#I try to keep in mind that getting it done and out the way is enough sometimes

[shannoneichorn]

Ooh! Pick me! This is the path I've started down and want to get better at.

Both my churches have been participating in our city's Pride parade the last several years. I go with my roommate from a mission trip to our denominatuon's churches in Cambodia--and her wife. And one of my LGBT family members. And some allies from work. And meet up with my LGBT friends from work, who join different parts of the parade.

The longer I live, the clearer it's become that the public school sex ed I had was wholly inadequate. The US is actively harming itself by not investing in better.

I adore my atheist husband and atheist/agnostic/pagan friends. I know my denomination doesn't ascribe to universal salvation, but it's the only thing that makes sense to me.

God fashions variety. No reason we should stamp it out of cultures. I have a problem with trying to convert people instead of gently inviting them to join the community. My ideal church would be a gathering place for all with a subset of activities dedicated to spiritual support/worshiping in community, and I think both my churches are partway there.

It blows my mind that any Christian who grew up hearing about being stewards of the Earth would support environmental harm and environmental injustice. But you know, the church is full of all kinds of people, some of whom are great at cognitive dissodence and terrible at logic. (They're allowed to be wrong.)

I'm part of the second largest Protestant denomination in the US (at least in 2013--a lot has changed since then). On the one hand, it's the denomination I grew up in, and there's a certain amount of lazy comfort in just sticking with it. On the other hand, I also stuck with it because it explicitly acknowledges science and rationalism. God gave us minds and access to tools with which to explore Creation--like science and math and social sciences and literature (since we are part of Creation, too, and lit is great for exploring ourselves).

There is a documented history around how the Bible and translations developed. Many human hands were involved, and humans are limited not only by their own biases but also by the knowledge that was available to them at the time and the culture in which they lived. The Bible can be divinely inspired, but I keep thinking that its components were, first and foremost, written for the audiences of their times. It's amazing how it can still be so meaningful today, but not all the issues of today are addressed within--and they shouldn't be. An active faith requires synthesis of learning and applications to new situations in ways that are consistent with the Spirit of love and compassion that the Bible describes.

I...haven't encountered antisemitism at church...? Like Muslims, those are people we share a distant religious heritage with. They're like second cousins. Maybe treat everyone with kindness and respect, the way Jesus would? This...should not be hard to grok. (I feel like I could do better here, but at least it's a start.)

I'm jumping on this opportunity to shout about this, because it's been bothering me. Yes, we need to be louder, but also... There are reasons why I'm not.

Christians are doing so much harm right now, and I don't want to be associated with it. Churches have done so much harm, and I don't want to remind the people around me who have finally gotten out of it. (Part of me thinks, my church would never! But churches are communities of imperfect people, and at the very least, wherever people gather, there will be drama and hurt feelings. And denial when abuses do happen. And also, many churches haven't been on the forefront of all we've learned about psychology in the last 50 years, and there are also harmful cultural habits where communities haven't rooted them out.)

And also, I want my friends, neighbors, and acquaintances to believe I'm safe to be around. Evangelizing does not accomplish that goal. Caring for people has to come first, or what's the point?

Thank you for this call to be louder. I shall now go back to hiding under my rock/bushel.

In general, I think it's currently really important for progressive Christians to be very loud about being both progressive and deeply religious Christians, and for everyone else fighting for progressive values to be supportive of them doing just that. I know that's like, idk, counter-intuitive or cringe or whatever, but seriously folks, the alternative is that progressive Christians have to be quiet about their faith to be accepted within broader secular and interfaith progressive advocacy, which means that the regressive asshole Christians (a) sound that much louder and (b) dominate the USian religious landscape all the more. That's a problem, for all of us.

We need people pushing back within the faith as well as outside of it, because that destroys any edifice that this is about Christianity and religious freedom.

You can be a devout Christian and also:

Openly, proudly, and without being forced to remain celibate or otherwise limit your full expression of self, identify as LGBTQ+ or be a supportive ally.

Advocate for full reproductive autonomy and comprehensive sex education.

Love and support people of other religious groups, non-religious people and/or atheists, by choosing to believe that a truly loving God would not pursue anything less than universal salvation.

Stand against evangelism and proselytizing as they have thus far been interpreted and used, because there are ways to interpret the Great Commission that don't promote colonialism and cultural genocide.

A steward of the earth, protecting God's beautiful creation and lovingly tending to it as the unique and incredible gift that it is.

A believer in science, rationalism, and human progress as part of God's divine plan for humanity.

A believer in history and someone who understands that the Bible can be both divinely given and open to interpretation (no really)(if you're confused, please talk to a knowledgeable traditional Jew)

An ally to Jews, who stands against supercessionism and antisemitism in the church.

And in before regressive Christians come shouting at me that (1) what do I know, I'm a Jew and (2) no lol you can't because of ___ reason:

My source is that I've personally met and talked to Christians of great faith and integrity - people who embody the closest forms of kindness I've seen to what Jesus himself advocated - who are each of these things.

It is 100% possible; you just choose to believe otherwise.

[revelboo]

Would it be okay to request an Inexperienced scenario with Brainstorm and Perceptor? I love your writing for the inexperienced scenarios and as a girlie who hasn't been with anyone, I heart setting my first into the hands (or servos, in this case) with the scientists.

Sure! 🔞 Mass displaced mechs 🌶️ fem bits mentioned

Inexperienced

Brainstorm x Reader x Perceptor

• Flustered as they both wait for your answer, you chew on your bottom lip. After spending all your time with them, getting to know them both and falling in love, the three of you haven’t gotten that far, the two bots trying to let you move at your own pace. Which has been glacially slow. Apparently not realizing you’re too shy to make a move, too embarrassed to admit you’ve never done this before, that you’re inexperienced when it’s obvious they’re not. They’ve invited you to join them, coaxed you, but you keep hesitating.

• You’re going to say no again. You always do and even though he tries not to take it personally, Brainstorm can’t help but wonder if it’s him. If you’d say yes if it was only Perceptor asking you. Knows he can be a lot, that he’s too opinionated sometimes, but if he doesn’t speak up, it feels like he fades into the background. But when you smile at him? Or ask questions and listen to him explain his projects? He feels seen. Validated in a way he’s desperate for. Loves Perceptor, but the bot can get lost in his own work and doesn’t always have time for him. And he worries that if he asks for more, Percy might resent it. Resent him.

• “We’re not trying to pressure you” Perceptor says, and he vents loudly when Brainstorm mutters ‘I am.’ Glaring tiredly at the other bot as he shrugs, Perceptor reaches out a hand and smiles when you lay your hand in his, let him run his servos over the back of your hand, feeling your warmth and your delicate bones under the skin. So unlike them. ‘It’s just interfacing, no big deal,’ Brainstorm adds as your face flushes, shoulders lifting slightly. Embarrassed. “We don’t mind waiting for you to feel comfortable with this,” Perceptor says and he kicks Brainstorm when he growls that he does mind.

• Flustered as you look from one to the other, then to your hand in Percy’s, his servo sliding against you. He’s always so patient where Brainstorm is all demands, the two polarized so you feel like you’re being pulled in two different directions sometimes. Falling for both of them for different reasons and when they’d explained that they didn’t mind sharing, that they were already together and wanted you with them, it had been surprising. But you’d wanted to say yes that first time. “You’re not. It’s just, I haven’t done this before,” you manage and Brainstorm clears his vents. ‘What? Threesomes?’ Well, that, too. “No, sex,” you whisper, wishing the floor could open up under you and swallow you as they both just freeze, staring at you. Judging. Know they’re judging, because you’re judging yourself.

• That wasn’t what he’d expected. And Brainstorm just stares at you as you avoid their optics. That’s why you keep shutting them down? “So I could be your first?” He growls, spike stirring behind his modesty panel at the thought and Perceptor’s optics narrow. “Ruin you completely for fleshy, human spikes and valves?” Grinning behind his mask as you just put your face in your hands, he knows Percy is about to punch him most likely, but he can’t let go of that thought. Needs to be the first to touch you, to have your trust, feel you come apart.

• Why is he like this? Venting as he gently squeezes your hand to get your attention away from Brainstorm, Perceptor smiles. “We’d take care of you. Go slow and if you want to stop, we can,” he coaxes, thankful that Brainstorm has the sense to not contradict him. Because if you want to stop, they will even if he has to drag the other bot away. ‘Okay,’ you say, voice so soft he almost misses it. Trusting them.

• Percy tugs you gently into him, his free hand cupping your jaw and neck as his mouth covers yours. And Brainstorm squirms his palms down your pants, startling you as he growls against the back of your neck. You lose track of whose hands are where, whose mouth is on your neck, your shoulder. Stripping with Brainstorm’s impatient help, hearing Percy growling at him to slow down. Every touch heating your blood, hearing their fans click on, the rumbling and heat of their internal systems against you. Naked, you’re eased down, lying back against Perceptor as Brainstorm’s mask retracts and his cheek brushes your inner thigh, those weird cables at the corners of his mouth rubbing against you. Self conscious as the bot between your thighs vents, mouth sliding against your inner thigh before his lips brush you and you arch with a gasp.

• Glossa sliding against you as one of your heels squeaks on the berth as you try to push back, to escape him. And that’s not happening even if Percy wasn’t holding you. Mouth exploring your softness, tasting you, he growls. You’re alien, but your valve is familiar enough, but so soft, silken and slick inside. Finds the little nub of your node and you squirm when he sucks it. Your hands land on his helm, hips trembling. Not pushing him away, though.

• Cheek brushing yours as Brainstorm growls against you, Perceptor listens to your soft whimpers and moans. Sliding his hands over your heated skin as you buck your hips against the other mech’s mouth to urge him on. “If he does a good job, he can have a reward,” Perceptor murmurs and Brainstorm’s optics flick up to him hungrily. It’s a promise and a reminder that you’re trusting yourself to them to be your first, to be your mates.

• Squirming when his mouth on you feels like it’s almost too much, you gasp and your head falls back against Percy, grabbing onto one of his arms wrapped around you as you heat and Brainstorm doesn’t ease up. Your climax taking you by surprise as you cry out, feeling his glossa sliding against you, inside you. And Brainstorm rears up over you both, a hand braced on Percy’s shoulder before he kisses the other bot with your taste on his glossa to make you shiver as you’re pinned between them.

• Glossa sliding against Percy’s, Brainstorm rumbles as he releases his spike to pressurize against your belly, feeling you squirm between them. “I was promised a reward,” he growls when his head lifts, lips twitching. And Percy shakes his head at him, pushing until he backs off and Percy cups your cheek. ‘Come here.’ Brainstorm grips your hips, lifting you up to settle you against Perceptor’s mouth as the bot’s hands cup your sides. “Percy.” Smirking when the bot finally releases his modesty panels to reveal his valve and spike. Letting him choose which he wants.

• Staring up at you as his mouth slides against you, you’re already so slick from Brainstorm, but Perceptor wants to make sure you’re ready to take them both. And he groans as Brainstorm’s spike spears into him, hips snapping. Taking the edge off with him so he can go slow with you. Hopefully. You’re getting more confident, moving against his mouth as he sucks and licks and Brainstorm ruts into him. Right where you finally belong.

• You’re still humming from your last release, sure that you can’t come again and your body surprises you as he sucks you clit. And you’re depending on Preceptor’s hands for balance as you come apart, rocking against his mouth as Brainstorm drives into Percy, hearing the sharp sound of Brainstorm’s hips smacking into him. “Ride me, you set the pace,” Percy groans and you look back at his erect spike. “Take as much as you want.”

• Pausing mid thrust and buried deep when you look back at him uncertainly, Brainstorm reaches for you. Grinding against Percy, the bot’s thighs on either side of his hips, he helps you scoot back. Needing to move and to help get you settled, so his jaw is working with the effort to not pound into Percy. Wants to see you ride Percy. Then take him. Helping you lift up, face flushed as he reaches between your thighs and helps guide Percy’s spike to you. “Go slow,” he rumbles, watching you rock your hips hesitantly. Then press down and gasp. “Slow.”

• Hands on your hips as you hesitantly move on him, rocking yourself against his spike, Perceptor groans watching you. The head of his spike not even inside you yet and he’s struggling to be still, to not move with you teasing him and Brainstorm’s spike stretching him. “We can take a break if you need it,” he growls, almost certain you’re too tight to take him yet. That you’re going to hurt yourself trying.

• Slow. Hips rocking as you tease yourself with the slight burn of his spike stretching you, unable to look away from Percy’s hungry expression as he watches you. His and Brainstorm’s hands on you, helping support you so you don’t sink down on him too suddenly. Their patience so unexpected as you press down a bit, hips rolling and you tremble as the head of his spike suddenly sinks into you. And your head falls back against Brainstorm as you gasp. Feeling Percy stretching you, feeling the burn of him filling you, the pressure uncomfortable, edging into painful as you rock yourself and your heart goes racing.

• “Look at Percy. Feel good?” Brainstorm asks, trying to distract you as you tremble, breathing growing quick. Feels you trembling against his chassis as you squirm, getting used to the feel of Percy’s spike inside you. And he’s growling as he begins moving inside Percy, his thrusts rocking you on Percy. “He’s ours, isn’t he? His spike, his valve. Those belong to us.” Feeling when you take a deep, shuddering breath and begin to move with slow movements. Growing more confident as you go and his hands slide against your skin. “Let’s frag him senseless.” Hears you moan, head back against him as you ride Percy in uncertain little movements. Fascinated with watching you figure out what you enjoy, what feels good to you. Because you’re theirs.

• Denta gritted as you ride him and Brainstorm’s hips pump, Perceptor arches. You’re going so slow it’s almost torture as Brainstorm ruts into him. Your need dark eyes and soft noises off pleasure, Brainstorm’s snarls, and his own groans mingle together. And Brainstorm swears, hips snapping against him as he overloads, the heat of the other bot filling him tipping him over the edge and you fist his spike as he releases inside you and his head falls back, venting raggedly.

Starscream plushies

If any of you work in a doctor’s office and are tasked with calling with test results- if someone asks you a question you’re not 100% certain of, please don’t give the patient an answer. Just say you don’t know, so they don’t get blindsided when they go in for a follow up.

[johannestevans]

a thing i love about kai winn is the way in which she is OBSESSED with personal responsibility as a way of absolving herself of her influence over others.

it's bareil's CHOICE to kill himself because she won't tell him not to. it's people's CHOICE to follow their d'jarras. "i won't interfere."

this poor insane and absurdly scarred woman who is repeatedly and continuously rejected by her own gods. a starfleet human is their new messiah, to whom the prophets continuously reach out. the prophets are speaking to everybody but her - not just kira, youthful and disobedient and chaotic

but fucking. more humans. a trill. odo. a FERENGI!!!!

forsaken by the prophets during the occupation and like… it's so easy for kira to judge her, she thinks, when kira had weapons, and winn never did. all she had was her mind and her ability to talk and manipulate and bribe

and she is so absurdly lonely. she's no longer in a prison cell the way she was for most of the occupation, but she may as well be. everyone thinks her cold and treacherous - the ds9 cmo calls her a coward to her face! her!!!! a priestess who has survived a genocide, this CHILD, calls her a coward!!

and in her mind i think it's just. so much easier to think of everything in terms of… people make choices. she's not making anyone do anything. she's not holding a gun or the weight of an occupying force. she's not making any threats. people can just make their choices. like she has - has had to

and like. god. her gods do not give a single fuck about her. when she's finally able to reach out to them outright that they do not think about her and if they did they would think she's fucking cringe. when your own gods say you're not worth shit, well, okay! i guess she'll do whatever then!

i understand why people have like. a massive knee jerk response to winn - i do think that people wrongly conflate her fundamentalism with american christian fundamentalism & its ideologies, bc like. she is not an american. she is not a member of the dominant culture. she is a genocide survivor

and god like. you can see the acid in her mouth whenever she's negotiating with the cardassians, but more than that like. kira as a member of the bajoran militia works very closely with starfleet, and she's also federation-pilled from hanging out with those rootbeer-drinking freaks 24/7

winn doesn't have that. all she has is the knowledge that starfleet watched the cardassians rape and pillage and abuse and murder her people for decades and not give a flying fuck because the bajorans didn't have anything they wanted. and then the wormhole appeared. and suddenly they were helping

and idk like. she's so painfully uncomfortable with quark naming a fucking dessert after her and trying to get her to try it bc she's not a fucking celebrity and she doesn't want to be.

kira accuses her of wanting fame and her place in history but that's so clearly not what she cares about

she genuinely DOES want what's best for her people. and unfortunately, like kira, she very much has an all or nothing spirit about the whole thing. for winn, that doesn't mean bombing the families of oppressors or blowing up DS9 to stop the cardassians from taking it. it means shit like this

taking every single advantage she can get, using up her assets even when those assets are dying in front of her, even when super fucking unethical medical stuff is being done - letting bareil die when, really, he didn't need to, just for one treaty where there will be others, frankly

but kai can't think of all the people she's killing or leaving behind, because she's not that kind of strategician and she's not ACTUALLY interested in Going Down In History. what she wants, what she has always wanted, is to save what she sees as The Core of Bajor as best she can, and preserve it

part of that is saving people, redirecting prison ships, fucking off the cardassians, getting these treaties signed. part of that IS keeping starfleet at arm's length and, frankly, ensuring that bajor doesn't become a federation planet and get subsumed into federation culture.

and most of all it's faith and doctrine and her fundamentalist understandings of bajoran texts and the teachings of the prophets, because that is what helped her survive, and therefore, in her fucked-up head, all that MUST survive in perpetuity

god. i love that awful woman

[puppygirlsnout]

1. Trans women are hurt by this too??? The article you listed literally talks about how this bill targets trans women in the first couple paragraphs. Iswtg yall don't read your own sources on here

2. Nobody is against transmasc specific language. There are objections to the term "transandrophobia" because it's a very obvious "but what meeeeee. What about men" response to transmisogyny. Also the idea of "androphobia" or hatred of masculine traits on a structural level is very antifemininst at its core. It's obvious of you think about it for five or so seconds.

3. A large portion of hate transfems receive comes as a source of their "rejection of masculinity" they are viewed as a stain on the male oppressor class by staining themselves with femininity. At the same time, we are also viewed as invaders of women's spaces, putting "the real wombyn" in danger by our "male presence" this is part of the "third, worse thing" that transfems are treated as, a very foundational part of transmisogny. I also can't tell you how showing it is that you state that this treatment is unique to transmascs while claiming to vy for "listening to others experiences." it's showing how despite the fact you claim to be open minded to others, while yelling right over transfems with no consideration for our experiences. It begs the question, are you telling us to listen, or are you telling a bunch of "whiny bitches" to sit down and shut up when the men are talking.

4. The dehumanizing I've seen towards transmascs comes from expression of feminene traits, not masculinity, or not matching to the identity they claim. This is, misogyny and transphobia intersected of course, but a transfem could just as easily suffer this. Tran women are often harassed for this too, often facing claims of being a "fake woman" whereas transmasculine people will be clocked as "actually a woman." You can see that, while transmascs are reduced to their assigned gender at birth, as is common with trans people, trans women are seen as this worse, third thing. In this way, transfems get the worst of both worlds, and a third of their own as well, making this dehumanizing and sexualization you claim to be transmasc unique, not so transmasc-exclusive after all.

I dont want to minimize your personal experiences, and I don't want to speak over you, so I'll keep this brief. but I would ask you to consider what your mother would have done if it was a "son" wearing a dress. Think about what your mother would've done if it was a "son" trying to be feminine. Because I don't think she would welcome that with open arms.

If you want to say transphobia on a stage is exclusive to transmascs, you are so out of touch that it's incredibly concerning. Do you know how often people like Matt rife of Dave chappele will just get up on stage and shit on transfems? Do you want to talk about how people will spew lies about us being crazed rapists who want to get into women's spaces for sexual assault? This point is perhaps the most telling of them all. This shows that you 1. Did not take transfems into account at any point writing this 2. Do not even listen to transfem experiences, while telling people to listen to yours. Can you make your misogyny any clearer?

Your claim that transmascs have been erased more than anyone else is just ridiculous. Once again you are blatantly ignoring transfem experiences. You have to consider, there is more then one kind of erasure. When someone who was a "crossdresser" (feminine) is shown in history, that is more often then not all they are. Unless if they are shown unfavorably, then, they are every awful thing you can think of, because they were a sick crossdressing mental case. When someone is overshadowed by this one aspect of their life, this one major thing, it is also erasure. Erasure of trans women as people. Erasure of trans women as anything more then some boogeyman, outside of man or woman, some third, monstrous thing. And transfem erasure is more than that. Most people have never heard of Compton cafeteria riot, the things that gave rise to it, or any other structure of transfeminine identity outside of the role of "weird and exotic sex object", and most don't even know that. So no, erasure is not some "transmasc-only" form of oppression. And claiming that it is is fucking disgusting, as with everything else you've said.

The idea that that transmascs are the only trans people who get sent to asylums, jails, etc. Is absolutely insane. This was done to "feminine men" too. They were lobotomized, raped, and abused, and when you say that transmascs are the main class that has been sent to mental institutions and prisons to fie, you spit on the Graves of countless numbers of my dead sisters. This is genuinely one of the most evil fucking takes ever. You were whining about erasure in the paragraph just before, but you've done nothing but yell over transfem voices in your entire response. This genuinely sickens me to my core. I don't even have words for how awful this is.

And for my tags, I'm sorry if I offended your sensibilities, but you've confirmed the exact thing I was trying to say. You're just telling transfems to shut up and listen to the men who know better. I genuinely hope you come around from your violent transmisogyny, but you will be blocked because of your horrid opinions and beliefs.

without fail, every single time, men just seem to forget that there are women experiencing all the same stuff they do with added misogyny. "well what if i don't pass as a man? i'm treated like an ugly woman!" what do you think happens to trans women who don't pass. real quick. hey what's that transandrophobia thing doing in your bio

[noctiva]

okay but how would the guys react to the reader breaking up with them?

aha! the flip side!

Toby: Goes through four stages of grief in the span of like, ten minutes. everything except for acceptance. he won’t ever truly accept it. it could be literal years later and he’d still be dreaming of you, still touching himself to the thought of you.

the day it actually happens, he’ll try to play it off at first. hit you with a ‘th-that’s not fuckin’ funny’ with a soft snort and a roll of his eyes. like you being serious wasn’t even an option. but of course, you’ll insist - and that’s when the dam breaks.

first comes the anger. his eyes sharpening into a glare as his jaw sets. accusatory in every word he spits at you. throwing every single thing that he’s every done for you back in your face. glossing over everything he’s ever done wrong. hoping that maybe you’ll fight back - maybe you two can just get into another fight like you always do, and end up tangled up together in his sheets by the time night falls.

but that doesn’t happen. you just take it. just listen silently as you pack your things - already detached. and that’s when it really sets in. the anger will simmer, and then he’s apologizing profusely. offering up things he can’t even give you, all in the hopes of changing your mind. and when that doesn’t work? he just breaks. a mess of ugly sobs and hands trying to pull you to him. pleading. begging. borderline grovelling at your feet.

you’ll leave him a mess of tears. he probably won’t move from his spot on the floor for hours. days maybe.

- “W-What do you want? What can I d-do to make you stay? Just name it - I’ll g-give it to you.”

-

Jack: Just so incredibly cold. Like the moment you utter the words, every ounce of affection he held for you fizzled into smoke. You can practically see it when the switch in his brain flips, how his entire body tenses up, how his lips set into a firm line. He won’t say anything for a good long while. He’ll just stand before you, waiting, like he’s giving you a chance to take it back.

‘Jack? Did you hear what I said?’ To which he’ll just reply with a snippy; ‘I heard you.’ And barely elaborate further.

He won’t let you in. Won’t let you pry into his mind in an attempt to figure out how he feels about all of it. He’ll keep it all locked far deep down, under a shroud of bitter nonchalance. If you didn’t know him better, you’d almost think he didn’t care - but the slight tremble in his fingers proves that otherwise.

He won’t fight you. He knows better than that. Though he loved you to the ends of the earth, he knew he wouldn’t be able to continue on with you after this. Knowing that you don’t wholeheartedly want to be with him.

He’ll leave silently. Give you short, simple answers to every question you ask. Leave you second guessing if this was even the right decision at all.

- “What? Did you want me to scream? Beg? Cry? I’m not giving you that satisfaction.”

-

Brian: Horribly toxic. Blackmail supreme over here. You sit him down, tell him you want to break up with him, and the first thing he’s saying is, ‘are you sure you want to do that? with all the shit I have on you?’

And you know he’s right. He has drawers full of tapes depicting you in the most compromising positions known to man. Taken with the promise that they’d only be for his eyes. But, that was on the basis that you’d stick around. He’ll be patronizing, cruel, dangling this threat over your head with a raised eyebrow - daring you to have the guts to still go through with it.

Promising you that no one else will ever want to be with you after him. A little too calm, a little too composed. Like he’s so sure deep down that you’ll cave under the weight of what he’s saying and just roll over.

But if you don’t? If you hold your ground? You can just barely see him crack. A little twitch in his jaw, his gaze hardening over. The way his eyes flick away from you like he just can’t the sight of you any longer. He’ll freeze over until you gain the courage to pack up and leave. All that confidence lost, swapped for a silent resignation.

Won’t say a single thing to you on your way out the door.

(And he probably won’t actually make true on his threats, he was just really banking on that working).

- “Fine. Leave. See where it gets you.”

-

Tim: Just resigned acceptance. He saw it coming from the start, never really expecting you two to be in it for the long haul. He hoped that maybe you’d go against the odds, but he was smarter than to bank on that. Your life didn’t mix with his. He took a risk letting you in. He had set himself up, and he knew it.

It’s his shoulders slumping. His expression dropping. The slight quiver when he lets out a deep sigh and lets his eyes flutter closed for a moment like he’s trying to shut it all out. He doesn’t ask why, because he knows why. It’s everything about him. And he’d rather spare himself the burden of hearing that fact come from your lips.

He’ll be silent for a good long while. Reach into his coat pocket with trembling fingers, pull out his pack of smokes, light one and take a few drags before he speaks a word. And when he does, it’s just all apologies.

Apologies for dragging you into this in the first place. Apologies for wasting your time. For getting your hopes up. For making you believe that you could be the cure for everything that plagues him.

He won’t look at you the entire time, because he just knows he’ll break - and he doesn’t want to burden you with that too.

- “‘Bout time you smartened up. Always knew you deserved someone better.”

-

Cody: Really doesn’t know how to handle it - and maybe that was the issue all along. His good with the physical aspect of humans. The blood, the flesh, the chemical reactions. What he’s not good at, is the mind. The emotions. The inner workings of relationships, and person to person connection. He really tried with you, broke out of his shell in an attempt to let you have that closeness you craved.

It feels like an insult to have it thrown back in his face. He’s not upset, he’s offended, a silently brewing anger simmering in his veins with every word you speak. It just feels like he wasted so much time. Put in so much effort into something that ultimately proved fruitless. Like a failed experiment, but this time it affects him deeply. Like you were taking one of his limbs with you when you left him.

Asks you so many questions it makes your head spin. Why are you leaving him? What specific thing did he do? What could he have done better? Do you really truly believe there’s nothing that can fix this? Why are you giving up? Why don’t you want to try?

He’ll let you leave. He won’t beg and plead, but he will borderline interrogate you before he stalks back to his lab and shuts himself in there for the next week and a half.

- “All that time wasted. Such a needless distraction.”

-

Habit: Laughs in your fucking face. Cruel and mocking. Near doubles over with it. The type of laughter that absolutely stuns you, with the way he wheezes and cackles, wipes a tear from his eye and shakes his head like you’ve just performed a comedy special for him.

To him, you have. Because that’s fucking rich. You leaving him? As if you had that choice. It’s comical to him how you’d even entertain that thought, that you thought it might just be as easy as showing him the door and expecting him to walk through it. It’s not happening. Not by a long shot.

In fact, when you call him cruel, he’ll show you just exactly how cruel you can be. You hate him now? Let’s see how much you hate him when he chains you to the bed and leaves you there. Chuckling under his breath about how stupid you are. How you should’ve just kept your mouth shut, and appreciated the fact that he was being easy on you this whole time.

So, no. You will not be breaking up with him. This relationship ends on his terms, and his terms only.

- “That’s cute. You think you get to make that choice?”

[monkebearness]

Our Story, Like a Romance Novel [Chapter 2: Speed Love]

Chapter 0, Chapter 1

Tags: angst, fluff, slice of life, coming-of-age

Word count: 5k

a/n: there's gonna be a scene that may or may not be uncomfortable for some readers, but the angst tag is already there. but yeah, I gotta keep the story moving, so I hope you like it.

Having connected through SNS for a while, Nien and Junghoon hit it off to say the least. Getting to know each other through texting, even though they have already been hanging out in the same club four to five times a week, sometimes a little more, within the last three to four months since he was invited into the Mad Money Club.

Within that spam to lf time, Junghoon would often find the woman somewhere near his or her department building, if not at the club’s hangout room. At first, he expected this, considering their meetings mere chance encounters… But every time Nien catches his eyes, his heart keeps thumping louder, especially as their proximities close.

A wallflower since his early adolescence, never has he felt a sensation this fluttering and intrusive. His mind would spiral all over the place, and not even his sense of reason can try and make any excuse towards his inquisitive yearning to stay with her the chance he gets.

“Hey, Junghoon-ssi…” she walks to him in her backpack. “You done with your classes?”

Sometimes, those flutters make him nervous. Another time, they elevate his patience, interest, and determination with someone. In those moments, he turns into someone he’s usually not—yet he simply couldn't care less. Not even the lovey-dovey teases of Yubin, Dahyun, and Sohyun bothered him. In fact, they somewhat encouraged the butterflies flourishing in his stomach to push himself and do something—anything, to get himself out of his comfort zone, if it meant prolonging his moment with Nien.

The only problem is, he can’t come up with anything when he’s in front of her. “Yeah?”

“You’re not sure?” The left corner of her lips slightly raise in amusement.

There are perhaps millions, if not more ways to describe how he was feeling whenever he’s around Nien. Yet that’s also what often hindered him from expressing himself.

“I mean—yeah!” He clears his throat. “It just finished, actually… But, how about you?”

“We were done about three hours ago,” she informs him in a somewhat aloof tone.

“Wait…” He wiggles his head in confusion. “Don’t tell me, you waited there—”

“What do you think?”

One thing was for sure, mainly because of how his heart keeps on racing around her.

“Mianhaeyo!” Junghoon exclaims as he rapidly bows to her out of guilt.

“Oh, no, no, no! Please, Junghoon… I’m just kidding.”

“Oh… Well, I might as well apologize for keeping a lady waiting here for a long time.”

He likes this woman very much, and he’s not letting this new opportunity slide.

“Yah…” she folds her lips, even as they curve upwards, turning her eyes away from him. “I’m just here to fetch you before the girls meet, you know?”

“So you didn’t just wait here, under the sun, for how-long…”

“What if I was? Is that a problem with you?”

He interlocks his fingers. “It’s the opposite of that… You know, I wouldn’t mind spending a little more time with you. Outside the club hangouts and all that.”

 “Oh…” Her eyes slowly grew as her smile slowly showed her crystal white teeth.

“That is,” he quickly backtracks. “If you’re not uncomfortable with it, then we can—”

“Of course, of course, not!” she almost panicked. “I’m comfortable with it, Junghoon.”

Unbeknownst to him, their encounters would end up leading them to have a small date. A meeting at the cafe and like most encounters, there’s a waiting game for one’s arrival.

Not knowing anything about flirting and talking to women he’d liked, Junghoon rushed to his friends for advice right after Sohyun gave him Nien’s number. Of course he would come to ignite brighter sparks with her by simply being himself, a certain trait that Nien herself had found to be quite enticing, even fascinating, the longer they got to know each other. But unbeknownst to him, their texts and hangouts on campus. This date came to a fruition just happened to be brought by Nien on a whim and of course, it freaked him out from his side of the screen, but instead of making his panics obvious, he expressed his glee. Nien tends to be playful most of the time. It's a part of her charm that entices Junghoon. However, when she's serious about something, she will commit to it.

[Nien: I guess we’re both set for Saturday!]

{Junghoon: We are.} {I can’t wait, Nien!}

[Nien: Neither can I, Junghoon-ah (⸝⸝> ᴗ•⸝⸝)]

He didn’t want to mess it up, especially since she’s the one who made the move to meet. Once more, he knows nothing about dating, until now. Hence, from a newer hairstyle and perfume to fancier clothing, he asked his buddies about their recommendations. Even if such a request was a burden that he owed them, he reiterated to them and to himself, “I know it’s too much to ask, but I can’t mess this up. Not for her.”

“Don’t you dare explain yourself or apologize for anything,” Yeonghwan welcomes him with open arms, placing his arm on his shoulder. “We got you on this bud!”

“Yeah, dude,” Kotone shakes his other shoulder with excitement. “We’ll make sure you’ll have the night of our life with Nien-sunbaenim!”

“Oh, he will!” Honggi insinuates her remark with a grin, patting his palms on his back. “You’ve grown up, man!”

“What do you mean?” Junghoon turns his head in confusion.

“Don’t mind him,” Myungsoo chuckles at his innocence. “But, you’ll understand what he means eventually.”

The whole day was spent on their trip to the mall. Junghoon’s earnings from Mad Money Club were more than enough to buy himself a new set of clothes suggested by his friends. Surprisingly enough, this was one of the few special moments he had spent on something and anything outside his priorities.

He learned the mannerisms, he bought the items he never even knew he needed. Now it’s time for the meetup he’s been preparing for in the last few days. It’s a Saturday afternoon when they finally meet at a restaurant. Nothing too pretentious. A cozy place where a few young couples like them are also dining in due to either their locality or Insta popularity.

He rushes to Nien’s table while trying to keep his calm. “Sorry if I was late.”

She smiles at his presence. “You’re right on time. Don’t sweat about it.”

He notices her attire. Wow, is all he can think about meeting her in person, outside campus. She herself must’ve also prepared for this. Of course she would, since she suggested going on a date with him. “You look really lovely tonight, Nien-ssi.”

“Just tonight?” her tone sounds intimidating, though he knew her enough. She’s teasing.

He almost panics. “I mean, you did, too… You’re always beautiful.” Just until he saves it.

Letting out a giggle, Nien looks down and curls up her hair to the side of her right ear.  She’s still taken aback at his remark, even though she has heard similar things before.

“Yah… You look great too, Junghoon-ssi,” she tells him. “I thought you’d wear some suit and tie, but that’d be too much for this occasion. Even in that, you look pretty fancy.”

“I guess this occasion is just special enough for me, so I even thought I overdressed.”

Her eyes grow for a second, as is her smile. “It is? Does it mean this is your first date?”

An itch strikes the right side of Junghoon’s hair, prompting him to scratch it on sight. His reaction made Nien chuckle. Despite his feeling of embarrassment, she keeps her eyes leveled to him with adoration.

“Cute,” she whispers under her breath, before facing him. “I’m not judging you. I’m just… Curious.”

“Well,” he musters up, slowly straightening his back. “It is. Is that a turn-off for you?”

“No,” she smiles. “It’s kind of the opposite.” Her eyes and smile always gets him. That remark from her alone makes him feel things up his mind, in his heart, and down his–

Don’t mess this up. Don’t mess this up! Junghoon warns himself in his mind while he faces her from his seat.

But it’s a first date, which means that mess-ups are not out of the realm of possibility. It could be an awkward interaction that goes to hell, or someone bumping into a waiter as it trickles down a domino effect that breaks every plate and glass they were serving. For these two, a worse situation would strike their moment like lightning on a summer day.

Yet thirty minutes have passed since they met. Is he really gonna have the night of his life, just like what his friends had teased him? He doesn’t know how the night will end, but with how it’s been going well, Junghoon is already feeling like it, to say the least.

Nien finds herself more allured as the man in front of her takes a bite and describes each of the steaming appetizers that just arrived, as if she’s listening to a gourmet who’s been enhancing her dining experience. Down their table, each snicker and giggle from Nien triggers a few tantalizing movements from her feet as they give his ankle light footsies, one that almost made him choke on his water the first time he felt her movements.

Surprisingly, it was thanks to his conscious mind, Junghoon’s years of locking eyes at the television, watching dramas, has reminded him of some things either to follow or ignore. A couple exchanges of jokes and compliments were the start, but receiving a handful of light, playful touches.

He senses this is something else. Something more.

Then Junghoon receives a call, and the words that follow has him paralyzed for seconds.

His sudden expression concerns her. “Junghoon-ah, what’s the matter? Who was it?”

“I–I’m sorry, Nien-ssi,” his voice trembling, just his face submitting to unimaginable fear at what he just learned. She reaches her hand to him as her daydreams drain out, his words snapping her to this unexpected reality. “Something came up. I’m so sorry.”

Junghoon gets up from his seat and leaves the cafe. Outside, he runs and runs with no care and shame about the bystanders looking at him strange or worried. Seconds have passed and he is nowhere to be seen on the street. Nien stares outside, devastated that the man she likes has now left her without any reason, although not a single reason will ever undo the damage that’s been done.

She accepts the truth unfolding in front of her. The night is already over.

Having taken a taxi and spending more of his earnings from the club, he finally makes it to the hospital after ten minutes of an anxiety-filled ride throughout Seoul. Despite his shortness of breath, he rushes straight to the receptionist and asks her about the room of a woman in her mid-eighties, named Kim Byeolyi.

As soon as she answers, he takes a few turns across the corridor until he reaches the emergency room, as fright and relief fight over his lungs—letting out “Halmeoni!”

= = =

Monday morning. Students return to class. Piles and piles of papers were returned as results were announced, alongside new ones. Yet guilt remains anchored on his mind and heart.

Junghoon did his best avoiding the Mad Money Club for a couple of days since then. He imagines how they’ll react if they see him after that night. And he wouldn’t blame them if they feel that way towards him. Or if they end up kicking him out of the club later on. For now, he had to pay more attention to his only family, despite his pitiful regret for leaving the woman he's more than willing to spend the night with.

As the clock strikes twelve noon, he could only confide in the people who he has known the longest, meeting them on the empty stands next to the campus’ football field.

“How are you holding up, man?” Yeonghwan looks at him with sympathy.

“Oh, you know… I messed it up,” Junghoon sighs. “But halmeoni is stable again.”

“We’re glad that halmeoni is doing better,” Kotone can only pat him on the back.

“Besides, I’m sure Nien will understand, man,” Myungsoo considers. “Does she know about what happened?”

“Did you tell any of them?” Honggi chimes in, emanating with worry, instead of the usual curiosity or intrigue he always brings to their hangouts. Realizing that all of his closest friends have shown and voiced their concern towards him. “I mean your club.”

“I, uhh…” Junghoon clears his throat. “I didn’t tell them…”

Outside his closest friends, no one else knew. Not even the person he trusts the most. Yet, he kept receiving texts from them. Message notifications would keep popping up, and he can longer ignore the club. Not after realizing that they became his friends too.

[Yubin: Junghoon-oppa!] [Where the hell are you?]

[Dahyun: Junghoon… We’re worried about you.] [You must have a reason why you left, but you gotta tell us about it.]

[Seoyeon: Why aren’t you answering our messages, Junghoon-ah?][What happened?]

[Sohyun: Answer your phone, Junghoon.] [Please.] [Talk to me about it.]

[Nien: Whatever happened that night…] [I just hope you’re doing okay, Junghoon-ah.] [The club wants to know if you’re okay.] [I want to know if you’re okay.]

“I'm feeling much better, Junghoon-ie,” his grandmother assures him from the couch as she lets out a cackle at the variety show on the television, later that afternoon.

He walks to her, handing her a tablet with one hand, and a glass of island on the other. “I know, but you're gonna need to drink your medicine regularly, okay halmeoni?”

“Of course, honey, I know your worries won’t go away—” she looks up, swallowing down the tablet, before taking the glass from him. “—if I don't take them.”

“Halmeoni,” he sighs. Despite knowing her intentions to lift his spirits, she can feel her grandson’s hand clenching with concern. “That’ll be for the whole month… Please.”

She chuckles lightheartedly, softly rubbing his back. “Arasseo, arasseo… I’ll drink the next one after we eat. I remember what the doctor prescribed me, too, you know?”

He sighs heavily, showing her a smile of relief. “Yeah…”

The next morning arrived… When he finally listened to his grandmother's words, also remembering what she told him a few days earlier. Despite what happened, he knows that he's always been stronger than he thinks.

He enters the club’s room. Room 238. Just as he always remembers it. The atmosphere is not the same as when he usually enters. As much as it pains him, he looks at everyone as they stare at him in silence. Most of them look at him with disquiet and concern, even though he feels he doesn’t deserve such a gaze. At least, one of the girls is staring at him the way he believes he should be treated. Xinyu must be killing him over and over again in her mind. I deserve it. After I left her best friend alone. I deserve worse. At least my halmeoni is doing better. At least my friends understand. That’s what matters more right now. Whatever happens now… That’s their reaction.

“Should I not be here today?” He breaks the silence, keeping his tense breath slow. “I can just stay out—”

“No, no…” Dahyun comes closer, emanating with concern. “Come in, Junghoon-ah.”

“We’re glad you’re okay, oppa,” comforts Yubin, rubbing his arm as he walks by.

But as he looks around, Nien is nowhere to be found among the club members. Junghoon immediately worries for her, still guilt-ridden. “Where is—”

“Don’t go anywhere near Nien-ah,” Xinyu pierces his soul with her stare of death.

Junghoon silently bows to her with regret, but her glare towards him remains merciless.

Beside her, Sohyun slowly holds Xinyu’s hands a little tighter with eyes that plead to her. “Xinyu-yah, please don’t be harsh on him.”

“Why not?” She tilts her head at her girlfriend, before looking back at him. “He doesn’t even need to be here! Not after what you did to Nien!”

“I know, sunbae…” Junghoon keeps his composure. “But I need to know where she is.”

“Not until you tell us first, Junghoon,” Sohyun pleads to him with a somber tone. Letting go of Xinyu’s hand, she takes a few steps forward. “Or at least… tell me what happened.”

Junghoon takes a deep breath, enough to push himself to explain everything to her.

After several minutes, Junghoon would find Nien at the gardens, as Sohyun briefed him. He takes a seat next to each other at a bench in the midst of the afternoon spring breeze. Not as anything more than friends who want to clear the air about what happened that night. But for both of them, that’s all that matters for now.

“I’m so sorry for standing you up like that,” he looks at her. “You don’t deserve it.”

“No. Kotone-hoobae actually told me what happened on my way here… Junghoon-ssi, I just wished you told me sooner.” She looks at Junghoon with eyes of solace and reaches his shoulder softly, pulling him in an embrace, hoping to comfort him through the only way she can in this situation. “It must’ve been hard for you, finding it out so suddenly.”

“Yeah, I should’ve,” Junghoon mutters, still feeling remorseful for his actions that day. “I’m really sorry, Nien-sunbaenim.”

They slowly break the hug. “Does anyone else in the club know about what happened?”

He nods. “I first told Sohyun-noona… The others know it was a family emergency.”

“How is she now?” Her hands still lie on top of his. “Your grandmother…”

“She’s feeling better now, but the doctor advised her to drink her medicine, so I’m gonna have to work overtime in my late shifts to earn enough to buy her those meds.”

“Don’t worry about the money too much. We can help you out with that, arasseo? Take care of her by staying close with her… I’m just glad that your halmeoni’s doing okay.”

“I feared I would mess things up. I did everything I could, but it just happened when I got the call from the neighbors and—”

“Junghoon-ah,” she stops him with a calm demeanor. “You didn't mess everything up. Your grandmother's well-being matters more. It should... You made the right call, okay? Like I said, focus on taking care of her right now. We got your back.”

“Thank you, sunbae,” he can feel his heart beating slower, as his breathing feels easier.

Nien can’t help but let out a snicker. “You gotta stop calling me that, Junghoon-ah.”

“Why not? It’s a fact that you are my sunbae, and you’re a year older than me.”

“And..? It’s been months since you joined the club. At least stop calling me sunbae.”

“Yeah, I’m a part of Mad Money, but as your ‘part-time assistant.’ Other sunbaes and students would think it’s weird that I just started calling you too casually.”

“Who cares about what others think? You gotta drop the honorifics with me. It’s the least you can do… If you truly want to stay friends with me… Unless you don’t?” She darts her eyes at him. They still get him every time, even if she’s messing around with him, even if she’s simply lifting his spirits.

“I do want to stay friends!” He raises his hands, following an instinct. One that aims not to disappoint her. “I’ll try my best not to call you that, noona—”

“Ah, ah!” she interrupts him, pointing her index finger at him like it’s a blade. “Not that one either. You may have convinced unnie and Soda-yah for you to call them that, but not me. I’m not gonna let that slide. The whole ‘noona’ thing doesn’t vibe with me.”

Junghoon laughs. Her reasoning seems well-thought-out. “So, Nien-ssi then? I mean, that’s what I called you last time and you didn’t seem to mind it.”

“Fine!” Nien finally settles with his proposal. “I’m guessing you’re not that comfortable with me just yet… And by the way, you better let me treat you to lunch. Between friends, of course. I can’t let that dinner be the end of us hanging out.”

“Well, if that makes things better for us…” He offers his hand, signaling a handshake. “I’d love to have a ‘friendly lunch’ with you some time, Nien-ssi.”

“Kol!” The woman stands up with a burst of optimism, reciprocating Junghoon’s offer without hesitation. “And by ‘some time,’ you better mean like soon, all right? The way you described those dishes on the restaurant’s menu was mouth-watering!”

“Maybe we can order them for real next time,” he suggests. Nien nods with anticipation.

Nien and Junghoon stopped treating their relationship as romantic, or anything close to that. But maybe that’s for the best, as they’d grow into something that would last longer. Nien would realize that she’s not too fond of being in a committed relationship just yet. And as for Junghoon… Time will tell. As they say, after all, there is always someone for everyone, even if they don’t hope or expect it to come to them. With their conciliation, Junghoon returns to Room 238 with Nien to face the rest of his clubmates once again.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, yeoreobun,” he bows to the rest of the club members.

“God, oppa… You know you had us worried for days,” Yubin frets further. “We thought something happened because you weren’t answering our texts! Even our calls.”

Junghoon bows to them. “I’m sorry. It just happened and I didn’t know what else to do.”

“It’s okay, Junghoon-ah,” Dahyun reassures him. “Now that you told us, we’re just glad that your grandma’s feeling better.”

“Well, it can’t be helped if you had a personal emergency. I hope she has a fast recovery,” Xinyu’s tone sounds more neutral, making Junghoon feel that the misunderstanding he had caused to Nien will not be easily forgiven by everyone. Even if Nien herself forgave him. “But you left Nien without saying why... I won’t forget that.” And he won’t, either.

“I did,” Junghoon remains hesitant to answer her. “And it won’t happen again, sunbae.”

“But Sohyun-ah trusted you enough to lend your services to us,” Xinyu sounds more logical than sympathetic to his response, yet a hint of hostility remains in her tone. Perhaps still grudgeful of his fault. “Just be transparent next time, Junghoon.”

“Unnie…” Seoyeon steps up, sensing Xinyu’s passive aggression. “I trust Junghoon, too. So does Soda and Yubin-ah. I understand if you’re still not too trusting of him, but the fact is, Nien and him have already made up outside. Besides, their date last week isn’t some kind of assignment that he had to do for her.”

Xinyu feels like she’s backed into a corner. “I know that, Seoyeon-ie… I’m just saying—”

“I don’t want anyone harboring ill feelings for anyone in this room,” Seoyeon continues. “This isn't why we formed this club. We know that you have issues with trusting anyone else, but whether you like it or not, Junghoon is still a part of our club.”

“I don't hate him!” exclaims Xinyu. “I warned him so nothing like this happens again.”

“That’s enough,” Nien disrupts the feud between her sisters. “Seoyeon-ah’s right, and I can’t force you to like him. But we went out on a date because I wanted to, Xinyu-unnie. He happened to have an emergency concerning his grandma, so he left me to deal with it and he apologized for not telling me sooner.” A breath of relief leaves her body. “Unnie… Yeorobun… It’s alright now.”

Xinyu becomes swarmed with guilt, but she can’t say anything any further, otherwise the situation gets worse when it starts to be mended. She knows that she said enough. “I’m sorry Seoyeon-ah and Nien-ah…” she stammers. “And I’m sorry for my behavior just now, Junghoon-ssi.”

“It's okay, Xinyu-sunbae… I'm just thankful that I've told you girls the truth. Whatever you think of me after this, I don't mind it. I understand if you don't want me to still be around, but I'll come by and help out if you need me with anything.”

= = =

Later that afternoon, Junghoon would meet with his close friends at their usual campus hangout, a bench near the grass fields, during their dismissal. They continue to console their friend about the aftermath of his unfortunate incident and emergency last week.

“Did you finally tell Nien about your halmeoni's condition?” Yeonghwan asks him.

“I did, hyung,” Junghoon sighs in relief. “I told everyone else in the club, too. They understood, so the misunderstanding has been cleared up, to say the least.”

“Does that mean you’ll be having another date with Nien-sunbaenim?” Honggi wonders.

“Well, not exactly. We’ll have something better, though.”

“What is it?” Myungsoo cannot help but spew his questions. “You two going somewhere outside for another dinner? Maybe a stroll to the park?”

“Just friends going out for lunch,” he delivers nonchalantly.

“Friends for lunch?” Honggi’s confused at what he just heard. “What happened to the girl who you hit off with that night? I thought she was even flirting with you non-stop?”

“That’s kinda what I’m wondering too, man,” Yeonghwan chimes in. “Why didn’t you talk things out with her a little more? Maybe there’s a little more misunderstanding?”

Why didn’t he push it through? Took a little more initiative, ask her to spend more time with him, despite already making up, instead of chickening—

= = =

“I’m sorry I ruined your special night, dear,” mutters his grandmother, Kim Byeolyi. It had only been a few minutes since she woke up from the hospital bed.

“No, no… Why are you apologizing? Come on, it was nothing, halmeoni.”

She places her other hand on top of his. “It’s not just nothing for you, Junghoon-ie.”

“I’m just happy that you’re doing better, okay? Besides… We don’t have anyone else.”

“We still got our neighbors,” she reminds him with a cheerful tone, but he’s unmoved by his own coldness. Junghoon found out that her friends next door called the ambulance when she was hanging out at their market. The possibility of ‘if no one else was there,’ scares him more, but the warmth of his grandmother’s hands only makes him sigh.

He looks down on her wrinkly palms, both in despair and gratitude. Despair for what could’ve been, if no one got there in time. Gratitude that things haven’t gotten worse.

“Don’t beat yourself up… Now, go talk to that wonderful girl you just left and apologize to her, okay? Buy her a bouquet from the shop outside, if you have to… Maybe cook her what food she likes, if you want! Just don’t leave her hanging like before.”

As a couple of hours would pass, Junghoon had to wait with his own thoughts while the physicians took her through a few more tests. Despite his grandma’s sincere advice, he didn’t know how else to deal with such a nerve-racking situation. The schism of guilt and conscience raging within him. ‘My savings won't be enough to cover all costs.’ ‘Halmeoni needs more for next week.’ ‘Should I ask for a raise?’ ‘Just calm down.’ ‘You already owe them a lot.’ ‘Don’t make things worse.’ ‘You’re a coward.’

Junghoon’s heart beats in the same rhythm yet it rings in various ways, reeling him through various memories. Nien’s smile and company. His grandmother’s breathing and motherly care. The cheers and hollers of his close friends. The encouragement of the Mad Money Club in the past few months.

Yet, at the same time, his impulsive actions last night… Leaving Nien all alone. She may forgive him. She may definitely not. But that’s not what’s making his muscles twitch or his mind spiral into the pitless dimensions of analysis paralysis concerning the future. Priorities and responsibilities ramming through his daydreams and desires like they were glass.

Looking back at his grandmother, lying on the hospital bed, the young man’s heart aches at the sight of family, still keeping up her warm smile, despite her recent close encounter in the face of the abyss. He doesn’t even know if he can forget, nor forgive himself for it.

‘You gotta think this through,’ he tells himself. ‘This isn’t just about yourself, Junghoon.’

= = =

“I’m sure sunbae has a reason for changing her mind too,” Kotone considers, patting her friend’s shoulder. “I’m just glad that halmeoni is doing better... Take some time off from work if you want to, Junghoon-ah. I’m sure they’ll understand.”

“Thanks…” was what Junghoon could only say, ignoring their more pragmatic advice, though taking them to heart. “And even though Xinyu-sunbae wasn’t as friendly when she heard my explanation, I get why she acted that way.”

“Zhou Xinyu?” Myungsoo realizes. He did share a few classes with her before, even worked in the same group. “Oh, that makes sense. She's not too friendly with anyone outside her friend groups. At least not so much that she'll be sticking around with ‘em.”

“Oh,” Junghoon feels less guilty, yet remains disappointed for some reason. “That's one thing I didn't know about her… She rarely hangs out in the room whenever I am there.”

“I can't blame her, though,” Yeonghwan agrees. “She's probably experienced it a lot since day one. All the catcallings, the selfless acts from guys, sometimes some girls, just so they could try getting their way in her pants… But when she met Sohyun, I guess she probably felt easier. More comfortable around her along with their pals… But she's actually a kind person, I'm sure she'll soften up on you the longer you stay with the club.”

“Yeah, I guess,” Junghoon nods. “I do know that Sohyun and Xinyu-sunbae feel like their truest selves the most whenever they're together. It's quite touching to see, to be honest.”

“I heard from Joonie-sunbae that those two are like wild animals in their dorms—”

Irritated, Kotone hits her left knuckle on Honggi’s shoulders, making him unleash a shriek of agony in seconds. Yeonghwan and Myungsoo cannot be more amused at his reaction.

“Knock it off, Honggi-yah!” she shakes her head while he backs off inches away from her. “Stop being a perv now. What’s wrong with you?”

Groaning in pain, Honggi rubs his shoulder with disdain. “I was just bringing up a rumor, which I’m expecting for Junghoon to confirm or debunk right now.”

“Umm, that’s not my business,” Junghoon chuckles. “And neither is it yours, man. But... They’re the best couple I know, that’s for sure... And I wish nothing but the best for them, you know?”

= = =

I've written this a while ago, but I added some scenes. Some slight spoilers for readers: what happens in the next one (nothing violent or anything though) may trigger some reactions, but since this is just an au fic. everything here is entirely fictional... It'll be an "angst fest," but there'll be sparks of fluff to balance it out. If you're still interested, hope you stay tuned. thanks for the read and have a good day!

[omniphilic]

ahem* hi hope you’re having a great day! Here are some concepts I thought of because there’s so much potential for angst in the Milf reader universe. Also the amber for this concept is show amber , I’ll wake one for comic amber later (if you want me too hehe)

Some people age like milk, some people age like fine wine but Ambers Mom?, she ages like ambrosia. That’s the local inside joke in the neighborhood, some moms envy her, some men love her, sons can’t go a day without staring at her. Does that mean she’s promiscuous? Oh no not at all, she’s kind, with a smile that can run a city, cooks like she was taught in the womb and always makes everyone’s day a but better, she also loves her daughter fiercely, VERY. FIERCELY. And would insult and/or beat the ever loving shit out of you if you mess with her family.

That’s why when Amber brought her first boyfriend home and he started making some berry suggestive passes at her mom, she did the best thing she could do, leave the room. Soon after he left, she called her daughter fi a chat and told her how her boyfriend made her uncomfortable and would want him at the house anymore, keeping the true story to herself so as to not sabotage her relationship with her daughter. Amber knew that there was still some truth yet to be told but trusted her mother either way, her relationship with her first boyfriend went smoothly (aside from her mother’s obvious distaste for him) that was until one day she caught him pants down jerking to a photo of her mom that he got from facebooking. She broke up with him instantly.

Now, you said in one of your answers to an als that this has been a recurring problem with amber and her boyfriends and I just think that’s why she avoids bringing them home to meet Milf reader , partially because she doesn’t trust them and part because she doesn’t want any of them to try to get too handsy with her mom (I feel like this may have happened before) and the other part is because she doesn’t want her mom to feel bad about it any time she breaks up with her boyfriends because of it. But when amber met mark, she felt he was different than the others, that he wouldn’t even dare do such a thing (how wrong she was).

It starts slow but she starts suspecting and soon she finds out and she is DONE, she comes back home angry and tear faced, MILF reader asks her what’s wrong and she EXPLODES and eventually saying a few words she can’t quite take back. Reader is mortified and immensely guilty, she begins to drift away, not out of spite or anger but fear that her presence will mess up the possibility of Amber finding true love, she can’t even look her own daughter in the eye and hovers around like she’s lost her spark and she has, her lovely daughter hates her (she doesn’t and feels guilty about what she said but doesn’t know how to apologize) so now everything just doesn’t seem right anymore.

Do they make up? Maybe idk but the whole concept gave me brain worms and I don’t know how to get rid of them , what do you think?

I LOOOOOOOOOOVE THIS BECAUSE YOU ARE LITERALLY LIVING IN MY MIND!!! you are in my cell dude, because from top to bottom, yes yes yes all over this. just. yes.

tw: inappropriate advances + touching. onesided, background reader x amber's boyfriends (mark's in too deep). slutshaming of reader, accusations of cheating and homewrecking towards reader. Mostly examining Amber and Readers relationship.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀18+ content below / MDNI

Amber has a great mom. You've been her number one fan ever since she could draw breath, you'd lose an arm and a leg for her, die, if it would make her dreams multiply. You already give her the world and have begun plotting on the moon.

So... you have a bit of a problem on your hands when that new boy she brings home sauntered up to you.

Your daughter is beautiful, so it's not very surprising she's bringing home boys. You want her to live her life to the fullest so you've no interest in cramping her style, eager to meet her little friends, even the ones you don't like that much. This one, you think has a bit of a problem.

He has that stupid smirk twisting his lips. You are quite familiar with that kind of boy--he's got something loaded in the chamber and an itchy trigger finger; whether it'd be cool or cruel, you think, naturally, it's some dumb one liner you'll find a way to one up.

As simple as boys can be though, you always forget how unpredictable kids these days are. Bold. Audacious.

He's all puffed chest and pomp, walking past the threshold of the kitchen island. You're smiling because it's your default, head tilted towards, face curious. You make an inquisitive noise, put on to his approach. He doesn't falter for a second, rosy cheeks bunching up with his smile. He's sweet just standing there, but then he opens his mouth, and things get sour.

"Hey, Mrs. Bennett!"

He exchanges pleasantries while standing watch hawkish, waiting for the right time to dip down with talons and catch you up.

He can manage normalcy for at most four minutes.

"Hey, bud! Anything you need from me?" He says 'no', but doesn't stand any less imposing or bothersome, blathering on about nothing for a few moments. The weather, the pool him and Amber are heading to, what kind of swimsuits 'look the best'.

You're half listening, hands busy and mind scoring over the itinerary for the day, so you almost don't hear him.

"I think you'd look really good in a bikini!" His eyes glance down at your breasts in your low-cut shirt, then flick back up. "Or in any swimsuit really. I see where Amber gets her beauty from, you know." Your head arches back, the corners of your eyes wrinkling as your expression expands, lips pursed as you nod, fixing your face as your mind recovers from that white flash. "I guess I'm just sorta surprised Amber doesn't dress like you do..." He sticks up his hand to cradle his chin between thumb and forefinger. "She doesn't really like to be all... showy."

Your body is shot, state of shock so strong you don't notice you cut your finger until it stings under the cool water. You grunt and glance down at the sink, look at the rivulets of blood tinting the water red, and think. He keeps going.

"I guess I'm just lucky she has a beautiful ma—looking at you is sorta like looking at her. Just a... bigger version."

You want to clean out your ears with the dish soap because you couldn't--can't--have heard him right. Disbelief makes you snort as you finish the last of the dishes and wash out your cut. You turn off the water and turn your head up, just to see him standing there, lingering effluvia, looking every part bitch and bastard.

He's staring at you because you never turn your back on a big cat and he's wishing the cougar would pounce. For the other shoe to drop, where you fulfill his fantasy and go belly up for him, claws sheathed, tail aside. Maybe he's imagining you'd be flattered, shy, meek, the take-it-like-a-good-girl type.

"I thought you were gonna tell me a joke or say something funny when you walked up like that. I mean, I guess I wasn't entirely wrong. But this isn't the place for whatever the fuck you got going on." You dry off your hands, wring them in a towel that you ditch on the counter. "Back up."

"What? "

You don't falter.

"I didn't stutter. Behind the counter, now." You don't ask nicely and he realizes he's forgotten himself, cowed, less enthusiastic as tries to back pedal. "I hope you don't speak to Amber like that—never mind your mother." You sneer at him, poised viper-like.

"Amber!" You call out, sing-songy. "Can you come here, please?"

Sunshine ducks her head in and the kitchen becomes very bright, alive despite the blight stood beside with you. "You good mom? Did something happ—Oh! You're in here?" She is immediately distracted by her boy-thing, and you wave him away. "Your boyfriend here was telling me you two are going to the pool?"

You watch him walk and stand beside her, plant a kiss on her cheek.

"Yup! You ready to go, babe?"

She looks up at him but is unable to meet his eye as he quickly brushes past, then back at you. Her face isn't mad, but not happy either, just confused. You smile with no teeth.

"I just hope you two have lots of fun out there, okay? Don't forget to take your sunscreen. Oh! And pictures."

You'll need to have a talk with her when she gets back.

She has very little patience for these kinds of things now but you try to settle the matter as delicately as you can each time.

"Your boyfriend... I think he's gotten a little too, comfortable, don't you think?" It's a delicate matter to discuss over meatloaf but the discussion is most certainly had, with you explaining as sweetly as you can manage how it’d probably be best if you two started meeting at his place is all.

They didn’t stay together for much longer after that, though Amber never exactly told you how it all shook out.

She doesn’t really need to.

Every boy seems to get it in their mind at least once, when they come over. It's always something. Brushing up against you in places with space for ten people, off color comments, backhanded compliments aimed at putting Amber down to big you up.

It's not only sick, but sad.

You could leave the room all you like, put on different clothes, say something, or say nothing. But nothing would change.

They all act the same.

It always ends the same way, too. Your tear-damp shoulder and more time wasted, mounting resentment hidden behind her trembling lip all coming to a head when the apple of her eye falls far from the tree.

This past one was a real shame, too.

That Mark Grayson. An adonis in a modern age, armed with a charm befitting of a boy and a smile you're not surprised wormed it's way into your daughters heart. He wears his interests on his sleeve, if the Seance Dog shirt he wore to dinner one time is anything to go by.

She was afraid to show him off to you. Called him her ‘friend’ whenever he came up in conversation, forgetting how her smile turns up whenever his name comes from betwixt her lips.

You had no problem not knowing. Though it would be better to stagger the arrival of this one, as she’s done times before. To lessen exposure, delay the inevitable.

But eventually, you will meet.

He's sweet enough, you'd reckon, if a little shy when you come 'round. Always head down, light blush as if he's always a little sunburnt.

"Hey Mark, could you pass me the—" Salt. It's in your hands before you can even finish the sentence, as if he knows what you want before you yourself. You found it sweet, if a little too attentive. Mark certainly knew how to make someone feel seen, special, though his affections should've been reserved for his girlfriend, not you.

Starts small. Hugs that last too long, odd looks across the couch, room, dinner table. An arm around the small of your back instead of around your shoulders. A heat simmering on your chest, though when you look up, it’s gone.

She watches you more carefully than him and maybe that’s what stings—that she doesn’t feel entirely assured that you’re batting for her team, that you’re not just trying to secretly whittle her down, because what really are the chances?

The chances she’ll catch Mark with your name on the tip of his tongue, chances she’ll catch him with your panties slip-sliding out his pocket?

Higher than zero.

After a point, you have to see how easy it is for her to concede that some of this is likely your fault.

The fault of a whore. A hoe, housemaker and home wrecker in equal measure, and while you aren’t surprised at the words she slurs and spits at you, it doesn’t make the disrespect hurt any less. You would think your bond paramount to that of any she could’ve forged with those boys—you wouldn’t sacrifice your relationship with the light of your life just to fuck about with pieces of meat, those stupid little men.

You thought your daughter would think so much higher of you.

You were mistaken.

In reality Amber is a young person dealing with complex emotions regarding inadequacy, having not felt like enough for a very long time.

You guys would talk very little in the following weeks, only when she needed, if she wanted. It’s lonely but you’ve your own friends to keep you company, to rave and rant to until Amber has worked through her emotions and chooses circle back around—discuss the things she’d said to you that night.

I think you and her would ultimately resolve your issues. Her new man, is it Kyle? The picture perfect gentleman, wouldn’t look at you sideways cause he’s too busy kissing the ground Amber walks on, treating her with tenderness, care.

You can find it in yourself to be happy for her, simultaneously breathing a sigh of relief. At least it’s over now.

[intimidating-fettuccine]

Sad trauma HCs because I’m feeling angsty

Please be aware of discussions of triggering topics below including discussion of eating disorders, self harm, suicidal ideation, and anxiety and depression.

Also sorry for any possible errors/mistakes, I’m typing this on my phone at work

I’ve been thinking about this the last few days, but I think EJ has an eating disorder. In my canon, he was raised in a cult, and part of the process was that he was conditioned to eat human meat while being groomed as a sacrifice for the demon he fused with. As a human, human meat wasn’t appetizing to him, he didn’t enjoy it, but he did it because he didn’t have a choice. Now, however, as a demon, it tastes good. It bothers him, how he knows he was once human, how he hated eating humans then, how it disgusted him, but now it tastes so, so incredibly good, and now he actually needs it to survive. It makes him feel less human, makes him feel more like a monster, and causes him extreme distress. Sometimes he can go months and be fine, and sometimes he’s throwing up after every meal, refusing to eat for weeks, starving himself to the point of collapse, and Slender has to sit with him and help him eat to make sure he doesn’t starve to death. He never knows when his eating disorder is going to resurface once he has it back under control, and sometimes it’s a constant fear in the back of his mind. He hates this part of himself, knowing he’s the reliant doctor to the others constantly reminding them and helping them be healthy, and yet he can’t even help himself.

Jeff has a bad habit of burning himself on purpose. After the incident, after being intentionally tied up and set on fire, he couldn’t be around fire, couldn’t even look at it, for several years. He’s started working on getting used to it, and now he can be around it, although things like bonfires making him very uneasy and anxious, but smaller flames are fine. He’s got a little lighter he carries around sometimes, a nice metal one, and when he gets a little anxious he’ll flick the cap back and light it, just sitting and staring at the flame. However, sometimes, he hovers it just a little too close, holding it under his hands or his arms, or his legs, allowing the flame to lick at and burn his skin. He feels like he deserves it, like he should be punished for all he’s done. He used to do it more when he was in his late teens, and doesn’t do it as much in his 20s now (mostly due to Slender and Liu looking out for him and trying to keep an eye on him as they’re aware of this habit of his), but every now and then they’ll catch a new burn somewhere and know where it’s come from, especially with Jeff avoiding eye contact, his eyes dewy with unshed tears. It puts him into an unhealthy spiral of feeling ashamed of his burns and scars and hating the way they look and hating having them on his body, to feeling the compulsive need to continue to add more and more and more as a form of punishment and self loathing.

BEN has been trying to force himself to get used to water with what he’s been referring to as “exposure therapy” by himself, although it’s been making his trauma so much worse. He’s been having to adapt to how he showers in the years since he’s been at the mansion, using a mix of cleaning wipes and having someone help him shower, but his depression and anxiety have made his self hatred over his trauma spiral in recent years. When he thinks the house is empty he’ll fill his tub up as far as it’ll go, and force himself to sit in it. He sobs and shakes and screams until his body shuts down and he can’t even move, the water feeling suffocatingly chilling no matter how hot he runs it. It feels like a form of torture and harm, and it is, even if he won’t admit it. If he’s struggling particularly hard, he’ll submerge his head under the water. He doesn’t need to breathe as a ghost, even in physical form, so he can’t drown anymore, but sometimes he dreams of drowning and dying again while he’s under the water, a twisted part of him thinking he deserves it, just like his dad always said he did. Slender and BEN’s closer friends like Jeff and Toby have started catching on from how shaken and traumatized he seems whenever they return home, no matter okay he tries to present himself, and they’ve been making sure that BEN is no longer ever left completely alone in the house anymore. They’ve also been making sure whenever BEN needs to clean himself or shower, he no longer attempts it alone, and has to at least have someone in the room. BEN feels embarrassed, hates himself for being so weak he can’t even do it alone, no matter how much people try to reassure him that it’s okay and he’s not weak, that he just needs help and that’s okay.

Tim has started having severe anxiety attacks on a regular basis. While his own trauma isn’t that bad all things considered, he’s been trying to take everyone else’s onto his plate, been trying to help as many people as he can, and he’s overwhelming himself. He can’t handle the weight of trying to help so many traumatized people at the same time, his mind constantly running trying to think of who needs help, a shoulder to lean on, who needs comforting. Even trying to manage Toby alone is an extremely difficult task with his own level of trauma, but Tim is trying to juggle everyone at once. When he’s alone at the end of the day he collapses, sobbing and shaking and getting nauseous, sometimes throwing up from stress and anxiety, pushing his body to its limits. Some nights he can’t even sleep because he’s so overwhelmed, and that makes it so much worse. Brian and Slender have started catching on that something is wrong with Tim, but they haven’t fully caught on to the severity. He lays collapsed in a heap on his floor, eyes wide, breathing ragged, choking on the anxiety of taking on so many problems at once. Sometimes the others notice, politely deny his help when he offers it, noticing the dark circles and anxiety behind his eyes, telling him he should rest instead, but his inner perfectionist tells him he’s not trying hard enough. He’s become so dependent on being the responsible, dependable brother figure that he can’t be anything less than perfect at it.

[zepskies]

I've never actually done this before...

Reaching follower milestones has never really been my main goal here. I hopped over from Ao3 to the Tumblrverse two years ago to share my stories and see if I could connect more with any potential readers. What I didn't know was how amazing SPN (and adjacent Jackles fandoms) would be over here...

How much fun I would have expressing myself, challenging myself to write new things and grow as a writer, and getting to vibe with my readers and other amazing writers.

I now consider some of those special people my friends, and they continue to make my day better every time we interact — whether it's hyping each other up and fangirling in each other's comments and reblog comments, or talking about everything and nothing in our DMs. That support has gotten me through some rough times in the past two years.

So "celebrating" this milestone of over 5,000 followers is really just me saying THANK YOU to everyone who's supported me by reading, commenting, and reblogging my work, helping me brainstorm, giving me inspiration, or just simply being my friend! 💜

⋆˙⟡ WAYS TO PARTICIPATE:

Because you guys know I'm extra af 😂, there are 3 sections to choose from:

⟡ Ask Me Stuff

⟡ Summer Writing Challenge!

⟡ Mini Fic Requests

Ask Me Stuff:

⟡ Let's revisit these EOY Artist/Writer questions. Ask me any of them!

⟡ Ask me anything you want to know about my storyverses: Break Me Down, Unravel Me, Lost On You, Midnight Espresso, Smoke Eater, The Honorable Choice, Every Second Counts, Take Me Home, or any others!

Summer Writing Challenge:

If you're feelin' frisky and wanna join this summer writing challenge of less than 5,000 words before September 1, here's how to play...

💗 Gif Check: I'll send you a gif depending on the character you choose from the list below. Write a story that matches the vibe or completes the "scene." Just shoot me an ask with the character you want to write about, and request a gif!

🎨 Color Prompt: You choose a character from the list below. I'll choose a color palette for you based on what I think your aesthetic is!

🎙️ Songfic: Give me a character + a decade and/or genre of music, and I'll give you a song to match!

**Guidelines:

Submissions with pairings can be Character x Reader, Character x OC, or Character x Character.

(Please no RPF or Wincest.)

Include tags, notes, warnings if necessary - including if it's 18+

Please use the "Keep Reading" break if it's over 500 words.

Max word count 5,000 (for your sanity lol). Minimum 500 words.

Tag @zepskies (me) somewhere in the post.

Include this tag - #Zepskies 5K - within your first 5 tags.

Send me an ask until July 30! Post your fic by September 1.

I will of course read and reblog with my thoughts on your amazing work! If you get a chance, please try to do the same for others who participate. At the end, I will compile a master rec list of each fic submitted. 💜

Mini Fic Requests:

Uno Reverse! 🔄 For these drabbles (1,000 words or less), I will only answer non-anonymous asks so I can verify if you're over 18. Please make sure your age is listed in your bio! 😉

Check out the "characters I currently write for" down below. My inbox will be open for these types of requests from June 27 - July 4 only!

💗 Gif Check: Pick a character from the list and send me a gif! I'll do my best to write you a drabble that matches the vibe.

🎨 Color Prompt: I've been getting a lot of inspo from color aesthetics and moodboards lately. Pick a character from the list and a color. Any color! I'll do my best to write a drabble with that color scheme in mind.

🎙️ Songfic: Most people who know me know that I get a lot of inspo from music. Pick a character from the list and send me a song you think I'd like! I'll do my best to write a drabble that fits the song.

☕️ Characters I currently write for:

(or would like to write for)

⟡ Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester - Supernatural ⟡ Soldier Boy - The Boys ⟡ Mark Meachum - Countdown ⟡ Beau Arlen - Big Sky ⟡ Russell Shaw - Tracker ⟡ Joel Miller - The Last of Us ⟡ Javier Peña - Narcos ⟡ Harry Castillo - The Materialists ⟡ Alec McDowell - Dark Angel ⟡ Jason Teague - Smallville ⟡ Boaz Priestly - 10 Inch Hero ⟡ CJ Braxton - Dawson’s Creek ⟡ Éomer, Aragorn, Haldir, Thranduil - Lord of the Rings/The Hobbit

THANK YOU!! (Part 1)

@luci-in-trenchcoats @lamentationsofalonelypotato @waynes-multiverse @deans-spinster-witch @roseblue373

@wvffles @tofics @kazsrm67 @mostlymarvelgirl

@chevroletdean - Thank you for giving me the idea for the "color" prompts and the guidelines for the writing challenge with your 500 follower celebration!

@winchestergirl2 @lacilou @lyarr24 @ladysparkles78 @waywardxwords

@twinkleinadiamondsky @my-stories-vault @0ccvltism @wayward-dreamer @waywardlatina

@rizlowwritessortof @k-slla @jackles010378 @alwaystiredandconfused @nancymcl

@this-is-me19 @spnwoman @illicithallways @pieandmonsters @deansbbyx

@deanwinchesterswitch @stoneyggirl2 @fics-pics-andotherthings-i-like @jollyhunter @moodyquesadilla

@deanwinchestersgirl87 @rachiem4-blog @leigh70 @aylacavebear @jessjad

@siampie @spnbabe67 @talltalesandbedtimestories @sam-is-my-safe-word @redhoodieone

@deanbrainrotwritings @alwaystiredandconfused @supernotnatural2005 @kmc1989 @foxyjwls007

[n1k0laa5]

✧ ･ﾟINTRODUCTION ･ﾟ✧

☽𓂃⋆⁺₊ hello helloooo my little pixel-dusted darlings, reality-skippers, god-babies and deities in training!!!

you’ve just stumbled… or maybe manifested? channeled? saw it in a dream? felt the pull in your solar plexus—into a corner of the internet where your human suit will probably glitch, your sense of self will start peeling like glitter stickers off a foggy mirror, and your concept of “reality” might just cry a little in the backroom,, teehee.

anywayzzz hi. I’m Nikolas. it means Victory of the People and i always gloat abt it. You can call me any version of my name, srsly, Nikk, Niko, Nikki, idrc ;3

You may have seen my posts recently as I’ve been a lurker on tumblr for a while and decided to just post a bit, then realized “woah, people like this” so here’s my introduction! yes, i may sound slightly different compared to my post cuz i’ve dialed down the seriousness lolll

🪞— i’m part hyper-child that’ll bite your ankles, part god, part tired teenager scribbling affirmations in the margins of existence and screaming motivation at you.

14 years on this planet—15 soon, so clap for me on july okay?? i want confetti and cupcakes with existential sprinkles.

i was already an open minded child and lived in my imagination most my life—so finding manifesting and shifting felt like it was FOR me. i’ve been shifting since 2022, have shifted before and i think i started manifesting since i was like, nine, before i even knew what that meant. i was just like “if i imagine i give off queen bee vibes.. it works?!” It was mostly appearance and family related things I manifested, I created from nothing like it was breathing.

and now? now i do it on purpose.

🎠 — this blog is a playground for the formless. a candyland of divine chaos. a metaphysical scrapbook for weird little gods with glittery fingers and notebooks full of spells that rhyme with their heartbreaks.

i talk about manifestation, law of assumption, reality shifting, the void, dreams, non-physical planes, quantum stuff but like… cute. i probably cried on the floor last week but still channeled something celestial the same night. duality is real. i am the contradiction.

🧸 — i’m everything and nothing all at once.

you’ll either feel me like static electricity in your chest

or not at all.

and that’s okay too.

🪐 — i don’t care what gods you believe in, if you kneel when you pray, or if you think tarot is a scam and the universe is just a rock. i will however keep spreading my belief that you are god so if u don’t like that then.. sorry:(

i’ve been through stuff. i’m an ex-muslim, Iraqi, bisexual child with more trauma than folders in my google drive. i’m soft and electric. i’m a little delusional. i’m learning how to laugh at the dream while still dreaming it.

and you?

you’re here.

that means you’re ready. or maybe just curious.

either way, stay. plz.

𖤐 okok wait—wait. don’t scroll yet. i’m not done being mysterious in an attention seeking way

𓆩𖤐𓆪 FUN (???) FACTS ABOUT ME

☞ i have a tiktok account 4 shifting! (shiftingwithniko,, yes, shameless promo.) but i’m not rlly active there anymore bc we all know how shiftok is..

☞ i am SO shit at keeping friends so if we’re moots, expect very awkward talks.

☞ i’m too emotionally cooked to stay in this dimension but I’ll try my best to get out constant posts for y’all..

☞ too many drs, too many ideas, too many hopes and dreams, but aren’t we all like this

✧:˚🫀 MY GENERAL VIBES:

— i’m the kind of person who will walk into a room like i invented existence and then immediately spiral about if i said “hi” weird

— i have main character syndrome and background character syndrome at the exact same time. how? don’t ask. i just do.

— sometimes i say stuff like “i’m literally god” and then trip over air and cry about my tone sounding weird when i ordered food.

— i’m a walking contradiction and that’s the POINT. like. i will scream at the sky to bend for me, and then cry because my hair isn’t doing the thing i wanted.

— i wanna sit on a cloud and giggle but also punch god in the throat and become him.

☾⋆｡𖦹°‧ my personality.. yay..

a child god who’s a little too aware.

like, i KNOW too much for someone who still gets sparkly-eyed over stickers and wears fuzzy socks while rewriting timelines.

i call it Divine Hyper Teen Boy Delusion (™ pending.)

pretty sure i change personalities every week and have an identity crisis like thrice a month

⚠️ — i’m not here to convince you of anything.

i’m just here to remind you that you’re not crazy for feeling like you were meant for more.

you were. you are. and you already are it.

🍬 THINGS I BELIEVE IN:

— manifestation (all methods; LOASS, LOA, etc)

— shifting

— subliminals

— astral projection

— you are god

so yeah.

stay divine, pretty souls.

don’t forget to script. or not, ur choice!

drink water (or stardust).

and remember, if reality acts up?

Make a new one.

— with shaky hands & glittering neurons, Nikolas, your neighborhood hypermanifestor, glitter prophet, & certified timeline menace

pspsps you’re cute & you deserve a dream that kisses you back.

[coltermorning]

A Standing Offer Pt. 2 (RDR2 Fanfic, Arthur Morgan x F!Reader, 18+)

Summary: When your car ends up with a minor problem, you’re forced to interact with Arthur again.

Author’s Notes: Part two of this one.

Tags: Arthur Morgan x reader, high honor Arthur Morgan, eventual smut

AO3 Link

~

A Standing Offer

Word count: 3418

Part Two

“That aren’t gonna buff out, Artur.”

Arthur was doing his best to ignore the Irishman at his side, sweat beginning to bead across his forehead for his efforts. He was trying hard to get your bumper back in working order, but it was proving more difficult than he’d thought.

“What is it they call insanity? Doing the same ting over again and expecting different results?”

“Quit while you’re ahead,” Arthur grumbled.

“Exactly what you should doing there.”

Arthur stood so fast that Sean jumped back to avoid him. Arthur laughed at him. “What you so jumpy for? I’m just getting another cover for this buffer.”

“Oh, sure you are,” Sean said. “Very funny.”

“Unless you think I have reason to beat your teeth in,” Arthur suggested.

“Me? Never,” Sean answered, following Arthur along as he made for the part he was looking for.

“Shit, there’s reason enough to give you a good beating every day,” Arthur said, scanning the shelves on the wall. He found the right cover for the buffer machine and took it off the shelf, feeling along it to see if it would do the trick. He wasn’t quite pleased, but it was worth trying at least.

“You always this nasty toward your friends?” Sean teased.

Arthur finally turned to him. “To my coworker who won’t go work his job, keeping me from mine in the process? Yes.”

“Ahh, you love me though. Besides, I know what it is. You’re just hung up on that girl. What’s her name? Ruby?”

Arthur really could have punched him then, and John and Javier too for ever mentioning you in the first place.

“I ain’t hung up on anyone. Now go do the job you’re hired to do before I fire you myself.”

Sean let out a bark of a laugh. “You wish you could, English.” But, thankfully, he let Arthur be and went back to the old Chevy he had been assigned a week ago.

Even though Arthur’s shadow was gone, he found himself even more aggravated when he continued buffing out the bumper. The breaks in the plastic that resulted when the piece bent back into its proper shape weren’t going anywhere.

Arthur put the buffer down and rocked back on his knees, hands on his hips. This weren’t good. Either you’d need a new bumper, or you would have to come up here and confirm that you were all right with the damage. The second one was cheaper, but Arthur wanted no reason for the boys at the shop to keep ribbing him over you. It didn’t make any goddamn sense, as far as he was concerned. John and Javier were the two idiots who had cornered you in that club. He’d barely even spoken to you in comparison. But no, all he’d heard since was how sweet on you he was, volunteering to fix up your car cheap. He wished he’d never even offered.

Truth be told, Arthur didn’t quite know why he’d done it. There was the obvious, that he felt bad for all the damage his truck had caused that you would have to pay for. But beyond that, he’d told himself the minute he left the Rouge that he would block all thought of you off. True, he couldn’t keep his eyes off you that night, and also true, he couldn’t stop thinking about the way you’d spoken to him. But it was your job to act as you had toward him. He didn’t think he’d ever have reason to see you again anyway. When he got out of his truck in all that buzzing traffic, the last person he’d expected was you, shouting at some poor girl enough to make her look like she was shrinking into her clothes. He was so amused by your change in behavior that he’d told himself right then and there to be done with it all. He couldn’t fall for a stripper who had only paid him any mind because she was getting paid to do so. So, he’d told you the damage, determined to leave it there, then the words that he would help you came spilling out of his mouth before he could stop them. And he’d regretted them every moment since.

Arthur wiped his sweaty forehead with the back of his arm, knowing either way, the shape the car was in at least warranted a call. Best to get it over with sooner rather than later.

~

A number you didn’t have saved in your phone crossed your screen, distracting you from your reality TV. You would normally damn whoever it was and ignore it, but a lot of random numbers had been calling you since moving and starting a new job. You groaned loudly and picked it up.

“Hello?”

“Y/N? This is Arthur.”

Well, well. You didn’t like the excitement that bolted through you one bit.

“Hey,” you said simply, not wanting to make this some big deal. Simple phone call, back to your show.

“I got a problem with your car.”

Just perfect. Couldn’t you have one relaxing day?

“What is it?”

“I got the front bumper back in place, but the breaks in the plastic won’t buff out.”

“So…”

“So you’ll either have to keep it like this or order a new bumper.”

“Oh.” That was an easy decision. “It doesn’t affect driving it, does it?”

“No, just cosmetic.”

You grinned at his use of the word cosmetic. “Easy enough. Leave it like it is.”

“Can do,” he said. And, just before you were about to hang up and go back to your show, “I’ll need you to come look at the damage and sign off on it.”

Christ. You really didn’t need to go see this man in person again. You would have to go back up there to get your car anyway, but you were hoping Arthur would already be busy with another car by then. “Can’t you just sign it for me? Take this as my personal attestation that I won’t sue you?”

“Afraid not,” he said simply.

“Ugh. Fine. When do I need to come up there?”

“It’s ready now. Anytime before five.”

“Great,” you said with as much sarcasm as you could muster. “Be there soon.”

“Bye,” he said, and hung up before you could.

“Bye,” you said in a sing-song voice, tossing your phone across the couch. This was just not what you needed right now. You were thrilled the car was done so soon, but you were determined to get this man out of your head. Going to see him at his shop, where he dressed like masculinity given form, would not help. But you sucked it up and called an uber anyway, at least glad that you wouldn’t have to inconvenience Janiyah by bumming a ride anymore.

The entire ride to the shop, you watched the traffic from the back seat and did your best to hold your tongue. But truly, you would have to move closer to the club or something. This road rage was taking years off your life.

Before you could do something stupid enough to ruin your uber rider rating, you arrived at Arthur’s shop. It was named Van der Linde Auto Shop—a mouthful of a name that you’d told them to change upon learning it. Because of it, though, you’d learned that Arthur didn’t own the place, that his last name was Morgan, and way too many other personal things about the guys who worked here. John and Javier included. The owner hadn’t been in the last time, and neither had the rest of their little gang of merry men. But today as you walked up in broad daylight, the place was crawling with them.

“Y/N,” someone called out from your right, and you squinted into the sunlight to find John. There laid another problem—because of the business with the cars and the cops, they now knew your real name.

John loped over, pausing his work on a ridiculously jacked-up truck you had a sneaking suspicion was his.

“Hey. Arthur’s just inside. Said to let him know when you got here.”

“Well, here I am,” you said, curious over John’s enthusiasm. You wondered if it was due to flattery or guilt. Most men couldn’t help feeling one or the other toward you after meeting you a second time.

“This way,” he said, sure as ever. You followed him in through the shop’s big bay doors, thinking he was likely feeling both. But you refrained from calling him on it, remembering the woman he and Arthur had been arguing about at the club. No need to insert yourself there.

“Arthur! Y/N’s here,” John called out to the floor.

You couldn’t see Arthur but heard him call out, “Give me a minute. Almost done here.”

You turned to John and smiled. “Thanks for the help.”

The scars across his face stretched as he smiled back. “No problem. See you.” Then he turned to go, and you could only laugh under your breath at his confidence.

“Yeah, see you.”

Wanting to get out of here as quick as you could, you went looking for Arthur. There were cars in the way and four other men you could see working—Javier and three others you’d never met—but no Arthur. Javier waved at you with a shit-eating grin on his face. You didn’t even want to know, just waved back. But you did spot your car near the back of the shop, so you made for it. Only, you saw sudden movement by your feet and stopped, taking in the sight of…holy fuck.

There were two work boots and a very familiar pair of well-fitting jeans sticking out from under the car at your side. Arthur was on his back on one of those stupid roller things, and the way he reached up to work on the underside of the car revealed a sliver of very chiseled, deliciously sweaty abdomen. You had two seconds to imagine your tongue on those muscles before you mentally kicked yourself and behaved.

You nudged one of his boots. “So, should I come down there, or..?”

There was a moment’s hesitation before he pushed himself out from under the car, rising up and putting those abs to work. You forced yourself not to watch them. Even though the rest of him looked just as good in a black shirt that stretched across his broad chest. He had black streaks across his arms and hands from whatever he had been doing with the car, and he started to wipe them away with a dirty rag.

“What part of ‘give me a minute’ didn’t you get?” he asked, though he sported a smug look as he said it.

You just shrugged. “You look done to me.” Not just done—hot as fuck, you thought to yourself. The way he cleaned his hands with that rag made his forearm muscles turn over, bulging. Something about the movement and the black shirt as opposed to the white one he had been in the last time...

Now that you took him all in, you realized he was undoubtedly threatening in a way that ran past the seams of his shirt and down his coarse arm muscles to his able hands. This man was barely-contained power. And yet, you still wanted it all for yourself.

“I am done,” he said. “But make no mistake, if I weren’t, you’d be waitin’.”

“You sure know how to charm a girl,” you replied lazily, easily. It was so easy to flirt with him you made a point to keep the chit chat to a minimum from then on.

He smirked and threw the rag on top of the car, rolling the contraption he’d been lying on back under the car with his boot. “Car’s over here,” he said, leading the way. You watched his ass in those jeans again, not really caring to divert your gaze. If this was the last time you saw him, it was best to take in the view.

He stopped just before your car and pointed at the front bumper. “Scratches are just there.”

You leaned down to get a better look and were pleasantly surprised. They really weren’t bad. You certainly wouldn’t be buying a whole new bumper just to fix a few pieces of fractured plastic. They were noticeable, but the thing was drivable and had two properly-shaped bumpers again. That was the best you could ask for at the price he was offering.

You straightened up and turned to him, and his gaze flicked back to your face. From where it had been on your ass.

This was a dangerous game the two of you were playing.

“Looks fine to me,” you said. “Where do I sign?”

He just grunted in response, motioning for you to follow him. You really wished he wasn’t so gruff. Rude, really. If he’d just accepted your dance back at the club, he would be gone from your thoughts entirely. But no. He had to make things difficult, like he knew you were a sucker for a challenge.

Arthur led you back to the shop’s corner office, one you noted was walled with glass. Likely so whoever was in here could see what was happening on the shop floor, though your mind went to less innocent things, like what all those workers would think of what a mess Arthur could make of you on this very desk. You shook that thought off before it could take root and looked to Arthur. He had found the form he wanted from the filing cabinet and laid it down on the desk, beginning to fill out the details of the repair. You watched his shoulders and back muscles work against the tiny weight of the pen on paper. This man really was a sight to admire.

“There, if you’ll just…sign there,” he said finally, flipping the paper around for you to sign. He held the pen out to you, and you impulsively tried to catch his gaze as you took it, but he wouldn’t look up. Coward.

You set your purse down in the chair at your side and signed. When you finished and handed him back the pen, he gathered up all the paperwork and the receipt. Then you paid and knew it was time to go or else risk getting hung up on this idiot.

“Here’s the keys,” he said, handing them over. “Try your best to drive a little better from now on.”

“Shut up,” you quipped. “Like you wouldn’t be happy to have me back in.”

He chuckled and shook his head, his face tingeing red. “Go before I charge you for keeping me from my job.”

You gave him one last long look, memorizing that handsome face, before turning on your heel. “Thank you, Arthur.”

All he said in response as he followed you back to the floor was, “Be sure to put it in reverse to back out of here. That’s the one with the ‘R’.”

“Shut the fuck up,” you shot back, though you gave him a smile and a laugh as you did, secretly hoping that just as it usually did at the Rouge, the look would linger.

~

It took you until you got out of your car back at your apartment to realize you didn’t have your purse. It, and your phone, and your wallet, were still sitting in that goddamn chair at Arthur’s shop.

You let out a groan and slapped a hand to your forehead, debating turning right around to go get it. You would need it for work tonight. But you also didn’t want to see Arthur again. You’d spent the entire ride home cursing yourself a fool for how you’d acted toward him at the shop. It was infuriating, really, how you just wanted to be done with him, but seeing him made you turn into the world’s biggest, most obnoxious flirt. You could not get involved with this man. It went against every instinct you had in your professional life. So, you did what any sane person would do when faced with such a problem and avoided it. You stomped upstairs and slammed your apartment door shut behind you, leaving that problem for a later, much wiser, version of yourself.

After eating a ridiculous amount of junk food and bingeing reality TV for the rest of the day, you finally gave in and left a little earlier than usual to go get your purse back before work. You only hoped that John or Javier or literally anyone other than Arthur would be the one to retrieve it for you when you got there.

Upon arriving, not only were you disappointed, you were debating turning right back around and leaving. It was late enough on a Wednesday night that everyone else had left for the day, and only Arthur’s gray truck remained sitting just in front of the office. Fuck.

All you could do was go in and get your shit and leave with as few words as possible, and that’s exactly what you aimed to do as you parked beside him and walked up to the door. But then you saw him through the glass office windows walking around the shop carrying some power tool, lifting his shirt up to wipe his sweat away. You watched that glorious body in silence, not moving a muscle to go inside as he used the tool to saw a piece off of a car. Fuck him and his stupid sculpted body.

Before you could move, he looked up and saw you standing there. He startled a little but set the tool down and walked over to you, opening the door. “Jesus, you trying to scare the shit out of me?”

“Sorry,” you managed. “I was just…I left my purse.”

“Oh. Where?”

You pointed inside the shop to the chair that held the tiny bundle of leather you could have burned up with the spite you felt toward it.

He held the door open wider for you and motioned for you to come in.

“Sorry about that,” you said honestly. “Didn’t mean to take up so much of your day.”

He huffed a laugh. “You sure about that?”

You stopped and turned toward him. “What do you mean?”

He crossed the room and took your purse, handing it to you in an annoyingly courteous way that made you think get out now before you do something stupid.

“Just that I’m starting to think you like my company,” he said, meeting your eye with a smile so charming that it made your flirting look pitiful in comparison.

You were lost on a comeback and settled for a simple, “I’m just forgetful is all.” Even though that couldn’t be farther from the truth—he had distracted you into forgetting your purse earlier.

“Uh huh,” he quipped. “And you just happened to be looking my way when I spotted you watching me work through that window, right?”

You felt your face heat. “Something like that.”

He really smiled now. “‘Course.”

He let the silence stretch enough for you to feel a panic you normally never did when it came to men.

“Well, thank you,” you said, turning for the door. “I owe you.”

“Nah, you don’t owe me anything. We’re even,” he said as he stepped forward and opened the door for you.

You passed him and walked into the night air, about to do the very thing you knew you shouldn’t. But you did, because he was a good person under all that toughness.

“Not even a dance?” you quipped, turning on him with a raised eyebrow.

His face hardened, his jaw clenching just a heartbeat long enough for you to know the comment had its desired effect. But then he leaned against the doorway and crossed his arms in amusement.

“You want to know why I turned you down before? Why I will every time you ask?”

Your heart started racing in a way no man had made it race in years. “Why?”

“Because I don’t pay for it. If I get what I want from you, it ain’t going to be for any money.”

You just stared at him. He stood straight and let the door fall in, retreating back into his shop. “Night,” he said without looking back. And you were left watching him go, for once the one allowing a man’s words to linger.

[revelboo]

Would you be comfortable writing for Ratbat post-cassette? He’s just a little terrible guy

(sorry if he and Ravage etc aren’t allowed- I couldn’t find anything on your blog about beastmechs)

I’ve done a Senator Ratbat Oneshot before, so I don’t mind writing that version of him. I get a little iffy about the ones with only a beast form. Him after his spark is yeeted into his cassette form, Ravage or Sky Lynx would be fluff only storylines if I write them

Speaking of Ratbat…

Visitor

Ratbat x Reader

• He’s back. Heart stop racing from the surprise of those glowing red eyes staring in through the kitchen window, you blow out a breath. He’s bigger than you are and you hear his claws scrabbling against the brick face of your house for purchase as his wings flare for balance. Waiting and watching. The first time he’d come swooping out of the woods like a demon, you’d run for the barn. Heard a mechanical rasping that might have been laughter. Up until you’d come running back out with a rake and screaming like a banshee.

• Brave little thing, staring back at him without flinching or cowering. That naïveté of yours so fascinating that he keeps coming back. “Hello, dear little pet,” he croons, head tipping. Because you’re the sort of plaything he’d dearly missed. That strange mix of stupidly brave and innocently trusting so intriguing, not quite the same as the drama and games of the senate, but still delicious. Why trust him? Don’t you realize he’s dangerous?

• Smiling hesitantly as he taps the knuckle of a wing against the glass, you know you shouldn’t go out there again. He’s not like the crows you coax nearer with corn, whatever he is, he’s a predator. See it in the way he watches you, the coldness in those optics as they track you. But you enjoy talking to him, listening to his stories. At first through the closed window and then on the porch. Heading outside, it’s not full dark yet and fireflies are flickering like brief, shooting stars out under the trees. And you suck in a breath as he flies over, the hush of his huge wings and the hum of his thrusters lifting goosebumps along your arms. “You’re late tonight,” you say, eyes running over his strange shape. A huge mechanical, living bat and he bares sharp little denta at you.

• “Were you worried for me?” He asks, settling on the ground and straightening to tower over you, wings folding. “Would you grieve if something happened to me?” Leaning into your space to try and make you flinch, he flares out his wings and you press a warm hand against him, pushing. Like you think you can budge him. “Rage at fate to be separated from me?” And you roll your eyes at him.

• “If you’re gone, it’s not like you’d know,” you counter and he chuckles. And reaches to run the talon tipped servos at the wrist of his wing through your hair. Trying to get a rise out of you as he slowly follows you on his short legs. Hobbling upright when you’re sure it would much easier for him to drop and walk on all fours. “I’d miss our talks,” you finally admit and he hums watching you reach to cup your hands around a firefly, watching it glow before letting it go. ‘As would I,’ he murmurs, a wing brushing you as he hops to perch on the low, rock wall bordering the porch and you smile. “So, spill. Share the tea,” you say, pulling out a chair at the patio table and sitting as he uses his claws to scratch behind an ear. ‘Remember when I told you about Starscream having a human? He sparked them,’ he crows, his voice all notes of scandal and you have no idea who Starscream is or what sparked means, but you love the alien gossip.

[idcbabyialreadylostmymind]

I know I know we love hard daddy Kento who puts us in our place, but I just can’t stop thinking of Nanami who can’t help but giving him woman all the power.

CW- sub Nanami rhetoric, dom!gn!reader, hair pulling (kento rec.), a lil degrading but he likes it so :), will elaborate more on this subject later go sub Nanami go!!!!

A/N- this went on longer than it should have lol, but I want to make a full fledged version of sub!nan before I get down and dirty but hope you guys like has been on my mind the last couple days

This was meant to be a short Drabble

You and Kento knew of each other when both of you were in school, merely peers among peers. Then he left the Jujutsu world for good., I mean you couldn’t blame him. You never really did pay any mind to him, he was just a classmate, right? Wrong.

He came back, different and he was nothing like the Kento you remember, he was all man now: but something lay hidden behind those eyes of his.

you definitely are not what he remembers, but his stomach still turns in knots when he stands next to you; he would have thought the schoolboy crush would have died out by now.

But, evidently not.

He tried his hardest to push it away, his usual nonchalant demeanor turning into a cool exterior. You passed it off as him being an asshole just passing him by in any school related activities. You couldn’t lie and say there wasn’t an attraction to Kento but, anytime you did try to interact with him, he would act standoffish as if being in your presence was affecting him somehow.

So then you started acting the same and god, did people notice it.

You would act sweet one second and then if Nanami were to walk into the room your attitude would do a complete 180.

Then, you got paired up as partners on his first mission back. Great.

You don’t really remember how the two of you came to be what you are today, maybe it was one too many missions together, possibly the one maybe two accidental passing touches hat set a spark in both of you, maybe it was the countless nights you spent in a cheap hotel after a mission; both too tired to go home. But, something still set unspoken between the two of you and you just couldn’t place your finger on it.

You don’t remember how the two of you came to be what you are now. But you do remember something. A mission. It was a simple one. Go into the abandoned building, exorcise the supposedly low-grade curse, all done, hands mostly clean, and home before dark. But this mission was different. Kento almost died, trying to save you. You were so angry, angry at him for putting himself in harm's way for you, angry at the higher ups who lied about the strength of the curse you exorcized, barely with your lives.

You don’t really remember how you two came to be. But you do remember all that anger boiled up to a certain point and after you got done stitching him up in the first cheap motel you could find you just started hounding him.

How could he be so reckless?

How could the higher ups be so stupid?

How could he be so stupid?

That you could have handled it.

And that if he ever tried to do something like that again you’d—

You looked at Kento in the middle of your scolding, Kento looking down with shame? embarrassment? you don’t know what but it made you mad; Why wasn’t he looking at you?

Something took over you as your nose twitched and your lips formed a snarl, your hands found his hair; tugging on his gold strands, soft against your fingers. You couldn’t help the sadistic look that took over your face when you saw the pink tinge of blush staining his slender cheeks, and you definitely couldn’t miss the way his hand covered his crotch; pathetically trying to cover the massive hard on that strains against his pants.

“Are you serious?” Was all you said voice condescending and light, chuckling to your own devices, pulling his hair again, he tries to keep the moan at bay; but the way he gropes himself through his pants tells you otherwise. You lick your bottom lip watching the way he tries to suppress his own pleasure.

You do it again and again until his lips break and the most horribly erotic sound breaks in the air. Kento Nanami whimpered. Your mouth was in a wide smile, teeth showing like a hyena, you couldn’t help but laugh tugging at the strands once more before making him look at you.

“You’re a little fucking freak aren’t ya’?” You asked. And you want to know what that motherfucker said—no what he did, he moaned, fucking moaned. his eyes trailing off of you all dazed out. Your nose twitches again like a demented bunny, you grip his jaw harshly, not to cause pain but to remind him to look at you.

“I asked you a question, Kento? It’s not nice to not answer people.” You toy with him gripping his scalp even tighter, making him wince. He opens his mouth, saliva strands spreading with them, he nods his head rapidly.

“Yes,” he speaks desperately “yes I am.” He says through squished cheeks, his glasses were beginning to fog up and you could see the embarrassment taint his fair skin and it just makes you burn with anticipation.

“Yes you are….” Your tongue prodes the inside of your cheek, debating on what to do with him.

An unhumorous laugh that comes out more like a pathetic huff, his eyes shooting back towards you teetering on the edge of every move you make.

“I’m gonna have so much fun with you.”

[shintaru]

Sugar talking, your eyes only

🪼 m.list ♡ taglist ♡ recent fics🪼

Synopsis ~ Sending him 🌶️ pics when he’s busy

Tagging ~ @bfwooin @sylith @i-nssomniia @zyart-jpg @wthphe1n

*click*, *click*, *click*, you take a few photos of your chest in a white lacy bra. You scroll through them and send the best ones to your boyfriend. The read receipts pops up instantly. “I got your black card in my bra 😏” You send the text immediately noticing the ellipses but they disappear as quickly as they arrived. You start getting self conscious letting your mind race wondering if he didn’t like the photo.

Your thoughts are interrupted when you feel your phone vibrating. Unlocking your phone you return back to your messages with Wooin seeing he’s sent quite a lot. You look over everything one by one. The first message he sent was “Trying to get me to come home early? How cute. I’m omw” the text makes you smile. “So he did like the photo” you thought as you read over the next message.

“Here enjoy~ 👅” with a lot of photo and video attachments. The attachment of images started with only showing the tint in his sweatpants then with each swipe they became more erotic. To photos with different angles of his cock out. He even sent a few live images of him pumping his fist around his cock. There was even a live image of him tapping his cock on his phone camera.

Then you made it to the videos that had volume…The video starts with him freeing his cock from his sweatpants after that he’s swirling his thumb over his tip in circular motions before he slowly rolls his fist down his length. He lets out a low groan “F-fuck, Y/N” he says while letting out a breathy moan. He slides his hand back up his length, twisting it when he reaches the tip.

He’s slow with the motion at first he then begins to pick up the pace. After a while he slows down again he drags his hand slowly down his length and back up one last time. He cums a lot getting some all over his tattooed hand. He pumps his fist a few more times around his length letting out low groans trying to ride out his release. Those tattoos get you every time he looks way too good with them.

You read the last text he had sent after the attachments. “Touch yourself to these for me while you wait” you grab your vibrator from your nightstand drawer while turning it on to its highest setting. After you free yourself from the consignments of your clothing you place the vibrator to your clit. You begin to feel hazy as your release slowly builds up.

After some minutes your body begins to shake uncontrollably and you’re finding it hard to hold your vibrator in place. Your thighs tremble violently as you try to keep them open. Your release hits you hard making you squirt. Your hole clenches around nothing; you moan out your boyfriend's name as your body continues to convulse against your mattress. You didn’t notice Wooin watching you from the foot of your bed until he spoke “That’s hot! I hope you’re ready for more cause I’m not waiting”

Please be patient with me 😭 I know I write slow but this is what my drafts and queue are looking like… I’ll get them all done eventually!

[silverynight]

The dark side of a hero

<--Previous

Chapter 4

Inko

21 years ago

She has gradually changed her mind about Katsuki; sure, he always tries to hide Izuku whenever Inko goes to the Bakugos to pick him up after a sleepover, hoping the woman forgets about her son and doesn't take him back, but he hasn't done anything concerning around her little green bean.

However, even though she understands that's the behavior of a child, she still doesn't find endearing at all when Mitsuki sends her pictures of Katsuki completely wrapped around Izuku even in his sleep.

I can't move him when he's with Izuku, it's like he doesn't want to let your kid go.

Inko sends a smiling emoji back, even though she's not that happy with the situation.

Despite that, she can recognize that Katsuki is not a bad kid at all; after everyone in their classroom found out Izuku was quirkless, the little explosive boy was ready to defend him against the whole class, and he kept hanging out with Inko's heartbroken son like nothing had happened.

Now they're inseparable. Izuku still loves heroes and knows a lot about them and their quirks, but he doesn't mind trying something else in the future. He's still too young to decide what he'll do with his life, but at least he's more kind to himself.

Her little one has told her many times that Katsuki has promised to become the number one pro hero for the both of them. They even talk about Katsuki's future agency; the blond boy assures Izuku he'll get him a job there.

That promise makes Izuku happier and Inko silently thanks the Bakugos' kid for that.

And just when she thinks she can forget about her bad feeling, Izuku comes back with a mark of teeth on his left cheek.

"What happened, Izuku?" Inko kneels in front of him, worriedly checking the mark.

When the little boy touches his cheek, he smiles.

"It's okay, Mom!" Sweet Izuku chuckles. "It doesn't hurt. Kacchan was very gentle."

"But why did he bite you?" Inko asks, trying not to narrow her eyes too much in front of the little one. She wonders if she should call Mitsuki and tell her about her son's inappropriate behavior.

"He says that way the others will know I'm his," Izuku mumbles calmly, taking his shoes off, like it's completely normal.

Inko takes a deep breath, telling herself Katsuki is just a kid, a five-year-old boy who doesn't know any better. And yet, it worries her that her son's best friend is behaving way too possessive for his age.

"That's not right, Izuku. People are not things, they don't belong to other people," Inko says gently, trying to explain the situation to her child. "Please tell him not to do that again."

"Oh, alright," he nods, like the good boy he's always been. She smiles back and presses a soft kiss on his forehead.

If Katsuki doesn't stop, she'll talk to his parents, but Inko already knows he will, because even though he's quite stubborn and aggressive to other kids, he doesn't seem to want to upset Izuku.

She knows he'll listen to him.

The next day, when Izuku comes back without scratches, but a very distinctive plastic bracelet that says "Kacchan" Inko looks up at the ceiling to calm herself down. Well, at least it's not a bite, and she's sure that Katsuki will get over his fixation with her son like kids get over old toys.

Then, a few weeks later, something happens.

She rushes to the principal's office; good thing that her employer has always been kind to her and lets her leave whenever there's an emergency.

The secretary opens the door for her, not bothering to answer any of her questions. The principal didn't give her any details over the phone so she let her anxiety run wild and was already imagining Izuku seriously injured.

But then she sees him inside, perfectly fine.

"Mom!" He's a bit upset, but otherwise okay.

Only after she's completely sure Izuku is not hurt, she notices the other kid with bandages around his hand, looking a bit scared as his father keeps glaring at the Bakugos.

Then there's Katsuki, ignoring his mother's harsh words and staring at Izuku like he's absolutely devastated.

That's when Inko notices that her son is frowning at his best friend. He's mad at him.

"What happened?" Inko asks, feeling completely lost.

"One of the teachers saw Katsuki hurt Daisuke with a sharp pencil." The principal explains calmly, looking from the sobbing kid to the blond boy.

"But why is my Izuku here?" Inko presses, even more worried now. No, her son will never hurt another child.

"He was involved in the incident."

Before she can ask even more questions, Mitsuki starts scolding her son again, hitting him on the back of his head once.

"He took Izuku's hand!" Katsuki hisses, still glaring at the other kid.

"That's not a reason to hit another kid, brat!"

"But Izuku is mine!"

The principal rolls her eyes, probably thinking that's just a normal behavior among kids like the other adults in the room do, except for Inko. She seems to be the only one who thinks that Katsuki's behavior is rather concerning.

"That wasn't nice, Kacchan!" Izuku frowns at the blond boy before turning around to check on Daisuke.

That seems to be more effective than Mitsuki's scolding, because Katsuki stops yelling and watches, almost devastated, as Izuku moves closer to another kid that's not him.

If he hadn't hurt someone else, Inko would have felt sorry for him.

Katsuki's eyes fill with tears.

"See?" Mitsuki tells the other parent. "He regrets it."

Inko watches as her husband shakes his head behind the blond woman; Masaru seems to realize that his son is not upset because of what he did.

He just doesn't want Izuku to be mad at him.

"I'm sorry," Katsuki mumbles, tearing up, shocking his own parents in the process.

Even Daisuke's father looks pleased now, probably thinking that the kid's words are directed to his own son.

It's not only him, but everyone in the room who thinks Katsuki is apologizing to the other boy, but now that Inko has learned to read the signs, she can't be fooled. Katsuki is only apologizing to Izuku.

And he gets exactly what he wants, because her kindhearted son turns around to smile at him again.

"It's okay, Kacchan. Everyone deserves a second chance."

Katsuki nods, eyes glimmering with hope before he manages to escape from his mother's grip and walk towards Izuku before puling him into his arms.

He looks like he doesn't want to let go of Inko's son, but he eventually does, smiling back at the boy with pretty freckles.

After that, the principal decides Katsuki deserves a suspension; it's only a few days, but it seems like it doesn't affect the boy in the slightest.

At least until he realizes the complete extent of his punishment.

His expression turns devastated after he realizes no school means no more Izuku because his mother also grounded him and the little green bean is not allowed to visit him.

Perhaps that'll make him understand that it's not okay to hurt other people.

However, instead of walking out relieved, like the other parents do, Inko leaves even more worried.

But what can she possibly do about this?

***

You can read Chapter 5 and Chapter 6 on my patreon already!

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[beannoss]

SxF read along volume 2! (part 4)

Specifically on the moral and ethical worldbuilding in SxF.

I wanted to bundle these flashbacks of Anya's about Yor's lesson to her with fighting:

Both Yor and Twilight operate knowing the impacts and boundaries of the power they wield, one day I’ll write all my thoughts about this being fundamental to the wholesomeness of SxF, but it’s so nice to see it plainly articulated so early on too

👀👀👀 I’ve been thinking a lot lately about Yor and smiling and wondering how often maybe her smiles aren’t… entirely true… and anyway I’m 👀👀👀

… not me feeling like a dummy for trying to puzzle out Yor’s guiding principles from her actions throughout SxF when she just fuckin’ states them from the beginning 😂🫣

In all seriousness, Yor does practice these throughout as regards her contract killing... Endo does this very carefully threaded weave of SxF's internal ethics, how he keeps Yor and Twilight on the 'good' side of grey, where the lines in the sand are regarding antagonists, villains and cruelty. A fair bit of that threading is done with Yor and Twilight specifically, in how they do the morally dubious (at best) things they both do. It's also a careful balance, philosophically, because the only reason there is any sort of moral argument for Garden and WISE is because Ostania is implicitly facing a moral crisis, which is most especially demonstrated through the SSS...:

(I should have highlighted 'surveilling the public' above too; oversight!) This is also such a chilling panel:

Back more directly to the topic at hand, there is a marked difference between the work Yor and Twilight are shown doing, and this introduction of Yuri:

I think potentially one of the trickiest things with navigating SxF is that the internal ethics need be judged by the internal matrices we're shown. Twilight isn't really akin to a real world spy: he can change his face, body shape and voice within seconds, and it's clear that he and WISE are invested in some level of protection of innocent people who get caught up in their missions (or at least mitigation of harms, if Twilight's comment that WISE would look after Yor and Anya post-Strix is indicative). Yor isn't really akin to a real world contract killer: never mind running faster than cars, she can just stand in the middle of the road on one leg and kick a car hard enough it veers into a streetlamp, and otherwise her targets, at least, are consistently shown to be individuals or groups that would, by rights, be brought to criminal trial and that they are not indicates a clear failing in Ostania's criminal justice system. Which makes sense, when we see the explanation of the SSS above.

WISE and Garden are only an ethical option when the SSS is the main arbiter of justice: the SSS's fundamental model is flawed, because it is demanding its citizens see one another as inherently suspect, to surveil one another and ultimately to turn on one another. If the metrics for traitor-of-the-state are things like being a single woman and having extramarital affairs, then what makes for the truly traitorous is diluted to such an extent as to essentially be meaningless. The SSS aren't looking to implement justice; their goal is clearly control under the spurious declaration of order. Control and order are not justice; they are reiterations of power and oppression masquerading as justice and safety, leaving instead a void. And into that void of justice and safety step groups like Garden and WISE, and, jumping ahead for a moment, even the way Olka Gretcher's crime family was described demonstrates them stepping in where the government failed (and the Gretcher successor reneging on that role).

I wish I'd snapped some of the statements from/about WISE in the first volume, but I also tend to think SxF's primary exploration of the intersection of morality and justice is going to be in the contrast between the choices made by the Briar siblings and the potential inevitable clash between Garden and the SSS. And the intersection of morality and safety may well play out between Twilight and Donovan Desmond, and the choices they each make. To that, choice overlays everything, and the contrast of the exercise of power.