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derinwrites · 2 days

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The Three Commandments

The thing about writing is this: you gotta start in medias res, to hook your readers with action immediately. But readers aren’t invested in people they know nothing about, so start with a framing scene that instead describes the characters and the stakes. But those scenes are boring, so cut straight to the action, after opening with a clever quip, but open in the style of the story, and try not to be too clever in the opener, it looks tacky. One shouldn’t use too many dialogue tags, it’s distracting; but you can use ‘said’ a lot, because ‘said’ is invisible, but don’t use ‘said’ too much because it’s boring and uninformative – make sure to vary your dialogue tags to be as descriptive as possible, except don’t do that because it’s distracting, and instead rely mostly on ‘said’ and only use others when you need them. But don’t use ‘said’ too often; you should avoid dialogue tags as much as you possibly can and indicate speakers through describing their reactions. But don’t do that, it’s distracting.

Having a viewpoint character describe themselves is amateurish, so avoid that. But also be sure to describe your viewpoint character so that the reader can picture them. And include a lot of introspection, so we can see their mindset, but don’t include too much introspection, because it’s boring and takes away from the action and really bogs down the story, but also remember to include plenty of introspection so your character doesn’t feel like a robot. And adverbs are great action descriptors; you should have a lot of them, but don’t use a lot of adverbs; they’re amateurish and bog down the story. And

The reason new writers are bombarded with so much outright contradictory writing advice is that these tips are conditional. It depends on your style, your genre, your audience, your level of skill, and what problems in your writing you’re trying to fix. Which is why, when I’m writing, I tend to focus on what I call my Three Commandments of Writing. These are the overall rules; before accepting any writing advice, I check whether it reinforces one of these rules or not. If not, I ditch it.

1: Thou Shalt Have Something To Say

What’s your book about?

I don’t mean, describe to me the plot. I mean, why should anybody read this? What’s its thesis? What’s its reason for existence, from the reader’s perspective? People write stories for all kinds of reasons, but things like ‘I just wanted to get it out of my head’ are meaningless from a reader perspective. The greatest piece of writing advice I ever received was you putting words on a page does not obligate anybody to read them. So why are the words there? What point are you trying to make?

The purpose of your story can vary wildly. Usually, you’ll be exploring some kind of thesis, especially if you write genre fiction. Curse Words, for example, is an exploration of self-perpetuating power structures and how aiming for short-term stability and safety can cause long-term problems, as well as the responsibilities of an agitator when seeking to do the necessary work of dismantling those power structures. Most of the things in Curse Words eventually fold back into exploring this question. Alternately, you might just have a really cool idea for a society or alien species or something and want to show it off (note: it can be VERY VERY HARD to carry a story on a ‘cool original concept’ by itself. You think your sky society where they fly above the clouds and have no rainfall and have to harvest water from the clouds below is a cool enough idea to carry a story: You’re almost certainly wrong. These cool concept stories work best when they are either very short, or working in conjunction with exploring a theme). You might be writing a mystery series where each story is a standalone mystery and the point is to present a puzzle and solve a fun mystery each book. Maybe you’re just here to make the reader laugh, and will throw in anything you can find that’ll act as framing for better jokes. In some genres, readers know exactly what they want and have gotten it a hundred times before and want that story again but with different character names – maybe you’re writing one of those. (These stories are popular in romance, pulp fantasy, some action genres, and rather a lot of types of fanfiction).

Whatever the main point of your story is, you should know it by the time you finish the first draft, because you simply cannot write the second draft if you don’t know what the point of the story is. (If you write web serials and are publishing the first draft, you’ll need to figure it out a lot faster.)

Once you know what the point of your story is, you can assess all writing decisions through this lens – does this help or hurt the point of my story?

2: Thou Shalt Respect Thy Reader’s Investment

Readers invest a lot in a story. Sometimes it’s money, if they bought your book, but even if your story is free, they invest time, attention, and emotional investment. The vast majority of your job is making that investment worth it. There are two factors to this – lowering the investment, and increasing the payoff. If you can lower your audience’s suspension of disbelief through consistent characterisation, realistic (for your genre – this may deviate from real realism) worldbuilding, and appropriately foreshadowing and forewarning any unexpected rules of your world. You can lower the amount of effort or attention your audience need to put into getting into your story by writing in a clear manner, using an entertaining tone, and relying on cultural touchpoints they understand already instead of pushing them in the deep end into a completely unfamiliar situation. The lower their initial investment, the easier it is to make the payoff worth it.

Two important notes here: one, not all audiences view investment in the same way. Your average reader views time as a major investment, but readers of long fiction (epic fantasies, web serials, et cetera) often view length as part of the payoff. Brandon Sanderson fans don’t grab his latest book and think “Uuuugh, why does it have to be so looong!” Similarly, some people like being thrown in the deep end and having to put a lot of work into figuring out what the fuck is going on with no onboarding. This is one of science fiction’s main tactics for forcibly immersing you in a future world. So the valuation of what counts as too much investment varies drastically between readers.

Two, it’s not always the best idea to minimise the necessary investment at all costs. Generally, engagement with art asks something of us, and that’s part of the appeal. Minimum-effort books do have their appeal and their place, in the same way that idle games or repetitive sitcoms have their appeal and their place, but the memorable stories, the ones that have staying power and provide real value, are the ones that ask something of the reader. If they’re not investing anything, they have no incentive to engage, and you’re just filling in time. This commandment does not exist to tell you to try to ask nothing of your audience – you should be asking something of your audience. It exists to tell you to respect that investment. Know what you’re asking of your audience, and make sure that the ask is less than the payoff.

The other way to respect the investment is of course to focus on a great payoff. Make those characters socially fascinating, make that sacrifice emotionally rending, make the answer to that mystery intellectually fulfilling. If you can make the investment worth it, they’ll enjoy your story. And if you consistently make their investment worth it, you build trust, and they’ll be willing to invest more next time, which means you can ask more of them and give them an even better payoff. Audience trust is a very precious currency and this is how you build it – be worth their time.

But how do you know what your audience does and doesn’t consider an onerous investment? And how do you know what kinds of payoff they’ll find rewarding? Easy – they self-sort. Part of your job is telling your audience what to expect from you as soon as you can, so that if it’s not for them, they’ll leave, and if it is, they’ll invest and appreciate the return. (“Oh but I want as many people reading my story as possible!” No, you don’t. If you want that, you can write paint-by-numbers common denominator mass appeal fic. What you want is the audience who will enjoy your story; everyone else is a waste of time, and is in fact, detrimental to your success, because if they don’t like your story then they’re likely to be bad marketing. You want these people to bounce off and leave before you disappoint them. Don’t try to trick them into staying around.) Your audience should know, very early on, what kind of an experience they’re in for, what the tone will be, the genre and character(s) they’re going to follow, that sort of thing. The first couple of chapters of Time to Orbit: Unknown, for example, are a micro-example of the sorts of mysteries that Aspen will be dealing with for most of the book, as well as a sample of their character voice, the way they approach problems, and enough of their background, world and behaviour for the reader to decide if this sort of story is for them. We also start the story with some mildly graphic medical stuff, enough physics for the reader to determine the ‘hardness’ of the scifi, and about the level of physical risk that Aspen will be putting themselves at for most of the book. This is all important information for a reader to have.

If you are mindful of the investment your readers are making, mindful of the value of the payoff, and honest with them about both from the start so that they can decide whether the story is for them, you can respect their investment and make sure they have a good time.

3: Thou Shalt Not Make Thy World Less Interesting

This one’s really about payoff, but it’s important enough to be its own commandment. It relates primarily to twists, reveals, worldbuilding, and killing off storylines or characters. One mistake that I see new writers make all the time is that they tank the engagement of their story by introducing a cool fun twist that seems so awesome in the moment and then… is a major letdown, because the implications make the world less interesting.

“It was all a dream” twists often fall into this trap. Contrary to popular opinion, I think these twists can be done extremely well. I’ve seen them done extremely well. The vast majority of the time, they’re very bad. They’re bad because they take an interesting world and make it boring. The same is true of poorly thought out, shocking character deaths – when you kill a character, you kill their potential, and if they’re a character worth killing in a high impact way then this is always a huge sacrifice on your part. Is it worth it? Will it make the story more interesting? Similarly, if your bad guy is going to get up and gloat ‘Aha, your quest was all planned by me, I was working in the shadows to get you to acquire the Mystery Object since I could not! You have fallen into my trap! Now give me the Mystery Object!’, is this a more interesting story than if the protagonist’s journey had actually been their own unmanipulated adventure? It makes your bad guy look clever and can be a cool twist, but does it mean that all those times your protagonist escaped the bad guy’s men by the skin of his teeth, he was being allowed to escape? Are they retroactively less interesting now?

Whether these twists work or not will depend on how you’ve constructed the rest of your story. Do they make your world more or less interesting?

If you have the audience’s trust, it’s permissible to make your world temporarily less interesting. You can kill off the cool guy with the awesome plan, or make it so that the Chosen One wasn’t actually the Chosen One, or even have the main character wake up and find out it was all a dream, and let the reader marinate in disappointment for a little while before you pick it up again and turn things around so that actually, that twist does lead to a more interesting story! But you have to pick it up again. Don’t leave them with the version that’s less interesting than the story you tanked for the twist. The general slop of interest must trend upward, and your sacrifices need to all lead into the more interesting world. Otherwise, your readers will be disappointed, and their experience will be tainted.

Whenever I’m looking at a new piece of writing advice, I view it through these three rules. Is this plot still delivering on the book’s purpose, or have I gone off the rails somewhere and just stared writing random stuff? Does making this character ‘more relateable’ help or hinder that goal? Does this argument with the protagonists’ mother tell the reader anything or lead to any useful payoff; is it respectful of their time? Will starting in medias res give the audience an accurate view of the story and help them decide whether to invest? Does this big twist that challenges all the assumptions we’ve made so far imply a world that is more or less interesting than the world previously implied?

Hopefully these can help you, too.

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noistanaccount · 23 hours

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Ryoko Kui Does Not Believe in Epiphanies (or: why Marcille and Mithrun's endings are great actually)

I have seen a couple of people who are upset about the way that Mithrun and Marcille's stories were resolved so I'm writing this to clear some things up. Ryoko Kui does not believe in epiphanies. An epiphany is a sudden and usually brief realization, an "aha" moment. Epiphanies are emotionally powerful moments. Both Marcille and Mithrun have powerful moments of realization, epiphanies.

Whether or not you like these resolutions, there's something you need to understand, Ryoko Kui does not put that much stock into these moments. Immediately after Marcille has her realization, Tansu responds like this:

While this is mostly his own opinion, what he is pointing out is that epiphanies are brief, they are singular moments that do not define a life. Life is long, and epiphanies do not sustain you. Marcille might feel like this now, but what about tomorrow? what about nex year? ten years, a hundred years, five hundred years from now? How often have you felt a sudden understanding? a burst of inspiration, or perhaps a realization that everything is pointless? It generally passes quickly, and you make dinner, and go to bed.

Think about the best meal you have ever had, it was probably a special occasion, maybe it felt like something magical, in the moment you might have felt like your life was changed. Then, in the morning you were hungry, so you ate breakfast. You cooked, you did the dishes, you went on with your life. What "meaning" did that meal have if you were hungry again the next day? Mithrun has to rebuild everything, every day he has to come up with new desires to do the very basics. None of it comes naturally, he has to find a reason to eat beyond being hungry, a reason to want to do anything when he doesn't want anything. Ryoko Kui tells us outright, that there is no magical solution:

The same thing applies to Ryoko Kui's representation of racism in dungeon meshi. Around when the orcs appeared in the anime I saw people gripeing about the way racism is treated. They seemed to think that Laios's party having dinner with the orcs was presented as them "solving" racism. Once again people misunderstand, they did not solve racism in a single moment. A few people, understood each other a little better, came to an arrangement and then parted. This was merely a moment in their lives. The characters continue to do micro-agressions, hold stereotypes, and have implicit biases. In dungeon meshi, characters don't suddenly stop being racist in the course of an evening. Life is a process, learning about others is a process, it's about the accumulation of experiences through the meat and potatoes of life, the daily activities that we actually fill our lives with, not the sudden realizations. Once you make learning about and living with other people into part of your routine, once it is embodied, then it is part of your life.

This is the real conclusion: life is not lived in a state of epiphany. Life is about chores, cooking, eating, shitting, working, and sleeping, it's everyday. Life is about doing simple things and doing them well. An epiphany is a useful tool for telling the reader that everything is going to be alright, we love to read epiphanies and be swept up in them. They can also be a breaking of a pattern, an escape from a spiral.

This is the other take away, it's about the people you do those things with, the way they rub off on you, the way they help you be human. For Mithrun and Marcille their paths would be impossible without other people pushing them back on the path as they stray. Mithrun literally would starve to death except for the thought that kabru and others don't want him to. Eating is a communal activity, so is living, you can have an epiphany on your own; you can't live on your own.

#dungeon meshi #dungeon meshi spoilers #this is important to me I hope I articulated it well #rant

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aouiaa · 2 days

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Loser!Ellie Hcs

Imagining Loser! Ellie who makes fart noises with her mouth when you bend down to pick up something, and making fun of you for “farting.”

“Ewww, that one was nasty!”

A scoff leaves your mouth as you stand up, looking back to send a death stare her way to which makes her walk over to you, giggling.

“It’s okay, everyone farts.” she says with a cheeky grin.

An eye roll from you further causes Ellie to full on laugh and wrap her arms around your waist, pressing kisses to your neck.

She would be so silly with it too. Finding different ways to comment on you “farting.”

“That’s some narly tooting there, babe.”

“Woof, another left the cannon!” she says, pinching her nose while actually fanning the air to shooing away the smell as if it was real.

“A bomb just dropped, take cover!”

Imagining Loser! Ellie who invites you over to her house when you first started dating to review her concerningly large comic book collection.

“How do you have some many?!” you exclaim, looking over the many boxes filled with comics.

“I had to do some things to acquire such items that I rather not corrupt your mind with.” she says in a rather poor attempt of sounding suspicious and menacing.

“God, you’re such a loser! you laugh, and watch as Ellie immediately drops the act and turns into a big giant tomato.

A little shy “no” leaves her lips to which makes you smile and lean over to kiss her, “It’s okay, you’re my loser.”

Imagining Loser! Ellie who also has a smaller collection of space related books than the rather getting out-of-hand comic collection.

Imagining Loser! Ellie who has the deadliest grip over the last chicken while sending a death stare your way when you do that one trend on her to see if she’d grab her phone instead.

Imagining Loser! Ellie who’s laughing to the point there’s tears in her eyes when she suggested the both of you paint each other. And when revealed, hers was very detailed and while yours…’was insteresting.’ Ellie’s words…

Imagining Loser! Ellie who makes fun of people who dress “cringe”, but also wears this.

Imagining Loser! Ellie who write love songs for you in her little journal of hers and even plays them on her guitar. You’ve even caught her once.

Upon walking into your home, you hear muffled talking or singing. Presuming it’s Ellie, you walk into the room to see her with gutiar in hand. Immediately when she sees you she stops what she’s doing and look up, her face turning red.

“Oh—shit, you’re home early…” she says, laughing nervously, settling her guitar aside and greeting you with a hug and kiss as usual.

A little laugh leaves your lips as you return such greeting and ask, “What were you doing?”

She pulls away from the embrace and looks down upon hearing the question. Playing with her pinky and rings finger, she responds, “Oh, ya’ know—just…playing.”

“Just playing? But I heard you singing.”

An audible gulp is heard from the nervous girl as she looks up at you, “I was writing a song.” she finally admits.

A wave of surprise washed over you, “Oh—wow. Can…I hear it?”

“Uhh, maybe later..”

You chuckle and nod, “Alright then, my little musician. You can work on!” you quip.

A nervous smile presents itself on Ellie’s lips, “Shut up.”

Loser! Ellie who does let you listen to the song, but is stuttering and messing up the whole time!—Poor girl, you make her nervous :(—To which earns her a kiss on the cheek and a “You got this, baby. Just relax” To which she actually does! She Some might say it was the kiss that did it.

Imagining Loser! Ellie who has a special spot in her journal fill of doodles of you.

Imagining Loser! Ellie who has mutiple unfinished paintings of you that with time will be finished, just has to find time in her super busy schedule—that consists of sleeping and bothering you—to finished them.

Imagining Loser! Ellie who sleeps with stuff animals.

Imagining Loser! Ellie who HAS to absolutely listen to music when doing anything, literally doesn’t matter it could be showering, dishes, getting ready, etc. There’s music playing.

Imagining Loser! Ellie who’s a big ‘Savage Starlight’ nerd and actually at some point sent in one of her best fanart to the official insta page, but never got a response. :(

But the girl can’t take failure as a option and is still hopeful saying, “They’ll open my message…eventually.” with a sad little huff.

Imagining Loser! Ellie who’s screaming from the bathroom when she actually gets a response back!

You knock frantically on the door to realize it when she’s opens the phone and you’re met with her phone being shoved into your face, “Look, Look, Look!

A slight irritated sigh leaves your lips as you look at Ellies phone—which has mysterious residue stains on it—and see the instagram post. Once reading the caption praising Ellie for her work, you look up from the phone and at her, “I thought you were getting killed, Ellie! God…”

“Aweeee, you care about me?” she says, putting her hands on her chest.

“No, I came to make sure they finished the job.” you reply with a cheeky grin.

“Oh wow…well in that case, gimme my phone and get out!” she frowns.

You roll my eyes playfully and chuckle, giving back her phone, “Make sure to flush.” you say, closing the door.

“That was one time!” you hear a muffled shout.

Imagining Loser! Ellie whose phone is filled with multiple pictures of you. Some of you, sleeping, doing chores around the house, cooking—and some with you seeming to be yelling at her in the photo for not helping, and terrible pictures of you that you beg her to delete, but she protests saying, they’re “beautiful” to her.

Imagining Loser! Ellie who steals your chapstick since she always loses her’s within a few days of having it.

“Ellie?” you call out, searching in your nightstand for your chapstick.

“Yeah, babe?” you hear her voice become more clearly as she walks into the bedroom.

“Has you seen my chapstick? My lips are terribly dry…” you huff, unable to find it in your clutter.

“Uhh, no.”

*Imagine her in the background, sneakily swiping your chapstick back and forth on her lips as you annoyedly rummage through your stuff for it.* LMAOOO

Imagining Loser! Ellie who does feel bad and buys you a ten pack of chapstick, stealing one of course for herself.

Imagining Loser! Ellie who buys those princess or even soda chapstick ones.

(Okay i’ll stop talking about chapsticks…😭)

Imagining Loser! Ellie who seems to never drink water, but instead drinks like Arizona, Dr. Pepper, or Canada-dry, etc.

Imagining Loser! Ellie who’s rather disgusting when eating. Having dried up residue on the side of her mouth from dinner which was hours ago only to lick it off.

“Mmm, that burger was good.”

“You’re disgusting.”

Imagining Loser! Ellie who sometimes, but not all the times, thinks about how lucky she is/was to get—or “pull” as she says to her friends—someone like you.

Loser! Ellie who loves you for loving her despite her quirks!

How you can help Palestine, Why you shouldn’t support tlou/ buy the remastered, Educate yourself, #FREEPALESTINE.

a/n; Who wants Dina or Abby hcs? 🤭

Perm taglist: @elliesprettygirl, @dyk3ang3l, @ellies2fingers, @r3starttt, @slut4mascss, @k1ssesworld

Ellie Only fics: @herelieskrisy, @mikellie , @slaysksmska, @mina-281, @teawithnosugar, @kitkatkittycat111

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deepestnightcolor · 2 days

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Oml I love your writing, I just binged all the Sam fics! I saw you take requests for Harvey 👀 any chance for a “confidential check up?”

Hello, dear anon!~ Thank you so much for both the compliment and request. This was my first time writing a full-blown Harvey fic - and I hope I did suffice :D

Thanks for your request, and thank you so much for your time and love! <3

ᴀ/ɴ: as I said, this is my first time writing a Harvey fic and I am still sick, so I hope it will suffice!!

PS: I hid two Easter eggs this time. >:)

PPS: maybe 2,5, one being a slight nod at @sashiavi >:))

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: Harvey (SDV) x afab!reader

ᴡᴄ: 4194 words

ᴍᴅɴɪ ✧ ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: medical misconduct, unprotected sex, light nipple play, seductive reader, Harvey's a little insecure.

☾ ᴅᴏᴄᴛᴏʀ, ᴅᴏᴄᴛᴏʀ, ɢɪᴠᴇ ᴍᴇ ᴀ ʀᴇᴍᴇᴅʏ ☽

A secret that you'd never share? Simple and carnal, your secret was. Primitive, even. You had only made the appointment with Doctor Harvey to finally wrap the man around your finger.

You had tried it fair and square at first, you seriously had! Coming by whenever he had time, bringing him little gifts you were sure he'd like; trying to engage him in conversation.

However, Harvey always seemed so busy, so professional. Telling you to take care and stay healthy and giving you advice on how you achieve just that. Always looking out for you, always gentle in his words and behavior. And by Yoba, it made you want to break him even more.

Also, what better way was there to implement your plan than to catch the little lamb where it felt the safest and most confident? Of course, it was a little unfair, pretending you needed his help and skills to treat an injury, but then again you did. Just not in the way Harvey would expect. He had loads of chances to get the hint, but nothing had worked. Not even when you had fished out the shortest skirt possible out of your closet and wore it with a top that left barely anything to one's imagination, accidentally falling on your knees right in front of Harvey, showing off those lace panties of yours. No, that hadn't worked either. Harvey had let out a gasp that made you believe you had finally done something to him, just to rush to your side and ask if you were okay. If you needed help, if you were dizzy. Fuck did you want to cry out that you were dizzy for him, his touch. Instead, you gave him a sweet smile, fluttering your lashes at him as you told him no, you were fine. But thank you so much, Harvey!

You had scrambled to your feet and made your way back to the farm with your head hanging, and that was the point you decided it would probably need to be all or nothing.

“So, what brings you here today? Maru only noted that you requested to see me. I hope you didn't hurt yourself?” Harvey asked, scooting closer on his rolling chair. You were already propped up on the table, smiling sweetly at Harvey.

You had picked out an excellent outfit for the day, if you were allowed to say so. A blouse that was easy to open up and discard, and a skirt that seemed modest enough yet was nothing but of the mere purpose of covering up your lack of panties. And you were hurting. Terribly so, even. For him.

“Nono, Doc. I just, you know. I've been feeling some kind of way. Under the weather, you might say.” You leaned forward a bit now, running your fingers through your hair before twirling a strand around your finger. You were met with a pair of green-brown eyes, so full of consideration and empathy. It made you want to just sit on his face and make him spill all of his care onto your sweet pussy until you could feel it in every part of your body.

“I see! And how does that show? Do you have a headache? Do you feel more tired than usual?”

So sweet and caring, Doctor Harvey. Too cute to not bite.

You let out a sigh as if you were contemplating, biting around on your lower lip. “No, that's not it. I don't know how to describe it, it's…embarrassing.”

The doctor looked up at you again, putting away his notepad now. He gave you a sweet, genuine smile. A hand landed on your shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze.

"There’s absolutely nothing to be embarrassed about. This is a safe, confidential space; nothing will leave these walls.”

Go on, little lamb. Step right into the trap.

You leaned back a bit, pushing out your chest now. “Well, it's my chest. It's been so…so tender lately.”

A hum. That's all you got. A hum. Or so you thought. Because if you looked closely, you could see more. His moustache was twitching as his eyes flickered down to your breasts. Harvey was a professional, though. He quickly cleared his throat, nodding at you.

“Alright, I will glad- I would be happy- let's take a look, shall we?”

It took a lot from you to not break out in a grin; having the man break out in a stutter like that? It definitely was a step forward.

“Yes, please.” You needed to pretend to be innocent now - you didn't want to scare him away, after all.

Your fingers were quick to unbutton your shirt and your upper body was already bare before the doctor could even properly turn back to you. For a moment, his motions seemingly stuttered to a halt, his hands still clasped together from rubbing the disinfectant on them.

His moustache twitched again as he approached you, taking a seat on the chair again.

“Alright, my hands might be a little cold from the disinfectant, but I should be quick.”

Fuck, you hoped that he wouldn't be. You gave him a nod and what you hoped to be a shy smile, pushing your chest towards him a little.

And then, finally…Fucking finally you felt tender fingers on the soft skin of your breasts. It left you breathless for a moment, helpless as he traced the curves of your tits so expertly.

The moan falling from your lips really wasn't an accident, but Harvey, dear sweet Harvey, decided to let you off the hook. Ever the gentleman, wasn't he?

“Did that hurt?” He asked, his eyes flickering up to you, gently squeezing the flesh again. This time you looked straight into his eyes as you moaned, licking your lips. “No, it just…tingles,” you grinned, eyes following Harvey's dropping hands with dismay.

“Well, I did not find any lumps or irritations that could explain the tenderness. Did any lifestyle changes happen? Or perhaps a new medication?”

Pretending to be thinking, you swung your legs back and forth. One of your feet got in contact with his shin, slowly tracing upwards only to slide down again.

The man’s face was stoic, eyes trained on your face with a stern look.

Yet again, the twitching of his moustache betrayed him.

The thought that you hadn't responded yet reeled you in a little: “No…Well. Maybe kind of? You know…I've been having, well. Thoughts about someone. Thoughts about them touching me, wanting me,” you began, your foot wandering to his knee.

“Could that be it?”

A blush had spread on his cheeks now, and Yoba did you love to see it. He picked up the notepad and quickly jotted something down, then nodded.

“I assume that could be it-”

“And what do I do about it, Doctor? It hurts, after all.”

Immediately, his attention is back on you completely. “Hurts? Where?”

A vague pointing to your body made Harvey's hand reach out, touching your stomach. “Here?”

You shook your head, letting your foot wander down again. “Lower.”

His brows furrowed now and he let his hand slide towards your abdomen. “Here? Are they cramps?”

Again, you shook your head.

“Lower.”

He was hesitating now, looking up at you with an uncertainty you had never seen before, and it felt like another small victory.

“Could you…uh. Point me to where it hurts?”

Click - the trap was snapping shut.

It didn't need many words; you opened up your legs without an ounce of hesitation, revealing your cunt, all wet and ready for the doctor. “There.”

Harvey swallowed thickly, his mouth opening and closing as he tried to find the words. Words that wouldn't have him lose his license. It wasn't like he hadn't seen genitals before - much more than one would expect from a small town like this - and he had never been affected. So why was his throat dry now? Why was his heart pounding like this?

“It's getting like this whenever I see handsome men like you, what could that be?”

“It’s getting like…what?” by now he was thankful that he was able to get some words out with his head feeling as light as it did right now.

“I dunno…wet?”

His eyes went straight back to your pussy, staring at it. You were wet. And you looked delicious. But he was a doctor. A professional. He had done so much to be where he was right now!

“Oh! That…uh. That…it- well. It stems from attraction. It's so..so sexual intercourse can happen more easily, you see. All natural. There's no need to worry at all.”

He was pulling back, this damn professional. Even though you could see that you were getting to him. “But…isn't there a remedy?”

Harvey wanted to just sink into the ground. His head still felt light, and he could feel his pants tighten - he had been mesmerized by you ever since you had introduced yourself. And of course, he had noticed your attempts to catch his attention - he wasn't stupid, after all. Yet Harvey had promised himself. Promised himself to not get too involved anymore. And now you were here. Exposed, and seemingly ready for him. So close but- he had to be strong. Be a doctor.

“Well, for one…You could do some self-care. Masturbation is quite healthy for the human body and mind.”

Like hell he'd recommend you to have sex with someone else, not even someone like him could be so professional. You called him handsome after all, for crying out loud!

“Oh! And…how does that work?”

Your patience was running thin now, but you felt like you were so close to having him where you wanted him, despite him being so oblivious. His face was motionless now as he stared at you, Adam's apple bobbing up and down. He was obviously looking for words.

“I-”

“Come on, Doctor Harvey. You're supposed to help me, aren't you?” You cooed, interrupting the clouding thoughts before they could really rain on him.

“But- that is the thing. I am your Doctor-”

You didn't answer him right away, your hand wandering to your clit first, giving it a gentle flick.

“And what if you prescribed yourself to be my remedy? I think you're the only thing that can help me,” you moaned.

The groan coming from his direction certainly wasn't professional anymore. A hand, now warmer than before, settled on your thigh. “You said it hurts here?”

Before you could look where his finger was pointing you could feel the pad of it trace through your wet folds.

“Exactly,” you breathed, spreading your legs a little further.

“I can't see much,” he murmured, his cock twitching painfully in his pants. “I'd need to clean you up first before I run some more tests...is that okay with you?”

The bobbing of your head was enough for Harvey to finally break down.

He leaned forward faster than he would have guessed from himself, his fingers spreading your folds, and by Yoba, you were wet. All the more reason to examine you closely, wasn’t it? Keeping you healthy wasn’t bad, after all. It was his job. And if that was what it took, he would oblige – for the sake of medicine, of course. Not because of his throbbing cock and the desperate need to taste you on his tongue; not because he was salivating from the thought alone.

His tongue slowly slipped out of his mouth, a sliver of hesitation lingering in the air. He could see your hole contract when you thought him close, he could see the shivers making the muscles of your thighs twitch whenever his hot breath hit the wetness of your cunt, and yet…wasn’t this wrong? Had he somehow taken advantage of you?

“Harvey, fuck, please?” A small rock of your hips followed your words. Urging him closer. He could smell you now, and holy life, did you smell good. Lured him right into taking a deep whiff, as if he didn’t know he would get drunk on you immediately. Yet he did know and he willingly took another deep inhale. The impatient whine above him caused his eyes to flicker up to your face. You looked down at him, your lower lip tugged between your sets of pearly whites. No words needed to be spoken, and yet Harvey still followed your order.

His tongue slowly slipped out of his mouth; eyes glued to your face. He wanted to see how you would react to that first contact, wanted to see if you felt as hot as he did right now. His pants were really straining against his aching erection, his zipper pressing against the shaft through his boxers. He was pretty sure those were wet too by now, with all the pre-cum he had been leaking. He finally pressed the muscle against your entrance, licking a flat, thick line upwards. And he took his time doing it; so much so that it had your toes curl and your thighs close in around his head. The brunet was quick to react, though, one hand holding your leg open, while the other busied itself with spreading open your pussy for his hungry tongue. His licking had become faster now, but precise enough to avoid your clit. He was, after all, only cleaning you up now, wasn’t he? Still, that didn’t mean that his hot tongue licking up whatever you gave him didn’t make you moan for him. How long had you been thinking about this? Having Harvey between your legs, in any which way he would have offered? Too long. And now he finally had his head buried between your thighs, licking and sucking you up like a starved man offered a meal after ages of going hungry. His tongue licked up and down, from one side to the other, but he still ignored your hardening clit with apparently the same professionalism he had ignored your advances before.

He gave your lips a light suck, then sunk his tongue deep inside of you. A groan left his glistening lips, eyes shut tight while he lapped at your walls eagerly, trying to get as much of you as possible into his mouth. “Harvey, oh fuck, right there,” you breathed, hand flying in his hair to hold onto the strands between your fingers tightly, giving a tug that was harder than you had intended it to be. But that only seemed to spur the male on more, his face burying deeper, tongue and lips working in unison now. And by Yoba, he had never tasted anything this good; so sweet, so…you; and you were addictive.

Your hips bucked upwards for him, if to grant him easier access or just because you couldn’t keep them down anymore, you didn’t know. You didn’t really care, either. Harvey’s moustache rubbed against you in a way that made your head spin, his lips sucking on you while he circled his tongue within you made your whole body tense. Even when pussy-drunk he seemed incredibly precise, knowing just where to brush past, when to suck and when to lick.

You weren’t able to do much anymore, just hold onto his hair and wait for the sweet, sweet release to wash over you and in turn, Harvey’s tongue.

It was close; you could feel it in the ripple down your spine, in the way you clenched around him, you could feel it in the pit of your stomach, too. You were dangerously close to the edge, and one well-placed flick would push you over. You were ready for it; the string of moans that left your lips were dirty, raw, carrying all the words you couldn’t form anymore.

You awaited the feeling of your orgasm crashing over you, not to suddenly feel empty and cold after being engulfed in the warmth of his mouth. But Harvey was standing now, his face wet and his glasses fogged up from the heat that had reached the cool surface, and yet you knew that he was staring right at you. You opened your mouth, but you didn’t trust your vocal cords just yet, so all you did was letting out a confused hum, to which the brunet in front of you smiled.

“You are all clean now- I believe you are ready for further tests.”

Fuck, you were. More than that. By now, you really felt an ache in your body, and the only remedy was there, right in front of you, fumbling with the buttons of his pants. His hands were shaking, enough so for you to lean forward, popping the button open for him. The doctor let out an awkward laugh, moustache twitching from the embarrassed rumble that went through him. “Sorry,” he whispered but quickly switched gears when you pressed a kiss to his lips. The taste of you mixed with his spit made you whimper, the appetite for him only growing within you. You wanted to help him tug down his boxers as well, but instead of fabric, you were met with the soft skin that had been hidden beneath until now. Your throat went dry; you just had to pull away and look at him. He was big, tip coated in a layer of pre-cum, his shaft girthy.

“Harvey, please,” you stammered, leaning back on the table so he could lean over you more easily.

The brunet followed you like a well-behaved lamb, leaning in again to kiss you. You could feel the tip of his dick against your entrance, slowly pushing forward. The stretch the head of his penis caused made your eyes roll back, excitement for the rest of his girth stretching you bubbling inside of you.

Harvey, ever the gentleman, took it slow. Rutting inside of you, centimetre after centimetre, eyes fixed on your face for any signs of pain and discomfort. He brushed your hair to the side to whisper sweet nothings in your ear, telling you how good you felt, how wet you were for him, and holy Yoba, did he ever feel anything like this before?

You had to admit, at first, the stretch did hurt a little, but with both him being so tender with you, so gentle, the pain quickly turned into a cloud of lust and despair. You wanted him, and you weren’t afraid to show him anymore. “Harvey, oh, for fuck’s sake, fuck me.”

A twitch, and then a shove that made him bottom out inside of you. A groan from him bled into the moan that tore from you, but that didn’t make Harvey pause. Not anymore.

His thrusts were shaky, unsure at first. He was just so adorable, wasn’t he? His eyes searched yours as if to ask for approval, as if to make sure he was doing this right, and it made your heart swell within your chest.

“You are so good to me, Harv,” you whispered, shamelessly letting your moans slip for him. The brunet’s eyes lit up, and he pushed his hips forward faster, more eagerly now.

Smiling to yourself, you let your head lull back. Harvey’s dick felt so good within you, filling you out with clumsy thrusts that steadied the more confidence he felt. Your back arched in as the brunet found a rhythm that seemingly fitted both your tastes; fast strokes that reached deep within you. The little grunts that left his slightly swollen hips only added fuel to the fire, only made you want him more.

Your legs hooked around his soft hips as he fucked into you with quick thrusts, body working with him to get him to go harder, more ruthless. Lucky for you, Harvey was a quick learner. Dick now fucking into you harder, red tip still pounding as deep as he could go.

The man’s face was a mix of pleasure and astonishment as if he wasn’t able to believe this was really happening to him. You just felt so damn good around him, walls clinging to his hot cock, sucking him off with each thrust. If he had a say in it, he would have never left your sweet pussy again, keeping his dick buried inside of you, thrusting into you whenever he deemed fit.

The moans and whines of his name that filled the examination room made his vision blur; his balls incredibly tight all of a sudden.

“Harveeey,” you gasped out, your hand reaching for his in an attempt to hold onto something again, fingers gently brushing along his knuckles before intertwining. The brunet above you was panting now, his hips never stilling as he fucked into you. His eyes, however, weren’t focused on your face anymore; they had fallen onto your tits that were bouncing oh so nicely for him with each of his thrusts. He just couldn’t help himself; it was too tempting – his head dipped down, teeth catching one of your pretty pink nipples, nibbling on it just to suck it into his mouth moments later.

You could feel the feeling start to grow inside of you again, your orgasm approaching you, even though you didn’t want this to stop yet. You didn’t want this to end just now, now that he was filling you up so perfectly, cock sliding against your squishy walls with such ease; you didn’t want his balls slapping against your wet cunt to stop just yet, you wanted, no, needed, more.

As if hearing your thoughts, Harvey picked up his pace just a little more, his mouth switching to the other nipple to pay it the same amount of attention. The squelching sound of the wetness between your legs was to die for, just like the feeling of his orgasm hot in his veins.

You just felt so deliciously good, better than any neat whiskey ever could have, and it made him go crazy. He felt hot, he felt like he was just about close enough to heaven to feel it, but not quite there. The bucking of his hips grew more desperate as he chased his orgasm, going hard and deep inside of you while his mouth busied itself leaving hickeys on your bouncing tits. The insecurity from before had vanished, and the groans, the begs, the whines, the praise, all coming from you was enough to keep it away.

“Harvey, I am- fuck, I am so close-“

He would have answered, had he been able to. But he had basically gone mute, aside from the whimpers and groans, as well as high-pitched moans that dared to tumble from his tongue. Instead, he just nodded at you and did his best to pick up the pace some more. It was just so hard with you sucking around him so nicely, drooling all over his dick. So hard to focus when he could feel you shake beneath him, making his body ache for the final push.

The bite to your tit he gave you, combined with his deepest thrust yet was enough for you. You squeezed his hand tightly, your toes curling and your back arching in as finally allowed the release to flow over you. You cried out his name, your sweet, pretty cunt spasming around poor Harvey, who was, admittedly, both absolutely pussy-drunk and empty-minded.

His breathing now came in forceful, laboured pushes, and if he had ever heard a patient breathe like that, he would have sent them straight to bed and run endless tests on them. But this – this was nothing but the sheer hunger for one person.

He suddenly slammed forward once more, his back arching in as he moaned out your name loudly, penis twitching as he came inside of you, cum painting your walls white. He had to squeeze his eyes shut to not lose focus, his mouth hanging open as he fucked you through your orgasm. Your legs were quivering with each thrust that sent shocks up your spine from the overstimulation that slowly started to nag at you.

Panting, the brunet tried to keep himself from crashing down on top of you, a thin layer of sweat covering his forehead. His eyes were still hazy as they took in your fucked-out expression. You looked ruined but also completely…satisfied.

Your hand was still shaky as you reached up to let it run down his flushed cheek, a smile on your lips. “That definitely helped, Harv,” you whispered, voice slightly more hoarse than it had been that morning.

Harvey cleared his throat, and after a moment or maybe two – maybe also three, he just felt so good inside of you – pulled out of you, shaky legs carrying him over to the sink where he wettened some paper towels to clean you up.

“I am glad I was able to help.”

Disappointment settled in your stomach. Was that it? Did he just go back to his professional self like the table beneath you wasn’t drenched in your wetness and his cum?

“But I need to run a few more tests. I think home visits would be best; I’d need different surfaces and times.”

Click. Two lambs had fallen for the trap

#sdv #stardew valley #stardew valley fanfic #stardew valley farmer #stardew valley smut #sdv fanfic #fanfic #smut #sdv harvey #sdv harvey x reader #sdv harvey x farmer #stardew valley harvey #stardew valley x reader #stardew valley x farmer #harvey x farmer

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chirpsythismorning · 3 days

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Fun fact: In the original pitch for Stranger Things, El had a little brother.

After being rejected by almost 20 studios for the Montauk pilot, the Duffers were finally green-lit by Netflix. It was at this time that they began casting and then writing the first season officially, which included reworking a lot of that first episode.

This led to the removal of the brother reference, and with it, removing any sort of arc El could have had about her apparent brother.

But the thing about this moment, is that it might not have been scrapped entirely...

Going into the final season, no one can explain why or how El recognized Will back in 1x02. And while there are plenty of things on the show that are left unexplained, with a small portion likely left that way with the intention to uncover it later, what sets this moment apart from the rest is that there are very few possibilities here.

Because for starters, the story presents El's ability to see people in the void in s1 as requiring either a picture of that person for reference, or having met that person before.

But when El see's this picture of Will, she's never met him before. Or maybe she has, but we wouldn't know because they never showed us. They could have just not done this scene at all, given that it's clearly a copy/paste/edit of something scrapped from the pitch. Or they could have even still included it, but explained it.

One explanation could be that the lab had shown El a picture of Will before, similar to what they did with the Russian agent they wanted to spy on. But then that begs to question, why would the lab show El a picture of Will? Why would they want to see what he was doing? That alone is incriminating in and of itself, implying that Will is more connected to the lab than we realize.

The only other, and frankly most likely explanation, would be that El stumbled across Will at some point on her journey between escaping the lab and Will going missing. This is actually something that happens in The Other Side comic, which explores all the things Will may have experienced during his time in the Upside Down.

Though it’s worth noting the comics aren’t technically canon, and I highly doubt they would outright spoil everything in relation to Will’s time there, years before it was intended to be revealed. But still, let's humor this for a moment given that I do think Will's time in the UD is going to be very relevant in s5, which means it's highly likely they will finally address how exactly El saw him.

Basically, in the comic, Will see’s El walking through the woods, almost apparition like, glowing as she passes by, while also sporting the Benny’s burgers shirt. This means they would have crossed passed within a short span of time, between when El escaped Benny’s when the agents arrived, but before she was found by the boys.

Though it’s worth noting that we’re seeing this all from Will’s perspective. This means from the UD, Will was capable of seeing El on the other side, despite them being on different sides. And not only that, but she also looks back at him.

What confuses me about this, is that it doesn’t make sense for El to be in the woods, only to randomly decide to pop in to the void for a moment. She was trying to escape the lab and everything that came with it. I doubt she had any desire to lurk back there for some reason, not until someone encouraged her to. Not to mention, it would make no sense for her to go there and see Will if she wasn't even looking for him in the first place. And so this would mean Will and El could see each other, with Will being in the UD, and El being on the other side.

While it does seem pretty far off, given that you would think Will and El wouldn't be able to see each other from different sides, it is true in the story that El not only recognizes Will, but knows that he is in danger. She mentions that he is hiding specifically.

Which means she has likely seen him within the last 24 hours regardless.

This, in combination with Will being able to respond to El in the void at the end of the season in Castle Byers, when no one else outside of Terry and flayed-Billy have been able to, seems to imply that there is indeed something special about Will that makes him capable of communicating with El from the UD. Not only that, but El also seems to have an ability to be in this constant knowing state of how Will is doing, without even checking again to confirm. She's just certain of it. And she seems terrified about it.

Going forward, El never uses a picture of Will to find him. She never did. And more often than not, they don’t show us what she see’s either, not until the very end. And that’s the moment they reveal that he was able to communicate with her.

Again, there was really no reason to have El recognize Will. If anything it complicates things. But the fact that they chose to introduce this concept, with a scene from the original pitch that was related to El’s younger brother, with her pointing at his name cryptically, startling Benny, only to revamp it and have El not say anything at all while pointing at the picture of Will, startling Mike… It just really makes you stop and think.

Which brings me to the other aspect of this that might have people doubting, which is that El’s brother was originally younger than her.

We know Will is not younger than El, so how could this apply to him?

Well, it might be helpful to consider that in the original script, El was actually 10 years old, while the boys were always 12. Meaning that for some reason, they decided to age her up to the age of the boys, aka the same age as Will…

Ever since @erikiara80 shared this brother discovery with me, I have been sort of reeling. It then led to other little discoveries of changes they made between Montauk and Stranger Things.

It’s important to understand that the Montauk bible and the original script precedes what we ended up with in the final product, with it finally changing and evolving months, maybe even a year since that original vision. Even casting occurred before writing started for the first season. We know this because casting announcements were made in June and August of 2015, with writing not starting until August going into early 2016, simultaneously while they were filming.

And believe it or not, what I've discovered is that a lot of the changes they made between their original plans and what we see in the final product, have to do with not only Willel, but also Byler.

If you've read the original script for Montauk, you'll know that Mike's crush on Jennifer Hayes was focused on right from the jump, along with the birthmark on his face being focused on, which was the main cause of the bullying he experienced.

This has actually been talked about recently, and some of the claims people make do fit with what I am genuinely starting to consider here, which is that the initial plan for what makes Mike an outcast shifted.

I think when they completed casting, and started actually deep diving into what they wanted this world to look like, both from a short-term and long-term standpoint, they were presented with some pretty interesting discoveries, arguably already hiding in their initial plans without realizing it.

And this is where it sort of becomes a 'chicken or the egg' situation. Because which one came first? Byler or Willel?

I can't say for certain, because obviously this is all just speculation. But in the case that Willel came first, I think Byler would come very naturally after that.

The Duffers themselves are twins. Then they hire Noah, who is a twin. Then they're thinking and planning for El's past and how her family all fits into this, and they're thinking... wait a damn minute... We could totally Star Wars this bitch!

And then when they think it couldn't get any better, they uncover another layer that they hadn't planned or really considered in their initial plans.

While Will was always going to have sexual identity issues according to the Montauk bible, meaning that the writing process for him likely involved sitting down imagining scenarios that encapsulated this arc for Will from the beginning, they were simultaneously now finding very interesting aspects of Mike's character that made it hard not to at least consider the possiblity that Mike is not exactly straight.

Just think about it. The Byers and Wheelers are basically polar opposites on the spectrum of what a family looks like. While Will's discovery and acceptance of his queerness is interesting to explore because he comes from a low-income, single-mom household, all while having been bullied for years based on his perceived queerness, he also has a mother and brother constantly reinforcing that they will accept him no matter what. They've been sort of hitting us over the head with it for years, and so it wouldn't be very satisfying for his entire arc to merely lead up to something we've known all along. It's pretty much a given at this point.

On the other side of the spectrum, Mike comes from a more upper-middle class family at the end of a cul-de-sac, more aligned with what a nuclear family looks like. Mike's family is also presented as being more conservative, and while Karen does give that very queer-coded speech to Mike in s1 (I'm convinced they only wrote this after deciding to explore queer-coding more heavily with Mike), it also comes with comments from Ted and even still Karen that hint that they are probably not as open-minded and accepting as Will's family is to him. Which means Mike's arc would be a lot more about acceptance around him from his loved ones who we have been led to believe might not be as accepting of his queerness in contrast to Will.

And so as they're putting this story together, and they're being presented with something very interesting. Two similar experiences that play out in different ways because of the characters circumstances.

Will goes missing, and his twin sister with a buzzcut pops up and has the ability to help them find Will.

This leads to several moments where El is being compared to as not only a boy, but Will as well.

Now suddenly, their initial plans to have Mike's arc be about having a girl be interested in him and to hopefully have his first kiss and feel like less of a loser, starts to look a lot like what the experience a queer kid in his position might encounter growing up in the environment that he did.

And if you don't want to take my word for it, just hear the Duffer's themselves hinting at what they initially planned for Mike and the fact that it changed.

The changes don't stop there.

Believe it or not, 'It was a seven', did not exist in the initial pitch. When the boys went outside bickering over Nancy, they leave right after that.

Another thing that changed from the first script, was Scott Clarke's introduction:

And so you might be thinking, who cares? What does that have to do with anything?

Well, it's interesting because the line we end up with on the show is arguably one of the most on the nose Twelvegate proofs to date. Mind you, this is from the first episode:

Why chuck the original version, which was arguably more interesting and fascinating in terms of it hinting at the mysteriousness surrounding this story, only to replace it with him listing off tips about their upcoming test?

Well, I think it's the irony of it all. Here Mr. Clarke is practically telling us where to look to figure stuff out for ourselves what is going on, with all the kids filing out and ignoring him...

I relate to Scott a litttle too much in this shot here, any time I try to drop Willel evidence.

And the changes go on, as they obviously would.

Things like Terry Ives not even being El's mom, but actually a man who more so aligns with the characterization of Murray.

And one very interesting one I almost overlooked was in Hopper's introduction, where instead of a kids drawing done by who we assume to be Sarah, we actually see a picture on the wall of him and his wife and daughter... Interesting that they decided to switch it something that is a lot less definitive in presenting what Hopper's past looked like...

If you've made it this far, congratulations.

If you still think I'm out of my mind, just remember that El was going to have a brother in the original script, but they scrapped the scene and gave a near identical one to introduce her connection to Will instead 😘

#byler #stranger things #willel twins #twelvegate #montauk #as you can see #i am out of my mind #and i'm okay with that #i've spent the last couple months trying to make a video going over all the willel twin evidence #and i can't decide if it's even possible to do without going over an hour #like there is just so much shit that fits too perfectly into this family being ripped apart by mind control and time shenanigans #i hope to have it done soon #trying to make it less than 20 minutes #but it's probably going to end up being closer to an hour #especially with this stuff from the montauk pitch being added to the mix now #anyways #willel and byler are the curtain behind the curtain #if you are open to one of them #you are bound to stumble across the other #and they don't want that to happen #stay tuned for the inevitable twin imagery to continue in s5 related to willel leading up to the big reveal #bc it's arguably the most consistent thing about this damn show #and tbh this all just makes the queer-coding for mike in s1 a lot more concrete to me #them exploring will's queerness through his dad's expectations for him to do more 'manly' things like play baseball #and jonathan saying he shouldn't like things just bc people telll him he's supposed to #how they connect that narratively with the boys being at a baseball field when mike's being pressured about his supposed feelings for el #with the bullies showing up and literally being homophobic seconds later #the fact that jennifer hayes did in fact exist in the original pilot and was the girl mike had a crush on #only for them to scrap that and just make it about her having a crush on will...#never once introducing this idea of mike liking her...

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russellsppttemplates · 2 days

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https://www.tumblr.com/russellsppttemplates/748410598698663936/i-might-do-another-blurb-night-soon-so-if-you?source=share

feeling a little under the weather recently (happens to the best of us fr) so could you write a charles leclerc x fem reader where reader is like studying and busy trying to balance social life and studying and being active and he notices it so he comes back from a race weekend and calms her down and they have a short rest day? thank youuuu!!!

Note: I hope you feel better soon! 🫶✨️

"Didn't you go on a run yesterday?", Charles asked as he called you for the second time after he was done with all his duties after the race, the first call missed because you had tried a new pilates studio and had to go back home to shower and change because you had a brunch with your friends.

"Yes, but the pilates was fun too! Question: this shirt or this shirt?", you showed him both options.

"The red one - c'mon amour, that was too easy", he smirked, "so you're having a day off? That's nice". Charles had noticed how tired you had been recently, trying to juggle every sphere of your life, so he was more than happy that you were taking the day off for yourself.

"No, I'm not! I watched the race, worked out and I'm having yummy food and then I'm coming back home to study for the afternoon", you assured him, "maybe tomorrow we can have some chill time when you come back", you smiled.

Charles would make sure of it.

"Amour, I'm home!", Charles called, leaving his bags by the door and looking for you, figuring you would be in the kitchen considering what time it was.

"Charles!", you smiled as you spotted him, setting the spatula down and hugging your boyfriend, "you did so well, I'm so proud of you!", you left little kisses on his neck before kissing his lips, "have you had breakfast? I can make some for you too", you pointed to the eggs on toast you were making.

"I'm good, I had some on the way here because I was starving, thank you though", he kissed your temple, "how about I just finish these and you go and pick something for us to watch on our lazy day?", he smiled.

"I have some flashcards to work on, I need to do them agai-", you tried but were quickly interrupted.

"Amour, if you don't rest, your body will start to slow down and it will be harder for you to get back to your usual rhythm", he cupped your face, kissing your nose softly, "I know you've been working hard, so let me treat you to a relaxing day today, okay?".

Despite your initial resistance, Charles was able to convince you to turn off your laptop and all of the notifications related to the university that could pop up, scooping you up after you had your breakfast and spending the rest of the morning cuddled up on the sofa.

"Thank you for doing this for me", you thanked Charles, playing with his hair, "I needed this", you admitted.

"I know you did", he smiled knowingly, "and I'm more than happy to make sure you rest".

"Can we have a bath together tonight?", you asked, looking at the clock and seeing it was the middle of the afternoon already.

"That's sound great, amour", Charles smiled, kissing your cheek, "I was also thinking we could make that lasagna - I know how much you like to cook and if you don't make it competitive, it can actually be relaxing and soothing".

(Thank you for sending this in ✨️)

#charles leclerc blurb #inês writes blurbs #f1 blurb #f1 x reader

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campingwiththecharmings · 2 days

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Honey Trap

AN: Fifth fic for @moonknight-events’ MK Bingo! This is probably a little silly (and likely not very well-written) but it was fun to come up with and write so irdc lol 😌 Hope someone other than me enjoys this!

You stumble across Marc while he's camping in a remote part of the woods and he's (understandably) suspicious of you.

(Un-beta’d)

Rated: M+ (this is smut so, you've been warned) Prompt: Hiking Words: 2,427 Pairing: Marc Spector x F!Reader Warnings: references to death, attempted murder, knives, frottage, please let me know if i missed anything. AO3

——————

Marc doesn’t trust you.

Your story about wandering off trail and getting lost was plausible, sure, and you looked harmless enough, but he'd been around long enough to know that looks can be deceiving.

Still, what was he to do? If you really were telling him the truth, you needed help. He couldn’t just let you wander around alone in the dark. What if something happened? What if you got injured, or worse, killed? No, better to assume the risk, to give you the benefit of the doubt. Plus, it certainly made it easier to keep an eye on you. You’d been so grateful, thanking him profusely and promising not to be a bother. He’d waved this off of course, trying to ignore the way his stomach flipped when you smiled at him.

It’s late now, the moon full and high in the dark night sky. You’re sitting on the other side of the fire (his fire), your jacket zipped to your chin, arms wrapped around your legs as you try to get as close to the flames as you can without burning yourself. He tries not to keep looking at you, at the way the firelight makes you glow, but every time he looks away, his eyes inevitably drift back. There’s something about you, he’s not sure what but, it makes him feel…uneasy. Everything about you seems normal but he just can’t shake the feeling that he’s missing something. His stomach rumbles at this thought and he briefly considers that he might just be hungry. With a sigh, Marc digs into his bag, searching for the rations he’d packed. His eyes meet yours over the fire as he pulls a packet of jerky out and shakes it.

“Want some?” he asks, holding it out to you.

You hesitate, eyes dipping to study the nondescript packet in his hand. He swallows thickly as you unconsciously lick your lips.

“Thanks,” you say finally, smiling as you take the food from him.

He nods, pulling out another and tearing it open. Marc’s eyes scan the surrounding darkness as the two of you eat, the slight crinkling of the ration packaging replacing the silence.

“So,” you begin, studying the strip of jerky between your fingers. “You come here often?”

His lips quirk slightly at the joke but he just shrugs. “Not really, no.”

You hum, carefully chewing a bite of jerky. “Could’ve fooled me.”

He meets your gaze, unease settling in his gut. “How do you mean?”

It’s your turn to shrug now, pulling another strip from your packet “You just seem very…prepared is all.”

He sniffs in amusement, relaxing slightly. “Yeah well, people do tend to be at least slightly prepared when they plan on camping in the woods.”

You scoff, swallowing your mouthful of food. “I wasn’t planning on camping though.”

“Maybe not,” he agrees, taking a sip from his water bottle. “But you clearly had no idea what you were getting yourself into by coming all the way out here. Seriously, who hikes without a map?”

You snort, shaking your head at yourself. “Valid point. Obviously, I’m an incompetent buffoon.”

Marc bites back a smile, pulling another piece of jerky from the packet. “Well at least you’re aware of it.”

“I’m so aware of it,” you laugh, putting your head in your hands.

He hums, his eyes drifting to you again across the fire, watching as you (presumably) mentally berate yourself for getting into this situation. What would’ve happened had you not run into him? If you had run into someone else? With no supplies, would you even have survived the night? A wave of sympathy washes over him, and he frowns at himself for going soft on you so quickly.

“What brought you out here, anyway? If you don’t mind me asking.”

You look up from your hands, eyes tired but bright as you smile somewhat fondly. “My brother.”

Marc raises an eyebrow. “Your brother?”

You nod, reaching for your pack. You unzip it and pull out an understated urn. His stomach sinks.

“Oh,” he croaks, his throat going suddenly dry. “I’m…sorry for your loss.”

“Thanks,” you whisper, turning your attention to the urn in your hands. “He would’ve liked you, I think. Calling me out for being unprepared and all that. He was always looking out for me.”

Marc grunts, uncomfortable now at the turn the conversation has taken given what had happened to his own brother. “Sounds like he was a, uh, good guy.”

You nod, meeting his eyes over the fire again, the soft smile on your lips making his heart skip. “He was.”

The two of you talk a little more, the topics now lighter and less serious. When you start yawning so often you can barely keep the conversation going though, he decides it’s time for bed. He insists that you take his sleeping bag, knowing your thin jacket isn’t enough to keep you warm until the sunrise. Once you agree to take it, he settles down beside the fire, pulling the hood of his jacket up over his head. Your soft snores meet his ears in no time and he smiles to himself, glad that he was able to help someone without using violence just this once.

He stares into the fire, watching as the flames dance, as they devour the kindling he’d thrown in earlier, as they burn through the sticks and branches he’d collected. His eyes droop, head bobbing gently as he tries to stay awake, knowing he has to keep an eye on things (on you). He thinks he trusts you, or he wants to at least, but he just can’t seem to shake that feeling. Could he really trust himself though? After everything he’s done, after everything he’s seen? Perhaps it’s you who should be afraid of him.

His thoughts spiral, taking him in directions both logical and illogical. He lets himself get lost in it, in the scenarios, in the possibilities, each one more unlikely than the next. At some point, he must doze off, though, because the next thing he knows is the weight of a body on top of him with a knife to his throat.

It’s you. Of course it’s you.

Damn it, he should’ve known, should’ve listened to that niggling feeling inside him that told him not to trust you.

It’s dark save for the moonlight—you must’ve doused the fire before making your move on him.

“I’m sorry about this,” you say, grimacing down at him somewhat apologetically. “You seem nice, and I actually kind of enjoyed talking to you but, unfortunately, I have a job to do.”

Marc swallows thickly, the action pushing the blade a fraction deeper into his skin. “To kill me, you mean?”

Your face loses some of its softness as you shake your head at him. “That depends on how cooperative you are.”

He grunts, saying nothing as he tries to assess just how bad things are for him.

“See,” you continue, leaning in a little closer, the delicious scent of you invading his nostrils. “I need information.”

He waits for you to continue, eyes scanning your face for any tells, any flickers he can use to his advantage. When he doesn’t respond, you sigh in disappointment, frowning theatrically.

“Please, Marc, I don’t wanna have to slice up your pretty face. Just tell me what I need to know and I’ll be on my way.”

He clenches his teeth at your condescending tone. “What do you wanna know?”

You smile softly at him and he curses himself for the way his heart skips a little; what the fuck was wrong with him?

“Tell me about Operation Windstorm.”

He needs to figure out how to get out of this. He can’t just push you off of him, can’t use his legs to flip you over, not with that knife so close to his carotid artery. One wrong move and he’s dead.

So he stalls.

Marc snorts, raising an eyebrow at you. “That’s it? Of all the jobs I’ve pulled, that’s the one you wanna know about?”

You continue to smile down at him, as if you know exactly what he’s doing. “I couldn’t care less, to be perfectly honest but, my client wants to know so, until I get paid, I guess I do too.”

He grunts, resigned to the fact that he has no choice but to give you exactly what you want in the hopes that you don’t slit his throat afterward. So he tells you every detail of that job, answering every question you have, and just when he’s beginning to think this just might not end well for him, he feels the pressure of your blade ease ever so slightly.

He wastes no time, taking control and flipping you over, knocking the knife from your hand and causing it to skitter off into the darkness. Marc traps you beneath him, your arms pinned above your head, his knees bracketing your thighs. You’re not giving up without a fight though and wriggling beneath him, trying somehow to use the position to your advantage. You try to lift your leg, brushing your thigh against his groin; the clench of his jaw makes you smirk.

“Stop it,” he orders, embarrassed by how easy it was for you to rattle him.

“C’mon, we both know you don’t want that,” you tease, looking down at the slight bulge in his jeans. “Has it been a while, honey?”

He growls, your breathy chuckles sending shivers up his spine as you continue to move beneath him. “Shut up.”

“Or what?” you whisper, somehow managing to extricate one of your legs and curl it over his hip.

“Or this,” he says through gritted teeth, grinding his erection against your core in an effort to turn the tables, to work you up the way you’re working him up.

It works, your eyes fluttering, lips parting in a sweet little whimper as he grinds into you slowly, over and over again. He groans when you meet his thrusts (as well as you can anyway given your position), the heat blossoming in his gut. He leans in close, his hands still pinning your arms to the ground as he gets lost in you, in the feel of you, in the way you look beneath him.

“Oh fuck,” you breathe, panting as every press of his hips sends delightful waves of pleasure through your body.

Marc hums in agreement, his lip between his teeth as he hovers over you. You want to kiss him, to taste him, to devour him. So you do, pushing yourself up to capture his lips, your tongue claiming his mouth and pulling another groan from him. You arch into him as well as you can, pulling his body even closer with your freed leg as you continue to move together. The friction is delicious, like heaven, and a part of you never wants it to end. You wish you could flip him over again, ride him fast and hard, his strong fingers digging into your hips as you pull him apart and put him back together over and over and—

Your release slams into you at the thought, a choked moan slipping from between your lips as he keeps moving, prolonging your bliss. Marc watches you as you come, the look in his eyes is greedy as your body shakes, your face contorting into something ethereal, almost otherworldly. When you come back to yourself, you meet his eyes again, your chest heaving slightly as you try to catch your breath. He looks like he wants to eat you alive, the wildness and lust in his eyes visible even in the darkness. You shiver with pleasure, chewing your lip as you let your gaze drag slowly down his body. You wish you could see more of him, his windbreaker doing nothing to compliment his undoubtedly amazing body.

“Who sent you?” He pants, as if he hadn’t just given you the best orgasm you’ve had in years.

Your eyes flick back to his at the question, a lazy smile curling the edges of your mouth as you begin to move against him again, silently begging him to come for you. He swallows thickly, his body tensing with every brush of your hips, his fingers clenching and unclenching around your forearms. His eyelashes flutter as he watches you, his mouth slack with pleasure. Then he groans, giving into you, into this, his body curling even more over yours as he buries his face in your neck. He ruts against you, his movements somewhat uncoordinated as he chases his release.

His body twitches above yours as he comes, his moans muffled slightly by your neck. Just as you’re mourning the fact that you didn’t get to see his face, you notice his hold on you has slackened a bit— enough to turn the tables, you hope. Still dazed from his orgasm, it takes him a moment to realize what you’re doing as you begin to wiggle beneath him, and by the time he does, it’s too late.

Marc grunts as you push him onto his back and straddle him, your hands pinning his muscular arms to the ground. After everything, you should probably kill him—he’s the type to hold a grudge, the type that’ll try to hunt you down—but you just can’t bring yourself to do it. If nothing else, it’d be a waste of a pretty face. Instead, you kiss him, relishing the taste and feel of him one last time before pulling away to smile down at him.

“Thanks for the tumble, honey,” you whisper, climbing off of him with a chuckle.

By the time he comes back to himself, you’re gone and the sun is just beginning to peak over the horizon. Marc groans in frustration, running his hands over his face as he tries to figure out what the hell just happened. He should be pissed, he thinks, for so easily falling into your trap but, somehow, he isn’t. He sniffs a laugh, shaking his head at himself as he moves to get up.

Later, when he’s packing up his gear (including the sleeping bag he’d let you borrow), he comes across a folded, non-descript piece of paper that he knows must be from you. He unfolds it, his fingers fumbling slightly in his haste. For a moment, he just stares, his eyes tracing the lines and curves of your parting words, words that make his lips quirk in a smile.

See you around.

If you enjoyed this, please let me know! I appreciate every single reblog and/or comment. Thank you. 💖

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jacksgreysays · 3 days

Text

Extremely late, completely unnecessary opinion of the Watcher situation, (2024-04-24)

So this is a relatively belated post — several days after the initial “Goodbye Youtube” and one day after the “An Update” videos — and surely by this point there are more interesting/insightful op-eds (both in written form and video form, especially penguinz0’s fairly objective POV as, essentially, a YouTube expert) but there is something about the Watcher situation that made my brain itch. Thus, I wanted to write about it in order to make sense of it all as well as get into a philosophy that seems to be haunting me in recent years and which I think applies greatly here.

This may seem completely out of left field considering 1) definitely not fanfiction and 2) about Watcher Entertainment, a YouTube channel which—as far as this tumblr is concerned—I’ve not engaged with whatsoever, but I don’t know where else I would put this, and weirdly enough I think the general tumblr response to this whole predicament is maybe the… if not objective… then at least, most thoughtful?—or, perhaps, least immediately reactive?—amongst the various social media platforms, that I think some people might appreciate this anyway.

In terms of my relevant background: I majored in Management Science (which is just a fancy way of saying Economics + Business + Accounting because they are, weirdly enough, separate things) and minored in Film Studies in school, I am currently working in the stage tech industry (which, I know, is obviously different from film/video industry), and I like to think I am a fan/consumer of a wide variety of independent creators, some of whom I am lucky enough to be able to afford being a patron/subscriber. I won’t go into all of them—because it is a lot—but there are four in particular whose business models I want to analyze in comparison to Watcher’s admitted blunder:

A) RocketJump (known for Video Game High School and Anime Crimes Division; the core group which turned into the podcast Story Break, then became Dungeons and Daddies) B) Dropout (formerly College Humor, we’ll get into their discography later) C) Drawfee (previously an offshoot of College Humor, now fully independent) D) Corridor Digital (used to be mostly behind the scenes of how VFX studios work, have since become a mostly original content creator)

I will say, right off the bat, I am a patron of Drawfee as well as Dungeons and Daddies, and I am a subscriber to Dropout. I am not subscribed to Corridor Digital’s streamer, which I will get into why later. I understand that being able to sustain those two patronages and one subscription is a luxury that not everyone can afford and so my point of view is already skewed by being such a person who could theoretically afford another streaming service if I so chose. I also acknowledge that many fans of Watcher are not in similarly financially secure places as I am and that regardless of the business model, any monetization that comes from fans would have been a rough ask. However, I wanted to go into this essay in a way that accepts Watcher’s statement—that they needed more funding—in relatively good faith rather than assuming the worst (although that is another point I’ll get into later, largely related to the philosophy I brought up earlier.)

All four of the above listed content creators started or, at least, hit their stride on YouTube:

RocketJump and College Humor were, if not household names, then the digital equivalent of it in the “early days of YouTube.” They were part of the wave of content creators that made YouTube seem less like a bunch of eccentrics with cameras making videos on the side and more like a viable way to support yourself/your team with the art you create.

RocketJump’s Video Game High School went from short (less than 10 minutes) minimal location episodes in season one, to 30 minute plus episodes with full on fight scenes and car explosions by season three thanks to a Monster Energy brand deal. They also had two seasons of Anime Crimes Division, a literal TV quality show, thanks to a Crunchy Roll sponsorship. Unfortunately, RocketJump shut down not long after (their videos are still up on YouTube but they obviously don’t add anything new) but the core creative team behind that have been involved in several projects outside of YouTube (Dimension 404 on Hulu being one of the biggest ones so far) including the podcast Story Break (part of the Maximum Fun network) and now the independent podcast Dungeons and Daddies, the episodes of the main campaigns which are free with ads or, for patrons, ad-less along with additional mini-campaigns and other benefits.

I will say, during RocketJump’s decline, they did try their best to keep going. The partnerships with Monster Energy and Crunchy Roll were the big swings to get the funding to make those TV quality shows they wanted. I believe they lucked out with those brands in particular, or, at least, those brands didn’t seem to inhibit the creative process or ask too much of them that it felt like “selling out” but I also don’t have insight into why they didn’t pursue this model of, essentially, very weird but interesting season long commercials. Maybe they just couldn't find the right brands or maybe they did feel like it was too stifling. Regardless, before they shut down completely, they did also downsize—moving out of the actual city of Los Angeles over to Buena Park. Which is in Los Angeles county, and basically counts as LA still, but is way cheaper than literal Hollywood real estate. (I should have added to my relevant background that I’m born and raised LA county, and have relatives and friends in the film/movie industry, so trust me when I say literal Hollywood/city of Los Angeles is so overrated and unnecessarily expensive. There is a reason why LA traffic is the worst and it’s because everyone is commuting INTO the city. Respectfully and with affection, no one should live there. No one’s start up should be located there.) Obviously the downsizing didn’t necessarily work for RocketJump, but they also didn’t have multiple successful revenue streams the way that Watcher currently does.

In contrast, College Humor was acquired by InterActiveCorp and was turned into CH Media which was three pronged: College Humor, Drawfee, and Dorkly. In 2018 they made Dropout, which had exclusive content separate from their YouTube videos which involved all three prongs. Then some financial shenanigans happened early 2020—IAC withdrew their funding—and there were a bunch of layoffs right before the pandemic which extremely sucked. It has been stated by multiple people involved that it was basically a miracle that Dropout survived through all of that, but there were definitely some sacrifices along the way to make that happen. Currently, Dropout seems to be thriving with mostly exclusive content with the occasional “first episode of a season” posted to YouTube, OR if Dimension 20 is doing a “sequel season” in an already established campaign they will put the entirety of the previous season on YouTube.

IAC withdrawing their funding did put CH Media in a bind. They had to layoff a lot of people right before pandemic and, understandably, a lot of trauma was had. There were also weird issues with who controlled certain IPs/brands/digital assets (I mostly come at this from a Drawfee POV, it took several years for them to own the Drawga series and be allowed to host all of the episodes on their YouTube, and there was also something about the sound file for their opening animation?) but mainly the difference is what kind of content they generate. Originally Dropout had multiple scripted shows with high budgets and pretty cool effects/animations/stunts (Troopers, Kingpin Katie, Gods of Food, Ultramechatron Team Go!, Cartoon Hell, and WTF 101) whereas now almost all of their shows are variations of improv comedians being put into different scenarios or given different prompts. I’m not just talking about Game Changer and Make Some Noise, because Dimension 20 and Um, Actually also technically fall under that description as well. Which is not to say that these shows are worse than the scripted shows—I subscribe to Dropout, so clearly I’m a fan of their current shows—and the budgets for them have since increased to resemble, if not match, those early shows, but it is a noticeable shift in their content creation strategy as a response to the lack of IAC funding. And I will say: Dropout releases at least three videos a week if not more and at least two of those are long form at 30 minutes plus (Dimension 20 being the longest, of course.)

So, these first two business models are not really the most applicable to Watcher Entertainment considering their origin was to get away from Buzzfeed—they’re probably not keen to be partnered with or purchased by a larger company—but there are some aspects to both that I believe are valuable in at least showing the strategy in how these former YouTube creators could successfully extract themselves from YouTube or how they still utilize YouTube even if it is not their main hosting platform or revenue stream.

Then there is Drawfee and Corridor Digital, both of whom are currently—if not primarily—on YouTube, whose situations are more comparable to what I believe are Watcher’s goals.

Drawfee had to rebuild themselves like a phoenix from the ashes of the CH Media layoff during the beginning/worst of the pandemic. Side note: I’m happy that Nathan (one of the four main artists of the current Drawfee team) at least has forgiven(? or let bygones be bygones) Dropout enough to be on an episode of Game Changer (although I will say that this happened after Drawga was “returned” to Drawfee, and after Dropout officially split from College Humor as a brand.) All that being said, Drawfee was a team of four artists plus their editor who wanted to stick together but basically had all of their support system taken away from them. They took a bit of a break to assess their goals and options, announced a patreon with several tiers with great perks, and stuck to their upload schedule. In addition to two videos a week, they also stream on Twitch weekly, have a patron only stream once a month, and a draw class (for one of the higher tiers) once month. After asking their patrons on the relevant tiers if they were okay with it, they began releasing the patron only stream and the draw class to the general public for free after a month. The patreon perks also include things like merch discount codes, high quality PNGs of the final rendered art, access to the draw class with live interaction/critique, and a commission from the artist of your choice. The only “ads” they run are for their own patreon and merch store and, even then, they’re usually at the end of the videos with a credit scroll of the patron names during their exit banter.

Admittedly, they only have MAYBE eight employees—that’s including their video editor(s?) and their discord mod(s?)—with the main four artists doubling/tripling up duties as additional video editors, CFO, and marketing/merch leads. It’s a very streamlined crew and their production costs are not very high since it’s mostly screen recording of their drawings with their audio recording overlayed onto that footage. Although the video editors do sometimes have clever cuts to relevant images depending on their vamping. Sometimes they will have a guest artist but, again, since it’s screen and audio recordings, there’s no travel/housing costs. So, very minimal expenses due to low production costs and small crew but, again, their only revenue source is the patreon/merch, they don’t do outside ads and they very rarely do live shows.

Corridor Digital is, I think, the most applicable to what Watcher would ideally do, which I suppose is somewhat ironic for this essay in particular considering they’re the only one of the four that I don’t financially support. They have two YouTube channels: their main one being where they show the “final product” videos, but I believe their Corridor Crew channel which started primarily as behind the scenes type of videos is where most of their views come from. Especially their React series (VFX artists, Stuntmen, and Animators React etc.) On Corridor Crew they usually upload two videos a week — one which is a React and the other which goes into fun projects/challenges (involving VFX or not) or using VFX to explain scientific concepts — as well as the first episodes of their exclusive content on their streamer. Also behind that paywall are longer and ad-less versions of the videos on YouTube. They also have merch. All of them have merch, I don’t know why I’m stating that. They don’t have a patreon as far as I know, but I also don’t know if their subscription to their website comes with similar perks like discounted merch or something similar.

Anyway, their studio seems to be about 15 to 20 people — not all of them are VFX artists, of course. I believe they have higher equipment costs than Watcher since, understandably, Corridor has to be on the cutting edge of video editing technology. They do occasionally travel for shoots, but it doesn’t require big teams, and that’s only when the local locations available to them don’t match the requirements for the “final product” videos. Otherwise most of their videos are set in the studio or in the alleyway outside their studio in Los Angeles (the city itself, not just the greater county, though they are in a rougher and thus probably cheaper part of Los Angeles). I personally don’t subscribe to their website primarily because their exclusive shows don’t appeal to me—either they’re too technical or a little too dry; to be fair, most of them are VFX artists first before they are performers—and I don’t particularly feel the need to see the extended cuts of the videos uploaded on YouTube. Also I sometimes get a little bummed out by their lack of diversity.

All of this to say, from these four different business models, a bespoke Frankenstein business model for Watcher could be cobbled together. But also, even with that bespoke Frankenstein, there are some changes that Watcher would have to make: primarily their upload schedule. As of right now, I think they do MAYBE one video a week if not, perhaps, one video every TWO weeks. If they want a monthly subscription model, their rate of content generation would ideally be higher to double/quadruple their current upload rate. Obviously they want to create videos with higher production value, but at that rate of generation, something’s got to give: supplement their TV quality shows with either a behind the scenes type series or an increase of “we get four episodes out of Shane and Ryan get increasingly drunk in someone’s backyard” or something similar. Leaning into shows like Worth A Shot (the first season in which Ricky Wang makes cocktails based on a random ingredient, the second season threw in some competitive aspects which I didn’t really find necessary) or the Beatdown which has relatively low production costs (no travel, one location, maybe two cameras at most therefore smaller crew requirements) but a higher polished look. Otherwise, for a separate streaming subscription service, 2-4 videos a month is not going to cut it.

As of right now they probably can’t back out of the separate streaming subscription service because those set ups usually require some level of contract/paying for servers for the website and whatever is hosting their videos for a set amount of time. However, what really strikes me is that I literally didn’t know they had a patreon until I scrolled through the comments of the first Goodbye Youtube video. Maybe it’s been linked "tactfully" in the descriptions of videos, but considering they claim to be lacking in funds, the fact that they weren’t plugging their patreon at the end of every video is not just strange, but also irresponsible considering they do have 25 employees that they don’t want to layoff.

Additionally, I understand artists needing to be in a space that promotes creativity, but there are cheaper places that must be comparable that aren’t in literal Hollywood. It’s an unnecessary expense. On top of that, other people have already brought up that it was fairly crass to introduce this paywall, attributing it to the increased production costs, when the next planned “new series” is a reboot of an old Buzzfeed series in which people travel and eat expensive food. I’m not even talking about the personal expenses of Steven, Shane, and Ryan; what kind of car they drive or the cost of their wedding venue doesn’t matter on a business model basis.

But getting back to the patreon: again, I literally didn’t know they had one. I’m looking over their tiers— they have $5, $10, $25, and $100 — and for the most part they seem okay, although I think they have more to offer that wouldn’t necessarily cost them more. Ie, something that has baffled me for a while: the fact they don’t sell the mp3s of the Puppet History songs; they already exist and it doesn’t cost them anything additional because they don’t need to put it on physical media. Or maybe they do and they’re not marketing it similarly to how they weren’t overtly marketing their patreon?

And, okay, maybe they didn’t want to seem desperate — in the early days of Dropout and independent Drawfee, they both were very blatant in getting people to subscribe/join their patreon. As they should be. Desperation maybe doesn’t look cool and sexy, but it is earnest in a way that conveys equal effort that fans who can afford it would want to see. The fact that we weren’t getting rotating ten second clips of Steven, Shane, and Ryan asking people to join the patreon at the end of every video — even if its the same clip every three videos — is wild. And yes, the $25 tier includes a shoutout every 3 months on Watcher Weekly+ (which I don't quite understand what that is,) but the fact that they weren’t doing a quick post movie credits scroll of all the patreon names is, again, wild. Once you have that initial list, it’s not too difficult to add any new names that join and put that title overlay on top of, again, those nonexistent ten second clips of the three.

As others have already stated, it seems like an extreme mismanagement of their existing successful revenue streams, if they are actually struggling to pay all of their employees. Which goes into the philosophy part of this essay: don’t assume malice when it might just be incompetence. It’s something that I have to remind myself of often because I do get paranoid about people’s intentions sometimes and I have to check myself. Am I being overly suspicious of what might be just an honest mistake? Am I assigning ill will to an action just because it inconvenienced me?

Yes, of course, a lot of this situation could be misconstrued as straight up greed. But, also, Watcher is a relatively young company, helmed by three people who certainly don’t have experience running their own company:

They like to travel. They like to bring a full crew around with them. They’re renting out a shiny office in the heart of Hollywood where everyone knows is where real show biz happens. They’re adding more employees to the team because surely more people means better. And they want better productions values because the prettier the videos the more people will like them right?

It’s naive. It’s a level of inexperience combined with giving responsibility to officers whose main priority is to entertain. And if that means entertaining themselves and their staff, then they might not know the difference. It’s the kind of mistake that first time managers make—trying to prioritize fun over getting the job done. Prioritizing making friends with their employees rather than making sure the work the employees put in is equal to (or greater than) what you spend on them whether that is in paycheck or bringing them to cool locations for fun shoots. It’s a mistake anyone can make, it's just unfortunate that they made this mistake in front of millions of people. It doesn’t necessarily mean it’s solely a greed induced cash grab.

But then comes the catch-22 of the philosophy—is it worse to assume incompetence than it is to assume malice? Or, in this case, greed. Especially for the heads of a company that holds the livelihoods of 25 employees in their hands. At what point does it not matter if it’s incompetence or greed if the end result is the same?

Is it better to think that Watcher knew about the various other business models of independent creators and just ignored the efforts put into achieving those successes or is it better to think that they didn’t know and just stumbled into one of the worst moves they could have done. Again, other people have mentioned that Great Mythical Morning—which Watcher has had multiple collaborations with—has managed to make the YouTube subscription/tier system work to the point that they can sustain themselves as well as spinoff channels. Is it incompetence or greed that led to Watcher thinking they could bypass that completely in less time and with less content?

I’ve been at this mess of an essay for several hours when I should have been asleep. Ultimately I want to say, regardless of incompetence or greed… yes, Steven is CEO and yes he is ultimately the one who makes the final call but it is disheartening to see the pointed vitriol at Steven specifically and the infantilizing of Shane and Ryan in comparison. Either they’re all silly uwu boys who are messing around not knowing how to run a company, or they’re all complicit in a crass cash grab in an extremely busted economy.

I think what’s most frustrating to me in all this is that there were so many other channels and creators who have literally walked this path before them and, again, whether through incompetence or greed or arrogance, for them to just ignore it… It’s not betrayal because I don’t know them and so there’s no relationship to betray, it’s just so inefficient and convoluted that I don’t understand. Or, no, even if it was greed, it’s an incompetent greed because at least pure greed would have been pushing that patreon every second they could. Their ratio of YouTube subscribers to patreon members is less than 1% and I bet that’s because a lot of their audience, like me, literally didn’t know they had a patreon. I probably would have become a patreon member of theirs had I known earlier, ESPECIALLY if it included access to those Puppet History songs. Drawfee has half as many YouTube subscribers and nearly double the patreon members as Watcher. I’m just baffled, is all, and maybe by this point sleep deprived.

Anyway. That’s my extremely late, completely unnecessary opinion of this situation.

Edit (several hours later after some sleep): I forgot to mention, because they did walk this back almost immediately, even before their "An Update" video, but I believe the original plan was to put EVERYTHING behind that paywall and pull their content from YouTube entirely. Which is, again, extremely baffling, because if ALL of their content is behind a paywall, how would they possibly gain new fans? Even if all of their current fans were able and willing to pay for their separate subscription streaming service, how would a brand new person even stumble on their content enough to want to subscribe if there wasn't a significant amount of "proof of value" free content on YouTube? Again, extremely baffling, and a level of incompetence that overshadows a "cunning" greed. But, like I said earlier, they did walk this decision back almost immediately. If I've misunderstood this and that was never their plan, please let me know, I don't want to be spreading misinformation in a situation that is already so convoluted.

#jacksgreyson #writing #nonfiction #essay #watcher #op-ed #youtube #drawfee #corridor digital #dropout #rocketjump #dungeons and daddies

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rxgirlie · 2 days

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The Verdict- Chapter Eight

Pairing: Vincent Renzi x OFC

Warnings: mentions of vomiting, mentions of suicide, basically summarizing the trial from the movie, allusions to abortion, foul language, sexual content.

A/N: y’all wanted the drama, you’re getting the drama. this chapter was weird for me to write, ngl. thanks to @melancholicmelanin for beta’ing for me last minute. as always, I love your comments and all the anons- they seriously make this worth it. I didn’t intend on taking this fic in this direction at all, but here we go. (And, as always, thanks to @luxlisbons for being on the receiving end of my neuroses)

In the quiet of Vincent’s room, Leah remained in bed for an entire day, shifting only when discomfort set in or when Vincent appeared at the doorway to check on her. At one point, she stirred as the mattress dipped, catching a glimpse of Vincent holding a plate of orange slices and a cup of water. A pang of guilt washed over her, realizing the burden her melancholy was placing on him, invading his space and life. She wondered if he was growing tired of her current state.

"Eat something," Vincent urged, nudging the plate towards her. Reluctantly, she sat up and popped an orange slice into her mouth.

Her phone buzzed on the nightstand, displaying numerous missed calls from her father and her therapist, but he decided against mentioning it.

"What happened in New York?" he inquired softly.

"Nothing important," she replied, swallowing the orange and taking a sip of water. "I think my friend's kid got me sick."

"Right," he nodded, a hint of doubt flickering in his eyes despite his understanding nod.

He observed in silence as she finished the last orange slice and drained the remaining water.

"We go to trial on Monday," he informed her, to which she nodded.

"I'll be better by then," Leah assured him. "I promise."

Throughout the rest of the week, Leah avoided Vincent, mastering the art of vomiting quietly or simply moving food around on her plate to create the illusion that she had eaten. Frequently dozing off on the couch, she felt anxious around him, harboring a fear that he might possess the same keen perception or foresight that his eccentric mother had displayed. The fear lingered in Leah's mind that Vincent could touch her and instantly know the truth, as if he possessed some uncanny ability to see through her facade with a mere contact.

"You're cold," he observed as he entered the living room where she was engrossed in reading Sandra's case files.

"No, it's actually quite warm in here," she replied as he shook his head.

"No, you're cold, distant," he insisted.

"I've been sick, and the exhausting flight and difficult mediation have left me drained," Leah explained, hoping to deflect his suspicions.

Unconvinced, Vincent pressed on, "Why haven't you been sleeping in bed with me?"

Rather than making up an excuse, She sighed and confronted the underlying issue, "What are we, Vincent? Are we friends, a fling? Where is this relationship headed?"

Vincent looked puzzled, "Where is all this coming from?"

"You once said we have all the time in the world, but do we really?" She questioned.

"That was when you told me I made you whole," He countered.

"Context matters," She pointed out.

"What's the context of this argument, then?" He challenged.

Leah, stubborn as the day is long, shook her head.

“What happened in New York that changed you?” He asked softly.

"How long have we known each other, Vincent?" She asked, already aware of the answer.

"I think just over a month," He replied honestly, “Maybe closer to two?”

"Then how can you say I've changed when you barely know me?" She snapped, looking at him intently, her entire body engaged for a fight she hadn't planned on having.

"How do you know this isn't the real me?" She added, sounding frustrated. "You can't presume to understand who I am."

"All I see is your missed calls, lack of appetite…you won’t let me touch you.” He admitted nervously.

"Do you just want to fuck me, Vincent?" She stood up, hands on her hips, challenging him.

"That's not what I meant, and you know it," He replied, standing his ground.

"Let me work in peace and stop analyzing me," She said firmly, returning to her seat on the couch.

Vincent, feeling sheepish, sat on the chaise opposite her, trying to figure out what had gone wrong between them.

______________________________________

"I’m pregnant," Leah spoke quietly into the phone as she poured a cup of tea.

Kate emitted a sound that was a mix of a scream and a gasp on the other end of the call. "I fucking knew it," she said.

"Yeah, well, I don’t know what to do," Leah admitted as she sat at the table with her teacup.

"His mom knows because apparently she’s fucking psychic," Leah continued. "I walked in, and she took one look at me, and she fucking knew."

Kate sighed heavily on the other end. "Does he know?"

"No," Leah said. "I can’t tell him right before the trial and mess with his headspace. I think I've already shaken up his life enough."

"Come home and take care of it," Kate advised. "Quick and simple."

Leah sighed, rubbing her temples. "It’s not that easy. I can’t leave during the case without raising his suspicion. Besides, I barely let him touch me now. I let him eat me out and fuck me yesterday because he cornered me against the kitchen counter, and he said I tasted different. The whole vibe was off after."

"Well, yeah," Kate agreed. "Your whole-body changes when you’re pregnant."

"Now I think he’s convinced I slept with someone else or have someone at home waiting for me, and I’m just bamboozling him," Leah said with a saddened tone.

"I finally climbed into bed with him last night after sleeping on the couch for close to a week, and he immediately rolled over and scooted close to me. His hand found its way to my belly, and it took everything in me not to blurt it out then and there," Leah admitted.

"What?" Kate asked. "That you’re pregnant?"

"No," Leah laughed sardonically. "That I’m in love with him."

Somehow, that revelation shocked Kate more than the news of the pregnancy.

________________________________________

"Are you going to answer that?" Vincent gestured towards Leah's vibrating phone, but she shook her head. They sat together at the kitchen table, poking at bits of scrambled eggs and fresh strawberries on their plates.

"He wants me to come home and join his firm," Leah stated firmly. "I have no desire to work with him or anyone in his firm."

"Your dad is a lawyer?" Vincent inquired, sipping his tea.

"You really don’t know much about me, do you?" Leah asked seriously. "That’s the only thing I inherited from him," she added with a hint of bitterness. "I come from a long line of deceitful, conniving, bald-faced lying lawyers. All on his side."

"And your therapist," Vincent tapped the back of her phone, "You’re not going to answer their calls either?"

"Why would I?" Leah chuckled. "She's just going to tell me to stop messing around with you and go home. Besides, why are you worried about this?" she asked. "I’ve had a therapist since I was sixteen; I'm not going to throw myself from the balcony or anything. I’m just in a slump.”

"I don’t want you to isolate yourself while you're here," Vincent said, offering her a kind smile.

"Well, ignorance is bliss, isn’t it?" Leah half-joked.

Vincent laughed and nodded in agreement.

"You know this trial is going to be tough, right?" he questioned.

"I know," Leah replied, taking a sip of her tea and nodding at him. "This isn't my first rodeo. I'm built for war."

_______________________________________

Leah found the trial fascinating and bizarre, a stark contrast to the sterile courtrooms she was used to back home. The architectural setup, with the judges raised above the room and Sandra seated far away from her own counsel, spoke volumes. The trial itself felt like a free-for-all, and when Vincent walked out in his robes with the frilly collar, Leah had to stifle visible awe and a wave of humor. The awkward moment of listening to Zoë and Sandra’s recorded conversation made Leah's skin crawl. It felt like an invasion of privacy, adding to the overall invasion already present. The recording painted Sandra as a sexual deviant, merely a bisexual woman ready to prey on Zoë. The avocat general, or ‘the bald bastard’ as Leah later dubbed him, tore poor Zoë apart. She held her ground, but he exuded an accusatory nature that even Leah, seated among the gallery, felt.

By some stroke of luck, Vincent had arranged for a translator to feed a translation into an earpiece for Leah. This delayed her reactions, but she noticed Vincent checking on her every few minutes. When Vincent spoke without any objection thrown out, Leah was taken aback. That kind of behavior wouldn’t be tolerated in America, she thought.

“That’s beside the point,” the translator's voice came in Leah’s ear, half a second after Vincent's words, “and sexist.”

Leah felt her stomach drop in the best way as she looked at him. A reality dawned on her—one she had ignored for long over a week, only showing itself in random bouts of nausea and aversion to her longtime perfume—that she was carrying his child. The realization nearly drove her crazy as she watched him lean against the banister, witnessing the same awkward interview she had seen with Daniel unfold in court. The Présidente du tribunal interrogated Daniel, questioning his change of heart regarding the gaffer tape, and Vincent was quick to mention a psychiatrist's observation of shock as a possible reason for his altered memories.

Sandra watched like a hawk as her son was interrogated, and Leah sensed her strong desire to shield him, to envelop him in grace, even from her spot in the vacant spectator’s section. She was permitted to stay there because she was privy to the case's confidential details—a fact that even surprised her. Vincent swiftly intervened, coming to the boy's defense and engaging in a heated argument with the avocat.

From then on, everything blurred. The splatter analyst presented their testimony, offering a hypothesis that faced multiple challenges. The reenactment of the incident, the whole shebang, unfolded before the entire court.

The switch to English at Sandra's request was a welcomed relief for Leah. The speculation about Samuel's suicide attempt and his argument with the therapist felt all too familiar to her. A woman being blamed and scorned for a man's failings— a tale as old as time. Vincent intervened, arguing that the burden was shared by both Samuel and Sandra. However, Leah couldn't focus on his words. All she could see were his eyes, his emotions, the way he expressed himself, his beautiful and unique features.

After court adjourned, Leah joined Sandra and Vincent in the main lobby. The trio walked out together in silence, each grappling with the intensity of the morning. When Vincent suggested driving Sandra home, Leah declined the offer to join, deciding to walk the short distance to Vincent’s apartment to clear her head, feeling too exhausted and overwhelmed by the emotional dynamics at play. In the ensuing hours, she found herself entwined both emotionally and physically in Vincent's bed sheets, until sleep mercifully claimed her.

_________________________________________

In the quiet hours of the morning, Vincent slipped into bed, wrapping his arms around her, drawing comfort from her warmth. She sighed softly from his embrace as he molded himself around her form.

"What did you guys talk about tonight?" her sleepy voice inquired, though her mind had conjured numerous scenarios before she drifted off.

"We talked," Vincent whispered by her ear, "about life, about you, about everything."

"Mhm," Leah mumbled drowsily, "I wanted to punch that bald prosecutor in the throat."

"We didn't discuss the case," Vincent said, planting a kiss on her shoulder blade.

"You talked about me," Leah rolled over, opening her eyes. "Gossipers."

Vincent smiled, his eyes crinkling. "No gossip. I reserve that for my mother."

"You're not being honest," Leah stated matter-of-factly. "You didn't hear her call me a black cat weeks ago, yet you use the same term now. That's not a coincidence. You're a gossip."

"No," he shook his head. "The night you accused me of being with her, I was trying to understand why I feel the way I do about you. I was hoping she would have some advice to make sense of all this.”

"And?" Leah inquired. "What did you conclude?"

"Witchcraft," Vincent chuckled, making Leah laugh. "We didn't reach a conclusion. I just came back to you, and it all fell into place."

"And then you returned home," Vincent began, his words measured, "and you're closed off.”

"This isn't my home, Vincent," Leah corrected him, observing the sadness in his eyes.

"But it could be," he suggested. "You're here, in my bed, in my thoughts, in my heart."

"It's not that easy," Leah replied. "Let's get some rest, okay?"

Vincent's tired eyes silently agreed as she turned away, shutting her eyes tightly to hold back the tears that threatened to fall.

_________________________________________

Seated in the gallery, Leah pressed her palms firmly under her thighs, a wave of sickness washing over her. The sound of Samuel's voice, engaged in a heated argument with Sandra, stirred a deep-seated rage within Leah, aimed at her manipulative and despicable father. The echoes of the fights from her childhood amplified her anger, intensifying it twofold. Glancing at Vincent, his arms crossed and gaze fixed ahead, Leah finally understood why he had kept the file from her until now. The conversation, particularly about language and speaking English as a middle ground, painted a picture of confusion and struggles for their potential future children, such as the one Leah secretly carried, under the shadow of their distinctly American mother.

Resentment. Manipulation.

Those were the only words Leah registered.

The realization terrified her, sending shivers down her spine. As she and Vincent locked eyes, she sensed that he comprehended the turmoil swirling in her mind. With a trembling hand, she reached to her right and clasped Daniel's hand, feeling his tremors mirroring her own. From that moment on, Leah tuned out everything else, focusing solely on the boy beside her, a reflection of her own struggles and fears.

_______________________________________

In the days that followed, social media buzzed with chatter about Sandra, while Leah and Vincent lingered in Paris, Sandra and Daniel retreated to their chalet.

As the court session resumed two days later, Daniel's testimony was set to unfold in an empty gallery, and Leah opted to wait outside the chamber, avoiding the potentially twisted details that Samuel Maleski might have implanted in the young boy's mind. While Sandra was far from perfect, Samuel's darker side seemed doubly sinister and oblivious. Sandra, on the other hand, acknowledged her imperfections as a mother, a woman, and a human being—a trait that Leah found admirable.

As the chamber doors finally swung open, Vincent's reassuring smile conveyed all Leah needed to know. They hailed a car and squeezed in, with Sandra phoning to check on Daniel, who graciously approved of her belated dinner at a nearby Chinese restaurant. In the back seat, Vincent kept a watchful eye on Leah, who observed their surroundings as the car navigated the streets, eventually arriving at the restaurant.

“That’s the first fucking time in our life we win!” Vincent proclaimed amidst laughter at the table, responding to Sandra's inquiry about their celebratory customs. A waitress arrived with more sushi and a round of sake, which Leah politely declined, opting for a simple bowl of rice and water.

When Leah's phone rang, she excused herself and stepped outside, where she found Nour and a few other colleagues enjoying a smoke break.

"Evan proposed," Kate's voice crackled through the earpiece.

"Congratulations... I think?" Leah chuckled.

"I turned him down, as I always do," Kate replied matter-of-factly.

"Maybe next time," Leah teased.

However, as she glanced back through the window, her stomach churned at the scene unfolding inside—Vincent's hand lightly tracing Sandra's cheekbone, drawing her close into his embrace, where he ran his fingers through her hair. Sandra reciprocated, tenderly touching his face as they gazed into each other's eyes.

Leah abruptly ended the call with Kate and stood frozen, her gaze fixed through the glass. Catching Vincent's eye, he swiftly rose from his seat, Leah’s strides purposeful and swift as she made her way down the uneven sidewalk, tapping away on her phone to order an Uber. With the car mere moments away, she breathed a sigh of relief. Eventually, Vincent caught up to her just as she was about to step into the waiting car.

"Leah—," he began, but she cut him off with a dismissive hand gesture.

"Don't. You can fucking have her," she retorted sharply.

Slamming the car door shut, she drove off without a backward glance.

Taglist:

@weakling-grace

@bibistatic

#vincent renzi fanfiction #vincent renzi x original female character #maitre vincent renzi #anatomy of a fall vincent #vincent renzi #the verdict

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taranida · 2 days

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What exactly happened in the 70’s

I’ll start with The Poet and The Muse. I’ve written about the real Thomas Zane being a poet already, but left out this piece of evidence (not at all on purpose, truth be told), but I want to discuss it here, since it goes well with the point I want to make.

In the song we learn the story of a Poet living happily with his Muse and telling her stories about treasures beneath the waves. Then one morning the Muse goes to the lake and drowns. The Poet at some point realises that something happened and comes to the lake, calling for the Muse, but to no avail. Whole day spent in search, and in his desperation, he swears to bring his love back. He writes a story and succeeds to some degree. The husk of the Muse comes to him in the night, possessed by some dark force. The Poet takes her in, but in trying to fix his mistake, vows them both to silence beneath the lake. The story concluded with the peculiar:

Now if its real or just a dream One mystery remains For it is said on moonless nights They may still haunt this place

Now, what exactly the boys of the Old Gods of Asgard are hinting at here (aside from the existence of the Dark and Bright Presences) I can’t tell for sure: they might just toy with all those who have that buzzing question of “who wrote whom”, but I will treat the story of Thomas Zane the Poet as a true story, that happened without any help of tortured writers. Although I will use the manuscripts as well as every other source of information.

Prepare for a long read, since firstly, I would like to present all the bits and pieces that I’ve managed to collect, and then tie them all up in a version of events, I believe, happened in July 1970.

First, the dialogs.

Tor and Odin (whom I cannot stop lovingly call “the boys”) say this:

“Tom’s just lost, is all. Baba Yaga got to him too, the damn witch!” “She used us all, taken from all of us. Took my thunder, the witch.” “And my ravens, what was...what were they? Memory and Thought! The hag.” “She took something from you too, didn’t she? That’s what she does.” “Oh, we’re better off. This place, the lake, it gives you power. If you’re a creator.... An artist, a god!” “Nightmares shifted in their sleep in the darkness of the lake...” “Heh heh, yeah, that’s the one. She makes sure it comes out twisted and wrong. Just ask the Lamp Lady. She knows what happened to that other writer.”

Cynthia Weaver tells us:

“I knew them both. Tom and Barbara. I had such a crush on him...such a beautiful man. I was jealous. There was a part of me that was maybe a little glad when she had the accident. And then Tom started writing and woke the darkness up.... He tried to bring her back...but you can’t do that. There are no free rides like that.” […] “The witch looked like her, but it wasn’t. Barbara was sweet. He didn’t understand until it was too late. He tried to undo it, wrote himself, her, everything he’d ever written out of the world.”

We have Samantha’s dream in “This House of Dreams”, that gives us even more details:

“The diver told me that a dark presence had taken over his girlfriend (the woman in the photos). He’d tried everything he could think of to banish it from her, but everything had failed. In the end, he finally understood what he had to do, finally understood the true nature of the dark place that was hidden under the waves of the lake where they lived. The lake was an opening to dark place that was much bigger than the lake itself, in fact, much bigger than the whole universe we live in. He wrote one last poem, his masterpiece, a secret poem, a hidden poem, a poem that’s not among the poems I’ve found in the shoebox. And he took his girlfriend for one last dive. Together they sank down into the depths, far deeper than he had ever dived before.”

Then we have the manuscripts, that expand on the story:

More so, we have the dates and newspaper articles:

The last one is cut awkwardly, but, really, all I needed from it are the dates of publishing and of the seismic activity.

So, what really happened during this week? On the morning of 10th July Barbara went for a swim and drowned. As Cynthia notes in her article, Barbara was quite a swimmer and her death does seem odd. At the same time, we have another article (that I will put in the very end for those who are curious) about a writer visiting the area and encountering Taken — Robert “The Colonel” Hambleton dated 6th July 1970. Thomas even makes a snarky remark about not ever hearing about him and calling him “an uninvited guest”. All hints that with all the artists in the area: the boys of Old Gods of Asgard, Thomas Zane, Cynthia Weaver and Barbara Jagger, the Dark Presence still pounces on every other creator unfortunate enough to choose Bright Falls as a place to visit. Might’ve been because it could not make the gang mentioned above do its bidding?

The Dark Presence might be of a very different mind, alien to humans, but it’s cunning. As stated in one of the manuscripts, when it senses Alan, “all he'd need was a little incentive.” For Alan it had to drag Alice to the pier and into the lake; for Thomas it might’ve used the help of its ravens or some other means necessary to overwhelm Barbara long enough for her to drown, as at the time the Dark Presence had no physical body (but there might’ve been some other Taken swimmer around). And after Thomas spent the whole day searching for his lover, succumbing to desperation more and more, he got that incentive, the Dark Presence needed.

In the night Thomas wrote a poem to bring Jagger back. The Dark Presence plan worked and it was now in the world, almost free, wearing Barbara’s skin. But it was still constrained by the story Thomas wrote, and in his story he surely wrote something along the lines of them being together and in love again, therefore we see that the Dark Presence cannot do anything to Thomas as he ties it to the chair, carves its heart out and writes countless pieces to undo his mistake. It just couldn’t get out of the role of the loving Barbara, who would never hurt Zane. It had to go through the story in which, probably, Thomas and Barbara lived happily ever after and died on the same day, to be completely free. Which doesn’t mean that the very, pardon, presence of the Dark Presence in the world was not affecting Bright Falls at the time, the Taken might’ve been multiplying and awful things happening during this week. Yet, unlike Alan, Thomas didn’t go into the woods, fighting for his life, he searched for a solution at the cabin, armed with his typewriter and the (kitchen) knife.

The only solution he found in the end — one last dive. To bring this darkness back to where it came from.

There are still a few mysteries left:

in the guide for the first game we can read excerpts from the book “Taken by the Dark Presence” found in a shoebox that has no author, but has initials of T.Z. and J.Z. on some pages, apparently written in the late 1960’s. And, oh boy, I have lots of questions for this one!

the Bird Leg Cabin and the Diver’s Isle, that might or might not been retroactively removed by the eruption under the Cauldron Lake.

the extent of Thomas’ writing powers, since as much as it is stressed a lot that he wrote himself out of reality, Barry, with a little research, is still able to find out about his existence, yet Alan in one of the “Writer in the Cabin” TV’s claims “A story is a beast with a life of its own. You can create it, shape it, but as the story grows, it starts wanting things of its own. Change one thing, and you set off a chain reaction of events that spreads through the whole thing.” The chain reaction here never happens: we have hard evidence that both Thomas and Barbara existed.

But those are theories for another day. This is already a long enough read to throw those into the mix.

And here’s the article about Robert “The Colonel” Hambleton (spoiler alert: there is another one, confirming that he died):

#alan wake 2 #alan wake #thomas zane #alan wake ii #alan wake remastered #remedy entertainment #remedy connected universe #remedy games #RCU theory #alan wake game #tom zane

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notapersob · 1 day

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@mcythorrorgiftexchange

@turtlecase

Grian watcher god fae reference? Mayhaps?

I hope this is horror-y enough? Sorry I really struggled. Turns out this event collided with the last 3 weeks of college and I got super busy and struggled to come up with ideas. Thus drawing does have a short writing thing attached to it (under the cut) but I wrote it a year ago so I didn't wsnt to submit it for this event all by itself.

The writing thingy --->

Its neck snapped and cracked, contorting itself. The thing swiveled it's head around to stare at Scar. Six black wings tore out of its skin. They were covered in eyes. They all stared at him, glowing a dim violet.

"What a peculiar little thing you are" a voice echoed. It sent chills down his spine. He had never felt so small.

Scar could make out what resembled a human face but it looked wrong. It cracked when the thing moved, stitching itself back together. Scar wondered what was under the mask. He couldn't seem to look away, he wanted to know. Like a moth to a flame. Not realizing the danger till it was too late.

"What are you?" Scar tried to back away.

The creature trilled, it laughed at Scars ignorance. "That is of no importance to you,"

"But-"

"Hushhh, you've ran yourself into something you do not understand. What is your name?"

He wasn't sure how he should answer. "You may call me Scar"

"You're funny," it smiled. A talloned hand reached out. It's whole hand was covered in what looked to be a sort of mold. It was black like the sky. Where it warped a deep purple grew in place. The fingertips were sharp. They gently traced the scar across his lip, then moving to his hair. It was curious. Well, so was he.

"What can i call you?" Scar tread carefully. He may be curious but he would like to stay alive. Though, he heard stories where unfortunate humans became eternal servants to the fae they angered. But that's not the worst they can do. Maybe death would be a gift.

The hand left his hair, leaving it a mess. He pushed it out of his face. "Hmm, I dont know, why don't you choose"

"Oh" Scar was surprised. "Uhmm."

"Is something wrong" it's head tilted, or twisted. It was a little unnerving.

"Well, to be honest I wasn't expecting to still be alive, let alone have enough time to think of a good name to call you."

"I could change that" it smiled deviously, the glow of its many eyes flashing bright purple and dimming just as fast as they appeared.

"As much as I appreciate the offer, It would be preferable to avoid death for the time being." Scar laughed nervously. He racked his brain for a good name for his new... friend? He tapped his fingers nercoulsy together trying to think of anything… bread.. Butter.. Wheat.. Grain. Graaiin.. Grian. Grian? For the life of him he cant understand why bread was on his mind. He thought of food when he was nervous and right now a nice good loaf of bread might just make him forget he’s face to face with some sort of eldrige god or something. "Hmmm, does... Grian work?" Scar offered.

"Yes, I think that'll do" it said excitedly. "Gri-an.. gria-nnn, grian" it tested the sound of the name.

Scar laughed. "So are you a girl, a boy? Neither?"

"None, all. It changes, does that even matter? I am a being beyond your mortal rules."

"Cool ok" Scar whispered, wiping his hands on his dirt covered jeans.

The wind picked up. The purple leaves spun up in the air. Grian slowly lowered himself from where he was hovering. His wings folded inward. Scar thought he could hear bones snapping. Grian landed on the ground. They looked a lot smaller then they had before.

He now only had one set of wings with significantly fewer eyes. Scar looked at Grian's face. Where the white of the eyes should be, they were black. He had short golden brown hair, the longest unkempt strands reaching his shoulders. He was a whole head shorter than Scar. He used to stand at least seven feet tall. He was beautiful. His pointed ears were decorated with silvers and golds.

"I owe you now." Grian grabbed hold of Scars hand, all too eagerly. His grip stung, the humanoid bird not quite understanding what a normal amount of strength is. A bright ring of light surrounded the point where their hands joined. The white swirls landed on their arms creating a beautiful pattern. The light disappeared into his skin. He blinked his eyes, getting used to the dark again. The swirls left white marks on his arm, it looked like some sort of abstract tattoo.

"Whoa". He knew he should probably be concerned by what just happened but this was the most spectacular thing to ever happen to him.

#grian hermitcraft #grian watcher #grian #hermitcraft #scarian #grian fanart #mcythorrorgiftexchange

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cool-person-yey · 2 days

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ok but what are the puter voices trying to say????

or: my theory on what the fuck Chester&Norris have going on

so first of all, the voices are trying to communicate with the OIAR through reading the incidents, that's something that basically everyone has noticed, now here's the thing: what are they trying to say?

we only got one Augustus case ( at the moment I'm writing this) so I'm gonna leave him out of this.

anyways, now to the good part, first off let's start with our favorite whiny little toad:

Norris

Norris speaks in episodes 1, 3, 8 and 12

my theory is that Norris is trying to warn them of the consequences their actions (and choices because this is the "at the end of the day, you just need to make a choice" podcast) could have.

in episode 1, this one's a bit obvious, but it shows the consequences ( only " some parts" of their loved one coming back) of them trying to get the person they loved back.

in episode 3, it shows the consequences ( the guy turning into a fucking tree) of the ' statement giver' ( can't think of a better name sorry) killing his ex.

in episode 8, this one I'm not 100% sure tbh, like yeah the consequence is the guy getting a part of their body eaten, but the cause I'm not so sure. maybe the fact they accepted to go in the building ( even if they didn't understand why they did it. something something even if the choices are shitty you still made a choice), or maybe something relating to the ex-wife they mentioned earlier in the incident? that'd be a bit of a far reach, but I'm not discarding anything. It could also be just the fact that they applied and got hired for the job.

in episode 12, the consequences ( whatever the fuck that was. I'm still not over that) of Gwen giving Mr Bonzo that envelope. do i even need to say anything else?

now, to our beloved Archivist Spooky Computer Voice!

Chester

Chester speaks in episodes 1, 5, 7, 9 and 11

my theory is that Chester is trying to warn them to not fucking mess with that type of stuff, and if you're going to, fucking be ready

in episode 1, this one's a bit obvious, RedCanary choosing to explore the magnus Institute, and that resulting in... well, we still don't know yet it but it sure as hell didn't go well. that was a very clear " do not go to the fucking magnus institute manchester" and what did they do? go to the fucking magnus institute manchester

in episode 5 a warning about being desensitized to horror, the characters ( especially Alice) have mentioned dozens of times how they just don't get scared that much anymore, that episode was showing that that isn't always a good thing. also the more obvious don't trust spooky shit but eh

episode 7 it's a bit tricky, I'd say it's a warning to either a) hiring new people (aka Celia? maybe Chester doesn't trust her? idk) or b) trusting people, just like, in general?

episode 9, a warning about making choices, and how ppl are gonna make shitty choices bc they're in shitty situations— but hey, at the end of the day, you still made a choice. or simply about Spooky Artefacts™

episode 11 this one seemed to be very much targeted at Alice, and it seems to be warning her about the paranoia that a paranormal experience can give you. And considering Alice's earlier comment about being followed, I'd say the tattoo being the boat bring hunted by something is definitely something to consider.

but well, this is just a theory, a magnus protocol theory.

seriously tho, i love this initial point of every series cuz i can just make up a lot of connections that in the future prob won't make sense but like, we don't have shit so might as well make up our own lmao.

that being said, maybe i got a few things right! only time will tell. my goal is to say as much random theories as i can until i get atleast one (1) thing right.

thanks for reading all of this, and if you have any addition that you'd like to make feel free!

#tmagp #tmagp spoilers #the magnus protocol #tmagp theory #tmagp speculation #tmagp norris #tmagp chester

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ressjeon · 3 hours

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relief | myg (m.)

pairing ⇢ yoongi x reader (hints of ot7)

genre/au ⇢ smut, fluff, idol!au, long time ??

summary ⇢ the nerves have been shaking Yoongi’s usual confidence while preparing for his first solo tour — what a relief that you’re here then.

wc & rating ⇢ 3k | 18+

warnings/content ⇢ dom/sub dynamics, grinding, protected sex, riding, emotional sex?, praise kink, groping, semi-clothed sex, size kink, breast play, temperature play, orgasm control, yoongi’s hands are everywhere help, aftercare, pillowtalk <3

a/n: it's been a year since yoong's tour kicked off so i wanna celebrate with this, along with my return here! never thought i'll do this cuz i don’t usually write nor read this au but he won again on the poll last year so here we are XD! this is mainly inspired by what i was feeling while watching the live stream of both his shows in the first city of his d-day tour! pretty divider by the amazing @cafekitsune <3

after the final song, you were just as surprised as the crowd around you. a faint chuckle leaves you at the way Yoongi ended his concert.

of course, you should've expected that he'll pull something like this.

“i’m so proud of you yoongs”

you greet him enthusiastically as soon as you spot him at the entrance of the hallways near his dressing room. he’s smiling so wide, reaching you at once with his airport-like walk like how he exited the stage quickly earlier.

you beam once he catches you, wrapping your arms around his shoulders despite how sweaty he is.

“it went well” he giggles lightly, caging you in his arms before grabbing your hand to bring you to the backstage area where you both can see the audience without being seen.

the gummy smile plastered on his face never wavered as he watches the fans dispersing outside and you have an inkling that it's reminding him of the world tours with the boys before.

“i told you it would” you whisper once he turns to you, leaning in to give him a peck but Yoongi’s hand reaches up to grab your neck, pulling you in to catch your lips once more and deepen the kiss.

a small whimper elicits from you, both from being needy and worry that any staff might see you both like this but Yoongi seems to not care. it must be the adrenaline and the whiskey combo he had during the concert cause his calloused hands start roaming your body.

a total opposite during soundcheck where he’s simply cuddling you while waiting during the delay that he almost fell asleep.

though Yoongi's performed in front of millions of people for a decade now, he still feels anxious since he’s doing this on his own and it’s been a long time since he met his fans in person. he was naturally nervous about this but you’ve been doing your best to support him so he's really grateful that you’re here.

teasing him earlier when he put those yellow sunglasses on while you rake your hand through his luscious locks thankfully helped ease his nerves.

"yeah yeah i saw the cat edit"

“you’re so cute”

a firm grab of your ass reminds you of where the two of you are, nudging Yoongi slightly to release you. both breathless from the kiss, he’s looking at you in bewilderment until you gestured him to the waiting staff who’s here to take his post-concert pictures.

“pics first”

he only answered with a pout after releasing you but he followed. you on the other hand couldn't look at the photographer as embarrassment floods you, immediately retreating to the dressing room to wait for Yoongi there.

grabbing another glass of Henny, you scroll through your phone for updates on what’s going on outside. you did sneak out earlier and lined up with fans to get some merch and talked to some of them because well, you are one of them.

loving the boys and their music is one thing you share in common.

after a while, the door opens, revealing a smiling Yoongi like he hadn’t been teasing you this whole time.

maybe that was part of his plan but you’ve been patiently waiting. it even came to the point where you can't wait to be all over him now that everything’s done for the night.

placing your empty glass of brandy on the small side table, you drop your phone on the couch before approaching Yoongi. he chuckles when you hastily drag him toward the couch before climbing on his lap.

he doesn’t mind really, knowing how needy you get after he performs like you were in the past. he might’ve unintentionally teased you like he does to everyone else but it's one of the things he loved about you.

how easily you get turned on in every little thing he and the others do but especially for this. knowing his voice can make you crumble instantly gives him that satisfaction that he didn’t know he had when he first met you.

“you’re worked up this much __?” he teases, hands situating themselves on both sides of your waist. “is it the black or white one?” he adds nonchalantly, pertaining to his outfits prior to the one he’s wearing right now.

“shut up, you know what your voice does to me” you whine impatiently, clutching the silver bone necklace around his neck before leaning in to kiss him again.

ah, the chain, another one that you love seeing on him. he'll always be fascinated with your favourites no matter how long you've been with them.

you deepened the kiss this time and Yoongi welcomed them with fervour. it’s his turn to get lost in the moment now that you’re needier than him. his ending fit riled you up this much that now you’re grinding yourself desperately on him but hey, he’s not complaining.

his hands smooth around your covered thighs after, lingering between the crease of your legs before he releases your lips.

“i’m surprised you’re wearing leggings, you hate it”

“it’s cold”

“explains the sweatshirt too” he muses, one hand tugging the baggy sleeve of your white tour sweatshirt with both his aliases on your chest.

his heart warms seeing it on you, the way you’re proudly wearing him even though this whole thing between you and them still remains a secret. his hands creep underneath your top, caressing your sides that hasten your roll against his crotch.

you lean in to kiss Yoongi once more but he grabs your sides, stopping you.

“want it off though” he whispers, the mischief in his eyes shifts to a demanding one.

his darkening orbs are looking straight into yours, making you squirm against him. you didn’t waste any time at once, taking off both your sweatshirt and your bra in a frenzy, much to Yoongi’s satisfaction.

you’d know with that cocky look resurfacing on his pretty face.

now that you’re bare in front of him, Yoongi can see your crotch rubbing along the top of his denim zippers. he could watch you like this, let you get off on your own until you cum like he’s done many times but he relents.

lately, he’s been so busy with the tour preparation that he missed seeing you this needy. he reaches down to cup your pussy, not surprised to find you drenched knowing how easy it is for you to get wet.

you squirm at his touch, trying to get more friction by rubbing your swollen clit on the buckle of his belt. he knows it's you silently wanting his fingers to help you get off but his hand abruptly leaves you.

frustration looms on your face, your lips turning into a frown but Yoongi grabs your body closer and instantly latches his mouth on your tits, earning a surprised shriek from you.

“yoongi!”

you didn’t mean to be loud but with how Yoong’s been licking your pebbled nipples and occasionally nibbling them, you’re starting to forget that there are still people outside the door who can hear you both.

one hand of yours takes a handful of his messy jet-black hair, pushing his face more into your chest. he groans and continues to nip around one tit while his other hand plays around your neglected breast.

kneading and pinching nonstop, you’re unable to hold in the whiny moans coming out of you as your other hand grips his shoulder. you’re relishing it, the rough feeling of callous fingers against your now-swollen nipples.

taking a glance down at Yoongi, you notice how wet he is. he's drenched in sweat but my fuck does he look even hotter when he does. his mouth releases your peppered breasts, opting to fondle your clothed pussy this time.

“don’t tell me you’ve been wet since the first song” he teases and you look away from his heated gaze. he got his answer when he felt your cunt twitch through your clothed core. rough pads of his fingers rub you faster, more of your slickness seeping through your leggings to his hands.

he was clad in all black earlier, one of your favourites so he wasn’t that surprised.

“yoongi..” you’re panting, almost begging him with the way you're gripping his hair and shoulders. you need him to do something, anything more than teasing at this point.

it surprises you when Yoongi grabs the empty glass of Henny that you put aside on the table earlier, taking the ice to his mouth and he’s back to assaulting your breasts. he rolls the ice cube with his tongue around your nipples, making you shiver at the cold and wet sensation.

you’re whimpering, legs shaking as the band on your lower abdomen threatens to snap with how Yoongi’s cold and wet fingertips fondling your core. the multiple stimulations are pushing you nearer to your orgasm. you’re not sure if he’s aware or not, if this was his plan all along.

“..oh fuck”

“hmm?”

“yoongi..i don’t.. wanna cum in this”

you cry, eyes mustering your neediest look towards him, hoping he’ll listen to your pleas. and Yoongi did, his hand leaving your drenched pussy and mouth releasing your breast. relief courses through you, smiling at him despite the uncomfy feeling of your leggings sticking to your core.

“of course, you don’t, always wanting to cream my cock”

he doesn’t say it in a mocking manner, the hint of adoration coming forward within his hooded eyes. you get off of him once his hands release you, quickly shimmying down your leggings while he unbuckles his baggy pants and boxers.

you didn’t miss him whipping out a condom from his front pocket, making you suspicious with your arms now crossed over your chest.

“and why-”

“you’re here and i did remember you love being fucked anywhere”

he answers right away and your face morphs in shame, arms sliding down to your elbows, revealing your breasts again to Yoongi.

you hate being paranoid like this though you know he’s always been prepared. and he’s right, you do love it when they fuck you anywhere they like whether it be on the venue, in their vans or in their hotel rooms.

it’s one of your favourites when you join them on tours before.

“yoon–..” you try but he beckons you closer and helps you back onto his lap, kissing you right away and ignoring your protests because he knew right away what you were gonna say.

“none of that hmm? lemme get you ready”

he took himself out and put on the condom already before his hands skitter around your inner thighs.

“no”

he quirks a brow at you, wanting to make sure if that's what you want. even though you’re stark naked figure’s been enticing him to just fuck it and ruin you like you’ve been begging for, he's been a pro at controlling himself to prepare you.

huffing before wrapping your hands around his neck, you squeeze his nape as an answer.

you just want him inside you and you don’t wanna wait anymore.

a smirk graces Yoongi's face at your impatience before helping your body up to grind on him again.

now rubbing your bare pussy against his dick, you enjoy watching him seethe with each friction. your hips circle until his swollen tip catches your entrance, pausing just to tease him. one of his hands scrambles to grip your hip and you chuckle before lifting yourself, grabbing his dick and lowering slowly.

“fuck,fuck,fuck”

you watch Yoongi close his eyes, a plethora of curses coming out from his mouth. you’re whimpering in return, pussy walls fluttering around him to try to accommodate his thick girth.

“big..fuck, yoongi” you cry, tears threatening to well in your eyes.

you love the feeling though and he knows it but Yoongi still tries to comfort you, roaming his veiny hands around your body till he reaches your breasts.

you start moving your hips slowly, planting your hands against his clothed chest as you try to take more of him. his hands fly on both sides of your waist, feline eyes also watching you while you’re slowly adjusting to him.

“more..” he grunts, prompting you to go faster as he tightens his grip on your waist. you try to roll your hips faster then deeper until you bottomed down.

pausing for a bit, you couldn’t help but lean in and whine against his clothed shoulder with how his cock’s filling you deliciously.

he has other plans though, releasing a deep groan after you unconsciously clenched around him. he starts fucking up to you, pouring all that adrenaline rush coursing through his bloodstream.

a loud moan escapes you when he finds that soft spot, causing you to pull back and again note the cocky smirk emerging on his handsome face.

“yoongi..fuck”

“shhhh”

he silences you with a finger on his puckered lips, hips bucking up to you faster while he repeatedly hits that spongy spot again.

you struggle but you wanna be good for him so you close your eyes and force yourself to keep your moans in. it results in you gasping instead, small whimpers still escaping you with how magnified everything feels.

“you listen really well baby” amusement laces Yoongi’s tone, eliciting deep moans after when you clamp around him with the praise. his groans spur you to ride him faster but you’re starting to feel the burn on your legs.

he must’ve felt you slowing down cause you found him grinning once you reopened your eyes. gritting your teeth, you dig your nails into Yoongi’s clothed shoulders and call his name in a whimper, biting your lip to hold back your release but his praise makes you crumble.

"yeah? come on __" he gauges you, kissing you at once to swallow the moans that you couldn’t keep in once you reach your peak.

he slows down his pace, letting you ride your own high as his mouth peppers your jaw then later your neck with kisses. his hands continue to caress your naked body until they reach down on your ass.

you let out a surprised yelp when he squeezes them hard, causing you to grip his damp hair once he starts fucking up to you again.

calling your name with a deep groan, you whimper by his ear in response as he chases his release. he’s relentless with his fucking, groping your ass nonstop until you feel him explode in the condom.

you do miss it when he fills you up but you both can’t risk anything while he’s still on tour.

“shit..” he chuckles after releasing you, pushing his hair back with a satisfied look on his face but it shortly disappears when he notices the small tears in your eyes.

“was i too rough?” he worries but you shake your head.

“you know i love it” you reply with a quick peck to his now perplexed face. he doesn’t say anything, waiting for you to continue.

“i just got emotional..you know”

a small smile of relief breaks into Yoongi’s face, stroking your naked back while you’re both coming down from your highs.

“i’m glad you’re here” he whispers, kissing your forehead. you don’t fucking know why you're suddenly emotional but it could be because of oxytocin flowing through you right now.

“the seesaw acoustic made me cry” you sniff, nuzzling Yoongi's clothed chest that’s a bit damp now, mixed with sweat and your tears but neither of you mind it.

“why? the lyrics still?”

he did remember you crying after hearing it for the first time years ago, the lyrics being the sole reason of it.

“it’s just.. i don’t know, it reminds me of when you guys were touring before” you admit, melancholy in your voice while you reminisce watching his solo performance during their last world tour as a group.

“thank you” he pauses, looking away from you. “for staying with us after all these years”. he takes your hand and plays with it as he says those words.

you adore this side of Yoongi and now you feel bad for doubting him earlier. meeting them years ago and staying this entire time meant a lot of hardships that you went through together with the rest of his members.

“i miss all of you together” you give Yoongi a quick peck on his heated cheeks before giggling, all the sadness gone at the sight of him blushing. he sits up right away and grabs your face to do the same on your lips before lifting your body off of him.

“you see each of them all the time more than i do, i’m jealous”

he gets up, pulling off the used rubber before picking up your clothes that he threw around earlier. he emerges in front of you after, wet wipes in his hand as he parts your sore legs.

“who knows, maybe me and Jimin will drop by”

he stops, letting out a snort and you raise a brow at him, mind suddenly alert to the possibility.

“he’s coming right?”

“idk babe” he’s got that teasing smile and you wanna cry.

“yoonggiiiii..”

“is this why you came here?”

“no”

you’re back to sulking because the boys won’t tell you anything either. it’s something they’ve all kept a secret cause even Jimin won’t budge earlier when you tried to get the answer from him during pillow talk.

however, Yoongi surprises you amidst your sulking when his head’s suddenly between your legs, licking up a stripe of your swollen folds, causing you to whine at the sensitivity.

he knows you’re tired so he stops your hand from grabbing his damp hair.

“later” he mutters, licking his glistened lips as he wipes your pussy.

you didn’t reply, still lying down on the couch while trying to put your bra, panties and leggings back on. getting up would be impossible so you wanna stay on the couch for a bit to cool down.

“i wanna surprise everyone okay? and you’re always on stan twitter”

he gives up, grinning at you with that adorable gummy smile before grabbing another glass of whiskey on the table.

then instead of wearing it back, you throw your merch shirt at him.

“YOU GET DEETS BECAUSE OF ME” you yell, earning a deep chuckle from Yoongi.

then he pulls out his phone and takes a picture of you, sending it to your group chat with a thumbs up caption. the others surprisingly replied immediately, with Jimin responding with a wink emoji.

oh they will pay for this.

e/n: it's been a long time lmao how are y'all? btw i wrote this during those two days and haven't opened it in almost a year now so 😂

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wordsarelife · 10 hours

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𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐰𝐨: 𝐬𝐡𝐞'𝐬 𝐠𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐭𝐨𝐨 𝐟𝐚𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞

pairing: theo nott x fem!reader

summary: mistakes can happen but this one might cost them a record deal, so they definitely needs some help from you

warnings: cursing, unsafe driving, someone gets hurt, let me know if i missed any!

notes: mattheo and enzo are brothers in this story, i just decided hehe. (they both keep their respective name, they’re step brothers, since childhood so they are practically real brothers anyway lol)

let me know if you’ve enjoyed this part :))

"you're so funny, enz" april was laying belly down on your bed, while she was busy giggling into her phone. enzo had asked her if she still had the same number she had in middle school and promptly followed her confirmation with the question if she would be free to call after school.

april had agreed before she remembered that she was going to your place. but, because you were a good friend, you had told her that it was no problem.

now she was laying on your bed talking to enzo, who, you were pretty sure, was at theo's.

you now regreted telling her that it wouldn't be a problem, considering they had been talking for the last hour or so.

you sighed, deeply, before you decided that there was only one way to get your friend back. you took the blog from your desk and scribbled the words down, before you hung it in your window.

as if he had waited for you to write something, theo stood in front of the window and read your message.

do something you had written, featuring at least 7 exclamation marks.

theo looked at you as if you had gone crazy. why should i do anything to help you?

because i bet enzo is just as annoying, isn't he?

theo only spotted a face that made an answer from him unnecessary. he just nodded and walked away.

"oh, already?" you could hear april ask behind you "no, it's fine. i get it, i'll be waiting" and with that she ended the call.

"i'll be waiting?" you asked, with a quirked brow.

"that was embarrassing wasn't it? i should've just said bye like a normal person"

"well, you're not a normal person" you smiled "and i don't think that you could do anything to make him leave you alone at this point"

"you really think so?"

"of course i do, april" you sat down beside her "why did he have to leave so suddenly?" you tried to not sound suspicious, but you were really curious what theo had done to get enzo off his very important call. luckily, april hadn't even noticed what you had been doing.

"band practice" she shrugged "theo is a strict boss"

"i bet" you mumbled while your eyes were still fixated on the piece of paper in his window. why should i do anything to help you? catapulting you right back to the night a year ago. you shuddered at the thought of it and tried to ban it from your head as fast as possible. theo was a constant reminder of your mistakes and maybe it wasn't him you hated but the realization of fault that hit you anytime your eyes fell on him.

✦•〰〰〰〰〰★🎸☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★〰〰〰〰〰〰•✦

the garage was filled with thick air that had been warmed all day as the sun beamed down tremendously. theo rubbed the sweat off his forehead as he sat his bag down inside.

enzo walked to the couch to open his guitar case. he halted in his motion and the rest of his friends perked up at his lack of movement.

"no, enzo" blaise muttered "not again, come on"

"it did not do it on purpose" enzo turned around to face his friends and theo looked around his body to confirm what he basically already knew.

"where's your head at?" draco's tone matched the annoyance that was bubbling in theo's chest.

"is that a serious question?" matt laughed "it's deep under april's skirt"

"matt" enzo sighed as he rubbed his neck in embarrassment.

"april hart?" blaise asked "the one you've had a crush on since she moved here in first great?" enzo nodded and blaise laughed "that's what i call consistancy, mate"

enzo would've probably laughed if it weren't for the bitter look the bands' leader was still spotting. "are you angry?"

theo sighed. "it's the third time you forgot it, enz"

"i know, i'm sorry, theo" enzo brushed a hand through his hair, before he turned in draco's direction “can i lend your car and get it, please? i won't take long"

"are you kidding me?" draco asked humorless "my mother is gonna kill me if something happens to that car. i'll drive"

"i'll come with ya" mattheo stood up from the couch.

"why don't we just all go?" theo asked sarcastically.

"yeah, why not?" blaise smiled, not catching that theo was just making a joke.

"no, i meant-" the group was already walking out to the car and theo just accepted his fate. "why not" he mumbled before he got in the back seat.

enzo was sitting in the middle of him and blaise, while mattheo had been able to plant his arse on the passenger seat next to draco, who was already setting the car back.

"it's so silent" mattheo mumbled "why don't we listen to some good music" he grabbed a cd from his pocket and just a second after, the loud drums and guitar of blood//water, the first song on cursed legacy's debut album floated through the car.

the boys broke into cheering. "you made a cd?" draco asked smiling, while mattheo nodded proudly.

"old school" enzo grinned, but clapped mattheo's shoulder nonetheless.

"hey" draco said harshly "you stay back there" he pushed enzo back into his seat. "i told you guys to hold him" he looked into the mirror and found theo's eyes, who looked not entirely happy, but did as he was told.

the seatbelt of the middle seat in draco's mums car had been broken for a while. she had originally forbidden them from riding in the car with five people, but draco tended to ignore her rule, even if he normally was quite fussy about anything happening to the car, banning drinks and food completely. but theo's car was still getting fixed by his uncle, so it was their only option.

"while we're on the topic of the band" blaise said "did you call that guy back? the one from the record label?" he asked theo.

theo smiled "i did, yeah. thats what i originally wanted to talk to you all about, but enzo was busy talking to the demon's bestie"

"demon is a rather harsh word" draco muttered.

"aren't you guys a bit too old to upkeep that childish feud?" mattheo asked. "you used to tell her everything and now you're not even saying a word about the record label thing"

"i really thought you guys would go back to normal after everything with leo" enzo added and all heads turned to him.

"i told you not to mention him" theo said angrily and enzo slumped down in his seat.

"it's been a year, mate" draco’s eyes found theo's in the mirror.

"it doesn't matter" theo shook his head, before he abruptly changed the topic. "he wants to see us, as the preact of some band in six weeks"

"the record guy? really?" mattheo perked up "thats like super soon"

"he seemed really excited" theo shrugged "this could be our chance guys. we get that deal and in less than a year we're off to america or tokyo and probably recording our second album, while already writing the third"

"as long as our little shakespeare keeps working that won't be a problem" blaise ruffled theo's hair, his hands letting go of enzo, while theo was busy slapping his friends hands away, hence why he also let go of the younger boy in the middle.

"hey! what did i tell you?" draco full on turned around in his seat.

the next three seconds happened all at once. mattheo was the first who screamed. it had taken draco less than a second of not looking to effectively drive off the street and in the direction of the nearest tree. draco turned around alarmed, swerving the car to the side, luckily not driving frontal into the tree. he stopped the car at the same time, what would've been fine, if blaise and theo had held on to enzo again, or if his seatbelt had simply been working.

he went flying trough the car, mattheo's arm darting to the side, to stop enzo flying through the car's windshield. sadly, his force wasn't enough and enzo still hit the dashboard quite hard, but at least he stayed inside the car.

"ow" enzo cried, holding his arm.

"shit, shit, shit" draco muttered under his breath. "is anyone hurt? are you all fine?" theo could hear his voice break.

"blaise and i are fine" he said quickly, to calm his friend "but enzo.." all eyes turned to enzo who was laying in the middle of the car, between mattheo and draco, who was staring down at him wide-eyed.

mattheo excused himself to call an ambulance.

"this is all my fault" draco brushed a few tears away from his cheeks "i should've just given him the car, or gotten the guitar on my own, i should've never-" he was interrupted by theo.

"it isn't your fault, draco" he assured "blaise and i let go of enzo in the first place, it was our job to keep him safe and we got distracted"

"i shouldn't have screamed at you like that" draco put his head on the steering wheel, trying to hide the stress on his face.

"theo is right, mate" blaise added "it's on us"

it seemed like draco wasn't even hearing him. "i will probably lose my license"

"you won't" enzo muttered through clenched teeth "we'll say there was a deer"

"i'm so sorry, enz" draco excused, it seemed like he only remembered now that enzo was still laying in the middle, holding his arm. "does it hurt badly? i actually don't care about the license, they can take it, as long as you're fine"

"i think my arm is broken" enzo held up his right arm, which was bloody and looked like it wasn't supposed to be formed the way it was right now.

"shit, enz" draco rubbed a hand through his face, before he quickly opened the door and threw up on the floor.

"the ambulence will be here in ten minutes" mattheo said, as he poked his head through the door. "what is he doing?" he wondered once his eyes fell on draco, who was still hanging half out of the car.

"puking" enzo, blaise and theo chorused.

"gross" mattheo shuddered, before he opened the backdoor of the car. "you guys should come outside, so the medical team can assist enzo better. we shouldn't move him"

"yeah" theo nodded, while he pushed blaise out of the car.

“why did i have to come with you again?” you were walking from the parking spot to the entry of the hospital.

“because someone had to drive the car” april pointed to the phone in her hand, which she had used to try and call enzo the entire way here. her hadn’t picked up so she insisted on visiting him, but not without a few different sorts of chocolate (she wasn’t sure which he liked) and flowers.

“yeah i get that, totally” you rolled your eyes, so that she wouldn’t see “but do i really have to come inside?”

“i need moral support”

“you’re not the one who broke his arm”

“enzo might be happy to see more than one friendly face”

“it’s not like he’s laying on his death bed, april” you nudged her arm “i’m sure he comes home today, we could’ve just gone to his house tomorrow”

“i want to see him”

“okay, fine” you groaned, but followed her inside, where she was already leaning half over the receptionists desk.

“how can i help you?” the lady was rather unimpressed by april’s eagerness.

“we’re here to see enzo, ehh lorenzo berkshire” she quickly corrected.

the woman raised her eyebrows, before she started tapping words into her computer.

“pixie?” a voice called and your head turned to the side. you tried many times not to react to the name, but you sometimes couldn’t help it. theo had been consistent for the last ten years so it was in your nature.

“mattheo” you greeted.

the dark haired boy was holding two cups of what looked like coffee. “they belong to me” he told the lady at the reception. “i’m lorenzo’s brother, i came with the ambulance, you remember?” he waited for some kind of confirmation, but she was already busy with something else, easily going back to ignoring you.

mattheo made a gesture for you to follow him down the hall. “pretty unfortunate, heh?” he grinned awkwardly.

“it’s horrible” april declared “i mean how is he supposed to play? he told me something about a record deal that you guys might get”

“yeah” mattheo looked to the ground, before he changed the topic. “he will be so happy to see you” he smiled at april and april mirrored his expression.

mattheo halted in front of a door. “could one of you..?” he trailed off, as he looked down at the cups in his hands.

“oh of course” april said quickly.

“i should maybe stay outside” you held the flowers and the chocolate in april’s direction, who raised her eyebrows.

“are you kidding?” mattheo laughed unimpressed “of course you’re coming inside. enzo will be ecstatic to see you both”

“her? sure, but me?” you asked unsurely “also, theo is probably in there, so i don’t-“

“he will behave himself” mattheo promised “come on, pixie”

you send him a look. mattheo knew about the nickname as long as it existed and he would only call you that sometimes. theo used it to make fun of you, but when mattheo said it, he meant it in a friendly way. you all had grown up together, naturally as you lived so close and in a small town. for mattheo, pixie was not in insult, but the last bit of proof that you had been friends once. after theo and you had fallen out, you had automatically fallen out with all the boys.

sometimes it hurt you to remember. remember how you and mattheo had spent hours listening to sherlock holmes and climbing trees. or how you had helped draco to read as he was having problems, days when you were washing gum out of blaise’s hair and taught enzo to tie his shoelaces. and theo, theo had always been where you were, he was never far. and everything had slipped away in a single night.

but it was too late to make amends. mattheo knew that as good as you. maybe you all could stop fighting, but go back to normal? probably never.

“hey” enzo raised both his arms when he noticed april and you walk in behind mattheo. “ow” he muttered.

blaise and draco were sitting on chairs on either side of enzo’s bed. theo was standing a bit away from the rest of his friends, leaning against the window.

“what is she doing here?” theo stepped forward when his eyes fell on you.

“hey, don’t talk to my guest that way” enzo pushed theo back, so he was leaning against the window again.

“april needed some help carrying all this” you opened your arms, displaying the different sorts of chocolate and flowers.

“how are you feeling?” april asked, slowly touching enzo’s cheek. “does it still hurt?”

you could practically see the flip switch in enzo’s head, as he realized how much she cared.

“a bit” he said dramatically and his voice dropped a whole octave. “but i think i’ll live”

you exchanged a look with mattheo, who raised his eyebrows at his little brothers dramatics.

“how long do you have to wear the cast?” you asked, while you put the chocolate down on the night stand. blaise immediately took one of them.

“hey that’s for me!” enzo protested.

“we need emotional leverage” blaise rolled his eyes, before he unpacked the chocolate and bit a whole piece off. he then held it in draco’s direction, who took it and started nibbling on it like a mouse.

enzo sighed before he looked back at you “between four and twelve weeks”

“shit” april deadpanned “what about the record deal?”

“okay, are you guys really getting one or are all of you in on a bit i don’t know about?” you wondered. there had been a few too many mentions of a possible record deal.

“no” mattheo shook his head smiling “there’s this guy from the label and he wanted to see us at the preact for a band who plays in the concert hall outside the town in six weeks”

“we can forget about that now” draco whined.

“that’s shit” you looked down “i’m sorry, that’s really awful”

“don’t act like you’re not making internal jumps of joy” theo spoke for the first time since you had entered. “you hated the band from the minute we..” he paused and cleared his throat, before he added “continued”

“you really think i’m that big of an asshole?”

“come on, theo” blaise added “don’t be like this now”

“it must be the first point on that little to do list of yours, huh? what do you want to hear? you were right? we’ll never get famous”

“shut up” you shook your head at him.

“stop fucking lying about the way you feel about my band”

“mate” draco tried to push theo back, who was walking closer to you.

april and enzo were exchanging worried glances as they noticed the tears building up in your eyes.

“theo” mattheo stepped next to his friend, laying a hand on his chest, to hopefully calm him down.

“why did you even come here?”

“i’m only here because of april and enzo” you said between clenched teeth “now stop acting like i’m here to laugh about your misery”

“the band could’ve made it big”

“i know” you simply said.

the others were following the discussion between you attentively, turning their heads, like a tennis match, from side to side, whenever one of you spoke.

“my band could’ve made it big”

you looked up at theo with teary eyes, before you nodded, once, finally. then you turned to look at april. “i’ll walk home” you turned to enzo “get well soon, enzo”

“thank you” enzo replied breathless.

you send one last look in theo’s direction, who gulped as he saw the tears flowing over your cheeks, before you left the room.

“what?” theo asked as he turned around and noticed the angry looks of his friends.

“was that really necessary?” mattheo sighed. “she came here because of enzo, knowing well that you would be here. she wanted to wait outside and i convinced and even told her that you would behave this time”

“you really are mentally seven aren’t you?” blaise asked and theo felt bad that he made your visit to enzo all about himself.

“you know how i feel about seeing her”

“how could we not?” draco muttered “you make it clear over and over again”

“it doesn’t matter anyway, the record deal is through and we can just stop being a band now” theo sank to his knees.

april and enzo exchanged a look, before enzo cleared his throat. “technically you just need a stand in for me”

“what?” theo looked up.

“it’s not over, theo” enzo said “you just need to find someone who can play the parts, or at least learn them in six weeks and after my arm is alright i can come back”

“he’s not wrong” blaise nodded “we just need to bag that deal and the rest is not important right now”

“okay, who?” theo deadpanned “you’re incredible on the guitar, who could we possibly find to be just as good?”

“you know that there is someone who was better” enzo looked down in his lap. the rest of the group grew silent too.

“what has that to do with anything?” theo asked defensively.

april turned her head to look at the dark haired boy. “he taught her” she said. “everything”

“what?” theo asked, not believing what he was hearing right now. “what are you saying?”

“we’re saying that you should ask y/n” draco put it simply.

“absolutely not” theo shook his head “i’m sure we can find someone else”

“you just said that there was no one good enough to stand in for me” enzo noted “she might be our best option”

“even if he taught her” theo added “that was over a year ago, who says that she even still plays anymore?”

“she does” april muttered “she’s good, really good”

theo sighed.

“just ask her, mate” mattheo, who had mostly stayed silent, clapped a hand on his best friends shoulder. “we need this record deal”

“i know” theo sighed.

“she’s a slow walker” april pointed to the door and theo raised his eyebrows.

“go!” his friends all chorused when he did not move. he left the room.

“beg her on your knees if you have to!” mattheo called behind theo, before the door fell closed.

“do you really think she’ll help us?”

“i honestly don’t know” april shrugged “but i’m sure theo has to find a way to go even lower than just his knees if he really wants to beg her”

taglist:

@7s3ven @madi-potter @shereadsandcries @getosbeloved @mischieftom @wolfstar-jpg @t00thfairy20 @chcrrysblog @aestramjackson @elina3011 @kr1nqu @hopeless-y @mitskiswift99 @fallingblackveils @ahead-fullofdreams @helendeath @schaebickel @chubbychasermattheotruther @punkprincess03 @subparslytherin @girlbooklover555

(i have problems tagging some of you, maybe check your setting and make sure you’ve allowed people to tag you!!)

leave a comment if you would like to be added/removed from the taglist!

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poetryandfluffycats · 2 days

Text

Quiz time!

A/N: took a small break but im back and im writing bungo fics. hope you enjoy

Pairing: Kidnapper!Nikolai Gogol x fem!reader

Warnings: dark content, kidnapping, mentions of animal violence, mentions of human violence, implied abuse

Content: Nikolais been keeping you trapped in his basement for 3 weeks now. What does he have in store for you today? You have no idea

Words: 1.0k

Oneshot under cut!

"Oh darling! I'm home!"

The infamous voice of Nikolai Gogol shot through the basement, followed by the sound of his leather shoes creaking against the stairs. My head snapped up from its place on the pillow, watching him with wide eyes as he descended to the bottom of the staircase. The jester had a smile on his face, seeming all too giddy about... something. What that something was, I had no idea.

He was quick to skip over to me, looming over my curled up form under the covers, a hand buried deep into the abyss of his coat. He pulled out a bouquet of pink roses, shoving them under my nose. "For you, my dove" he purred, his voice dripping like sickly sweet honey.

I took them, albeit hesitantly, and examined them with a cautious eye. They were pretty, a light, pastel pink color with a white ribbon tied around the stems, and smelt like heaven. A sweet-but not too strong-floral scent that reminded me of the spring time. It was a nice gift, no one could deny that, but knowing Nikolai...

There had to be some type of ulterior motive.

"Pretty..." I murmured, holding the flowers close to my chest. "Thank you..."

I hadn't spoken much since I got here, only ever really muttering a word or two to keep him satisfied. He talked enough for the both of us, anyway, or at least that's what he had said when my lack of words first was noticed by him.

"Only the best for my sweetest dove! Now, come come, what shall we do today? You're probably just dying to have some fun, right? Aha! I know!" Before I could fully understand anything he had said, Nikolai pulled the covers back and lifted me in his arms, carrying me bridal style as he twirled around the basement.

"Quiz time!"

Quiz time. His way of asking personal questions on the justification that it was 'just a game' and 'there's no need to be shy". Sometimes he'd throw in random questions about Ukrainian literature, to which I almost never got right. I think that maybe he thought that asking a few general questions among all the pervy, personal ones would make me more comfortable, or less likely to catch on to the real meaning behind his game. It didn't.

I hated Quiz time.

Nikolai plopped me down on the floor, sitting cross-legged in front of me. His teeth showed as his lips curled upwards into a toothy grin, head tilted to the side and eyes blown wide. Maybe that's just how he always looked.

"Question 1! What is your favorite color?"

It was such a simple question, childish even. Something a teacher would ask their preschoolers on the first day of school. Yet, it made my throat close up, heat beating faster and faster as the seconds ticked by. What was my favorite color? Did I even have one anymore? What was the point in having a favorite color if I was trapped down here?

"Uh..." I stuttered, eyes flickering around the room. Anywhere was better than Nikolais cold, mismatched eyes. "Purple... b-but I also like red"

Nikolai clapped his hands together, a high pitched squeal leaving his lips. "Wonderful! Gosh you are just too cute, I might simply combust! But then you'd be stuck cleaning my brains off the wall which I don't think you'd like very much, so I'll refrain for you, my darling"

Cleaning brains off the walls? He said it so casually, like it was a normal passtime for him. Was it? Probably.

"Question 2! What is your favorite animal?"

This one was easy enough, and a small smile creeped onto my face as I answered. "Kittys, I have a few at home. They're the best little guys"

My heart ached at the thought of my fur babies. How long had they gone without food or water? Without being pat or doted on? Did they miss me? Had someone taken them in or were they sitting at the window waiting for my return?

Would I return?

Nikolai squealed again, his smile growing impossibly wider, the tips of his lips nearly touching his ears. "Cats are adorable! So fluffy and cute and squishy! I would just love to squeeze them until their little heads popped off!"

He suddenly scooted closer to me, the space between us slowly decreasing until our knees knocked together. He brought his fingers up to my cheeks, pinching them as if I was a baby. "Just like you! Squish, squish, squish! So damn cute"

Our noses bumped together as he leaned in closer, those cold eyes hyper-focused on my lips. I felt like I might hurl as his hands trailed down from my cheeks to my waist, his fingernails digging into the flimsy fabric of the nightgown he forced me into my first day here. This was wrong. So, so wrong.

"Please" I whined, tears threatening to spill at any second. "Please don't"

I had been so lucky the past 3 weeks with him not touching me, not with sexual intent anyway. No kissing, no touching, no... sex. Nothing. He would ask his stupid questions, force me to play his stupid games, and lay with me in bed at night, but that was it. But now, it seemed my luck had finally run out.

"Question 3!" Nikolais voice dropped an octave, sending a shiver down my spine. "Now, dove, this is the last question, so make sure you pay extra attention, mkay?"

Not like I had a choice.

"Who do you love the most in this whole wide world?"

There was only answer to that question. Only one answer he wanted, anyway. I had learned the hard way what the consequences of getting it 'wrong' were. It was so degrading, humiliating, dehumanising even, the punishment he had given me for answering with the wrong person. I wasn't keen to go through that again.

"You, Nikolai. I love you the most" I sounded robotic, like a puppet. Which in reality, I kind of was. Just a little puppet in his clown show.

"Correct! 3 for 3, you're so smart! Now, for the reward"

And then, his chapped, cracked, messily painted lips were on mine. It wasn't recpirocated, it wasn't even pleasant. It was gross, slimy, wet like a fish. Maybe I could pretend I was making out with a fish. That would've been million times better than this bullshit.

I hated it.

I hated him.

I hated myself.

#oneshot #bsd #bungo stray dogs #bungo stray dogs x reader #bsd x reader #yandere bsd #yandere bungo stray dogs #nikolai gogol #nikolai gogol x reader #bsd nikolai #Nikolai x reader #decay of angels #yandere #yandere nikolai gogol #yandere nikolai x reader #yandere x reader

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