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bakugoushotwife · 8 months

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kinktober day one: daddy kink

>>> welcome to the start of kinktober 2023 with ya girl, kylee. i'm so excited to participate this year, with the following that i have, the friends i've made, and the stories we've all worked on so far. i'm so proud of every writer putting in that work this month!

>>> starring: kento nanami x curvy!fem!reader >>> cw: daddy kink-obviously-breeding kink, choking, clit stimulation, marking/ biting mention. creampie, nanami is such a whipped man it's borderline concerning, luv him 5ever >>>wc: 1.6k >>> event masterlist

the air was thick with the scent of sex and sweat, making you gasp out and struggle for breath. or it was due to the thick hand wrapped around your neck, strong and steady against your jumping pulse. he wasn’t like this often, so pent up with need and frustration that kento can’t help but rut into you like he was told he’d never get the chance to again. his tanned chest heaves with breath, beads of sweat running in and out of the divots of his body. he looks so stunning like this, the honey blond tresses that you love to tug on so much sprawl in every direction, brown eyes zeroed in on every tick of your brow or ‘o’ of your mouth. his gaze was intense, and even if you wanted to look away, you couldn’t. not with his hand on your throat and every ounce of passion in his body driving into your cunt as hard as he can slam in.

“you take me so well, darling.” he coos, pulling his hand from your neck in favor of pushing your thighs to your chest. he wanted to get a better angle, smiling to himself with a genuine pride as he watches your pretty pink hole swallow his fat cock, silken walls squeezing down on his lengthy shaft everytime it kisses your womb. he can’t help but draw well-timed circles across your clit, relishing the sweet gasps and moans you cry out with. your hands claw at his shoulders to demand him closer to you, and he hisses pleasantly at the sensation.

“it’s ‘cause you’re made for me, daddy.” you whimper sweetly in his ear, and he’s almost embarrassed at how your saccharine whisper makes his dick jump, his brutal strokes stuttering a bit. your nails dig into his skin and your pussy clenches down on him again as you say it, and he kicks his pace up impossibly faster. his cock is perfect, hitting every spot just right, his girth stretching you every time, usually abusing your cervix like it is now.

it was no secret he loved that name. loved it to such an extent that you called him that more often than his real name or any other pet name one would traditionally use for their husband–and it started way before you tied the knot. kento nanami hadn’t ever particularly felt special before in his entire life. not even amongst sorcerers. he thought his cursed technique was decent at best, and hated seeing talented sorcerers like satoru gojo walk around without a care in the world. nanami never felt like he had a role in life, settling to just live and work his life away. he would go home and watch shows or cook or maybe get into music–something mindless and low effort. maybe one day he would meet some average lady, probably at a market or bookstore if he had to say. then he would marry that girl and be happy enough. maybe even have a couple of kids while he works at that same job and does his best to stay out of trouble no matter the part of his rebel soul that desires to be known, to be important–necessary.

so when he met you, the very personification of trouble, by happenstance, he knew his worldview had changed. you were a light he had never seen before, exquisite beauty paired with a bewitching personality and dangerous wit, he was in love with you before he had gotten your name. it was so utterly unlike him, such a logician and pessimist. he didn’t even know how you had wandered in, this location was veiled to non-sorcerers, but kento knew by the looks of you that you weren’t supposed to be there. so he’s surprised when he finds himself protecting you, knowing such a little thing like yourself had somehow bypassed the veil had him worried about you, and as much as he tried to tell himself he would be this concerned for any regular citizen that had wandered into a cursed trap, he knows it’s because he wants to be your hero, and he wants to matter in your story, maybe even become part of it himself. and you’re sweet. so darling he can’t even comprehend how quickly he’s become entranced by you. you talk to him through the entire mission, unable to see the cursed spirits yourself, you can only follow the tall man’s instructions, and clap whenever he waved you back to his side and straightened his patterned tie.

he thought it was adorable, and even though you had no idea what he was doing, quite literally watching him slash through air with nothing but the foreboding sense of evil confirming the things the man named kento nanami told you about citizens and sorcerers and cursed energy and spirits. you praised him after, thanking him for keeping you safe. you bat your eyelashes at him, the affection in your eyes hard to miss. it was as if you thought the world of him, and it put a paralyzing grip on his heart. he had to see you again, and luckily you tucked your phone into the palm of his hand and smiled that same sun-moon-and-stars smile at him before he summoned the courage to ask for it himself. he programs his contact into your phone, but just the number. he hands it back to you, still on the contact page. you giggle and under the guise of flirtatious joking, put him in as ‘baby daddy.’

yeah, you were certainly a bundle of trouble. but kento took pleasure in undoing you layer by layer, getting to know you and growing his love for you day by day. the ‘joke’ of calling him daddy became a very real theme inside and outside the bedroom–only paused when in public. he finally had a role in life, the way you shower him in affection and lull that name off your lips is enough to make him feel whole, like every transgression he had experienced up to this point was a destination on the journey to be your perfect man, someone you put all your trust and love into. he felt like the most important man in the world, being by your side was the greatest reward a man like him could ask for. he had more than he had hoped for, but there was still a few goals left on his list, like seeing himself become your real baby daddy.

with the way your tits bounce as he fucks into you, cunt squelching and leaking all over the sheets, he thinks this is the perfect time to really try. your sultry babblings of his name prickle goosebumps into his flesh–either that or it’s from your nails raking over his chest to pinch his overly sensitive nipples. his cock twitches against your spongy spot again, and a loud moan tears from your throat. he doesn’t repress the grunt that comes in response, nodding his head to the words that had been on repeat since you said them. “it’s ‘cause you’re made for me, daddy.”

“that’s my girl, are you ready to be my little baby mama? tell daddy what you want, angel.” he says, withdrawing from your gripping walls and slamming back in so hard your vision danced with colored orbs, mouth unable to form the words you so desperately wanted to say to him. you nod, feeling trails of saliva slide down your chin, drooling as he brutalizes your cunt. “use your words, darling, daddy needs to hear what you need.”

“i’m ready daddy, please–god, wanna make you a daddy for real, i’ll give you the prettiest family, i swear!” you cry, the rate at which you spasm around him and claw at his chest tells him that you’re gonna cum again, for maybe the fifth time tonight. you’re so lewd; the sounds you make and the pretty white ring being smeared around by your pussy lips swallowing the adornement back up again and the way your doll-like hands fondle your tits all combining perilously to tip him over the edge.

“i know you are, love. i know, i’ll make sure of it, you know daddy’s got you.” he coos, planting his lips along your neck, going back over dark bruises and teeth marks from the night of passion. then his balls tighten and his release spurts into you in long bursts, and he feels your pussy throbs and let a stream of cum spray from your cunt, coating his abs in more of your essence then he had ever had the pleasure of before. his smile is wolf-like, his cock still plugging you full. he wants to take you up on it, breeding you to be your baby daddy once and for all. you’re fucked out of your mind, legs twitching with pleasure as you continue to whine and catch your breath. he watches you, everything about your post-orgasm glow making his heart swell as always. you were effortlessly perfect, it was maddening.

he keeps your hole stopped up until his dick softens, and even then he’s pulling your panties back up, kissing your clit over the bundle. he quickly cleans his stomach up and changes the sheets around you, picking you up when need be. he’s still grinning ear to ear from making you cum like that, so many times and so violently. you’re absolute mush, and because he’s such a good daddy, he’ll spend the rest of the night taking care of his baby girl.

#kylee's kinktober event #kinktober 2023 #kinktober #kyleewritesjjk #kento nanami x reader #jjk x reader #nanami kento #nanami x reader #jjk nanami #kento nanami #nanami thirst #nanami smut #there's more where that comes from ;)

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homunculus-argument · 11 months

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Have you ever had one of those things happen that just straight-up sound like something that'd only go down in a badly written sitcom?

This one time a few years ago, I had nothing to do in the middle of the day so I went out to wander around the city, and encountered one of those christian missionaries of some sort - not mormons, some local finnish-speaking one, probably Jehova's witnesses, I can't recall - who addressed me first. Having only gone out to kill time I figured I'd stop to see what he had to say, this might get interesting.

He started talking about sin, and I told him that I don't think that's real, humans aren't inherently bad creatures that need to be goaded into not doing evil by an outside force. Apparently taken back by my confidence about this, he asked me why I think so. And while I was absolutely not this eloquent about it while talking as I am typing it out now, I explained that if doing good didn't come naturally to people, it wouldn't feel good to do it. There's been studies about that - it makes people feel happy to help others, even when they gain nothing from it, or even at a cost to themselves sometimes.

Doing good things feels good for the same reason as eating, sleeping and having sex feel good - because we're supposed to do it. It doesn't matter to me why that is - either there's a god who made people with inherent goodness to them, or natural selection of the cold uncaring universe saw this behaviour as beneficial for survival. People want to be good to one-another just like migratory birds want to fly south for the winter.

He gave me his best annoyed "alright, fair enough"-shrug and was clearly trying to think of how to disagree with that when we were interrupted. I have no idea how a person that large and entirely indifferent to concepts like subtlety, stealth or an indoor voice even can sneak up on people, but we were both startled when someone I had briefly met appeared out of apparent nowhere, loudly going

HEY AREN'T YOU THAT TRANNY FROM THE PARK

addressing me. I used to go drinking at the park quite often back then, and while I did meet a lot of people that way and my memory is the first thing to disappear when I'm drunk, someone that loud, tall and broad-shouldered, covered in tattoos, with long hair, braided beard and electric blue eyeshadow isn't someone you easily forget. I was, indeed, the tranny from the park and I had been the person who had explained the concept of "nonbinary" to them.

My acquaintance here was somewhere between 30 and 50 and not exactly up to whatever the kids are doing these days, and their reaction to this information was roughly "oh huh so there's a name for the thing I'm doing". As they only spoke finnish, I can't say that I would have been the one to explain the concept of gender neutral pronouns to them, but they had been fascinated to discover that other languages have gendered pronouns in the first place.

Refreshing my memory of the encounter - and apparently unintentionally also recounting it to the missionary who was still silently standing with us - they proceeded to explain that they've never really felt like a man or a woman. And sometimes not really even like a human, but more like an alien who had just been dropped off here from a spaceship - but not like in a psychotic delusions sort of way, but just the vibes, you know? They then proceeded to tell us about some other fascinating epiphanies that they had had while on psychedelics.

As they went on, the christian missionary next to us was drifting backwards so slowly that I don't think I noticed him actually take an individual backwards step, just silently sliding gradually further away from this situation, with apparent mild concern. And while my happenstance acquaintance - whose name I either never heard or couldn't remember hearing - was talking, I noticed I had gotten a text message from a friend, who asked if I'm around and whether I want to come hang out.

So as the nonbinary giant self-appointed alien was finished with their story and took their leave - telling me that they'll probably see me around, and as I was around a lot, I reassured them that they would - I turned to the missionary and told him that while I'd love to carry on with what we were talking about, I actually have people to see now, and bid him good luck with whatever he was trying to do.

It's been like five years between that day and today, and during that time I moved to a different city and back here. I don't think I've seen the nonbinary giant again even once during this time, and wherever they are, I hope they're doing ok and no longer doing any weird drugs. Or if they are, that at least they're having fun.

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forestshadow-wolf · 6 months

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One day soap (pre-relationship) starts pulling back because he thinks Ghost only sees a platonic or physical relationship with him and, "you give me an inch and I'll take the fucking world, when it comes to you."

He switches up his entire schedule just to avoid ghost because he's gotten too close, wants more that he can have. And it's lowkey breaking him inside, but whatever, right? Better this, than make Ghost uncomfortable right?

And God it hurts so much to not be able to interact with Ghost and his stupidy aggressive manc accent, and his dumb handsom face, and his godawful dry wit. But this is better for them, right? This is what's best for both of them, isn't it? He avoids making Ghost uncomfortable, and he'll just have to work on stuffing his feelings way way down. And then things can go back to normal, but until then he'll keep avoiding the man.

And Gaz sees and it breaks his heart. To have soap come to him late at night with unshed tears in his eyes because he refuses to cry, because it's not like he's dead or anything, right? And it breaks his heart to hold soap, while he trembles through unbidden sobs. And he just wants to make it right, but he can't. So he'll continue being his rock.

And when Ghost realizes that he hadn't seen soap all day he thinks maybe he just got extra busy so he leaves it. But by day two and not even a hair of the scot has been seen he worries that something is wrong. But maybe the Sergent just got slammed with a ton of extra work, Ghost isn't the only lieutenant on base and things happen all the time. And then on day three with no sightings he starts to ask around and he realizes that almost every one except for him has interacted, or talked to, or seen soap. Well that's off putting, soap almost alwas find him in his free time, but maybe it's just a coincidence. The fourth day is totally just happenstance that he hasn't seen soap, thay what he tells himself, even if it seems like everyone else on base has seen him.

But late at night when everyone is asleep soap will go sit outside ghost's door, splay legged, having to fight himself to not knock in his door and beg for forgiveness like he isn't the one pulling away.

It goes on for months of this same routine of soap avoiding Ghost during the day, and trying to crawl back to him at night. Soap's more or less stopped sleeping more than a few hours at night, he's working himself even harder. Ghost misses Soap. Soap misses Ghost.

Eventually Ghost stopped looking for him, instead, passing messages through Gaz. But soap never responds.

It's finally one night that Ghost wakes up to take a piss and grab a glass of water that he finds soap outside his door. He's scrunched up against the wall, sketchbook open, pencil in hand, but all He's doing is waving it between his fingers. And Soap looks up, and flinches when he sees Ghost, scrabbling to gather up his drawings and haul ass out of there.

But Ghost stops him, a light grip around the wrist, he's not even looking at soap, just staring at the spot he was sitting. Soap could pull out of his grasp easily, he could turn tail and leave, but he doesn't, he's frozen to the spot in the ground.

And then Ghost turns to face him, and he swallows. Ghost takes a step forward, he takes one back, keeping the distance between them. That makes Ghost stop, piss break and thirst forgotten.

"Why?" It's one word, and yet it makes soap's heart break, and then Ghost keeps talking, "I'm sorry."

I'm sorry he says, like it's his fault. I'm sorry he says, like he blames himself. I'm sorry he says, it isn't totally and irrevocably SOAP'S FUCKING FAULT. I'm sorry he says. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. And soap wants to punch him to shut him up. He doesn't. He swallows thickly.

"It's not..." soap has to swallow against the lump in his throat to keep speaking, "you didn't do anything." The words sound hollow and distant to his ears, he can't imagine how it sounds to Ghost's.

"Please." And soap can't bare to look at the pleading look anymore or all this will be ruined. "I'm sorry." Ghost says again, and if Soap's heart was broken before, not its shattered, dusted, broken into so mand teeny tiny pieces that there is surely no hope of ever repairing it.

"I- I-... you didn't do this." He says, tears in his eyes, and all he can do is glance up at Ghost for the briefest of seconds before he has to look away. "I fucked up. A-and I'm trying to fix it." He nearly wails, he wishes his chest would just burst open and bleed him dry from the source, insted of this, anything but this. His voice stays quiet, near silent, even.

"Please." Ghost is begging now, and soap can't stand it. "I'll be better, I promise." He whispers, like he's not hearing Soap. And soap makes a wounder sound, and God, does it hurt to hear those words.

"It's really, really isn't you." Soap pleads, Ghost needs to understand. "I- I just can't give you what you want."

"Why?" And Ghost sounds so broken, and it's sending Soap directly down into the firey pits of hell.

"Because I want more." A tear slips down his cheek, and he curses it, he has no right to cry. He did this, now it's time to reap the fruits of his labor, no matter how rotten it may be.

"But I want you. Johnny." It rasps out, and Ghost's voice sounds just as broken as soap feels.

"But I want too much.. Ghost" he can't stop the tears now, but he locks down in the wail that's clawing open his chest from the inside out. It hurts. It hurts so much. But this is his doing. This is his fault. He has to accept that. "I can't have just friends."

"Please. I miss you." Ghost pleads, and soap almost fucking sobs. God, soap is never gonna recover from this.

I miss you too. I'm sorry. I miss you so much. He wants to scream. "I know." He forces his voice to hollow. He does know. Gaz has told him all about it.

"Please. I can- I'll meet you half way"

Soap chances a look up then, almost hopeful, except for the fact that he would leave hope up for a gamble.

Ghost does look hopeful. And also broken. Broken. Soap did that. As of Ghost hasn't has enough hirt in life, and Soap basically just stabbed him in the back. He has to fix this. He- he did this. Why did he do this.

He nods, and the pencil falls out of his hand, followed by the thump of his book. "I'm sorry." The sobs tear out of his chest, and all he wants to do is crawl out of his own skin and die in a fucking hole. Why did he do this.

He drops his head, and lets the tears fall. And then there are arms wrapping themselves around him, and a head resting atop his, and he can't find the strength to pull away, nor does he want to. So he turns into the warm embrace, and wraps himself around Ghost.

"I'm sorry. I thought- " he's hiccuping so hard that he's sure he's not understandable. Ghost shushes him gently, rocking them side to side.

They do have to make moves though, when Ghost's need for a piss makes itself known again. Soap's only a little ashamed to say he'd literally latched onto the man, and made him carry him all the way into the bathroom.

#writing angst instead of doing the copious amounts of homework that's due tomorrow 🙃#hurt myself with this one... oops #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #ghostsoap #soapghost #call of duty #cod #cod mw2 #ghost x soap #soap x ghost #el rambles

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total-drama-brainrot · 4 months

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Hello hello ophe 👋😇

How are you doing so far?

So yeah I have an another crack idea

Lindsay and Alejandro rivalry

That it’s that’s the ask

Alejandro is over there losing how someone as dumb as Lindsay dear can outsmart his ass

While Lindsay is here doing all that shit by accident and crap

-Ass Stars anon

Hello hello, A.S. Anon! 👋😁

I'm still pretty sick though I'm slowly getting better, but otherwise I'm doing well! How are you?

NOTE: I'm gonna put this under a Read More because I got a bit wordy with my reply. 😅

I like the idea of a one-sided rivalry between Alejandro and Lindsay, where Alejandro is just dumbfounded by how someone so objectively dense can "manipulate the competition" as efficiently as she does.

Meanwhile, Lindsay is just A Nice Person so people actually like her and as are willing to do things for her/do as she asks. There's no hidden meaning to it; Lindsay's just a kind and friendly person (she doesn't have an intentionally mean bone in her body). Alejandro, however, interprets this as her using her looks and 'feminine charm' to 'beguile the competition' or something because Of Course He Does.

So he seethes over how she must be some sort of hidden genius, with how her dumb blonde 'act' always seems to generate results in her favour (it's not an act, and things working out in Lindsay's favour are always just happenstance), and he hates how he's being outplayed in a battle of wits by someone so outwardly ditzy even if he knows it's all a façade (again, it's not, but Alejandro doesn't know that).

And he spends a concerning amount of time scheming between/during challenges, trying to figure out a way to expose Lindsay for the mastermind she is (she's totally not), but she always seems to find some way to dodge his carefully laid out plans- yet more proof that she's outwitting him! (It's all coincidence.)

Lindsay is oblivious to this whole situation, our Unbothered Queen. 💅

It could be a mutual rivalry between the two of them, but for different reasons?

Alejandro still has his "Lindsay is a secret mastermind whom I must outplay for the million" mindset, but Lindsay also just Can't Stand Alejandro because he's (seemingly) effortlessly well put together.

His hair is so healthy and glossy whilst hers is still kind of straw like from all the bleaching, and in all the time they've shared on the Jumbo Jet he's never looked anything less than perfect, even when he'd just woken up? Not even the slightest bit of acne on his naturally tanned (which Lindsay, who goes through a bottle of fake tan a week, is so jealous of), perfectly smooth and even skin? It's so unfair! Every time she's tried asking about his skincare routine he's shrugged her off- which, rude! She's so mad about how he's gatekeeping his beauty tips that is eventually evolves into the two of them beefing for completely different reasons.

Of course, Alejandro sees Lindsay's shared animosity as her acknowledging a fellow Manipulator™ and disliking how he has 'seen through her bluff', meanwhile Lindsay thinks Alejandro is just kind of a jerk who hates her for trying to 'steal his beauty secrets', so any attraction she might've felt for him plummets into nothing because she Doesn't Like Mean Guys (further proof of this is the fact that Tyler is a sweetheart who has done nothing wrong, and she was immediately infatuated with him).

Side note; She also probably doesn't get along with Justin for this same reason, as I can't imagine him humouring Lindsay with all of the restrictions and beauty routines he has to do as a model, which she'd also interpret as him gatekeeping industry secrets from her. (Man's got literal contracts outlining what physical activities he can and can't do in order to preserve his looks. That's wild.)

I like this idea a lot. Any idea that has Alejandro near enough tearing his hair out by being 'outplayed' by someone who presents themselves as a nonthreat/incompetent whilst the person in question really is just Some Average Joe who isn't even trying to ruin all of Alejandro's schemes, has me hooked. He's totally paranoid enough to always assume the worst in people, even when they're totally innocuous.

#got a bit carried away there. oopsies 🤭#total drama #td alejandro #td lindsay #silly ideas #others' ideas #long post #ass stars anon #replies

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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 1 year

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Hi raven! i really want to share my opinion with you about certain plot point in twst. welp i think the M*ckey is an bad plot point and seems very out of place in the game,while i'm not able to explain how it feel…shoehorned??as if yana is forced to include it (because she's writing for d1sney obviously,she gotta insert their mascot) but she's not sure in what to do with him,like what the point of his existence?wil he fight OB!Grim?(i hope not because it will look very unserious); and with the current story themes i cannot see how he could affect the course of events; it would've been a lot better if he remained as just an easter egg imo

But that's just my current feelings it might change later,maybe Yana will reveal the real plot of twst very late just like Black Butler!

Sorry for ranting!

Thanks for sharing your thoughts!

While I do agree that Mickey was kind of jarring to see at first, I think that’s only because his aesthetic clashes with that of everything else in the game. If Mickey were presented to us as another conventionally attractive anime boy (or, vice versa, if the TWST boys were drawn as simple anthro animal cartoon characters like Mickey), I feel like the fandom shock would eventually fade into the usual excited squealing 😅

I don’t think Yana was forced to include him because of Mickey being the face of Disney. His inclusion appears to be very purposeful and serves a role in the larger narrative. He doesn’t necessarily need to fight, but it’s very clear that Mickey is closely associated with the player character/Yuu, and that he may even be the key to helping them find a way home, or to understanding how Yuu ended up at Night Raven College to begin with. Just because we have vague details doesn’t mean the devs don’t know what to do with him; there have been many hints sprinkled throughout the game that will ultimately come together at the conclusion. When we get there, it will probably recontextualize all the breadcrumbs that have come along the way.

Firstly, I think Mickey can tie in with the story without necessarily adhering to its themes. Not every character has to exist to play into a work’s themes, because themes alone don’t define the entire work. One can argue that Twisted Wonderland’s themes are “the importance of friendship” and “even villains have their own tales/good sides to them”, but even then, that doesn’t tell the whole story. There are many smaller components which support the themes or are their own things that add to the world or narrative without necessarily supporting the theme. In Mickey’s case, I believe he exists to contribute to the mirror motif and to draw parallels between him and Yuu.

Mirrors (and, subsequently, their reflections) are vital in Twisted Wonderland. There are mirrors everywhere, serving different purposes—identification, teleportation, communication, etc. The fact that Mickey is speaking to Yuu through a mirror (an important object) already calls attention to him. Mickey is all Yuu can see, and Yuu is all Mickey can see; they are reflections of each other, living in different worlds and unable to cross into the other’s. They aren’t alike at all, and yet they were able to make this connection by happenstance. That imagery alone can sell someone on the mystery of it—and, if you look at it from a certain angle, that, too, connects to the themes of friendship in a less overt way. (Similarly, we see “opposites” reflecting each other in the presentation of other characters like Sebek-Silver, the twins, Kalim-Jamil, etc.)

Mickey ties in with the dream sequences that Yuu has between and within main story episodes. With how frequently it happens and how closely the dreams tie in with real world events, it cannot be a coincidence or just something hastily slapped in to stall the main story. We also get check-ins between Yuu and Mickey at the end of every chapter, which implies that they are building up to some kind of big reveal with him (not unlike what they’ve been doing with Yuu and Malleus’s brief meetings to build up hype and emotional stakes for episode 7). There are also other strange details that haven’t been fully explained but still feel weird to point out (almost like they’ll come into play again later): Yuu being the only one who can see Mickey, and both of them not being able to see each others’ worlds. What’s more, Mickey actually makes the Ghost Camera that Yuu received from Crowley in the introduction have narrative purpose.

We also cannot deny that Twisted Wonderland itself is heavily constructed based on Disney properties, which is highly suspect; Mickey’s inclusion could hint at more serious secrets regarding the nature of Twisted Wonderland itself. (For example, the “Twisted Wonderland is Mickey’s dream world, and Yuu’s dreams are Mickey’s world” theory.) It wouldn’t be too out of place tonally considering at how dark and existential episode 6 got (and implied 7 to be). m

If Mickey were left as just an easter egg, I think the main story I think the story would have a lot less intrigue to it (due to his association with Yuu’s dreams and their struggle to find their way home). He’s basically in the same position as Grim or Malleus; Mickey is a character that we meet early on in the main story, and someone who follows us throughout it. And just as we suspect an OB Malleus and a showdown with Grim, there’s no doubt in my mind that Mickey will be integral for whatever ending TWST has in mind for us.

#Mickey Mouse #Yuu #twst #twisted wonderland #disney twisted wonderland #notes from the writing raven

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retphienix · 4 months

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I'm not advocating that high end players just start hanging around earth nodes ruining the fun for new players, but I will say that when happenstance (a lith usually) places a brand new player and a high end player, sometimes you get that wonderful starry eyed moment where the new player is astounded at what you can do in this game.

I had it when I was new, and a couple days ago on a lith mobile defense I witnessed it again where I put down my oberon grass and a new player was like "How?? I need that!"

Warframe is really cool! And it sometimes takes a while to see that!

Or sometimes it's shown to you in really unfun ways (hello thermal sunder titania making base chart lith/meso star chart a fucking walking simulator for players new and old, really cool that you ruin the experience for new players :))

And sometimes something like what I did just leaves the player confused and bored, much like my aforementioned pet peeve frame combo, but sometimes- SOMETIMES- you get those adorable moments and I like them :)

#warframe #RetPlays

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lgcyubin · 9 months

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here to present (bad trumpet playing noises) the illustrious kim yubin whooohoooo (crickets chirping) please like this post if you're down to plot and i'll mosey over to your tumblr ims. i have a discord if that's easier (tho i am slower on it) - just lmk and we can swap usernames :) also clearly bandwagon-ing so i may be even slower here, but i made a twitter since it's come up a few times! i'm also still (slowly) reading through event stuff but to the extent anyone's still looking for event partners please hmu!

better known as jamie (not james) kim, kim yubin's a california boy who's found his way to seoul with lukewarm dreams(?) of becoming a kpop idol.

quick tl;dr of his relevant journey: joined lgc in july 2021 by sheer happenstance. it's been two long years and he's still not sure if this is what he's allowed(?) to do, but for now he's trying to dabble in a little bit of everything to figure out what he likes, and works his ass off regardless of what he does bc it's in his nature. he doesn't have a self-declared focus, but his (current) penchant is for rap.

vs. what he'd put on his hinge profile: fluent in english and korean, the proud owner of two on-and-off dimples that may as well be a craters, and his t-shirt's made of boyfriend materi—

family bg: born to an affluent family of doctors. literally. all doctors, all successful, all brilliant. he's the youngest of four (three older sisters) and the black sheep of the family because he's... well, not exactly studying for the mcat right now. he's smart and hard-working, but certainly doesn't think he is - growing up in the shadows of steep expectations will do that to ya.

for as critical of himself as he is, however, he likes to keep most of his neuroses strictly to himself. you will not get him to be vulnerable without an ample amount of kicking and screaming.

self-inflicted mental saw traps aside, yubin comes across as remarkably... well, unconcerned on the outside. he's a flippant person who has zero issues making small talk with complete strangers. he's candid, straightforward, and he's got a wicked sharp wit and a penchant for dramatics. he's a funny guy! sarcasm is his crutch! and he'd much rather you laugh at or with him than see him cry.

WANTED CONNECTIONS

in desperate need of: friends. and specifically: friends who will put up with him whipping his head around dramatically every time you whisper "look at the hot person behind you but don't make it obvious" (he would be such a good wingman fyi)

best friends! but just a couple, max. he's a closed off person so if he did have any best friends that might have a better grasp of the inner workings of kim yubin, it's a limited number, and you've probably known him since he joined lgc (or longer—he's not a seoul native, but he was in town most summers). fair warning that he will be calling you his work wife/husband (it's a show of affection).

at the back of my mind, he is very loudly like "i would rather die than have feelings for someone" so naturally i feel inclined to write out a terrible ex plot. or a crush plot. or both. any breakup with him was probably messy and might be accompanied by some resentment (at least from his end), and any crush he could possibly have will be saddled with internal conflict. let's give it up for being unlovable!

no one's seen him cry except maybe a close friend or his sisters but you happen to catch him at the worst possible time and he is now avoiding you like his life depends on it. even if it means hiding behind a potted plant the second he sees you down the hall.

someone go on a perilous hike with him where you end up terribly lost and start to think you may have to spend the last moments of your life in each other's company so you might as well dish out all of your regrets and dashed hopes, right? it's not like you're just meters away from the path you were supposed to be on, right? good thing neither of you are drama queens, right???

if you would like to entertain the idea of having an inconsequential crush on the most charmless guy alive, please do so because he'd be so so uncomfortable with the concept of it and it'd be funny.

familial connection — he joined lgc back in july 2021 with his cousin (female), and she is 100% the reason why he's here. he's all about tough love and being mister sass pants so no one figures out just how much he cares about them, but he would do just about anything for his family and he's especially close to her.

#𝐎𝐎𝐂 !#this is queued and i am on my knees praying it posts at the right time #edited to add some contact info

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skinnytuna · 1 year

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it is occuring to me that the longer im alive the less possible it becomes for the people around me to understand my fully story and lineage. the friends ive had for 10 years have missed a ton and the friends ive had for 1 year have missed a ton. but 10 years ago all of my friends knew everything important because so little of note had happened.

my god. what a burden to bear. especially with my memory being as shit as it is. i can't possibly be expected to retain and sort my sum of arcs. but also no one else can either? even with all of my archival. decades of files. they're all missing the blood and guts.

terrified of being known??? NEW FEAR UNLOCKED: terrified of being unknown. ununderstood. i've probably gone my entire relationship with my wife without sending her a single xkcd panel. im a completely different person than i was in high school! but that was an important part!

only i've been everywhere i've been... only i've heard everything i've heard... only i've said everything i've said! there are probably 0 people on earth who have witnessed both of my tumblr eras. dude i'm desperate. i told grug my entire life story a month ago but i left way too much out. it would take weeks. hold fuck im so old already and im not even old yet. i'm not even not even not even old yet. i'm not even 30.

it frightens me how much i've mellowed out. i'm still a crazy person but like. i present no danger to myself or others? i don't even break that many laws anymore? i think about my taxes? im generally content? what the fuck is that, dude. i need to get in a screaming match with someone.

do you remember being young and having a friendship-destroying argument over something as mundane as like, thinking a band sucks? do you remember being completely devastated at the most mundane happenstances? why do i miss it! maybe it's the dynamic range. i feel like i talk about this the way people talk about SSRIs.

emotional flatness but it's just flat relative to cluster B high explosives. i need to fly off the handle about bullshit again. i need to get obsessed with something pointless. i need to be a total loser who everyone's sick of. oh wait. eureka! i'm being histrionic right now! i've done it! i've attained the bullshit!

anyway. i just realized i've known some of my internet friends for over 10 years and it hit me like a sack of dicks. sorry for the outburst. will happen again if i have any fight left in me. good morning

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positivelybeastly · 5 months

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I have done some looking into... how do I phrase this? What causes people to develop the powers they get? Hopefully, my explanation helps make sense. I couldn't find a lot, as surprisingly, this has only been researched by one person, but supposedly both personality and subconscious influence the powers and physical appearance of not just mutants, but inhumans and gamma mutates.

Thoughts?

~Stray

"Interesting theory.

As it happens, I've done some, what I would term, preliminary research into something like this phenomena, given that my mutation has been . . . well. Variable, shall we say? And I've oft wondered if there was something about me that demanded that I be - specifically this.

In my instance, I've only been able to hypothesise as to one direct causal link. When I was mortally wounded by Vargas in Valencia, Sage jumpstarted my mutation, and the form I was given was substantially more ferocious, more violent, more suited to combat. I can only therefore surmise that my body reacts to the threats that have ki - done lasting harm, to me."

"And that wasn't all. I also found that my skull had toughened considerably after my secondary mutation, providing increased protection for my brain.

As I'm sure you know, evolution is not a straight line - it's full of stops, starts, dead ends and random extinctions, until eventually you reach something close to perfection. But it's quite fascinating to see it manifest over such an accelerated period as a single lifetime.

My X-gene appeared to be quite simple, oversized feet and hands, superhuman strength, speed, agility, balance, but over time, it appears that it's actually expressing itself in a form of selective atavism, picking and choosing traits that it believes will best serve me.

Environmental factors are, of course, no new influence on evolution, but my skull becoming tougher . . . perhaps it's bad science to ascribe motive to primal forces, but it really does feel as if my X-gene is being guided somehow. Subconsciously, by my personality, by my neurochemistry, all three? It's an interesting theory."

"Expanding outwards, you can certainly see patterns within other mutants - Cyclops, for instance, is someone defined by control, over himself and external factors. Now, I'll grant that a good deal of that was caused by childhood trauma, and it's hard to say how much of his personality came about as a result of his powers as opposed to in spite of them, but it's still an interesting quirk of fate that he be given a mutant gift that forms a feedback loop into his personality. Not enough to be what I would call conclusive scientific evidence, but - interesting."

"The most compelling evidence for your theory would be the Hulk, of course, as you intimated with your mention of gamma mutates. Doctor Banner's trauma externalising in such a manner, and changing so often in response to the way that trauma morphs and peaks and valleys and transforms.

I've often wondered if Bruce had an inactive X-gene before his irradiation - much like Terrigenesis, his radioactive bombardment has so fundamentally changed his cellular structure that all the usual genetic markers are absent, so I can't tell one way or the other, but it is fascinating to consider, isn't it?"

"That being said, I would be wary of throwing my weight behind what is essentially, still, a collection of observations, personal judgements, happenstance and unique circumstances.

The question I feel that most naturally comes next is this. What comes first? To wit, the genetic markers that are required to develop powers, whether they be an X-gene, the cellular chemistry required to initiate Terrigenesis, or the genes that have been speculatively linked to cause Dissociative Identity Disorder . . . are they our fate?"

"Does our personality and subconscious form in response to our genetic blueprint? Had Cyclops not had the X-gene he did, would he have felt such a need for control? Or does our genetic blueprint merely unlock that potential, and as our personality and subconscious forms into a more solid shape, does it respond accordingly, like it did for the Hulk?

Was I always going to be a Beast? Or has the life I've lived, the way I've lived it, the world I've lived in, pushed Hank McCoy to beastliness?

What is it about Hank McCoy says furry and blue?"

He tries his best to smile, but it doesn't match his eyes.

"Was I always a monster, or did I merely become one?"

". . . Interesting theory."

#Anonymous #verse: getting by

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otherpeoplescreativity · 1 month

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Using a game to make character portraits

I think I'm fixin' to start a side issue fight.

Sorry?

Anyway, below the ReadMore is going to be some carefully chosen screencaps of supersuit-type characters from City of Heroes: Homecoming. I'm establishing a Theme and then starting a constructive criticism of my own designs within that Theme.

If you want to instead decry my lack of artistry in using a video game's character designer, and perhaps compare to using Artbreeder, you are valid! and I probably won't change my ways no matter how impassioned your point.

In our ttrpg, Our Heroes have moved up very close to the point of the story where they are likely to face a mid-level Combat Challenge.

The "Theme" of the Supergroup is the kind of investigative superhero who may wear a trenchcoat. Their powers and approach tend toward the sneaky, the indirect, the contemplative. These are definitely not "FREEEEEM first and ask questions later" types.

They have spent six sessions facing People vs Puzzle challenges, either by having noncombat encounters with witnesses (and each other!) or by using their current knowledge to track down another Strange Device Probably Left Here By Unknown Supervillain. They have only just now gotten involved enough that Supervillain might notice something's up, and detail a few lower-level Minions to go tidy the edges.

The "Theme" of the coming mid-level Villain Minion Squad therefore cannot be combat heavies! The Minions should be dangerous, but solvable by the same indirect and sneaky and trenchcoat-wearing tactics.

All of the Minions for this group are expected to wear "crimson jumpsuits". Some have more pockets. Some have modified the sleeves. Some have underlayers.

All have superpowers.

I took some "crowd control" characters that I used to play in City of Villains, whose costumes I had saved before shutdown in 2012, and used them in Homecoming to pose for some character portraits. Here's what I have so far:

I don't know why Pichana's picture is uploading like this, all the way over to the left. Anyway this guy has already been captured by the Heroes. Part of what the rest of the Villain Minion Squad should do is to try to find out what happened to him. Not that they necessarily want him back!

I do not like the shiny red boots, they don't match the description I wrote out for the character. But nothing in the game DOES match. And I have absolutely no graphic arts skills to modify.

Anyway, I have established the basics of the Theme: no obvious electronics. Personal styling mostly happens in the accessories. The available resources for these "work uniforms" include decent quality fits, because this tall thin man does not have his pants riding up his calves or his sleeves "pushed up" to suggest the off-the-rack feel of something too short for his dimensions.

Not a lot of armor. For only the one guy, that might be happenstance. Maybe he was not expected to encounter heroes. Maybe his own team would rather he succumb if they have to practice aggressive attitude adjustment.

Here is one of the crowd control specialists. I have not settled on a name for her yet; let's call her "Verse" for the moment.

Verse is obviously going to have fire-related abilities. (That is what she WANTS you to think!)

She does not have much in the way of pockets or belt pouches on this crimson jumpsuit. I want to give careful thinkers the idea that maybe her manager does not trust her with gear.

Verse also has deep red scars that show up splendidly on her pale peach skin. If her power were not actively building up in preparation for use, one might also note that her eyes are white all over -- no visible iris coloration.

Again this person's clothing is not baggy or super snug. A clothing connoisseur will have a chance of noticing that every one of these Minions has their clothing tailored to suit their bodies, if not their preferences.

Verse does not have upper body protection at all. She does have those fingerless gloves to improve her grip or to protect her palms. She has some kind of shinguard in place on both legs, mostly protecting the upper two thirds of the shin, but her boots are flat-soled ankle boots.

Verse also has black leather straps wrapped around her upper thighs, attaching to the red leather waist belt at about the points of her pelvic bones. Does Verse sometimes go parachuting? Is she partway geared up to wear a rocketpack? That is a deliberate style choice that will hopefully get the Trenchcoat Brigade speculating.

This last fellow is going to need two images to show what I was doing with his design:

This one also needs a better name. Back in the Rogue Isles, the original Corrupter character was named "Grigaere". I do not think this version is going to suit the original gregarious Black Forest of Germany story, but I will refer to him as "Grigaere" for now anyway.

Grigaere has energy blast powers, but they look like beams of darkness. (Grigaere was a Dark Blast/Pain Dominator Corruptor, for those familiar with the City of Villains stuff.)

I am not delighted with how his full-length portrait turned out, because I could not get the camera close enough without cutting off part of him:

There is a lot about this costume that I think I could have done better, to the point that I am not sure which bit to tackle first. I picked the slightly looser fit of trousers and jacket sleeves because I do not want most of the characters to look like they have to be peeled out of their supersuits. I picked the motorcycle boots to give the character an impression of stolidity in combat: once Grigaere chooses his location, he anchors himself in place and starts doing ranged attacks.

His belt has several small pouches attacked all around it. He has something-or-other along as equipment, but it is exclusively items of palm size or smaller; there is no pocket where he could store a cellphone, for example, or a wrench and screwdriver. This may be a specialist but this is not a mechanic. He is not expected to do any manual tasks that could get messy, those sleeves would get stained and damaged, and maybe put his safety at risk.

Right now I have one "crowd control" type, and one "ranged attack" type. The entire Villain Minion Squad would be expected to notice enemies at a range of more than half a room away. They would be expected to hem those enemies into place, then do ranged damage to quickly knock all resistance into unconsciousness or compliance.

I really do need to convert three more members of the team, at least one of whom will be mostly team defense. But if I can't figure out what is wrong with Grigaere's outfit, how to make it look more aesthetically suitable to the Theme and also more believable as Minion What Does Sometimes Fight For Evil, I am stumped on how to move forward at all.

Can I keep the loose fit on Grigaere? Or does that need to go?

#long post #designing villains as a set #superheroes #supervillains #in Paragon City terms these are meant to con white to a party of mostly Controllers #facial scarring cw #eye squick cw #fire #alt text in image #this post relies heavily on visuals #sartorial elegance #or the lack thereof

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thattimdrakeguy · 9 months

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life is a wonderful fascination, because it's all one big presumably happenstance-al universal science experiment with all these variables that could 'cause any amount of different results, and we're all just here to witness it

the universe is the biggest longest running list of cause and effect

and so much beautiful stuff is out there, but can't be experienced to it's fullest because of societal norms making it weird to just simply enjoy the stuff we take for granted

like what flat uninteresting people

"oh it's just the sky. oh it's just grass. why are you so excited about this and that"

because it's amazing. you know how long the sky been there? just because it's been there for so long doesn't mean it isn't any less fascinating that it's there. or that the feeling of grass on your bare toes isn't anymore fun to think about, because really what are the odds of us even having grass on this planet?

instead of grass we could've had something called oglosiam and it feels like wet tissue paper that we try to avoid like the plague 'cause it's gunky and awful to touch.

every face out there. you know how many generation, and different samples of dna, and genes it took to make that specific face? that's astonishing

i used to be afraid of how small we were in the timeline. we're barely here. we'll be forgotten. and eventually the universal will die of heat death or whatever.

so it is true. nothing technically matters when you look at it from a large scale

but who says that has to fucking matter?

what happens after my death isn't going to effect me, i'm not fucking dead. and i shouldn't live my life thinking i have to impress everyone, because you're right it is pointless

but jolly-be-good i have all my senses, and i'm still capable of breathing, i'm not gonna let some boring asshole try to get me to think i shouldn't at least enjoy myself while we're here

it's mainly depressing because we treat ourselves with such importance, and we are all important, but we go about it in the right way.

we matter

but we only matter for so long

what matter is making sure we all feel good while we're here to make it enjoyable

i'm fully aware of the realities of life, more so than i'm making it seem. it's a crushing, cold, bitter, disgusting place

i'm just saying looking up into the sky to see things lightyears away isn't any less impressive because everyone can do it

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livredebelle · 9 months

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Twenty-five.

I'M IN LOVE WITH HIM TOO... TOO... TOO...

Shit. This was NOT the time to be thinking about that.

I was standing, rather stiffly, by Maria and Adeline's side as we witnessed the wake for Abel's death anniversary. After some discussion, I had reluctantly agreed to attend, because Maria had been right--I couldn't avoid this forever.

I had a duty I'd been shirking for too long, to pay my past best friend my respects as I should have done the first time.

Nevertheless, the recent event regarding Rose's sudden confession was too much of a shock to my system to ignore. I hadn't been able to say anything in response, too stunned to register that Rose had said something before giving me a hug and leaving the penthouse.

What was it that she had said...?

First of all, her use of the word "too" implied that she was under the impression I was in love with Heath. Which couldn't be the farthest thing from the truth.

I think.

Second, what was her intention by confessing her love to me? What did she expect me to do or say? To give them my blessing? Did she just assume that Heath would pick her over me? Because of course he would; she was more beautiful. But if she assumed it out-right, that would sort of piss me off.

"I'm so glad you were able to come, Irina," Adeline murmured, her posture equally stiff, as though she felt immensely uncomfortable being with me. I didn't blame her one bit; I'd feel the same if I were in her shoes. "We were wondering when you would."

"I'm sorry," I said, trying to make my voice sound as emotionless as possible. Shit, I didn't need to be upsetting anyone unintentionally today. So I acted as though her words didn't wound me at all.

"She's here now," Maria said softly in my defense. I was thankful, but also worried that Adeline wouldn't like that.

Adeline was... the complete opposite of her brother. If Abel was like a ray of sunshine, she was like the raincloud that huddled over you right before a storm. I don't think I'd ever seen her smile. Then again, I barely knew her.

"Oh, I didn't mean anything by it," Adeline said, her eyes closed as she hummed to the tune of the organ playing in the background. "I'm glad to see you today, Irina--truly. I don't think my parents understand that it's no one's fault, what happened. I certainly don't intend to blame an adolescent for what was, simply, an unfortunate happenstance."

I stared at her in disbelief. She was fine? She didn't hate me?

"No, I don't hate you," she responded with a smile, as if she read my mind. "Why would I? Abel loved you guys. Hold on, I'm going to step aside for a lemonade break."

The sound of her clicking heels got farther and farther away.

"See, I told you it was in your head," Maria said as she maintained her usual bored expression. "Adeline's a nice and reasonable lady. No one who's reasonable would blame you for being MIA until now."

"But maybe they should," I whispered. "You were good at being there for his family and friends at the time."

"We were his best friends--not his sisters. It's not like it was on us to protect him, not like we pushed him into the pool ourselves. If anyone, shouldn't Adeline be blamed for not protecting her brother? She was the closest to him proximity-wise. Or what about his parents, who paid for his therapy sessions? Shouldn't they have intervened before things spiraled out of control?"

"I don't think it's so straightforward--"

"You need to stop making yourself out to be the villain in every story, Irina. Sometimes there is no villain. Sometimes life just sucks, and you have to be okay with that."

Maria was right, I knew. But it wasn't like I was trying to play villain, or victim... whatever. It was like my brain was wired to think that everything was automatically my fault. Probably because my parents always blamed me for their divorce or something.

It was pretty self-centered of me for sure, though.

"Death is unforeseeable. That's why so many religions exist--people have to get creative to try and make sense of what happens when they die."

I smirked a little at that. I used to enjoy having these philosophical religious talks with her in high school; we were so snooty back then, believing we were superior to society.

"Anyhoo," I said, wanting to change the subject, "it's not like I expected any better, but there's really no one from his swimming team here. Or anyone else from the school, for that matter."

"It's like his death is old news, when in fact it's only been a couple years. Maybe they're almost eager to forget. But I'll never forget." Her mouth twisted in pain, and I had to look away. It wasn't like I was completely in the dark about the special relationship she and Abel had back then. Nothing had blossomed--Abel hadn't been given the chance to live--but that didn't mean the relationship didn't exist.

My chest squeezed in pain.

"I'm going to get a drink, too," I muttered, fast-walking away. I didn't mean to leave Maria alone when she was feeling vulnerable, but I needed to not be sane right now. It was already becoming too much to handle. At least I had come, right? No one would expect more than this from me anyway.

I headed straight for the hard liquor table, grabbing a glass of bubbly champagne and discreetly slipping a pill of Xanax into it. As I watched the poison fizz in the drink, I remembered the first time I had ventured into Mother's pill stash, figuring that whatever helped her with her demons should help me with mine. I always only took small doses, not enough for her to catch anything was off. Plus, I saw her inhale these pills once, and it would be easy to shift the blame to her overuse instead of my petty theft.

When it had completely dissolved, I sipped the delicious golden honey drink slowly between my lips, almost immediately feeling the euphoric effects that followed. Eventually I felt giggly, even. It felt so silly that I had been freaked out about showing up today. I was a chameleon; nobody even noticed I was here. I could mourn in peace. I kept inadvertently avoiding Maria, because the gravity of her emotions was a big burden to me, and I was the queen of running away.

"Whoa, miss, are you okay?"

Crap. I had stumbled across a waiter and stepped on his foot. Was still stepping on his foot. I stepped back quickly, dazed. Where was my drink? My purse?

I shook my head at the waiter. "I need my phone."

"Hey, there you are," I heard Adeline say, her hand reaching out to me in slow motion. "Maria has been looking for you everywhere. Are you good, or do I need to call you a cab?" Was that a hint of amusement I heard in her voice?

"Sorry. I'm fine, I must've drunk that champagne way faster than I thought." I shook my head. "Have you seen my purse or my phone?"

"You're holding it in your right hand, sweetie."

"Oh..." Fucking hell, I was a goner. That was weird. I don't remember one pill having this big of an effect before. The buzzing in my head was getting louder. Maybe this was a sign from the universe that I needed to stop drinking alcohol. "I've got to go..."

I unlocked my phone screen, barely able to keep my eyes open. Why was I so goddamn sleepy? Gotta keep my shit together.

[Where the hell are you?]

Maria.

[You're in danger, stay where you are. Don't trust anyone.]

Heath...? What an odd message, especially coming from him. Of course I wouldn't trust anyone; that was a given. But what could he mean? It sounded like he was typing urgently; it was odd that he wasn't using proper grammar in his texts.

Like he was in a rush.

"There you are," Adeline crooned as she made her way towards me with her lemonade in hand. "My parents are looking for you; they'd like to say a few words if that's all right with you."

I sloshed the champagne in my mouth while I thought it over. Sure, why not? I was feeling quite good right now, and I was semi-confident I could make it through the ordeal without a hitch. Plus, Maria was right--my fear was unwarranted. It really wasn't our fault that Abel had died. I kept chanting it over and over in my head so I could believe it as I followed Adeline to where her parents awaited.

They were sitting in the study of their gigantic house, their eyes shifting to me once I entered the room. The Clemingtons were rich, but not like Richard was. Still, the impressive lavishness of the study's decorations dazzled me. The Clemingtons sat up straight, their hands primly put together as if they were attending a business meeting. It hadn't yet occurred to me how weird this situation was, that they wanted to see me alone and not Maria.

Mrs. Clemington's scrunched-up face scrunched even more, as if she smelled something foul. I would have been insulted if I wasn't buzzed out of my mind due to the drugs and alcohol.

"Irina. I can't say it's a pleasure to see you again."

Mrs. Clemington had always disapproved of Abel's friendship with me, for once not because of my shitty attitude, but because of the fact I had been a homeless runaway when he met me. Her disapproval only worsened after she found out who my mother was--the washed-out actress who changed husbands as often as she changed her jewelry.

My tongue itched to say something irritable back, but due to the circumstances, I felt the need to implement some self-control.

"Hi, Mrs. Clemington. Thank you for inviting me--I should have come sooner."

"Yes, you should have. That's a given. For the life of me, I will never be able to understand why my son insisted on being friends with the likes of you when he could have befriended his teammates on the swim team. Or anyone, really, who could have been there to save his life. Or witness it, at least."

"Now, Mom, we agreed that's not fair," Adeline interjected. "It was no one's fault; we couldn't have known..."

Mrs. Clemington's voice raised an octave. "What about that diary of his we found? He wrote that he was so lonely, Adeline. I understand that my failures as a parent contributed to that. But shouldn't others who made him feel that way be held accountable, too? Especially when we aren't even sure if it was really a suicide?"

My head began spinning.

Not a suicide?

Impossible. What, then? Homicide? That was crazy.

Adeline sighed heavily, her face in her palms. "Mom, we've been through this. Please. The investigators have told you over and over again... while there is no concrete evidence other than his diary, there's absolutely no suspicious circumstances or other hard evidence that suggests it was anything other than a suicide! Why don't you get that you're making it harder for all of us, including Abel, to move on peacefully?"

Mrs. Clemington only harrumph-ed and stormed out of the room. Mr. Clemington cleared his throat awkwardly and stepped in for his wife.

"I apologize, Irina. We... clearly still haven't quite figured out how to get through this. But we will. And like my wife said... Since there are no other leads... if you happen to hear or see anything that might point the police to some indication either confirming or rebutting the fact..." He couldn't finish. He didn't need to. I nodded solemnly, choosing to otherwise stay quiet as Adeline slinked into the couch where her mother had previously sat, tears glistening down her covered face.

I left the study with this new information tucked away in my brain--not that my brain was good for anything at the moment. The more time ticked, the more my brain felt like jello and I felt like giggling at everything. But that would be inappropriate. I wanted to get away from the vicinity of the wake before I had another meltdown.

I texted Maria that I was heading home, as well as processing the information the Clemingtons had provided me--again, why just me?--when I got the urge to text Rose too. Sometimes I needed a little booze to give me the courage to say what I wanted to say, without reservations. After tossing the idea back and forth in my bubbling brain, I decided to go for it.

[What did you mean yesterday? Why did you tell me that?]

Bzzzt. My phone buzzed right after I sent the text. Did she read my mind? No way.

It was Heath calling. I answered happily.

"Hey there."

"Did you see my text?" he demanded without a greeting. Normally, that would have irked me, but I only laughed.

"Yes, I did. What, is there a scary monster after me now?"

"There's no time to explain. Meet me at the motel around the corner of where you're at." Click. Okay, now I was annoyed. How dare he order me around like that? And what, to a motel? I could smell his intentions from a mile away. But like an idiot, my feet willed me to the exact location he told me to go, and within mere seconds a familiar hand had grabbed my waist, gently but urgently tugging me to a dingy, dusty motel with a shitty paint job that was peeling off the inner walls. He already had a room; we breezed past the hotel concierge and headed up--I don't know how many flights of stairs. When we finally arrived, I was so exhausted from the unexpected workout that I plopped onto the dusty white bed at once.

"Okay. Now you can explain," I insisted with my head down on the pillow. "Why did you bring me here?" Crazy as it was, I knew he must have a good reason; as nefarious as I knew him to be, I knew deep down that he cared about my safety, probably more than anyone else.

Heath closed the shutters and blinds for all the windows, then came to sit down next to me.

"All right. Don't be too alarmed, but--somebody's been following you, Rina."

That sobered me up instantly. I sat up. "What?!"

So my gut feeling had been right the day before. But why was Heath only telling me this now?

"Wait, so what happened yesterday when you told me to go up first?"

"You ran into Rosalie when you got up there, right?" A question for a question.

"Yes, but--"

"Then it's for certain. I don't know how to tell you this... but I have a theory that your mother is working with your stepfather to manipulate Rosalie."

The blood drained from my face. "Richard?"

"Sorry, I should clarify. Ex-stepfather. I meant Pete."

"Pete? That's... he's old news," I stammered in disbelief. "He was supposed to be out of the country. Mother promised..."

I stopped myself. But of course, Heath didn't need to point out the obvious--that it was a mistake, as usual, to rely on Mother's promises.

But then what had everything in the past half year been for? My efforts to protect my sister had all been in vain, who not only didn't appreciate those efforts (to be fair, because she didn't know)--but also was gearing herself to "compete" with me over the same guy.

Fuck.

"So Pete's the one who's been following me, then?" Everything was clicking into place now. I hated the ensuing anxiety that followed with all of this reveling information, but I had always preferred being in the know than remaining blissfully ignorant.

"I believe so, but he may not be the only one. That's why we need to stake it out from somewhere away from the penthouse for the time being. We'll move to another hotel tomorrow as soon as daylight breaks in."

"You'll protect me, then?" I said, sort of sarcastically.

"Yes," he responded earnestly, not an ounce of dishonesty I could sense from him. It warmed my heart, though I was loath to admit it.

"... What's Rosalie's role in all of this, then?" From her recent behavior, it became less difficult for me to believe my little sister could be capable of employing emotional manipulation herself. After all, my emotions were still reeling from her confession, and she hadn't responded to or read my text yet--a fact that had not escaped my notice.

Heath shrugged. "She could be willing, or unwilling... Either way, she is a participant and a threat. So I will need to eliminate her. What did she say to you, again?" He repeated his question from before, changing the course of the conversation so abruptly I wasn't able to respond to the 'eliminate' part.

How to break the news to him gently? There really wasn't a good way, so I decided on the most direct one.

"She told me she was in love with you." I left out the too part; my pride wouldn't allow me to be completely honest.

Heath snorted and cracked his neck. "Hilarious. Now why would she say that?"

"I dunno if it's true, but... One thing I know for sure is, she seemed really off. I have never seen her behave this way."

"I suppose it could happen." God, how conceited could he get? I almost rolled my eyes. "Our roots with each other run deep, you know."

He came closer to my body and snaked his arm around my waist ever so casually. I froze like a deer struck by shining headlights.

"We were technically childhood friends, you do realize."

I blinked at him.

"What?!" I shrieked for the umpteenth time that night.

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