#to find out if I really do suffer from delusions. to figure out how to save myself from maladaptive daydreaming. to confirm the possibility

[niko-jpeg]

Someone brought it up in a server I’m in and I think it’s funny that there are symptoms of my condition I’m entirely too afraid to confront because I’m afraid people won’t like me anymore or view me as less or unstable. I fear I will never find a safe place to divulge this stuff for fear of being shamed because that’s just kind of how it’s happened before.

[nunalastor]

I have been struck by an idea for Angel Alastor AU

*Alastor's POV*

A couple months into his stay in Hell Alastor finds and figures out how deals work, as well as their roll they play in maintaining this realm. He is excited to try it out and finds out he is really good at it. BUT!! After awhile the people he takes under his care collapse into shows of light. He doesn't get it. What is he doing wrong! the only 2 thralls not leaving are Nifty and husker.

Let's see he takes in children and women who did what they had to do to survive. Check! Give them free housing in the forest he grew with his magic. Check!! Employ the women as either teachers/caretakers for the kids or writers for his radio shows. CHECK!!! Basically build and maintain a self sufficient community that doesn't have to worry about the stress of hell while he get to have his fun. Check fucking CHECK!!!!

No matter how many years pass in hell it keeps happening. It's confusing but that's ok, he only did it because all the most respected Overlords of hell run and maintain communities. His new bestie Rosie, Carmillia, Missi Zilla, Zestial and even that pathetic picture Box that got a lucky hit to his forehead with an angelic dagger ( thankfully Alastor bashed vox's face in before he could back up the memory) has one. Well the Princess is opening a hotel i hopes of rehabilitating sinners should be fun. He just hopes that the letters he wrote for Guy, Emily and his Mom and that they forgive him for his selfish acts.

*Heaven's/Micheal's POV*

It has been years since the one so loved by Heaven went missing because of Adam's carelessness when something miraculous starts happening. The souls of women and children damned to Hell start appearing before the high Seraphim Sera. Despite all the struggles the souls went through and endured, they had one thing in common.

Alastor

When Micheal is filled in on what's happening he doesn't rushes to the observation orb within Heavens Court house. With the help of the very souls Alastor redeemed he lays eyes upon his beloved for the first time in years. The sight is both comforting and devastating as Micheal watches Alastor rub at a nasty scar along his temple.

Of course. Everything makes sense now. His beloved wouldn't abandon everyone he loves on a whim. He didn't know it was possible for the love he has held for his deer to grow deeper because even when trapped in hell under the delusion that they're a demon Al still went out of his way to help others. After many apology's to Guy, Emily and Al's Mom for the deceit Sera decides the best course of action going forward is to call a meeting with Lucifer.....OH, Lucifer sent his daughter in his place. WAIT! She's starting up a redemption project that's perfect we can give her support through the search party now led by a talented exorcist by the name of Vagatha And his beloved's best friend Guy who's a detective turned therapist.

Charlie: "wait uncle, you know redemption is possible?"

Micheal: "Well yes, but not how because my boyfriend the saint who figured out how to do so, got trapped in Hell due to a tragic mistake some years ago suffering a horrible head wound. We were finally able to find him but we don't know how much he truly remembers."

*Lilith POV*

Lilith who has spent the last couple of years getting faded off champagne on a beach: "I feel like i'm forgetting something important" -the unopened letters Alastor asked her to deliver sitting at the bottom of her luggage- "If i can't remember, probably not a big deal."

-sleep deprived Anon-

P.S. the thought of Alastor finally finding joy in his after life only to have it be ripped out from under him because he is unintentionally being really helpful is funny and the growing unhinged perspective of Micheal as he searches for his beloved, is absolutely delightful for me

P.S.S. I had to write this down twice so it's a lot longer than it was originally so here's this wall of text-sorry not sorry

👀

[eoieopda]

the one with soonyoung and the domino

pairing: kwon soonyoung x afab!reader type: drabble (smut) | wc: 990 | rating: 18+ au: established relationship summary: you and your boyfriend are both prone to taking stupid bets. cw: competitive cockwarming; self-imposed orgasm denial; p in v penetration; creampie implied, i guess? lol; “petal” as a pet name because i like to suffer. a/n: feast upon my brain worms, my children. i have succumbed to delusion. 😵‍💫 ⚠️ 18+ only ⚠️ minors and ageless blogs will be blocked, on sight. my content is not for you. i do not want to interact with you. please respect my boundaries.

You’re competitive.

You accept this fact about yourself. Or, rather, you acknowledge that this trait exists and do nothing — not one thing — to change it. While your therapist may ask you to dig down, to figure out why you feel you have so much to prove, you know better. The rationale is puddle deep: you simply hate to lose.

To your friends’ horror, you weren’t alone in this. You’d managed to find the one person on planet Earth who could go toe-to-toe with you and remain on his feet. Kwon Soonyoung, it seems, was tailor-made to keep your pace.

It was a blessing and a curse, loving someone equally hellbent on winning. It made you an unstoppable team at backyard sports and drinking games — downright formidable, really — but it also led to both of your mouths writing checks your asses didn’t really want to cash.

A series of bad bets, just for the sake of it.

Just like this one.

“How are you holding up, petal?” 

Soonyoung sounds smug, but he’s asking through gritted teeth. 

“Better than you, I think,” You respond breezily because you’re unbothered, not because your body begs for you to sigh. “Sweet of you to ask.”

He hums in response, amusement so clear that he may as well have laughed instead. Either way, you feel that vibration in your chest, which is all but pressed to his. Arms linked around his neck, you lean in closer until you can nudge the tip of his nose with yours. The tiny shift in your posture makes your breath catch in your throat, but you swallow it back.

Instead, you smirk, “Not thinking of tapping out yet, are you, baby?”

When he lifts himself up to scoot closer to the back of the couch, you know exactly what he’s up to. Shameless, you think, trying to steal territory like this. The sole consolation you get from his movement — apart from the obvious — is that he looks like he’s full of regret for his choices. You are, too, of course.

Among other things.

“Could do this all day.” He smiles his way through a bold-faced lie. His palms run up your thighs, making you shiver; but then he pats them so innocently, you want to scream instead. “‘m perfectly comfortable. I might even fall asleep like this.”

Oh, you bastard.

It kills you to do it, but you refuse to take this dishonesty sitting down — well… — so, you take back the weight you’d balanced on your bent legs and center it. Gravity grabs you by the hips, pulls you down until he has nowhere left to run. Then, like a fucking masochist, you signal every muscle in your body to tense.

To your dismay, Soonyoung cracks, but he doesn’t break. He simply mutters, “Fuck,” and squeezes his eyes shut, sucking in a breath through his teeth that he then releases with a hiss.

“Sorry, did you say something?” Eyes wide and smile coquettish, you’re ready to devastate him whenever he deigns to lift his lids. “Didn’t catch that, baby.”

As it turns out, you’re not at all prepared for the look he gives you when his eyes reopen. There’s dark, and then there’s whatever the fuck has gotten into him to make his pupils dilate like that. Involuntarily, you clench. This time, he doesn’t flinch.

“You act big and bad now,” he drawls, grinning wolfishly. “But if I blink too hard, my cock could kiss your cervix. You know that, right?” Fingers scratch lightly at the goosebumps on your thighs. He knows you know; he’s buried too deep not to. “That if I have a sudden… coughing fit, for example, I could wind up rearranging your guts?”

You do your best to ignore the way his words make your pulse race. After all, you have an endgame to focus on. Only two options remain: fight nobly and risk him winning, or take him down with you. 

Fuck it.

He gave you the idea himself, didn’t he?

You sniffle for a moment, eyes flashing with mischief for even less time, and then you unwrap one arm from around his neck. With the crook of your elbow freed, you fake a sneeze; cunt clenching hard around his length while your hips jerk forward, dragging him along with you.

It was a calculated risk on your part. Unfortunately for you, you’ve never been great at math. That delicious friction is enough to grab you tight and fling you off the cliff without reservation. You tremble as you float, whole body alight with the orgasm you’d been fighting for the fifteen minutes since you sank down onto him.

Thankfully, Soonyoung isn’t any better off. He cums hard, hips jolting up to meet the underside of your thighs. Cock twitching and spilling, he groans like you’d done far more than just keep him warm. And despite the lack of physical exertion, you’re both panting — embarrassingly so.

“I fucking win,” he cheers faintly. Fist raised, weakly and triumphantly, he drops his head back against the couch. In an instant, his eyes flutter shut; he doesn’t see the way your nostrils flare.

You snort, “In what world?”

“Don’t be a sore loser, petal.” He chides you. He cracks one eye open and hits you with a lopsided grin. “I held out a full second longer.”

“You did not!” You gasp, smacking his chest with a muted thump. “The nerve of you, Soonyoung — the absolute gall!”

He flattens his mouth into a straight line. His eyes narrow the same way, unimpressed. “I only came because you did. Might’ve been a domino effect, but you fell first.”

“So, we both lost, then,” you huff, crossing your arms indignantly.

He flattens his palms against the cushion below, sits up properly, and steals a kiss from your pouty lips. 

“Nah,” he hums. Unsatiated, he steals another. “Think we both won.”

On the inside, you swoon, but on the outside, you roll your eyes. “Fine. I wasn’t planning on paying up, anyway.”

[guilty-gear-hot-take-hellhole]

Ya know, I was procrastinating on reviving this old blog instead of lurking through Tumblr for a while, and I can’t believe that Bridget discourse pushed me to do it. VERY long rant ahead because boy do I have some opinions.

The other day I saw a tweet (I don't remember where) saying how glad they were that a queer character was getting a bunch of spotlight in regards to the new Bridget figure; then after that I IMMEDIATELY saw someone punching down on people asking for other characters and bringing up Anji specifically, and it's like holy shit, either you're genuinely ignorant or an idiot.

There are 3 other canon queer in Guilty Gear, yet people only want to focus on Bridget, and I could honestly go on about it.

Testament obviously suffers the least from this, but it’s still noteworthy how people will ignore them being queer since 1998, and before anyone says, "They used he/him and were only GNC." 1. That was a botched localization, & 2. There’s a queerness in gender nonconformity, which makes it devastating that Baiken has been made less nonconforming for the sake of sexualization.

In a similar vein, Anji's queerness is often ignored by a good chunk of the fandom, which is in itself a can of worms considering he's a GNC man who is treated normally (unlike Bridget who was essentially a gag character while she still identified as male) and bisexual, which seems to really stir up shit when said bisexual character shows attraction to the opposite sex, which is probably why people don't acknowledge him.

Lastly, there's Venom, and I'm gonna preface this by saying that I'm a lightskin before I'm queer, so I find it very interesting that they wrote out an explicitly gay POC out of the story. Don't get me wrong, I love this series, but once I noticed that fact, it didn't sit with me well, especially since Venom being gay is an integral part of his character that can't be hidden.

And that's what pisses me off the most, the fact that people aren't realizing that the reason Bridget is the only being pushed because her queerness isn't blatantly obvious at first glance and she fits the mold of a popular, fair-skinned, and cute that figure distributors love. I want ya'll to realize that Bridget being trans is overshadowed by her being a white girl, which is a real shame because it means other queer characters won't get attention because they don't fit this standard. The worst part is that people just ignore this, which makes it painfully obvious that they don't care for queer characters; they care for Bridget.

I this isn't everyone, but I ask that Bridget fans slow down on mindlessly buying merch of her because all it does is show distributors that you guys are cashcows ready to be used at any moment and PLEASE don't punch down on people asking for other characters. Seriously, some of ya'll are way too comfortable mocking other people because you got what you wanted. As for the other characters, show them some support and buy their merch if you have the means to (god knows I don't). Even just picking up the character can show that people care about them and want to see them more. I know it's little more than delusion on my part, but it’s at least something.

Tl;dr: Don't be pretentious about a queer character getting merch if you only care about Bridget and support other characters. Sorry about this being so long.

Yeah I think I may know the tweet you’re referring to…

Another tweet I saw on the topic also featured a family guy meme about thanksgiving

Anyways ON GOD !

[inevitably-johnlocked]

Five Fics Friday: January 12/24

Happy Friday everyone!! I hope you had a wonderful week, and are ready to enjoy some more fic recs to get you started on the weekend! Enjoy!!

RECENTLY BOOKMARKED

Spare Parts by Raina_at (E, 63,497 w., 10 Ch. || 24th Century / Futurism AU || Post TRF, Pre-TRF Relationship, Case Fic, Mutual Pining, Estrangement, Reconciliation, Science Fiction, Reunion, Nightmares, Angry John, Cybernetic John, Emotional Discussions / Heart to Heart, POV John, Scars, Past Drug Use, Forehead Touching, Emotional Lovemaking, Kissing, Apologies, Kidnapping, Rescue Mission, BAMF John, Bed Sharing, Top Sherlock) – Two years ago, Sherlock Holmes jumped off the roof of New London Hospital. Two months ago, he walked into John's clinic as if no time had passed at all. John hasn't seen him since. But then Sherlock knocks on John's door with a case he can't say no to, and while figuring out why the biggest manufacturer or synthetic limbs in the System is going after veterans, they also need to find out whether there's a way to fix what's broken between them. Part 1 of Realigning Gravity

Fade To Black by twistedthicket1 (M, 93,389 w., 29 Ch. || Split Personality Disorder / DID, Action, Romance, Violence, Implied Rape/Non-Con, BAMF John, Fluff and Angst, Baskerville, Human Experimentation, PTSD, Implied Self Harm, Trauma Amnesia, Past Child Sexual Abuse, Protective Sherlock, Smoking, Meddling Mycroft, Past Victor/Sherlock, Gay Sherlock, Sherlock’s Past, First Kiss/Time) – John Watson believes one day he'll just fade. That he'll drown in the black spaces of his mind, and that one day he will no longer exist. It's always been like this, the dark spots marking out moments in his life he can't remember. Where for just a moment he's someone else. Having a Dissociative identity disorder, he can't even be entirely sure he's really who he says he is. Then he meets Sherlock Holmes. A brilliant detective who when he looks at you can read your entire life story. John is immediately fascinated and afraid, half-wondering if maybe Sherlock can see the other personalities in him and half terrified of the thought of him finding out. Becoming his flatmate seems at once to be a wonderful and horrible idea. Yet as John's Blackouts become more and more severe and his other personalities begin to truly awaken and show themselves with Sherlock's help, the two soon discover that sometimes even the kindest person can harbour a demon best left untouched inside of them. Because not all of John's other personalities play nicely and some may be hiding secrets best left undisturbed...

MARKED FOR LATER

Hand Me the Salt, Love? by topsyturvy_turtely (G, 554 w., 1 Ch. || Fluff, Pet Names, Flustered Sherlock, Cooking, Developing Relationship, Established Relationship, Fluff Without Plot) – John is cooking. Sherlock is not helping. Until...

Locked Room by Calais_Reno (T, 8,346 w., 2 Ch. || Alternate First Meeting AU || Pool Scene, Mystery, Near Death Experience, Drug Addiction, Serious Injuries, Temporary Amnesia, POV Alternating, Love Confessions, Happy Ending) – John wakes up in a locked room, unable to remember how he got here. The last thing he remembers is his hands covered in blood, trying to keep a soldier from dying. His roommate also seems to be suffering from amnesia, and has decided that John is a delusion. Part 33 of Just Johnlock

Walk of Shame by 72reasons (E, 14,355+ w., 9/? Ch. || WiP || Alternate First Meeting AU || Meet-Ugly, Bisexual John, Gay Sherlock, Alternating POV, Sad John, Suicidal Thoughts, Casual Sex, Strangers to Lovers, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Threesome, Hand Jobs, Blow Jobs, Frottage, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex) – John is just back from the war and wanders the city wondering what he’s going to do. One of his distractions is having casual sex with a beautiful, but annoying, woman. Sherlock usually refrains from sex, but in trying to stay sober he indulges in it now and again. Sherlock meets John on the street and sparks fly. Casual sex is one thing, but what about something more?

[minquiec]

My 5k word essay on why I like bringing pain and suffering to the two idiots I love dearly (A thesis)

[alternative title being: me ranting abt jipunk for 2 hours straight im kiddingg]

So like

At this point I'm pretty sure most people can tell I enjoy pulling angst out of nowhere for absolutely NO reason necessary other than pain heeheehaahaa well it ain't gonna stop 😁 CAUSE TRUST THAT I will make sure every au I ever make of these two end in numbingly tragic angst one way or the other 🦅 jkjk they won't all be that bad it'll just have varying degrees of sadness

Anyways

I actually do have a reason for never giving them a happy (canonical or implied) happy ending ☝️ the thing abt me is every detail or like choice I make in character design/relationship/etc is that it's always intentional (most of the time) like there's always some kind of corny reason behind it bc I'm jwndkwjd insane and just think too hard abt two characters that don't even exist.

So like so like

I am an absolute loser for tropes like 'in another life' or 'in every life' or just anything among those lines. Like genuinely it does smth irreparable to my brain it's not even funny.

And basically the thought process for jipunk was like they're LITERALLY from different universes which quite literally means they can't end up together bc it's just not possible. But tbh the whole multiverse logic and how it works is up to interpretation cause y'know it's just a movie but personally I see it as smth pretty impossible for lore sake and stuff HAHSHA

So because the 'original' jipunk (atsv versions) can't end up together, I decided to go and think

"HMM."

"WHAT IF THEY ARE THE EPITOME OF 'ill find you in every universe" BUT EVERY SINGLE ONE OF THEM END IN THE SAME WAY (never ending up tgt)"

Cause for the different au's each of them is technically a different reincarnate in different worlds with different lives.

And like going back to when I said varying levels of sadness: what I meant was in some aus they'll be literally universes apart (which in itself is already sad asf) but in other aus they could live in the same world but their lives are like perpendicular lines because they'll meet and then never cross paths again (BECAUSE this is what their fate is supposed to be if we base it off their atsv counter parts: they were never meant to be bc they're from different universes)

BUT DONT KILL ME YET BC

technically

teccchnicaalllllyyy

In the long run they do have a happy ending

(longass run bru)

So there isn't a proper timeline for which universes 'happen first' bc that just doesn't make sense but

The modern au where it has the convenience store

Is their happy ending

Endgame au fr

Cause if you think abt it right (this is a headcanon), hb isn't the type of person to fall in love based on looks.

Yet in the modern au he ends up crushing on a silly little employee of the convenience store he goes to.

And like it's just this pull he can't understand for the life of him??? Cause it feels so shallow to him to like someone bc he thinks their pretty

Little does he know

So after they get tgt in the modern au, I'm thinking of this one moment where he kind of figures it out/sort of/not really but he is just like

"idk what it is but it feels like I've spent lifetimes with you"

BECAUSE YOU HAAAAAAVE@)$()2(# AAAAAAUEGEGHHEGEG JM SOBBING

HE SAYS IT BC HE REALIZES HIS SOUL IS JUST SO COMFORTABLE WITH HER PRESENCE ALMOST LIKE ITS GOTTEN USED TO IT SINCE A LONG LONG TIME AGO

And I realized just now but omfg the comic I made where he drunk confess and goes 'I liked you first'

HES LITERALLY BEEN LIKING HER FIRST IN THEIR FIRST LIFE (ATSV) IM GOING TO FUCKIGNNEF THROIWN UP

Soulmates idc idc IDCCCC

Took the quote I love you in every lifetime and RAAAAANNNN WITH IT

I enjoy tragic love stories tm

This isn't delusion anymore this is derangement

They r so dear to me

They are my kdramas, they are my bridgerton, they are my therapy this is how I cope.

[demens-mads-sevens]

I think whats funny about Team A6, you have The Guy who was Too Quirky for his Own Good (Spot), being an actual heir to some rich family in Sargon. Another one of the pillars of A6 in keeping it stable but he's a comic book nerd and uses some of his money to buy comics to read in his spare time as it was one of his only outlets when he was repressed within his family. You have Majima (vampire; Midnight) Whose using his persona as a way to shield his own emotions and struggles from harming others to keep morale high. The Demon King of Higashi's nightlife. You have the complete opposite of that (Orchid) who represses her emotions because otherwise people may get hurt if there's not someone taking charge, and breaks their back trying to make sure life for the infected is as stress-free as possible, pioneering fashionable ways to cover oripathy scars.

Popukar who has TOO MUCH going on with her delusions as well as what power she has to make the others in A6 stop fighting. She's such a small, traumatized bean that most stop fighting just because she gets so angry that it causes her to burn out and pass out. Then you have Catapult. Catapult is honestly the most interesting character to me in both a meta sense - with how she's viewed on by a majority of people within the fandom - and within the lore. Catapult is one of those characters that needs a look far deeper compared to what it says in her archive logs and voice lines. Because while she does have a very radioactive lackadaisical attitude and very little respect for her coworkers, (calling Dobermann a bitch, or being the main troublemaker for Orchid), if you look deeper within both Orchids logs and Catapults you can find out that Catapult really is good at heart despite her toxic nature outwardly. We know she was in the Kazimierz military as well as doing a lot of shit to get out of it. But here in the Kazimerz military it's where you can find the root of why she has such big problems with authority - where in she did as she usually did: causing loads of problems. She found out that one of the mayors of a town she was stationed in was engaging within criminal means to profit off the towns suffering and in that she blew up one of the banks that was one of the main ill's used to line this officials pockets. Of course she was court martial'd and most likely kicked or exiled out of Kazimierz for the act, but here in lies the problem: She doesn't believe authority cares at all for the little guy. To her, anyone high ranking probably doesn't give a shit about the lower peon just like the mayor didn't or her higher ups within the military. Hence why that spreads to Rhodes Island. She calls Dobermann a bitch, most likely because of her military, dogmatic attitude reminding her of the stuck up officers who degraded her within the military instead of punishing the mayor.

But for Orchid, that's a bit of a different issue. She's only a problem child around Orchid, because Orchid reacts without pushing her away or throwing her out, but actively trying to improve Catapult and try to make her a better person. Orchid is probably the only one, with authority, to show Catapult that one with authority can truly care for another person below their rank. So Catapult tests this, again and again and again, to find its not wavering. Which is probably the only kindness she's had given to her from the start.

This doesn't mean she's free from being a toxic person she's still going to blow up Rhodes Island if that love or care ever does die, but the nuance is there, I feel. In summary, Catapult isn't an outwardly awful person, It's just a trauma response to authority figures fucking around and finding out.

[glacialswordsman-a]

" in another life, i would have really liked just doing laundry and taxes with you. " ( you can choose the verse )

| prompt

To my beloved Ajax,

I’m sorry.

By the time you read this, I will be no more. Ever since I joined the Fatui, I knew this would have more than likely been the outcome of what I had been working for. For many years, ever since I had been found by Pantalone, I had a singular goal in mind:

To destroy the Fatui and its Delusion Factories.

I had tried to think of other ways to go about this goal, to see if I could potentially find a method without having to sacrifice myself, but there was nothing that I could have figured out. Perhaps if I told you my plans after Fontaine, after our confessions, we could have thought of something together, but I couldn’t do that to you. How could I possibly pull you into my own mess and ask you to help me destroy the livelihood of all you had known?

No, this was my burden to bear. Alone.

I’ve never told you what happened—the how and why Pantalone found me.

That night was my brother, Diluc Ragnivindr’s, 18th birthday. We He had lost everything that night.

A caravan that Diluc and our father, Crepus, were escorting was attacked by a foul beast named Ursa the Drake, and our father fought valiantly to protect everyone. Especially Diluc. In order to protect them, he relied on the power of a pyro Delusion, and it had backfired on him from the amount of power he exerted while using it. I wasn’t there.

In fact, I was too late when I got to them, and watched as my brother granted our father a swift death to put him out of his pain and misery. Had he not, Crepus would have suffered until his very last breath.

I’ll never forget my own reaction to it. Instead of running to console my brother and grieve with him, I stood back, simply watched…

And smirked.

I was morbidly fascinated by the fact that even the man who had graciously taken me into his home would ever rely on such a terrible power. Not only that, but I also felt a sense of liberation, and when I realized my initial reactions, pure and unadulterated guilt and shame crashed down against my shoulders.

Diluc had gone off to report this to the Ordo Favonius of Mondstadt, which we had both proudly been a part of. Yet, that same day, he quit and never looked back. Meanwhile, I helped clean up the mess while I stewed in my thoughts and realized I needed to come clean to my brother, and now to you.

That evening, I admitted to Diluc that I was planted in Mondstadt as a child so I could serve my nation’s purpose. My nation of Khaenri’ah. My father had left me purposefully at the Dawn Winery so I could learn as much as I could about them and the nation of Freedom.

He said I was their only hope.

But all I could think of at that point was how I had betrayed my family. The family that had lovingly taken me in and provided me with warmth, care, and happiness. From the very first moment they accepted me, my life was nothing but an absolute lie.

Understandably, Diluc wasn’t happy, and I had anticipated his anger. He had just lost his father, and now his own brother was confessing his sins on the same night. Idiotic, wasn’t it? I wasn’t thinking clearly, but if I hadn’t told Diluc as soon as possible, the guilt would have consumed me whole.

I just…didn’t think I would have nearly lost my life for it. I would have deserved it, and even as I write this, I do not blame him for his reactions. They were understandable, even if I could have been killed. Yet the Tsaritsa blessed me with a Vision and saved me from Diluc’s fiery wrath. The moment that whitish-blue light shone and revealed the state of my grievous wounds, Diluc froze.

I took that opportunity to run away, run as far and as fast as I could to anywhere but there. The Dawn Winery and Mondstadt were no longer my home.

Instead, I headed towards Liyue, where I had nearly succumbed to my wounds—yet as luck would have it, Pantalone found me in the nick of time.

I wasn’t going to squander this opportunity. This was the chance I needed to repay the Ragnivindrs, and to repent for my Sins.

However, I didn’t factor in the possibility of how I would come to find the Fatui as another home. I thought it was going to be easy and that I wouldn’t grow attached, but oh, how wrong I was. I had grown close to Rosalyne and thought of her as my mother, I came to think of the Regrator as my brother, and the Jester as some weird uncle.

Most of all, though, I fell in love with you, Tartaglia. My dearest Ajax.

Thus came the realization that there was no way out for me. I was stuck again, all out of my own doing. There was no way I would ever confess this to anyone, no less the Tsaritsa. I knew my life would be forfeit if I had, so either way, I was a dead man walking. So, if I’m to die, then I’d rather it be out of my own choice.

Every time we visited the Delusion manufacturers, it was under the guise of quality check-ups and making sure everything ran smoothly, but in reality, I was discreetly planting bombs. I’m surprised I managed to do so without getting caught. There were some close calls, admittedly, so it’s truly a miracle that I’ve gotten as far as I have now. All that’s left is for me to destroy the root of what made everything go wrong, and what better way than to pay homage to my father, the late Master Crepus?

I’ve always found it ironic how I, too, ended up with a pyro Delusion. I suppose the only difference is that I’m actively choosing to kill myself with it.

… I wish I could see my big brother one last time. Would he have forgiven me for everything, including this? I cannot help but wonder.

There would be a large blank space in the middle of the writing, before it eventually picked back up again. Some of the words became a little splotchy from the ink spreading due to what appeared to be little droplets.

Had Kaeya spilled something…or were those tears?

I know what I have done is unforgivable. The lies, the façades, the masks.

The death of probably hundreds that were working in the factories at the time of retribution.

But please know this, Ajax… The one thing I have always been honest about were my feelings for you. You have brought light and warmth into my life, and I’m sorry for how greedy I have been in trying to cling to it. I shouldn’t have accepted your feelings, I shouldn’t have held you, I shouldn’t have kissed you—maybe then, you’d hate me less for this.

Maybe then, you’d eventually come to forget about me.

I suppose the only saving grace that comes from all of this is me being able to remember our time together, being able to think of your smile one last time as my story ends in an explosive grand finale. Ever selfish until the end, I know.

On one hand, I have a sense of peace in knowing what’s to come, as I finally get to decide my own fate. But on the other hand, I still wish there had been another way.

…

In another life, I would have really liked just doing laundry and taxes with you.

I love you.

Forever yours,

“Pavlín” Brighella, the Twelfth Harbinger, one half of the Innamorati.

Kaeya Alberich.

[alternis]

several days ago my brain did some calculations and beamed into my conscious thought "if third eye au tim is parallel to both cass and red hood Jason maybe he should have cotard's syndrome after shiva saves his life. he's self aware that it's an irrational delusion, but other than compartmentalisation and meditative techniques there isn't a lot he can do bc mental health care in the dcu is Real Bad"

(cotard's syndrome is a set of related delusions that the sufferer is dead/missing body parts/etc, sometimes called 'walking corpse syndrome')

its a thematically a blending of cass's death wish and Jason's "I died and came back" thing (since Jason doesn't die in this au so tim fulfills a symbolic parallel of his role as a ghost from batman past reminding him of how he failed them),

except rather than seeking death or revenge it turns inward (since Tim tends to live in his own head when stressed. a withdrawn tim is a struggling tim). like, he isn't seeking death. because on a subconscious level he's convinced he already died and is somehow still functioning. anf he's not going to put himself in dangerous situations because he thinks he deserves it, like cass, or seek revenge for his death like Jason. he's very high functioning. but it means he's also weirdly chill about the concept of dying and accepts that shiva is going to kill him some day and doesn't do a lot to avoid that future since internally it doesn't feel like a big deal.

but he definitely doesn't want to kill anybody ever again, consciously because a) his personal moral compass and b) to him his death and the act of killing zsasz are intrinsically linked. but also, on a subconscious level, being dead is terrible and he doesn't want to inflict it on another person.

it starts immediately after he wakes up from surviving the Very Traumatic Exsanguination where he absolutely would have died if it weren't for shiva's healing techniques and getting him a backalley blood transfusion (and possibly his heart gave out/had to be manually restarted for Symbolic Purposes), and is just. unobtrusively laying beneath every decision he makes going forward. it really doesn't help that death isn't a permanent condition in dc, and the more public resurrections there are the more he's like. well shit maybe this isn't such a Weird Situation.

this idea slowly permeated from the back of my head out into third eye canon

potentially, and I'm still trying to figure this one out, a version of the evil future titans plot happens but tim figures out in a private conversation with one of the evil future titans (via deduction from how they treat him as neither a potential threat nor potential ally) that in their future he's dead, and is just very chill about that concept even when he asks for more details and finds out that it'll be three months from now but none of them will be able to prevent it because none of them know the details. he just vanished, and later shiva admitted to having killed him.

so of course rather than start preparing a daring counter move (he already used up the poison gambit) he just gets his affairs in order and waits for shiva to contact him, and when she does vanishes into the night

except at this point in the timeline danny temple/krait is a reluctant teen titan member, tracks Tim down and interrupts the fight (a very bad idea! that is shivas least favourite thing!) but, unlike Tim, he has actually planned for how to prevent shiva killing his bestie/long time crush ever since he found out that she trains people in order to Duel with Them to The Death when they're at their peak prowess. so he manages to take a wounded Tim back to a secret kobra bunker and after some Dramatic Talk tim reveals the whole. 'doesn't really care about dying because he's felt dead since the day she saved him and every time he looks in the mirror all he sees is his own corpse staring back at him' thing. yes he knows it's irrational and delusional. of course he won't tell the other titans. he figured out the secret identities of half the justice league as a teenager and was trained by the world's deadliest martial artist, he cant let anybody know he's got Flaws or Instabilities bc then he'd become a potential threat (somewhere, batman feels a moment of strange validation over his paranoia towards his allies on the justice league. he shrugs and goes back to spying on green lanterns text messages)

after he finally accepts his condition may benefit from actual treatment he can go ~mad scientist~ and seemingly start secretly researching mind control/brainwashing technology but when the team confronts him it turns out he's just trying to treat his own mental health condition diy style bc he justifiably does not trust the psychiatric professionals of the dc universe. he gets a secret villain lab setup as a treat. as an enrichment activity. he and krait take apart stolen kobra technology to reverse engineer it together instead of going on normal dates

[fugengulsen]

It will do you no harm to find yourself ridiculous. Resign yourself to be the fool you are.

You will find that you survive humiliation And that’s an experience of incalculable value.

That is the worst moment, when you feel you have lost The desires for all that was most desirable, Before you are contented with what you can desire; Before you know what is left to be desired; And you go on wishing that you could desire What desire has left behind. But you cannot understand. How could you understand what it is to feel old?

We die to each other daily. What we know of other people Is only our memory of the moments During which we knew them. And they have changed since then. To pretend that they and we are the same Is a useful and convenient social convention Which must sometimes be broken. We must also remember That at every meeting we are meeting a stranger.

There was a door And I could not open it. I could not touch the handle. Why could I not walk out of my prison? What is hell? Hell is oneself. Hell is alone, the other figures in it Merely projections. There is nothing to escape from And nothing to escape to. One is always alone.

Half the harm that is done in this world Is due to people who want to feel important. They don’t mean to do harm — but the harm does not interest them. Or they do not see it, or they justify it Because they are absorbed in the endless struggle To think well of themselves.

There are several symptoms Which must occur together, and to a marked degree, To qualify a patient for my sanitorium: And one of them is an honest mind. That is one of the causes of their suffering.

To men of a certain type The suspicion that they are incapable of loving Is as disturbing to their self-esteem As, in cruder men, the fear of impotence.

I must tell you That I should really like to think there’s something wrong with me — Because, if there isn’t, then there’s something wrong With the world itself — and that’s much more frightening! That would be terrible. So, I’d rather believe there’s something wrong with me, that could be put right.

Everyone’s alone — or so it seems to me. They make noises, and think they are talking to each other; They make faces, and think they understand each other. And I’m sure they don’t. Is that a delusion?

Can we only love Something created in our own imaginations? Are we all in fact unloving and unloveable? Then one is alone, and if one is alone Then lover and beloved are equally unreal And the dreamer is no more real than his dreams.

I shall be left with the inconsolable memory Of the treasure I went into the forest to find And never found, and which was not there And is perhaps not anywhere? But if not anywhere Why do I feel guilty at not having found it?

Disillusion can become itself an illusion If we rest in it.

Two people who know they do not understand each other, Breeding children whom they do not understand And who will never understand them.

There is another way, if you have the courage. The first I could describe in familiar terms Because you have seen it, as we all have seen it, Illustrated, more or less, in lives of those about us. The second is unknown, and so requires faith — The kind of faith that issues from despair. The destination cannot be described; You will know very little until you get there; You will journey blind. But the way leads towards possession Of what you have sought for in the wrong place.

We must always take risks. That is our destiny.

If we all were judged according to the consequences Of all our words and deeds, beyond the intention And beyond our limited understanding Of ourselves and others, we should all be condemned.

Only by acceptance of the past will you alter its meaning.

All cases are unique, and very similar to others.

Every moment is a fresh beginning.

~T.S. Eliot -  The Cocktail Party

[mocchimi]

Sooooo, I wrote something for the beautiful crackship Wingrod (thanks to @avoidghost by the way for getting me into it) and decided to absolutely fuck my existence by posting it here :D my anxiety is having a blast.

I had exactly 4 hours of sleep while writing this and honestly, I think it shows.

Anyways have this fantasy Apocalypse AU that I will probably write more for, depending on how I feel about it tomorrow.

----------------------

How had a simple search ended in this kind of disaster?

He hadn’t intended for it to go this far, really, he hadn’t.

But destiny apparently had other plans for him and his beloved, so now here they stood. Shadows eating into their plating, hope slowly extinguished and no way of reigniting it. The Prime had fallen, and darkness had won.

They were not many, and he held no delusion of victory, but if he could keep the little spark of hope alive then he would. This would be a sacrifice in vain, suicide, but it could, just maybe, inspire future generations to rise against the devil and stop his madness. He finally decided it would be time to make a decision that benefited other people, instead of continuing his selfish ways.

He knew that his dearest would disagree with him, argue that he wasn’t selfish, but he could not deny that most of his actions had been fueled by selfishness. It was almost comedic that it took the oldest evil known to their kind to make him realize that. Maybe he could do better in his next life, if there was a next life.

“Hot Rod.”

The white mech beside him had taken his servo and looked at him, trying to figure out what his beloved was thinking. Hot Rod smiled sadly and squeezed the flyer’s servo in hopes of distracting or reassuring him, he wasn’t quite sure which one he was trying to achieve.

“It’s okay. I was just thinking about what we’re about to do and how I changed since this all started.”

His partner wasn’t being distracted from what he meant by that, no matter how hard he squeezed his servo. The flyer’s other servo was raised to cup Hot Rod’s cheek and the speedster couldn’t avoid the optics of his beloved anymore. They were filled with understanding and hope.

Hot Rod still didn’t understand what Wing exactly saw in him, of all mechs.

The swordsmech always tried to help everyone around him, and while that sometimes was the wrong thing to do, his optimism and hope for the good never stopped or got any weaker. How had such a cruel world deserved Wing? Or for that instant any of the mechs Hot Rod was with now. All of them were brave and had overcome a hard and dark part of their past, all of them were proud warriors ready to give their life for others. Hot Rod wasn’t like them and would probably never be like them.

Before he could suffer from the dark thoughts clouding his mind, the soft brush of Wing’s digits pulled him back to reality. Wing smiled at the speedster, sadly and so knowing, but with no judgement. Hot Rod wanted to cry but couldn’t bring himself to let that weakness show. They had chosen him, for some ungodly reason, as their leader and he would not disappoint them. Not like he disappointed Orion and their creators.

“I know that this is hard, especially considering what happened with your brother, but Hot Rod believe me when I tell you, that you are not selfish. You make mistakes, like everyone else and people just decided that you need to be punished more than everyone else. It was never easy for you, but you decided to change and try better and that is something not everyone can do.”

Wing cupped his face with both his servos and Hot Rod couldn’t find any malicious intend in his partners optics. He could see the love and adoration the other held for him, which he didn’t feel worthy of, but was so clearly true that he couldn’t deny the other. The flyer held him in high regards whether Hot Rod agreed with it or not. He was never pushed to believe Wing, but the white mech made him see the good sides to him.

“When I first meet you, I didn’t understand what you were doing. I couldn’t see why you were acting like you did, but I came to understand as you started to understand yourself.”

Hot Rod covered Wing’s servos with his own, trying to show the flyer how much he appreciated this right now.

“I cannot tell you how proud I am of what you have become. Hot Rod, no matter what happens in the next few hours, I will never regret meeting you.”

He felt the tears in his optic and tried desperately to swallow them but found that he couldn’t succeed. Tears started running down his faceplate and he grasped desperately at Wing’s servos. A hiccup breaking free from his chassis as he tried to speak. Wing just came closer and leaned their foreheads together, knowing that was all the speedster would need.

“Thank you, Wing. I don’t know what would have happened without you or the others. What you all have done for me is something I can never repay, and I am sorry for that, but knowing you is truly a blessing I feel not deserving of.”

He smiled and offlined his optics. Knowing that his next words could ruin everything they had build up, but he knew that he had kept it for to long and wouldn’t be able to stand it ant longer. With a deep vent he onlined his optics again and looked at Wing.

“I really love you, Wing.”

There was no shock, no mockery or disgust. Wing looked a little perplexed, but it melted soon into a smile filled with adoration and love.

“That means a lot, truly. I really love you, too.”

And with that they sealed their lips. Hot Rod didn’t even know who initiated the kiss, but that moment it really didn’t matter. All that matter were Wing’s arms around him, holding him and giving him the safety, he craved all his life, ironically just hours before their suicide mission.

Hot Rod didn’t feel deserving of Wing’s love, but that did not matter as he decided to be selfish just one last time.

[greateggcult]

if I didn’t have original stories to be working on there would be a chapter to the DSMP TMA AU Where it dives into the tragedy of Spiral! Wilbur acting on the surface as comedic relief during the threading of the spider’s web.

 Yeah all of them have baggage but the key difference is that Wilbur doesn’t admit it and tries covering with a mask of cheerful optimism. In the timeline of events there would be a moment where it finally dawns on Tommy that Wilbur is out of his goddamn mind and is more of a risk than he had assumed previously. Ranboo tried to warn Tommy but that wasn’t enough to convince him to distance himself.

Which it should be stated again for clarity, Wilbur is just some shaggy guy that these teens encountered during their delusion of being protagonists in a YA magic adventure. The only reason they kept him around is that Tommy believed that Wilbur might be one of the few people to show them the ropes and how fear magic works. While Wilbur isn’t an enemy for the time being, he is highly unstable due to the prolonged influence of the distortion, impulsive, and impatient to the point of murder if he sees it as the quickest solution to a problem. Wil has lost everything including his mind and some could argue his humanity. He is essentially a walking time-bomb while others maintain some level of consistency. From the surface he seems like a silly guy unaffected by the woes of humanity.

on a different note, Techno dual wields swords and owns a pawnshop where he takes in weapons, fixes them, then sells them to people. The guns are in no way cursed or anything, he’s just a really good judge of character and intentionally sells to the wrong people knowing that the energy will make it’s way back to him.

Schlatt is slowly filling the roll of Jeirgan Leightener for most damage caused unknowingly as a consequence of his actions that he will never see punishment for. The list of his crimes is growing.

George got buried alive under tons of dirt while being young and stupid at a construction site, which lead him to his enlightenment towards the buried. This of course would not have happened had Schlatt not forced the workers into breaking OSHA protocol to get them to build faster for less money than real work would be.

You would almost think Dream would be the one to cause the most suffering given the spider god thing, but in actuality the build up to him ruling the universe is more like the Tom Leiher song about nuclear war. The lead up is scary but if everybody is dead it’s not really anyone’s problem anymore. Like you won’t have to worry about selling a kidney for drugs or anything. 

yes the kidney thing was also Schlatt but also partly Quackity and on the bright side it did not result in the creation of a fear avatar like the other bullshit did.

I still have yet to get an answer to the past question of what cocaine would do to a person made of slime mold if they ate a full brick of it. Quackity is probably going to have to put child locks and water sealing on all the store room doors if Charlie develops a drug problem. Charlie is clever but not human, and it’s kind of important to figure out if these chemicals would kill him or not. I am certain that he will eat some drugs at some point due to his slime habit of putting everything in his mouth on sight, I just haven’t figured out if this should turn story relevant or not. I’m not going to use it to incapacitate him in the story or anything like that, but if it has an effect on the mold and isn’t deadly to it then I might give him the drug seeking trait as a way for characters to bribe him kind of like scooby snacks for slimes. If not that then I will have to find a different way to keep him from wandering off. The character is needed but I have made the mistake of making him the most neutral character in this mess like some sort of escort quest npc needed for finishing a level. He’s there but not a single thought in that head of his until he finds something to be a problem. He is smart when he has a clear task but other than that his brain goes mostly dormant until the next one.

[majimemegoro]

[a few years after Kadokura Kenshi’s favorite murderer gets eaten by a bear, a chance encounter throws Kadokura into the path of Katya: @skygayzer‘s OC, a teenager with a troubled history and a scary amount of potential. With emphasis on “scary.” Over a few months Kadokura takes her under his wing and trains her to become one of Japan’s most impressive assassins. In this AU, Sagawa—an old friend of Kadokura’s—is still alive in the mid-2000s. @skygayzer and I imagined and co-wrote this series of scenes where Kadokura visits Sotenbori to shows off Katya and her skills]

“It’s like… it’s like…” Kadokura pressed both hands to his mouth, thinking hard, trying to figure out what exactly it was like. “It’s like god is finally rewarding me,” he said at last.

Sagawa looked at him. “Okay,” he said. “I’m really not sure how to respond to that. That’s a pretty unhinged thing to say, even for you. Are you, like, medicated right now?”

Scowling, Kadokura sat up straighter. “What?”

“It just seems like maybe you should be medicated or something. I think you’re suffering from delusions of grandeur.”

“‘Suffering’? If I was, it wouldn’t be suffering. And no, there’s no ‘delusion’ about it,” Kadokura said smoothly, leaning back and crossing one leg over the other. “I’m the luckiest man on the planet! I’m telling you, Sagawa, if you could see the shit she can do with just a knife-“

Sagawa held up a hand and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’m going to stop you right there,” he said. “Your expression is scary as fuck and you know we don’t share these tastes.”

“Mm. I’ll never understand you. Elbow deep in blood, and you don’t even have the guts to enjoy it a little.”

“I like having power over people,” Sagawa said. “I’ll tolerate the gore. That’s it.”

“Yeah… weird as hell,” Kadokura mused.

“So anyway,” Sagawa said, “You’re excited about this new person, that’s it? I haven’t seen you this peppy since-“

“Don’t bring it up,” Kadokura growled. “I know the Arase thing was a failure. I’m allowed to misjudge someone once every ten years, aren’t I?”

“…Sure you are, bud,” Sagawa said. “Sure you are.”

“Well, as I was saying, she weighs 180 and is 6'7″ when she isn’t slumping, but she does slump, and in case you aren’t good at conceptualizing how those dimensions would look in real life, she’s freakishly tall. Like freakishly fucking tall. And so with the whole slumping thing and her long arms and her expression, she literally looks like some kind of yokai. I kid you not. I nearly shit myself when I turned around and saw her behind me for the first time. Fucking-“ He broke off, shuddering, a memory of horror and delight.

“Sounds great,” Sagawa said sarcastically.

“Yeah. Yeah. I don’t know. I think I should sic her on people I don’t like and get video footage of it. I mean, I still love snipers more than anything, but… there’s no fear, with a good sniper performance, you know? It’s just, the target going about their day and then boom, headshot, and it’s over. And, fuck, don’t get me wrong, I love that-“ he squirmed in his chair “-but sometimes, sometimes, what you need is to look in their eyes and see them die a little before they die. That’s what I love about fear. It’s like death, but longer.” Kadokura paused, catching his breath.

“Every day I wonder why I’m still alive when I spend so much time with a nut job like you,” Sagawa said.

“You keep me grounded, darling,” Kadokura said. “You remind me that it isn’t socially acceptable to talk about this stuff elsewhere.”

Sagawa scoffed. “You wouldn’t forget.”

“Anyway. Got anyone in Sotenbori who needs terrorizing? I wouldn’t mind giving my new pet project a little field trip.”

“Do you mean terrorizing, or killing?”

Kadokura laughed. “Both, maybe! Terrorize one guy, then kill him, then terrorize everyone else in the goddamn city by proxy when they find the body! Ooh, maybe we could even leak some grainy footage of Katya at work-“

“First name basis, Kadokura?”

“She’s the best friend I’ve ever had.” Kadokura watched Sagawa patiently, waiting for a reaction.

Sagawa threw up his hands. “Oh good! Maybe she can be your new babysitter too." 

Kadokura let out a dramatic sigh, clasping his hands and pouting.

"Oh, don't be so dramatic. You'll always be my first!" He grinned, making Sagawa's face twist with a mix of disgust and annoyance.

"Ha ha." He mocks. He then leans a bit forward, his hands on his knees. 

"Tell you what, I'll bite. We've been having problems with a group. despite not being professional, they rely heavily on numbers." Sagawa starts.

"It usually wouldn't be a problem, but we kill one guy and three more pop out. Like fucking roaches."

Kadokura tapped his finger on his chin, listening intently. 

"So, if this new 'pet project' is as good as you say she is, then maybe she can help me out." Sagawa finishes, reaching into his pocket for a smoke. But even quicker Kadokura holds one up to his face, smiling. 

"I think it'll be just perfect for her."  Kadokura is practically beaming, as Sagawa takes his cigarette.

***

Sagawa stands between two buildings in a dark alleyway, a smoke in hand as he looks at his watch. 

He mumbles to himself, before hearing footsteps approach him. 

"Sorry, got a bit delayed." Kadokura says as he approaches him.

Sagawa lets out a huff of smoke. "It's not like you to be late." 

"I know, I know, but we're here now." 

"We're?-"

Sagawa suddenly feels an arm lock around his neck and his feet are lifted off the ground. He feels something pointy and cold prick his neck.

"Woah, Katya!" Kadokura can't help but laugh at Sagawa's petrified expression. "He's with us!"

Sagawa can barely make out his assailant, only seeing long red hair surrounding his vision. He is dropped to the ground, almost falling to his knees.

"What the hell?" He grabs at his throat, feeling a slight drip of blood. 

Kadokura patted his shoulder, still chuckling to himself. 

"Sagawa, meet my new pride and joy."

He gestures to the girl.

Everything Kadokura said about her is in fact true, she almost didn't look human, her long messy hair almost covered her face, an eye peeking at him. 

Her large boney hands held a butterfly knife, the one she attempted to kill him with. 

"Shit, you weren't kidding.." Sagawa says, still trying to regain his composure.

“I never exaggerate,” Kadokura said. “Now calm down, you big baby. Who has to take care of who now?

Not deigning to respond, Sagawa fished a tissue out of his pocket and wiped away the streak of blood on his hand and neck. “You know,” he said icily, taking a few steps away so Kadokura was somewhat between him and that thing, “Some breeds of dog are dangerous and difficult to deal with, and should only be trained by experienced, responsible handlers.”

Kadokura looked at him innocently, hands folded neatly behind his back. 

“Whatever,” Sagawa muttered. “But I’m warning you, keep me off your shit list. You keep a tight leash on her around me!”

“You’re being a bit rude,” Kadokura said, voice mild. “Aren’t you going to introduce yourself?”

Grudgingly Sagawa turned his attention back to the figure still looming over the alley. “Hi,” he said shortly. “I’m Sagawa.”

“Katya,” Kadokura directed, “Why don’t you introduce yourself like we practiced?”

Katya was quiet for a good minute, she still stared at Sagawa. Her face switches from expressionless to an almost exaggerated smile, tilting her head to the side as she says. "Hiya, Sagawa-san." 

Despite her smile, Sagawa only felt more threatened. “I… really hope that’s not actually how you practiced that,” he said, glancing at Kadokura.

Kadokura was doubled over in laughter. ‘Not - quite!” he managed to choke out. “Katya, we’ll have to keep working on that if you want to make it in polite society!”

Sagawa wanted to be sour, but somehow there was actually something bittersweet about seeing Kadokura enjoying himself so thoroughly, without a hint of irony or nastiness. He used to be like this all the time, didn’t he? Sagawa had almost forgotten. Sure, Kadokura had always been a total psycho, but somewhere along the line he’d gotten colder and meaner. Not that he wasn’t still having fun at the expense of Sagawa’s terror, though. There was a nastiness inherent in the things that amused Kadokura.

“Okay, boss,” Kadokura said, cutting into Sagawa’s thoughts. “Why don’t we get to work? I’ve talked you up a lot, so I’m sure Katya’s eager to prove her skills to you. What’s the game plan?”

"Right, follow me." Sagawa said, eager to get the job done quickly. They both followed him up through the stairs from outside of the building, finally when they reached the top Sagawa pointed to a building across from it. 

It was a five story building, light on in certain windows, showing shadows of the people who walked by. 

"Here's the plan," he said. "You claim she's pretty unstoppable, yeah? She goes in, and kills every single one of the guys in there.. every. Single. one." 

He raised a finger and waved it as he spoke.

"I'll be sitting up here." 

Sagawa then pulled out a rifle, a click from it as he checked his ammo. "Making sure you don't miss any." 

Kadokura looked at Katya, giving his usual relaxed smile. 

"Alright, You ready?" He asked. Katya sniffed loudly, her nose seemed a bit stuffy. 

"Yup." She said, walking towards the back from where they came. 

“Hey, wait up a second-” Kadokura called out, and Katya half-turned. “Katya, remember, we’re trying to scare them. So go ham, okay? But I say leave a few survivors. Say, three or four. Enough so no one can doubt the story is true.”

“I’ll leave a few alive,” she said. “But no one who wasn’t there is going to believe them.” With that she turned around and walked away.

Kadokura smiled mistily. “That’s my girl,” he said.

“Hmph.” Sagawa checked the safety on his gun. “She can’t be that good.”

“You’ll see,” Kadokura said. “You’ll see.” With that he turned to Sagawa, eyeing the rifle. “What am I here for?” he asked. “Just to look pretty? Don’t tell me I don’t get to have any fun.”

“You can have fun watching,” Sagawa said pointedly as he set up the stand against the window sill. “I’m a better shot than you at this distance.”

Huffing, Kadokura crossed his arms. “Come up to Sapporo some time and we can have a proper contest. I don’t think you’re that much better. Besides, I bet you’ve got complacent. All these years with people just doing whatever you say. When’s the last time you were a sniper?”

“Says the businessman,” Sagawa scoffed.

Kadokura reached into his breast pocket. Sagawa flinched. Smiling, Kadokura brandished a pair of binoculars. “Getting paranoid, old man,” Kadokura said. “I’ve said it before, I wouldn’t suddenly shoot you.” He put the binoculars up to his face, eagerly scanning the building for signs of Katya. “I’d kill you with a knife. For sure,” he added quietly, like an afterthought. Sagawa rolled his eyes and hunched down so he could view the scope, keeping his finger ready on the trigger.

Some time passed and it seemed things were getting quiet, Sagawa and Kadokura both remained silent and still, waiting for any indication that she was in.

They could thankfully see through the lot windows, as the building didn't have any curtains. 

Typical amateurs.

Suddenly, a random shriek is heard before it is cut off. 

Kadokura desperately tries to locate it

Almost immediately the loud gunshots ring throughout the building, bright flashes coming through the windows.

"There she goes." Kadokura whispered as he saw two men pointing their pistols and shooting.

Something runs fast as both Kadokura and Sagawa get a view of a hand grabbing one's neck and gutting a knife through his neck.

Blood spurts onto the window, causing Kadokura to click his tongue. 

"Can't see now." He grumbled, but thankfully it doesn't last long as the other man ran. 

More shots were heard followed by more screams of pain and fear. Sagawa kept himself still.

Through another window they see Katya covered in red as it looks like she suddenly climbs the back wall.

"What the hell?" Sagawa said. Kadokura grins, letting out a noise of approval. "Just wait."

They see another man come through looking around aiming a shotgun, his eyes wide. 

He is quickly grabbed from uptop, only his feet seem kicking while the others start to shoot at her. The man goes limp and is dropped to the floor, then Katya pounces on another man, gouging her knife once again into a jugular.

"Holy shit." Sagawa stares, his mouth hung open.

“Sagawa,” Kadokura barked suddenly. “Escapee on the ground floor, 10 o’clock.”

Following Kadokura’s direction, Sagawa turned his rifle. Cursing, he stood up so he could angle the rifle downward. He fired, and the man collapsed to his knees, hands flying to the blood pouring from his throat as he choked.

“Ooh, neck shot,” Kadokura commented, binoculars pressed to his eyes and pointed down so he could see the struggle in detail. “You feeling mean, Sagawa-chan?”

Sagawa took a second shot and the man fell down, dead from a bullet to the head. Kadokura quickly turned his attention back to the upper story windows where Katya was at work. “Hat up, darling,” he directed Sagawa. “If they have any counter-snipes, they’ll have clocked your position.”

“Are you using jargon at me?” Sagawa quipped. But nevertheless he crouched down and moved a few windows down. “They won’t have fucking snipers,” he added after he was set up anew. “Their only power is in numbers; they’re total amateurs.”

Kadokura just hummed, shuffling along to be beside Sagawa once more.

Inside the building, at least on the floor where Katya currently was, the drumbeat of gunfire was actually dying down; fewer people left, and less ammo. As they watched, Katya dodged two bullets and scurried forward, so low that at one point her hands touched the ground as though she were a four-legged beast. When she reached the next man, she leaped up and kicked the gun out of his hand and then grabbed his face with one wiry hand.

All at once Kadokura stood up and, holding onto the sill, leaned his entire torso out of the window as far as he could. “Kat!” he yelled at top volume. “Do the neck-snap thing!”

“You idiot!” Sagawa yelled, grabbing the back of Kadokura’s suit and yanking him back in before he fell. “What are you thinking?!”

“Whoops,” Kadokura said, laughing breathlessly. “That was a bit close, wasn’t it? Shit, shit, I hope she heard me.” He glued the binoculars to his eyes. Sagawa looked, too.

Katya was no longer there, having moved onto the next prey. But the man did lay on the ground, his head turned at an uncomfortable angle. 

"Damn!" Kadokura hissed. "Missed it." 

"She moves fast huh?" Sagawa added, walking back to his rifle.

"Sometimes a bit too fast."

Kadokura once again searches for Katya, but she seems to be speeding through.

Time seems to move fast, Katya continues her killing spree as Sagawa keeps an eye out for any more escapees. 

But eventually, it got quiet. No more gun shots, no more screams.

Sagawa finally stood up straight, looking around the building to see if he saw any movement. 

"It's too quiet."

"That just means she did her job." 

Sagawa heard Kadokura's voice from behind him, a hand patting his shoulder. 

He pointed, making Sagawa look back towards the building. 

The tall figure stood in one of the windows, covered in blood. She tapped the window, sending the signal that the building was clear. 

"Let's go give her a final grade." 

Kadokura grinned, exiting the building and stowing his binoculars. Sagawa stared at her, before finally following him.

“How much time do we have before cops show?” Kadokura queried over his shoulder as they rushed down the stairs.

“Honestly? The cops around here will be glad that these guys are gone. They’ve been a thorn in the side of law enforcement, too. The police know that things are more stable when the Omi aren’t challenged. I think law enforcement will turn a blind eye. I bet we’ve got at least ten minutes. We should get out by then, though.”

“Plenty of time for the grand tour!” Kadokura announced, going even faster. “And I need to ransack any security footage they might have. I need a record of this.”

Reaching the ground floor, they hurried across the street to the site of the massacre. Kadokura stepped right overtop of the body of the man Sagawa had shot. Upon entering the building, it was as if there had been a whole war. Bodies laid in puddles of blood, smears and splatters of red on the ground and walls. 

Sagawa let out an impressed whistle.

"I'll be damned." 

They continued to the top floor, where they found Katya. A man was whimpering as she hunched over him, her hands in her pockets. 

She looks up at the two older men and smiles.

"Oh, goodness. Only one." Kadokura whining. 

Katya straightened her back, her face still relaxed. 

"Sorry, the last two put up too much of a fight." She said, nodding to one of the corners.

They looked over to see that she had left a man sitting on an office chair, his stomach ripped open. Sagawa crinkled his nose in disgust, staring at the organs pouring out of him.

“Um, how did I miss this too?” Kadokura said, also staring at the organs, but apparently annoyed not to have experienced in more detail how they came to be removed from the abdominal cavity. 

Sagawa pinched the bridge of his nose. As if Kadokura’s personality wasn’t enough of a headache, the room stank, the coppery smell of blood thick in the air. Neither Kadokura nor Katya seemed remotely bothered.

“A+,” Sagawa said. “Kadokura, you were right. Your new project is a nightmare made flesh. So, yeah. A+, if your goal was to make me finally go to therapy.”

Kadokura wasn’t listening. He was in the corner opposite the office chair guy, nudging the other twisted body with one expensive leather shoe. “What did you do to his shoulders?” Kadokura asked, crouching down. “They’re dislocated, but I’ve never seen-”

“I twisted them around twice,” Katya said.

Kadokura’s head snapped up to look at her. “Twice…” he echoed, an expression of pure adoration on his face.

Sagawa didn’t like that expression. He’d put up with and rode out Kadokura’s obsessions before, but something seemed different this time, like the power imbalance had shifted towards the center: like Kadokura didn’t have as much total control over the relationship, as much narcissistic distance from it, as before. Something to keep an eye on, anyway.

Standing up, Kadokura pulled out a handkerchief and held it out to Katya. “Allergies and stuff come back with a vengeance when the adrenalin dies down,” he told her. “Your nose is going to be pouring in a few minutes, mark my words. Oh, and Katya?” He grinned at her. “I concur. A+.”

She silently takes the handkerchief, then blows her nose into it. It's stained with not and blood now.

"Right!" Kadokura clasped his hands together. "I guess it's time for us to grab the security footage and head out, then," he announced, leaving the room. Katya gave the survivor one last glance, before following right behind him.

Sagawa took a second to take in the whole scene, and then he, too, headed for the exit.

By the time he reached the ground floor, Kadokura had already extracted dvds from the security system. “The angles weren’t great,” Kadokura fretted as he stowed the disks in his interior pocket. “But it’s definitely better than nothing. Now let’s get out of here before we have cops breathing down our necks.”

The three quickly melted down the alleyway they’d originally entered from. Once they’d gotten a few blocks away, Kadokura relaxed visibly. “That was pretty nice,” he said. He went to throw his arms around both Katya and Sagawa, but the position was terribly awkward due to the height difference. “Ha!” he said. ‘Never mind.” He shoved his hands in his pockets. “What next?’ he asked. “Karaoke? Drinks? Dinner? It’s on me!” In the distance, police sirens sounded.

“Katya must be tired,” Sagawa said quickly. “Kadokura, why don’t you and I grab something to eat at Ashitaba park and do a little postgame?”

“Perfect!” Kadokura said. He was obviously still coasting on the high from witnessing Katya’s cleansweep of the gang headquarters. “Katya, my perfect, wonderful assassin, what are you going to do?”

He and Sagawa looked over. But Katya was gone.

“...She’s shy,” Kadokura said to Sagawa. “Probably went back to my place to hide out.”

“...Shy,” Sagawa echoed, thinking of how she’d greeted him earlier. “Okay, then.”

“I guess she was tired. But never mind! Let’s get some of your famous daikon.”

[they go to the park and get settled]

“So,” Sagawa said. “Kadokura, you know that this thing you have with Katya totally looks like a rebound, right?”

“What?”

“You know… when someone gets dumped by an ex and then they instantly start having an ill-advised fling with someone else to fill the void?”

Kadokura laughed. “I know what a rebound is, Sagawa.” He happily poured himself more sake, and didn’t respond to the overall point.

Okay. Maybe things were already worse than Sagawa thought.

“So, uh, how long has it been since that Sato guy was eaten by a cougar?”

“Bear,” Kadokura corrected.

“Yeah, whatever. How long?”

“Three years, six months, two days. Approximately.” He bit into his daikon with relish.

“Okay,” Sagawa said carefully. “And, like, are you over it?”

“What do you mean?” Kadokura asked, still cheerful, mouth full.

“Are you still upset that he died? Got eaten?”

“No.”

Sagawa pressed his fingers to his mouth. “Okay…” he said. “You were upset when it happened, though, right?”

“No.” Unconcerned, Kadokura took another swig of sake.

Well, this was really not going anywhere. Kadokura wasn’t giving him anything.

“See, that’s funny, Kadokura, because didn’t you cancel all of your meetings for two months and call me up drunk about a hundred times?”

Instead of answering Kadokura grunted and shoved another huge bite of daikon into his mouth. Then he mumbled something unintelligible.

“I can’t understand you when your mouth is that full, champ.”

Swallowing viciously, Kadokura scowled. “Don’t use the pet names on me, Sagawa-chan,” he accused, pointing at him with chopsticks. “And I said that if I recall correctly, I was more often high than drunk.”

“And why was that? Because you were upset that your pet project went and died on you?”

Kadokura shrugged. Okay, Sagawa would take it.

“So, don’t you feel just a teensy bit worried that you’re filling a Sato-shaped void with this new project? Katya?”

“Katya is nothing like Sato at all,” Kadokura said. “She’s twice his height. And as you’ve recently seen, she specializes in close quarters combat, with an emphasis on acrobatics and small blades. And she’s theatrical as all fuck. Genuinely the most entertained I’ve been in my whole life.”

“Right,” Sagawa said. “And my new girlfriend is ten times as hot as my ex.”

“Shit,” Kadokura mumbled, going after his food again. “Good for you, man. I didn’t know you were seeing anyone other than your wife.”

“Oh my god.” Sagawa didn’t know why he put up with this. “Kadokura, I never saw you interact with Sato much, but when I did, you were always professional about it.”

Kadokura’s brow furrowed with dawning suspicion and he made eye contact for the first time. Maybe Sagawa was getting through to him!

“You’re fucked up,” Kadokura said. “You think I’m interested in Katya romantically?”

“No!” Sagawa said. “I know you better than that, I’m not an idiot! But, well, my general point is that… it seems like you might actually care about her. That’s part of what worries me. It’s… out of character.”

Kadokura looked away. “I don’t care about her. But why would that be worrying, anyway?”

“Well… because… look, it seems to me that your thing with Sato worked out because you didn’t really know him at all. You idealized him so much, and projected onto him, but you never really interacted with him-“

Unsteadily Kadokura stood up, making his stool scrape on the ground. “Excuse me?” he said icily. “Wow, I don’t even know which blatant lie I should address first. I knew everything about Sato. I still have all his stats memorized. And psychologically-“

“Okay,” Sagawa said hastily, “Okay, fine, sure! Sure. I’m just saying that when you spend a lot of time with someone, there are more opportunities for them to disappoint you. That’s all.”

“Oh,” Kadokura sneered. “So it’s just some friendly advice. From the guy who definitely knows all about what a healthy friendship looks like.”

Sagawa turned back to his food. He knew from experience that it was a bad idea to interact with Kadokura when he got in this mood. “Okay, Kadokura,” he said. “It was good to see you. Katya was really impressive. I hope we can do this again some time.”

“Katya isn’t going to disappoint me,” Kadokura said through tight lips. “You saw her work. You admitted she was perfect!”

“Yeah, she’s a damn fine assassin. Let’s not talk about it anymore.”

“Okay. Bye.” Kadokura threw a wad of bills down on the table.

As he walked away, he pulled out his cellphone and pressed the speed dial. “Katya,” he said instantly, holding it up to his ear, “Are you back at the apartment?”

She hadn’t picked up yet. He ground his teeth and waited. Sagawa was so annoying. Kadokura didn’t know why he put up with the man. As the phone continued to ring, Kadokura caught sight of an M Store and he went in.

Katya picked up. “What is it?” she said.

“Are you at my apartment?”

“Yeah.”

Kadokura perused the aisles, grabbing a bag of jagariko and a pickle soda, whatever the hell that was. He could hear the sound of the TV on in the background. “What are you watching?” he asked. Then he had a brilliant idea. “Hey, why don’t we go see a movie at the theatre?”

“I don’t want to go out.”

“Ugh! Katya, you haven’t seen anything of Sotenbori! Don’t tell me you want to just sit in front of the TV all night. By the way, do you want anything from M Store? I’ve got some, like, fucked up snacks.” He grabbed some rainbow melon bread and a bottle of Natchan Orange.

“Wowie. That sounds great. But no, I don’t want to go out.”

First he missed the neck snap, and the disembowlment, now this!

“Well,” Kadokura said, shuffling the phone to the other side and clamping it between his ear and shoulder as he juggled his purchases and wallet, “How about we go to a gay club or something? There’s great dancing a few blocks south of where I am.”

“I don’t want to.”

“One sec, Katya.” Kadokura paid for his stuff and rushed out of the M Store, catching sight of a hostess club. “Oh!” he exclaimed. “How about a hostess club? You’ll like that! Tell you what, I’ll head in and you meet me here-“

“I said I don’t want to go out…” She didn’t even sound bothered. Kadokura swallowed down a wave of sickly anger.

“I. Didn’t. Get. To see. The neck snap,” he said through gritted teeth. “And Sagawa was being a creepy bitch to me and now I’m in a bad mood. Is there anything you do feel like doing?”

“Hmm…” Katya said, taking her time thinking about it while Kadokura practically vibrated from frustration. “Well, I guess I sorta feel like staying in and eating some fucked up snacks.”

Expressing great self-control, Kadokura dropped his stuff on the ground, flipped the phone shut, and smoked a cigarette. When he finished, he pulled out his phone again and dialled Katya.

“Hi,” she said.

“Hi. Look, if you’re going to be an insufferable shut-in, can you at least do a favour for me? Can you almost kill me in some surprising way when I get back? I need a rush, I’m in withdrawal after today.”

“Are you joking?”

“You can decide that.” He hung up again, and sighed heavily, and gathered up the snacks from around his feet.

There was a click as he twisted the apartment door open, the smell of popcorn filled the air, and a loud blaring noise of the usual Russian soap opera Katya watches often echoed through the room.

He entered with bags still in hand, and used his shoe to close the door behind him.

As he attempted to take a step forward, he felt arms wrapped around his neck. They pull him off the ground and tighten around his throat, quickly suffocating him. He knew who it was, but as he opened his mouth to speak, Katya's arms tightened. 

About a minute passed while he struggled, but finally he was dropped to his knees. He gasped for air, grabbing at his neck, now feeling how sore it was. 

"Damn Katya." He wheezed. 

Katya walked around him and picked up the grocery bags he dropped, digging into already.

"I just did what you asked." She said, "pickle soda?"

He chuckled as he stood up, adjusting his collar

"That's what I was thinking." 

They head to the coffee table, putting down the grocery bags. 

Plopping onto the couch, she takes out her knife to pop off the cap of the pickle soda. 

Kadokura joins her and lets out a sigh. 

Katya gives the soda a smell, scrunching her nose.

"So what, you got into an argument with your boyfriend?" 

“Yeah,” Kadokura said, his voice still just slightly hoarse. “The wedding’s off.” He didn’t elaborate. In fact, he was a little annoyed that Katya had brought it up—the delightful head rush from being nearly suffocated had done a lot to help wash away the frustration from the last little while. But Katya just had to go and bring it up again. As if Sagawa’s insulting delusions had contained even a grain of truth.

And now he had a headache on top of everything else. He should have asked Katya to stab him or something instead.

“Brutal,” Katya said. “I wanted to be the flower girl.”

“Flower girls have to wear pretty little dresses, you know, and they’re not allowed to scare anyone. I’m not sure you’re suited for the job.” Kadokura grabbed a handful of popcorn, leaned his head back, and tried to toss a piece into his mouth. It bounced off his nose and onto the floor. “Jokes aside,” he added, “Me and Sagawa have never been anything more than friends with benefits.”

Katya peered at him suspiciously, unsure if he was dragging the joke on longer, or telling the genuine truth. Kadokura grinned at her and then turned his attention back to the TV. “These accents are wack,” he remarked. “What the hell is this? Some weird local dialect?”

“Hubris,” Katya said. “Japanese man thinks he’s fluent enough to judge whether accents sound weird? They’re just talking like cool people, Kadokura.”

Interest piqued, he started muttering the lines under his breath, trying to imitate the cadence.

“Ugh,” Katya said. “I feel like there aren’t that many people in the world who know how much of a nerd you are.”

Kadokura suppressed a cough. It had been awhile since he’d had his trachea abused like that.

Katya hands him the pickle soda. "Here." 

Kadokura takes it, and takes a sip.

He immediately starts choking, spitting it out.

"awh." He groans with disgust, Katya just laughs.

She takes it from him and starts to chug it. 

"You are really sick." Kadokura grumbles, he stands and walks to the kitchen for a drink of whatever.

"Toast to that."

***

It's an hour into watching the television, that Kadokura notices Katya sleeping sitting up. Her face pressed against her hand as it leaned on the couch arm.

He rubs his eyes, getting annoyed with the flashing lights and loud noises of the program. 

He gets up, looking at Katya for a moment. 

His face switches back to anger, and he walks into his office. Shutting himself away along with his computer.

[i guess kadokura either gets annoyed about something or for some reason he goes off to his lil office room, then some time passes. You can put anything in here or we can just be like ‘LATER’]

All at once Katya heard a muffled yell of frustration from another room, and then a smashing sound. On alert, she waited for a few seconds, but when no other odd sounds came, she relaxed back into the couch.

After several minutes, Kadokura walked past the doorway to the living room. “I’m going out,” he said shortly. He was wearing his coat.

“Okay.”

“I’ll be back later tonight.” Every word was clipped. His mouth was set in a tight line and his shoulders were tense.

“Wow. You seem stressed. Is there trouble at work?” Katya asked.

“…No,” Kadokura said. “I just need to blow off some steam.”

“Okay,” she said. “Are you going to go out drinking or something?”

“Yeah, or something,” Kadokura said expressionlessly

“Enjoy yourself.” She blew him a kiss and he rolled his eyes, disappearing off to the entranceway.

A second letter Katya heard the faint click of the front door locking. After waiting a few minutes, she carefully rose up and padded down the hall. The door to Kadokura’s office was open, and she poked her head in. His desk and computer looked the same as ever, but the file cabinet beside it had been shoved over, its drawers full of papers hanging crookedly open and documents strewn across the floor.

Katya decided to be even more nosy.

The screen of Kadokura’s computer was still illuminated. Sidestepping the papers on the floor, she crossed the room and sat down in the computer chair. The screen was paused on what looked like grainy security footage. And the date - it was from today.

She recognized the scene. It was the building she’d swept clean (or, rather, bloody) a few hours earlier.

Clicking play, the video showed her covering a man’s face with her hand, and then - the video cut to showing an empty corner of a different room. She rewound the video and played it again. Same thing.

It looked like the cheap security system the gang had in their HQ cycled through the multiple cameras, only keeping a recording from one at a time. And the camera had cut away from the room where Katya was working just as she’d broken that man’s neck.

Poor Kadokura. He was really invested in how she’d perfected that move. She’d have to break it out again some time when he could actually see.

She headed back to the living room and turned the TV back on and opened a bag of [snack]. She watched the end of a soap opera she didn’t know anything about, and then a special on the exotic pet trade, and then she started watching poorly dubbed movie about a cursed boot that crawls out of the sewer to terrorize a city. (Late night TV. Gotta love it.)

Just as the boot was getting ready to take its first victim, she heard the sound of a key in the lock, and turned the volume down.

Kadokura strolled into the room. “You’re still up,” he said. His voice was somehow different from usual; slower and smoother, like his confidence had been boosted to the point where he was alone on the earth, and he wasn’t going to spare a single thought towards putting anyone around him at ease.

“Yeah,” Katya said. “You seem to be feeling better.”

Kadokura just smiled. He crossed the room to the bar and poured some absinthe into a glass, setting a spoon and sugar cube over it. Fetching ice water from the fridge, he dripped it over the sugar, hand steady as a statue.

“Sorry you missed the neck snap,” Katya said.

“Don’t worry about it.”

Katya peered at him suspiciously. He’d made a mess in his room over frustration about the security footage, and now everything was fine? He must have blown off a lot of steam.

The TV switched to commercials. Kadokura came over and sat on the other end of the couch, languidly sipping his drink with all the assurance of a satisfied cat.

Something was off, though.

“What’s that smell?” Katya said, nose wrinkling. Up close, a slightly sour smell clung to Kadokura.

He laughed, and sniffed himself surreptitiously. “Ah. It’s probably - I got in close quarters with one of Sotenbori’s less fortunate residents.”

A homeless person. “What do you mean, close quarters?”

Kadokura took a long draught of absinthe. “Guy wanted to hug me after I gave him money,” he said. “He was probably high. But who am I to deny a little comfort to someone so down on their luck?”

Katya had a hard time picturing a Kadokura hugging a homeless man, but Kadokura regularly surprised her. She shrugged. The TV was advertising a new kind of frozen whipped cream desert.

“That looks good,” Kadokura drawled. “We should get some.”

Katya turned to look at him again. His head was leaning back against the back of the couch, and his half-lidded eyes were trained on the TV. One arm trailed languidly over the arm of the sofa, and the other hand clutched his now half-finished drink.

Actually, she’d seen men in a mood similar to this many times before. In purgatory. The afterglow, after being with Kotone or the others. The only main difference was that Kadokura was dripping not only with satiety but with self-satisfaction, too, like he’d ascended to godhood or knew he was going to.

She wasn’t sure if she was unsettled, or glad for him.

Either way, she figured it was best to just let him be. 

"Yeah, we should." Replying to his comment.

[computerpeople]

SOMETHING I LEARNED BY ROLEPLAYING JUNO IS THAT NOT EVERYONE COMES UP WITH MORE OCS TO BE THEIR OCS PARENTS? Like they come up with the vague idea but when I was making Juno I kind of sat my happy ass down and was like ojk i really need to observe why he is the way he is and how eccentric he is and really come up with reasons he is, even if i dont ell anyone, so i know exactly what kind of character he is.

And people are always shocked when they find out that I made his abusive dad like, sympathetic? But it always feels like that's how it is in real life, i don't even think familial abuse exists without it being generational and I think to dictate how he treated Juno i'd need to figure out why HE treated him like that. and I settled for James being an undiagnosed schizophrenic who was forced into adopting Juno, after Junos grandpa, Dove, a religious, also undiagnosed schizophrenic preacher adopted Juno under the impression that he was the next coming of christ (in non homestuck aus). Junos grandpa, James's dad, spoiled the ever living crap out of Juno at any chance he got. As much love and affection and gifts and quality time juno ever wanted, his grandpa gave him. Which was the exact opposite of how his grandpa treated James when raising him, leaving James to grow resentful and confused. James was only 20ish when Juno was adopted, and had just moved back in with Dove because Doves health was declining and he needed help taking care of himself, and had no plans on doing that let alone BEING A PARENT to a VERY troubled child (Juno, even before everything in his teens/early adulthood was a very very troubled kid with huge behavioral issues, and was very very violent and scary to those around him) and James was already suffering from his own mental health declining and begining to believe Doves delusions as well. So when Juno lead to Doves untimely death with his luck influence, James had already been indoctrinated into believing that Juno was some sort of entity in his life, and felt dutiful to make sure he at least grows up to be a normal passing person. He did everything to try and crush Juno into an itty bitty box and fit in with all the other kids he could, in an effort to keep Juno from being hurt or hurting others. ALL THIS TO ME IS LIKE NORMAL PARENTAL DEVELOPMENT I TRY TO DO FOR ALL MY OCS IF THEIR CHILDHOOD/PARENTS PLAY A HUGE ROLE IN THEIR STORY but ive had people genuinely be like IVE NEVER THOUGHT THAT FAR AB THE PARENTS

anyways look at this. ivbe only drawn it once because it makes me really sad, but heres the singular drawing of juno i have if he doesn't kill his dad (or in more NORMAL aus, his dad doesn't die of a heart attack in his teens)

[starman-rat]

Not As It Seems: Chapter 5

Thomas couldn't stop picking at his hands. They were bleeding earlier, the cuticles torn to pieces by nails and fingers that shook. They stung, especially with his incessant use of hand sanitizer. He was trying to breathe, to let the anxiety pass, but it didn't help that the lights buzzing were causing him physical pain. It didn't help that the sharp smell of antiseptic permeated all his senses. 

To put it mildly, he hated hospitals. 

His father's chest rose and fell, and the silence in the room weighed heavy on him as his father sat thinking. Thomas wished he would just fucking say something, anything, but dad was dragging it out. The caretaker had left a little while ago to go prepare the house for dad's return tomorrow, leaving father and son to sit together. 

"Evelyn, could you please find something to do other than staring at me?"

"Sorry." Thomas' voice was soft, cracking under the pressure of speaking aloud. 

The room fell back to silence as Thomas took out his phone, pulling up some random mobile game to keep his mind occupied. His foot bobbed to the beat of the song stuck in his head, shaking his arm. 

But at least dad was okay. At least he was alive. 

---------

David couldn't leave it alone.

Something about this whole thing felt off. The fact that he couldn't understand what was going on with Thomas was bothering him, especially because he had this aching feeling it had something to do with magic.

His family was one of magic users, too, though they were often overlooked because they were mostly keepers of the Old Ways. Ancient scrolls and the ways of scholars and grimoires. Daniel remembered the bright and warm smells of Pakistani food and bubbly potions that filled his home very well, and had grown to cultivate his own recipes and amendments to both.

Now he was bent over an old manuscript filled with information on faekind, looking for what kind of creature the not-Thomas could possibly be. Obviously, this was not the work of necromancy, right?

Perhaps the answers could be in the stolen identity itself? Were there more cases like this, of the dead coming back to life? He hadn't looked too deep into the legal matters surrounding Thomas, or if anyone had caught on to the boy who came back to life. Surely, if they had, the culprit would have the authorities of both magic-users and nonmagic-users on their tail? 

This is a lead he could follow. With his hacking skills and a few information spells from the old grimoire sitting next to him, he could figure out what was pretending to be Thomas.

------

“Dad, I have to go back to work.” Despite the resolve he tried to put into his voice, Thomas cringed at how it wavered. His father looked at him with a blank expression, and he tried to keep from buckling. He knew Father wanted him to stay and take care of him, and really he wanted to, but someone had to be bringing money in. Thank God health care wasn’t back-breakingly expensive here like it was in the United States, Thomas could barely make rent as it was. “Eventually, Evelyn, your delusions will make us suffer. How long can you pretend to be someone you aren’t for money?” Ugh, not this again. Thomas sighed, working his jaw. “Listen, I understand that this isn’t ideal, but this is what needs to be done, alright? If I leave now, I can be ready for my shift tonight. Tomorrow I’m booked all day working at that tech company, but that job is pretty lucrative and we could--” “Save me the explanation. I cannot convince you otherwise, so it will have to do.” Father turned to look out of the window of the hospital room, and his dismissal felt like failure. 

“Yes, Father.” --------

David, after getting kicked from his office, had set up shop in the quietest corner of Milton’s. Was it ideal working in a pub? No, but hey, at least now he could have a beer while he slaved over files and evidence and secrets. 

So far, the search had been pretty much useless. There was nothing suggesting that the body-snatcher had left any kind of trail, and therefore David was starting to think that magic was his only option here. He had tried to look through a few of the pages on faekind in his journals, and from his findings they usually weren’t ones to hang about in the open if they had found a body. Usually, they didn’t play with their food, which made this entire shenanigan all the more confusing. 

“So, are you ordering dinner or are you going to continue to stare at your computer all night?” Ivanka’s rich accent made David's head jerk up in surprise. “You’re back! How is your son, mate?” David watched as Ivanka glanced down at her notepad, shifting awkwardly. “Fine. He’s better.” Ivanka braved a smile for him, which he appreciated, but he didn’t need his intuition to know there was more to the story than that. “Well, I’m glad for that. Can I get my usual? I’ll pack all this up, and then you’ll have room to join me for a beer.” “Alright. I’ll be back in a little while, okay? I have to work a little bit before you steal me away again.” She grinned, and David laughed. As she walked away, David took one more moment to check his email. Usually he did it before he left work, but his pet-project had gotten in the way. At the top of his notifications, an email from Thomas had come in. Dear Mr. Agrawal,

I will be able to return to work tomorrow morning, as my father’s condition has improved enough to put my mind at ease. Thank you again for your patience and understanding.

Best Wishes,

Thomas McCormick.

Well, that was interesting. What a coincidence that the boy was coming back to work the same night that Ivanka was. Well, it was probably just a coincidence. But isn't that what magic is usually chalked up to? Coincidences that pile up and stop making sense? What if these two things were connected? No, that would be crazy. Whatever Thomas’ deal was, it couldn’t be linked to Ivanka. He’s known Ivanka for months, and Thomas had just come to England. It didn’t make any sense. And Faekind only took one prey anyway--

A plate was placed in front of him, snapping him out of his thoughts. Ivanka was smiling at him, and he shut his laptop. No, Ivanka was just a single mother trying to make ends meet. She wasn’t connected. ------- Noah sighed, watching his breath dancing in the chilled air. The inside of Milton’s looked delightfully warm, and he couldn’t help but long to be inside. But he had a job to do, and he knew better than to abandon a mission. So he waited. And he watched. And hopefully that was enough for his master. -------------

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[enlightenmintt]

Creation Myth of the Woman Destroyed Built Again, Feb. 2023

⋆˙⟡♡ for my cnf workshop, written during/after an all-nighter. braided essay about the resilience of woman and the holiness of caring for your body.

--

I have learned to find God through distinctive and isolative means. Perhaps this is simply a futile coming-of-age experience loosely intertwined with the unknown of a higher power, but it is fairly safe to say that I have found God in the depths of hotel swimming pools, live music, and signature lipstick colors. God can be found in all things while enjoying sanctity in the simplicity of your day. God isn't playing chase with you, you're playing chase with God. 

When we face the complicated existence and often twisted history of organized religion, we either dive fully in or shy back with reluctance. To preface: I grew up with religion as a neutrality. I did not have a real relationship with God or really any divine figure. This allowed me to dissect traditional forms of religion from the perspective of somebody whose foundational knowledge of the sacraments stopped at infant baptism, and from the perspective of an uprooted teenage girl who stares wide-eyed at the world and wonders if Mary ever felt the same confusion as her.  

*** 

Ecosystem resilience is the idea of an environment bouncing back from entropic events and disturbances in its stability while maintaining critical and ideological functions to remain at a bare minimum level of functioning. Much of this is generally caused by stochastic and unintentional events. It's rare to see an environment destroyed due to a particular motive, albeit not unheard of. 

Resilience is largely misconstrued as the idea of bouncing back against harm, though in reality, it is the ability to cope with a disturbance while rebuilding what is lost. Resilience is not a matter of going with the flow, it is learning how to be changed in a way you may have never even considered.

 In certain ways, generating a fear surrounding change can cause more harm than maintaining stability among it. We develop a fear surrounding change in our environment and focus intensely on it, thinking of every possible outcome and response made in reaction to it. It is important to lean into the discomfort and not the anxiety. This is how lasting, permanent change is made.

***

My mind was expelled and expressed as a mode of feeling modular after my second real breakup, and first real heartbreak. I strangled the complexity like wringing out a wet rag until dry again and noticed the stiffness therefore after. A blur permanently arranges itself across my face, and no matter how I position myself in the mirror it always stares back at me, obscuring reality from how I experienced it. My purpose felt like nothing more than taking showers up to four times a day and sleeping until my body could no longer respond to the amount of white melatonin tablets flowing through my mouth. 

How do I even begin again? I beg, shouting to anyone that will listen and taunting the idea of returning to a life of pleading and wondering if existence is as futile as they return in response. I wonder if two and a half hours is enough time to make me feel like I can live detached from your grasp, or if I will have to pretend that you're dead every time I return home and pray I don't run into your mother at the grocery store in order to keep my delusion alive. 

One year and two months later, I decided to pick up my rosary. It is nearing three in the morning and the smell of roses permeates my childhood bedroom. I can't help but find humor in how you were the dividing force in my relationship with God and the universe in the first place. Even in my smallest moments, I will still run to the mother of God and her son. 

…for dust you are dust, and to dust you shall return. (Gen 3:19)

***

Over-connected systems contribute to vulnerability. Under-connected systems can suffer from unnecessary duplication as a result of the learning curve attached to them, these are facts. Due to this, endangered ecosystems are forced to make changes so small an onlooker would hardly perceive them. Disturbances are always present, regardless of how much they are stifled. Being aware of modularity is vital to coping with an unregulated disturbance. The first step to a transition is being made aware of the problem. If this is not done, the environment will remain static and unregulated in its comfortable habits.  No ecosystem has remained one hundred percent stable in its existence. Plants grow and die, just as new species are introduced and perhaps driven out due to different reasons. To see an unchanged and completely balanced environment is a rare sight, things generally warp and flow as a means of viability. 

***

All I was before remains in the darkness looking for me. In spite of the seemingly linear passage of time, all past versions of us lie dormant in the depths of our stomachs waiting to rise at the most unexpected moment. Personal growth should not be stunted within a relationship, and growth should not be lost after the relationship crumbles. Somewhere out there, there is a version of myself rolling down grassy hills and perfecting my cartwheels. Somewhere out there, my bruised knees and shins are being kissed gently by my mother, and I am convinced that I am cured of any ailment. Somewhere out there I am sixteen and praying that the mother of God can intercede in my life and heal my brokenness. All past versions of my identity are welcomed at the table of grief and are free to share their input as I find the next new version of myself amid new experiences. 

Every good and perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of the heavenly lights, who does not change like shifting shadows. (James 1:17)

I find God in the most peculiar ways. Sometimes God sits beside me as I drink my coffee in the mid-afternoon. Sometimes God sends me a flock of birds to let me know that I am making the right choice for my present self. Sometimes God shows up in the form of my best friend as we apply mascara together in the same mirror. I worship every moment and linger on the superficially transitional experience these cutscenes represent in my life. I'd like to imagine that God sneaks in at the right moments, when I least expect to find him. Amid my own entropic events, God sees the moment as right to slip in and guide me toward him. 

The concept of synergism is widely talked about in religion. It is believed that salvation cannot occur if neither party contributes their share of understanding. I would not morph into something more understanding and aware if it were not for divine intercession, and this would not occur in my life and benefit me so greatly if I pushed it away further in a condemnation of embrace and acceptance. 

***

An ecosystem must also be able to notice and adapt quickly to changes that may present themselves. This is a natural progression that also presents itself in society, widely known as checks and balances. This does not necessarily aid with resilience but does play a role in reducing its impact. By keeping ourselves and those around us accountable, we can rise above in a synergetic burst of survival. 

Similarly, if danger is continuously present, a sort of metamorphosis must occur in said environment so that it may flourish in everything it was created to represent. Resilience isn't just a matter of coping, there is a certain kind of knowledge surrounding well-being and existence that is beneficial to the present and future lifestyles of all.  Even the greatest empires come to their eventual fall for a reason.

***

I am tired of God. No, I am tired of searching for answers in barren pews and candlelit services. I am tired of dreaming of a heaven in existence beyond the stars and chemtrails where the other half of my unrequited conversations lie. God can be found outside of ancient beliefs and conversations can be held outside of representational buildings of faith. 

If nothing more comes out of my life I know that I now understand to be more intentional. I was put on this Earth by something higher than myself to say hi to the animals and to sip my coffee slowly. To fill my room and life with color, and to not be upset when my bright nails begin to chip. To remind myself that I will find meaning in small moments and I will take the signs sent from heaven as a reminder to live more permanently among entropic events. I will lay down in the tall grass, willing its roots to drag me closer to whatever may lie beyond the dirt. I will wish and will for vines to cover me and bond me by their ephemeral greatness. Nothing matters to me more than listening to the cadence of a divine being through the conversations had by birds in trees. Nothing matters to me more than feeling God in the way greenery surrounds my limbs that lie flat against the Earth. 

Man's days are as grass: as the flower of the field so shall he flourish. (Psalm 103:15)

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unfinished, hayden sprance 2/23