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hotluncheddie · 4 months

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So very much on the same page, and I can’t stop thinking about it either. So, uh, here’s this? I guess?

- - - - -

Usually, Eddie sticks to ice cream. He can squirrel plenty away from his job at Scoops—it can’t be called stealing if they’re just going to throw it away.

But the store has recently expanded into decadent brownie sundaes, and there are whole trays going to waste, and Eddie can’t stand it.

So more often than not lately, at home, after dinner and after Wayne has gone to bed, he smokes up and brings out the latest shift’s stash of liberated baked goods along with the last scrapes from a handful of different ice cream tubs. A plate for the former, a bowl for the latter, and one big spoon. He indulges in his high and his sweet tooth at the same time, slipping into the pleasant, hazy space of bite after bite after bite. The way his teeth sink into fudge brownie, just this side of stale but he’s found he can’t taste that difference much if he just nukes them in the microwave real quick. The way they’re *warm* after the microwave, heating up his mouth after the ice cream, making the next spoonful melt across his tongue, the mix of dripping cream and firm chocolatey goodness filling his mouth, filling him up. The way, after a few minutes, he can unbutton his jeans and the zipper takes care of itself, easing down with the swell of his belly like a sigh of relief. Of letting go.

In those moments, he lets himself think of Steve. The one kiss they’d shared before the government had hustled Eddie and Wayne away in the night, no warning to them or anyone else before it happened. He lets himself imagine that it’s Steve pulling the zipper down, letting him breathe, letting Eddie shape his own image now that he’s not allowed to grow his hair out anymore.

He traces the stretch marks that accompany his scars—marks that he chose for himself, not that anyone ever sees. There’s really only one guy for him, and, well… Eddie’s never found out what the government goons told his old friends, the monster hunters *or* the Corroded Coffin guys, but he figures the only two possible options are “dead” or “ditched you.” No way to come back from that, either way. So he contents himself with the Steve in his imagination because the real one will never see him again, will never have an opinion on his new curves or the red lines decorating his belly and thighs, good or bad. He never has to worry about that.

Eddie eats another brownie, followed quickly by another spoonful ice cream, lets it melt and mix in as he chews. He swallows, letting his still crumb-dusted hand trace lightly over the sliver of belly that peeks out beneath a t-shirt that used to hang off him. Shivers, because the skin there is getting so deliciously sensitive.

There are a few more brownies to go, and more than enough ice cream to accompany them. He picks up another, still warm. (The nice thing about the weed is that it usually lets him power through without needing to get up for a second round in the microwave.) In his imagination, Steve reminds him that he’s earned this after all the shit he’s endured and helps him shift so his jeans zipper won’t pinch as he continues to relax.

And Eddie takes another bite.

anon... i think im in love with u... this is too much... i don't know what to say

i think i need to run around naked in the moonlight to deal with my feelings about this.

i love how u write

the brownie sundays were the higher ups idea to boost business during the holidays. remind people that ice-cream wasn't just a summer thing.

eddie wasn't complaining, until he had to make the thing and it took ages. oh well, works work, and while its decently popular there's always leftovers. leftovers with the shortest shelf life in the store.

the tail end of winter and soon to be end of the brownie special is what made eddie really check in with where his body was sitting, without the bliss filled haze of his evening routine. his nights spent indulging in his sweet tooth, in his fantasies of steve, in the feelings the two mixed together stirred in his gut. it's heady and addictive, eddie doesn't want to stop. but the waistband of his shorts was quickly loosing its battle agains the sensitive skin of his pink streaked and scarred, stomach and hips.

eddie huffed, just managing to make the flaps meet. he strokes his fingers lightly over the skin of his underbelly. shivers, at how much he's changed.

eddie seems to take more notice his body that shift. he feels the bite of the seatbelt once he gets into his van, different than before. there’s a cool gust of air on the underside of his stomach when he reaches up to grab something from the top shelf of the supply cupboard. while he’s on his break he feels, for the first time, how his belly has just started to sit in his lap, how his thighs spread and fill up the chair.

he planned, like he does some days, to not take back whatever leftover there are. resist and start fresh, turn over a new leaf. fit back into his shorts.

but there are two full trays of brownie about to go to waste. and a selection of tub dregs that almost fill up half way when piled together.

he stows it all safely in the passenger seat.

wayne’s out till late with some work buddies and eddie has tomorrow off. the place to himself. he sits at the little kitchen table still in his work clothes, makes himself dinner like normal. then sets the first heated up try of brownie in front of himself. he imagines steve on the other side of the table. how he might be asking about his day, eddie would like to know about his. would he hold eddies hand across the tabletop? probably, if he asked.

he digs in, alternating between gooey chocolate and cool ice cream. without the haze of weed he feel the full force of its sweetness. halfway through he shifts, feels how the desert sits in his stomach. feels, more intensely than this morning, the pinch of his shorts. he attempts getting a finger between the waistband and the underside of his hip, but there no hope of getting it in. he takes another few bites of brownie, then ice cream, then brownie and walks his fingers lightly down the swell of his gut. he shivers, wonders what steve would say looking at him now, whether his eyes would darken, whether he would walk his own fingers across eddies stomach.

he signs again, brownie finished.

getting up, eddie loads up the microwave with the next batch and heads to his room to make this evening feel a bit more normal again.

spliff dangling from his lips he looks at himself in the mirror, undoing the button on his uniform and watching the zipper pull apart on its own. he lights up and pulls at his shorts, fascinated by the red lines left by his waistband. he traces them idly and inhales deep. his eyes roaming his now full stomach, pushing out agains the fabric, how the indent of his belly button is just visible. he traces that too, skims his fingers upward, over his nipple and bigger pec, up to take the splif from him mouth and exhale.

would anyone from hawkins still recognise him like this? he likes to think they would. his hairs shorter but he didn't have to dye it. same eyes, same mouth, his cheeks look a little rounder but, same face. same face that steve kissed, once, might kiss again, given the chance.

eddie would, given the chance.

he's starting to feels the blunt, hears the microwave beep. good, he's craving ice cream.

#if u wanted to keep going #in his pyjamas getting through the next batch #i wouldn't stop u #but ty ty ty ty for this ask anon #i seriously loved it #hotlunch #chubby eddie munson #steddie #weight gain story #ask #steddie wg #witness protection wg au

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lucy-sky · 1 year

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Skulls and Roses (tattoo master!Griff x f!Reader)

Filthy Friday prompts: porn without plot (or with minor plot idk); hookup; rough

Getting your tattoo dedicated to your ex replaced by a new one can be extremely liberating.

Warnings: casual sex (protected!) - I don’t need to explain you that having sex with someone you don’t really know can be dangerous, right? Please be careful in real life :)

Words: 1936; gif by me (from an older gifset when I didn’t use the watermark)

AO3 link if you prefer reading there

“Don’t get me wrong, sweetheart, customer’s always right… but why not simply remove that shit?”

“Because I don’t want to just get rid of it. I want to have something beautiful instead,” you explain, turning the pages of the album filled with tattoo design options. “And please, don’t call me sweetheart. Ever.”

The story is as old as the world. You were in love, he was an asshole. You thought it’s gonna last, but it didn’t. The love is gone, and the only reminder of a man who broke your heart are these stupid fancy letters - his initials, tattooed on your forearm. At first you wanted to leave this evidence of your stupidity as a warning to not repeat your mistakes again, but you simply couldn’t bear seeing them any longer. You want to move on after all. That’s what brought you here, to a place down the street called “Griff’s Tattoos”.

“Alright, alright easy there,” the master raises his hands at your aggressive tone. “Told ya, the customer’s always right. But you see, I ain’t got no… butterflies, or flowers, or unicorns or something like that in here, I’m afraid.”

“Who says I want butterflies or unicorns?” you huffed, rolling your eyes. “I might not look super hardcore, but you don’t know me, mister…”

“It’s Griff, you can just call me that,” the man gestures at the “Griff’s Tattoos” sign on the wall. “And yeah, you’re right, I don’t-”

“Hey, how about that?” you interrupted him as you finally found something of your taste.

“Really? You want that?” Griff raises his eyebrows as you point at the picture. There’s a skull with three red roses, seemingly growing out of it.

“Yeah, I think this one is great. The skull means that the old love is dead, and the roses mean that something beautiful can still grow in its place,” you reply with a shrug.

“Okay, uh… That makes sense, I guess. Didn’t think of any of this while drawing it though,” he lets out a chuckle.

“You could think of a meaning for some of your tattoo designs to sell them to the customers.”

“Yeah, maybe. My own tattoos don’t have much meaning at all, I just make up different stories ‘bout ‘em to impress the girls,” he laughs.

“Nice,” you sigh under your breath, trying not to roll your eyes again. Yet another asshole in your life, apparently. Thank god you’re only his customer, and nothing more than that.

“So, if you made up your mind, let’s get to it,” he smiles, gesturing at his workplace.

“Yep, let’s get to it.”

Maybe that Griff really is an asshole, who knows? But in fact, he manages to make you laugh a few times while he’s working, and you really appreciate that. Conversation distracts you from the pain, plus this man… You have to admit there’s something attractive about him, despite anything. You watch his focused face while he’s working, the crease of his eyebrows, and in a way he looks quite intimidating, but when he smiles, he suddenly looks so different. As if his features soften, and those wrinkles at the corners of his eyes are kind of… Cute? And his gruff voice and deep dark eyes… Damn, you can’t be serious, thinking of him like that. On the other hand - you’re a single woman now, free from a long and actually pretty toxic relationship. You don’t have to jump into another one, but a bit of flirting never hurt nobody. Flirting makes you feel confident, and for the first time in what feels like ages you’re simply enjoying it without feeling any sort of guilt. And honestly? You love this feeling.

“There ya go,” he says proudly when the work is finished. “You like it?”

“Yeah, that’s… Really good!” your reply is honest - you really think the new tattoo is great. The goddamn initials are now perfectly covered with a fresh layer of ink, and even if the tattoo is a bit too bigger than you intended to get at first, you still are satisfied. “I love it.”

“Good to know,” Griff nods, his fingers brushing against your arm with unexpected gentleness. “Did my best to save the girl in trouble.”

“Please!” you scoff, “I think you’re flattering yourself.”

“Modesty’s not my thing,” he grins. “Can I uh… Ask you a personal question?”

“Try it.”

“What happened to you and that guy?” He gestures at the tattoo. “I mean if that’s a guy, ‘cause it could be a girl too, I-”

“That’s a guy. And well, there’s nothing much to talk about, really. I was dumb enough to think he’s the love of my life, and then I found out the dickhead’s been cheating on me for months. Which is actually pretty funny, ‘cause he’s always been extremely jealous and made me feel guilty every time I looked at another man.”

You’re not quite sure why you told it to him. Apparently sometimes it’s just easier to tell something this personal to a stranger.

“Damn. That’s fucked up.”

“Fuck him. His ego is way bigger than his dick, to be honest, so I don’t regret it’s over,” you shrug.

“You know what? If I were him, I’d definitely treat you way better.”

For some reason the way Griff says it, and the way his dark eyes look at you cause a slight shiver run down your spine.

“Oh yeah?” you say, and it comes out a bit more flirty than you intended.

“Yeah. My ego’s big, but no one ever complained about my dick either,” he smirks. Unconsciously, you lower your gaze to his crotch at these words, and instantly hate yourself for that because he obviously noticed, you can tell it from the way his grin got wider.

“See something you like,” he winks, and you hate yourself once again, because even at this moment you find him attractive, with all his stupid tattoos, and smile, and beard, smug face and mischievous eyes.

“Look, Griff. I wanna make it clear for you, okay? I’m not looking for a relationship. I’ve had enough for now.”

He steps closer, invading your space, leaning towards you, his lips impossibly close to your ear as he speaks, so close you can feel the warmth of his breathing.

“Who’s talking about relationships, sweetheart? It’s just that… If you want me to make you forget ‘bout that son of bitch for a while, I’m happy to oblige.”

Oh gosh, the audacity this man has!..

“I told you not to call me sweetheart, remember?” you say as you turn your face to meet his gaze, and then, all of a sudden, following some strange impulse, you press your lips to his.

Griff is quick to respond to your actions, kissing you back with furious determination. Your kiss was timid, but his tongue invades your mouth with no shame at all, his hand reaching to the back of your head to pull you closer, it skims to the side of your neck and frames your jaw as he kisses you, humming against your mouth, and you probably lost your mind, because you don’t push him away. Instead, your own tongue darts to meet his. Matching his wild energy, you nip on his bottom lip, earning a low groan from him, your fingers sinking into his hair to give it a tug.

It’s crazy. Totally fucking insane. You don’t even know this man.

“Fine,” you hear yourself saying, chest heaving as you’re trying to catch a breath. “Make me forget.”

“Customer’s always right,” Griff chuckles, his hands roaming down your body, kneading your butt as he kisses you once again with the same fire and passion. “Just wait a second.”

He pulls back and walks towards the door. He turns over the “open” sign, changing it into a “closed” one, and returns to you.

“Don’t want anyone to disturb us”, he explains, seizing your hips and urging you to sit on the desk behind you. “Still wanna do it, darlin’?”

“I might change my mind if you ask too many questions.”

“Got it.”

He buries his face into your neck, kissing, sucking and nibbling at the tender flesh there, big warm hands sliding up your thighs and under the skirt of your dress. You let out a quiet moan when he reaches your already embarrassingly damp underwear.

“Shit, you sound so good. Can you moan a lil louder for me?” He murmurs into your neck, his fingers pressing harder between your thighs, causing your hips to buck in anticipation.

“Want me to moan - make me.”

You have no idea where you got this boldness from, but that’s the new you, and fuck it - you’re actually enjoying yourself.

Griff doesn’t need to be told twice. He swiftly tugs your panties down your legs, cursing at your shoelaces as he unties and pulls off your boots to get the underwear out of the way. Once he manages to do it, he pushes your legs open and dips his fingers between your slick folds. You whimper, gripping onto his shoulders, as he curls them inside of you, touching exactly the right spot over and over. It feels amazing, mind blowing, but you still need more.

“You got condoms, do you?” you ask breathlessly.

“Who do you think I am, swee- darlin’?” he grins, reaching to fish it out of his back pocket. At this point you don’t even give a shit what he calls you any longer. With shaky fingers you undo his jeans as he opens the wrapper with his teeth and throws it away.

He enters you with a hard thrust of his hips, setting a pretty rough pace, but that’s exactly what you want. He promised to make you forget, and he keeps his promise, fucking you as if he wants fuck any single thought out of your brain until your head is empty and light. Your moans and gasps and his grunts and muffled curses become louder and louder as you’re both getting closer to climax. You come first, throwing your head back as your walls flutter and clench around him, your whole body shuddering as pleasure hits you wave after delicious wave. Griff manages to catch your mouth in a messy, sloppy kiss before he follows you, groaning like a wild animal. Then he stays still for a while, panting, face buried into the crook of your neck.

Getting down from your high, you let your fingers caress the back of his neck absentmindedly, enjoying that pleasant post-orgasmic buzz coursing through your body. How can sex with someone you barely know feel so good? You always thought really good sex must involve feelings. Not that you want to repeat this experience, but right now, at this stage of your life it didn’t feel dirty or embarrassing. It felt kinda liberating.

“You okay?” Griff asks hoarsely as he pulls away and reaches somewhere behind you to grab a roll of paper towels.

“Yeah, I’m good,” you nod.

Your hand is already on the doorknob when Griff stops you.

“Wait, almost forgot,” he tears a page out of his album and hands it to you. “Here. I don’t repeat the tattoos, so…”

“Oh. Course,” you smile as you take the paper and look at the skull with roses once again. “Alright. Thanks again, um… Good night!”

“Night,” he says simply. “Come over if you need some more ink, or… You know.”

“I don’t think so,” you reply honestly. “But who knows, maybe one day I’ll change my mind.”

He nods with a soft yet smug chuckle on his face.

“Customer’s always right.”

Thank you for reading!

Tattoo inspo

#bernthirstpalooza #griff x reader #tattoo master au #baby driver #jon bernthal fanfiction #lucy tries to write #darlingshane

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tokiro07 · 5 months

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Cipher Academy ch.49 thoughts

[What is a "Yout?"]

(Contents: character design, author philosophy, Toshusai analysis)

ONE YEAR DOWN, BABY, THREE TO GO!!! It's been pretty touch and go, and probably will continue to be, but the longer it goes the more likely Cipher Academy is to build up a strong enough following to keep going, so fingers crossed that the volumes keep selling well!

This week's chapter opens with a beautiful color page showing off everyone's color schemes (except the teachers' for some reason) and a quick review of the major codes we've seen so far. Most of the hair colors are pretty standard, Koshibai and Umitsubame notwithstanding, but the biggest surprise for me has to be Dekiai, who I would have bet money was blue, but nope! She's pink! I guess water can be any color if you dye it, I just figured the idea would be for her to look like a melted Kogoe. Maybe they went with pink to obscure that a bit more or because they looked too similar in color?

Speaking of Dekiai, the jury for Toshusai's trial being several Dekiais with different pigtails and beauty marks was a really fun touch, I especially liked the one whose hair popped when she felt scandalized. The fact that the prosecution is named Hakuai and clearly doesn't have any shading suggests that she's all white, so I wonder if perhaps each Dekiai was a different color with a unique name. I'm also curious if they're all just the one Dekiai playing multiple parts, or if they're each their own unique AI. I'm inclined to believe the former, but who knows

Another cute detail, when the Dekiais call for a guilty verdict, their beauty marks turn into spades. Looks like someone read Homestuck

Onto the meat of the chapter, this is really the type of philosophy that Nisio Isin loves to talk about, huh? There was an entire chapter in Medaka Box about how there are no easy or right answers when it comes to ethics, and it could be argued that that was one of the major themes of Medaka Box as a whole. This chapter's suggestion that the concept of a person is a societal construct is certainly novel, and while it does go out of its way to paint Toshusai as the good guy in this scenario, it's also clear that we're not meant to necessarily feel good about it. Her actions freed slaves and toppled an oppressive government: objectively good! Her actions did also create child soldiers and result in half a million deaths: objectively bad. Reducing whether this was a good thing or not to the number of lives "created" and lost leaves...a bad taste in the mouth, I feel. Like, did Toshusai intentionally give weapons to the kids with the intention of creating an uprising? It doesn't sound like it, it sounds like she was asked to create a weapon a child could use, and then it happened to end up in the hands of children who needed liberation

Intention and consequence are only linked via action and otherwise have no bearing on each other; whatever Toshusai wanted to happen when she made the Gun Eye is irrelevant, the fact of the matter is that people died because of a weapon she created, at least that's how she sees it. Even if she did liberate slaves, it's not like she's a revolutionary who carefully planned out how to save them, she was a child who made a toy that was lethal. A weapon's purpose is to kill, a sentiment that I've surprisingly seen crop up a lot in Jump lately, and Toshusai knows that the only outcome that was ever going to come of making the Gun Eyes was that people would die

Of course, how Toshusai sees herself and how everyone else in the story sees her is only part of the equation - the rest is how the fans see her. Is she a liberator or a death dealer? Which is more important, the right to freedom or the right to security? I have my opinions on the matter, but I can't claim that my opinion is the objective correct one or that other readers will feel the same

I'm still endeared to Toshusai and I still like her as a major lead; she did something that helped people, but through a method that she resents, both because there might have been a way to bring about a peaceful resolution and because even if there wasn't, the presence of that method now means that more people are in danger in the long run. Even if the child revolution was a net gain of life and personhood, the Gun Eyes still exist and are still put in the hands of children, and probably not to overthrow their oppressors. Toshusai means to fix that mistake and prevent any further deaths by any means necessary, and that's a goal I can respect

#cipher academy #fouryearsandananime #4y1a reviews

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b4b31 · 1 year

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Warhol, Andy. Campbell's Soup Cans. 1962, pop art, The Museum of Modern Art, New York.

“I used to have the same lunch every day, for 20 years, guess, the same thing over and over again. Someone said my life has dominated me; liked that idea.”

The "Campbell's Soup Cans" series highlights the homogeneity and conformity of consumer culture. The cans are identical, suggesting a standardized and mass-produced product, yet subtle differences between each can. This suggests that even though we may be the same, we have the power to choose our own path and be unique, despite society's pressure to conform. The various soup flavors can represent different personality types or archetypes, allowing the viewer to select which one they identify with. This individual choice and agency is a central aspect of Jungian psychology, which emphasizes the journey towards self-discovery and individuation.

THE SOUP SPECTRUM: How to navigate Campbell's soup selection

Tomato - The Rebel: bold and unorthodox, challenges the status quo of traditional soups with its vibrant and tangy flavor.

Chicken Noodle - The Mother: nurturing and comforting, provides warmth and sustenance like a hug in a bowl.

Split Pea with Ham - The Destroyer: powerful and transformative, brings about necessary change to the palate through the destruction of preconceived notions of what a soup should taste like.

Beef - The Warrior: strong and resilient, fights for a place on the soup menu with its hearty and robust flavor.

Black Bean - The Seeker: restless and questioning, seeks out new flavor combinations and knowledge about the soup world.

Consomme - The Sage: wise and knowledgeable, offers simple but profound wisdom to elevate the soup experience.

Cream of Asparagus - The Maiden: innocent and pure, represents delicacy and refinement with its smooth and elegant texture.

Cream of Mushroom - The Magician: mystical and transformative, turns ordinary ingredients into something extraordinary with its rich and velvety texture.

Cream of Onion - The Trickster: mischievous and unpredictable, adds a touch of humor and subversion to the soup experience with its unexpected sweetness and complexity.

Cream of Potato - The Creator: innovative and resourceful, turns simple ingredients into a satisfying and comforting meal with its creamy and filling texture.

Lentil - The Survivor: resilient and adaptable, can thrive in a variety of soup environments with its earthy and hearty flavor.

Manhattan Clam Chowder - The Explorer: curious and adventurous, seeks out new flavor profiles and experiences with its unique blend of seafood and tomato flavors.

New England Clam Chowder - The Guardian: protective and loyal, defends the tradition and legacy of classic soup recipes with its creamy and comforting texture.

Shrimp Bisque - The Siren: seductive and alluring, draws in with its rich and indulgent creaminess, leaving a lasting impression on the palate.

Vegetarian Vegetable - The Liberator: nourishing force that frees the body from toxins and provides essential nutrients

Broccoli Cheese - The Lover: passionate and comforting, satisfies the palate with its rich and creamy texture.

Vegetable Beef - The Hero: hearty and dependable, always there to provide strength and nourishment in times of need.

Green Pea - The Child: smooth and delicate, with a pure and childlike essence that inspires wonder and curiosity.

Cream of Celery - The Mentor: smooth and sophisticated, offering a creamy blend of knowledge and experience to help guide and mentor others.

Minestrone - The Networker: a vibrant and diverse blend of ingredients, bringing together different flavors and personalities to form strong and enduring connections.

Mulligatawny - The Shapeshifter: a tantalizing and enigmatic blend of spices and flavors, capable of shifting and adapting to different situations and contexts.

Old Fashioned Tomato Rice - The OutKast: a bold and unorthodox blend of classic flavors, standing out from the crowd and challenging traditional notions of what a soup can be.

Onion - The Shadow: a deep and complex mixture, with layers of flavor that reveal a mysterious and enigmatic essence that others may find intimidating.

Pea Soup - The Jester: a light and whimsical blend, with a playful and humorous spirit that never fails to bring a smile to others' faces.

Pepper Pot - The Villain: a potent and fiery blend, with a devious and malicious spirit that seeks to manipulate and control others for its own gain.

Potato with Bacon - The Father: a warm and comforting blend, with a hearty and nurturing essence that provides comfort and protection to those in need.

Scotch Broth - The Judge: a fair and impartial blend, with a strong and savory essence that represents justice and accountability.

Tomato Rice - The Queen/King: a rich and regal blend, with a commanding and charismatic essence that inspires loyalty and devotion in all who taste it.

Turkey Noodle - The Empathic: a comforting and compassionate blend, with a soothing and empathetic essence that understands and connects with the emotions of others.

Bean with Bacon - The Observer: a rich and hearty blend, with a deep and perceptive essence that sees and understands things others might miss.

Cheddar Cheese - The Oracle: a rich and flavorful blend, with a wise and insightful essence that provides knowledge and guidance to those who seek it.

Chicken with Rice - The Messenger: a clear and persuasive blend, with a smooth and communicative essence that delivers important messages and inspires action.

#andy warhol #Campbell's Soup Cans #Archetypes #32 #1962 #pop art #the museum of modern art

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cheese-induced-madness · 2 years

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this is probably a dumb scenario but…..could u maybe do something with dr two brains baking with a reader?? tysm <3

anon this isn’t dumb, that’s fucking adorable. also reminding me that i gotta get back into baking, i’m missing out on decadence.

I made it like. the tiniest bit spicey. We’re at barely lime levels on ye olde citrus scale. nearly pg-13.

“Babydoll, are you SURE you don’t need to measure the vanilla?” Twobrains questioned. “Everything I’ve learned about baking up to this point has taught me not measuring is pretty much baking blasphemy.”

“I mean, with most things yes, but with flavorings it’s like. You gotta feel how much you need in your soul, man,” you respond, twisting off the cap to the bottle of vanilla extract. “You gotta look inside yourself. Ask what you truly want to taste. Look to the stars for answers.”

“I think the stars say you should get a measuring spoon,” he retorted, smiling coyly.

“Then you’re looking to the wrong stars,” you reply. With a steady hand and careful concentration, you pour a liberal splash of vanilla into the bowl of ingredients that would soon become cream cheese frosting.

You knew your boyfriend well, and as much as he always wanted to try your sweetest creations, that pesky little second brain of his was the pickiest little monster you had ever met, and it meant he could only get so much as a cupcake down if it incorporated cheese to some degree. So cream cheese frosting seemed like the simplest, most versatile addition to your best work that would let him indulge without the mouse brain getting upset.

So here you were, carefully loading the bowl into the stand mixer and hoping it’d be good enough to appease the rodent’s hunger as the human it was attached to wrapped his arms around your waist from behind, resting his chin on the top of your head.

It was sweet. Peaceful. Pure domestic bliss. Softer, gentler moments with Twobrains weren’t exactly unprecedented or even particularly rare, but the life of a supervillain is chaotic, and the tranquility didn’t always last, so you really took it in and savored it when you could get a moment alone with you boyfriend in a particularly affectionate mood.

Unfortunately, the calm was interrupted when you turned on the mixer and were splattered with frosting.

“Ah fuck!” you cried, but you were too late. splotches of sugary cream cheese flecked your face and your clothes. Guess this is why people wear aprons...

As you shut the mixer off, Twobrains surged from his resting spot behind you to make sure you were alright, and quickly got an eyeful of the mess that caused your shout. He couldn’t stop himself from snickering, or from that snicker evolving into a full on cackle. Your eyes locked on him in an annoyed glare, but his smile didn’t falter as his laughing fit subsided.

“Baby, I’m sorry, you just- you look so cute!” he giggled. And then he got an idea. A devilish idea. “So sweet too...” He lifted his hand to cup your chin, and planted a light kiss on your nose. Your glare faltered as you opted for a look of confusion. Where was he going with this?

“So sweet I could eat you right up...” he trailed off, tracing a finger down your neck and to your collarbone, right before placing a kiss on your cheek where a splotch of frosting lay. And then, without warning, he licked the patch right off.

You recoiled in shock, and watched Twobrains immediately start laughing again.

“Yep! Just like I thought. You’re delicious~” he teased.

“Argh, gross,” you complained (albeit with no real bite to your words), grabbing the nearest hand towel to wipe off the remaining frosting as your boyfriend’s cackling faded off once again. “Because you decided to be a weirdo, now you don’t get to lick the beaters,” you huffed.

Twobrains mock-gasped dramatically. “Betrayal. Scorned and denied cheese by my own lover. What ever can fill the swiss cheese holes in my aching heart now?”

You head a timer ding. “Your transgression will be forgiven if you take the cupcakes out of the oven, they’re done,” you suggested.

Drama queen he was, he straightened out and saluted, barking an affirmative “yes, chef!” before turning around and opening the oven, as you tended to the frosting bowl once more, careful not to let its contents speckle your face again, lest your dear Twobrains get any ideas.

Strange as his messing with you was, you knew it was just another way he showed his affection. In his mind, you were the cutest thing in the world, and he loved watching your reactions to his antics. You never really minded how much he toyed with you because you knew didn’t think of you as just a toy.

As you finished mixing the frosting, you felt your lover’s hands around your waist once more, his warmth enveloping you in a comforting hug. You shut the mixer off and closed your eyes, waiting for the cupcakes to cool as you let him warm you up.

#dr. two brains #dr twobrains #wordgirl #x reader #ficlet #diiiiiid someone order a domestic weirdo?#i am the rat man #i wouldn't call this spicy really it's just kinda weird #and more played for laughs than for sexy

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schismusic · 5 months

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Redecorating

I've done some pretty stupid shit in my life but this, this whole thing (imagine I'm gesturing around indistinctly with a ghastly look on my face), totally takes the cake. Is it funny if I do the tapping-the-mic-to-check-if-it-works gag in a written post?

It started when I was about to turn fifteen and trying to bed a girl - she honestly dodged a bullet when she said no, I cannot lie to you all. Anyway I guess I absolutely had to find an outlet for being an annoying teenager and being an asshole irl simply didn't cut it sometimes, you know how it is, most of us are here for that exact same reason.

A number of things have happened since I last posted on this hellsite. The short version is as follows:

I had an identity crisis, or two, or five;

I got a driver's license, somehow;

a worldwide pandemic hit, but I guess this is another one of those things that make us equal on this postapocalyptic landscape of a microblogging platform;

just as inexplicably as my driver's license, I also got a beautiful and lovely girlfriend of almost three years now;

who knows, I might even get a degree before 2024 is over.

This is all fine and dandy, of course, but sometimes a dude just needs to scream into the void, wherein "the void" in this case is about two hundred (!!!!) strangers on the internet, which probably includes you, dear reader. Thanks for sticking with me over these troublesome years of absolutely nothing happening on this blog.

What's new then?

Number one: "what the fuck kinda name is schismusic?"

Hi, my name is schismusic. I thought of this ungodly name when I was, as mentioned, a very pretentious fourteen-year-old, and it absolutely shows. However,

one could argue it's part of the charm in a way;

it grants a bit of relative anonimity compared to my other, more beloved Internet alias (which will inevitably come crashing against my inevitable post concerning my band and the record we made a while ago - more on this later);

somehow, it stuck. You people will eat up just about fucking anything, really!

(Another thing that happened: I learned a tiny bit of HTML, because Letterboxd is yet another hellsite I'm not-quite-proudly a part of. Gotta catch 'em all. I love being annoying with HTML formatting as a matter of fact, it's quite liberating to pretend to know that you can code in front of a billion strangers on the Internet.)

Number two: "so is this asshole gonna post fake hipster music on my timeline yet again?"

Not really, or at least not just that. First order of business is that reblogging is fun, but it overstays its welcome when you do it irresponsibly. It also quite literally goes contrary to this blog's original self-appointed mission and this cannot go unchecked. Pretension is law! Bad taste is every single one of this blog's ten commandments! I hate you all more than I hate myself!

Jokes aside, my point is exactly that I want to be a bit less annoying on the Internet for once. Consequently, I have decided to extend the range of posts on this blog beyond the relatively usual songs and reach into short- and medium-form writing (fiction, nonfiction, maybe even reviews: anything goes), pictures I take (the true OGs might remember I used to post my own drawings from time to time: that's not entirely out of the question for the future, it's just that it's been a while since I've last drawn anything worthwhile) and obviously shameless self-promotion (remember me mentioning my band a couple paragraphs above? Well, here is our record on Bandcamp, Spotify and YouTube; and no, my dear OGs, this is not the same band I used to talk about back in the day! This is a whole new project for you to check out), both in Italian and English, and maybe even some Spanish if I actually take my Spanish to a functional level.

As a corollary of this final point, I will not be deleting my old content, so that the new people on here can get to enjoy a whole cornucopia of cringe circa-2014 content.

Finally, since this is primarily a music blog, the obligatory soundtrack to the writing of this post:

Shoutout to literally every single one of you people for somehow not getting tired of waiting through these years of inactivity, or maybe you just forgot that I existed. If it's the second one, I hope this post was a fun throwback, and that this time you remember to unfollow me for good like you probably wanted to do back when I was active and annoying on here.

It's good to be back.

Love, schismusic

#schismusic #back to tumblr #writing #long post #music #i'm back #i missed writing random shit in the tags so much #punctuation is neat. look. it's cool!#bandcamp #spotify #youtube #comeback

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mbti-notes · 7 months

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Hi, hope you are well. :) I was wondering if you're familiar with Roger Scruton at all? I enjoy his work on aesthetics very much while gritting my teeth at his politics, and I'm fairly convinced he was INFP. I saw an old ask from an INFJ embarrassed about sharing a type with Jordan Peterson, and I feel the same way here. I can see very clearly even in myself how the desire to balance progress and tradition can lead you down a dark nostalgic golden age path if you over-indulge the Si side of it.

I wouldn't use the word "familiar". I certainly wouldn't be able to tell you his type. I know about him, I know of his ideas in very broad strokes, and it sounds like you and I are in agreement about him.

I actually remember the first time I came across his work. I was putting together a very big essay in school and one of his papers came up while I was gathering information. I recall thinking he was too old-fashioned for my taste. I guess a more blunt judgment would be "irrelevant". Every time his name came up after that, I never really felt compelled to read his work seriously. To be fair, I have always been more interested in fringe or cutting edge topics, so he never really made it onto my radar just for that reason.

I get your point about how nostalgia can distort one's perspective. Some conservatives are fond of saying "if you're not a liberal when you're young, you have no heart, and if you're not a conservative when you're old, you have no brain". I think if you ignore the insult, there is a nugget of truth in there. The fact of the matter is, as people get older, the more they've accumulated in life and it breeds an underlying fear of change and/or fear of loss. It's tied to fear of aging, fear of becoming obsolete, and, ultimately, fear of death. It not only makes people long for "the good ol' days" (as seen through rose-colored glasses), it might also compel them to fight to preserve remnants of the past, sometimes to the detriment of the future.

I wouldn't call myself conservative but I truly believe there are valid points to be made in favor of conservatism. However, the nostalgia-fueled faction has always seemed suspect to me. The desire to preserve important touchstones is a very human thing. I find myself longing for some comforting things from childhood now and then, especially during very uncertain times. But letting fear of change/loss take over your identity, your worldview, your politics, and your relationships just seems... undignified? Maybe my typism is showing, but the thought of getting lost in a past that exists mainly in my own mind seems not unlike death. When I need a reason to get up in the morning, it's always about looking forward to something.

#infp #tertiary si #si #nostalgia #philosophy #ask

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fieri-sentio-et-excrucior · 9 months

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@deathbyoctopi thanks for the fanfic game ask!

I’ll ask for The taste of rain on skin for A (even though is rather self-explanatory, plz DO TELL WHAT WERE YOU THINKING >w< aaand I should ask the Prisoner for E >:3 but won’t bc at some point we’re really getting a sequel for that one (looking forward to it!!) sooo I’ll go with Two heads are better than one.

A: How did you come up with the title to ‘The taste of rain on skin’?

I guess the title is quite self-explanatory :D Though I wanted something that wasn’t too crude for the title of an essentially smut-only fic!

In terms of where the fic itself came from, I’d recently fallen into the XueXiao rabbit hole, had been binging angst fics and had just written my own first fic for them, Liberation, which was also angsty (I couldn’t get that image of Xue Yang dying and the last thing he saw being XXC’s candy out of my head), so I decided a more light-hearted, smutty fic was needed next! And I love imagining that period of happiness when they’re in Yi City but everything hasn’t gone to shit yet. In my mind, whether he realises it or not, Xue Yang is completely gone for Xiao Xingchen – he’s the first and only person he has ever really wanted, in all senses of the word, physical but also emotional and everything. So I wanted to write a story where they get together and Xue Yang is full of hunger and desperation and urgency, and Xiao Xingchen is similar in his own more restrained way but still longing for that connection, to feel wanted rather than abandoned or alone.

E: If you wrote a sequel to ‘Two heads are better than one’, what would it be about?

You are definitely getting a sequel to the Prisoner of Jinlintai, hopefully sooner rather than later! It is getting long - now practically 90k words and still got a bit more to write! But I can’t wait to share it with you!

I am quite tempted to write a sequel to Two Heads Are Better Than One too! Though I have a few loose ideas and no real plan yet. I’m not sure if I want to go down the angsty route of they still hate each other and now XY is stuck having XXC’s & SL’s kids or down the fix-it route of they all learn to live and even be happy together, making a nice, little family… There are different ways to explore each of those options too. So it’s a bit vague, I’m sorry! I don’t want to go into too much detail in the hope that I’ll actually get around to writing the thing! But what I can say is that, as it’s an omegaverse setting, there would definitely be plenty of smut, whatever direction the story went :D

#fanfic ask game #fanfic #fanfiction #my fanfic

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thevindicativevordan · 2 years

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thoughts on Circe as a Wonder Woman rogue?

My absolute favorite Wonder Rogue and the one I personally see as Wonder Woman's true arch nemesis.

Cutting to the chase, Circe works as the archnemesis for Wonder Woman because she is the perfect foil for Wonder Woman as a character. In a nutshell, if Diana's thematic core is showcasing the power of women to be a force for good, Circe is Diana's opposite in that she shows how women can be a powerful force for evil. Circe is independent of Man's World, blessed (or cursed) by the goddess Hecate in a dark reflection of Diana's own divine empowerments from her patron goddesses - one of whom is sometimes Hecate as well. Circe rules over her own private magical island just as Diana is the princess of Themyscaria. Diana has her empowered and liberated sisters in the Amazons, Circe has her powerful but enslaved henchmen in her Beastiamorphs.

The pieces are all there for Circe to act as an ideological challenge to Wonder Woman. Central to Wonder Woman's beliefs is the idea that freed of patriarchy, women will help usher in utopia. Circe acts as a direct challenge to that assumption. She is a powerful woman unchained by the rules of Man's World, one with the kind of agency and freedom denied most women, wielding incredible power, the exact kind of woman Diana is supposed to nurture. But Circe is cruel, selfish, power-hungry, and sadistic. Far from helping her fellow women she takes delight in screwing over men and women alike, only truly caring about her own advancement. If Diana stands as the embodiment of all that is good in femininity, than Circe should be the embodiment of all that is evil. She exists to shake Diana's faith in the inherent goodness of women which the Amazons taught her about, to make her second guess the very teachings Wonder Woman is supposed to share with the world.

What I'd Do With Circe

While I do like Tynion's origin, it still isn't a perfect origin for Circe. Doesn't parallel Diana enough for my taste. Keeping in line with the original Marston spirit of revamping the Greek myths to uplift women, I would change the "truth" of Circe's background in ways that give her more agency. Making her background that of a fallen hero would additionally strengthen her as a foil for Diana.

In the myths Odysseus is the hero who accomplishes everything, with him of course bedding Circe and gaining her help in his quest to return home. She's the evil sorceress and he's the noble hero. I'd flip that so that Circe is the unsung actual heroine of the story. Odysseus suffered a shipwreck and he and his men washed up on the shores of Aeaea. Paralleling Diana and Steve, Odysseus was the first man Circe had ever met, and she was touched by his story and desire to get home, deciding that she would leave Aeaea - which in my rendition would be an island coven of sorceresses paralleling Themyscaria - and help him. They travel together, with Circe going out of her way to help those in need be they men or women, and she has a romantic relationship with Odysseus, but Odysseus promptly dumps her upon reaching home (which is also when he mentions that oh yeah, he's married) leaving her alone when he no longer needs her. Pissed and heartbroken she attempts to return to Aeaea but they end up exiling her after she endeavors to rope them into her planned revenge against Odysseus. Circe next tries to find shelter with any of the women and men she helped while travelling alongside Odysseus, but none of them show her any gratitude for her aid, and drive her away for being a witch.

Faced with the ingratitude and cruelty of the world, Circe snaps. She tried to help, to be a heroine, and the world punished her for it. Going forward the only person she would ever look out for is herself. First she makes pacts with dark powers for the strength to conquer Aeaea, inflicting horrifying revenge upon the women who raised her then banished her, and afterwards issues a curse upon Odysseus and his family, whom I would reveal are the ancestors of Steve Trevor. Then she withdraws from the world, hiding Aeaea behind a magical veil, and commits herself to acquiring her freedom from the magical patrons she made pacts with previously. Until she dissolves the bonds between herself and her patrons, she can't use her full power without becoming forcibly enslaved to their will as per the conditions of the agreement she made with them. This setup helps explain why she hasn't been an active participant in history the way her magical skills and ambition would theoretically allow her to be, instead she's hobbled by a need to find an escape from her patrons before she can pursue her global ambitions.

That takes a period of centuries, and forces her to travel the world incognito, indulging her hunger for the knowledge and power to liberate herself. Sometimes she grants requests for aid, but only ever in exchange for something in return for herself. Circe may have never found a way to escape the control of her "benefactors"... until Wonder Woman enters the picture.

Circe's Relationship With Wonder Woman

Why the obsession with Diana and the Amazons has been a question previous Wonder Woman writers have tried to answer when it comes to Circe. Usually they give Circe a history with the Amazons or a feud with Hippolyta. Circe having met a few Amazons prior to meeting Diana suits me just fine, I liked that Rucka gave her knowledge of the Amazon language and Circe should have a good grasp on who the Amazons are, but she needs to be Diana's villain first and foremost, Ares is the enemy of the Amazons as a whole. Wonder Woman, not the Amazons as a group, is the focus of Circe's obsession.

Way I'd approach their relationship, Circe learns that the Lasso of Truth can be used to unshackle herself from the oaths she swore, and she immediately manipulates Diana into helping her do so. Wonder woman complies and helps her, but forces Circe to perform a favor for her without demanding anything of Circe in return. That simple turning of the tables is what begins Circe's obsession with and hatred of Diana. After her experience with Odysseus, with her patrons, Circe simply can not bear to ever have anyone pull a fast one on her. What begins as a need to break Diana to her will grows into a fixation. Not only does Diana defy every attempt by Circe to ensnare her or get revenge upon her, but Diana foils her schemes again and again, humiliating the sorceress. And then there's the way Wonder Woman seems poised to achieve the station which Circe aspired to have back during her travels with Odysseus.

At the root of the Circe/Diana feud is jealousy. Circe can't stand that the world has embraced Wonder Woman as one of it's premiere heroes, yet when she tried to be a hero long ago she was rejected. Every effort Diana makes to spread Amazon ideals, Circe will sabotage, simply because the idea of Wonder Woman succeeding where she failed infuriates her beyond all rationality. Concurrently Circe will be putting into her own mission to reshape the nature of Man's World. Unlike the peaceful mission that Diana pursues, Circe plans to utilize deception, violence, and powerful dark magic to collapse civilization and create a New World Order. One with her at the top of the hierarchy, where she can finally make the world the way she wants it to be.

Simply put, Circe is the anti-Diana: A powerful woman who gave up her all female-paradise, tried to improve the status quo of Man's World, but instead of making the world better she was made worse. Standing as a warning to Wonder Woman of what will happen if she fails in her mission, or let's the evil in the world turn her away from the Themyscarian teachings Diana strives to uphold, Circe is the most dangerous foe Wonder Woman will ever face. Not just because of her mastery of magic, knowledge of forbidden secrets, or command of her Beastiamorphs, but because she exists as a direct challenge to Diana's faith that love is a force powerful enough to redeem Man's World. Love is what damned Circe long ago.

#wonder woman #circe #rogues gallery

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ed-recovery-affirmations · 2 years

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hey im in recovery for atypical anorexia (was afraid to eat but for reasons other than weight/appearance) and my mom has recently started suggesting I cut out as much sugar as I can from my ration. now, sweets are literally the reason im alive rn bc it's all I felt safe eating and I just. simply like the taste? and I don't even eat as much as she seems to think, for goodness sake. but she believes shes doing it for my health, since you know, weight gain, diabetes, bad teeth etc. how can I get it through to her that it's genuinely triggering to hear that and what I eat is my decision first and foremost?

Hi, I'm sorry this took so long for me to answer! You can read my pinned post, my life is kinda weird rn.

But I think this is an all-too-common problem, honestly! I feel like when people give out diet tips that they think are genuinely healthy, it "doesn't count" as triggering. But of course anything can be a trigger, food relationships are complicated, and it sounds like she herself is so caught up in diet culture things like "sugar panic" that she genuinely can't stop herself from reacting with fear when she sees you consuming sugar. I think she feels she's expressing her love by caring this much about your health, but that doesn't mean you have to accept the consequences of her lack of understanding! That will not help you heal, of course.

So first let me address that situation. Your response will depend on whether or not you are living at home. If you're not currently at home, you will be able to use these boundaries much more liberally and with less complication because you will have the power to leave a given situation. So what you say in that case might go along the lines of:

"Mom, I hear that you feel strongly about this and I understand that, but I'm stating the boundary that talking about this isn't good for me and I won't do it. If you continue to talk about this with me, I am going to leave."

When you state this boundary, REMEMBER that the goal isn't to keep her from feeling whatever feelings she may have. So if she starts to say anything along the lines of "why won't you listen, that's so disrespectful, I guess this is what I get for caring" or any other defensive response, do not engage, and do not get drawn into a pointless argument that'll only make you tired. Just say, "I'm sorry you feel that way. However, that's the boundary I've stated. It's what I need to stick to right now for my own sake." And then uphold the boundary. So if she brings it up further, or if the conversation stays negative, calmly say "All right, I've stated this boundary and it keeps getting crossed, so for the time being I am going to leave." And do it. Again, be calm. Don't make it a fight, even if you have strong feelings and you want to. But do show her that when this boundary is crossed, you will do what you need to do to maintain it. Don't make it personal, don't make it mean. But do be firm.

If you live in the house and need to maintain an ongoing living-together relationship, it might be more complicated. You can let her know that you are not going to engage the conversation and that you're going to take some space in your room to get yourself calm, but I don't know if your mother is the kind of person who would try to follow you. Again, don't make it personal and try not to engage in emotional appeals when you yourself are triggered. Remember, you are the child and she is the parent. It isn't your job to manage her mental health. End these conversations with "I'm sorry you feel that way, but I'm doing what I need to do to manage my own mental health."

But on a more positive note, this does seem to be her misguided way of showing caring for you! SO, if she seems open to listening at all, you might be able to approach her in a calm moment. Make it clear that this is really important to you and you want to be able to have open conversations about this, but you need the conversations to be healthy. You could prepare a list of "do's" and "don'ts" beforehand, and if the conversation goes well, you might even find yourself adding to it! If you think she would genuinely respond to your input on how to help you, you can provide her with suggestions on things she COULD do to be supportive, whether that's creating an environment where you feel safe to try fear foods, getting you access to vitamins and supplements, and/or learning some therapy strategies to try with you. Whatever works. Please do keep in mind that, by force of habit, she may slip up, so be prepared to calmly remind her about the "do's and don'ts" list for your healing.

On the subject of healing, I'm sure you are aware of this, but your body does need more nutritional content than is available in most sugary products. You do what you need to do to stay alive for now, but if you're not taking advantage of ED resources around you, I might suggest you look into a few other things. (SEPARATELY from your mother, at least at first, I think! Going to nutritionists' appointments with her would probably make you feel very defensive at first just because of this relationship.) But I'd recommend working with a nutritionist, and making sure you're taking enough vitamins while you try to ease yourself back into eating a wider range of foods. Perhaps you could attend psychotherapy, but there are also feeding therapy techniques for people who are avoidant to specific foods.

One more thing - if you try any or all of these things and they don't work, and your mother just won't stop, it is going to hurt that you tried to open up to her and that she would not listen long enough to approach healing on the terms you need. Understand that it is okay and valid to feel this way. If you find yourself feeling these feelings, allow yourself to process them, and know that you are allowed to feel them even if it sucks that you have to. Remember, it's not your fault or your responsibility to make any one person a better listener if they are not trying. If you come to her genuinely trying to open up about your needs and she shuts you down, that is a reflection on her ability to process tough conversations, not on yours. And you will eventually find people who do show their caring and their love by attending to you in ways that work for you.

Best of luck in working on this issue with your mom!

#ana recovery #ed recovery #ARFID #diet culture #arfid recovery #food mention #ed cw #long post #family relationships #healing

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lilly-from-the-valley · 2 years

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9:08 Oct 2022, 2.08 AM

Ran out of pen and my pencil’s a no-go, so, am writing it here.

Today marks the day former INTJ (yes, shocking) discovered that he’s actually mistyped. The guess would be very easy, but still surprised me because I never thought of it before due to how reserved he appear ((I need to stop seeing based on 16p letters which says I = introvert and E = extrovert, when we as normal people can always be inclined to one or the other depending on our situations))

Funnily, I burst into tears when he was actually serious about it. Blaming my PMS for that… also, ended up having an identity crisis and looked up online for some articles regarding his newly-discovered type. It’s childish, but I couldn’t help wondering. I did some research and articles on how can ENTJ and INFP relationship would work.

“We worked, though???” -ENTJ

We laughed it off and he suggested me to make a comic about it—a good idea, hopefully I won’t be lazy.

Previously, I did realize how he’s not obsessively Ni, if you know what I mean… He uses Ni when he needs to, when it’s helpful for him, but naturally, he’ll use Te and enjoys expressing his thoughts on what would be the best and useful for others. The issue was with us always believing him as an introvert. “Letting go of that belief was liberating.”

A few hours before 12, I got ready for us to go out and look for food and some clothes. It was different than the other days, because I chose a pretty hanbok-inspired midi dress which I bought online and ironed it. Also, did a douyin makeup look, with the intention of practicing my skills for aegyosal.

We vlogged as we reach Haru Coffee—our favorite place to get Shin Ramyun. Shin Ramyun was cheaper if bought one whole pack, but making it ourselves won’t be as delicious as how Haru’s turn out. We talked more about what convinced him to be an ENTJ and I slowly come to understand his reasonings. I needed time to accept because being with him for more than a year, really sold me the idea he’s an INTJ.

We left the place and took some photos of Haru entrance. Oh, did I mention how the cafe had expanded? From being a small corner cafe, it became an actual cafe with more space, and of course, even more korean aesthetic.

We went to our comfort mall to look for his outfit. We found a 3-piece, but the price tag had no display of how much it cost. One of the blazers show their pricing at 300+ and that made us leave the store because obviously… that’s a lot of money for one blazer. Or maybe we’re just part of minimum-wage group.

We went to Dees. Or we call it Deez (not saying it, you know it). We found one shirt, and the price was okay, but the problem was we needed a 3-piece. There were no signs of the blazers matching the shirt, so we had to find another shop.

Oh, I forgot to mention, I bought an iced coffee out of impulse. Part of me regretted it because the taste of the Iced Mocha Expresso wasn’t the same as I recalled. Also, he refused to drink it because he’s cutting off ice from his diet, for his throat. That made me a little sad, because we’d always share our cold drinks, but more for me, I guess. *slurps the thick bittersweet coffee*

We bought car wipers from a hardware store and I got myself a cheap pink earphones. He watched a video on how-to and tried putting it on his parents’ car but to no avail. Decided to ask his father, he’s an ISTP and was into cars anyway.

We went to a mall next-door, which wasn’t my favorite, because of it’s fame leading to it being packed with people on weekends. We looked for the clothes again but still couldn’t find it. So we visited the prayer room. I left my phone in the car, so he lent his. After my prayer was done, I went to the toilet for my own business and once I got out of the stall, I was met by an old woman with a grey scarf. She asked me wether it was my phone that dropped. I confidently said no, even if she asked me if I’m really sure the second time.

While walking to a restaurant, I noticed how his phone wasn’t with me. I panicked and went to the toilet from earlier to find the old lady. My heartbeat was crazy, because that wasn’t my belonging, it was his and he’ll be doomed if it gets stolen.

I went into the prayer room again and saw his phone lying in front of 2 girls. I asked them first before taking that phone, just to make sure they are actually ok with it. I clicked the lock screen button and saw his wallpaper of Beastboy and Raven. Definitely his.

Relieved, I gave it back him and he said he needed to be careful when trusting me with his phone—can’t agree more. We went to have a traditional family dinner, but I felt my period was coming so I rushed to the toilet. Though, no signs of blood. Fooled again, some of PMS signs can be frustrating, but I’m used to it.

Before continuing our earlier search, we visited a bookstore. He wanted to start collecting books and have his personal library. I let him go to motivational section while I stayed in chick-lit, fiction, and all that dreamy stuff. I stumbled upon The Diary of a Girl by Anne Frank, which piqued my interest for some reason. I saw before people saying she’s INFP, but I couldn’t be so sure.

I read some of the parts and it sold me. I was quite immersed, it really was someone’s diary. Coincidentally… her birthday was same as mine. ((sounds corny, but that fact sold me as well)) You could say that I was officially emotionally attached to it that I know I needed to get it. Considered buying online as it’s always way cheaper than off a store.

I was about to go and talk with ENTJ but he was talking to someone, which I assumed a new friend. I didn’t want to disturb them so I stood at the corner and read more pages of Anne’s diary (that sounded odd and intrusive, but it’s true!) It dragged for quite some time, but I really didn’t want to bother when he’s taking that chance of making a new friend to share about books with.

After awhile, he came to me and showed me the book—12 Rules for Life by Jordan Peterson. Of course.

I asked him about his potential new friend, but he said nah, because it turned out that guy was a business-man. ENTJ actually believed he could make a new friend to share interests with, but too bad.

Then, went to an ok price retail store, but we were distracted by other cool clothes instead of what we should actually buy.

He tried out some of the clothes, and we found the perfect black sweater and blue jeans for him. We didn’t get what we came for, but at least we found some really cool clothes.

Another incident happened, we were about to go home but I needed to clear my bladder ((thanks to that coffee)). After completing my personal task, I went to ENTJ, and stopped in my tracks when he mentioned where was my bag. I scurried back to the toilet while praying to God he’d still help me. The pink handbag was still there, truly a miracle which God had blessed.

ENTJ just laughed seeing me with my unlucky handbag. “I’ll be your reminder next time, for sure.”

We went home, while summarizing our whole day. Today was planned and unplanned. We had our goals but there was no escaping the chaos, other than adapting. I’m still thankful to God…

#entj #infp #entj x infp #infp x entj #mistyped intj #mbti #16p #16 personalities #infp struggles

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iamyelling · 11 months

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on the kids/parenthood question

i still very much feel on the fence. i finally found a community for people questioning parenthood , on reddit it's called fencesitters. currently lurking, maybe will post someday.

i am .. afraid of what the people in there will say if i write a post. it feels so complicated and i don't know if i'm able to articulate the complexities and nuance.

i. i feel .. i refuse to give up on the world. and i refuse to believe that just because the world sucks and things are very bad, that one should not have a child. i do not see how it is inherently a selfish thing, it seems to be a natural thing. i realize i used to see it as a selfish thing but i don't anymore. i dont really know what changed. i guess learning about reproductive justice, that people should have a right to have children if they want, and to be supported in doing so. i feel.. barred from it. i feel .. left out, for lack of a better word. i feel my choice is taken away and i am not allowed this human experience.

i also fear that i am not Capable of it. the vast majority of my concern is regarding executive function and all the chores and tasks. the next biggest concern is support network, friends, socializing, all the social obligations (this is connected to executive function). the third biggest concern is my own mental health and emotional stability. i am concerned that i am.. going to be This Way forever. or that there is nothing i can do. that i do not deserve to be a parent, or deserve friends or human connection. that i will be evil and toxic and horrible to everyone around me and thus will never have these experiences. that i will just be excluded and barred for life. i am afraid that i am doomed to be trapped and repeat these things..

i am of course afraid of childbirth and to a lesser degree, pregnancy. the tearing and health complications and injury.

i do believe that i would step up and be able to do it. (all the executive function and Task-ing that needs to be done as a parent). i feel i especially would if i had a bit of support. but.. then i become worried about annah's capacity for help and organization and i think about how she does not want kids and how it would require her to be fully excited and committed. i do not think there is anyone else i would want to raise a child with. she is my person.

i have more and more been finding that ... mainstream normie white het cis centrist liberal hegemonic whatever you wanna call it, culture around parenthood, is so not something i relate to or am interested in. and that is a big part of the reason i for a long time felt i did not want kids. the whole .. culture around it, the way the parents identify the way they engage with one another, the way they see themselves and their role in society, the aesthetics and just. so many things. but in pursuing leftist perspectives, and lesbian, and queer, and trans, and Black, and brown and indigenous and interracial, and poor, and immigrant perspectives, i see that it actually quite normal to have no taste for that shit and that disliking it does not mean one shouldn't be a parent or doesn't want kids. so seeing these other perspectives gives me images of what is possible. that i don't have to transform into some other person, i could still be myself.

and i do not believe that someone needs to fully have their life together to have a kid. i don't think you have to be rich and wealthy and all this fancy stuff. because like what, are poor families BAD for having kids?? that's ridiculous. of course not. people of color are not bad or selfish for having kids. and so on. it is normal to want and have kids, it is okay. humans are allowed to want and have kids. it is not some terrible sin to "bring another human into this world". I can understand that other people may feel that way about themselves but I think it becomes problematic when they apply that judgement to others. It can only be a judgement about their own life, it can't be applied to everyone else.

i am of course afraid that i would have a bad time of being a parent. that i would regret it or be depressed or burnt out or something else. dont worry, i read all the stories that i can.

it doesnt feel like a good idea to talk to either of our parents about this. and i have sort of talked to my friends about it but haven't been very supported in these feelings. well one of my friends we had a good talk a few months ago but otherwise yeah. idk.

and annah has asked that i do not discuss it with her for some time. and also that i ought not to be thinking about this when i am so unstable and our relationship is so rocky and we are financially in such a rough spot. so i can't work through these things with her either. and i can't articulate to her my position nor hear hers. since talking about it is off limits for at least a couple more months.

i just. i have to believe that i deserve to have a kid. and hearing annah say that she does believe we would be good parents was incredible. i hang on to it like a locket on my chest. i clutch it. sometimes i feel so strongly i believe so deeply that we would be good parents. and other times i am so afraid that we would be horrible and just continue the cycle. but i guess we all are everyone is and it never stopped our ancestors yknow. the world has never been awesome and great, life has never been easy, it's always been dangerous and scary and tough. why should i see it as different now. just because i know it shouldn't be so terrible? because i know what needs to be done to fix it? because these things shouldn't be happening?

i do desire to be a parent. to raise a person. teach them things, love them, care for them, show them things - places, art, music, life, adventure. i want to do that with annah. i want to make our family. i want to continue our families.

i do not want procreation to be a privilege of the rich and the cis and the straight and the white and the conservative. i do not want it to be reserved just for them. we deserve to have kids too. i want to have a kid.

and also i guess i am worried i just want a kid to prove (to myself? the world?) that i Am Capable of being a parent, of doing it. (not the procreation part, the taking care of them and having my shit together part) which certainly is a bad reason. so now i must dwell on this. do i want it just to be able to say "look i can do it" . as an achievement? i fear my question has so heavily morphed into "am i up to the task of being a parent?" that i have forgotten the focus should be on whether i want to be a parent whether i will enjoy it. i suppose i just worry so much about the tasks and chores involved that i fear i will become bad at it, struggle at it, not be up to the task, find it exhausting and hopeless and overwhelming and depressing and make me burned out. that the question of whether i will be any good at it simply takes precedence over desire.

#personal #parenting #thoughts

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holdingthewind · 11 months

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Farewell to the Lover of Earth

P.S. This isn’t a breakup letter.

It's been awhile since my love has moved me to write again. Honestly, it's been quite difficult trying to hold a thought for my own. For you see, in the past months, my words have lost their magic. Dulled by the need to be pristine, to be cut into the clearest form my thoughts could be - sans any life, any breath to it. The magic that once coated each letter I wrote suddenly diffused leaving the mirrors of thought and logic. And who wants to write about love, something so expansive and liberating, with the numbness of clear-cut perfection. So the magic left my words, but the love for you, my moon, still remained.

But it was hard for me not having that magic by my side, especially during the last months. I've never known love to be difficult but like many other things, I was challenged by this statement. My mother always said that you know a person is right for you, when loving them feels easy. For a long while I held onto that because loving should gush forth and make rivers and bleed into oceans. And just like with a lover, if the river meets an end it bends to those who can carry its breath, the rush of it adoration. But, I guess this love isn't like that. And it took me awhile to realize that. For the past months, there have been obvious tensions in our love. Not that it was fading or anything but that it wasn't as easy as I expected to be. There were times where I felt as if I conjured the divine strength of a god to contort my rivers just to meet your needs and wants. And there were definitely times that it spilled into quite a mess. And we both had to drown for a bit in it. But never once did I thought of charting a different course, because for some reason my current gravitated towards you. And you can say that my love right now tangles into one another to reach your ocean.

But I guess what was difficult for me was fighting against my own current. Why wasn't this as easy as I imagined ? Does this signify anything ? Was I being delusional ?

It was hard to grapple with the fact that it did hurt me, in the ways I didn't expect it to. But lately, I've been looking into the river of my love and see how it pushes against the ocean, but is being slowly pulled above into your love, the moon. All this time I thought my love was supposed to expand into an ocean of infinite. But there could never be an infinite in the ocean, for men had to walk at some point, but you, you were made to ascend to the stars where infinite is nothing but a dream-like reality, the infinite was a blanket that embraced you and your entirety.

How could I have been so blind. Loving a moon and thinking that the ripples of your light across the gentle waves was the entirety of you. For here you were all along , trying to bring me into space. Here you were giving me a taste of infinity.

Now looking into my river didn't feel so complicated. It didn't feel as lonely as it sometimes did. For in the gravity of your love, my rivers rose but it also dwindled whenever the pull was weak. But it persisted. It still was a river, it still was your river. My love still belonged to the moon, regardless of how it looked, regardless of what we had to work around to get there. My moon, my love, I'm sorry if I ever limited you by my vision of where love ought to be. But now I see, my love, that our love has always been free. Not because it was easy, but because despite the terrain, our love was enduring , and will continue to live in many other forms.

And now I yearn to be closer to your infinity. I wish to learn a love as freeing as you. I wish for my rivers to dissolve into air and become the heavens, beside you. I wish to push through the atmosphere and break into particles and become the very space that embraces you. For it's quite lonely being up there and loving a river. And I will get there my love, I will. For too long has the earth grounded to what things should be and now I wish to truly be free and float in your love up there.

No longer will I be a lonesome river, a lover of Earth, but now I will be the very space, a lover of the Moon. And now with the magic of my words slowly seeping in as I fly to you. I hope to love you with more than I have already given.

I love you and may our love endure.

Closer to you,

Kin

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phercynoya · 1 year

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We’re Alone in This Together

Some spoilers for the play The Reconciliation Dinner.

The last national elections felt like it drove a divisive wedge between our intimate connections. Ties were severed. Walls were raised. Those happen as the ego tries to keep itself safe in a social environment where hostility is encouraged and monetized.

The one-act play “The Reconciliation Dinner” written by Floy Quintos revolves around these themes. The bond between two families slowly eroded as their political positions placed them in two separate sides. Dina (Stella Cañete-Mendoza) tries her best to reconnect with her best friend Susan (Frances Makil-Ignacio) and her husband Fred (Jojo Cayabyab) after a tense exchange over dinner left a sour taste in their mouths and the ensuing cold war of words and unexpressed frustrations drove them apart.

The scenario is all too familiar. Quintos pretty much covers how middle class families socialize during a period of tense political turmoil. Everyone tries to play nice to keep the peace and keep a semblance of social order.

Bert, (Randy Medel Villarama) Dina’s husband, captures the toxic masculinity enabled by the popular Rodrigo Duterte and emulated to some degree by Isko Moreno (he bears some resemblance to the latter). Akin to his strongman idols, he tends to escalate conversations and take things personally. It would be nice if more depth is given towards his reasons for voting BBM. He felt more like a caricature throughout the play. Dina is generally on the fence, just there to support her husband all the way, while acting as referee when tensions rise. Fred and Susan try to be polite (partly to continue currying favors from their wealthier friends and avoid conflict) but they do not simply back down from an argument when they hear something they don’t agree with. Each exchange always ends in a pissing contest where the goal is to feel comfort and vindication for their personal choice.

It is great to see that the underlying dependencies (besides their friendship) between Dina and Susan are made clear, making it difficult for them to simply call it quits. Susan’s business relies on keeping good relations with generous clients. Dina gets much needed emotional support from Susan that she can’t find from her husband and do not want to demand from her daughter, especially given her current struggle. They are also the godparents of each other’s child. My favorite interactions are between Dina and Susan, because the actors are fantastic at portraying old life-long friends.

The younger generation are clearly bolder and have more polarized views than their parents. Phi Palmos’ Norby owned the stage whenever he is given the spotlight. He fits the role of a youthful Kakampink quite well. Mica (Hariette Mozelle) suffers from the same fate as his father. Her character as a scheming and aggressive BBM supporter lacks nuance. This can be attributed more on the material, not the actor.

(As an aside, I personally find it distasteful whenever the queer character is playfully flirting with a married man in a work of fiction, usually for comedic and/or dramatic effect. This feels like an unintended reinforcing of dangerous stereotypes that do not really add much value to the play.)

And then there’s the wildcard Ely (Reb Atadero). He has the most hilarious lines and his chaotic ideology captures that shitposter account you follow who is neck-deep into the meme-ry of Reddit and Twitter that no one else in the room fully gets him.

I like the portrayal of social media banters and snide remarks between the first and last dinners, a quick battle of wits between people who want to express their support, and the satisfaction of feeling right about their choices. This sequence, along with each character’s monologue generally works well.

Quintos’ politics is clear throughout the play. I guess what I would have wanted is a perspective outside the middle class. I, as a middle class citizen with generally liberal views, feel like this is portraying a segment of the internet that I am already seeing online. The conversations are all too familiar, and sure this makes it easy to empathize and relate with the story and characters. But in the end, I am hearing stories that I have already heard over and over thanks to a sinisterly designed algorithm that seeks to make me happy in doomscrolling late at night.

I would also relate this concern to how BBM supporters are portrayed in this setting. There is constraint in depth if conversations are kept within a single class.

The play in itself, is an echo chamber. Or perhaps it is the point after all?

As the play winds down, I really felt bad for everyone, especially for Dina. She is stuck, like all of us. We have to deal with the emotional toll of an unforgiving system, and we are left to fend for ourselves. The short-term highs of personal victories, milestones, and won confrontations cannot mask the shittiness of our current state, and the best thing we can do is hold on to our closest forms of support.

In the end, she had to settle with what’s left.

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inhuman-obey-me · 3 years

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Deadly Envy

Word Count: 1.8k Description: Perhaps directing insults directly to the Avatar of Envy's face is a mistake -- or, Leviathan reminds some demons of their place. Part of the A Demon's Nature series. Finally got back to continuing this, so here's Leviathan! Apologies for the delay, hope this is okay;; Note: Vepar is a demon associated with the sea and is one of the 72 demons that Solomon has a pact with, mentioned in the Ars Goetia. They were often depicted as a merman. Lassal is a minor demon named in the Liber de Angelis and is associated with the moon. Can also be found on AO3 here. content warning: blood, brute force violence, mild gore, use of hallucinogens

The Avatar of Envy was not one to find comfort in being alone with his thoughts, but there were times where he would wander to a certain cove by the oceanside, a place just for him where he found a sense of peace, a sense of belonging. The taste of salt in the air, the gentle spray of ocean mist, the sound of the waves crashing into the surrounding rocks -- yes, this was another home for him, one he dearly missed.

Leviathan closed his eyes, basking in the light of the Devildom moon as he debated going into the water tonight. It would be nice to go for a swim, but he was also itching to get back home and watch the latest episode of the anime he had recently gotten into.

“Well, well, who do we have here?”

Leviathan’s eyes snapped open, his body tense as he recognized the voice of the demon who unceremoniously interrupted him.

“Vepar,” the name left the sea serpent’s lips in a near hiss. “What are you doing here?”

“Why, enjoying the view this fine evening. I assume you’re doing the same? What a surprise, to see you actually outside! I thought you loved the computer screen more these days.” They laughed, a ripple of malice present in what should have been a joyous sound.

Of all demons, why did it have to be Vepar that had found his sanctuary? Every time Leviathan looked at them, or thought about them, envy bubbled in his chest and filled every fiber of his being.

Vepar had been one of the angels who fell alongside the brothers in the Great Celestial War - one of the few survivors outside of his family - and had been a rather high-ranking officer in the army at the time. After becoming a demon, they managed to become a Captain in Hell’s Royal Navy, following Leviathan as his subordinate. Or, that’s how it would have appeared, if it wasn’t for the fact that Vepar had seemingly lost all respect for their superior.

Their relationship was practically non-existent these days, as the Royal Navy hadn’t been active in centuries. They were never terribly close to begin with, but a great chasm seemed to have opened up between them as the years passed and Leviathan watched Vepar be so … successful.

How was it that this demon who ranked beneath him had managed to climb up so much higher in the social sphere? In true normie fashion, they had no issue conversing with strangers and seemed to make friends wherever they went. They were smooth with their words, charming with their smile, and always knew the right thing to say.

Except when it came to Leviathan.

“What’s with that look? I was just speaking the truth, wasn’t I?” Vepar grins, their mockery obvious. They brush a long lock of hair from their face before looking over their shoulder. “Oh, Lassal, look who I found!” They call out behind them, and soon another demon appears from the dark, his wispy white hair reflecting the moonlight. He was one of the lesser demons who seemed to cling to Vepar whenever they were together.

“Ah, Lord Leviathan..!” Lassal starts a bit nervously, unsure how to act in this situation. After all, he often joined in on the endless ribbing of the Avatar of Envy. The Greater Demon was never around to hear it, so what was the harm? “It’s, uh, nice to see you.”

“I was just telling him how strange it was to see him here. After all, I don’t think there’s a video game store anywhere near this area.” Vepar continues, the deriding smile still on his face. “Such a rare sighting of the ever-elusive demon. And all alone, too … but, I suppose it’s true that you don’t have any friends.”

Leviathan glares at the long-haired demon, his hands now curled into fists as they continue their jabs. Has he really become such a joke? Of course, a worthless otaku like me doesn’t deserve any respect, he thinks, They only care about my position when they have to…

“I would offer you to join us, but… hmm, you’d honestly just kill the mood.” Vepar shrugs, turning to Lassal, and attempts to get him to join in. “Isn’t that right? I mean, we all know how pathetic he is!”

The jealous thoughts continue to invade his mind. They only care because of my brothers. I’m obviously the weakest link, huh? Even Solomon liked Vepar enough to make a pact with them … they might be even better friends than we are …

“R-right!” Lassal easily bends to the other demon’s will. “Sorry, Leviathan, but you’re not really fun to have around.”

And then they feel comfortable enough to talk like this to me, to my face?! They have all the qualities I lack, everything is so much easier for them, and I’m just a laughing stock who only deserves mockery, huh? Is that it..?

“Oh, so polite. Come now, weren’t we talking earlier of how sad of a demon he is?”

“Yeah,” All nervousness is gone from Lassal, a rather smug expression taking over his features instead. “It’s hard to believe that he’s one of the demons ruling over us...it’s funny because even he knows how depressing he is, isn’t that right?”

They really think they’re so much better than me?!

“And to think, he’s Grand Admiral -- ”

“SHUT UP!” Leviathan finally speaks, his envy burning hot and turning into rage as he lunges at Vepar, his claws digging into their throat. “You actually think you can just talk to me like that?” His eyes shift, turning more snake-like while ink spreads through his sclera. His horns grow larger, his tail longer, and his teeth look a bit too sharp when he growls at them. “May I remind you that YOU serve under ME?”

A gargled choke manages to leave the caught demon’s mouth, their eyes wide in surprise. Lassal, who let out a squeak of terror when the third-born attacked, was trying to scurry away from the scene -- only to be caught by Leviathan’s tail in a tight grip.

“And where do you think you’re going?” The sea serpent shot a deadly glare at the lower-level demon, hoisting him up into the air to dangle upside-down. Leviathan turns his attention back to the other demon, trying to stop himself from ripping their head off right then and there.

“I might not be the most sociable guy, or the most popular, or the coolest, or … whatever! But if you really think you can just talk shit to my face and get away with it, you’ve got another thing coming.” His forked tongue slips through his lips with a menacing hiss. “It seems you both need a reminder that I’m the Third Demon Lord, your superior, your Greater, your ruler.”

“I-I’m sorry…” Vepar manages to get out, their previous haughty air vanishing as dread sunk in, a heaviness sinking into their bones. “I--”

“Oh, save your fucking apologies, Vepar!” Leviathan spits at their face. “If it wasn’t for your little pact with Solomon, I would kill you this instant.” He momentarily digs his claws further into their skin. “Your little friend, on the other hand…”

Lassal whimpers, trying to shake his head furiously. “P-please Lord Leviathan! I-I only said such things b-because Vepar made me! They -- “ His words are cut off with a choke as the Avatar’s tail tightens around their neck as Leviathan brings him close to his own face.

“Wow, throwing them under the bus? I guess I can’t expect anything more from the likes of you.” Leviathan sneers, the claws of his free hand going to drag down along Lassal’s face, venom leaving their tips and entering his bloodstream. With a flick of his tail he slams Lassal into the ground head-first, the jagged rock they were upon cracking slightly from the force. “If you thought I was going to go cry in my room because of your taunting, you were sadly mistaken.”

Lassal’s skull was fractured, blood dripping from the head wound caused by impact. If he was trying to say anything more, it came out in incoherent words and sounds, which soon turned into struggling screams. The venom that now coursed through his veins had a hallucinogenic quality that made the victim feel as if they were drowning, and it seemed to be working rather well. Leviathan thrashed him about again, making sure to smash his skull against the rock over and over and over and over and --

“Leviathan, stop! He’s dead!” Vepar screams, managing to get some more words out as the grip on their throat had slightly loosened while the Avatar was preoccupied with the other demon. Leviathan makes sure to deliver one more whack for good measure before dropping Lassal to the ground, his head smashed to bits and nothing more than a messy pile of bone, blood, and flesh.

“So he is.” His voice is cold, distant. His orange-purple eyes are glowing as he turns his attention back to the still living demon. “Now, as for you, Vepar… what was it that you wanted to say earlier? Something about how you couldn’t believe I could still be called the Grand Admiral of Hell’s Navy?”

“I-I didn’t say that, I just … look, I’m sorry, okay? You just a-appeared to have become so weak, you -- “

“...became an easy target?” Leviathan finishes their thought. “Well, let this be a lesson, Vepar. Think you’re better than me all you want, think you have so much more than I do, but at the end of the day…” He drags his claws down Vepar’s chest, sharp points sinking into their flesh and creating several large gashes that spurt dark ichor. They bite their lip in an attempt to hold back their cries of pain, tears streaming down their cheeks. “...I am at the top. I have more power than you do, and I will make sure that your existence will be a miserable one if you dare challenge me again.”

Mumbled words left Vepar’s lips, soon followed by a sharp cry when Leviathan sank his claws into their torso once more.

“What was that?”

“Y-yes Grand Admiral, sir. N-never again, sir!” The words tumbled out without a second thought, the demon trying not to let his body tremble too much from the mix of fear and pain.

“Good.” Leviathan retracts his claws and lets Vepar slump to the ground to their knees, his cold gaze lingering on them for a moment before looking over to the mangled corpse of Lassal. Turning away from the scene, Leviathan begins to walk away, raising a hand in the air.

“Clean that mess up.” He pauses, looking over his shoulder to fix the fellow sea demon a menacing glare. “And that’s an order.”

#obey me #obey me swd #obey me!#obey me leviathan #om! leviathan #obey me fic #demons being demons #series: a demon's nature #writings #the all encompassing [mod] cosmos #have some cool and violent levi which we need more of <3

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