#she needs control over her environment yes but it seems to be..... a way to feel safe

[stackslip]

someone said that the plants nayuta and denji have in their flat are aloe vera which needs v little to thrive and too much attention actually kills it. i know nothing about botany but if true it means nayuta fusses over her plant and tries hard to keep it alive to the point of inadvertently killing it. hhruuguuuahhhhhahhhahhahaurutg

[bucky-bucky-bucky-bucky]

Trick or Treat | Bucky Barnes x Reader

This is my second Halloween fic this year because I have no self control!

Word Count: 3.2k

Warnings: anxiety

Sam’s Halloween bash launched into full swing, and seemed as though it would last till sunrise. Music pulsed through a set of massive speakers. Alcohol flowed. And throngs of people danced the night away.

Just as Sam instructed, everyone arrived decked out in costume. And as you scanned the crowd, you found Ghost Face doing shots with Barbie. Michael Myers grinding on Freddy Kreuger. Pennywise flirting with Beetlejuice. It was a picture perfect Halloween party- save for one thing. 

Bucky hadn’t arrived yet.

All of the partygoers formed a large, pulsating mass as they danced and celebrated, but you remained off to the side. In an empty, isolated corner, you checked and rechecked your texts. You’d already shot Bucky a few messages asking when he’d show. Asking if he was alright. And he swore he was fine. He said he’d be there soon, but that was as specific as he’d get. 

“I’m sure he’ll be here any minute!” Wanda yelled over the music. She swayed to the beat, swishing the skirt of her dress back and forth. Every few seconds, she stole a glance at the dance floor with want in her eyes. “Come on, let’s go dance!”

“I’m with Mary,” Nat downed the last of her drink and draped her arm over Wanda’s shoulders. “The Sanderson Sisters are the life of the party, we have a reputation to uphold!”

When the three of you decided to coordinate your costumes, Hocus Pocus had been the obvious choice. In the weeks leading up to Sam’s party, you helped one another piece together flawless renditions of each Sanderson Sister. Wanda decided on Mary, and Nat dressed up as Sarah, leaving you to adopt Winifred’s famous ensemble. 

And you had to admit, the three of you looked amazing. 

But you couldn’t run to the dance floor and party with abandon- not yet, anyway. Bucky said he’d be there. He swore to you that he’d make an appearance. And while a loud, overcrowded party wasn’t his favorite way to spend an evening, he knew he had to challenge himself. To expand his comfort zone. 

He wanted so badly to be “normal”. To function like a “regular” person. But he struggled. He had flashbacks. Panic attacks. Long depression spirals. And his anxiety always had the reigns. 

But he’d fought tooth and nail to vanquish his demons, and now that he was making progress and healing bit by bit, he wanted to join the ranks of "ordinary" society. 

And Sam’s party was the perfect opportunity. It was a safe, controlled environment where Bucky could stretch his comfort zone. Sure, it was loud and packed with people, but that was the whole point. If he was going to be “normal”, he had to be okay with noise and crowds; Sam’s party had both. But there was nothing for him to worry about, nothing to fear. He would perfectly and totally safe here. At least half of the attendees were fellow special agents, and you and Sam promised to stick with him all night. 

But the party started over an hour ago, and he still hadn’t shown. Worry creased your brow; it wasn’t like him to be late. 

“I think I’m just gonna hang out here for now,” you leaned against the wall and brandished your phone at them, “So I can make sure I don’t miss a call or anything.”

“You do you, sister,” Nat brushed a kiss against your cheek, “Mary and I are gonna command the dance floor.”

The two of them ran off, arm in arm, in the direction of the crowd. 

“Is he on his way?” Sam came around the corner, two drinks in hand. He extended one in your direction and sipped on the other. “I haven’t heard back.”

“I don’t know.” You took a long pull of your drink, “I asked if he was coming and he said yes, but he didn’t give me a specific ETA, or anything.”

Sam shrugged, “I think he might flake.”

That same sneaking suspicion had crossed your mind a few times over the last hour, but you refused to accept it. Surely, Bucky just needed a little extra time to prepare himself. To get in the right headspace. 

“I’m gonna- would you take this for a sec?” You handed your drink back to Sam, who swore to keep a watchful eye on it while you stepped outside to call Bucky. 

The phone rang and rang. And you feared it might go to voicemail. But at the last possible second, Bucky picked up. 

“Hey, sweetheart.” Something was off. He sounded almost nervous, like he’d been caught red-handed.

“Hey, Buck.” You kept your tone light. “Are you gonna be here soon?”

A long silence permeated the line.

“Um, yes. Yeah, I’m on my way right now,” he assured you. “Shouldn’t be much longer. I’ll see you in a bit. Okay?”

“Great." You didn't buy it for a second. "See you soon.”

For an ex-assassin with decades of stealth training and countless kills on his hands, Bucky was a terrible liar. But only when it came to you. He just couldn’t deceive his best friend, couldn’t pull the wool over your eyes. He simply didn’t have it in him; his brain and body rejected even the concept of swindling you. 

You knew for a fact that he was still at his apartment. Knew that his anxiety had won. You could practically see him sitting at home all alone, hating himself for flaking on yet another get-together. And while his closest friends danced the night away, he’d spend the entire evening berating himself. Chastising himself.

But you wouldn’t allow it. With a determined huff, you ditched the party, and set off in the direction of Bucky's apartment.

Bucky stared at the costume you’d carefully helped him assemble. It sat neatly folded on his kitchen table, all he had to do was put it on and head out the door. But he couldn’t bring himself to do so. And it infuriated him. 

He spent weeks mentally preparing himself for this. He meditated, journaled, and even sought out extra therapy sessions. But none of it worked. He was still a slave to his anxiety, bending to every whim of the monsters in his head.

The whole thing was so stupid- it was just a party. He knew, logically, that there was nothing to fear. But part of his brain, the part that hated him, told him it would be too much. That he’d immediately get overwhelmed by the noise and the people and the lights. That it was a panic attack waiting to happen. 

He feared what onlookers might think, what they might say, if he broke down in the middle of the festivities. And he didn’t want to chance ruining Sam’s party.

And so, he’d lied to you. He wasn’t proud of it, but it was for the best. He just wanted you to have a good time. Wanted you to spend the night dancing with Nat and Wanda instead of worrying about him. It was better this way. 

A sharp knock jolted him from his seat on the couch. He crossed to the front door and pulled it open, expecting to see a group of candy-obsessed kids in costumes. But he found something else, entirely.

“Trick or treat!” You held a bottle of whiskey and a bag of candy proudly in the air, “Happy Halloween, Buck.”

Bucky took on a deer in the headlights kind of look. He was shocked, completely frozen. And as the surprise melted away, he found himself awash in strange mix of anxiety and guilt. You’d caught him in his lie; you’d found him out. And with you standing on his doorstep, he had nowhere to run. 

“Sweetheart, hey. Hi. Um, Happy- Yeah, Happy Halloween.” He tripped over himself again and again, his heart racing. “I was just about to call you and-”

“It’s okay, Buck. You’re not in trouble,” you shot him a wink. “I know parties aren’t really your thing.”

He gestured for you to come in and you happily accepted, sweeping past him in your elaborate costume. But he was so bewildered, so overwhelmed, that he left the door wide open.

“What are you doing here?” Quickly, he clarified, “Not that I don’t want you here. I just mean- why aren’t you at the party?”

“Cause I came to hang out with you!” You shrugged, “Plus, there’s no point in me going if you’re not there.”

Bucky appreciated your loyalty, your dedication to him. But he couldn’t let you sit on the sidelines with him.

“That’s sweet of you, and I’m more than happy to have you here, but I know you’ve been looking forward to the party and your costume and everything. And I don’t want to ruin your Halloween.” He leaned against his open door, “So, it won’t hurt my feelings if you-”

“My Halloween will only be ruined if we don’t hang out. So, come on,” once again, you held up the candy and alcohol, “trick or treat, Buck.”

With a stubborn smile, Bucky shut the door. He watched you struggle with the bag of candy and laughed as you used your teeth to tear through the plastic.

“You know, I think you’re doing the whole ‘trick or treat’ thing backwards,” he said as he fished a Twix out of the bag. “Cause you brought candy instead of taking some from me.”

“Or maybe I’m a Halloween pioneer, and I’m inventing new traditions,” you offered. “Now, let’s crack this open.”

Bucky gladly took the bottle of whiskey from you and led you to the kitchen. He crafted old fashioneds for the both of you and clinked his glass with yours. His night had taken a very sharp, very sudden upswing, and he was more than grateful.

“I saw some kiddos trick or treating down the hall, and at least four of them were dressed up like Sam,” you laughed. “Have they been here yet?”

You eyed the large bowl of candy sitting by the front door. It was still full, nearly overflowing with sugary treats. And you realized: it was completely untouched. No greedy little hands had dug through it yet. No mischievous kids had snatched a handful or two. It just sat there, waiting. 

It was sweet of Bucky to be prepared, to buy treats for the kids in the area. He was trying so hard to connect with people. To be a member of society. He wanted so badly to be seen as a person. But the world only saw him for his past. 

“Um, no, I haven’t had any trick or treaters,” Bucky said, “Well, except for you.”

You shot him a wink a took a drag of your drink.

“But I’ve heard them- they’ve been running up and down my hall all night. I just don’t think…” He clinked his metal fingers against his glass, “I don’t think any of the parents in my building want their kids knocking on my door.”

His shoulders slumped forward ever so slightly, and his head fell an inch or two. Saying it out loud was humiliating. He’d thought- he’d hoped- that the city would embrace him. That they’d celebrate his return. But the only welcome he’d received was dirty looks and people spitting at him on the subway.

Bucky’s words knocked the air from your chest. A combination of heartbreak and unbridled rage swirled inside of you; it was all so unfair. Bucky didn’t deserve to be treated like a pariah or a threat. He was least intimidating, most approachable person you’d ever met. Sure, he was a little shy. But he was so warm. So kind. He genuinely cared about people. He wanted to help his community and make people feel safe. But they refused to give him a chance.

“Hey, it’s okay,” you took his hand in yours, “More candy for us.” 

Bucky rolled his eyes and pulled you in for a long, much needed hug. He would never be able to express how much he appreciated your undying support. Your unconditional friendship. He knew without a doubt that he could always count on you. And after living in an unpredictable, erratic state of limbo for so many years, he cherished your consistency.

Bucky dug through the candy you brought, searching for a Snickers. “I know it’s selfish, but I’m really glad you came over.” He abandoned his candy hunt and brought his gaze up to yours, “Seriously. Thanks for being here.”

“Anytime, Buck. You know that.” You tucked the bag of candy under your arm and snatched your glass from the counter, “Come on, let’s watch a scary movie.”

Bucky followed your lead, only straying from the path for a moment or two. And when he returned, he brandished his overflowing bowl of candy in your direction. “I mean, if the kids aren’t gonna eat it…”

He sank into the couch next to you and took a swig of his drink as he watched you dig through the massive bowl of candy. A bit of guilt gnawed at him; he’d been so surprised to see you at his door that he hadn’t taken the time to appreciate all the hard work you’d put into your costume. And as you picked through his candy stash, he drank in the details of your ensemble: the perfectly crafted make up, the ornate dress, the complicated hairstyle. It was impressive, to say the least.

“Your costume is fucking incredible, by the way. You did an amazing job.”

“Oh, thanks!” A proud smile stretched across your face, “If it wasn’t so ridiculously uncomfortable, I’d probably wear it every day. But this corset is…” You pinched and pulled at the tight garment, “Definitely not intended for daily wear.”

“Then let me get you something to more comfortable.” Bucky was up in the blink of an eye, and before you could protest, he was gone. 

In the time it took you to locate and unwrap a Kit Kat, he’d arrived in the living room with a change of clothes for you. It was just a pair of sweatpants and a faded t-shirt with BROOKLYN emblazoned on the front, but after spending hours in an uncomfortable corset, you swore he was offering you a slice of heaven. 

With greedy hands, you accepted the clothes, “You’re a life saver!”

You sped off down the hall, promising to be back in a flash.

Bucky scrolled through the scary movies Netflix had to offer, but didn’t pay much attention. He couldn’t believe his luck. He’d planned on spending the night all by himself. He figured he’d oscillate between sulking and self-flagellation until he finally fell asleep. But you’d saved him, as you so often did.

“Seriously, I can’t thank you enough for the clothes. Now, I can actually breathe.” You plopped down on the couch next to Bucky, “Okay, what do you wanna watch?”

Bucky scrolled through a few more movies, “I don’t know, I haven’t heard of most of these. I thought I’d defer to you.”

You motioned for him to continue scrolling and gave him a little synopsis each time one of your favorites popped up on the screen.

He listened closely and took your summaries into careful consideration. And after hemming and hawing over his options, he found himself torn. “This is tough, but I’m thinking we go with It Follows or Evil Dead.”

“Both excellent choices!” You clinked your glass against his, “Let’s do It Follows first, and then if we want to watch another, we can follow up with Evil Dead.”

“Deal.” 

Bucky scrolled back a page or two and selected It Follows. The movie’s opening scene began, showcasing a quiet, suburban street. You tucked yourself closer into Bucky’s side and tore into a package of M&Ms, preparing to be scared. 

But after only a minute or so, Bucky paused the movie.

He turned to you, “Hey, I’m sorry about the party.”

“Buck, we talked about this. I’d rather hang out with you than-”

“No, I mean, I’m sorry I bailed.” He pulled his gaze from your face and placed it on the ice melting in his drink. “My anxiety kind got the best of me. And I-” He locked eyes with you, “I swear I tried. I wanted to go. But I just… I couldn’t do it.” His sudden eye roll caught you off guard, “The whole thing is so ridiculous, it was just a party, but even thinking about going made my hands shake.”

“It’s not ridiculous. You’ve been through a lot, and you’re still trying to wade through all the shit Hydra saddled you with.” You gave his hand a squeeze, “Healing takes time. And it’s not a linear process. You’re gonna have ups and downs- that’s perfectly normal.”

All he could manage was a sigh. 

“Like you said, it was just a party. Nothing major. So, who cares if you bailed? All that matters is that you made the right choice for you.”

“I guess.” He carded a hand through his hair, “I just want to be done with it all, you know? I want to be able to do things that normal people do.”

“I know. But, you have to give yourself some grace, okay?” You brushed a gentle hand over his cheek, “And you need to be patient. Cause there’s no skipping to the end with this stuff.”

He nodded, “Yeah.”

“So, cut yourself some slack, okay?” You nudged his shoulder with yours, “No one is more deserving of slack than you.”

“I don’t know about that-”

“If the roles were reversed,” you posited, “And I’d been through all of the trauma and abuse that you went through, would you be upset with me if I couldn’t do certain things because of my anxiety ?”

“No,” he gave a fervent shake of his head. “Never.”

“And would you want me to be kind to myself?”

Without pause, an “of course” fell from his lips.

“Okay, then you need to extend that same kindness and understanding to yourself.”

“But I just want to be able to do stuff with you,” he huffed. “I want to go to parties with you. And concerts. And-”

“Hey, all that will come with time, okay? There’s no rush.” Once again, you gave his hand a squeeze, “You’re my best friend, and I just wanna hang out with you. So, it doesn’t matter what we do. As long as you’re comfortable, I’m happy.”

Bucky eyed you for a second, “You mean that?”

You nodded, “I swear on my life.”

An awkward smile crossed his face, “Then I guess I should tell you that I’m not- I really don’t want to watch a scary movie.”

“Oh, shit. My bad, Buck. We can watch anything you want,” you said, “You pick.”

With a few taps of the remote, Bucky opened an entirely different streaming service and selected a safe movie free of actual scares. 

“It’s still on theme with Halloween,” he promised, “But at least it’s not gonna give me more nightmares.”

“Yeah, whatever you want, I don’t-” The opening lines of Hocus Pocus filled the room, and you delivered a playful punch to Bucky’s arm.

He let out a loud laugh, “I had to, sweetheart. You’ve still got the make up on and everything.”

You pelted him with a few M&Ms before settling close to him. He draped an arm across your shoulders and pulled you tight, relishing in your warmth. He was so lucky to have you as his friend, so lucky to know you. He couldn’t believe you’d ditched the party you’d looked forward to for weeks- all for him. Couldn’t believe that you were spending your favorite holiday unceremoniously watching movies on his couch. 

But he knew better than to look a gift horse in the mouth. After everything he’d gone through, he was just grateful that he’d befriended someone with such a kind heart. And as he settled in to experience Hocus Pocus for the first time, he started plotting how he’d make things up to you next Halloween. 

———————————————

@beefybuckrrito @shadytalementality @everything-burns-down @rainbow-unicorn-pony @mandersshow @breakablebarnes @psychoticmason @glxwingrxse @lonewolf471 @purpleshallot @seitmai @itvy5601 @dailyreverie @navs-bhat @eviesaurusrex @themorningsunshine @buckys-metal-arm @broadwaybabe18 @the-kestrels-feather @avocadotoastwithegg @goldylions @lokisasgardianvampirequeen @vrittivsanghavi @idkitsem @avengetheunnatural @rassvetsky @hereforbuckyandsteve @juvellian @samanthacookieone @frombkjar @blackbirdsinatrenchcoat @anything-more-than-human

[zoloteh-volossya]

Some Thoughts on Minthara

A repeating theme of all of the Origin companions is that what they think they want at the beginning of the game is a result of their fucked up pasts and is ultimately bad for them. Shadowheart wants to be a DJ, but that cuts her off from the potential to grow beyond Shar and loss. Lae'zel wants to Ascend, which would obliterate her in her entirety. Karlach would rather die than go back to hell, but dying cuts off the potential continued life she may find thanks to that Infernal Forge. Astarion wants to Ascend, which locks him into a cycle of violence, power, and fear. Gale has two failures of goals - first to kill himself for Mystra's forgiveness, then to Ascend (which hollows him out of all the originally noble intentions he had going into it). Wyll wants to serve, no matter what the cost to himself - which would lead him to stay pacted to Mizora when freedom beckons.

All of these initial goals stem from the environments/abuses that the companions are coming from. And they're all understandable! But they're unhealthy and/or maladaptive, and so in order for every Origin companion to get to their best/happiest ending they need to change and grow away from what they initially thought they wanted due to the influence of their pasts and personal flaws.

Minthara, when we meet her under her own free will, has abandoned Lolth but not her attitudes. She seeks love, yes, but also seeks any sort of power she can get her hands on with a desperation borne of fear. She cares deeply for Karlach and Lae'zel and reluctantly for Astarion, Shart, and Gale, but is willing to enslave them all as she herself was enslaved if it makes her Top Dog. Her ideal ending is codependent evil power couple with you, controlling the brain - and I think that's her 'bad' ending, akin to Ascended Astarion or DJ Shart.

Basically, I think there’s two sides to her. There's the side that desires genuine connections and is willing to go to hell for Karlach even if unromanced... and the side that chases power even if it means doing things like enslaving Karlach. She wants purpose (per her dialogue upon leaving Moonrise), a home and friends (per her dialogue when leaving the party), and protection (per her dialogues with the player). I think if she was able to obtain those things through sources other than trying to conquer Menzoberranzan/the Sword Coast she might be able to express the former side of herself more.

We see a bit of that in her Karlach romance, where she throws aside all concerns of seeking power to go to hell for her girlfriend. She doesn't talk of conquering or ruling Avernus - her focus is purely on vengeance for Karlach. It's an interesting reevaluation of her priorities and also why I like her pairing with Karlach so much.

As a side character, she doesn't get a questline and arc like the Origin companions get. But I think that it is notable that her happiest ending seems to be staying in Baldur's Gate. In her epilogue dialogue with Origin!Lae'zel she confesses that she is not happy if she pursues reconquering Menzoberranzan, and harbors doubts about her ability to succeed.

Because ultimately - as Ascended Astarion shows - pursuing power and conquest does not actually make you happier or safer. It just means a life dominated by fear. Lolth's treatment of the drow - and thus the drow treatment of each other - has been compared by writers of canon D&D novels to an abusive relationship. And like so many other survivors of abuse, Minthy is out of the immediate situation but still carries that way of thinking worn into her psyche, like ruts in a road.

She’ll never be “nice” or even necessarily “good,” but I’d like to think that over time, in the right environment, she can leave behind most of the self destructive power seeking of the Lolthite mindset. Move on from the toxic patterns of her past, as the Origin companions get to do in game.

[tomurawr44]

I have a request!!

Shiggy wins reader the giant plushie she wanted from the claw game of the arcade (he says it’s all rigged but she begs him to help her because he seems like the type to be good at these games “hey, what’s that supposed to mean?!”) and she watches his slender fingers skillfully move the controls and he wins the derpy giant plushie for her in one try.

But then she can’t stop thinking about how those fingers would feel inside of her, and wants to reward him…he’s probably the type to be into knee socks and plaid mini skirts…and she did want to thank him for the plushie…she’s going to rock this virgin’s world.

(Go wild with NSFW plz we’re all a bunch of perverts)

A/N: is it too tmi if i say i did what happened in this fic irl

Warnings: nsfw!! hand kink..finger suckling, face fucking, dangerous sex..

"So close...!" you groaned as you saw the plush fall out of the claw machine again, whining against the glass you pressed against the glass with your fingers clawing at it, sliding down before you rested against the controller. "Why even bother? all these claw machines are rigged y'know." he'd speak up, sipping on his drink while he watched you bent over the machine and crying about some ugly plushie. he was confused and thought you were stupid. as per usual.

"you don't get it! I need this thing and i need it now!" you whined like an immature brat as you stared at it, it was a derpy off brand hatsune miku plush, and it made you want to cry with frustration, with only a few coins left. you turned to him as he scoffed, his irritation only growing. "your blowing all your money on something we could get online for cheap." he stated while he looked around, you knew you looked ridiculous, you knew that you could just buy it but the experience, memories and the challenge is what makes it such a memorable piece to remember. that's why you wanted it so bad, plus, it was hatsune miku, who wouldn't want a hatsune miku plush? but he couldn't lie he found it a little funny. "besides, i could win that easy peasy, there's a bunch of tips i got from online." your eyes lit up upon hearing that, of course Tomura of all people knew how to beat a game meant for kids.

with the clack of your shoe against the floor, you gripped onto him by his shoulders with a pleading pout. "please Tomura please! i-I'll do anything i swear! I'll give you anything you want or a reward for getting me that plush!" you pointed at the derpy miku as he tried to hide the blush on his cheeks, anything he wants? a reward? life couldn't be any damn sweeter for him, and he gets to finally show off cool stuff he's saved from the internet. he pulls out his phone and looks for the tutorial video again before he places coins against the slot and the game music started beeping again.

he moved his fingers delicately, trying not to decay the machine as he fiddled with the joystick almost randomly as he rapidly tapped on the button, the way he handled the machine and the way his slender fingers moved against it made you bite your lip a little as you watched him, a dork in his natural environment. you could see his focused reflection in the glass of the machine as you snapped a quiet pic, god he's adorable. you watched him fail before he angrily put in more coins, rocking the machine a little as he handled it more roughly, mumbling curses while he tried for that miku plush again, the way he was so quick and rough made you stare a little longer than intended before you heard the victory music and the plush gently fall into the slot. a wide smile appearing on your face, he couldn't lie, it found it rather..cute.

"YES! yes! Thank you so much Tomura! i love it so much you don't even—" he stopped you with a cocky grin. he looked so nerdy doing this. "yeah, whatever. what's my reward?" you pause to think over it before you just smiled at him and locked arms. "a hug." was what you said but what really wanted to leave your lips was alot more than just a 'hug.' you could feel your underwear stick to your panties as you let out a small huff, smiling softly at him, poor boy doesn't know what's coming. he kept walking as he truly thought his reward for showing off his awesome hand-eye-coordination was just a hug. "I'll get Kurogiri to warp us home, he isn't home right now so i guess you can hangout awhile longer."

perfect.

when you arrived and stepped out of the purple fog, at the dingy bar, there was no one keeping it and it was empty as always, Tomura led you to his messy room as he plopped down on the bed and watched you cuddle the derpy miku plush. "why do you even like it so much?" he questioned while he ran his fingers against his neck while eyed you up and down with a curious look. "it's ugly, but cute, ugly cute y'know?" you giggled softly before putting it aside and crawling closer to him. "You still waiting on that reward?" you whispered as you wrapped your fingers around his wrist and brought his open hand to your breast. he immediately got the message and nodded his head reaching for his gloves before you stopped him. "no, not yet."

"what the hell do you mean 'not yet'? are you suicidal or something?" he looked at you as if you were stupid before you only giggled and brough his hands together, dropping his right one before you pressed the tips of his left fingers against your lips. "Maybe, not really thinking with my head here." you whispered before you parted your lips and licked them, watching him shiver before you began to slide his middle and pointer finger in and letting your tongue play against them. you let out a few soft moans as he watched you with eyes blown wide. his cock aching painfully against his jeans as he let out a breath he didn't even know he was holding. "wh-what the hell are you doing..? i-..you know that-" He was cut off by the sound of you pulling away with a small pant, letting the pade of his fingers rest against the flat and soft surface of your tongue. "can't I appreciate these pretty hands in peace?" you chuckled. "You can't appreciate them if i dust you.."

"but you won't, right pretty boy?" is what you whispered before you slid his fingers back into your mouth, sucking on them like you would with a cock as you even pulled them barely all the way out before you swirled your tongue against the tips before sliding it all the way back in, letting drool leak down your throat as you maintained eye contact with him. he tried to reach down and undo his buttons, grabbing his dick and pulling it out as he jacked off to the sight of you doing that to him, letting out small moans and biting his dry lips while he stroked himself to the sight. "i-i fucking knew you were kinky but..this is new.." he tried to match his pace to your mouth as he felt like absolute heaven.

you pulled away just before he was about to cum, letting his fingers barely connect to your lips with a string of drool before you pulled him to stand up while you got on your knees. you saw him put on his gloves before he let his pants pool around his ankles as he shoved his needy cock into your throat. "G-gah! if this is– wh-what i get for winning...!" he groaned as he thrust into your mouth, grinding against you every now and then. "Fuck- take me to the arcade every weekend- please! let me win for you..!" he babbled as he thrust into your face, his cock sliding against your tongue as you tuned him out a long time ago and let him use you like a fleshlight. it didn't take long for him to shove himself as deep as he could down your throat before cumming, giving you no option to spit out or swallow, besides, who would be spitting him out? certainly not you. he panted as he twitched in your throat, watching you pant as he pulled away and let his saliva soaked dick rest on your face as it leaked remnants of his load onto your cheek.

"What do i get for buying you a cosplay?" he whispered as he looked down at you with a crooked smile, his cock pulsing on your face as you smiled back. this was going to be one..long and spoiled night for you. don't tell All For One why he blew his allowance on clothes that seemed so expensive, or Kurogiri for that matter.

—Ake 2024

[catierambles]

Alternate Instincts Ch.23

I deleted the first posting of this because I forgot Ch.22 and didn't want it to be out of order in the tag on my page. Chapter 22 has been posted btw

The move went relatively smoothly, Walter and Stephanie throwing out Frank’s old mattress and replacing it with his from the cabin. Other than that, he really didn’t have a lot of things that needed to be moved over. Sy would be living part time in Stephanie’s old apartment as it was technically his territory now, rotating spending a couple weeks there and a couple weeks in the cabin. The transition also went mostly well, the rest of the pack being understandably wary about being under the control of another male Alpha, but Mike assuaged their concerns telling them that Sy was not like Frank, not even remotely.

Sy had cleaned Frank out, taking almost all of the money in both his checking and savings. It wasn’t nearly the amount that he had originally taken from the pack, as he had blown most of it on high end electronics and other luxuries for himself, but banking information was taken down and what was left was divided up among the pack. Didn’t amount to much, in the end, but it was something and they could start to rebuild. Stephanie offered the use of her Costco membership card once they had a good buffer so they could get bulk essentials somewhere down the line.

Walter let her know that they had also “convinced” him to confess to the Council what he had been doing, and that Frank was now blacklisted from ever running a pack or owning territory. He would be set up with employment and a place to live in his hometown, his wages being garnished until the books were even, but then he was on his own. Sink or swim. Oddly enough, Stephanie and the others couldn’t bring themselves to care what ultimately became of him. Imagine that.

Stephanie lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling. Walter was sound asleep next to her, but she was wide awake. She could blame it on the new environment, different mattress, different sounds, but she knew it wasn't that. Everything was a little too...perfect. The guys were a little too...everything. Yes, August had his moments, but they were all a little too understanding, too supportive. It didn't feel real. It felt as if she were perpetually waiting for something to happen. Waiting for the other shoe to drop, or the sword to fall. Waiting for them to decide she wasn't what they wanted, that they were wrong about her being their Mate. They were mistaken, that this "shadow" inside her only made them think she was their Mate. Waiting for them to realize they didn't love her, not really, not truly.

Was it nice being with them? Understatement. They were incredible, even when August was being a donkey. Who would hurt her first, she wondered. August immediately came to mind, how they clashed at times when her mouth got away from her. No, not him. She’d see it coming with him. Sy? Maybe not intentionally. Mike seemed more the “hurt verbally not physically” type. Walter? He would need to be pushed. Geralt. Probably Geralt. He was too glacially calm all the time, his face nearly always an impassive mask, but he was capable of violence. He was a Tracker, he killed Ferals for a living. He’d snap, that glacial calm evaporating and then...

She sighed, running a hand over her face. She loved them, and they loved her, or so they said, but Jordan told her he loved her and that didn’t stop him.

But he’s a Feral. Said the voice of reason, but it was being drowned out by the voice telling her to run before they hurt her.

Walter turned over to face her, pulling her into his arms sleepily and burying his face in her neck.

“Love you.” He said and she felt like crying. Tears actually did sting her eyes, but she blinked rapidly to clear them. He must have felt something in the way she clung to him because his eyes opened, focusing on her in concern. “Love?”

“Please don’t be like him.” She nearly begged it and she watched his heart break just a little bit.

“Never.” He said, his hand coming up to hold the side of her jaw as he leaned in to kiss her. "Not ever." He pressed his forehead to hers, his eyes closed tight as she sobbed quietly.

Walter left her sleeping the next morning, easing the bedroom door closed as he dug his phone out of his sleep pants pocket, heading into the kitchen as he selected a contact.

“Yeah Walt.” Sy said when he picked up.

“Are the others there?” He asked and there was a pause.

“You’re on speaker.” Sy said.

“Steph, she—” He sighed, “She did a threat assessment on us last night. She told me after I got her through a panic attack.”

“She what?” Mike asked.

“Shit.” Sy sighed, “Who was at the top of the list?”

“Geralt.”

“What?” Geralt asked.

“August she would see it coming, be able to de-escalate before it got that far. Mike, you wouldn’t hurt her physically, but you would tear her down mentally.”

“No I wouldn’t!”

“Abuse response, Mikey, don’t take it personal.” Sy said.

“Markus, you and I would only after a lengthy argument.”

“Why me?” Geralt asked, his tone controlled.

“Because you’re calm.” Walter said, “And you would be calm until—”

“Until I wasn’t.” He finished.

“Yeah.” Walter said and Geralt gave a growling sigh.

“Fuck.” He said.

“I’m going to kill him.” August said, “Council wants him alive, but I don’t fucking care what they want. He dies next time he shows his face.”

“Get in line.” Geralt said.

“Haven’t we been—” Mike started. “I mean, things have been good, yeah?”

“Mike, I can fuckin’ promise you things were good with Lewis, too, in the beginning.” Sy said.

“And then they weren’t.” Mike said, “Shit. I need to go over there. I need to see her.”

“She’s still asleep.” Walter said.

“We’re comin’ over.” Sy said, “See you in a bit.” The call ended and Walter sighed, running his fingers through his curls before heading back into the bedroom. Sliding back into bed, he pulled her into his arms, tucking his face in her shoulder.

“Morning.” She said blearily.

“Morning.” He mumbled in return, “The others are on their way.”

“Okay.” She said, laying her hands on his arms. “You’re warm.”

"Do you want breakfast?" He asked but she shook her head.

"Not hungry." She said, "Just tired."

"Get some rest then, love."

Stephanie didn't know when she had drifted off again, but when she woke next, Geralt was in bed with her, holding her in his arms, his fingers running gently through her hair.

"Hey." She said and his lips pressed to her forehead.

"Never." He said, "Never hurt you."

"I know." She said simply, "It's just..."

"I understand." He said, "Sleep."

She drifted in and out of awake and asleep all day, and whenever she woke, someone different was in bed with her. To their credit, they didn't make moves on her, knowing that now was definitely not the time.

It was night when she woke again, Sy asleep next to her, his face half buried in the pillow as he lay on his stomach. She watched him for a bit before getting up gently, sliding out of bed and heading to the attached bathroom. Coming back out, she left the bedroom, the TV on in the dark living room but at a low volume. They were asleep, sprawled out on the floor or the couch, curled up in the recliner, the screen casting odd shadows on their faces as the images flickered across it. Take out containers, Chinese food, littered the living room and kitchen. Fried rice, lo mein, a couple different variations of chicken. There was an untouched container of chicken and mushrooms on the kitchen counter and she knew it was for her, as they knew it was her favorite.

She didn't deserve them.

They deserved someone better than her.

She needed air.

Slipping on her flats, she left the apartment quietly, heading into the breezeway that ran the length of the building. She knew she was overthinking it, she knew they weren't like him, that they wouldn't hurt her intentionally. That they would never hurt her, but she--

Pain blossomed from her cheekbone, sending her to the ground, her head bouncing off the concrete.

Mike snapped awake, looking around the apartment.

"Steph?" He called out, but there was no answer. Getting up, he went into the bedroom, but Sy was alone in bed. "Stephanie?" He went into the bathroom, but it was empty. The second bedroom that she and Walter were using as an office was also empty and dark, the computer turned off. "Steph?" A sinking feeling was building in his chest.

She breathed through the pain, hearing him walk around her.

"Oh, Stephanie." Jordan said, "Whatever am I going to do with you?"

[mixelation]

In the reborn au, do you think over time Tori's techniques derived from her medical knowledge would eventually get noticed by other ninja to be developed further, or would Minato actually seriously have to consider banning it if it got to that point? Or do you think it would just stay an unspoken secret Tori's techniques are breaking some rules but no one is interested enough in the topic to investigate?

hmm i think there might be some assumptions/implications in this ask i don't quite understand, but i'll answer anyway.

most of tori's research is the biology of chakra. this is slowly getting developed in plasticity-- she gets interested in it because it's the basis of all these insane things in ninjaworld, but also it's an inextricable part of every living organism's biology, but also she has literally no background understanding on it. her approach to chakra is also fundamentally different from 99% of other people because she was just trained to think about how bodies work differently, so a lot of research questions she gets fixated on seem very off the beaten track from everyone else. her main thing is that, instead of looking at chakra as something very individual like most ninja, she goes: why CAN'T i just use bacteria? why are we using human blood instead of an animal? we all presumably evolved chakra from the same source. and the answer is there's enough differences in the chakra properties you have to make a lot of modifications, but yes you can use non-human chakra. and that's what's really game changing. you don't need to be limited by your own chakra and you don't even have to be a ninja

and also she's been learning to do this under extremely unideal circumstances and she's very much like "well i have no control over my environment, so i should be able to modify fuinjutsu to it instead of trying to force my surroundings to be ideal." so it's like

kushina: what does this part of the seal do tori: that's so it still works if i paint it on an uneven surface like a rock kushina: huh. smart. minato later: listen i'm very glad you could still use this under adverse conditions minato: but WHY is this the default jutsu. this takes you twice as long to draw.

the later part where she makes insane versions of seals is only really "breaking the rules" in that most people don't get the in depth training to know how to do it themselves. more adept users also sometimes do things like this as the need arises, although most people believe the more elegant solution is "just figure out a way to to it with hand signs." so very little tori does on this front is apt to be banned for fear of people stealing it.

i think in mutagenicity she keeps down the lines of research for using non-human chakra, but ALSO with access to a real lab, she probably also starts on looking at how chakra is manipulated within the body, what the limitations are, and what the biological basis of chakra is. (these questions also seem more likely for a ninja village to want her to ask lmao.) so she might ask something like "how is direction of chakra flow determined, and is the body wired to only be able to use it when it's going in that direction, and also why the fuck is it correlated with hair whorl" and what people NOT in the lab see is that she made a jutsu to reverse chakra flow and it won't kill you but it will fuck up your ability to use chakra indefinitely. like she made it to use on mice and see what happens when chakra gets flipped around to make inferences about how chakra and physical biology interact, but it just seems like wild mad science if you don't have that context. and i think this later category of jutsu is more likely to get branded "forbidden" to prevent users from hurting themselves than as, like, security concerns.

however i will say that tori has fundamentally different beliefs on sharing knowledge than most ninja. she gets protecting clan secrets of bloodline limits, but she also thinks everyone has the inherent right to understand how biology works in a general sense. so while minato might consider it a security risk if, for example, another village stole one of her seals to do their own chakra research, Tori would just be like: oh cool, collaborators. so i can see there being some friction there.

(tori is going to be SO offended when the other ninja research team literally just wants to make a weapon and doesn't care about the genetics of chakra production at all)

[princess-of-the-corner]

Quirk Awakenings

Because ya know what? Fuck it! If they ain’t gonna give us solid explanations, I'mma make my own until told otherwise! At least to get The thoughts out so they stop spinning in my head!

So! What’s a “Quirk Awakening”?

Well, it seems to be when a Quirk gets stronger, obviously. But not gradually, through training, but all at once. Usually in response to a perceived threat, or if the person in question is under extreme duress - usually physical, though emotional or mental seems to count in a few cases. So, we’ll say a “Quirk Awakening” is a survival mechanism, a response to a threat, meant to ensure someone’s survival. Similar to an “adrenaline rush” in us regular humans, the kind of thing that let’s mothers move whole cars off trapped children, or lets a human survive almost being frozen solid, or losing a limb. The part of the human body and psyche that makes us go “Not Today, Bitch!” and then perform some sort of god-mode glitch we will never be able to replicate. 

Of course, such actions have consequences. Like, that mother absolutely saved her trapped kid. She also wrecked all the muscles in her arms and back, and will need a lot of physical therapy to recover. So, do Quirk Awakenings have that? Do they effect people that way??

No Idea! Cause what the FUCK do Quirk Awakenings look like, really? They seem wildly different for everyone - which makes sense! No one has the exact same Quirk! But like. What counts as an “Awakening”? Kirishima has his “Unbreakable” mode, which yes, he got through training. But he trained by hardening up, and having people use him as a punching bag. He put himself under duress, to improve his Quirk! Does that count as an Awakening?? Izuku has random power jumps all over the place, as new Quirks come in - does that count? No clue!

Honestly, the only thing that sticks out to me, the thing that makes me think, and tentatively codify this, is Iida.

Hear me out.

So, there’s that scene where Tensei tells his little brother about a “secret technique” that will make him stronger. Normally, in Shonen manga like this, that sort of thing leads to a training montage, mastering some “hidden art” or finding a new understanding. They’ll condense it down, but it’s implied to take a long time, or it should. But that’s not what Tensei tells Tenya. No, the super special “secret technique”? Rip out his mufflers, so they’ll grow back stronger. When I first saw this, I was like “what????”. That doesn’t seem like “training” to me - that’s a little extreme, especially if you watch that scene! Iida has cloth in his mouth, a first aid kit next to him, and IS CLEARLY IN AGONY. He’s sweating, tense, he looks like he’s about to cry. There’s BLOOD. Not to mention the setting, I was absolutely flabbergasted. I questioned why the HELL Iida was out in the woods doing this - if it’s known about in his family, then why isn’t Iida being sedated in a sterile environment? Why isn’t there a trusted doctor team HELPING with this?

Then I thought about it more, and I think I know what it is.

The Iida family’s “secret technique” is them forcing their bodies through a semi-controlled “Quirk Awakening”.

A Quirk Awakening only seems to really happen when a person is put under duress. A “Do or Die” situation. When they don’t have a choice but to either fight back, or fall. Uraraka is implied to get one in the manga, making a Sort of “field” around her where she controls the gravity, without her having to touch anything. Bakugou gets one at some point, seeming to gain the ability to control his sweat, waterbender style, to create explosions at a distance, with better control. Both of them were in situations where they, quite possibly, could have (or should have) died. They were put in a situation where they were told “live or die”, and hit that survival threshold that lets people do insane shit when threatened. So, this Iida Family Secret Technique? It’s mimicking that, which means it really only works when done in suboptimal conditions.

Think about it. The Iida family are one of the older hero families. Why would they hurt themselves like that unless there wasn’t another option? The Engine Quirk has probably gone through a few iterations, some of them likely had their mufflers ripped out while Heroing. They probably noticed that the mufflers that grew back were stronger. Some of them probably figured the “grew back stronger” and tried to do the same in controlled conditions, and I bet you anything it didn’t work. They grew back barely stronger, the same, or maybe not at all. Cause In controlled conditions? You’re safe, and you know it. There isn’t that pressure, that drive that forces your body past its limits. The thing that says “we need to be stronger RIGHT NOW”. It only really works when you put yourself in conditions that force a similar feeling of duress as an actual fight - hence Iida going into UA’s back yard with a first aid kit and no painkillers, without telling anyone where he was going or what he was doing.

This also made me think, that a Quirk Awakening? Is more like a rapid Quirk “Evolution” or “Advancement”. It’s your Quirk jumping ahead to save your life, regardless of how trained you are, or if you were “evolved” enough to handle it. I think it’s totally possible to train to the same (or at least similar) level you would get from a Quirk Awakening but it takes time, effort. It’s that same Quirk Awakening, but done slower, letting everything adjust and grow more gradually. Like, if you go through a proper Quirk Awakening? It’s like a growth spurt during puberty, suddenly your balance sucks, everything is stretched and it hurts, you’re hungry and tired - your body has developed rapidly, not really giving you time to adjust for it, making you play catch up with yourself. To use Kirishima as an example, if, say, during the USJ, Kiri had been put in a situation where he needed that Unbreakable Mode? I bet you he’d unlock it. But I also bet, afterward, he’d be sore, maybe dry skin, tense muscles, need to eat for three and sleep for a week. Iida probably needed to almost relearn how to run with the new mufflers, needed to stretch more, drink more OJ, his whole legs were sore, not just where he tore the mufflers out.

So, like, another example - Let’s say Sero goes through a Quirk Awakening. Well, what happens? His tape gets better, obviously, stronger, he can make more of it, but what else? Well, he’s already flexible, and I posit part of his Quirk is his joints - like, his Tape comes from his elbows. So he gets more flexible, especially in the joints, but what if the tape needs to come from somewhere else? Well (I’m almost sorry for sharing this, but I had the thought, and I refuse to shudder alone) how about the path of least resistance - his nails? Instead of just finger- and toenails, now they shoot tape too. How about his wrists, or ankles? Spread it to every joint.

What about Tokoyami? Does the bird thing get more prominent? Does he get talons? Wings? Does Dark Shadow change in anyway?

We’ve all posited that Hagakure’s Invisibility could do something crazy - it’s light refraction. Could she change colours? Create illusions? Hell, a laser? Could she CONTROL light, through reflection and refraction? A mirror and a torch, and she can make a mirage?

(Running out of thoughts, so would love to hear your feedback! Specifically, how you think this fits with Touya [both Sports Festival and AfO’s Fuckery] and Kurogiri. Also Tomura, cause, like. Look at him)

-

OH HELL YEAH

Honestly there do seem to be some exceptions to the ‘survival’ thing in a way. Specifically thinking about Toya because even in Canon, his fire went from red to blue out of emotional distress, but not life-or-death(though he immediately wass put in a life-or-death situation right after lmao). And this carries through to Chaos Children, though the circumstances change it’s still emotional distress and pure determination.

Also I totally forgot about the ripping the engines out like OOF but yeah it makes sense that a family of Heroes who have been in fucked situations like that would click on to a way to kinda. Force an Awakening.

But also at the same time, people are in distressing situations like that a lot. Especially Heroes and Villains they’d be getting Awakenings left and right. They don’t always get Awakenings. I actually brought this up recently in Road to Hell! Enji’s first thought on how to deal with his weaknesses was actually to try and force an Awakening in his own Quirk, but decided that because he’s been through distressing enough situations without one, that there must be something else that would trigger an Awakening.

And yeah my thoughts on it are that there’s multiple options for where an Awakening can go! to show with what I mentioned before re: Toya’s different Awakenings and also Kurogiri:

In both Toya’s first Awakening and then the Oboro to Kurogiri thing, that’s an evolution of their pre-existing Quirk. Toya’s Quirk evolves from just regular red-orange fire, to hotter blue flames. Oboro’s Cloud ads on abilities to protect himself and to escape danger, becoming Warp Gate.

But with Toya’s second Awakening in CC, there’s not really anywhere for his Quirk to evolve in terms of just fire. Like in theory it could evolve the fireproofing, but it didn’t have that in the first place. It’d be adding something ‘new’ rather than changing what’s there. So instead the Awakening dug into dormant genetics. Even though it didn’t initially show up on Toya, the bits and pieces for his grandfather’s Quirk are still in his DNA and if he somehow had a bio kid there’s a chance of the Quirk showing up again. So the Awakening tapped into that instead, bringing the genetics to the surface and adding it to his Quirk.

This is what I feel would happen in the latter suggestions you mentioned like Sero getting an Awakening. There’s little room for his Quirk to evolve drastically, so instead it would dig into whatever’s lying dormant in his genetics.

[noforkingclue]

Hello again, Darling. I'm glad you're okay with that. But, again, if you are not pleased or not interested, everything is fine, just refuse.

You are in an established relationship with Homelander. You never show up with him at events, but, literally, the whole country knows, that his strongest supe has a girlfriend without powers. You are known by sight only in the Tower. And Homelander himself "protects" you from all this. He's not an obsessive possessive creep, no. How could you think that, no. He's just caring. And he is not suffocates you with his perverted notion of love, of course not. You are not under his eternal control, and he has not scared away your entire environment from you. Of course not, you're just imagining it.

In general, you are not so unhappy with him in a relationship. At times, he's very passable, even cute. Well, you youself, almost voluntarily, agreed to his offer to be together. You know, he's a monster, but, you almost feel sorry for him..? You're already used to him. You don't think it's Stockholm Syndrome, rather you've just always seen a little bit of good in Homelander. Well, probably yes, you probably love him. At least, that's what you think.

You have a pretty reliable, happy relationship. That's what he always thought. But after lunch, almost everyone in the building is kind of tense, and cautiously squint at him. And then, poor Ashley asks him to sit down and informs him, that you are no longer with them. That you're gone. And you did it to yourself. No note, no explanation, nothing. And that there was no way to save you.

But Homelander saw you this morning. You didn't cry, you didn't say stupid things. Everything was fine. You even kissed him goodbye. No, of course he knew, that you had such problems in the past, but he thought you were lying.

And what should he do now? How to react? What should he think now, how to live on?

Note: requests are currently closed

So I hope I got all the details in this request. I know I have quite a few long requests like this so if I don't get all the details in it I do apologise. Just the way my brain works!

Title: Gone

Warnings: suicide, unhealthy relationship

The Boys tag list: @captainofmybigwetdream, @scraftskhu35, @zannemes, @holy-minseok

Everything tag list: @greenrevolutionary, @byebyebreezywrites, @spngingerbread21, @layazul, @lov3vivian, @simonsbluee

It was a lie.

It couldn’t be true.

It wasn’t true.

Homelander didn’t believe it.

He didn’t want to believe it.

Ashley’s stuttering voice seemed to disappear into the background as he looked out of the window, jaw clenched. He heard everything. The voices, heartbeats, breathes of everyone in the city below him. He could hear the lives of everyone.

Apart from the one person he wanted to hear.

“-sorry.”

“What?”

He looked over his shoulder at Ashley who cringed back. He turned around so he was facing her fully and took a measure stepped towards her. Ashley staggered back on her heels, terror crossing her face.

“What. Did. You. Say.” Said Homelander

“That… that.”

“Yes?”

“We’re all so sorr-“

Ashley didn’t get to finish her sentence before Homelander’s hand clenched around her throat. He slammed her against the wall, smirking at the slight crunch of her ribs. Ashley clawed at his hand and he took a step closer, squeezing harshly. He closed his eyes and shuddered as Ashley’s nail dug into his hand and when he opened his eyes they were glowing red.

“Your heart is racing,” he said quietly, “Tends to happen when people are lying.”

“I-“ Ashley managed to choke out

“I don’t like it when people lie to me, Ashley.”

“Not-“

“Why are you lying to me Ashley? Why are you keeping her from me.”

“Put Ashley down.”

The calm voice of Stan cut through the tension. Homelander looked over at him, eyes still glowing red. Stan raised an eyebrow and after a second Homelander let go of Ashley. She fell to the ground, gasping in deep breaths of air.

“Ashley, I need to speak to Homelander. Alone.”

Ashley staggered to her feet and scuttled out of the room. Neither Stan nor Homelander spoke. Homelander walked back over to the window and said,

“Where is she.”

“Y/n is gone.”

“I want her back.”

“She’s dead.”

“She can’t be.”

“She is.”

“She promised that she’d always be there with me,” Homelander said, his voice shaking just slightly, “She promised. She was there with e this morning. She was happy. Why would she do this to me?”

“I think you know the answer to that.”

“We were happy.”

“You kept her locked up.”

“She’s human. She’s weak. She needs me to look after her, to protect her.”

“She was human,” Stan corrected coldly, “But she wasn’t weak.”

Homelander spun around to glare at Stan, eye glowing red. Stan didn’t flinch away and Homelander said,

“I love her.”

“As much as you are capable of loving anyone,” said Stan, “We’re already working on a story. I don’t believe that you’d want the public knowing that the girlfriend of America’s greatest superhero killed herself. Some of sort tragic, sudden illness I think.”

“Fiancé,” said Homelander, “Tell them y/n is, was, my fiancé.”

“Was she?”

“Eventually she would be.”

“Very well. I’ll tell the press office.”

As Stan left the room Maeve entered it. She pursed her lips as she remained by the door, not wanting to get any closer than necessary.

“I’m sorry,” she said, “About y/n.”

“You really mean that,” said Homelander, “You’re the first person who has genuinely meant that. Why?”

“Simple,” Maeve grimaced before fixing Homelander with a harsh glare, “She was too good for you.”

[dislyteshack]

Another day another slaying

Inch of Time chapter 3 came out today!!!

Gods, everything burned. He needed time to recover.

Rolling to his side it was an effort to even get out of bed.

When checking the clock, Chu Yao noticed he'd gotten up earlier than he should have. It was 2 am.

More time to figure out the loops, he supposed.

He skipped the tea this morning, it was too early either way and… The memory of his previous death was sorely fresh. He instead opted for an early shower.

He mused, where he bathed was an obvious way for his killer to end him. But one of the few patterns he noticed was they'd often wait until the end of the day to strike.

… Clearly this would be going nowhere without outside help and yet… Who could he turn to? He was a man of many friends and many followers, but few true allies.

Even someone like Chu Yao claiming to be trapped in a time loop would come off as lunacy… Unless…

He gritted his teeth at the thought.

Why would he need to demean himself by seeking her aid?

Perish the thought, it need not happen. He focused on the running of water instead rather than the idea before.

‘But it does, doesn't it?’

His subconscious told him as he attempted to cleanse himself of his impurities, parts of them clinging to his skin even as the intensity of his cleaning rose.

‘Doing the same set of actions over and over, it leads to insanity, does it not?’

… It does. Even now he felt the burn of his vices, no matter how hard he claimed none gripped his soul.

After all these years, would Raven even offer him aid? Of course she would; She was a good person. One of loyalty, even at opposing ends.

Chu Yao still scoffs at the idea of her offer to join the union. Her willingness to go through and overcome every obstacle, explore every possible outcome; and still offer an olive branch all so they could attempt to reforge whatever relationship they had left.

Yes… Her compassion had never changed over the years he had known her, and he had once feared that that stubbornness would one day be detrimental to her.

And now, he was the first one to offer up communication, much to his admitted dismay.

He pondered, slowly rising from the bath to eventually finish. Though the raid was costly it would undoubtedly provide an opportunity.

With that same intensity there was one last attempt to rinse the stench of defeat from himself. A decision was made.

He'd had to waste at most five today's to figure out where she was. Anytime he spotted Raven it always seemed like she was in a different location than when he last observed her.

Today was different, when first approaching Odin's chosen he was met with one of her mutts. He was positive the beast had gotten larger than when he had seen it prior- and it was as happy to see him as he was to see it once more. Which, given the bared fangs of the creature, wasn’t very much at all.

“Impressive, this was one of the outcomes I wasn't expecting.” Raven observed him, hand placed between the wolf’s ears and causing its snarling to cease. Its judgemental stare still bore into him.

So it would seem then, he stayed silent.

Maybe it was out of pride, a way for him to regain what he'd already lost from having to seek out help this way. Or perhaps he was unable to think of a response, when usually there were always words Chu Yao could say to sway any conversation in his favour. Not here, however. Only a burning level of indignation that he had to stoop to this level.

Here they were both equal knights on a chessboard rather than any one of them controlling the pieces.

���... If you're looking to talk, don't you think a raid isn't the best place?”

He gazed around, did she think he was foolish enough to remain speaking with her in this environment?

“I would agree, I'd be willing to talk at 7 if you would indulge me.”

“As long as it's partially on my terms, back here then?”

If it being on for your terms is what you believe will help then, he thought bitterly

“As you wish.”

When he'd agreed to meet in that same location, Chu Yao had to admit he was almost expecting a trap of sorts.

Raven may have been a suspect he was saving for last, but a suspect no less.

The only problem… Her powers held no sway over time. She could only view a series of events passively, not tear someone back from their death to the dawn of the same day.

“Now this is what I expected. What Is this situation of yours?”

He explained it to her as candidly as he could. No matter what details there were, he never left them out. He was blunt with them. Although Chu Yao left out the wonton torture of his subordinate, as that part was wholly unnecessary information in this predicament.

“It was only after their questioning, did they reveal I'd suspected the wrong person. All I ask is for my future, if this repeating day is all there will ever be to it.”

Raven's expression was cool, perhaps it was just because she predicted what he would say. Or just because she was always understanding, that compassion of hers.

She briefly closed her eye and not too long later she began to speak.

“It won't be all there ever is,

One day will eventually turn to the next.

But one constant in this future?

As long as you give up control, the next day will come.”

As long as he gave up control? He recalled a handful of her prior prophecies, although they were never as vague as this.

“Is that all?”

“Has something I’ve said upset you?”

She had reason to conceal information, yes, but-

“That can’t be all. What are you hiding?”

“Mm, you don’t think what I’ve given you is valuable information?” Raven asked, patient despite the man’s haughty assertion. “I need to keep my cards close to my chest just as you do yours.”

Chu Yao remained silent, his displeasure visible but fully aware pushing would only serve to impede his efforts.

“If you’re done pouting, may I continue?”

He responded with continued silence, an unspoken yes.

“Surrender is your only option; Only you can break this cycle.

Expect even the most unexpected betrayals,

Don't fall for easy traps as you did recently.”

"Recently you say? Are you suggesting this is a trap?”

"Is that your only conclusion? I’m working with what information you’ve provided me with. It’s your duty to use what I’ve given you to free yourself from this web- only you can.”

Oh, even if she doesn't have the divine power to do so the connections are there…

“Not my assassin, not whoever has put this into motion. Me, you say? I’m close to guessing you’re just poking fun at me now.”

When reopening her eye, Raven only sighed- almost scoffed, even.

“Believe me when I say I only wish to help you.”

He’ll do just this once then, Chu Yao would know how to find her eventually. For all her foresight, she won't remember the next today.

He was ready that night as he returned from that meeting. Chu Yao noticed a hint of movement through his office window, almost entirely concealed in the darkness.

This time he was the one to strike first.

He used a spell to transport himself instantaneously into his office before putting his fate in it’s hands the moment he swung with his dagger-

It pierced an intruder’s shoulder successfully-

A light gasp escaped and before the second swing-

Chu Yao noticed a hint of movement through his office window, almost entirely concealed in the darkness.

This time he was the one to strike-

… He hadn’t even died yet!? How-

It doesn't matter now as he burst through the door and swung at the hooded figure in the room-

Chu Yao noticed a hint of movement—-

…. This was the case of divine power. He could feel it the closer he was to his office.

Rather than swinging he went for the hood the figure had and underneath-

It was just what looked like a esper he couldn't recognize, brown hair and glowing golden orbs as some kind of imitation for eyes. Nothing else they wore would have suggested that they were the one killing him all these times. It was all stays and layers of petticoats.

"Sorry - I took personal offence to last today, so they're letting me get a kill in this time.” Even unmasked, they seemed entirely unperturbed by Chu Yao’s discovery of them. “I just wanted to know what it's like to act instead of directing from the sidelines.”

“Who?-”

They paused for a moment as if a polite introduction would change the tone of the interaction.

“Aion’s Protege, no need to know any info beyond that.”

From their skirt pockets a glint of light flickered as they produced an item.

A crossbow-

“Or well… Esper.”

He dodged this time, he wouldn't allow himself to be bested once again by them. More so now that he'd just unmasked his assassin.

The steel arrow lodged itself deeply into one of the back walls of the office, displaying just how much power this compact crossbow was actually packing. Barely a moment to register the lining up of another shot, narrowly avoiding another barrage as adrenaline kept his feet moving.

This dance of attempted shots and swings eventually ended when he struck once in their side—

He didn't need to notice whatever was in the window he just burst in and ripped off the mask-

“I didn't appreciate that, you know.”

He didn't care.

“Why accept then-” through attempted shots the thought slipped out. Even if they were hired there had to be a reason.

This time he aimed for the throat-

He's struck for once in the chest barely missing his vitals. Despite the sloppy aim of the intruder, whatever looping abilities the esper had was working only in their favour.

"Oh, you're right! I have no reason to go after you, you should ask my benefactor about their reasons to hire me-”

Again another arrow pierces flesh and bone through his stomach, possibly cracking the spine. That one caused him to fall over and lose his balance.

They quickly approach him just to pull out the arrows with efficiency courtesy of their own power. As soon as the piercing instruments were removed the wounds opened up, blood freely spilling the punctures over his body. The sharp tips scraping fresh lacerations over his flesh and through internal organs.

The final ammunition lodged in his chest seemed… Fond of its location, and as the assailant yanked at the shaft it caught on bone and Chu Yao raised slightly off of the ground with it.

“Oh, sorry.” Both the arrow and Chu Yao fell back to the ground when it didn’t give way, the ‘apology’ frankly being more hurtful than the removal attempt.

They grabbed hold of the arrow with both hands, heel on Chu Yao’s chest to keep him on the floor and pulled with all their might.

It caused some additional cracks in some bones and the arrowhead came out with some additional scraps of flesh, but it was out!

Oh yes. He was *so* overjoyed at their success. Perhaps this was the most embarrassing death so far.

They did seem to be pleased with the outcome, with how they begin to muse of a different topic as if one of them wasn't currently bleeding out

“I knew the Seven had wealth, but I never thought much about it til I got my first Nexus crystals.”

Blood continued to pool uninhibited again, Chu Yao could swear something in him was paralyzed when the vice grip he had previously on his dagger loosened.

“You’re really good at staying alive, I have to admit-“ they commented, leaning down. “Like a cockroach…”

Were they… Bored?

“All right, we're ending this. Have my debriefing and all that boring crap to do after this.”

He feels hands on the side of his head for a moment, he’s raised for easier access to his neck and before Chu Yao could look -

-SNAP-

[our-future-is-up-to-us-2]

Go To Sleep, And Dream Of Pain

Posting late now, but what the hell, it's still something <3

Take some angsty vibes for fic number 4 @narcosfandomdiscord

Prompt #21, Book Of Nerves Of Steel: Cortisol

Word Count: 1K

Relationships: Seymour Krelborn & Audrey II, Audrey Fulquard/Orin Scrivello (background)

Warnings: Quite a few! All of these are compliant to canon: Blood loss, murder, mention of s/h, reference to abusive relationship

~ Read the fic under the cut ~

Seymour has, and always will be, a shy person. 

Shy, clumsy, forgettable, those adjectives always spring to mind. Oh, and unhygienic, if Mr. Mushnik’s words have any input whatsoever. (Of course, they do, after all, there’s nothing that the florist can refuse from the shop owner). 

Another word to add to the pile, something that only increases with each passing day: Anxiousness. 

Seymour frets and frets, rubbing over his hands. He works frequently with his plants, talking to them as though it will make them grow. He collects the inventory and keeps to himself, because no one really makes an effort to talk in return. 

Things are better that way. 

Well, until a beautiful yet shocking revelation can emerge, that is. 

And how better to do it than in the form of some… Venus flytrap, unidentifiable plant thing , Audrey II? 

Mushnik marvels at the plant’s unique traits, ready to show it off to the passers-by of Skid Row. Audrey squeaks, simply because she’s been given acknowledgement from Seymour, that the plant (and by extension, she) holds value.  

The florist stresses some more when the plant doesn’t grow, and makes his best efforts to revive it that very night. 

When he wakes up in the morning, everything is swell. 

If being on the anaemic side of things is a side effect, so be it. Business is booming and Audrey II’s been blooming away. 

Finally, Seymour Krelborn breathes in the fact that every bad feeling oh-so casually slips away. He can take control of his life, now, from an orphanage, to a fortune. 

Mushnik doesn’t despise him anymore, and Audrey looks at him nicely… He doesn’t need anything else. Yes, the environment could be nicer, but that is the point. Start off slow, in this dirty, dingy, depressed neighbourhood of Skid Row, and find a way outta here.  

He smiles at the plant, bigger and better than ever before, and hums as he walks towards the door, having closed up for the night. 

This thing is his ticket to heaven. He’s sure of it. 

***

The day to follow is even more strenuous than the last. 

The blood loss drives him insane, not literally, but he’s dizzy. Sometimes, it’s difficult to think rapidly, even to put one foot in front of the other. 

He’d rather sleep, give his aching fingers a few days to heal, and then continue with Audrey II. But that’s some distant dream, nothing like Audrey’s… 

She thinks of the future, of optimism and whimsy. The American dream, the white-picket fence and a dashing husband to boot. She’ll be the perfect housewife, living in serenity, dressed to the nines and with enough money to last a lifetime. 

Seymour doesn’t exactly doubt Audrey, but he’s seen many a harsh day, and would rather try his best to see things moment by moment, progressing at pace. One foot in front of the other. 

Until it’s near closing time, and that eccentric dentist guy, Orin, has picked Audrey up, swept her off her feet and onto a motorbike… Not without mentioning he does so in the least of romantic fashions, whilst ignoring her and screwing around with nitrous oxide. 

Unfortunately, there’s not much he can do. He’s discussed it time and time again with Mr Mushnik: Audrey is not a healthy girl, and neither is Audrey II. 

At least, it wasn’t before.  

Now its leaves make it an enigma, and the bud is a luscious green, making the plant seem like it's from a jungle. 

“Aw, Twoey,” Seymour mumbles, leaning against it, “It’s crazy, how the world works. She should be with a prince, not a sadistic creep like him!” He feels the anger rise in his voice, opting to run his bandaged fingers over Audrey II. He’ll calm himself down, and the cortisol in his body will surely take effect soon. “Look, at least we got each other, right? I’ll see you in the morning.” 

He lets out a delayed breath as he reaches for the doorknob, twisting it. He barely feels the air on his face when he startles, hearing the plant slump from behind him. 

The florist has no option but to close the door. 

Even less of a choice, he’ll have to talk to the withering thing, just to make him seem sane. Perhaps it’s on instinct, too, and he just can’t help his nature. 

“I– Twoey! I haven’t got much left, seriously– We can start on the left hand when I’m better, and–” 

He kneels down, pressing his glasses closer to his face. 

Feed me!  

It’s bizarre. 

It’s just him in this dingy room, trying to grapple with a plant that needs a lot of nutrition. Clearly, Seymour’s blood sacrifices aren’t cutting it anymore– But, then, maybe it’s the blood loss! Just a dream, a hallucination! How’s he going to snap out of it?! 

The voice, rich and baritone, rings again. 

Feed me, Krelborn, feed me, now!  

Who else knows him like this? So personally? Who’s been with him through everything? 

Oh. Seymour thinks, his eyes glaring at Audrey II’s bulb. Is that the only option, is it really?  

“I can’t feed you!” He finally says, shuffling away. “I’ve told you too many times!” 

“But I’m starving! ” The lips move. The trap, the thing, he doesn’t have a clue – on the plant , no less – says something. “C’mon, Krelborn, feed me now!” 

“I’m a human, Twoey!” The florist exclaims, backing away, “I’ve only got a limited blood supply.” He watches as its vines flop up and down, “What? You want me to slit my wrists?!” 

“Mmm,” Audrey II responds, and Seymour’s hands start to tremble. 

No! He thinks, This is too much, isn’t it?! That’s disgusting, isn’t it?! How inhumane! So… So vile.  

And yet, Audrey II’s newfound rhetoric works its way into Seymour’s mind and heart: Hey, what if you killed someone? Someone oughta deserve it! Feed me, get me some lunch! You’ll be rich if I keep growing, imagine it, kid!  

Both he and the plant take their eyes to the window, seeing heartless Orin and innocent Audrey… The scene before them both sends a shiver down the florist’s spine. 

“Alright,” He whispers, “You need blood, and Orin’s got more than enough.” 

***

Seymour chops Orin up, but doesn’t kill him. 

The images of blood and body parts keep him awake for hours, and he knows that the cortisol in him isn’t doing its job. 

He should be asleep by now, he should be thinking of tomorrow’s troubles… 

Instead, Seymour stays awake, and thinks about the hole he’s dug himself: Deep, irreversible, and bloody. 

[svnbrn]

tonight, KANG JIEUN of clan SALUBRI hunts for their next meal. the 11TH GENERATION + ONE HUNDRED AND SIXTEEN year-old cainite, embraced when they were TWENTY-FOUR, will use their disciplines of AUPEX and FORTITUDE to make quick work of their prey. JIEUN has pledged their loyalty to NONE, and in the wake of the prince’s announcement, they’ve chosen to HONOR the fragile peace he cemented so long ago. 

hey yo, everyone! this is sky (sh/th, 21+) and i'm here to present you kang jieun, salubri clan whip! she was born and raised through the japan colonization of korea and ended up losing her parents pretty young. thankfully she got adopted by a salubri vampire (that later on became her sire), probably because of the combination of a promise they made probably out of their compulsion + pity for the poor orphan girl that seemed to have too much of a kind heart for the world she was born in; tl;dr basically a soft girl raised in a country in war (little do they know that people pleasing and caring for others is how she copes with ✨trauma✨). discord is available by request and pls drop a little ♡ if you'd like me to pop up in your dms for some plotting 💕

past. (tw: death, terminal illness)

born a little before japan (and the camarilla) imposed their control over korea, but her first memory is when their power was cemented so she feels like a daughter of those times anyway, (TW STARTS) even more so when her parents were revolutionaries and ended up losing their lives when she was around twelve. (TW ENDS)

got adopted by a salubri vampire who knew her parents and ended up promising that they'd look after their daughter if something happened to them.

had a lot of questions about their lifestyle, but never really asked them out loud and instead just went with the flow not only because the only person that she had after her parents were gone, but also because her parents were always telling her about being understanding/accepting of the way people are different from her so she just rolled with it.

surprisingly was kept away from the conflict filled part of her (soon to be) sire's life (thankfully because she hates conflict) because they did promise to her parents they'd protect/look after jieun and throwing her in the middle of the storm wasn't exactly doing that, but then there's a limit to how much she could be sheltered and even though she couldn't fully understand the complex social (and political) scenario around her, she didn't need to be super smart to see how some most people were miserable.

even before turning into a vampire, she felt a little compulsion to help people or at least cheer them up/not add to their already existing misery.

(besides her parents always told her that she was the warmest ray of sunshine in their lives and maybe she wanted to hear those words again even if it they weren't from the people that she wanted to hear them the most.)

ends up being offered immortality when (TW STARTS) she's diagnosed with terminal cancer (TW ENDS), says half joking half serious that she said yes because her sire looked very upset about the idea of her dying, but it was also because she wasn't quite ready to leave them either.

led a very lowkey life as a vampire until she's eventually invited by the camarilla to join their court; ends up accepting it, because even though she was raised mostly in an anti-camarilla environment considering her background, it's exactly because of said background that she joins them. she already lost her parents by trying to oppose them + she likes the sense of peace that has under the camarilla control.

doesn't mean she's necessarily loyal to them; in the end she'll always choose the side that seems to be killing less/that she feels the safest and if that changes from the camarilla to the anarchs or even if it's neither of them, so be it.

personality.

a little honda tohru from fruits basket coded, iykyk.

was stupidly naive when younger, but then with now centuries on her back, jieun did grow up to a little more distrustful with people and not to let her guard down that easily, even more because of her clan ban, but it's still not very hard to gain her trust or to have her believe in whatever bullshit someone is spilling.

there are even times that she can sort of tell when the other person is trying to take advantage of her, but then just lets them anyway because she believes that they might have their reasons for it + the bullet point below.

has a very kindhearted nature that comes from mostly overly attaching herself to people because she's scared of being left alone/feeling lonely + the little cliche of it being easier for her to not focus on her own problems when she's focusing on someone else's + her clan's compulsion as the very red cherry on top of the cake.

besides her parents always told her to be kind (and then her sire really doubled down on that), because someday the universe would have that kindness returned to her and holding onto those words also feels like a way to also holding onto her parents/to feel close to them.

holding grudges? being petty? don't know her.

not a very good leader, but a very good follower, very hardworking and diligent. also great listener and gives some decent advice even if not always.

always finishes what she starts kind of person, regardless if at any point it stops being worth of all of her effort and time.

is very much into crochet + an absolute plants mom (yes, she makes little sweaters for her plants 🥹); always carry some crocheted animal keychain around to give people if she senses they're sad/need some help and if that doesn't really at least cheer them up, then well, now she'll have to go through hell and back to help them, i guess 😔

might look like an airhead, but is very much attuned to the people around her and what is happening; the type to remember a comment someone made even if they thought that no one was paying attention to them at that time.

[despair-to-future-arcs]

Hinako’s pretty coy, I’ll give her that.

Yeah, I mean looking back; she always seem to act pretty cunning and intelligent. In fact, she tends to get more attention and has it way too easy that it piss me off; I had a feeling she was faking it.

It does seem so, but it seems she brought up that between you and her, you be a better fit at Hope's Peak Academy, correct?

Well duh, what do you expect? Lots of kids talk about Hope's Peak Academy, it's the one school that promises success for life so lots of kids aim for it. Which then I got my acceptance letter; you see on that day, my dad had sometime off work he promise to celebrate my birthday and even have March off so we can spend time together, so they visited then one of the hand maidens came over with a letter directed to me.

...

...

...

Date: Febuary 20th, 2010

Yaaay, daddy is here! I can't believe you were able to get off of work, and you get you celebrate my birthday!

Yeah, finally I was able to make sometime for you, I'm happy to hear.

Say, Maiko - did you tell your mom that we are taking Hiyoko out for her birthday?

Well I was going to, I know she doesn't like using the phone much but I know I do need to get permission from her so let's go see her.

Knowing her, she likely won't trust as usual so don't be surprise if she says no...

Hmph, of course she would; given how much of a pushover you can be.

Anyway, we should ask her.

*As the 3 walk in, a hand maiden was speaking with Izumi as she held a letter*

I see... so this thing arrive in the mail, why am I not surprise...

HAND MAIDEN: Well as say, this is directed to the young mistress, we should probably give it to her, correct?

Very well but I'm going to take care of this. Oh speaking of which here they are, Hiyoko - seems there's some mail for you.

Mail? I got some mail, is it fan mail...? *Hiyoko walks over and opens it was a Hope's Peak Acceptance Letter*

Wa-Wait, that's... that's a Hope's Peak Acceptance Letter...?! Hiyoko got one?

Wait, it is? That's what a Hope's Peak Acceptance Letter is...?

Ye-Yeah that's what it looks like, your mother got one before and now you got one!

Wait, seriously?! No way, I get to finally attend Hope's Peak Academy!

Yaaaaay, I get to go to Hope's Peak! I get to go to Hope's Peak! I get to-.

Which of course you aren't going young lady.

Huh?! What the hell, grandma... why can't I go?!

Yeah Izumi, look - you seen how hard Hiyoko's work for this, didn't you? I feel she should be able to attend.

And you see what happen to that failure of a daughter of mine; the fact her business came crashing down all because she was arrogant enough to think she can attend Hope's Peak which she never attended college because she thought she needed Hope's Peak and is now working at a part time job at some clothes store that's unremarkable, if anything I rather not send Hiyoko to that accursed school due to how this failure turn out.

...

C-C'mon grandma, I wo-worked really hard at being your heir compare to the waste of air and your telling me not to go?

Yes I am, given that school has cause nothing but trouble; I don't think sending you there would be a good idea and I know how your going to get. I know how that school is and trust me, it's not the type of environment that would help you grow or change like you think; it's quite competitive and even then. I don't think any of the teachers would be able to help you grow as a person so I'm not allow it.

Hmph, like as if your any better you old hag...

What did you say...?

I want to go to Hope's Peak Academy, hell if anything I think your the one that's holding this clan back and thinking you know everything when in reality you don't; you always have control over my life and you never let me choose, if anyone doesn't want me to grow or change it's you!

I hate you, I hope you die off on hangnail you good for nothing old bitch! I wanna go and you aren't gonna stop me!

*Hiyoko ran off*

Hi-Hiyoko get back here, we aren't don-!

*SLAM!!!*

'My grandma didn't agree and wanted to reject for me, it wasn't fair; she always control my life and just choose for me; I mean, she couldn't even allow me to see my parents...it frustrated me...'

[divinemissem13]

(Dont') Try to Remember

No True Pair 8 Character Challenge Fandom: Star Trek Voyager, Doctor Who Pair: Kathryn Janeway & Donna Noble Word Count: 585 Rating: G Prompt: Stargazing

Donna rushes out of the house, a chilled bottle of rosé in hand. "Did I miss it? I always seem to be missing these things…"

"You were gone for about 60 seconds," Kathryn answers with a teasing smile. "So no, you didn't miss it — yet."

"Well I guess there's a first time for everything!" Donna jokes as she uncorks the bottle and tops off both glasses.

"So tell me about that one. Have you been there?" Donna asks, pointing to a star at random.

Kathryn hums, sipping her wine as she thinks how much she can share this time. "I believe that is the Beta Zeta system, and yes, I've been to Betazed. It's a race of telepaths. They almost look human, except that their eyes are pitch black." Kathryn glances at her friend out of the corner of her eye. She is looking up at the sky with such wonder, hanging on to Kathryn's every word… it breaks Kathryn's heart. "Their wedding ceremonies are conducted completely in the nude," she adds, as much to raise her own spirits as to shock Donna.

"In the nude?!" Donna cackles in disbelief. "Now you're just pulling my leg!"

Kathryn only shrugs and smiles enigmatically. It's better for Donna if she thinks Kathryn just has a wild imagination, but the captain often wishes she could tell her friend everything. When that strange man in the blue box had landed on Voyager and promised to protect her ship from temporal disasters if only she would do a bit of time traveling (in a controlled environment of course) to check on his best friend every so often, Kathyn had agreed without thinking twice. She hadn't expected to enjoy her visits so much, or to get so attached to this brash woman from the past.

Donna has that far away look in her eye again, the one that makes Kathryn fear she has inadvertently triggered a memory in the woman and she holds her breath and prays. It's a relief when Donna says "Do you think someday we might really be able to go up there? See other planets? Meet aliens?"

"Haven't you been listening? I've already been," Kathryn responds, knowing that Donna will take her honest answer as another joke. Knowing that it's safer that way.

"Oi!" Donna says, elbowing her playfully, "I mean it! Wouldn't that be something? Outer space… I'd be on the first rocket out if they'd let me."

Kathryn wants to say You've been and you were incredible. She wants to say They would be idiots not to let you go back. She wants to tell her friend the story of how she once saved the universe and all of time and space… Instead she just holds up her wine glass in a salute and says, "Donna Noble, when you put your mind something I don't think anyone could stop you."

"Oh, go on! I'm just a temp, what use would I be in space?" Donna deflects, disparaging herself like she always does.

"Maybe the aliens need a really good typist?" Kathryn suggests with forced levity.

"Oh! Look!" Donna leans forward, pointing at the sky and changing the subject, for which Kathryn is extremely grateful.

Kathryn watches over Donna while the redhead watches with childlike amazement as hundreds of flecks of space debris ignite in Earth's atmosphere. She's never seen a meteor shower before — at least not that she can remember — and that's why Kathryn is here, in this very moment. To make sure that she doesn't.

[tobyfoxmademeascaly]

Dawntrail Part 9

Got an invite from Mr. President, let's see what that's all about.

Oh? Mr. President wants to see me it seems

Oh, Mr. President wants to fight me it seems (also new glam! because the bozja coat is both super pixelly and looks way too hot for tulliyolal)

EVERYBODY'S BATTLE-HORNY FOR ME

... maybe a bit of an understatement, but yeah

same to you, buddy!

ooohhhh the Dawntrail theme is great, never listened to it besides the CG trailer. Sound of the summer is what the kids are saying i think.

yeah I noticed he tried to pull off some super attack before having to stop because he is, technically, half-asleep. We've GOTTA see that before the story ends, am I right?

I'm literally a tank, it's my job to do exactly that

... well, to give a nuanced answer beyond the dialogue options: Her greatest strength is her willingness to learn, and work with people on their own level. She's young, yes, but I literally have two teenagers at my side at all times, so her being like 20 doesn't feel like much compared to that.

I mean, that's what the trials are for, yes? To give her real experience interfacing with people outside of the relatively controlled environment of the capitol. She's done pretty well, I think, llama phobia aside!

indeed.

You know what that means. Thancred, urianger, you GOTTA unbend that catboy

... also now realizing that I still miss yshtola. Where is my best friend yshtola : (.

Wuk Lamat desperately trying to keep her geriatric father from throwing out his back busting it down violence style

HOLD EVERYTHING. THERE'S A COYOTE PET NOW?? ITS RUN ANIMATION IS SO CUTE... i require this beast.

... nevermind i dont require it that much

(CLOWN MUSIC BEGINS)

... historically, if i remember correctly, those sorts of promises rarely work out well.

oh so its the entire circus over here

lets go daddy issues versus daddy issues

oh yeah he needed a good humbling. I mean, he's almost certainly going to make it everybody else's problem, but it's fun to watch while it lasts

third keystone obtained! Anyone else think they look kind of like fruit candies. little starbursts.

... that's sounding very Eulmore, I don't like it.

NO IT ISN'T

Hm. a pair of... twins, you might say? with a redder, more bold and brazen one and a blue, more diplomatic one? That sounds mighty familiar...

for you, alisaie, and krile i think its not gonna be face to face

BE NICE TO HER

shit? shit??? not shite? ...

Next up, urqopacha part two. and me finally getting to expand my gather/crafting repertoire

[baphometsgirlcock]

The Same Old Song and Dance

[18+]

[CW: discussions of past starvation, general emotional intensity]

Irelia could not sleep. The barracks below the Sentinels' base in Ionia was well-kept, the beds free of dust and the bedding intact and clean. But the air was still stale and idle. It smelled of the stagnation that beget rot. Even as she knew the door to the outside was a short walk away, that the fresh and salty air of Ionia’s coast could be within reach within minutes, its present absence clawed at her sense of familiarity. She felt displaced, in that way she had a few times before, sleeping alone in towns visited once and never again, a stranger somewhere that others called home but she could not.

It was a loneliness that always reminded her of Riven, of the feeling of the woman’s chapped lips against her own on that morning before her exile was enforced, of the ephemeral tang of the fruit they had shared for breakfast, of the long glances back that implied promises of things that could not be, of silent oaths neither could keep.

Of the sight of a sail dipping below the vast blue-grey horizon.

Irelia shoved off her blankets and crossed to the door of her room, busying her hands with tying her hair back into a more manageable ponytail, opening the door with an elbow and slipping out into the hallway.

There were a little more than a dozen rooms in the barracks, almost all unoccupied. Neither Pyke nor Gwen seemed to need sleep, and both Vayne and Diana were distinctly nocturnal. No doubt Senna and Lucian were up above as well, anxiously planning their next move. Irelia could hear Olaf snoring distantly from two rooms to the left, but she only had eyes for one door. A soft light spilled out from underneath the threshold, making evident the wakefulness of its occupant.

Irelia’s hand was halfway to the door’s handle before she was able to catch herself. Calm breaths. Remain in control. Storming into her old flame’s room and ravishing the woman definitely felt like the most fitting outcome for the desperation currently sending a constant fidget down her fingers, but...there was too much complicating that. Riven was easily startled and quick to panic. Riven needed to control her environment. Riven had not made clear if a year apart had changed her feelings.

Irelia had caught the woman staring a few times over the past week. During meetings, across hallways, in passing. Lingering glances that Irelia could only ever read as “I need to know you’re still here” when she felt optimistic, and “I know what to say but I don’t know how to say it” when otherwise.

Riven, it seemed, was even more exhaustingly careful than she used to be.

Irelia raised her hand and rapped her knuckles twice against the door. “It’s me,” she said, and was close to second-guessing that assumptive familiarity when the response came.

“Oh, yes, Irelia, uh...yes. You can come in.”

Irelia opened the door, and closed it behind her.

Riven was in bed, the covers pulled up to her chest, an open book on her lap and a skewed sheepish smile on her face. Her clothes were haphazardly slung over a chair, and her broken sword’s hilt – wrapped now in white Demacian steel – rested on a nearby table. Her hair was even more pale now, no longer the sun bleached dusty silver it had been, a near-blue in the unnatural light from a Sentinel torch set in the wall above the table.

Irelia almost had to bite her lip to keep from smiling. “You still sleep naked?”

“Only when I can afford to,” Riven laughed, glancing away, her cheeks faintly rosy. “It’s been a bit of a Sentinel selling point. Noxian cells didn’t exactly give me much affordance for privacy.”

She said it like it was nothing. Like it didn’t bother her. “I see. And you’re...” Words failed her. So much Irelia wanted to ask. Nothing she didn’t dread the answer of. “I’m glad you’re here, then.” Out of the cells. Out of Noxus. She didn’t mean for it to sound...

Riven beamed. “Thank you. I’m glad you’re here too.”

That soft, husky voice sent a fluttering breath into Irelia’s throat. No taking it back now. She took a deep breath of stale air. Cowardice would end tonight back in an empty room with regret stinging at the corners of her eyes. Irelia was tired of the silence. Exhausted from its ubiquity. From so long away from the other Blade Dancers, from Liania and Zinneia, and...yes, from Riven. That particular silence had festered far longer.

Irelia took another step, watching Riven’s eyes flick down towards her bare legs, towards the hem of her nightdress, and then a little too-quickly back to her face, the woman’s lips pursed.

“I missed you,” Irelia said.

“Never a day went by that I didn’t,” Riven replied. Utterly, painfully solemn.

“I wish you’d fought to stay,” Irelia said, eyes locked on Riven’s face, tracing the shape of the wince. Waiting, hoping. Bite back. Defend against it. Don’t get Irelia’s hopes up.

Riven didn’t shy away. “I know. I’m sorry. You have every right to be angry.”

Irelia paused. She was at the foot of Riven’s bed now. Was it passivity? Or something else? Something Irelia refused to name. “I’m not angry. I missed you, and I would have liked it if I didn’t have to.”

A twitch of a smile tugged at the corner of Riven’s mouth. “You have every right to that, too.” A long, careful breath. “I’ve found...I have a nasty habit of trying to keep myself from the things – and the people – who keep me happy. Something to do with not deserving that joy.”

Riven idly traced nonsense-shapes into the blanket with one finger as she talked. “It took, I think, too long for me to realize how selfish that was. It’s not a behavior I want to keep. Isolating myself...well, it only does my misery any good. I don’t doubt it’s caused pain for those who care about me.” A flick of gaze back towards Irelia.

It would have been appropriate for Irelia to laugh. To draw from that lonely spite that had left her dry-sobbing into her pillow on more than one occasion, like a lovesick teenage girl she should have outgrown. Irelia didn’t feel spiteful. She felt something uncurl inside her, a deep pooling warmth licking at the underside of her ribcage. Something so horribly hopeful. A word that rhymed with want.

“I make you happy,” Irelia said. A deadpan question. Giving Riven the rope to bind herself with.

“You make me happy,” Riven repeated. “So dreadfully. It scared me.”

“Scared you?”

A little flick of gaze away, then back. Irelia slipped closer, around the edge of the bed.

“When people have power over me,” Riven finally said. “I’m used to that being a bad thing – a dangerous thing. It’s supposed to make me panic.” A wobble of lips that was almost a smile. “I’m not used to enjoying it.” Tying the knot around her own wrists.

“You like that I have power over you?” Irelia shifted one knee onto the bed, testing the waters. When Riven didn’t answer right away, she pressed further. “You want me to have more power over you?”

Riven picked up the open book on her lap. Without looking, she tossed it onto the nearby table, rattling her blade. The action shifted the blanket entirely off Riven’s chest, but she made no attempt to cover herself.

“I don’t know if you could,” she said, a hoarse whisper that drew Irelia closer, had her slip entirely onto the bed, her leg brushing against Riven’s through the blanket. “I haven’t...I’ve spared no humility.” She swallowed, loud enough to hear. “I’ve nothing left of me to offer that you don’t already have.”

“Say it clearly,” Irelia whispered back. Her hand found the hem of the blanket, grasping it tightly. Waiting. “Tell me.”

“You own me,” Riven said, words without breath. “I’m yours, still yours.”

That was enough. Irelia pulled the covers up and over and off, a flash of bare skin and a storm of touch, pulled into Riven’s arms as much by gravity as her own volition, and she kissed nose and cheek and chin before finding her lips and desperately, needfully, planting kiss after kiss after kiss on them. Irelia’s arms were by Riven’s sides, hands flat on the mattress, keeping her from falling fully onto the woman. Though...

Irelia shifted. Jitters of motion, bit at a time when their lips were parted. Riven’s legs had been together on the left of hers, but Irelia managed to slip one leg in between, parting them. By the time her thigh rested flush between Riven’s, practically straddling her, the woman’s breath had shifted from husky to high-pitched, almost a whimper of want drowned out by her lips crashing into Irelia’s again, pulling her closer. Irelia’s elbows buckled, a desperate hand on Riven’s side to keep herself stable, and–

She could feel Riven’s ribs. Irelia blinked. She tried to catch herself, squinting past the haze of arousal. Hand down Riven’s side – tasting the hiss of breath that came alongside a jolt of tension – just to make sure, before she returned it to the mattress. She could feel her ribs.

When they’d first met, that year ago, Riven had the body of a farmer. Strong and soft, well-fed. She’d picked Irelia up once, one arm across her back and the other under her legs, only straining when Irelia went limp and made it difficult on purpose. How could Riven ever feel frail to the touch? How could she ever...

They’d starved her. Noxus had starved her Riven. The thought bared Irelia’s teeth into the kiss, and had her digging her nails into the mattress.

It was with hunger that Riven kissed her. Her hands splayed across Irelia’s back, fingers pressing into her skin, craning her chin up ever so slightly to chase Irelia’s touch whenever she parted the kiss to breathe. Her quick and sharp breath danced on Irelia’s lips, each exhalation tasting like the shape of a silent “please” reflected so apparently in her eyes. Their distance had found Irelia roughly, but this was...

Riven sighed, and the sound sent a jolt through Irelia. “Rel. You’re doing it again.” She could feel the woman smiling into the tender kiss she pressed to her lips. “Be here with me, okay? Please be here with me.” Smart. Smart and right. Smart and right and careful even though her voice was laden with lust to the point of shuddering.

Irelia scrunched her face up until her ears popped, and then opened them again. She’d missed this. Missed her. “I’m here,” she said. A peck. “I’m here.” Longer, lingering. “I’m here.”

“Nowhere else?” Riven asked, and she sounded too desperate to be teasing.

“Nowhere else,” Irelia said. “I want to be here.” Leaning further, just a little, planting a kiss on Riven’s cheek before lowering her voice to a whisper. “I’ve been dreaming for months about making you mine again.”

She watched Riven melt. Eyes lowering to half-lid, her shoulders dropping, the smallest of whimpers drifting out of her.

A smirk found Irelia. Had she really forgotten how fun this could be - should be? Time may have intensified the longing, but Riven had always been rather sensitive, hadn’t she? Just to test, she leaned in a little further, pressing her chest against Riven’s and nipping at her earlobe. The beautiful little sound she made was almost as good as the embarrassed grumble in her throat when Irelia burst into giggles.

“Needy,” Irelia teased.

“Yours,” Riven groaned; and Irelia was glad her face was obscured from sight to hide the intensity of the heat that hit her cheeks, though there was no hiding the way her breath quickened.

Irelia pushed herself up again and was immediately bombarded with kisses, returning them with gusto, nipping at Riven’s lips. And then Riven started to roll her hips and the very first bit of motion pressed her thigh into Irelia’s crotch and Irelia broke the kiss and bit her lip hard to keep quiet. Oh that felt good. Oh no that felt good.

The thigh-to-thigh position of their legs had been intended to tease Riven – and it seemed to be working well at that, judging by the heat permeating into Irelia’s leg through strained fabric, accompanied by an inconsistent throbbing that made her feel almost lightheaded with need – but Irelia couldn’t deny it had certain consequences as well. With each roll of Riven’s hips, not only could Irelia feel the woman’s dick against her leg through her underwear, but the return stroke brought Riven’s thigh up against Irelia’s clothed cunt, almost bouncing her on her leg, and it shouldn’t have felt this good but it really did.

Her own hips started to move before she noticed, which did have the benefit of getting a choked whine out of Riven – scratch that, even the whine felt electric up Irelia’s spine, and she felt her elbows shudder to the point of buckling again.

“Hold, I, Riven, stop for, just–” A breathless string of words that thankfully got the point across. Riven stopped immediately, and it was only then that Irelia noticed how fast the both of them were breathing.

“What do you need?” Riven asked immediately. “What can I do?”

Still such a sweetheart. Irelia rewarded her with a peck on the lips. “Arms tired. I need to adjust.” One hand on the nearest wall for balance, dragging herself a little bit upright and blessedly away from her self-made pleasure trap, other hand on Riven’s shoulder rather than the mattress. Riven’s own hands shifted from Irelia’s back to her hips; dangerous, but she could manage.

Riven nodded. “Do you want to be on the bottom?”

Oh. Okay no not a chance the thought of Riven pinning her to the bed sent a jolt down her spine that ended in her pussy. “No, that's okay,” she wheezed. Irelia was still in control. She was the one setting the terms. Riven was hers, that’s how this would–

“Please?” Oh no. “I’d...I mean, if you’re up for it, I don’t want to assume but...” Oh no. “I’d really like to make you cum. Please, Rel.”

Irelia closed her eyes and grit her teeth and prayed her body didn’t remember how good that would feel and her body definitely did. “Yeah,” she said, eyes still closed. “Okay. Yes.”

A second passed. “Yes what?”

...no. She was not doing this right now. Irelia opened her eyes to see Riven’s expression halfway to serene with just the tiniest bit of a smirk. “Yes please,” Irelia responded.

Her expression did not change. Just kept on staring up at her with those calm, beautiful eyes. “Yes please what?”

There was no way out of this with her dignity intact, was there? Irelia swallowed hard, and brought herself down onto Riven’s chest, and counted to three in her head, and said the magic words. “Please make me cum, Riven.”

And if Riven hadn’t looked hungry before, that glint in her eyes was ravenous. She shifted and scooted to the side, one arm up and around Irelia’s shoulders to bring her onto her back on the bed in a lurch of motion. She waited for Riven to sit up over her, to pin her down, and...

Kept waiting. Riven was reclining on her side against the wall, at the edge of the mattress, with Irelia flat on her back. One of Riven’s arms was under her shoulders, the other across her stomach. Halfway to spooning. Irelia furrowed her brow, turning her head to find Riven’s gaze.

“Is your arm stuck?” Irelia asked.

Riven shook her head. “Just stay put. You’re right where you should be.”

Did she know what those words did? How they pooled in the pit of Irelia’s stomach?

With her right hand, Riven took Irelia’s own hand to her lips and kissed it, then brought that arm up and over her shoulders so her chest could be flush against Irelia’s side, and Irelia’s hand was against the back of Riven’s neck. Then that right hand went once again back to Irelia’s stomach, to where the hem of her nightdress was riding up, and lower.

“You’re not breathing.”

Irelia breathed.

“Good girl.”

Fuck.

Riven put her hand down against Irelia’s crotch, and Irelia let her head fall back and stopped trying to watch it happen. She felt it. Those fingers dragged up the wet fabric, all the way to her clit, and Irelia whined into her throat, unsure if she felt more relieved or disappointed when the touch lifted only a second later. When she felt Riven’s fingertips against the waistband of her underwear, Irelia’s hips bucked involuntarily at nothing, a little hiss slipping between her teeth.

“Easy,” Riven laughed – she laughed. The sadist. Down danced her fingers, under the waistband–

Irelia’s knees had been up and slightly together, but feeling that single thick, rough middle finger grinding down on her bare clit was enough to drop her thighs to either side as a weezing whimper of barely stifled pleasure was wrenched out of her.

Maybe Irelia wouldn’t admit to herself that she’d longed for Riven’s touch again, but it seemed her body had no such qualms towards such honesty. Her hips were already jittering, a squirm towards chasing that hand in her underwear, chasing the pleasure that wasn't nearly enough for her year-long itch.

“Good girl,” Riven whispered, and another of Irelia’s choked moans followed it. “I didn’t even have to ask, and you spread your legs for me.” For her. For her. For her. If she asked in that husky fucking voice, Riven could probably get her to offer up anything. Everything.

Irelia could almost feel the arousal dripping out of her. No doubt Riven could feel it too, with the way she was running her middle fingertip up and down her weeping vulva, the underside of her knuckle still curling so dizzyingly against Irelia’s clit. Irelia couldn’t breathe but for her whimpering; how could anything be this synapse-frying and still yet not enough!?

“M-m-more,” Irelia managed, barely a word, torn apart by her own half-chattering teeth.

“More, Rel?” Riven asked. So painfully sincere. A flash of those soft amber eyes paled by the light, through the blinding haze of pleasure. “Another finger?”

Irelia nodded, but it left her closer to a convulsion. “In...in me.” And she screwed her eyes closed and clenched her jaw and braced for Riven to provide.

She did not have to wait long. Two thick fingers pushed into her cunt, steadily and slowly all the way into her, and Irelia groaned into her closed mouth, a little slipping through her lips so her left hand clamped over her own mouth, and her back was arched and this had felt good before, a year ago maybe she’d cum on Riven’s fingers a few dozens times over the span of a week, but this fullness was–

“Breathe, Rel.” The sternness of Riven’s voice and the feeling of her hand pulling at Irelia’s knocked a gasp out of her, a whimper soon following, Irelia opening her eyes and turning her head to search for her fault in Riven’s eyes, only to be met with a lingering kiss. “Please,” Riven said, the moment their lips parted. “Please let me hear you. Irelia, please stop holding back. For me, please.”

Magic words. “Riven,” she keened, before the shifting of the woman’s fingers inside her melted whatever apology she could have been mustering. Riven pulled them out to the last knuckle, then pushed back into her, and Irelia could feel her flexing them against the roof of her pussy and a twelve month dam cracked wide open.

“Fuck! Fuck fuck Riven fuck please please more please keep just anything keep fucking me please Riven please–!” Babbling whatever bare coherency she could grasp, with her right hand anchored on the back of Riven’s neck and her left hand flailing desperately for an anchor against the mattress, and Riven just kept pumping her fingers in and out of Irelia’s cunt. “I’m yours please I’m yours I’m yours!” And every word ignited a new set of fireworks, clenching down hard around Riven’s fingers.

“Cum for me Rel, please cum for me.”

Irelia’s gut dropped before she noticed the precipice. Then the orgasm was flattening her lungs and she whimpered out a long breath that rhymed with her lover’s name, and Riven was cooing something sweet and sonorous and peppering Irelia’s face with kisses. Irelia’s entire body was buzzing and warm and tense all at the same time.

The coldness crept in slowly. Little shards of lucidity. The bed beneath her ass felt cold – wet, a word grasped with a growing sense of shame. Her heart was pounding too-loudly in her ears. Little pockets of tenderness were unraveling as the tension drained from her, and swathes of sweat were making themselves known across her skin. Irelia felt beyond winded. Her eyes were prickling and her nose itched. A single wobble of her lip clued the puzzle in.

“Oh, love,” Riven whispered, and the arm around Irelia’s shoulders shifted and she followed the motion into Riven’s embrace. Irelia grasped for fabric on the woman she could not find, something to hold, something to cling to, something to keep her here; the moment those words rang across her skull, the tears flowed freely.

Irelia pressed her face into Riven’s neck and dug her fingers into the muscles on her back and sobbed, and Riven rubbed her back and whispered a constant chain of comforting nothings. “I’m here, I’ve got you, I’m sorry, you’re safe, I love you, I’m here...” and again. And again. And again.

[donnerpartyofone]

Yes there's a reason I'm using pictures of Chiaki Kuriyama, hold your horses.

I just finished reading The Life-Changing Magic of Tidying Up, and I was really surprised by it. I was convinced to give it a try when I heard that Marie Kondo found her calling after suffering a cleaning-related nervous breakdown; being as attracted as I am to the relationship between vocation and pathological compulsion, this was the thing that separated me from my money. I had assumed that the book would be a focused manual on a specific activity, like so many self-help books for would-be autodidacts--and it definitely is, Kondo plays the whole thing very straight and you can almost picture her with her little TED Talk headset as she describes her foolproof "only way to" methodology, but sprinkled throughout are little morsels of psychological insight that stopped me in my tracks more than once.

She doesn't lean on the nervous breakdown component of her story, but the astute reader gets a strong sense of a lonely, isolated childhood, enduring feelings of helplessness, and the compulsive turning and returning to cleaning when other aspects of life refuse to get under control. Some of her insights have become common knowledge in the post-Hoarders era, like how clinging to objects reflects an obsession with the past or a fear of the future, and some others are really striking (to me, anyway), like the fact that chronically messy people often lack a feeling of ownership over their possessions and environments. Kondo doesn't insist on her unique mastery of human psychology the way the average culty self-help guru does; she keeps the emphasis on her technique, rather than on her personality, but then late in the game she pulls a reveal like this one:

This is a fascinating thing to unveil after having devoted a couple hundred pages to the importance of what amounts to object empathy. A big part of her process involves talking to things--your house, your stuff, and the things you're throwing away--in a sincere and emotional way that addresses how you feel about them, whether it's the pleasure of how they improve your life, or your gratitude for their past use, including a purpose as simple as helping you clarify what you don't want or need anymore (if ever). I think most everybody experiences some amount of object empathy in childhood, and I guess in adulthood it's often associated with autism, but suddenly it sounds so useful. Being able to respect objects, to the point of sympathizing with them, seems like it can lead inevitably to looking after things properly and taking your relationship to them seriously.

It's crazy how accurately your relationship to your things betrays the quality of your relationship to your very existence. Marie Kondo says that before you start the tidying process, you should ask yourself why you want to tidy to begin with, and then keep questioning your answers until you get something irreducible--which is going to be less like "I want more space" or "I want to be able to entertain at home", and more like something extremely specific about what your ideal lifestyle would look like, which in turn says something extremely specific about what kind of person you want to be. This may seem obvious when you lay it out, but it's not, really. The parent-child relationship that springs up around the latter's messy room is usually characterized along the lines of, the child needs to learn obedience and respect and more mature hygiene practices, when in reality the messy room may say something like: I feel out of control, I feel overwhelmed by life, I feel incompetent, I feel undeserving of a clean room, I feel like it doesn't really matter what happens to me so what's the point of cleaning. I don't feel like I have the authority or talent to create the kind of life I want for myself, so why try?

As a kid I felt a lot of object empathy, which could manifest as both a heartbreaking sympathy and a feeling of threat. We never had any money, and separate of that my parents were anti-materialist hippies, so I could never tell whether we just couldn't afford something, or whether I actually wasn't allowed to have something for some moral reason, or perhaps because I was bad and didn't deserve it. This has affected my lifelong relationship to money, because I developed this mentality that if I got some, then cool, but if I didn't have any, then that was just normal and I couldn't expect to change those conditions under my own power, so who cares I guess. But I digress: I became afraid of my own ability to form attachments, because I didn't have any control over having things, and also because I had a powerful sense of the ongoing degradation of everything around me. I have a shameful memory of one of my mother's friends generously offering me a Boba Fett action figure--a major prize to be sure--and even though I was like 8, I asked the guy directly whether the colored parts of the toy were solid plastic or painted, because I knew that paint would wear and chip and then I would just be left with the feeling of loss. I never really learned how to take care of anything, either; as an adult, I buy weird bullshit to entertain myself, or to build on some fantasy of what my personality supposedly is, but then I constantly lose and break things because that's just how I am, and so I can't properly form appropriate connections to anything. Sometimes I do something destructive or neglectful for no good reason, or rather it's because of some vague moralizing notion that I shouldn't be attached to things anyway. I got my ultimate hero and powercrush David Cronenberg to sign a VIDEODROME poster for me; then in a fit of spite for my own preciousness, I hung it on thumbtacks instead of framing it; now I don't even know where the hell it is, and I still feel terrible about the whole episode 20 years later.

In Takashi Miike's all-ages fantasy THE GREAT YOKAI WAR, a couple of evildoers including the great Chiaki Kuriyama build an army of monsters out of sentient trash: discarded possessions that are full of resentment about being used up and rejected. I found this concept so intense that, actually, I still choke up just trying to describe it, it's so brutal, it's like all of my most primitive fears about my toys having feelings are suddenly real and justified and I can never make up for it. Meanwhile I have had problems with other people who have an intensely dysfunctional relationship with their possessions in the opposite direction of me.

For one major but not at all isolated example, my abusive ex-boyfriend was heavily materialistic, but I don't know what he wanted from that pursuit and I don't think he knew either. He would race to buy the latest comic book collectibles, or deluxe DVDs of key film bro movies, and then almost as soon as the pleasure of buying them had passed, he would try to flip them on eBay and have frightening rages when he inevitably didn't break even. He bought a set of highly desirable designer Godzilla figures from someone I knew who was selling off his father's treasured collection, assuming they were going to a loving home, and then as soon as the initial thrill was gone, my ex was on eBay grumbling about what they were fetching. When we went to San Diego Comic Con, I used what little money I had to surprise him with a limited edition toy from a comic we both loved, and when he saw it, he sighed bitterly and stuff cash into my hand to make me go buy the other one from the set, without saying thank you. Around that time I worked somewhere where we had these big expensive 8-bit Super Mario wall decals, which he demanded for his birthday; after he got them he had some of his shitty yuppie friends over, and they made fun of him for having this kid stuff, so later he yelled at me for gifting him something "pathetic". He traded them for somebody's used flatscreen TV, and then he asked me to get him another set of decals. "I thought you said they were pathetic?" I reminded him, to which he snapped back, "Oh yeah that's right, THEY ARE," as if I were the one who had the dumb idea of offering them to him.

You can probably guess that most of his buying habits were performative, designed to impress people who weren't paying attention and who he didn't even like, but whose perceived status (economic or cultural) made him feel jealous and inferior. However, there is one more thing in play with him: The show Hoarders came out toward the end of our relationship, and I saw him watch it with an intense interest that I had never seen before. It was usually hard to tell if he really enjoyed the things he consumed, or if he was just desperately competing with the rest of his demographic at Knowing Things and Having Opinions, but he had a distinct personal investment in Hoarders. He told me that his parents were Hoarders. I couldn't tell exactly how true that was since he was extremely judgmental of his family, whose ordinariness made him deeply ashamed (as if dentists and teachers are Nothing), but it seemed that there was something to it because they were very mysterious about the fact that I wasn't allowed to visit their home. From the way that my ex poured his attention into that show, with this haunted look about him, I knew that the dysfunctional relationship to things was a part of his very DNA, and a crucial component of the whole entire pathology of his personality. One's obsession or repulsion regarding materialism is definitely not to be dismissed as an innocent quirk unrelated to the core problems of one's soul.

Anyway. Reading the Marie Kondo book was actually a really provocative and enlightening experience for me. I'm planning to do her method as soon as I have time for the sustained marathon she recommends, and I'm really looking forward to what it will reveal even though I know it's going to be a challenge. And also, oddly enough, I've been working through this kind of difficult (annoying but necessary) book about a certain esoteric strain of Virgin Mary iconography, and just this morning I set it down at the end of this particular passage:

I hadn't planned to get into all this today--I didn't even think of it until an hour or so ago--and yet it seems I picked the right day to do it.