#like it just makes sense to me that shed have some compulsion like this that would spiral out of control

[cutemeat]

ok my HC is dee has trich. she like 100% has trich. and it started out as the kind where u like eat the hair too so as a kid she gets a hairball in her stomach and dennis NEVERRRR lets her live it down and so she starts pulling in more discreet places and like tweezing her leg hair off instead of just shaving it….. yeah

[laurasimonsdaughter]

Burning a shapeshifter's skin

I came across this werewolf folktale from France, in which a man saves a strange woman from the werewolf curse by burning the skin she uses to transform:

A hunter from Montrond had returned to a cabin at a time when the people of the mountain had left their cabins. After a while he heard a loud noise; he hid in a corner and saw the door in the middle of the barn open, and a werewolf with a bear skin on its back came into the cabin. He shed his skin and a beautiful young girl emerged. She lit a fire in the hearth. She had beautiful big hair and she started combing and grooming herself. When he saw this, the man came out of his hiding place and grabbed the girl by the hair; she began to scream and struggle, but nothing helped: he held her with force and, with his other hand, he took her bearskin and set it on fire. When it was completely destroyed, she thanked him wholeheartedly for freeing her of that thing. (Collected from Philomène Sambuis by Joisten Charles in 1961)

Despite the presence of violence, the story frames this as an act of kindness. I'm rather glad it doesn't end with her marrying him, but it did make me wonder why I've never seen a folktale where the animal skin of a selkie or swan maiden is burned...

One the one hand it makes sense, because werewolves are generally seen as cursed humans while selkies and swan maidens are born shapeshifters. But on the other hand, while burning a werewolf's skin or belt is a common theme (Dutch examples), there are also tales about werewolves who scream and flee in rage or terror when their skins are burned (Het weerwolfsvel verbrand). And there are plenty of fairy tales who use this trope in various ways:

• In many variants of the Romanian tale "The Enchanted Pig" a prince is cursed to be a pig but can take his skin off at night to become a human. When his wife burns the skin he is furious and she has to redeem herself. Sometimes it is implied the curse would have lifted on its own if she had been patient, but in others he just seems angry she did it at all.

• The Russian tale "The Tsarevna Frog" is similar. The Tsarevitch who marries a cursed maiden burns her frog skin and has to suffer for it. Because instead of breaking her curse it turns her into a swan that flies away for him to rescue.

• In the some versions of "Hans my Hedgehog" burning the hedgehog skin is punished too, while in some it cures the shapeshifting (even while in some cases the hedgehog wasn't born to humans, but was an adopted animal, like in the Indian stories about a crab husband). But in the Grimm's version Hans specifically instructs to burn his animal skin so he can be human permanently.

• In the folktale "The Dog Bride" from the Santal Parganas in India a herdboy marries a dog after seeing it shed its dog skin and become a beautiful maiden. She only turns human when her husband is asleep, but one night he manages to catch her and burns her skin, leaving her permanently in her beautiful woman shape. The story does not say she was cursed.

• In the story "The Mouse Maiden" from Shri Lanka the princess does seem to have been cursed to shapeshift between a girl and a mouseling, but she weeps when her husband burns her mouse jacket at the advice of her mother.

• The girl in the Greek tale "The Goat Girl" seems just as upset. She is the goat child born to a woman, who can shapeshift at will, and tries to throw herself into the oven her groom burns her goatskin in. It isn't clear if this is a compulsion or an act of grief.

• And there's also the tale "The Little Donkey", collected by the Grimms, in which a queen gives birth to a donkey who is then married to a princess and only then starts to turn human at night. The father of the bride burns the donkey skin, but unlike the other shapeshifters on this list (except for the Mouse Maiden) the donkey prince does not even notice until the next morning. He is terrified and tries to flee, until the king begs him to stay.

All this to say, these folktales are very divided on whether burning a shapeshifter's animal skin is the right thing to do. And it does not always depend on whether you are dealing with a cursed human or a born shapeshifter either! So I really wonder if there really aren't any folktales about selkies or swan maidens that involve the (attempted) burning of their skin, or if I just haven't found them yet...

[libbee]

Many people in one body.

🌸When you dont feel like you know who you are, it can be the loneliest feeling in your own body. AIR signs sun/moon/mercury/venus have this tendency to become a different person with different people. It does not have to be with an ulterior motive. It is just thst they are predisposed to adapt to the social cues.

🌸Water sign in 5th house can give a dreamlike and dissociative personality. You escape into a world of make believe. Sometimes it might feel like a compulsion. Without it, the life feels utterly dull and tiring.

🌸Incompatible placements in one chart aka air-water or earth-air combination is like universe's way of making your life harder than it needs to be. You spend your energy fighting with yourself and creating a stable self.

🌸Do you ever look back and wonder "who the hell was that person?" You recall having friends but you dont remember who you were, what value you offered them in friendship, why they chose you in their friend circle. That is just you shedding skin as an 8th house native. 8th house can make you twice born. You were born once from your mom's womb. You were born again when you built yourself up from ground up. Literal self development.

🌸7th house sun/moon/mercury is not really a social charmer placement, that would be 11th house. 7th house is one on one connections, especially romantic. It can make native be like relationship is the sole purpose of thier life. You were born to marry and work on your relationship. It can make you so dependent that you cannot even function when you are single. You need that other half to be there. It just feels like a team strength.

🌸People who think they are sure of themselves are the ones who are the most unsure. People in TV/video/pictures/screen appear to be flawless and confident. But the screen just eliminates their anxiety and rawness. Learn human skills from the people around you not the ones on TV or cinema. They exaggerate their expressions, rehearse their dialogue and everything is edited and filtered. Real life has flaws, spontaneity, anxiety, raw intimacy and to be able to think on your feet.

🌸In Persona by Ingmar Bergman, Alma is the talkative, expressive and soulful self while Elisabet has chosen to remain silent, running from her past and a cold person. "Her problems is that her notions dont match her life experiences". People are not one person all the time, at every moment of their life. People change. Personality changes. Personality happens to people. We do things we never imagined ourselves capable of doing. It is scary to think you can be an unpredictable beast and surprise yourself by what you end up doing. It is like you cannot even trust yourself. Two women battling their guilty conscience. Emotions they did not choose to feel. Stuck in existantial question of who they are and why they suffer. Are the two the same person? I am a different person in my head, i look different, act different, everything is much easier in the head and the two lives coexist together. I think that the person in my head is not really me, it is some other girl I am fascinated with at the moment. So in my head, I am who I think I will be if I was like that other girl, makes sense? Something in her hooks my lackings, whether it is her extraversion or ability to befriend people or social confidence or looks or a hobby that is not mine. I live through the girl in my head another life, with another life theme, another life story, another persona. When you are like that, how can you be one person in one body?

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

[donnerpartyofone]

We have all this baggage around the ideas of creativity and originality, and I think that the situation would be better understood in terms of consumption and production. Like, in what proportion do you, the individual, consume versus produce something new. There is usually a moral flavor to the word "consumerism", and like obviously abject materialism has a lot of problems and it really matters WHAT you consume. You can be a major consumer of all kinds of arts and crafts and things that are good for you and/or your community, and there's nothing wrong with that. You can also be a curator or scholar of things, which is kind of a hybrid consumer/producer status where you're constructively shedding light on and guiding the consumption of certain things. Similarly I think the idea of "creativity" is poorly understood, or at least it's a term that gets used in a limited way that has something to do with being abstractly "artistic" and "thinking outside the box" and having originality--concepts that can distract unfairly from whether a product is actually GOOD or not. I mean you can make something very novel just to find out that it's rare because it's not a good concept; you can also make something that doesn't reinvent the wheel, but it's really finely realized and either emotionally or physically useful and inspiring. It seems to me that instead of speaking glibly about "consumerism" and "creativity", it's more interesting AND less morally onerous to talk about consumption versus production. The pleasure of consumption is probably pretty universal, where the pleasure of production can be impeded by self-criticism, the limits of your personal perspective, and your limited ability to surprise yourself. You'll think I'm joking but when you're trying to make something that you yourself find exciting, you can run into the same type of problem as how you can't tickle yourself, or like, that joke about masturbating with your non-dominant hand and calling it "the stranger". It's totally understandable that it's rarer to be productive; skill at any given craft is not universal, and the ability to generate an exciting idea is not universal--and it could be that you have both but it's too hard or confusing to get your own approval. I think about this a lot while I'm doing serious fictional writing for the first time. I have stories that I'm totally committed to, and that excite me in some unique way, but the pleasure of production will never compare to the pleasure of consuming someone else's products. If I could get away with it I would do nothing but watch other people's movies and read other people's books until my body is done living, but I feel this compulsion to at least try producing something myself, no matter what becomes of it or how hard it is, just because I feel like I might be able to. But I don't sense a hierarchal relationship between consumption and production. It's all just a matter of what you feel like you can do.

[engineer-gunzelpunk]

Traintober 2023: Big World

(A little bit of a story from my humanised TTTE AU This Is Sodor: The Age of Iron, concerning Aus Steam '88)

For Your Consideration

NWR Head Office, 1988

The Fat Controller looked at his calendar and roster of locomotives for the weeks and months ahead. It was coalescing nicely.

The plans for sending a group of Sudrian locos in their human form to the great Aus Steam '88 locomotive festival that was going to be held at Spencer Street Station in Melbourne, Victoria, Australia, was heading apace.

What a clever idea for Flying Scotsman to suggest, using the Australian Steam Festival as a cover to send some of the Sudrian locos to teach the local steam engines how the NWR survived decades of onslaught of persecution; from the LMS, from creditors, from the BR, from Beeching and Marples and the whole bloody lot of them.

What an honor would it be for them to meet not just Scotty but the Australian locomotive rights radicals VR H220 Heavy Harry, VR R707 and NSWGR's 3801 on their own metals.

It would give some of the locos a nice little experience outside of their Sudrian bubble... get them to see the world, to a place where the hateful Lokodammerung was successful and where the preservation movements were running on fumes. Maybe it would pacify and humble them a little, make them see how difficult it really was to be a locomotive and not have what the NWR provided.

He had heard that Heavy Harry's residence at the North Williamstown Railway Museum at the former Newport Workshops... was not the best. It wasn't exactly the luxurious surrounds of the National Railway Museum in York.

Or that R707 was put aside by the VR in spite of being the closest thing the state had to a premier passenger locomotive... and was saved by volunteers fixing him up themselves.

He'd hoped the Sudrian locos would draw lessons from how harsh things could be outside of their little island.

Or that was the fantasy.

The reality would be they would likely get drunk and indulge in all kinds of sin, and he didn't necessarily blame them. The human world outside of Sodor was as exotic to them as railways outside the little island.

This the Fat Controller pondered. Ever since that TV show began airing, he's had to keep its star Thomas under wraps. It wouldn't do for him to get captured in the papers doing something silly, especially since the books and TV shows were a bowdlerized version of what he got up to...

So no, not Thomas, not this time.

He thought of his Strike Trio, and against common sense he had the compulsion to send them. He knew Gordon would be keen to meet a foreign Pacific express passenger locomotive and to meet his brother, and maybe perhaps the Hudsons in attendance.

He pondered Henry and James. Henry had worked pretty hard and he partied harder, but he had been pretty well behaved this past decade after being angry and restless in the 70s... And James, well, he knew that giving him a special job often made him more tractable and agreeable to work with.

Just to make sure, he put Edward down as a sort of unofficial chaperone. If this experiment worked, he would send Thomas out into the world at some point.

Not now though, not while the attention was upon him with a whole bloody TV show named after him having just screened in Australia a year previous and the world's attention was on the little blue tank engine.

"Charles, bring me to Tidmouth Sheds when the listed four have been properly hostled... I have something wonderful to tell them..."

[bluejay-writes]

Heaven is a Misnomer - Chapter 10

Fandom: Shall We Date?: Obey Me! Rating: Teen Chapter 10 Wordcount: 3074 Characters/Relationships: Jake (Exchange student OC) / Raphael Summary: Jake learns some things about Raphael, and invites him to movie night at Azrael's.

Author Note: I am strongly considering discontinuing the full-text chapters on Tumblr. (Yes, because of the AI garbage.) If you're actually reading it here and not on AO3, send me an ask or reblog with commentary or leave a message somehow about it, k?

You can also read this on AO3, if that's your jam!

First Chapter || Prev Chapter || Next Chapter > (Next Tuesday!)

Chapter 10: I did it for you.

When Jake and Bunny got to the gym, someone was busily pedaling a stationary bike in the machine room. Jake was curious, but he didn’t automatically feel terrified, so it wasn’t Michael, and he decided to leave whoever it was to their workouts. Besides, if it was Fen or Gabriel, they might get spooked by Jake and Bunny barging in where they were working out, and the last thing Jake wanted was to spook someone out of taking care of themselves.

He’d shed the hoodie before they left, knowing that he’d be way too warm in it. The Celestial Realm’s ‘perfect 75 degree weather’ was actually a touch warm for jogging outdoors, given that he came from a cold weather climate. So there he was, in his demon-approved workout wear, stretching carefully before doing lunges with Bunny. It was leg day, after all.

That was the perfect time for the person on the bike to decide they were warmed up enough to come lift. Bunny glanced up and smiled at whoever it was who came in. Jake could hear them racking a few weights onto a bar, but decided not to be nosy, and just finished out his stretching routine. His politeness and commitment to privacy meant that he had no idea who was behind him when Bunny suggested they start with some lateral lunges - for stability, she said. That made sense to Jake, and it’s the same thing they started with last week.

Halfway through the set, Bunny’s phone starts ringing, and she grumbles, but moves smoothly from her lunge over to the shelf she’d set her phone on. While this is happening, a sharp gasp rings out from behind them, and the heart-stopping sound of a barbell hitting the floor and bouncing just that little bit causes Jake to turn around mid lunge in a panic, half to his feet when he realizes the person behind him lifting was none other than Raphael.

In what felt like a fraction of a second, Jake was in front of Raphael, checking him over top to bottom and then carefully looking at his hands to make sure that he’s okay, muttering quietly the entire time, mostly to himself except that he’s admonishing Raphael while he does it.

“You really should have someone spotting for you when you’re lifting like this, Raph. What if no one was here and you hurt yourself with that drop? You lift as much as Bunny does, with this body of yours, you can’t let it get hurt just because you’re a compulsive loner!”

Raphael caught both of Jake’s fluttering concerned hands in his own, and Jake froze and looked up at him, eyes wide. Why was this damned angel so tall, anyway? Like, Jake was tall to start with but Raphael made him feel short. Sure, it was only like two inches, but that was plenty when they were this close.

“I’m fine.” was all he said, and Jake realized what he’d been doing and how close he was to the discipline angel, pulling his hands away and backing up a few steps to give Raphael some space. Oh. Oh no, I even nicknamed him. Angels don’t like that. Go ahead, dig yourself deeper, Jakey.

Before either of them could say anything else, Bunny walked between them.

“Aya needs my help with something, so I am going to go check up on her. Jake, I’ll just do squats later, you should spot for this idiot before he hurts himself.” The gruffness of her tone did not match her usual chipper nature, and both Jake and Raphael turned concerned looks on her as she left the gym.

“Well.” Jake said into the silence that reigned after her departure. “That just happened.”

“It did.” Raphael said, and Jake realized his cheeks were slightly pink. “She’s not wrong. And neither were you. I should have had someone spotting for me. I know better, I just…” He trailed off, and Jake wondered what he was thinking that would make him lift like that without help.

“Listen.” Jake said quietly, as if a normal volume might change the situation too much. “I can’t spot you for what you’re lifting, I’m not strong enough. But I spot Bunny for 200s, if that’s okay? Smaller weight, more reps?”

“Yeah.” Raphael said, matching his volume. “I could do that.” After a moment, he took the extra plates off of his bar, carefully checking them for damage before racking them.

“Actually, if you’re spotting, can we do bench?”

“So.” Raphael said, once they were settled into a routine. “I didn’t take you for a lifter.”

“I’m not.” Jake said, plainly. “Bunny asked me to spot for her right after the program started, and she’s been training me ever since I agreed the once. It’s actually been good for my anxiety. I feel safer, for whatever reason.”

“You can fight back, if you’re stronger.” Raphael said, and Jake sensed that he was saying it with understanding, not just theory. Moments later, he confirmed that with what he said next. “I used to be really afraid of almost everything. Then I started training, and it got better, knowing if I needed to, I was strong enough, fast enough. That I could protect myself. Now, it’s just habit.”

“But you’re the angel of discipline.” Jake said, confused. “Aren’t you like, the strongest?”

Raphael laughed, a mocking bark of a laugh that Jake wasn’t expecting. “That’s my title. Mostly, I like to rain spears down on people. It’s fun, and I’m more than a little bit deadly with one. But I’m not the strongest by far. I’m just Michael’s attack dog. The one he sends out if he needs something… handled.”

Jake shivered. He understood that laugh a bit, now. But it made him a little more uncomfortable with Raphael living next door.

“So you moved in next to me in case I needed that extra bit of discipline.” He said, eyes firmly on the bar, and not meeting Raphael’s.

“No.” Raphael said, racking the bar and sitting up so he could meet Jake’s eye. “That’s not it at all. I asked Michael to let me handle the exchange program because I was worried about you.”

“Me?”

Raphael looked away for a moment, his cheeks darkening just slightly, before meeting his eyes again. Jake didn’t know how to take that at all.

“You, especially. But everyone else, as well. Michael has… a temper. A need to control. And you were pushing his buttons constantly. And as a normal human, he can’t force a covenant to make you toe the line.”

“Azrael said something similar.” Jake said, nodding.

“I knew, if I offered to handle it, he’d relax. So… I’m handling it. Which mostly means just being around in case anyone needs anything. The most it is for me is a smaller room for a year. I can cope.”

Jake chuckled. “Well, if you ever need more space to relax or work on classwork, I have way more space than I need, just knock.”

“Jake, thank you.” Raphael said softly, as they got back to the hallway that led to their rooms. “I really appreciate you being willing to spot me.”

“Anytime, Raphael. Seriously, I actually enjoy spotting for you strong folks. It inspires me.”

They parted ways, and Jake took himself through the shower, spending far too long thinking about a certain ash-blonde angel.

Jake was bouncing around his room, gathering things he’d need for the movie night they’d planned. It was the sort of low-key fun that he and Nia always had, and he was pleased to have made a few good friends here in the Celestial Realm so that they could spend one of their rare off-nights doing this.

“Jake?” Raphael’s voice called from his doorway, and he turned to see the angel, leaning casually on the doorframe.

“Hey Raph.” Jake said, and winced as he saw the light pink appear on Raphael’s cheeks. “Sorry. Raphael. What can I do for you?”

“Well.” He said quietly. “You don’t have to stop calling me that. Just… I won’t be able to respond to it in front of Michael, okay?”

“Really?” Jake grinned, his entire face lighting up. “Thank you.” He couldn’t really explain just how much that meant to him, but he hoped that Raphael understood. Either way… that was two angels who accepted his nicknames. Out of three angels he’d reasonably call his friends, that felt monumental.

“Yes, really. Also, I… got this for you.” Raphael was holding a hoodie that did the same gradient from blue to gold that the undersides of his usual angel attire did. “I’ve only worn it a few times, but I thought you might enjoy having a hoodie that didn’t require you to make sweater paws just to function.”

Jake could tell that his cheeks were red, because they felt like they were on fire. So did his ears. He walked over and took the hoodie from Raphael, immediately exchanging it for the oversized purple monstrosity he’d gotten from Bunny. It was impossibly soft, and while still a little bit large for him, it was in the “this is my boyfriend’s” way, and not in the “I stole this from a giant” way. Aaaaand Jake had probably better not think of it in the stealing clothes from his boyfriend way either. Friend, though… friend was good.

“Thank you.” he said, eyes shining as he looked up at Raphael after half-zipping the hoodie. “It’s incredibly soft.” He paused a moment, and then followed his heart. “You wouldn’t want to come to movie night in Azrael’s room tonight, would you?” Jake was still rather surprised that she even left her room for classes. Suddenly, Jake wondered when she did her angel of death bit, if she was always in her room. Well. He could ask her later.

“Am I invited?” Raphael said, looking a little bit stunned, which given his propensity for non-expression meant that he was very stunned.

“Of course! Movie night was my idea, so it’s my party. We’re just having it at Azrael’s room because she’s a hermit who doesn’t like to leave her room unless someone insists that she must.”

“Fair.” He said, his expression once more neutral. “I’d be happy to come along.”

Jake was excited to get to spend more time with his new friends. It was ostensibly movie night but he had a feeling they’d probably end up playing a game or something that allowed them to chat more, once the movie was over. Hopefully bringing Raphael along wouldn’t be a problem, but he’d smooth it over if it was. They all seemed like they’d get along just fine if Michael weren’t involved, anyway.

Jake swanned into Azrael’s room like he owned the place, Raphael trailing after him a bit like a lost puppy. Bunny and Aya were already there with Azrael and Feniel. There was one spot left on the couch for Jake, they clearly hadn’t been expecting him to bring along a wayward Angel of Discipline.

“Hey, fam! I invited Raphael to join me!” he said, plopping down next to Feniel. Aya and Azrael were in the lounge chairs, with Bunny holding down the floor next to Aya’s chair, since she took up the whole couch by herself if she sat there, and she was perfectly happy with a pillow and the floor.

Raphael took one look at the way the room was arrayed, and settled himself on the floor in front of Jake, leaning against his legs. Jake knew he was blushing, but luckily Raphael was looking the other way, so he would never know.

Azrael was the first to recover, and she just laughed. “Trust the wayward Human to bring their own plus one. It’s fine though, Shiny turned us down, she’s working on a paper tonight that she failed to work on for the last three weeks. Her loss, we’re watching Howl’s Moving Castle tonight.”

Jake grinned. This was one of Nia’s favorites, he’d have to message her about it. He pulled out his phone, and once he’d messaged her, his phone beeped with three incoming messages.

“Oh, better put that on silent.” He said, somewhat breathily at the messages in front of him.

Aya > Jake: Nice new threads - steal them from your boyfriend?

Feniel > Jake: Raphael? Really? How’d you tear him away from his Michael worship?

Raphael > Jake: Please do tell me if I am being too familiar. I wanted to follow Yboun’dih’s lead in sitting on the floor, and I thought you’d be most comfortable with me in your space, when compared to Feniel and Azrael.

Azrael had turned the lights off with voice commands (a neat bit of tech, but also somewhat creepy) so Jake knew he couldn’t respond on his phone, so he did the best he could otherwise. A wink to Aya, a shrug to Fen, and a reassuring shoulder squeeze for Raphael.

The movies had been wonderful. And, if he was being honest with himself, it was mostly because Raphael had actually relaxed against him after the first half hour or so rather than being mister tense. It was also because Jake felt like he was actually relaxing with friends for the first time in months, but he’d also come to terms with his situation. He had a massive crush on Raphael. Spotting for him in the gym gave him time to really get a sense for the angel, and what he’d learned… well, there was one good thing about being trapped in the Celestial Realm for the rest of this year. And it was the eye candy that was his dorm neighbor.

Jake startled when his phone made a little chirp. He hadn’t put it on silent yet. That was step one. Step two was checking his messages. Oh! Nia.

Nia > Jake: Hey, Jakey, you awake? Jake > Nia: Nia. It’s like 4am there, what are you doing awake? Nia > Jake: It’s 2 there, I could be asking the same thing. Jake > Nia: I just got home from movie night. Unintentional double feature because Azrael found out that Raph hadn’t seen Spirited Away, so… Nia > Jake: That’s a tragedy! Jake > Nia: Agreed. Anyway, why are you texting me at 4am? Nia > Jake: I made a pact with Beel.

Jake blinked. That’s a second pact. And not with the boy she’s interested in. Either of them. Or, was she interested in this one too? Beel seemed like a boy Bunny, maybe a hungrier one, but. A real himbo, from what Nia’s said. He didn’t disapprove, even if it wasn’t up to him.

Jake > Nia: Whoa. Two pacts! Nia > Jake: Yeah.

Should he say it? He had to say it.

Jake > Nia: And you’re still the legal owner of your soul, I hope. Nia > Jake: Of course I am, I honestly just agreed to go out to basically every human-safe Devildom restaurant. Jake > Nia: You agreed to endless dates as an exchange for protection from Mr. Beefy? Nia > Jake: I mean… yeah, that’s a pretty good description.

That was one hell of a deal, really. But… Well, Nia was telling him about her relationship things, even if Pacts were like the ultimate platonic commitment and not romantic like his realizations for the evening. He should still share with her even though he knew it would probably keep her from going back to sleep properly.

Jake > Nia: Well, my crush gave me one of his hoodies, so… Nia > Jake: Your crush?! How long were you going to hold out on telling me about him? Jake > Nia: I thought you’d have guessed by now.

Even as he pushed send, Jake knew it wasn’t entirely fair. Even he had only really realized it today. But he also knew how easy it was for his bestie to read him, often before he figured things out himself. She’d clocked the fact that he was gay months before he admitted it to himself. He could see the same in her, it’s why they were so close. Lucikly, they’d never had crushes on the same boy before, so that helped keep them from having petty fights. But if she was going to date every single demon, well, it was only a matter of time before they saw eye to eye on hotness. Mammon was an absolute snack.

Nia > Jake: You talk about Azrael and Feniel enough, but one’s a girl and the other you sa

Jake stared at his phone when the incomplete message popped in. Then, Nia started and stopped typing probably a dozen times before her next message came through.

Nia > Jake: HOLY SHIT IS IT RAPHAEL?!

Jake laughed so loud he had to smother his own face in his pillow to avoid waking Raphael nextdoor.

Jake > Nia: Shh, keep it down, you’ll wake the neighbors.

His phone buzzed as he was sending that message, and what he received made him laugh again, but tamer.

Raphael > Jake: Everything okay in there? Jake > Raphael: Sorry if I woke you, texting with my devildom friend. Raphael > Jake: You didn’t wake me. You and she should probably get some sleep though. Jake > Raphael: You too. Thanks again for the hoodie.

Right. Right. Stop flirting. Back to Nia.

Jake > Nia: I say, and then wake my neighbor laughing anyway. Jake > Nia: But yes. He’s so hot. And nice. And I’m pretty sure he fumbled his lift because of my spandex ass earlier. Nia > Jake: OMG what?! Jake > Nia: Aya loaned me workout clothes so I’d stop working out in jeans. Nia > Jake: And…? Jake > Nia: It’s leg day. Nia > Jake: And he fumbled a lift? Boy was checking you out! Jake > Nia: I thought so too. But he was so smooth about it, and he’s Michael’s right hand man, so… Nia > Jake: Oooooooof. Yeah. okay. Jake > Nia: I shall admire him from a respectable distance and enjoy the hell out of this hoodie. Nia > Jake: That sounds like a great plan. I am gonna… sleep. Nia > Jake: Oh right!!! I made cookies with Beel and Luke, btw. So expect a delivery #soon. Jake > Nia: 🍪🍪🍪🍪🍪🍪🍪

Jake set his device aside, making sure it was plugged in properly, and crawled into bed. Pajamas and Raphael’s hoodie? Absolutely. He slipped the eye mask that Azrael had gifted him over his eyes to keep the perpetual sun out, curled up, and slipped off to sleep with thoughts full of cute boys and impending cookies.

[tordenvejr]

Hello Vic! How are you doing? 🫰🏼

I need a little help from you - I do not think I have ocd, but I do obsess over washing hands and keeping things hygenic. Tidy? No, my house is always messy, but I wash my hands toooooo often to the point where if strong hand creams didn’t exist I would have shed several skin layers by now 😀 My immediate problem rn is that i am on a vacation with my family - even worse, I am sharing a room w my parents - and let me tell you, their lack of hygiene just get on my nerves. My mom has definitely noticed I struggle w this and it’s kinda easier to voice my anxiety over hygiene with her. My dad on the other hand has no idea and isn’t the most open minded person, I doubt he has even heard that some people struggle w stuff like this. I can ignore some stuff but when after 3 days of being here I hear my dad ask my mom which one was the soap (my mom had lots of other products on counter) I knew I wanted to pass away ! My mom asked “you haven’t washed your hands yet?” Don’t think he even replied which I am afraid means that yeah he hasn’t. Sounds so comical and ridiculous but it is really bothering me.

Thing is, before, I lived w them for 18 years and nothing happened, never occurred to me they wouldn’t even wash hands considering I was tought basic hygiene. So I wish I could just switch my brain to that state but can I.

Idk how I do not lose my mind. I do not think that something bad will happen if I don’t follow these hand washing obsession BUT it just irks me to know somebody is so unhygienic let alone someone who doesn’t wash their hands for so long 🥲🥲🥲 even if I didn’t have this problem it’s natural to be upset about my dad being ultra white person. So idk how to 1. Deal with people I am sharing the room with not being as hygienic as me 2. One of them not even following basic hygiene (would have been better if I had spoken up the 1st time I found out abt this- but I hate confrontation, especially with family I guess)

Vacation ends in 10 days but knowing they have touched my phone and my belongings and that I cannot just exist in a sterile world or in a world aWay from them does not make me happy. I know I have to address the root cause of hand washing obsession but this is the situation I am dealing w atm. So idk how to remain calm, ignore this, because voicing my anxiety and asking them to follow basic hygiene just seems ridiculous. :(

Sorry for such a long text 🫠

hi 🌟 i'm doing good, but i've been sleeping so fucking shit the past days i feel like a little snail around the house zzz

assuming you don't have ocd (you can look into the pure o subtype and reflect a bit over the cycle of obsession > anxiety > compulsion > relief > obsession. sometimes it isn't the belief of something bad happening it can also be an intense discomfort or a "sense" of something being off/wrong/not right); if it's a general annoyance and discomfort of lack of hygiene, keep your belonging on you, get a mini hand sanitizer if you can from a kiosk or store, air out, store your food away from theirs in the fridge and try to handle it yourself. it's up to you if you want to/are ready to express this discomfort/boundary with them, but it isn't ridiculous or unfounded. it's quite a fair request of the people you're in near proximity to, to exercise regular hygiene, such as washing their hands - and you aren't responsible for their reactions, though i understand you will be around them. i hope the next days will be better for you!

[presencinglife]

Jealousy is a painfully consuming reaction to—and also a compelling dramatization of—being rejected or replaced, whether this is real or imagined. It can be devastatingly intense—it’s a if we have been slammed in our chest with  a sharply spiked wrecking ball. If the jealousy-catalyzing blow is powerful enough, we may go to pieces initially, carried by our pain and disbelief—and shock—in multiple directions, with no one at the helm. In the midst of such upset, we may find ourselves considering doing things we never thought we were capable of, ricocheting between numbness and excruciating hurt.

However much jealousy hurts and destabilizes us, it can be used to deepen our lives, if we become intimate with it. The slightest threat, groundless or not, of being rejected, replaced or bumped to less-than-central status by a significant other can trigger jealousy, especially if we’re already insecure in our relationship with that person. It may even seem like our survival is at stake.

We may talk of jealousy as though it were a single emotion like anger or fear, but it is in fact a compound emotion, mixing together anger (moral upset), grief (very impactful loss), and anguish (deep-cutting aching), along with usually at least some degree of resentment and shame. More often than not, jealousy features a compulsive drive to blame our offending other—or our apparently offending other—for what we are doing in our jealous state. After all, we might think, if he or she hadn’t done what they did, we wouldn’t be feeling this way! That may be true, but this attitude relieves us of any accountability for how we’re framing and handling our jealousy. That said, it’s important that we not downplay or marginalize what is catalyzing our jealousy just because we are not dealing with it very well.

The core message of jealousy cuts to the quick, along the lines of “You don’t love me” or “You don’t want me” or whatever else implies deep-cutting rejection or betrayal-centered loss. Closely aligned with this message is one that is torture for the jealous: “If you really loved (or wanted) me, you wouldn’t be doing this.” So the fact that the other is doing this eats away at us, claiming most of our attention. And if the other’s jealousy-generating doings are indeed unloving, the pain at the heart of our jealousy will only be reinforced and intensified.

As painful as it is to feel unloved or unwanted—or to be loved or wanted in a lukewarm fashion—it is even more painful to know that a significant other is giving to another what we have been yearning to receive. This is the bleeding wound of jealousy, the gut-slam, the hear-piercing agony of in-your-face rejection.

Jealousy is made possible through attachment. What I mean by attachment is a felt sense of connection that bonds us to another or to a particular condition or state. Not surprisingly, some of us strive for nonattachment in relationships, perhaps as a way of seeking an end to jealousy—or at least to relational hurt. Without attachment, there would be no jealousy—and there would be no compassion.

Do not allow yourself to make a problem out of attachment, and beware of teachings that present attachment as a problem, something to be shed or transcended. It’s very easy to get attached to not being attached. Yes, attachment does have pathological possibilities such as addiction, but attachment itself is not necessarily a sign of neurosis or immaturity. We are born with an innate drive to form attachments, beginning with deeply bonding with our mother. Attachment comes with relational intimacy and in fact may deepen as we become truly closer and more vulnerable, even as it simultaneously becomes more transparent. Jealousy doesn’t necessarily go away as we mature; we simply handle it more and more skillfully, mining it for whatever nuggets of intuition it might contain.

If we are habituated to give love only when we’re already being loved and feeling loved, we will be hit especially hard by jealousy. When we depend on the ready supply of another’s love, the withdrawal or loss or redirection of that love is devastating. Even the imagined threat of such loss can trigger jealousy, injecting us with chronic suspicion, reducing us to part-time sleuths sniffing around for signs of rejection or outright betrayal.

Many relationships are polluted by some degree of this. Perhaps one partner periodically feels a nagging sense of jealousy, assuming that the other is either betraying him or her or is going to, and so keeps a suspicious eye open. The other partner gets busy reassuring the first one, claiming that she or he has nothing to worry about. The mistrust breeds more craving for reassurance, which in turn breeds more mistrust. This can happen whether the jealousy is warranted or not.

It takes great courage to not shut down our heart—or not to keep it shut down—when we’re being rejected or replaced. To give the love that we ache to receive in the midst of feeling the pain of dwindling or withdrawn love asks that we leave our comfort zone. This doesn’t mean that we ought to be openhearted with those who have betrayed or abandoned us, but that we need not let our jealousy toward them take us down.

When we’re gripped by jealousy and torn by the rejection it signals, it’s crucial that we not reject ourselves—as can happen when we blame ourselves for the other’s turning away from us. We don’t have to love our jealousy, but sooner or later we need to start loving the place in us—vulnerable, dependent, and so, so soft—that is chained and screaming in the black pit of our jealousy.

When we’re jealous it’s important to openly admit that we are feeling rejected or unwanted—and it’s just as important not to let this feeling balloon out of proportion. When we overfocus on being rejected, we lose touch with its underlying hurt and arguably even reject that. And so we might end up doing to ourselves what our jealousy-inducing other is apparently doing to us. When we’re being truly loving, we do not reject the other, but we may reject��and need to reject—something that the other is doing.

Being rejected or replaced is not easy to deal with, but its degree of difficulty diminishes as we approach our jealousy more skillfully. Unless we avoid all attachment, we still become jealous as we mature, but we will learn to take care of it in ways that serve us. We won’t indulge in blaming even as we go for full accountability; we won’t slip into aggression or violence; we will stay vulnerable without losing our spine or dignity; we will allow our grief to fully flow. In all this, we’re committed to exploring jealousy’s realm, going right to its heartland rather than setting up camp somewhere on the outskirts from where we can righteously snipe and gripe.

And we start learning to love when we are not being loved, instead of waiting for the other to come around and love us. So there’s no more being held hostage by hope that the other, the one whose behavior got us jealous, is going to give us what we want.

Once jealousy is held with compassion—without repression—it eases its defenses, becoming a nonviolent expression of relational hurt and wounding, a heart-opening confession of attachment that has been intensified by rejection. This leaves us no longer bound by the possibility of potential rejection, no longer fearful of being jealous, which allows us to  adopt a nonproblematic orientation toward jealousy.

When jealousy arrives, treat it neither as an enemy nor as an excuse for getting reactive. Separate what is neurotic in it from what is not. Stay present with it until its righteousness ebbs and its vulnerability and hurt are clearly in the open. Jealousy can be a very uncomfortable visitor, darkly aflame and perhaps massively interruptive of our lives, but it is worth sitting down with and getting to know, and know very well.

Robert Augustus Masters, Emotional Intimacy

[glasshalftrue]

Thoughts on "The Dispossessed" (Ursula K. Le Guin):

Shevek is an interesting protagonist. Having grown up in Annares, he's thoroughly entrenched in the anarchist Anarresti (holy shit how did I just make that connection) mindset; when he arrives on the capitalist planet of Urras, he's surprised to see that the it appears to be well-functioning and maintained, realizing that "the lure and compulsion of profit was evidently a much more effective replacement of the natural initiative than he had been led to believe." This is, of course, the opposite of the capitalist view, which is that people need to be motivated by profit in order to do good work. Yet he's also somewhat of an outsider in his own society, never quite fitting in with other people and ultimately coming into conflict with the rest of the planet over his scientific theory and willingness to communicate with the Urras. It makes for a more compelling and dynamic perspective than, say, a full-throated true believer.

I'm still unconvinced of the feasibility of a truly anarchist society like that of Annares, at least on that scale. Self-regulation can only go so far, and at a certain size it becomes necessary to have some some of central governing body, and that body needs to have the power to enforce its will. The book itself depicts Annares succumbing to bureaucracy and de-facto archism, with a "government" exerting force through customs and social pressure rather than laws, but it's functional the same thing, and it seems to me that, rather than being a social disease that can be defeated, this fate feels like the inevitable outcome of such a society.

On Annares, "dirty work" (work that's either unappealing or dangerous) is done by a lottery system, and people are constantly rotated in and out of doing such work. When asked why they would do this given the inefficiency of such a system, Shevek replies: "Yes. It's not efficient, but what else is to be done? You can't tell a man to work on a job that will cripple him or kill him in a few years." As a socialist-leaning person myself, I think there are a lot of progressive policies that would ultimately be a net good in pretty much every way. But some things are trade-offs, and even if they're worth it, it's useful to acknowledge them as such.

Particularly interesting to me was the culture, taboos, and societal norms of such a collectivist society. "Egoizing" seems to be the Anarresti's default insult, which sheds insight into the way that Annares maintains its society by building a strong sense of taboo and shame around the idea of self-centeredness and self-serving behavior. But is that enough? The book acknowledges that people like self-serving people who flaunt the Odonian ideology, like Shevek’s superior Sabul, will always exist, and sufficiently crafty and ambitious ones could easily exploit such a society. Of course, capitalism is obviously far from safe from exploitation of that sort, but it’s not clear to me why Annares would be able to do any better of a job at keeping it at bay.

The book brings up interesting ideas about freedom, and what it actually means. In Annares, people are "free" to do whatever they want; job postings are heavily encouraged, but never mandatory, and there are people in Annares who end up rejecting society entirely and living on their own. But how free are they, really? Near the end of the book, when they’re discussing whether to send an Anarresti an Urras, it’s stated that, though an Anarresti is free to leave the planet, they won’t be welcomed back. In the same way that people in America are “free” but still ultimately constrained by material conditions like poverty, it seems like people on Annares are similarly constrained by heavy social pressure. Agency doesn't exist in a vaccum, and there's no such thing as being able to truly do whatever you want - the question is which chains you want to wear.

It's a surprisingly romantic book. A line that will stay with me for a long time: "Please come back... separation is education all right but your presence is the education I want."

[xoteajays]

I hate autocorrect.. Always changing words that I never said before at all. And don't get me started on names, curse words, any words that's changed. Like I can respect that it could spellcheck if you spelled any words wrong, but it's different when words are completely changed.

But that makes more sense now.

Anyway.

Spiders don't bother me. Actually.. Like how most people would get a lot of bugs in their houses like ants, cockroaches and silverfishes. The bugs were get are usually spiders, crickets and I think there even may have been a spricket one time too. So we've seen spiders in or around my house. If they don't bother me (or my dog), I don't bother spiders.

Well.. If the animal and insect pictures you want to show me, have not a single thing to do with them eating other animals because I just never want to see that. Then I might not really mind seeing pictures.

Rhino beetles? Are rhino beetles the same beetles you see in Japan? I know they have beetles there.. And something use beetles for betting reasons. Like Daruma does with animals and insects in their business anyway, you'll see the scenes whenever you watch the movies again.

Grubs look like maggots.

Moths are a butterfly's gothic relative. You can't change my mind on a thought like this. And I'm so fine with the gothic and preppy relatives.

I've seen some mantises.. And I have to say that female mantises may be more violent than female spiders. These women know what's up.

~

Exactly! Black cats are a sign of good luck in most cultures. In Asia, in Europe... But for some reason black cats are bad luck in the American culture. That's stupid. If I ever get a cat, if I got a one solid colored cat at all, the cat has to be a black cat. Or an unusual chimera furred cat.

If Rocky and his girlfriend are opposites attract in the whole yin, yang and balance reasons. If they have pets (that don't shed), I could really see them having two pets. A black pet and a white pet. Like one black cat and one white cat, a black dog and a white dog. Opposites attract with the yin and yang concept. I keep seeing videos of pets like that.

But I don't know much about superstitions though.. But Asian culture (and really any culture) has a lot of bizarre superstitions. Like you said before, I know there is superstitions about things like clipping nails or how chopsticks are. Any superstitions I know are in shows or movies.. Unless I actually research about superstitions, which is not that often.

I have question. If we're only talking about characters in H&L, for now at least, who do you think would be attracted to a witchy type of girl?

Like.. Not an actual witch in the sense of magic. Witch in the sense of style. A witchy aesthetic to her style, like her fashion and decorations.

~

In America, the state I live in has every season. Well... Obviously. Most seasons happen. But, in the state we live in, our weather is constantly changing all the time - sunny, rainy, stormy, whatever weather we are having changes. So we get to experience every temperature and even weather. And I actually have conflicted feelings about that experience too.. I should be used to it by now since I've always lived in this state.

So the hot seasons are definitely hot, cold seasons are definitely cold.

Definitely an experience to live through... And this is why I never leave my house. I have air conditioning for hot seasons, also many blankets that I keep compulsively buying (for aesthetics) for cold seasons too.

I don't trust apps. Because I come from a family of people who would be involved in military and law enforcement, I was always raised on to trust sites like dating sites (and most sites in general).. And especially because of my size. People are overly protective over me for that very reason. So I kinda live a 'sheltered' life to some extent. And besides all of that, I would so need to actually have a conversation with someone to figure out if I do have a connection with someone. Any chemistries if there is chemistry between me and the other person, I don't know if I ever had chemistry with someone now that I think about it. Being an autistic person, I know that I keep saying that, but I can only connect with people if we have things in common. Like you and I.. I'd probably never talk to you if we didn't have some things in common if I'm very honest. And we do have our fair share of common grounds when we'd have our conversations for the most part. That I know of. So there is a part of me that may want a relationship similar to a friendship. Since I wouldn't waste my time with someone if we have nothing in common at all. So that's something in a relationship I'd probably want to them.. At least one quality type of relationship if and when I would have with someone. And also someone who's loyal, someone who never cheats.

I might have high standards about everything, including relationships too. But my 'high standards', 'high expectations', are common sense a lot of the time too. I don't know why people always complain about it.

No one in your family knows you're a lesbian? I can't comment.. Since I know everyone would act and react different in these situations. So I can't tell you that you should tell your parents. I'm not good at advice.

~

Even though I have mixed feelings about my mother, she's always the type who goes "mama bear" on people if they say or do anything that would be threatening to her. But she's also a very overbearing mother too. Y'know.. Her mothering is so smothering. That's how she is about me since I was born. But she has no problems ruining someone's lives if they said or did something to me she doesn't like. She's always very overly protective of me. A trait of hers that I mixed feelings about too.

Oh. That makes more sense. Like I've said... I've never traveled before so I don't where most people travel to - that is not Disney amusement park. I never had any interest going to Disneyland. And I'd never had a chance to travel out of the country for vacation.. Maybe out of state if I was on a school trip. But never been on any real vacations though so I don't know where people travel to. Actually I do have some people in my family that travel to countries, but they're (kind of) snobby pricks.

~

How many episode does this season have? Or series? Since I actually know if this would be a one season series.. Like a limited series being only one season. So it seems like anything could happen by the finale right now, unless you did somehow figure out the ending before then.

Oh! How you seen It Follows? And have you watched any Masters Of Horror episodes yet? I'm not rushing you since I know you don't have much time to watch anything. But if you do still have a chance to just watch the show. There is different stories in the show. Gory, thriller or psychological horrors. Sometimes sci-fi horror if aliens are involved in stories. And you never have to watch the episodes in order either. So.. There's that shows. And to answer your questions. I do know that The Blair Witch Project is the original found footage movie. And I hate this movie so much, I don't know why people seem to like the movie at all.

The Sadness might be too gory for you. The Terrifier seems to me too gross.. Not scary, but more creepy. Gross doesn't equal scary for me.

Maybe? I've only seen the movie once. And from what I've seen of the trailer for #Alive.. The movies are exactly the same, just with different actors. I never realized that it was a remake until after I've watched it.

If I do decide to watch #Alive... I'm not rushing into watching it at this very moment. There are plenty of horror shows and movies that I just watch before that movie, if I watch that movie. So I won't be bored.

And I don't know how much anime you watch... But there is also more than plenty of horror anime to watch. That's some entertainment too.

~

Obviously you know I can't stay on one topic. Why do you think I have more than one topic in my conversations? I would get bored so easily if there was only one topic at a time. Actually.. Conversation on media has been different than in real life conversations. Because if I do have conversations in real life, I could only talk about one topic at a time so I don't get confused skipping around on topics. My communication is different for me over in real life and on technology. I don't know why.

- 💋

autocorrect turned fuck into duck all the time and i just. I DONT EVEN TALK ABOUT DUCKS THAT OFTEN! BUT IM SURE AS FUCK SAYING FUCK OFTEN!!

definitely not eating other animals pics. the snake was just chilling in my mum’s frangipani tree. we also had another one in out garage.

slightly different species. japan has their own rhino beetle and australia has the ‘common rhino beetle’. it’s australia’s largest beetle!

the grubs do, but they’re also fuckin MASSIVE! totally huge ass grubs.

~

if we’re talking h&l characters, i could maybe see hyuga or cobra being into that particular aesthetic. rocky’s probably into any aesthetic tho really.

~

there’s like no seasons where i live. it’s just hot all year round except for like, a week or two of barely-cold winter. the rainy season is usually at the start of the year, around feb, but it’ll be so humid. i’ve always wanted to experience a true winter. like with snow and stuff.

i had a couple dating apps for a little while, but i hate taking pictures of myself and i cant start conversations myself and i’m pretty bad at replying to messages most times. so it’s not really easy for me.

no one in my family knows i’m gay. i’m like, publicly out to friends and stuff, but not to my family.

~

i love my mother, but we’re very different people. but we’re also pretty similar. it’s just a bit of a struggle. i know she wants what’s best for me, but she doesn’t get how hard it is for me and that i can’t just do the things she thinks should be easy. she’s at least admitted that it’s difficult for her to relate to me because when she was my age, she was married and had two kids.

i’ve been out of australia three times now. to thailand, new zealand, and fiji. i’ve always wanted to travel more, but it’s a bit hard to do alone. idk how so many young people do it by themselves, i’d be too paranoid about something going wrong. my dad, mum, and brother went to disneyland once when i was a baby because they won a trip in a competition. i’m still a lil jealous.

~

there’ll be 12 episodes total. idk if there’ll be a second season, but i guess it depends on how the ending goes. maybe they’ll leave it open to a second season. i certainly wouldn’t mind seeing more ha joon obvi.

haven’t watched any masters of horror eps yet, but i have seen it follows. i thought i was a lil boring from what i remember.

the terrifier movies are kinda sucky. i thought they’d be better but they really just lean heavy on the gore factor and not a whole lot of story. like people call the saw movies ‘torture p0rn’, but at least they’re always running a plot, even if not necessarily a good one.

i don’t watch a lot of anime, but i’ve started zom100 (so i can watch the live action), and have deadman wonderland, happy sugar life, darwin’s game, high rise invasion, death note, and vampire in the garden on my watchlist. i have others but those are the more horror type ones.

i watched the corpse party anime back in high school, and kakegurui and higurashi when they cry recently. i started shiki too but i haven’t gotten back into it.

[fatalism-and-villainy]

@menciemeer:

I do actually think that something feels gendered about specifically GJH’s motives wrt Abigail. Although it’s difficult to tell if it’s there or if I’m bringing it and it’s certainly vague enough that there are different valid interpretations. But Elise Nichols’s white dress connotes, like, purity balls to me & that slots into GJH’s anxieties feeling like they’re about specifically (symbolic) end-of-girlhood I do agree that Abigail herself (her reactions to GJH, her involvement in his crimes, her feelings about that, and certainly her relationship to Will and Hannibal) doesn’t feel gendered in the same way. Because this is the way I am now it occurs to me that the gendered/not-gendered divide falls almost exactly along the lines of what was adapted from Red Dragon vs what new material was added in the show

Yeah - as I said, there are definitely "ins" for a reading of what's going on with her that takes gender into account. And I will walk back a bit on what I said in my OP about none of the girls' deaths feeling gendered, because I'd agree that Elise Nichols' white dress (complete with the bloodstains!), along with the mentions of her being a virgin, and the enactment of her being murdered in her bed, do suggest a very gendered fixation on virginity and sexual purity. And that does shed some light on how GJH might be seeing Abigail (because, as we've discussed, despite it being explicitly stated that he doesn't rape the girls, there is a definite vibe that there's an incestuous undertone to his fixation on Abigail).

But none of that iconography actually extends to Abigail herself - the imagery around her near and then eventual death is always just her throat being cut, without any sexualization or Ophelia-style emphasis on her beauty in death (the kind of thing I'd associate with a "dead girl character"). Which is why I'd say it feels overstated as a reading to me, at least unless the person making it is outlining the actual interpretive steps they're taking to reach it (which you did, up there!). I'm partly just nitpicking and wishing people would make a clearer distinction between "this is what the canon is doing" and "this is one potential interpretation of what the canon is doing."

There is a weird dissonance between what the show itself is doing and what the material from the books it's adapting is doing. Because now that you mention it, the instances of sexism on the show - the Red Dragon murders (although the misogyny is toned down a lot), and Margot's arc - do both come from the books. There's also Alana getting sexually harassed a couple of times, but again, that's a reference to stuff that happens to Clarice in the books. The show itself is so deliberately apolitical in its approach that it can feel kind of jarring as a contrast (also why stuff like Hannibal and Will killing homophobes in fanfic can feel out of place, to me).

Several of the responses to my old Louise Hobbs post are also interested in applying the Woman In Refrigerator trope to Louise which…ehhh…the whole point is that her death _doesn’t_ particularly serve anyone’s arc. It feels like there’s a compulsion to put her in a box and call it misogyny when in that case I think the show just needed a minor character & wouldn’t have been particularly well served by trying to flesh her out!

Replying to this last because it's a bit afield of the topic, in the sense that there's a distinction to me between sexist writing and writing that invokes sexism on an in-story level (though ofc they can overlap). (Like, for example, I would be sympathetic to an argument that Abigail going from being her own character to being subsumed fully into a symbolic role re: Hannigram has a sexist element to it, even if there are narratively interesting things to me about that symbolic status, but I think that's a different thing from making a claim about the story actively invoking her gender in how it presents her.)

Re: Louise - I was going to say "well it wouldn't be fridging because she was killed to serve Abigail's arc, not a man's" but as you said, she's actually not. Aside from a few cursory mentions, Abigail never brings her up, and most of her emotions and ongoing concerns are centered on her dad, not her mom.

Honestly, rather than fridging, I'd say what's going on with Louise just feels more like the Cursory Wife/Mother who exists in the background to explain where this kid came from, but we know virtually nothing about. It doesn't feel as objectionable with this specific character in this specific context, but it does ding a pattern for me that I notice in, say, Tolkien or GRRM's works. I do think on a Watsonian level, you could make some interesting extrapolations about how little Abigail mentions her or seems to think about her, and what that says about their relationship or the family dynamic. But she's so ephemeral that I honestly think it might have made more sense to just not have Abigail's mother in the picture at all.

Th'problem I have with a lot of takes on Abigail is that they seem... extremely gendered, or determined to contextualize everything about her character in terms of gender and misogyny. And while that makes sense with characters like Margot, or even arguably Alana, I just don't think gender is a key thematic concern in what's going on with Abigail.

Like, I'm thinking of takes on her as a predestined "dead girl character" archetype, or the Laura Palmer parallels - and while the Twin Peaks interpolation is pretty big in Hannibal, and there are some points of comparison, I just think that what Laura and Abigail have going on is entirely different (given, for example, that Abigail isn't the epitome of teenage femininity and the object of lust, and that her and her doppelgangers' deaths aren't nearly as explicitly wrapped up in the discourses of the eroticization of young women's deaths).

I'll acknowledge it's possible I'm biased here, given that I do more often tend to get drawn to female characters who are "gender unmarked", but... I just genuinely do not think Abigail's arc has much to do with gender! I think one thing mencie's fic is good at demonstrating is that putting a male character in her position doesn't change the themes of her arc at all - and the only things that do change are a result of Will and Abigail's different personal dispositions.

I don't think it's impossible to come up with a reading of her that involves gender, or that such readings are necessarily wrong. But I do think it would be an extrapolation that would require bringing in other stuff in conversation with the source material. It's not a reading, to me, that feels like it has a direct through line to what we see in canon, in the same way that "family trauma and legacy" or "nurture vs. nature vis-a-vis murder" as thematic concerns of her arc do. And it's a reading that I just find a bit personally alienating.

[sweater-daddiesdumbdork]

Attack Of The Winter Wolf: It Can Be Fixed

Summary- 8.9k Alpha Steve x Little One Reader. Packs are being destroyed and Alphas taken. The danger is hovering closer, its just a matter of time till it falls on Steve’s doorstep. For now he is enjoying his life as a Bonded Alpha, making the most out what peace he has found with his Little One. Divider made by @firefly-graphics​

Warnings- Weapons, mass murder, language, m/f sex. 

A/N- Hey everyone, thank you for sticking with me through this and THANK YOU for all the support shown. I hope you all enjoy this next section in the Alpha’s life. Happy Howling 🐺💙

Prologue / Masterlist

“You know what you need to do.” The Hydra Agent now known as Soldat snarled at the smaller woman next to him. Her eyes flashed red while never moving off the target in the bar, her fingers swirling beside her, wisps of red energy dancing between her fingers. She pursued her dark red lips, as she focused on the man slouching against the bar. 

Her target. This would be easy, she might not even have to put a compulsion on him to trust her. She thought to herself studying him. A weak wolf drowning his meaningless misery, seducing him wouldn't be an issue. 

“Attract the target, have him bring all of us onto his pack lands without the Alpha being alarmed. I have my orders.” 

Soldat growled in response, turning away to go back to the truck to wait for the woman known as Wanda to carry out her mission. Now she was nothing more than a mindless Hydra Agent to be told her orders, Wanda nothing more than a memory for the woman now. 

On her neck, she adorned a thin chain, tight against her throat. All of them did, someone would have to really look to even notice the restraints. Those chains were powerful, controlled magic from Hydra. Touched with a power no Wolf should possess. Inside they were trapped, Wolf and Person, unable to break loose from the mind control forced on them. Wanda lifted her fingers to trace the collar, the vibrations coming from it barely felt, but reassuring to the controlled hostage. Hydra had full control. 

Wanda readjusted her low cut blouse, smoothing her hands over her leather skirt, and entered the bar. Her boots clicked on the old hardwood floor of the building, the air was filled with stale nicotine, made her over sensitive nose curl in distaste, and a jukebox wailed some rendition of Ac/Dc Back in Black. When she passed, men looked her way, momentarily distracted by the vision they saw, something personal for each, the woman of their dreams. 

But the Scarlet Witch ignored them, there was only one man she was focused on, one Wolf she needed to ensnare. And luckily for her, he happened to catch sight of her just then, half sputtering in his bottle. 

The Wolf she was now had growled deeply in satisfaction, streamlined as the beast crouched in her mind, hunting him just as much as Wanda was right now. The Witch ignored her corrupted beast aching to kill. Instead she sidled up to him, taking his bottle and pressing it to her lips all while watching him as she drank his last few swallows. 

His nostrils flared to scent her, trying to figure her out. He was swarmed with the heavy scent of arousal, a female in heat and it made the Wolf in him lick his muzzle in interest. She shook her head lightly to let her hair fall away from her shoulder, the length of her neck flashing so he could really have his senses assaulted. He would smell everything he desired, in this case his Wolf started howling for the scent of hot sex and whiskey. Another deep inhale and his eyes snapped open, simmering a yellow as his beast reared its head for control. Wanda smirked as she set the bottle down. 

“Looks like I owe you a drink.” She said with such an innocence, and he smirked, clearly ready to play the game. 

“That you do Babe, but what kind of man would I be if I made the woman pay?” He dug out his wallet and put some cash down. “Another two beers please. What's your name? Mine is Tommy.”

Wanda let her hands wander to his arm resting on the bar, her nails softly trailing down the top of his arm to his wrist and back up. “Wanda.”  

Once they were alone, he turned his stool to face her, giving his full attention to Wanda, looking her up and down once while rubbing his hands against his spread jean clad thighs. “So Wanda, what brings you in a place like this?” 

“Just going through town.” Wanda stepped in closer, between his thighs, and slid her hand up behind his neck, letting her fingers dance in a sensual way, planting images of their bodies colliding, grinding, him laying a claim on her. “A few friends and I were looking for a place to stay. I came in, hoping someone would have a suggestion.” 

He shook his head a bit, reaching for the bottle just dropped off and took a drag off it, hoping it would calm him down, cool the eager snapping Wolf in his mind and the semi hard on in his jeans. 

“There ain't much as far as motels in town, but how many people you got that need a place to stay sweetheart?” Now Tommy’s hand drifted to Wanda's waist, letting himself get familiar with how she felt, the images still sweltering in his mind of mindless sex. Wanda let her hand curl onto his shoulder, biting her lip while whispering just before his lips. “Not many, three men.” 

“Three men?” He pulled back a bit, a look of uncertainty at bringing competition for him onto pack lands. “I really only have space for you Sweetheart.” 

Wanda let her lips press against his, drawing him to lean into her a bit before pulling back, whimpering just soft enough for his Wolf to want to change his answer, pushing for the man to give in. 

<Invite them all.>

The Alpha will be pissed if I bring four Wolves onto our lands. 

“Well, okay. I will tell my brother and friend’s that we will have to go to the next town.” She went to pull away when his hand shot out, grasping Wanda's wrist. 

<She’s ours, she wants us. Wants to be our mate, you can’t let her go. Besides, one of those males is her brother.> The Wolf snarled and Tommy’s fingers flexed around her slender wrist. 

“Now hold on Sweetheart, maybe… maybe we can figure something out.” He pulled her back to him, and let his hold lay claim on her ass, arching her into him. 

“Come home with me, and your friends, they can stay in my camper out back. There's plenty of space for them in there, I got it hooked up so they can do what they need to.” 

Wanda gave a quirk of a grin and lapped her tongue over his lips as his reward. “Deal, lead the way? We will follow.” Without another thought, her victim yanked out some crumbled bills from his wallet, and led them out the door. Sealing his fate.

Bouncing down a dirt road, Soldat was going through his gear, handing stuff off to Wanda and Pietro. Clint followed the tail lights closely, making the turns when necessary. 

“Pietro, as soon as we're in the clear of any alarm, shift and start flushing people out of their homes.” Soldat picked up a wickedly lethal blade and fitted it into the holster. “Wanda, you mind fuck as many as you can. And NO ONE FUCKING TOUCH THE ALPHA. They want the Alpha back all intact. Clint, see if you can't secure another means of transportation.” Grabbing a face mask, he fitted it over his face, and went silent, turning to watch out the windshield as they approached, done giving orders. Tommy waved the van through and directed them up to a house nearby, jumping out. 

“So uh, Wanda, I will show you where you will be staying.” He said, as she slipped out, and the back of the van opened to let out Pietro and Soldat, suddenly he started to look worried. “These are your friends and brother?” 

“Oh only one of them is my brother.” Wanda said with a smile as Soldat reached for his blade and flung it to land in the unsuspecting wolfs chest. “And it's not him.” Clint got out to, scanning up in the trees. 

“Get up high Clint. Any stragglers break for the trees, end them.” With a nod, the archer broke away and went into the trees. “Pietro, start flushing people out.” Soldat started instructing as he reached to grab his blade from the man's chest and wiped it on his shirt till it gleamed again.

Pietro nodded, as he shed his clothes, dropping quickly into a sleek silver wolf, his speed almost making him a blur in the dark as he raced forward, starting his howls. They were sharp and dangerous, warning the pack. Several members stepped out of their homes, clearly having been asleep in the state of their dress when Soldat held up his sniper rifle and started to pick people off, Wanda following along, slamming demands in each of their minds thanks to her powers. 

GIVE US THE ALPHA. 

Her warnings started crippling families in agony, screaming as the pressed hands against their heads at her mental onslaught. Wanda twisted her hands in the air, snapping open fingers into fists, and people started shifting, their wolves released to scream their pain she inflicted on them instead. Soon the night was filled with horror. Those that managed to escape the trio working through their homes were met with piercing cool blades flying from somewhere in the trees. 

Soldat was almost lazy walking along this pack's compound, some memory started to stir in his mind, reminding him of another compound, sunlight shifting through the trees to dapple along a dirt road, a man’s laughter behind him from someone. “Buck, wait up!” Ahead was a sparkling lake and he glanced over his shoulder to see someone running towards him from a distance. He shook his head to dispel these memories. 

The White Wolf paced the edges of his consciousness. <Follow your orders Soldat.> 

The memory was hazy, and it slipped away from him once more. He snapped his head again to focus on the task at hand. 

Back to the present, moonlight was shining bright and highlighting bodies scattered around. Except for one, a woman bolting out of hiding trying to get away from him. Lazily he swung his rifle up and sighted her in, his finger slowly easing against the trigger. For him it was all slow motion, the woman pitched forward with a cry as she fell forward in his path, and he stepped over her as she bled out. Soldat growled in irritation as the Alpha still hadn’t made themselves known. 

“Alpha, are you okay with sacrificing your people?” Wanda came up beside him, panting slightly with exertion of the use of her powers, listening. A pained howl came from a nearby home, Pietro pacing around it waiting for the occupants to come out. The door creaked open, and out stumbled a woman, a flare of Soldat’s nose told him exactly what he wanted to know, the Winter Wolf growling in a menacing way at the approaching victim. Finally the packs Alpha was surrendering. She was flanked by a nipping Pietro to speed her jog up, blood streaming down the back of her calves from where she didn’t move fast enough. 

“Stop, what do you people want? We have done nothing wrong to the council to warrant a removal like this.” Her eyes were wild as she looked at her packmates, the smell of blood and death so heavy, she heaved a gag.

Wanda looked her up and down, arching a brow. “She's an Alpha? Doesn’t look much like one.” 

Soldat’s hand wrapped around the woman's neck, dragging her forward, and inhaling along her face, the tip of his nose dragging up from her chin to her temple, sorting her scent to be sure. A shuddering gasp fell from her, laced with fear. It made Soldat smirk behind the mask. The acrid scent of fear was something he was accustomed to. Beyond the fear though, she was the prime scent of health. This Alpha did not lead her pack on force and strength, but respect and knowledge. He could imagine the battle she was going through with her wolf right now, the conflict to shift showing in her eyes, fear sweat rolling down her temple. 

“Where's your mate?” Soldat growled and gave her a slight shake when she sobbed. 

“G-gone! She's gone. Visiting her old pack across the country. She won't be back for another month.” 

Inhaling again, Soldat sneered, his voice laced with it. “You lie girl. Your efforts to keep her safe, pointless. I can smell her all over you, fresh.” He hissed in her ear and turned to the twins. “Find her. She won’t be far.” They nodded, wolf and sister splitting off towards the Alphas house and she tensed in Soldats grip, starting to fight to break out of his hold. 

“What do you want?! Who are you?” she was gulping in air, possibly scenting him, trying to figure out where he came from. Soldats hard eyes went over her once, and did not find her worth answering. Instead his grip tightened around her neck and he whipped her around, her back slamming into his chest and making her gasp in loss of air. 

“They are close.” he reached up, taking off the mask and stuffing it away. Her whimpers made his teeth snap at her neck, she might be Alpha of this pack, but she had nothing on him. The Winter Wolf paced, fur bristling as Soldat eyed her steady pulse, resisting the urge to rip at the throbbing vein, killing the Alpha. But he didn't, he had orders. “Can you smell your mates' fear from here? Cause I can.” Instead his tongue lapped up her neck before he tilted his head. “Or maybe that is yours?” 

A cry from the woods along with snarling made Soldat straighten and the Alpha tense in his hold, soft “no no no no…” uttered from her and a sob in which Soldat snapped his fingers tighter around her neck to shut her up. Her mate stumbled from the woods, continuously trying to break away, but between Wanda and Pietro, they kept her moving forward. Soldat dropped his hold on the Alpha, letting her spring away to run towards her mate, and drag her into her arms, sobbing into her hair. “I told you to run Alicia, I told you to get away from here.” 

“We couldn't, we couldn't just leave you to them Alpha.” Alicia responded, all three of them watching as the Alpha regained her composure a bit, wiping at her face and turned to face Soldat. 

“Anything, whatever you want, it's yours. Just let my mate and the rest of the pack leave unharmed. They won't try anything.” Soldat arched a brow, and reached into a pocket on his tactile vest. 

“Then you will put this on without any trouble.” 

He let a thick silver collar and muzzle fall from his grasp, and the Alpha swallowed hard seeing it. She gave a nod in acceptance and a plea from her mate made the Alpha’s eyes well up with tears, but rounded on her growling at Alicia. “Be quiet, listen to your Mate and Alpha.” Alicia’s begging quieted with a nod, her head bent in submission to her partner. The Alphas hand came up to cup her face in praise, and gave her a soft kiss on her forehead and dipped to her ear, whispering to her for a moment while Alicia’s eyes welled up again and closed as if she was trying to remember the words. Soldat waited patiently, watching this moment between bonded mates without any feelings. All it showed him was a weakness in the Wolves. Their devotion to their mates could always be a weapon he could exploit. 

Soon enough the Alpha turned back to Soldat to strip out of her nightgown, quick to shift into her Wolf. Padding over to him, she sat in front of him and lifted her head to fit the collar and muzzle on. It was all so final with the click, binding the muzzle to the collar, completely in Soldats control now as he hooked a chain to her like a lead, wrapping it around his hand and shortening it. 

“Kill the rest.” Soldat said and the Alpha at the end of a leash started thrashing as much as allowed, growling in fear and rage, her head straining to look over her shoulder while Soldat dragged her away. Helpless while having to  watch Wanda and Pietro round on Alicia, her screams for her Alpha dying out and the smell of her death hit the Alpha. Blood and the sting of fear struck her, and she sank to the ground, losing her trapped mind. Soldat never even noticed her body going limp behind him, and that he was dragging her across the ground while she howled in pain at the severed bond of her now dead mate.  

You were sitting behind the wheel of the pickup, Steve on the other side of the hood poking his head around. “Okay, start her up Little One.” he ordered, and you went to flick the key, listening to the whir whir sound of the engine before it sputtered, choked, and gave a mighty shutter, dying down. Turning the key back to off, you leaned yourself out the window. 

“Steve… You might have to call it. I don't think there's any saving this one.” Opening the door, you slipped out, landing lightly on your toes, and closing the door shut with a squeak. You could see your mate standing at the front, wiping his hands on a rag, staring down at the engine. Not yet in defeat though. If there was anything you knew about the Mountain Packs Alpha, it was that Steve Rogers did not stop till every last thing had been tried. That meant one thing. He was going to take this engine apart piece by piece if he had to. 

You leaned against the side of the truck, looking down in the mess of engine parts, and then back to Steve who spared a glance upwards at you and giving a sigh. “Leave no man behind, or woman in this case. This trucks a girl.” His hand slapped against the side of it affectionately and you snorted, folding your arms over your chest. 

“First of all, it's a truck Alpha…” you started. 

Steve reached up and slammed the hood down, scoffing. “It's her, and her name is Lenore, and she's not just a truck. I have had her since I was 15.”

“Safe to say this is your first girlfriend then?” You giggled as you tapped your fingers teasing along his arm and skimmed your fingers along the back of his neck, while he wiped his rag lovingly against the hood. Little did he know he had a scuff of dirt on the back of his neck, and it was distracting you now. 

Fuck… 

The Little Wolf snickered at your reaction. <See something you like?> 

Sure as hell do, our Alpha looks fucking good like this. 

She yipped in agreement and spun around with excitement. 

You pressed your nose in against his shoulder, inhaling deeply while gently sinking your teeth in against his shoulder. Steve growled softly feeling you press against him and looked over his shoulder with an arched brow. “Nah, but she was around with the first girlfriend, and watch me get her fixed to keep her around with my mate.” He pulled you around, his hands circling your hips and easily lifting you to perch on the edge of the truck's hood, making you giggle, and grasp the front of his shirt to pull him in closer. Steves fingers dug into the curves of your hips and pulled you to the edge of the hood. 

“Your awful confident Alpha.” you wiggled your brows and leaned forward to nip at his lips. “What makes you think you're that good of a mechanic?” 

Steve hummed, his hands slipping under your shirt to dig his fingers into your waist as you wrapped your legs loosely around his hips. “Think you can do better Little One?” he teased back while the tip of your tongue dragged along his bottom lip and he rumbled slightly as you sucked on his bottom lip before pulling back. 

“Give me a wrench, I get Lenore running like brand new.” You exclaimed with a wriggle of your brows, wrapping your arms around his neck and leaning into Steve’s chest. The Alpha laughed, dropping his head to your neck, and rubbing his beard against the column of your neck and kissing over the bonding mark deeply, his tongue tracing the slight scar he had left there that night and letting his teeth sink in enough to make you whimper in a happy way. He tilted back to look at you. 

“Little One, I give you a wrench and she will be like new, back before they even put her all together on the manufactures line.”  

You scowled at him, and playfully pushed him away from you, which resulted in him backing up and stepping back into you, kissing on your neck as you tipped your head back for him so that his lips could skim the column of your neck, his inhales making you drag your teeth along your bottom lip with a whimper. “I'm a little insulted that you think I would tear Lenore apart.” 

Steve lifted his head, and arched his brow at you. “You wouldn’t?” 

“Hell no Alpha, Sams have been teaching me the way around an engine. He said I got the magic touch, and can make them purr.” You stated proudly, and you saw his pupils flare suddenly. You scooted closer and leaned in close to whisper against his lips, your forehead leaning against his. “Is that true Steve, Do I… have the magic touch?” 

Your Little Wolf connected on the Alphas bond, the two wolves teased each other back and forth in your minds. You and Steve started nipping at each other's lips, growling as he had you open your mouth to him, and your hands fisted into his hair at the back of his head, rubbing your chest in against him. Steve inhaled your taste and scent, the way you softened under his touch, allowing him to touch you however, and wherever. Fingers flexed, smudging motor grease against your skin and your hands twisted in his dirty shirt to start tugging it off him, pulling away to drag it over his head. Your hips rolled into meeting his groin and he hissed feeling your core rub against his erection “Yes Little One, You certainly do have the magic touch.”  

His hand snaked up your top and palmed your breast through your bra till you also lost your shirt, the heavy scent of your arousal drenching your panties along with the stinging mechanics grease tainting his senses. It smelled dirty, and Steve was fucking raging from it. 

Wanting to bury his cock in your heat, he pulled back from your embrace and jerked you off the truck's hood twisting you around. Your hands slamming against the hood and Steve grasping the back of your neck to press you against the hood. His thumb feathered back and forth over his mark, your neck arching under his touch. You could feel his hips slotted against yours, and your ass pressed back to grind into his erection. Your ass, firm and soft in those jeans pressing into him made him growl and bite against your shoulder, arching his hips forward to pin you against the grill of the truck. 

You groaned when you felt the sting of Steve’s bite against your shoulder and his weight keeping you in place. Steve lifted his head suddenly hearing you, easing back slightly. “Is this okay? Too much?” You could still feel how hard he was behind you, but his voice was laced with gentleness and concern. You arched your head back and took a deep breath. 

“Steve Rogers, you have me pinned against Lenore, you better fuck me or else.” 

Steve’s concerned look melted with a devious smirk before he moved to suck a spot just behind your ear, his hands slipping to the front of your jeans to snap your button open and wriggle the zipper down. 

“Or else… Fuck Little One, that sounds like a promising threat.” Steve growled against your ear, and he tugged your jeans and panties down around your knees, you lifted a leg to kick your pants off, shifting to the other to get rid of your clothing. His hand flexed against your neck before pulling it away. 

“Might be in your favor Alpha.” You shifted your legs back and forth to spread them, Steve running a finger through your slick and spreading your folds to stroke you a moment, feeling just how ready you were for him. Licking his lips he could almost taste you as he knew intimately just how good you were. 

You panted while your cheek pressed against the truck's cool hood, a contrast to your mate behind you all hot and bothered. “Steve, Fuck. Me.” your voice went muffled as his fingers filled you and you tried to arch in his hold, but he flexed fingers against the back of your neck once more, keeping you still while he took you apart with his fingers. Your velvet walls fluttered around his fingers, and you moaned in pleasure. 

“Is that what you wanted Little One?” His chest pressed against your back, making your breathing shallower, your whines sharper with need. “Your soaking me Omega Girl. I gotta be inside you. Cum for me first.” His hips rutted against you and you shuddered underneath him, slamming your hand sharply against the hood of the car while nodding that you heard him. Your cunt made squelching noises and his fingers scissored you open, he kept uttering for you to let go when you finally did, an explosion of pleasure humming through you while you cried out his name, falling apart around his fingers.

 Steve raised you off the hood and pulled you up against his chest, kissing on your neck hungrily while your orgasm made you whimper, trying to squeeze your thighs closed around his hand. “Good girl Little One, you are so good to me.” He growled against your ear softly before dragging his tongue to mark his scent on you, he let you lower back to the hood of the truck. 

Pulling his hand away from you, he undid his belt and worked his pants open enough to pull out his cock, using his slick covered hand to rub himself. “Hey Little One, are you still with me?” 

You nodded as he wrapped his hands around your hips and shifted your ass to where he wanted it while sliding his cock through your slick folds sure to press against your clit before sliding back closer to filling you. 

“Fuck Steve…” You exhale and he thrust into you, one fluid motion had your cunt swallowing him, pulling him in to feel you gripping him tightly in a way that made the Alpha growl possessively over your form underneath him, his fingers digging in your hips in a bruising way. Your body shook with the effort and his hand smoothed along your side when he arched his hips to grind into you. “Your so fucking good Little One, I can just stay buried in this sweet pussy all day.” 

Pulling back and thrusting to split you open, your chest crushed against the truck's hood, and you wouldn't want to have it any other way while Steve started to rut into you faster, the only thing keeping you in place was Steve's unforgiving hold on your hips and the truck's hard surface. The metal underneath just proved to help Steve punch the air from your lungs. One of his hands slid up your back and moved to grasp your shoulder and pull you back harder, taking angled strokes to make you fall apart around him. 

So pretty you were, sprawled against the hood of his truck, doing your best not to scratch at the paint. You were balancing on your tip toes and starting to plead in a muffled tone “Steve- fuck-oh oh- I need to- ah right there.” 

Steve pulled back on your shoulder, bringing you up to brace against his back, and wrapping his arm across your midriff. Reaching up to cup and squeeze a breast in his palm while biting your shoulder with a growl made you arch in his hold. You were still raised to your tiptoes, and could feel yourself fluttering around his cock, clenching and aching to find that release. 

Aiming for that sweet spot he knew would push you over the edge, his hand covered the front of your mound and rubbed his fingertip in a vigorous circle, making you squirm in his hold. “Don't fight it Little One, you're almost there. Just a little more. You're being so good for your Alpha, taking my cock so good.” He praised and your head fell back against his shoulder, letting him move you now. 

“It feels so good, it hurts.” You whined out while reaching down to where his fingers were rubbing at your clit, you explored further down in your heat, until your fingers found the tender spot where his cock pushed into you, feeling him slide in and out made your belly clench at the sensation. 

“Do you feel how you made just for me Little One?” Steve grunted while kissing the corner of your mouth till you rolled your head to meet him, both of you biting at each other's lips and easing into a deep hungry kiss. 

“Steve, I’m-” You sobbed into his mouth as you fell, and intense pleasure fluttered from your core and spread through your body while your hearing buzzed, and your vision exploded in sparks. He groaned as he rutted into your breaking body, his arms locking around you and his teeth sank into your mark, just making your orgasm explode all over again, tilting your head and crying out in a howl while he filled you with his seed, spreading it through you till he knotted. When he finally stilled with his forehead against your shoulder, you let your head roll forward and took a deep breath to refill your lungs. Your hands dropped to his hands still holding you with a tight grip and let your hands rest over his. Feeling your touch he eased slightly and lifted his head, breathing in against your neck, the expand of his chest with each breath scratched lightly against your back. 

Your eyes lifted and you could see the sweaty imprint on the hood of his truck, and then looked down to see grease and dirt smudged all over your skin and your bra, making you chuckle. Steve lifted his head up, careful how he moved behind you while straightening. “Care to share Little One whats got you laughing?” 

You tilted your head over your shoulder to look back at him while he loosened his hold. “You got me dirty, and then you got me really dirty.” You emphasized, and he looked over your shoulder to see the streaks against your skin. “We also got Lenore dirty.” You nodded towards your imprint against the hood, and then he finally laughed, his shoulders shaking amused. 

“I've never seen Lenore look better Little One.” He muttered while kissing your neck deeply, flexing his hold around you again and you bit your lip giggling while dipping your head back to his shoulder. You two waited till he went soft again and was able to pull out from you. You bent down and picked up scattered clothes to pull them back on while Steve zipped up his jeans and buckled his belt, you grabbed his discarded tee and tossed it to him. While he was picking up the garage with the tools he was using, you happened to check your phone, and noticed a text from Caine. 

“Hey how do you feel about going to see Caine and the rest tomorrow morning? If we leave tonight, we don't have any plans, do we?” You ask after reading Caine’s message asking them if they would come visit. Being a fairly new Alpha, learning how to properly set up a pack was a daunting task, especially to that group and he was leaning heavily on Steve’s guidance in that case here and there. Steve wanting to see the young wolf succeed had allowed the bond to form, which was unusual but not unheard of, especially now that the Wolves were depending so much more on pack relationships. He hesitated a moment, but it had been quiet for months since the last attacks from winter. 

“Let me get cleaned up Little One and we can head out, haven't been over that way in ages, and would love to see the changes he has made to that place.” Steve came over, reading the text while you held your phone up for him to see, and he nuzzled against his mark, nipping the scar on your neck gently. 

You turned in his hold, wrapping your arms around his waist and looking up at him. “Thank you, for making it work Steve.” You said softly to him, hugging him a bit in the process. “They are no longer my pack, but I still have a connection with them.” 

You were the other reason Steve kept himself available to the new pack, he knew that you had survived with these wolves, had faced things no wolf should have to, and it in some way reminded him of his time with the howling commandos. No longer were they “family” but in a way they always would just be that. If any of them contacted him still to this day, he would be there for them, that was what happened when you went into a war with someone. And that is partially how he saw your whole ordeal, it was a fight for your life. As important as you were to him and his wolf, his better half, his partner, there wasn't anything he wouldn't do for you. His hand smoothed along your back and he kissed your forehead. “Always Little One, come on, lets go get ready.”

Once it was established that Sam and Sara would take over while you two were gone, Steve filled up the pickup while you packed a bag for the two of you and were on the road soon enough. Steve easily drove through the night while you either kept him company talking, once in a while falling asleep with your head on his shoulder, snuggling against his side while he would hug you in closer whenever he felt a slight chill run through you. Your wolves remained twined around each other with the bond you now shared, and Steve loved feeling traces of your wolf in his mind. 

He thought of a time before you, when the sensation made him cringe. Your wolf fit there, was a warmth that his own Alpha settled into easily, no longer a pacing beast in his mind. Alanna’s wolf was so much more different, the hair on the back of his neck would raise, and the Alphas' own hackles would bristle. The bond they shared was sick from the start, the she wolf would be looking for a fight with the Alpha, who was more then willing to return the favor. There were no playful teasing or quiet grooming moments that the Alpha shared with the Little One. 

Steve did back then what he thought was right, trying to make it work when he had impulsively bitten Alanna, but now he could see how wrong it was. What people like Bucky and Natasha had tried pointing out to him for the years he forced it to work. That it could be better. How it could be what he had now. You softly sighing against his shoulder while you two went to help another pack, not fight against them. 

As the sun started to rise, Steve couldn't help compare it to his new chapter in his life, stepping from the darkness of his past into the bright promising start of a new one. One he looked forward to. 

<It will one day be even better Steve.> The Alpha commented as he groomed the sleeping Little Wolf, nibbling along her neck and shoulders before his pink tongue ran over her fur till it was soft and fluffy. 

I don’t know how it can get better, our life is finally calmed down, my mate is settled and happy in her life, and our Pack is strong. 

The Alpha just continued his gentle grooming for a few moments before he moved up to stretch, his tail giving a slight wag at the next words he said. 

<One day she might have children, and you will get to have that family you always craved.> 

If it happens, it happens. 

The Alpha wasn't wrong, Steve did always want a family. Some part was the connection that Wolves always had, packs were nothing more then large family units surviving. But there was more, Steve wanted to give that love to another, and he could see you already, fiercely protective over any children. 

The idea of you pregnant stirred some primal things in him, more primal then even the Wolf itself. It was a part of him that wanted it more than anything. But the time would come, where you two would really sit down and discuss it. Feeling you stir under his arm, he was pulled from his thoughts and glanced down. “Morning Little One.” he chuckled watching as you groaned while pushing to sit up more, rubbing at your eyes. 

“Ooh, sorry I fell asleep, what time it is Steve, are we almost there?” Your hands rubbed against your face, and you blinked rapidly against the bright light of the new morning sun. 

“7 AM, and we're a few miles out still. You want to stop for some breakfast first? I know we will be passing a diner here shortly.” He offered and you perked immediately hearing that. 

“God that sounds amazing.” You hummed just as your stomach made the loudest grumble noise, making you both bust out laughing, and Steve stepped on the gas a bit more to make the truck pick up speed. 

The diner was one of those little country diners you see in small towns. Along the wall were booths with the little quarter jukeboxes, and in the middle was a long counter scattered with displays of pies and pastries every few stools. When you and Steve first entered, you were first hit with the smell of diner coffee, which you tilted your nose up appreciatively to inhale the aroma, while Steve wrapped an arm around your waist to lead you to a nearby booth. You slipped in first, and Steve just sat next to you, leaving the other side unoccupied. 

“Alright kids, what'll it be.” The waitress came around, an older woman with a tall grey beehive style hair-do, a pencil tucked behind her ear which she plucked her fingers against to use, as well as dug for a pad of paper from her apron. You couldn't help smiling at her, as she was just a sight to see, and Steve himself hid a laugh while he filled in with what he wanted. “Eggs, sunny side up, with toast, bacon and sausage. Coffee, black and a side of orange juice.” She was quick to jot it all down, and paused her rapid writing. “And for you sweetheart?” her accent took on a sweet tone, and you filled in with what you wanted.

“Short stack blueberry pancakes, some sausage links, and a glass of milk, and coffee?”

 “Sure thing” the waitress was sure to jot it down and leave the two of you alone, Steve’s hand reached under the table and took yours to weave his fingers through yours, giving a light squeeze. It was just a few moments when their waitress came back around with there beverages. 

“Cook will be just a few minutes with your food. But here, we made some extras.” She winked as she left a small basket with piping hot donut holes at your table, leaving you two alone again after thanking her. Steve picked up a cinnamon sugared one to pop in his mouth. Lifting the mug to your lips, you blow on the steaming mug and sip on it while your eyes dart out the window to watch other patrons start to arrive. 

“I've lived here my whole adult life, and never knew what it looked like outside of the pack boundaries. Pierce hardly let us leave.” You mused and Steve slid a hand along your thigh, squeezing reassuringly before you turned towards him with a warm smile on your face. “I'm glad we came, it will be good to see Caine and everyone else again.” 

“He has good makings to be a strong Alpha once he washed the taint Pierce left in this area.” Steve agreed as his arm moved from your thigh to wrap around your shoulder, dipping his head to place a light nuzzle to your temple as you leaned into him. It wasn't long till the waitress was back to drop off the hot plates of breakfast. 

Bites were shared between the two of you, you nipped off the tip of Steve's bacon and you offered an extra syrup drenched bite of pancake, where droplets of sweet syrup caught in his beard which he wiped away with his napkin. Before long plates were being pushed away with groans of being too full, Steve dug for his wallet to leave a nice tip to their waitress as well as the bill and headed out of the little diner. 

Soon you two were pulling off the highway and along a familiar bumpy road leading deep into the forest, away from the town. You cranked down the window the closer you got, the warm spring air was alive with fresh growth, along with the familiar scents of the pack. Steve started to slow down when the road grew rougher, the truck bouncing on its struts as remnants of mud and snow bogged the road down. You were quick to grasp the ‘oh shit’ handle, noticing streaks of shadows running alongside the road, and howls started announcing their arrival. 

It was getting familiar and Steve reached over, sliding his hand with yours to weave his fingers through yours and pull your hand into his lap, his thumb sliding over your knuckle. “You okay Little One?” His gaze tilted towards you, and you smiled at him with a nod. 

Your Little Wolf stirred and moved over to her Alpha, brushing up against him once the other packs scent grew stronger the closer they got, reaffirming that she belonged to him now. He curled around her, pressing his muzzle against her while thumping his tail loudly in approval. 

<It doesn’t even feel like ‘home’ anymore.> The Little Wolf said softly and you hid a smile hearing her, squeezing Steve’s hand back. 

It hasn't been in a while now. It was hard to think it was just about a year, another month and it would have been the first time you met Steve. Bucky allowing you to cross from No Man's Land into the pack boundaries. You could still remember that first time, how Steve went to your level and offered you sanctuary before even actually hearing why you were on the run. And you knew he would do it again with another if the time came. Soon the road curved and you two came up on the all to familiar grey building that had the underground expansion where you were kept. You could hear the Alpha growling softly seeing it, and Steve’s features hardened as he picked up speed driving past it till you two started to come more towards the homes that spread through the grounds. Neither one of you wanted to step foot in there, and did not plan to ever again. 

Caine came trotting out to greet them, and you hopped out to rush around the truck, springing at your former packmate in a hug. Steve took his time, although the Wolf didn't much like it, he waited to give you two a moment before intruding. You weaved yourself back into Steve’s hold, grinning happily. 

“Driving all night I’m guessing?” Caine asked and you shrugged, jerking a thumb at Steve. “He was, I was the co-pilot. In charge of the radio.” 

Steve winked. “And did a good job of it to Little One, you only passed out on me for a couple hours.” He teased while you poked his side a bit for ratting you out and Caine laughed heartily. 

“What I figured, since I messaged you last night. The house at the end is vacant for now if you two wanna rest a bit to settle in.” Caine offered, and Steve was thankful for the offer after the long drive. Steve pulled up the truck to the house while you and Caine strolled to the quaint house, talking about how each respective pack were doing. You noticed his eyes lifted to your neck when you lifted your hair off your neck, and his brows arched. 

“Is that what I think it is Y/N?” the young Alpha asked and your hand pressed against Steve’s mark, nodding. 

“Yes, Steve and I bonded, made it official. It was time to put Pierce and all that behind. It wasn’t natural trying to force us to bond with anyone willing to pay for us.” You stalled a bit, slowing down while watching Steve grab the duffel you had packed from the back of the truck and brought it inside. Caine hummed in agreement, having faced the same ordeal you had. Your Little Wolf stirred in her nearby Alphas' care, feeling your emotions rolling and soon felt her brush along your mind, a calming presence that brought you back to the present. Caine smiled at you, brushing his hand along your back and giving a half hold hug around your shoulder. 

“I’m happy for you Y/N, that you found Steve. I mean… well for us to. If you hadn’t gotten away from Pierce, who knows where we would be now.” Caines gaze flashed to the grey building for a second, the heavy chain strapped against the door to keep it shut. 

“What are you using that for now?” You asked, noticing where his gaze went. Caine continued the two of you forward. 

“Storage, once we cleaned it out. Stark took any of the medical equipment besides the basics we could use for emergencies. All the shit they used on us. After that office was cleaned out, the computers taken, I locked up the underground floors, and we have been using the top as storage for gear and such. Might just seal off that underground and tear that top part down. I don't know honestly. It's like a sickness here still, seeing it. But one day if anything was to happen, it could be useful.” 

It was easy to tell that Caine was unsure of what to do with it, and you nudged him lightly to lighten his heaviness. “You will figure it out.” Glancing up, you could see Steve gathering the last of the overnight stuff from the truck, the door snapping shut. “We will see you later, I'm gonna go get some proper shut eye.” Splitting from Caine, you went inside first and Steve chatted a few moments with Caine before excusing himself. 

Going inside, it wasn’t home, but it wasn't bad. Sparsely furnished with the minimal comforts, he tilted his nose to inhale, searching you out. You had gone through the downstairs while he was outside from what Steve could sense, but he heard your soft footfalls above him, turning him to go up the old stairs to the tiny upstairs. A single bedroom with a double bed and a bathroom graced the upstairs. Dropping the bag on the end of the bed, he glanced over to you unpacking on the other side. 

“Not quite like home.” You observed, while looking around. The bed just about took up the whole bedroom. “But cozy.” 

Steve chuckled as he moved around the bed, wrapping his arms around your hips and pressing his face in against your neck, nibbling while his hips pressed against your curves and his chest to your back. You sunk back into him while refolding one of his shirts, tilting your head to feel his affections with a close of your eyes and a satisfied hum flowing through you. “Yes cozy, you are gonna have to sleep on top of me in this bed.” You chuckled hearing his teasing, the two of you swaying in the early morning light streaming through the window at the head of the bed. 

“That's never been a problem before.” You smirk while feeling Steve laugh softly behind you and you twist to nudge at him. “You're tired, I can feel it. I'm gonna go take a shower, why don't you lay down. We can meet up with Caine this afternoon.” You removed the bag off the bed, and Steve rumbled slightly. 

“Shower? I could join you Little One.” His hands moved to lightly grasp your hips, fingers flexing. You shake your head and turn to face Steve, your hands cupping his face and tilt up to place a kiss on his lips, keeping it simple and affectionate. 

“You were up early yesterday, because I remember your little wake up.” You smirked at his lopsided grin, all proud of himself for his methods. “And up all night bringing us here.” Your hands pressed against his chest, gently pushing him down on the bed and reaching for your shower bag. “So sleep Alpha, we can mess around later.” You nipped his lips and pulled away, while he groaned, tilting his head back to the mattress while you left the room to go down the short hallway to the bathroom at the end. 

“That's teasing Little One.” He growled out as he pushed back to a sit, undoing his belt on his jeans while you called back. 

“Make me pay for it later Alpha, learn to take a command once in a while.” You firmly shut the bathroom door on him and the Wolf laughed hard at Steve’s predicament. 

You were sidelined too. Steve growled out softly although he knew you were right, his body was tired. The heaviness started to make his eyes ache to close. 

<Mmmh, actually no. I can go to my Little Wolf whenever.> The Wolf shook out his fur and padded away from Steve's consciousness, in which the Alpha rolled his eyes at his inner beast and proceeded to strip down to stretch above the comforter. 

It wasn't long till Steve felt the bed dip at the end and you crawled over him, settling down to lay your head on his chest, and his hand smoothed against your back to rest against the dip in your lower back. Your face rubbed against one of his pecs and he half turned to give you some more room on the mattress, your legs tangling with his and the rest of the morning was spent in lazy half sleep snores and readjusting in the smaller bed to get comfortable.

Finally the afternoon sun was just too bright shining down on the two of you, spring softness had picked up more heat and was starting to feel hot in the small bedroom. You groaned and pushed off Steve, who growled feeling you move away while waking up further, his arm slinging over his eyes to block out the light. You quietly get dressed and descend down the stairs to let him wake up in his own time. Going through the kitchen, you grab a glass to fill with water to inhale quickly and parch your thirst. Above you, you can hear the bed creak under Steve’s weight, then the slap of his feet against the hardwood boards above you. You start to go through the house and pry open windows, and the front door you opened wide to let the fresh air in. 

“Mmh, how late is it?” Steve rubbed at his face and you pulled your phone out. 

“3:30, we're gonna be up all night.” You chuckled while checking a message from Sara, complaining that she should have gone with you and Steve, Sam was driving her crazy making you chuckle while answering back. “Sara checked in, said everything is going good at home.”

Steve as well sought out some water, draining the glass with deep gulps, he wiped at his mouth with the back of his arm and nodded. “I’m sure we can find something to do tonight.” He winked in a tease. “Good, how about we go see the rest of the pack?” His hand went through his hair, pushing the longer dark blonde locks back from his face, looking every bit of Alpha that he was. You could have whimpered right then, sure he wasn't even aware of how it made your stomach clench. You were just grateful that the Little Wolf was preoccupied with her mate to be paying attention to your reactions. 

“We better, I’m sure he's forgotten were here.” You move to step out the door, blinking in the bright afternoon sunshine, bouncing off the steps with Steve right behind you. 

“Unlikely, his wolf won't be letting him forget I’m here.” 

[absurdlyalive]

How the fuck does any artist do anything.

I feel like my OCD is 10 times worse ever since starting art school. Beforehand it was “Make art because I want to”, now it is “Make art that is MORALLY GOOD and RIGHT and has the CORRECT political MESSAGE.” This fed my OCD and it turned into some kind of monstrous Ethical Politics Scrupulosity OCD as well as existential OCD at the same time. Am I even capable of doing existence right? Am I going wrong with every step? Are my artworks morally correct and fine? Is it even ethical for someone in my position to make art?

Shed, shed, shed, until there is nothing left. Question and deconstruct - But not the structure, my own self. I was told and began to believe that this was “the work” of undoing previous indoctrination. All the while it was just my OCD doing it’s tricks on my brain. I was obsessively trying to prevent my art from being “bad” and “harmful” where it wasn’t, to keep myself from being “found out to be a fraud, liar and terrible person”.

Impostor syndrome intertwined with compulsive checking and became a disavowal of my entire person and a constant insecurity about my reality. Gaslighting about my deservingness of dignity and respect produced complete self-abandonment and dissolution of my sense of self in the midst of accusations of being a fundamentally fucked up person.

As though the badness of their projections became my core, I became a shell that constantly acted to prevent the badness from leaking. Leak, I thought, it could in my art, and so I needed to stop creating. I beat myself up religiously thinking I was bettering myself and the world. I hoped it was sufficient. It never was, because I had not caused the Badness in the world to begin with, but I couldn’t see that aspect.

I was just a twentysomething artist who had barely begun to come to grips with the fact that commercial art was far from the queer utopia I had anticipated. I was by no means rich, well-connected, good-looking or extraordinarily talented. I was just some guy. Some person. A rando. Maybe that made it all the more attractive to tell me how bad I was. How terrible. If I could be annihilated, maybe that could make someone feel powerful.

I was not influential enough to stop them and maybe that made it attractive - I was vulnerable, unlike other people who they may have come to resent. I had been made a useful scapegoat by my upbringing, a sponge to other people’s problems, a fixer and ready to assume responsibility where I had none. Comfortable. That’s a good target to cancel when you’ve got nothing else to do. And if he fulfills all the necessary boxes for someone to look bad enough to beat up, all the better for us.

If you ask me why I hate art school, this is why. It made me more ill.

[venicebixch]

hey!! i actually have a two requests, and one is a bit on the heavy side 😅 but i love your writing, and i knew that if anyone was gonna be able to write these, it would be you 🤍 (btw, i apologize in advance if this is a lil long lollll)

[ also, just a trigger warning for anyone reading: mentions of bullying, emotional/mental ab*se, SA, anxiety, depression, obsessive-compulsive tendencies & PTSD ]

basically, i deal with a lot of mental health issues that stem from bullying (emotional/mental abuse from kindergarten to sixth grade) & childhood SA, and it makes relationships feel almost impossible. while some people do understand what i deal with and try to help, it’s almost never done with true ease. like, i’ve always wished for someone who’d be able to pick up on my bad habits without me having to say anything and check-in with me habitually—basically, someone who’s in-tune with me like a second half/that knows me almost better than i know myself… if that makes sense?

so the first request is for like, a compilation of all the different times vinnie would notice/pick up on the reader’s bad habits, like biting her finger nails, picking at her skin, not taking care of herself (like hygiene-wise) when she’s in a depressive episode, etc. and then like maybe even one where they’re in public and he can she she’s trying to suppress a PTSD episode (like an uncontrollable twitch or something), so he asks his friend—who’s the host—for a room he could borrow, and just leads her there, where she’s both like “how’d you know” (and he’s like “i know you”) and “thank you for saving me, i love you”? and one where they’re in public again, but at a party and one of the guys is drunk and makes an insensitive joke, and vinnie tells him to cool it because he knows how that stuff affects the reader (who’s standing right beside him & can hear everything) and maybe looks at her and sees in her eyes that she’s uncomfortable so he takes her into an empty bathroom and just hugs her and is like “he’s just drunk, don’t worry about him. you’re safe with me.” before leading her back to the party, but to his close friends who he knows wont say anything stupid.

the second one is smut (lol ~shocker~) where basically, the reader’s 18 but is still inexperienced because she’s terrified of getting intimate, but she’s been with vinnie for a year (he’s like 20 in this) and she really loves and trusts him, and wants him to be the one to take her. and basically he’s hesitant because he knows how scared she is, but she cries and tells him she wants this, and so he assures her that she’s safe, that he loves her, would never judge her, etc. & does everything he possibly can to make her feel protected. like he constantly tells her “you’re safe baby” “i love you” “you’re beautiful” “i can practically hear you’re heart beating out of your cheat y/n… are you sure this is okay?” OH and she asks to keep as many clothes on as possible—like she keeps her t-shirt on—maybe even asks him to close the blinds so its as dark as possible? and basically she has to ask to stop a couple times to breathe and ground herself, and he’s just like “it’s okay, whenever you’re ready” & “we can stop whenever, just let me know” & like maybe she even tears up at one point, or has to stop because she’s crying and he comforts her (maybe even sheds a tear himself because he’s both hurting for her, but also so honoured that even tho its so hard for her, she trusts him enough to be the one to do it). // also, if you’d be willing to add it in, i’d love a specific addition of him going down on her and basically she denies him using his fingers because it’ll cause flashbacks, so she’s like “wait—no hands. you can use your mouth, but just…no hands. please.” and he just kisses her forehead and is like “of course. anything you want baby” // and afterwards he just holds her and lets her cry into him as she thanks him and tells him how much she loves him, before they drift off to sleep 🥲

ahhhhhh sorry that was so long—i just wanted to get as many details as i could in there to make them as realistic/accurate as possible for any other readers who go through these things cause there isnt many fics on here for us :’(

anyways, i’d really appreciate you considering my ask. it would mean so much to me (as a vinnie stan who’s life is a lil different than the ones described in most fics lol) to have something like these written!!! again, i love your work and i just wanted to say i hope you never stop writing for vin, because you’re honestly so talented 🤍🤍🤍

- 🌙 anon

first of all, let me just say i’m so sorry for the things you’ve been through and i hope you know you’re amazing as hell and i sincerely hope you are doing the best you can.

secondly, thank you so much for asking me to do this story and for trusting me with such a sensitive topic because you’re right - not a lot of fics dive into some of the more realistic parts of life, which i understand because they’re usually just lighter and for fun. but i know many readers would also appreciate the more realistic side of things from time to time.

i started writing in middle school and didn’t get into fanfic until recently. but writing has always been something that gives me an escape from the real world. it’s absolutely a coping mechanism for me, and i know that many people who read my stories read them for the same reasons that i write them. and to be able to give you and everyone else who reads my stuff a little bit of peace or escape from whatever bullshit is going on in their life, that means the absolute world to me. it gives me such a sense of purpose, even if it seems like this is just a silly little blog on tumblr.

i’ll split these into 2 different stories and get to work on them right away. the first one will be a series and the smut one will probably be a one shot if that’s okay?

[howimproper]

Ask Me No Questions (And I'll Tell You No Lies)

Fandom: The Yin-Yang Master: Dream of Eternity

Pairing: Qing Ming x Boya

Tags: Eventual Slash, Qing Ming Is A Little Shit, Naughty Language, Truth Magic, Except It's More Like Compulsion Magic, Compelled To Speak, #GayPanic, In This House Honey Bug We Stan, Admission Of FEELINGS, Unbeta’d We Die Like Boya’s Pride.

Summary: Boya gets hit with a truth spell. It goes about as well as you'd expect.

"I'm so sorry Master, I had no idea what it was when I picked it up!" Honey Bug wails from behind her hands, eyes wide and full of tears as she looks pleadingly at Qing Ming, who has found himself on the floor and somewhat entirely distracted by the dazed man in his arms.

"It's alright, Honey Bug, I don't think whatever it was is malicious." He assures his spirit guardian with a calming smile, who sniffles wetly and delicately dabs at her cheeks with the flowing length of her pink sleeve.

"I didn't sense anything from it, it was just a normal pin!" She explains in a rush, gesturing at the simple silver hair pin abandoned on the floor. Qing Ming sighs fondly and shakes his head.

"There's no real harm done, I think Boya is just fine." He says, while surreptitiously using the trailing length of his white sleeve to sweep the seemingly innocuous hair pin away, the length of metal skittering across the wooden floor before bouncing to a stop by the wall. Honey Bug watches it, lips wobbling.

"Speak for yourself, asshole." Both Spirit and Master jump at the unexpected announcement, and Qing Ming quickly returns his attention to the man stirring in his arms.

"Boya! How do you feel?" He asks concernedly, and is not wholly surprised when he is presented with one of the most delightfully unimpressed looks for his trouble. He quickly squashes the reflexive grin at the familiar expression on his companions face.

"Like I just got kicked in the head." Boya spits in response, before blinking in bewilderment. Qing Ming sighs and shakes his head good naturedly as he carefully shifts Boya in his arms, helping him to sit up from where they are both sprawled on the floor. He might have reacted a touch... strongly when Boya had collapsed suddenly and without warning.

"That's to be expected, I think. I'm not sure what kind of talisman it is but it's not harmful." Qing Ming replies easily, and it's the truth. When the talisman had activated in Honey Bug's hands he had not sensed anything untoward- Boya however, had reacted quick as a snake and struck the pin from his Spirits hands regardless, likely acting instinctively at the brief flare of foreign energy. In doing so however he had been the last one in contact with the pin before the spell went off.

"If I start turning unnatural colours or grow extra limbs I'll be blaming you." Boya huffs as he quickly disengages from Qing Ming's arms, to his utter disappointment.

Boya climbs to feet, waving off Honey Bug's steadying hands when he teeters. Qing Ming pouts as he too, rises.

"Come now, Boya, I hardly see how these theoretic outcomes would be my fault." He complains even as he smiles. Boya fixes him with a mildly deadpan look even as he swipes non-existent dust from his leathers, and Qing Ming barely resists cooing. Such expressions his companion can make, it's truly a delight.

He pointedly ignores Honey Bug hastily raising her sleeve to hide her mouth to the side of them.

"Don't be cute, it confuses me." Boya mutters, before snapping his mouth shut with a brief, mortified look on his face. Qing Ming blinks at him in surprise even as perplexed amusement bubbles up inside him.

"Boya, I wasn't aware you found me so confusing." He just barely manages not to titter, and Boya must see right through him, because he levels him with a dirty look before scoffing.

"As if you aren't completely aware of what you do to me." The words have barely left Boya's lips before he jerks as if struck, and swiftly slaps a hand over his own mouth. Honey Bug makes a choked, wheezing sound behind her sleeve, but Qing Ming is too startled to notice.

“And what do you mean by that?” Qing Ming enquires somewhat uncertainly. He has always been certain that Boya took his teasing in stride, knew that his often improper remarks were said in jest (usually, he can’t help himself sometimes, the flirting just happens), but if he had said or done something recently to make his companion truly uncomfortable he cannot think of it. 

“Have I offended you in some way, Boya?” He asks, because if he has he wants to know so he can correct it post haste. He does not want the object of his much lamented affections upset with him for something he could have prevented. He doesn’t think he could handle Boya being honestly upset with him.

Boya’s hand abruptly tightens over his mouth, his brows drawing together in a strained frown that has Qing Ming instantly concerned. He opens his mouth to ask what is wrong only to be interrupted by Boya’s other hand snapping up and pointing a single finger in his face. He pauses, mouth working silently for a moment and goes to ask- only for Boya to scowl at him. He closes his mouth, correctly if confusedly interpreting a request for his silence. They stand there awkwardly for a moment as Boya visibly struggles with something, Qing Ming maintaining his perplexed silence as he looks between his straining companion and Honey Bug, who is still hiding behind her sleeve. He narrows his eyes at her. Honey Bug’s eyes curve up at the edges over the curtain of her sleeve. Oh dear. 

Finally, Boya lowers his still rudely pointing finger before tentatively removing his hand from his face, the action so cautious he might as well have been going finger by finger. He pauses like that for a moment, hand still hovering near his mouth, before seemingly deciding the danger has passed. 

“This is a gods be damned truth spell.” He says, sounding so greatly put upon that Qing Ming can’t help but laugh in such fond delight as his concerns evaporate.

“Oh Boya, you had me so worried for a moment.” He chuckles, and Boya rolls his eyes before turning on his heel, gaze downcast and scanning the floor. He spots the pin by the wall and strides over to it before stooping to snatch it up, uncaring of potentially activating it a second time as he is already under its effects. He turns the innocent looking accessory between his fingers, examining it with a keen eye for any markings or script that might shed some light on its purpose or perhaps how to reverse the spell. 

Honey Bug shifts in place for a moment before finally emerging from behind her sleeve and, as if nothing had occurred, gracefully glides for the doors. 

“I’ll fetch some tea.” She declares, and Boya grunts as he continues to scour every inch of the hair pin, fingers carefully feeling over the dips and swirls in the silver. 

“I’d rather something stronger.” He says absently, and Qing Ming bites his lips to suppress the snicker that tries to escape him.

“Boya, it’s hardly noon.” He teases, trying for scandalized but only managing blatant amusement. Boya looks up from the pin-come-talisman in his hands and glares at him. 

“I don’t give a fuck.” He says, with feeling, before his eyes drift to the ceiling and slide closed in mortification. Qing Ming’s lips wobble, and he knows he probably shouldn’t but he can’t pass up the opportunity-

“How improper.” Boya’s eyes pop open and drop to level him with a look, and Qing Ming thinks smittenly that if looks could kill he might be laughing himself sick in the afterlife right now. 

“You’d be surprised.” Is the entirely unexpected retort. Qing Ming gapes, and Boya thumps himself solidly in the chest once as if beating out a cough. “Ignore that.” He snaps, clearing his throat. But no, he will not, because now Qing Ming is intrigued. 

“Oh?” He prompts before he can think better of it, and Boya brandishes the hair pin threateningly. Qing Ming steps back with a smile, raising his hands in surrender as he retreats to his desk, lowering himself to the cushion behind it with a soft laugh. Oh, but Boya makes it too easy sometimes, Qing Ming thinks as absently rests an elbow on his knee, honestly he can’t help but poke at him when he presents Qing Ming with so many opportunities like this, truth spell or no. Though it’s another thing altogether with its effects, Qing Ming notes as he leans his head on his knuckles to watch as Boya quietly runs qi coated fingers over the pin. 

Boya is usually so reserved with his responses that suddenly being privy to his true thoughts is… he hesitates to say nice because it’s not something his companion can actually help right now but it… is definitely eye opening. He knows of course that there is much more to Boya than he allows others to see, that there do in fact exist normal, mundane thoughts in his head just as any other man despite how sometimes Boya himself seems to forget that he is in fact just that. But Qing Ming has witnessed with his own eyes how others fall into the easy mindset of believing him some aloof, untouchable figure that exists solely for duty. 

It saddens him greatly that Boya feels that kind of need to distance himself from others in such a way, but he can’t say that he doesn’t understand. Qing Ming has his own ways of distancing himself, after all. He doesn’t here though, and never with Boya. He isn’t normally so free with his words around others, Boya might even be horrified to realize that Qing Ming is actually unfailingly polite in most other company, but he has never felt the need with Boya even from the first day they had met and fought over a pippa. There had just always been something about him that dropped Qing Ming’s guard which, he thinks somewhat sardonically, should have been the first red flag of his budding infatuation, now long since watered and grown into something he sometimes struggles with keeping contained. 

“What’s with the face?” Boya enquires out of the blue, and Qing Ming blinks out of his thoughts with a questioning sound. Boya has apparently come to the conclusion that he won’t find any answers from the pin itself and has since pocketed it and returned his attention to him. Having been so thoroughly absorbed in his thoughts Qing Ming hadn’t noticed any of it, or that he has since spent the last several moments staring. He hopes his face hadn’t given his thoughts away too much, but since when has he ever been that lucky. 

“What face?” He deflects easily and watches, entertained beyond belief as Boya’s face goes through a myriad of fascinating micro expressions as he evidently tries his absolute best not to just blurt out his true thoughts without first filtering them. 

“Here’s the tea, Master.” Honey Bug announces with positively diabolical timing as she abruptly breezes back into the room with a tray in her hands. Qing Ming is not waylaid enough by her arrival to miss the look of profound relief that briefly crosses Boya’s face at the distraction, and dimly wonders what possible thought he might have been trying to keep behind his teeth to warrant such a reaction. Curious, very curious. 

Honey Bug sets the tray down on his desk and sets about pouring the faintly floral smelling brew into the cups before carefully distributing them, one set delicately in front of Qing Ming and one opposite him for Boya. He thanks her with a smile and cheerfully ignores the glint in her eye as she returns it and rises to leave them alone once more. 

Grasping his cup, Qing Ming allows the heat to seep into his fingers for a moment before taking a careful sip, humming constantly at the flavour as Boya lowers himself to sit opposite him. 

“We need to figure out how to break this spell.” Boya grumbles as he reaches for his own cup, eying it in faint displeasure for a moment before drinking. Clearly, he had truly wanted something stronger. Qing Ming contemplates retrieving the wine he may or may not have stashed in the cupboard behind him. 

“It might very well be a simple matter of time, Boya.” He replies honestly. It might very well be so, the spell itself is a harmless one, if inconvenient, and tethered to such an innocuous item that he truly does not believe it was one made with any ill intent behind it. Likely a talisman made in jest, or to perhaps prove a point. Either way he doesn’t think they need to be hitting the scrolls for counterspells or worrying too much about it just yet. Boya, clearly, disagrees. 

“I don’t want to wait it out, Qing Ming.” He almost whines, and Qing Ming raises his eyebrows.

“Something to hide, my friend?” He asks cheekily, and is instantly intrigued by the sudden blush that tinges Boya’s ears. 

“Yes.” Boya chokes out, before delving into his tea, as if burning his mouth out will ward off any further ill restrained words. Qing Ming’s eyebrows have yet to descend from his hairline, and he watches his companion drain his cup with curiosity. He thinks he should perhaps tone it down a bit for Boya’s sake, but the man hasn’t actually expressed any real ire at his prodding yet, and Qing Ming trusts that if he oversteps Boya will say so or simply remove himself from the situation. He thinks that, if he were truly making his friend uncomfortable, the spell would ensure he is made aware by prompting Boya to tell him off, as he would clearly wish to.

And to be frank, it would take a better man than Qing Ming to resist. 

Deciding to take some mercy on his companion, Qing Ming drops his hand from his temple and straightens to refill their cups, and idly comments-

“You’re taking all this with more grace than I might have expected, Boya.” Only because if it had been Qing Ming struck with the spell, he might have sent Boya fleeing for the hills to escape whatever inane prattle he might fail to suppress- or, heavens forbid, announce his affections. Ah. Probably for the best it wasn’t him. He takes a hasty sip of his refilled cup to hide the sudden heat in his face.  

“Barely,” Boya mumbles into his cup, “Just when I think I’ve got a handle on it, words happen.” He hisses as he lowers his tea to glare off to the side. Qing Ming hums. 

“Ah, the woes of the mortal man.” He replies with amusement, and is charmed by the scowl and quiet fuck off he gets in reply. “It’s not too terrible, is it?” He asks lightly, and gestures to his companion. “We’ve known each other long enough to not be offended by some trivial truths between us.” It’s actually quite refreshing. Boya is not one to lie, this he knows very well, but he is guilty of habitually omitting certain things or simply keeping his own counsel on matters. To hear his honest thoughts for a change is quite the treat.  

“You don’t offend me.” Boya says, and by the lack of any reaction to his own words Qing Ming takes it as a willing admission that warms him. He smiles. 

“I’m glad. I do worry sometimes that I may take my teasing too far,” He admits in return, “I don’t want to bother you or make you uncomfortable.” And he really doesn’t, despite literally everything he says to the man sometimes. He values Boya far too much to ever risk driving him away, and Qing Ming doesn’t think he would be able to bear it if he ever did. 

“I don’t mind.” Boya mutters as he fiddles with his cup, before taking a sip. But not before adding, “I love you too much for you to ever bother me.” Qing Ming freezes, startled at the almost absent words, and Boya apparently registers what he had just said, because he promptly chokes on his tea. Stunned, Qing Ming can only stare as Boya coughs loudly into his arm, reflexive tears wetting his lashes as he tries to clear the tea from his lungs. 

Boya hastily slams his cup down on the desk, and the sharp sound startles Qing Ming out of his daze. 

“Boya-” He tries, but for once, words fail him. He replays the last few seconds over in his head, and then does it again and again until the words are chasing themselves in circles within his mind. 

“I love you too much for you to ever bother me.” 

Qing Ming thinks he might have played the remark off as a jest or perhaps an exaggeration if Boya had uttered these words any day before today, but his still spluttering companion is currently under the influence of a truth spell. However unwittingly he had said it, Boya had meant it. 

Boya loves him. 

The realization is almost enough for him to drop his cup, but Qing Ming quickly fumbles it to the safety of his desk before he can do so. Opposite him, Boya is climbing to his feet, coughing fit subsiding as he hastily turns away from him and makes for the door, and Qing Ming jolts, because Boya is fleeing. 

After admitting that he loves him. 

Qing Ming’s knee catches the edge of his desk as he scrambles to his feet, but he hardly notices the brief flare of pain as he all but jumps over it in his haste to catch his fleeing companion. 

“Boya, wait-” He calls, and reaches out to quickly snag Boya’s arm before he can clear the doors, tugging him to a stop and urging him to turn around. Boya stops, but he doesn’t turn, and Qing Ming decides he’ll take it. 

“I didn’t mean to say that.” Boya grits out, panicked, and Qing Ming could snort because that much is obvious. 

“Boya-” He starts, only to be interrupted. 

“I did mean it that way.” Boya blurts, before attempting to snatch his arm from Qing Ming’s grip to no avail, and growling. “Didn’t. Fuck.” He curses, and Qing Ming laughs softly, shaking his head fondly and decidedly not letting go of his arm. “Don’t laugh, this isn’t funny!” Boya snaps, still refusing to turn and face him, but Qing Ming isn’t laughing at him, he’s laughing at himself. How blind he has been.  

“Boya-” Qing Ming tries again, gently-

“I told you I didn’t want to wait out this stupid spell.” Boya spits. Qing Ming sighs and tries to tug him around, but his panicking companion stubbornly holds his ground. And he is, panicking, that is, either abjectly mortified at his own honesty or spooked by whatever reaction he thinks will be forthcoming, or a mixture of both. Either way Qing Ming will need to calm him down before there can be any further discussion that doesn’t end with him bolting. 

“Yes, because you were afraid you’d do exactly as you just did.” Qing Ming replies reasonably, and Boya makes a vaguely embarrassed noise and tries to pull his arm free again. Qing Ming does not allow it. 

“Forget I said anything, it’s the spell.” He tries, and Qing Ming snorts because it’s a poor deflection and they both know it. Fed up, Qing Ming yanks Boya around, the man apparently unprepared for the force he puts behind the pull because he turns with it in surprise, and Qing Ming releases his arm and grabs him by the lapels of his leathers to hold him still. 

“You love me.” He states, catching Boya’s eyes with his tone carefully blank despite the tide of emotion currently trying to drown him. Boya swallows, and almost looks away before apparently deciding against it, clenching his teeth so tight Qing Ming can see the flex of muscle in his jaw. He remains stubbornly silent. Qing Ming tries a different approach. He tightens his grip and leans in, close enough to feel the warmth of Boya’s breath as he exhales in surprise. 

“You love me?” He asks. 

“Yes.” Boya breathes, eyes fixed unerringly on his face, and Qing Ming makes some sort of noise in his chest (he honestly can’t say what, but it’s embarrassing) and kisses him. Boya jerks, startled, before he just...melts into him, and kisses back. 

The kiss is languid, and Qing Ming quickly decides that kissing Boya is his new favorite pastime. He clings to the lapels of Boya’s leathers, almost afraid to let go, and Boya responds by sliding his hands over Qing Ming’s hips, wrapping his arms around his waist and tugging him against him. Qing Ming hums contentedly against his lips. 

Suddenly, Boya winces, and Qing Ming pulls back to frown at him in concern. 

“What is it?” He asks, and Boya blinks rapidly for a moment before shaking his head slowly. 

“Nothing.” Boya replies, somehow very pointedly, and then sighs in relief. “Oh thank the gods.” He mutters, and Qing Ming blinks. 

“Ah,” He says, “The spell?” He guesses. Boya nods, looking entirely too relieved, and Qing Ming’s lips twitch up. “A bit late for that.” He teases, and Boya rolls his eyes, before tugging him back in for another kiss. Yes. Yes he thinks he’s definitely found a new pastime. 

Out in the hall, Honey Bug dusts her hands of imaginary dirt, and smiles.

 Fin

[grailfinders]

Fate and Phantasms Anniversary Special

Today on Fate and Phantasms we celebrate our 1 year anniversary! If it wasn't for all our fans we'd probably have given up ages ago, so we're going with a fan-picked character! (Don't worry if yours didn't get picked this time around, we'll hold onto them for another day)

Now we're building Romulus-Quirinus, the divine ancestor of Rome and King of Nation Building!

They're an Order Cleric to make civilization building easy, and an Astral Self Monk to make clearing the way even easier.

Check out their build breakdown below the cut, or their character sheet over here!

Next up: Fear leads to hanger. Hanger leads to hate. Hate leads to... pocky??

Race and Background

Despite ascending to godhood, you start as a Human, which gives you +1 Dexterity and Wisdom, proficiency with Religion for obvious reasons, and the Fighting Initiate feat for unarmed fighting so you can punch real good.

You're also an outlander because it's hard to be anything else before the country's built. You get proficiency with Athletics and Survival.

Ability Scores

Everything should be 40, but we're going with the standard array to make arguing with your DM a bit easier. Make your Wisdom super high for a better time ruling people and smiting them, follow it up with Strength because you really like that fancy gold armor. Your Dexterity is also pretty good, because that armor is optional. Charisma helps with ruling people too, so keep that above average. This leaves your Constitution lower than we'd like, but we're dumping Intelligence. You are by no means dumb, it's just the score that affects the build the least.

Class Levels

1. Monk 1: Starting off as a monk is pretty much mandatory so we have a martial weapon for the feat we just took, but this also means you start off with your first ascension's Unarmored Defense, adding your wisdom modifier to your AC while you aren't wearing armor.

Also while not wearing armor you can use Martial Arts, which lets you use dexterity instead of strength for your punches and you can attack as a bonus action if you attack with your main action. It also gives you a d4 martial arts die, but your fighting style is better, so...

On top of all that, you get proficiency with Strength and Dexterity saves, as well as History and Insight. You kinda are history.

2. Monk 2: Second level monks get Unarmored Movement, making you a little bit faster without the giant gold platemail. Aside from that, you get Ki points equal to your monk level per short rest, which you can spend to attack twice, dodge, disengage, or dash as a bonus action. You get something next level that is way more useful though.

3. Monk 3: Third level monks can Deflect Missiles as a reaction, rendering arrows and slingshots slightly less effective. You also gain the Arms of the Astral Self, letting you beef up your arms as a bonus action. Your anchor arms last for 10 minutes, and while active you can use wisdom instead of strength or dexterity to make attacks and strength saves/checks. You also get a long range on your unarmed attacks, and they deal force damage instead of bludgeoning. I'd love it if it was radiant, but force is kind of an upgrade, so I'll take it. The cool part is you can totally use this with armor, which will be useful in a bit.

4. Cleric 1: Oh hey it's useful now. As an Order Cleric you get proficiency with Heavy Armor, as well as Persuasion to make getting those pesky zoning ordinances in order a bit easier.

You also become a Voice of Authority, meaning that if you cast a spell targeting one or more allies, one of those allies can use their reaction to attack, because there's nothing more romantic than giving your all on the battlefield.

Speaking of, you can cast and prepare Spells now using your Wisdom. For cantrips, grab Thaumaturgy for religion funnies, and Resistance to make yourself a bit tougher than is reasonable. You also get the cantrip Hand of Radiance for a shinier punch. It's a melee range spell that deals 1d6 radiant damage if the target fails a constitution save. It's not as powerful as your punches, but it ignores armor!

You also get first level spells, and your freebies are Command and Heroism, great for when you need to build Roma from the ground up. Some other good city-building spells are Ceremony, Create or Destroy Water, and Purify Food and Drink.

5. Cleric 2: Second level clerics can Channel Divinity once per short rest. You can either use the classic Turn Undead to wig out any undead who fail a wisdom save, or you can issue Order's Demand to charm nearby creatures for a round. You can also force those creatures to drop whatever they're holding.

6. Cleric 3: Third level clerics get second level spells, like Hold Person and Zone of Truth. You can also use Continual Flame to make eternal torches, Calm Emotions to settle disputes peacefully, and Spiritual Weapon to not settle things peacefully.

7. Cleric 4: When you finally get your first Ability Score Improvement, bump up your Wisdom for a better unarmored AC, Astral Arms attacks, and spells. You really like wisdom, it's good to you.

You can also use Guidance to make yourself a little better than everyone else at ability checks.

8. Cleric 5: Fifth level clerics see their Turn Undead turn into Destroy Undead, instantly destroying undead of CR 1/2 or lower who fail their wisdom save. You also get third level spells, like Mass Healing Word and Slow. I'd also suggest Clairvoyance for a bit of omniscience, Daylight for the aesthetic, and Spirit Shroud for a bit of power building. It's fine, beating up a god needs power building, so it's in character.

9. Cleric 6: This level lets you Channel Divinity twice per rest, and you become an Embodiment of the Law, letting you cast enchantment spells as a bonus action instead of an action. You can speed things up this way Wisdom Modifier per long rest. Now you can hold someone down and slap the shit out of them in the same turn!

10. Cleric 7: Continuing the trend you've probably figured out by now, seventh level clerics get fourth level spells, like Compulsion and Locate Creature. You can also use Control Water to make your harbor more or less hospitable.

11. Cleric 8: As an eighth level order cleric, your Divine Strike lets you add psychic damage to one of your attacks each turn. Since this applies to a "weapon attack" and not a "melee weapon attack", your fists qualify. Yes, they are a melee "weapon attack", not a "melee weapon attack". Makes perfect sense.

You also get another ASI, which will let you max out your Wisdom for so many good reasons. Punching, spells, AC, they're all a bit better.

Destroy Undead also kills creatures of CR 1 or lower now.

12. Cleric 9: Ninth level clerics get fifth level spells, like Commune and Dominate Person. You can also use your Noble Phantasms on the offensive thanks to Flame Strike, or on the defensive as Mass Cure Wounds or Hallow. The former is basically a giant laser, the middle one is Cure Wounds But Multiple People, and the latter will turn an area into a great spot to build a city. As long as you aren't building a city for Celestials, Elementals, Fey, Fiends, or Undead.

13. Cleric 10: If you're tired of slapping people around with a hand of radiance, you can just use a Word of Radiance instead! It's literally the same thing as Hand of Radiance, but it uses a holy symbol instead of somatic components.

That being said you can also use Divine Intervention now, letting you call up your god (read: you) for a favor once per day. It only has a 1 in 10 chance of succeeding, but if it does the DM's the limit on what kind of help you'll get. After getting help you have to wait a week for it to recharge. You’d think you’d be willing to call in favors for you more often, but I’m not a god, so I wouldn’t know.

14. Cleric 11: Eleventh level clerics get sixth level spells, and sadly we're out of freebies. That being said, you could use Sunbeam for a reusable Per Aspera Ad Astra, or create a Heroes' Feast for a good time on the town.

Also, your Destroy Undead bumps up again to CR 2.

15. Cleric 12: This ASI will bump your Strength up, both so you can have stronger attacks when your Astral Arms are down, and so you can wear full plate armor without an issue.

16. Cleric 13: With the advent of seventh level spells, we finally get the only cleric spell in the game that actually lets you build a structure. Temple to the Gods lets you build a temple of your own design within a 120' square, and while it normally ends a day later, casting the spell in the same spot for a year makes the spell permanent. Honestly 1 building a year seems a bit slow for a city, I'd suggest just building them the old fashioned way. You can also use Divine Words to send extraplanar creatures back to where they came from, and you weaken other creatures with status effects dependent on how many hit points they have left.

17. Cleric 14: Destroy Undead kills CR 3 creatures now. Not fancy, but at least those skeletal owlbears will leave you alone. Also your Divine Strike is better now.

18. Cleric 15: Eighth level spells are always fun. You can now do stuff like Control Weather, cause an Earthquake, shed a Holy Aura to protect allies, or use a Sunburst to launch a big blob of light at enemies.

19. Cleric 16: Use your last ASI to become Tough for an extra 38 HP. The one problem with cleric; super squishy class.

20. Cleric 17: Your capstone level is surprisingly busy. Your Destroy Undead hits CR 4 creatures, and you can invoke Order's Wrath on creatures when you hit them. If you hit a creature with your Divine Strike, you can curse them until the start of your next turn. If an ally hits the cursed creature, they take another round of Divine Strike damage!

And that's not all! You also get ninth level spells! None of them particularly scream "Romulus" to me, but I mean you're a god, you can use whatever you want.

Pros:

You might only have one attack per round, but you really make them count. Each swing deals 3d8+5 damage per hit, and they deal psychic and force damage, two of the hardest types to avoid. And that's all before you get into spells to buff yourself like Spirit Shroud. It's not flashy, but it is consistent.

You've got a maxed out casting modifier and plenty of charming spells, meaning you're pretty good at controlling others.

Embodiment of the Law is huge, it lets you buff and debuff as a bonus action, freeing up your main action for direct support or combat.

Cons:

With only three monk levels, you don't have a lot of Ki to go around. You'll probably have to save all of it for your Astral Arms, as you're a lot weaker without them.

On a related note, multiclassing the way we did is also pretty awkward. The 20th level of cleric is super powerful, and if we spent two more levels as monk you could attack more often per turn and get more ki points.

Your constitution isn't great, meaning you can drop concentration easily and you're kind of squishy for a god. That's especially not good considering your main form of combat is slapping people in the face.