#they publish whatever you send them it’s wonderful

[leninqrad]

student newspaper feat. my writing

[jibunbosh]

Mesmerizer is a satire of TikTok, YouTube Shorts, and the rest of the modern short-form vertical video format

A brief thematic analysis.

I'm sure there are countless people already interpreting the imagery and details in this wonderful song & MV, like here and here, so I won't spend too much time retreading that ground. Miku and Teto are dancing. Miku gets hypnotized. Teto signals for help, but gets hypnotized at the end as well.

That part is obvious enough, but that's still pretty surface-level. What is this seemingly hyperspatial horror scenario supposed to mean to us?

While checking to see if anyone before me's already come to the same conclusions as I did and if I should bother not writing this text post at all (lol), I came across udin's great analysis video. She comes to the conclusion that the song tackles themes of disillusionment with reality and the ways we indulge in escapism to relieve ourselves of the pains of the world.

I agree with that reading! From practically the very beginning, we have Miku call to us - the viewer - to push away our true feelings. Teto comes in to peddle a solution, inviting us to surrender and empty our minds - in her words, "pretending to know nothing."

You, the viewer, are a critical character in this masquerade. For nearly the entire video, Miku and Teto's eyes are unfailingly trained on you. Or, well... perhaps they can't actually see you, but they can see a camera, or whatever other aperture the point of view is supposed to be from. And they know they're being watched. (Who else would Teto be sending distress signals to?)

Let's put a pin on that for later.

udin notes very early on that Miku and Teto are, conspicuously, kept in vertical frames - very similar to the video formats of TikTok (and Instagram Reels, and YouTube Shorts, and whatever other clones of the format exist.) You know, just like the animator Caststation's Rabbit Hole fan MV that went viral some months ago.

Hey wouldn't it be crazy if the song's producer, 32ki, released Mesmerizer shorts too haha. Wouldn't that be crazy.

Wow, wild.

These short-term vertical videos are captivating & alluring. If you're reading this, it's more likely than not that you've also found yourself caught up in them at least once, scrolling through the infinite algorithmic slurry and forgetting about the real-life issues you have at hand. Would you say, then, that you felt hypnotized? Mesmerized, even?

And so these two invite us to join their world and focus on the... uh... rectangle.

Their dances are repetitive, following the same loop. Their outfits are distinct, but their choreography isn't. They're copying the same formula, repeating it ad nauseam to the best of their ability.

They're doing a fucking TikTok dance.

Back to the pin I told you about earlier, with Miku and Teto looking at a camera.

Miku sways with the camera, eyes looking directly at it like a swinging pocket watch. She's been looking at it the entire time, after all. We've been seeing her via our screen this entire time, but, again, she doesn't necessarily see us. She's beholden to the camera, which she dances for day after day, caught up in its spell. She's hypnotized by it. Eventually, she breaks.

Teto, on the other hand, resists. For a while, anyway.

Despite her being the one jumping to us with the "solution" at the beginning of the MV, there's very quickly good reason to question how much agency she has in this. She dances for the camera as well, but she doesn't want to. She's signalling for help. She wants out.

Many content creators (as much as I personally loathe the non-specificity and soullessness of the term) have struggled with the adaptation to the short-form video format, and the preference the algorithm has had for these captivating, bite-sized videos. They're catchy, and easily drive up metrics. Practically anyone who's publishing their work via video format online needs to learn to adapt or fall behind, even if that means whittling their content down to fit the frame, the time, and people's shortening attention spans. Sometimes, that means compromising on specificity and completeness... or, in other words, the true representation of a full work.

The song's writer, 32ki, has been releasing songs on YouTube for several years. Their first YouTube Short, however, was posted only a year ago: a short, whittled-down segment of their previous song, CIRCUS PANIC!!!, hoping for it to win the ProsekaNEXT song contest. It was their first song to achieve widespread popularity and hit a million views.

The shorts, however, aren't the "true" versions of the song. The full song just won't fit.

We're being mesmerized as consumers of this endless stream of content, rather than appreciators of music and art. However, that relationship isn't completely symmetrical across the plane that is the 4th wall. Miku and Teto are trapped not by their attention spans, but by a compulsion to project their "truthful acting" and peddle that window into a colorful, problem-free world.

We, as the collective audience, need not dwell on any one thing for too long - we need only swipe, and move on to the next video. However, Miku and Teto are trapped behind the screen for eternity, day after day.

They're the only characters we get to see, of course. There's no evil 3rd voice synth character that's plotting to keep them trapped in there. We can't put a face to whatever force is hypnotizing them and trapping them behind the screen. It's faceless - like the inscrutable algorithms of YouTube recommendations or the TikTok For You page, or the impersonal corporations that develop & maintain those aforementioned apps. Miku and Teto's likenesses, on the other hand, are being exploited and extracted from for their entertainment value, being strung along by that metaphorical hypnotizing force like puppets on a string.

Many people, represented by Miku, enjoy their success on such platforms. It's freeing and liberating to throw oneself wholeheartedly into such an endeavor, of course! Others, represented by Teto, harbor their doubts of the emotional veracity of such a medium, but know they have little choice lest they face destruction... perhaps not literally as a person, but as an idea.

Wouldn't it be easier just to let oneself be swept away by it and give in?

[tkingfisher]

So I write all sorts of things (fiction, fanfic, screenplays) and my mind is cluttered garden of flowers and weeds and shiny ideas, and I'm wondering how to form a writing practice to clear it into tidy rows? Is it possible to shepherd untamed ideas into order?

How do you manage all your wonderful worlds, characters and inspiration and not feel haunted by the story bits and pieces in your head? Any practical tips beyond dark magic?

Thank you, you are such a constant inspiration for me, both prose and just your presence. <3

*laugh* Oh god, Nonny, if I ever find out, I’ll tell you! When you read books, you’re getting the Instagram-filtered view of a writer’s brain, all the flowers that grew out of the compost heap, carefully composed and shot in optimal lighting. The real inside of my skull is a magpie nest of Neat Shit I Read/Saw/Thought Up While Lying Awake At 2 AM. There are characters and ideas in there that I’ve been trying to get into a manuscript since I was twelve and typing on an Amiga 500.

But, that said…really, I think it’s okay. Creativity is inherently untidy. The compost heap can be corralled into a very pretty box made of sustainably harvested materials, hand-stained by traditional artisans being paid a living wage by an employee-owned company, but as soon as you lift the lid, it’s all worms and coffee grounds and old potting soil and cow shit and the vegetables you swore you were gonna eat this time before they went bad. That’s what compost is.

Nevertheless, having been in the business for…uh…fifteen years now? (@dduane is snickering at me, I can feel it) and having written nearly forty books, I can offer three bits of something less than advice. It’s what I do. It may not work for anyone else, but it’s what I do.

Un-Advice The First: If you get a shiny idea and you are super excited by it? Go ahead and chase it. Pull up a new page in Word or whatever and slap down a couple thousand words while it’s exciting. I know that this absolutely flies in the face of common wisdom, but quite frankly, my enthusiasm is a much rarer commodity than my time, so if I’m excited about something, I write it down until I’ve taken the edge off.

Then I usually save it into a big folder called “Fragments” and go back to work on whatever I’ve got a deadline on. (Usually. Sometimes the edge doesn’t wear off, and I wind up with another book. Which, y’know, darn.)

There are vast numbers of people who will tell you that a shiny idea is a sign that something is wrong with your current project and the solution is to knuckle down and work! through! it! And those people are probably right for them, and I trust they know how their own brains work. Me, though, I got ADHD like a bat has wings. My hard drive is a vast swamp of story beginnings, neat ideas, random scenes. And that’s okay because I still get books finished.

In fact, it’s better than okay. Not that long ago, my agent sent a novella to a publisher and they said “We’ll take that novella and three more novels. What’ve you got?” And I ended up plundering my hard drive and sending the editor a good dozen random beginnings until we found one that we both liked, and then I wrote the rest of that book. And then another one. If I hadn’t had all those fragments lying around, though, it would have been a miserable experience of writing book pitches and trying to think of stuff I could get excited about. (This may not be how some editors work, but it’s how my editor and I work, anyhow.)

Un-Advice The Second: Trust that everything will find a home eventually.

This one is easy to say and hard to do because sometimes you get that overload that if you’re writing the book about, say, werebear nuns, you aren’t writing the one about the alien crustaceans. Or worse, you feel guilty. If you don’t use that one cool thing, was all that time you spent on it wasted?

Breathe. Be easy. Every single cool thing does not need to go into a single book. There is no sell-by date on the neat character. You will probably write many books in your life and all those random characters will find a home. (Seriously, the werebear nuns were lurking for like a decade.)

For me, at least, when I find the spot where something fits, it often snaps into place like a Lego. Easton’s backstory as a soldier from a society where soldiers were a third sex had been kicking around in my head for a few years, derived from about three different sources, and then I wrote the opening to What Moves The Dead and all of a sudden Easton was there and alive and they had strong opinions about everything and I had ten thousand words practically before I turned around.

You can also stave off guilt by writing some of your ideas in as highly personal Easter Eggs. A couple of my books have references to a white deer woman, a heroic deed done by a saint and the ghost of a bird, and a woman with dozens of hummingbirds on tiny jeweled leashes. Those are all characters and stories I’ve had vague notions about, but haven’t managed to work in anywhere or learn much more about. Still, the passing reference is enough to make me feel like I haven’t abandoned them.

(The advantage to this is that once you DO write those in, the readers are all “oh my god, she foreshadowed this a decade ago, she must have planned this all out in advance!” Then you look really clever and well-organized and no one has to know that you have no idea what you’re doing.)

Un-Advice The Third: Write the kitchen sink book.

At one point, I had so many stray ideas that hadn’t gotten into a book yet—the tree of frogs, the dog-soldiers, the stained glass saint, the albatross and the shadow of the sun, and also I wanted to write something with Baba Yaga—that I hauled off and wrote a book where I just put in everything and the kitchen sink. It’s called Summer in Orcus. There are bits in there that I had been cooking in the mental compost heap for decades, but that weren’t enough on their own to sustain a whole book. The phrase “antelope women are not to be trusted” showed up in my head some time in college. It’s a fun little book and I’m proud of it, but it’s very much a patchwork quilt of weirdness. But it’s also written so that if later on, an antelope woman shows up in another book in another context, that just adds to their mythology, it doesn’t break canon or whatever.

(Pretty sure I’m not the only one who has done this, either. China Mieville has said that he wrote Perdido Street Station because what he really enjoyed was writing all the weird monsters.)

So yeah, that’s my advice, for what it’s worth. Some days I just tell all the fragments and ideas that I promise that I’ll get them a home eventually but I need to write this thing here now. Sometimes I throw down enough words to get the story stabilized and then I’m okay to move on. Sometimes I write multiple books simultaneously.

Any method you use to write the book, so long as it doesn’t hurt you or anyone else, is a perfectly valid method. If anyone tells you different, you send them to me.

(…god, I hope that was the question you were actually asking, Nonny, and that I didn’t go off on a completely different tangent when you just wanted to know how I keep track of a plot or something.)

[mrs-hatake]

How JJK Men Hold Your Chin

Warnings: MDI!!! yandere behavior, obsessiveness, manipulation, dacryphilia, over protectiveness, human sacrifice, mentioned assassination, foul language, female reader, HUMAN!sukuna

A/N: i kinda went overboard with sukuna lmao. credits are in the pics! also, shoutout to my soulmate who encouraged me to write and publish this luv u 🥹

Toji:

Toji’s eyes shoot open when the soft rattle of the window opening fills the bedroom. Whoever decided to ambush Toji, in own home no less, is doing a piss poor job at it. The number rule of breaking and entering is that you need to be as quiet as the dead…Or make sure you aren’t breaking into a room where the occupants of the house are in. 

He doesn’t move, makes sure to keep his breathing deep and even as his ears focus on the soft thud across from his bed. The gentle rustle of feet on carpet is thundering. It makes Toji wonder which sorry idiot decided to attack him. He lies still. Waiting.

Toji senses a presence behind his back. The stare of the invader doesn’t feel oppressive but more hesitant. Big mistake. Waiting a heartbeat before striking, Toji quickly has the criminal pinned under him on the bed. A terrified screech stabs sharply in his ears, ringing like an alarm clock.

Leaning over, Toji harshly tugs on the string of the desk lamp on the nightstand. Dim yellow light floods the corner of the room where Toji’s bed is placed. 

With the darkness gone, Toji’s eyebrow quirks at the sight below him. A pair of eyes stare at him in a vacuous stupor, their lips formed into a silent ‘o’ shape. 

Toji blinks down at the frightened woman. 

She blinks back. 

Whoever sent her his way is a freaking dumbass. Aside from the fear drowning in her eyes, incompetence screamed at him. How did his enemies expect to dispose of him with someone as weak as her?

Lost in his thought, the woman raises her leg and tries to kick Toji off of her. Luckily, Toji’s reflexes are as sharp as a cat's and dodges the attack. He yanks her leg down before pressing all of his weight on it, trapping her.

“Don’t kill me.” The woman pleads and it forces Toji’s head to tilt to the side in confusion.

“You’re here to kill me.” He says, as if it’s the most obvious thing, “It’s only fair I defend myself.”

His words strike a nerve. The woman begins to frantically shake her head, jostling Toji with her movement. “Please.” She whispers repeatedly like a broken record. 

Having had enough, and with the exhaustion from today’s mission catching up to him, Toji’s large and calloused hand grabs the woman’s chin, successfully suspending her thrashes. 

The tip of his thumb is brushing the edge of the woman’s chapped lip. The two, caught in a daze, are silent. 

“Tell me why I shouldn’t kill you?” Toji’s voice drops to a murmur, his already deep voice growing deeper.

The woman continues to stare at him but there’s something calculative in her eyes, as if she’s determined the best course of action. Whatever she finds, melts the tension from her. Her form relaxes under Toji but he still maintains his weight on her. It could be a trap after all. Waiting for him to drop his guard down before she strikes. Toji has been in the business for so long that such a childish trick is insulting.

“I’ll tell you who hired me.” The woman's breath comes out shaken, broken.

Toji contemplates her answer before shaking his head, “Not enough.” 

His response doesn’t deter the woman. In fact, it strengthened her resolve.  “Not just the organization I work with but several of them. It’s like a betting ring.” She explains, her eyes hard, unafraid to meet him. 

Toji thinks. People wanting him dead isn’t something new but that doesn’t mean he has the free time to hunt down every single one of them. However, what the woman says next sends a chill down his spine.

“They’re coming after your son.”

Her statement is a bullet shot straight to his heart. If what this woman is saying is true, then he needs to take her word for it.

“If you’re lying,” Toji’s grip on the woman’s chin is unforgivable, “I will kill you and your pathetic family.” he spits before letting go. 

Satoru:

The woman is panting harshly as she leans against the metal pillar at the underground train station. The ruckus of the coming and goings of the people blend into the background until it’s nothing but a gentle hum. She swallows her dried throat, thick and heavy, gathering whatever moisture to nourish the muscle. The woman’s back presses against the pillar as her eyes close shut. Greedily, she sucks air into her lungs. 

Weakly, her eye opens and it darts frantically across the station until it lands on the departure board. The orange LED lights glaring harshly at her. Still, the woman squints as she reads the list and the corresponding time. Her train leaves in less than half an hour. She’s exhausted. Her legs are screaming at her from her earlier run and throat is begging for water. But the woman pushes through.

With one final deep inhale, the woman pushes herself and makes her way to the platform where her train will arrive in ten minutes. 

The woman hasn’t taken a single step forward when a voice wells up a wave of acid deep from within her belly. 

“Found you.”  A voice she once associated with reverence has her recoiling in horror.

Inchmeal, the woman turned.

Gojo Satoru is standing in front of her. Despite the gentle smile on his lips, Satoru’s blue eyes are as wild as a stormy sea, raging and fervent.

A blink and Satoru’s hand is cupping the woman’s cheek in a tight embrace. She winces at the pain, reaches her hand to wrap around Satoru’s wrist and tugs it away to no avail. 

“Oh, Y/N,” Satoru sighs as if she is some naughty child, “It’s cute that you think you can run away from me.” 

The woman’s eyes pleads Satoru, begs him to let her go, set her free, but Satoru is blind. 

With a powerful pull, Satoru yanks the woman into an embrace. His muscled arms trapped her in an unbreakable cage. 

“Let’s go home.” Instead of Satoru’s whisper resembling a kitten’s soothing licks, it feels like a spider crawling up her throat.

Nanami:

Warm hues of orange and pink spreading across the sky is the last thing the woman sees before her eyes shut close. She doesn’t scream as she falls to her death. Her descent is calm, freeing in a morbid sense. Though the curse is still rampaging the abandoned hospital, terrorizing the second year students, the woman accepts her demise with a serene smile. 

The impact she has been embracing for doesn’t come to her. Well, not in the way she had imagined numerous times whenever the woman is sent off on a mission. Instead, a firm but pliable object breaks her fall. 

Cinnamon and black coffee invades her senses. A roaring heartbeat echoes in her ears but before the woman can open her eyes, she is gently put on her feet.

“How can you be so careless?” A voice growling in her direction forces the woman’s eyes to open.

Blinking the black spots from her vision, the woman lifts her gaze from the ground to where Nanami Kento is standing just a few feet away from her. His muscles are stiff and his lips are pressed together in anger.

Oh shit.

“What were you thinking?” Kento continues, uncaring of how his voice is increasing in volume but the woman is shell shocked. Not from the fall but from the fact that, in the years she has known Nanami Kento, is losing his cool.

“I’m fine.” The woman sighs in exhaustion as her hands dusts her outfit free of dirt. She notices in her peripheral vision the second year students delivering the final blow to the curse spirit, their cheer turning into horrified groans when the curse exploded into tiny little pieces and it covered them with neon green goo. “I had it under control.”

Kento rolls his eyes, “Like hell you were.”

Worn out and oddly hungry, the woman turns away from her livid colleague. “I don’t have time for this.” she mutters.

“We’re not done talking.” Kento calls after her but the woman doesn’t meet his dark eyes, raging with an uncontrollable fire.

Just as the woman is turning to leave, Kento’s massive hand cups her chin and forcefully pulls her to face him.

“Look at me when I’m talking to you.” Kento seethes through clenched teeth. His thumb on the apple of her left cheek presses deeply into the supple skin, almost bruising.

The woman’s jaw clenches, the muscles flexing underneath Kento’s fingers on her right cheek. Her piercing gaze is unyielding but Nanami Kento doesn’t back down.

“Don’t you dare do that again.” Though Kento’s tone is cold and disapproving, the woman hears the concern loud and clear. 

“Answer me.” He barks with the authority of a man who should not be challenged. 

“I won’t.” The woman responds in a strained voice. 

Geto:

The woman’s eyes are large and rimmed with tears as she meets irises colored in vibrant amethyst.

The man returns her gaze with feigned kindness and condescending pity. His hands cupping her cheeks are warm and they light a fire in her belly. His thumbs are slightly rough with callouses but they are gentle as they wipe away stray tears. Soft lips kiss the woman’s forehead, their velvety touch is soothing, imbued with a delicate tenderness that has the woman melting like putty in his arms. 

“Now, be a good little girl and do as you’re told.” Geto Suguru’s voice is rich with sweetness and has a velvety timbre, resembling a bitter drink with traces of sugar. It has a propitiating quality to it that embraces the woman in a sense of tranquility.

“Suguru.” The woman hiccups, vision blurred with unshed tears. 

Suguru coos, the sound echoing that of a mother worrying over her child after waking up from a nightmare. He leans in, slowly and tenderly as if to not frighten her off, and licks each tear trail from each cheek.

“Suguru?” The woman sputters, her eyebrows furrowing in bewilderment as she tries to process what just happened. 

Though the soft smile Suguru gives her radiates warmth, there’s a subtle glimmer in his eyes that hints at something the woman can’t recognize but it fills her with dread. 

“There, there.” Suguru whispers gently, his hands still cupping her cheeks. His fingers are wet with tears but the fact doesn’t bother him.

“This will all be over soon.”

Sukuna:

Sukuna’s hibernation is interrupted by cacophonous ceremonial chants reverberating from the forest below.

Year after year, Sukuna has reprimanded the villagers for their never ending harassment. They mistake his cursed lineage as an entity to protect his village when, in reality, the Ryomen clan was cursed by the Gojo clan three hundred years ago for violating the peace treaty because one member from the branch family decided to be a cocky little shit and terrorize humans and now Sukuna has to suffer the consequences. 

Every first day of spring, the villagers leave animal caracases at the mouth of his cave to satiate his hunger. When that didn’t work, the villagers sent wooden crates filled to the brim with glimmering gold coins and a crown decorated in sparkling diamonds to persuade Sukuna in blessing their harvest. Stupid villagers and their stupid myths. If they had bothered to open a history book, they would have discovered that Ryomen Sukuna is just as human as any of them. The only difference is that part of the Gojo clan’s punishment was to inject every member of the Ryomen clan with poison into their bloodstream that altered their genetic composition. Instead of having two arms and two eyes like everyone else, the Ryomens now have four arms and four eyes. Oh, and an additional mouth on their belly.

A satisfied moan falls from his mouths when his muscles pop as he stretches his four arms high into heaven. Scratching his side with one of his hands, Sukuna trudges to the mouth of the caves and watches with complete boredom as those fools travel the winding path leading to his habitat. Glancing at the sun, Sukuna figures it’ll take them another hour before they arrive. 

When the villagers do arrive, they wordlessly leave their sacrifice at the cave entrance and leave, just as silent and unnerving. 

With nothing better to do, Sukuna humors the villagers and steps out of his stifling home.

Despite it being early spring, the weather is still warm but the air has a certain bite to it. Not enough to warrant thicker garment but enough to appreciate the cool breeze caressing Sukuna’s skin.

Stepping outside, Sukuna comes to a sudden halt. His four eyes blink before they glance around the forest, searching for a glimpse of the villagers who will explain what this year’s present is. 

Below him, just a few meters away from his feet, is a woman lying on her side. She is dressed in all white and her hair is fixed in a complicated updo. Gems dangle with each blow from the wind and Sukuna’s nose picks up the hints of honey and vanilla.

Sukuna’s thick fingers massage the spot between his eyes while his two arms cross in front of his stomach, pressing against his mouth.

Great, just great. Those idiots brought him a human sacrifice this year for whatever fucked up reason. Sighing, long and heavily, he picks up the unconscious woman and carries her into his cave.

It’s around nightfall when Sukuna hears soft groans coming from his bed. His upper right arm is stroking the fire to life while his lower right arm throws wood into the fire pit. His stomach has been growling for the past hour and his tongue keeps licking the curve of his belly button. If Sukuna will ever have the chance to fight the infamous Gojo Satoru, he wants to inject him with the same poison just so he can understand the hell Sukuna’s been through. 

“You’re awake.” Sukuna’s voice cuts into the night air, deep and smooth. 

The woman freezes on the bed and takes a moment to gather her thoughts before pushing herself into a sitting position. 

When the woman turns to face him, Sukuna’s two pairs of red eyes roam over the woman’s face that’s painted with soft makeup to enhance her beauty. 

“Greetings, Sukuna-sama.” The woman greets him in a luscious voice, no doubt a skill taught to her by the elderly women of the village. Sukuna resists rolling his eyes at their stupidity. Instead, he tosses the iron rod aside and saunters to his bed. 

Though the woman bows her head in submission, her form lowered in a beautiful arch, Sukuna can see her trembling in her place. After all, Sukuna cuts an intimidating figure. Not just with his additional limbs and eyes but also with his height; totaling at two hundred centimeters. It's a small wonder she is frightened. 

An index finger that is as long and slender as the iron rod hooks under the woman’s chin and tilts it upward to face him. 

A soft hum emits from Sukuna, “The villagers have outdone themselves with this year’s sacrifice," his finger glides down her neck, "heh, they must be desperate to please me.”

The woman says nothing. Her eyes are lidded and they are clouded in something that Sukuna cannot discern but they add to her charm. Flames flicker to life in Sukuna, sparking intense desire that burns through him like wildfire.

“I’ll take good care of you.” Sukuna vows, his voice lowering into a hummed whisper, each word heavy with yearning and licentiousness.

[peri-peri-sauce]

So it seems that the twitter front row stans who ruined böle for so many people have now came out as Käärijä haters because apparently they are too morally pure to support such a rotten individual (aka they were mad that senpai wasn't noticing them and they seized the chance to turn against him for revenge). Penny for your thoughts 🙏

These people who so loudly claim to be Käärijä's biggest fans, who have been supporting him all this time, who are willing to pay whatever it takes and queue for hours to be in the front row at each of his concerts, who have sent him messages of support and defended him on many occasions, and who have always been there, took less than a second to cancel him, talk shit about him, send him private messages, and delete content related to him from their social media just because of one video.

These people who have supported him so much haven't even given him the benefit of the doubt, haven't waited to hear the full story of what happened (knowing how manipulative that specific delegation has been with other participants *cough cough* Joost *cough cough*), and are totally ready to leave it all behind and cancel him just because of one video. Not to mention one particular person who was completely willing to publish personal information (which they obtained through stalking) about Käärijä and his crew.

I understand that some people want to leave the fandom after what happened; it's a delicate matter, and people have every right to be angry. But leaving in such a dramatic way, speaking shit about him, and canceling him like that after being such a dedicated fan really makes you wonder if they were really fans or they were here only for the clout.

These people have proven to be hypocrites; they think they're important and special just because they're always in the front row and have a few numbers on Twitter, when in reality, they're just selfish opportunists. If they cared so much about Käärijä, if they were such big fans, if they loved him so much, why didn't they hesitate for even a second to abandon and cancel him?

Their behavior and attitude really makes you think.

[malewifeharem]

celebrity!danheng IL

彡- ,, a collection of my brainrots about dating danheng as diff types of celebs!

cw ⁞ none unless ur allergic to hot rich dragon fluff. not proofread.

an ⁞ i put my whole badussy into this from 3 am till 8. i wasnt gonna write so much for my first post but ehe.

imagine dancer!danheng who lets you join him during dance practice. you sit quietly by the side while you keep your eyes on his sweaty, concentrated form. the song he chose blasts in the background and his sneakers squeak with each of his movements. he's dynamic, powerful, sexy and everything you could ever dream of.

sometimes he worries that you'll get bored (as if) so he glances at you occasionally to check on you. the way you flare up in embarrassment at his sharp gaze is just a bonus. you really question how you managed to woo a water dragon twice your age (dilf?) but you try not to think about it too much.

he mutters a breathy "thank you, treasure," as you hand him his bottle. he doesn't realize you smiling like an idiot as you watch him replenish himself, your eyes once again locking in on your boyfriend's ethereal features. his slick-backed hair falls across his face as he tips his head back, revealing his crystalline eyes — divine, tranquil and pure, just like a river — much like his love for you.

imagine author!danheng who dedicates all of his time writing about his one and only muse — you. in fact, he's been writing about you for lifetimes now — in every new lifetime you two share together, he vows to devote his time to only you. when he's writing, he reminisces about your past dates together and pieces his heart and memories together and masterfully fits it into a vessel. once he's done, he proudly sends it to the publisher and patiently awaits the day he can show the finished book to you.

"how do you like it?"

he asks as he curls into you closer while cuddling (aw im gonna eat him i swear), eager to hear your opinion. Although he knows you adore whatever he writes, he still wants to see the way your eyes crinkle as you shyly giggle at the parts you recognize from your own dates. he wants �� no, needs — to engrave the sight and sound of you in his mind so he can write it in his next script.

god forbid if anything happens to you. after inviting you into his life, he finds himself unable to write any angsty or tragic stories — he wonders why.

imagine actor!danheng who invites you as an exclusive guest to the film set. he's currently filming for a romance drama which involves him and another actress acting out a couple of lovey-dovey scenes — nothing more than that. that's what you tell yourself as you cringe, your brain conjuring up an image of another woman kissing him outside of set. you push your seething jealousy aside till you're both back in the dressing room. he doesn't miss the way you refuse to look him in the eye as he casually discusses dinner plans with you.

"what's wrong, darling? if this is about my acting during filming, i'll reassure you once more: whatever happens on set, stays on set."

he gently tips your chin up so you're both looking eye-to-eye. he relishes in seeing you all pouty for him, he can't help but chuckle when he observes the slight glossy look of your eyes — they hold a possessive, feisty glint in them that pulls on his heartstrings in the perfect way. he sighs sweetly before pulling you in for a warm hug, his tail coiling itself around your figure — caressing your back and relieving whatever doubts and worries you held before.

"let's create our own scenes tonight, my love."

[babsvibes]

4 🤩🫶🏻

For the Bob’s Burgers prompt game, I… may have accidentally finished a WIP for this prompt: Erotic Friend Fiction

Tina-Novela

Tina shifted her weight in the red pleather booth and wondered again why Louise called a meeting with her in the restaurant. Typically about this time, her younger sister would be fixing Fischoeder messes or telling her consultants to pull their heads out of their collective asses. Instead, they sat across from each other, Louise’s heavy bag dropped onto the table in between them just moments before.

“Tina, you know that I’ve always been a big supporter of your works,” Louise began, folding her hands in front of her, eyes closed.

“You have?”

“I read all of your stories, don’t I?”

“You do??” Tina asked and broke away from the forebodingly stuffed satchel to stare wide-eyed at Louise, who only shook her head at Tina’s doubt.

“Obviously. It feels like we’re kids and I’m back stealing your diary. Reading it gives me a peek into your life. Or whatever.”

“My life…?” Tina shuffled in her seat and quirked her head just barely, hoping to indicate a passable measure of innocence. “But this isn’t friend fiction. All of the characters and settings in my books are completely fictional.”

“Really?” Reaching into her bag, Louise retrieved a paperback and displayed it with two hands so that Tina could read the title. The artwork beneath it showed three oil painted figures expressing devotion to each other. “The Raven, the Dancer, and their Zek? All you did was leave off the E, T.”

“Heh. ET. And the book is an alien romance. Good one.”

“I’m not done.” She pulled out another copy. “Published a while after a certain sibling and a certain high school heartthrob had a little fling. A Jean Jacket for Jenny.”

“I thought the title was clever…” Tina ran a finger over one of her prouder novels. Her first lesbian romance had been a huge hit. “I can’t believe you actually bought copies. Louise, that's really nice.”

“Which brings me to my next point.” Louise grew serious and deadly. “I wasn’t a fan of your latest work.”

Oh. Oh no.

Louise heaved the last book from her bag, letting it clunk onto the table with an accusatory thud. Staring back at Tina was a title she had hoped her younger sister would never see.

The Longing of Lisa.

“Uhhh,” Tina scrambled to think of something, anything, to distract her. “What did you not like about it?”

“You know, the title could have really used some- the characters! Tina! And who you based them off of!” During her tirade, Louise shoved the bag and the rest of the books out of the booth, sending them careening to the ground in a violent hurry. Post-lunch rush, the thud of paperbacks against the floor echoed in the empty restaurant.

“That was… Mom and Dad. Linda. Lisa.” She averted her gaze as though it was possible to hide behind the thick frames of her glasses. “Both have the s- same letters in them.”

“So which part of Bob made Landon?”

“Uhh,” Tina groaned then finished meekly, “the O?”

“It’s Logan, Tina. There is a whopping one letter difference. You put me and my rival in a suspense monster romance. You Thriller’d me!”

“I was experimenting with the genre, and I needed different characters. That doesn’t mean it’s you two though.”

“Oh is that so?” Louise flipped the book open. “There’s an entire section where the plot stops because Landon keeps trying to take Lisa’s beret. Also, a beret? Really?”

“If I wrote her with a bandana, then you’d know it was you.”

“Ah HA! You admit it!” After slamming the table with her fists, Louise composed herself, folding her hands together and releasing a deep breath. “Tina, we’ve known each other a long time now. You’re like a sister to me.”

“That’s because.. we are… sisters…” Tina said getting quieter on every word as Louise continued to berate her.

“So I’m having trouble coming to terms with you treating me this way. I’ve been good to you. I’ve helped the family business. I babysit sometimes. I’ve never once forgotten your birthday. And you turn around and write werewolf smut about me and my arch nemesis. I’M not even the werewolf?! What the fuck, T.”

“Hey now hold on. There wasn’t actual smut. I did a very tasteful fade to black that pissed off my editor but ultimately made the cut.”

“Also,” Louise continued to rant, “what’s up with us only using last names? I call him by his name all the time.”

“Oh that’s just, uh, a thing people like.”

A storm of nitpicks, clarifying questions, and accusations swarmed around Tina, who could barely get a word in edgewise.

Louise didn’t seem like the type to know these kinds of tropes or thematic questions. But she also wasn’t supposed to know about this book, so there was a lot Tina could be wrong about.

Apparently, Louise had really read it. In depth even.

Tina would be touched if she wasn’t so worried about being murdered.

But what was she supposed to say? Hey, you don’t see the looks he gives you when you’re not paying attention. Or, can you tell how much time you spend with him because you two just keep “happening” to run into each other?

Tina wanted to live long enough to be a grandmother one day.

“And all of that to say, no. There is nothing going on between me and Logan, there never will be anything going on between me and Logan, and if I EVER catch you writing us into one of your little curse breaking true love’s kiss scenarios again I will teach your kids how to smoke.”

“They’re four and six??”

“Did I stutter?!” Louise, chest heaving, closed her eyes and took a long, composing breath. She straightened her bandana, then fixed Tina with a look. “Just… say you’re sorry, and we can put this behind us.”

“… No.”

The customers stopped eating.

The ceiling fans stopped spinning.

The fryer stopped bubbling.

Louise broke the silence, grinding her teeth together with a twitching eye.

“... What?”

“I said no,” Tina repeated, crossing her arms. “You two have something worth writing about, I felt inspired by your chemistry, and I told a good story. I have nothing to apologize for. It’s not my fault you can see what’s right in front of you.”

Louise drummed her fingers against the table, slow and pointed. Her other hand tightened around the book.

“Do you remember… that brief period where we were both teenagers at the same time?”

“You can try to tear my hair out all you want,” Tina said, flashbacks to their more violent outbursts replaying in her mind. “I’ll still just twist your arm around.”

“So you DO want to fight, huh? You want to fight?”

“Bring. It.”

Saved by the bell, a jingling from above the door interrupted the bare knuckle brawl before it could really begin.

Though Louise probably wasn’t a fan of who entered.

“Oh goooood,” Logan drawled. He lazily saluted at Tina but focused his attention on Louise. “You’re here. Feed me, Burger Woman.”

“Do you want me to put up posters?” Louise snapped.

He paused, tilting his head with a question. “A wanted poster?”

“No, a missing poster. For your goddamn mind because you’ve obviously lost it.”

Caught up in their banter, neither noticed Tina slinking off, taking out her notebook and jotting notes for her next piece.

[trekkiehood]

Thinking about Ponyboy's teacher reading his paper. Thinking about him sending it to a publisher friend for an opinion. Thinking about Ponyboy getting a book deal. Thinking about Darry hugging him and whispering "I knew it. I knew you could do it. I knew you were something special." And Sodapop crying while hugging both of them. Thinking about Darry letting him he can do whatever he wants with the money. Darry asking him if he wants to try to move. Pony wondering why he would ever want to leave Tulsa. Darry understanding what he means even as he wishes that he wanted to leave and get out of this town filled with bad memories. Pony putting most of the money away for college but putting a percentage towards the bills. Darry telling him he doesn't have to but Pony knows it's his turn to help out.

Just thinking about the Curtis family after the Outsiders.

[profound-bouquetbird]

Hello? I was wondering if you could write a scenario or headcanon that instead of goldheart- Miss Heed is obssesed with the reader instead? GN READER pls

Thanks :))

I'm going with headcanons since I am out of ideas for a scenario 🫡

Sorry that it's short 😔. I was on a rush to publish this because I had a burst of motivation that I didn't want it to fade

❥ Now, the outcome of everything really depends on if you're into her/the evil things she does. I'll start off with the genuine headcanons before writing the outcomes 🙏.

❥ Now, excuse my poor memory while I'm writing this because I didn't rewatch the Miss Heed episode religiously 😔.

❥ Like Goldheart, she just makes a long line of basically brainwashed zombies to gain followers to gain your attention. She does anything and everything to make sure you even spare her a glance.

❥ Whatever she does on camera is to gain your attention. The dances, the lip-syncing, whatever, it's so that you notice her.

Positive outcome:

❥ One of her videos just appeared on your feed randomly, but as the videos appear more frequently, you find yourself more and more attracted to her. Eventually, you go onto her profile and check out a couple of her stuff. Meanwhile, she gets the notification that someone viewed her profile, she expects it to be a simple brainwashed follower, but screams with joy once she sees your profile picture and username.

❥ After a couple of weeks of giddily giggling at her videos and admiring her beauty, you finally send her a message. It doesn't matter what you wrote, Miss Heed responds in a matter of seconds.

❥ Another couple of weeks of chatting and she coincidentally, she is visiting your town. You agreed to meet up, things go well, boom, somehow, you're dating. Doesn't matter how or why or who asked, you two were going to end up dating one way or another.

❥ Now, she can't just un-brainwash her followers... So, she just keeps them that way. Later on, you obviously find out and depending on if you like that or not... Well, you can imagine that for yourself.

Negative outcome:

❥ Before she could even send you a message, before she could even talk to you, you managed to find out she has been brainwashing innocent pedestrians and heroes and not so innocent villains... you can't help but feel unease and absolute disgust.

❥ She would at first try to desperately explain why she was doing this, what she wanted to achieve, but that doesn't really help her situation.

❥ Eventually, she would be sobbing, on her knees and at your feet, begging for forgiveness, telling you that everything she did was for you. That fact only made you feel even worse.

❥ You'll make her un-brainwash everyone, bringing her to the police and into jail. And she can't really go against your wishes, she loves you, does she not?

❥ Even after her imprisonment, you still feel an overwhelming amount of guilt and unease. Your mere presence got people into danger, who knows how many people around the world are don't the same thing Miss Heed is doing, if not worse.

[uhohdad]

TGWCTM looks sooooo good and I love your writing! I fear that I am a wimp tho and can't handle unhappy endings 🤣 I can enjoy a lot of angst as long as they live happily ever after. This isn't me asking you to write a happy ending just to clarify! You should write whatever you want haha! I am just wondering if you wouldn't mind spoiling the ending for me (if König and Reader both survive and get to be together specifically) so I know if I can read it or not. Feel free to answer this ask privately and/or wait until after you've posted the final chapter! I know you might want to keep it a secret until it's published haha. Thank you!!

⌜ KÖNIG X READER HUNGER GAMES AU ⌟

Hi!! Thank you so much for taking the time to send this! A few very kind people have asked me about whether or not this story has a happy ending but the asks had some spoilers about the most recent chapter so I didn’t post them just in case eep 😅

SPOILERS FOR THE UPCOMING FINAL TGWCTM CHAPTER BELOW!!

Yes!! TGWCTM will have a happy ending!! 🫡💕💖

It’s funny this story absolutely ran from me, the “original ending” I had planned was going to be incredibly angsty - (The Victor was supposed to be the final chapter) - but apparently I am too soft for all that. I kept crying so much while writing it, the only way I could make myself feel better was by continuing the story and giving them a happy ending 😅

… I will say, though, those two will absolutely have to earn their happy ending

[seven-meds]

A few interesting Letters to the Editor published in various adult magazines between the 50s and the 90s. Transcripts and sources below:

1: Future Sex (Issue 6, March 1994)

I love your magazine. The articles are well-written, and it's refreshing to see adjectives other than the words "throbbing" and "turgid" being used. Bless you and your thesaurus as well.

I particularly enjoyed Kim Teevan's essay, "Self-Service" (Issue 4), but some of the terminology was used improperly. One woman commented on the power of her 12volt vibrator being powerful enough to bore her with men. Well, that may or may not be true, but it's not voltage that determines the output power of vibrators. (I am an electrician by trade so I'm quite familiar with how vibrators work.)

The "vibes" or "pulses" that come from a vibrator are dependent on its rate of electrical cycles, expressed in hertz. A really good vibrator will have a "rate of fire" of about 60-180 pulses per minute. That translates to about

1-3 hertz. Other good rates lie in the 3003,000 pulses per second range. If this sounds a little fast, don't worry about it. Three hundred to 3,000 hertz is the average frequency of the human speaking voice. It's a nifty little vibration but it doesn't carry as far as the electrically generated vibrations due to limitations in the body's ability to maintain a sustained tone.

If I can make a personal recommendation to heavy vibrator users, you can get about a 40% increase in output power on your vibrators by bypassing the resistors that send power into the vibrator itself. Just solder a little wire around them and you'll soon be able to come so hard you'll shatter windows all up and down your block.

Charles Harris San Francisco , CA

--

2: Night and Day (November 1952)

Dear Sir:

It's wonderful to pick up your magazine a letter from a fellow uniped such as Beth O. I, too, think it is about time we were being heard from. 1 am 27 years old, blonde and not bad looking at all. I lost my left leg at mid thigh in an automobile wreck. Also I have never been able to wear an artificial limb. I use one special crutch, and my boy friend says I get about as well as a girl with two legs. I wear a 6B shoe and would like to swap with any girl that wears that size. Maybe Beth O. wears that size.

I have been walking on crutches for over ten years, I play tennis, dance and bowl. Can anyone top that? I don't believe there is a one-legged girl in the world that can get about better on crutchés than me. I challenge all comers. It is quite a nuisance being one-minus, but as Beth said, it has its compensations. I haven’t bought any hose in years as my friends give me all their odd stockings. I am waiting with bated breath for your picture spread of us one-legged girls — might even send in one of mine if I can find a good one.

E.C. CONCORD, N. C.

--

3: Eqqus Eroticus (Spring 1997)

Dear Sir,

I’m a middle aged white male living in the Cleveland, Ohio area. I took an early retirement from the Federal Government over a year ago. But I stay in good physical condition by doing my exercises such as walking, bike riding and playing golf. So I can keep up with if not ahead of just about everyone my age and usually guys who are years younger.

I want to be a cart pony and I could be a cart pony, if only I knew of someone who could train me.

I have almost always been in control. I usually am in charge of what¬ ever I am involved in. At work, I was always the boss. Usually when I joined any club and social activities at some point I became the leader. That may sound great, but it is not easy being the one who has to make the decisions, to be the person people wait to hear from, to always be the responsible one.

Through it all or maybe because of it all, I have always had a suppressed interest in bondage. To “be” in bondage, that is. To be tied strapped, shackled or whatever into complete submission. But there was no one who could or would control me, and I still yearn for bondage. I want to know at the deepest level what it is like to be controlled, forced to respond to any whim of the person who controls me.

In my spare time I found a newsgroup that had all kinds of photos of people in bondage. What attracted my interest most was the pony girls, especially the cart ponies. They were totally controlled, physically and mentally. They weren’t just in bondage; they weren’t held in one position. They were forced to behave and obey just as their masters or trainers instructed them. They were in body harnesses, stiff high collars, with a bit in their mouths, and harnesses holding their heads just right. You might see them in a corral, practicing their gait. They might be shown in a stall, chained to a wall by their neck or ankle or pulling a cart with the whip ready to give them extra incentive to obey. They were always total slaves with no will or choice.

I want to be the one who is being trained as cart pony boy. Held by my reins in a stable or my bit secured above me, holding me straight as my trainer works on my gait. To know that the littlest mistake would be rewarded with a crack or two of the whip. A whip crack I have yet to feel. Taught patience by being left chained naked in my stall, to wait for whatever would come next. I even long to be the one locked to the cart, my head held high by collar and head harness, reins telling me where to go, proudly pulling my trainer. To know that when the trip was done I‘d be back secured in my stall, left alone to await my trainer’s next pleasure.

I’m not interested in appearing in public, or being in competition. I just want to experience what it is to live the training of a cart pony. Maybe out there somewhere is a trainer who would give me what I am looking for. I want this experience so much and I would be forever grateful. I’d prefer female, but since sex isn’t the object, a male would be acceptable. If there is anyone who would train me, they can reach me at my e-mail address shown below. Please help me fulfill my desires.

PonySlaveX@aol. com

--

4: Eroticon (Fall 1980)

Dear friends of Eroticon,

I read porno magazines secretly, because my husband would not like having such “dirty” things in the house. Couldn’t you show more close ups of the male models muscular buttocks? I also would like to see cocks being soft and nice before the erection. I would really love that!

Finally! A lady with desire. We shall try to get some of the models to overcome their vanity and show “him” in a relaxed state. I definitely agree with you — not only womens asses are tempting.

--

5: Divinity 7 (1994)

I am enclosing a cutting from the DAILY TELEGRAPH of the 8th September. This indicated the flogging of a bishop.

There are no details and I would be very interested to know more about it, there is no doubt that it was a severe thrashing, but the culprit did not need to have hospital treatment afterwards, and he was fit to sit and walk next day, therefore no real injury.

I think that many of us would like to have details, such as how was he dressed for the flogging, did he have pants and shirt on? Was he standing or laying down?

It would also be interesting to know the conditions for flogging in other countries like Pakistan, Arabia and Turkey, with descriptions of the faults for which one can be flogged.

A photo or two would be interesting or better still a video of an actual flogging in public or in private.

This being an item siutable [sic] for the DAILY TELEGRAPH, and the true record of a news event I would think that a video or photos would be quite OK and legal imports, am I right?

As you are In touch and a publisher, I would like to hear from you on this subject, you may already have information or know of videos available.

Douglas Finlayson Essex

--

6: Transformation (Issue 6, 1994)

Dear TRANSFORMATION,

| recently picked up your Magazine #2...it’s great! | like what I’ve read in your magazine, especially a story titled “Dominant Lady Turns Boyfriend into Crystal” on page 10. | have this fantasy...about a dominant lady dentist who has a thing about a trampy TV, and fetish PVC or latex clothing.

Sometimes | am the patient, all dressed in shiny PVC. Other times I’m the nurse, in a white PVC uniform, long blond hair and a shiny nurse’s cap. The dental equipment is an old belt-driven drill and a sit-up chair.

If possible, I'd like to get in touch with Karyn R. and Crystal. But anyone...please write me!

K. Johnson

--

7: High Heels (Vol. 2 No. 7, 1965)

Dear High Heels.

I would like to see more pictures of handicapped girls in high-heels... I am enclosing some of mine, showing my 6" heel—some also show my peg. I have other pictures showing me in 7" heels...

Thank You,

U.N.A.

[bestworstcase]

ALSO. IRRELEVANT SIDEBAR. i seem to be the only person in the fandom who a) took it as a given that ‘the girl who fell through the world’ was at least a century old and thus predated the great war by at least two or three decades, and b) didn’t think the author’s identity being unknown was odd enough to require an explanation.

and i’m wondering now if the xkcd average familiarity curse Got Me bfgrbxcjk

alice’s adventures in wonderland! that book is One Hundred Fifty-Eight Years Old. it was published in november 1865. through the looking glass was published six years later in december 1871. CAN YOU NAME THE AUTHOR?

if you answered “lewis carroll,” bzzt! incorrect!

(well, correct in that the books were indeed written under that pseudonym BUT I MEAN HIS REAL NAME.)

alice’s adventures in wonderland is a hundred and fifty-eight years old. it has never been out of print. it’s been translated into a hundred seventy-four languages and it’s one of the best known works of nineteenth century english literature in the world. it’s been adapted many, many times for stage and radio and film and video games. “retelling the true story of alice in wonderland” is like an entire niche fantasy YA subgenre; i could name seven different examples off the top of my head. it’s as close to UBIQUITOUS as it’s possible for a story to be in a world with seven billion people living in it.

and… in a world where the non-pseudonymous identity of the author is thoroughly documented and easily accessible via the internet, the average person who Fondly Remembers watching the disney animated film or having the book read to them as a kid doesn’t know that ‘lewis carroll’ was a pen name.

his real name was charles dodgson.

and the reason the average person doesn’t know that isn’t any kind of individual failing or whatever, it’s just that the book was published almost a hundred and sixty years ago under a pen name. the pen name is what’s on the cover. most people don’t go Looking for biographical information about the authors of books their parents read to them as kids unless they have a particular reason to be interested. such as high octane nerdery.

(i own the 150th anniversary edition of the annotated alice and have read it cover to cover multiple times. and i’ll do it again. i am an Owns Books About The Math In Wonderland kind of nerdy about alice.)

—the point. being. the real world has a lot of things going for it in terms of historical preservation that remnant does not, chiefly the absence of a Fuck Ton of monsters trying to eat everybody all the time and making international travel and communication horrifyingly dangerous on a good day. the CCTS has only existed for a few decades; before that, sharing information between kingdoms was matter of “send an armed convoy and hope they don’t get killed and eaten by The Horrors en route.”

so the scholars of remnant are at, to put it mildly, a serious disadvantage in terms of information being retained over time.

anyway. ‘the girl who fell through the world’ is established very clearly to be remnant’s equivalent of our alice’s adventures in wonderland, in that it is a quite old children’s story that became MASSIVELY POPULAR worldwide, to the point that nearly everyone alive has at least some familiarity with the plot, many remember it as a cherished childhood bedtime story, and the more bookish characters can quote favorite passages from memory.

which is to say, it isn’t just The Story is an allusion to the wonderland story. the book’s ubiquity is also modeled after alice’s ubiquity, and the lack of popular knowledge about the author’s real identity likewise takes its cue from the fact that in real life most people Don’t Know who charles dodgson is.

so!!!

it’s not at all unreasonable to think that ‘the girl who fell through the world’ is probably meant to be about as old as alice’s adventures in wonderland—about a hundred fifty years, which would mean lewis published it around sixty years before the great war even started. (he also presumably didn’t publish it as a child; if he was about the age dodgson was when alice went to print, this would have been around twenty years after the fact.)

and it’s also not unreasonable to think that lewis, like charles dodgson, published his book under a pseudonym. or anonymously, but given how certain jaune is that alyx wrote the book, even though it was lewis taking notes and lewis saying he would write the story for jaune to find his way home…

i’d put my bet on lewis having written his book as “A.L. [Surname].” A for alyx, L for lewis, a symbolic way for her to come home with him. but the girls upon discovering the ever after is real and alyx was real would of course think “oh, ‘AL’ as in short for alyx” and the use of initials is also ambiguous enough for jaune to worry his way to the conclusion that he did, after alyx poisoned him.

fast forward a century and a half or so in a setting with no internet for most of that and hordes of man-eating Nightmare Beasts inhibiting international communication and… yeah of course the Real Name of beloved children’s classic author A.L. Whoever isn’t common knowledge outside of academic and hobbyist carrollian-equivalent circles.

[agendabymooner]

thick and thin ! lewis h. x ofc (hearth sister!ofc)

“i could see my whole life with you, baby, now you got me thinking that i’m crazy.”

summary: glimpses of the relationship between a certain mercedes driver and stevie hearth. OR stevie marlene ford found herself nearly giving up on the love that she had for lewis, and lewis wasn’t going to easily let go of her.

content warning: yearning/childhood crush, age-gap (eight years), written AND social media parts, use of explicit language, kind of an asshole!Lewis but not really, mentions of ofc x zayn malik (based on face claim’s relationship but nothing personal), mentions of father figure issues.

notes: i am trying thy best. sorry guys :))

masterlist

2017

“Here,” Stevie reached for the water bottle that Lewis had given her, offering him a thanks as he nodded and sat next to her. 

August was quite a long month for everyone, to say the least. They have two weeks off before the next race and to say that Stevie was quite happy would be an understatement; she was more than fucking delighted. 

At least no one would bother her with the recently published report about the end of her relationship with a certain boy band member. She really hadn’t wanted that kind of attention right now— especially since her driver’s fighting to become a World Champion. The last thing that she wanted in case she’s put into a spotlight was to be questioned about her ex-boyfriend rather than the status of her team at the driver’s championship and constructor’s championship. 

So hiding away right now seemed easier. Between the races and her photoshoots, this was the kind of peace she wanted. No one’s asking anything, allowing her to do her work behind and in front of the cameras. 

Lewis had other plans though. Stevie hated that he could simply ask a question and she’d come screaming the answer. 

“How are you feeling now?” He asked genuinely. She hated him for being so… considerate and oblivious. 

“What I had with Zayn was good,” she murmured as she continued to type in her feedback to send to Sebastian’s PR manager. “It was nice while it lasted.”

“Two years,” Lewis reminded her. “You’ve been with him for two years and all you’re saying is that it was nice while it lasted?” 

“Yeah well,” she pursed her lips, “not everything could last longer than that, you know?” 

Lewis hummed, not knowing how to continue this conversation. Still, he was persistent— wanting to talk to his best friend’s sister as he said, “You two made a good pair.” 

She rolled her eyes, masking it as something playful as she quipped, “I’ll consider that thought when I ask for it.” 

She always wondered how a long term relationship could be considered a rebound. She had always lasted a year or two with her exes, but she remained guilty for stringing them along despite showing the affections and admiration that they deserved. 

She only felt guilty because while she had given them everything they wanted, she couldn’t afford to get what she wanted. Lewis. After all, he was the reason why relationships started and ended for her. Not that he would ever know that— that’s what Stevie told herself. 

2018

“Holy shit, girl,” Lewis’ mouth gaped open and wolf-whistled at the sight of her. She only giggled quietly as he stood straight, his eyes scanning her facial features before glancing down on her outfit. Clearly he liked her… but maybe that was nothing but a lie. Still, Stevie ate his attention like a starving dog. 

He still couldn’t believe that this was the same girl who practically followed him around the Mercedes area back when she didn’t work for her own team. It felt so wrong to look at her like this, but it’s something that he couldn’t help. He had known about her little crush and all he wanted was to pursue whatever this was. It was so wrong.

It’s not as if he’s planning to pursue her. His affection for her, however, was mistaken for love. Stevie hated it. 

The drive to the Tommy Hilfiger campaign afterparty was not as eventful as the confrontation between Stevie and Lewis. If they were as young as they were back then, one would assume that it was just a petty feud between two young people. This argument felt more… personal and hurtful.

“Steve, come on! Talk to me!” Lewis felt her yank her wrist away from his grip, turning her back to him as she attempted to walk away. “How are you even going back?! It’s not safe out there!” 

“I’m not a fucking child, Lew! I’ll be fine,” Stevie spewed out venomously, “just like I was whenever I had to pick you up after ringing me with another woman’s scent all over you. Just like I am whenever I pick up your calls after your girlfriends broke up with you. I’ll be alright— I broke up with men without having to reach out to you— I don’t need you to worry about me.” 

“You’re just being petty,” Lewis told her firmly, “I’m driving you home.”

“Give up, already! Jesus Christ!” Stevie cursed out, stomping her foot down. “Just because your guilt is washing over your whole soul right now it doesn’t mean that dropping me off would simply make things right. You never should’ve taken me here as your date Lewis. You should’ve just considered me a coworker— not someone who you’ll let go of the moment you make it inside the club. This isn’t fair for me!” 

“Why can’t you be upfront about it then?” Lewis challenged her. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner about how you feel, hm? We could have been together but instead you’re parading your boyfriends around me like I should’ve done something more.” 

“Because you kept telling me that I’m a child, Lew,” she sniffled. “I’m not. I’m old enough. I’m old enough to know that I deserve better than to have my opinions and feelings be overseen as something childish. I don’t care if it’s anyone or you— I’m a fully grown woman, Lewis. I’m not going to let your mindset dictate who I’ll be for you or for anyone. If you’re not going to see me as someone who loves you, then you ought to let go.

“Because I’m ready to go, Lewis,” she hid away the tears that threatened to fall. She refused to lose the little dignity she had left, too. “You only see me as an adult when you find it convenient. I can’t be bothered with your shitty objections anymore. Aren’t you the childish one for not looking at me in a different way?” 

2018

tagged steviemarlz, aimeeyh, lewishamilton, sylvieeford, max33verstappen

liked by pierregasly, charles_leclerc, landonorris

comments have been limited

steviemarlz anything for my mini toto 😍

aimeeyh toto jr. is so biiiig now 😭

sylvieeford the trip to the hundred acre wood was wild last friday huh

lewishamilton happy to spoil my ren-man 😘😍

tillywolff next thing you know he’d be as grumpy as toto when he doesn’t get what he wants 😂

lewishamilton ren had been a saint so far 😂😂

“Can I?” Soren Wolff’s second birthday party was anything but simple, and as the godmother Stevie Marlene made sure that it could be as extravagant as it was intimate. She made everyone aware that the day was special for the boy who loved his Winnie the Pooh characters. 

As if she hadn’t hired a coordinator for the occasion, she helped them set up the Hundred Acre Wood at her childhood home in Brackley by setting up the Heffalump Trap (which is really just a bouncy house with inflated obstacles) and placing the mini Heffalumps by the area.

Lewis Hamilton had a different plan as the godfather, though. Now he was offering some support just in case Stevie needed it. Well… that and he did not exactly want to go through his godson’s birthday party ignored by his partner in crime. They were both Soren’s godparents— the least that they could do was cooperate and get their shit together. 

And so, Stevie sighed exasperatedly and passed him the garland of mini heffalumps. She merely offered him a grateful smile before turning away to see if her box of decorations was empty. 

“You can’t keep avoiding me, you know?” He spoke up, making her glance back at him before he continued, “I can’t hold off our relationship if I want to talk to you.” 

“I can,” Stevie huffed out quietly. “And I will.”

“Steve,” Lewis sighed, leaning his head against the soft surface of the bouncy castle before looking back at her. His dark eyes found her brighter ones staring back. “I should have admitted that it was wrong of me to string you along.”

“You should have,” she nodded in agreement, not wanting to appease him or his ego. 

“I was scared because they’ll think I’m controlling you,” Lewis admitted. “Truthfully, I still am. I know that you’ve grown and I want to be the right decision you would make.” 

“Would you like me to say it aloud?” She glowered, annoyed at his irrational fear. “I, Stevie Marlene Ford, at the age of 25, believe that Lewis Carl Davidson Hamilton is the best decision I could have made. I believe that he needs to stop using my age as a weapon to justify his decision to see me as a child and not someone that he could love—“ 

“Can I take you out for dinner?”

“What?” Stevie paused at her rambling. 

“You said that you don’t want me to see you as a child,” Lewis said confidently, “would it be such a shame if I stopped seeing you as such the moment you became Ferrari’s acting Liaison?” 

“No,” she shook her head, “but you could have done so much about it. I became the Liaison last year.” 

“Well then, let me make it up to you,” he proposed. “One dinner. Should you decide that I’m still worth your time, then I’ll make sure to take you to more places.” 

FEBRUARY 14, 2023

“Psst, Stevie.” 

“Lewis?!” 

“Yes. It’s me.” 

“What the hell are you doing out there? Do you want Toto to kill you? Right before our wedding, even?” 

“No but I want to talk.” 

“You can’t see me right now, Lew!” 

“I know, but no one’s here but us. Do you think you can just listen from there?” 

“Fine. But you’ll be back to your own suite after, yes?” 

“Yes I will. Anyway, I want to tell you that I love you. Not once did I regret asking you to go out for dinner with me after Soren’s second birthday.” 

“You’ve told me. Once or five times. Some of which were when you were piss drunk.” 

“I wish I had seen your love sooner,” Lewis sighed, his braided hair leaning against the mahogany door as he continued, “We would’ve been married a year ago.” 

“Well you’re here now, aren’t you?” Stevie chuckled.

“Lucky me,” he murmured. “I can’t wait to marry you… in about two hours. This is the longest time I’ve ever experienced.” 

“You’ve got two hours, Hamilton,” she teased. “Still enough time to think things through.”

“With you? Never,” he scoffed out. “I don’t think I’d appreciate it if you and Sylvie would kill me. Besides, if anything, you’ve got two hours to decide if you’d marry my dumb ass.” 

“And miss out on changing my surname to yours? No thanks,” Stevie snorted.

“I’ve always known you’re only after my surname,” Lewis joked. 

“Yeah, my daddy issues won in the end,” they both shared a laugh despite it being quiet, not being able to hear much due to the closed door that separated them. 

The laughter turned into silence. 

“Can’t wait to see you, Sir Hamilton,” Stevie voiced out her thoughts. 

“And I can’t wait to cry after seeing you in your dress,” Lewis told her. “I honestly think you’d one-up Tia.” 

“No way,” Stevie laughed. “Tia’s our best girl. She’ll always be prettier than us.”

“Well… I should leave you for now,” Stevie could hear him standing before hearing a thud against the door. His forehead rested against the mahogany wood. “I’ll see you soon, Mrs. Hamilton.” 

“Through thick and thin?” 

“Through thick and thin.”

“Good.”

tagged steviemarlz

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[literary-motif]

Act I — The Proposal

Scene vi — The Aisle

previous scene // overview // read on ao3 // next scene

You collapsed onto your office chair tiredly, rubbing at your closed eyelids to soothe the permanent burning behind them. You were set to get some rest after you finished looking through some papers. Maybe send out some emails, even. A few people had tried to get a hold of you, it seemed. 

The papers on your desk seemed to suggest so, neatly organized and stacked according to their importance. They even had a quick summary written on a yellow post-it note. 

Patricia Kelley and her growing impatience with publishing the story of the year was just on top. 

Patricia Kelley, investigative journalist: Publication of findings on Tech-company Incessant Inc. (Sahsa Zilk)

You looked at the neat handwriting for a long moment, marveling at the prettily arching l’s and t’s that danced across the paper in a way only someone who wrote little — and therefore had the time to make their letters look delicate and picture-perfect — could make them stand out with their blue ink of the ballpoint pen they were written it. 

A quiet knock came from the door, making your gaze flicker up. “Come in,” you called, lowering the paper as you watched Julian open the door, stepping inside as he cleared his throat. “Have I ever told you that you have very pretty handwriting?”

Your secretary ducked his head almost shyly at the compliment. A few strands of brown hair had fallen into his face, but he did not bother to brush them back. 

“Many times,” he answered, fiddling with tomorrow’s paper before clearing his throat again and smiling tiredly at you, a faint blush still dusting his cheeks. “Welcome back. I hope you’ll find everything to your satisfaction. This just came in,” he said, setting down the paper on the edge of your desk. 

“How come you’re still here?” you asked gently, tilting your head to the side as you studied him carefully. He looked nervous in a way that had nothing to do with your compliment earlier. He looked exhausted in a way you had not seen from him in months, the tortoiseshell glasses he wore not quite managing to hide the circles under his eyes.

You did not rise from the bench for a while after Vic left, too caught in whatever spell of peace and quiet you had been granted to break it so soon. As you returned later than usual — and normally caught Julian just as he was leaving — you had expected him to be gone already by the time you arrived. To find him still here when he normally adhered to his daily schedule like clockwork made a low wave of worry sweep through you, curious and concerned as to what was the matter with him. He did look rather tired.

Julian fiddled with his hands. “I was just leaving, actually.”

“In that case, have a good night,” you said, not wanting to keep him longer. He seemed to be needing the rest, and you felt mildly guilty for returning later if he stayed to see you. “Rest well. I saw you cleared my schedule for tomorrow as I asked. Thank you for that.”

“Of course,” he said but made no move to retreat. Instead, he stood in front of your desk, rooted to the spot as if he wastrying to bring himself to do something, but his courage was evading him. 

You felt him hesitate. “Was there something else?”

He cleared his throat again, running a hand through his hair and tugging at his suit jacket to smooth out wrinkles that were not there. “I was wondering if I might voice a request?” he asked, slowly meeting your eyes.  

Gesturing to the seat on the other side of the desk, you silently invited him to join you. His hesitation made you frown, wondering what could have caused this sudden spike of nervousness. Julian was normally such a soothing presence. 

He wetted his lips, taking a moment to speak as he declined the offer to sit. “Perhaps you remember — and pardon, this is rather personal. I told you once that I’m in a relationship,” he said, keeping his gaze fixed on your desk, tracing the swirls in the dark wood.

You tensed, waiting for him to continue. The image of his past self — tired eyes, downturned lips, and cold in a way that had you narrow your eyes in concern at his shaking hands the first time you told him he did a good job — flashed through your mind. And as you looked at the person he had become since working for you, since finding a person that soothed the ache deep inside him and battled his all-consuming loneliness, you could not help but clench your fists at the idea that this very person had hurt him. 

Why else would he be so anxious? Why else would he nervously avert his gaze from you? 

You waited for him to elaborate, mentally preparing yourself to pull some strings and manifest karma. 

He opened his mouth, the words making your thoughts grind to a halt. 

“I proposed,” Julian said, smiling at the memory. “And he said yes.”

You blinked at him for a moment. “Oh,” you exclaimed, pleasantly surprised at the outcome. “Congratulations, then. Please don’t worry about work. Take as much time off as you need.”

He chuckled, smiling fondly as he shook his head. 

Unbeknownst to you, he had theorized about your reaction to his fiancé, insisting that he knew you would give him a vacation extending however long he wanted. His fiané had not believed him, saying he would get two weeks at most, having had to work overtime at his job to get even that. Julian was glad to know he won the bet. 

“Thank you,” he continued, biting his lower lip nervously again. “But that’s not— I wanted to ask something else.” He cleared his throat, hesitatingly looking up. “Would you attend, and—?”

“Of course,” you said automatically. 

“—and would you accompany me down the aisle?”

You froze. The information in his file hit you like a brick. The strained relationship with his family, the self-imposed isolation while he buried himself in work to forget how deserted he felt. The gradual change in him as he crashed into the awaiting arms of his now fiancé.

And he had been by your side throughout all of it, your distant care giving him stability in a way you had not even realized. Your gaze softened, recalling the change you saw in him, the morphing of his character as he finally found what he had been looking for all his life — love and acceptance.

It made your heart clench. Your gaze softened as you replied. “Of course.” You watched as his smile widened, wishing him all the happiness in the world. “It would be an honor.”

[brekwrites]

Please Brek, if you feel inspired to write something about Eclipse x Dark Sun, don't hesitate to publish and share it. I'm excited to read content from that new ship and if it's written by someone who can write as well as you, I think might faint in a good way.

Fantastic news for you, my friend. I’ve been thinking about them. I need some time to stew with my thoughts, to sus out the vibes and what not, but here are my preliminary thoughts under the cut bc I love to yap:

I’m thinking maybe while Dark Sun is messing around in the back of Eclipse’s head, he notices something. Yeah, Eclipse is screaming, because it hurts, but he’s also leaning into the contact. Turns out he’s so starved for touch and connection that anything will do, even he’s seeking comfort from the person that’s inflicting the pain in the first place.

That hits home for Dark Sun, because it reminds him of how he used to be with his Moon in their mindscape. But he’s got a plan and he’s going to carry it out, so he finishes his work and sends Eclipse back with the information he wanted.

As Eclipse works to bring Solar back, Dark Sun shows up every once in a while to make “adjustments” to whatever he put in the back of Eclipse’s head, and keeps pulling him to the side for check ups. He goes quietly because he’s terrified that someone will see them together and accuse him of working with the villain without giving him a chance to explain. And during the check ups, if Dark Sun doesn’t actually hurt him, and ends up touching him surprisingly gently, who is he to question why?

Eventually he does end up bringing back Solar, though it requires a pretty big sacrifice on his end (not to the point of death tho, in this case). Everyone is so excited to see Solar again, though, that in the commotion they sort of just… forget Eclipse? They don’t ignore him or anything, and Earth even makes a point to talk to him after and thank him, but he realizes that Solar sort of fills the space he could have occupied once upon a time. There isn’t really room for him anymore.

He needs repairs afterwards, and Moon promises to get to them first thing tomorrow, but he clearly wants to spend time with Solar just like the rest of the family, and Eclipse, even though it hurts and he hurts and it should be him not Solar this is HIS dimension not Solar’s, lets him go, lets them all go, and goes back to the Fazcade alone.

And if he cries a bit, no one will know because no one is there. He’s alone.

Until he isn’t. Dark Sun shows up because he lost signal from whatever he put in Eclipse. Turns out the strain of bringing Solar back fried it (or so he says). He sees the state Eclipse is in, mentally and physically, and it’s worse than he thought. He’s going to have to bring him back to his dimension for this (wink, wink).

Eclipse goes without protest. He’s on the tail end of a meltdown and just feels numb. Dark Sun takes him into the heart of his fortress, to his workshop, and carefully repairs him. It takes hours, but he doesn’t stop for more than a quick 5-10 minute break and he never leaves him once. And he’s so gentle and careful as he fixes him up. It’s that Sun instinct, to care and help and dote, mixed with Moon’s project-oriented focus and skill. He has a wayward thought that Dark Sun is all the best parts of Sun and Moon, where he got all their worst tendencies, the things they shoved aside because they didn’t want anymore.

And maybe he cries again. And Dark Sun, surprisingly, doesn’t laugh at him or tell him to stop. He holds him carefully, if a bit awkwardly, like he hasn’t used that part of his programming in a long time, and keeps fixing him. At some point, Eclipse slips into rest mode, exhausted from the whole ordeal.

When he wakes up, he’s in a bed he doesn’t recognize somewhere in Dark Sun’s fortress. He gets up, has a look around, wonders the halls a bit, and eventually finds his way back to the workshop, where Sun is working on his star prototype.

Eclipse very awkwardly thanks him, then asks why he fixed him in the first place. And they go back and forth for a bit until Dark Sun asks him if he wants to stay with him. It turns out he’s a been lonely, too. And Eclipse… realizes that he wouldn’t mind that. Reviving Solar had been his goal for a so long, and he doesn’t really know what to do now, and the thought of having to find a new purpose is incredibly stressful.

It would be nice if someone else could make the decisions for a while.

So, eventually they end up in a sort of parallel to the Lord Eclipse and Servant Sun dimension. They’re Dark Lord Sun and Knight Eclipse, or something like that. Sun eventually finishes the star, though its probably based on negative energy, which maybe Eclipse had to harness to bring Solar back anyway, so Eclipse maybe actually helps him make it. And then there’s a star right there in front of him, and it’d be so easy to try to take it, but…

He doesn’t want it. He’s not a servant to Dark Sun, but he is in service to him, and he kind of prefers it that way. And somewhere along the way they get together, though I’m not really sure where, and they live in their pocket dimension and do dimension-related things and surveillance and occasionally visit the home dimension (mostly for Eclipse to see Earth), and this isn’t something Eclipse ever could have predicted he’d have, but it’s good. Life is good.

(And maybe Dark Sun, Solar, and Moon (and then occasionally Eclipse) hang out sometimes and work on joint projects together and are sort of a team that tries to handle dimensional anomalies to keep something like what happened with Ruin from happening again. And puppet helps as well or something idk I haven’t thought this far. Maybe Moon and Solar are in a qpr and puppet and solar are dating 🤷🏻‍♀️)

So anyway that’s how I think it’d go, and this is a pretty decent outline, so you can probably look forward to a fic about this in the future lmfao. Thanks for the ask!

[wannab-urs]

The Spreadsheet Digest - Vol 20

Hi friends!!

Can't believe we're at the 20th week of me doing this rec list! I also hit 400 fics on the Spreadsheet, which is wild. We've got 14 fics this week. It was a bit of an angst fest, but there's plenty of smut and even a few threesomes!

As always you can find the Spreadsheet here and the other Digests here. You can tag me in literally any Pedro boy fic (except RPF) and I'll add it to my TBR! You can also send me fic recs if you want, and even ask me for fic recs. I'll dig through the sheet so you don't have to :)

Fic recs below the Pedge:

Blackmail - a Javi P/Joel series by @milla-frenchy

Javi is the new Fedra officer you have to deal with and he wants something instead of credits to let you and joel go on your supply run... he wants to fuck you! The way it starts with Joel getting cucked and then just.... descends into beautiful smutty depravity. This was so fucking good. I loved how Javi wasn't mean? Idk like the whole experience just sounded good as hell for reader after the initial discomfort of having to fuck someone to get what you want lol.

You need to relax, sweetheart - a Joel/Tess one shot by @walkintotheriveranddisappear

You're Tess and Joel's babysitter and they come home from date night and decide to help you unwind from a stressful night of caring for children... ya know... with their bodies. -- TW dubcon/noncon -- also there's some breeding kink in here and Tess is also pregnant. This fic is so good and twisted and delicious and wonderful byeeeee

Shore Leave a Frankie/Santi one shot by @theywhowriteandknowthings

Ok so you're a bartender and Frankie and Santi come into your bar sometimes on shore leave and they always flirt with you. And then this time they flirt with you and you like actively consider going home with them... and then you um find something out... spoilers sorry.... and decide to go home with both of them. And it is wonderful, sexy, and sweet. I'm gonna need a 30 part loose fit series on these 3 immediately <3

Rendezvous in Reno - a Dieter one shot by @theywhowriteandknowthings

AHHH okay so erotica writer!reader has a book signing and the subject of her first published erotic short story walks in knowing full well the story was basically fanfic of HIM. Heavy flirting ensues... then he comes to your hotel. This fic??? It's so sweet and fluffy and like... indulgent? It's like eating dessert for breakfast. There's a lovely surprise in relation to Dieter himself, also. I just love his personality in this and I love the sexy intimate smut and I want to die I love Dieter so much.

An Open Invitation - a Joel one shot by @walkintotheriveranddisappear

Joel watches reader and her girlfriend? fuck buddy? whatever. fuck from his window cause girl has got her curtains WIDE open and she is doing it fully on purpose.... anyway some stuff happens and Joel ends up in her house with her and her friend and then he gets used like a sex toy and loves every second of it and I loved every second of this fic. It's perfect. No fucking notes. 10/10.

Aches!Joel - a Joel series by @toxicanonymity

At the time of this rec, there's four parts. This features virgin!reader and a Joel that shows more restraint than I really expected him to be able to. This fic is sweet and the teasing and the will-they-won't-they throughout is so good. It's like edging but you're reading. And then... ya know. Aches!Joel owns my whole heart. fuckin wanting to wait for a soft bed to fuck her PLEASE... whatta man (the bar is in hell, I know, leave me alone).

Linger On - a Joel series by @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin

So you and Joel broke up 10 years ago and you moved on! You moved away from Austin and you got married and you have a kid and everything is great right? It's not. You're soooo not over Joel Miller. And then!!! Some events happen that put you face to face again and not just like.. briefly or temporarily. I don't want to spoil too much of this fic here in the review... just read it. It's angsty and yummy and I love it. (smutty also, who do you think I am?)

Carnal - a Joel series by @pascalsbby

Another camgirl!reader fic because I literally cannot help myself lmao. This one has the delicious twist of also being dad's best friend!joel AND best friend's dad!Joel... how fucked up is that? The correct amount of fucked up. The dirty talk going on in this fic is literally insane. My body went into fight or flight I was so turned on. And then on top of the crazy freaky yummy sex and like perv!joel and dom!joel and just all that going on... the story itself is really fucking good!!!

A Feeling That Never Came - a Javi P series by @theywhowriteandknowthings

You show up to your birthday/engagement party (i will not elaborate on that) and it's all kind of terrible and then your ex, Javi Peña shows up. Which should be a bad thing. Who wants their ex at their engagement party? You do. I promise you do. Desperately. So like... read this lovely bucket of angst as a bedtime story, cry yourself to sleep, and anxiously await the next part just like me.

It's always been you - a Dieter one shot by @alwaysmicado

Dieter Bravo is not a good boyfriend and after a year you are faced with the brutal reality of that fact. This fic destroyed me emotionally for real. Like the way Dieter is so.... pathetic? The perfect depiction of that push and pull where you can't let yourself fall into him but like all you want is for him to hold you because you're upset? GOD DAMN. Perfect. And then the interlude time period and what happens there and the ending? All so fucking perfect. I would love more of these two. They're broken and sad and it hurt and I can't stop thinking about this fucking fic AH

Light Only Shows You Where the Shadow Are - a Max Phillips one shot by @oonajaeadira

You've got this friend that can't take a fucking hint and won't understand you don't want him like that, but thankfully a handsome and unsettling stranger is there to save the day... several times.... and it's a little weird that he's always there and that you can't quite remember what he looks like when he's gone... and he makes you feel a little off. This is such a wonderfully spooky fic and it really captures Max's vibes while, despite the stalker behavior, somehow being more tolerable than the canon Max. I desperately hope you get the inspo to write a full Max series. It would be delightful

I Know Places - a Din one shot by @beskarandblasters

So you're a bounty and Din catches you and he has to take you all the way from tatooine to coruscant. It's a long trip and due to some mitigating circumstances he can't carbon freeze you as you'll probably die and... dead people don't pay their debts so that just won't do. 3 weeks cooped up in the Crest with a tin can man you don't know and who is carting you off to certain death... surely that couldn't be a love story. Or could it? This fic is so fucking good. I love the story and the smut???????? To die for.

You Shook Me All Night Long - a Joel series by @macfrog

You are Joel Miller's assistant and he's the CEO and he is... handsy. But it's not making you uncomfortable, at all. This starts at the official work party, moves over to a bar, and then keeps going after that. I really loved this. Joel was the perfect amount of rich corporate asshole and possessive sexy man.

Plaited and Braided - an Ezra one shot by @bonezone44

Ez wins a bullwhip and learns to use it on a tree... then he learns to use it on you. This is so delightful. It's a little dark there for a bit, but it's much much sweeter than you'd expect a sadist!Ezra bullwhip fic to be. I would very much love to see more of these two.

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Here's some art I saw this week

Joel and Ellie by @vickisigh

Din by @gaytedlasso

Frankie and his shifter form by @littledozerdraws (commissioned for SNAFU by @theywhowriteandknowthings)

Pedro by @bonezone44

Pedro as popular raccoon memes by @iamasaddie

Joel Miller Apologist badge by @sin-djarin

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My Masterlist

My Kofi

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Happy Reading!