#and i can't find the energy to talk to them

[aliteralsemicolon]

Thinking about how Spencer takes care of you when you're too exhausted to take care of yourself.

He walks into your bedroom to find you on the brink of sleep, carelessly curled up on your end of the bed and his brows raise in slight concern as he scans you. You couldn't even be bothered to change out of your day clothes. He chuckles lightly at the sight, as he makes his way to you.

"Baby?" He gently calls to you, rubbing your calf with his hand as he takes a seat next to your legs. You're unable to respond to the sound of his voice despite hearing it. He tries again, this time kneeling on the floor next to your head.

"Angel?" His fingers lightly brush through your hair as he whispers near your ear.

"Hmm?" You reply hazily.

You wait for him to speak so you can go back to sleep but all that follows is silence. He resumes his motions in your hair and it keeps you aware of his presence. He's waiting for you to gain some more consciousness. You rub your eyes, fluttering them open and Spencer's quick to guide your hand away from your face.

Right. Your makeup.

"What's up?" You mumble, stifling a yawn.

"I know you're tired, and I'm sorry for having to wake you up," he tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear. "but you do know why it's bad for you to fall asleep like this?"

This is a topic the two of you have discussed before. You're usually quite meticulous about removing your makeup before bed, but you're also no stranger to nights when you can't find any energy to do so.

"Mhm. Clogged pores, risk of infections, bacteria spread, discomfort…" You trail off, summarising his extensive research.

Getting you up and off this bed is a losing battle tonight and Spencer graciously accepts defeat, sporting an endeared grin.

"Can I at least help you get comfortable? Would it be alright if I took these off for you?" He tugs at your top and waits for your response. You nod, letting out a barely audible hum.

Spencer moves off the floor and begins to remove your clothing. "You're gonna have to help me just a little bit, Angel. Lift your hips for me."

You blindly follow his commands, wanting to get it over with so that he can relax and you can go back to sleep. He doesn't relax, though. As he rids you of the last of your clothing, he mentally fights himself on letting you sleep with your make-up. There are so many risks involved, but hygiene aside, Spencer knows that if you wake up with your pillow stained– or God forbid…a pimple– you're going to be beyond pissed with yourself.

The sudden dip in the mattress slightly startles you, as a cool feeling drags against your cheek and you whine.

"Shhhh, sorry, it's just me." Spencer coos.

"What're you doing?" You groan, squeezing your eyes shut, still in a sleepy haze.

"Just wiping off your makeup, sweet girl. You're going to thank me tomorrow." His finger hooks under your chin and he soothingly rubs his thumb just under your lips.

"Spence…" You begin whining but you're unable to pronounce anything else coherently.

He can tell you're slightly irritated, but he doesn't mind. He knows that it's the exhaustion talking.

"I know, I know." He sympathises with his continually gentle tone. "I'm almost done. You're being so good for me right now."

Your lips pout, but you don't complain any further, his words calming you. By the time he's finished ridding your face of cosmetic residue, you're knocked out again. Light snores can be heard from you. He chuckles to himself at the sight of you. So peaceful. So adorable. He leans in closer and plants a firm, lingering kiss on your forehead before he disappears to get ready for bed himself.

"Spence?"

He turns around at your groggy voice, still half asleep. "Yes?"

"Thank you."

"Anytime, my pretty girl."

[mostlysignssomeportents]

The Brave Little Toaster

Picks and Shovels is a new, standalone technothriller starring Marty Hench, my two-fisted, hard-fighting, tech-scam-busting forensic accountant. You can pre-order it on my latest Kickstarter, which features a brilliant audiobook read by Wil Wheaton.

The AI bubble is the new crypto bubble: you can tell because the same people are behind it, and they're doing the same thing with AI as they did with crypto – trying desperately to find a use case to cram it into, despite the yawning indifference and outright hostility of the users:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/03/09/autocomplete-worshippers/#the-real-ai-was-the-corporations-that-we-fought-along-the-way

This week on the excellent Trashfuture podcast, the regulars – joined by 404 Media's Jason Koebler – have a hilarious – as in, I was wheezing with laughter! – riff on this year's CES, where companies are demoing home appliances with LLMs built in:

https://www.podbean.com/media/share/pb-hgi6c-179b908

Why would you need a chatbot in your dishwasher? As it turns out, there's a credulous, Poe's-law-grade Forbes article that lays out the (incredibly stupid) case for this (incredibly stupid) idea:

https://www.forbes.com/sites/bernardmarr/2024/03/29/generative-ai-is-coming-to-your-home-appliances/

As the Trashfuturians mapped out this new apex of the AI hype cycle, I found myself thinking of a short story I wrote 15 years ago, satirizing the "Internet of Things" hype we were mired in. It's called "The Brave Little Toaster", and it was published in MIT Tech Review's TRSF anthology in 2011:

http://bestsf.net/trsf-the-best-new-science-fiction-technology-review-2011/

The story was meant to poke fun at the preposterous IoT hype of the day, and I recall thinking that creating a world of talking appliance was the height of Philip K Dickist absurdism. Little did I dream that a decade and a half later, the story would be even more relevant, thanks to AI pump-and-dumpers who sweatily jammed chatbots into kitchen appliances.

So I figured I'd republish The Brave Little Toaster; it's been reprinted here and there since (there's a high school English textbook that included it, along with a bunch of pretty fun exercises for students), and I podcasted it back in the day:

https://ia803103.us.archive.org/35/items/Cory_Doctorow_Podcast_212/Cory_Doctorow_Podcast_212_Brave_Little_Toaster.mp3

A word about the title of this story. It should sound familiar – I nicked it from a brilliant story by Tom Disch that was made into a very weird cartoon:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=I8C_JaT8Lvg

My story is one of several I wrote by stealing the titles of other stories and riffing on them; they were very successful, winning several awards, getting widely translated and reprinted, and so on:

https://locusmag.com/2012/05/cory-doctorow-a-prose-by-any-other-name/

All right, on to the story!

One day, Mister Toussaint came home to find an extra 300 euros' worth of groceries on his doorstep. So he called up Miz Rousseau, the grocer, and said, "Why have you sent me all this food? My fridge is already full of delicious things. I don't need this stuff and besides, I can't pay for it."

But Miz Rousseau told him that he had ordered the food. His refrigerator had sent in the list, and she had the signed order to prove it.

Furious, Mister Toussaint confronted his refrigerator. It was mysteriously empty, even though it had been full that morning. Or rather, it was almost empty: there was a single pouch of energy drink sitting on a shelf in the back. He'd gotten it from an enthusiastically smiling young woman on the metro platform the day before. She'd been giving them to everyone.

"Why did you throw away all my food?" he demanded. The refrigerator hummed smugly at him.

"It was spoiled," it said.

#

But the food hadn't been spoiled. Mister Toussaint pored over his refrigerator's diagnostics and logfiles, and soon enough, he had the answer. It was the energy beverage, of course.

"Row, row, row your boat," it sang. "Gently down the stream. Merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily, I'm offgassing ethelyne." Mister Toussaint sniffed the pouch suspiciously.

"No you're not," he said. The label said that the drink was called LOONY GOONY and it promised ONE TRILLION TIMES MORE POWERFUL THAN ESPRESSO!!!!!ONE11! Mister Toussaint began to suspect that the pouch was some kind of stupid Internet of Things prank. He hated those.

He chucked the pouch in the rubbish can and put his new groceries away.

#

The next day, Mister Toussaint came home and discovered that the overflowing rubbish was still sitting in its little bag under the sink. The can had not cycled it through the trapdoor to the chute that ran to the big collection-point at ground level, 104 storeys below.

"Why haven't you emptied yourself?" he demanded. The trashcan told him that toxic substances had to be manually sorted. "What toxic substances?"

So he took out everything in the bin, one piece at a time. You've probably guessed what the trouble was.

"Excuse me if I'm chattery, I do not mean to nattery, but I'm a mercury battery!" LOONY GOONY's singing voice really got on Mister Toussaint's nerves.

"No you're not," Mister Toussaint said.

#

Mister Toussaint tried the microwave. Even the cleverest squeezy-pouch couldn't survive a good nuking. But the microwave wouldn't switch on. "I'm no drink and I'm no meal," LOONY GOONY sang. "I'm a ferrous lump of steel!"

The dishwasher wouldn't wash it ("I don't mean to annoy or chafe, but I'm simply not dishwasher safe!"). The toilet wouldn't flush it ("I don't belong in the bog, because down there I'm sure to clog!"). The windows wouldn't retract their safety screen to let it drop, but that wasn't much of a surprise.

"I hate you," Mister Toussaint said to LOONY GOONY, and he stuck it in his coat pocket. He'd throw it out in a trash-can on the way to work.

#

They arrested Mister Toussaint at the 678th Street station. They were waiting for him on the platform, and they cuffed him just as soon as he stepped off the train. The entire station had been evacuated and the police wore full biohazard containment gear. They'd even shrinkwrapped their machine-guns.

"You'd better wear a breather and you'd better wear a hat, I'm a vial of terrible deadly hazmat," LOONY GOONY sang.

When they released Mister Toussaint the next day, they made him take LOONY GOONY home with him. There were lots more people with LOONY GOONYs to process.

#

Mister Toussaint paid the rush-rush fee that the storage depot charged to send over his container. They forklifted it out of the giant warehouse under the desert and zipped it straight to the cargo-bay in Mister Toussaint's building. He put on old, stupid clothes and clipped some lights to his glasses and started sorting.

Most of the things in container were stupid. He'd been throwing away stupid stuff all his life, because the smart stuff was just so much easier. But then his grandpa had died and they'd cleaned out his little room at the pensioner's ward and he'd just shoved it all in the container and sent it out the desert.

From time to time, he'd thought of the eight cubic meters of stupidity he'd inherited and sighed a put-upon sigh. He'd loved Grandpa, but he wished the old man had used some of the ample spare time from the tail end of his life to replace his junk with stuff that could more gracefully reintegrate with the materials stream.

How inconsiderate!

#

The house chattered enthusiastically at the toaster when he plugged it in, but the toaster said nothing back. It couldn't. It was stupid. Its bread-slots were crusted over with carbon residue and it dribbled crumbs from the ill-fitting tray beneath it. It had been designed and built by cavemen who hadn't ever considered the advantages of networked environments.

It was stupid, but it was brave. It would do anything Mister Toussaint asked it to do.

"It's getting hot and sticky and I'm not playing any games, you'd better get me out before I burst into flames!" LOONY GOONY sang loudly, but the toaster ignored it.

"I don't mean to endanger your abode, but if you don't let me out, I'm going to explode!" The smart appliances chattered nervously at one another, but the brave little toaster said nothing as Mister Toussaint depressed its lever again.

"You'd better get out and save your ass, before I start leaking poison gas!" LOONY GOONY's voice was panicky. Mister Toussaint smiled and depressed the lever.

Just as he did, he thought to check in with the flat's diagnostics. Just in time, too! Its quorum-sensors were redlining as it listened in on the appliances' consternation. Mister Toussaint unplugged the fridge and the microwave and the dishwasher.

The cooker and trash-can were hard-wired, but they didn't represent a quorum.

#

The fire department took away the melted toaster and used their axes to knock huge, vindictive holes in Mister Toussaint's walls. "Just looking for embers," they claimed. But he knew that they were pissed off because there was simply no good excuse for sticking a pouch of independently powered computation and sensors and transmitters into an antique toaster and pushing down the lever until oily, toxic smoke filled the whole 104th floor.

Mister Toussaint's neighbors weren't happy about it either.

But Mister Toussaint didn't mind. It had all been worth it, just to hear LOONY GOONY beg and weep for its life as its edges curled up and blackened.

He argued mightily, but the firefighters refused to let him keep the toaster.

#

If you enjoyed that and would like to read more of my fiction, may I suggest that you pre-order my next novel as a print book, ebook or audiobook, via the Kickstarter I launched yesterday?

https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/doctorow/picks-and-shovels-marty-hench-at-the-dawn-of-enshittification?ref=created_projects

Check out my Kickstarter to pre-order copies of my next novel, Picks and Shovels!

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2025/01/08/sirius-cybernetics-corporation/#chatterbox

Image: Cryteria (modified) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:HAL9000.svg

CC BY 3.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/3.0/deed.en

[luimagines]

Important (Hiatus)

....Where do I start?

After three and a half years, I think I've hit burnout.

Ever since my semester started back in August- no, back in the spring, my interests had fully shifted.

I think my career and journey as a writer and story teller are branching out into new territory now. And I want to see where it takes me.

It's been progressively harder to bring myself to write for this blog. I still have things sitting in my drafts and my inbox is still full but I really want to write original stuff and focus more on the series I started.

Not to mention that I genuinely have to start job hunting now as well.

After non-stop uploads and posts for nearly four years, I'm going to say that this is being put on pause. I wanted to last until the fourth anniversary but I can't bring myself to write that many posts and prompts to fill in that gap. Getting to this point was difficult as it was.

Don't get me wrong, I don't want to bring this blog to a full stop.

I still want to talk to people. I still want to hear your ideas and your stories as well. I plan on keeping my commissions open if you still want more Zelda or LU stories, but for the blog itself, I think it's run its course.

I plan to spend more time on my other blog that I made for the stories I plan on writing in the future.

You can find it right here.

I hope to see you there! I have many more stories to tell. I just think that my time for LU is gonna be put on hold for now until my creative energy comes back.

I want to put my energy into something more productive to me in becoming a full-time author.

This community has opened up so many opportunities for me and I've got to talk to so many wonderful people. I couldn't be happier with where I am, truly.

I owe you all so much.

So thank you for entertaining me and my nonsense. <3

Thank you for giving me the push I needed to believe in myself.

And lastly, thank you for sticking with me for as long as you have.

All that being said, there will be no posts (written works) as of next week. And there will be no posts in the foreseeable future unless they have been commissioned and I have been given permission to post them.

[estranhossonhos]

It's obviously not a requirement I look for, whenever I meet someone (friends, bf/gf, doesn't matter - I mean people I want to keep around and nourish a relationship with); but I would love to have a significant other with this kind of mindset. That cooks with joy, plans every mealtime with ease, and feeds on other people's reactions to their food. In fact, whenever I get invited to eat at someone's house, and they complain that the food didn't turn up how they envisioned, or state that «it's nothing fancy» - oh, you have no idea how moments like this warm my body, heart and soul. And I wish I was writing all of this out of nostalgia, with that magical, slow-motion like remembrance about everyone gathered around a table, enjoying themselves, talking, laughing, ... but for me, it goes beyond that.

tw: mental health + unhealthy eating patterns

I try not to feel ashamed by confessing this, but I can't help but notice how people look at me weird. It's such an automated/basic thing everyone does, and I can't do it? «What do you mean? You need food to live, yet you can't cook nor do the groceries? ». Not quite, but I do need a whole day to do it, and a few days in advance to get myself ready for this mundane task. You see, my brain shuts off whenever I look at what's inside my fridge or pantry - if there's even anything in there to begin. I simply cannot put combine ingredients like you do (and it's not due to lack of knowledge). And whenever I can, it will most likely become my go-to meal for the next few weeks. It's a logistical nightmare to even consider going out to the supermarket. Yes, I could order online - but that's another task on itself. 80% of the times this gets me so overstimulated that, I've ended up (discreetly, I hope) crying in public, on a few occasions.

Don't worry, it's not an everyday occurrence. And for better or for worse, I am too self-conscious and pragmatic for this bad habit to take over. But whenever my neurodivergent brain is going through the slumps (you know: those occasional rough patches that resurface every once in a while, sprinkled with anxiety and depression), I prefer to stay in bed, disassociate and lose track of time, with an empty stomach. Even though I merely switched that moment with another filled with more guilt and shame towards myself. And yes, that also includes going out to eat. That's why I (while trying to play it cool) usually choose what somebody else ordered, or what the waiter recommended. This way nobody suspects anything is wrong with me, right?

Now, if this all seems childish and overly dramatic, congratulations: you are a typical functioning human-being. Believe me when I say this: I feel the same way you do, whenever I hear myself complaining about this «first world problem». But unfortunately, this drains the little energy we have to navigate our daily lives as neurodivergent individuals in a neurotypical world. Especially for those with a very tight monthly budget, who live alone or share a place with people they are not close with. Just like you, I used to find unnecessary and environmentally unfriendly all of those pre-packed, peeled and/or frozen meals, veggies and fruits. Nowadays I am thankful whenever I find them, since they quite literally have saved my life multiple times. Chemicals? Not healthy? Never heard of them. I need fuel to get out of bed and to not rot away. And if that fuel is a frozen lasagne with a weird ingredient list, so be it. I promise I'll compensate in a near future, when I am mentally and physically out of the slump, and I feel capable of asking for help (if needed) or to mask myself again as a typical functioning human-being 💪 So, next time you catch yourself complaining about those «unhealthy and ready to eat meals» or any other «unnacessary invention» that promises to make someone's life easier: take a deep breath, question everything but always try to do it out of pure curiosity. This way you're always reach the correct answer, be apart of less judgemental world, with more acessibility, compassion and solidarity towards one another.

Cooking for you is my love language.

[angelltheninth]

What do you think Sokka, Zuko, Korra, Asami, Bolin and Mako would do as aftercare for their S/O?

Oh! I've written aftercare for Korrasami fics before but never for the other characters.

Pairing: Sokka, Zuko, Korra, Asami Sato, Bolin, Mako x Reader

Tags: fluff, suggestive, kissing, naked cuddles, praise, scratches, teasing, lipstick marks, eating together

Ko-Fi | Rules | Fandoms and Characters

A/N: Yes, the things I wrote in my Korassami fics are transferred in here. I've had these headcanons since I started writing Korrasami fics, I can't let go of them.

SOKKA

Is all about that pillow talk. There might be a humble brag thrown in somewhere in there, but generally speaking he wants to make sure you're okay. He's really tuned into how you talk to him after, he's clinging onto every word you as as hard as he's clinging onto you. Starts to sound a bit sleepy as he rambles on, eventually drifting off to sleep next to you.

ZUKO

Doesn't want to make it sound like he's fishing for compliments and praise but he is. Constantly in fact, during the act and especially after. He likes to know he did good, he might have seen it, felt it, but he wants you to let him know even more. His hand is holding yours while he pulls you next to him and he kisses your forehead, affirming to you that he had a good time too.

KORRA

Would really like to cuddle but not before she fetches food and water for you both. It's really important that you both keep your energies up. You never know if you might want a round 2, or 3, or 4. So it's always good to eat and drink afterwards. She will bite and lick your fingers if you try to feed her anything and if you try to steal her food you'll find yourself pinned against the bed.

ASAMI

Smirks at you as she counts the many lipstick marks she left on your body. Her finger tickling you, making you shiver under her touch and she likes it, she likes how easy it is to tease you, wind you up. Maybe she's doing it purposely, maybe she's just helping you calm down and likes the physical contact. Either way she'll leave at least one mark for you to see when you walk up to the mirror.

BOLIN

Pulls you on top of him and snuggles his face against your neck. Don't tell him about the sweat or any other fluids, he doesn't mind one bit, he wants to cuddle with you now. He always makes you feel safe and appreciated, even if he does get rougher if you ask him for some roleplay, he is an actor after all. But he is also mindful not to hold you too hard, he doesn't want to hurt you.

MAKO

Never admits how much he likes the scratch marks you leave on his back, arms and thighs but you always catch him looking at them in the mirror afterwards. As soon as he notices you're fully awake again he rushes to kiss you deeply, his tongue seeking yours. Usually he's pretty stoic but in bed he's always passionate. He wants to return all the affection you show to him on the regular basis.

[path-of-grass-and-leaves]

Bioregional Magic: Sustainable Ways to Work with Native Plants

Note: Post Contains Personal Anecdotes and UPG

As someone with a nature-based practice, I completely understand the desire to work with native plants. Many of us are deeply compelled to foster a connection with our land spirits and the local flora and fauna.

But with the normalization of consumption in witchcraft spaces paired with unethical wildcrafting and foraging practices, it's important to be careful. We don't want to harm the native plant populations and the wildlife that depends on them in our quest for a more localized practice.

Learning which plants are safe to harvest

By safe, I don't mean safe to handle or consume, though this is also crucial knowledge for anyone harvesting wild plants in general. I'm specifically referring to whether or not the collection of native plant matter will make a negative impact on the local ecosystem.

Think of it this way, if your practice is spirit-focused. Will the collective spirits of certain plants really want to assist you if you're devastating their population for your own gain? IME the answer is a hard no.

Take a look at a field guide and start identifying some of the native plants in your region. Are some of them listed as endangered, threatened, or special concern? Now you know which plants you should never disturb or collect materials from.

If not threatened, are some species generally harder to find? Are they present only in a certain type of environment? Do they take a long time to mature and/or have a very specific method of seed dispersal? Proceed with caution.

Example:

Common Blue Violets are one of the first plants to bloom in my garden during springtime. I also consider them very important in my practice and like to harvest them for certain rituals. But like I said, they're one of the first native plants to bloom during spring. Which means there are going to be pollinating insects, songbirds, and small mammals which rely on these plants for food. And predators who rely on those animals.

Since this is a hardy plant that usually grows in abundance, it's okay for me to harvest some from the garden for personal use. But I still need to leave enough to serve as a resource for wildlife and allow it to reproduce for the following year.

On the contrary, I never touch my wild Bloodroot. I only have two or three plants in the garden, their seeds have double dormancy germination requirements, and they take 2-3 years to reach blooming size. I have only ever collected seeds for propagation, and even then do it rarely because I know that the ants do a much better job at this than I could.

So when we can't harvest materials to use for tools and ingredients in workings, how do we utilize these plants in our practice?

Physical Representations and Symbolism

Images, objects, and symbols representing the plant can be used to substitute organic matter that you would otherwise collect and use for workings. Consider art pieces or photos, sculptures, sigils and seals, paper cut or folded into the shape of leaves or flowers, etc.

If the plant is your main component or energy source, consider designing the working to cater to this. For example, if I'm petitioning the spirit of milkweed, I might want to incorporate aspects of air and wind, since this is how their seeds are distributed. Or I may want to add some lunar energies knowing that this is the planetary correspondence for milkweed. This is would completely depend on my intent for the specific working and which physical or spiritual aspects of the plant I choose to work with.

If you're seeking a more long-term effect, try getting crafty and using symbols of the plant to decorate your own tools. I'm talking homemade oracle cards, painted jars or boxes for container spells, decorated offering bowls, ritual jewelry, and so on.

Working with Living Plants

This one is for the spirit workers. While it's entirely possible to petition plant spirits, especially collectives, solely using imagery, working carefully with a living plant can help establish a more direct spiritual connection.

This can be done by conducting your working outdoors, inviting the spirit of the plant into your space, and asking for assistance. During this time you would leave an offering, usually fresh water, but you can also offer things like soil or compost. Obtaining a working knowledge of certain plants can help inspire ideas for more creative, species-appropriate offerings, giving your spells and rituals an extra boost.

Now if this were a plant that was on a special concern or endangered species list, I would avoid offerings and actions that could potentially disturb the plant in any way. I may work within a few feet of the plant and present my offering in a bowl, removing it at the end of the working. I would definitely avoid touching it or say, pouring out water over the soil where it grows.

While we're on the subject of offerings, consider acts of service. Once again, we're going to use milkweed as an example. If I want to leave a nice offering for the spirit of milkweed and I know that Black Swallowtails feed on the nectar and pollinate it, I may offer a potted plant of dill placed in the wildflower garden. This is because Black Swallowtail caterpillars love to eat dill and will later pupate into adults, which will be beneficial for the plant. Consider different species and their relationship with each other. You may even get multiple spirit allies out of the deal.

Cultivation and Seed Distribution

Now, we've talked about ways to avoid harm when incorporating native plant species into our practices, but what about making a positive impact?

The Act of Growing Things is actually my favorite part of plant magic. Sure, I love harvesting my vegetables, fruit, and herbs to use in various recipes, and wild plants I find in the yard are excellent allies. But there really is something special about watching a tiny seedling grow into a full-sized plant, or seeing that delicate young native perennial thrive during its first year outdoors.

Whether transplanting or growing from seed, you're inevitably going to develop a strong relationship with that specific plant. You'll learn all about its growth rate, ecological benefits, soil requirements, and more. This will lead to folklore, correspondences, and later on your own UPG related to where this plant fits within your practice.

Another option, if you don't have the energy for more hands-on cultivation, is seed scattering. Disturbed areas like roadside ditches or even your backyard are perfect for this. Whether scattering or growing in starter pots, seeds can be charmed or enchanted with a specific intent and planted as a sort of living spell.

I use Prarie Moon Nursery for my seeds, but there are plenty of other affordable online vendors. You can also check out what's available locally. There are a few native-focused nurseries in my area that have a nice variety of options depending on the season.

[nanamis-bigtie]

loving your chubby body

↬ feat. higuruma hiromi, ino takuma, gojo satoru, geto suguru, kusakabe atsuya x gn afab!reader ↬ jjk masterlist // ao3 version

cw: smut, pwp, reader has a vagina, piv sex for most of them, warnings wary per character (read them especially at geto's part), MINORS DNI a/n: on my way to spread more love for plus size readers! inspired by this art. divider by saradika

higuruma hiromi

cw: intercrural sex, clit stimulation

"Just a little more—" Hiromi's voice shatters with each breath. He's fighting brave but his own excitement is his greatest opponent, and each drag of his hips brings him closer to the delicious defeat.

With your thighs pressed tight together and bent over the kitchen counter, you're at mercy of his thrusts. This position is a little uncomfortable, your elbows will hate you for that later, but little do you care about it in the heat of the moment. It's happened too fast, too; one moment you're melting into your partner's embrace as he gently scoops you from behind and prompts his chin on your shoulder to see the work of your hands better—the other he's pounding into you like an animal in heat.

"Just—" He pants into your ear, chest flush to your back, both of his hands groping at your rolls and softness. Half-unbuckled belt digs into your exposed ass; he hasn't undone his pants properly, just moved clothes enough to slam himself against your slick.

He hasn't sunk himself inside though. The roll on top of your thick thighs, his beloved part of your body, bewitched him and swallowed the first, desperate thrust. He hasn't abandoned it since, forcing your legs to close and squeeze his cock in between. You feel it throbbing against your slit; he's hard, hot and gushing, right on the verge of finishing but somehow savoring the moment, only thanks to his stubborn temperance.

You would love to watch his fat tip poking through your clenched legs whenever he bottoms out. No chance for it in the current position, but from the sensation alone you can picture it—your own imagination has you drooling and needy.

"They're so soft..." Hiromi's voice is on the verge of crying. He nuzzles face into the back of your neck, teeth grazing your skin but not daring to take a bite. He's too busy fighting for air and chasing his pleasure.

He rocks himself whole against you, the sheer force of his moves forcing you into the counter and bruising your torso where it meets the edge. His arms around you tighten, his hands full of your chest and stomach, and his hips relentlessly meet your ass. He likes to take you from behind to watch it ripple but even this view can't rival the intoxicating warmth of your thick thighs. He won't pull away even for a second, not before he's covered them with his cum, milked of everything he has for you tonight.

The way he whines your name, broken 'I love you's and praises spells the finish—but Hiromi is stronger than that. He powers through it, almost crushing you in his arms all the way he can wrap them around you, and finds a new reserve of energy to rut into you with fresh pacing and angle. He's pressed closer to your cunt now, so close he's almost slipping in, but he's too lost in it to focus and buckle down to it a little more.

He can bump your clit right now, though, unintentionally edging you both together and eventually breaking you into moans and spasms, your legs too weak to withstand your weight and his enthusiasm.

"Keep it for me—" He growls when you start to falter, yanking you into the right position with impatience you would never suspect him of. "Please."

ino takuma

cw: weight-related insecurity, face-sitting talk, against the wall

"Why not?"

You wonder if Takuma is aware how soppy he looks now, cheek nuzzled into your thigh and looking up at you with a mix of shock and pleading in his eye. Just a moment earlier he's been relentlessly building up the churning in your abdomen with hasty kisses and greedy work of his tongue; his breath is still short after endless adoration of your rolls and curves. It's soothing the fresh hickey right under the edge of your groin, place that's stopped him in his tracks once he took a whiff of you, daring him to jump on you with an unexpected and selfish request.

"I don't want to— You know." You flounder between still heavy breathing and explanations. The answer is obvious with how there's nothing hidden between you two, all insecurities stripped naked for him, but it still doesn't want to pass your lips. As if you would crumble all of the courage and confidence you've built to be here with him if you admitted to the problem outright.

Takuma gets it and is having none of that at the same time.

"You think you could hurt me?" There's a shade of hurt ego behind his laughter. "Babe, please. You've seen the things I carried."

"Well... You've never carried me."

As if you ever let him, time after time escaping grabby and eager hands. Not in front of the others, not when you're wearing that, not when it's so hot, another day, another day, finally never. And you see it in the fire pushing the teary and pleading look in his eye away. His ego is one thing but being played like this right after being denied a delicious treat could not escape unpunished.

Still on his knees, Takuma hooks arms under your knees, still spread wide to fit his enthusiasm and adoration, and yanks you up. For a moment you're in the air with no support but your hands in panic grabbing any part of his body they could reach—but soon you find balance, supported by his strong grab on your ass. He holds you as if you were nothing, cheeky grin pushed right into your face as he's advancing on the nearest wall, soon having your back pushed against it, so tight and close you can't take a full breath anymore.

"If you don't want my face—" He adjusts the grip, having you with one arm while reaching down to align his cock with you— "we're gonna play this way."

You're dropped down just a little, enough to have him sinking inside with the help of gravity alone. Both of you groan in pleasure, your lips an inch away and soon meeting in a chaotic, wet kiss. He doesn't keep it for long, focused on raw and ruthless pacing, the deeper and faster the more you helplessly claw into his shoulders and back, your legs just useless and dangling by his sides.

"How are you feeling?" Takuma rasps into your neck, by no means tired, just barely restraining himself from destroying you right here, against the wall in the living room. "Still worried you're too heavy for my face?"

As if you could answer him, choking on moans, your eyes rolling back in your head on the deep and rough highway to your orgasm, the first of a few waiting for you tonight.

gojo satoru

cw: cowgirl, overstimulation, implied creampie

Your knees are slowly meeting their limit.

Luckily, this orgasm is not as strong, gently washing over you and having you shudder and sigh deep. Satoru holds you through it with patience, unheard of except intimate moments like these, but under the comforting pressure of his big hands creeps the insatiable need for more. You've been chasing him as best as you could, for the years you've been sleeping together already used to his habits and much better at this race than you were at the beginning—but in the end you're a human only.

No amount of stamina could ever satisfy the strongest.

He leans backwards but doesn't pull you with him, letting your bodies cool down each on their own. He's lying beneath you now, a delicious treat for your gaze. Disheveled, pink taint brushing his pale skin, sweat pearling all over his toned chest and abs, white happy trail wet with your juices, blindfold crooked and revealing one of his deep-blue eyes, following each move of yours with attention... You could never have enough of how pretty he is, of how lucky you are to have him like this for yourself only.

The swaying of your hips ceases, heaving of your chest the only move you have left for now. You feel discomfort in your knees, thighs and groin, not too much yet, but really close. If not for his girth still pulsing like mad deep in you, you would gladly help yourself and roll off him for a much-deserved rest. But after all those orgasms he's given you—well, mostly with the work of your body in his lap—it's just unfair to leave him unsatisfied. It's nothing you wouldn't solve with your hand or mouth, but you would not hear the end of it if your once-in-a-week treat for a whole night hadn't finished with him cum inside of you.

"C'mon, move a little." Satoru pokes your stomach, not so gently this time and smirking at your whine and a little wiggle of hips. He knows you adore when he's touching you there and he's gotten way too good at using it in his favor.

"Let me—" You haven't even collected your breathing and thoughts yet. "Just a moment, okay? Give me—"

With a bratty smirk, he plants heels into the bed and bumps you up, his huge cock finding a new angle to slide even deeper into you. Sudden spark of pleasure shakes your body whole, from eyes rolling in the back of your head to toes curling by his sides. When teetering on the edge of overstimulation, it's so easy to fall into another orgasm.

But you've withstood this one, hands clenched on his wrists so hard you mark his skin with your nails.

"Move," he orders half-heartedly, threatening with another thrust building in his hips—so you move, as much as your exhausted and strained legs let you.

It's enough for the insatiable beast for now. Pleased, Satoru pushes both hands against your stomach and kneads your rolls. At first, it's just a motivation for you to ride him faster. But something clicks and he's not teasing you anymore, blind and indifferent to everything but the feeling of your softness and the sight of your skin pouring around his fingers.

You test your luck, cease your moves again—just for the hold to squeeze you tighter and force you to pick the rhythm up. Hypnotized, Satoru is even more selfish and merciless.

geto suguru

cw: canon compliant geto, exhibitionism, cockwarming, dom/sub undertones, dumbification vibe, public sex, geto kills someone

The man kneeling in front of you two might have an idea what's going on, but he would never dare to let you know he's aware—yet to vocalize his confusion or indignation. He's sweating profoundly under the weight of Suguru's stare, mumbling chaotic explanations and excuses, his eyes transfixed on Suguru's feet.

You don't even know who that is and why has he's been dragged to writhe and babble. Before a different matter has occupied the top spot of your attention share, you've understood enough to recognize him as one of the windows sympathizing with the cause. But why did he fall from favor? Maybe it has been addressed already, maybe Suguru himself is not clued in enough, just treating the man as an excellent opportunity to play with you instead.

It doesn't matter. You're perched in his lap; you're engulfed by his greedy touch and perverse ideas. You're pressing against him with your whole weight, exactly as he likes, and squeezing his cock in your hot and tight hole.

Countless, wide layers of Suguru's clothes can cover your union with ease. Having one of his arms loosely wrapped around you, he hides the most of your body behind the sleeve. The other, resting on top of your lap, secures the rest. For a casual, lost eye, he's only holding you close, his favorite, his beloved toy, his doe-eyed innocent thing he treats like a comfort object. In reality, he's keeping you to cockwarm him in front of everyone who'll pass through this room until he'll be bored with torturing you and will take you on the same chair or on the floor next to it.

With no one around, if you're lucky.

As the man squirms on the floor, almost kissing it with the way he bows lower and lower, Suguru mindlessly traces your love handles. You twitch when he brushes a particularly ticklish spot and squeeze him even tighter. But you don't move, your face slotted in the crook of his neck, eyes focused on his handsome face and full of adoration. Part of you is terrified of delicious consequences, part wants to spare yourself overstimulation. With your nerves tense and teased relentlessly for what feels like hours, you're constantly on the edge of snapping. Even Suguru's breathing is like a torture; oh, what you would gladly give away to have him finally move and sate the fire between your legs.

"Did you hear him?" Suguru takes your chin into hand and brushes thumb against your slightly parted lips. When you can't stop the tiniest of mewls, he squeezes your cheeks, maybe with an encouragement, maybe with a warning. "What do you think, my sweetest, should we kill him?"

You roll your head further into him, feinting a whispered advice but in fact—wordlessly begging for this farce to end. You're meeting your limit, a minute more and you'll lose the last strand of dignity left in you and beg instead to be fucked right here and now, accidental voyeurs be damned.

"You're lucky I'm in a good mood today." Suguru's eyes rest on the man, now crying in relief and thanking him in the sweetest words, but the sentence is for your ears only.

Suguru turns the unwelcomed witness away with an impatient flick of a wrist, closes both arms around you tight even before he leaves the room. You hear a loud thud by the door when a curse pierces through the man's back, killing him instantly, but the aftertaste of reaction is faint and soon disappears midst Suguru's deep kisses.

kusakabe atsuya

cw: big breasts fetish, handjob, reader in lingerie

When you unclasp your bra and let your breast pour out of its confines, Atsuya throws everything he's been holding and pounces on you right away.

You haven't seen each other for a whole weekend—weekends should be crossed out of his agenda, but luck wasn't on your side this time—and you know it was rough to him. He put on a brave mask and casually brushed off all your proposals, from the facetime to exchanging nudes, but his curt messages and taut voice through the speaker just reeked of desperation. He's been pent up for a while now, crumbs of intimacy he stole from you along the week not enough to sate his libido. 

Just to think he warned you beforehand that he might be too tired for you; since the day he's taken you for the first time you're the one who has to beg for mercy from his relentless desire.

You set a little trap. Lingerie Atsuya bought you for your anniversary hasn't been tested yet in action, its tight fit and very feminine appearance needing a particular opportunity and mood. Opportunity couldn't be better, the mood set itself as soon as his face went red and mouth agape at the sight. Work and travel exhaustion is gone in second—and the only thing you have to worry is whether the delicate lace will withstand how strong he grabs and pulls.

Atsuya buries his face into your bust straight away, no word said, no touch stolen from the other parts of your body—just a lewd moan muffled by your mounds and hands scooping them from sides to cushion himself better. He rubs himself into your warmth and scent, growls, pleased, when he catches your natural tinge not yet washed away after the day. The tent in his pants grows crazy fast; you don't lose a moment and free him as soon as he leaves you an opening for it.

He throbs against your palm so hard that you worry your surprise might be finished way too early. Atsuya withstands the temptation, somehow, but does nothing to control himself in any other way. He's more fucking your fist than letting you stroke him, his precum dripping down your fingers and turning your grip slick, almost too much.

Holding himself between your tits until he's out of breath, Atsuya finally peels away enough to look at you, "I missed you. I missed them."

He licks and sucks, peppers your breasts with kisses and hickeys until he settles on one of your nipples. He's rougher than usual, brushing at the line of discomfort and letting you feel his teeth; you will be too sensitive for a bra for a day or two to come, but you still pull on his hair and prompt him closer. You missed him. You missed that.

With the first hunger satisfied, you finally find the right, united rhythm. His hips slow down enough to let you work for him, your hold on him is gentler and leaving him more space and freedom. Atsuya is not going anywhere though, only once taking a sudden turn to kiss your neck, but the delicious valley between your breasts bewitches him again.

Both arms wrapped around you, hands adoring your love handles, he pulls you whole into him, having you perched in his lap, and groaning when you find a new angle to jerk him off. "I missed every piece of you."

[beef-brisket]

Adam laughed as he exited the party, waving to a few of the guests. In all of his years in Heaven, he never thought he'd enjoy parties. That's not saying Heaven didn't have any, but they were very different fmto the ones in Hell. Alcohol definitely wasn't allowed. But Adam won't lie. He enjoyed being drunk, it was unlike anything he's ever experienced.

He could do without the hangover, though.

Tonight, he was able to get out of his head and stop worrying about Steve and Lucifer. And his meeting with Asmodeus tomorrow where he finds out where on Earth he'll be going. That's if he even gets there. He wasn't too sure if Ozzie's plan for putting a different "mispelled" name would work. Lucifer's an idiot, but he's not THAT stupid.

Adam sighed and wrapped his arms around himself as he walked back to Verosika's house. He could feel that anxiety prickling at his skin. That worry flooding back. After everything he did to get rid of it, it comes back like Adam didn't just spend nearly six hours getting wasted.

Adam: Fuck me...

Speaking of, he didn't even get laid. He was still getting used to this "needing sex for energy" thing, but he just doesn't feel like it.

Adam's been away from Steve for nearly a week, and he could feel the need pulsing through him. He could ignore it for now, but hopefully, he would be on earth before it becomes unbearable.

Sighing, Adam looks around, watching other hellborn do their thing. Stumbling out of bars, singing loudly with their friends as they walk down the street, lining up outside food vendors.

He hoped that one day, his life would be normal like that. A day where he'd have no worries, he wouldn't be scared to go out, afraid of who he would run into.

Groaning as his stomach grumbled, he decided a good meal should help with the anxiety. At least, he hoped.

-

Adam: WHAT?!

Ozzie sighed as he placed the paper back on his desk: I'm sorry, Adam-.

Adam: Declined?! He declined it?! He- I thought you said he's never declined an application before!

Ozzie pinched the brow of his nose. He fucking talked to Lucifer about this, he was only going to drive Adam away. And even the Sin could tell he was struggling down here.

Ozzie: He doesn't. He hasn't... stupid bastard... he's an idiot, babe. Look. You don't want to be here, I understand-.

Adam covered his face with his hands: It's not that- I just... my manager... I was hoping to get away from him, too. And now... I'm fucking stuck here.

Ozzie: Your manager?

Adam nodded: He's been... close to finding me. I can't hide at Ver's place forever. She has her own shit to do. I'll have to go back to-.

Shaking, Adam couldn't finish his sentence before he started crying. He was terrified to go back to Steve to see him again.

Ozzie: Oh, darling.

Adam cried more when he felt himself be softly embraced and pulled into a warm hug. He just wanted this to be over. He was trapped in Heaven, and just when he was finding himself in Hell, Steve took advantage of his new freedom. And now, Charlie, Vaggie, and Nifty just HAD to tell Lucifer about him. So now, he has two crazy assholes on his ass.

Ozzie: I'm so sorry, Adam. Really. I am.

Adam: I-It's o-ok-okay-.

Ozzie: No, it's not. You're the first man. The commander of the exorcists. Nothing should scare you. But you're petrified. You're in my ring, Adam. You're one of my people now, and you know what? I like you. Really. You're an interesting person, and the Lust Ring could really benefit from having you here.

Adam slowly looked up at Ozzie: R-Really?

Ozzie smiled: Really. I want to help you, Adam. There's five other rings in Hell. All of them filled with the horniest fuckers ever born. I'll help you set yourself up somewhere else. Or, if you like Lust, I'll employ you.

Adam: Employ me? What does that mean?

Ozzie: You can still do your shows, or you could sing at my bars. And get all of the sex your heart desires. And be paid, of course~.

Adam: A... bar singer...?

Ozzie: I know it may seem like a downgrade, but their all very fancy. Trust me. I only ask one thing in return.

Adam: What's that?

Ozzie smiled: Of you're comfortable, I'd love for you to model some sex toys for me. All for advertisement, of course. You're a very attractive man, Adam. And you need to be seen. But of course, all of this is only with your consent, even if you say no, I'd love for you to sing and perform at my establishments.

Adam thought about for a moment: ...Okay. I'll do it.

He smiled up at Ozzie, who smiled back: I'll write your contract up then. I'll have my receptionist bring you in when it's ready.

Leaving the room, Adam felt a wash was relief. He was finally doing something that he was actually excited about. He's never performed in front of a small crowd before, but he was willing to do anything to make a name for himself, his way.

That didn't mean he didn't want to kill Lucifer for declining his application, but he was ready for this next step. He didn't need Steve, and he sure as hell didn't need Lucifer.

Succubus au

@beef-brisket

@fanofstuff01

(This au was originally on @things-aren't-what-they-seem66blog and was originally thought of by an anonymous ask)

The roaring of the crowd and the playing of his guitar deafened his ears but the incubus didn't care. He loved the way they cheered his name while he shredded on his axe. With one final strum, his song was done. He raised his arms and gave the horns, to which his fans reciprocated, and bid them all goodnight. He walked away his hands still raised until he was out of sight from them. Adam sighed heavily and wiped the sweat with his forearm as he made his way to his dressing room.

Once there he flopped onto the couch and groaned. Though Adam loved being a rockstar and having adoring fans, he wouldn't lie to himself, each performance, especially concerts, can be quite draining since he always had to prepare with mic checks and making sure he sounded right. Steve, his producer/manager/on-and-off-again fling, always assured him that these were mandatory. Just one of those sacrifices that come with being a star. Still, Adam felt a little like shit and he needed a drink, a hard one. Unfortunately, his evening wasn't quite over yet as knocking was heard from the other side of the door then a voice called out.

Assistant: Excuse me? Commander? I'm sorry for bothering you but I brought the VIP guests here with me.

Adam sighed completely forgetting about that. Almost all VIPs get access to meet him after every show. Though he loved his fans coming to him and saying how much they loved him, maybe even getting some head from the older crowd, tonight, he didn't want to. However, he knew that he didn't have much of a choice. Unless he wanted Steve up his ass, and not in a good way. Letting out a long groan he sat up, rubbed his eyes, and yelled out to her.

Adam: Bring them in.

He closed his eyes and sighed once again as he heard the door open and feet shuffle in. He prepared himself for the immediate responses of squealing and clamoring over to shake his hand. However, he was not prepared for a familiar voice to call out his name.

Charlie: A, Adam?

He opened his eyes and standing in front of him were Charlie, Vaggie, and a one-eyed sinner.

[nightlyrequiem]

miss requiem please please with a cherry on top make detective reader part 2?!?!???!?

Of course of course! For some reason this was so hard for me to write??? I don't know if I like how it turned out. Alikeness 1 and 2 will probably be getting a rewrite in the future...

First Part

Tags/Warnings: WLW, Gun Violence, Murder, Mild Violence

Alikeness II

"You and I are alike." 

Valeria's words leave you uneasy and disturbed. You should turn her in. You know her identity. But for some reason you just can't bring yourself to make it common knowledge. You tell yourself it's because she wouldn't face proper punishment through the legal system. Money talks.

Yes. That is why you can't tell anyone. You're immune to corruption. An archangel sent to cleanse this Earth of evil. The blood of the tainted only purifies you. Your only interaction with Valeria shook you. You stayed away. Only for the time being. Focusing your efforts on others that need exterminating. Bad people you can't prove are bad in the eyes of the law, but you know. You always know. It's a sixth sense. 

You stare down at the plastic wrapped body of a corrupt politician. Valeria's words ringing in your ears as you fill his grave with dirt. He was taking bribes from the cartel. He was actively trying to take away the rights of other people because of his greed and hatred. The plastic around his mouth slowly rises and falls. You had to do this.

You've been given a new case at work. They're looking for the person responsible for the murders of previous cases. They're looking for you. You're forced to stay silent while your collogues unknowingly call you all kinds of names. You're disheartened to hear that the general public thinks of you as a monster. You make them afraid.

You stay in late, acting as though you're looking into the murders of the previous cases when really, you're plotting your next move on Valeria. It's not safe at home anymore. You're too paranoid about her bugging your house. Even your office is starting to feel unsafe. During the day you eye your coworkers with distrust. One of them could very likely be working with Valeria.

You keep your head pressed to the wall. Eyes shut tightly so you can think.

'You and I are alike.'

Begrudgingly, you accept that the statement is true to an extent. Two sides of the same coin but where you are capable of doing bad things for good, she does bad things for selfish gain. You slowly move away from the wall. You can use that to your advantage. Think like Valeria to kill Valeria.

You're shoved to the ground with the barrel of a gun pressed to the back of your head. Valeria looks down at you with a blank expression.

"You were right." You say, looking up at her. The low lighting is giving you a headache.

"About?" Valeria raises a brow.

"Me. Us." You reply. "I'm too good for what I do and I am not appreciated. Why should I expend my energy fighting for people who think I'm a monster?"

Valeria stares you contemplatively. A glint in her eyes.

"Yes, why should you?" She hums. Valeria slowly walks towards you and crouches down to eye level.

"You told me to find you when I was ready to accept that." You say. Disturbed at the small part of you that's tempted to believe it.

You didn't get to work with her at first. Valeria is a distrustful person and for two weeks she kept you locked in a cage. Only after she began to let her guard down did she let you out. You started work guarding shipments. Feeling disgusted at how you were helping her. But you took your job seriously, even if you didn't agree with the tasks you were given, you still took it seriously. Telling yourself it's a necessary evil.

You pace the dock. Watching the dock workers sign off on the cargo and taking the bribe to keep quiet about it. A shot rings out and the worker falls to his knees. You and your companions dive for cover. Alarmed by the sudden and unexpected bullets flying through the air. Your only thought is to protect the cargo. Keep the cargo safe. Leaping up you make a run for the ship. Something wizzes past your face and slices your cheek. Warm blood trickles from the cut. Bullets rain behind you as you climb aboard. 

You swiftly run to the cargo hold. Pulling out your gun you sit silently. Waiting. Careful footsteps sound in the hall. Heavy combat boots against the floor. Your grip on your gun tightens. A man decked out in riot gear enters, rifle slowly panning over the room. You crouch low, hiding behind a large barrel.

You move out of sight. Keeping to the shadows. The man nudges the lid of another barrel, shining his light inside. Is he seeing alcohol or bags of cocaine? You sneak up behind you and cock your gun. The noise alerts the man, and he promptly swivels to face you, rifle pointed at your chest. He stiffens and says your name. You recognize his voice. You worked with him before. Familiarity means nothing to you. He lowers his weapon, but you keep yours pointed at him.

"Are you okay?" He asks. "You've been missing for weeks, we thought the cartel got you."

"It did." You say. Feeling a little regretful.

"... I'm going to get you out of here, okay?" He says softly, like he's trying to soothe a child.

You back up.

"One of us will be getting out of here, yes, but it won't be you." You reply.

"What are you talking about?" He says, his voice hardening. "Whatever they have over you, if you're scared, it doesn't matter, we can get you into a witness protection program."

You frown. "I can't let you leave because you will jeopardize the cartel and this shipment." You say. Something unpleasant crawls down your spine at the realization that you mean those words.

The man tightens his grip on his gun.

"You're here... willingly?" He asks hesitantly, sounding disappointed.

You remain stony faced. "I am." You nod.

He raises his gun, aiming for your chest. "Then I'm going to have to ask you to put your gun down and put your hands behind your head."

You slowly lower your gun and raise your hands, staring straight as him as you do so.

He circles around you and comes up from behind. You can hear his laboured breathing behind his mask. His gloved hand brushes your wrist and you swivel, grabbing his gun. He pulls the trigger, the shot sounding too loud in the cramped cargo hold. You hiss and wrench it away, stumbling. The force pushes him down and before he can stand and make himself an even bigger threat you fire into his chest blindly. Emptying the clip.

You realize that you're shaking. Your shoulders drop as you stare at what you've done. Shame and rationalization warring in your head. Hurried footsteps head towards the cargo hold and you hope it's not more of them. They stop and you feel the presence of people. You don't bother turning because whatever will happen, will happen.

"You protected the shipment." Valeria says. Sounding a little surprised. You were supposed to kill her. That was the whole point of seeking her out to join her cartel. Instead, you shot one of your own.

"That's what I'm supposed to do." You murmur. He isn't moving anymore. Are his eyes open or closed behind the helmet?

Valeria mutters something to the people beside her and they leave. She walks forward and puts her hands on your shoulders. Her face next to yours.

"I'm proud of you." She says. "Not everyone is capable of doing the right thing."

Her words comfort you somewhat. You wish it were her lying there instead. "hm."

"Your foot is bleeding." she tells you, grabbing you by the arm to lead you out of that room. "I'll patch that up for you."

[erigold13261]

.

[originalcontent]

I can't find art of my ship anywhere so I GUESS that means I have to make it myself, here are some doodles.

[celestialmantdonna]

Groot and Drax exchanged glances as Reks and the other guard started speaking. Drax, always humble, mistakenly assumed that Arvin was an admirer of his who wanted to say hello. Groot, on the other hand, initially thought he had gotten in trouble for chasing the lizards.

The more the two men spoke, though, the more questions the two Guardians had. Looking at each other, Drax and Groot shrugged simultaneously, neither of them knowing what Reks and Arvin were talking about. Apparently, the Guardians had uncovered a plot against the King and Prince of Dalmasca.

"We have?" Drax asked with both hands resting on his belt. But when he saw the look Groot gave him, he stood taller. "Yes, we have indeed."

"Why is everyone trying to kill everyone today?" Groot asked, though only Drax would understand him. He stood on Reks' shoulder carefully. "I don't get it... Why?!"

"Exactly!" Drax said with vehemence. "Why would anyone want to kill the Prince? He is beautiful!"

"Maybe someone's jealous of the way he looks and they think he has to die," Groot suggested innocently. It seemed like a perfectly logical explanation in his young mind, but saying it aloud made it appear all the more real, and he gasped audibly. "Oh no! What are we gonna do?"

"We do not know if that is certain," Drax replied. After a brief pause, he added, "But it seems plausible."

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* . ───

Mantis smiled at the maid when she complimented her, before gesturing for Elin to follow her.

"Thank you! Elin... That's a pretty name! Come sit, please." She ushered the young woman to the sofa; it would help in case Elin needed to lay down due to the delicate nature of the topic at hand.

"Elin, as you can probably tell... I am not a human, or... hume, as you say. I possess certain... abilities," she began. "There is a reason why I wanted to speak to you privately. I am an empath. I am able to read others, and I can feel sources of energy. Life. Like the life sir Azelas attempted to take from me. So in return, I made him tell us his... um, tell us his secrets."

Mantis held out a hand so Elin could take it if she needed. "If there is anything I can help you with..."

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* . ───

Gamora stood still and showed a blank expression as Raminas spoke with his son, though she nodded politely and offered a small smile when Caelen thanked her and said he would assist the Guardians as they needed.

"Just remember to get us the blade for my teammate and that will be enough repayment. It will make her smile." Her tone was a little more engaging and friendly this time, betraying the smallest hint of playfulness.

Moments later, Gamora was a bit surprised when Munoh reappeared, but it gladdened her to know that they brought word from Nabradia.

Apparently, Prince Rasler and Princes Eswynn would arrive sooner than intended; a formal dinner would take place. And Caelen wanted to... invite the Guardians? Gamora's eyes widened slightly, glancing and Munoh when they agreed with their chosen mortal.

"I will find my fellow teammates and tell them we have been invited. Thank you." She offered a polite nod. "Rest assured, we will not mention the invasion. I will inform my comrades of this as well."

With that, Gamora spun and left the throne room.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* . ───

Rocket and Quill were leaving the Benatar when they spotted Gamora from afar. Quill called her name, waving his arm with a big grin on his face.

"Gamora! Here!"

The woman saw them and approached the two Guardians. Her arms crossed over her chest.

"Any luck with the ship?"

"It's gonna take me a while to fix it, that much I can tell ya," Rocket replied. "Until then, I made somethin' to... uh... y'know, help improve Mantis' abilities."

"How?" Gamora asked.

"Uh, I dunno, remember that one time when she put a livin' planet to sleep? 'Cause you saw it, I saw it, we all saw it. The girl doesn't know how powerful she is, but I do. She's said before that she can't dull her powers. That means they can only grow. This will simply... dial 'em up to eleven. She'll be able to fuck shit up."

"I see." Gamora nodded and straightened. "I thought you said you don't care about us."

"You know me, I love a little mayhem and she's got the power. There's a lotta potential for chaos there."

"In any case..." Gamora smirked and shook her head. "We have been invited to have dinner with the royal family tonight, as well as the Prince and Princess of Nabradia."

"Huh?" Rocket narrowed his eyes.

"It's a celebration," Gamora clarified.

"A celebration," Rocket repeated numbly. And then he broke into a fit of laughter.

"What are we celebrating?" Quill asked.

"The wedding. Princess Ashelia is going to marry Prince Rasler. And I... I suspect it's an arrangement," Gamora said, remembering how anxious Ashelia seemed when she told Gamora and Mantis about the event.

"And why the fuck should we give a shit 'bout the wedding?" Rocket barked.

"Yeah, I don't get it either. Why would the King invite us?"

"The King didn't invite us. Caelen did," Gamora clarified.

"Ah, of course." Rocket rolled his eyes. "Of course Prince Charming's gonna take us under his wing, Mantis was able to get along with his invisible friend after all. Wonderful."

"Dude..." The Star-Lord's voice was a whisper. "Dinner means there will be food..."

The two stared at each other for a moment as Gamora's hands moved to rest on her hips.

"Okay, fine, we're goin', whatever," Rocket said.

"We must not mention the invasion in front of the Prince and Princess of Nabradia," Gamora explained. "King Raminas believes Prince Rasler might want to go defend his home which is... understandable. For his safety, we should refrain from bringing that up."

Another Time, Another Place (A Hollow Universe In Space) || closed with tarnishedxknight

@tarnishedxknight continued from here

The Guardians stood there, letting Captain Basch formally introduce them to King Raminas. They all then bowed respectfully except for Rocket, who only did so because Gamora pushed his head down. They trusted Basch for the most part, as he assured them no one would hurt them after telling them to leave their weapons at the ship. Quill and Gamora were the first ones to leave theirs; Drax didn't want to leave his knives, but did so after Mantis looked at him, while Rocket pulled a comical amount of retractable weapons from his pockets.

As they followed Basch, Mantis had stayed behind for a moment to approach Vossler. She felt much better after Munoh sent her some calm energy, and she smirked at the man. Suddenly, her hand was on his cheek, her antennae aglow. "Whenever you open your mouth to say something unkind, you will wail like a baby. Honestly, it might be more coherent than anything else you have said," she whispered. She patted his cheek twice as if to seal her whimsical behest, and hurried to follow the Guardians as Basch guided them through the palace of Rabanastre.

Quill straightened and cleared his throat to speak to the King. Mantis took his hand; Quill was a little confused, but he allowed it since he knew she wasn't feeling great.

"Your Majesty," he said, once again lowering his voice in an attempt to mirror Basch's formal tone and presence, hoping it would make the King like him more. "We come in peace. We thank you for your time, and we apologize for occupying one of your docks. I think I have–" He stopped talking rather suddenly, and swallowed. "Uh... I think... I have..."

What was happening was that Mantis was frantically reading his thoughts as he spoke, using her powers to interrupt him because he was going to say he had the perfect stuff to make up for it, wanting to show the King some Terran music with the Zune. While Terran music was excellent, Mantis knew not everyone would like it, nor find it an acceptable form of apology.

"I have no excuse," Quill said instead. "And I have to... shut up... now."

[palettepainter]

Every time I remember there are no official ROTTMNT plushies a part of my soul dies

[licorishh]

Hey as a super introverted but not shy person I'd just like to say the jokes about extroverts "adopting" introverts to "get them out of their shell" are actually completely unfunny and it just goes to show how little respect a lot of y'all have for the fact that we genuinely don't want excessive social interaction and that y'all are forcing us to do something that brings us extreme physical and mental discomfort because you perceive our introversion as a failing rather than as purely a difference in personality.

We don't need your "help" to socialize. We're not children. We're simply not interested in spending every waking second of our lives talking to people and being talked at in return.

[disdaidal]

So, I met my nurse today and she said I'm finally getting scheduled for the ADHD testing on Dec 18th—after all these years. Albeit she said that it may not change a thing, but it's good to test it anyway.

I also had a discussion with my teacher today about my problems and we went through some stuff, and I might feel a little bit more enlightened about some things, which will hopefully help me.

Still. I'm having trouble with planning some stuff at my workplace because the staff there simply doesn't have time, and my instructor is also a very busy person (plus she's fussy and impatient and a little upset/disappointed with me which is not making it any easier for me), so that is still giving me a lot of stress right now.

So, I don't know. On the other hand, one teacher says I'm doing a good job and that I shouldn't quit. Then again, this particular school and their style of teaching simply might not be the thing for me and I expressed that concern today as well. I need help getting through with some stuff and nobody has time for me, so it's obviously not good.

I also need to find another place to train soon and that workplace would have to be something where I wouldn't have to manage 15 things at the same time and well. Finding that could be a challenge, too.

But. I suppose we're going somewhere.

[goblin-enjoyer]

I swear why are half the things i like/fandoms im in made of mostly younger people while the other half are mostly older people? what are the zoggin odds with that?

How it feels being 20 in a fandom with a bunch of 30-40 somethings.

VS how it feels being 20 in a fandom with a bunch of 14-17 somethings.

like am do i just have extremely odd luck with things i like or is this just what being 20 is like?