water. You don’t even have it in you to object as he hauls you away from the pool, your fighting spirit exhausted and cold in the crisp night air. You pull your arms into your chest to try and stave off the biting wind as Steve carries you bridal style - you want to laugh at the irony - towards the nearest sofa.

Setting you on his lap - wet dress, be damned - his blue eyes examine your face which you just know is a mess. The makeup that you had so flawlessly applied is more than likely to be streaming down your face, but you don’t care because you’re staring right back at the man you thought you knew with a gaze emptier than the hole in your heart.

“Lemme see your hand, baby,” he murmurs and you acquiesce, handing it to him while your gaze focuses in on the single red rose tucked in the pocket of his jacket. It’s beautiful, to put it simply. It’s so soft, drops of water pooling in between the maze of its petals and caressing it as it trails down the thornless stem. You’d know - you were holding that rose approximately thirty minutes ago as your bridal bouquet.

Steve curses quietly as he turns your hand back and forth in his, the light catching against the shards of glass embedded in your fingers and your palm. His eyes snap to yours and you can feel the reprimand on his tongue before he even opens his mouth, but you have no voice left to stop him so you shake your head instead. Thankfully, he does as he’s told and keeps it to himself. His body is emitting heat in rolling waves and you can feel it seep into your skin, a brief shudder running through you as it does. You instinctively lean into it, momentarily forgetting about his deception. His arm drapes over your body, and he can feel his heart swell at how much you still need him.

The silence stretches between you two for a few minutes longer, your eyes stinging, the harbinger for your tears, until Steve clears his throat quietly. 

“You ran away from me,” he states and without even looking at him, you know that he’s staring at you because the weight of his gaze is almost as crippling as the ring that weighs down your whole body. 

“I did,” you reply simply, running your tongue over your lips. 

“I thought you loved me,” he says softly which makes you so desperately want to roll your eyes. 

“I do,” you speak slowly, unsure whether or not you even believe the words coming out of your own mouth. You know that it’s easier this way, telling him what he needs to hear to placate him. But he’s still perplexed - you can tell because his eyes are the same teal as the swimming pool. 

“No,” he protests, hand coming to grip your waist in a way that sends brief shockwaves of pain across your body. You draw in a gasp between clenched teeth, and your own hands fly up to claw at his arms. “If you loved me, then you’d have wanted to marry me-”

“I do want to marry you,” you try to declare firmly, but you find it increasingly difficult when he keeps holding you tighter and tighter; you know he doesn’t mean to. It doesn’t hurt anymore - the aching in your chest overpowers any other sensation - but it’s more uncomfortable than anything. He’s pulled you so far into his chest that if you were an inch closer, you’d only become another part of his body. You’re still digging your nails into his forearm. “Just not like this.”

“Why not?” he pipes up, his tone deep though whiny. This makes you laugh (inside your head) - he’s almost a breath away from stomping his foot like a petulant child. Instead, his hands press harder into your sides, pushing against your head so that it rests right over his beating heart. His beard brushes against your forehead and where that sensation was pleasurable earlier, in this moment you want to run as far away as possible.

“Because we weren’t even engaged before tonight-”

“But why does that matter? We’ve talked about it - you knew this was going to happen someday-”

“That’s not an excuse, Steve,” you exclaim indignantly. Even though you’re looking right at him, you do not recognize the man holding you so close to him in the slightest. You’ve never heard of anybody’s boyfriend planning them a surprise wedding without even proposing beforehand, but you were under the impression that if you were to hear a story as outrageous as that, it wouldn’t be your life.

It’s hard to believe how wrong you were. 

He looks as if he’s about to speak before he shuts his mouth, chewing thoughtfully on the inside of his cheek before nodding slowly. “Okay, honey, okay. You’re right. Not tonight. You’re all worked up and I get it - you need time.”

Now this is the Steve you know. The heaviness that lies in the way he looks at you eases up considerably and you’re relieved that he’s finally making sense. You move to pull the ring off of your finger before he quickly places a hand over yours. Lifting your head in confusion, he looks at you with alarm etched into every feature on his face. 

“Baby,” he laughs, breathless and surprised. “Just because we’re not getting married tonight doesn’t mean that it won’t happen at all. I’ll give you the rest of the night to clear your head but tomorrow is another day. All of these people are in town until the end of the week and I’d hate to have invited them here for no reason. We’ve got plenty of time for you to think about it.”

You open your mouth to reply but he silences you with a kiss, short but passionate. His lips move against yours with pressure and urgency never before seen from the Steve who you love. You’re not sure who this man is. When he pulls away, he presses a kiss on your forehead and pulls your face into his chest so that any words that you try to speak are inaudible. 

“Shhh, doll,” he hushes you, massaging circles into your spine, and your skin crawls when you hear the glee in the tone of his voice. “We’ll get you a new dress and try again tomorrow.”

[lightningbugqueen]

Hey, to all my creators, especially writers, here’s a little uplifting story I wrote. Enjoy. 

Lillian fiddled with her hands nervously as she put one foot in front of the other, forcing herself into the lobby. The large, clean building was filled to the brim with young adults and the occasional older person. The room echoed with shrieks of excitement, friends calling out for one another, and people selling their wares. It was like an enormous medieval market, with blacksmiths, cobblers, and jousting knights except for one thing: this place was for the nerds.

Lillian was not one to lie to herself; she was a major nerd. From a young age, comic books and fantasy epics had been her thing, and it never went away with age. Now, at 22 years old, Lillian Bailey was a published fantasy novelist who wore a shirt with the Gallifreyan word for Kryptonite on it and was over the moon to be invited to a comic con. She had been to tons of these conventions and hadn’t felt this nervous since her very first one. However, she supposed, this was her first one in a way. It was her first one coming as an author, rather than a reader.

So, this enormous room chock full of comic book and movie crazed people should have been home. Unfortunately, today was a very special day.

She tugged on her lucky gray sweater and looked around the room again. Seeing no one she knew, and feeling the panic rise up inside of her, Lillian pulled her phone out of her brown messenger bag and called her publisher, Maeve Collins.

“Yeah?” Maeve said on the first ring, her trademark gum snapping in her jaws over the phone.

“I have no clue where I’m supposed to be right now,” Lillian said, her voice speeding up like it always did when she was nervous, “And there are like, five bajillion people here right now when I’d really rather it be five. Or none, now that I think about it.”

“Right uh, where are you?” Maeve asked, and Lillian could hear keyboards clacking on the publisher’s side.

“ I just walked in the entrance, I’m standing inside the door.”

“Ok, look to your… left,” Lillian hummed her agreement, “Now, do you see a door with a yellow sign on it?”

“Yeah,” Lillian caught sight of a flash of yellow and headed that way.

“Ok, that sign should say ‘author entrance.’ Go in there, there’ll some like, techies, or whatever to get to ready for the panel. Just, hang out back there if you want to, but I’m pretty sure you can look around too. Who knows, you might find some fans.”

Lillian scoffed at this. She had told Maeve countless times since she was invited to the con that there wouldn’t be any actual fans of hers here.

She hung up and found the door, where she flashed her ID at the guard who let her slip past him.

Inside was what appeared to be some sort of green room. She didn’t recognize any of the dozen people there, which meant this must be the place for the lesser-known authors. As Maeve had said, some teenagers in mostly black clothing ran up to her and handed her a packet about where she was supposed to be and when. They explained that while she was required to show up in an hour to get ready for the panel, until then she could go anywhere in the building her badge gave her access to. She was not allowed to sign anything until after the panel, although she could take selfies. As if anyone would want to do either of those with her.

Lillian grabbed a coffee to settle her nerves (not the smartest choice) and a muffin. She ate her food and drank her coffee, which only gave her the jitters, before giving in to the urge to move around. Despite her fear of the hordes of fangirls outside, the nervous silence inside the green room and the knowledge that at least she had once been one of the fans urged her back out the door.

People were everywhere. The place was crawling with teenagers especially, and Lillian couldn’t remember when this had felt like fun to her. Sure, she still liked the same stuff, but it was all so overwhelming. She couldn’t see over anyone’s headed, there were stands and crowds everywhere, and it was all so much more hectic than she remembered.

Eventually, she settled on heading over to a stand holding all of the newest comic books, hoping to get the latest Harly Quinn she missed.

Suddenly, Lillian heard the telltale high pitched screeches and “OMG!”s that came with a famous person showing their face. She spun around towards the ruckus, hear braid accidentally slapping her face, and saw three girls pointing right behind her. She searched over her shoulder, but couldn’t see anything but confused faces just like hers. As she continued looking for the supposed celebrity, Lillian felt a tap on her shoulder. It was one of the previously screaming girls, all of whom had come up and crowded behind her.

“Hi, uh, are you Lillian Bailey?” one of the girls asked.

“Um, yeah. How do you know me?” Lillian was very confused, especially considering these girls had been freaking out over a still unidentified celebrity only moments before.

“You wrote ‘Out of the Ashes,’ right?”

“You’ve read my book?” Could these girls be excited over… her?

“OMG, it was you! Didn’t I tell you, Kristy? Yes, I’ve read your book, it’s just my favorite book ever! It’s got adventure, magic, war, and finally some good representation of an LGBTQ character!”

“Holy cow!” Lillian exclaimed. She was overwhelmed, but this time in a good way, “I’m so happy you liked it! That was exactly the way I wanted people to perceive it! Also, you really think it was good? I tried not to make Alex too stereotypical, but also make it accurate.”

“Are you kidding me?” the same girl asked, “It was amazing! I also can’t believe you were so young when you wrote it! Oh, right, uh, manners. I’m Courtney, this is Kristy,” she gestured to the girl on her left, “and that’s Lyla,” she pointed to the girl on the other side of Kristy, “and we’re all super huge fans of yours. We started this book club in our school reading your book, and one of the main reasons we came today is because we heard you were speaking. Wait, is that weird? It feels a little weird to tell you that.” Courtney blushed when she finished, but Lillian was so flattered she barely noticed. And, if there was one thing she knew how to do, it was to fangirl.

“Thank you so much, that means so much to me!” she said, “And no, it’s not weird. I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I’ve been in your shoes countless times. Meeting someone who wrote a book that important to you, wow, by the way, is always crazy. It always feels like you really know the author already, because we pour our hearts and souls into our books. Listen, I can’t sign anything right now, but I would love to talk a selfie with you. Maybe I could hold up the book in the picture? I’ve got a copy here.” she pulled her copy, the second one ever made (the first didn’t leave her house) out of her messenger bag.

The girls squealed and nodded their heads. Courtney pulled out her phone and they all crowded around Lillian. Courtney took what must have been a hundred photos before they all thanked her profusely and rushed off, leaving Lillian in their dust.

She found an empty corner of the room and slumped against the wall, putting a hand to her forehead.

People, actual people, liked her writing. Liked it as much as she had liked Harry Potter or the Lord of the Rings. How in the world was that possible? Three years ago she had been Courtney, rushing around with her friends, looking for their favorite writers, but now she was the writer. This had always been her goal, not even to be known, just for people to find something in her writing.

Lillian had always acted like she believed in herself, convinced others that she did, but she never quite thought she would get right here, right now. And she did it. She finally, finally did it. Lillian Bailey, once a teenage girl who loved Doctor Who and The Hobbit, was a published author with people who like her writing. Loved it, actually.

If there was anything more incredible than getting right where she was today, shaking with caffeine and nerves, face flushed and brow sweating, heart beating like the drums of the monsters in her story, Lillian had no clue what it was.

@deano-cas @gender-snatched @queven @themoosegoes-deanicandothis

[svankmajerbaby]

i was tagged by @punkenglishnerd - thank you very much, and i’m sorry for being so late!!!

🎃 Pumpkin: Favourite season? spring, because it’s my birthday... and usually the first days of spring are rainy, but then it’s sunny and not very hot yet, so i can dress in layers but i can still bask in the sunshine. i really like autumn too, because while at first it’s too hot to do anything, when it starts to cool down it’s a delight

👻 Ghost: Do you get scared easily? it really depends... for some reason gore doesn’t faze me much, and i’ve become kind of desensitized to a lot of typical horror stuff. but i’m terrified of r*pe scenes, they leave me very nervous and in general a lot of realistic horror, like abuse, torture and the like, gets me very anxious and stressed... i don’t know if i’d call that fear exactly, but if it does, then yeah, i’m a scaredy cat :^/

🎃 Candy Corn: What’s your favourite kind of candy? dark chocolate!! i love really bitter chocolate, or chocolate covered peanuts -that’s what i used to ask for when i went out with my family to the cinema

👻 Vampire: What is your favourite supernatural creature? any sort of manmade creature!!! i really like automata, frankenstein monsters, golems, creepy dolls... but i also love the concept and the symbolism of ghosts and haunted houses......

🎃 Witch: If you could have any superpower, what would it be? i really don’t know... there’s so much i’d like to do... i’d love to be able to speak any language, but i think it’s not really a superpower? since this is halloween themed, i’d have to say telekinesis (matilda was one of my favorite childhood books) and being able to shrink. i’d love to be small as a mouse and wander around the house

👻 Trick or treat: What was your favourite Halloween costume? i dressed as a witch several times!! we don’t celebrate halloween here in argentina, but still there were some birthdays or club parties which were kind of a replacement halloween celebration?? once i went as candy-skull-frida kahlo, and i still think that was my most complex costume... but i really loved dressing up as a witch when i was little, with my green and black striped socks and my witch hat and my long sleeved black top >:^)

🎃 Black cat: Are you superstitious? nah

👻 Ouija Board: If you could change your name, what would you change it to? i used to hate my name casandra, because everyone was called camila or martina or daniela or more “normal” names, and i thought mine was weird... but i still wanted to stand out, so i pretended my second name was miranda, for some reason?? and for some time i was convinced i should change my name to miranda. but after a few years ive grown to like my name, even if i think it does sound kinda pretentious (my parents gave it to me, so its not my fault!!). i’ve also grown to like the other name they would have given me, bruna, which at first i hated but now i kinda love?? maybe i’d change it to that. but i like my name, currently

🎃 Graveyard: Do you know any good scary stories? hmmm the only one that’s like, a scary story, is one i was obsessed with, that was in a book at my school library -i think it’s pretty well known -about the girl with the green ribbon tied around her neck, who has a boyfriend that asks her why she wears it, and she doesn’t say, until she’s in her deathbed and she tells him he can take her ribbon off and he does and the girl’s head falls off. that story lived in my head 24/7, along with actual short stories like the black cat, the telltale heart, the oval portrait, the masque of the red death... i considered metamorphosis by franz kafka a horror story, too, so i guess i’ll add it here. oh, i know!!!!!! one that i think a lot of people don’t know about. the feather pillow, by horacio quiroga. a young couple move to the countryside, and while the husband is away at work, the woman stay at home all the time. the woman falls ill, and the doctor tells her to stay in bed and rest. she gets worse and worse, and withers away. her husband worries but doesn’t know what is going on. the woman finally dies, and when the maid is about to clean the sheets, she notices that the pillow is extremely heavy. and then -she and the husband and the doctor realize -there was a tick, a blood-sucking bug inside the pillow, a typical goose tick that, when given time, can drain a whole person of all their blood it’s better the way the author wrote it, i think i’m selling it short

👻 Skeleton: Have you ever broken a bone? no, i never did anything that could lead to that {:^) when i was younger i climbed trees and played in parks and stuff, but i never played any sports that could make me break a bone... i did break my knee or something?? i can’t remember, but my knee was sort of displaced during a school camping trip in which i got out of the shower and slipped badly

🎃 Werewolf: What is your favourite urban legend? oooooo there’s a bunch from the local high-class cemetery, the Recoleta Cemetery (though i can’t remember any of them very well), where there’s a lot of great urban legends, most of them from the nineteenth or early twentieth century, like one of two star crossed lovers -a young woman who fell for a french soldier visiting argentina -and when he died in the battlefield, she died as well and haunts her grave ever since... or, well, the famous ones like whatever happened to evita’s corpse, which is kind of squicky but still sort of morbidly fascinating??

👻 Horror flick: Do you like scary movies? Boy Do I. i love frankenstein (1931), crimson peak (2015), corpse bride (2005), blood tea and red string (2006), cat people (1942), abominable dr phibes (1970), gaslight (1944), institute benjamenta (1995), little otik (2000), little shop of horrors (1986), picnic at hanging rock (1975), carrie (2013), a girl walks home alone at night (2014), the magic toyshop (1987), faust (1926), mildred pierce (1945), the devil’s backbone (2001), sleepy hollow (1999), the raven (1963), the fly (1958), cronos (1993), the man who laughs (1928), the babadook (2014), whatever happened to baby jane (1962), the cabinet of dr caligari (1920), aaaaand.... the night of the hunter (1955)

🎃 Haunted house: Would you prefer to live in the city or the country? city all the way. i need cinemas, and libraries, and theaters!!!!

👻 Zombie: Do you think that you could survive a zombie apocalypse? oh, no... i’d probably try to kill myself so i can keep myself from being bitten and hurting other people

🎃 Cauldron: What kind of potion would you make if you had the opportunity? some sort of health potion? i wish people didn’t die of perfectly preventable or curable diseases...

👻 Full moon: Do you prefer nighttime or daytime? daytime, particularly the afternoon

🎃 Corn maze:  What is your favourite autumn activity? eating, basically; last autumn i spent it baking, i think. i can’t remember, by this point... we don’t have any particular “autumn traditions”, i think...

👻 Broomstick: What exciting places have you travelled to? i really enjoyed istanbul, with all the cats and the beautiful architecture, i’d like to go back ;_; but i also loved prague a lot, we went in winter and it was all snowy and lit at night and it was such a beautiful place... portugal was a surprise, i liked it a lot more than i expected!!! i miss edinburgh a lot, too, even if it’s a bit too stuffy for me, i still liked it.... and berlin, i think i was in berlin for too short a time. i loved the cinema museum so much, and everyone was so nice, and the city has so much fascinating history... and i also miss athens -again, i was surprised, and i spent very little time there, but everything, the ruins, the modern city, the people, everything was gorgeous and wonderful... and dublin!!!!! dublin was amazing!! i’ve travelled a lot. i want to keep travelling. this year my family and i were supposed to go to russia, and i’m still kinda eager to go.

thank you so much for tagging me!!!!!! and sorry again for taking so long... i’m tagging (only if you want to do it!) @saumenschliesel, @flowerb-0y, @jacobaco, @majorabbey, @thatqueerweirdo, @sbongebob, @buffoello, and whoever else would like to do it!! i really enjoyed answering these asks :^)

[blueiscoool]

The Vatican Issues a Street Art Stamp and Gets Sued

One night in early 2019, Rome street artist Alessia Babrow glued a stylized image of Christ she had made onto a bridge near the Vatican. A year later, she was shocked to learn that the Vatican had apparently used a reproduction of her image, which featured her hallmark heart emblazoned across Christ’s chest, as its 2020 Easter postage stamp.

Babrow sued the Vatican City State’s telecommunications office in a Rome court last month, alleging it was wrongfully profiting off her creativity and was violating the original intent of her artwork. The lawsuit, which is seeking nearly 130,000 euros in damages, said the Vatican never responded officially to Babrow’s attempts to negotiate a settlement after she discovered it had used her image without her consent and then allegedly sold it.

“I couldn’t believe it. I honestly thought it was a joke,” Babrow told The Associated Press in an interview, steps from St. Peter’s Square. “The real shock was that you don’t expect certain things from certain organizations.”  The Vatican is home to some of the greatest artworks ever made, and it vigorously protects its right to reproduce them by enforcing its copyright over everything from the Sistine Chapel to Michelangelo’s Pieta. But now the tables have turned, and the Vatican stands accused of violating the intellectual property rights of a street artist.

Copyright lawyers familiar with the case say it is an important benchmark for Italy and evidence of the increasing appreciation for Banksy-style street art and the belief that even anonymous “guerrilla art” deserves protection against unauthorized corporate merchandising. Or, in this case, church merchandising.

Massimo Sterpi, whose Rome firm has represented Banksy’s Pest Control agency in copyright cases, said intellectual property law in much of Europe and the U.S. protects artists’ rights even if the artwork was created on public or private property illegally.

“The law considers it irrelevant if the work is made on paper, canvas or a wall or a bridge,” Sterpi said. People who then commercialize the work without making good-faith efforts to find the artist and negotiate use of the image “do so at their own risk and peril,” he said.

The Vatican stamp office declined to comment on the lawsuit, said the stamp office chief, Massimo Olivieri. The Vatican press office also declined requests for comment.

The artwork in question is a 35-centimeter-high printed picture of Christ styled on the famous work by the 19th-century German painter Heinrich Hoffmann. On Christ’s torso is Babrow’s telltale tag: An image of a human heart with the words “JUST USE IT” written graffiti-style across.

The work is part of Babrow’s “Just Use It” project, which began in 2013 and has included similar hearts on Buddhas, the Hindu deity Ganesha and the Virgin Mary that can be found on walls, stairwells and bridges around Rome, as well as on a huge version gracing a palazzo scaffolding.

The concept of the project, Babrow says, is to “promote the intelligence and the brain of the heart” in a holistic, non-judgmental way. Lawyer Mauro Lanfranconi argued in the lawsuit that by appropriating the image to promote the Catholic Church, the Vatican “irrevocably distorted” Babrow’s artistic intent and message that there are no universal truths.

Babrow says she created the Christ image on Feb. 19, 2019, and glued it soon thereafter onto a travertine marble wall just off the main bridge that leads to the Vatican, one of a dozen or so pieces of poster art she put up that night around central Rome. The work bears her scripted initials inside the heart.

She found out it had been used as the Vatican stamp when a well-known Rome street art photographer saw it and immediately recognized it as Babrow’s handiwork.

Olivieri, the Vatican’s numismatic chief, has told an Italian journalist that he took a photo of the Christ when he saw it while riding his moped one day and decided to use the image for the Easter stamp in an apparent attempt to appeal to a new generation of stamp enthusiasts.

In comments reported by the journalist in the online arts blog “Artslife.com,” Olivieri said he feared the Holy See higher-ups might resist using a hip, graffiti-style stamp for Easter. Normally the Vatican might select an Old Master to reproduce from the Vatican Museums.

“Instead, the acceptance was immediate and convinced,” Olivieri was quoted as saying.

The Vatican printed an initial 80,000 stamps of the Christ at 1.15 euros apiece, according to the lawsuit. The stamps and a commemorative folder were still on sale at the Vatican post office last week and were prominently featured at the cashier’s desk as a promotional item for sale.

Babrow’s lawyers sent a registered letter and an email to the philatelic and numismatic office identifying Babrow as the artist, the lawsuit says, but there was no written response to her request to negotiate terms of use, prompting her to sue.

“I thought they were acting in good faith, that it was true they were looking for me, like had been written in the papers,” she said. “Only it seems it wasn’t that way because they never wanted to meet with me.”

Babrow stressed that the lawsuit wasn’t an attack on the Catholic Church or Vatican, but rather an attempt to protect her rights and make sure her artwork wasn’t being used to finance things outside her control.

Copyright lawyers said the Vatican’s status as a sovereign state likely wouldn’t protect it from an Italian court’s jurisdiction, given the commercial activity occurred in Italy.

The case is somewhat surprising, given the Vatican is well-versed in intellectual property rights and has shown its eagerness to protect its own copyright over everything from the pope’s words to its vast art collections.

Years ago, the Vatican’s publishing house demanded royalties from journalists who wrote books reprinting Pope Benedict XVI’s homilies. The Vatican Museums has long required media covering news events in the museum to agree to turn over the copyright of their images, lest anyone try to reproduce a Raphael without the pope’s authorization.

Enrico Bonadio, professor of intellectual property law at the University of London’s City Law School, said street artists can use those same protections for their own creations.

“The law does not discriminate,” Bonadio said in a phone interview. “Copyright laws do not subject the protection of an artwork to the fact that it is in a gallery or a museum.”

By Nicole Winfield.

[cyborg-squid]

Fanservant: Berserker Edgar Allen Poe

While able to be summoned into the Caster class like many author Servants, the Grail found the Berserker class a better fit for famed horror writer Edgar Allen Poe, given both his many stories about madness and grief, and the lies spread about him after his death. 

Skill 1: Innocent Monster A. This skill is similar to that of both Hans and Salieri, sharing a similarity with Hans due to the fact that audience’s perceptions of the author were shaped by the stories he wrote. Reading the macabre tales of Poe gave rise to the idea that the author was a depressed, and in some cases, unhinged man who had suffered many tragedies in his life. While his life was filled with it’s share of hardships, he was hardly the miserable figure he is often made out to be. This image of him was also widely spread after his death, as one of his literary rivals got a hold of his estate and published slanderous rumors that he was a drunk and a druggie and a creep and insane and more. Poe did struggle with drink, and the causes of his death are widely debated, but he was hardly all of the things Griswold accused him of being. Nonetheless, these rumors persisted for a long time after his death and have influenced his manifestation as a Servant. The Raven is Poe’s most well known work, and for some reason due to this, this skill also grants him a pair of dark feathered wings.

These rumors around him also tie into his class skill of Madness Enhancement C, along with the precarious mental states featured in his works. It is not hard for a Master to get along with this Berserker, but he rarely speaks clearly and his abilities are complex, making it hard for a Master to make proper use of him. 

However, he does gain moments of lucidity when he makes use of his Deductive Reasoning B skill. While not an actual detective (though he deliberately got himself kicked out of West Point), he is regarded as the father of modern detective stories. While this skill is active, Berserker does not regard himself as Poe or even Berserker, instead referring to himself as ‘Dupin’, his detective character featuring in stories like ‘The Murders in the Rue Morgue’. A logical and rational attitude is adopted, albeit with an overblown manner of speaking similar to that of his normally altered personality, and conversation and planning with his Master is possible. Traps are able to be lain, or solved, and mysteries unraveled. The skill would be of a higher rank if he was summoned into the Caster class. 

Berserker possess two Noble Phantasms, which work together in a peculiar but devastating way. The first is The Telltale Heart, the still beating heart of the murdered landlord in the story which drove the protagonist to madness out of guilt and fear. Berserker buries the heart beneath the ground, and slowly over time, the radius of the Noble Phantasm expands, subtly twisting the world around it. The landscape begins to take on a sinister affect, inspiring a sense of fear within those inside. Scenes from his stories gradually creep in as well, and the area is made to be more dangerous and potentially lethal... leading to his second Noble Phantasm, The Imp of the Perverse. An anti-Psyche Noble Phantasm, the Imp of the Perverse affects his opponents minds, tempting them to act on their worst desires, to turn on their companions using the methods provided by the landscape of the Telltale Heart. While for sinful and wicked folk, like most typical Mages, it does not take much to get them to act their worst, but while affected by these Noble Phantasms, an out-of-character feeling of guilt and fear takes hold of them, as they begin to irrationally fear that their crimes will be exposed. Their hearts begin to pound louder and louder, representative of their growing feelings of guilt. Poe hears the beating of these telltale hearts and tracks down the guilt, receiving a boost to his stats when attacking them, intent on ripping out and exposing their sinful hearts. Virtuous heroes and Masters, able to resist the dark temptations of the Imp, stand a better chance at facing Berserker and searching for the Heart, though not without impediment, for Berserker will take their infallibility as indicative of deeper and darker sins, and will come after them with vigor. 

[twdteacakes]

TWDG Drabble - Take a Break

A/N - A close friend requested that I do 20 and 30 from TWDG Mix and Match Challenge (Created by @stop-breaking-my-heart-telltale). So here it is, for your viewing pleasure. This takes place after Minerva and Sophie go missing, but before Clementine arrives at the school. And just a quick FYI, Marlon is one of my favourite characters in Season 4, but this is the first time I’ve ever wrote him in a story, so I hope it turned out alright.

Marlon is sick but refuses to let it keep him in bed.

The papers on Marlon’s desk looked like complete and utter gibberish. He had been staring blankly at the school map and inventory list for the past hour. Beads of sweat pooled on his forehead, causing matted blonde locks to stick to his skin. He felt like he was being burned alive, while also being dunk in a tub of freezing cold ice. 

Marlon slumped back in his chair, a dull moan escaping his lips as he rubbed his sore temple and bloodshot eyes. He had been suffering from insomnia, and hadn’t gotten a wink of sleep. To add insult to injury, the boy’s head throbbed mercilessly, almost resembling a power drill being pushed deep into his skull.

Rosie whined and licked his free hand, which was hanging lazily within her reach. This action coaxed a shy smile out of hiding, and Marlon pushed aside the fatigue, in order to gently pet his loving, faithful companion on the head. 

“I’m alright, girl.” He whispered, ruffling her short, bristly fur and scratching behind her ear. “I just… I just need a minute, is all.”

An ear piercing noise ruptured through the air, leading Marlon’s splitting headache to intensify. He began to grind his teeth in frustration, and curled his fist into a tight ball. “Goddammit.” He grumbled, heaving himself off the comfy, leather chair, and rising unsteadily to his feet. Louis’ routine piano session couldn’t arrive at a worse time. 

Marlon exited the headmaster’s office, and Rosie followed close behind. However, the minute sound of the heavy door scraping against the wooden floor was almost too much for him to bear. At least his own footsteps were softened by the carpeted stairs as he descended, and ventured over to the music room.

Louis was inside, occupying his usual spot at the piano, and playing his latest, self proclaimed ‘masterpiece’. He watched his best friend for a moment, before calling out to him. “Lou.”

He was too transfixed to notice Marlon’s presence, so he tried again, with a little more volume. “Louis!”

Still no reaction from the amateur musician. 

Marlon grunted, his broken patience now scattered to the wind. “LOUIS!” He shouted at the top of his lungs.

Louis flinched and immediately retracted his hands from the ivory keys. “Whoa, hey there, bud.” He greeted, in a rather nonchalant manner, despite being momentarily startled. The amateur musician’s eyes wearily drifted up and down Marlon’s physique, before he continued speaking. “Sorry, didn’t see you there.”   

“Could you knock it off, please? I really need some peace and quiet.” Marlon half commanded and half begged - the authority slipping from his desperate tone. 

“...Sure thing, man.” He agreed. Louis then eyed Marlon once more, and traces of concern flitted across his previously relaxed expression. “Are you feeling okay?”

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?”

“Because you look like you’re at death’s door.” He quipped.

���Funny.” Marlon responded, but no laugh came.

“No, but seriously, man, you don’t look well at all. Why don’t you take a break, have a nap or something- go see Ruby, maybe she can help.”

“Lou, I’m fine, really.” The leader insisted, whilst mopping the sweat from his brow. “Besides, even if I wanted to take a break, it’s not like I could. This place won’t run itself.”

“I’m sure somebody could cover for you.” 

“Ha, that’s a good one.” Marlon muttered, a small chuckle mixed into his sentence.

“...It wasn’t a joke.” Louis stated, the worry on his face deepening. “Come on, man, at least take five minutes off.”

Five minutes doesn’t sound too bad… He thought. No. I can’t. I have too much work to do. “Nah, I should be heading back. Thanks though, for stopping. You can play for twice as long tomorrow, if you want.”

“Hey, no problem. Shout me if you need anything, okay?” 

Marlon nodded as he retreated through the doorway. “Will do.”

The trip back to the office was relatively peaceful. He was still plagued by a dull, constant headache, but hopefully the now quiet atmosphere would allow it to ease off. He entered his work space, and shut the door - his spirits held high.

...And was immediately hit by an intense wave of nausea. His only capability in that moment, was keeling over on the floor, and hurling up his last meal into the nearest trash can.

Rosie whimpered and nuzzled against Marlon as he knelt, heaving and coughing. Finally, after emptying his stomach, he climbed to his feet and wiped the puke from his mouth. He glanced down at his reliable dog, unable to feign even the weakest of smiles. “Well… Back to work.” He stated, the helplessness of his situation creeping to the forefront of his mind. 

Come on, Marlon… You can do it… Just power through the pain. He encouraged himself, as he edged over to his desk and tethered himself to that all too familiar chair. 

Power. Through. The. Pain. 

[icemankazansky]

K, N, U, and Z for the fanfic ask meme please

Thank you for asking! I'd love to.

K: What’s the angstiest idea you’ve ever come up with?

Oh, man. Um. Okay. So, in high school and into college, I wrote a massive (like 100,000+ words) B/A future fic with them married with kids, and then Angel is killed by the First Evil and things get DARK. I'm not going to be explicit about it, but basically the First raises him as Angelus and his mission is to tear his family apart, and he does. I stopped publishing with two chapters completely written and never released because I just felt bad doing that to my characters and my readers. It will never be finished.

N: Is there a fic you wish someone else would write (or finish) for you?

Someone please finish my Top Gun Age of Sail AU. It has been eight years, 20,000 words (cut down to 12,000 after The Purge), and it's still not done. But I can still hear it, begging to be finished. It is my telltale heart.

U: Share three of your favorite fic writers and why you like them so much.

These are all authors whose stories I read over and over and over again, and I also know them all personally.

escritoireazul

Carla has an incredible imagination, intuitive understanding of her characters, and she can write anything. Her prose is gorgeous, lyrical but still earthy and visceral, and she highlights these gorgeous little details that you wouldn't normally think of first, and it makes you see the characters in a new way. She's also one of my ride or dies, fiercely generous and so brave, and all around one of my favorite people.

myhappyface

It KILLS ME that Holly doesn't write anymore. Kills me. Her fiction is this maddening tightrope walk between beauty and simplicity. She writes most things very precisely, without a lot of fuss or purple prose, and then at exactly the right moment, she'll let things breathe, pull back and give you this gorgeous, layered, lyrical description or character moment, and it's like being struck. She has a great instinct for pacing, and her dialogue is so damn good. She's also a dear friend who is basically my dog's godmother and she is unfailingly kind.

derangedfangirl

She is also no longer in fandom, and it hurts me so much. Her fiction is so sharp, and so funny, and her love for Val Kilmer rivals my own. She can write all over the spectrum: she's written everything from gut-wrenching emotional distress to brutal love to hilarious sexcapades, and I was drawn in by all of it. As a person, she's also wonderfully supportive and crazy creative, and genuinely one of the most beautiful people I've ever met.

Z: Major character death–do you ever write/read it? Is there a character whose death you can’t tolerate?

I don't. I don't like to read it, and I don't like to write it. When I was growing up in fandom, I could really get into the angst, but now I am officially Too Old for That Shit, and I want happy endings and the characters I love enjoying each other's company. A fic has to have a helluva pull for me to start reading anything with that tag. (@boasamishipper think about that, knowing that I read aaaaaaall of there's a raging fire in my heart tonight.)

[justanotherloveaffair]

Breaking Rules (Part 2) - Chadwick Boseman x Reader

>>> Link to Part 1 (June Smutfest one shot)

Summary: The punishment continues, but Chadwick shows you mercy after being very well behaved.

Warnings: Daddy!Chadwick, smut (obviously), Dom/sub

Word Count: 3,638

Author’s Note: I hope you guys like this. Sorry it took so long to get this up!!!! I wrote this in one sitting, it just came out so easily once I got started. Also I love the thought of a very sweet and benevolent Daddy after the punishment is over :) 

Your name: Submit (what is this?)

My Masterlist

Taglist: @afraiddreamingandloving, @killmongerrss, @kumkaniudaku, @nah-imjustfeelinit, @tchallaholla, @a-heretic-child, @simplyyamberr, @trillblackmama, @ljstraightnochaser, @h-challa, @theunsweetenedtruth, @fullonfrenzy

* I can’t remember all the people who wanted to be notified about a Part 2 so sorry if I missed tagging anyone. I actually have no idea who wanted to be tagged on this post so sorry if the taglist is whack LOL

Yes. Please. Thank you.

Those were the four words he allowed you to say. The word no was not allowed in your vocabulary as he made you wear a revealing dress, slid a remote-controlled bullet vibrator into your pussy and had you follow him out the door to wherever he felt like taking you, like an obedient pet.

And hell yes, you were loving every minute of it.

Being submissive was something you always knew was a deep, secret part of you but the experience was usually limited to an ex-boyfriend spanking you occasionally. At most, a hand around your throat.

And then Chadwick came along. Chadwick, who was eager to richly and deeply live out any fantasy you had, as you were of his and the sex was so off the charts dynamite that you wished you could tell everyone about it.  Chadwick, who, when you were out with friends and wincing as you sat down, would wink at you as only he knew it was because your ass was freshly spanked from his palm. Chadwick, whose dirty talk in your ear would make you moan halfway through dinner.  

He was endlessly inventive in ways to turn you on and had a detailed, dirty imagination, and could be ruthlessly patient when it came to punishing his babygirl.

Tonight was no different. Tonight was about him reasserting control, and you made a conscious decision to do everything perfectly, answering him not a beat too quickly or too late, thanking him when he set off the vibrating bullet even though it made you grit your teeth.

At the bar he took you to, you were told to sit on the stool with your legs crossed as your short dress rode up your thighs, only acknowledge him and always with Yes, Please, or Thank you and he damn well knew every man there was salivating at what was his.

He had you swallow a glass of whiskey as his fingers brushed your leg, fingertips grazing just under the skirt while he stared at you with wolfish eyes. He looked sexy as hell, his shoulders and arm muscles popping in a black v-neck shirt and that added another layer of torture, as he still wouldn’t allow you to touch him.

As you placed the old-fashioned glass back on the bar he slipped his fingers a little further up your dress, and his voice was deep and silky as he asked, knowing full well what the answer would have to be but the question was only to remind you that you couldn’t say no,

“Do you want another one?”

You bit your lip and yelped a little as the vibration returned, knowing his eyes were trained on your expression. The edging was starting to become too much, even for you. You had no choice but to answer yes, and right away, Chadwick had another whiskey brought to you.

The liquor made you warm and relaxed and even hornier. He ordered some appetizers and you picked at them but only ate because you were told to. The taste barely registered on your tongue. All you could focus on was him, his heavy hand possessively resting on your upper thigh and how badly you wanted him to make you come. All it would take was a second or two more of vibration each time he turned it on, just one second more, but each time he saw the telltale sign of your breathing starting to hitch, he would turn it off.

He leaned over and whispered in your ear. “Do you enjoy being tortured like this, for everyone to see?”

Your hand gripped the bar, your mind grasping on the only word you had in your arsenal to beg him to stop. “Please.”

You felt his lips on your neck, just a slight graze against your over-stimulated skin and you moaned, your knuckles going white as he asked, “Do you think you’ve learned your lesson?”

Your eyes were screwed shut, pushing out the whole world so it was only him and his breath and voice filling your whole body.

“Yes.” You gasped.

“You’ve been very well behaved, babygirl. Daddy’s gonna take you home and reward you.”

A breath of relief escaped your lips and you mouthed, your shaking voice barely above a whisper, “Thank you.”

After being on edge for hours you were trembling and grateful for any touch or look he graced you with, mindlessly willing to do whatever he wanted as long as it pleased him. Your trusting him with your body and mind was a gift he didn’t take lightly, and after these long punishments he always showed you his thanks and you couldn’t wait to get home to receive it.

Twenty nervous and excited minutes later he walked you in the door, his hand on the small of your back.

As the door closed softly shut behind you, he stepped close behind you, so close you could smell his intoxicating cologne and feel the warmth radiating off of his body, but he still wasn’t close enough to touch you.

After hours and hours of being broken down, you were patient and pliant, like a doll. This was your submissive self in its most pure, raw state. You felt safe, calm and ready for anything. Anything he wanted.

His fingers began to unzip your dress, all the way down until it sagged and fell down your legs. You stood obediently still, feeling every sensation multiplied a hundred-fold: the in-and-out of his breathing, the cool apartment air on your naked skin, the shape of the vibrator inside you every time you shifted your feet.

You were staring ahead into the dark room while behind you, you heard the shifting of clothes and sudden excitement spiked through you at the sound of his belt coming undone. His shirt and pants joined the pile at your feet and your heart was racing, knowing he was so close to you and naked.

When his voice filled the dark room, it was with a honey timbre that made you twinge as he praised in your ear, “You’ve been such a good girl. Will you let Daddy show you how grateful he is?”

The promise of imminent pleasure made your knees go weak and the air burn around you as if the room suddenly caught fire. You felt such giddy, simple pride at having pleased him it made your entire body flush. Nothing was sweeter than the erotic, tender way he showed you mercy after a long session, you craved it, lived for it and now you were about to have it.

All four words combined into one needy sentence, “Yes, please, thank you,” came your strained voice and his gentle laugh filled your ears and you nearly cried.

“To the bedroom my baby.”  He touched his hand to your back to encourage your movement and you padded forward, your hands wringing together as sparks of excitement crackled all around you.

His next instruction came paired with a little lovebite on your neck and a light tap of his fingers on your hip. “On the bed.”

You got up and kneeled, your hands still in your lap. He hadn’t even touched you yet but your heart was so full of joy that he was about to ease your suffering that tears pricked your eyes. 

The bed dipped behind you from his body weight, the bed springs below you straining and it was the only sound in the room aside than your heavy, anxious breathing.

Two hands settled on your shoulders and twisted you gently, giving you permission to finally turn and face him, your heart beat thudding hotly in your ears as you turned on the bed and melted under the warm gaze he greeted you with. All day he’d been harsh with you, cold in his treatment and now, he was smiling. The image greeted you like a balm that soothed any and every worry you’d ever had in your life. It was like sunshine, coming home, as satisfying as an incredible meal or a cold drink on a hot day.

“I want to make you happy,” he looked over you with warmth in his eyes, that smile still on his face. “You can have whatever you want.”

You looked at him as if he’d just walked you into a candy store and given you unlimited free reign and your eyes grew wide.

“What would you ask of your Daddy?” He prompted, his hands reaching out to your hips to rub circles into them.

There were too many possibilities and your mind couldn’t focus while you looked at his painfully beautiful face so they slid down his body, down the plains of that delicious skin you were aching for earlier and you knew right away what you wanted.

Staring below his waist, you said “Please?” in a small voice, turning one of your four words up into a question and he laughed again, one hand coming up to caress your cheek.

“Baby, you can speak your words again.”

“Let me touch you, please,” you said, begging huskily and Chadwick’s eyes softened as he nodded.

You bit your lip, one hand reaching out to touch your fingertips gently and cautiously to his chest, tentative as if he were going to disappear the moment you did it. He was solid as steel and twitched slightly when he felt you, and at that moment you realized how difficult your punishment had been for him as well as for you.

You traced your fingertip down between his pecs, over his abs and watched with fascination as his stomach tightened, his breathing picking up the lower your touch went. Both of your gazes looked down to watch your hand skate down his abdomen, towards your prize that was hard and twitching as it anticipated your touch and you relished the sight of it, the perfect size that fit you so well, challenging your limits while giving you endless pleasure. You loved his cock and took every opportunity to show him and tell him how good it felt, how much you craved it, how big he was as he pounded you. He saw the love in your eyes as you took a moment to touch him slowly, just tracing him with your fingers, barely holding him but he felt your touch down to his toes.

“Is this what you wanted? To torture me back?” His voice was amused but strained and the corner of his mouth lifted in a crooked smile as his eyes closed.

You didn’t answer but shifted down on your knees and before he knew what was happening, your lips were slipping over the tip of his dick.

“Ohhh, fuck!” he cursed loudly, looking down in surprise at you on the edge of him, opening your mouth wide as you looked up adoringly. The erotic sight almost cost him an instant orgasm and he gritted his teeth and sucked in his breath to steady himself.

When he looked back to you, you batted your eyes coquettishly and smiled with him in your mouth before you slid him deeper, hollowing your cheeks to suck him just right, making his eyes roll back at the pressure and wetness of your mouth.

This was what you wanted all day. From the moment he tied you up and forced you to watch him touch himself, your end game was to have him writhing and helpless as you worshipped his body and as you kept your eyes trained on him, you could see you were well on your way. 

Chadwick was fighting with himself for control, making animalistic sounds, his hands becoming fists at his sides while his mouth was dropped open still absorbing the shock of the sudden onslaught of sensations.

“Oh god please, stop….” he started bargaining for control but it only made you want to push even further. You forced as much of him inside as you could and saliva dripped down your chin and into your lap. You were moaning and making a mess as you slurped him with dirty enjoyment and Chadwick was speechless, unable to string coherent words together, only able to grunt and moan as he started to thrust into your mouth and your hands flew to his hips to control him.

He started to shake and you looked up just in time to catch the heart-stopping sight of his face right in the moment he erupted in your mouth. His sounds were the mewling gasps of a man who was seeing the face of God. You greedily swallowed his come, watching his every twitch, breath and groan at the height of his pleasure, your lips smiling around him the whole time.

When you were sure you’d gotten it all, your aching jaw released him, letting his softening cock fall from your lips but you went right back to his body, covering it with the kisses you’d been dying to give him all day. You kissed his thighs, nuzzled your nose in his trimmed pubic hair, and moved your lips up to his stomach as your fingers stroked up and down over his calves, knees and strong upper thighs.

“Baby, come here, oh my god,” he said in a hoarse voice as if one more touch would kill him. He pulled you back up to your knees and you immediately kissed the sweat that had collected on his face and forehead and you ran your hands through his beard while he smiled breathlessly.

“That wasn’t what I expected you to want,” he looked at you smiling, starry-eyed, in awe and wonder of you.

“What other reward could I possibly want, Daddy?”

Chadwick sucked in his breath as you looked at him with round eyes, the sincere sentiment in your words and your worshipping voice making him clench his teeth.

His hands slid around the back of your neck and he looked at you as if he might fuck you and propose to you all at once.

He shook his head, pressed his forehead to yours. “I don’t deserve you, babygirl.”

You basked in his love and attention knowing you’d made him happy and that was all you could want. Even though the evidence of your want was leaking down your thigh, anything else you could have tonight was above and beyond. As far as you were concerned, you’d already had your reward.

Chadwick kissed your forehead and whispered, “Stay here,” before he crawled off of the bed, leaving you kneeling there.

He reappeared in the room and returned to the bed, carrying the small black remote in his hand. With the other hand, he splayed his fingers over your chest and pushed gently with an instruction, “On your back, baby.”

Your heart started to pound as he burrowed between your thighs once you were back against the soft cushions. As you shifted your body, you felt the presence of the bullet vibrator inside your walls and once you were on your back, with a flick of Chadwick’s finger it was suddenly on its highest vibration setting and his mouth was on your clit.

“Oh FUCK!” You screamed at the immediate attack, his wet, warm tongue swirling over and over around your clit while your inner walls vibrated and you weren’t prepared for the onslaught. It was too much, too fast, too intense. It only took seconds for you to come with a gush of juices and a scream and Chadwick happily endured your hands gripping him at the back of his head. His moans vibrated against your clit as your wild cries filled the room.

The next thing you were conscious of was Chadwick sliding the small black bullet out, and then his mouth covered your pussy while you laid there breathing heavily, giving you wide, up-and-down licks over your folds. You went to push him away, make him stop, trying to close your thighs around him.

His fingers snapped your thighs back open and he pulled away from you to say, loud enough for you to hear through your post-orgasmic haze, “Daddy’s not done with you yet. Hold still.”

Eyes wide, you looked down your body at where his lips and tongue were teasing you with slow, wet licks and kisses and Chadwick returned your gaze with one of pure hunger and a warning in his eyes that nothing would come between him and what he wanted.

You were still recovering and sensitive but slowly you relaxed and sank back into the sensations of his searching mouth.

He sucked on you and released you a few times and moaned, “You taste incredible babygirl. Do you know how hard it makes me to feel how wet you are?”

You moaned at the sound of his voice coming from between your legs and then the wet, sucking sounds of his tongue returned as he went back to work. He ate you slowly and thoroughly, not aiming you towards another orgasm right away, but making sure to spoil you with as much pleasure as you could stand.

The contrasting feeling of his silky tongue and rough beard between your legs was one thing but the sounds were another. His moans were nonstop, deep “uhhhhs” into your pussy, making you claw at the bed. The erotic, slippery wet sounds of his mouth sucking you added to the pleasure and you felt yourself start to climb towards another peak at his slow, lazy enjoyment of you.

His mouth traveled upwards, knowingly latching on to your clit while you felt two fingers curl inside you, his considerable experience of your body guiding the way he touched you just right to make you shoot for the stars. He didn’t let up, and added a third finger knowing how much harder you came while being penetrated and began to fuck you, his tongue never stopping and you grinded your hips down against him.

“Yes, yes, Daddyyy!!” You unleashed with a cry, as your muscles clenched, the feelings coalescing and gathering into a tight ball of light before exploding behind your eyes. You clutched blindly down at him and he gripped one of your hands, giving you an anchoring point to squeeze as you threw your head back and bucked your hips. Awash and lost on the shores of another world, you let your pleasure be heard and Chadwick released your clit and smiled up at you, his hand clutching yours tight.

“That’s it, sing for me babygirl, let me hear how good it feels,” you heard him say during your mindnumbing climax and your moans intensified in response.

Slowly, ever so slowly you came back to your body, surprised to find yourself blinking away tears as you looked down at him as he rubbed slow circles into your thighs and stomach.

“Shhh, that’s my girl, good girl,” He praised endlessly while your hips continued to roll in his hands.

It was your turn to be in awe of him. The way he made you feel was a thing of beauty, a work of art in itself, making you come like it was second nature where for past boyfriends it had been a complex task. And yet for Chadwick, coming undone for him was as easy as breathing.

Your heart swelled and filled with gratefulness and you both took a moment to smile at each other, sweaty, happy and totally satisfied.

“Chadwick,” You sighed and squeezed his hand. You didn’t have to say anything more, he knew just how you felt and what you wanted and he crawled up your body to rest over you, holding himself still at your tight, wet entrance before pushing forward until your hips fit snugly together and you sighed happily. His thick cock pulsed inside of you, stretching you wide and you both groaned at the intimacy of the moment, wrapped up in each others arms, as close as two people could get.

“Y/N,” He sighed in your ear, his hands clutching your hips tightly. “I’m yours.”

You smiled and held his head against your neck as he started to move in the familiar, comfortable intimate way you loved as he surrounded you making you feel safe, adored, and needed in his arms. Your bodies rocked together in perfect harmony, the only sounds between you being gasps of pleasure and each other’s’ names until he gripped you in his strong grasp, wrenching one of your legs up behind his arm as he fucked you with long, hard strokes that made your eyes roll back and you both keen towards an orgasm that exploded over you both in tandem, sharing each other’s cries as you both came again, together.

Your arms and legs locked around his back, fusing yourself to him and cradling his head to your chest where he gasped and moaned through the earth-shattering pleasure, his breath scalding hot on your overheated skin, his fingertips rough and biting on your hips as he held you up against him.

Your bodies fell back to the bed, weary, exhausted, totally drained with pleasant aching and still tingling as you smiled side by side up at the ceiling.

As you laid there breathing in and out, you marvelled at how much had happened that day, from being tied up in the living room to having your body worshipped and fucked like a goddess, and the fact that all of that and more was possible on any given day with Chadwick made your heart seize in your chest.

You were a lucky bitch and you knew it. It couldn’t possibly get better.

“Hey,” you felt his hand come to rest between your breasts and rub back and forth to get your attention.

“Yeah baby?”

“You wanna smoke a joint and order some pizza?”

You grinned, realizing you were wrong.

It got better.

[tamisdava2]

💕📖📝🌐📺🌼

I guess you are asking me, but i’ll do it for my OC too. Lets start from me1. Your two top fave fictional characters.I really into alot of fandoms, and thats means that i have alot of fav characters so its hardest thing to do. If you would asked me at one specific fandom then i would’ve answered.

2. Fave bookNu i am kinda into Dostoevsky now, that man went deep into alot of things that human have questioned: Morals, existence of god, free will, doubt, faith and many interesting things. And sure he knew how to develop his characters so reader would’ve been attached, AND THEN TURNs THEIR HEARTS INTO DUST! Sure his characters develop better than most of the characters from our modern TV shows, films and etc. I read his Idiot, and it broke my heart. I thought after reading Idiot that it will stay my fav book till the end of my life. But then i started reading his brothers karamazov. And geez that good. I amn’t done reading it, i done its first book and i read half of second so pretty soon i am going to start reading Dostoevsky’s another book.

3.My fav Quote? “growing up isn’t the problem, forgetting is” From little prince’s cartoon.

4.I speak Georgian because i live in Georgia, Russian i learned in kindergarten, i loved it so much that me and my sister still talk in Russian for 2/4 a day, Hebrew in which i speak so-so, 4 years ago i actually spoke better because i had to communicate with my first and only best friend in Israel and we both knew English bad back then, and before i went to Israel i knew Hebrew not so good, teachers were teaching us Hebrew, and my Hebrew wasn’t that good, not because teachers teached bad, but we needed to communicate more to learn using Hebrew better so i did it in Israel, i am trying to learn German by my own, but its hard, atleast i know few words, Thanks to Roblox i started learning English, before Roblox my English was pretty bad, also i hated English because i thought it was too hard, i thought that i would go far with only knowing Russian, with a better English i role played better in Roblox. Even my scary English teacher this year praised me after i retelled the text and i showed her that now i know grammar. And she wrote in journal 10/10. Really, i was very afraid of her, and everyone in my class since the 5th class, so i was shaking seriously shaking, even my classmates noticed it. And i still was shaking with a smile on my face after the lesson.

5.Its hard choice, because me and my sis watched alot animes, before 2010 of course. I guess that i have to vote for Soul Eather then, i and my sis still have good memories from this anime and there is my first fav ship, i cant belive that i started shipping when i was 5-6 years old, or maybe even smaller. The anime has great storyline, humor characters and etc. I amn’t talking about Soul Eater NOT.

6.Fave flower… Oh… Nu i like alot of flowers but i’ll stop on Violet because its very beautiful, also i am into purple.

Erika go!

Me: here catch those questions!

Erika: why the hell i have to answer question of strangers when we dont know if they asked you or me!(they totally asked you)

Me: Answer!

Erika: Ok! Hm, fave fictional characters the first one is Flareon from Eevee’s adventure telltale story and Austyn from my favourite anime.

Favourite book, Bara Frisk’s Sun, she was 20th centuries writer, sadly not very famous. For short in this book: There is begining of 19th centuary after the discovery of Alola region in 1778 started an actual big migration alot people came to Alola because there was peace, and in other regions were… Ehm some historical political moments. But those historical moments are just background most of the time. And those historical facts aren’t very accurate. But in the begining of 19th our protaganist Norbert Eriksen came to Alola to try and start new chapter in his life and etc. From the description it maybe doesn’t seem to be very interesting but this book has pretty deep morals.

So for short favourite quote: Just be whoever you are, no matter what they are talking about you, words are just words.

Erika: English just English, not like there are other “languages”, but i speak Kantoian, Johtoian, Sinnohian and Kalosian because they are similiar to each other, Pronunciation of a words is little bit hard in Kalosian English, but i am doing it somehow.(in the pokemon world letters came from Unown so that can mean that there is only English writing, but there can be different versions of English, yea i know its sounds stupid but its headcanon)

My favourite anime is “the change” In this anime author really used his imagination. So suddenly pokemons start to disappear which causes very serious problems but i dont want to spoil anything. Austyn is from this anime.

My favourite flower is Red flower.

[aion-rsa]

Owen Wilson’s Loki Character is Based on a Beloved Marvel Writer

https://ift.tt/eA8V8J

Among this overwhelming tidal wave of Disney project news that consumed us all Thursday night, we got to see the new trailer for Loki, which will be hitting Disney+ this coming May. As shown, this Loki isn’t the one who got choked to death in the opening moments of Avengers: Infinity War, but the Loki appearing during the Time Heist in Avengers: Endgame. After the events of the first Avengers went awry, that version of Loki was able to sneak away with the Tesseract and create a tangent universe.

And now…he’s stuck running suicide missions with the Time Variance Authority. What a way for a god to spend his days.

Getting away from Tom Hiddleston, the trailer also makes everyone realize, “Wait, is this Owen Wilson’s first time in one of these? How has it taken so long for Owen Wilson to get a role in a Marvel movie?”

Plus there’s the big question of who he’s supposed to be.

While we don’t know the full details of what’s going on, Loki is dealing with the Time Variance Authority. Due to that telltale mustache, Owen Wilson appears to be Mr. Mobius M. Mobius.

The Time Variance Authority was introduced in Thor #372, but wasn’t fully figured out as a concept until afterwards. Most notably, the group antagonized the Fantastic Four and Dr. Doom in Fantastic Four #352-354. They’re meant to keep time travel under control and prevent paradoxes, but instead of being a rad setup of jacked, soldiers in colorful spandex begging for their own comic series, the TVA is essentially a bunch of boring, cosmic bureaucrats.

While the lowest level employees of the TVA are faceless goons, the middle-management folks are human-looking. In fact, they all look like the same human. More specifically, they’re made to look like Mark Gruenwald, a beloved Marvel writer/artist/editor known for his passion and endless knowledge of detailed Marvel history.

You want to make sense out of the multiverse and timeline malarky? Make a bunch of clones of the guy who can tell you what issue Luke Cage fought Mr. Fish without having to look it up. He was the guy writing the Official Marvel Handbook of the Universe and he was celebrated for being that guy.

Gruenwald was a major asset to Marvel back in the 80s and former 90s. His lengthy run on Captain America gave us US Agent, Crossbones, Diamondback, and that amazing sequence where Magneto captured Red Skull and left him to die in a bunker. He also wrote Squadron Supreme, where he put together a deconstructing take on Marvel’s Justice League knockoff team, acting as Marvel’s contribution to the Dark Knight Returns and Watchmen vibes growing in ’80s comics.

He also did a 5-year run on Quasar, notably doing a weird issue where – taking place sometime after the events of Crisis on Infinite Earths – a blonde speedster in tattered, red tights showed up in Marvel and could only remember that his name sounded something like “Buried Alien.”

Dude was awesome, is what I’m saying.

Sadly, Gruenwald died in 1996 due to a heart attack. He remains beloved in the industry and lives on whenever the weirdos in the TVA show up to try and put a cage around the chaos. They usually fail, but the effort is there.

Mr. Mobius is just another one of his in-universe clones, but one that got promoted above his genetic equals. Not that he’s the man on top. No, that’s Mr. Alternity, who’s based on editor Tom Brevoort.

The biggest eyebrow-raiser in all of this is that there’s a minor member of the TVA, also a Gruenwald clone, named…wait for it…Mr. Tesseract.

Mr. Tesseract. In the same organization that will be showing up on a TV show born out of Loki sneaking away with the MCU’s Tesseract. No way is that sleeping dog going to lie.

cnx.cmd.push(function() { cnx({ playerId: "106e33c0-3911-473c-b599-b1426db57530", }).render("0270c398a82f44f49c23c16122516796"); });

This could very much mean that we won’t just be getting Owen Wilson, but a legion of Owen Wilsons! That’s a lot of guys going, “Wow!”

Loki will premiere on Disney+ in May 2021.

The post Owen Wilson’s Loki Character is Based on a Beloved Marvel Writer appeared first on Den of Geek.

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[all-good-things-dot-dot-dot]

All Good Things… The Good With the Bad.

All Good Things… The Good With the Bad. #Blog #Bloggerstribe #AllGoodThings… 24th June 2020 Hello, Chaps and Chapettes,

(Source: https://www.keengamer.com/articles/guides/list-of-common-fallout-4-pc-errors-and-how-to-fix-them/ ) It might have seemed like I stopped for a little bit there, huh? In actual fact, I have still been writing, but more or less in the background rather than doing a full-on post like this. Does that mean I’ve been “neglecting my duties” or “forgetting the challenge” I set myself to write for thirty minutes a day? Well, sort of. I cannot lie. Let’s see if we can analyze what happened here and correct the error, shall we? The main hiccup was actually on Friday where I did not write anything at all. I did end up writing that blog on Saturday and followed it up with the actual Saturday blog which I wrote and posted on Sunday, but by then I was already going back on several guidelines that I’d set myself. The first was to ensure that I wrote thirty minutes a day, this was missed on Friday, and the second was to have a break on Sunday.

I’ll come back to Friday in a bit and how I’ll resolve that in the future but I also want to talk about why Monday and Tuesday also didn’t happen. Monday was an oddly exhausting day. The heat has been creeping up this week, today being the hottest so far, but Monday was still cool. I had to take a nap after work and then when I did sit down to write, what I wanted to write was not one of these. Instead, I wanted to work on “Scoundrels”, a story about colorful ponies living in apocalyptic times. They swear, take drugs, shoot guns, it’s fun to write. The reason I wanted to write that, was because on Tuesday I attended an online workshop by a fellow writer who goes by the codename “Somber”. I know there’s non-bronies who read this on my Tumblr so, to summarise, they wrote a particularly famous FanFiction called “Fallout Equestria; Project Horizons”, millions of peeps have read it. It’s also a spin-off from an equally successful story called “Fallout: Equestria” (written by another fanfiction writer, KKat). Somber has a background teaching English so a class on Creative Writing was practically extra studies for my university course!

(Art by me, see https://derpibooru.org/images/2200843 )

The workshop was brilliant. Unfortunately, I didn’t get to workshop my story as we ran out of time but I didn’t feel too down about this. I made friends with a few other fellow writers and so could happily learn and share ideas with them. This ran on quite late and by the time it had ended, the clock was telling me I wouldn’t wake up for work if I didn’t attempt to sleep. That, neatly, leads me to today. As you can see, although I’ve had a busy day of work, walking to and from the shops and watching “Game Night” with my brother, I still managed to find the time to write this. That’s because tonight I had the time. That’s important. Friday, the time wasn’t there. I had to be there for a friend who was in need and since my chat, I have it on good authority that their life is looking up. Sunday was father’s day and I wanted to see both dad and stepdad, which I accomplished. Both men had a great day and felt loved, which was another mission accomplished. Sunday night was blitzed by a migraine and it took two paracetamol two hours to put those fires in my brain out. Monday, as said, was a very tiring day. But I also spent time writing something, even if it wasn’t this. So there was still something completed by the close of the day. Tuesday, there was work, I had my mother pop over for something, I had to cook dinner, and despite all of this still managed to make Somber’s workshop and find writing allies. Do you see where I’m going with this? Basically, just because you don’t get done what you wanted to do, do not look at it as a wasted day. Even a rest day is a success, so long as it is used to let you prepare for some harder work ahead. You are not failing if you didn’t hit that word count, or forgot to do something you wanted to do, or missed that walk to slim down the spare tractor tyre your gut has become. Even little accomplishments are still a win in the grand scheme of things and believe me they make all the difference. And sometimes, if someone you know, care about, or love is in need of you, then you should down tools to help them. Let me reiterate that it should be somebody you care about or at least someone who will return the favor along the line. There are people, even family, who can be a drain on your time, resources, and energy. I learned that the hard way last week (see my blog about bullies). Follow your head in these instances, especially if it is aligned with your heart. Most of all, I want you to take this away with you. Did you wake up today? Do you know how many didn’t get out of bed? Pulled a sickie? Or gave up? You didn’t so in that sense you’re already winning. Now go treat yourself to some cake, champ, you earned it. Stay safe, stay happy. All good things, Love, Scaramouche. X Oh, eerrrr, still here? Okay, let me square with you. Thirty mins just ran out but I wanted to include this; I am writing a spin-off of that “Fallout: Equestria,” series too, as I mentioned, called “Scoundrels”. I did have a lot of the story already up in my FIMFiction library, but I have unpublished it. Here are my reasons; I didn’t like how confusing it was. It felt like it started in the middle of a story. I had made choices as a writer that took the story in some strange directions. I made the plot too complicated. I made some of the good characters unlikeable. I made it too long while not much/ too much happened. So, I am holding onto what I wrote. I want to rewrite it, so that story that you may or may not have read does still exist and isn’t a waste of time, it just needs surgery. When it’s ready, you’ll be able to see it again. Until then, here’s a sneak peek at “Scoundrels”, the ponies of the apocalypse story I will be writing, have edited and polished before I publish it as fanfiction. Enjoy!

(Artist: Brainiac - see https://derpibooru.org/profiles/Brainiac ) ~ Scoundrels Written by Scaramouche “War,” a voice, masculine and gravelly, haunted my hangover. “War never changes.” It wasn’t much, but it was enough to stir me from where I’d attempted to make my early grave. My snout had the telltale feeling you got when you accidentally snorted water while submerged in a pool... Or hit too much Dash. I pushed my hooves out around me before my eyes were able to open and felt tiny canisters rattle away from me wherever I moved. My ribs hurt, telling me I hadn’t found a nice or even barely comfortable place to flop. The information fed back to me from all my senses came to the conclusion that I’d bucked up again. Daring to wake, I cracked my eyes open for as long as I could muster and fluttered the lids ‘til I could make out the shapes of a flickering square of light in the night-time room. Black and white images flashed through the screen of ponies dressed in armor and uniforms, those in the foreground attempting an escape with their wounded while the “best and bravest” continued to fight, to injure, to die. The image changed to Wonderbolts tearing over a coal cloud that once belonged to a shining city. I realized it was Manehattan, the place I’d hailed from. I knew from the shadow of a building topped with a huge pony head choking on the fumes. The Pegasi just seemed like haunting crows over that havoc. After the Manehattan skyline lingered for a few seconds, it switched to a shot taken behind ponies hiding from the invisible foe in a shady tunnel. Their silhouettes were huddled and perpetually expecting the worst of what was to come. Image after image along with the low, tedious voice seemed to mingle with the throbbing headache I’d gained. It reminded me that as gloomy as these images were, they were only the precursor for the apocalyptic times that came after them. I watched, laid lazily on my side among spent stims I’d used to forget the woes of the new world. I couldn’t help thinking that those dumb saps who had lived nearly a hundred years ago never knew how lucky they were. They could still trust the folks either side of them and that was more than could be said for most ponies this side of a century. “... But out of the devastation that arose from the wars, a few were able to reach stables that could house and shield them underground.” The narrator of the scenes kept going with his spiel regardless of whether I was listening or not. I looked about, but it quickly became apparent to me that the voice was just that. A recording from a stallion no doubts long gone now. There was nopony else in the place but for me that I could see. Nonetheless, he persisted. “Your family was part of that group and took refuge in Stable Thirteen.” On-screen, a snap of the giant cog that had once locked up this subterranean vault could be seen. “No, they weren’t, pal,” I grouched, squinting about the area still while battling with some persistently annoying amber locks of mane in my eyes. Something in this place was still trying to live, based on the squealing of a harmed fan spinning in the walls. Thanks to the projection lamp, I could see the tiles that dripped from the ceilings as age and erosion pulled them down. Wires knotted into nooses hung out from the ceiling gaps. Across dirty, rusted floors, the corpses of chairs lay on their sides and backs, stricken by the last unknown executions that had taken place here. Near me and my graveyard of used drug containers, a card crate lay on its side in a beaten state. “You are the first generation born in this stable to have not known the-the-the--” Apparently, I still wasn’t to know what “the” was. Above me, the box that had created this depressing light and sound show for me fizzed, crackled, sparked, then died. All light failed and draped a veil casually over me and space. Yet, this wasn’t as terrifying to me as might have been to somepony else. I sighed, relaxed, and let the gentle black patch encourage my head to heal. The festering stable was dead, the complaining sounds of the vents now a memory, and it was good. It was calming. I could maybe forget everything and fall back into a graceful slumber with it. After all, a ship in the harbor is a ship that’s safe... Of course, fate intervened. “Breeze! Breeze, where are you?” The voice was distant, but it was growing closer. “Gypsy Breeze, I swear on the spirit of Celestia, if you don’t get your ass into gear…” Fresh, battery-powered light began to dawn around the edges of the forever-open doorway into the corridors, confirming that the calling, living voice wasn’t far from finding me. “Buck,” I grunted to myself and pushed back the pain sloshing side to side in my cranium. I had to get myself up before they found me and the evidence littered around me. My legs complained but lifted me, allowing me to stand and let my brain cease paddling about in my skull. I swung a hoof out, brought it down, then my face immediately met the oxidized floor once more as a giggling Dash inhaler tripped me and twirled away. “Breeze?” They’d heard my tumble. “Buck,” I hissed painfully and scrambled back up, firing up a spell. I knew the caller in the halls would see the light but hoped I’d be quick enough. Despite the magic throbbing behind my junked-out eyes, I gathered all the emptied Dash I could see in the enchanted light. Catching as many as I could levitate, I shoved them into the deteriorated box, managing to slip the last of them away when a blinding orb swung through the door. I covered my bleary eyes and snarled out at a feeling only a vampire pony in the baking sun would understand. “Gypsy!” The dazzling sprite squeaked. “That’s my name— Buck, Hayfever, could you drop the light of that thing? My bucking eyes are about to explode…” mercifully, the beam lowered to ground level, allowing me to partially see the mare I knew behind it. Her sunset orange wings were spread in preparation to once more admonish me while the expression on the pegasus remained concerned. “You split from me again, Breeze. Ottawa said this stable is particularly dangerous, we shouldn’t be going off alone when--” “Ottawa was wrong,” I skulked somehow towards the door and waved my hoof back the way she’d come from. “I caught a terminal back up that way and… I dunno, something about the water talisman failing? Either way, the pony meant to fix it shuffled out the main door, and never came back. After that, the rest of the dwellers overthrew the overstallion and let themselves out of their own accord. Probably likely that nopony’s been here since.” If I’d have sounded more sure of myself in that last comment, I might not have seen doubt spread across her freckled, gold-lit face. “No, somepony has been here before us,” she suggested, “I found the mattresses pulled out of their rooms and laid together in the atrium. There was waste and broken gear that could only have come from outside too. Could be scavs, could be raiders, either way, we don’t want to take our chances.” “It could have easily been the Stable Thirteen ponies too,” I countered, “especially if they were going back and forth in and out of here, not wanting to--” I interrupted myself, as a false step kicked something, which ricocheted off of the metal wall and swirled unfortunately into the light of Hayfever’s torch. It only took her a second to realize what it was and I was already cringing guiltily when the light raised back accusingly at me. “Gypsy Breeze, you silly mare,” she scolded as well as any experienced mother could, “Using? Again? I thought you were beating this.” “It’s not mine,” I played the part of a lying teenager as best as I could, “it’s from those raiders you were bitching about--” “Oh, so now we believe in the raiders?” She had another quick examination of the inhaler and sighed, ruffling her wings in irritation as she walked past me, ensuring her hoofsteps echoed her annoyance. “When I agreed to hide your troubles from the rest of Helping Hooves, it was on the promise that you were going to make an effort to quit from them. Not so that you could privately indulge in the stuff.” She collected my saddlebag, discarded on a spineless chair, and was about to toss it to me when she had second thoughts. At my protests, she flipped the flap open first and rifled through up, digging out what she had expected to find almost instantly. Five more full inhalators of Dash were plucked out and tossed into the void of the room before she was comfortable returning my near-empty sack to me. “I’m not doing it to be an ass to you, Gypsy,” she said as I mournfully took the bag and slipped it back on. “As mayor of Helping Hooves I have a duty to look out for everypony and that includes you. But if you’re going to endanger lives this way, I’ll have no choice but…” I waited for what kind of penalty she’d place on me. Yet, all she could do was gaze at me, not mad, just disappointed. I gave a low groan, both out of the pain of coming down and the guilt of letting down a mare who was just looking out for my best interests. “Can we just get out of here?” I pleaded, “the air in here is making me feel sick.” “You sure it’s just the air?” She thrust a hoof forward, directing me on the way to head next. “But you’re right. Let’s just get the spark batteries Ottawa needs and high-tail it out of here…” To be continued...

(Source: https://thegeek.games/2020/03/24/fallout-3-war-war-never-changes-retro-2008/ )

[princehandsome]

So, I wanted to make a list of all of the games that came out in 2017 that I actually played, and kind of briefly discuss what I thought of them. 

The list ended up being longer than I thought, so the games and such are under a readmore! Everything is pretty much spoiler free, minus some very light, first-hour spoilers I talk about when it comes to the premise of a game.

The main highlights of this list are: Resident Evil 7 is my game of the year, because it’s so damn good, and also it was a really rough year as a Dangan Ronpa fan, because New Dangan Ronpa V3 fucking sucks.

The year kicked off really strong with Resident Evil 7, which I was incredibly excited to play after the electrifying E3 trailer, and the playable teaser. This was fresh off the cancellation of P.T., so there was a big hole in my heart to fill, but Resident Evil 7 knocked it out of the park with ease. The whole experience is so amazing, managing to inject some good survival horror elements into a tired franchise to revitalize it, while not losing that over-the-top, B-Movie Resident Evil charm. The DLC only elevates it, with the Banned Footage tapes being bite-sized additions of the gameplay you love, while stuff like Not A Hero and The End of Zoe changes up the gameplay in fun and amazing ways.

Hitman has never been a franchise I’ve been into, but I decided to try the new episodic version of it that’s come out recently, and it’s a lot of fun! I’m god-awful at stealth games, but the game offers you some pretty cool guided assassination plans, if you’re terrible like I am, while more experienced people can find faster or more elaborate ways to do it, off-script. It’s a lot of fun, and if you’re into stealth based games, I’d definitely recommend it.

Being a recent Switch owner, naturally I had to pick up The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild as my first game on it, because, duh. It seems like a fun game, but there’s something there I just can’t get into; maybe it’s not giving me the story fast enough? Maybe it’s the sometimes wonky controls? I really can’t say. The combat is easily my favorite part, but I find myself losing interest when I’m not finding hidden treasure or slashing enemies to pieces.

An extremely controversial game to come out this year was Mass Effect Andromeda, the newest Mass Effect installment and the first one to not be made by the main Bioware team, as far as I can recall. It’s true that a lot of the faces are wonky (or at least, they were on launch, I’m seeing that patches have made them better) and that some of the writing is weird, but I still really enjoyed it. Combat has never been better, and the RPG elements are still satisfying enough to keep you invested. Any game that lets me really customize my character and pick some relatively diverse speech options has my heart from the start, and there really wasn’t anything in Andromeda that lost me. Frankly, I’d love to see this team tackle another Mass Effect game, using what they learned from Andromeda, but that probably isn’t going to be a thing after the reception to it.

Being incredibly into Dangan Ronpa, it may come as a surprise that I’ve never played Zero Escape, so when I got Zero Escape: The Nonary Games as a Christmas gift, I wasn’t sure what to expect. I’m barely an hour into the game, but I’m super into it so far! The puzzles are cool and fun, all of the characters are interesting so far, and the plot gives a very effective air of tension to everything happening. This game is definitely going to be what ends up scratching my Dangan Ronpa itch for 2018, but I’ll speak more about Dangan Ronpa below.

Being a huge Persona 4 fan, I was pretty optimistic about Persona 5, which my fiance @shutupshea was really hyped up about. I’ve gotta say, I really don’t care for it. Persona 4 was a game bursting with optimism and love, with tons of warm interactions with total random strangers, and even through the dark events, the main theme of it was friendship, and love, and the different ways that can manifest. The only real theme I got out of Persona 5 was... the world is bad, and people are bad? People in positions of authority will always abuse their power in the most over-the-top, cartoonish ways? Don’t get me wrong, I know that there are a thousand shitty people in a thousand positions of power, but it just feels overly cynical to get beaten over the head with it in every line of dialogue from every single character. The gameplay seems fun and deep, I just can’t really get into the narrative of it.

Being a fan of Outlast, and a super fan of the Whistleblower DLC, I was really pumped up for Outlast II, and it was... okay? It was kind of a mixed bag. On one hand, I think there were a lot of good gameplay improvements, and the overall pacing of the story felt like it moved along at a better clip, leaving me less frustrated. I also thought the ending was much, much better, via having greater emotional impact. On the other hand, I felt like some of the dark elements were... too dark? Not to say they like, personally offended or disgusted me, moreso that they made it difficult to take the game seriously. When you see the fifteenth mass grave, it less horrifies you, and more makes you go “how can there possibly be this many dead people in one town?” Overall I liked it, and I’d recommend it to horror game fans, but it was a lot weaker than the first game, and doesn’t even hold a candle to the Whistleblower.

Prey is a game everyone’s super into, and having played two or three hours of it so far, I’ve got to admit... I don’t super get it? Don’t get me wrong, it’s fun, and it reminds me a lot of the original Bioshock; the design is good, the weapons are varied, there just isn’t anything there that keeps me... super interested, I guess. It wasn’t like Rapture, where it’s filled with all of these incredibly colorful characters and antagonists, it just seems to be goo aliens and your dickhead brother trying to stop you from regaining your memories. I’m assuming some big bombshell is coming soon, but my main issue with it is that the plot feels incredibly... vanilla, in the early game.

I think I wrote a blog post about the original Injustice, which I was gaga over, and Injustice 2 is an improvement... somewhat. The gameplay is good, and the customization of each hero/villain is awesome, really letting you craft a distinct visual and gameplay style. That being said, I feel as though the story was much weaker (until the very end, the last couple of chapters are very emotionally strong) and the roster of characters was a little disappointing. No Nightwing... No Deathstroke... No Doomsday... What’s the point? Overall, it’s a worthy sequel, but it didn’t top the first, in my heart.

I didn’t want to put any remastered games on my list, but the Crash Bandicoot N. Sane Trilogy earns a spot through virtue of being a remaster of such an old game series, leading a lot of people to play it now for the first time. I’m a huge Crash Bandicoot fan, it was my game of choice growing up, and I still fondly remember playing Crash Team Racing with my parents (where’s that remaster?). All in all, it’s a very competent remaster, with basically all of the weird quirks and certainly all of the difficulty in-tact, and I’d highly, highly recommend it to anyone who hasn’t played Crash Bandicoot before.

Telltale’s Batman Season 2 managed the unlikely feat of making me really enjoy a Telltale game, episode by episode. I really loved the first season, it being the first Telltale game I’ve ever enjoyed, but I had to ask myself if I’d still like it if I had to wait 1-2 months in between each episode. Would it hold up, having larger expectations for each episode? As it turns out, it certainly holds up! Having cool and original twists on each classic Batman baddie, a tone and visual style that’s right at home with the best of the Arkham games, and just generally dynamite character writing, Telltale’s Batman is fantastic for fans and newcomers alike, to the whole Batman mythos. Now, where the heck is Deathstroke, and where’s my Batfamily, Telltale!?

Back when it first came out, I played about two weeks of Destiny, non-stop, before I got really bored and jaded. I never bought any of the DLC, because I’me one of those people that thinks that you shouldn’t have to pay money to have a good game, but it got at least a solid chunk of my time, and some good memories with my buddies doing Vault of Glass. Destiny 2 held my attention for about two hours before I went “this is boring” and turned it off.

Never played anything in the Divinity series, but a buddy of mine recommended Divinity: Original Sin 2 to me, as it’s an Oblivion RPG, and it was new, and I could play it for free off of his Steam account. I must have put, I dunno, ten hours into it? It’s an extremely good RPG, but mostly I was put off because, and I’m showing my age here, it just felt too old. I didn’t hate it for that, but eventually there’s only so long I can spend in a top-down view of tiny character models, clicking buttons on a hotbar. There came a point where I just got sort of tired of the gameplay, but if you don’t mind stuff like that, then Divinity: Original Sin 2 is probably like, one of those hundred hour RPGs.

Now, I’m obsessed with Dangan Ronpa. My avatar is Dangan Ronpa, my header is Dangan Ronpa, I talk about Dangan Ronpa almost constantly. It’s safe to say Dangan Ronpa is my favorite franchise ever, even moreso than stuff like Star Wars, and Super Dangan Ronpa 2 is probably my favorite game of all time, despite my misgivings with it. So, you’d think New Dangan Ronpa V3 would be an easy GOTY for me, right? I’ve played through two chapters (the prologue, and Chapter 1) and I got a little bit into Chapter 2, and I reached the verdict, almost right after Chapter 1 ended, that New Dangan Ronpa V3 actually sucks a butt, and is probably the worst Dangan Ronpa game thus far. Whereas other games had very strong emotional cores and casts of characters you instantly fell in love with, New Dangan Ronpa V3 has left me feeling cold on... just about everyone. There are a couple of characters I like, here and there, but for the most part, I just... don’t care about what happens to any of them. Anybody could get murdered, and anybody could be the culprit, and I’d basically feel nothing. I don’t find myself curious about what the overarching mystery is, I don’t find myself pondering the identity of the master mind, I just... don’t care about any of it, which is probably the most damning thing I could say about a Dangan Ronpa game.

On the subject of sequels to games I liked, The Evil Within 2! I always thought the first game was actually pretty good and a lot of fun, and I’ll love Joseph Oda until I die, and the sequel was... pretty good? It falls into that area for me where I think all of the gameplay improvements were great, but overall the story was much weaker, and so were the characters. It didn’t feel as fun or varied as the first game did, like it had the same amount of imagination, but in much lesser quality. Out of the three main bad guys you fight, only the first one is really interesting, and the recurring Anima enemy was the only super memorable boss fight. Overall, it was a fun followup, but I still like the first more.

Doki Doki Literature Club came out of nowhere and took the world by storm, and I’m so so glad I was able to avoid spoilers about it and go in relatively blind. I knew that it had a horror twist to it, so I was expecting it to start glitching out and having eerie stuff happen, but I really wasn’t expecting to get so invested in it. It’s an experience that’ll stick with me for a long long time, and I’ll never forget the best girl, Natsuki. The game is amazing, and if you’re reading this and haven’t experienced it, go do it! It’s free on Steam, and try to stay as blind as possible!

I’m one of those people that buys Call of Duty every year. I always have fun with them, they always keep me occupied for a few months, and I generally don’t have anything bad to say about them. There’ve been some weak years, especially with Black Ops 3 for me, but Call of Duty: World War 2 is a competent little package to bring CoD back to its roots, in both a literal and figurative manner. An emphasis on classes, boots on the ground, World War 2, it’s basically everything the fans asked for, and it’s pretty solid! My only complaint is that I think I’m getting too old for twitch shooters, because my aim and reflexes are getting god-awful, even though I used to be amazing back in the CoD4 days.

Star Wars: Battlefront 2 is an even more controversial game than Mass Effect Andromeda, from Loot Boxes to laggy servers to yadda yadda yadda... I never really had much of a dog in the fight, to be honest. I play stuff like Overwatch and Counter Strike, so loot boxes are pretty par for the course (Counter Strike even makes you pay them to open the box!) and while these boxes did technically give an advantage, I don’t find that the Star Card system allows for anything too wild, as far as power gap due to lootbox elements. By and large, I didn’t care, but it seems as though the narrative of the game has basically become the loot boxes, leaving many people unaware that it’s actually a fun game! There weren’t any paid lootboxes present at launch, so all lootboxes here are earned in-game and in-game only, and usually just contain garbage anyways, so most of what you’re going to be doing is from gameplay too. All in all, it kind of makes me sad that this was the game people decided to rail on for lootboxes (despite so, so, so many other games having them and getting away just fine) instead of holding it up as a massive improvement over the first game. Overall, I still think it has some flaws, but with a full year of free DLC and many features (like trooper customization!) being confirmed to be on the way, I’m really happy to be playing it now. Honestly I think I play Battlefront 2 more than Call of Duty, or... any game on this list. I really really like it.

[toldnews-blog]

New Post has been published on https://toldnews.com/technology/scientists-create-speech-from-brain-signals/

Scientists Create Speech From Brain Signals

“In my head, I churn over every sentence ten times, delete a word, add an adjective, and learn my text by heart, paragraph by paragraph,” wrote Jean-Dominique Bauby in his memoir, “The Diving Bell and the Butterfly.” In the book, Mr. Bauby, a journalist and editor, recalled his life before and after a paralyzing spinal injury that left him virtually unable to move a muscle; he tapped out the book letter by letter, by blinking an eyelid.

Thousands of people are reduced to similarly painstaking means of communication as a result of injuries suffered in accidents or combat, of strokes, or of neurodegenerative disorders such as amyotrophic lateral sclerosis, or A.L.S., that disable the ability to speak.

Now, scientists are reporting that they have developed a virtual prosthetic voice, a system that decodes the brain’s vocal intentions and translates them into mostly understandable speech, with no need to move a muscle, even those in the mouth. (The physicist and author Stephen Hawking used a muscle in his cheek to type keyboard characters, which a computer synthesized into speech.)

“It’s formidable work, and it moves us up another level toward restoring speech” by decoding brain signals, said Dr. Anthony Ritaccio, a neurologist and neuroscientist at the Mayo Clinic in Jacksonville, Fla., who was not a member of the research group.

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Researchers have developed other virtual speech aids. Those work by decoding the brain signals responsible for recognizing letters and words, the verbal representations of speech. But those approaches lack the speed and fluidity of natural speaking.

The new system, described on Wednesday in the journal Nature, deciphers the brain’s motor commands guiding vocal movement during speech — the tap of the tongue, the narrowing of the lips — and generates intelligible sentences that approximate a speaker’s natural cadence.

Experts said the new work represented a “proof of principle,” a preview of what may be possible after further experimentation and refinement. The system was tested on people who speak normally; it has not been tested in people whose neurological conditions or injuries, such as common strokes, could make the decoding difficult or impossible.

For the new trial, scientists at the University of California, San Francisco, and U.C. Berkeley recruited five people who were in the hospital being evaluated for epilepsy surgery.

Many people with epilepsy do poorly on medication and opt to undergo brain surgery. Before operating, doctors must first locate the “hot spot” in each person’s brain where the seizures originate; this is done with electrodes that are placed in the brain, or on its surface, and listen for telltale electrical storms.

Pinpointing this location can take weeks. In the interim, patients go through their days with electrodes implanted in or near brain regions that are involved in movement and auditory signaling. These patients often consent to additional experiments that piggyback on those implants.

Five such patients at U.C.S.F. agreed to test the virtual voice generator. Each had been implanted with one or two electrode arrays: stamp-size pads, containing hundreds of tiny electrodes, that were placed on the surface of the brain.

As each participant recited hundreds of sentences, the electrodes recorded the firing patterns of neurons in the motor cortex. The researchers associated those patterns with the subtle movements of the patient’s lips, tongue, larynx and jaw that occur during natural speech. The team then translated those movements into spoken sentences.

Native English speakers were asked to listen to the sentences to test the fluency of the virtual voices. As much as 70 percent of what was spoken by the virtual system was intelligible, the study found.

“We showed, by decoding the brain activity guiding articulation, we could simulate speech that is more accurate and natural sounding than synthesized speech based on extracting sound representations from the brain,” said Dr. Edward Chang, a professor of neurosurgery at U.C.S.F. and an author of the new study. His colleagues were Gopala K. Anumanchipalli, also of U.C.S.F., and Josh Chartier, who is affiliated with both U.C.S.F. and Berkeley.

Previous implant-based communication systems have produced about eight words a minute. The new program generates about 150 a minute, the pace of natural speech.

The researchers also found that a synthesized voice system based on one person’s brain activity could be used, and adapted, by someone else — an indication that off-the-shelf virtual systems could be available one day.

The team is planning to move to clinical trials to further test the system. The biggest clinical challenge may be finding suitable patients: strokes that disable a person’s speech often also damage or wipe out the areas of the brain that support speech articulation.

Still, the field of brain-machine interface technology, as it is known, is advancing rapidly, with teams around the world adding refinements that might be tailored to specific injuries.

“With continued progress,” wrote Chethan Pandarinath and Yahia J. Ali, biomedical engineers at Emory University and Georgia Institute of Technology, in an accompanying commentary, “we can hope that individuals with speech impairments will regain the ability to freely speak their minds and reconnect with the world around them.”

[perfectzablog]

Buying College Essays Is Now Easier Than Ever. But Buyer Beware

As the recent college admissions scandal is shedding light on how parents are cheating and bribing their children’s way into college, schools are also focusing on how some students may be cheating their way through college. Concern is growing about a burgeoning online market that makes it easier than ever for students to buy essays written by others to turn in as their own work. And schools are trying new tools to catch it.

It’s not hard to understand the temptation for students. The pressure is enormous, the stakes are high and, for some, writing at a college level is a huge leap.

“We didn’t really have a format to follow, so I was kind of lost on what to do,” says one college freshman, who struggled recently with an English assignment. One night, when she was feeling particularly overwhelmed, she tweeted her frustration.

“It was like, ‘Someone, please help me write my essay!’ ” she recalls. She ended her tweet with a crying emoji. Within a few minutes, she had a half-dozen offers of help.

“I can write it for you,” they tweeted back. “Send us the prompt!”

The student, who asked that her name not be used for fear of repercussions at school, chose one that asked for $10 per page, and she breathed a sigh of relief.

“For me, it was just that the work was piling up,” she explains. “As soon as I finish some big assignment, I get assigned more things, more homework for math, more homework for English. Some papers have to be six or 10 pages long. … And even though I do my best to manage, the deadlines come closer and closer, and it’s just … the pressure.”

In the cat-and-mouse game of academic cheating, students these days know that if they plagiarize, they’re likely to get caught by computer programs that automatically compare essays against a massive database of other writings. So now, buying an original essay can seem like a good workaround.

“Technically, I don’t think it’s cheating,” the student says. “Because you’re paying someone to write an essay, which they don’t plagiarize, and they write everything on their own.”

Her logic, of course, ignores the question of whether she’s plagiarizing. When pressed, she begins to stammer.

“That’s just a difficult question to answer,” she says. “I don’t know how to feel about that. It’s kind of like a gray area. It’s maybe on the edge, kind of?”

Besides she adds, she probably won’t use all of it.

Other students justify essay buying as the only way to keep up. They figure that everyone is doing it one way or another — whether they’re purchasing help online or getting it from family or friends.

“Oh yeah, collaboration at its finest,” cracks Boston University freshman Grace Saathoff. While she says she would never do it herself, she’s not really fazed by others doing it. She agrees with her friends that it has pretty much become socially acceptable.

“I have a friend who writes essays and sells them,” says Danielle Delafuente, another Boston University freshman. “And my other friend buys them. He’s just like, ‘I can’t handle it. I have five papers at once. I need her to do two of them, and I’ll do the other three.’ It’s a time management thing.”

The war on contract cheating

“It breaks my heart that this is where we’re at,” sighs Ashley Finley, senior adviser to the president for the Association of American Colleges and Universities. She says campuses are abuzz about how to curb the rise in what they call contract cheating. Obviously, students buying essays is not new, but Finley says that what used to be mostly limited to small-scale side hustles has mushroomed on the internet to become a global industry of so-called essay mills. Hard numbers are difficult to come by, but research suggests that up to 16 percent of students have paid someone to do their work and that the number is rising.

“Definitely, this is really getting more and more serious,” Finley says. “It’s part of the brave new world for sure.”

The essay mills market aggressively online, with slickly produced videos inviting students to “Get instant help with your assignment” and imploring them: “Don’t lag behind,” “Join the majority” and “Don’t worry, be happy.”

“They’re very crafty,” says Tricia Bertram Gallant, director of the Academic Integrity Office at the University of California in San Diego and a board member of the International Center for Academic Integrity.

The companies are equally brazen offline — leafleting on campuses, posting flyers in toilet stalls and flying banners over Florida beaches during spring break. Companies have also been known to bait students with emails that look like they’re from official college help centers. And they pay social media influencers to sing the praises of their services, and they post testimonials from people they say are happy customers.

“I hired a service to write my paper and I got a 90 on it!” gloats one. “Save your time, and have extra time to party!” advises another.

“It’s very much a seduction,” says Bertram Gallant. “So you can maybe see why students could get drawn into the contract cheating world.”

YouTube has been cracking down on essay mills; it says it has pulled thousands of videos that violate its policies against promoting dishonest behavior.

But new videos constantly pop up, and their hard sell flies in the face of their small-print warnings that their essays should be used only as a guide, not a final product.

Several essay mills declined or didn’t respond to requests to be interviewed by NPR. But one answered questions by email and offered up one of its writers to explain her role in the company, called EduBirdie.

“Yes, just like the little birdie that’s there to help you in your education,” explains April Short, a former grade school teacher from Australia who’s now based in Philadelphia. She has been writing for a year and a half for the company, which bills itself as a “professional essay writing service for students who can’t even.”

Some students just want some “foundational research” to get started or a little “polish” to finish up, Short says. But the idea that many others may be taking a paper written completely by her and turning it in as their own doesn’t keep her up at night.

“These kids are so time poor,” she says, and they’re “missing out on opportunities of travel and internships because they’re studying and writing papers.” Relieving students of some of that burden, she figures, allows them to become more “well-rounded.”

“I don’t necessarily think that being able to create an essay is going to be a defining factor in a very long career, so it’s not something that bothers me,” says Short. Indeed, she thinks students who hire writers are demonstrating resourcefulness and creativity. “I actually applaud students that look for options to get the job done and get it done well,” she says.

“This just shows you the extent of our ability to rationalize all kinds of bad things we do,” sighs Dan Ariely, professor of psychology and behavioral economics at Duke University. The rise in contract cheating is especially worrisome, he says, because when it comes to dishonest behavior, more begets more. As he puts it, it’s not just about “a few bad apples.”

“Instead, what we have is a lot … of blemished apples, and we take our cues for our behavior from the social world around us,” he says. “We know officially what is right and what’s wrong. But really what’s driving our behavior is what we see others around us doing” or, Ariely adds, what we perceive them to be doing. So even the proliferation of advertising for essays mills can have a pernicious effect, he says, by fueling the perception that “everyone’s doing it.”

A few nations have recently proposed or passed laws outlawing essay mills, and more than a dozen U.S. states have laws on the books against them. But prosecuting essay mills, which are often based overseas in Pakistan, Kenya and Ukraine, for example, is complicated. And most educators are loath to criminalize students’ behavior.

“Yes, they’re serious mistakes. They’re egregious mistakes,” says Cath Ellis, an associate dean and integrity officer at the University of New South Wales, where students were among the hundreds alleged to have bought essays in a massive scandal in Australia in 2014.

“But we’re educational institutions,” she adds. “We’ve got to give students the opportunity to learn from these mistakes. That’s our responsibility. And that’s better in our hands than in the hands of the police and the courts.”

Staying one step ahead

In the war on contract cheating, some schools see new technology as their best weapon and their best shot to stay one step ahead of unscrupulous students. The company that makes the Turnitin plagiarism detection software has just upped its game with a new program called Authorship Investigate.

The software first inspects a document’s metadata, like when it was created, by whom it was created and how many times it was reopened and re-edited. Turnitin’s vice president for product management, Bill Loller, says sometimes it’s as simple as looking at the document’s name. Essay mills typically name their documents something like “Order Number 123,” and students have been known to actually submit it that way. “You would be amazed at how frequently that happens,” says Loller.

Using cutting-edge linguistic forensics, the software also evaluates the level of writing and its style.

“Think of it as a writing fingerprint,” Loller says. The software looks at hundreds of telltale characteristics of an essay, like whether the author double spaces after a period or writes with Oxford commas or semicolons. It all gets instantly compared against a student’s other work, and, Loller says, suspicions can be confirmed — or alleviated — in minutes.

“At the end of the day, you get to a really good determination on whether the student wrote what they submitted or not,” he says, “and you get it really quickly.”

Coventry University in the U.K. has been testing out a beta version of the software, and Irene Glendinning, the school’s academic manager for student experience, agrees that the software has the potential to give schools a leg up on cheating students. After the software is officially adopted, “we’ll see a spike in the number of cases we find, and we’ll have a very hard few years,” she says. “But then the message will get through to students that we’ve got the tools now to find these things out.” Then, Glendinning hopes, students might consider contract cheating to be as risky as plagiarizing.

In the meantime, schools are trying to spread the word that buying essays is risky in other ways as well.

Professor Ariely says that when he posed as a student and ordered papers from several companies, much of it was “gibberish” and about a third of it was actually plagiarized.

Even worse, when he complained to the company and demanded his money back, they resorted to blackmail. Still believing him to be a student, the company threatened to tell his school he was cheating. Others say companies have also attempted to shake down students for more money, threatening to rat them out if they didn’t pay up.

The lesson, Ariely says, is “buyer beware.”

But ultimately, experts say, many desperate students may not be deterred by the risks — whether from shady businesses or from new technology.

Bertram Gallant, of UC San Diego, says the right way to dissuade students from buying essays is to remind them why it’s wrong.

“If we engage in a technological arms race with the students, we won’t win,” she says. “What are we going to do when Google glasses start to look like regular glasses and a student wears them into an exam? Are we going to tell them they can’t wear their glasses because we’re afraid they might be sending the exam out to someone else who is sending them back the answers?”

The solution, Bertram Gallant says, has to be about “creating a culture where integrity and ethics matter” and where education is valued more than grades. Only then will students believe that cheating on essays is only cheating themselves.

Copyright 2019 NPR. To see more, visit https://www.npr.org.

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