#I’m probably going to regret posting this

[slut4kwon]

if you were anyone else

pairing: kwon jiyong x fem! reader

synopsis: you’re his best friend’s little sister. it was never supposed to mean anything, but now he can’t forget the way she looked at him like it did. and that’s the problem. because wanting her was already a mistake, but letting her go might be worse.

warnings: 18+, implied sexual content, swearing, angst, secret relationship, brother’s best friend trope, emotionally repressed men™, jealousy, regret, unresolved feelings, possessive behavior, emotionally charged spirals, mentions of anxiety/panic attacks, slight praise kink, yearning so intense it physically hurts.

authors note: this is my first time posting on here, so… go easy on me. or don’t. i probably won’t sleep either way. also this is long as fuck i am so sorry. if you read it, thank you. if you liked it, even better. if you’re here just for the angst, me too.

you should’ve known it would get messy the first time he kissed you.

it wasn’t sweet. it wasn’t slow.

it happened behind the wardrobe rack in one of the yg dressing rooms, thirty minutes before a run-through while the crew scrambled to fix a lighting issue.

you were in a sports bra and sweatpants, makeup half-finished, second-day curls falling effortlessly down your back.

he was in his usual all-black rehearsal outfit, a silver chain at his collarbone, and something unreadable behind his eyes.

“you’re not supposed to look at me like that,” he muttered, jaw tense, gaze fixed on yours.

you crossed your arms. “i’m not looking at you like anything.”

he stepped in closer. “you keep doing those little moves. the ones you know drive me fucking crazy.”

“you mean the choreography?” you shot back, lifting a brow. “i’m literally just doing my job.”

“that thing in the second chorus,” he said, his voice lower now. “when you drop low and bite your lip. you do that for me. don’t lie, beautiful.”

you rolled your eyes, but your breath caught when he moved again. closer, slower, deliberate.

“you want me to lose it, don’t you?”

you didn’t answer. couldn’t.

because the way he looked at you was hungry. frustrated. like he’d been holding something back for far too long. it lit something dangerous inside you.

before you could even speak, his mouth was on yours.

hot. desperate. possessive.

your back hit the wall. his hands gripped your waist.

your fingers curled into his shirt like it was an instinct.

his tongue, his hands, the way he groaned when you tugged his hair. everything about it was messy.

and it didn’t stop there.

the backstage hookups became a pattern. between rehearsals. after fittings. corners of the studio with fogged mirrors and locked doors.

always hidden. always rushed. always too much but somehow never enough.

you gave him your first time on the studio couch, the same one you always collapsed on after long nights.

not out of romance, but something heavier. needier.

your legs wrapped around his waist. your fingers in his hair like you were clinging to gravity.

and he let you.

let you take. let you tremble.

let you come undone in his lap while his mouth traced your collarbone like a promise he’d never speak out loud.

no one knew about this.

not the stylists. not the other dancers. not even his own bandmates.

and especially not seunghyun.

your older brother would’ve lost his mind. maybe even burned the whole building down if he ever found out.

because of course, out of all the people in the world, it had to be him.

kwon jiyong.

his best friend. his closest friend.

the one person who had no business even looking at you like that; let alone touching you, wanting you, needing you.

and yet somehow, he was always there.

for months, you told yourself it didn’t mean anything.

that the way he touched you like he needed you — like breathing wasn’t enough unless you were under him, around him, full of him — was just part of the act.

that the way he lingered after, brushing hair from your face like it mattered, wasn’t real either.

you told yourself you could handle it.

that you were strong enough to keep it casual. quiet. hidden.

but it got harder to lie every time he pulled you in and didn’t let go.

every time he stayed a little longer.

every time he looked at you like maybe, just maybe, you were more than a secret.

still, you never asked for more. how could you?

he was your brother’s best friend. this was never supposed to happen.

but it did.

over and over again. like a bad habit neither of you could quit.

you didn’t plan to fall for him. didn’t mean to hope he’d stay the night, or kiss you like it meant something.

but you did. god, of course you did.

i mean, how could you not?

he touched you like you were fragile, but fucked you like you were the only thing that’s ever made him come undone.

he zipped up your jacket for you like it was just an excuse to touch you again.

he continuously found your eyes across any room like they were the only ones that existed.

for a while, you let yourself believe he felt it too.

until about a month ago, when he decided that pretending it meant nothing became easier than admitting it ever meant anything at all.

it happened in your dressing room. you’d just touched up your lip gloss, and casually asked him if he was coming over that night.

same routine. same rhythm.

he didn’t answer right away though. he just stood there, still and silent.

you turned, confused, watching the way his jaw clenched and how he couldn’t quite meet your eyes.

“jiyong?” you spoke up quietly.

he finally looked at you.

and you knew. before he even opened his mouth, you felt it.

“we can’t keep doing this.”

your stomach still dropped. “what?”

“this… whatever it is… it needs to stop.”

“don’t do that. don’t act like this wasn’t real.”

his jaw tightened as he looked away. “it was a mistake.”

“say it and mean it,” you snapped.

he didn’t hesitate this time. “it was a mistake.”

your laugh came out sharp, bitter. “tell yourself whatever you need to sleep at night, but don’t stand there and pretend that i didn’t mean a damn thing to you.”

“y/n—” he started, but you cut him off.

“fuck you, jiyong.”

he met your eyes again, his throat tight.

almost like he wanted to say something else. like it was stuck somewhere between his ribs and his pride.

but he didn’t answer. he just let the silence grow between you.

let it choke everything that hadn’t been said. let it mean more than the truth would’ve.

“i’m sorry.” he finally said.

not a reason. not an explanation.

just that. two words. and then he walked out.

no goodbye. no chance to respond. no space to fall apart.

just the door clicking shut behind him like none of it had ever meant anything. like you had never meant anything.

the worst part wasn’t even the way it ended.

it was how nothing else did.

rehearsals still ran long. the mirrors still fogged with sweat. the playlist still cycled through the same tracks you used to hum when you thought no one could hear you.

he was always there. of course he was.

not in the way that mattered though. not in the way you needed. just in the way that somehow made it worse.

that same smirk. same swagger. same easy charm that made everyone else feel like nothing had changed.

like he hadn’t ruined you with nothing but his mouth and a handful of whispered promises he never intended to keep.

he still showed up to rehearsals like none of it ever happened.

he still carried his favourite hoodie. the one he never left home without.

everyone thought it was a comfort thing; a habit, maybe. something worn-in and familiar. assumed he just loved it.

and maybe he did. but it wasn't because it was warm, or soft, or broken in just right.

it was because it was yours.

he never carried it for himself. he carried it for you.

you never brought your own.

you hated feeling cold, and hated asking for help even more.

but with jiyong, you never had to ask. he paid attention to the way you’d rub slow circles into your arm, tuck your hands under your thighs, sometimes even press your tongue to the roof of your mouth just to stay quiet.

tiny things. things no one else could ever pick up on.

and yet somehow, he always did.

you never had to ask. he’d just offer it. sometimes with just a glance, sometimes with a soft, “here.”

and if you ever hesitated, he’d pull it over your head himself. like he was allowed to. like it meant something.

the other boys never questioned it. of course they didn’t. they would’ve done the same. they had before, on the rare days jiyong wasn’t around. but when he was, they never got the chance.

but now, he wears it again like it doesn't hold your scent. your shape. every version of you he ever pulled close. like it's just a hoodie.

however, this didn't stop you from showing up to rehearsals every day too.

because that’s what professionals do, right?

they show up, even when it hurts.

even when the person they can’t stop dreaming about is stretching ten feet away.

still laughing with everyone like he wasn’t one secret away from getting his jaw broken by your older brother.

there was no wreckage. no huge fall-out. just absence.

no one knew what had been taken because nothing, on the surface, was missing.

but you felt it. in every glance he didn’t give you. every touch that didn’t happen, but almost did.

and you were angry.

angry that he ended it without warning. angry that he made that decision for the both of you. angry that he could walk away without looking back.

you were angry at yourself for still caring.

you hated that your eyes searched for him when you entered the room. that your skin remembered him better than your brain wanted it to. how some part of you still wished he’d turn around and take it all back.

but he never did. not once.

rehearsal had run longer than usual today. the sun had dipped somewhere behind the city skyline without you noticing. shadows were now stretching across the floor as the studio emptied, one by one.

you stayed behind, stretching in silence, letting the burn in your muscles distract from the burn in your chest.

you suddenly heard your brother’s loud voice, which snapped you out of whatever trance you were in. “dinner. let’s go.”

you didn’t even blink. still stretched out on the floor, one leg bent and arms braced behind you. “pass.”

seunghyun frowned. “you didn’t even ask where.”

“don’t need to,” you said coolly. “you’re painfully predictable.”

daesung raised a brow. “she’s got you there.”

“actually, i’m switching it up tonight,” seunghyun insisted. “new place. no kimchi stew.”

you finally looked up, unimpressed. “who’s paying you to try their new restaurant?”

he crossed his arms. “no one. i just think you need some real food in you. something with protein. maybe even a vegetable.”

“tempting,” you said, standing up and stretching your arms over your head. “but i can’t. i’ve got plans.”

“plans?” seunghyun’s voice cracked like he’d just heard you say you were moving out and never coming back.

you grabbed your water. “yep.”

“what kind of plans?”

“the kind that don’t include you,” you said, smiling sweetly.

youngbae’s head popped up from behind his duffel. “wait. are we talking… plans plans?”

you just sipped your water like it was nothing, which, naturally, made it something.

daesung narrowed his eyes. “that look. that’s a ‘plans with a boy’ look if i’ve ever seen one.”

you didn’t answer. you didn’t need to. it was more entertaining to watch them spiral on their own.

youngbae gasped. “you’re going on a date.”

“jesus christ,” seunghyun muttered. “no you’re not.”

“i didn’t say that,” you replied, smoothing your hair down.

“but you didn’t not say it.”

you gave the smallest shrug, which, unfortunately, said everything, once again.

youngbae gasped like he’d been betrayed. “you’re seeing someone? since when?”

“relax,” you said, throwing your towel over your shoulder. “you’re acting like i announced an engagement.”

“it’s hard to relax when you’re acting suspiciously vague,” daesung countered.

“which means it’s serious,” youngbae added while nodding. “you’re protecting him.”

you raised a brow. “or i’m protecting you idiots from a full-blown meltdown.”

seunghyun squinted. “who is it?”

“none of your business.”

“it is absolutely my business if some dude is out here making googly eyes at my baby sister behind my back!”

“googly eyes?” you echoed, half-laughing. “what are we, twelve?”

“i’m being serious, y/n.”

“i can tell, oppa. very intimidating.”

“is it someone we know?” daesung asked. “because i feel like it’s someone we know.”

“you don’t know him.” you replied, which wasn’t technically a lie.

there was no him. but they didn’t need to know that.

especially not the one sitting on the bench near the mirror, completely silent.

jiyong hadn’t said a word. hadn’t even moved.

just sat there with his towel around his neck, and his eyes on the floor.

but you saw the tension in his hands. the way his jaw was set so tightly, it looked like it hurt.

and it gave you just enough fuel to keep going.

seunghyun was still spiraling. “i don’t like this. what if he’s some asshole? what if he’s just trying to—”

“then i’ll deal with it,” you replied calmly. “i’m perfectly capable of throwing hands.”

“still don’t like it.”

“you’re not supposed to, oppa.”

and that’s when jiyong spoke. low. dismissive. deadly.

“just let her go.”

everyone turned.

seunghyun blinked. “huh?”

“if she’s got plans, she’s got plans,” jiyong said. not looking at you. not looking at anyone. “it’s not our business.”

“oh, wow,” daesung muttered. “traitor.”

“you’re not even gonna try to talk her out of it?” seunghyun asked, almost sounding dumbfounded.

“she’s allowed to do whatever she wants,” jiyong replied, tossing the towel aside like the whole conversation bored him. “if it’s a date, then…let her have fun.”

you said nothing. you just stared at him.

and after a long second, he finally looked up, just for a heartbeat. just long enough to meet your eyes.

and there it was. buried under all of it; jealousy. regret. hurt.

only things that you could see.

the things he couldn’t say. the ones you never needed him to.

so you smiled, small and sweet.

“thanks for your support, jiji.” you said sweetly, using the nickname you rarely used for him anymore.

he didn’t answer, but you didn’t wait for one either.

you grabbed your bag and threw it over your shoulder.

“anyways, don’t wait up!” you shouted, turning and blowing a kiss towards the boys as you walked towards the door.

youngbae clutched his chest. “she’s so going to make out with him.”

“i’m gonna vomit,” seunghyun muttered.

you walked out giggling without looking back.

jiong didn’t move. didn’t even blink. just stared at the door like it might swing back open and undo all of it.

it didn’t.

he noticed the tremble in your hands as you reached for your bag. it was faint, almost invisible. the kind of shake that came when your body had given too much.

he always noticed.

it was a curse. a reflex. a silent devotion to you that he never meant to make a habit.

you were clearly overstimulated, vibrating underneath your skin. and no one else seemed to care.

but he did. he always did.

the boys were still talking. still laughing, but their voices echoed as if they were underwater.

daesung was teasing seunghyun about running a background check. youngbae was already trying to guess the date’s name. one of them joked about texting you the restaurant address ‘in case lover boy stands you up.’

jiyong didn’t laugh. he couldn’t.

because the silence left in your absence was louder than anything. and beneath it, something ugly twisted in his chest.

he knew you weren’t dressed for a date. your hair was wild, your face was bare, still glowing with sweat and adrenaline.

you didn’t look like someone trying to impress a man, not that you needed to. you just looked like you. the version jiyong had memorized in the low light of his apartment, curled into his sheets, still trembling from his mouth on your skin.

and somehow, that made it worse.

because what if this new guy didn’t care enough to notice the small things jiyong had?

what if he didn’t realize how you go quiet when you’re overwhelmed, not out of moodiness, but because your brain shuts down under too much noise?

what if he didn’t know how sometimes you can’t ask for help, because you don’t even know what you need?

what about that you chew the inside of your cheek when you’re anxious? or that you tap your thumb against your middle finger three times when you’re trying not to cry?

would he know that you hated the sound of ticking clocks? that certain words made your skin crawl? that sometimes, dancing was the only thing that kept your thoughts from devouring you whole?

jiyong did. he knew all of it.

he knew how to sit behind you on the studio floor when everything got to be too much; legs stretched out on either side of you, chest pressed against your back.

he knew not to ask what was wrong. he knew that you didn’t always know, and that asking only made it worse.

just to let you press your ear over his heart and listen to the rhythm of his heartbeat until your lungs remembered how to breathe properly on their own again.

he knew the hoodie he always carried for you was your lifeline when you needed comfort. which songs made you cry even if you didn’t quite know why.

he knew you couldn’t sit in the backseat of a car because it always made you nauseous. which corners of your body held tension so tightly, you didn’t even realize they hurt until he pressed his fingers there.

he learned you like a prayer. a warning. a song that never stopped playing in the back of his head.

and now, someone else might get to touch you. might get to pretend they know you. run their hands down a body they hadn’t earned. kiss a mouth that didn’t belong to them.

and jiyong fucking hated that.

because yeah, it started as just sex.

reckless. rushed. hidden in between rehearsals and outfit changes. in cars, stairwells and hotel rooms too quiet for what the two of you were doing.

but it stopped being just sex a long time ago.

he didn’t know when exactly it shifted. maybe it was the first night you told him not to ask, but to just take. when you grabbed his wrist and pulled it to your throat. when you told him to ruin you.

or maybe it was the one night he didn’t.

the night he slowed down.

held your jaw in both hands like you were made of glass and kissed you like he had something to lose.

told you how fucking perfect you were. how you take him so well. how you were made for him.

you came apart for him like you believed it. like you needed it.

surely that’s when he realized it wasn’t just sex. at least, not anymore.

because you didn’t just let him have your body, you gave it to him. not with words. not directly.

in the way you trembled under his touch. in the way you arched into his hands. in the way you moaned his name like it meant something.

and fuck, it did. it meant everything.

he memorized you. not just the way your thighs shook when you were close or the spot beneath your ribs that made you gasp when he kissed it for the first time.

he knew your body better than he knew his own.

he memorized the curve of your spine. the pitch of your moans. the shape of your mouth when you were too fucked-out to speak.

he knew exactly where to touch to make you fall apart, but also exactly how to hold you when you couldn’t put yourself back together.

he hated himself for it.

for needing you. for learning you. for turning every sound you made into a song he couldn’t stop humming in his own head.

because the more he gave, the more he wanted. and the more he wanted, the more it hurt.

he told himself that ending it was the right call, and maybe it was.

maybe it was smart. you were seunghyun’s little sister, after all. this was doomed from the moment it started.

but god, he missed you.

you were the only one he ever let see him for who he really was, and now you were gone. and he has no one else to blame for that but himself.

his thumb pressed into the palm of his opposite hand; hard. a grounding technique, one that you taught him. one that never worked unless it was your voice talking him through it.

he barely felt the pain.

he just sat there, spine tense, gaze still locked on the scuffed floor where you’d been standing just a few moments ago.

the room still buzzed with conversation. low laughter, the rustle of jackets, someone still talking about dinner plans.

but it all felt far away. almost like he was watching it through a sheet of glass that was thick and smudged with fingerprints.

he didn’t hear what they said. he didn’t care either.

because all he could think about was the look on your face before you walked out.

not happy. not angry. not sad either.

he honestly wasn’t quite sure, and that scared him a little.

he remembers how you used to look at him. like you saw through everything; the ego, the performance, the chaos.

that was because you did, and yet, you still chose him.

every. single. time.

but now, you didn’t even look back.

“hyung?” daesung said cautiously, tone lighter than his expression. “you good?”

jiyong blinked like he was waking up from a dream. “what?”

“you’ve been kinda weird lately,” youngbae said from behind him. “and not just today either.”

“yeah,” daesung added. “like the last few weeks.”

jiyong exhaled through his nose, forcing a shrug. “just tired.”

seunghyun looked up from where he was zipping his bag. “ji.”

jiyong flinched like his name stung.

“talk to us,” seunghyun said, voice low, less like a demand and more like a plea. “we’ve been worried. you don’t laugh the same anymore. you barely show up.”

“i’m fine,” he said, sharper this time. like if he said it hard enough, they’d believe it.

“we’re not trying to push,” youngbae said gently. “we just miss you, man.”

jiyong’s throat was tight. he couldn’t look any of them in the eye.

“i’ll see you guys later,” he spoke suddenly, already halfway to the door.

“what?” daesung called after him. “you’re not coming to eat?”

“not hungry.”

seunghyun took a step forward. “jiyong—wait.”

but the door was already closing behind him.

and just like that, he was gone. his feet moved without thinking.

down the hallway, out of the building, and into the night.

but on the inside, he was somewhere else entirely.

back in the dressing room. back in your bed.

back in that goddamn moment where you looked up at him like you were his, even though you both knew you weren’t.

he can still feel it.

the weight of your body curled under his. your nails in his skin. his name on your tongue.

the breath you let out when he called you sweetheart like it meant something.

the quietness afterwards that felt like a promise, even though neither of you ever made one.

it should’ve faded by now.

but it hasn’t. it’s still there.

in the way his chest tightens when someone says your name.

in the way his hands curl into fists when he pictures you laughing with someone else.

in the way the silence feels heavier when you’re not around to fill it.

and now, he has to act like it didn’t happen. like it didn’t mean anything. like you didn’t mean everything.

he hates himself for how much he still cares.

hates that he let it get this far. that he let you in. that he let it mean something.

but more than anything, he hates that he can’t stop hoping it meant something to you, too.

because no matter how far he lets you go, he will always believe that no one else will ever have you in the way that he did.

and maybe that makes him selfish.

but it also makes him right.

[em1i2a3]

hi, i just wanted to say that i absolutely love reading your work!! you are crazy talented omg. my only regret is that you don't seem to have an "about me" section. (unless i can't find it lol). i totally understand wanting to remain as anonymous as possible but i wish we knew more about the literature that inspires you, your hobbies, etc. i guess i'm just curious because you are a very distinct writer

but again, i completely understand if you want to focus on writing only!

also i know its hypocritical of me to send this anonymously LMAO, so so sorry

Hey there!

I do not have an ‘About Me’ section, not because I am seeking to stay anonymous, but more because I hate talking about myself lol (literally was working on this post since this morning).

But it seems like you guys want to get to know me a little more so I guess I’ll throw myself into the deep end here.

I go by Em on here (that’s a give in)

I’m 24 years old, and I’m currently working in the digital marketing sphere (I work from home), while pursing a Bachelor of Science degree. I also work on the side for my cities local paper and report on Concerts and Events going on around my area.

I’m in a band, I play bass and piano, and sometimes I do vocals but I’m often times stuffy from allergies lol.

Favourite Movies (Excluding Marvel and Marvel Actor’s movies cause that’s a give in that I like those ones and it would probably be a good chunk of my list if I included them lol): The Substance, Diabolique, Audition, Kill Bill Vol 1 and 2, Scott Pilgrim VS The World, Back to The Future 1 and 2, Alien (all of them basically lol), Any and All types of horror tbh, Amadeus (what a long ass movie but as a band kid it was so good)

Favourite Television Shows: I don’t watch much TV (Outer Range was really the closest I got with falling into a series and loving it…That and Twin Peaks!) when I do watch TV I technically just have it on in the background, my junk food for the brain is the entire 90 day Fiancé series (all of it…), it’s excessive drama gives me something to gasp at as I write lol

Favourite Bands: I made a top ten for this but I’ll write it here and add a bit, Deftones, Justice, Alice In Chains, Nine Inch Nails, The Breeders, Muse, Magdalena Bay, Bloc Party, Slowdive, My Bloody Valentine, Arctic Monkeys, Big Thief, Biffy Clyro, My Chemical Romance, and Silversun Pickups (there’s so many more but I would be here all day, it should give you an idea what I’m into tho!)

Favourite Foods/Drinks: Pizza, Sushi and Greek Food (literally hell yea) are my top foods, Blue Raspberry or Juneberry Redbull is my favourite drink aside from an iced americano (I take it black lol bitter as heck y’all)

Favourite Books: I really love Stephen King, sometimes he has some duds, but I still enjoy his stuff (Carrie, Salem’s Lot, Thinner, The Shining), Dune (the entire series…I gobbled that stuff up), Anything by Cormac McCarthy (Blood Meridian is hefty and it’s not for everyone but I liked it a lot), Anything by Nat Cassidy (Mary: An Awakening of Terror is so top tier to me, I loved it so much), I read a lot of Non-Fiction too though, lot’s of musician autobiographies, true crime stuff etc.

Hobbies/Interests: I write of course, I play the saxophone, I collect perfumes, I have 14 tattoos, I enjoy cooking, I knit and crochet terribly so I wouldn’t call it a hobby, I’d say it’s an interest lol, I take script writing classes every couple of months and love studying that stuff.

Hopefully that gives y’all a nice peek into my life and everyday things <3

[cynidae]

notes game

am I gonna regret this? Probably! But I’ve seen a bunch of others doing it so why not-

10 : I’ll clean my water bottle and hydrate (done!)

20 : I’ll put my opinions in places without being scared of judgement (*cough* insane myth theories corner *cough) (working on it!)

50 : I’ll write my book for an hour

100 : I’ll work on artfight (refs) for an hour

300 : I’ll finish my animation/post it

500 : I’ll start posting art regularly

750 : I’ll just posting infodumps and yaps about my interests, ignoring judgement

1000 : I will ask my mom for a binder

2500 : I’ll tell my mom that I’m learning tarot cards!

5000 : I’ll go to bed at 11pm for a month

10,000 : I’ll tell my mom I’m a Hellenistic Pagan

[fantasynexus]

A Post about Taash From the Perspective of an Autistic White Woman

Note: this is a opinionated piece with some hint of self reflection.

I relate heavily with Taash in multiple facets of thier character; personality, relationship with thier Mother and identity not just gender dysphoria but cultural identity.

Being an Autistic Woman

The very first interaction I had with Taash is when I realized they are exactly like me. From how they speak, act and most of all from thier special interests in Dragons.

The uninterested attitude when they realize that someone sent people to help them with something they’re an expert in. They’re annoyed, because someone is questioning their ability to get the job done but they deal with it because they’re now stuck with us.

We ask questions and get one word answers she’s still annoyed because of the unexpected turn of her already laid out plan, until we encounter more Antaam. Once she realizes that you can pull your own weight and genuinely interested in Dragons and not wanting to just kill this specific Dragon is when she really starts to open up.

This comes off as rude to Neurotypicals while to me it’s just her being straightforward and honest. It’s a habit I’ve picked up as well, when asked, “How was your day?” I don’t give the long explanation of every facet of my day. I say, “It was fine.” and move on from the question or how I don’t understand the need to say “You’re welcome.” After you’ve been thanked. That’s to say I don’t feel the need to expand onto my answers.

I also don’t like it when people tell me how to do/ insert themselves into an activity / hobby I’ve been doing just fine on my own. Unwanted Criticism on my artwork annoys me. My Grandma still tells me to stop at stop signs even though I’ve been driving for well over ten years and have never ran a stop sign.

Apparently saying, “I know.” Is considered rude to my Grandmother and my comment is met with a “Well I don’t know that you know.” Despite the fact it should be common sense; a 1+1=2 situation.

It took years for my Grandmother to understand I don’t like last minute plans or to warn me a day ahead if she needs my help with something. If she stops me out the door when I’m already dressed to leave for the park or river and she needs help with yard work then in my mind my plans are ruined for the day because in my brain it’s linear, it doesn’t branch out and reorganize instantly.

Overbearing Maternal Figures

When I was 14 my Grandmother gifted me a book called, “Act Like a Lady, Think like a Man” by Steve Harvey. I never read that book because 14 year old me thought it was stupid.

I don’t dress feminine enough for her; I don’t wear enough make up, I talk to masculine, act to masculine and dress to masculine. She hates the fact I don’t care what random people think about me.

This is still a point of contention with my Grandmother to this day, which if I’m getting the underlying context of Taashs’ dialogue when they refer to themselves or their Mother. They experience the exact same issues that I have.

Taash is forced to hide their Fire Breath, which among the Qun is considered a Masculine trait. They speak how their Mother called their hands ‘Big and Clumsy’ when made to upkeep her Dar-saam, a feminine tradition among Qun Women. When Taash brings up Clothing it’s obvious their Mother said something about how they dress.

Their Mother at every point we see or gain a mention of her at the beginning and mid point of the game is constantly critical of Taash from the way they talk, act and dress. Does that mean she doesn’t care for or love Taash? No, because if she didn’t she would have left Taash and returned to the Qun (if she could).

The overbearing and set in their ways maternal figures do love the child but most of the time they refuse to stop seeing you as a child. They coddle you, they want you to fit their ideals and expectations even when you don’t want to. They refuse to expand their world outside what makes them comfortable.

You can see this when Taash prepares Rivaini dishes for their Mother. Even when it’s literally just Bread, Meat and Cheese. It’s still to “Rich” for their Mother. She refuses to eat it despite being a guest at the Lighthouse. Despite getting an answer to what Nonbinary means she redirects Taash to try Qun terminology that doesn’t fit what it means to be Nonbinary.

Aqun-Athlok: Someone Born one Gender but living like another.

There is no in between for that word, for the Qun, you either take on a Masculine or Feminine role within the society.

Being Disconnected From a Culture You Were Never Part of

My Grandmother immigrated as an infant with her Mother; Father, sisters and brother to America from Italy. My Grandmother is a Immigrant but it’s plain to my eyes how disconnected she is from her Mother and Fathers culture.

The closest thing to Italian cuisine she ever makes is Spaghetti, she doesn’t speak Italian, she doesn’t participate in any Italian traditions or cultural events. Yet she still calls herself Italian and calls her children and I Italian by proxy and she can do that she’s more connected to it then I am.

I don’t consider myself Italian, I consider myself a White American. The only connection to Italy I have is through her and when she’s gone that connection will be gone because I’ve never experienced or participated in true Italian culture.

Taash is more connected to the Qun thanks to their Mother. They can kinda speak the language, cook the food and even participate in customs of the Qun but it’s obvious they’re not really into it. They do it because their Mother wants them to do it. They’re far more interested in being a Dragon Hunter and pillager for the LoF over being part of the Qun.

Hyper-fixations and Special Interests

The very first thing that tipped me off to Taash being Autistic is how they automatically start talking at long lengths about Dragons; the different types, where they live, how they hunt and what they eat.

It reminded me so much of how I talked about World of Warcraft Lore and Characters. How I could recite every sliver of lore, tell when someone didn’t play Vanilla wow just by how they said “Sylvanas WindRunner would never burn the World Tree! They ruined her character.” When I can recount multiple times seeing Forsaken in the Royal Apothecary testing plague concoctions on Horde and Alliance alike. Her resurrecting dead humans into more Forsaken for her armies and plague bombing the city of Gilneas but that’s going way off topic.

Gender Identity

I dislike getting into this discussion because of how uncomfortable it makes me because of my own Gender Dysphoria. I consider myself a Cis Woman? Kinda? Sometimes I want to be seen a cocky asshole to women but a hot bombshell to men. If that makes any sense?

^This Clothing Reference I made for a Bard OC for Baldurs Gate 3 made me experience Gender Dysphoria so bad that I stopped drawing for well over a year. Noting I’m literally shaped like one of those Pomegranate Juice Bottles and nothing like that picture.

While I can relate to Taash’s Gender Identity struggles and finding themselves. It’s not the main thing I relate to (I’m sure you’ve figured out by now.), I’m still struggling with it and I’m not ready to go down that Rabbit Hole myself.

The Emmrich Situation from a Necromancer

This is the make it or break it for if you like Taash or not. When I saw they called him a Skullfucker I laughed it off and moved on. It is out of line to call him that and it is out of line to seemingly refuse to call him Emmrich when he asks.

I cannot imagine hating them to the point of name calling, I’ve seen someone on Reddit Rage Post, calling them a “Narcissistic Spoiled Cunt”.

Taash is Autistic and with Autism comes all the very shitty draw backs of it. Including having issues expressing discomfort until it builds up and explodes out like it did with Emmrich.

I react like Taash, I keep my discomfort to myself until I have a meltdown and it’s not something I can control when it happens. I especially keep silent about my discomfort if it’s involved with a coworker I’m meant to get along with and that every one else also gets along with them. Example: Coworker won’t stop talking about politics, I don’t engage I keep it to myself because I don’t want to start any sort of confrontation. I attempt to avoid and ignore said coworker unless I need to speak with them. Finally they say one political take out of many things towards me and I finally make a complaint to my Boss. Now I’m silently raging to myself on my break about how I’m to mentally and emotionally drained from working this job why can’t they just talk about sports and their kids?

I can tell Taash kept it to herself at first and because of the lack of communication she has she resorts to name calling in hopes he’d stop talking to them. It all comes down to a melting point ends with confrontation and settles into understanding.

The funny thing about this whole interaction is that you start off with Emmrich CONSTANTLY worried about making everyone uncomfortable but when he becomes comfortable in the group he ceases to realize that he’s making Taash uncomfortable.

And don’t act like you would be comfortable talking to someone who constantly talks about dead bodies. Because IRL you wouldn’t. You would think they’re fucking weird. It’s not even just dead bodies. It’s the entire Nevvaran culture around Necromancy.

I work as a CNA, if the first thing I talked about, to complete stranger, is every single step it takes to prepare a dead body. How cold the skin is and how you have to move quickly to reposition them before rigor mortis sets in. The sound of a Death Rattle and the smell of Sulfur coming from a dying persons mouth. Or how an arm despite being totally necrotic (Avascular Necrosis) can still cause immense pain to a living person.

I would be getting looks especially if it was the only part of my job that I talked about and there is more to Emmrichs’ job and life then Necromancy. Example: PLANTS! I’ve never seen his Apothecary hobby mentioned to anyone else besides Rook until you urge them both to find something else to talk about.

That concludes my Tedd Talk, there can be civil discussion about it or none at all. I don’t feel like being judged for my personal life experiences or how I relate heavily to Taash. I kinda just want people to understand Taash the way I do.

[keyboardsmashorsomething]

@templeofvengeance

First, just to get this out of the way, this is all purely hypothetical. Any bingos or almost-bingos that I happen to get or don’t get do not constitute any kind of further obligation to any parties involved. The act of filling this out does not automatically imply interest in any job opportunities that may or may not be open. Okay? Good. Now that that’s out of the way, here’s my bingo sheet.

Detailed breakdown of all the squares (because I’m nothing if not thorough) under the cut.

Prior combat experience: I took a couple of weeks of archery lessons. I’m a terrible shot, but I guess I technically know how to use a weapon. The “technically” in that sentence is carrying a lot of weight.

Willing to commit murder: Never know until you try, right? First time for everything? (For legal reasons this is a joke)

Swear to protect the travelers of the night: Yeah. That’s an important job.

~*Dramatic*~: I’m like the least dramatic person ever. Also, what are the asterisks and tildes for?

Will follow orders: Look, blame my PDA profile or whatever it’s called. Not me.

Trauma: No idea what counts as trauma. Honestly, probably. My therapist says I have most of the signs of childhood trauma. But I remain convinced that because I wasn’t almost eaten by lions or something that I can’t have trauma.

Speaks multiple languages: I took two years of Spanish in high school? That I forgot most of? Yeah, that probably doesn’t count.

No prior religion/would pray to an Egyptian god anyway: I grew up atheist. No idea what I am now, but not someone who cares a whole lot about hard restrictions.

Willing to look crazy in public: Brother, I do this part all on my own, without your help or any god really. (I have so many stories) (No, you don’t need to hear them)

ANGRY: Anger is best emotion <3

Likes the moon: Moon = cool.

Vigilante vibes: What does that even mean?

Few family or friends: No friends. Plenty of family members, but no one I care a lot about I guess. I don’t know how you’re supposed to feel about your family.

Had an Ancient Egypt phase: Who didn’t?

Dislike of other gods: Nope, sorry. Hephaestus they could never make me hate you.

Likes alcohol: Smells terrible. Plus, I don’t need my brain more messed up than it already is.

Likes to travel: No. (I don’t like staying home either, but that’s entirely beside the point)

Knows how to make offerings/willing to learn: During my religious crisis (which is probably ongoing and I’m just repressing it) I dabbled in paganism for a bit. Didn’t stick, but I remember how to do offerings.

Believes in revenge: Very much so.

Belief in ghosts/supernatural: I won’t say I’m a hardcore believer, but I’m fairly open-minded

Talkative: Nope. Like, at all.

Loyal: I’m honestly not sure what loyalty encompasses. And I really don’t like most definitions I’ve heard of it.

Calls him by his PROPER NAME: I mean, usually. But freedom of speech is important too. This is my PDA profile leaking through again, isn’t it?

[tenebris-lux]

Taking my feet off the ground for a while. Can’t articulate well. Depression sucks, and areas of this site is feeding it. Makes you hate yourself for being yourself. For existing. I’ve only myself to blame for going to the areas where that can only be expected, though. I keep thinking I can handle it, but it creeps in and haunts you and accumulates. Before you know it, you’re weighed down.

There’s a song in Finding Neverland called “When Your Feet Don’t Touch the Ground”. The idea is when life becomes too painful or heavy to bear … fantasize. Which is something you don’t want to do too often. You can’t completely deny the harsh reality you live in. But every so often, it’s a good idea, so you don’t get crushed.

So. Feet off the ground for a while.

[malewifegihun]

anyway i was afraid to touch this discourse with a ten foot pole but i had to get some stuff off my chest as a queer man myself looking at all this discourse abt jayvik because it’s hit me more deeply than others for some reason.

i have no problem with people who see them as platonic, i think the relationship is beautiful either way, but personally as a queer man like i said before the thing that hurts me the most abt the discourse is people’s assumption that if it IS romantic that this takes away from the arc. if like people say there’s a lacking male friendship in media where men are tender and loving towards one another, why is it that every time people turn towards a fictional gay couple and point fingers that the gayness itself is devaluing the relationship? why do people see male queerness as devaluing deep male friendship? why are we the enemy of better male friendship representation in media? as if gay men in love can’t be friends. as if they can’t have both at the same time. idk it’s just a show and just fandom discourse but that doesn’t mean it can’t hurt when i see people talking about how it’s better that they’re not gay at all.

[milolunde]

We all know Timmy is Wanda’s mama’s boy but we need to keep in mind he’s still Cosmo’s kid too and that Cosmo would love him just as vehemently as Wanda

[not-kamenx]

Beyblade X ep 35 the dream contest

PACKUN IM GOING TO BEAT YOUR ASS UP IM GOING TO SKVWLW WLWVRKEIMG GOGUNF TORNEOSBEOGBRME. YOHU WHIT KRBEE YOU SHIT I WANT TO I MM GOING TO HOW FUCKING DARE YOUR ASS EVEN SHOW UP TO THIS BATTLE YOU ARE NOT EVEN FUCKING WORTHY TO BE STANDUNG IN FRINT OF ONE OF THE MOSTHARDWORKING BLADERS IN THISDAMN UNIVERSE PACKUN I WISH YIUW ERE NEVER HERE I WISH YOUR ATOMS NEVER CAME TO CONNECT TO FORM YOUR BODY KINDLY FUCK OFF FROM TEAM PERSONA’S LIVES

[starfallproject]

Tekken character vignette pt. 1

Characters: Kazumi, Kazuya.

Word count: 165.

Kazuya is asleep when Kazumi slips into his room in the middle of the night. Her child looks peaceful in sleep.

Kazumi kisses his forehead. She looks fondly at her son, tracing her fingertips on his face, her own bearing a brittle smile. Her fever spikes prevented her from seeing her little angel for the past few days.

As she goes to the door to make her leave, a quiet rustle stops her.

“Mom?” the question comes out uncertain, she looks back to see Kazuya sitting up, rubbing sleep from his eyes.

“Go back to sleep, dear. You need it for the morning training,” she hears herself say. Kazuya looks confused but nods drowsily, and lays back in his futon.

Her hands shake as she closes the shoji door, knowing that if she gives in to her desire to go back and gather him in her arms, she would waver.

Her fists tighten, she has a mission to complete. It was a long time coming.

[lying-on-floors]

15 dollars in my bank account...HELL YEAH!

Love being a young adult :D✌🏻

(I am suffering) 👉🏻😎👉🏻

[freddyyeti]

[oh-katsuki]

sorry about rarely posting any drabbles or character thoughts or even fics even semi frequently I am not confident in my writing ability

[professorjirt]

we’re due for some positivity in here, I’ll be back here when I have some more brain cells to rub together with some Praiseful Posts

[dyeuhbolical]

Read/write that fanfic, wear what you want, make silly head-canons that don’t fit the character, smile no matter how crooked your teeth are, be kind, be silly, indulge in x reader, listen to your favorite music, talk to that girl you’ve been crushing on, wear that crop top, scream that song with voice cracks, miss that ex, ship those characters, be vulnerable, eat what you want, be who you want and EVERYTHING!!! Do what you want for those who can’t. Stop being a fucking follower and stop being afraid to not fit in. Chances are that you never did. It’s okay to be awkward or weird. It would be so fucking boring if everyone acted and dressed the same. Do what you want man.

[luna-azzurra]

Spicy Dialogue Starters Pack

Slow Burn That’s About to Explode

"If you keep looking at me like that, I’m going to do something we’ll both regret."

"Say that again. Slower."

"You really like testing my patience, don’t you?"

"Back up. Closer. I want to see if you’ll actually do it."

"Do you realize how loud you were moaning my name last night?"

"You should probably stop touching me like that... unless you plan on finishing what you started."

"We’re not doing this here." – "Why not? Scared you’ll like it?"

"I dare you. No, seriously—I dare you."

"One bed. One night. You sure you can behave?"

"You think I won’t?" – "I know you will. That’s the problem."

Enemies to Lovers, but We’re Both Hot and Unhinged

"If I kiss you, it’s not because I like you. It’s because you won’t shut up."

"Do it. Touch me like you hate me."

"You’re infuriating." – "And you’re turned on."

"Careful. You’re starting to sound jealous."

"Admit it. You like it when we fight."

"You want me. You just don’t want to want me."

"If you’re going to stare, you might as well do something about it."

"Say it. Say you want me." – "Why? You’ll just use it against me."

"Keep talking like that and I’ll kiss you right here."

"Don’t tempt me." – "What if I want to?"

Post-Tension Intimacy (A.K.A. We Finally Snapped)

"You're shaking." – "So are you."

"This doesn’t mean anything." – "Then why are you holding me like that?"

"I’ve wanted this since the moment I met you."

"You're not getting any sleep tonight, just so you know."

"You're mine now. Say it."

"God, you feel so good." – "Yeah? Then shut up and keep going."

"You can hate me in the morning. Just… let me have this tonight."

"Is this what you wanted?" – "No. I wanted more."

"Don’t stop. Don’t you dare stop."

"I’m going to ruin you. And you’re going to thank me for it."

Teasing Touch, Dangerous Proximity

"You’re blushing." – "Shut up."

"That shirt’s doing you no favors. Take it off."

"If you wanted me to kiss you, you could’ve just said so."

"I like the way you say my name. Say it again."

"You’re standing really close." – "Yeah? You gonna move?"

"I can feel your heartbeat. Is that for me?"

"Your hands are shaking... here, let me help you."

"Careful. Someone might think you actually want me."

"You know exactly what you’re doing to me, don’t you?"

"We’re not supposed to do this." – "Since when has that ever stopped us?"

Voice Low, Words Barely Whispers

"Keep your voice down. Or don’t. Let them hear."

"Every time you talk, all I can think about is your mouth on mine."

"Say the word, and I’ll have you against that wall in five seconds."

"What do you think happens if I kiss you right now?"

"You smell like trouble." – "You taste like it."

"Look me in the eyes when you lie like that."

"One more step and I won’t be able to hold back."

"If you keep teasing me like that, I’m going to ruin you."

"Tell me to stop." – silence – "Didn’t think so."

"We’re alone now. You still pretending this is just tension?"

Hot-Headed, Argument-Laced, About to Snap

"Why do you always have to push my buttons?" – "Because I love watching you lose control."

"You think you’re in control here? That’s cute."

"You're not walking away from me. Not this time."

"God, you're impossible." – "You didn’t seem to mind last night."

"Say it louder. Maybe if you scream my name again, I’ll believe you."

"Keep pretending you don’t want me. I’ll keep proving you wrong."

"You're dangerous." – "Only if you ask nicely."

"Is this still an argument or are we just flirting with knives now?"

"Admit it. You love it when I get like this."

"Don’t act like you don’t want this too."