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mywifeleftme · 2 years ago

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50: My Blood Valentine // Loveless

Loveless My Bloody Valentine 1991, Creation

Since every Loveless review turns into a soup of adjectives, I collected all 593 adjectives I've used in the previous 49 reviews in this series and bolded the ones that apply to this record:

Fun, diesel-powered, affable, strutting, crooked, deranged, maudlin, endearing, bald-faced, serviceable-at-worst, dollar bin, rabid, vast, empty, folky, sublime, earwormy, intuitive, high, clear, clean, blue, tense, urgent, nervy, ecstatic, great, glum, boyish, chiming, insistent, operative, bare-assed, incongruous, sincere, passionate, deeply felt, stomping, joyous, slower, melancholic, funereal, heart-rending, echoey, overt, stunning, straight, simple, popular, shot, mild, in-the-pocket, gnomish, stern, strict, self-imposed, underrated, deconstructed, long, moody, intuitive, desperate, blueish, deeper, fond, cosmic, bigger, stoned, economical, driving, blistering, sedate, tentative, pretty damned good, hidden, opposite, elemental, amphetamized, duff, satisfying, mixed, dismal, fresh, stone, radiant, perfect, silken, delighted, spellbound, minor, charming, superb, funky, polyrhythmic, light-and-shadows, needless, dyspeptic, profound, most-spun, experienced, good, nostalgic, masculine, music-as-healing-ritual, granola, fervently-wanking-chaos-magic, drifting, moaning, shifting, droning, extraordinary, spare, hushed, silverene, bloody, hunted, icy, singular, pure, pensive, fine, increasingly-gnarled, sucks, Joy Divisiony, extremely sweet, gripless, gloomy, exhausting, rich, high camp, ambiguous, distant, regal, enormous, unearthly, cold, adventurous, inscrutable, cerebral, robotic, landmark, cavernous, cyborgian, nearly-lost, vintage, lyrical, unpredictable, tuned-in, vivid, stretchy-faced, EC Comics-y, state-of-the-art, DIY, talented, metallic, gangrenous, niche, stark, outsider, minimally-arranged, amelodic, piping, windburned, sinister, unsettling, loose, imagistic, oblique, surreal, fully-realized, excellent, expanded, skeletal, entrancing, solemn, buzzing, intense, key, quirky, revered, true, anointed, durable, going-nowhere-and-loving-it, woolly, unique, infectious, goofy, ferocious, valuable, searing, slick, sporadic, nocturnal, satiny, tragic, high-thread-count, theatrical, mournful, acrid, dramatic, fallen, expansive, confrontational, blunt, palpable, subtle, melodramatic, incestuous, trauma-dumping, erotic, heartfelt, beautiful, melodic, drifty, flighty, sad, oppressively sincere, life-changing, trenchant, wreathed in ritual smoke, crackling with spiritual lightning, unruly, madcap, mind-bending, raucous, thrilling, idiosyncratic, striking, bludgeoning, fucked up, choreographed, discomfiting, walloping, deafening, glitchy, chill, tweaky, archetypal, harder-edged, stately, audiophile's dream, mangy, hallucinatory, strafing, high-octane, winsome, hyperactive, irresistible, indelible, deathless, casual, disjunctive, winkingly earnest, faint, uncanny, perpetual, traditional, stranger, megawatt, queer, velveteen, definitive, cutesy, irksome, satisfying, sentimental, introverted, psych-y, rambling, wistful, confident, twinkly, loopy, smeared, ramshackle, reverb-washed, tie-dyed, emblematic, frenetic, rusty, steam-driven, recursive, mesmerizing, unobtrusive, special, bespoke, lesser-known, rare, popular, gentle, tropical, lilting, ebullient, svelte, percolating, obscure, fantastic,

youtube

sweat-soaked, drum-driven, cardiac, giddy, sugarcane, charismatic, pan-Black, white, beloved, considerable, pretty funny, moderately offensive, legendary, snarky, just fucking fine, dogshit, scathing, amusing, awkward, replacement-level, cromulent, left-field, psychedelic, burly, bad, dunked upon, seedy, modest, hedonistic, sock hop vibes, peaceable, immaculate, sodden, unquenchable, galvanizing, warlike, leftist, fuzz-drenched, fiery, swashbuckling, heartfelt, frosty, forlorn, far-right, intelligible, powerful, unforgiveable, militant, fulfilling, wonderful, sweaty, righteous, dashing, rustic, clumsy, soulful, gushing, stupid, generous, weird, dumb, highly defective, new-dime, candy-eyed, weary, miserable, idiot, loudest, imperious, gender euphoric, good-natured, hilarious, deviant, compulsive, dimwitted, blind, unappeasable, important, cigarette-smelling, elaborate, impossible, virtuosic, bitter, gifted, religious, absurd, naughty, leaden, adolescent, brilliant, skewed, greying, golden, horniest, explicit, blithe, comic, well-lubricated, sepia-toned, disreputable, frigid, hygienic, grimy, kinetic, cramped, pitiless, pulverizing, soothing, agitated, stabbing, intricate, strong, smoldering, cyberpunky, towering, lukewarm, unmissable, clever, hot-rodded, impersonal, garage-y, tender, bottle rocket, unflappable, noisy, apocalyptic, primal, song-like, formless, fascinating, blobby, resplendent, dreamy, rawer, full-bodied, pitchy, spacy, catchy, sorely missed, startled, maximalist, uninhibited, gargantuan, turbulent, insular, sedate, rapturous, exquisitely-arranged, sensitive, melismatic, intimate, smoky, slow-developing, distinctive, beguiling, abstract, conventional, languorous, foggy, hazy, fetching, ambient, breathy, salival, opaque, concrete, urban, herculean, ass-kicking, nimble, technically proficient, sledge-assed, steely, poppy, unfaltering, Hendrix-pilled, divebombing, frizzy, anthemic, crusading, acid-scarred, spiraling, hair-raising, outraged, minimal, sick ass, dazzling, abominable, smooth, pretty, serene, personable, organic, ambling, overwrought, anachronistic, back porch, Appalachian, death-shrouded, sun-dappled, haunted, existential, straight up and down, starry-eyed, flashy, timeless, odd, ur-technical, Queensrÿche-adjacent, darker-hued, bonkers, tortured, plodding, groaning, busy, old, iconic, aphoristic, gusty, small, sexy, feathered, cool, exécrable, stolid, matter-of-fact, squinting, rumpled, abject, homeliness, unmatched, stacked, entry-level, de rigueur, reliable, working-class, scratchy, aspiring, feral, plaintive, quavering, venomous, scuzzy, balls-to-the-wall, professional, weakest, passable, immortal, subdued, worthy, heavy, powerfully Afroed, languid, string-sweetened, deft, gliding, lapidary, pizzicato, stirring, pogo-powered, lyrics-forward, deadpan, passé, strange, head-spinning, immense, endless.

Or simply, as friend and critic MJ O’Neill once put it, the sound of lipstick smeared in a dream.

50/365

#my bloody valentine #loveless #adjectives #shoegaze #this is so stupid #logorrhea #a tendency to extreme loquacity #music review #vinyl #scottish music #'90s music

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art-of-mathematics · 5 months ago

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Palindromatic logorrhea - is this even something? or is it a cursed writing idea?

#lingo soup #lingo fun #palindromatic logorrhea

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solhaechan · 9 months ago

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as a fellow gemini who doesn't really know much about astrology what are the most common gemini traits? maybe the ones you see in yourself and other people you know irl

Okay disclaimer, not trying to stereotype here, but this is what I've observed in myself, gemini's I know and those I idolize

Adaptable/versatile/multifaced

Tendency to adapt themselves to situations and people around them; what would be acceptable in this situation/with this person? I have many different faces and very few people get to see all of them because I pick what I show you based on what you reflect back at me. If I seek to interact with you, I will mirror you where I find common ground. But then again, if I do not seek to do so, you will be met with a closed door and a sarcastic politeness at most. This is often the case when the social battery is empty or simply because I don't vibe with you. I can clearly see this with Haechan; we often see the bright bubbly personality, but there are some vids where you can see he's tired and speaks only out of duty or to make dry/sarcastic jokes.

Curious/inquisitive/noisy

Natural curiosity when it comes to my direct environment; I want to know everything from my direct circle and can even be noisy. What's the latest tea? What did you do the other day? Oh, you're doing something and I don't know what? I'll be looking over your shoulder to see for myself. On the other hand, true to the two faced nature of the gemini, there can also be an utter disinterest in matters that don't spark my curiosity. I can be completely uneducated on certain matters and not care in the slightest bit, nor can you change my mind because I'm stubborn. The change of my mind will occur from my own accord; usually by chance when I come accross something about the matter that suddenly does spark my interest. This is were gemini's can be considered fickle/volatile, because now I've suddenly changed my mind? If interest is necessary, e.g. adult responsibilities or school work, laziness is sparked and things will be explored at a snail's pace or procastinated. This whole paragraph is something I also saw in my ex, a fellow gemini, a lot.

Witty/cocky/smartass/clever/funny/no filter

I have grouped these all together because they often go hand-in-hand.

Quick with responses especially in arguments, to make a point myself or to immediately make yours invalid; the responses/reactions can come so quickly and unfiltered/with no thoughts behind them that it leaves others flabbergasted and often amused. Dry, sarcastic, witty responses, you name it. They come naturally and a gemini will be smug about it; you might experience a urge to punch them in the face (*cough* Haechan *cough*, my father's gemini bestfriend). I have heard so many times in my life that my irl reactions to things are hilarious and I am often a source of unadulturated laughter for my loved ones. A mood lifter if you will. This is also a key trait of gemini's; we can act unhinged, publicly and without shame, if we know for certain it will lead to a desired reaction. The desired reaction not always being laughter.

(Emotional) Intelligence/observant

Can read the room well; goes slightly hand-in-hand with the adaptability. Will observe first to decide how to interact. Quicker to read between the lines and recognize implicit meanings/thoughts; quick to reassure loved ones when these implicit thoughts are self-depreciating (I've seen Haechan do this and I do it myself too). Seeks intellectual matches in their relationships and the ability to have philosophical conversations as these are highly stimulating. These are the people I tend to be closest with. If these matches are found, I find that a gemini is extremely loyal. When this is not the case, for me personally, the popular stereotyped 'easily bored, quick to lose interest' gemini comes out.

#wow this became whole logorrhea #not sure if this makes sense #or if i answered your question at all 😅#i lack knowledge on astrology myself tbh #well this was fun #anon #ask #reply #gemini #haechan

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vitanithepure · 1 year ago

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Uuuggghh, I shouldn't be struggling this much with writing.

What started out as a warm-up for a much longer piece turned into an already 1200+ word fic that got a life of its own. And because I have not planned it ahead, I don't know where to freaking end. It just goes on and on, and new things just... appear and I obviously don't know how to stop >.<

I swear I actually forgot how to write. I never was a pantser yet here we are. I'm on a train and I don't know where it's going or if I even have a ticket.

#logorrhea is a bitch #I hate it here

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pastelgrungewrecker · 2 years ago

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Hypnagogic Hallucination || Sg

I can wait for you at the bottom I can stay away if you want me to I can wait for years if I gotta

[”I’ve always been business before pleasure. Not sure what you think you’re gonna get out of me.”, says the madman machinist as he lifts a champagne glass to his lips.

“Maybe I’m suggesting they can exist as an intersection instead of a parallel?”

Brainstorm pauses, locking eyes with his conversation mate in the dim yellow light of a bar that looked like something out of a golden age movie.

“...And what did you say your name was, again.”

“Call me Skids. I’ll leave you my... contact info, QS Brainstorm. Drop me a line sometime.”]

Whirl didn’t like him. Part of it was, no doubt, jealousy- he and his ang- Boss had been getting closer, coming to a more even and equal keel since the rewrite of his contract and then this.... Usurper had decided to waltz in and now everything felt wrong.

Whirl swallowed the growl in his throat as this Skids person had the audacity to waltz into the kitchenette like he owned the place- neck smeared in marks and bites and chest not faring much better.

“Good mornin’.”

“Wow, you spoke to me! Progress.”, laughed Skids as he reached by Whirl for the coffeepot. The intruder in Whirl’s space froze, feeling the the silent rattle of prosthetic hands that wanted nothing more than to cinch shut.

“Allow me sir. I insist.”

“Uh- sure. Not a problem.”

The silence was palpable and broken only by the clink of a mug boasting all the signs of handmade and expensive.

“So.”, began Whirl, his voice low, “Who, exactly, did you say you were under the employ of?”

“Ah, hm. Well, I am... an agent of the New Institute of course.”, was the answer, and Whirl felt the sly tone wrapping around the words like serpentine hypnosis, “An academic, like your... boss. Shared interests, you see. I’d heard about his work, become fascinated by it really, and now here we are.”

“Heard of his work, hm?”, asked Whirl, his voice unnervingly calm.

“Yes, why?”

Whirl handed a mug of steaming coffee to Skids, his smile not reaching his eyes as he tilted his head.

“Well, I would like to have a list of your sources, Skids- it’s concerning you’ve heard talk of his work given how every project he heads or takes on is immediately classified unto redacted from official and unofficial record. If there’s a leak, I should plug it.”

“I’ll, uh, I’ll get back to you on that.”

Whirl watched Skids retreat, noting the way his steps were silent, the way his body was tense yet fluid at the same time. He squinted, unsure. Against his preference, he reached up to tap his comm and called a line-number he’d pinged twice a day since his Boss’s relationship started almost a month ago.

[Commlink Identifier Perceptor Reached. Commlink Currently Unavailable. Please Leave Return Ping PIN. Thank You.]

“Damn.”

The pinged scientist in question sat in dark silence. A wineglass in a twitchy grip and glaring at the wall.

He hadn’t left his hab in days. Hadn’t spoken in a week. He tongued a fang, and glared through the darkness with an eye mutated to see near perfectly in the absence of light at the vent at the top of his wall, as he had done many nights.

Many nights since Brainstorm had found a new... interest.

Waking up from fitful naps to the muffled call of a voice he recognized making sounds he had caused many times- the wine and blood staining the wall he stared at spoke volumes of when his temper would overtake him; normally so rare an occurrence and yet here he sits and grinds his teeth like ancient millstones and swears he taste saltpeter between sharpened incisors.

His commpiece on the coffee table goes off, and he frowns like a sneering predator knowing who it was.

“Oh piss off, punching bag bitch.”, he hisses into the darkness, “Go handle your little ANGEW you pathetic little. Ugh.”

He drains his glass, getting to his feet- bare, dotted with blood from broken glass he walked over by the wall without a care- and he walked with the sway of a serpent’s head to his own kitchenette to pour himself another glass.

His nails dig into the counter as he thinks. Remembers. Had it already been an entire month...?

[”What did you say his name was.”, asks Perceptor, frozen for a moment as he cocks his head.

“Skids.”, answers Brainstorm with an almost fond chuckle. Perceptor hates the sound, “Said he was with the main planet R&D department under Optimus himself.”

“...He’s not.”, says Perceptor flatly, turning and concerned and enraged alla t once, “He’s with the ADJ- Brainstorm, you need to chase him off immediately, it’s not safe to have him around you-”

“Oh please. I’ve handled YOU all these years haven’t I?”

“I’m the evil you know, but even I don’t dally with Prowl’s lackeys! You know the blind Zealot himself is beyond unhinged and dangerous and Skids is one of his favorites-”

“Oh shut the fuck up!”, snaps Brainstorm, “I can handle myself, you think some woowoo soldier-preacher can outsmart ME? Much less one of his underlings IF that is even true.”

There’s a beat of quiet in the conversation, before Brainstorm smiles smugly and crosses his arms.

“...You’re jealous, aren’t you Percy. Cause I don’t want you anymore.”]

“So what if I am.”, hisses the sniper to the empty hab, “At least I’m a devil you’re used to; you beautiful, brilliant dumbfuck.”

It would be another week before finally, FINALLY- Whirl got an answer.

::What is it.::

::Took you long enough, sniper.::, grumbles Whirl quietly, ::I don’t trust this Skids that ang- Boss is gettin’ with.::

::Come off it you sappy dumbass, we all know you call him angel. Own it. And you shouldn’t trust him- he’s ADJ. Prowl’s pet rats.::

::...He told me he was with New Institute.::

::That sector shut down years ago. He told Brainstorm he was part of Optimus’s planetside R&D sector.::

::This is fishy.::

::It’s not my problem. I’m just jealous, according to him- that’s why I get the most delightful symphonies at night.::

::...Shit, I didn’t even-::

::Don’t call me to save him anymore. I’ve paid my debts Whirl of Polyhex.::

Whirl flinched at the sharpness with which the connection died. He looked up, ,leaning slightly to peek through the ajar door to his boss’s personal quarters and felt something bitter in his throat at the way he could see Skids draping over the industrialist’s back.

Whirl looked away when he noticed the shine to their skin; busying himself with something, anything to keep his focus away and tame the frigid curling sensation in his chest.

The months pass like molasses, like syruped strychnine the days drizzle by and Whirl feels himself once more icing over in his old permafrost- no longer meeting Brainstorm’s eyes and feeling a peculiar sting at the realization that Brainstorm either doesn’t notice, or doesn’t care. He’s not sure which is worse.

Perceptor isolates in the biolab- arms burning from self-samples taken with little care for himself beyond protocol and sterile handling; throwing himself into understanding and controlling the mycomutagen rushing through his system and swallowing his soul. At least something needs him, anymore.

And Brainstorm... feels like he’s floating. His mornings are soft- soft in a way they hadn’t been with Perceptor in years, soft in ways he hadn’t yet really considered with Whirl; be it from insecurity or frustration. Skids was... easy to read. Easy to predict. Curious and gentle-voiced; body soft and unmodified and real and warm in ways Brainstorm wasn’t used to.

Skids’ teeth were blunt. Human, really human- like his eyes, like his hands. Like his expressions telegraphed like neon signs and so easy to read.

It would have been easy for Brainstorm to love him only for that.

But beyond that; flying under Brainstorm’s radar using the scientist’s ego as a shade- Skids was so very...curious. Asking questions, innocent and smooth and kind in that gentle voice of his like liquid gold, like warm honey. Eyes wide in awe and praise and his compliments sounding so earnest and eager and feeding into the forgefire of a god complex still blossoming.

However... there is a rule of the universe that is best to remember:

If it sounds too good to be true, it is.

The servers shut down all at once. Brainstorm jerks out of his work trance, blinking in the white light at his reflection in the screens and there is the sound of security guard’s boots and protection drone wheels up and down the halls. Doors automatically lock and seal and there is nothing in or out on the commlines for hours.

Brainstorm, curious and concerned, feels no qualms about overriding the lockdown and skulking down halls to security elevators- rolling his eyes and muttering something about handing control of security to him given the false alarms that had been popping up over and over-

He stands in front of his door, and hears it- a gunshot. Silenced, but audible to his modified ears; he shields with one hand and fires into the unlock panel for his hab to activate the emergency opening mechanism to see Whirl crumpled on the floor and the flash of a server case from near the glass door that led out to a balcony where many a night was spent looking up at false stars.

“...Skids?”

“Shit.”, is the sigh in the darkness as Brainstorm creeps in from the always muted entry hallway.

“Lights full- what the- THAT’S MY-”

“Aht, don’t yell now. I’d really hate to have to kill you too Stormy.”, says Skids with a mockery of pity on his face, “Not to bothered by your bodyguard- it was getting annoying watching him pine over you and give me the stink eye every fucking morning.”

“What is the MEANING of this Skids, why do you have my transport case, what the hell is this!”, snarls the industrialist as he kicks briefly back at the half open door before stomping forward, “Put your fucking gun DOWN, you know I won’t fucking die.”

“Theoretically, you won’t die.”, says Skids too sweetly, “Unless someone knew how to set up something useful, like say a mini-EMP. And knew how your failsafe worked.”

Brainstorm stopped- his coat shifted slightly against his legs like the exhale of a bitter god laughed at his back.

“Don’t take this personally babe. You really are a sweet guy- not too bad in bed either, even if your snoring is atrocious. But... you’re easy.”

“Wha-”

“To convince, babe, keep up.”, said Skids impatiently, “You really gotta work on that. And hey, maybe getting your servers jacked by what your old fuckbuddy calls a Prowl Lackey will learn you a thing or two. Consider it a free lesson from the best.”

“But. But you, and I-”

“Brainstorm, don’t make this harder than it has to be. Handle your dying bodyguard there, don’t do anything stupid. Leave cockiness to the ones who can back it up, yeah?”

“Oh precious, big words!”

Brainstorm knows the smell of burnt hair. He felt the heat of plasmafire cruise next to his ear and scorch a few stray curls as it passed and saw Skids shriek and dive to the side. A pistol clatters to the floor and Brainstorm stumbles and falls when he’s shoved out of the way and Perceptor is there.

His hair slicked down, like the old days. His face severe and cold and vicious and in stark contrast to the deep gemstone tones of his cosmetics.

“Leave the case, jackal-pup.”, hisses the sniper with a rasp like cheap wine and expensive whiskey, “Leave the case and warn your precious little master that a notice has been sent up the chain. Some cookie jars don’t need bloody fingers fondling the rim.”

Skids raises his gun and Perceptor’s free hand has a pistol in it and firing before the ADJ agent can pull his own trigger- Skids swears again as his weapon is pinged out of his grip and Brainstorm can see the sizzle and smoke of burns on the agent’s hand.

And then Skids is gone- kicking the sliding back door and vanishing into the false night of an enclosed planetary colony.

Brainstorm looks up to Perceptor, feeling his chest clench at the nonacknowledgement as the sniper turns to the groaning Whirl.

“Come off it, you aren’t dead yet darling. Stop flopping about like an old roach.”

“Fuck...hyooo.”, wheezes Whirl as he eases himself into a sitting position. He taps fingertips over the hole in his shirts before pulling it off to reveal bulletproof armor with a heavy plasma burn.

“Good. Plan went off without a hitch.”, said Perceptor as he holstered his pistol and stood with hip cocked. Finally, then, he looked down to Brainstorm with something other than emptiness in his good eye.

“Next time, maybe you’ll listen when someone cares enough to warn you, asshole.”

And Brainstorm watched him stalk out of the hab, vanishing down the hall with a hand to his commpiece with a “Hello, Xaaron” as two medics rushed the room in a flurry of white and red and clinical concern.

Brainstorm sat on the floor, overcoat puddled around him like a wedding dress left at an empty altar- he looked up, he reached for Whirl with a plea he couldn’t manage to voice on his lips and felt his heart creak as Whirl flinched away, looking to the side like a scorned spouse.

For all Brainstorm had bragged of his intelligence, his wit, his perfection- he had been fooled with nothing more than kisses and smiles.

He takes his vigil around the empty space where Whirl should be- flitting about his bodyguard’s shadow like a brokenhearted ghost and desperately trying to build his anger back up- fuel himself on rage arrogance like he had before but the fire simply refused to burn. The tinder spent and wood dampened by the frost all around him until he did the only thing left for him to do-

He sat up, sleepless and hurting in his empty bed and hiccupped softly. The tears came easy, they always had to his eternal annoyance but the mourning- oh, that was hard to come by. And he dressed quickly; his coat abandoned on the form in the corner and he ghosted out of his hab and over to the next door in the line- so familiar a route.

He forewent knocking, entering a code long since memorized and choking on the twisting sensation in his chest when the code spat back NOT RECOGNIZED in a digital font.

He curled his titanium hand into a fist... and knocked. Once. Twice. Three times.

Nothing.

He knocked again. And again. And again and he hated the weakness, the need he felt and he all but crumpled in front of of Perceptor’s door and his breathing hitched and-

“P-Percy, please I. I messed up, okay I messed up I just. I just wanted. I wanted someone who, who...”

‘Who was like you. Who was like the you who never came home. Who never said goodbye.’

The door opened. The smell of menthol smoke and liquor. A cool hand reaches down to brush knuckles over Brainstorm’s cheek and catch under his jaw to tilt his face up to see the deadpan and hurting expression of one Perceptor of Altihex.

“...Oh darling. You’re a mess.”

“Y-Yes.”

Brainstorm stands, shaky and filled to overflowing with emotion, and Perceptor leads him into his lair, his home, with an exhale of smoke and a smile like the action hurts.

The door hisses shut behind the industrialist.

“....Love, this isn’t healthy for us. Especially not now.”

“I know.”

“...We can’t keep doing this, can we. This is... This is proof.”

“...Yes.”

“The jealousy, the goading... It isn’t good for either of us. I’m chasing a dream that died back when I had custody and you’re chasing a feeling that died when I got shot all those years back.”

“I. I know, Percy but- But please. Just.”

“Just one more hit, and then farewell.”

Brainstorm’s hands go to Percy’s hips and he buries his face into the sniper’s neck.

“I. I can’t promise that. I can’t, Perce, sweetheart, don’t make me lie to you.”

“We can’t keep hurting each other, love. It will only escalate.”

“Then let it, let it, let it-”

Perceptor’s back is against the wall, ash drifts away from the end of a cygarette and the chemicals turn their kisses tart and desperate.

‘Let it burn us both alive, maybe dying really would be easier.’

“How long, darling, before I abandon you for the good Doctor again.”, whispers the sniper as he nuzzles Brainstorm’s throat, “How long before you fade away from me to flutter your moth’s wings around the artisan bodyguard.”

“I don’t know, I don’t know anymore-....”

“Oh precious, you are easy to love based on your honesty alone when you allow it to show.”, coos the sniper before he licks a dribble of blood from the corner of his slyly upturned smile and looks down at the sprawled industrialist, “You are beautiful in your craving for punishment, in your demand for your own perfection but oh- oh you beautiful and brilliant fool.”

And Perceptor leans down and kisses Brainstorm’s already bitten lips before whispering, “I will give you your penance, because I know that’s what you want from me- to earn forgiveness. But this... this is the last time I allow myself to hurt you, my darling. Savor it, and then let yourself have the softness you need so very badly.”

It was unspoken. It was secret, and something their own and it never left Perceptor’s door.

Even when Brainstorm caught the eye of the curious who no doubt heard the whole night’s commotion and he glared at them with brass and blood eyes and a spine like iron; he silenced them without words and slunk back to his own hab to snatch his coat from it’s form and pull it over him like armor; fastening the front closed and sliding his feet into familiar boots that he laced with the cold practice of a madman binding his butcher’s heels.

And he stalked free into the halls, letting the grief and anger and sadness and hatred suffuse him.

Whirl awoke with a yawn when he heard footsteps, expecting a medic to be holding out a datapad with the discharge forms on the screen.

Brainstorm stood stock still, back towards the silently closing door.

“...I ignored your advice.”, said Brainstorm softly, “...That was fucking stupid of me to do, when you know better than I do. When it comes to people.”

Whirl was quiet.

“...I. I’m. I’m sorry, Whirl.”, he said quietly, “I was... needlessly...”

“You were an asshole, sir. All due respect.”, said Whirl quietly, “You are good at that, however. I don’t necessarily make a habit of pointing it out, you do that fine on your own, but I digress.”

“...That’s a bit harsh-”

“You made your ex listen to you get laid with your new piece every night for how long, again? That is not exactly the picture of professional grace.”

Brainstorm winced, “...You’re right. Unfortunately.”

“I’ll keep the admission between us, sir.”

“Thank you- please stop calling me that.”

“What.”

“Stop calling me sir.”

“You didn’t seem to be bothered by my silence or concern, so forgive me for going back to old habits.”

“Can. Can we try all this business again?”, said Brainstorm with a voice small, and quiet, and soft.

Whirl looked at him, an eyebrow raised, “This business?”

“...Being the way we were. Or were going to be.”

“...Maybe- but you’ll have to work for it-”

Brainstorm winced again, “Fair enough.”

“And we’ll see how you do... Angel.”

Brainstorm’s shoulders relaxed, and the corner of Whirl’s mouth quirked up into a smile.

#pastelwrites #sleep deprivation fueled manic logorrhea activate #shattered glass

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evilvillain123456789 · 2 months ago

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lets see... "About Me." Well, first off, when I say I listen to all music, I really mean all of it. Rap, Country, freeform jazz, goregrind, plunderfonix, soft rock, harsh noise, black midis, brown notes, drone😜, groan, progesterone, Brazilian throat singing, Mongolian bossanova, Appalachian lined-out hymnody, Christian dubstep, Wahhabi shoegaze, blue metal, black grass, dungeon synth, DPRKpop, modal plainsong, and yes, even "hyper Pop"... The only thing is I don't fuck with ANY music made by women OR femmes. Grimes is okay during her tomboy era, as is Britney Spears specifically with the shaved head, but if you're here hoping to see posts about Ethel, Chapelle, Megan, Bjork, Mitsky, Anohni, Tori, Lizzo, Blondie, Haella, Pharmakon, Azealea Banks, Iggy Azalea, Iggy Pop, Jeff Magnum, Marc Almond, Macy Gray, Beyoncé, trampdog, suckstamps, Nancy Sinatra, Alice Coltrane, your mom, my mom, auntie's harp, grandmother's hands, or any other she/her in the business, you're gonna leave disappointed. It's personal, it's complicated, and no, I will not 🚫 explain. Anything else? Name, age😏 , pronouns, DNI? Grow the fuck up, put on your big boy pants, click through to my Medium and comb through decades of epileptic logorrhea LIKE AN ADULT. I hate this website sometimes, I swear... Oh and before you ask

😠 it's always okay to reblog my nudes........😠..

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literaryvein-reblogs · 4 months ago

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100 "Beautiful" Words

for your next poem/story

Accouchement - the time or act of giving birth

Allemande - a dance step with arms interlaced

Anent - about, concerning

Anthophilous - feeding upon or living among flowers

Aphyllous - destitute of foliage leaves

Apophenia - the tendency to perceive a connection between unrelated things

Apoplectic - extremely enraged

Badinage - playful repartee; banter

Belaud - to praise usually to excess

Chromophil - staining readily with dyes

Coeval - of the same or equal age, antiquity, or duration

Cognoscente - a person who has expert knowledge in a subject

Cruciferous - any of a family of plants including the cabbage, turnip, and mustard

Deliquescent - tending to melt or dissolve

Diallelus - a reasoning in a circle

Elide - to leave out of consideration

Emulous - inspired by or deriving from a desire to emulate

Epergne - an often ornate tiered centerpiece consisting typically of a frame of wrought metal (e.g., gold) bearing dishes, vases, or candle holders or a combination of these

Epexegesis - additional explanation or explanatory matter

Fructify - to bear fruit

Funambulism - a show especially of mental agility

Galbulus - a spherical closed fleshy cone of thickened or fleshy peltate scales

Grenadine - an open-weave fabric of various fibers

Haematite - a reddish-brown to black mineral consisting of ferric oxide, constituting an important iron ore, and occurring in crystals

Hyaline - something that is transparent

Ianthine - having a violet color

Impresa - a device with a motto used in the 16th and 17th centuries; emblem

Ineluctable - not to be avoided, changed, or resisted

Indite - to put down in writing

Jacinthe - a moderate orange

Jiqui - a Cuban timber tree with hard wood very resistant to moisture

Kincob - an Indian brocade usually of gold or silver or both

Kvell - to be extraordinarily proud

Labret - an ornament worn in a perforation of the lip

Lachrymator - a tear-producing substance (such as tear gas)

Latericeous - of the color of red brick

Legerity - alert facile quickness of mind or body

Limnology - the scientific study of bodies of fresh water

Logorrhea - excessive and often incoherent talkativeness or wordiness

Maieutic - relating to the Socratic method of eliciting new ideas from another

Maquillage - makeup

Marmoreal - of marble

Matronymic - a name derived from that of the mother or a maternal ancestor

Mazarine - mazarine blue; a deep purplish blue

Mirifical - working wonders

Nacarat - geranium lake (i.e., a vivid red)

Nephology - a branch of meteorology dealing with clouds

Notabilia - things worthy of note

Obnubilate - becloud, obscure

Obstreperous - marked by unruly or aggressive noisiness

Oenology - a science that deals with wine and wine making

Ombrophilous - capable of withstanding or thriving in the presence of much rain

Organdy - a very fine transparent muslin with a stiff finish

Palafitte - an ancient dwelling built on piles over a lake

Pareidolia - the tendency to perceive a specific, often meaningful image in a random or ambiguous visual pattern

Peregrinate - to travel especially on foot

Peristyle - an open space enclosed by a colonnade

Perse - of a dark grayish blue resembling indigo

Personalia - biographical or personal anecdotes or notes

Phylactery - amulet

Piacular - sacrificial, expiatory

Pleonasm - the use of more words than those necessary to denote mere sense; redundancy

Poetomachia - a contest of poets; specifically: a literary quarrel of Elizabethan dramatists

Prasine - having the green color of a leek

Prestidigitation - sleight of hand

Psilanthropy - a doctrine of the merely human existence of Christ

Psychomachy - a conflict of the soul

Quaesitum - something sought for; end

Quatenus - in the quality or capacity of

Rebarbative - repellent, irritating

Rhapsodize - to speak or write in a rhapsodic (i.e., extravagantly emotional) manner

Rheophilous - preferring or living in flowing water

Rupestrian - composed of rock

Salmagundi - a heterogeneous mixture; potpourri

Sanative - having the power to cure or heal

Sciaphilous - thriving in shade

Subitaneous - formed or taking place suddenly or unexpectedly

Tellurian - a dweller on the earth

Tergiversation - evasion of straightforward action or clear-cut statement

Terpsichorean - of or relating to dancing

Threnody - a song of lamentation for the dead

Tilleul - a pale greenish yellow that is very slightly paler than primrose green

Tmesis - separation of parts of a compound word by the intervention of one or more words

Toadstone - a stone or similar object held to have formed in the head or body of a toad and formerly often worn as a charm or antidote to poison

Toxophilite - a person fond of or expert at archery

Transmogrify - to change or alter greatly and often with grotesque or humorous effect

Ubiquitarian - belief that as Christ is omnipresent his body is everywhere (as in the Eucharist)

Urtication - to induce hives

Vicissitudinous - marked by or filled with vicissitudes (i.e., the quality of being changeable)

Videlicet - that is to say; namely

Visitant - visitor; especially: one thought to come from a spirit world

Wallydraigle - a feeble, imperfectly developed, or slovenly creature

Waltherite - a mineral consisting of an ill-defined carbonate of bismuth having green to brownish green doubly terminated prismatic crystals

Xyloid - resembling wood

Xylomancy - divination by means of pieces of wood

Xystus - a long and open portico

Yfere - obsolete: together

Zoism - phenomena of life are due to a peculiar vital principle

Zymology - a science that deals with fermentation

Zymurgy - a branch of applied chemistry that deals with fermentation processes (as in wine making or brewing)

If any of these words make their way into your next poem/story, please tag me, or send me a link. I would love to read them!

More: Lists of Beautiful Words ⚜ Word Lists ⚜ Writing Resources PDFs

#beautiful words #word list #writeblr #langblr #linguistics #spilled ink #writing reference #dark academia #writing inspiration #creative writing #literature #writers on tumblr #poets on tumblr #writing prompt #poetry #light academia #writing ideas #writing resources

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thinkingotherwise · 8 months ago

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Hello! I read your post about Sugishita with a talkative reader. So, could you write for Hayato Suo with a reader who's talkative? Like, she's so passionate about talking that she explains every little detail perfectly. (I'm the chatterbox of my class and I've gotten scolded many times but I'm shameless.)

With that, the reader is also stubborn af so she needs a reasonable argument otherwise she ain't gonna be convinced.

The reader loves fairness. She can't stand if anything unreasonable is happening in front of her.

Oh well actually, if you want the reader can be gender neutral. I just asked like three requests at once. 💀 If you want you don't have to do it all! <3

As an introvert, I'm in awe of every person who is talkative, or as you called them a "chatterbox" - I know I could never.

Hayato is just so fucking majestic.

Hayato Suou x Talkative! reader

You were a very passionate person, who couldn't stay in silence for longer than a few minutes. The words had just always easily flown out of your mouth and it sometimes could get you in trouble. However, your words also helped to get you and others out with their problems. Growing up it was tricky to find the perfect balance of your talkativeness and the patience of your classmates, teachers, or even neighbours.

It was a little hard to find a person that could keep up with you, or at least didn't mind your ramblings. Hayato was perfect for that. Not only did he humour you during your rant sessions, but he also effortlessly kept up with your heated discussions.

You could spend hours upon hours talking about something and when he caught the wind of those times he would prepare some tea and snacks. That would make your discussions more comfortable and you would feel like your passion for talking was encouraged.

Hayato didn't mind your ramblings finding them amusing and informative. He couldn't also fathom how you could talk so much that during your logorrhea (stream of words), you'd change topics so much. Once, you started talking about the dinner with your friends you had the day before, going through the dilemma of whether pineapple should be on pizza, and finishing with sudden fun facts about different types of paint, with many more in between. It was still a mystery how you ended up completely detached from the first thoughts you shared.

When Hayato had his agility and martial arts skills to back up his testing words, you depended only on your phrases. You were an expert, and could easily out-talk anyone that started an argument with you. Your boyfriend thought it was pretty amazing how you could stand up to anyone with only words.

You used your talent for talking also to stand up for others, not being fond of some people putting down others thinking they were above them. "Excuse me, but it's not what I wanted." You heard a voice from your side from a woman, that previously stood in front of you in the queue. You were in the cafe with Hayato in the middle of ordering some desserts for yourself when she cut in and pushed you to the side. "I'm sorry, but that's what you ordered, Miss." The cashier said trying to be calm about the situation. "No, I wanted it with more milk and not this poor excuse of milk but the oat milk." She articulate it even more smashing the cup on the counter and spilling it. "I'm sorry Miss but you didn't inform us about it when taking the order, we confirmed it with you and you didn't say anything about the different type of milk you'd like to use. If you want we can-" The cashier said starting to get nervous as she fiddled with her fingers.

Your eyes widened when the fussing woman cut off not even listening to the barista. You were boiling all over and Hayato seeing that placed his hand around your waist and moved it in circles trying to calm you down before you could join the argument. "Of course, I did, you're just not listening to me. If you can't do your job correctly, then I don't know why you're still working here." The woman continued pushing the cup over the counter and into the cashier. "Miss, please listen-" "I'm not listening to someone so incompetent like-" She cut off the employee again and you had enough.

You pushed away from Hayato and heard him sighing in amusement as he knew what was about to happen. "Okay, that's enough." Your voice cut in firmly and the woman looked at you scowling. "Miss, you're clearly out of it, if you think you can be mean like that to someone who's working harder than you." "What? You're such disrespectful little-" You didn't let her finish just like she did with the cashier and continued on your own. "It's a fact that I can tell even without knowing more about you than what you've just shown everyone here. I was after you in the queue, I heard what you ordered, and now that told the barista she got your order wrong, and even doing such a thing." You motioned to the employee who tried to wipe the counter and her uniform from the spilled drink.

"You're the more disrespectful one. And I beseech you to shut your mouth and think twice before trying to make someone's life miserable just because your is." You finished with fire in your eyes making the woman frown and gasp at your rant. "OMG! I can't stand someone like that." She said waving her arms around before turning away and leaving the place. You sighed and felt Hayato moving towards you and moving his arms around you trying to calm you down. You showed your claws and he had a wide grin on his face, proud of you for standing up for someone else.

Tags: @misticbullet

#wind breaker (satoru nii)#wind breaker (satoru nii) x reader #wind breaker #wind breaker x reader #hayato suou x reader

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eye-may · 2 months ago

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If you have time, drop your Macavity and Misto lore?

oh I got time lmao.

egregiously overthought logorrhea of the felinological variety under the cut!!

I'm just gonna preface with, not sure if you mean separately or specifically in conjunction with one another? but for simplicity's sake I'm going to go with the latter lol. For Mistoffelees singularly I have conducted an incomprehensive lore dump Here. I haven't dedicated any posts specifically to Macavity, but him and his past are touched on a bit in that post I linked, and also a little Here.

When it comes to Macavity and Mistoffelees and their relationship/how they orbit around each other...that connection ends up having some pretty cataclysmic ramifications lmao. to fully understand why, I'd say you actually do have to read my long hc post about Mistoffelees and where his magic comes from. or don't, and just scratch your head at the weird terms and concepts I will periodically reference XD

Macavity, at the start of the events of the show, has little to no conceptualization about Mistoffelees's existence in my mind. Munkustrap and co. sort-of-kind-of purposefully kept their conjuring cat's abilities under the radar where it counted --- that being said, though, it's not like it was ever an earthshattering revelation for any parties involved. Mistoffelees, while he likes to show off in good company, had been relatively cagey about his abilities from the beginning anyway (and yeah...there's a reason for that lmao), and none of the Jellicle elders had a solid inkling about the implications of the existence of a Conjuring Cat. Magic, of course, is ubiquitious amongst cats; they're born of magic, have an extensive history with magic, and are inherently mystical beings. It expresses in some cats (i.e., Cassandra, Jemima, and most of all Coricopat and Tantomile) more obviously than in others. it's just that none of the Jellicles had ever known or heard of a cat that has a matrix of abilities as literal, tangible, and powerful as Mistoffelees's. But since the concept of magic itself is relatively prosaic, nobody was ever like Holy Shit, A Magic Cat! That's Not Supposed To Happen! We Must Look Into This Extensively! their instinct to veil Mistoffelees's abilities came more from Munkustrap's prerogative---that being: he set out to prevent Mistoffelees from ever being ostracized, adulated, taken advantage of, or otherwise treated differently because of his powers. Even the nomadic Old Deuteronomy was not aware of there being a Magical Cat at the Junkyard prior to the events of the show.

And that all worked out great! Up until Mistoffelees's heroic conjuration of the Jellicle Leader. This, of course, awakens Macavity to the possibility that someone else beside himself possesses profound magical powers. It's obvious that whomever "rescued" Deut was one of his loving followers, galivanting at the Jellicle Ball from where he had just wreaked havoc. After he heals from the fight at the Ball, he returns to the Junkyard with renewed purpose; this time, for once, it's not to kidnap Demeter, or Bombalurina, or to torment his estranged brothers. He announces that he's aware that the Jellicles are harboring an ostensibly magical cat and more or less demand that the cat in question reveal himself. not to be menaced (and wanting to prevent the situation from escalating), Mistoffelees unhesitatingly attempts to out himself---but Jellyorum, who was standing right behind him, claps a hand over his mouth and bodily yanks him back. Tugger, who is also nearby, steps directly in front of him for good measure.

At that juncture, the Junkyard just falls into a tormentingly tense impasse, with Macavity just prowling around, reveling in the palpable suspense and fear, while singling out cat after cat in attempt to intimidate them into revealing either themselves, or whoever they know the Magical Cat to be. Munkustrap had been, of course, gaslighting the fuck out of Macavity by insisting that there's no magical cat. magical cats like that don't exist. you're crazy, you hallucinated that Deut disappeared, stop doing drugs, etc etc.

so anyway this is a whole scene and idk if tumblr has the character capacity for me to describe it beat-by-beat in full, but it culminates in Mistoffelees ultimately using his magic against Macavity, because Macavity was threatening to kill Tumblebrutus, but then snake-eyed Munkustrap and shot fire at him, knowing that the magician would be forced to defend him. Mistoffelees refracted the blast and then disappeared amidst the dissolving inferno, managing to not fully reveal himself in doing so. nonetheless, Macavity's suspicions are confirmed. he's more than happy to drag shit out and toy with the Jellicles, and also he got injured by the unexpected retaliation, and also he knows that at the end of the day he's outnumbered...so he goes ahead and takes his leave for the time being.

sauurrr now the Jellicles know that for WHATEVER REASON, Macavity wants "the magical cat." for revenge maybe? makes perfect sense for Macavity! but if you did read the lore about the "Moon Stones" that I blabbed on about in This Post, you'd understand that Macavity isn't ONLY out for revenge. He believes that, since one of the Jellicles has magic, he must have acquired it the same way Macavity did (by wresting a Stone), or is otherwise one of the three legendary Keepers. There's one or two more attempts he makes to capture his quarry, including one where he strongarms Mungojerrie (who then strongarms Rumpleteazer) into completing a heist that is literally impossible without the intervention of magic. Falling into his trap, the two rascals jointly strongarm Mistoffelees into joining them, ultimately luring him to Macavity. This is when Macavity realizes that it's Mistoffelees who has magic --- needless to say, a crucial revelation. but, thankfully, the three manage to get away this time...only to be met with Munkustrap's seething wrath.

incidentally, this is a somewhat formative moment for Mungojerrie and Rumpleteazer, neither of whom had a single skoosh of a suspicion that Macavity was just using them to get Mistoffelees. (crucially: they were not at the Junkyard during the Napoleon's last visit and were not brought up to speed on the situation). and neither of them TOLD mistoffelees that it was Macavity whom they were trying to placate. immaculate communication all the way around! in any case, Jerrie and Teazer are deeply guilty and apologetic towards a very used-feeling Mistoffelees, and both are now keen to the fact that they just can't collude with Macavity anymore. Granted, they were already attempting severances after the kidnapping of Deutoronomy, but, par for the course with Macavity, it's not easy to severe ties with him. From then on, the twins start spending more time in the junkyard, committing to the tribe with unprecedented allegiance, both for their own safety and the safety of the others.

anyway, back to the matters at hand. Macavity ultimately wants to reunite the three stones, so since he's convinced that Mistoffelees has one, he's deadeyed on capturing him. eventually, he succeeds (partly due to Mistoffelees's voluntary submission in the eleventh hour, jaded by the fact that he alone was bringing danger to those around him), and unfortunately for Mistoffelees, it takes Macavity a while to realize that he's barking up the wrong tree. it takes an intensive mind-meld of sorts (that involves spiritual intervention from the Psychic Twins...IT'S A WHOLE THING) for the Napoleon to realize that Mistoffelees hadn't been lying --- he was truly born with magic, and didn't need a Moon Stone to have powers. almost nothing ever rattles or surprises Macavity...but he's fairly shocked. he senses astronomical power in Mistoffelees, and it's raw, genuine, uncorrupted, organic...so unlike his own limited and corrupted bastardization of magic.

from then on out, as you can imagine, there's just a lot of back-and-forth between Mistoffelees and Macavity, infinitely complicated by the involvement of Macavity's brothers. one of whom is essentially Mistoffelees's parentified elder sibling and the other is his best, and his most protective, friend in the whole wide world. After Macavity realizes that Mistoffelees doesn't have a Stone, his motivations shift and he oscillates between wanting to get rid of Mistoffelees, believing he's the only one truly capable of stopping Macavity's ascension, and wanting to wrest Mistoffelees --- either as a means of stealing his oceanic power, or at the very least breaking him into submission the way the Joker did to Tim Drake in batman the animated series lol 😬

you can imagine that the subsequent developments lead to...cumulative psychic damage for Mistoffelees lmao. he develops the fear that he's capable of turning out like Macavity. he starts to get gaslit into believing the tenet held by other pious cats (outside the Junkyard that is...cats, like humans, have different religions with different sects etc., some of which construe the legends associated with magic to mean that it's inherently evil) about his destiny are correct. In my mind there's sort of a Frodo and Gollum thing going on here lmao. I mean in such a way that, Mistoffelees has a deep-seated wish that Macavity is capable of reformation. on the surface it seems to be that he holds this desire because he wishes to see his two closest friends at peace with their wayward brother...but he later comes to realize that it stems from a place of needing to see an example of magic usage that isn't for the sake of fear, destruction, power, etc. He's also rueful that things are becoming so complicated, when his relationship with magic used to be so simple; it used to make everyone so happy.

Macavity, being the clever hypnotist and exploiter of psychological shortcomings that he is, often attempts to capitalize on Mistoffelees's insecurities. Saying things like, your friends only keep you around because they're using you and your powers. They're all secretly afraid of you. They're nice to you because they know that you're capable of hurting them out of retaliation; you're used to everybody around you walking on eggshells because it's all you've ever known. you could never have the wherewithal to comprehend a genuine friendship to begin with. special magical cats such as themselves can never enjoy such frivolities; only they are truly capable of understanding each other. Macavity sometimes acts almost as if he harbors some kind of bastardized, bizarre affection for Mistoffelees...but he's sure enough to oscillate erratically back into the territory of Obsessive Disdain.

there is, of course, the infinitely fascinating discourse regarding the two magicians' magic and how they choose to use it and how their corporeal vessels resonate with it. Mistoffelees is, pragmatically, more powerful than Macavity --- but his power is only as good as his ability to understand it and economize it, and since he's only ever been self-taught, figuring out those logistics is difficult in both theory and in practice. he's more likely to overexert himself and succumb to exhaustion, and is also resistant to using magic in directly offensive/violent ways. his tactics are more evasive, more illusory, more beguiling, and more defensive. additionally, despite his various struggles with developing his powers, Mistoffelees lives in harmony with his magic at his core. he's uncorrupted and bright; he's well-meaning and big-hearted. his magic is the purest form and doesn't wage any kind of resistance against him. it revolves around creation and animation.

Macavity, on the other hand, essentially chooses his own subsurface torment at the hands of his filched wizardry. his powers were stolen to begin with; he never fit the physical or spiritual criteria for using it. his possession of the stone is essentially causing him to deteriorate without him fully realizing it, whilst he and the Moon Stone are essentially corrupting each other in a fitful clash of the Red Stone's essence and Macavity's nefarious intentions and raw determination. theoretically, Macavity will either die or go insane if he holds onto the stone ad infinitum---but the more imminent hazard is that he'll unquestionably do increasingly substantial damage with it while he can. (and that issue will escalate stratospherically if he, everlasting forbid, gets a hold of one or both of the other stones). his powers, on the opposite end, are centrally destructive and violent.

it is, put simply, "easier" to wield magic the way Macavity does. destruction and entropy are, at their core, more instant and comprehensive than the antithesis. Mistoffelees wins the long game, but he's practicing a much more demanding and complicated school of magic.

okay anyway I've been typing for the last hour or so and I feel like this is a decent place to leave off lol. I really hope this is at least a somewhat satisfactory lore dump lol? I can definitely go more into Macavity and his past and his crime syndicate and etc. as an individual if anybody wants me to (or I might just do it unprompted at some point lmao).

WHEW ty for the ask!! lmk if you want me to clarify or expand on anything!

#cats the musical #mistoffelees #macavity #mr mistoffelees #munkustrap #the rum tum tugger #old deutoronomy #cats musical #sorry about typos I barely reread this #I could go on forever but it's honestly difficult to make enough coherent sense of my thoughts to jot them down even incomprehensively #so I feel like I'm going to wake up in a cold sweat realizing that I missed a good handful of important factoids and theories XD

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tanadrin · 1 year ago

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12:02 behold the world world the most heavily policed and militarized borders in the world and inside of them 12:08 only 14 of the population but 73 of the wealth this isn't a perfect map it 12:14 doesn't show for instance the varied relationships between the countries outside those Borders or how they have different relationships to the countries 12:19 within them it also paints this as pretty black and white countries are either in or out and that's unhelpful 12:25 because of the ways that the boundaries and flows of imperialism can shift and change and also because it can't tell us

okay so you admit this map isn't actually that analytically useful and you gloss over why some countries are included in it and some aren't. you just lump all this together as the "imperial core" (nevermind i think that is a lousy account of why those countries behave the way they do, and better ones exist)

as David Graber put it in direct action and ethnography a 12:48 lot of us were already arguing that the whole point of free trade was in fact to confine most of the world's population 12:55 in impoverished Global ghettos with heavily militarized borders 13:01 in which existing social protections could be removed and the resulting Terror and Desperation fully exploited

ascribing this degree of agency to an ad-hoc system of incentives is really dumb; it obscures far more than it illuminates, IMO, and you will badly misunderstand why decisions are made in the way that they are if you cannot understand what shapes those inventives

there's point in here also about industrialized countries getting rich through colonialism that i think is correct but is buried under a pile of annoying jargon and phrases like "chattel slavery" that are employed, not to disambiguate in the discussion of different kinds of forced labor, but just as, like, weirdly contentless identifiers. i hate that rhetorical tic so much. you can just say "slavery"! everyone watching this agrees slavery is bad!

and all this is followed by an explication of the place of oil in the world economy focused entirely on america, the only country with agency; the author rightly points out that electing the most green president in the world tomorrow wouldn't change much (maybe anything), and attributes this to the clunkiness of imperial power structures that are that way for purely abstract reasons instead of, you know, the fact that a US president isn't the dictator of Earth and shouldn't be, and that the metaphor of a unitary "empire" is a really useless one when trying to describe how individual political platforms of US presidents do or don't translate into, like, green energy policy in Germany!

the diversion into kafka is entertaining, but not really relevant--the structure of international politics is very different on a day-to-day level than that of the Austro-Hungarian Empire.

like come on. global warming sucks. capitalism sucks! but i don't think you can usefully understand--nevermind tackle--the problems the world faces if you box up every constituent element of your worldview into these little jargon-kissed pieces that admit no closer inspection.

what is it about communists that makes them just uniquely incapable of describing the actual world they live in

#and i really am specifically hating on communists here #other species of leftist do not seem to have this problem to anything like this degree #but you ask a communist to talk about any subject #and you get this logorrhea of jargon that doesn't mean *anything*#it's just the same dozen buzzwords repeated in different order

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porcelainbirdss · 5 months ago

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those summer nights ⋆·˚ ༘ * kuroo tetsurou

kuroo tetsurou x f!reader

content warning: health issues, alcohol consumption (by adults and in reasonable amounts), chapter’s kinda long but dynamic

ch. four - "look back." ↓

sixth of july, 1991

"no, you don’t understand, kenma! it was absolutely… crazy? i mean—"

right now, kuroo was talking to his friend kenma. mainly because he missed the younger man, but also he was simply bored out of his mind.

"uh-huh. wanna put anymore emphasis on how "insane" sneaking out at night was? and how you almost "died” multiple times?" kenma’s static voice rang on the other side, and kuroo swore that he sounded almost uninterested.

"cause it was! i swear to god, she dragged me through the forest, and we still hadn’t found her cat, so obviously she was panicking, i was panicking, like, you know, and then it suddenly got so light outside, and we’re still searching-"

at this point, the younger one already spaced out. at first the story seemed somewhat captivating, but when his friend started to repeat himself for the third time, it got boring rather quickly. he held back a yawn, his fingers playing with the phone’s cord. suddenly, kuroo stopped his yapping and a second, distant voice could be heard. a beat of silence passed.

"uhh… sorry kenma, my grandma’s here and she wants something from me." the man explained, noticeably upset that his logorrhea got interrupted, "i’ll call you back later, okay?"

"fine, fine," kenma’s soft tone resonated in the receiver, "have fun there.”

with that, he put down the phone, turning to face his grandma. the woman held a basket filled with various things, smiling at him from the kitchen.

"talking with your friend?" she inquired, calmly scanning the man who began approaching her.

"yeah, yeah," he answered shortly, his intrigued gaze flickering over to the basket the older woman was holding. there was some soup in one of the jars, along with a multitude of herbs and vegetables. "what’s this for?"

she pushed the thing into his arms, sending him a knowing look. "this is for y/n. give it to her aunt” she explained, "the poor girl will need it. i’m so worried about her…"

right. y/n turned out to be sick the same day they returned from their nightly escapade. it’s been almost three days and she still failed to step outside. whatever got her, it must’ve been a nasty cold.

considering everything given, kuroo’s days were awfully monotone.

having an excuse to visit her was great, so he took the basket without any complaints. he quickly walked over to the neighboring house and knocked thrice, careful not to drop the things. if he did, jars with soup would surely shatter. a prolonged moment passed before a woman opened the door.

he already had the chance of talking with her. she was y/n’s aunt. she always seemed to move with so much grace in her step, it was somewhat mesmerizing to look at. he was the first one to politely smile, for whatever reason trying to appear as best as he could.

"good day, miss. we heard that y/n is sick,” he breathed, staying mindful of what he was saying, "so my grandmother prepared some essentials for you."

her aunt momentarily reciprocated his cordial expression, stepping aside to let the man in.

"that is such a pleasant surprise, kuroo," she chimed, taking the basket from his hands with a grateful nod, "would you like to go see y/n? she’s upstairs in her room." the woman offered, placing the gift on the table.

hearing that, kuroo’s confident posture faltered a little bit. he didn’t have anything against seeing with the girl, no. however, she was in the bed now, probably sleeping or struggling with her high fever. she hated being caught off guard, so won’t she get mad at him if he barges into her room without notice?

even so, it wouldn’t hurt to try. pushing all his doubts back, he nodded his head. "yeah, sure. i can pay her a quick visit,” he replied nonchalantly while taking off his shoes, "i hope she won’t mind."

her aunt send an encouraging smile towards the man, explaining which room belong to y/n. with that, he swiftly climbed upstairs and reached for the door on his left. once again, he knocked three times before a muffled "come in" could be heard.

he walked into the space, absorbing everything with his wide eyes. wow, he surely didn’t expect… whatever this was. first thing that caught his utmost attention was a pile of canvases, adorned with landscapes and other things his non-artistic mind failed to grasp. they all stood in one corner, varying in size.

the longer he stood there, the more lost he felt. trinkets, photos, paintings. his mind spun at the overwhelming amount of colorful stuff, unable to focus on only one thing. finally, a sound of familiar voice snapped him out of his reverie.

"hey, are you here to see me or gawk like an idiot?" y/n’s hoarse tone tore kuroo’s gaze from the decorations her room held, making him look at the bed she was currently chained to.

he cleared his throat, feeling dumb that he got so lost in admiring the inside. truth was, his rooms never looked like that. no matter if he was in college or childhood house, they always seemed rather bland. same goes to all his friends - neat, but nothing extraordinary. this space however? it was absolutely cluttered, but not in a bad way.

if he could, he’d stare at the paintings and pictures forever, studying how they were made, and when y/n took them. it was so captivating, and for what?

"gosh, i’m sorry, y/n," he chuckled, walking up closer to her bed, "your room is just so messy, i couldn’t see where you are." a smirk grew on his face with a tinge of mischief.

the girl furrowed her brows, sending him a faked look of offense. she pulled up the covers over herself, only her head peeking out. the man wondered - how is she not cooking alive? it was humid in the room, and she was hiding under her sheets.

"well, if you don’t like it here, you’re free to go." she huffed, tossing on the other side.

kuroo grabbed the nearest chair and sat by her bed, observing her form for a short second. the woman seemed indeed sick, even though she still had the strength to bicker with him.

"no, i actually love it," he assured, gently tugging at her duvet, "don’t be mad?" he pleaded, feigning a whiny tone.

at that, y/n turned back in his direction, snickering weakly. their gazes locked and both of them remained still for a while before the girl began to speak.

"i know i already told you that, but i’m grateful for your help." she smiled at him, lying on her side as she called out to bee. the small cat was hiding under the desk the whole time. it emerged from the shade, jumping up on her bed. the animal’s tail was high up, but it measured the man with intense disdain in its eyes.

y/n held bee close to her chest, gently petting her orange fur. "bee’s grateful too, right?" she cooed towards her pet, which seemed to react with indifference.

"i’m just glad your cat’s safe," kuroo spoke, reaching his hand towards it, but it scurried back under the desk. he sighed, rolling his eyes. "even though she doesn’t seem to like me. just like her mistress."

at that, y/n let out a laugh. it was heartfelt.

"sorry, sorry," she breathed, calming down her sounds of joy, "ah… anyway, once i get better, i’ll treat you to something. deal?" she offered, her eyebrows lifting upwards.

seeing the woman won’t let go of the topic unless kuroo agrees to do something about it, he simply nodded. "alright, deal."

well, it was… kind of her to pay him back, even if only with a small onigiri. he searched with her, expecting nothing out of the whole ordeal, since y/n didn’t seem to like him that much.

right now, a clear shift in the air happened. the girl was much more amiable to him, and to his surprise, she didn’t chase him out of her room. was he unsatisfied with the change? no.

when she opened her mouth to say something more, suddenly her aunt entered the room with a plate. kuroo took notice of all the medicine lying on it, along with a bowl of soup. the man quickly stood up from his seat, placing the chair back where it belonged.

"are you two having fun?” the older woman asked with a chime in her tone, placing everything on the bedside table, "y/n, i brought you some meds and soup. try to finish it all, okay?" she measured her niece with a strict, yet at the same time careworn look.

the younger one murmured a meek "mkay", pulling herself up in order to reach for the colorful pills. the black-haired man glanced between both women, finally deciding it would be better if he returned home. he went for a quick visit, not to stay there forever and converse about silly things with an already tired girl.

"i’ll be going now," the corners of his lips curled up in a polite way, "i don’t want to bother you anymore." he took a wide step towards the door, ready to leave and get busy with his rather boring day.

"wait, kuroo!” y/n’s weak call stopped him in his tracks. he sent her a questioning look. "your hoodie is on my desk."

oh. right. he forgot that he lended it to her, worried that the night’s air would be chilly. the man cleared his throat, grabbing the familiar clothing. for whatever reason, he felt oddly embarrassed.

with a short goodbye, he left.

july thirteenth, 1991.

the day kuroo visited y/n, it turned out that she needed to go to a hospital. home remedies weren’t working, and during the night her fever reached a worrisome degree. so, her uncle along with aunt drove all the way over to town, checking the girl into one of the local hospitals. it was better than risking her health.

at least that’s what his grandmother told him.

in all honesty, the man was slightly concerned for her. not to the point of any anxieties, but he still sometimes thought about whether she was doing better or not. it’s not everyday someone has to go through such a severe illness.

she wasn’t occupying his mind too much. surely not.

his sleep wasn’t too good either, and he felt tired most of the time. days stretched on, and even though he tried to keep his hands busy, they still seemed repetitive. wake up around 5 am, help his grandmother, read some magazines, stare mindlessly into the tv. take a walk, sit on the patio and wave the fan at his face. phone kenma, receive an occasional call from his parents. go to sleep. repeat.

life without somebody his age to accompany him was dull, that much was true. fortunately, y/n finally got checked out from the hospital today. when he heard the news, a wave of relief washed over him. his torturous boredom finally came to an end.

“really, grandma? that’s great," kuroo perked up from his slouched position, "is she home? i haven’t seen her yet."

seeing his sudden enthusiasm, the older woman chuckled, “no, she’s not. y/n’s aunt told me that she immediately stormed off to the fields. she tried to stop her, but…" his grandmother sighed, shaking her head with an amused smile, "y/n was just too eager. she got sick of being bedridden."

that sounded just right. from what kuroo deduced, the girl was free-spirited alright. with her stubbornness and enormous amounts of energy, of course she’d do something like that instead of recovering for a few more days.

"okay, uhh… i’ll try to go look for her." he stated, pulling himself up and starting to head towards the door.

"you missed her?"

kuroo stopped putting on his shoes, his breath hitching. no, no he didn’t miss her. not at all. he just - he wants to see her is all. it didn’t mean anything. was he not allowed to get bored?

"nah, i wanted to take a stroll anyway." he replied briefly, as he finished tying up the lace of his shoes. he stood up and reached for the handle. "i’ll be back soon."

his grandmother replied with an acknowledging hum, dropping the topic.

the man stepped outside, and to his surprise the weather was actually bearable today. the sky wasn’t exactly overcast, but the clouds travelled across the firmament rather quickly. it was a pleasant change. he enjoyed the wind, especially during summer when it cooled down his body.

starting to stroll through the streets in a rushed manner, kuroo sorted through the options of where y/n could possibly be. suddenly his mind got struck with an obvious realization, recalling the easel standing on one of the hills. the woman seemed to be a big fan of painting, so it could have belonged to her.

he rendered the distance between him and the 'wilder' side of the village, basking in the breeze and chill it provided him. alas, the man’s brain began throwing uncertainties at him. what if y/n didn’t wish to see him? it was a possibility, since she just got out of the hospital, and perhaps wanted a while of solitude. it would be embarrassing to show up, and the first thing she tells him is to "go away" with that frigid look in her eyes.

on the other hand, their bickering now took a more playful approach and it would seem y/n finally warmed up to him. yes, that’s right. he mustn’t worry.

after about twenty minutes passed, he lifted up his head from the gravel patch and recognized a familiar looking environment. kuroo looked around, noticing a silhouette atop the hill.

there she was.

the man waved towards the girl, as her gaze trailed over to him as well. she waved back, a bright grin growing on her face (which blew away all of his lingering doubts). there was a palette placed in her hand, and a brush in her other one. his wild guess was right - y/n was painting.

suddenly, a strong gust of wind took the girl’s hat, making it fly away with its course. she failed to grasp it in time, and it went straight in kuroo’s direction. he waited for a second before jumping up and catching the hat with his hands. y/n cheered at that, and the black-haired man walked over to the hill, starting to climb up.

"here you go." he handed her the thing, a proud smile blooming on his features.

"why, thank you so much." she chimed, putting the hat back on her head. it’s white lace tied up in a neat ribbon complimented her current attire. it was, well… putting it simply, nice to look at.

"are you not scared of catching another cold?" kuroo inquired, quirking up his eyebrow, "it’s windy today."

"i mean…," the woman started, her eyes trailing back to the canvas standing before them, "i’d rather be here than in my room." she shrugged, mindlessly dipping the brush in some paint.

kuroo scanned whatever she was creating right now. it didn’t look like anything yet. just some base colors and shapes, barely outlining the concept y/n carried in her mind. it was hard to make out what the final product would look like. the man hummed, observing as she began to place more smooth lines.

"anyway, uh, how was your stay at the hospital?" he asked, his amber irises fluttering between y/n and the canvas.

she let out a breathy laugh at his question, focusing on keeping her hand steady. "not that fun, as you can imagine. i almost thought of escaping, but the nurses along with my aunt would probably kill me."

kuroo shifted on his feet, giving her an acknowledging nod. for an unknown reason, his usually good social skills weren’t doing anything good in his favor today, and his mind was pretty much blank. it was either the fault of his (kind of) tired mind, or the hypnotizing hand movements y/n did whenever she placed another stroke.

"yeah, escaping hospitals is always a bad idea, you know," he muttered without putting too much thought to his words, "anyway, what’re you painting?" he swiftly changed the topic, thinking that maybe now his words won’t fail him.

the girl’s head turned in his direction, a secretive smile tugging at her lips. she clicked her tongue, putting the brush down.

"i won’t tell you." y/n teased, "plus, i don’t like when someone’s gawking at me while i’m painting."

that made kuroo recoil slightly, as only now he realized that he was leaning into her and measuring every movement without an ounce of shame in his eyes. he cleared his throat, mustering up a nervous chuckle.

"my bad." he brushed his fingers through his unruly bangs that got messed up by the wind, “should i go now?"

“hmm, maybe?” the woman shrugged, "but come out on the balcony at night, okay? i’ve got a gift for you." she offered him a small smirk with a lighthearted tone in her voice.

the man sent her a quizzical look, getting momentarily lost. a gift? y/n was very vague about it, so he didn’t really know what to expect. still, he decided against questioning her about it.

"as you wish," he reciprocated her smile, taking a step backwards, "see you soon then."

with that, kuroo walked down the hill, pondering about what the surprise could be. one thing was for sure - he wouldn’t be getting any sleep that night.

july thirteenth, 11:12 pm

the man just finished getting changed into some more comfortable clothes when his gaze flickered to the clock hanging above his desk. it was already pretty late, and yet he stayed up, eager to see whatever y/n conjured up. even if he tried to get some shuteye earlier, the thoughts would keep him up anyway.

finally deciding to step out on the balcony, he opened the glass door and got hit with a wave of humid air, wind blowing straight at his face. a storm was coming, and the first rain drops started to dance on his skin. as he predicted, the girl was nowhere to be seen. however, her doors were slightly ajar, so he decided to call out to her.

"heey, y/n!" he leaned over the barrier as much as he could, "you there?" his voice carried all the way to her room, and the girl arrived in the doorframe almost instantly.

"took you long enough," she send him a snicker, walking up to the edge of balcony as well, "c’mon, you’ll need to jump over to this side, so prepare." she waved at him with encouragement, her eyes glimmering with tangible mischief.

"what? wouldn’t using the door be easier?" his eyes widened as he measured the distance between him and the ground. it’s not like he was scared, he just- well, the idea was kind of absurd.

y/n rolled her eyes, "but where’s the fun in that?" she chuckled, reaching her hand out to kuroo. "if you’re scared you’ll fall, you can hold onto my hand."

ah, those words seemed familiar. was he getting déjà vu?

never mind. y/n did that before; speaking more precisely - when she practically broke into his house in the middle of the night, so it’s probably safe. in the worst case, he’ll simply slip and break a few limbs.

kuroo tilted his head, thinking of the best way he could execute his leap. it was kind of tricky, nevertheless didn’t seem too hard nor far away. he grabbed the barrier, hooking one of his legs over to the edge’s other side. he did so with another one, finally turning back to be met with y/n’s expectant expression. even though she seemed to be laid back about the whole ordeal of jumping between balconies (unsettlingly so), her vigilant eyes still trailed over his every movement.

the man searched for the most optimal angle, stretching his joint to reach the other edge where the woman was standing. somehow he managed to grasp the railing and steady himself, swiftly taking the last step. damn, he got to y/n’s side by doing a weird split. how graceful.

seeing him success, she clasped her hands together. "impressive. you actually didn’t chicken out," her cheerful voice resonated right beside kuroo’s ear, "c’mon, i’ll help you out."

"i’m not some old grandpa, you don’t need to help me," he protested, even though the woman’s hands were already supporting his kind of unsteady grip. without thinking too much, he quickly put his legs over the barrier, now safely standing in front of y/n. he sighed, realizing he was holding in his breath the whole time.

"see? it’s easy!" she chimed, starting to walk into her room. kuroo followed after her, looking around. it seemed familiar, yet at the same time not. perhaps it was because darkness dominated the space, only minor lights being turned on. he closed the door, shaking his head in order to get rid of the rain’s droplets dripping from his hair.

“anyway", the girl started, "when i was checking out from the hospital, my uncle had to buy some things from the town, and i got this!" she exclaimed, reaching for an expensive-looking sake. she dangled the bottle before kuroo’s eyes, practically forcing him to examine it with utmost care, as if buying it was her biggest life accomplishment.

"so is this the gift you were talking about earlier?" he asked, a teasing smile stretching his lips. "wow, i didn’t expect you to be so big on alcohol."

"i’m not! i just… kinda didn’t know what to get you— i mean, as my thanks for helping me with the whole bee situation, so i thought some sake could be good." y/n stumbled over her own words, a small ounce of embarrassment blooming on her face.

the man let out a sigh, hearing that the rain outside was getting stronger by the second. honestly, he didn’t have anything against occasional drinking with good company. he plopped down by the table, happy to see that she previously prepared the shot glasses.

"i hardly attend any parties, but that’s nice of you," he snickered, cracking his knuckles, "though, can you drink, y/n? you barely got out of the hospital." he offered her a slightly concerned look, resting his chin on his hand.

the woman sat down too, already opening the bottle. "i’ll be drinking in moderate amounts today," she winked, a smirk growing on her face as she popped the sake open. the woman poured the liquor into their glasses, and they quickly clinked them together before flushing the fiery water down their throats.

kuroo nodded approvingly at the taste, putting his glass down. "what about your uncle and aunt? are they not home right now?" he inquired, glueing his gaze straight onto the girl’s face.

"nope, they’re visiting their friends tonight." y/n briefly explained, "so it’s just the two of us."

the man smiled at the agreeable revelation.

and with that, the two began to drink. about one and a half hour later, they were already five shots in. alcohol started to take course in their veins, making their bodies along with minds sluggish, and slower than they usually were. they managed to talk about many things in the meantime - from heated discussions to peaceful conversations about their favorite childhood food.

right now they were sitting close to each other, kuroo pointing at the photos hanging on y/n’s wall and asking about them.

"what about this one?" he slurred, his index finger fixated on one of the pictures. he squinted his eyes at it, trying to decipher what it was showing.

y/n hummed out loud, fingertips grazing her jaw as she pondered over the contents of the photo. “i guess i took that one, when uhh," she coughed, furrowing her eyebrows, "when i was in art club during high school. honestly, i had so much fun there."

kuroo turned his head in the woman’s direction, his eyebrows lifting up. for whatever reason, her being a part of an art club surprised him, when it obviously shouldn’t.

"damn, that’s so cool," he declared, straightening out a little, "so, what do you even do in an art club? is it, like, hard?" he bombarded y/n with questions, as the topic was pretty much alien to him.

"i mean, it was hard sometimes, yeah. but we mostly enjoyed it." she responded, her eyes remaining pinned to the photography. kuroo couldn’t put his finger on it, but something on her face betrayed yearning.

hearing her vague answer, he stopped for a second to study the woman’s expression. "so… did you go to academy of fine arts? or something in that direction?"

y/n’s jovial mood faltered just a bit, as she finally tore her gaze away from the picture, instead focusing on kuroo’s eyes. he doubled like some kind of a mirage, making it hard to actually look into his honeyed irises.

"no. no, i did not." she shook her head, a sad smile tugging at her lips. "i actually managed to get into one of the academies, but i was forced to reject it."

the man’s eyes shot wide as he had to physically stop his jaw from falling to the ground. "what? your art is so beautiful i could bet my whole arm you did attend some academy!" he exclaimed, knitting his eyebrows together, "why did you reject, though?"

seeing a mixture of disappointment and shock painting itself across kuroo’s features made y/n giggle weakly. "ah, you know. some shit happened and i had to move to the countryside. mainly because of my poor health, and some other factors…" she mumbled, supporting her suddenly heavy head on her palm. "so i’m just freelancing now."

he nodded in acknowledgment, finally taking notice of her somewhat saddened energy. it would be awful to ruin the whole mood, so he kept his mouth shut.

a beat of silence passed before the woman started to talk again, "and what about you? what did you do in the past?"

kuroo blinked twice, taken aback by her question. "oh, me?" he mused, as if trying to remember what was a mere few years ago, "i played volleyball. i was the team’s captain." a proud expression turned his lips upwards.

now it was the time for y/n to be surprised. she gasped, excitement blossoming on her face anew. "really?" she chimed happily, "are you, uhh… some professional player that i’ve never heard of? oh my god, was i talking to a celebrity the whole time and had no idea?" the girl clasped her head in astonishment. her feelings didn’t seem to be feigned.

at that, the man let out a cackle, the sound resembling a caw. he patted y/n’s back in a heartfelt manner, wondering where did she even get that idea from.

"no," he began with a prolonged breath, "i went to a college completely unrelated to sport."

"did you get an injury that made you resign from volleyball?" the woman asked disheartened, because kuroo was, in fact, not popular.

"nah, none of that," he chuckled, his shoulders shaking with the sound of joy, "i guess i just needed to do something different," the man turned his head to look straight into y/n’s hazy eyes, fogged by the alcohol, "or be someone else too."

the girl gave him an understanding nod, slightly leaning into him with a somber smile stretching her lips. "to think we both lived for so long, and yet hardly at all."

yeah. that much was true. the two of them shared a common characteristic - their life turned out simply wrong, and nothing like planned. sometimes fate likes to give you false hope, and then tear it away from your arms, leaving you wounded and lost. it’s nothing special.

kuroo probably had no right to grieve over his lost dreams, when others had to deal with it too.

the woman finally rested her forehead on the table, showing her body was at the brink of what it could endure. "i wanna go to sleep", she slurred, her voice fuzzy, "kuroo, you can lay in my bed if you’d like… i can just rest on the floor."

hearing y/n’s nonsense, he stood up, gently grabbing her arm and pulling the girl up. "don’t say stupid things." he muttered, sitting her on the bed. "lie on your side. yell if something happens." he sent her a small smile before turning back on his heel.

something within y/n told her to pull the man’s dark red shirt and stop him. she didn’t like being by herself while drunk, as it made her feel completely alone. alas, he was already too far, and she didn’t have the courage to protest. the woman let out a disdained sigh, listening to the sounds of thunder outside. she closed her eyes, deeming her trail of thought as unreasonable.

meanwhile kuroo already reached his destination. the bathroom. he felt like sleeping in the tub would be better than being sprawled out on the floor in the most uncomfortable position one could imagine. he stepped inside, lying down after making sure it’s not too wet.

when he stared at the ceiling, it spun around before his eyes. the man felt as if he was sitting on the carousel, mounting a dignified horse. he growled, cursing at himself.

"fuck, i’ll never drink again." he mumbled, shutting his eyelids, regret already filling him up.

that night, kuroo slept for one hour.

🫧𓇼𓏲*ੈ✩‧₊˚🎐 🫧𓇼𓏲*ੈ✩‧₊˚🎐 🫧𓇼𓏲*ੈ✩‧₊˚

notes: there’s a lot of time skips in this chapter, i know i know. but i decided to take a more dynamic approach, otherwise the fanfic would turn out to be like 200k words lmfaoaoao

also i struggled with writing this so muuuch. there’s a lot of digression from the previous chapters, everyone REFUSES to stay in character, the dialogues arent flowing, and i was constantly tired or uninspired. i practically forced myself to finish ts 💀🙏 anyway i hope y’all liked it ^__^

just to be sure: i quoted charles bukowski

#haikyuu #haikyuu kuroo #haikyuu x reader #hq kuroo #kuroo testuro #kuroo tetsuro x reader #kuroo tetsurou #kuroo x reader #kuroo x you

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decaying-words · 10 months ago

Text

Lapdog

All chapters Edward Nigma x Reader • 18+ Explicit • 4.4k words TW & tags: Pet play, spit play, oral sex, leg humping AO3 • All my stories

"You are still here", he notes in quasi disbelief, an unreadable expression on his face. He must have been expecting that I had left hours ago, I am sure, and yet I have no explanation to give, not even to myself. Why did I stay here, I wonder, waiting patiently for him to come back home and comfort my raw nerves, like a lover would; yet a lover I am not. Not quite anyway.

Lapdog

Painted hands of a similarly stained clock move painfully slowly, the face glaring at me mockingly. The night is cruel in its loneliness, progressing at an agonizing pace and taunting my uninteresting tasks; collecting the misplaced tools with unnecessary care and caution, gathering the wandering paper notes and organizing them in a neat pile that I know will be thoroughly demolished in an infantile desire to illustrate my incompetence and ignorance, and, finally, removing the comical amount of empty coffee mugs abandoned on various and, at times, frankly bizarre and unexpected places.

Ever since my last fruitless experiment that ended in a copious string of creative insults resembling a degrading rosary in his ridiculing tone, the Riddler does not let me forge new projects, not until I “find the required brain cells to not waste his most precious time”, as he said. What little frustration and heartache I felt in my demotion died in a strangled whimper under his uninterested gaze, interrupting any protest I might have by demanding to leave the premises immediately. That time, I spent my sleepless night crying heavy tears, fingers grabbing my hair and tugging until my scalp felt sore.

The Riddler is absent tonight, and there is only so much to do once my mediocre tasks done. Pacing around the warehouse, my light footsteps echo in the green inferno; hand crafted machineries engulfed in a toxic hue stare at me with profound limpness, buzzing ominously in the otherwise aphonic place. Crudely painted symbols, equations and riddles adorn the fatigued floors and, more curiously, the impossibly tall walls. My interested gaze following the cryptic logorrhea ornamenting the area, my mind wanders in places I do not belong to.

I have always wondered what Edward felt during one of these manic episodes, of which I’ve witnessed quite a few times before, always quietly and with empathy, furiously writing incomprehensible thoughts, mysterious threats and other obscure formulas; did it feel like a lifeline at the time, cautiously grounding him when his mind grew foggy ?

I have never doubted for an instant that underneath the intricate layers of his great intelligence was a gravely sick man; beyond the burning pride and arrogance in his demeanor is hiding the weak ghost of a deeply confused man, a man profoundly afraid of the glacial emptiness of neglect, who at times struggles to recognize even himself. It is cathartic for him, I believe, when he frantically scribbles his thoughts, face perverted in anguish, eyes wide open akin to an animal, skin glistening in sweat; entire body aquiver as if terrified of forgetting who he is beyond the Riddler. Of course, he never notices my balmy gaze on him when I catch a glimpse of his broken soul; nor does he know of my intimate desire to heal him. He would find it inappropriate, I am sure, grotesque even. Foolish girl.

He did catch my gaze tonight, however, sharply dressed up for an important meeting with his peers, one I am not invited to, obviously –why would I be? He looks like a different man entirely when he abandons his filth covered shirt, sweat caked beater and stained cargo pants; his demeanor metamorphosed also, standing straight like a bow, chest swelling proudly, his gloved hands flattening his decorated tie. His tailored suit fits him beautifully, the color matching the green bowler hat that is tucked underneath his arm.

Edward is handsome, the most handsome man I have ever seen, and while his sunken cheeks and fatigued eyes are the only remainders of his declining mental state, he conceals his insecurities with a renewed, and perhaps slightly fabricated, confidence. The crimson tip of his tongue darts past his lips in the way it always does when he’s lost in his thoughts, and my heart opens and sings inappropriate songs that flush my cheeks a ruby tint.

This is when his eyes lay on me, cocking an amused brow at my flustered face, silently expecting a flattering comment, though he would never voice it. My mouth opens and closes, carefully picking my words so as to not upset him. You look magnificent, I confess; he seems pleased, a toothy grin spreading on his glowing face. Naively, I wish I could come with him, the insinuation of proximity, emotional or otherwise, public and absurd; the childish dream of being introduced as his assistant – his lover, a little voice in my head whispers.

You know, you remind me of a dog, is what he says; the words are meant to humiliate, a demeaning inflection in his voice, though there is no bite to them. I do not mind them; in fact, I find myself agreeing with him, smiling at him tenderly, face flushed. Edward cocks a surprised brow, as if not expecting this reaction, honest and quasi vulgar . He exhales a chuckle, a subtle twinkle in his eyes, pupils dilating slightly. I recognize this gaze, filled with a still unfamiliar arousal; he looked at me in a similar manner the last time we were intimate, when I lapped his body with a burning hunger until he came undone on my face, eventually fleeing the scene as if ashamed of his own desires. We haven’t talked about this event since, nor the one preceding it, a painful habit of his I’m afraid.

Edward shakes his head, the tip of his tongue licking his chapped lips, thinking of something indecent, I believe. To my great dismay, he will not act on these thoughts, instead putting on his bowler hat and smirking at me, bidding me goodnight, leaving me to my menial tasks.

Hours pass and undesired thoughts pile and overflow in my bored mind, cruel and anxiety inducing. I wonder, wholeheartedly embarrassed, if someone else will collect the fruits of his short-lived desire, if this will mark the end, then, of what did not even have the time to mature in this closed space. Inappropriate jealousy turns to dread and sorrow as I curl in an emotional ball, slumped in the worn-out couch, tears growing in front of my glassy eyes.

Despite the light tremor of my bottom lip and the cruel knot building in my closed throat, I remain still with the perfect inertia of a corpse, mind turning absolutely blank, drained and hopeless, as if I ceased to exist the moment Edward left; and perhaps it is the case, the grandiose emptiness inside of me begging for him to come back.

Suddenly, the mechanical noises reverberating in the metallic Hell become inescapable, spiteful and intolerable; the aggressive lights turn caustic, loud and vicious; all I can hear are the agonizing thoughts, the barbarous internal monologue, chest heaving as my breathing turns erratic, broken sobs strangling in my throat, body aquiver with what seems like a fatal panic attack. This place, once perceived as an embracing and loving cocoon morphs grotesquely into a diabolic pit for which I feel only hatred and disgust. My tortured mind screams in horror, heart beating furiously in my chest, and as I feel the crushing weight of time passing, I wonder when will Edward come back, and why did he leave me alone in the first place.

My body jolts in a whimper when I hear the colossal metal doors of the elevator creak, spitting a dusty cloud on the ground as it lands heavily. My weak frame contorts, alert and hopeful, craning my head to stare at the iron cage; I imagine my face being twisted in desperate relief, brow knitted tightly, eyes wide open like a traumatized animal, panting as I emerge laboriously from my panicked state. Edward quirks a brow, a perplexed frown on his closed face, considering me for a minute; he must find me disgraceful, I suppose, viciously gripping the leathery arms of the couch, the flayed expression on my face morphing into one of profound happiness.

Edward reeks of cigarette smoke, a filthy habit that conceals his natural scent. He seems surprised to see me, glancing at the watch on his wrist then at me with a questioning look, yet I offer him no answer. You are still here , he notes in quasi disbelief, an unreadable expression on his face. He must have been expecting that I had left hours ago, I am sure, and yet I have no explanation to give, not even to myself. Why did I stay here, I wonder, waiting patiently for him to come back home and comfort my raw nerves, like a lover would; yet a lover I am not. Not quite anyway.

I swallow meekly, and answer the only way I know how; with a smile, genuine and kind, happiness glowing on my face, while a dumbfounded expression shadows his. Through his round glasses, his eyes contemplate me for an instant, an impossibly green ocean licking the shores of my mind. There is a storm hiding in the horizon, even I can tell, and so I offer him an excuse, sheepishly. I missed you . It is the truth.

His reaction is immediate and what I sense nervous, barking a laugh; not quite cruel, not quite amused, but instead coming from a place of insecurity, disdain and indecision. His expression contorts, pupils dilating enough to obscure the emerald of his irises, and I feel my guts twisting. Carefully putting his bowler hat on the nearest surface, revealing his now slightly sweaty hair, Edward turns his back at me, looking in the distance, gears grinding in his mind. He reaches for his leather gloves next, long fingers fiddling with the pressure buttons, and then stops. He does not remove his gloves.

“You truly are a dog, aren’t you?”

My entire body shivers, a burning pit gnawing at my stomach with confusing feelings, all of them caustic, perverted and exquisite. I mouth aphonic words of which I ignore the intent. There was a playful element in the inflection of his voice, and when he turns his proud silhouette to face me, there is an indecent smile on his face; one that reeks of contempt and desire. I stare at his grandiose form, lips parted and cheeks flushed from a somewhat familiar hunger; he appreciates seeing me so submissive and needy, I am sure, for he tilts his head on the side and grins wider, the question, unanswered, floating in the air still. “Well?”

There is so much left unsaid, so much left for him to create and define as he sees fit, when I realize that he looks at me expecting an answer that comes quickly, as if foolishly obvious, and yet one that sounds like a permission. “Maybe I am.”

Edward bites his bottom lip frankly, doing a particularly poor job at suppressing his wolfish smile; his gaze holds the power of a storm, breathing heavily through his flared nostrils. When he walks in my direction, each one of his steps sends a spasm to my cunt, shamefully awake and interested, until he stands in front of me, my eyes at the level of his stomach, the memory of the coarse hair hidden under his neatly tucked shirt making me salivate.

“Oh, I know you are. With how easily and quickly you were to drop on your knees, indulging in rather vulgar activities with this obscene tongue of yours.”

His voice is low and dark, the tone dripping with disdain and arousal, his words carefully crafted and picked; he takes great pleasure in seeing me squirm on the couch, muffling soft gasps when his eyes look down on me with a carnal appetite. My expression is one of false shame bordering on inappropriate satisfaction, silently confirming my crude desires. Edward’s voice is husky, shivering with an unconcealed, unmistakable thrill when he asks a question laced with all the neglected lust he once buried deeply in the graveyard of his humanity.

“And what does that make me, then?”

He wants to hear it from me . He wants to feel powerful, wants to dominate me. Taking immense pleasure in my submissive nature, breath hitching even more as his darkened gaze drills burning holes in the back of my skull, a delicate vein on his neck throbbing expectantly. Under his perfectly cut suit pants, I am certain he is hard. I hardly recognize the man who ran away from me after his uncontrolled orgasm; I wonder how much of him is still treading carefully, inexperienced and hesitant, discovering his limits, toying with mines. There is nothing less than adoration in my eyes, hoping to give him the silent reassurance and comfort he seems to seek, heart beating frantically in my chest when I mouth the desired words.

The master.

His shoulders twitch in response, a delicate flush tinting his cheeks, flustered, uncomfortable but positively euphoric . Long seconds pass before he emerges from his enchanted inertia, contemplating the possibilities, evaluating his desires; he looks beautiful in this bemused state, getting acquainted with his most intimate cravings. A part of me wants to guide him, encourage him, reassure him that I will not break easily, though I know how quickly his ego can get bruised; instead, I watch him intently, obediently, lips slightly parted. I believe he needs to be treated with patience and care, more than he needs the control; although it might be wishful thinking from a lovesick deviant.

I follow the gesture of his hand immediately as he snaps his finger and points to the ground. Of course. A dog doesn’t sit on the couch. I cannot help but notice the light tremor in his thighs when he takes my place, spreading his legs wide enough that I can crawl and kneel in between them, hands folded on my lap devotedly.

The profound exhalation is probably louder than he expected; as if releasing an unknown tension, his body slumps in the couch, contemplating my weaker position. It takes him a few most necessary seconds to collect himself, towering his frame above mine with the glory and poise of a panther. Flexing his still gloved hands a couple of times, visibly debating his next move, he decides to lay his elbows on his thighs, bringing his hands towards and cupping my face, the tender touch eliciting a needy whimper. Under his delicate and short chuckle, I lean my face against the warm leather, embracing his hold with closed eyes, focusing on the complex sensations, all of them delicious and dripping with liquid desire. His thumb draws circles on my cheek, fingers experimenting with the softness of my flesh for a blissful instant in a quasi silence. Elbows securely laying on his thighs, body slightly lurched, his voice is a whisper, a caress against my face.

“Will you be a good dog for me?”

I nod.

“Will you be loyal to me, will you wag your tail for me?”

I nod more frankly, a rush of blood pumping in my system, tinting my cheeks a delicate shade of rose and making my core throb; my hips jerk once, reflexively, as if every single atom constituting my being was yearning for him. Then, said so softly I almost didn’t hear it despite our close proximity. Good girl.

The strangled sob in my throat comes immediately, a built-up feeling that makes my heart ache and swell as I sink my half-lidded eyes in his, desperately searching for approval, squirming on the ground uncomfortably. His thumb brushes against my parted lips gingerly, the intent clear as I open my mouth wider to invite his gloved digit in the warm cavity. A stifled groan shakes in his throat when he caresses my fleshy gums, teasing my crimson appendage. Greedily, I close my mouth around his thumb and suck crudely, bobbing my head along the length of his digit under his mesmerized and lustful gaze. His languorous hums are quasi pornographic, hissing through his teeth when he forcefully removes his thumb in a wet noise, brutally shoving instead his index and middle fingers inside my welcoming mouth.

The sucking noises I make are obscene and vulgar, licking the trembling leather digits, penetrating eagerly and hungrily the space between them with my appendage. His moans are low and choked, a single strand of hair dropping on his forehead, glasses slightly askew, and oh does he look beautiful with his face distorted with a shameful lust that he is just now allowing himself to discover and explore. I feel his fingers thrust inside my throat in wet gagging noises, a foamy pool of saliva accumulating on my pink lips; I do not miss how his hips buck involuntarily, my hands then reaching for his clothed thighs, muscles tense like a bow. When my fingers brush against the outlines of his hardened bulge, Edward removes his fingers from my mouth in a drenched noise and grabs my face with a renewed vigor, the both of us panting in unison, a lewd blend of labored effort and burning arousal.

“You’re so eager, so… hungry . You would take anything from me.”

His voice is low and coarse, akin to a groan, dangerous and feral, and shooting tremors in my thighs, my sex pulsating as I whimper and nod positively, face flushed and beaming. He chuckles nervously, beautifully , looking down at me before working the inside of his mouth with a clear intent, one that makes me sob and weep, opening my mouth wide and sticking my tongue out expectantly, obediently.

Edward spits a big, heavy glob of saliva on my welcoming tongue, watching me with bewildered eyes when I swallow it greedily before opening my mouth again, excitedly presenting him the glistening cushion of my tongue, eager and prepared. He chokes a flustered chuckle, face flushed with quasi embarrassment, his voice trembling and laced with lust. “Incredible.”

His fingers release the soft skin of my face and migrate to my hair, grabbing it enough to feel held in place but not enough to hurt. His flush spreads from his cheeks to his neck giving him an almost bashful look; I see him work his throat again, collecting as much saliva as he can produce, while I pant under him, squirming on the ground like a starving animal.

When he releases another generous glob of spit that lands perfectly on my tongue, the offering promptly and greedily swallowed, he moans lewdly, emerald eyes clouded by a thick arousal. He pants loudly near my face, his breath smelling of coffee and cigarettes, and I wonder if his lips taste the same, if I will ever be able to know.

My body squirm uncomfortably on the ground, desperately searching for friction, and perhaps even release. My curious dance does not get lost on him, as he smirks at me with a renewed confidence, fingers grabbing and tugging viciously at my hair, eliciting a mean grunt out of my used throat.

“Are you still hungry, pet? Do you want more?” His voice is a taunting snarl, an amused inflection in his tone, and I whine stupidly, unable to move my head still tightly held in his unforgiving grip. He wants an answer, I understand, cocking his head to the side with an exhausted grin; I believe he too wants, needs release.

“Yes, please. More, I want more.”

My scalp is sore when he releases my hair, looking at his gloved hands with a quasi hypnotic interest when they are unbuckling his belt with trembling fingers, quickly untucking his beautiful, perfect cock; the tip angry red, length flushed in a delicate shade of rose, delicious veins rolling under the flesh. Generous beads of glistening precum drip from the glans in an obscene invitation; one I answer with the crude spectacle of my tongue licking the lips of my already open mouth. Before I can even taste his heavenly flesh, I feel his hand grabbing fistfuls of my hair, preventing any further movement. My frustrated whimpers make him bark a cruel laugh then coo at me, taunting me and mocking me. He is taking great pleasure in my vulgar despair; pumping his cock with his free hand, Edward smiles smugly, humming lowly.

“Beg for it.” It’s almost a murmur with how breathy his voice is, panting loudly as if he were the one begging for release really, and I humor him; of course I do, for I want him with a desire I had never felt before, certain I will die if I don’t immediately swallow his cock.

“Please, please I want you, I need you.” A truth, on more levels than one, but I do not believe he can see all the subtleties of this confession when he presses the back of my head, guiding it towards his hardened sex; or when he cries out in pleasure when I take his entire length down my throat, gagging loudly at the sudden, yet delicious pain. I am quick to work my jaw and bob my head up and down his glory; he tastes just as good as I remember, perhaps cleaner than last time. I do not mind. For a little while, he allows me to swallow his shaft, swirling my tongue over the underside of his cock, passionately sucking at his rosy glans, at the measure of his most indecent moans, loud and primal.

A ferocious groan is all the warning I get before I feel his hands at either side of my head, locking it immobile before his hips start thrusting at a punishing pace, fucking my throat mercilessly. I let him use my fleshy hole wholeheartedly, one hand finding purchase on his clothed thigh, gagging and choking every time the glans hits the back of my throat, foamy spit and precum pooling down my chin; a sight he finds most alluring, I believe, as I feel him throb fiercely.

My other hand snakes down my body, unbuttoning my pants, fingers sinking in my wooly curls until I reach my drenched core and my swollen bud. Edward then snarls and releases my assaulted mouth, maneuvering a booted foot to lay it right between my legs, making me straddle the cold hard leather with his shin pressed against my chest.

“Go on then, dog.”

A broken moan dies on my lips, fingers grabbing at his strong thigh, positioning my clothed cunt perfectly right on his boot, the ankle brushing against my swollen clit. His fist is pumping himself earnestly in a crude and wet noise, his breath labored and quasi pained. There is a pang of hesitation in my chest, one quickly erased when I lift my eyes and find his gaze; there is arousal there, and something akin to tenderness.

And then, I start thrusting.

The friction is electric, his body warmth pressed tightly against my core as my hands clench around his thigh. I feel the rough fabric of his pants rubbing against my cunt as I hump his leg, shattered moans and heavy cries echoing in the warehouse. We maintain eye contact, his face red and glistening with a thin veil of sweat while he’s fucking his hand, panting like a feral beast, chest heaving under his now uncomfortably tight shirt; he is beautiful.

My hips rock more earnestly, his shin rubbing against my throbbing clitoris while the buttons and laces of his leather boot bump and stroke my fluttering cunt; the mixed sensations are otherworldly, experimenting with angles and pace until I find the right combination, the right amount of friction, under his entranced gaze. I do not recognize my voice when I sob stupidly, my cunt clenching and tensing as I near my orgasm, eyes still on his, always on his, never leaving his. He seems to pick up how close I am, for his voice is a fractured murmur.

“Come for me, and I will reward you.” A promise.

A particular stitch of his boot is what ruins me. Or perhaps is it the way he looks at me, with a carnal adoration when I am fucking his leg. Either way, I feel myself clench, the orgasm devastating, unexpected and exhausting. Every nerve, every muscle tense and burn, stomach flipping painfully as I ride the last waves of this intimate climax.

Pressing my cheek against his knee, almost drooling on the green fabric of pants, breathing heavily, I search his eyes for approval, with the pure desire to become his property, to belong in the most intimate way he can offer.

Edward is nearly there, his fist pumping his angry cock at a frantic pace until all I hear is a strangled sob, a cue I immediately identify as I prop myself on my knees and swallow his cock tenderly, sucking him until I feel him spurt heavy strings of semen down my throat. He cries out, hips bucking as much as he can, fucking the last of his orgasm in my mouth, emptying his seeds in my stomach. He tugs at my hair gently once he feels so overstimulated it begins to hurt, and I remove myself graciously, wiping the remainder of our body fluids with the back of my hand.

I brace myself for the possibility of him leaving the premises again, leaving me empty and emotionally flayed, but am surprised when he does not. Slumping on the couch, head tilted back against the seat, his hand lays flat on the top of my head, caressing my hair aimlessly. Closing my eyes, I lean against his touch, almost purring, a profound feeling of happiness pooling inside of me. I wonder if dogs feel as elated and content from the simple pleasure of sitting next to their master; I wonder if they too feel an unconditional love, as long as they can lay their heavy head on their master’s lap. In the stillness of the night, life seems perfect as long as I am near him.

Sitting back on the couch and buttoning his pants, Edward looks at me, his face adorning a somewhat torn expression; something between exhaustion, insecurity and doubt. His fingers trace shapeless lines on my face, slipping down my neck where the fingertips stay for a while, a contemplative and pensive look on his face. I offer him a smile, tender and mild, and for a fraction of second I see the corner of his mouth twitch upwards. My heart sings. He inspires deeply, collecting himself and working his throat until he finds the right words, ones that come in his naturally detached tone.

“It’s getting really late, I think you should go home. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

I nod, running my fingers through my hair and massaging where my scalp feels sore. When I stand up, my knees burn from the uncomfortable position, my inner thighs feel sticky from my orgasm. Collecting my last belongings, I nod at him politely, bidding him goodnight. His smile is tired but genuine.

Goodnight, dear.

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