#I don't want to hurt you/anyone! and if I do. I sincerely apologize. I certainly didn't do it because I wanted to :[[ )

[mel-loly]

Hey! I just wanted to stop by to say that I really have nothing to do so.. If anyone wants to send me any asks (like- that are not “games”, but rather questions fr), whether random or about me/my characters, feel free! I would love to receive it :] <33

[selenezq]

🔞🔞🔞🔞🔞🔞🔞🔞MDNI🔞🔞🔞🔞🔞🔞🔞

At the encouragement of my lovely friends, my first smutty fic is here. It's a song fic and I hope you like it. Edited and Beta Read by @hurthermore and @the-demon-of-a-thousand-eyes

Alastor x Reader

Reader is AFAB

CW tentacle fucking, dom Alastor

Aphrodite

"I don't wanna be loved, I just wanna get fucked. I don't wanna get hurt, I just wanna get some"

Your sweet melodic voice echos in the opulent bathroom as you sing.

"So use your hands to touch my body, use your words to say you want me."

You continue singing along as you brush your long voluminous hair; your painted fingernails absentmindedly drumming on the marble sink counter. You were sensually swaying your hips along to the beat. Your lithe body moves with the ease and grace of someone who thought no one was watching.

"I don't wanna be loved, I just wanna be filling a hole in my bed" you continue singing, trying your best to be quiet. You certainly didn't want the other occupants of the hotel to hear you.

"I don't wanna get drunk just to go home alone when the night ends," your usually clear voice becoming a little emotional at the words you are singing. Your hips still swaying enchantingly to the beat. Despite your best efforts to keep the others from hearing you sing, you had caught the attention of someone in the hotel.

You didn't notice him watching you from the shadows, his gaze following your every move. The way your hands slid down your beautiful body as you shimmied around to the music made him feel things he never thought he would. Which in turn made him angry. He couldn't understand why he found himself so drawn to you. His eyes flared red with anger despite the usual smile that remained on his face.

"You've got a body and you're like me, on my knees I'm Aphrodite," he watched you sing from the shadows absolutely entranced by your voice.

"Call me dirty, say it nicely just don't ever call me wifey," you sang with a lovely shake of your plump ass. The flimsy piece of cloth you called a nightgown rode up, exposing the luminous skin of your upper thigh to him. He briefly considered palming himself from the shadows.

Disgusted and enraged at the thoughts you had inspired in him he chose this moment to detach from the shadows, becoming corporeal. You suddenly let out a delectable squeak of fear as you noticed Alastor suddenly join you from your view in the large mirror that ran the length of the wall.

Before you could even fully turn around he had materialized the chain that bound your soul to him. The green glow lit up the bathroom eerily. With a tug of the chain Alastor had you stumbling to your knees. Your soft skin hit the cold tile harshly and you felt a moment of pain.

"You startled me," you murmer softly; your wide eyes looking up at him through thick lashes. From this position he had an unobstructed view of your ample cleavage.

"This is how you waste your time?" Alastor spits derisively. His anger feels palpable, dangerous even. Unsure of what you've done to anger the radio demon your lip quivers a little.

"I didn't mean to disturb you or anyone," you quickly say; The apology falling from your lips sincerely.

"I think you wanted me to hear you sing this filth pet," he says his voice sounding dark and staticky. He can't help the longing he feels for you seeing you here on your knees in supplication for him.

He starts to wind the long chain that is attached to the glowing collar on your neck. The clinking of the chains that bound you to to him reverberates in the bathroom. You are dragged slowly, inch by inch, until you are right at his feet. He threads his sharp claws in your hair and jerks your head up to look at him. You feel fear course through you, laced with arousal. You clench your thighs together in an attempt to hide it.

"You have no idea what you do to me do you," he utters, his voice harsh. He bends sharply at the waist bringing his face quickly down to yours. You feel his breath hot on your face. Gazing up into his glowing red eyes, you see the madness that lays there. You should feel more afraid but instead you can feel your panties getting wetter by the second.

"No I dont?" You whisper unsure of what Alastor will say. You had noticed the way he had been behaving strangely to you lately. Leaving the room anytime you walked in. You weren't sure just what you had done to upset the powerful overload but you knew being on the receiving end of his wrath was not a place you wanted to stay.

"You," Alastor hissed angrily tightening his grip on your hair; hair he noticed felt silky smooth against his hand. "Have been driving me absolutely wild. Making me feel out of control and have thoughts I've never had before," he finished his voiced laced with vitriol.

Pain mixed with pleasure for you. You tried your best to clench your thighs together in an attempt to ignore the growing arousal making your pussy slick. You head was held at a harsh angle as you gazed up at Alastor. "I'm sorry,"these words fell from your lips in an attempt to placate his anger.

"The things I want to do to you Pet," Alastor uttered removing his hand from your hair in an attempt to gain control over himself. You continue looking up, unwilling to break the eye contact.

"Then do them," you dare him bravely.

As soon as the words leave your mouth it's like the dam to his self control was broken. He roughly yanks you up off the floor. You're barely on your feet before he's using his shadows to pull you into the ground. Inky black tendrils wrap around you as your world falls out from under you.

Before you can even register the pitch black void you've been sucked into you find yourself standing in a room you've never seen before. Bones line the walls, and you notice an entire pocket dimension bayou. This must be Alastors room. As quickly as you arrived you find yourself being pushed roughly down onto a bed.

You fall on your back with a thud. Before you can even register how soft the sheets underneath you are a cold tentacle pulls you down so your legs dangle off the edge of the mattress. Alastor looms over you, his grin wide and sinister as he gazes down at you.

"Be careful what you wish for; Not many desire to see what I'm capable of, darling." Alastor said his voice laced with promise. With his words multiple tendrils of shadow burst up perilously from the ground, coiling around your arms and legs until you can't move at all. His smile widens into something more predatory and all together sinister.

Stalking around the bed until he's standing close enough to trail his claw down your cheek, his sharp tips just barely pressed into your soft skin. Turning your face so your gaze met his, he lets out a triumphant hiss of static. "Don't say I didn't warn you." Alastor growls menacingly.

He takes a moment to admire your form, bound, helpless, and vulnerable before him. He licks his lips in anticipation. With but a shift of his will, he has another tentacle sliding across your leg, and up your skirt. The cold feeling of his shadow appendage on your warm, flushed skin shocks you into arching your back as best you can. With a harsh tug, the tentacle pulls the flimsy piece of fabric, covering you to the side. Your already slick cunt being exposed to the cool air causes a breathy gasp to pull itself from your throat.

"What a delight it is to see you so utterly helpless and at my mercy." Alastor asserts. His tentacle finding your clit and rubbing soft, teasing, circles. "I've thought about this more often than I should." he confesses. His gaze takes over your form as you look entirely debauched tied up with his tentacle massaging your most sensitive part. You try your best to hold back the breathy moan vying to escape.

Abruptly and quickly he's leaning down close enough that you can feel his breath fanning out over your face. "Don't you dare hold back the sounds of the pleasure only I can give you, pet" he hisses angrily.

"Yes sir, I won't." you whimper softly.

"Good girl." he says giving your head a condescending pat.

Without warning a second tentacle plunges into your warm, wet, pussy. You cry out in ecstasy, head falling back against the pillow.

"You're so beautiful for me like this," Alastor says, fervently reaching out a claw to stoke your cheek. A gentle contrast to the tentacles intense pulsating movements. They squelch loudly in and out of your drenched cunt with renewed vigor as your cries of pleasure get louder. Each new thrust has you clamouring Alastors praises. The appendage at your clit circling at a brisk pace.

"Ah ah Alastor!" you exclaim, pitch rising with each continued movement in your cunt.

"You'll have to try harder than that with your words if you want something princess." He remarks, gazing down at you with manic glee. The outline of his massive cock was hard, almost strained against the fabric of his pants.

"P-p-please Alastor, I need to cum, I want to cum." you beg shamelessly as you start to feel your sweet release creeping up.

"Since you've asked so prettily and politely I don't see why not. You may cum now, pet." He commands authoritatively.

With his words something in you finally snaps, euphoria crashing over you in waves. The tentacles wrapped around your body hold you down as your orgasm wracks through your body with intense pleasure. The ones inside of you still not ceasing, fucking in and out of you through your entire climax. The sounds of your wanton chanting of his name as you finish, echoing around his room.

Only after your body has gone limp does he release you and recall his shadowy magic back. He steps close and smooths some hair back from your debauched, glowing face. "You were such a good girl, taking it so well." he coos at you with admiration. "You may rest here until you recover." He says matter of factly. Stepping away from you he straightens his tie, and smooths any non existent wrinkles from his suit. You mentally note how unfair it is that you look so thoroughly ravished while he remains composed.

"Now if you'll excuse me dear, I've got some business to attend to." he says walking to the door. Taking one long, last look at your panting form. The look of bliss on your face as your chest moves up and down while you pant for breath. And without so much as a goodbye, he opens the door and exits the room leaving you dazed, and spent.

The song this fic was based on.

[unbidden-yidden-deactivated20240]

I cropped this to make my own post because I didn't want to start discourse for OP who is just minding their business and whose posts I've seen around and from that is someone I respect.

(OP if you see this and want to participate in this discussion you are more than welcome to; I just didn't want to derail your post that had a clear intended audience that wasn't me or most of my followers.)

However this:

Is so interesting to me theologically, because I'm not sure I could relate less, lol.

I never want punishment for punishment's sake for anyone, even my worst enemies. I just don't. I don't think it helps at all or fixes anything. If anything, it makes me feel worse, because then I have to consider the ethics of causing suffering to someone or having suffering caused on my behalf. If you hurt me, I don't want a moral, ethical obligation to consider your feelings and empathize with you. You just hurt me! If I hurt you back in ways that aren't simply self-defense, but are calculated and premeditated for the sole purpose of revenge, it doesn't fix whatever you broke, and it just creates a crack that allows you to claim a moral grey area that didn't exist before. And no, I don't want an eternal Hell to exist for me, my enemies or anyone else. The worst person I can think of could not possibly, in the duration of a human lifetime, ever deserve an eternity of punishment. Period. It's not proportional, it still doesn't fix whatever you broke, and it ethically forces my hand to forgive you to hopefully avoid a fate that no one should face.

No, the one thing that I want is teshuva. Let's take the most extreme personal example I can think of: the person who abused me. He cannot fix what he did to me, because it's done. The trauma is there, and no apology could possibly heal it. I healed it, after a lot of hard work. I don't want any kind of relationship with him and have been no contact for years now. So literally the only thing he can actually realistically do is to work on himself so he never abuses anyone else. I don't wish for bad things to happen to him. I gave him everything I had when we were together because I loved him. I don't wish for him to experience abuse, because that's actually almost certainly what started this cycle of violence to begin with. I hope he finds peace, I hope he works on his mental health, and I hope he works on himself so that he never abuses anyone else. If he wanted to make teshuva, then, he would need to (1) recognize the true extent of what he did to me and regret it thoroughly, (2) apologize sincerely, (3) otherwise continue to stay away from me, and (4) actually deal with his problems so that he never hurts anyone else. And so long as he remained in a state of not abusing others, he would have my full forgiveness. He hasn't done any of that, but if he did, I would forgive him fully. How would punishing him help me? I don't care what he does these days as long as he stays no contact and doesn't abuse anyone else.

And yeah - I'm certain Hashem loves him and every other part of creation as much as She loves me; I sure hope so, actually! That doesn't give him or me or anyone else a free pass, but the love of G-d is unconditional, like an idealized parent-child relationship. A loving parent still holds a child accountable, even if they forgive the child for wrongdoing, because the accountability process is actually part of that love. A parent who refuses to hold their child accountable is actually being neglectful.

Anyway it's just an interesting cultural difference, because the very concept of an eternal Hell breaks my faith in a way that unconditional love of G-d towards everyone, including the worst people I know, doesn't.

[sophieinwonderland]

Dang did you know the system behind KipAndKandiCore had been traumatized due to people spreading rumors about them in the past? I follow their multiplicity account and it looks like they were badly triggered and ultimately hospitalized due to the false accusations you made about them.

Will you apologize? Looks like they never reported EeveeCraft at all (they said as much on their blog), but you said they did? Also is it true that you block evaded to view their blog?

It’s really scary to see that a blog I follow had the owner of another blog I follow sent to a crisis unit. I really hope the system that runs KipAndKandiCore (and Multiplicity-Positivity) are okay! It’s not good to make assumptions about other people. You never know what they’ve been through and how they’ll handle being lied about!

I wish that systems weren’t so quick to judge other systems. And I especially wish that systems wouldn’t say things about other systems that they aren’t even sure are true. Looks like you really hurt that system with your words… Yipes!

I’d like to know if you plan on apologizing. Because if you’re not, I don’t want to follow you anymore. What you did was really hurtful and I’m so scared that something like that could happen to me too!

I'm sorry that things got to this point. And I sincerely wish them them a speedy and healthy recovery.

I used to enjoy seeing their posts. We weren't friends exactly. Never really interacted outside of public reblogs. But their posts always put a smile on my face.

Then around December they started reblogging posts attacking me. In May, they @'d me, calling me transphobic and bigoted. They've accused me of supporting zoophilia. Actually, in the same exact post where they tagged Eeveecraft while having Eeveecraft blocked and accused Eeveecraft of being racist, they attacked me and Cambrian Crew, calling them a longtime ableist, and repeated the zoophilia line and called me a "proud racist." (I don't think classifying me as a "promoter of transX" is accurate either, just because I've listened to the transX community and am generally neutral on the subject. But I'm also not too offended by that one. 🤷‍♀️)

I would hope someone with trauma relating to people spreading false rumors about them would be more careful doing the same to others.

For the record, I didn't do that.

I said they attacked Eeveecraft, because yes, their post is attacking them. They may not see their character assassinations and accusations as personal attacks, but I certainly do. And I think many others reading that post would as well.

I also never said they reported Eeveecraft. Someone asked me if I knew falsely reported them, and I said the following:

Sorry, I have no clue who was responsible for falsely reporting them. 🤷‍♀️ The problem is that it really could have been anyone. When I said “attacking,” I’m referring to the fact that this happened shortly after an argument with Kipandkandi hurling accusations of racism at them. Could they have falsely reported @/eeveecraft? Maybe. Not long ago, they reblogged a post I made that called out SAS’s hypocrisy on posting screenshots of Tumblr posts, and tagged it with “#sophie get banned challenge.” So would they be willing to report someone who said something they didn’t like, even if it didn’t violate any rules? I think so. But just because it’s something they’d be willing to do doesn’t mean it’s something they did.

I then went on to list other possibilities.

My belief is that Eeveecraft wouldn't have been banned were it not for them instigating anti-tulpa rhetoric and tagging Eeveecraft in a post accusing them of being racist that made it easy for potential harassers to reach them, despite knowing Eeveecraft had them blocked.

If you look at Kipandkandi's blog though, you will find months and months of attacks against me. Some made directly by them. Some reblogs of attacks against me. Reblogs of reblog of my own posts. And that's not to mention the callout post on their positivity blog.

I'm not sorry that I mentioned them twice after months of enduring constant damaging personal attacks and character assassinations from them in silence.

I'm sorry things escalated to this point. I'm sorry I ignored a problem and let it fester until now. Maybe addressing things earlier would have been better. Maybe I should have talked to them a long time ago. Maybe I ignored things too long and that's how we got here.

But as for what I posted now...

I would ask anyone out there how they would feel and react to an account that is constantly spreading rumors about them, attacking them, reblogging posting attacking them, calling for them to get banned, etc.

How would that make you feel? How would you respond?

Because personally, I think I've shown a great deal of restraint through this. More than most people would in the same situation.

It hurt, but I bottled everything up and let all of the constant personal attacks slide off for months, only actually acknowledging them when they switched their focus to attacking other members of the tulpamancy community like Eeveecraft and Cambrian.

I never want to hurt anyone. But I'm also not going to remain silent while they hurt the community and people I care about.

If you don't want to follow me because of that, then that's your right.

But I wanted to give you the context and let you make your own decisions.

Having said all of that, I really do wish them the best. I'm angry and frustrated with them. I've been confused why they seemed to develop such a deep, personal hatred of me over the past months. But I don't hate them. I genuinely still care about them and want them to be happy, healthy and safe.

[marithlizard]

First impressions of Helluva Boss s2e9, "Apology Tour"

Is it weird that I feel even more reluctant to hit play this time? I knew what was waiting in Full Moon and how much it would hurt. Whatever emotional sharks are swimming in s2e9, they have bigger teeth.

Beautiful garden, is this still in the palace or is Stolas on vacation? He certainly seemed to be shutting up the palace last episode.

Annnd here comes Blitz over the wall with apology attempt #1. Prediction: It will be sincere but quickly turn into defensive anger when it's not accepted, and he will dig himself even deeper.

…oh no. He's pretending everything is normal instead

it is not, Blitz

it's really not

Maybe the way the plants are trying to eat you should be a clue

"I want to feel like I'm earning my way to earth". Well, isn't that interesting. Huh.

I've always known Blitz was proud - he's never bragged to anyone about his access to a prince of Hell, or tried to use it in any way. (Stolas would have gladly made a phone call to get Loona her appointment sooner, if nothing else.) I can certainly believe he doesn't want charity.

But that's not at all what the problem is here and you know it

The change in expression from aggressive confident seduction (Blitz do you realize you sound exactly like Chaz) to "you don't want me?"

Never play poker, hon. When you tap your claws together like that it means "oh shit I fucked up how can I make them stop being mad".

"So how about you respect that." Stolas, this man has never drunk a glass of Respect Boundary Juice in his life. He catcalls boundaries from street corners and does not call them back in the morning.

Wait. Verosika can't possibly know about the full moon breakup. She must have invited Stolas because of Ozzie's? And who else will be at this party?? Will Fizz be at this party? It'd be understandable if he still needs to vent from the years of bitter anger, but… I really hope he doesn't show.

Oh shit Barbie will be at this party.

How many relationships, romantic and otherwise, did Blitz fuck up but not care about enough to keep in his special photo gallery? Could be a lot. At least the sinners IMP has killed won't be at a human world party.

No, Stolas, Blitz doesn't really think that's the reason. He's just very very good at lying. His entire life has been a circus performance for unimpressed audiences. You're looking at a grownup version of the little boy with worm horse.

"So what are you doing here then?" YES GOOD STOLAS GET HIS ASS beautiful shot there. I feel like a sportsball commentator.

sigh I know I predicted you would dig yourself deeper, Blitz, but did you have to use a power drill?

I'm proud of Stolas for so clearly and honestly saying what he wants and doesn't want. It'd be so understandable to go straight to "Fuck off and never contact me again", but he's not doing that because he understands his own heart.

Oooh oooh OOH they're finally talking about Striker!

Shit. Blitz keeps letting his real emotions show on his face for a few seconds and then turning up the Dragon Driller X000 even more to dig himself still deeper. I got nothing this time, buddy. That "love ballads" fakeout was indefensibly nasty.

I like the angry tail-lashing with sound effects, though. This might be the angriest we've ever seen any imp be.

"I can sorry more people, everyone but you!" I was right? "Apology Tour" really is going to be Blitz going around to apologize to people he's wronged? But, uh, I did think it would be more sincere repentance and less of a fuck-you gesture.

Well. Stolas 500, Blitz 0 is the final score for THAT conversation.

Is Blitz going to go to the anti-Blitzo party in order to resentfully and insincerely apologize to the attendees? That is one of the worst ideas I've EVER heard.

Oh no he's got a list! YES APOLOGIZE TO MOXXIE

MARTHA! Blitz is actually putting the people he killed on this list?? Like, he recognizes that it was wrong in some way? huh.

a gift basket

a "sorry we killed you" gift basket

my mind is leaping straight past the absurdity into the math how many gift baskets can you afford Blitz oh no wait, he probably just stole a whole shop of them from the human world.

In which case take it Martha, when will you ever get to eat Earth food again?

wait

I take it all back, Mrs. Mayberry and Martha shacking up is the funniest thing I've seen all year. Everyone's mood is improved all round, good job Blitz.

But that list ought to be nineteen pages long at minimum, you just wrote down a dozen easy ones because this is a performative gesture to make yourself feel better

And the DHORK agents get a little card with a horsey! Guess they didn't rate a gift basket. (I like how distinctly different the new Asmodean crystal portals are, and how easy it seems to be for Blitzo to use them. Guess it is an upgrade after all.)

Jesse the hot bouncer? That IS low-hanging fruit, you probably weren't even the rudest person he dealt with that night.

What on earth are these "funny" texts you've been sending Stolas? Not exactly A-list material wait are you actually typing out a genuine apology?

Nope, not sending it. Not ready yet.

Loo Loo Land's still in ruins. I thought we saw them rebuilding it in "Exes and Ohs", but maybe Mammon changed his mind.

Can't deal with Moxxie, there must be someone really easy to apologize to - I know, corpses!

pfft I would've liked to see him give a little speech at the Hollys.

Yeah, the cherubs deserved that. And now we've run out of excuses to avoid the party.

That's the first time we've ever seen anyone comment on Blitz's scars. I'm just glad he didn't kill them.

Quite a well-attended party, I can see making that decor was very cathartic for you Verosika. Stolas out of place and unhappy - I wonder what he expected? Lovely costume, though, I like that much better than the royal romper.

Verosika looks different when out of her glamorous work getups, doesn't she? More like a relatable person.

Hey, there's a sack of some sort of party supplies from Bee! I guess she and Vortex have no reason to care about Loona's "dad guy" more than in passing.

(You know, for an animation helmed by someone who gets constantly attacked for being fatphobic and never drawing body diversity, I see a far number of hot larger bodies in this episode. Just saying.)

"Sorry for fucking your mom, though I thought it was your dad" - Standup comedians wish they could think up lines as awful as what Blitzo throws off the cuff.

I really thought a lot of the images from the trailer must be hallucinations or dream sequences. But no, Blitz just finally realized that he is in a room full of people who would love to kill him slowly as a party game, and took cover. It's amazing he made it across the room without being recognized.

BWHAHAHA IT'S DENNIS. Who I really should feel bad for. He didn't do anything.

Wow, that is - not a musical style I expected from Stolas. But Blitz needs to hear this and lord knows Stolas needs to sing his heart out to a sympathetic audience for once.

I got too caught up to remember to comment for a bit, but they are talking! I didn't think they would get this far!

Look at those fingers- that's not the "how can I get out of trouble" tell, that's - I don't know what, something more honest. Blitz cares, it's obvious he does, he doesn't want Stolas to be hurting like this and yet he can't make himself say the words Stolas says he wants to hear.

And - that's a good thing? This isn't a romcom, if he said those things right now neither of them would really be able to believe it. And despite his jealousy, Blitz doesn't try to stop Stolas from going off to dance with someone else. He lets him go, he doesn't make a scene, and now I think he's going to go apologize to Verosika. For real, even.

Good job, Blitz. First really right move you've made all episode.

Verosika overheard their conversation, at least enough to know about the apology tour?

sigh Well, I guess he always does have have to try his circus act first. It's so much safer than sincerity.

Oof. That's why he bailed? That's all? Nothing about him wanting kids, or her drinking, or sexual incompatibility. Just him being afraid of commitment. And he couldn't even just dump her, judging by her song at Ozzie's; it must have been a drawn-out thing of him becoming less responsive over time and then running away with her wallet.

At least some self-reflection is happening. And jealousy! While I'm very glad that Verosika stopped him, I'm also glad to know that Blitz thinks of Stolas as his bird.

She served him the piece with his own heart on it. 9000 points for style, Verosika. I hope you find the right demon for you.

I think Wally is just there to sell merch and not because he also feels personally victimized.

HAH her song haunting him on the radio is perfect.

Stolas's dance partner is in the credits as ""Better than Blitzo" Guy" pfft. (at least I assume that's him)

Conclusion: 10/10, ending on a more hopeful note than I expected. I'm so glad they didn't do a B plot this time; it would've been really jarring, and the silly apologies sequence gave us enough of a breather between the heavy scenes.

[pruning-the-minds-garden]

Hogwarts: Legacy

I saw some friends on the mod team for the server were playing it today in a Discord server I (was) on. That really hurt me. I'm not going to yell and scream at them or anyone who plays that game, nor did I flounce as I left, but if you choose to... then you're choosing to contribute to transphobia, antisemitism, and do it in a charged environment that is targeting trans people specifically right now. I'm not okay with that.

JKR gets residuals from that game, involved or not. Those residuals will be claimed by her as a validation of her views, as she sees every dollar earned as a vote in favor of transphobia. The developers have already been paid, so buying the game doesn't help them. Whatever you think about separating the art from the artist, she disagrees with you and links herself inextricably to her art, so consuming it is supporting her whether you like it or not. She spends that money to harass, oppress, and ultimately support the genocide of trans people. That is not hyperbole. But, enjoy your video game. I mean that sincerely. It would suck to spend your hard-earned money and not enjoy that video game. Still, choosing to buy it was its own issue.

It's not a hard choice, in my opinion. Not only is it transphobic, it is also antisemitic and simply not well-made, by accounts from reviewers and people who've played it. People have enjoyed poorly-made games before, though, so maybe you will enjoy this one. Spend your money how you choose.

If you choose to make that choice, that's... that's certainly one you can make. You have the freedom to make it. Congrats. But, it means that I will not trust you as a person to have authority over me, to police or patrol my safety, or to stand up for me when it comes time to. It means I don't want you in a position of authority in my life. If that hurts you to hear... well, okay. I won't say sorry because my boundaries are my own and I will not apologize for enforcing them, now or ever, and they don't have to make sense to you. So, to the people playing it who know what that choice entails, but choose to do it anyway...

Have a nice life.

[lazkoal]

youtubers, please take down "anti-sjw" transphobic videos from the gamergate era (an open letter to JelloApocalypse)

i really don't give af if anyone sees this, i just need to get this out of my system.

as a non-binary person, i don't forgive JelloApocalypse for the Welcome to Tumblr video. not enough was done for me to even consider forgiveness. That video was so destructive and so horrible and convinced a lot of people (including my teenage self) that trans/genderqueer/non-binary people weren't valid or were just some kind of dumb Tumblr fad. It was part of a barrage of transphobic videos on YouTube that prevented me (in no small part) from coming to terms with being non-binary. and if you look at the comments of that vid, you can see for yourself how much this affected a lot of other people by validating their transphobia/general bigotry.

before you say anything, i've read the apology written by Jello in the pinned comment. I think the apology was given sincerely and I do not think in any way, whatsoever, that Brendan is transphobic/homophobic/queerphobic/etc. It's clear they have changed a lot since that video and I don't think they should be de-platformed or whatever for it.

HOWEVER

i have two complaints

number one: why is this apology only in a pinned comment on the video? the people who need to hear this apology most are the trans/genderqueer/etc. people that were hurt. Why would they willingly go back to a video that made them feel uncomfortable? I certainly didn't discover this apology until just today cause for years I avoided going back on back on this vid for years. it should be posted literally everywhere they have a social media presence, to maximize the amount of people who can see it. hiding it in a pinned comment under a video that only the people who are probably going to agree with you (given they are coming back to watch this video so many years later) seems cowardly on Jello's part.

number two (and this is the big one): please just take the video down.

I genuinely don't get it. you (Jello) agree that this video is horrible and has been weaponized by transphobes and other bigots. so why is it still up? why can people still go freely watch it whenever they please, on your channel?

i get that you don't want to bury your history or whatever and taking the video down randomly may cause more outrage over you trying to cover up your past actions. but personally, i think the best course of action is taking down the video and then immediately uploading a video (on your main YouTube channel) where the apology is read out loud.

as it stands, "Welcome to Tumblr" is still around for any transphobe/bigot to freely go watch and to point others to. the pinned comment isn't enough. we cannot assume everyone who has been/is newly being exposed to the transphobia of that video will scroll down and read the entirety of the rather lengthy pinned comment. just take down the video. stop people from being able to access it on your channel.

and trust me, i know if you did this, someone else would upload a backed up download of the video on their own channel. i don't dispute that would happen. and hey, maybe all the transphobes who used to go and watch that video will find the re-upload and start linking people there and that re-upload would get millions of views just like your original video. but you know what? even if that does happen, you still are under an obligation to delete the video. it's the principle of the thing. continuing to host a video that serves as a gateway drug to transphobia on your channel (with only a pinned comment to try and stop people from being interpreting the video as transphobic) is irresponsible and shows a lack of moral clarity on your part, i think.

you claim to love and care and respect trans people, so prove it. delete the video. do everything in your power to try and scrub that video from the internet, even if that is an impossible and exhausting task. that is your penance. it's the least you can do to show genderqueer people you care, cause for me personally, a single pinned comment is not gonna cut it.

endnotes:

(the above sentiment applies to anyone who uploaded bigoted content in the gamergate mid-2010s "anti-sjw" era. take the videos down and apologize openly and properly. take accountability and do your best to try and correct for your past mistakes--a pinned comment or any other meager kind of apology does not cut it. just take down the video and stop giving bigots a place where their views can be affirmed, validated, and amplified.)

(also if you don't think this is a problem, i beg you, just go to the newest comments under "Welcome to Tumblr." lots of people are still having their transphobic views validated/shaped/affirmed by that video. its harmful legacy is still ongoing.)

[shdwtouch]

also quick apology is due: I didn't make that post about any of my current mutuals owo;; so I apologize if folks felt called out in that post, or felt like it was about them. it wasn't, I promise ! its honesty just been something on my mind lately.

so I do apologize if that post hurt anyone or made them feel bad about their rules / how they run their blog. that was not my intention ! and I definitely didn't make that post to intentionally vague. as I stated in the reblog, I appreciate folks feeling comfy enough to state their sides of things, and to discuss things in a civil manner. but I also know that isn't easy for everyone, so I do sincerely apologize if I made anyone feel self conscious when I posted that. <3

like, all I can really say is. as long as you're gonna give me a chance ? and know I'm slow / anxious / forgetful, but also like... perpetually here and available ? and that you can just. poke me at any time ? I think we'll be okay <3

sending love tbh. and sorry again ; w ; I wasn't lying when I say I empathize, but to be completely honest, I feel like I don't fall within the realm of folks who just. ghost. and if I did, it certainly wasn't intentional. so again: communication ! and I genuinely hope I don't play into the anxiety or burn out folks feel when they reach out and don't hear anything back. I promise I am interested and do want to engage ! but I know I'm not perfect nor that great at communicating and keeping track of things...

idk, maybe the whole thing is a bit messier than I thought, not as clearly cut or defined. and idk if its fair to say we all carry the blame, but. I feel like in general we could discuss and raise points until the cows come home and still we'd all just end up feeling burnt out or frustrated, like the folks around us don't do enough. its. a difficult line to tread, isn't it ? and not something I intended to make light of.

[its-tortle]

From what I've seen apparently matty did the nazi salute once, and made racist and islamophobic comments, like ik it's none of our business who taylor dates but even so I feel like taylor should be a bit more aware of the company she keeps

hi! no i totally get what you mean! it's good to hold people accountable for their actions and i understand that taylor's association with him is stirring things up for people, especially cause her image is so comparatively clean and tame. matty has definitely done some questionable if not outright fucked up things and i'm not saying he hasn't. and i don't want to defend him and say he's an angel and uwu baby girl because he's not, but let me try and explain my insight as best i can.

i've been a fan of the 1975 for six or seven years now, and their image is not about being clean. i remember being 15 and listening to their songs about drugs and sex and suicide and going oop this is a bit problematic. but their image is also not mindless -- especially in recent years (most explicitly in their last three albums) the 1975 has been about social commentary. sometimes this is sad "I'm sorry if you're living and you're 17" and sometimes it's a more goofy-toned "QAnon created a legitimate scene but it was just some bloke in the Philippines" (both from the 1975 (2022)). in either case, their lyrics are full of irony and provocative lines for the sake of commentary. love it if we made it starts as follows:

Fucking in a car Shooting heroin Saying controversial things Just for the hell of it Selling melanin and then Suffocate the black man Start with misdemeanours And we'll make a business out of them

and it's not a song in favor of any of that. instead, it's pointing out the weird polarized state of things and knowing that that first line will get you to listen. that's what it's all about i think, a plea for attention. matty keeps opening his mouth on stage and going "not to be racist but-" *band starts playing* because he's doing some fucked up ironic bit and he knows that a video of that will go viral. it's promo yes, but it's also the continued curation of this ironic polarized image. his songwriting reveals that he doesn't mean any of that, he's just doing a shoddy job of making that clear to people who aren't in on the 1975 cult.

matty is all about saying controversial things just for the hell of it, but i don't think he means most of what he says -- of course this doesn't mean it's okay to say things if it hurts people. i just think he's very self-aware. matty knows he's a mess. he's a recovering drug addict who has been writing songs with his mates since he was 14 years old and isn't cut out for being famous in an age of cancel culture.

I'm sorry about my 20's I was learning the ropes I had a tendency of thinking about it after I spoke "We're experiencing life through the postmodern lens" Oh call it like it is!

or

And I took shit for being quiet during the election Maybe that's fair, but I'm a busy guy I get stoned nowhere and get paid there It's not really how babies get made So, I take a minute when I think I won't die from stopping Oh, I'm just a busy guy

i don't know, i don't really want to keep just throwing lyrics at you. i just think that his songwriting is so self-referential and reveals so much about his image and relationship to fame.

he's not good at sincerity and he's certainly not sweet. his bits aren't funny to everyone. he keeps hurting people with his careless use of words, especially on stage. if i wasn't a fan of his band and knew all of their music by heart, i wouldn't be happy to see him with taylor either. so, i get it.

he did recently acknowledge the controversy at one of his shows and sort of apologized in a very matty way. it made me happy to see, but again, i get if it's not enough for those that have been targeted by his bits. i'm a white woman, and i can not accept his apology for anyone else.

i'm not trying to make excuses for him or tell anyone else how to feel about him or his connection to taylor. this is just my take on it, and if it makes you uncomfortable, please feel free to block me !!

[hotlink907]

tw: mental health, anxiety, feelings of alienation

I just wanted to make a post addressing some thoughts going through my head right now.

It's been brought to my attention by a few people that I have made them uncomfortable through my willingness to write and reblog male reader fics. I completely understand and accept their feelings of uncomfortableness, and I apologize for making anyone feel that way. I only ever wanted to bring people joy with this blog.

Part of the reason why I am willing to work with fics featuring all genders is because of my own gender identity. It's something I've struggled with for a long time, and in recent times, more than ever.

I'm not sure of the word I would use to describe myself. Certainly not belonging to the gender binary. Not fluid necessarily. Perhaps nonbinary, but I don't want to attach myself to a community that I'm not sure I belong to yet. I don't want to overstep. That is not my place.

Truthfully, I have very few people with which to discuss this with in my personal life. My family would not accept it at all. And most of my friends would not understand. I find that writing and engaging with stories of all genders allows me to express the way I feel about myself.

I am deeply sorry if I have offended or otherwise hurt anyone.

I may be taking another extended break from this blog while I contemplate this. I am so sorry if this means I miss Kinktober. If I do, I'll get to those prompts eventually.

Once again, I sincerely apologize. I only ever wanted to make a blog that could belong to anyone, no matter who they were. I have nothing but love in my heart for all people, no matter who they are.

Please know that you are cared for, and that if you ever want to talk, I am always ready to listen and learn.

[biofuckingshock]

we could argue opinions all day, but it's a dick move for someone to tell u what u can and can't post. if someone doesn't like ur posts they should just leave. it's more important to have fun than to please everyone, plus there's no way to make EVERYONE happy. the fact that ur not hurting anyone is what's important. if ppl don't like fake lines on a screen kissing, they can go look at some other lines lol.

I mean, this all certainly true. And I'm also very glad of your reminder that you can't please everyone. I definitely needed that reminder.

But the thing is they weren't telling me what to post or not to post. (At least, not directly, though one could certainly make the argument that it was heavily implied via disgust and judgment.) It was just a message of their immediate emotional reaction (surprise and abhorrence) that I reblogged the Lutecest art.

Like I already have said, I personally do not care one way or the other about the pairing itself, about twin/incest pairings, or even other "odd", "troubling", "problematic" ships. (Mostly speaking in general here, children/underage paired with adults for example obviously not okay in my opinion.) My personal crisis came from the crossed wires of forgetting fiction and fantasy is for playing around and is very much not the real world, but applying my morals and ethics all the same as if it were.

But something I think is important to point out with your ask is that, yes, while someone dictating what you should and shouldn't do on your blog is not okay, someone only giving their opinion, even if it's different from yours is not necessarily the worst thing. One of the YouTubers I watch a lot once talked about appreciating coming into contact with different opinions because then he compare his own to them and see whether he actually agrees with them or if it only reaffirms his own opinions and beliefs. It makes him reexamine his thoughts and beliefs and if he should still hold onto them. And make him question any that he may not have even realized he held.

That's all the ask did. No, I'm not hurting anyone. But neither did their ask hurt me either. Just made me question where I stood with twin/incest ships and unconventional ships in general and the conflicts, the dissonance between different thoughts, feelings, and beliefs that I had.

I know you were only being supportive (and I greatly appreciate it! I very much sincerely do!!) and I know that I was being very vague about it (apologies aplenty for that, my mind was in a swirl of thoughts then and I was trying to process it all and didn't want to say much until i had) and that most of the time when people say they got a not-good message about unconventional ships it's usually a terrible thing like you said, but it's all good, truly!

Like I said in the response to the first ask itself, I will be tagging ship posts better in the future and even go back and edit old ship posts soon so they too are better tagged. That way people can still enjoy normal BFS content and choose not to see specific ships via Tumblr's filtering system.

In a way, it's a solution that makes everyone happy, huh? ;)

[tea-with-evan-and-me]

“you’re not sorry you did it, you’re just sorry you got caught”? THIS MAKES NO SENSE? LMFAO SHE GOT CAUGHT MONTHS AGO BY FRANCES YET SHE KEPT POSTING ON THE BLOG , YOU GUYS HAVE NO LOGICAL REASON TO HATE ON HER WHEN YOU ARE DOING THE SAME THING SHE WAS DOING - GOSSIPING ABOUT EVAN AND FRANCES. GFTWD NEVER ALLOWED ANYOME TO INSULT FRANCES BUT YOU ARE ALLOWING OTHERS TO SLANDER GFTWD AND SPREADING RUMOURS ABOUT HER ? NOW THAT HER POSTS ARE GONE YOU GUYS CAN SAY ANYTHING AND PEOPLE WILL BELIEVE YOUR ASS , THATS HOW FUCKED IN THE HEAD YOU ARE . YOU HAVE THIS CAMPAIGN AGAINST HER SAYING SHE NEEDS TO BE HELD ACCOUNTABLE AND SHIT WHEN YOU ARE TALKING CRAP ABOUT FRANCES TOO ???? FUCK OFF ROFL

now what would compel you to come into my asks screaming in all caps? lmfao is it really that serious? when i said held accountable, i meant having to listen to the thoughts of people you hurt and apologize sincerely, i wasn't condemning you to hell for all of eternity. no one said you weren't free to ''talk crap'' about ol' frannie and certainly no one said you weren't free to gossip!

also please don't come into my ask box being dishonest. to say you never allowed anyone to insult frances is ridiculous. i have literally posted multiple screenshots of you, gftwd, insulting frances and diagnosing her with mental illness. let me state clearly i really do not care about anyone insulting frances. i have stated personally, in my OPINION, you took it too far and became creepily obsessed with covering and criticizing every move she made, even those totally unrelated to evan after they broke up. and in many situations it was totally benign or inoffensive things she said or did that triggered you to say awful shit. additionally, you were terribly rude to people in your ask box and would get mean for no reason other than they asked something you didn't like or annoyed you. are you aware there is a trash button you can select if someone says something you don't like in YOUR ask box? because i have no problem deleting a message if i find it offensive or inappropriate to post. i have only had this blog for one week and am already acquainted with it.

i don't know what you hope to accomplish by threatening legal action and sending threatening messages to me other than.. i guess me deleting this blog and/or no longer responding to peoples asks regarding the mess you made. not gonna happen. and, well.. we both know there is no lawyer in the world who would take your case - in fact, they would probably find the idea hilarious! honestly, i am finding this saga pretty funny myself. otherwise, i wouldn't even bother responding.

i've been tagging this saga with ''drama'' so if people don't wanna see they can blacklist. personally i have no problem publishing peoples asks related to fandom drama, but i understand some of you folks just want evan tea and not to see this type of content and i want to be considerate.

[bluemoondust]

Could i request General Yandere Headcanons for Yuri (DDLC)?

✧General Yandere Headcanons✧ — Yuri

Warning(s): Obsessive Behavior, Hints of Overbearing Behavior, Slight Passive Aggressive Behavior, Unhealthy Habits (nail digging into skin, biting lip till it bleeds)

Yuri can immediately be categorized as an obsessive yandere. Upon first meeting you, she was very hesitant to make conversation but slowly and surely there was a growing desire to get to know you. Seeing how you are and the interactions you have makes her desperately want to get closer to you. She thinks you're amazing and cannot lose this sort of opportunity. She'd never forgive herself if she let you go. Yuri gathers whatever information she can on you. Likes, dislikes, hobbies, and all that stuff. She wants to impress you in some way as well. However, this gets out of hand when she starts to collect stuff from you. Dropped items was one thing but then escalating to rummaging through your bag is another.

She even swaps your uniform jacket with a newer one so she could keep yours! It makes it feel like you're with her no matter where she goes. Yuri makes sure she has worn it enough before returning it. Now it smells like her. Would you notice? Some part of her hopes you will, just so you can think of her.

There's a mental battle within Yuri's mind to if this behavior is unhealthy or not. She isn't the best at interacting but she certainly does not want to drive you away. I mean, so far everything is going alright and now she's talking to you! What she has done so far hasn't really hurt anyone... So it's okay, right? You won't really miss your pen or such anyways since the two of you do share sometimes. She did let you borrow her book. Yeah! She's just borrowing your stuff. Eventually Yuri will give it back but only after she leaves her presence upon it. Looking into every aspect of your being is only because she cares. It just makes her a more suitable partner than everyone else. They don't know you like she does.

The one thing that doesn't sit right with Yuri is there are any signs of you becoming uncomfortable around her. She understands that the things she says can potentially insult a person, so she watches her words. This is especially in regards to you. Presenting herself as a reliable, sophisticated individual is key in getting you to chose her. You'll be so amazed by how intelligent she is! Though maybe... You'll also like her actual interests too? Oh, she wishes that every day. It would send her over the moon. The excitement of such makes her intense in interaction and if she realizes, strings of apologies fall from her lips. Yuri hopes you forgive her, she didn't mean to weird you out.

Biting her tongue back from sharing her inner thoughts, she isn't very fond of people getting too buddy buddy with you. She sincerely hopes they'll only stay as a friend. They... they don't stand a chance. You clearly know she is a better choice is what she tries to convince herself. In Yuri's version of jealousy, she becomes insecure and loathes it. She is very aware that she has her own set of flaws but having them out in the open is another thing. Yuri gets a little passive aggressive towards the person as well as getting a little more clingy with you.

Yuri is more of a danger to herself than anything else. The only danger she poses on others is their self esteem if they really get on her nerves. It's subtle, but even the smallest of cuts can bring in so much pain. But still, sometimes during her moments of intense emotions, Yuri can get impulsive. Extremely. There's an itch that needs to be scratched, so she creates unhealthy habits to cope. Hair pulling, skin scratching, digging her nails into her skin, or biting her lip too hard. It seems to bring her back to reality when she feels the pain.

She will claim that she isn't selfish... but she at times she will admit that maybe she is. Yuri can't help wanting to keep you away from others or wishing the downfall of others for taking too much of your time. It's just that she can't handle the idea of either being rejected by you nor you ever leaving her. She wishes she can always be alone with you to share such great moments. Everyone else just ruins them. They could never understand what you two share. You're connected on a deeper level. Will you accept her?

[dadsbongos]

why did you ask me out? (3)

1 / 2 / chapter 3 - heartbroken but alive / 4 / 5

5.4K words

warnings - quick c-tier slur, jason carver is homophobic (go figure) and shoves you into a desk, eddie outs you to your friends in a convoluted and roundabout way (everything ends fine), speedrun enemies to friends to lovers trope

summary - You and Chrissy are long-lost best friends that join sides to pull one over on the girls hoping to make you prom queen as a bet. Things don't always go to plan - sometimes you realize you're in love and sometimes the girls shoot back at you.

~~

1986. Senior Year.

It felt pathetic to still be in love with her then. Hell, it feels pathetic now.

Chrissy isn’t one to lie, you know that after this she won’t let you go like she did over the summer of ‘82, but you’re sort of dreading that. Having to pretend you’re okay hearing about Jason Carver and his stupid hair and his stupid lips and his stupid body. 

You never understood how Chrissy and Jason started dating. Sure, she left and she stood by but she was anything except evil. Jason Carver, however, was evil.

“How’re you and Jason?”

“We’re not talking.”

You hate to smile, but she doesn’t seem too upset so you hope they secretly break up. Not because you’re jealous (a little bit because you’re jealous) but because he’s so terrible and she’s so good, you doubt that anything he could ever do would be worthy of her affection. Not that you think you’re much better.

“What happened?” Chrissy swipes a shade of red over your palm and quickly pairs it with a pink, then turns to her own forearm to do the same.

“We got into a fight,” she frowns, “I feel bad that I don’t…” you wonder why she bothered bringing you if she was just going to test the shades on her skin anyway, “I don’t really care.”

It’s whispered. Shaky. Like she’s petrified at the idea of being overheard.

“I mean, maybe it’s just… that time,” you mutter, hoping you can sound dismal enough to be convincing, “Jason’s an asshole, in case you haven’t noticed.”

She most certainly did. Chrissy picks out the palette from the shelf and moves to the lipstick. Her gentle fingers brush over a few until she crosses a vermillion shade and holds it up to your face. She squeezes one eye shut before nodding to herself and shoving the lipstick into your hand, then taking up a watermelon pink for herself.

You think you might’ve said the wrong thing, but you can’t bring yourself to regret it. Chrissy’s making a mistake with Jason and if it really hurts her to hear you say that, you’ll apologize - but you won’t be taking it back. He screams in the face of common decency and still gets to call himself the golden boy. He gets to claim that the tragedies of Hawkins fuel the basketball team and he gets to be selfish and he gets to call innocent kids with innocent passions freaks.

He’s worse than an asshole. You think he’s a monster.

She tells the girls that you two are done shopping and sits by a bench at the front of the store while they finish up. You join her and find it too awkward to look at her pensive face. Just before you can mutter a half-sincere apology, though, she’s speaking again.

“You wanna know what happened?” Chrissy’s voice is so quiet, you’re almost worried you imagined her speaking.

“You two fought,” you’re just as quiet, leaning closer so that the two of you can feel alone, “You just- “

“No, during the fight. What it was about,” she turns to face you and you have to force yourself to lean back, lest the other patrons think you want to kiss her (you do, but that’s not for them to know), “I haven’t told anyone and I don’t think he’s told anyone either.”

“You don’t have to tell me.”

“I want to,” her foot bounces and you remember a time when it was excusable for you to place a hand on her knee in public. Now you’re a little too old to explain it on not seeing the issue, “He found out I was smoking weed, and he almost punched a hole through my wall.”

“Jesus, Chris,” you don’t mean to gasp, but you couldn’t stop it before it flew from your mouth, “That’s bad. Like, insane bad.”

“I know. I wanna break up with him so bad,” she’s even quieter than before. Like it’s forbidden she have such a desire. Like she’ll be locked away if she’s heard.

“So, just do it,” you don’t understand the world she’s in, but you know enough to know that people like Chrissy more than they like Jason, “Your status as queen won’t change or anything.”

“I don’t wanna be alone, and if we break up then he’ll spread rumors or make it sound like I’m crazy,” she sucks in a sharp breath, “I can’t be alone like that.”

“You won’t be,” for the first time tonight, Chrissy’s shocked by how earnest you sound. You take one of her hands in yours, and she finally has the courage to lock eyes with you, “You won’t be alone. I’ll be there. The Hellfire guys will love you, too,” you turn away to cough awkwardly, “I- I know we’re not the cheer squad or the sports teams or anything, but we’re good people. I like to think so, at least.”

“No, I know you all are,” she presses her lips, “My mom would lose her shit, though.”

“Your monthly swear makes its appearance,” when she glares at you weakly, you look down, “Sorry,” she chuckles in good humor and you feel the tension leak from your muscles, “Fuck your mom, though. Not literally, but just, like, fuck her. You know? She’s not looking out for you.”

Not like I did.

You choose not to say that on account of how douchey it sounds.

“At the expense of sounding naive, I’ll admit that for the longest time I had no clue why my mom hated you,” Chrissy lets out a hollow laugh, “I just did what she said so it’d feel like she actually liked me.”

Your hand moves from hers to her shoulder, you’re careful - gentle, even - as you press your thumb into her skin.

“I don’t really care that much anymore,” she laughs again but it feels more lively, “I just want you.”

“That’s good, it’d be awkward if this were part of the bet, too.”

“Not so loud or they’ll know you know,” she giggles now, full and hearty and alive, leaning into your side, “I like this.”

“Me too.”

Chrissy suddenly bounds up from the bench and to the cashier. A row of nail polish was on display and she’s carefully examining it for just the right color (Chrissy never had enough nail polish despite having her bin and desk cluttered with the bottles, not that you were really complaining). You join her at the register as the cheerleaders flock out from the aisles and towards Chrissy.

She holds up the nail polish once it’s been scanned, “Black! I didn’t have any and I figured you’d wanna have some color for tonight.”

“What? You don’t like,” you hold up your hands, “chipped to shit, ugly ass moss green?”

“Not particularly,” she teases, nudging your hip with hers. You take the bag of makeup and nail polish from her hand and begin out the store with the other girls.

1982. Eighth Grade.

“Thanks again,” you murmur to Chrissy, “I know this isn’t your scene.”

“What? I’m happy to come,” she seems uncomfortable in the cramped bedroom of your family’s trailer, but says nothing.

The boys shuffle about in the room as you finish tuning your bass. Well, almost all the boys. Gareth was sitting out in what was technically your family’s backyard with his drum set. You bounced up from your bed and over to the open window he sat outside.

He had his walkman on, the tape for Corroded Coffin’s song of choice already loaded and ready. 

“Thanks again!” you cheer and he nods, lips pressed thinly and you can feel how embarrassed he is like this. You move into position with the rest of the boys and shoot Chrissy a nervous smile. She gives one back.

“Sorry if you hate it,” you look down at your hands. Callused and rough and sometimes you wondered if Chrissy would hold them anyway.

“Don’t be a bunny,” she waves off. She insists on the phrase even though it’s so dated by now. Cute, she calls it. 

Eddie signals off to Gareth and the two quickly find their rhythm. You don’t look back up at Chrissy, knowing full well that if you do then you’ll lose your nerve.

The middle school talent show was soon and Chrissy was more than willing to sit in and listen to what Corroded Coffin had lined up.

Chrissy isn’t much surprised you chose a KISS song, though she’ll admit that the choice of I Was Made For Lovin’ You did shock her. Although, according to you it was either this or Paranoid by Black Sabbath and she took your word that Paranoid was too long.

She doesn’t know that you chose this song for her and she doesn’t know that your hands shake because you’re in love with her and she doesn’t know how badly you sometimes wish you were a boy so that it’d be easier for you to love her. But that’s okay, the favor is returned eventually.

Because what you don’t know is that soon after this, she would slowly stop being your best friend. And after that, she’ll slowly stop being your friend altogether.

1982. Freshman Year.

The summer months have you scorching for a reason besides the heat. You hate to admit it, but you’re mad. Mad enough that when the boys are setting up their instruments, they can all feel the ick that radiates off you in thick rolls.

“Are you sure you’re gonna keep your cool?” Eddie narrows his eyes at you, as if he’d see through your lies if he stared hard enough, “This is our first gig and if you fuck up ‘cuz you’re all heartbroken your cheerleader best friend is gone, we’ll kill you. Collectively.”

“If this goes wrong it’s ‘cuz you’re slumming it with a bunch of 14-year-olds, not ‘cuz I’m heartbroken,” you grumble, making a point of staring at the shiny finish of your bass rather than looking at your lead, “Because I’m not, by the way.”

“So are,” Jeff instantly denies, “I saw you staring at her during lunch. And algebra.”

You totally were and you totally are.

“So what?”

“So, you’re upset,” Gareth jabs one of his drumsticks between your shoulder blades and you whip around to glare at him, “It’s fine, just own up to it.”

“I’m not even upset, it’s fine,” you look up as the nurses herd in the attendees of Corroded Coffin’s first ever gig, “How we even got booked at a nursing home is what you guys should be focusing on.”

Eddie shrugs, shooting you a wink, “I know a guy.”

The elderly didn’t appreciate Corroded Coffin’s rendition of War Pigs by Black Sabbath quite as much as you’d hoped they did.

1986. Senior Year.

The girls have disbanded and now you’re up in Chrissy’s bedroom as if she never left. Here you are, watching through her vanity mirror as she carefully, carefully, applies the red eyeshadow to her outerlid. Her lips are pursed and sometimes she bites her tongue when she’s focusing, it brings you back to every time you wanted to kiss her in this very bedroom. Right now being no exception.

You can’t help but roll over onto your stomach, just to stop staring at an image more beautiful than any painting in the Louvre. Quickly, you decide to busy yourself with her cassette player, rummaging through her tapes and shaking your head - hoping above all hope that she notices you.

“What’re you doing over there?” she hums, moving onto the pink shadow now.

“Searching for something good.”

Despite knowing exactly what you’re about to say, Chrissy opens the door for your jab anyway, “Find anything?”

Madonna - Like a Virgin Michael Jackson - Billie Jean Fleetwood Mac - Farmer’s Daughter ABBA - Angeleyes Madonna - Borderline Madonna - Burning UpMadonna - Crazy For You ABBA - Gimme! Gimme! Gimme!

Jesus Christ, maybe you’re as pretentious as Eddie.

“Nope,” your fingers continue to flick through tapes until you come to the end of the line, “Remind me to make you a new mixtape.”

“What? You think your music taste is better than mine?”

“Yup,” you reply without hesitation.

“Wow,” she turns now, looking at you as you lay back in her bed. Cat that ate the canary grin and crossed legs and fidgeting fingers, “Such a snob.”

“‘m not a sob,” you protest even though you’re partially convinced it’s true, “Just want my girl to have good music.”

For some odd reason, your heart doesn’t seize when you let the pet name slip. Not when Chrissy’s smiling as she turns back to the mirror and picks up the lipstick she got herself.

“Your girl, huh?”

“Mhm.”

“Well, then come here and let your girl put on your lipstick, ‘kay?”

“‘kay.”

You slide off Chrissy’s bed and kneel down in front of her, your hands settle on her knees and she uncaps the dark red lipstick.

She holds up her hand to your chin, “Can I…?”

Without thinking, you nod, eyes falling closed, “Whatever you need.”

Carefully, her hand takes to your chin, and tilts your head upwards. The press of lipstick is gentle as she swipes it across the skin. It almost feels like in another life this could lead to something more. Smudged pink and red lipstick and frisky hands and Jason Carver never getting the privilege of so much as seeing Chrissy Cunningham ever again. 

But this isn’t that life and Jason will be going to prom, most assuredly. So you sit still until she’s done and when she is, you look in the mirror. Blinking away the bleariness, you grin and watch how the deep red accentuates your lips.

“If I was a guy, I’d kiss you,” Chrissy nods to herself. More so to say you look pretty than an actual desire, you’re sure.

“If I was a guy, I’d kiss you,” you repeat.

Chrissy hopes you mean it the same way she does, but she isn’t sure that you mean it genuinely - so she lets it slide as a compliment rather than voiced desire.

“Now, nails,” she grabs the black polish and shakes it while you lay your hands flat over her thighs. Repressing a shiver (a good shiver, she’s flustered to admit), Chrissy unscrews the cap and picks up one of your hands, “This way, it can dry and we’ll have time to put on the dress.”

1984. Sophomore Year.

You went on a secret date one time. With a girl. With Vivian Coord - one year your senior and captain of the tennis team. 

You two shared the same chemistry class and she was pretty and nice and you liked talking to each other. You found out she liked girls by accidentally finding old doodles of her and another girl in her notebook and she found out you liked girls when you told her in a split second attempt to calm her down.

This date was nice. You two went skating and got the pleasure of disguising the hand holding as her guiding you through the rink. But there was something missing, and you really felt bad.

“I don’t wanna lead you on,” you turn to her before she can let you out of her car, “I’m just…” one hand flies up in dramatics, “not over my ex.”

“Yeah,” she nods slowly, one hand bumping against the steering wheel, her lips press and she shrugs, “I’m not either.”

“Is she the one you drew, creeper?” you tease.

“Shut it,” Vivian jokingly pops you in the arm.

“She is,” you open the door and wave, “Good luck with that.”

“Good luck with yours.”

Vivian was funny and lighthearted and she could take it just as much as she dished it - you have no idea why your heart wasn’t in the rink with her tonight.

You’re lying when you think that.

Your arms are wrapped around yourself tightly in the chill that blows through Hawkins. You watch your feet hit the dirt road leading into Forest Hills and you can’t help but wonder.

Why would you lie in the car? Vivian barely knew you, why did it matter what she thought of you now?

Well, it was easier than admitting you were still in love with a girl you had no chance with. 

Vivian could swallow the ex response, but if you even tried spooning the Chrissy Cunningham schlop to her, she’d slap it out of your hand. 

Chrissy is so high above you now that sometimes it’s crazy to remember there was ever a time you two would practice kissing together. There’s a Chrissy-sized hole in your head when you think about your loved ones and there’s a Chrissy-sized hole that blares through your heart when you see her and Jason kiss in the halls.

A few months later, Vivian and the junior would get closer and when you’d spot them linking pinkies under the table at lunch, you knew what that meant. You’re happy for them, you are - you’d just rather not be alone.

You don’t know it as a sophomore, but even years later - you still go on to daydream about Chrissy Cunningham.

1986. Senior Year.

You know why you’re here. To fuck with Anne Mark and Lily Pham. You know that just as well as you know how sad it is to still be in love with the cheer captain dating the star basketball player.

But as Chrissy is applying the black polish to your nails, it feels different. Nobody is here to impress or trick and this is purely for you two. This isn’t about the bet or fucking over either girl doomed to peak in high school. This is about you and Chrissy and the fact nobody else is home. 

And the fact that Jason Carver is probably on his way out as a taken man.

She gently blows against the polish as if it’ll actually dry that much faster before switching to your next hand, “Do you want a top coat?”

“No, I like when it peels,” when she gives you a bewildered stare, you restrain a shrug for the sake of her work, “I think it makes me look cool.”

“You look cool all the time,” she grins.

Her hair is in pigtails that you helped do. It gently cascades down and sometimes it falls into your face, but you don’t mind. You’d spend forever with your face pressed into the gentle waves and loose curls of her honey blond hair if you could.

But you don’t admit that, instead you say something completely lame, “I forgot how to dance.”

“You don’t just forget how to dance.”

“Well, I did.”

“Don’t be a bunny.”

“That phrase expired like six years ago.”

“Well, I like it.”

“You do you, Chris.”

Keep on truckin’, she mouths and you roll your eyes, but there’s such an undeniable smile swiped over your red-stained lips that she doesn’t even care.

“No, but really, I don’t know how to dance.”

“Nobody knows how to dance,” she grins, “They just follow everyone else’s lead and think they look cool. But you know what?” hm, you hum, “I think the coolest people are actually the ones that don’t follow the others, and do what they want - they know how to dance.”

“What about the people who don’t dance at all?”

“They’re waiting for somebody to show them it’s okay to.”

You watched her carefully. Her soft eyes under this pink light. She sits so pretty and looks so kissable. You clear your throat, “Who do you think I’m waiting for?”

Chrissy looks away from her work on your nails, just for a moment, “To show you?”

“Yeah.”

It’s so ballsy to say me, but something about the way you’re looking at her makes her feel like that’s the exact answer you’re waiting for. If she’s wrong you might run away like she did. But if she’s right and she doesn’t say it, nothing will happen. That should be good, right?

Nothing changes if nothing happens and everyone’s happy.

So why does the idea make her want to roll into an early grave?

She’s tired of doing nothing, so she relents.

“Me.”

“Really?” if your tone weren’t so clearly teasing, she might’ve been embarrassed.

But there’s light in your eyes. She did well. So she doubles down and nods, “Yeah.”

“You’ll have to stick with me, then,” you watch her lips curl into an ‘o’ shape as she blows on your other hand’s coat of polish, “Show me how to dance.”

“I can’t show you, but I can encourage you,” she sets your hand down and you back away for her to stand, “like in fifth grade, during the winter dance.”

“You remember that?” 

“How could I forget?”

I fell in love with you that night, you both almost say.

…

Chrissy’s heels have advanced since elementary school. You’re fitted in a pair of black pumps she says are reserved for church and court and she’s got on kitten heels. 

“I always have trouble with the straps,” she pouted while pulling them on.

Looking back on it, you think it was just a ploy for her to not have to do anything. You don’t regret it, though.

You click one heel into place. Then the next.

Your fingers linger at Chrissy’s calf as you look up at her. She smiles down at you and leans forward, you don’t move.

“Thanks again for coming,” she whispers, so close you can feel her breath gently sweep across your lips.

“Sounded fun,” you lean ever closer, “I missed you a lot.”

“I missed you a lot, too.”

And just like when you guys were eleven, back in sixth grade in 1979, the last night of 1979, you both lean in. 

You’re both more experienced now, though. Heads tilted and lips soft, her hands cup your cheeks and yours settle on the tops of her thighs. Your thumbs press into the soft skin and she hums sweetly. She parts your lips with the press of hers and gasps when your hands just dare to climb a little higher.

Then, she’s pulling away, “We still have somewhere to be.”

You pull away, too and your hands settle onto your own thighs, “Probably best you fix our makeup.”

Chrissy’s head turns to the mirror and her eyes widen at the sight.

One minute you’re both laughing at the specks of red riddled into Chrissy’s pink lipstick and the pink faintly sprinkled into your red. The next minute? The next minute, Jason Carver is bursting through the window she forgot to shut and is calling you a carpet-munching freak.

All boyfriends have their way of apologizing, you suppose.

“What is she doing here?!” he shouts and Chrissy jumps away like you’ve been set ablaze.

You can only stare up at him in terror. The man who’s given Dustin and Mike twisted ankles. The man who’s given Jeff a black eye. The man who’s given Gareth two split lips over one summer. The man who chased Grant down the road with his lackeys. The man who dumps cola over you whenever he sees you’ve made an effort to look nice. The man Eddie swears is the real Satanist, despite all his prayers to God. He stands before you with an iron fist.

“She has no right to be here, she’s against God, Chris,” Jason storms over to you and winds a hand behind your neck, squeezing like you’re a kitten and he’s the mother. He pulls back until you’re sitting straight on your knees, “What the fuck is she doing in your room?!”

“We’re just hanging out, Jason,” she tries to reason, “Let her go!” now she’s firmer, heels harsh on the carpet as she stomps forward and pushes her boyfriend, “Let her go, Jason Carver!”

“Let her go? Let her go?” he laughs in her face and gives another harsh squeeze to your neck, “You’re siding with this- this freak?!”

“Yes, I am!” she shouts, “And we’re so over- so just let her go or I- “ her eyes dart down to you nervously and you know whatever threat comes next is a lie, “I’ll call the cops!”

“For what? Treating a freak the way she deserves?” Jason grins like a hyena before dying prey, shaking his head, “I’ll let her go, Chris.”

She doesn’t relax, though. If anything, she’s more tense than before.

Jason doesn’t let you go, more like he tosses you. The second his elbow yanks back you know you’re in trouble, his fingers slip from your neck and your head bangs into the side of Chrissy’s vanity.

A throb forms at your forehead as she screams and Jason pushes her back when she goes to lift you.

From your angle on the floor, you can faintly see up the Sixteen Candles poster Chrissy hung and you can see the hole in the wall that Jason did end up punching.

1985. Junior Year.

The five of you do this every year now. Well, maybe not this specifically - the beer part - but the five of you - Corroded Coffin, Hellfire, freaks, etc. - gather around Eddie’s trailer at the end of every single school year to shoot the shit and drink. This year the drink is beer, now that Eddie is lax enough to let you all have alcohol on his property. It’s a step up from whatever soda he has stocked in the fridge.

You all like to look back on good times and pretend that Eddie should still be in high school. This coming year, especially, since you’ll all be seniors when Eddie should technically be a sophomore in college.

Not that it matters to any of you. Judgment is hardly found between your quintet and you all look up to Eddie (in a half-brotherly, half-role model sort of way that none of you are willing to own up to). Yes, as the DM and face of Corroded Coffin he’s the leader, but he’s also the only guy willing to give four misfits a place to call theirs. Judgment and scorn are hardly a thing between you all, but now you wonder how true that is.

When it’s brought up, you can’t help but seize and wonder if tonight is the night that discrimination finds its place in your home across from home.

“Wasn’t there that rumor? That you’re gay,” Jeff chuckles against the lip of his beer, “God, that was fucking weird.”

“So weird,” Grant nods, then turns to you, “Where’d that even come from?”

You shrug, suddenly feeling heat lick at your skin under their collective gaze, “Dunno.”

Eddie’s smile falls at your mood change, his brows draw tight, “Do you really have no clue?”

The question isn’t insulting nor is it insinuating anything. Not framed as though he knows something he shouldn’t. It’s pure curiosity.

If there’s anything you want to tell us, now’s the time.

Not in a mean way. More like gentle (if annoying) prodding, like a sitcom mother.

“Yeah. No idea.”

Gareth is suspiciously quiet and attention turns to him. He simply stares at his shoes. Unmoving, unwilling to speak. All eyes return to you and you’re just the same.

Eddie scoots closer to you, he tilts his head, eyes squinting in that stupid way he does when he doesn’t believe you, “Is…”

Your eyes finally shoot up and he hates the fear he sees. It reminds him of how he used to be before his shell grew. 

No, this is different. Nothing like when the popular kids would sneer at him and make his life hell. You’re scared of him. You’re scared of your friends.

“Is it true…?” he’s quiet enough to where you can easily back out and just shake him away.

Jeff and Grant lean away as if you need the air to breathe. You swallow harshly and look to Gareth, who only stares right back. 

Gareth takes the bold move to whisper to you, “No matter what happens, I’m here,” when he can tell you don’t believe him, he continues, “Not joking. I’ll quit the band right now in outrage.”

That gets you to smile and the other boys mirror it.

“It’s okay,” Jeff finally hunches forward again, “if it’s true.”

“It’s perfectly fine,” Gareth adds as he pulls away.

Part of you is scared to come through with the truth - too scared to lose the boys you consider family. Another part of you is scared of hiding yourself from them. Gareth is with you, and if you two don’t have a place here then you trust him to follow you to another one. And if that place isn’t right, then you two can build your own. Maybe Jeff and Grant will even join you both.

But what about Eddie? The one that built the palace you all reside in? The one who held his hand out to you that day with an overly broad smile when Gareth said you could play bass. The one who stands up to Jason when you don’t have the energy. The one who said he wanted to run away with your group and be a traveling circus in his van.

If the boys were your family, Eddie was your bona fide brother. You can’t take the disappointment, but the question is out and he’ll know no matter what you say. The silence would double - it was true and you were ashamed. You’re tired of being ashamed, though.

“Yeah,” you huff and stand, starting to walk away only to turn right back.

They stare up at you. Whether in disbelief or shock or horror, you can’t ultimately tell.

Your hands shove into your pants pockets and you look at the starlit sky.

You decide to close up before they - before Eddie - can say something to shatter you completely.

“If you have a problem with it: fuck you, but please don’t tell anybody,” you kick up dirt from the road, staring down at your shoe rather than the band of boys, “Like it even matters, people already fucking know.”

Slowly, they all come to a stand in front of you.

“Nobody actually knows,” Eddie lays a hand on your shoulder, “and none of us care.”

“We care,” Jeff steps in, pushing Eddie to the side so he can look you in the eyes, his gaze is kind and his smile is reassuring, “just not in the way you’re worried about.”

“We just want you to be happy,” Grant pitches in, “It might take getting used to, but we still love you.”

“You’re one of us, little witch,” Eddie wraps you in his arms, refusing to let go even as you groan about the lingering smell of cigarettes on his clothes. His embrace is chain tight but you can’t bring yourself to want out of it.

Gareth sticks back in the hopes nobody picks up on the fact that he already knew. You two happen to spot each other from over Eddie’s shoulder, though, and he nods with a thumbs up - you return it. 

I’m proud of you, he mouths.

You spent years wondering what everyone in your life would say about you liking girls. What would your parents say? They were open-minded but you could never be completely sure. What would your neighbors say? What would your classmates say? What would Chrissy have said? Her mom would surely disapprove.

Your arms slowly come around Eddie and you squeeze, head lowering until it’s pressed against his shoulder.

Years wasted pretending your heart didn’t beat just a little faster when a pretty girl would smile at you (back when they did, anyway; before you were a total outcast). Months wasted pretending the welcoming bartender at The Hideout that liked to call you hun had no effect on you. Years pretending you weren’t in love with Chrissy Cunningham.

Chrissy was gone but her hands remained wrapped around your heart. If she couldn’t say she loved you then you were content to lay, heartbroken but alive, with the boys you knew were home.

You hate the way your lashes wet and the way you know Eddie can feel your tears blotting through his Metallica shirt. You feel hands rub your back lovingly and you feel Gareth join the hug with a “don’t tell anyone about this” as if his reputation actually matters to him.

You hated that Chrissy left, but you feel so loved - it’s all you could really ask for. Maybe a little more.

A heavy hiccup falls through you and Eddie presses a tender kiss to your head, just like a big brother would. You’re quiet, but you’re sure they hear you,

“Thanks guys.”

They just hug you tighter.

[mypoisonedvine]

im not a minor, i turned 20 not that long ago. i was raped as well, 2 times to be exact. i get if it’s your coping mechanism, and i do sincerely apologize if i offended you because to be completely honest i did not know it was a copying mechanism. i was just curious because you popped up on my page from a reblog and thought i’d check it out. i’m not following you but i’ve seen some of your works before and i was impressed. this is giving me the wrong impression. have a good day.

we don't need to trade/compare abuse, as always I am sorry that happened to you and I wish it didn't happen to anyone, including myself

it's actually a very common coping mechanism, maybe not writing itself but certainly consumption of media that reminds us of the abuse. it's a way to recontextualize it. I know I'm not like perfectly coping with my experience, but without this sort of outlet I would've never been able to regain control of my own sexuality after years of abuse. and I'm still on my journey to fully accept what happened to me and why.

I'm just hurt that you would think that I'm intentionally encouraging this behavior by writing fiction that includes it. the irony is that the fic was based on game of thrones, a TV show with numerous graphic rape scenes, based on a book series with numerous graphic rape scenes. I'm curious if you think George RR Martin is pro-rape or that his stories inspire rapists. I think it is fair to say that there are people who are sick and abusive who seek out media as part of their illness; I don't think anyone becomes a rapist because they read a story.

what's frustrating about this situation is that half the time I have people hating on me and my way of coping saying "this shit is everywhere, it's like the whole website is plagued with dark fics and I can't avoid them!!" and then there's people like you who have literally no idea what's going on, have never heard of dark fics or why they exist, maybe even don't know what "noncon" means. I'm not saying either of you are lying but I can never fucking live because it's always one or the other and not enough "oops that's not something I'm interested in, let me move on"

I hope that all makes sense, I'm not angry at you, i hope you're not angry at me, I just want us to understand each other

[silverynight]

He's tired, he realizes. It's weird for Katsuki to feel that way, he doesn't usually let exhaustion stop him from doing anything, but this time it's different: it's not something physical, it's something that comes from the very core of his soul.

He's exhausted, he realizes as he watches (from the corner he's decided to "hide" in) Izuku laughing for the first time in what it almost seemed like an eternity for him. Izuku looks good like that (he thinks, because only in the dept of his thoughts he allows himself to say those kind of things) he looks great when he's happy, safe and well rested.

Katsuki hates seeing him like when he found him: tired, hurt and alone. His eyes had lost all that beautiful glimmer they always had and Katsuki hated everyone and everything that made Izuku believe like he had to do everything by himself.

Like he had to go.

Katsuki is terrified of losing him. Perhaps that's the reason he's standing in the corner like a creep, watching him from afar as he speaks with their classmates.

He should join them... He could; he's apologized to him already and Izuku has forgiven him (he probably did it a long time ago, because his nerd is like that).

"Tch!" Katsuki huffs to himself, because no one is around to hear. He could join them and stand next to Izuku, just like Half and Half likes to do (the bastard...) and Izuku would probably smile at him like he's determined to blind everyone around. Like he enjoys making Katsuki weak at the knees on purpose (like he knows what Katsuki truly feels).

He could, but he won't.

Katsuki is really tired of pretending he doesn't care because he cares too much, because it's more difficult to pretend now that he's told Izuku how vulnerable he felt when they were kids and how much he hated it.

He can't hide behind his anger anymore.

Katsuki is exhausted. Perhaps he could stop pretending for a second, in that solitary corner of the room while everyone is looking anywhere but at him.

Izuku laughs again, but this time Katsuki can see him more clearly; his eyes glimmer with joy again, the corners of his lips quirk up, his freckles disappear for a moment behind a very light blush.

And Katsuki gives in; the scowl on his face vanishes, his expression softens and the ghost of a smile makes his lips curl up for a second.

Just a second. But it really feels good to stop pretending he doesn't love–

"I'm really happy for you, Bakubro! No wonder why you ran so fast to break his fall... That's really manly!"

Feeling the panic spreading down his spine, Katsuki turns around to face Kirishima, who's smiling at him sincerely.

"Don't. Tell. Him." He can't yell right now, no matter how much he wants to. "Don't tell anyone."

"Of course not!" Kirishima assures him, still grinning. "That's only for you to say! Are you going to ask him out?"

Fighting a blush, Katsuki manages to scowl again.

"I won't tell him."

"Why not? He likes men too..."

Katsuki pushes away a wave of hope. He shakes his head not to get distracted. He tries to say something, but bites his bottom lip instead. He can feel Kirishima's worried expression over him.

"Since when?"

He doesn't take his eyes off Izuku.

It feels like forever. The feeling certainly has grown as much as he has.

"Since I met him."

"Oh," Kirishima mumbles, but he doesn't get it yet, not until his brain remembers that important thing about Izuku and Katsuki.

Childhood friends. Well... Almost friends.

Katsuki can almost feel the moment when it comes back to Kirishima.

"Oh." There's a pause and then: "You should tell him."

"No," Katsuki mumbles stubbornly. "I need to focus. I need to keep him safe."

At first Kirishima doesn't say anything, but Katsuki wishes he did, somehow the silence feels worse.

Like he's seeing through him.

"You won't lose him."

So... He actually does see through him. Is it because he's being too obvious? He has realized that Katsuki is terrified.

"Kacchan, Kirishima! Come here! Jiro is going to sing something for us!" Izuku beams at them.

Kirishima pushes him forward lightly; Katsuki holds back a growl, he knows it's useless, it won't make Kirishima stop smiling knowingly at him.

Upon seeing the scowl on his face, his classmates let him through, not Izuku though, he doesn't move away and his grin doesn't vanish.

Katsuki knows Izuku is not afraid of him.

I won't lose him. He promises himself.

I won't let it happen.