#only thing I know is that I'm so invested in the process

[allthenicknamesweretaken]

This makes me so genuenly excited I love pixel art

Leo can now bump into things :)

[rei-ismyname]

Uncanny X-Men #8 review - Raid on Graymalkin finale

Raid on Graymalkin has been a strange event in a lot of ways. It happened very early after an editorial and creative team change, it's only four issues spread over 2 books, and perhaps most of all, editorial both spoiled the ending and hyped up an ideological divide between Rogue and Cyclops. The big question is 'was the hype paid off?' Sadly, no - Uncanny #8 doesn't so much land the plane as crash it into a mountain. A plane crash can be a spectacle though, let's break it down. At the very least it looks great. This is a long one, so strap in.

We get to know Scurvy a little better.

X-Men #9 ended with both teams in Scurvy/ Philip's psychic thrall and Charles Xavier taking the stage after Kurt and Kwannon freed him. Uncanny #8 opens with his POV of his recent history, showing a 'Not All Mutants' mutant and how he ended up in an abusive relationship with a right wing podcast host. Well, it shows how they met, how his powers work, and how Warden Ellis has used him.

His powers aging him drastically explains why he's reluctant to go all out and perhaps how his powers helped an Infowars knock off to get this job. YMMV on whether this makes him sympathetic; it's certainly a 180 from the plain pathetic he has been portrayed as thus far. We spend a lot of time with him this issue, but it's all so vague I don't feel like we actually know all that much about him. He is portrayed as a victim, though he's also in the process of frying our heroes' brains and enslaving people. On the other hand, we get so little of his motivations and feelings that there's not much there. Villains/antagonists need to be developed to be interesting, and I'm not sure if Scurvy is a victim of Ellis' crusade or a self hating mutant who gave 'everything to a dream' for ... reasons. He's literally killing himself and it'd be good to know why.

Scurvy has been hyped as a Psychic on par with Xavier, something Xavier himself hasn't exactly confirmed but he has admitted Scurvy is an obstacle. They haven't met but Scurvy's been aware of Xavier, presumably because he's world famous and announced Krakoa to everyone on the planet. Scurvy suggests it's more than that - he and Charles are part of a group of five mutants called Avians, one of whom died - Harvey X. Chuck has had an oversized presence in Simone's Uncanny X-Men and another vague mystery about him takes up space that could be used to develop other characters - The Outliers, Jubilee, Nightcrawler. This 'Avian' business feels like The Twelve and other similar half baked plots, and how can Charles have a tumour if he's in a relatively new body? He died last in Inferno AFAIK, but more than that it feels unnecessary. I'm not invested in believing or disbelieving it, though Chuck dying might make X-Manhunt more interesting.

Chuck isn't showing up again until March, and Scurvy ages 10 years during this issue. Why are we spending all this time on these people that aren't main characters? Does Xavier really need to be part of some special unexplained group? He's been a very special and prominent part of the X-Men since 1963 - new old girlfriends and vague hints of specialness feel like mystery box overkill. Maybe Scurvy is lying as part of their psychic battle. Laws of narrative economy suggest otherwise, but either way - what's the point? Also, Avians? Are they birds? Maybe it's a Shi'Ar thing but right now it sounds ridiculous. Avians ����

Juggernaut knocks Rogue out of Scurvy's control and she thinks she has time to do the same to one other person. She apologises to Gambit for not choosing him and picks Cyke as the tactical choice, nearly knocking his head off. He snaps out of it too and shit gets bizarre.

For some reason Scott chooses this moment to berate Rogue for 'bringing kids into a war zone' which is a super valid point but I find it difficult to believe he'd bring it up while they're on the back foot and threats are everywhere. Rogue's answer is even more puzzling. I can believe she'd make an appeal to emotion but it's not a real answer. 'At least we don't have Magneto on our team' is not a rebuttal to nearly getting children killed, but it also does not make sense.

Magneto has been reformed for YEARS at this point and was a driving force behind Krakoa. She's saying like he's some irredeemable villain when he's the most heroic he's ever been. He and Rogue had zero interaction on Krakoa, where he was considered a national hero and famously was very tight with her hero Xavier. If she has an issue with the sins that came to light after Inferno, then she wouldn't be so charitable to Chuck, either. Maybe it's Scurvy's influence, but if so then what's the point? This isn't ideology, it's dodging the question at worst or petty bickering at best. Has Rogue forgotten her extensive history with Magneto, or her own start as a villain? What about her husband's involvement in the Mutant Massacre or her parents' unrepentant villainy? When considered in the context of Simone saying that Rogue and Cyclops would occupy the Xavier/Magneto relationship it looks like a missed shot. You'd have to ignore decades of history to make it work. Sigh, this was an unforced error and it really bums me out.

'I'm never going to be you and you're never going to be Professor X' is flat out weird. Cyclops answer of 'good' is consistent with his argument last issue, but it makes it look like they're not having the same conversation. Finally they realise they're in a war zone and only now does Rogue defer to Cyclops. Oookayyy. They say 'Magik and Wolverine' together in a moment that's both cheesy as hell and should underline their commonalities. I'm almost feel bad ragging on this, but it's not executed well. At least Rogue is consistently characterised as a cowboy. That's something.

Magik and Wolverine start freeing people then stop to agree not to kill each other. Deathdream says weird stuff, as usual, and the two make up. Jitter has her second instance of love heart emoji'ing a woman, which is cute but still deniable as actual WLW representation. I hope Simone cashes this cheque.

Queerness should be something that's not notable in a perfect world, just a part of the character. We don't live in a perfect world though, and we don't know a lot about Jitter. We know her powers, that she's Malay Singaporean, that she has a stutter, and that she possibly likes women. It's not enough for issue #8 of the flagship series. The choice was made to heavily focus on Xavier and Sarah Gaunt, and a casualty of that was getting to know main characters. It wouldn't be such a big deal if the payoff was worth it, but what did we actually learn? Instead of giving readers a break from Charles Xavier, he's been a regular presence. His appearance in this event could have been more impactful but I feel like we never had a chance to miss him.

Kwannon and Kurt reveal that Scurvy made them fight, which Rogue is aware of, and she adds that 'we're broken.' I'm not sure what that's supposed to mean, but this undermines the stakes of the ideological conflict. Is it manufactured or isn't it? None of them consider attacking Scurvy while he's fighting Xavier, either. Nobody is acting like they're in danger. It feels unserious, like the characters are just waiting for things to happen to them.

At this point I don't really care who Inmate X is. Uncanny X-Men has been dropping these mystery boxes that readers can only guess at, and like with Harvey X being the one pulling strings, it comes out of nowhere. It's another Avian, which means nothing to us beyond a vague implication of specialness. We know that Ellis considers it a bad thing if he get out of his cell, but that doesn't narrow it down aside from it being a he.

Aw, cripes - popular gen Z saying

Interestingly, Xavier's astral form is that of his Cerebro-helmeted onesie twink. It could reveal that he hasn't changed at all in how he sees himself and his role as shepherd of mutantkind. It's very different from his classic astral battle appearance, and I love it thematically and visually. Scurvy and Chuck as astral giants towering over the schoolprison is striking, though the casualness of their dialogue mutes it somewhat.

Not sure how Ezra or Ellis can tell Scurvy is losing a battle on the astral plane, but she does what she should have done before this and gets a gun. Calico is overjoyed that the Outliers (except Jitter) came for her, but what could be a heartwarming moment is undercut by their dulled expressions. I can buy Deathdream doing this, but Ransom has been emotionally aware prior to this. We have zero details, but aren't these kids tight after months of being on the run together?

It's finally time to stop standing around, as Ellis and guards are here with guns. The X-Men, having already beat up plenty of these dudes, aren't impressed. They stand together (no idea where Chuck and Scurvy got to) and Cyke urges her to stand down, pointing out that they're not as nice as the Avengers. Rogue agrees in the shittiest way possible, thinking 'sometimes visor boy says jus the right thing.' Weird ableist stance from Rogue, but all it does is highlight how shallow their conflict is and remind us that Gail Simone doesn't like Cyclops.

Ellis doesn't blink, telling them her 'brother died because of trash like you.' We knew this already, and I'm wondering if there's anything else to her. She's established as a threat but she's not especially interesting. She helped with Sarah Gaunt out of empathy (?) but here she is flinging the same old slurs. I'm not sure if her dark skin is meant to be noteworthy or say anything. So far it hasn't been a part of her character in any way other than visual, no commentary on how someone who has experienced minority oppression becomes so hell-bent on dealing it out herself. How does a person become willing to enslave and torture, and even (as we'll see) destroy two towns with thousands of humans in them? Her brother died, sure, but that's thin characterisation for a multi-arc villain.

Chuck wallops Scurvy with an uppercut!

Ellis brings out The Trustees again (who the X-Men easily defeated) to have Blob recite 'the pledge.' Very messed up but it shouldn't exactly convince the X-Men to do anything other than smash this place to pieces. She threatens to let Sarah Gaunt loose from her comically large chains that shouldn't stop her for a second.

Cyclops points out that with Scurvy's defeat Ellis' big gun is down. She laughs at that, and for some reason Chuck doesn't immediately take over her brain. Her big gun is more literal - a fucking network of sonic cannon satellites. Who TF gave this lady a Death Star? She has Merle and Haven targeted but Rogue thinks she's bluffing. Logically, you'd think so. Would the US government really accept this maniac destroying towns with a space laser? Not sure how they'd spin that. Also, neither team have any leverage to stop her using it whenever she wants. I feel like she's forcing them to kill her right here and now, lest their strategic position becomes 'able to be killed at any time without effort.' They could even just send her on permanent vacation to Limbo, see how her bullshit flies with Maddie Pryor.

Ellis lets them take the people they came for (why?) but that's not enough for Rogue. Siryn speaks to Rogue personally while crying, indicating she's herself, as much as she can be with all the torture, mind control, and who knows what else? It's only when Xavier intercedes that Rogue listens.

Charles explains why he needs to be in prison (though we know he'll change his mind and escape in March) and they have an emotional exchange. It works, I guess, but Rogue looks super selfish and ignorant. Free Charles for personal reasons when he doesn't want it at the cost of two towns? Doesn't seem like much of a choice (other than knocking Ellis out while she's in your face.) It feels a bit regressive for Rogue, too. She is aware of everything from Fall of X (including Chuck manipulating one of her mothers and trying to permanently kill the other) and hadn't really had or needed a mentor in a long time. Sure, everyone is lost after Krakoa, but WTF is she so attached to Xavier? It's great that he was the first to believe in her but this feels almost infantilising. Rogue is better than this.

Scott has Magik open a big portal before 'she' can stop you. I assume 'she' refers to Rogue, except Rogue is shown willingly walking through it with everyone else. Ellis wasn't interested in stopping them. It's like everyone has the script and realises the event is over so it's time to go. I have difficulty believing any of these characters would just meekly leave, not because of Xavier, but the multiple sonic space cannons that can kill them anytime plus their enslaved comrades. There's eight regular ass humans with guns in the way and this is their shot to do anything about it. How many of these X-Men could take them all out by themselves? Cyke could optic blast them unconscious, Magik has multiple methods, and many of the others could just punch them while ignoring bullets.

Yo, where's Quentin? He arrived with you guys.

Once Rogue has walked through the portal (clearly willingly and without duress) she objects again - 'no. We can't leave him there!' Cyke echoes Charles' own words and promises to get the others out, but Rogue punches him maybe ten feet and not only repudiates Scott's promises (?) but places the blame entirely on him. He blasts her and tells her to grow up (kinda fair) but then their teammates hold them back. Beast tells Scott he won, but this looks like a narrative trick to pretend Cyclops wanted to fight or has any reason to.

Rogue turns to leave with mild venom and her team follows. Hank assures Scott that he had no choice and Scott disagrees but doesn't elaborate. I hate to see X-Men fight but it's even worse when it's over nothing. The post-portal events feel like Simone going 'hmm, didn't really sell that ideological divide or their falling out, fuck it, just have Rogue punch Cyclops.' I think Cyclops was mostly right here, but it's more than Rogue was wrong and the conflict was contrived. I just don't buy the degree of animosity Rogue has and all the reasons given feel out of character. If that's who Rogue is right now I can accept it, but it's not very heroic and she's had multiple egregious failures of leadership. If this is identified as a character flaw that needs working on or a mistake that she regrets it could make for interesting storytelling, but all the information we have suggests that's not the case. Uncanny is frankly a trainwreck, but at least it looks fantastic. The letters page and other media suggests a lot of people are enjoying this book, and I couldn't be happier for them. I just wish I was too. I'll keep reviewing it of course, and I'll be less harsh than this review was. It was hyped and it called shots and didn't deliver. Doing that sets expectations and gives me another metric to judge it by. Hopefully we can get on with learning about the characters who've been neglected.

As for Raid on Graymalkin as an event, it had its ups and downs. Most of the ups were in X-Men and most of the downs were in Uncanny. Ultimately it didn't fulfill the promise it made so I judge it as a failure. We didn't learn a great deal and it boiled down to a cynical excuse for X-Men to punch each other. The mysteries it introduced feel dull to me and I am not especially interested in the Avians or Inmate X. The solicits for X-Manhunt spoiled that Xavier wasn't going anywhere, which left us with forced conflict. I'm far more interested in the aftermath of the event, especially the Alaska team dealing with a visit from the O*N*E. They don't really need much reason to fuck with the X-Men so I'm not crediting the event with that.

Thanks for reading!

[pda-blog]

Breakthrough - I think I finally kinda get money. It's taken a lot of hard work to figure it out, but I think the problem was that I fundamentally could not focus on money. Like it made sense, but how it motivated people just made no sense.

But I had a moment of clarity today, that my financial situation is bad(??) And I should probably make more choices that result in me obtaining money.

One problem, fuck it's hard to focus on money. Like I'm happy as can be to make a little budgeting sheet, track my spending, record my savings it's a walk in the park, I fucking love paperwork. But that's not actually Getting Me more money. Even if I write it all out, the problem is that I'm struggling to react to money.

The moment of clarity came to me, when I wrote down all of my little online stores I made over the years in a list. I have a goal of making a certain amount of money this year (I've calculated it and everything). So I made a goal for each online store: how much do I want each store to make this year so I reach my financial goal?

Guess what I wrote down? $5. $10. $50. $100.

I was fucking happy the whole time to just sell One. Thing. A. Year. And that would be a success to me! In my brain that would flip the switch that goes "Yep I made money. Don't need any more!" And I would be satisfied with those amounts and not even THINK about making more.

SO, those whole time working on these online stores, I thought I was setting up something financially stable, because it FELT stable. If I sold a few things in one day and made $10, I was like "hell yeah". But, that doesn't fit with my financial goal. But it seriously felt like it was. I know intellectually this makes no sense because it's simple math, but basically I had a freaky moment where I could tell my perspective was warped somehow. Like, until I wrote it down, I SERIOUSLY thought those stores would make enough money to reach my goal. Because it FELT like they would, everything felt fine! Nothing felt stressful or 'not enough'! I never felt the need for more, even though factually I need more!

That really, REALLY gave me some pause.

It made me realise, "Wait, I am not processing the concept of money like most people... I think"

[lxnarphase]

BITCH, YOU KNOW I'M SEXY ᯓ★

━━ ❝ I'M NOT YOUR MOMMY, N★GGA! FIND A NEW HOBBY, N★GGA! ❞ wc. 5.4k

ᯓ ❤︎₊‧⁺...synopsis : being toji's roommate, you finally snap after another night of not being able to sleep because of his damn late-night hookups. your house, your rules.

ᯓ ❤︎₊‧⁺...cw : blk!fem!reader x f. toji, frenemies to lovers, smut, face-sitting + pussy eating, dumbification, degradation, praise kink, dirty talk, playful arguing, hair pulling, size kink, begging, riding, unprotected sex (do not do this in real life omfg), dom-ish reader, sub-ish toji, lots of pet names, toji being an asshole, toji gets called a 'good boy' a few times

ᯓ ❤︎₊‧⁺...lunar's notes : toji toji toji, what am i going to do with you...anyways, this was super fun and i love these two so much and i need them to go out on a date properly at some point ! if you want to be tagged for the future posts, comment on the main post here ! enjoy baddies ❤︎

you love sleep. absolutely love and cherish it, even.

every night, you follow the routine you set for yourself without fail: hot shower, slipping into some comfy PJs, in-depth skincare, brushing your teeth, and then pulling your bonnet on.

nothing is better than slipping into bed, soft sheets feeling sooo good on your skin. yes, you absolutely love sleep.

except it seems that your roommate has no respect for your need for rest, considering how many times you've had to hear the high-pitched whining of women paired with the annoying thud of the headboard against the wall.

he better not damage the wall either, because he will be the one paying for it.

you both were...sort of friends, sure, but ever since you both graduated college, toji has been doing his best to get on your nerves. constantly picking on you, teasing you, or doing stupid shit that annoys the fuck out of you. especially whenever he leaves the fucking toilet seat up in the middle of the night.

and every time he hears you squeal late at night in the bathroom before shouting his name, he can't help but laugh.

eventually, it went from him just doing things to inconvenience or mess with you to this. and you were tired.

these nightly...activities of his need to be addressed because you are not letting a man of all things be the reason you can't sleep soundly at night. this is your apartment, after all!

it's a friday night and you just know you need to talk to him before you have to hear some woman fighting for her life of toji does...whatever he does that has all these women coming in and out of your apartment like it's a damn brothel...okay, well, it was the same two women, but still!

so that's how you find yourself, pounding on his door, sleepy, tired, and irritated in your hello kitty pajama pants and an oversized t-shirt, ready to get in bed and actually sleep.

"fushiguro, open this damn door," you command, fluffy slipper tapping on the floor as you wait for him to open his door. after a minute, you hear a groan and the shuffling of sheets before the door swings open.

toji stands in the doorway, only in a pair of sweatpants that hang low on his hips with an eyebrow raised as he looks down at you. you don't care how hot he looks, you want nothing more than to wipe that look off his face, hating how smug he looks.

"whaddya want? 's she here already? told 'er not to come for another 2 hours," he mumbles, scratching at the scar on his lip. you're silent for a moment, processing what he just said. "who......no. nononono. absolutely not, tell whoever you are expecting she is not coming into my apartment."

crossing your arms, you fix him with a tough look. sure, you know you aren't the scariest thing, especially in hello kitty pants and puffy slippers, but it doesn't matter! he is going to respect your wishes or...or else!

"aww, what's wrong, doll? can't sleep," he teases, voice low and sinfully smooth as smirk finds its way onto his face. "guess ya should've invested in those headphone y'keep talkin' about so much. can't help that 'm just that good that the girlies can't keep their mouths shut."

having you in front of his bedroom door like this...it's so fucking adorable to him, you were just so cute and didn't have a single clue, did you? complaining that he and his little playthings were too loud and keeping you up was not what he expected. but, toji won't lie, he's genuinely surprised it took you so long to finally say something.

it seems his little comment struck a cord, his smirk getting bigger when your eyes get just a bit wider in disbelief. man, you were so fucking cute like this, all angry and huffy.

"okay, first of all, those headphones are NOT comfy to sleep with at night. and i'm not dropping almost $400 dollars on something so that i can accommodate for you," you argue, stepping forward and jabbing your finger into his stupidly big chest.

no, seriously, why were his pecs almost bigger than your tits?

"can you please just let me sleep for one night, or are you that sex deprived you can't go a single night without getting your dick wet?"

whatever this new side of you was, he liked it.

"aww, sounds like little princess s' mad no one's fuckin' her right. ya not gettin' fucked good, pipsqueak? haven't seen yer boy-toy around lately anyways.

"god, that's—that's none of your fucking business, fushiguro, shut up!"

"make me."

you blink.

a moment passes...and suddenly, your eyes are sharp.

ah...he might've fucked up with those two simple words.

"...you know what? i will, you annoying fuck."

catching toji off guard, you shove him back, taking advantage of him stumbling to walk inside his room as you slam the door shut behind you. a light chuckle escapes him, eyebrows raises. "so, the little kitten does have claws," he says with a grin.

his little roommate seems to have grown a pair of balls. what is she gonna do? hit him with pillows, curse him out, kick him out? pffft, if you kicked him out he would know you needed sleep, you both have been friends for too long...right?

as toji gets slightly worried he might've genuinely crossed a line (a bit too late to realize that, he realizes), you push him onto his bed, standing between his legs.

oh.

oh, he...he likes you from his angle, looking down at him with a little bit of a pout on those pretty full lips of yours as you try soooo hard to look angry and scary. but how can he be scared when his roommate, the one he's been fucking his hand for, looks so fucking cute?

curly hair a bit frizzy and messy (he's surprised you don't have your bonnet on yet), smelling like cocoa butter and that strawberry shortcake body spray that haunts him at night. and now you're in his fucking room. he'd never be able to escape it now.

fuck, every time you came close to him, he just suddenly couldn't process anything except you...he needed to get a grip.

propping himself up on his elbows, toji locks eyes with you, playing off his surprise. "what's gotten into ya, roomie? so aggressive, might have t' call shiu to come get you," he attempts to playfully poke. the tension in the room grows when you start to massage your temples, trying to calm down.

in.

out.

in.

out.

in-

"well, if lack of sleep is gettin' you all huffed up like this, i gotta couple o' ways t' tire ya out if y'need."

"oh my god, y'talk too fucking much," you grumble.

toji opens his mouth, ready to make another smart comment but he's shocked into silence when you tug your pajama pants off. there's no fucking way this is real. toji knows he has to be dreaming and knowing he'd be waking up with a wet spot in his pants if he didn't wake up soon.

and...are you wearing hello kitty boxer briefs too? god, you're such a fucking dork, it's cute and it's only making him harder in his pants.

but all of that is forgotten when you hook your fingers in the waistband of those stupid looking boxers and drag them down those pretty legs and toji gets a glimpse of your cute, pudgy tummy and...and....

fuck.

he doesn't even get a chance to think, he's so fucking hard. you're fucking half naked in his room right now and he can't tear his eyes away from how soft you look, that little patch of hair (is it shaped like a fucking heart? jesus fucking christ, you were serious about making yourself feel pretty everywhere), god, he's so fucked.

"shit. someone's eager. just couldn' wait to-"

"i'm so sick of you," you cut off, pushing him down onto the bed, crawling up his chest. you give him a look, one that he instantly understands and he smirks, giving you a nod before you continue moving until your hips hover over his face.

the smirk melts off his face when he realizes how real this is. your bare pussy is literally mere inches away from his mouth, so close he can practically taste you.

he's not gonna make it out of this alive, is he?

when you see him about to open his mouth to make another stupid comment, you move, pressing your hips down onto his face, shutting him up. "you wanna use your mouth so much, toj? i'll give you somethin' to use it on."

toji's response is just a muffled groan, his eyes fluttering a little. his hands move up to grip your thighs to steady you and also keep you on his face. he hasn't even tasted you, but shit, you smell so good.

wasting no more time, his tongue hungrily darts out, desperate to taste you. the moment he licks over your folds, he's sighing, melting into the bed. you're so soft, so sweet and he hasn't even gotten a taste from the main source. pulling you down onto his face a bit harder, toji finally swipes through your cunt and he's addicted.

"mmh, fuck," he grunts, burying his face as deep as possible. what the actual fuck are you made of, he thinks to himself. you taste so sweet, he's getting so dizzy as he starts to messily lap up all the slick dripping from your pussy. he barely pulls away from you to breathe, taking just a second to part, his hot breath fanning against the wet mess between your legs before he dives right back in, his low groans resonating against your core so nicely.

toji slurps loudly at your cunt, unable to stop himself from rolling his hips up, the friction of his sweats on his cock a sweet relief. he's so sure this is heaven, thanking whatever god there is for making you snap to this point but then you start talking.

you sigh, hips gently rocking against toji's face as your eyes open to look down your body at him. "mmn, 's better," you purr to yourself, little sweet noises of pleasure escaping you as one of your hands runs through his hair, giving him an encouraging little tug.

"should i just give you my pussy every night so you let me sleep, toj," you coo at him, a smug smile on your face. he didn't even notice his eyes slipped shut, but he opens them, flickering up to meet your lidded gaze and see the pride swirling around your eyes.

has his roommate always been like this? toji doesn't remember you being so fucking sexy like this. sure, you've always been attractive, and he's definitely had a thing for you for a while. but never in his life did he think his sweetheart of a friend would be smushing his face into her soft cunt.

his response is a little nod and an increase in his tongue's movements against your sloppy pussy. his lips move to suck right at your puffy clit, and he swears nearly cums when you gasp his name and whine, pulling him even deeper by his hair.

his train of thought is completely destroyed, he can't think of anything but you, can't feel anything but you, can't see, can't smell, can't taste anything but you.

he'd kill a man if it meant being able to taste you like this every fucking day.

"ohh, tojibaby, y'look s' pretty eating my pussy...poor thing, jus' needed something to shut you up for a bit."

scratch that, he'd kill SEVERAL men if it meant hearing you sing praises like that while you grind against his mouth, practically suffocating him with your thighs.

it's addicting, the way slick is gushing out of you each time he kisses your clit before sucking on it, coating his mouth. toji knows he looks a wreck, but he doesn't care, not when he's got you on him like this.

"d'you wanna make me cum, toj?" you ask it so teasingly, tugging his hair again and making him moan. "you're makin' out with my pussy...such a good boy for me."

those two words are his undoing, a visible shift in his energy. his eyes are sharp, and he almost looks angry as he grips your thighs even harder. "yes, fuck, yeah, mama, i wanna make you cum all over my face," he growls, tongue unrelenting when it slips back inside of your cunt, a nasty wet noise filling the air as you keen. he's fucking you with his tongue so messily, like he'll die if he stops tasting you.

good boy. you called him a good boy.

the compliment made something snap in him, the need to devour you whole the only thing on his mind. he's not just a good boy, no, he's your good boy, and the thought of being yours makes a thick bead of precum to drip out of his cock and stain his sweatpants.

he's brought back when you tug his head back to look at you, that thick tongue of his slipping out of you.

"i don't want you bringing anymore fucking women in my house, fushiguro," you warn, glaring down at him. you're serious. if you see another girl come in here at 11pm, you might actually kill this man in his sleep and not in a way he'd like

"i'm so tired of hearing their annoying moans. if you need a pussy to put your stupid dick in, just ask me, you fuckin' idiot." shit, you usually never talk like this, but toji likes this side of you. the usually sweet and kind roommate he was so used to was no where to be seen, replaced with this commanding and no-nonsense woman who knew what she wanted.

he can't even deny, this side of you is such a massive turn on.

"promise you're gonna let me fuckin' sleep n' i'll cum on your pretty mouth, fushiguro. otherwise, i'm getting up and i'll call shiu and see if he wants a taste."

oh, fuck no. no way in hell is toji letting that smug bastard see you like this, best friend or not.

he desperately nods, just wanting you to let go of his hair so he can dive back into your sweet pussy, licking his lips to taste you again.

"promise, mama, no more bringing other women, jus' you, don't need nobody else but you, y'got my word."

"that's my good boy."

once you let go of his hair, toji dives right back to the task at hand like man possessed. his lips press against your clit, kissing it with little wet smacks before sucking it into his mouth. his tongue doesn't give you a break, flicking over it rapidly. your moans, god, your moans are getting so loud and so pretty, his eyes never leaving your face as he watches you get closer and closer.

"c'mon, doll, please," he begs, a whininess in his voice as he massages your thick thighs, encouraging you to ride his face until you cream all over it. "give it t' me, give me what i wan', cum all over my face, baby girl."

feeling how you start to move your hips, a sweet little 't-toji, 'm gonna cum' falling from your lips, his hands grasp your ass as he seals his mouth over your cunt, sucking and licking desperately.

he needs it.

he needs you.

needs you so fucking bad.

feeling him mutter those words against your cunt makes you gasp and choke out his name, thighs squeezing around his head. "oh, fuck, toji, 'm cummin, baby!" your hands are both in his hair as you desperately hump against his mouth, body shaking with the force of your orgasm.

he doesn't stop, he keeps his mouth on you to make sure not a drop of your sweet cum goes to waste. he can feel it spilling out of his mouth, down his chin and neck. it's so messy, just how he likes it.

he watches you, how could he even think to take his eyes off you? you're so pretty, do you even realize how your hair got puffier and messier from your sweating, how a few of those tiny curls got stuck to your skin?

"g-god, fuck, toj, hoohmygod, your mouth 's so good, nngh!"

shit, you're pretty, so fucking pretty, what the fuck? god, you even cum pretty, toji's so fucked. why didn't he get you on his face like this sooner?

feeling your tremors start to subside, toji slows his tongue, switching to little licks and then to soft kisses against your clit, keeping you grounded as you come down from your high. the fact he didn't paint the inside of his sweatpants white is a miracle, but he knows the front is wet and stained.

when he feels you relax, toji guides you off his face and down to sit on his chest. he can't help the twinkle in his eye, grinning at you proudly. the bottom half of his face is a mess, covered in his spit and your slick. you like this look on him.

"has anyone ever told you that you've got t'most addicting pussy ever?"

you huff a laugh, urging him to move up further on the bed until his back rests against the pillows. he was so annoying, and you hated how attractive it made him. “you’re too awake for my liking," you sarcastically huff, giving him a sweet little pout that makes him feel a bit more things than he probably should.

tugging his sweatpants down, you let out a little noise of surprise.

ah.

it all makes sense now. no wonder those girls sounded like they were dying.

"toji, what the actual hell is wrong with you?!"

"don't get mad at me, ma, i didn't magically make my dick this size! i just got lucky!"

"lucky?! girl, this is a curse, how the fuck did those girls fit this thing in them?!"

"they didn't."

that makes you pause. they couldn't get him all the way inside? glancing down at his cock, heavy in your hand, as he helps to get his pants completely off, you're not surprised. but you could take it, right?

...guess you need to find out.

shifting your hips, you move to swipe his cock through your slick pussy, a smug look on your face when he sharply inhales. "i'm gettin' my revenge, pretty boy, for all the sleep you made me lose. 's late, anyways, yeah? don't we need to sleep soon?"

the head of his cock catches onto your entrance, causing you both to sigh in pleasure. this would be a stretch, but you're determined by pure spite from toji and those women keeping you up at night.

while you're teasing him, toji is a breath away from losing his mind. the sight of you taking charge, hair completely fluffy now from the humidity in the room, has his cock pulsing in your soft hand. he's so sure that you're not gonna be able to take it all in. shit, he's wondering if he should stop you, tell you he's gotta prep you first or else it's gonna hurt, but you use your free hand to grab his face, making him look at you as an evil grin breaks out on your face.

"i'm gonna put you t' sleep with my pussy. uhm, something something, call that pussy nyquil," you giggle, slipping the tip of his cock inside of your wet, tight little cunt.

melting, that's the best way toji can describe the feeling of behind inside you, even if it's just the tip. "jesus," he hisses, his hands coming up to grip your hips. you're so hot inside, your tight walls are so snug around him. there's no way this tight cunt of yours is gonna be able to fit him in, there's not fucking way.

despite that, he finds himself guiding you down onto him, trying his hardest not to buck up into you. but the sensation of your soft, gummy walls squeezing him so perfectly is making it so challenging to stay still.

"fuck, mama...shit," he groans, watching as he is sucked into your warm pussy. once you get halfway, he expects you to stop, and that's usually where they all do. he was fine with that, more than fine, because he's never been inside someone so fucking tight.

but then, you raise your hips until just the tip is inside, and with a devious little giggle, you slam your hips down, gasping when you get him in all the way. damn, you realize it was a stupid idea, the stretch making you feel almost sick, but the reaction you get out of toji is worth it.

his head falls back against the headboard, and he whimpers, eyes rolling back into his skull, his lip pulled between his teeth as he tries to relearn how to think.

“i'm gonna make you cum and ‘m gonna fuck you stupid for not letting me sleep, fushiguro.” giving yourself a bit to get used to his size, you slowly started moving, seeing what angle worked best for you.

meg the stallion, i'm gonna make you proud of me, you think with a little smirk before you steady yourself with your hands on his chest and start to bounce your hips, your cute little threat only making his cock throb inside you.

"'m gonna make you regret bein' an asshole to your pretty roommate, pretty boy."

it doesn't take long for it to get messy, for it to get so fucking sloppy and noisy. each time you bring your hips down, the room is filled with a wet smack. you've really made a mess out of him, your sticky wet coating his fat cock and his lap, thick strands of it connecting you to him with each raise of your hips before you bring them right back down.

toji can't breathe, finally tilting his head back up as his eyes are glued to where his cock slips in and out of you. you're taking him, taking all of him into your sticky cunt and, shit, he thinks he might die like this.

"fuck, fuck, mama, c'mon, don' do this t' me, relax, please, fuckin' strangling my cock, oh my god—"

he's whining, it's so cute. who knew you could get toji fushiguro, mr. tough guy, to crumble under you like this so easily? it's so wet and gushy, the sound of your thick body smacking back down on his only making his insides twist in pleasure. he can feel how fucking wet you are, dripping down his cock, down his balls, it's so unfair.

"tojiii, talk t' me," you coo at him, your sweet voice bringing him back. "don't tell me my pussy's making you dumb already, jus' started."

you did, you're literally fucking him dumb, and he doesn't know what to do or what to say, but hearing you say his name like that in-between moans as you bounce your hips up and down his throbbing shaft has his babbling in an instant.

"god, this cunt 's perfect, baby, s' fucking perfect."

“yeah? y’like my pussy, toj? like my pretty cunt creaming on you?” you roll your hips, a pretty moan leaving you when his tip nudges against that soft spot perfectly. “f-fuck, you really are big...poor thing, no one could get it in all the way? am, mh, am i the first t’ take this fat cock t’ the hilt, tojibaby?”

you lean forward, hands moving from his chest to around his neck as you roll your hips, swiveling them in ways that have him gushing precum all over the insides of your cunt. the squelches your cunt makes with each roll is so fucking sinful and so nasty.

"y-yeah, mama, she feels s' good around me, all tight and warm, milking my cock like it's made just for you."

god, you smell so good...he can still smell your perfume and the sweet blueberry scent of your leave-in. you smell so sweet and taste so sweet too, he's so fucking lucky to have you fucking him like this. toji's hands move from your hips to your ass, helping you fuck yourself on his dick, groaning your name.

"god, you're the first to take it all, y'got me so fucking deep in that sloppy lil' cunt that y'can feel me in your stomach."

you giggle between moans, pressing your forehead against his. "y'so cute, toji, such a good boy f' me, yeah? feels so much better knowin' you can just tell me if you need me to put you to sleep, right?"

he groans, nodding as his eyes flutter closed again. "y-yeah, yes, baby, feels s' much better," he admits, breathless as he starts to get close. he can feel you getting tighter, getting wetter, and he'll be damned if he cums before you do.

"aww, listen t' you," you say with a little whine, your dominant mask starting to ebb away as you start to grow weaker and weaker. it's starting to feel good, really good, to the point where you can't think either, and you don't know how much more of this you can do. "m-my pretty boy, my good boy, f-fuckin' me s...s-so good..."

the moment he picks up the whininess in your voice, toji is alert, looking into your eyes to find that the pleasure is finally catching up to you, too. "yeah? yeah, mama? she's feelin' good? fuck, 'm gonna fuckin' fill you up, baby, gotta cream this pretty pussy so deep that she feels it f' days," he grunts, mouth open as he pants against your lips.

they look so pretty, he wonders if you taste like that lip balm you always carry, if your tongue is as sweet as you are, if your plump lips are as soft as they look. the thought of them pressing against his is what breaks him, and he's so embarrassed at the noise he makes before leaning back against the pillows and planting his feet into the mattress.

"i gotta fuck you, gotta fuck you good, 'm sorry, 'm so sorry, baby, promise i'll let you sleep, promise i'll be good for ya, okay? mm, fuck, c'mon, let toji make it better, gonna kiss your cunt with my cock and make it up t' ya."

toji fucks into your hole desperately, groaning at the loud wet plaps of his hips smacking against yours. your moans, god, your moans, they're so pretty, you're so pretty. he can see your tits bouncing against the fabric of the shirt you have on, and he curses, so fucking mad he didn't have you take it off. but he doesn't care, not right now, not when he sees how gorgeous you look.

he's so fucking prideful when he sees how poofed out your hair is, bouncing with each thrust up into you. "y're so fucking pretty, c'mere."

one of his hands grabs you by the back of the head and smushes his lips against yours, hungry as he licks over them before shoving his stupidly thick tongue inside your mouth. the kiss is just as messy as the rest of you, and the pitiful little moan you give has him reeling.

"i-i'm, 'm gonna cum, toj," you whisper against his mouth, nails biting into his shoulders as you do your best to match his pace. you're gonna cum, he's gonna make you cum, you're about to cum all over his fucking dick, jesus christ.

"fuck, you're so hot, so cute, mama, my pretty girl. need ya t' cum, dolly, can y'do that for me? please, baby, cum on me, make a mess s' i can fill you up an' apologize like i promised," he rambles before kissing you again, biting your lip before running his tongue over it.

it's so close, you can taste it. it's so unfair how big his cock is, how you can feel every vein and throb of it inside of you, how you can feel his hot precum smudging all over your velvety walls.

the realization that he's inside you raw has you moaning so sweetly, and your pussy is gripping him for dear life as you dig your nails into his shoulders even more, head falling forward. "t-toji, 'm, 'm gonna—f-fuck!"

you're cumming, you're cumming on him, and it feels so fucking good. you're creaming all over his lap, and your crying and moaning his name so sweetly he feels like he's gonna pass out. "baby, babyyy, no, lemme see, lemme see you cum," he begs, the hand in your hair tilting your head back up and the view he gets has his hips stuttering inside you.

your eyes are unfocused, long lashes wet from tears as you pant and whimper for him, all for him. and when you make eye contact with him, he feels your gummy walls squeeze him so tight.

"oh, fuck, yes, mama, jus' like that. keep cummin' on me, keep goin', 'm so close, gonna cum, gonna cum in this pretty pussy s' fuckin' deep you feel it in your tummy," toji babbles before he's losing himself too, pressing your head against his chest as he fucks into you, savoring your overstimulated cries for him. "'s gonna go deep, so fuckin' deep an' i'm gonna fuckin' eat it outta you, just like y-you fuckin' deserve—!"

with a pathetic sounding groan of your name, he's giving one, two, three, four hard, deep thrusts, moaning as he pumps his thick load into you, feeling your oversensitive pussy milking him dry. "g-good boy, g'fucking boy, tojiii," you whimper, moving from his chest to pepper kisses all over his face, moaning softly as you feel his hot cum coating your walls.

his mind is so blissfully blank that he doesn't even realize he's shaking a little bit from how hard he just came. cooing happily at him, you cup his cheeks, trying to bring him back down to you. "come back t' me tojiiii, don't die on me, roomie!"

still reeling from his insanely intense orgasm, manages a little chuckle, his hand moving from your ass to under your shirt, stroking your back. "'m here, 'm here, promise...i just...shit. ya fuckin' drained me, girly. what the hell are you?"

you laugh, kissing the corner of his mouth before nestling under his chin to catch your breath. "I'm your damn friend who happens to be the roommate you have been tormenting by not letting me sleep, dumbass."

"heh. fair point."

you both stay like this for a bit, just resting a little and trying to catch your breath. except...toji's eyes feel a little heavy, and he feels himself drifting away. "there you goooo," you coo, hand running through his hair. "told ya i'd put you to sleep."

"yeah, yeah, you were right," he grumbles and opens an eye, hand coming up to pinch your cheek. "jus' a lil' nap, okay? we still gotta get you cleaned up. after all, i promised i'd clean my cum outta ya, right?"

"my god, toji, you are nasty."

"but you like ittttt."

you couldn't stop yourself from laughing because, yes, you did. you liked it a lot.

soon, the room falls quiet as toji's breathing falls into rhythm with yours, the rise and fall of his chest steady and slow. his mind is still a bit dazed, and he can't help but get a little flustered as he realizes how badly he's wrapped around your little finger. the thought is only further confirmed when he feels his heart squeeze just a bit when he notices you fell asleep on his chest.

he wraps his arms around you in a gentle embrace, huffing to himself. yeah, so what he was whipped, he finally got you in his arms, so he sees it as a win.

as sleep finally starts to creep up on him, he presses a little kiss to your forehead, leaning back against the pillows and shutting his eyes. just a little nap, and then he'll get you cleaned up and make sure you accept his apology for everything he's put you through.

...he just hopes you won't be too grumpy when you realize you fell asleep without your bonnet on.

all rights reserved © lxnarphase | do not repost, copy, translate, or alter my work

ᯓ ❤︎₊‧⁺...lunar's tags : @satoruwiki @llllllllllllloser @screampied @abcdbleh @vicfuentesfangirl @sakurapeach @ohsuguru @crywolfix @naughtygobbo @aura88967 @jeanine-gt @tananaxx @tojancy @happymangosstuff

[mayasaura]

It really dawned on me watching episode 17, just how important this sequence of events is to Kabru and Laios' relationship, and how. Well. That's for a different post. I want to keep this one free of spoilers. (Certified Safe For Anime Only™)(There are spoilers for episode 17, tho. Obviously.)

Kabru's main concern has been, at least in part, revealed. He wants to figure out if Laios is capable of defeating the dungeon, and, if so, if Laios can be trusted with the power that might confer. The answer to his first question is simple. Yes. If anyone can defeat the dungeon, it's Laios.

The second question is where things get interesting. Can Laios be trusted with power?

In the aftermath of Laios' first fight with Toshiro, Kabru learns that while Laios has no particular respect for the law or conventional wisdom, he does have the humility to consider that his judgment might be flawed if he encounters conflict with someone he respects.

That is the face of a man taking notes, and I think he's making a cautious mark in Laios' favor. Laios doesn't really understand Toshiro's opinion, but he's listening.

Then, in the fight with the Falin-Dragon chimera, Kabru voices dissent—disgust, even—with Laios and Marcille's priorities.

You can practically see the Dragon Age style approval rating drop. Kabru disapproves. Minus fifteen hearts. If it had ended like this, I think Kabru would have lost all interest in Laios. Someone who would sacrifice a dozen lives out of sentiment can't be trusted.

Laios' response, and the way it builds on Kabru's earlier observation, is crucial.

He listened. And even better, he didn't listen blindly. He applied critical thought to Kabru's argument. What Kabru hears from him isn't just "I'm sorry, you were right," but also, "I understand and respect your position and priorities, and here's a very good argument for why killing what I still consider to be my sister is not in our best interest."

He processed Kabru's criticism and came to his own conclusions, and he did it fast. Not only that, but he's right. Kabru hadn't considered the potential consequences of killing the chimera.

Laios proved in this one exchange that he 1) isn't blinded by either his pride or his prejudice, 2) has the strength of character to not just fall back and surrender to someone else's judgment when he's uncertain, and 3) is smart enough to tactically outhink Kabru.

This is why Kabru is so invested in Laios liking him that he forces himself to eat the harpy omlette. This is why Kabru takes Laios' hand and makes sure he knows he wants to see him again. He doesn't understand Laios, and he still has strong reservations about him. Laios' interest in monsters scares him. But Laios has proved to Kabru that he might be capable of being the person Kabru needs him to be.

Top Ten Pictures Of The Moment He Won You Over (Taken Just Before Disaster).

[thebibliosphere]

Ma'am/Sir/Other

So much of your blog is "Yaya another thing in my body broke (kill me)"

I'm not judging at all, cause I'm also dealing with that somewhat but,

In the most polite manner possible;

How the fuck do you manage to function without killing everyone around you in a bodily pain induced rage.

Body hurts too much.

But in all seriousness, therapy and a whole lot of radical acceptance.

I don't approve or like what’s happening to me, but realistically, there is no way to avoid it, so I either have to accept it and make changes to my life or reject it and increase my suffering.

It might take me a while to process this change and there might be a few screaming breakdowns in the interim (”it's not fair, it's not fair, it's not fair!”) but after a long time of doing this type of therapy, I’ve gotten good at holding my own hand and holding myself through the despair.

It’s a bit like being my own gentle parent. Like “hey bud, I know this sucks and you’re feeling a lot of big emotions right now. And I’m not asking you to stop feeling them, but I do need you to eat and drink before you get sick, okay? Okay, you’ve had some water, do you want to try for a shower? No? Okay, let’s go back to bed for a bit. We’ll try later... Cry it out if you need to. I’ve got you.”

Probably sounds bonkers to some people but it's the only reason I’m still alive.

My support network is wonderful and they do so much to keep me going, but it wasn't until I allowed myself to feel my emotions and self soothe through them that things got better.

I can’t change what has been done to me. I can’t change the dynamic nature of my disabilities or the fact that parts of my body will continue to break down. But I can accept myself and say, this is the way things are: react accordingly for our continued survival.

Radical acceptance isn’t about approval or giving up. It's a stress tolerance skill that lets you look at some of the worst parts of your life and go “fuck this sucks. Okay, how do I make this suck less?” and then following through on it.

It's a skill that takes a long time to build. But it's well worth investing in.

[wanders-in-wonderland]

A Game

My arms are tied behind my back and I'm sitting on a bench with my legs straddling it. I'm blindfolded and gagged, with no idea what to expect.

Suddenly, I hear the sound of footsteps and a deep, silky voice calls out, "Darling, how are we feeling?" I whimper into the gag as I feel him come closer. I flinch when his fingers dance lightly across my skin as he cups my tits before flicking my nipples.

"I want to play a game," he says, and I can hear the smile in his voice. "You see, I invested in a lovely little something that's supposed to make little toys like you so desperate and so horny that you can only focus on cumming. But I want to see if that's true, and if so, how powerful it can be."

I can hear him rustling around and the metal clinking of different things makes me even further on edge. I whimper and flinch when I feel him rub something cold against my arm and the smell of rubbing alcohol hits my nose. Before I can process what is going on, I feel the sting of a needle going into my arm. He'd injected me.

It doesn't take long for me to figure out that he'd injected me with an aphrodisiac, the "investment" he'd mentioned. I can feel my whole body heating up, my nipples harden into peaks, my clit pulses, and I feel my pussy clench rhythmically. I'm panting slightly as I feel my body completely overwhelmed with need and I know that if he were to take my gag out, I'd be begging him to touch me, fuck me, please make me cum.

I can feel my pussy leaking onto the bench, creating a puddle. He laughs softly from behind me and suddenly, I feel his hand wrap around my throat. He tightens his grip slightly, restricting my airway just enough to make breathing a little more difficult and the lack of oxygen makes me even dizzier with need.

"I want to see if you'll pick your needy little cunt over your need to breathe," he murmurs darkly. I'm too delirious to fully comprehend what that means as my hips start to thrust slightly, desperately trying to create some kind of friction on my clit to relieve the pressure.

He lets go of my throat and I gasp as much as I can over the gag. I feel him walk away for a brief moment before he's back. He brushes something lightly over my neck and I realize it's rope. He loops the rope over my head and wraps it around my neck, tying it loosely. Then, I feel him walk away again and I hear the sound of more rustling and I start feeling slight tugs on the rope. The tugs become more insistent and I have to stand up from the bench I'm straddling just to keep it from choking me.

Eventually, I feel the tugs stop, but now I realize that he'd tied the other end of the rope so high up that I can't sit back down without restricting my own breathing by essentially hanging myself. I hear him laugh as he watches me, "Have you figured it out yet, honey? Maybe this will help."

I hear the buzzing of a vibrator break the silence and then I feel it. He presses the bulb of the toy against my clit and I moan deeply as my hips start to move. He pushes the vibrator hard against my clit and I'm whimpering from the pleasure. The aphrodisiac has made me so sensitive and needy that the few seconds of the vibrator has pushed me to the brink of an orgasm. But before I can fully enjoy it, he pulls it away. I whine into my gag and beg as best as I can.

"Now, here comes the fun part," he says, "I'm going to put this vibrator right here on the bench. Right where your little clitty would be if you were sitting. Now the only problem is, if you want to sit, you're going to have to choke yourself with that rope. And that is the game." He laughs darkly as the realization of my predicament hits me.

I desperately try to rub my thighs together to relieve some of the burning need but it doesn't help. My clit is throbbing at the idea of the vibrator, and I'm so, so needy that I can feel my pussy clenching.

I tentatively try to lower myself down a little bit. I can barely feel the vibrator brushing my clit before I reach the limit of the rope. I whimper when the severity of my predicament hits me. The slight sensation of the vibrator is making my eyes roll but it doesn't help to relieve any of the need that's been building up inside of me.

I can feel my body begging my mind to rearrange its priorities. I'm so desperate to cum that I'm willing to deprive my body of oxygen just so I can make this need go away. If I were more coherent, I would be humiliated by myself, but right now, I'm too far gone to care.

The desperate part of my brain takes over and I let myself sit down fully onto the vibrator. A choked gasp leaves me, both from the relentless pleasure that overwhelms me and from the tight rope around my neck that restricts my airway. The rope isn't tight enough that I can't breathe at all, but it's enough to make my head spin.

I vaguely hear him laugh but all I can focus on is the pleasure rushing through me. I can feel myself barreling towards an orgasm and if I had more air, I'm sure I would be screaming and moaning from all the sensation. I feel my face redden from the lack of oxygen and I'm becoming lightheaded. I'm so close to cumming but before I can push myself over that edge, I feel my body lift up from the vibrator as my instinct to breathe kicks in. Air floods my lungs as the rope loosens and I feel tears well up in my eyes. My own body betrayed me, picking oxygen over my orgasm.

He laughs in delight, "Oh poor honey, looks like you don't want to cum that badly yet."

I'm panting and shaking slightly, my legs barely having enough strength to keep my body up. I want to sob at how unfair it all is but I'm too focused on drawing in as much air as possible.

"Hm, let's tip the balance honey," he says and I feel him wipe my arm again with an alcohol wipe. I whine when I feel the second injection. He dosed me again. Immediately, I feel the effects of the aphrodisiac grow exponentially. My pussy flutters and my clit pulses even harder. The need multiplies inside of me, pushing me towards the brink of my sanity.

I'm so desperate that I don't hesitate this time when I sit down onto the vibrator. I feel my eyes roll up into my head as the sensation on my clit pushes me toward the most intense orgasm I have ever experienced. The lack of oxygen makes everything more sensitive, and I let out a gurgled scream when my orgasm hits, my pussy spraying my release all over the bench and the vibrator. I let myself ride out the orgasm before I get my feet back under me, standing to let myself breathe and to let my clit recover a little from the onslaught of stimulation.

I'm panting from the rope and the orgasm as I shake slightly. But as my orgasm fades, the need rebuilds. "Oh honey, you're going to need more orgasms than just one to burn through all the drugs in your system." His voice barely breaks through the haze in my mind, and I briefly wonder what I must look like right now, tied up and strung out.

My body drops back onto the bench and I let the vibrator ravage my clit, relieving some of the torturous need inside of me while I gasp for air that just won't go into my lungs. I chase every orgasm like this, pressing myself to the vibrator for as long as I can before the need for air forces me to leave it behind. I cum three more times but still, the drug-induced need doesn't fade, despite the overstimulation that makes me want to stop.

I'm crying after my fourth orgasm, face permanently pink from the stimulation and air restriction. Suddenly, I feel his hands on my shoulders, gently massaging my neck. I whimper when I feel him step closer to me and I let myself lean into him.

"Are you enjoying the game, honey?" He murmurs into my ear before kissing the side of my neck softly. I whine in response and before I can even get my bearings, he shoves me down onto the vibrator. I'm not prepared this time and I lose what little air I have in a scream. He doesn't seem to care as he pushes my body down onto the vibrator, keeping me from coming up for air. I'm writhing, the vibrator pushing me toward another orgasm as I gasp uselessly.

He's too strong for me and I can't do anything but accept the overwhelming pleasure and lack of oxygen. The lightheadedness makes my head spin when my body clenches as I cum. My cunt flutters around nothing and my clit burns with overstimulation. He doesn't let up, forcing me to ride out this orgasm as another builds quickly. I don't even know if it's a separate orgasm or a continuation of the earlier one when my pussy gushes again and squirts all over the bench. I'm shaking as my vision goes white and the overwhelming pleasure and lack of oxygen breaks me. I feel myself fade out of consciousness as my body goes limp under his hands.

I wake up to my body burning from soreness. I'm cradled in his arms in bed and he smiles at me when he sees I'm awake. His lips meet mine and I press myself closer against him, ignoring my groaning muscles. "Did you like our game, honey?" He whispers to me. "I loved it."

[goldsbitch]

Open your eyes

Everyone is self-conscious about their body sometimes. For Y/N's it's always been her small boobs, living in the belief that this would make her unattractive. Can her best friend help out?

warning: light smut, nipple play, blindfold

this one is for the flat chested girlies out there

If only teenagers knew how all of their peers are just as insecure as they are. Might have saved a lot of trouble, sleepless nights and maybe even stop everyone from overthinking and living more of a "just finally kiss me" life.

//

It was a sunny summer afternoon, as per usual, these two late teens, would spend it in a room with all windows covered up, eyes glued to the screen and hands gripping gaming consoles. They grew up as close friends, in fact he was the only one she ever potentially felt comfortable enough to admit her insecurities.

"Still don't get it why you said no," he noted, once again, to the situation where one of his racing friends asked for her number and she declined without providing a reason.

She ignored him the first time he'd address it, hoping he'd just let it go. It was frustrating how much invested he was in that. With a big sigh, she replied the same as she did before. "We are just not the right fit."

Lando, a teenage guy with a massive crush he had yet to decipher, was not satisfied with that answer.

"Don't get it," he said nonchalantly as he blew her head off in the game they were playing.

"Fine!" she responded and nearly threw away her console. She locked eyes with him, still not sure if she wanted to share her deepest insecurity.

He knew her, in the light reflected from her screen he could see on her face that the mood in the room has changed drastically. No more casual fun and games.

"Spill it," he dared, perhaps realizing for the first time why he craved her presence so much. "Was this it?"

She took a deep breath, trying to somehow ignore Lando's intense stare. She would always closed her eyes when something "scary" was in front of her. With her eyes shut, she finally spoke. "It's, um...You know," she said, vaguely pointing around her chest. Poor Lando was so caught of guard he forgot to breathe for a moment. "What?" he said, confused as ever.

Another annoyed sigh. "Don't make me say it, Norris."

"Well, you're really bad at pantomima thing, so I'm afraid you'll have to," he said, keen on not letting this go, his mind trying to ignore his inner disappointment.

"Fine. But promise we will never address this again."

"Promise."

"He just, he seems like the kind of guy who would want a more developed girl..?" she said, still not sure how to communicate it.

"As in all the braincells? I see your point now," he couldn't help himself from teasing her. Ever.

"Dickhead. My boobs," he almost bursted, once again gesturing to her chest. "They are so small. Why would someone like him find that attractive?"

Now, he was truly taken of guard, no idea how to respond, because he could hardly understand. It made the wheels in his head spin. Only at that moment realizing he'd do anything to see her small boobs one day. Y/N mistook his surprised silence as a confirmation of her own insecurities.

//

Once his brain processed the newly found information, Lando understood, as best as he could, where Y/N's insecurity regarding her boobs came from. While he'd never admit it, he often wondered whether he himself was "developed" enough. He had always been smaller than guys his age, something that is hard to hide. Same with breasts, unless you really wanna fake it, you can just tell from the outside.

Ever since that summer afternoon, he started to notice things he did not before. How could he not hear the subtle comments she made so often?

He was hanging out in her room, the last evening before he parted to several races. They were suppose to meet some friends later, so he stopped by, expecting her to be ready, while she was busy trying on a seventh top and still not liking it.

"This one has just too low of a v-neck," she whispered, perhaps more to herself, but ultimately, he did hear her. It's been weeks since the first and last time they spoke about it, Lando managed to pass many comments she made about herself.

But, fuck it this time. It was bothering him endlessly that she was insecure like that.

"That's it, Y/N. You know that the size of the boobs does not matter, right? Guys don't care about that," he stood behind her, locking eyes with her through the mirror she was standing in front of.

She froze, staying silent.

He continued. "Tell me, did a guy ever complain when you slept together?" They would usually share stories of their "achievements" in the past, so he was aware that she was sexually active. It was just that recently, that thought became sort of uncomfortable. Other guys touching her.

She snapped back. "Well, they never complained, but the also never even looked at them, so how could they know!"

"What does that mean?" he asked, once again confused.

She wished her mouth would wait for her brain to approve sometimes. Especially with Lando. There goes nothing. "'I've always kept a shirt on."

Baffled Lando wondered how could those other guys allow it. "So you've never shown your tits to a guy?" he said, almost astonished.

"No...It's not my asset and I know it. My, um...my ass is pretty good?" she defended and he had to try so hard not to picture her, on all knees, spine bending and her ass perked up towards him.

He swallowed, barely believing the words he was about to hear coming from his mouth. "Then show them to me."

Her eyes went wide. "Lando!" They had a close friendship, but not the kind where walk around naked in front of each other.

He held his arms up in defense. "No, I mean...hey, you know me. You have to show them to a guy one day anyway. And I promise I'll tell you the truth. No bullshit." He knew he crossed a line. Which was why he almost did not believe her next word.

"Ok."

To be fair, it did make some sense. If you really look for it. But while he was crushing on her without realizing, she had been crushing on him for months, fully aware of it. There was a tingling in her stomach when he made this suggestion. Unfamiliar, exciting tension. As if she wanted him to stare at her tits, no matter how insecure she felt about them.

"But I can't watch you," she added, turning around to face him. "I'd be too embarassed."

"So close your eyes?" he noted the obvious.

"No, you gotta tie my eyes," she said, making his cock twitch in his pants.

//

It was hard for Lando to wrap around his head what exactly was happening. As he was tieing up a band around Y/N eyes, she accidentally touched his hands when she was checking it.

"It is too tight?" he asked softly, waiting for her to deny it.

"All good."

He stepped away and turned her around so that she would stand face-to-face with him.

"Um, whenever you're ready, I guess," he announced. Part of him could not believe what was happening, another part of his was scared she's back out and another was terrified of himself. And how much he craved to see her.

She took a deep breath and tried to block all her thoughts. And boy, were there many. The strangest one was the excitement.

With one swift move she took her shirt off. Lando's pupils were wide and he probably didn't blink for minutes now. She bit her lower lip and turned around to face him. He had seen her in a bikini before, why was this so much better. She put her hands back and finally took her bra off.

He should have never suggested it. He knew he'd not forget the sight of her small, perky boobs with perfect nipples anytime soon. It was better when he did not know. He stared in silence, while she stood there, blindfolded, nervously rubbing her fingers.

"Gosh, say something, please," she pleaded impatiently.

"Um...No, um," he said, getting his voice stuck for a moment.

"Oh shit, it's bad, right?" she asked, while her heart sank in.

"No!," he immediately reacted, somewhat coming back to Earth. "They are...nice," he said, trying to downplay his own excitement. "Small, but nice. Firm...I guess."

She sighed. "Ok..."

He shifted himself, gaining more presence again. He was aware that what he said would affect her deeply, so his plan was to fix his initial reaction, not to make her wonder. "Seriously. If a girl I was on a date with had your boobs, I'd be more than happy. Trust me."

She relaxed a bit and instinctively went to somewhat cover herself up again with her hands. "That's good to know. Thank you."

He wanted more. To see more. His hormones acted before he did, shooting the boldest test of their friendship.

"There is one thing my sister mentioned few times..." he said before he managed to stop himself. "Apparently...if you massage them, it helps the blood flow and helps them grow," he stated, almost ashamed of himself for making things up like that. It was wrong. He should have just tell her upfront just how much he wants ti touch her.

She knew well enough that was some bullshit. But it was a chance. To know what if feels like when a guy like Lando touches you.

"Um, this might sound weird, but, um, can you show me?" she asked, blinfold giving her the courage she normally lacked.

He could not believe he had standing in front of him, bare-chested, blindfolded and oh so innocent. This sight was awakening parts of him he did not know existed. At that point, he was hard as a rock.

"Yeah, I guess I could do that. But, you should probably lie down," he suggested and took her hand in his, leading her slowly to her bed. She could already feel the fire of his touch when he touched her shoulder. Lando shamelessly watched her nipples harden once he did. The blindfold was a miracle.

He laid her down on her back and popped himself up on his elbows on her left side. Now that they were on the bed, he started to feel more at ease and all of it felt less wrong. She couldn't see him, but his warmth radiated on her naked chest and his intoxicating cologne hit her nose once he put her down.

What she couldn't see was the way he smiled softly at the sights in front of him, taking his time to create as much imagery in his memory as possible. She shivered with cold.

"You should start, I'm getting cold," she said impatiently.

"Anything you want, baby" he replied absentmindedly, not noticing the way he addressed her. The word would ring in her ears for days on. Lando completely forgot what game he was suppose to play. His brain left the conversation a while ago and he was fully focused on the picture in front if him. He had lying down and waiting for his touch.

He started with her left nipple, lightly, feathery, almost non existent touch. His eyes were flashing between watching her chest rise up and down and her face. She bit her lower lip, as if she was trying to hide the way it affected her. He couldn't help but smile and lick his lips. He began tracing little figured of eight on the top of her nipple and when he was sure he got her sensitive enough, he pinched her for the first time. A soft, surprised sigh escaped her mouth. He did not have think about his actions at all, it was all so natural and easy. He pinched her nipple once again, harder this time, before he moved onto cupping her breast and giving it a squeeze, while watching her attentively. She pulled her head back a bit and he knew he had her. Afraid to speak, he continued to squeeze her and then traced her up and down, making sure not to miss her nipple anytime he did.

"The other one," she whispered so quietly he nearly missed it. But he didn't. With a smirk, he kept his hand on her left nipple, and reached over to her right breast. All of the adrenaline hitting up, he leaned over and when his mouth was almost touching her, then carefully licked her nipple. He watched her, half expecting her to freak out and send him away. To his satisfaction, she flinched in a way he never saw he before. There was something sensual, primal about the way air exited her mouth. Still blindfolded, she had no idea his eyes were glued on her face. If they weren't, he'd probably miss out on her soft "More...". He started kissing and gently biting the rest of her boobs, painting pictures with red bruises. She arched up a bit, as if her body was trying to get closer to him. First moan escaped her lips like a shy whisper. The rest that followed were unfiltered, mindless proof that she was fully in the moment. He got more and more excited, his cock hard as a rock, begging to get released. But he was afraid anything more would cause her to back off. So he continued with this actions, switching up between her nipples, breasts and sometimes roamed over to the neck. To get carried away was the easiest thing ever. As he tasted her skin, he got intoxicated. She surprised him when her hands reached out to his own body, done playing the passenger and joining on action. First she ran her fingers through his hair, pushing him more to her chest and then her soft fingers reached over to his shirt, movement suggesting to pull it off. This sort of woke him up back again. He pulled his shirt off and watched her smile when she noticed his bare chest.

"Now we're even," she commented and with no shame touched all around his muscles. A small alarm was going off in Lando's head. He was enjoying this a little too much. The realization that the line that got crossed was out of sight at that point hit him. So he chose to try and get even further. He leaned over to her face and licked the line of neck, stopping right at her ears. Then he bit her earlobe before wetting it with his tongue and blowing lightly on it. The shivers again. He could watch that all day. She melted into his embrace, arching towards him once again. Lando placed slow kisses on her cheek, one by one, until he got so close to her lips he could feel her breath mixing with his own. He hovered, prolonging this moment, the last seconds before it inevitably all fell down. Her chest was rising up and down rapidly. "Do it," she whispered, their lips almost touching accidentally. He waited for few moments, biting his own lip while wishing it was hers. "Not like this," he said, catching her off guard. Before she had a chance to respond, he reached over to her blindfold and removed it. Their eyes met for what felt like the first time. He saw high, excitement and a hint of fear, as she adjusted to the light and to the sight of him being so close. Reality check.

"Can I kiss you now?" he pleaded softly, staring at her, desperate for her answer.

It was all very different and very much real when she could see him. She gulped before taking the leap, falling into the trap that were his incredibly blueish green eyes.

"Yes."

[aurumalatus]

𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐞 [𝟓]

pairing. kinich x fem!reader

word count. 3.1k

genre/warnings. childhood friends to lovers, slow burn, fluff and angst, drabble collection, reader is mentioned to be wearing a dress, descriptions of blood and injury

summary.

in which kinich learns the value of all things: lives, friendship, and, of course, you. or, in which kinich realizes that you are the only priceless thing in this world.

author's note. the slow burn is burning... kinich is a little slow to the punch though LOL. this chapter talks about turnfire night, i took a lot of ~artistic liberty~ with the banquet and such so don't hate on me pls. there's a bit of angst in the next few chapters, i'm sorry HAHAHA. pls lmk what you guys think, it's very motivating! i hope you enjoy <3 reblogs/interaction highly appreciated!

↢ 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 | 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 ↣

𝗦𝗜𝗟𝗘𝗡𝗖𝗘 𝗜𝗡 𝗧𝗛𝗜𝗦 𝗥𝗢𝗢𝗠 (𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗗𝗘𝗔𝗧𝗛 𝗢𝗙 𝗠𝗘)

At some point, the flowers start to speak your name.

Kinich isn’t sure when the idea took root in his mind—it had been slow for sure, a snail crawling over a branch. Living together makes you a perpetual presence in his life, a certainty like the rise of the sun and the glint of the stars. He finds comfort in that knowledge, but rarely thinks on it more than that.

The day he realizes it, the sun is a bright yolk in the sky, honey-yellow and shining dutifully upon his back. A layer of sweat plasters itself to his forehead, and he scrubs it away with his wrist, panting. For as many years as he’s been a farmer, the work hardly gets easier; it still leaves him sore and aching every day.

Across the field, the front door of your home swings open—it’s you that peeks out, waving. Kinich nods back in reply, gathering the vegetables in his basket and jogging back over to you. He frowns when he notices a dark spot on one of his carrots, vaguely noting that he should toss that one out later.

“I ran you a bath,” you offer, leaning halfway out the doorway. Kinich extends a half-smile in gratitude.

“Thanks,” he replies, holding the harvest out to you. You take the basket with a small ‘thank you’, placing it down on your feet. Usually, you would take the vegetables inside right away to wash and cut them, but today, you’re lingering—there’s something on your mind.

But Kinich is nothing if not patient, so he merely waits, arching a brow.

“It’s Turnfire Night,” you finally admit, hands clasped behind your back. “Elder Leik invited us to the banquet, if you’re keen on going.”

Surprised, Kinich glances over his crops. He’s just about done here for the day, and he doesn’t have anything on the to-do list for tonight anyway.

“Do you want to?”

You’re hesitating, likely out of shyness—he watches you rock back and forth on your heels.

“I think it’d be nice,” you reply, short. 

You’re trying not to force him, he realizes. You know how much he hates crowded things like that. And usually, you would be right, but he thinks back on the last time he’d visited the village. It’s been long enough, he decides, and one day wouldn’t kill him.

“Sure, we can go.”

Your disposition brightens instantly, nearly ascending with joy. 

“Really?” you squeak, hands drawing to your chest. He smiles and nods, shaking his head with amusement when you disappear back inside, cheering. You’re easy to please in a lot of ways.

Kinich takes you up on your offer of a warm bath, then prepares one for you as well. Gone are the days that the two of you washed up in the river—a nicer bathtub had been one of your earlier investments, and Kinich had grown to appreciate the blessings of a warm place to wash at the end of a long day. It does wonders for his aching muscles.

Over the years, Kinich’s house had slowly grown into a home, right under his nose. Your presence had been a driving force in that process.

While his hair dries, he’s in the kitchen organizing a few of the cupboards when you emerge from your bath, footsteps quietly padding against the floor. You call his name, voice thin and uncertain. When he turns, his heart squeezes.

You’re wearing a lovely dress, a forest green with golden accents—he briefly notes that it matches his eyes, then wonders if you had chosen that on purpose. The thought leaves his head foggy.

“What do you think?” you ask shyly, giving a small twirl. Kinich’s gaze follows the flow of your skirt, the liveliness of it. He’s never seen you dressed up like this in all his years of knowing you, and the sight makes something take root in his chest. “I bought it at the market a while ago, just in case.”

There’s a beat of silence, but it doesn’t sit for long.

“It looks nice,” is all that crawls from his throat, thick. The words sound awkward from his lips, he thinks harshly. A heated flush surges up his neck, curling around his ears and resting there. You practically glow at his response, clapping to yourself. 

“I got something for you too,” you sing, disappearing into the bedroom. Kinich waits patiently until you return, gesturing for him to close his eyes. He indulges you, and it’s a few seconds before something soft brushes at his forehead, pushing his bangs aside.

A bandana.

When his vision returns, you’re standing inches away from his face—his breath hitches at the proximity. Your gaze is searching as it meets his, your lip twitching at the edge. The excitement nearly pours off of you in waves. 

You’re staring.

Kinich’s fingers brush his own cheek, self-conscious. “What is it?”

You lean impossibly closer.

“Nothing,” you hum, happy as a clam. “I just think it makes your eyes look even prettier.” 

You’ve always told him how much you love his eyes, the starburst of jade and gold. You have a tendency to notice things about him that no one else does.

“Does it look nice?” he asks quietly, thumbing at the cloth. He would recognize a product of your weaving anywhere—you must’ve been working on this for a while now. He wonders when you found the time, or even how you managed to do it without him noticing.

You nod, a fond smile gracing your face. “You look really handsome.”

Kinich feels a touch of jealousy at the ease with which the words seem to fall from your lips. Sometimes, he wishes he could speak his mind the way you do. He doesn’t usually hold back in his words—most people he interacts with can attest to that—but when it comes to you, his tongue grows heavy in his mouth.

Still, the idea that you think he looks handsome is…nice.

“Thank you,” he breathes.

You turn and skip back into the bedroom, calling over your shoulder about how the two of you should leave soon. He watches you leave, the dress flowing like silk over your form. He swallows.

It’s really, really nice.

Later on, Kinich holds you close as the two of you grapple toward the village, mountains and trees racing past you. Your giggles are warm against his ear; you love traveling like this, the adrenaline that pulses through your veins. Winking dots of light are already visible in the distance, a rousing cheer reaching your ears—the festivities have already started.

He lands neatly on one of the wooden walkways, taking in the scenery. The village is decorated with bright streamers and vases of blooming flowers, crowds of people maneuvering around the party. You maintain your grip on Kinich’s hand, unwilling to lose him in the crowd.

Two taller figures emerge from the swathe of people, greeting you by name. 

“Have you two been taking care?” Elder Leik asks warmly, Chief Wayna smiling at his side. The elders are concerned for the two of you, Kinich knows; they’ve tried many times to convince you to move back to the village. Their efforts slowly ceased as the two of you grew older—you’ve always been steadfast in your independence.

You nod enthusiastically. “We’ve been doing really well! Everyone’s seeking out Kinich’s work.”

Your compliment makes him feel a bit embarrassed—he feels an urge to deny it, but the elders only laugh and congratulate him, ruffling at his hair. He does feel a bit satisfied that they recognize his strength.

“That’s great,” Chief Wayna replies, genuine. “Just remember you can always come to us if you ever need anything. But also make sure you enjoy the party!”

He leaves the two of you with a wink, fading into the crowd, and you take the opportunity to grasp at Kinich’s hand, pulling him along. You’re the most excited person there, truly in awe of everything.

Kinich indulges in some of the food, laughing at the gusto with which you scarf down your own—he chuckles as he wipes crumbs away from your cheeks. Everyone’s spirits are high; the music is loud and roaring, an electrifying song that Kinich can feel in his veins. You perk up at the sound.

“Kin, can we dance?” you beg, eyes bright and lips pouted. 

He glances around. Really, he doesn’t want to, especially not in front of all of these people. But the music is slowing, and Kinich can never say no to you, so he sighs, pulling you close and placing a cursory hand at your waist.

“Is this good?” he asks, a murmur. You hum in content, resting your head at his shoulder.

“It’s great.”

A permanent grin seems to have plastered itself over your lips. Kinich absently thinks that it makes you look so much more beautiful—a flower in bloom.

“You’re really happy today,” he comments.

Your eyes flutter shut, delighted.

“I’m happy you wanted to come with me. And I was happy that you liked my dress, and that you liked the headband I wove for you. I’m just happy.”

A deep yearning fills Kinich’s chest at the feather-softness of your voice—he feels an urge to hide you away. Somehow, he wants this side of you to only be for him.

“I did really like it,” he confirms. “The headband, and…everything else.”

He likes spending time with you, he likes your dress, and he likes the warmth that permeates his body when you hold him like this. Everything else seems to fade into nothingness.

For a while, the two of you talk about nothing and everything. It’s a truly peaceful existence. Kinich tries to remember if he’s ever been to a Turnfire Night like this before; the last time he’d attended, he’d likely been too young to even remember the event. You just have a way of replacing his darker memories with pleasant ones.

The beat of the music picks up again, and Kinich feels an instant chill when you lift your head from his shoulder. Still, he sways to the music with you, smiling when you start to sing along to the energetic song.

“You’re a good dancer,” you observe, in awe. Kinich shrugs, smoothly spinning you again.

“It’s not that hard.”

Dancing with you is actually fun, he realizes despite his initial hesitation. Your laughter fades with the passing wind, dissipating into the night, and he can’t help but stare at the way the torchlight glimmers against your skin.

The two of you celebrate until the music dies to silence, until people start to yawn and retire to bed. By this time, the sun is already peeking in the distance, barely a whisper of light reaching you. 

Kinich carries you home, soft snores echoing from your place on his back—he decides he won’t tease you about it later.

Instead, he promises himself that he’ll keep taking you to Turnfire Night every year after.

(Then, he promises himself that he’ll always protect your smile.)

/

By the time he cries for the first time, Kinich is fifteen.

He feels that he knows the way the world works now—those with strength, with value, survive. It’s not that he has any interest in being one of the rich ones with towering houses that line the cliffside. Really, all he needs to be satisfied is a comfortable life with you at the foot of the mountain. And his needs—things like clothes and food—come with Mora, so he makes Mora. It’s a simple existence.

He spends more time with you. Slowly but surely, he starts to bring you on jobs and hunts with him. You’re eager to learn about the work he does, and even more excited to help—your medical knowledge does tend to make things go faster. Still, he feels extra layers of anxiety whenever he knows you’re coming along, his grip drawing tighter around his sword.

It comes on a day like any other.

At first, it doesn’t seem like a particularly difficult job—it’s a run-of-the-mill request, to subdue a Saurian that’s been attacking travelers near the village. Even still, Kinich is as thorough as always in the days leading up to the job, and you let him take the lead. He’s strict about these things when you come along, and you know better than to distract him.

The day of, the two of you encounter the Saurian in a clearing adjacent to the road. It’s sick, you mention quietly, hidden in the foliage nearby—it’s foaming at the mouth, erratic in its movements. Kinich mumbles back his agreement.

It starts to peck at the poisoned berries he’d left for it, movements slowing. He counts down the minutes—at this point, it should be incapacitated enough for the kill.

It’s only when Kinich creeps up behind it, greatsword in hand, that he realizes he’d been wrong. The Saurian seems to switch at the last second, beady eyes burning as it poises to strike. Kinich barely blocks the attack with the flat of his blade, teeth gritted.

“Kinich!” you cry out, running to his side. The Saurian perks up at the sound, tense.

Kinich’s eyes widen. “Wait, don’t come—”

It’s too late. The Saurian’s claw catches you in the stomach as it whips around, sending you flying.

A sickening crack echoes when your back smacks against a rock—you crumple to the dirt, hunched over. A cold breath hisses between Kinich’s teeth as he screams your name.

The Saurian doesn’t last much longer than that, not that he really remembers any of it. He swings his sword, cutting and slicing, sounds of battle piercing the air. It’s only when he sprints to your side that he returns to his senses.

A harsh gash is ripped through your shirt and the skin beneath, a pool of crimson already gathering on your stomach. The sight brings bile crawling up his throat.

“Kin…”

Your voice is weak, and Kinich hushes you quickly, an urge to save your strength. A striking fear has his blood freezing in his veins—he remembers his father’s corpse. Terror hovers over his body, leaving him breathless. He intertwines his fingers with yours, pressing the back of your hand to his lips. 

“That hurt,” you mumble, a touch of humor in your tone even now. “I’m tired.”

Your eyelids are heavy, stare unfocused. 

“Don’t close your eyes!” he demands. He palms at your cheek lightly, willing you to stay awake. It’s unlike him, the desperation in his voice. “Didn’t you say you’d always be by my side?”

You chuckle, a line of blood dripping down your chin. Kinich thumbs it away.

“I said that when we were kids, silly.”

He swallows, throat bobbing. Your eyes follow the motion unconsciously.

“We’re still kids.” 

His voice cracks as he says it, like his words can’t bear the brunt of their meaning. Your heart pulses, a burst of adrenaline coursing through you at his rare show of emotion. It’s only a moment, because the pain returns milliseconds later and a groan escapes your chest. 

Quickly, Kinich pulls his headband off, sliding it between his teeth to hold while he pulls the flask of water from his belt. He sets about cleaning your wound, gentle, but the stress is evident in his expression. His hands are shaking; you can feel the tremble against your skin as he eases your shirt up.

“It’ll be okay,” he breathes. Even he is unsure if he’s speaking to you or himself. You nod weakly.

“It’ll be okay, Kin.” You cough, and something in Kinich’s chest snaps when a spray of blood splatters over the hem of his shirt. A spray of your blood. “Don’t worry, okay?”

He can’t even really hear you anymore. He’s staring at the crimson mist, wondering how this had even happened. He’d assumed he was strong enough—strong enough to do this job, strong enough to protect you—and he had been wrong. There must’ve been an error in his calculations, or maybe he hadn’t prepared enough. 

He fastens his headband around your wound, stemming the blood flow. It’s almost an out-of-body experience—he hardly even recognizes the hands as his.

He’d gotten too comfortable, and you had paid the price.

Those with strength survive, but that day brings a sobering realization—Kinich is far weaker than he thought.

A cold tear slides down his cheek as he carries you home. 

You’re sniffling in pain at each step, the movement irritating your wound, and Kinich feels truly helpless. All he can do is whisper promises and apologies, that he’s sorry it happened and that he promises everything will be okay. It almost feels worse that you don’t seem to blame him at all—you’re apologizing too, telling him you’re sorry for being a burden on his job.

“You’re never a burden,” he spits. It comes out harsher than intended, so he sighs, softening. “You could never be a burden to me.”

You don’t reply.

A thick lump lodges itself in his throat as he feels your blood soak through the back of his shirt. It all almost feels unreal—he feels like he could return home to your warmth and smile and everything would be okay. You have a way of making everything okay.

“We’re almost there, okay?” he murmurs. You’re sweating from the pain, sticky against his skin. “Just stay with me.”

The house feels unnaturally cold when he kicks the door open. 

By the time he has your wound properly wrapped, the sun is gone, a distant memory. He sets you down in bed, pulling the blanket up to your chin—you’re already asleep, but your expression is unpleasant, tortured. You must be in pain, even in your dreams.

The thought makes him sick.

With a sigh, he stumbles out of the bedroom, collapsing onto the couch. His hands are still shaking from overuse and exhaustion. He’s not used to the tedious movements anymore like you are—you’re always the one patching him up these days.

A vase sits on the table. It’s full of Saurian Claw Succulents—you’d planted them yourself, cheery at the prospect of decorating the house a bit more. Kinich plucks one of the flowers from the vase by the thin stem, vacantly inspecting each petal.

He wonders what he has to change.

Those with strength survive. Kinich wants to survive. He wants to survive and live his days out with you.

But he’s not strong enough. If you can’t smile at his side, what good is he at all?

Your labored breathing is audible from the other room, the sound grating against his ears. If he had a Vision, or some other kind of power, things might’ve been different. If he had just been stronger—

He thinks back on his younger self, on his innocence, on his weakness. He’d discarded that side of himself long ago in favor of something more powerful, in favor of someone who could protect and take care of you.

There’s no turning back now, he thinks.

The stem snaps under his fingers, under the weight of it all, previous gentleness gone.

[felassan]

David Gaider on Dorian, under a cut for length:

"Now this is a fun one. It's no big secret I have a lot of feelings about Dorian, not least of which because he was my first (and only) gay male companion. There's a lot more to him than that, of course (as there should be), and it was quite a trip. So let's go! Now, DAI is a story all its own, but I'm sticking to the characters. In this case, back at the beginning, the writers were going to try something new: we were going to let the artists take a more active role in the companion creation process. Why? Because not doing so had caused a lot of problems. See, here's the thing: writers and artists speak two different languages. When talking about characters, we talk about their story. Who they are. What they want. We'd write up these briefs, huge and full of information... but it was never the information the artists needed. They wanted visual cues. I don't mean describing their appearance. Sure, we'd usually provide that, especially if there was a story case to be made, but often the artists vetoed us on appearance stuff anyhow so meh. No, I mean they looked for visual language while we tended to only talk about who the characters *were*. What would happen is they'd hone in on something visual in our write-up not intended to be a focus. The first write-up for Anders in DA2, for instance, mentioned he was "haggard" after his journey... and the first concept we got was this pale, shriveled man. "What... is this?" "YOU SAID HAGGARD!" 😅"

"That was the other trick: sometimes when we DID try to be more descriptive, we had to be extra cautious because the words could be interpreted very differently. You encounter this recording VO, too. A VO note says "hysterical" and you *meant* "really upset" but the actor read "scream like a banshee" Thus this caused problems, like I said. The artists would struggle, sometimes conjuring details just to give the character *something* but which would change the character... and, to us, the character was created. Done. We were already invested, probably already writing them. Something had to give. So this time we wrote a bunch of character briefs - but short. One paragraph. We stuck to vibes and the *emotions* we wanted the concepts to evoke. And we didn't name them. They got titles like "Slick Con Man" or "Ice Queen", so we wouldn't get too attached. Then we handed these off to the artists. And it worked nicely. The ones that just weren't inspiring we'd discard, no problem. The others had juice... and the artists felt free to play and offer lots of variations because we weren't set on anything yet. A lot of times, what they produced ended up inspiring US. It was a neat back-and-forth."

"This is what led to Dorian, in fact. He came from a short write-up entitled "Rock Star Mage" and it really boiled down to "I'm cool and I know I'm cool, so take that you cretins". And just like that, the first sketches (by Casper Konefal, I think? I bet I'm wrong) were all amazing. Instant fire. Me: "He looks kind of like... Freddie Mercury?" Him: "Is that bad?" Me: "NO ARE YOU KIDDING THIS IS AMAZING" Plus there was a monkey. Sadly, we had to lose the monkey. There were iterations to come, but this was really where Dorian was born: Tevinter mage, noble, savant, and too cool for school."

"When did he become gay? Not right away. Like I said elsewhere, we didn't talk romance and sexuality until after the concepts were more in place. But as we were brainstorming about why this hot shot mage left Tevinter, the idea DID come up that maybe it was because he was gay. Not directly, however. Homophobia isn't really a thing in Thedas, after all, so at first blush I didn't think that could work. "Rich kid gets kicked out of the house for being gay" wasn't a trope I wanted to explore. But, then again, magister families in Tevinter are *obsessed* with the appearance of perfection, so...? Any deviation from the "norm" is considered scandal-worthy. It said weakness. It said you couldn't control your house. Now... THAT had real promise. The writing pit discussed it a lot. So I think it's fair to say that the gay fairy was already circling Dorian even before we got to the romance talk. I think it's also fair to say that the rest of the team realized I low-key wanted to write him, because when everyone started calling dibs, who was left standing for me? (I pick last, remember.) I gleefully snatched him up and got to work... ...about six months later. I was very busy at the time. 😅 That late start meant I had to design and write VERY quickly. And I did. Somehow, though, this one... it came easily. "Catty gay man" isn't digging very deep, no surprise to anyone who knows me, and it had an extra layer of being so fun because Dorian was confident. He sparred verbally. I loved it."

"There was more to it, however. The conflict between Dorian and his father... ugh, how do I say this? Let's be clear: Dorian's story is not MY story, but it's also not far off. I wrote the entire confrontation scene in one go. After I was done, I probably cried harder than I ever have in my life. 🫠 I was unsure whether it was any good, however. I just didn't feel objective. I passed it over to Cori May - my friend but also Dorian's editor - and asked her to please tell me and be honest. She read it. She walked into my office after, tears streaming down her face, and just nodded. "It's good." Here's the thing. Not everyone is going to agree with this, but: I don't think a writer NEEDS to be a minority in order to write a minority. Sometimes those characters should simply exist, and we want them to. But if that character's story is ABOUT their experience as a minority? That's different. Dorian's story didn't need to revolve around his sexuality - and, honestly, it only did so as a tangent to his family issue, but they're so bound together it's probably irrelevant to split them - but my writing him meant it could be. It allowed me to SAY something. That felt good. It felt right. Ramon Tikaram came on board after a lengthy casting process (so many British Indian accents, oh god). I sat in on a few recording sessions... the confrontation scene, though? Ramon: *says line* Me: (curled up on a nearby sofa in fetal position) *shaky thumbs up* Caroline: "Yep. Great work, Ramon!""

"Dorian's sexuality isn't all he's about, but that's certainly how some viewed it. When the character was announced in 2014, his being gay was mentioned as the last of a number of points, and the instant response from some gamers was to act as if we'd called a press conference just to say THAT. 🙄 It was annoying. Still is. Overall, however, the reaction to Dorian was very positive. The number of straight men who said they romanced him still pleases me. The number of fans who privately contacted me who'd been through conversion therapy, some who said Dorian helped them survive? Well. Gosh. 😭 I did write him for Trespasser - though I hear that a late scope cut meant every conversation had been chopped by 1/3rd or more, and that meant a lot of nuance lost. Which is sad, if true, because it sounds like the result of that left some Dorian romancers a bit cold. Such is how game dev rolls. 😔 If you need more proof of how it was hard for me to let go of him, a short story I wrote after Trespasser came out where Dorian has a bit of closure with his dead father: medium.com/@davidgaider... So yeah. He'll always be my boi. And I'll always be thankful Bio gave me this opportunity. ❤️"

[source thread]

User: "I'm not going to lie, it's hard to take my mind off Dorian almost having a monkey." David Gaider: "If by “almost” you mean there was a picture of a monkey that the concept artist put there as a whim, and which would almost certainly have taken more cinematics and modeling time to put in than we could ever afford… then yes. 😉" [source]

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Conspiratorialism as a material phenomenon

I'll be in TUCSON, AZ from November 8-10: I'm the GUEST OF HONOR at the TUSCON SCIENCE FICTION CONVENTION.

I think it behooves us to be a little skeptical of stories about AI driving people to believe wrong things and commit ugly actions. Not that I like the AI slop that is filling up our social media, but when we look at the ways that AI is harming us, slop is pretty low on the list.

The real AI harms come from the actual things that AI companies sell AI to do. There's the AI gun-detector gadgets that the credulous Mayor Eric Adams put in NYC subways, which led to 2,749 invasive searches and turned up zero guns:

https://www.cbsnews.com/newyork/news/nycs-subway-weapons-detector-pilot-program-ends/

Any time AI is used to predict crime – predictive policing, bail determinations, Child Protective Services red flags – they magnify the biases already present in these systems, and, even worse, they give this bias the veneer of scientific neutrality. This process is called "empiricism-washing," and you know you're experiencing it when you hear some variation on "it's just math, math can't be racist":

https://pluralistic.net/2020/06/23/cryptocidal-maniacs/#phrenology

When AI is used to replace customer service representatives, it systematically defrauds customers, while providing an "accountability sink" that allows the company to disclaim responsibility for the thefts:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/04/23/maximal-plausibility/#reverse-centaurs

When AI is used to perform high-velocity "decision support" that is supposed to inform a "human in the loop," it quickly overwhelms its human overseer, who takes on the role of "moral crumple zone," pressing the "OK" button as fast as they can. This is bad enough when the sacrificial victim is a human overseeing, say, proctoring software that accuses remote students of cheating on their tests:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/02/16/unauthorized-paper/#cheating-anticheat

But it's potentially lethal when the AI is a transcription engine that doctors have to use to feed notes to a data-hungry electronic health record system that is optimized to commit health insurance fraud by seeking out pretenses to "upcode" a patient's treatment. Those AIs are prone to inventing things the doctor never said, inserting them into the record that the doctor is supposed to review, but remember, the only reason the AI is there at all is that the doctor is being asked to do so much paperwork that they don't have time to treat their patients:

https://apnews.com/article/ai-artificial-intelligence-health-business-90020cdf5fa16c79ca2e5b6c4c9bbb14

My point is that "worrying about AI" is a zero-sum game. When we train our fire on the stuff that isn't important to the AI stock swindlers' business-plans (like creating AI slop), we should remember that the AI companies could halt all of that activity and not lose a dime in revenue. By contrast, when we focus on AI applications that do the most direct harm – policing, health, security, customer service – we also focus on the AI applications that make the most money and drive the most investment.

AI hasn't attracted hundreds of billions in investment capital because investors love AI slop. All the money pouring into the system – from investors, from customers, from easily gulled big-city mayors – is chasing things that AI is objectively very bad at and those things also cause much more harm than AI slop. If you want to be a good AI critic, you should devote the majority of your focus to these applications. Sure, they're not as visually arresting, but discrediting them is financially arresting, and that's what really matters.

All that said: AI slop is real, there is a lot of it, and just because it doesn't warrant priority over the stuff AI companies actually sell, it still has cultural significance and is worth considering.

AI slop has turned Facebook into an anaerobic lagoon of botshit, just the laziest, grossest engagement bait, much of it the product of rise-and-grind spammers who avidly consume get rich quick "courses" and then churn out a torrent of "shrimp Jesus" and fake chainsaw sculptures:

https://www.404media.co/email/1cdf7620-2e2f-4450-9cd9-e041f4f0c27f/

For poor engagement farmers in the global south chasing the fractional pennies that Facebook shells out for successful clickbait, the actual content of the slop is beside the point. These spammers aren't necessarily tuned into the psyche of the wealthy-world Facebook users who represent Meta's top monetization subjects. They're just trying everything and doubling down on anything that moves the needle, A/B splitting their way into weird, hyper-optimized, grotesque crap:

https://www.404media.co/facebook-is-being-overrun-with-stolen-ai-generated-images-that-people-think-are-real/

In other words, Facebook's AI spammers are laying out a banquet of arbitrary possibilities, like the letters on a Ouija board, and the Facebook users' clicks and engagement are a collective ideomotor response, moving the algorithm's planchette to the options that tug hardest at our collective delights (or, more often, disgusts).

So, rather than thinking of AI spammers as creating the ideological and aesthetic trends that drive millions of confused Facebook users into condemning, praising, and arguing about surreal botshit, it's more true to say that spammers are discovering these trends within their subjects' collective yearnings and terrors, and then refining them by exploring endlessly ramified variations in search of unsuspected niches.

(If you know anything about AI, this may remind you of something: a Generative Adversarial Network, in which one bot creates variations on a theme, and another bot ranks how closely the variations approach some ideal. In this case, the spammers are the generators and the Facebook users they evince reactions from are the discriminators)

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Generative_adversarial_network

I got to thinking about this today while reading User Mag, Taylor Lorenz's superb newsletter, and her reporting on a new AI slop trend, "My neighbor’s ridiculous reason for egging my car":

https://www.usermag.co/p/my-neighbors-ridiculous-reason-for

The "egging my car" slop consists of endless variations on a story in which the poster (generally a figure of sympathy, canonically a single mother of newborn twins) complains that her awful neighbor threw dozens of eggs at her car to punish her for parking in a way that blocked his elaborate Hallowe'en display. The text is accompanied by an AI-generated image showing a modest family car that has been absolutely plastered with broken eggs, dozens upon dozens of them.

According to Lorenz, variations on this slop are topping very large Facebook discussion forums totalling millions of users, like "Movie Character…,USA Story, Volleyball Women, Top Trends, Love Style, and God Bless." These posts link to SEO sites laden with programmatic advertising.

The funnel goes:

i. Create outrage and hence broad reach;

ii, A small percentage of those who see the post will click through to the SEO site;

iii. A small fraction of those users will click a low-quality ad;

iv. The ad will pay homeopathic sub-pennies to the spammer.

The revenue per user on this kind of scam is next to nothing, so it only works if it can get very broad reach, which is why the spam is so designed for engagement maximization. The more discussion a post generates, the more users Facebook recommends it to.

These are very effective engagement bait. Almost all AI slop gets some free engagement in the form of arguments between users who don't know they're commenting an AI scam and people hectoring them for falling for the scam. This is like the free square in the middle of a bingo card.

Beyond that, there's multivalent outrage: some users are furious about food wastage; others about the poor, victimized "mother" (some users are furious about both). Not only do users get to voice their fury at both of these imaginary sins, they can also argue with one another about whether, say, food wastage even matters when compared to the petty-minded aggression of the "perpetrator." These discussions also offer lots of opportunity for violent fantasies about the bad guy getting a comeuppance, offers to travel to the imaginary AI-generated suburb to dole out a beating, etc. All in all, the spammers behind this tedious fiction have really figured out how to rope in all kinds of users' attention.

Of course, the spammers don't get much from this. There isn't such a thing as an "attention economy." You can't use attention as a unit of account, a medium of exchange or a store of value. Attention – like everything else that you can't build an economy upon, such as cryptocurrency – must be converted to money before it has economic significance. Hence that tooth-achingly trite high-tech neologism, "monetization."

The monetization of attention is very poor, but AI is heavily subsidized or even free (for now), so the largest venture capital and private equity funds in the world are spending billions in public pension money and rich peoples' savings into CO2 plumes, GPUs, and botshit so that a bunch of hustle-culture weirdos in the Pacific Rim can make a few dollars by tricking people into clicking through engagement bait slop – twice.

The slop isn't the point of this, but the slop does have the useful function of making the collective ideomotor response visible and thus providing a peek into our hopes and fears. What does the "egging my car" slop say about the things that we're thinking about?

Lorenz cites Jamie Cohen, a media scholar at CUNY Queens, who points out that subtext of this slop is "fear and distrust in people about their neighbors." Cohen predicts that "the next trend, is going to be stranger and more violent.”

This feels right to me. The corollary of mistrusting your neighbors, of course, is trusting only yourself and your family. Or, as Margaret Thatcher liked to say, "There is no such thing as society. There are individual men and women and there are families."

We are living in the tail end of a 40 year experiment in structuring our world as though "there is no such thing as society." We've gutted our welfare net, shut down or privatized public services, all but abolished solidaristic institutions like unions.

This isn't mere aesthetics: an atomized society is far more hospitable to extreme wealth inequality than one in which we are all in it together. When your power comes from being a "wise consumer" who "votes with your wallet," then all you can do about the climate emergency is buy a different kind of car – you can't build the public transit system that will make cars obsolete.

When you "vote with your wallet" all you can do about animal cruelty and habitat loss is eat less meat. When you "vote with your wallet" all you can do about high drug prices is "shop around for a bargain." When you vote with your wallet, all you can do when your bank forecloses on your home is "choose your next lender more carefully."

Most importantly, when you vote with your wallet, you cast a ballot in an election that the people with the thickest wallets always win. No wonder those people have spent so long teaching us that we can't trust our neighbors, that there is no such thing as society, that we can't have nice things. That there is no alternative.

The commercial surveillance industry really wants you to believe that they're good at convincing people of things, because that's a good way to sell advertising. But claims of mind-control are pretty goddamned improbable – everyone who ever claimed to have managed the trick was lying, from Rasputin to MK-ULTRA:

https://pluralistic.net/HowToDestroySurveillanceCapitalism

Rather than seeing these platforms as convincing people of things, we should understand them as discovering and reinforcing the ideology that people have been driven to by material conditions. Platforms like Facebook show us to one another, let us form groups that can imperfectly fill in for the solidarity we're desperate for after 40 years of "no such thing as society."

The most interesting thing about "egging my car" slop is that it reveals that so many of us are convinced of two contradictory things: first, that everyone else is a monster who will turn on you for the pettiest of reasons; and second, that we're all the kind of people who would stick up for the victims of those monsters.

Tor Books as just published two new, free LITTLE BROTHER stories: VIGILANT, about creepy surveillance in distance education; and SPILL, about oil pipelines and indigenous landback.

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

https://pluralistic.net/2024/10/29/hobbesian-slop/#cui-bono

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

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

[coucouatoi]

don't want to be alone | h.s.

Pairings: Harry Styles x Reader

Summary: Divorcing the biggest superstar on the planet is the hardest thing you've ever done. Almost as hard as marrying him was.

Warnings: Angst, couples therapy, a little bit of fluff, hopeful ending

A/N: I don't know why I'm feeling so full of angst... but, please enjoy!

Flashback are in italic and present day is normal text

Boxes are littered around the house. Some full and taped shut others still being stuffed with your items. It's a slow and torturous process, having to choose what to take, what to throw out and what things are a conversation waiting to happen "That's a wedding gift from my aunt" or "When have you ever used that?" or even better "I know it was a gift, but I paid for it so i'll keep it". It's like he knows exactly which buttons to press to get the fights started. Granted you might be doing the same thing... But it doesn't make him entitled to all the belongings you've ever shared.

You've managed to find all the picture albums, the ones you decided to make for sentimental value. The ones you gifted him in tender moments. The ones filled with so much love, so much hope and promises for a future together. The ones you're now highly considering throwing into a paper shredder and tossing into the nearest incinerator. The ones you won't be able to get rid of. The anniversary album you gave him on your one year, the wedding album, the honeymoon album, the many travel albums and, of course, your daughter's first album.

Little Anya, barely 9 months old just starting to babble her first words. Chubby legs working so hard to keep her standing and exploring. She can barely take 3 steps one after the other but she's a fighter. Your little girl that is now a cause for argument, no, fights. Custody battles. The true war between yourself and your husband, Harry Styles. Neither of you want to lose or call for a tie, it's not how either of you operate in conflict. That, most likely, is the reason for the downfall of your relationship.

Frustrated you put the albums back where you found them and you head to the kitchen.

Most kitchen items have been packed up, Harry had never really invested in worthwhile cutlery or electronics of any sort. You take some orange juice from the fridge and pour a glass for yourself. The fridge itself is barren, with only the essentials left... neither of you has gone to the groceries in weeks. Today is not going to be a good day.

From the rediscovery of your love-filled albums to the boxes you've spent most of the day doing, you still have one horrible thing to do.

Couples therapy, your first-ever session. You thought, well still think, that this is too far gone to save in therapy. There won't be anything new shared that you haven't already screamed in each other's faces and self-help talks aren't exactly going to do the trick. Anne, Harry's mother, insisted that your marriage doesn't only include two people anymore. Anya makes it worth trying, she is worthy of a stable home as she grows up. No matter how unstable having a superstar parent may be, divorced parents might just add to that an unruly amount. So, you've both agreed to try. Try your very best to reassemble your love no matter how shattered it has become. Love. Love hasn't manifested itself once since about your seventh month of pregnancy. Love has vanished from your husband's once warm and inviting eyes, it no longer lingers on his fingertips and doesn't even creep into the more tender moments you must share with your baby. Love feels like a complete joke to you now.

-

The waiting room is empty of other clients which is a blessing in disguise. This is the absolute last place you'd want to run into Harries. Even if the media has already been dragging you in the mud for "breaking their dear superstar's heart" and has been making all sorts of claims about you and your marriage. In the very beginning, Harry had spoken up about these articles and had gotten his team to shut some people up but he's been losing care for... well, you.

"Harry and Y/N?" you look up meeting the eyes of who you can only assume is your therapist. Without sparring your husband a glance you get up and follow her into her office. It's cosy and smells like vanilla. There's a yellow glow to the room, it bounces off her multiple frames and decorations. Very nonthreatening, immediately putting you a little more at ease. She gestures for you to take a seat on her velvet green couch and you sit down squeezing yourself onto the left armrest. Harry does the same to the right.

"Good afternoon to you both, I am Trinity Finch. Can I get either of you something to drink before I sit down?" She smiles politely as her eyes shift between both of you. You only shake your head as an answer not trusting your stomach at the moment.

"Water if it's not too much trouble, please" Harry's voice is strained, he had been at the studio all morning probably preparing a new album you aren't aware of.

Trinity nods and quickly grabs a water bottle from a small fridge she's got right behind her desk. Harry mumbles a thank you as she hands it to him. You don't realise that his hands are shaking as you're back to looking around the room. He takes a few big gulps before your therapist gets to sit in her chair.

"Today I would just like to start with a history lesson on your relationship. How it started, all important moments, how parenthood has changed your shared life and just how you two are as a couple" She starts getting things ready around her, notebook, pens, highlighters, some sticky notes and you swear that you spotted some bright childish stickers. Her long manicured nails tap against the glass of her desk a few times as the silence stretches. Neither of you taking the first step in this session. When she looks up again she doesn't look annoyed or surprised by the lack of an answer.

"Harry, how did you meet your wife?" Trinity asks him gently.

Harry seems caught by surprise to have been asked a question directly. He looks at you briefly before turning his eyes back to her.

"Um, we meet on the plane. For some reason, my private plane for that day was not available and they booked me on a regular flight. Premium ended up being full and I got an economy seat. I had the aisle and she had the middle we ended up bonding over our shared movie choice. Then I asked her out and um here we are?" He ends with a question. As if unsure if "here" is a good thing, it's definitely not but meeting has, unfortunately, brought you both here.

"And when was this?" she asks.

"April 2018" he answers quickly. She nods presumably writing it down.

"How was your relationship before marriage Y/N?" she looks at you now with kind eyes. They are big and dark. Staring right into your soul. It makes you slightly uncomfortable but at the same time you don't want her to look away she's your lifeline right now.

"It was very easy. I work remotely as a translator and an editor, so I've always been able to tag along on his travels and tours. He, um, he always insisted that he rather have me with him even if we couldn't see each other every single day. Just knowing I was near helped him..." you sigh. You don't want to shed tears this early into your session. You don't want Harry to see you cry any more than he already has over your lost relationship.

"I really loved following him around the globe" you add, looking down at your lap willing your wet eyes to dry.

"Any fighting? How did you deal with that?" Trinity is still talking to you maybe even sensing that you're about to cry. Is that what she wants from this?

"Well, yeah. I mean all couples fight, right? We fought over the same things all the time really. I wanted more affection I guess pressuring him to take some time away from the spotlight or he wanted me all to himself whenever it worked with him without thinking of my work. Our jobs were the main reason for fighting between us" Besides you, Harry scoffs before taking another sip of water. Your head turns to him

so quickly that a sharp pain forms in the back of your neck. Your posture immediately tightens, muscles locking and your breath gets heavier.

"What? You don't agree?" you question him in a much harsher tone than you were previously using. He meets your gaze and shrugs.

"I do but that's not all we fought over" he shrugs again not looking away. Is he trying to pick a fight right now? Here of all places?

"Then what? What am I missing?" you prepare yourself for the worst. Ready to feel like absolute shit at anything he might say.

"Your constant jealousy was a contender for the most appearances in our fights" his entire expression is accusatory but he does this thing with his posture. Gets all soft and somewhat blazé making you feel inferior and so incredibly small.

You want to storm out. Call Anne to apologise that it couldn't work out and immediately sign the divorce papers that are permanently placed right on your dining table.

Not wanting to fuel this energy taking over him right now you shrug as well before facing Trinity again. She's watching both of you like a hawk, processing the way you react to conflict with each other. Making mental notes as well as some physical ones all while hostility happens between her clients.

"We'll move on from this for now. Harry, how was the wedding? How did married life change your bond?" this seemingly calms his overgrown ego. His face is neutral again but there's a softness to it now, recalling the happy days.

"We had an Italy wedding. We, I love Italy. I flew everyone out, our families and friends, and then we stayed there for a month more for our honeymoon. The wedding itself was... amazing. We kept it small. Intimate. With my life it's always been hard to have that so, it was important to us" he sounds blissful towards the last part. Probably back there now in his mind. Ah, the good old days as they say.

"I don't think married life changed us much. We were living together before that and we'd been planning it since we got together practically" he stops talking again to take another sip of water. You look at the lady in front of you again and as she begins to open her mouth to probably question him more Harry starts talking again.

"I guess tension started about a year in. The media wasn't kind to her. They made up cheating rumours on both sides and manipulated things to make them seem like something else. Someone even showed up at our old house while I was out" he took a deep breath, cracking some of his knuckles at the same time, "We were always on edge around each other. Throwing these rumours at one another just to I don't know, get a reaction? Plus, we were stuck at home because of Covid and my tour was postponed. It was a real shit show" he laughs bitterly and you nod along to what he was saying. That was just a terrible time. For everyone.

"Then I got to go on tour, Y/N didn't follow along for all of it but she was there most of the beginning. It wasn't the same as before. There was this distance that just never got better. And then she got pregnant" he almost sounds exhausted. Maybe he is, you're not sure how much he's slept lately.

-

Shit. Fuck. This can't be happening now. Shit! The word "Pregnant" seems to be mocking you as you look down at it. Mocking the fact that you and Harry have not seriously spoken in two days and that you're flying back home tomorrow. Mockingly reminding you that this can only make things worse right now.

"Y/N, come on the car is waiting downstairs" your husband's voice is weak through the thick hotel bathroom door. He's performing in Toronto tonight. The second day, the last day before he flies to New York and you go back to London.

You walk out of the bathroom, straight past Harry, not wanting him to read your face and figure out that something is terribly wrong. You slip into your shoes for the night and take a deep breath, no scratch that, a huge breath. Willing your facial expression to cooperate before you turn to him and smile.

"Let's go superstar!" he smiles back and walks over to you. Grabbing your hand and bringing it up to his mouth so he can plant a kiss on the back of it.

"We just might have to cancel tonight if you look this good" his free hand wraps around you tightly glueing you to his body. You know he doesn't mean it but you pretend to consider it nonetheless.

"Mh what about all your adoring fans? Won't they be so utterly crushed?" you tease against his lips. He smiles wickedly before slowly nodding.

"I do have quite the engagement this evening... how about I make it up to you after?" he presses soft kisses to the sides of your face. Framing it.

"That's a pretty good offer, I just might have to tak-"

"HARRY STYLES GET YOUR ASS OUT OF YOUR HOTEL ROOM!!" Jeff's voice is full of annoyance as it cuts you off. Rude.

You laugh before getting pulled out of the room by your husband. The small plastic stick forgotten on the washroom counter for now.

You get a harsh reminder tho when you're back at the hotel after yet another amazing concert. You're laying on the bed completely stretched out and now only dressed in your underwear. Harry's currently using the washroom to try and get some of the remaining glitter off his face when he finds the secret you've kept all evening.

"Y/N, what's this?" his voice is so shaky that you barely even understood what he asked you. However, when you look up your brain catches up. He's in his boxers, left hand in his hair and right hand holding the test like it's made of glass as he looks at it as if it's going to explode. Fuck.

"No chance that you suddenly lost the ability to read?" you try and lighten the suddenly very heavy mood in the room. It fails.

"You're pregnant. How, I mean no I know how. Fuck, you're pregnant" he looks up at you panicked.

"We don't have to keep it" is the first thing out of your mouth. Probably as a panic response to his reaction. Not wanting this to turn into another fight.

"What?! Why wouldn't we, you don't want, I um" he takes a second. He's just breathing heavily while looking at you desperately. "You don't want to keep it?" he breathes out.

"You do?" is all you answer. You stand slowly, finding the clothes you just took off to put them back on. Whatever mood you were in is gone you're now filled with anxiety and a deep fear.

"You leave tomorrow... We won't see each other for what 3 months? In Mexico?" he hasn't moved an inch. Feet seemingly glued to the floor and limbs were frozen.

-

Pregnancy. One of the worst and best times of your life. Your gorgeous baby girl came out of all the pain you suffered. She gave a new meaning to the way you live, made you forget about all the physical pain you endured and...

"Why do you say it in that way? Like you still dread what the pregnancy brought" Trinity's voice almost startles you. You'd been so lost in your thoughts that you'd almost forgotten where you were.

"I don't! I love Anya" his voice is stern.

"What about your wife? What happened during the pregnancy?" she's digging. Wants to find the right buttons to push.

Harry stammers, but no answer seems to satisfy him. His hands are squeezed under his things, his right leg bouncing and his eyes avoiding either of you.

"We didn't plan her, I was right in the middle of my tour. We, um, we weren't doing very good and she was about to go home" he looks at you suddenly surprising you when he meets your eyes. You can't read him, can't understand what he's feeling. You haven't been able to read him in months.

"She- You, Y/N, she got really sick in February the seven-month mark. I was in Australia and I couldn't be there. It really strained us, we fought all the time over the phone and in person. I guess that's really when we went downhill" his jaw tenses when he looks away from you. Looks like he's not happy to have to have shared this with the room.

"Okay, thank you, Harry. I think now's a great time to take a breather. I'll meet both of you individually when we come back. So, see you both here in 20 minutes?" Trinity smiles at both of you and keeps smiling until you both walk out.

-

Harry doesn't come back. You wait 45 minutes in Trinity's office looking like an idiot. She dismisses you with a look of pity on her face before scheduling another appointment 5 days later, lots of work to do you assume. You rush out of the building humiliation creeping into every inch of your body. How could he do this on the first day? It was going fairly well, well you think so anyway... did he give up on your relationship right then and there?

As you make your way to your car you see him. Harry is pacing back and forth in front of his car as he seemingly argues on the phone. His free hand waves erratically in front of him, gesturing like mad for someone who can't even see him. So this is what he's been doing? Arguing over the phone while you sat in a therapist's office waiting to try and work on your ever-crumbling marriage. You scoff before turning away from him and to your car. But nothing seems to be on your side today as your husband hears you and immediately calls out to you.

"Y/N! Why are you leaving?" you hear him walk towards you, the clacking of his shoes getting closer to you but you ignore him and walk away faster.

You're completely focused on your black Subaru, the "You're so Golden" sticker catching your eye and making you more pissed off. Something that was put there because you loved the song, because of how beautiful your husband's voice is in the song but now all you want to do is rip it right off. So, that's what you do.

Your nails claw at the edges of it desperately. You don't want any reminders of Harry on your car, you don't want to think of him while putting the groceries away, while walking around the car after putting Anya in her car seat and you don't want to see it in your rearview mirror anymore. The top corner lifts as you're pulling at it giving you the perfect leverage to rip it right off. You throw it to the ground right before turning around to stare daggers into Harry's eyes.

"45 minutes, Harry. I sat there 45 minutes with our therapist looking at me like a beaten dog!" you hiss at him. He is now only about 2 or 3 feet away from you. His eyes are wide, in shock you guess, as he looks at the sticker. "What could you have possibly been doing for more than an hour that made you forget what we were here for?" you're sure you sound desperate right now. Your head is all over the place and your heart feels like it might explode out of your chest.

"An hour? I, no, that couldn't have been more than-"

"You can go back up and ask her if you want because I really really don't want to be around you right now" and now you're crying. Fuck. Why are you crying now? You need to leave.

While rummaging in your bag for your keys Harry grabs your arm. Well maybe not grabs, he just places his hand on you, resting it there delicately. If you weren't so aware of every single inch of your body right now you wouldn't have noticed. No matter how delicate the touch is supposed to be you flinch out of it aggressively.

"I'm, I'm so sorry Y/N. That was my mother, she, fuck" he sighs and runs a hand in his hair gripping it tightly. "She wants us to go up... she's rented a lake house or something I guess" his voice is so soft, shy even.

"Us? You mean you and Anya?" god you hope so.

"I'm so sorry" is all he answers.

-

Anne Twist is a very difficult woman to say no to. Actually, it's impossible to say no to her. In the many years you've known her, she's always been able to find a way to make you say yes. Always in a good way. She loves you, she has told you that countless times, and you love her but now that you're... the way you are with her son you don't know where you stand. Yet, she has still found a way to get you to agree to something you would have much rather not have gone to. You're in a small townhouse almost 4 hours away from your home in London with your mother-in-law, your daughter and your soon-to-be ex-husband. What has your life come to?

Anya is sitting in her high chair passionately eating banana slices as you watch her. She's already gobbled up the strawberries and pita bread slices she also had for her snack. She's such a good eater always so ready to try new things and taste whatever the adults around her eat. Especially the sweet treats her dad sneaks her.

"Do you want to go take a dip after huh? We should enjoy the water my love" you coo at her as she takes her final bite of food. She smiles at you like she understood what you asked and you chuckle wiping her chubby cheeks and hands. She'll be able to float around in the water for a little bit with you before you put her down for a nap. The steps of your morning are perfectly planned so that you can have your solo Zoom session with Trinity.

There is a small river behind the house you're staying in. The water goes up to just above your breast and it's the perfect warmth at this time of day. You've made your way down to it and are now setting up Anya's towel for when she'll be too tired to entertain you and ready for her mid-day snooze. She's currently lying right by you looking up at the sky with such curiosity, probably trying to figure out what the hell clouds are.

"You're so curious my love!" you shake her gently as you smile widely. "What do you see up there?" as you look up to join her sky-gazing you spot Harry making his way to the river as well. He's only got very short grey swimming trunks on meaning his entire chest, thighs, calves, and arms are out for the whole world to see. Maybe that's an exaggerated statement as you're the only one looking right now. You want to scold yourself for staring, you really really do but he's just so... so captivating and very enjoyable to look at no matter how much you resent him at the moment.

"Mind if I join you ladies?" his voice is more cheerful than when you heard it last. Must be because he's actually speaking to and looking at Anya.

However, when you don't answer his question he looks up at you. Expression now closed off again, how it's always been for the past few months. You smile politely and nod before turning your back to both of them so you can take your robe off. Your swimsuit isn't anything special; simple black one-piece that's high on the hips and low on your back. You think it looks pretty good on you but now you feel very aware of the amount of skin you're showing. You decide to just get in the water hoping its dark colour hides you. Hides away the skin your husband might be looking at.

"Looks like mummy is in a hurry, we should join her. What do you think sweetheart?" Harry picks your baby up and makes his way into the water. He holds her tightly to his chest as he climbs in, just in case he slips on the stones he uses as stairs. Once your daughter's chubby limbs meet the water her mouth forms into an adorable "O" shape. It's the second time Anya's been in the water now so she must still be unsure about this feeling. Harry turns her so that her front faces you and her back is against him. She smiles when she spots you reaching her arms out quickly which splashes some water around. She looks at you with a shocked expression and does it again with a giggle now.

"You little troublemaker! Trying to splash me!" you tease her sending some water her way. She answers with a sweet giggle and shakes her arms around as fast as she possibly can.

"Mh, my jokester gene is strong in her" Harry's voice is laced with pride. You playfully roll your eyes at him and hum affirmatively.

"And her love for singing too" you add remembering so many moments where she hums to any song playing. Her favourite thing to do is to harmonise with her father. His deep voice always gets her attention, always gets her to mumble and hum along with her own lyrics.

"Oh yes, she's the next big thing this one" he affirms kissing the top of her small head affectionately.

It's in moments like these that you tend to forget how bad it is between you. How many horrible things you've shouted at each other not caring how deep your words could cut. The accusations, the insults, the taunts and even the lies still weigh heavy on both of you. You like these softer moments, where you're reminded of how much love you both had for each other. Have? Had? You don't know anything about your feelings anymore, they are much too complicated to understand...

All three of you stay in the river for about an hour more before Anya starts yawning and fussing. When you exit the water you're quick to slip your robe back on still overly aware. Harry wraps the fluffy towel you had gotten ready around your baby. Her head rests in the crook of his neck, her eyelids already heavy as she blinks slowly. You all walk back to the house together silently. Might it be to keep the sleepy baby calm or to keep the peaceful aura around you and your husband, you don't know.

Harry insists that he will put the sleepy girl to bed and that you should take a shower first. After all, you have the first private sessions with your therapist. The mention of her does make the air in the townhouse tense again but Anne appears immediately to kiss Anya before she naps. You use that moment to sneak into your shared room with Harry. Luckily, it has two single beds so you don't have to share with him.

Signing deeply you rid yourself of the now damp robe you had on. Another blessing in disguise, this room has an en suite bathroom so you'll be able to jump right into the shower. Before that you do want to set up your laptop for the video call, you want to be as ready as you possibly can be. You grab your device from your backpack and make your way to the small desk in the corner of the room. There's a bunch of papers scattered around it, one glance at them and you immediately know what they are.

Lyrics. Drafts of songs and melodies written by your rockstar husband. You don't mean to read any of the words you really don't but as soon as you spot your name at the top of one of the pages you're doomed. You put your laptop down on Harry's bed which is right next to the desk and reach for that exact paper.

The words you read are full of longing, pain, sadness and fear. They mourn love, they are mourning your love. You pick up another sheet of paper, this one has no title but there are so many lines written. This one is reeks of self-hatred, of shame and guilt... it shakes the weak barriers you've built around your heart. All of the lyrics you read on different papers revolve around the same emotions. These are all about your relationship. About the death of it. About his desire to turn around. You don't realise you're crying until a tear falls onto the paper you hold. The ink bleeds into itself where it's been wet blurring the words slightly. You quickly wipe your face and put the papers down. You shouldn't be looking at these, you're invading his privacy.

"Thought you were showering" Harry's voice startles you out of the chair. You meet the floor with a loud thud. Your tear-filled eyes meet his sharp ones. Scrambling up to your feet you grab your laptop ready to explain, ready to apologise over and over again.

"At least tell me what you think" he sighs walking into the bedroom and shutting the door behind himself. This shocks you. What does he mean? He, he's not mad? Isn't disappointed that you invaded his creative space? Your mouth opens and closes a few times unsure what you should answer.

"I'm sorry" is all you're able to get out. Your brain is blank in absolute fear but tears keep falling from your eyes.

"I should be apologising... you, you weren't supposed to see those" he walks in your direction slowly, testing the waters of how close you'll let him get. He's closer than arm's reach when you flinch backwards slightly and he stops immediately.

"I was going to ask you for your permission before making any of those full songs but you know music is how I cope" he whispers now that he's so close to you. Silence takes over the room again, stretching out for too long. Your eyes somehow keep producing tears as you try and speak. Hopelessly searching for words to say.

"Do you really miss us? You miss me?" is what you come up with, your voice is so shaky that you're on the verge of sobbing uncontrollably.

This shocks Harry in place, seemingly not prepared for that kind of questioning from you. His mouth gapes and his eyes grow wide. This time you do see his hands start shaking. You're not entirely sure what this emotion is.

"Of course I do. Did you not think so?" while still whispering he reaches out to hold you but stops himself hands falling at his sides.

"Yo- Harry, you asked for the divorce. How was I supposed to know you miss me?" your voice breaks. You don't understand, why is this happening now, why is he saying these things?

-

"We should just get a divorce" Harry snaps at you as he fights back tears. Your expression immediately closes up, your body reacting before your thoughts and words do. Protecting you from what he just said, building walls around you and your heart as quickly as possible.

"Fine" you spit out as you turn away from him and walk straight out of your bedroom. If that's what he wants then so be it. You won't beg for anything now that he's made his decision.

-

"I know, okay? I know that I asked for it and that it's the reason why you don't talk to me anymore. Well, you do but not really" he sighs and sits down on his bed, damn swim trunks wetting the bed "We talk about Anya and when we're not we are yelling at each other... so when was I supposed to tell you that I missed you? That I regretted asking for the divorce..." he looks at you with a guilty expression, all his emotions are coming up at once.

"Why did you ask for it?" you ask him sitting back on the desk chair with your laptop still in your hands.

"I got in my head. You were saying we should take some time for ourselves maybe live apart... with everything that kept being said about us, I got so scared" he takes your laptop out of your grip and puts it down next to him.

"I thought you were going to fight me on it..." he adds as he grabs your hands tenderly. Like he's afraid you'll break.

You shake your head in disbelief not sure what to say. Your thoughts are all over the place, what should you make of this?

"It broke my heart" When did his face get so close to yours? You should really move away. You can't fall back into him, you can't let yourself do that. So you pull away from him roughly, your hands tugging out of his hold, face moving to the side, a sob making its way out of you as your back meets the chair-back.

When you meet Harry's eyes you can see the pain, the hurt, in them. They are brimming with tears that are so close to spilling out.

"Are we... are we too broken?" his voice has dropped to a whisper. He sounds so sad and scared.

"I'm worried" You take in a few breaths before you speak again, "What if we just end up hurting each other again? What if we can't go back?" you choke out the last few words. Tears spill endlessly out of your eyes and sobs rack your entire body.

It feels like you're running out of air and the little bits you get in are painful. Your eyes burn as you cry and your hands are shaking like crazy.

Harry might be answering or trying to communicate but nothing is making its way past your meltdown. What does make it through is the feeling of his arms around you. Him pulling you against his chest tightly, immediately rubbing your back as soothingly as he can. Your hands are grabbing his still bare skin desperately, wanting to anchor yourself in any way you can. Your face rests on his peck, right above his heart, the frantic beating bouncing around your head.

"Breathe, you have to breathe love" he speaks delicately in your ear, breaking through the barrier your body has put up.

"I'm- I'm, I can't... Harry I can't" your clawing at him almost trying to get under his skin, someplace you might be able to understand everything that's going through his mind.

He wiggles around a little before laying you both down as he keeps reassuring and encouraging you. He drags you on top of him your face now pressed up against the juncture of his neck. Your left-hand makes its way into his hair, pulling at it as softly as you can manage. Harry's hands run up and down your back, your arms, and your neck and he even pets your hair delicately. He's always known how to best calm you down... how to bring you back down to earth and out of the panic attacks you sometimes get when you're overwhelmed.

"I'm sorry. I'm so so sorry" he repeats that over and over with a pained desperation. Harry's scared shitless too. He doesn't know how things will go with your relationship. He can't guarantee that you won't end up actually wanting a divorce one day... But he can love you. He has and will keep loving you. He hopes it'll be enough to save your marriage. He'll work incredibly hard every single day to prove his love for you... if you let him back in he won't ever let you go. He'll leave it all up to you. Your little family is all he needs, he'll spend the rest of his life proving that to you if that's what it takes.

[thefusioncelestial]

Mix 8: The Rugged Pop Star

Anonymous asked:

Hello, Love your stories and I love the merge thing. Now, you see, I've got a huge crush on Charlie Puth and I was wondering if you could merge me with him? That would be awesome to be able to live that. I'm a pretty tall guy, kinda hairy on the chest, black hair and dark brown eyes. I wonder what I would look like after.

Can you help me? Your price will be mine!

Another successful show for the mega successful pop star:

Life is good, life is perfect, it would be.

Charlie found out about prowlers: celebrities born from jealous people forcibly assimilating the target of their ire & living the dream they worked so hard to obtain. He himself was almost a victim to this after a typical LA party. Some preppy kid wanted his fame for himself. Charlie knew that something had to be done. He needed a defense against this phenomenon.

With his money & connections, he able to find out how others are doing it. His heart sank. He would only need to do it once, but he would need to assimilate another. This would give him a natural defense against predation attempts on him, like a vaccine. But who? He would be taking away someone's right to live their life independently & of their own free will.

He heard of stories of celebrities losing it all, after choosing a member of their management team, it meant duties as a star in their field & the behind the scenes work load. He didn't want a super fan, the result could be extreme levels of narcissism, and that has ended the careers of many or destroyed their ability to form relationships.

"Here's your coffee sir," the intern chimed. He was tall, had black hair; lots of facial hair. His clothing choices hid his build, but he seemed a little skinnier than Charlie. Charlie had his choice. He would scope him out first.

The intern was a fan of his, but never confronted Charlie or tried to get an autograph. He was able to separate his own desires from his work. A strong work ethic. He didn't have any outwardly noticeable social media either, no mention that he works for a mega star. A strong work ethic, mature, and not using him for clout. Charlie could dig further and find a more perfect candidate, but he was shaken up. If it were not for the taser gun, someone else would be living his life, and Charlie would be stuck in them forever.

He called this intern to his dressing room. He didn't know what Charlie wanted, maybe to complain about the coffee, but he was happy nonetheless. After he came to the room, he was sat down by Charlie.

The intern was nervous at first, but Charlie explained the situation. He couldn't believe it, Charlie Puth wants me to be a part of him! The intern looked back at his life, university graduated, aside from his job as a part of Charlie Puth's crew, a new addition mind you, he had nothing remarkable going on. That is why he never blasted his job online: he wanted to keep this one. So he worked his hardest & kept his head down. And now he might be mixing his body & mind with his idol.

The intern agreed when Charlie was done. Charlie sighed that this was necessary & thanked him. He informed him that he wanted to do this now. The intern was shocked, now? He blushed. Ok, so be it. Promotion to Charlie Puth.

Charlie went and locked the door. The last thing he needed was for someone to walk in and get grabbed by his transforming self & adding to the result.

Charlie pulled out a flask with red liquid and drank it. He sat down in another chair. He hesitated. He apologized again and with his right hand bid the intern to come.

The intern, overjoyed, took off his shirt and jeans, revealing boxer briefs. He was about to go commando, but Charlie stopped him from doing that.

All they needed to do was touch skin and then press hard into Charlie. Let the process handle the rest. The intern was taller, and had a build similar to Charlie, only more cut. He was hairy too. Like all over. It was intimidating, no going back. Time to invest in better razors.

The intern got on his knees and then pressed his head against Charlie's chest. His head started to go in.

Charlie felt pressure, and a wave of liquid flow into him. Then pleasurable sensations. He didn't let out any moans or groans except from heavy breathing through his mouth. He didn't want to express the pleasures from assimilating others. Even if they consented. His face showed discomfort, like he was going to cry. And then it hit him.

As the intern entered, he liquidized. Within a few minutes his entire being was a slurry of liquid masses swimming throughout Charlie's body. The underwear fell the to ground. The intern entered Puth's brain, his mind. Charlie felt everything the intern was feeling, and so did the intern. As their minds merged, they reconciled their differences. Charlie's apprehension went away, he was at peace. His face changed to calm. He looked as if he was sleeping in the chair.

The mental traits that didn't become a dominate part of Charlie's mind went into his subconsciousness. From the intern's prospective, he was floating in an peaceful abyss. He would hear Charlie's thoughts, feel what he felt emotionally & physically, see what Charlie sees, and on occasion push Charlie's decisions in one direction or another; just a little. He was Charlie Puth now, small part of the whole.

Charlie's body was rife with activity. The liquid mass of the intern moved through out, looking like big lumps under beneath his skin. Pulsating fast and randomly.

The intern's dna latched on to Charlie's. Puth's new dna then fired off. The mass began to settle and in act new changes. Charlie could feel each one, but all he could do was open his mouth wide open & clutch his hands to the arm rest of the chair he was sitting in, and crunch his toes.

He could feel muscles pop, and in other places, his skin constrict. His bones stretch. His hair darken. And then his face morphed. As if a layer of skin toned smooth clay was covering his face, the intern's facial traits settled in. It was if the intern was a sculptor, and with care & precision molded his new face, dyed his hair.

The intern was a hairy man, and when the merger was focusing on his face, hair started to erupt all over. But as if Charlie was standing next to his new body, as if with a pair of scissors, began to cut away the hair. The body & facial hair began to shrink. Finding a happy medium between Charlie's original bare skin & the intern's wall of hair.

The process was over. Charlie let out a deep exhale and closed his mouth. He opened his eyes.

He was a new man.

But what has he become? Can he still sing?

He looked at the dressing room mirror.

He was taller, and more muscular. He wasn't fat or overweight beforehand, but the intern gave him that push. A six pack was more visible, but he kept his mass. His arms were more vascular. Was he a pop star or a bodybuilder?

His arms and shoulders grew too, a thicker neck. Did he really merge with someone, it felt like he just went to the gym more or dieted better. His brushed his hand against his chest.

Body hair?

He had hair on his forearms, on his chest and abs, and in the face. Sideburns that connected to his new beard & mustache. His hair was darker too, & more voluminous.

His mouth was smaller, and his nose moved more upright, but the lower mouth generally followed his original shape. His ears & skull were longer. But his eyes? A mix of his and the intern. More the interns. The signature cut above his right eye was gone.

He wiped his face, scrupled his hair.

The intern's personal history. It was melded to his. He knew partly why he was big now, his was practicing judo beforehand.

He wanted to feel the fresh air now with his new body. He changed into the underwear & shorts of his fusee and then went outside for a jog:

It was exhilarating. He was stronger, faster, had more stamina. He could see why people get assimilated. But this is it. No more. Too many, and the original me will be gone & buried. A monster hunger for more power.

He went back to the dressing room and used the secret shower within. He changed his clothes. Everyone addressed him as Charlie. No one knew the difference. When he asked for the intern & described him, no one knew what he was talking about. Scary.

He went to his vocal coach and tested out his singing voice. He sounded more mature, but kept his perfect pitch abilities. And now he could kick butt too.

[riptidekissesblog]

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓhey girlies, ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓv

as promised, here are 15 things that helped me seriously level up. I'm so sick of seeing the same things on every blog post and it's just like stay hydrated!!

try new hobbies until you find ones that bring you the most fufillment!! (examples to try: art, crochet, writing, making music, photography, gardening, cooking)

find YOUR exercise, whether it's yoga, pilates, sports, weight training, dance. I can't stress this enough.

I know meditation seems cliche, but it really can help clear your mind and bring balance. a tip that helps me is to visualize your tongue relaxing, almost like it's floating. that will help silence your mind so you can fully surrender.

pay attention to your diet. so much of what we eat is processed junk food. try to eat 80% Whole Foods and 20% processed foods. meal prepping really helped me also not buying junk food at all. this step seems difficult but i promise there is a healthy alternative to most of your favortite foods. remember, you are what you eat ;)

when it comes to beauty, the simpler the better (its also cheaper!!) some things I would invest in would be coconut and castor oil because they can be used on everything. also a gel nail kit and a good electric razor for your face. the more you obess on every detail the more it will consume you. you are enough and don't need a million beauty hacks. (also sun-in works nice for natural highlights)

no company is better than bad company, don't accept low-vibe behavior from ANYONE

make an it girl playlist with upbeat songs from rihanna, lady gaga, katy perry, marina, and other 2000s hits. I don't know what it is but those songs will bring out the inner goddess in you.

don't compare yourself to anyone!!!! everyone is on their own journey, focus on yours. everyone has their own energetic signature. be yourself. stop wanting to impress others.

listen to binaural beats if you have blocked chakras or want to attract wealth, love, luck etc). they're also super relaxing.

give up all your limiting beliefs, anything is possible if you want it bad enough. it's gotta be someone, why couldn't it be you?

go with the flow, things happen for a reason. if you find yourself regretting a decision, remind youself that the other choice may have been worse, how do you know??

take ownership for your problems, the only one to blame is yourself. i am a firm believer that you can change anything you don't like about your reality. you deserve happiness.

live in the moment. ask yourself are you enjoying the moment, if not, what can you change. if you can't change anything, LEAVE. protect your peace girl!

stop insecurity from the root. you don't love yourself becuase you haven't worked on yourself. you are a garden that needs watering. i promise, once you complete this list you will love the person you become.

surround youself with love. do every task out of love. speak every word from a loving place. love everyone. we are all human.

i really hope this helps. this list came from YEARS of self-work. i created this blog so girls can learn how to become their most healed beautiful selves.

love you girlies!! ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ

[lurkingshan]

Japanese QL Corner

Another week chock full of Japanese ql. I am officially dropping a currently airing show from QL Corner--let us never speak of it again. Of the other six shows still airing now, five are streaming weekly on Gaga and the other is available via fansub.

Takara's Treasure

This is quickly becoming one of my favorite things airing—it gets better every week, and it's been good from the start! This story is a great example of the way tension and depth of feeling in a great romance can build. I was delighted to have Takara confirm Taishin's confession and coax him into dating this early on because it means we are going to actually spend some time with them figuring out how to work as a couple. And I don't expect it will be smooth sailing, because these two have some incompatible issues that are going to exacerbate each other.

Cosmetic Playlover

This show is gorgeous, but it all feels pretty empty. Thank you to @usertoxicyaoi for confirming that the show is racing through the plot so it can cover the whole arc of the manga. I'm glad to understand why it's doing this, but it doesn't help with my total emotional disconnect from the story, because the show is rushing through and not letting us actually experience this relationship. They tell us they like each other, then that they're in love, then that they're established and struggling, but I can't feel it because they haven't brought us along for any of that. This week featured an interesting plot about their professional growth and how it challenges their relationship, but I was frustrated because I have no investment in said relationship to give the plot stakes. I may just have to accept that this one will stay a treat for the eyes but lacking in depth for me.

I Hear the Sunspot

We back! After a bit of a miscalibrated installment last week, this episode felt more characteristic and we finally got our boys back on track. Maya was less egregiously mean to people this week and her interference was treated as more comedic than sinister, which is a much better fit for the tone of this show. And once Kohei got around her, he finally talked properly with Taichi and asked him to stay on as his notetaker, reaffirming their friendship in the process. Despite Maya's efforts to convince him otherwise, Kohei has not wavered and his firm declaration that he doesn't want anyone but Taichi taking his notes or eating his food had me gasping. For his part, Taichi is getting better at keeping his cool and finding words when Kohei lets his feelings slip, and he's clearly thinking a lot about his own feelings and whether their connection is really about friendship.

Ayaka is in Love with Hiroko

Oh man, this show has really gotten itself into a muddle. We finally got a kiss, but it hardly felt like a triumph. This episode was a bit of a return to form, with Ayaka back to her relentless pursuit of Hiroko, but the way the story diverged to change the conflict midstream has mucked it all up. For the first half the conflict was about Hiroko believing Ayaka is straight, and then suddenly it was about a different work-related closet trauma that did not connect to that. Now it’s touching on both but in a way that makes Hiroko seem inconsistent, because now that she knows Ayaka is a lesbian it doesn't track that she would continue to patronize and dismiss her, and it also sucks that Ayaka is harassing Hiroko at work despite knowing she doesn't want to be out. It feels like the story is invalidating Hiroko’s fears about being out in a way we know is not consistent with reality. This would all work better if the backstory had been about Hiroko falling for a woman who succumbed to comphet and we kept up the misunderstanding and comedy about Ayaka being straight. As it is, I feel like our heroine no longer makes sense and our couple still hasn't formed a real connection, and with only one episode to go it’s unlikely they’ll land the plane.

Mr. Mitsuya's Planned Feeding

I just love everything about this show and its mature perspective on relationships. In the aftermath of Ishida's hasty confession (and his attempt to walk it back, which I love that Mitsuya did not fall for), we take a beat for Mitsuya to consider the two men circling him and what he wants from his life. I loved that he took the time he needed to process and end his relationship with Noguchi on his own terms this time, and to consider whether he has the desire and the energy to try again with someone new. When he said he has his home and his work and his Frito and that's enough for him, I felt that. But Ishida has already gotten to him, and as Shige wisely pointed out, Mitsuya must care about him quite a bit to be considering this deeply before making a move. I'm not sure he's ready to dive in, but he doesn't have much will to fight it, either. You can go here for the files to watch this episode, with big thanks to @isaksbestpillow and @nicks-den.

Tagging @bengiyo to add this week's anime update.

[aihoshiino]

chapter 166 thoughts

As of chapter 166, Oshi no Ko has finished a roughly four-and-a-half year run started back in 2020. While there's some speculation about an epilogue or some extra content in volume 16 when it drops, this is where the main story ends. And you know what that means!!!

OSHI NO KO HAS OFFICIALLY ENDED WITHOUT ADDRESSING OR ACKNOWLEDGING THE FACT THAT RUBY KISSED HER BROTHER IN CHAPTER 143

please understand that this is FUCKING BOGUS

I'll probably do a longer post on this subject specifically, but my main critique of 143 when the chapter dropped was that while I liked the individual beats in it and I was really glad to see Akasaka finally addressing this tension bubbling underneath Aqua and Ruby's relationship, the immediate swerve away from showing us the aftermath of that kiss felt to me like an admission that the story was going to needlessly draw this out even more. Now that the story has ended and we can see that moment had literally no impact on the plot or even the character dynamics, I'd like to revise that statement - it feels like an admission of compromise. It feels like crumbs thrown to AquRuby fans to tempt them to keep reading and to stir up the waters of the ship wars, so people would keep reading and stay invested in the manga right to the very end. But most of all, it feels deeply disrespectful to both Aqua and Ruby as characters. Rather than exploring their feelings and giving both of them interiority and complexity in relation to incest or even just fucking acknowledging that the kiss had happened and letting their dynamic evolve, the series just memory holes the entire event and asks that you do too. Rather than letting Ruby have any development whatsoever as pertains to that relationship or, god forbid, let a female character move on romantically from the male lead, the series ends with her feelings so up in the air that I literally could not tell you what she thinks of Aqua by the time he dies.

ANYWAY… FINAL CHAPTER. BREATHES OUT VERY HARD.

I really can't believe it's taken us until the final chapter to actually deal with Ruby's grief over Aqua lol. We got a snippet of it last chapter but it was so brief that it really just felt like a tease. I also just think it's kind of bizarre that we're spending this little time on Ruby having feelings about Aqua's death to the extent that I have no idea how or when she found out about it.

It's also kind of hard to feel particularly strongly about Ruby's grief when the chapter doesn't really bother to explore it all that much. It's just a montage of Ruby quite literally Screaming, Crying and Throwing Up while Akane dispassionately narrates it all. The art also doesn't really help in terms of connecting with the emotions at play - I usually really like Mengo's expression work and the way she depicts extreme emotions but this all just felt like of… I don't know how else to put it. Goofy??? Is that an insane thing to say about Ruby grieving her brother???

Idk, something about both the panelling and just the extreme on-the-noseness of Ruby, again, literally Screaming, Crying Throwing Up while she's wearing a Burning cosplay Just In Case You, The Audience, Didn't Get It only for her to abruptly be done crying with no exploration or insight as to what's going on in her head that allows her to move forward.

Honestly, this is kind of the issue with everyone in the cast. The resolution is just sort of "Aqua died and we were sad about it but then we stopped being sad". I know what the story is trying to go for here - it's trying to express that even when you're in pain, life goes on and so you have to find a way to go on with it. But the result is that we spend all this time oogling at their pain without spending equivalent or even meaningful time on their recovery process.

It feels both excessive and undercooked at the same time and I'm left with the same icky, voyeuristic feeling I got from Aqua's funeral last chapter. This should be the point in the story at which we empathize with Ruby the most, but she remains a frustratingly distant figure right to the final pages. Part of this is an unfortunate consequence of Akane's narration directing these final chapters meaning that we're hearing about Ruby from an outsider's perspective and thus don't really see what's going on in her head… but if I can be frank, this has been an issue of Aka's with Ruby in particular basically nonstop since chapter 123.

As others & myself have noted, despite the absolutely catastrophic downward spiral Ruby is in at that point, Aqua revealing himself as Gorou basically flips it all off like a switch. There's some mild lipservice paid to the idea that Ruby is just using her dependency on Gorou to prop herself up and it's pointed out that the issues that contributed to her breakdown haven't actually been resolved - but none of these issues are ever even acknowledged again, let alone resolved. So, functionally, that reveal does fix all Ruby's problems in the space of a single chapter and the result is, again, that we spend multiple chapters gourging on depictions of Ruby's absolute rock bottom only for her to ping back to normal like a lightswitch. As such, the depictions of her pain feel less like explorations of Ruby's interiority and more like voyeuristic oogling at Ruby's misery and trauma and the effect is that the resolution to it all is both unsatisfying and a little gross. The result is that it feels like Akasaka is just indulgently mining the imagery of cute girls suffering because it causes simple thoughts neuron activation but doesn't respect these girls enough as characters to build them back up.

It doesn't help that this is basically the in-universe excuse for Ruby's career further skyrocketing. Instead of Ruby becoming a star on her own merits as the story keeps insisting she was supposed to, she's artificially buoyed by the public's morbid fascination with her tragedy. If I was feeling charitable towards the story right now, I would say this is an avenue of intentional critique but… well, I don't feel super charitable about the story right now lol

I WILL say that the one part of this chapter I did just uncomplicatedly like was the beat of Mem trying to suspend activities (presumably in the wake of her grief for Aqua) only for Kana to basically immediately explode into her room and help her get back on her feet. It's a beat that would've been much more effective if we'd, you know, seen it, but I otherwise enjoyed it and I thought it was sweet.

But. pbbbbtttt. I guess I can't talk around it any longer… let's get into the Dome concert.

To start things off on the immediately worst note possible, Akane describes Ruby performing at the Dome as being 'everyone's dream', including Aqua's. I'm reminded once again of the strange turn the story took in insisting that um, actually, performing at the Dome was totes Ai's dream all along (even though she literally didn't give a shit even a week before she was due to perform there herself) so Ruby performing there is fulfilling that dream for her!!! and I can't help but wonder if this abrupt shift in focus is an attempt to make readers forget what Ai's actual dream was - to see her beloved children grow up happy and healthy. Hell, it wasn't even really Aqua's dream, until the story suddenly had to try and convince us that his entire purpose for existence was to kill himself so Ruby could be an idol for slightly longer than she would've otherwise. The only people whose dreams she's textually fulfilling are Ichigo and Miyako and Ruby herself, but…

Honestly, is this really Ruby's dream anymore?

Who is Hoshino Ruby? What does she want? Why does she want it? These should be the very least of what we can concretely say about not only a protagonist but a character who has become a central figure of the entire story as Ruby has, but with the way Oshi no Ko has warped and distorted her, I find myself increasingly unsure of what the story wants her to be or how I should answer those questions.What does Ruby feel about Aqua? Was she still in love with him? Had she moved on, romantically? Was she still waiting for a response to her confession? Did she finally realize it was probably kind of shitty to respond to her brother going "lowkey wanna kms" by sticking her tongue down his throat? I Guess We'll Never Know.

This extends to whatever the fuck Ruby's relationship with idols and being an idol is. Almost the entirety of Ruby's time in the story has been spent reiterating over and over that Ruby cannot just be an idol who imitates Ai and that to truly shine, she needs to step out of her mom's shadow and shine in her own way. Ruby even literally tells Kana in no uncertain terms in 137 - "I'll be a star in my own way. I won't be like Mama."

While this has always been the text of the story, as I've pointed out before, the actual art with which Ruby's idolhood depicts her basically just as Ai 2.0. It relies so heavily on mining the imagery of Ai's charisma and personality as an idol and using them as the measure of Ruby's success as an idol that Ruby essentially has no visual or conceptual identity of her own as an idol. She's just Ai, But Arbitrarily Better, For Reasons The Narrative Fails To Actually Establish But Hopes That You Just Accept Anyway. This was always kind of annoying, but now that friction seems to have been resolved by… just making her Ai 2.0, But Arbitrarily Better (etc, etc) in the text as well. The fact that we're given no further insight as to Ruby's feelings and continue to just have Akane Explain Ruby's Character Arc to the camera also doesn't help.

All this combines to make the Dome concert and the final few pages feel exceptionally cold in a way I really don't think was intended by Akasaka. Yes, that splash page was nice and flashy but… I just felt nothing. I have no idea if or why Ruby cares about this. And even though the Dome concert has been hyped up through the entire story as the peak of Ruby's achievements as an idol, I feel no sense of accomplishment in her finally being there - not just because her journey to it was basically sneezed at us across two panels, but because it just feels hollow as a victory lap for Ruby. Again, she feels so distant and abstracted as a character that I can't bring myself to feel very strongly about her good or bad.

I think the perfect encapsulation of this are the final four pages of the story. Ruby's words here are very clearly intended to be a callback to Ai's words to Gorou in chapter one but as @all-of-her-light pointed out in our initial discussions of the chapter, Ruby very much does not have an equivalent to Ai's conclusion that she nevertheless wants and values the opportunity to find personal happiness and fulfillment outside of being an idol. Are we supposed to believe that simply being an idol is all that Ruby needs to achieve a similar degree of happiness and fulfillment? Is there no more to her than that?

I've seen a lot of people interpret this ending as exceptionally bleak and, as usual, gleefully predicting Ruby's immanent suicide because her beloved oniichansensei isn't around but this is indulging in, if you'll allow me to be frank, some pretty transparently ship-motivated flanderization. Despite what certain sections of the fandom would like to believe, Aqua and Ruby's lives, past and current, have never revolved around each other to the exclusion of every other relationship in their life. Ruby has a massive support network of people who love and care for her and actively want her to get back on her feet. I can one hundred percent believe that she does not need Aqua in her life to be happy and content.

The issue is that we don't see enough of Ruby to understand that ourselves. Again, she has become such a distant figure with so little insight into what she's thinking and why that this ending is basically a Rorschach test in which you can interpret basically whatever the hell you want or assume because we have so little canon basis to support or debunk our assumptions.

and yes. don't think i didn't see them. it IS both grimly hilarious and weirdly tonally appropriate for this ending that ruby has a bunch of oshi goods of ai and aqua including their fucking autographs set up to say goodbye to every day.

AND…… WE'RE DONE!!! THAT'S OSHI NO KO, BABY!!!! well, technically, there's going to be a 20 page extra chapter in volume 16 but I don't see it being big or substantive enough to meaningfully change my feelings about the ending so… I guess we're leaving it here. Damn. Feels crazy to be done with it.

I'll probably do a bigger post down the line about my thoughts on the ending as a whole but in terms of just How This Chapter Made Me feel, I guess the word is just… meh! It's definitely not an ending I like and I think the execution is sloppy and rushed but I also just don't really have the energy to feel angry about it. Maybe that's sad in its own way but tbh… I still really love Oshi no Ko! I still find it engaging and I find the characters I enjoy rewarding to talk about. I like the artistry of the anime adaptation. I don't blame anybody else for being so turned off by this ending that they're done with the series but for me, I like what I like about OnK too much that this ending could retroactively ruin it for me. Whatever else happens with the OnK franchise, whatever directions the anime and live-action take, this will always be the series that gave me Ai and the Hoshino family and. look at me. look at what she's done to my brain. could I really ask for anything more than that?

That being said, I'm definitely not done with discussing the series! I have fics to write (including a VERY exciting large scale project lined up with some friends), my Ai analysis post to finish and I also want to do a re-read of the series and finish my anime rewatch. I'll be here to discuss Oshi no Ko as long as I have things to say about it and as long as you guys will have me! Despite how the series ended, I've had a genuinely wonderful experience in the fandom and I really don't want to let go of the little community we've built together just because the series is done. I'm Ai's fan for all eternity!!!