#and now I don't know how to set boundaries or get myself out of this situation

[izzy-b-hands]

Putting on last year's trans rigs stream from Drawfee before i have to get ready to go out with my mum and her bf today (bc i have the worst feeling in my gut he's gonna make that An Thing for me if given the chance today, aka whenever i eventually need the restroom while we're at Mystic)

[violetclarity]

gotta love the feature of depression that's like, can't tell if people in my life are actually being annoying or if I'm not handling things well and therefore overreacting to things that would normally not bother me!

[noxtivagus]

woah i. wrote a lot.

[elytrafemme]

i’m so in love. fuck, i’m so in love.

[neverendingford]

.

[spilledkaleidoscope]

Activation Energy and Executive Dysfunction

A bunch of people (with executive dysfunction I assume) reacted a little disheartened to how I described the phenomenon.

The gist is that I used activation energy, a concept from chemistry, as a model for how executive dysfunction can keep you from doing things. Activation energy is the minimal energy that has to be available for any chemical reaction to occur and that amount is specific to every reaction.

Executive Dysfunction to me means, that this activation energy is always high, even for tasks other people experience as spontaneous reaction (yes the amount of ae and spontaneity of a reaction are not connected necessarily but bear with me here). A good example is showering or feeding yourself or sometimes getting up from the couch.

The tricky thing here is that the energy put into trying to reach activation energy is still *expended*, so while it might seem like nothing happens, you still get drained, making it harder to reach activation energy levels.

So what can we do?

In synthesis, if your activation energy is too high you basically can do two things: you either add a catalyst, or you find a different way to get to your result altogether.

The latter can be choosing a simpler recipe to feed yourself, graze on random items without making a meal until you are full or ordering food for example.

This is not always possible, but it *is* worth thinking about. An example from my life would be that I open my mail outside at the trash bins and immediately discard what I don't need because otherwise, I have paperstuff flying around my appartment that I don't get rid of.

"Weird" is not something that should factor in here. Make it functional and helpful.

The catalyst is my favourite solution however, and I can give you some tips here that you can *immediately* use. I won't know if they work for you, but they do for me (sometimes! be kind to yourself).

CATALYSTS AGAINST EXECUTIVE DYSFUNCTION

Have your tasks broken down: when you have energy, make sure that the thing on your to do list is something you can *actually* physically immediately do. Don't write "make reservation", but "call restaurant" along with the number. Not "clean kitchen" but "move dishes to sink" etc

Doorway Effect: The Doorway effect describes that silly thing that, when we cross a boundary, we sometimes feel like we've been soft reset ("what was I going to do?"). A hypothesis for why this happens can be that it helps our brain create separate contexts which then aids memory creation. What it can do for you is that it is an easy way to change context, which then frees you up to start something new more easily. Try it! Physically go through a doorway or open a different window on the computer, sometimes that is enough.

Costuming: Similar to the Doorway Effect, we are changing context in a low effort way here. Concentrate on putting on your shoes instead of taking out the trash or put on some rubber gloves if you plan on cleaning. Might be enough. Sometimes putting on mascara is enough for me to go "oh I am out of couch potato mode now"

Move! Put yourself where you need to be to tackle your task. That can already help.

Pressure: This can be done by setting a timer that will go off soon. Challenge yourself to get up and go before it rings - might stress you into inaction sometimes, but it can be helpful. I love visual timers for this as it helps with my time blindness

Prepare! If you are in a state of flow and have energy to spare *use it*. This includes breaking down your task as already described but also preparing your space - this can be a cleaned up desk or a caddy with cleaning supplies in a prominent spot.

And my absolute favorite: Throw a dice. When it is really bad, one thing I can always do is throw a dice (via an app, typing "d20" into the search bar or physically having one on me - which I usually do now). I tell myself that if I "make the roll" I get up and do it and if I don't, I try again in 20 minutes. This changes context easily, removes responsibility from me and makes the whole thing playful. I usually go with a d20 and tell myself to get going with a result over 10. If I have a particularly bad day I might need 15+ to do something. Just try it.

In short, what we are trying to do is

minimize friction by frontloading as much thinking and preparing as we can

make a context change as easy and small as possible

And remember: the goal is never to Always Be Doing Something.

[astarion-obsessions]

I think not enough people understand that Astarion doesn't want you to be his main or only source of blood. This even stands in direct contrast to what he really wants to achieve with biting Tav. Let me explain.

Why Astarion doesn't want you to be his blood bag

Let me start with explaining how I approached this topic. First of all, when I triggered the bite scene in my playthrough, I obviously let Astarion drink from my Tav. But then I got curious. What happens when I don't stop him? He's said I could trust him just a moment ago, didn't he? So I did just that, I trusted him literally with my life. 

Aaaand... he killed me. Well. What did I expect from a vampire, really. But that he actually drained me dry broke my heart. I really wanted to trust him, to reach out and show him that I didn't judge him for what he was and so on. I was really disappointed in him and couldn't quite grasp why he would do this. Was it a conscious decision? Did he lose control? Surely he would apologise and explain everything to me once someone resurrected me, returning the trust I was giving him the night prior, right?... right?

Of course not. The dialogue after him killing Tav was... at least as disappointing as him killing Tav in the first place. He shows his usual attitude, apologises half-heartedly and then just keeps going on with talking about draining the occasional bandit. He even snaps when you mention the topic of him feeding after that with something like "I already apologised, what more do you want?".

There's no real regret, no emotions. He simply doesn't care.

We know that he didn't care in the beginning, he tells us as much when he confesses his unwanted, growing feelings towards Tav in act 2. But still the whole bite scene didn't sit right with me until…

The Nightmare 

I randomly stumbled upon a clip of Astarion having a nightmare, so I researched about it and even started an Astarion run to experience it myself. So, if you play as Astarion, at the second long rest of act 1 he has a nightmare about Cazador, in which he recites the rules that defined how Astarion and the other spawn had to live:

First, thou shalt not drink of the blood of thinking creatures. 

Second, thou shalt obey me in all things. 

Third, thou shalt not leave my side unless directed. 

Fourth, thou shalt know that thou art mine. 

However Astarion reacts to this dream, he jolts awake afterwards and instinctively panics that he needs to find a way back to his master as soon as possible. His eyes set on his companions, who are sleeping / meditating peacefully around the fire, and then a thought passes his mind.

He could try to break one of Cazador's rules right then and there. He's able to stand in the sun, to bathe in running water, so maybe…

And that's why he decides to bite a companion. Astarion wakes up utterly terrified of what his master will do to him if he doesn't return to him in an instant - and he knows all too well what kind of horrors would await him if he so much as dares to think about rebelling again (read about that here) - so he is in desperate need of confirmation that he is now able to withstand and actively break the rules that have dominated his life for two centuries.

He needs to know that he is able to drink the blood of a thinking creature. And there they are. His clueless companions served on a silver platter. It's like an invitation to him, to test his boundaries. And who would be more fitting than the good hearted leader of the party Astarion wanted to (or already has) seduce(d) anyway?

This piece of information shed a whole new light on the bite scene. But let's look a bit closer at that. 

The Bite Night 

The very first thing Tav registers about what's going on with Astarion that night is him baring his fangs right above us, about to sink them into our flesh. He pulls back as soon as we open our eyes, retreating immediately until there's a safe distance between him and Tav. 

This may be the first time Tav gets to know that Astarion is a vampire, so he gets defensive and tells us that he's never killed a person for food, only animals. But then, instead of letting the idea of feeding on Tav go, he insists that animals aren't enough. 

But it's not enough. Not if I have to fight. I feel so weak. 

If I just had a little blood, I could think clearer. Fight better. Please. 

Then he goes on, literally pleading to get what he wants while putting on a sad expression in the end, even averting his gaze. 

And if we now have in mind that he just woke up from a nightmare about Cazador, feeling powerless and in desperate need of even a glimpse of hope that he might escape Cazador's cruel grip, his lines make a lot of sense. He's veiling the truth, of course, but not all of what he says is a lie. 

He indeed feels weak - powerless in fact - so drinking Tav's blood (the blood of a thinking creature) could prove that he may have regained a bit of power over himself, which had been exclusively reserved for Cazador the last 200 years. This would absolutely make him feel stronger, more confident than he's felt for a long, long time. 

And he indeed could think clearer after tasting Tav's blood, because this would bring clarity to the question if he is now able to break Cazador's rules on purpose and therefore give him information to work with when he needs to think about what to do next. 

Right after this, we get the chance to push into Astarion's mind, and if we do this, we can see what he thinks about. 

His mind opens up, revealing cracked and quivering memories. At their heart, you see dark eyes, commanding you to feed. 

You open your mouth and bite down. Not into a tender neck, but in the twisting body of a rat - the only thing your master lets you eat. 

He recalls the memory of how his master used to force him to eat disgusting vermin. As his memory is told, we can clearly see how deeply this affects him, for he can't keep up his walls of defensiveness and detachment. They just crack, crumble and reveal his misery clearly for Tav to observe. When we ask him about it directly afterwards, he first seems to search for a way out - a witty remark, anything - but gives up almost immediately. And he looks and sounds just completely defeated and tired, confirming what Tav just saw in his mind. 

He goes on with talking about trust. I think here he's seeing a chance to gain Tav's sympathy. If he already reveals such delicate information about his past, he can as well make use of it. So he appeals to Tav's understanding, offering us that this past is the reason for him only trusting Tav slowly. But then he immediately adds that now he trusts Tav, and that in return Tav can trust him, too. 

What he does here is displaying himself as pitiful, gaining Tav's sympathy, then seemingly going out of his way and saying that despite all he does trust Tav, which puts Tav in the position to follow suit with returning the trust… which Astarion definitely lied about on his part. But that's what he does. Manipulating. 

If we then respond with "You tried to bite me. How can I trust you?" instead of assuring us of his trustworthiness with more manipulation, he gets frustrated. 

Because we don't have a choice! Not if we're going to save ourselves from these worms. 

But he goes on with masking his reasons, even if he gave us a hint right in the beginning of act 1 when we picked him up, where he said that he would rather control the tadpole instead of removing it. If we play as Astarion, it gets clear pretty fast that he holds onto the tadpole, because it seems to be the only thing that had been able to "save" him from Cazador whilst no one and nothing else even attempted to help him for two centuries. Of course he would not want to get rid of the tadpole just like that. But he says so nonetheless to align with Tav's goals and display himself as useful. 

And then he does something interesting. 

I need you alive. You need me strong. 

Please. Only be a taste, I swear. I'll be well, you'll be fine, and everything can go back to normal. 

In the beginning of this conversation he mentioned he needed the blood to fight better. Now he takes up on this by saying that Tav needs him strong, hinting on him getting stronger after having a taste of Tav's blood. And then he promises that after this "everything can go back to normal", which right now means Astarion feeding on animals again. 

A few things about this are odd. 

Firstly, "only be a taste". Everyone, literally everyone has heard about the insatiable hunger of vampires. So how is it supposed to work that Astarion gets stronger from just a taste of Tav's blood? For how long? A few hours? Not nearly long enough to pose a real advantage, eh? For me this makes no sense. And if we think about his true intentions - wanting to find out if he can break Cazador's rule - just a taste would be absolutely enough. (And after he bites Tav without killing them, he even says that he needs something more filling!) 

Secondly, if Astarion really wanted to become stronger with the help of Tav's blood, why would he promise to go back to normal afterwards? He just offered Tav a stronger companion but then immediately nullified this argument by literally saying that this will be a one time arrangement. 

Thirdly, he subtly offers a bargain. "You give me your blood, I will be a stronger fighter for you." He did so in the beginning as well, repeating it with different words. And it fits his character very well to do so, because for all he knows everything comes with a price. He almost gets beaten to death and Cazador mercifully comes to his rescue? The price is a never ending life of torment and abuse. Astarion helps a potential victim for Cazador to flee? The price is a year of starvation, locked up in a dusty and dark tomb without knowing if it will ever find an end. Mindflayers rescued him from Cazador, (passively) granting him to possibly be free of him at last? The price is becoming a tentacled monster in the end. 

If we then allow him to bite us, he's visibly surprised about our graciousness, but of course doesn't let this chance slip and suggests getting comfortable instantly. Then he finally gets to sink his teeth into Tav's neck. This part of the scene can more or less be viewed from both sides - Astarion's and Tav's. 

He begins to feed on Tav and after a bit we can decide to interrupt him, but have to pass an ability check first. This repeats a second time when playing Tav, and even if it's only one AC when we play Astarion and decide to bite a companion, it still aligns, showing that Astarion seemingly loses himself in the taste of Tav's blood - which is very likely because (as he later tells us) we were the first humanoid he's ever fed on, so it's imaginable that Tav's blood must be tasting almost divine to him. 

This theory is supported by his actions after we fail the first AC or just let him continue. He grabs the back of Tav's head to pull them towards himself, emphasising on how greedy he is sucking the blood out of Tav. The camera even uses the exact same angles before failing or skipping the first AC and after, so the comparison is easy and the difference is clear:

If we then fail or skip the next AC, Astarion just drains us dry… And it gets even better after the bite night. 

The Morning After 

When Tav gets revived and then talks to Astarion, he is visibly surprised to see us, after he left the dead body of Tav behind with saying "Oh no, something terrible has happened". Sure Astarion, something… 

All of this happens when Astarion still doesn't care for Tav. He reacts with panic when we confront him with the fact that he literally killed us, and just manages to get his expression under control after a few seconds. I mean, just look at him:

'Killed' feels like a strong word. Not many corpses have your vigour. 

He definitely knows what he's done, and that 'killed' is indeed the right word for it, he is just very very bad at coping with guilt (which is amazingly analysed by thelikesoffinn - definitely read this, you'll understand Astarion so much better after this). 

He instantly lays the focus on our codependency again, that we need each other and so on. If we question why we should keep him around, he answers with:

A strong, well-fed vampire? I'm a powerful weapon - you'd be a fool to toss me aside now. 

With mentioning this, he wants to make sure that Tav will let him stay by their side and therefore grant him protection. 

But more importantly he continues:

Anyway, last night was an aberration. It will never happen again. 

He doesn't even start with something like "Next time I'll be more careful" or anything similar. He straight up says that it will never happen again. Period. If we then ask who he will feed on next time he gets hungry, he presents the idea of feeding on villains and bandits "who need killing anyway". And this is exactly what he wants. This even shows in his reaction to Tav's response to his suggestion.

If we agree and therefore allow him to feed on our enemies ("Sounds good. Glad we could agree"), this is how he reacts:

As am I. I'm starting to feel a little peckish already. 

This itself doesn't sound all too enthusiastic, but we get his approval up, which definitely shows that he very much likes that Tav agreed. 

On the contrary, if we suggest he can feed on Tav, ignoring his will wish to feed on villains ("Look, I'm not against you feeding on me, but only if we talk about it first"), this is his reaction:

Of course! This sounds eminently reasonable. 

I shall wait patiently until you suggest we… dine together. 

Doesn't sound too bad either, eh? But we don't get his approval. He doesn't disapprove, of course, because this is still a thousand times better than what he had until then, but still not what he really wants… 

So, what does all of this mean for the initial question? 

Conclusion 

The crucial point here is what it means for Astarion to feed on Tav. The only things he remembers since Cazador turned him, are being relentlessly dominated and horrifyingly abused. The things Astarion wants the most are to be safe and to finally have control over himself again. 

He bit Tav for the sole purpose of finding out if he can be free of Cazador's rules. So why would he jump right into being dependent on Tav? He suggests to feed on villains, because then he is free of anyone's mercy. He doesn't need to rely on Tav to graciously allow him to get a drop of blood. He can do this himself now. 

This is such an important step for his character growth, to find the way to his autonomy again, so if we only allow him to feed on Tav, it instantly sets him back into old habits of bowing to his masters words - or in this case Tav's. Because it's all hes been doing for the last two centuries of his life. 

So, as much as the thought of the self-sacrificing offer to be his personal blood bag may seem romantic or whatever, it's actually the exact opposite, trapping Astarion in what he desperately tries to escape from. The restrictions that come with someone dominating him mentally and physically. And as I mentioned earlier, he doesn't believe in the goodness of people. For him every "kind" act has a price and he likes to know what he has to pay, so he wouldn't even want to just drink Tav's blood without Tav getting anything out of it. He would most certainly expect Tav one day to come around with something he doesn't want to give or do, so he wants to control such situations beforehand. 

All he wants is to make his own decisions and be free in every way possible… 

So please just let him drain some bandits, will ya? 

[byechristopher]

soooo it’s ur biggest fan here 🤣! so idea. chris is a hockey boy. i need something angsty or something

also a fluff idea reader is a dancer and chris is hockey player and reader has a competition the same place chris has a tournament. and it’s just them supporting each other

although just do what ever you want but hockey chris>>> i feel like you’d do him justice

Jealous guy.

– CHRIS STURNIOLO ANGST & FLUFF.

Author's note: I worked hard on this because it's for my biggest fan. You know I love my angsty shit, so I took your idea and combined it with mine. I hope y'all like it. 🤍 Do not copy/steal my work. :)

Ps. I'm the kind of bitch that gets all giddy and shit when Chris says "my girl" in my OWN FIC. Okay.

Warnings: not really a warning but mentions of fighting and a lil bloody lip. Mwuah. Didn't proofread, sorry!

[ YOU ]

"Okay, and what the hell do you want me to do about it?" I almost scream, turning around to look at Chris.

He was fuming, to say the least. His hair was messy, he didn't have a shirt on but wore his usual gray sweatpants. His glare was deadly.

"Uhm, I don't know, tell him to not send fucking flowers to OUR apartment?!" he shouts, throwing his phone on the couch. The irony in his voice is more than evident.

I couldn't believe it when I saw it either Honestly, I never expected him to go to such lengths. Despite being just a co-worker, he's become a relentless presence in my life. Whether it's showing up everywhere at work, bringing me coffee, or bombarding me with emails – it's relentless. The boundary crossed when he managed to find my address; literally searching for my goddamn address and sending me flowers? That is wild. Of course I told Chris about it, but he acts as if it is my fault this psycho found our address.

"I don't even know his phone number, Chris! How would I ever know that he'd search for the address and send me flowers?" I sigh, still very angry.

"I'll beat the shit out of him, I swear.. the game starts in less than an hour, fucking hell.." he says, checking his watch, "how the fuck am I ever going to play when I'm like this?"

I don't reply to him – he really makes it sound like it's my fault and despite my initial enthusiasm for the game, it's waned due to his blame game. Still, I don't want to come off as a heartless bitch, especially on the eve of his crucial match. So, I grab my phone, wallet, and keys before heading over to him.

"I really hope you win." I whisper, placing a soft peck on his cheek before exiting the bedroom and shortly after, leaving the apartment.

[ CHRIS ]

She left. Fucking hell. I always do bullshit like this – I can't keep my big mouth shut and now she's not even coming to the game. I really needed her in this one. But that is my own fault.

In the quiet solitude of our apartment, I try to prepare for the upcoming game; amidst the dim glow of our living room, I meticulously don my team jersey, each movement an attempt to shift my focus. Taking a moment, I inhale deeply, trying to be as calm as possible before the game.

With a determined resolve, I grab my gear, the familiar scent of the hockey bag triggering a surge of adrenaline. As I step outside, the crisp evening air hits me, momentarily clearing my mind. The journey to the rink is a silent contemplation, the distant echoes of the city fading as I immerse myself in mental preparation.

Arriving at the arena, I feel the familiar anticipation. The ambient sounds of the crowd and distant echoes of skates on the ice envelop me, grounding me in the moment. I exchange nods and greetings with teammates. The locker room door creaks open, revealing the sanctum where emotions are set aside, and the game becomes paramount. Amidst the hum of chatter and the clatter of equipment, I sigh; I really want her to come. I still have hope, although I doubt it. The tension lingers as I tighten my skate laces, and Jake, my teammate and friend, notices my distraction.

"You seem off, Chris. Everything okay?" Jake asks.

"Yeah.." I look up at him, and he seems like he already knows, "..just had a big fight with my girl before I left. Can't shake it off," I confess.

Jake pats me on the shoulder. "I understand, man. I wish I could say something but you gotta leave it behind for now. We've got a game to win. Sort things out later."

On the ice, rival players almost immediately target me, seeming to be aware of my vulnerable state; it must be that fucking expression of mine. I can't hide it. During the first period, a smirking opponent skates by, taunting, "trouble at home, Chrissy? Should focus on that instead of the game." he smiles.

Enraged, I retaliate with a forceful check, earning myself a penalty, "keep your temper in check, Chris!" warns the referee.

In the penalty box, I mutter under my breath, "I can't fucking believe this."

As the match progresses, rival players intensify their attempts to provoke me; we've played with those fuckers before, and if anyone has seen me in a game, they know very well the only thing that can affect the way I play is her. Undeterred, I channel my anger into my plays, determined to win this goodamn game while internally wondering if she came to see me after all.

In a breakaway, I find myself one-on-one with the opposing goalie. With a swift deke, I send the puck into the net, equalizing the score. The crowd erupts, and my teammates cheer.

Rival players persist in their attempts to get under my skin. During a tense moment, an opposing forward sneers, "look, your girlfriend's probably enjoying the show. Make sure to not embarass her again."

After that, I almost lose it, and in a heated moment, a rival defenseman delivers a high stick to my face, splitting my lip. Blood drips onto the ice as I stumble backward. The referee signals a penalty, but the damage is done.

Undeterred by the bleeding, I clench my fists, "you think that's going to stop me? You fucking coward!" I almost scream to make sure that fucking asshole hears me.

The game continues, and during a power play, I push through the pain. I charge towards the net, ignoring the throbbing pain in my lip – the only thing on my mind is her and making her proud.

Fueled by a surge of anger and determination, I respond with a spectacular goal that secures the lead for my team. I skate past the jeering opponent, acknowledging the crowd's cheers.

As the final buzzer sounds, signaling our victory, I finally spot my girlfriend in the stands. My heart beats faster. A mix of emotions plays across her face, and I realize the significance of my performance. It's like no one else is around, just us and that is the only thing that matters. I keep eye contact with her, even when my teammates are cheering for me and I smile, even with that bloody lip – she smiles back and I want to kiss her so bad.

[ YOU ]

When I saw Chris' bloody lip, I almost lost it – the restraint within me, resisting the urge to jump in and shove my fingernails into that asshole's eye sockets, is beyond words. I was well aware they were deliberately provoking Chris; his simmering anger was very evident. The recklessness in his gameplay during the initial stages of the game made it even more obvious that he was more focused on what they said than the actual game.

I kept yelling his name at the top of my lungs, unsure if he could hear, but I desperately wished for his victory, especially after that intense fight. Witnessing him wince from the pain now and then, I felt an overwhelming urge to cry.

As he scored the decisive goal and secured the victory, I couldn't contain my excitement, jumping up and down. It brought back memories of our younger days when I always cheered him on during his games.

When all of this was over and I just stood there, I could see him looking at me. His gaze finally finds me in the midst of the crowd, and my heart feels like it might leap out of my chest. Everything else fades away, leaving only him in my line of sight.

I notice all of the team leaving, probably going to the locker rooms and I quickly head to the exit door.

In the dimly lit corridor outside of where the locker rooms are, he finally comes outside and spots me waiting there, my expression a mix of anticipation and apprehension.

"Hey," he calls out, his voice carrying a hint of both excitement and apology.

I look up, meeting his eyes, "hey," a subtle smile playing on my lips, "you played amazing out there."

Still trying to catch his breath, he wraps his arms around me in a tight hug, keeping me close for a while. We are not saying anything, I just hold him close, my fingers buried in his sweaty hair.

"Thank you so much for coming." he whispers.

"I would never lose any of your games. Even when you're being an asshole." I smile, which I am sure he can hear when I'm speaking.

"I am so sorry. I didn't mean to put the blame on you. I just.. I am fucking jealous. I don't want any other guy near you." he keeps his voice as low as possible.

"Shhh, I know. Let's take care of that lip first and then you can apologise to me all you want." I pull away but he doesn't let go of course – I cup his cheek and take out some tissue that I keep in my bag for emergency with my free hand. I gently pat the skin, trying to clean the blood as much as I can without hurting him.

His eyes soften, "seriously, baby. Thanks for coming. I always play better when you're cheering for me."

I look up at him, my gaze softening as well as I cup both of his cheeks now, "I know. I am so, so proud of you. You were amazing, as always." I whisper, leaning in to play the softest kiss on his little wound.

"God, I love you." he whispers, wrapping his arms around my waist, hugging me close to him.

"I love you too."

[stuck-writing-sickos]

In Poor Taste [P5]

(Yandere × F! Reader)

[Warning: addiction, alcohol, ageism, sexism, misogyny, mention of bodily harm, religious trauma]

[A/N: its high time we show yuki some love 🫶]

[Series Link]

You were never crazy about spoiled rich men. They couldn't stand being unremarkable.

"Bless me, father, for I have sinned."

Silence. The stuffy wood walls felt as if it was contracting.

"It's been five years since my last confession, and I accuse myself of the following sin."

No answer yet as per customary. Lukas tugged at his tight collar, anxious. His blunt fingernails reached inside the gap, letting a puff of air hit his chest dripping with sweat.

"I am lost, father."

"And why did you say that?"

"I have nothing special about me. I never really had to try hard to get what I want, and now... I don't know which path to take."

"You walk with God, my child."

Something within his chest inflated, leaving him gasping for air.

"Is that all there is, Father?"

"We are all nothing without Him. He will show you the way."

Lukas wanted to get out of the booth, but he couldn't. His body was frozen in place. Panic set in as he tried to squirm only to find his strength redundant.

"I don't see it, Father!", he tried to scream, but his voice came out weak, "I don't see it... I need to forge my own."

"And how do you plan to do that, when you are unspecial and lost?"

The priest's voice wasn't singular anymore. It dissolved into a chorus of many, thunderous and firm. Lukas heaved, choking on the taste of pennies. He felt a weight from the other side pressing against the confession window, closing the walls in.

The curtain cracked open. Lukas could only look as a hand reached in and grabbed his collar, harshly yanking him forward as if he was a ragdoll. His body was then unbound, light and fluid like water.

He gasped, his eyes fluttering open. Lukas felt the cold sweat on his neck. Between dream and reality, he almost remembered the bruised knuckle and the familiar fingers that pulled him awake.

___

Yuki figured the newbie was a quick learner, but he didn't think Lukas would pick up on your introversion that quickly.

It was ironic that this newcomer was already half of the foreign staff present in the end-of-year dinner that the foreign dept threw. The other half was you. Together you and him sat, tall and quiet. The cozy private restaurant lounge was bustling with chatters, but not one peep from this pair. Far off from the other side of the long table, Yuki could only steal glances at you who only nodded and smiled at any attempts at conversations that went your way. He was worried that Lukas might try something weird tonight what with alcohol so readily available, but so far he had seen nothing but a rather impressive effort at maintaining social norms. He assumed that ought to clear his mind, yet any time he found himself letting his guard down, he was sorely reminded of the punk rock clothing site. Some parts of him were starting to manifest doubt - was he the weird one for fixating? Was it some... American norms he failed to consider? After all, Australian culture could very well be less intense than its riveting cousin. Deciding at last that he was overthinking, he tried to keep up with the conversations around him.

If something bad were to happen, you'd say something, right?

"Say, Sakamoto", he jumped at Tahara's voice, surprised to see she had her attention on him now, "are you ever gonna get married?"

Instantly, eyes were on him. Yuki shifted, laughing nervously.

"Yeah", another voice chimed in, "You're 26, you're earning good money, you got your family's name. Women must be flocking to you."

That voice would be Hanao, quite possibly his least favorite senior. 33, begrudgingly married and completely removed from the concept of boundaries, he could only get worse with a pint in his hand.

"I have some unmarried cousins who would look great on you", Tahara piled onto the mess she herself caused, "Do you want a blind date with her?"

"Or look around the dept", Hanao exclaimed, his ugly habit of getting loud when he got drunk seeping in, "so many young, beautiful ladies are lining up for you!"

Yuki couldn't help but notice the discomfort on the faces of the "ladies" in question, their gaze downcasted or unsubtly turned away.

"Hanao, that's not fair to them", Yuki finally interfered, treading carefully so as not to trigger another terrible habit Hanao got up his sleeves when alcohol got into his system - getting angry, "they are not lining up for me, I'm sure."

"Nonsense", the older man dismissed, waving him off. Yuki's back felt cold as Hanao fully turned to his younger female colleagues who had gotten stiff and awkward, walled in by the long table and the crowd of coworker.

"Wouldn't you ladies want him? He's a bit dull and quiet, but he's a good kid. He is handsome, and his wallet is thick, too. I'm telling you, if you want a chance you better be quick."

The young women politely tried to move on from the topic, but it only fueled his insistence. Stressed out that Hanao was stuck on talking about marriage, Yuki finished his drink painstakingly fast. Hazy now, he landed the pint harshly.

"Excuse me... I should go for a smoke."

"Hey, what's the rush? Are you embarrassed?", Hanao asked, "It's okay Sakamoto, men only get finer with age! Sit down, I think Ms. Sasaki is interested, right?"

Yuki was already standing up with a cigarette in his mouth by the time Sasaki meekly protested. Something about "Mr. Hanao, you're so mean. He will hate me now!"

He looked at the girl. Yuki barely remembered any interaction they had with each other. Did they ever even talk? She was smiley, cheerful, and she had a sweet voice, but he didn't find anything reeling him in. In fact, the expectant look on her face as she tried to make eye contacts made Yuki queazy. Nervous and tense, he excused himself without even acknowledging her presence.

Sometimes, the body remembers things the mind tries to forget.

The smell of food followed him outside. Yuki hurried to a street corner, anxious for that first hit of nicotine to cool his head. Tipsy and disoriented, he was fumbling with the lighter when he saw you. He must had missed you slipping out of the party when Tahara and Hanao cornered him with their tedious talk of marriage. You were on your phone. Your thumbs were still hovering over the bright screen when you. Clearing his throat to make his presence know, Yuki was startled by the blank stare you gave his way.

"Everything okay?", he asked and walked over to stand by your side. Your eyes didn't follow his movement. You looked straight ahead, your face drained of any expression.

"Yes", you tried to sound casual, but your voice were light as air, "everything is fine."

He finally managed to light his cigarette. The first pull was long and crisp. His flexed shoulders dropped as he leaned against the wall and sigh, satisfied. From the corner of his eyes, he could see you tapping on your phone, your fingers typing up a storm. Something was wrong, he could tell, but he didn't want to push. Beside, he was just drunk enought to feel content keeping your company in silence.

It was by the second cigarette that you peeped: "can I have one, Sakamoto?"

That messed with his buzz. Propping himself upright, he turned over to face you.

"No."

You didn't respond. Instead, you stared at him with desperate eyes and quivering lips. Yuki watched your fingers curling up and flexing. A twinge in his chest made him drop the stern tone.

"What happened?"

You hung your head. Your quiet, exasperated voice was almost swallowed by the city's white noise: "please..."

He sighed and fished out one, seeing that it was no use persuading you. His hand hesitated as yours reached over, starved.

"You've quitted for 3 years. You were doing good."

You didn't say anything.

"Are you sure?" He asked for the last time, and the ache in his chest tugged again as he saw you nodding. He handed over the stick and watched helplessly as you stuck it between your teeth. As a last ditch effort, he tossed his lighter into the nearby dumpster.

"I'm sorry", he sighed and took another drag, puffing smoke out his nose, "you can call me a hypocrite, I deserve it. But I just can't-

He was cut off by your cool skin grazing his own as you took his cigarette right out of his mouth. Gently, you placed the burning end onto your unlit one and pulled until you've successfully kindled.

"I'm sorry", you choked, handing back what you'd stolen. He took it, slow and bewildered.

"It's okay. I'm worried, though. Did Lukas do something weird? You know you can tell me."

Your shoulders closed in. You couldn't look him in the eyes.

"No, not Lukas."

__

Lukas didn't like the hot, crawling excitement his body manifested when you were near. He couldn't focus. After the concert, he didn't want to face you. He tried to tell himself many things: you weren't any hotter than the girls he had back in college, you were too independent, you didn't bother to act feminine,... Didn't matter. You had something else that he wanted.

That was why no matter how tedious and stressful the dinner party was for him, someone who didn't know a lick of Japanese, he would rather sit in silence than to talk to you. You were quiet next to him, as if lost in thought. The entire day, he had noticed you spacing out and getting distracted. It was out of the ordinary for someone as put-together as you to keep saying "I'm sorry, I must have forgotten". The final straw was when you blankly sipped on your drink only to spill on your skirt. You didn't even react, only sighing and wiping it off with the tissue he handed over.

"Excuse me", your voice was monotone, "I'm going to the bathroom."

He didn't know who that was directed at. Only him, he assumed, since everyone else were lost in their own coversation. Seeing that your beer had splashed on the floor near where you sat, he reached over to wipe it off. His hand was nearby the phone you had forgotten when it buzzed, its screen lighting up.

"He is going through an episode again"

Lukas never thought of himself as someone who would snoop - after all, he never really cared for any women to reach that point - yet that text from your mother stirred up a morbid sense of curiosity. He watched the bright screen blinking again as another text popped up.

"Please... talk to your brother. He's threatening to do it again."

The screen door slid open, snapping him out of it. Quicking resuming his position, he smiled at you who were carefully finding your way back to your seat, side-stepping your coworkers. Your weary smile was poorly faked.

Lukas' heart beat fast. He was itching to ask you about what he saw, though he decided to hold it in. He didn't know how to begin the conversation without admitting that he had violated your privacy...that would warrant a strong reaction. Yet, within his curiosity, Lukas caught a glimpse of anticipation. How would you look at him, if you were to get mad? He tried to imagine you scowling, your jaw flexed and fists clenched. He wonder if you would curse him out. Maybe, you would even hit him.

God, he hoped you would.

Lost in a fantasy, he was grounded again when you softly excused yourself out "for some fresh air". Nobody paid any mind when you rushed off, your feet barely touching the ground.

Maybe now wouldn't be a good time to test out the validity of his craving. Lukas drew his attention to the rest of the party, trying to forget about it. He didn't understand a single thing, but Sakamoto's side was getting loud: he saw the guy bashfully trying to get through a coversation before excusing himself shortly thereafter with a cigarette in his mouth.

Anxiety bubbled in his guts as he sat alone and confused, bothered by the mental image of you and Sakamoto outside, bumping into each other. Would Sakamoto notice something was up with you? He might - the senior was sensible and keen-eyed. Lukas wasn't in love with small details, but he had seen the way the man covered for your lies on the spot. Short on breath, he caught his own fingers playing with the hem of his button-down shirt. Lukas tried to remind himself that whatever fixation he had on you should come to a stop, but amidst a feverish daze he couldn't resist the instinct to insert himself into your narrative. He didn't care if your mood would worsen. In fact, he hoped it would. He hoped you would take it out on him. Pulling himself up, he hurried after you.

By the restaurant entrance Lukas looked left and right, his heart racing. He didn't like that the reason he chose to be out was to interrupt your conversation, so he convinced himself that he was looking for something else, like a convenient store to get a pack of smoke. After all, he had a bad habit of craving them when he drank. Maybe, he could even look for Sakamoto and ask for one.

Lukas walked down the street, his eyes scanning faces of strangers. They didn't look his way, blurring past him like shadows. He wondered if he looked the same to you - a flash of color that breezed by, flat, voiceless, inconsequential. He didn't have time to let that thought eat him away when he caught Sakamoto's tall form leaning against a wall, half of his body hidden in an alleyway. Lukas took a long stride toward the man only in time for the buildings to move to the backend of his vision, revealing you who were giving a lit cigarette back.

[buckets-and-trees]

Talk

Characters/Pairings: Pleasure Dom!Bucky x Female!Reader Word Count: 2k Summary: He's ready to give you everything you want and things you don't even know you need yet.

Content/Concept Warnings: BDSM AU, discussion of BDSM themes, oral (female receiving), praise kink, dirty talk, overstimulation, forced orgasm

Notes: TRIPLE THREAT SUBMISSION for @buckybarnesevents WEEK TWO of Hot Bucky Summer: "What Should I Call You?", my fourth square of @buckybarnesbingo K4 "Kink: Forced Orgasm, and my second square for Connect4 Alternate June-iverse: C2 "BDSM." Also, @biteofcherry, you totally called the BDSM vibes from that little last line tag game sentence I posted the other day - it was this, mwahaha!

Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

You sat sideways on the couch, your arm draped over the back, legs tucked up comfortably beneath you. He mirrored your position, though with just one leg brought lazily up onto the couch, leaving his impressively thick thighs spread wide, teasing your fantasies.

Indulging fantasy was why you were there in the first place.

And you almost felt like this was any normal kind of Saturday afternoon with the new boyfriend you were eager to crawl into the lap of and be devoured by for the first time.

The setting fit – cozy living room of a sophisticated man’s apartment with leather furniture, modern art on the walls, small but sufficient kitchen, floor to ceiling windows along one side of the room that led to a private balcony, and a door that you knew would lead to the bedroom.

But it was just a little too tasteful to be real.

And he didn’t live here.

It was all designed to make you feel comfortable, an indulgent illusion of reality.

“You’re sure you’re not thirsty?” he asked.

He hadn’t offered anything alcoholic – strictly against policy so you were both sober – but you declined again with a shake of your head.

“Okay,” he said, “but remember it’s my role to make sure you always feel safe and taken care of, and that includes the small things like getting you a drink, and you can change your mind at any point. You’re not a burden. We are here for you and what you want.”

Warmth bloomed through your core – tinged with desire, but mostly just heat that was part comfort and part reticence. You had never taken such a bold measure of self-indulgence or self-care or self-discovery or whatever this could be called. It had taken almost two months for you to get from scoffing at the suggestion to sitting in the room on this couch across from the brunette Adonis who had said to call him Bucky (a nickname – you were asked to give a nickname as well when you registered and had gone with Rio).

“The last thing we should discuss, if you’re ready to move forward, is your safe word.”

“Brazil,” you responded without hesitation.

He smirked, but it was in no way unkind. “Rio and Brazil – I’m sensing a theme.”

“Another thing on the list of dreams to finally indulge,” the words tumbled out of your mouth.

“I hope that’s another thing you’ll choose to pursue.”

You laughed. “God, it’s so weird just how normal all this conversation feels. We just spoke at length about my kinks and limits and now I’m telling you my hopes and dreams. I’ve rarely shared this much of myself to anyone, and certainly not after only knowing them for less than an hour.”

“Well, part of that is that we all feel a little safer exposing ourselves to strangers because they’re not part of our routine,” Bucky said, “but there’s some trust that’s established by the mere act of us talking about your boundaries. It’s certainly a foundational part of the process. This only works when you feel comfortable with me, if you trust me – otherwise you cannot truly submit to me as your dominant in this arrangement.”

You nodded.

“Trust, strong communication – without them, there’s no way I can expect you to reasonably let go of your inhibitions either,” he soothed, moving his hand forward to brush his fingers over yours.

“The world of BDSM and kink is vast, but it shouldn’t be overwhelming. I never want you to feel like you’re an Alice who’s fallen down a rabbit hole and exposed to and expected to navigate the wonderland on your own.”

“I appreciate that. There’s…” you hesitated, but his rapt attention helped you feel like you could continue the thought on the tip of your tongue. “There’s a lot on the internet – a lot that I thought I knew about this stuff, but even just the registration and profile of preferences I had to fill out was pretty illuminating.”

After the basic registration you had been directed to complete an Experience and Curiosity Checklist that walked you through over 250 different activities and indicate whether you had tried it before or not, your pleasure during that activity if you had, and then a ranking of if you would like to try or do it in this setting – from never to need, if each activity was something you would entertain in a consensually forced situation, and if you would give, receive, or were up for both.

“Illuminating, huh?” Bucky grinned.

You felt just a touch of heat rise in your cheeks.

“You’re incredibly smart, and I like that,” he said, his grin turning to a softer smile. “That long and thorough profile? It’s the key to all of this – it’s not only for you, but also for me. I was matched to you ahead of anyone else on our staff. I’ve been preparing for you.”

“Like studying up?” you interjected.

“Of course, and the time we’ve spent up until now talking is for both of us, as well. You have a question you want to ask, something that wasn’t fully clear to you through your own research and filling out the profile. Ask it.” He tapped gently on your fingers, another motion of reassurance, connection.

“Forced orgasms.”

“I’m not surprised you would want to know more about that particular aspect.”

“I get the general concept, but I guess I don’t understand how that translates into practice,” you admitted.

Bucky nodded. “Sex should be engaged in for intimacy and pleasure – sometimes only pleasure, but not all the partners we are involved with are people we would trust to push us beyond our limits – either because a relationship is new, it’s a one-time thing, or because we don’t know how to communicate the limits and boundaries. Just like anything else, sex is a part of our experience as humans that we learn and grow and change with. A forced orgasm is a way to explore pleasure and power dynamics, but there must be that established trust. They can be both physically and emotionally intense because it could be exploring something new or pushing you past limits – you would give up power and be subjected to my whims.”

You took a deep breath and nodded.

“You give up power, but not safety – that’s important for you to remember. You always have your safe word or tap me three times if you can’t speak, I’ll always stop immediately. Forced can also be a specific part of roleplay scenarios. We can discuss it more, but I think you ought to experience it. Do you think we’ve built enough trust for us to begin?”

“Oh, now?”

“Yes, now, or we could talk more before we begin, we could talk and do nothing more tonight, or you could leave now and go think before your next appointment.”

You bit your lip, but only out of concentration for deciding, not out of nerves.

“What do you want?” he asked patiently.

“I want to begin the physical experience.”

“That kind of specificity will be rewarded, Rio.”

You grinned.

“You didn’t mark this very high on your profile, but I think you’re going to find out you have quite the praise kink.”

You half-gasped and half-giggled, surprised that he would say something so bold and yet also not.

“Strong independent woman like you? High achiever, determined. You’re not vain, and you don’t chase it, but you like recognition outside the bedroom, right?”

“Well, yes.”

“You’ll love it here, too, doll.”

You pressed your thighs closer together. A slow undercurrent of desire had been present since the night began, but as things began to transition, your core was beginning to thrum with anticipation.

“Bucky?”

“Yes?”

“Before we get started, I – well – just – thank you for not asking me why I decided to come here.”

“You didn’t ask me why I chose this profession. It might be oversimplification to say we’re both here because we want to be, but that’s the bottom line, isn’t it?”

“Yeah.”

“Know there will never be an ounce of judgment here – not for your desires, your kinks, your fears, your motivations. Don’t worry about doing anything wrong in there – we’ll be learning what your body wants together. You need to stop, we stop. You need to pause, we pause. You want to go slow or try something again or from a different angle, you tell me. Deal?”

“Deal.” God, he made you feel like the world was at your feet even though you were surrendering to him.

He stood up and pulled you with him. “One more thing.”

“Hmm?”

“In there, you call me ‘sir,’” he said. He brought your hand up and placed a whisper of a kiss on the inside of your wrist.

Everything in you melted instantly and you had to remind yourself to breathe.

“You got that?”

“Yes, sir.”

He smirked.

You knew he was going to ruin you.

You knew this, you knew you were ready and eager, and yet you also could tell nothing in your life had quite set you up for what you were about to experience if he had you pliant and nearly pleading for him after that mere gentle touch.

“Why don’t you head to the bedroom, I’ll give you a few minutes to get comfortable, and then I’ll come in.”

Two hours later, you were a writhing mess on the mattress, completely naked and splayed out for him while he was still fully clothed. His head was buried between your thighs, your hips firmly in place by his left arm pressing down on your pelvis. The fingers of his other hand were buried in your cunt, stroking the sensitive spot on your inner wall slowly and torturously – because every sensation down there was too much now.

He had traced his fingers over every inch of your limbs, teased your nipples, stroked your neck, ghosted his hands over your hips, teasing until you were pleading for him to touch your pussy.

He had told you once he started, he wouldn’t stop.

You knew he wasn’t lying, but you had never known an experience like this.

He had edged and denied your first orgasm until you were desperate and crying. The ultimate bliss had been blinding. He had praised you, told you your first orgasm with him had been truly beautiful, and your back had actually arched at his words, an inner keening. He’d been right about that kink.

And then he’d been nothing but relentless, bringing you to the edge and back again, then hurtling you over numerous times, with only brief moments of reprieve before torturing you with his lips, teeth, and tongue, with his hands, and with his words. Filthy promises of things he would do, dangled your fantasies in front of you, teased out admissions from you of even darker desires he as he presented new options you’d never considered, all the while pushing you into orgasm after orgasm. You keened and cried.

It was too much, and you told him so.

He disagreed, coaxing that you could give him another, and another.

“Sir,” you sobbed, “sir, stop, I can’t.”

Now the crying was continuous, and those were the only four words you seemed to be able to utter. When it devolved to only hitched breaths and sirs, Bucky slowed and stopped.

“Do you remember your safe word?” he asked.

“Yes,” you rasped.

“And?”

“I didn’t say it.”

He chuckled. “Just checking, Rio.”

“I know it’s Brazil! Break over, keep going.”

“It’s the endorphins – even though the overstimulation is there and it’s uncomfortable, the high with the endorphin release through the pain is its own trip, isn’t it?”

“Yes, yes, now keep your word and don’t stop until I’m utterly broken,” you whined, wiggling your hips as much as you could manage.

His low laugh made you shiver. “You’re going to be one of my favorites, I can tell.”

And then he pressed firmly on that spot inside of you and sucked hard on your clit in one sudden moment and ripped another orgasm and scream from you as you twisted one hand in the sheets and tugged his hair with the other, not ready to stop yet. He was as addictive as he was relentless, and you were not going to leave an ounce of this unexplored, and this was only the beginning.

READ THE SEQUEL: FEEL

End Notes: I feel like I knew some of the basics when it comes to BDSM and some of my fics have had BDSM elements, but I did a fair amount of research because I didn't want to do any disservice to the what a healthy relationship exploring BDSM might look like. This is one take. I found some very helpful insight at theduchy.com (specifically their BDSM Experience and Curiosity Checklist) and an article Bustle published by two sex educators that took a very straight-forward approach in discussing some of the basics. I'd go so far as to say there things that I learned or had reaffirmed or got better language/theory about by studying about BDSM that I think should just be base safe sexual practices (around consent, boundaries, exploration, trusting your partner, etc).

↠ Main Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

I do not do tag lists, but FOLLOW @buckets-and-stories and TURN ON NOTIFICATIONS to be updated any time I publish a new work!

[grison-in-space]

Currently rereading Eric Flint's 1632 and reflecting on just how influential Flint was to me and my approach to both praxis and politics as a teenager. I found Flint when I was about thirteen or fourteen, around the time I found Pratchett I think, and he's left an equally wide thumbprint on my soul. Isn't that the most wonderful thing about stories, that people you've never met can help shape our adult selves? Mother of Demons I often recommend for its SFF worldbuilding--Flint built a species with at least four genders, only some of which are reproductive, and associated "normal" sexual orientations, and then proceeded to write in a textually intersex character and queer the hell out of it.

1632, though, is the one where a little West Virginia town in 2000 gets picked up and dropped in the middle of Thuringia, Germany in the eponymous year--right in the middle of the Thirty Years War. The local United Mine Workers of America chapter plays a major role, particularly its head.

As I write this I'm listening to the scene where the little town of Grantville, having admitted after a few days that they are probably not ever going home, is crowded into the high school gymnasium listening to the mayor lay that reality out and suggesting an interim council to help the town set out a sort of constitutional convention so they can work out what on earth they're going to do moving forward--especially since there's a bunch of displaced refugees collecting in the forests nearby. Sensible of them, really; the Americans murdered the shit out of the local soldiers that displaced them, on account of how the shaken mine workers that went out to figure out WTF happened not being super down with suddenly running into a bunch of fuckheads raping the locals and torturing people to find out where their valuables might be. After that, said Americans proceeded to retreat into the town boundaries and gibber quietly to themselves. I would go lurk in their woods, too.

Anyway, the mayor sets up this proposal, everyone agrees, and a CEO who was visiting for his son's wedding at the time steps forward and says: look. I know how to lead, and I'm probably the most qualified person here. I lead a major industry corporation effectively and I did that after my time as a Navy officer. I put myself forward because I'm qualified. Now, we're going to need to circle the wagons to get through the winter, tighten our belts, but we can get through this. We can't support all these refugees, though; we'll have to seal the border so they can't bring disease--they're a drain on our resources we can't afford--

and the UMWA guy, he gets really mad listening to this. There's this Sephardic refugee woman he's real taken with who got swept up in the town first thing, and she's sitting in and listening; he's thinking about throwing her out, thinking about how much she knows about the place they're found in, and he's furious. But he gets a good grip on his anger and he marches up and he says, look. This dude has been here two days and he's already talking about downsizing?! You're going to listen to this CEO talking about cuts, cuts, cuts? Nah. Trying to circle the wagons is probably impossible, it's stupid, and if you think my men and I are going to enforce that, you can fuck off. That proposal is inside out and bass ackwards. We've got about a six mile diameter of Grantville here; how much food do YOU think we're going to grow? How about the soldiers wandering around, do you think we're going to be able to fight armies off on our lonesome? Look at the few refugees we already have in the room, they'll tell you how those armies will treat you! We could do it for a while, the amount of gun nuts here, but so what? We don't have enough people to shoot them! Not if we're going to do anything else to keep us going! We have about six months of stockpiled coal to keep going, and without another source or getting the coal mines working, we're screwed. We have technical strength but we don't have the supplies or resources we would need to maintain it. Those refugees? They're resources. We need people to do the work we will need to keep ourselves. The hell with downsizing; let's grow outwards! Bring people in, give them safety, see what they can bring to the table once they've had a moment! He invokes: send us your tired, your poor!, and the CEO yells in frustration: this isn't America! so he yells back "it will be!"

And of course everyone cheers. I love Flint for many reasons but he is unapologetic about affection for the America of ideals--ideals, he freely admits, that are often honored in the breach rather than the observance, ideals that are messy and flawed, but nevertheless ideals that can work to inspire us to become the best version of ourselves. For Flint, history is as valuable as a source of stories to inspire ourselves as it is a repository of knowledge, and on this I tend to agree with him. We must learn from our moments of shame but equally we must learn from moments that show us how to be our best selves.

It's been twenty three years and the text is now an interesting historical document in its own right, hitting points and rhythms in beats that are sometimes out of place today. It's not perfect. But the novel contains a commitment to joy and to emphasizing the leaps of faith and understanding that regular, everyday people make every day to try and support each other that I routinely try to match in my writing.

Anyway, one of the strengths of the novel, I think, is its gender politics: it's a very ensemble kind of novel, lots of characters, and it's preoccupied with positive masculinity in a lot of ways. There's a lot of these hyper masculine characters--Mike Stearns perhaps more than anyone else--and--and...

... And Flint's characterization of Stearns, as he sketches out who the man is--his pivotal American leader, ex boxer, working class organizer, big man.... well, it lands equally on "he is delighted and astonished to find a local woman who quickly assesses how the cushion of air in tires works," and "he considers who to set up a Jewish refugee in the middle of Germany up with and he thinks to ask the Jewish family he grew up with to host her and her ill father because he thinks she'll be most comfortable there", and "he views people as potential assets rather than potential drains." A younger man asks him for advice on whether to pursue a professional sports career because of the boxing and he says no, you're in the worst place of not being quite good enough and you'll blow out your knees without accomplishing safety. He frames that interaction such that he allows his own experiences to make him vulnerable and invite the younger man to understand when a struggle have worth it.

It's actually a really deft portrayal of intense masculinity that also makes a virtue of a bunch of traits more usually associated with women: empathy, relational sensitivity, the ability to listen. As a blueprint for what a positive masculinity can look like, vs the toxic kind, it's very well done. I think sometimes when we look at gender roles in terms of virtues, and when masculinity is defined in terms of opposition to femininity, people get lost by arguing that virtues assigned to one gender are somehow antithetical to another gender. In fact that's never been the case: virtues are wholly neutral and can appear in any gender. What the gender does is inflect the ways we expect that virtue to appear in terms of individuals' actions within their society.

Gender isn't purely an individual trait, basically; it's a product of our collective associations. Two characters with different genders can display the same virtues and strengths, but we imagine them expressed in different ways according to our cultural expectations around gender. And I just think that's neat.

[useyourwordsdarling]

Hey, I hope this isn't too rude considering you already have an effing mountain of asks in your inbox, but I wanted to express my gratitude. No pressure to respond; I just hope you see it, and it makes you smile. Just read the pink out of this word salad; my kink is that I feel the need to explain my reasoning like a proper STEM idiot.

(below explaining why I'm thanking you essentially)

Probably oversharing here, but:

For the last two years or so, I've started to believe that the only men who would accept me were those that needed me as their therapist rather than a partner. I don't mean just listening to them; I mean them struggling with mental health crises and me having to pick up the pieces like the empathetic dumbass I am (and them being too scared to call the hospital). These are just the sort of people I seem to attract. As you can imagine, that did wonders for my self-worth and future perception of people who hit on me.

I already consider myself an eccentric woman. Among other things, my libido often feels insatiable. I write smut both on and off tumblr, the latter of which is some of the most nonsensical, most embarrassing, most bizarre shit I have ever written. 783 pages since 2020, the last 100 pages of which have been me realizing I have a deep-seated desire to be a cocksleeve. It's hard enough to tell people how much I care about having a healthy, passionate sexual relationship without bringing any of that into the mix.

(end explanation, TL;DR I attract shitty men and am insecure as hell about my own sexual preferences.)

All of that has made me despair on numerous occasions that I will ever get to know someone who both actually loves me and wants to fuck the absolute shit out of me.

But blogs like yours have lifted me out of that hellhole of anxiety more than once. Seeing both your own fantasies and the way you respond to your asks makes me feel like I'm not doomed to a relationship where I will have to sacrifice a large part of myself for the other person's sake. It makes me think: "People like this exist somewhere."

Thank you for being a dom that cares about your sub, and thank you for sharing on this blursed platform where I could see you.

Side (less wholesome) note: Yes, you have provided a lot of fuel for my smut pieces, and I am officially blaming you for the fact that there are now 446 fucking instances of the word "Daddy" in my most recent collection.

I appreciate how much effort you put into making this. And as another STEM idiot I love the way you made your reasoning. Also to be clear I love asks, I just have a hard time replying to many at once, but I appreciate them a lot.

And as to you attracting shitty men, I understand how exhausting and how heavy it might be the burden to carry the responsibility over someone’s mental health issues. But I think that also says a lot about your character, how you’re someone who’s really caring. Who wants to help these people, which is an amazing thing but it can be problematic if you don’t set boundaries. Which is a hard thing to do (I know because I’m bad at that…) it’s healthy to focus on your own mental health, your own problems. Especially when we have very little energy left.

And you aren’t doomed for that type of relationship I believe. And I hope you eventually find the right person who’ll love you and not make you responsible over their mess (and also fuck the shit out of you, fingers crossed). So it’s just a matter of time

Side (even less wholesome) note: I’d be lying if I said part of me isn’t curious about those 446 instances now..

[thatfreshi]

We, are going to be okay - Astarion x Reader

TW - self-harm

I don't write angst often but this concept just hit me too hard not to try and execute. Astarion tries taking others' perception of him into his own hands, and it comes with a cost.

Recommended Song: What Was I Made For? - Billie Eilish

For as long as you and Astarion have lived together, he starts every day the same. Then again, the both of you are creatures of habit, and you usually wake up soon after he does. Your lover can be found in front of the vanity, trimming away at whatever isn't perfect. He'll take scissors to dead ends, cut his cuticles, occasionally pluck eyebrows if they happen to be out of line. He does this every. Single. Morning.

At this point you're used to waking up to the sound of blades running through hair, a slight hum from Astarion as he focuses on all the details of his perfect appearance. Sometimes he doesn't even notice that you've woken up. Despite not being able to see his reflection, he's quite precise. And you have never once questioned this ritual of his.

You then are awoken by a cry of pain, a most unusual noise at dawn.

"Darling?"

You ask groggily, wondering if perhaps he cut a nail back too far. You wipe the wave of sleep from your eyes, trying to focus over at the vanity.

Red.

Red down his face. Suddenly you're soberly awake, and you stumble out of bed to see what he's done now.

"It's alright my love, just a knick."

Shaking voice, he wipes the blood off his face, and it just pours more. A slash clean across his cheek.

"That is absolutely not a knick!"

You grab a nearby rag and start applying pressure to the cut.

"How in the nine hells did you manage to do this?"

He pauses before answering, and then simply shrugs. You notice he grabs something off the vanity table, quick enough you don't see what.

"Who knows, perhaps we have a poltergeist?"

While Astarion is usually a fantastic liar, he has slowly lost the skill around you. You get suspicious, as he's still shaking from the wound. Gazing at the table, you notice everything is where he leaves it, in it's nice tidy place. Scissors back in their hiding place.

"Astarion, my love, what are you hiding from me?"

He says nothing, averting his gaze.

"Darling, please, tell me."

You take his hands in yours, bloody rag set aside. He still refuses to make eye contact. Instead, he wriggles his hands out of yours and goes to grab something out of his boot. A dagger. He tosses it on the floor. It's so slick in crimson that some red specks fall on the hardwood floor. Suddenly he chokes up, unable to speak as you keep staring at his dagger.

"Oh my love, my precious one."

You also find yourself at a loss for words, as your throat closes and the tears form at your eyes. You look back up at him. He seems ashamed, embarrassed, frightened by the blade on the floor.

"Why?"

Your voice cracks, almost unable to get the single word out into the air. You retrace your steps back to his hands, squeezing them tight, as if he'll evaporate in your grasp.

"I... I don't know. I just sat down and all of a sudden, there was all this rage, all this sorrow. I can't even see myself and everyone just decides everything they need to know about me based on something I'll never be able to comprehend. A barmaid assuming I'll flirt to get a free drink, a stranger whispering to a confidant whilst eyeing me up and down. This body, it's only ever been a facade, a trap to pull people in, a tainted memory of Cazador's reign. And I thought about upkeeping it once again, and I just-"

He is cut off by another sob. You have no idea what to say. You had no idea he was struggling like this, that he felt so judged.

"It's okay darling, it's okay."

There's nothing. You are filled by the void. You've heard the stories, Astarion going through hell and back. You've been awoken by the nightmares, you've had the long talks about his boundaries, but you never thought he would ever hurt himself. Somehow that twists your heart worse than any stories of vampire lords and monster hunters. But right now, it's not about you pitying him. He needs you.

You wipe at your eyes once more and go to check on his wound. You silently thank the fact that he's as meticulous about sharpening his weapons as he is about everything else. As you dab at the wound again, he tries to speak. You pause, to try and let the words come out. He grabs onto your forearm, holding on as if you're going to disappear.

"Do you think it'll scar?"

You shake your head immediately.

"No, it won't. I'll get whatever healer we have to, I'll pay whoever we need to."

A vampire bite, a cruel poem, he didn't need one more reminder of the past.

"I'm sorry."

You hold his head in your hands, wiping away at the mist falling down his face.

"It's okay. You'll be okay. We, are going to be okay."

He gives you a pain-ridden smile, something unsure resting on his lips, but he trusts you. He trusts that you're there for all of it, the drunken nights in town, the flirtatious glances, the moments where he forgets he's home. He reciprocates your affirmation.

"Okay."

Somehow you feel a little bit better, that you're here for him. It's going to be a lifetime of ups and downs, but you'd only want to share them with him, and he's grateful. The good, the bad, and the ugly, that's what they all say. And you'll be there for all three.

[dabis-azure-songstress]

could you do headcanons for dabi who’s with a s/o that is a really kind and giving individual. he didn’t like it at first and he thought his s/o being so kind to people who were less fortunate like the homeless was a bad thing but he starts to pick up on their behavior and his s/o catches him doing something nice for something and they both realize he’s started to pick up after his s/o

Ooo, yes, absolutely! I feel like I can relate to this very well. I can already imagine all the things he'll say. I'm sorry this took so long. I've been trying to focus and take a bit better care of myself than I have been, especially with the carpal tunnel. I hope all of you will enjoy these anyway. I feel so bad about not posting here or on my A03. Thank you so much for your request! Please enjoy this, Dabi Goddesses!

Pairing: Dabi w/ S/O that is really kind and giving

Headcanons or one-shot? Headcanons with a small written scenario

Rating: SFW! Warning though! Dabi is sweet at the end and may steal your heart.

"You know they're just going to take advantage of you, don't you? You really need to set boundaries, doll."

At first, it really bothers him how kind and selfless you are and also maybe even makes him a little jealous.

And, he can sound very harsh and occasionally really hurt your feelings sometimes with things he says when he nags you about it, but he really means well.

He really doesn't want to see anyone hurt you or take advantage of you. EVER.

"You really are too kind for your own good. It's going to cause you a lot of trouble one of these days."

"You're such a pushover. You couldn't even tell someone, "No" even if you wanted to."

When he sees he hurts your feelings or upsets you, he does feel bad after, however. Believe me.

After a while though, he really grows to admire you and appreciate you.

After all, it takes a lot of courage to keep being yourself and being selfless, even if sometimes you do get hurt in the process.

You do eventually learn to set some healthier boundaries that Dabi takes note of, and he's proud of you, but he also grows to love how sweet you are.

Eventually, you both don't realize you've rubbed off and made him "softer" a little bit.

One day, you are out of the apartment when you hear a child crying. At first, you think Dabi may have said something rude without meaning to, and upset them, but a glance at the scrapes and blood on their knees proves otherwise. Dabi has kneeled down before them carefully.

"Did you go and hurt yourself there, little bit?"

The little one looks up at him with red and puffy eyes, still rubbing at them, and nods meekly.

"First, I need you to get up...C'mon. You can do it."

Dabi reaches out a hand gingerly and helps the young one to their feet carefully as you watch.

"Wanna see something cool to distract you from the pain a little bit? I'm gonna have Y/N go get you some band-aids and ointment."

Another nod in agreement. Dabi takes in a deep breath and carefully kneels back down to the child's height before he holds out a hand and gently alights a small cerulean flame ablaze in his palm. He glances at you carefully.

When you come back with the band-aids and medicine, you notice the child's laughter filling the air. The child is now fully seated on his lap with him carefully juggling the fire around them.

-----

Now bandaged up and much more dry-eyed and content, the mother soon arrives. It turns out the little one had gotten separated in the rush hour of people. She's surprised to see Dabi entertaining her child so well, despite his looks, but offers him a gentle smile and thanks you both softly as she gathers the little one into her arms.

As they're walking away, Dabi just casts his eyes over you.

"Don't even think about it."

"Think about what?" you smile.

"THAT. Stop it."

You giggle softly at him.

"...Maybe it's not so bad."

"Hm?"

"Maybe it's not so bad being just like you...every once in a while."

You can only smile in return as he grabs your hand and interlaces your fingers.

[h0ney-dames]

Putting all the drama because someone just couldn’t let it die

All names have been blurred bar mine and the offenders, if you know anyone involved in this please keep them anonymous :)

This you ghosting me for a week because I stated my boundaries?

This you trying to turn me against people I trust? This you trying to “totally not force me” to change my opinion of my friends?

This you victim-blaming me in an SVR? A svr that I brought up my issue with the owner at the TIME of the incident and not months after and when no action was taken I elected to avoid and ignore you? This you after I felt uncomfortable so I told someone I trusted the information? This you? (Btw it should be “going behind someone's back” not “gone behind someone's back” Telling people I TRUST that you were being WERID IN MY DM’s, isn't going behind your back it's setting a boundary. If you tell me something no matter how hard I've promised I won't tell you that promise is null and void when it starts to affect me offline.)

This you asking to roleplay NSFW and make nsfw head canons with my OCs even tho I stated I was a minor? And you were also a minor? Who.. hmm… snuck their way into an NSFW channel, and flirted with people older who were uncomfortable? You knew I was a minor and you still decided NSFW was ok?

This you struggling to understand the term “I can't”? This not only happened once but on multiple occasions. You also oh I don't know, spammed me about 4 times a day when I stopped responding to you. I used to put myself on invisible any time you would DM me because I couldn't stand the thought of texting you without feeling the need to vomit!

This you claiming these are your highest kins after I changed my name to Damien and you proceeded to start going by Lasky (more openly? I'm unsure if you already went by that but you had never put it in any of your names till I started going by Damien, I didn't say it at the time but this made me uncomfortable. I'm aware I should have said something sooner.)

This you??

This you denying that gay has become an umbrella term? Don't worry babe you can still be gay! Just because it's an umbrella term doesn't mean it's not a sexuality! You know that right? This isn't the 1920s 🥰🤩

I was willing to not make a call-out post the first time but if you're willing to “bring a situation to light” then I'm willing to show the other corner.

I tried to handle this respectfully and with the dignity that you couldn't uphold. I will not let you drag me through the dirt without educating people on what you have done so that no one else has to cause themself mental stress. You haven't just upset me but others.

You broke boundaries that were put in place to keep others safe and only talked to people you believe would have benefited you or that you could somehow manipulate and blame others/your mental health is not a valid reason to be a fucking prick.

And if the person in the post sees this, one, is good! Two, take your issues up with me. I had my time, and I said my bit when it happened, you do not have a right to go pull up old drama to get people banned after YOU made them uncomfortable, not only did I have to change my boundaries because of people like you I also had to change how I trust people because YOU abused that trust

For anyone wondering where you can find this lovely LOVELY individual

This you?

Ps sweetheart your not 18, your 16-17 at most, 🥰😘

it's not a call out without their users now is it?

I apologise that this isn't my normal post, I was willing to not do a call-out the first time this happened, but it seems only reasonable if they are going to drag my name down :) Hope this helps you all avoid this creature

Happy Halloween everyone remember to lock up all your monsters real tight or they will start spreading bullshit :)

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for being upset that my boyfriend of 3 years doesn't remember our anniversary even though i know he has adhd? ☕️☕️

I (26 W) have been dating my partner (32 M) for over 3 years now. He is officially diagnosed with ADHD and I am currently waiting for my own diagnosis for ADHD. He got diagnosed shortly before we got together and he has opened to me about how insecure he is over his disabilities causing a rift between us since all his previous relationships end with his partners leaving after they "get tired of dealing with his issues" because he also has autism and has been rude before in regards to my weight despite knowing that i am recovered from an eating disorder and this is the context in which his insecurities were disclosed to me. I also don't mean rude like accidentally, he literally put his hands on my stomach and said "what is this" after we had already had several Big Fights in regards to his previously rude behavior. For further context, I told him on our second date that I have a strict boundary around food and my weight and would appreciate it if he kept comments about my body weight or how much i eat to himself because it's triggering for me.

I try to be mindful of his limitations but recently, he asked me if he had forgotten our anniversary. This wouldn't bother me as much if it wasn't our third anniversary coming up in a couple of weeks and if I hadn't repeatedly told me over our time together the exact date of our anniversary. Now, I don't expect him to remember dates off the top of his head. I struggle with that information myself but what I DO hold against him is the fact that he KNOWS he forgets things and doesnt make ANY effort to have a failsafe against that. I put everything in my phone and he WORKS in tech so he knows how easy it is to set a repeat event with reminders nowadays so I don't understand why he can't just fucking figure out how to remember our anniversary without constantly making me be the one to remind him. I have told him exactly this and asked him why he didn't write it down over the last 3 years if he knows he's bad with dates. he said "that's a good point" and that was that. Now, he keeps trying to manipulate the information out of me by asking me when I'm like half asleep because he "thought i might slip up and just tell him."

Am I in the wrong for being mad over this? it feels like he doesn't care enough to do the bare minimum of being in a relationship with another person. I've dated others before with ADHD and it's never been a fucking issue before for them to remember our anniversary. I myself put in the effort when I care about someone to do the bare minimum and write down information I want to remember about someone. I just don't understand why I feel so guilty over getting mad about this when I feel like I have every right to be upset because it's not like I haven't been forthcoming before, it's not like i haven't repeatedly told him over the years and he puts in birthdays to his calendar so like why doesn't he care enough to put our anniversary into it? He wants to marry me but I dont want to spend the rest of my life reminding him to care enough about me to remember things like my birthday, our anniversary or my eating disorder.

But I also know that expecting people with ADHD to remember things is kind of an ableist move and I don't want to start an argument where I'm being a dick to his disabilities. So WIBTA if I decided to make this into a big deal because it is for me knowing my partner has ADHD and cannot help being so forgetful all the time?

What are these acronyms?