#but sometimes what you have to do is you have to render some bullshit

[isbergillustration]

Desperate Attempts

[amywritesthings]

did i cross the line ?

pairing: armin arlert x f!reader ( attack on titan ) word count: 1K+ warnings: 18+ for overall context; au - modern universe, slight dubcon due to intoxication, alcohol, college party, eren yeager being a shit, implied slow burn friends to lovers, ✨ tension author's note: i was drinking wine and wrote this up in 30 min?

You don't know how you ended up here -- tucked away in a closet of a fraternity house you want no part of, barely finding your breath as trembling hands hold either side of your face like you're something precious; something that can break.

You smell the distinct scent of cheap beer and a mirage of other liquors mixing with your own minty tooth paste. Your head is spinning, but you're sober.

Sometime between getting the panicked text from Armin ( i don't know why i'm getting dragged to this thing ) and seeing Eren's first private Instagram story ( look at @/aarlert getting insane! ) you had packed up your bag and save your friend from total embarrassment.

If this is Eren's doing, then he's been begging to drag Armin to Titan Frat for months now -- some bullshit excuse of wanting to prove that Armin can be fun, but you've always thought Armin was fun.

He's your favorite person; your best friend since the start of university. He's funny. He's compassionate.

He's much too hard on himself, constantly worrying, but you like to think you both cancel out one another's anxieties.

His roommate, Eren Yeager, liked to joke that he was in love with you. You didn't quite believe it -- couldn't, not when you have your own deep-seated crush in the back of your mind.

So somehow between making your way into this chaotic house where people dance, drink, and fuck the way through the hallways like they're on a world-ending marathon, you find him: his yellow-blonde hair is a dead giveaway, wipsy and faded at the nape of his neck. He's holding a red cup looking wildly out of place in this sea of extroverts wearing a faded flannel and band tee. You noticed he left his glasses at home, so you can only imagine how poor his eyesight is.

"Armin!" you shout over the music, and he turns on instinct. His eyes find yours, narrowing then widening. The relief passes like a crashing wave, as if you're the soothing balm to his nerves.

"What -- What are you doing here?" he yelps, abandoning his red cup to a table full of forgotten cups. His hands reach for your face, rendering you speechless.

Armin doesn't even like to bump shoulders, much less touch you. He's staunchly unaffectionate physically with a gift of gab -- he'll tell you how much he adores you, how important you are to him, but he's not the touchy-feely friend.

Still, you're stunned when his fingers run along your cheeks, cupping your face.

"I saw Eren's story," you say over the music, trying to lean closer.

His brows knit. "What?"

"I saw Eren's story!"

"I can't really hear -- hold on!"

Dropping his hands from his face, he quickly searches your sides -- there -- and grabs your hand. Again, the sudden proximity of him is knocking off your axis.

He navigates the hallways like he knows where he's going, cautious to protect you from touching the couples making out against walls, totally oblivious to the world around them. He covers your elbow, your shoulder, as if he's your own personal bubble.

Careful.

Always so goddamn careful with you.

He tugs on a bedroom door. Locked.

Armin groans, before trying another more slender door.

It's a closet, empty and seemingly refurbished. His gentle blue eyes, stormy from consuming liquor, look to you.

"Is this okay?"

"To what, talk in?"

"Yeah," he exhales, his pale cheeks peppered with a pink hue. "Pretty sure all the other rooms are occupied."

Huffing a sigh, you slip into the closet and turn. "Armin, you practically smell like a liquor cabinet."

"I know," he sheepishly confesses, closing the door behind him. He's only slightly taller than you, but not by much. "Eren, he..."

He's pushy, is what you imagine he wants to say.

Constantly badgering poor Armin to conform to things he isn't interested in just so he has a buddy to pledge with for rush season this year.

"Are you okay?" you softly ask, and Armin lets out a tiny huff of a laugh.

"Of course I'm fine," he mumbles. "You're here now."

Even in the small light of this closet you see his eyes widen, realizing he said it out loud. You try not to laugh, lips pursed together to avoid it, but he laughs for you.

"Shit," he exhales. "Okay. I stand by what I said."

"Yeah?"

"God, yeah, are you kidding?" Armin asks with a cute scrunch of his nose. "You make everything a thousand times better."

You lean against the wall, laughing softly with him. "Well, I appreciate that. Are you sure you're okay? On a scale of one to ten--"

"You don't have to take care of me," he reassures, moving closer to him. "You always take care of me. I-- I should be taking care of you."

Blinking twice, you look up at him, but he's busy staring at your lips.

"Min?"

"Uh-huh?"

"What's going on in that empty head of yours?"

"A lot, actually, if you can believe it," he admits. "So... so much, but I can't..."

Armin's always had difficulty verbalizing what he wants. What he's thinking. You've always been so patient, allowing him to unravel the ball of yarn in his head until the red string straightens itself out.

His hands slide up to your face again, as if magnetic. You make the smallest noise of surprise, but it isn't unwanted.

"I kept seeing all of those people," he murmurs, leaning in closer. His breath tickles your face. "Kissing, touching, in the halls of this damn place... all I wanted to do was to text you."

His thumb runs along your cheek like he's craving to know you, memorize you, the way he's memorized every note in your shared classes.

You make no sudden movement, as if the trance will somehow awaken Armin from this new warpath he's carved for himself. "Why didn't you?"

"Because I can't really see the buttons right now," he admits with a tiny, embarrassed laugh. "But you still came for me, like you knew I wanted you."

Oh.

That's a loaded double entendre.

Your eyes round, watching as he leans closer.

"Min?"

He doesn't answer right away.

Instead, Armin drops one of his hands to run a gentle finger up your arm -- it's subtle, the manicured edge of his fingernail running deliciously against your skin.

Like he's afraid to touch.

He's always so afraid.

But so are you.

"The things I wish I could do," he exhales, his nose ever so lightly brushing against yours. "Things I could do -- if you'd let me."

[kingtomura]

Vitality | 3

Summary: You were always told heroes and villains had no place in your home.  Not when there’s an increase in crime, not when there’s monsters on the loose in Hosu and certainly not when the man in your home raises a hand to you. All it takes is one impulsive decision to change your life forever. content: shigaraki tomura x female reader, slow burn, hurt/comfort, mutual pining, reader has a quirk, graphic depictions of violence, past abuse, past sa, angst, pstd, eventual smut, found family LoV, mdni wc: 4.8k | prev | chapter 4 | m. list | read on ao3

Sometimes days can pass by pretty slowly in the League. It takes time for a good plan to come together. 

Today is one of those days. 

You’re sitting at the bar, fiddling with your given phone and customizing the home screen when someone slaps a paper down on the counter, startling you from your task.

You glance up and of course, it’s Shigaraki. It’s hard to fight the eye roll, loaded and ready, but you do — the photo on the paper catches your eye instantly. 

All too familiar eyes meet yours. 

Same hair, same nose, same mouth. 

It’s you. 

Your eyes widen as you glide over the words printed above your photo. 

Missing Person. 

You feel the pricks of panic trail its way up your spine as you read the words below your photo.

Have you seen me?

There was no way. 

“Where did you get this?” Your voice feels foreign as you fall into the sinking feeling in your chest, the anxiety is beginning to spread throughout your mind and it is taking a lot to remain still. Even though it feels like an impossible task, you try to calm your rapid breathing, hoping that this was some kind of sick joke.

Shigaraki just shrugs, watching your every move as he takes his own seat in the barstool next to you. “All over. These posters are everywhere right now.”

You couldn’t believe your ears. “What…”

“I didn’t know your father was the lead detective over the city.” His tone is light and airy as he taps at his phone. Shigaraki’s concentration is deep in the search, but his movements are relaxed — too relaxed for your liking. “That’s impressive.”

Shigaraki seems to find what he is looking for as he turns the phone in your direction. A news article with your face below the headline. 

“He’s staging it as a break and enter gone wrong,” he continues, “said they knocked him out and took you away. He’s been in the hospital recovering for a few weeks now.” 

You are rendered speechless. He is not dead. Your father is alive and well and he is looking for you. 

“Wanna see the press conference?” Shigaraki’s question rings in your ears as he holds the screen up to your face, pinky and index fingers extended as the others clutch the device. 

You don’t, but you can’t bring yourself to speak, nor could you shake your head and deny. A morbid curiosity within you wants to see though. It wants to know everything happening outside of these walls. 

Shigaraki is pulling the screen up before you could refuse — taking your shell shocked silence as permission. 

(Maybe he knew, deep down, that you wanted to see, to know your reality in its entirety.) 

Sure enough, there was your father — bandages wrapped around his head and in his detective uniform you knew so well. He stood at a podium, two of his colleagues beside him as he read off of a paper in front of him. 

Your father speaks of criminals and senseless violence, he speaks of the injustice done to him and his family and how he will work day and night to make sure those responsible will pay and that you will be brought home safe and sound.

It’s so heartfelt you almost believe it. 

If it weren't complete bullshit. 

You knew the truth. You know exactly what happened that night and how it all went down.

He is a monster in his own right. One that puts on a front of the caring guardian, but you know so much better.

The truth of it all makes you nauseous.

“And to my precious daughter,” his voice rings through the speakers of the phone, “We will find you and we will bring you home. That’s a promise.”

The video ends there and the screen goes black, revealing your own troubled reflection in the glass.

“He’s going to find me,” your voice shakes as Shigaraki locks the phone and slides it back into his pocket, “I don't have long.”

“He won’t.” Shigaraki is unbothered, crossing his arms with a tilt of his head. 

You shake your head, knowing your father all too well. 

He is thorough in everything he does and he would leave no stone unturned until he finds you and brings you home. That cursed home you would never set foot in again. The one that haunts your dreams. 

There's heat burning at your eyes and you realize it's the sting of tears. You couldn’t cry here, not in front of villains — in front of your leader of all people. It's humiliating. 

“He will! It's only a matter of time.” Bringing a hand to your chest, you fist the fabric of your shirt, wishing it could be your heart, open and able to be ripped out of your chest just so you could stop the rapid beating—

“Let them look, but they won't find you.” His voice is calm, rational. It's certain in ways you weren't sure you could believe. “You’re with the league now — we won't let anything happen to you.” 

It’s hard to believe when your face is plastered on everything. When a huge search and rescue effort is being made and for all the public knows, you were being held somewhere against your will, subject to all kinds of torture. 

It couldn’t be further from the truth. 

You can only watch as Shigaraki stands from his seat, exhaling sigh on his lips as he waves you off. Clearly he had other places to be and other things to do.

“It’s getting late, you should get some rest.” he offers, and you note that it's barely nightfall, but say nothing. Lost in a daze as you stare at your feet, tears threatening to fall and humiliate you further. 

“Kurogiri.” Shigaraki commands and the apparition nods, opening a warp gate. You can tell by the familiar bedding beyond the portal that it leads to your room. 

“We will keep an eye on the situation and make further plans tomorrow.” He announces passively as he walks off, passing by the warp gate and leaving through the door. 

The gate will save you a trip of walking through the borderline endless tunnels, and you’re grateful. All you wanted was the safety of your room. 

You waste no time walking through and sighing in relief as the portal closes behind you. 

There was no chance of anyone coming into your room here, but you move to lock your door anyway — the extra layer of security makes you feel safe.

Your mind swam in the overwhelming feelings, drowning your thoughts in fear and anxiety. 

It just couldn’t be. The idea of killing your father was beginning to sound much more manageable than the reality. 

And his press conference?

The bed greets you with its comfort and you bury your face into your hands, tears finally escaping and sobs fighting their way through your staggered breaths. 

It was all bullshit. 

The break and enter, the kidnapping and the promise of finding you.

He wants you back, but not for a friendly reunion. No, the day he finds you again will be the day you are better off dead.

Everything else said is just fluff for the media and crowd. 

But you knew better. It is an intimidation tactic for you. 

A way to weed out the possibilities of hiding with a good civilian. Any good civilian would take their chance to bring you back to your seemingly loving home and surely loving father. It was a chance for an ordinary person to be a hero and reunite family together from a tragic event. 

Bullshit. 

The man is abusive. In every way possible and he will take advantage of any benefit given to him. He was nothing more than a shady cop who just so happened to play his cards right and work his way to the top of the food chain. 

The idea of someone so cruel being on a team of detectives makes your stomach curl as the sobs you so desperately held tight echo throughout your small room. 

It's just not fair.  

Why should you have to pay the price for wanting freedom? 

The question haunts you as you lie your head down onto the pillows, quiet gasps of your easing sobs filling the room. Your new blankets have always seemed warmer than the ones from your old home. You hold them tight and pray that Shigaraki is good on his word and strong in his promises. 

If they cannot find the most wanted criminal in the country then there was no doubt they would not find a missing girl. 

You would have to place your faith into this group. It’s the only thing you can do for now and the uncertainty of it all only makes you feel worse. 

The uncertainty of it all weighs on your mind as you pray your troubled thoughts won’t catch up to you in the form of nightmares.

———

The meeting of the day is brief and to the point. 

Since the media is plastering your face everywhere, it is best for you to stay back at the base. It's not much different from what you had been doing, but still informative for the other members around you. 

However, after the meeting you run into a small problem.

A small, blonde and enthusiastic problem.

“Just come with me, please!” Toga is loud as she bounces in place with her fists clenched in excitement. The wild smile on her face makes you take a small step back from her. “It won't take long!”

She was so young, but so… odd. You weren't sure what to make of her. “They just told us I can’t leave.”

“It’s not out in the open! Let me show you!”

You sigh and look around, no one is paying any attention to this scene Toga is causing, which leads you to believe that this must be a common occurrence for her. 

Even Shigaraki gives no reaction, only focused on his newspaper and you assume it must not be much of a problem if he doesn’t care. 

Well, if he doesn’t see a problem in Toga dragging you around, then you suppose it can’t be that bad. Reluctantly, you shrug and agree. 

Toga does not hide her excitement, cheering and waving to Kurogiri. 

“Kurogiri! Will you do the honors, please?” She asks the man behind the counter and he agrees, opening a gate and Toga wastes no time grabbing your hand, pulling you through. 

The gate leads you to an empty field. So much for not being out in the open. 

There’s a sinking feeling of unease making itself present as Toga lets your hand go. 

It lingers as she walks on, fully expecting you to follow her along to wherever she deemed so important to show you. Against your better judgment, you follow her, believing in your heart that you were both in the League so there was no reason not to trust her. 

But…

The entire situation is odd. Even as you look around the field and see that it is as vast as it is empty, you know that something is off. The girl only hums a tune, completely content with leading you nowhere. 

“Hey, healer,” Toga starts, continuing her pace ahead as you begin to lag behind — your thoughts catching up with you and making you slow. 

“Yeah?”

“Do you ever dream?”

The question makes your brows furrow as you watch from a distance. She seemed so carefree.

It makes you ponder as you find the words to respond, “No, not really. If I do, I won’t remember them.” 

You may not dream, but you do have nightmares from time to time.

They haunt you when you least expect it, but you would rather not share that with a girl who made venomous snakes look good on a bad day. Instead you try to focus on what’s around you. The field is as green as it is empty, and it only makes you wonder more why you were brought out here — wherever ‘here’ even was in the first place. 

It’s all unusual. 

You look back at the girl and notice she’s stopped walking, causing you to catch up with her.

“Hey, Toga, where are we going anyw—“

Your words are cut short as she turns on you, the silver gleam of a knife in her hand now against your throat. 

“I dream, too! But I remember mine,” Her eyes are glassy as she smiles in delight, the look on her face makes you more on edge than the knife against your throat. “I dream of a world I can live freely in. Wouldn’t that be lovely?”

The question sounds rhetorical but you bring yourself to nod anyway, swallowing your fear and you can't help but wonder what deity you’ve pissed off to have ended up in this situation. 

She pulls the knife back and it feels like you can breathe again, only to be put back on edge as she lunges towards you. 

It’s a reflex, the way you squeeze your eyes shut and bring your arms up to defend yourself from an oncoming attack, but you do. Only to be met with nothingness. 

Toga presses a hand to your shoulder, using the momentum she gained to jump up and over your head. 

The action makes you pause, but you don’t get any time to question as the swift print of a shoe kicks you right in the back, making you fall to your knees onto the ground.

You feel it then, the unease you’ve noticed since walking through the warp gate. 

You are weak. 

You are small and fragile and it burns at your throat as you grit your teeth in frustration. The idea of being taken down by a child is so fucking frustrating it makes you sick. 

The press of Toga's shoe against your back feels like it holds the weight of the world within it. 

Every ounce of inadequacy falls upon your back as you curse under your breath. But just as soon as the weight is there, it is gone. Lifted away as she comes to stand in front of you — extending a hand with a smile no longer wicked, but warm. 

“Living in this world is hard, you know? It looks like it’s been hard for you too.”

Her words make you still, your eyes meeting Toga’s hand and then dragging up to meet her eyes as well. You decide to take her hand in yours, allowing her to help you to your feet, even though you are still wary of her movements. 

“To me, you’re like… a caged bird.” She continues, making a point to keep your hand in hers. “But now you’ve opened the cage and you still won’t fly! That just won’t do.”

It’s difficult to place this feeling in your chest, this string tugging at your heart as you purse your lips, unable to speak as she goes on. 

“I love the league. It’s my home. The one place where I can truly be free and do whatever I want.” She looks far away as she speaks, eyes staring off at the now setting sun, illuminating the field in orange and pink hues as she smiles fondly. ���I love Jin and Dabi and even Tomura! They’re my friends.”

Her attention is back on you as she brings her hands to your face, cradling your cheeks in her small palms like you were the one needing comfort and not the other way around. 

“And I love you, too, little bird!” Toga pulls you into a hug then and it is as warm as it is strange. The action shocks you still, you can’t recall the last time you had been hugged. “I’ll help you fight.” 

Toga’s voice is soft as she continues, words dripping with honesty, “The League will help you spread your wings. You’ll fly with us.”

You lean into her touch and think maybe, just maybe, you’re right where you need to be. 

———

The scene to greet you both at the bar is a strange one. It makes you raise a questioning brow as you walk through the warp gates. 

A rare sight of Spinner and Shigaraki, in a deep discussion, that is somewhat shy of an argument over what seemed to be a video game. 

“No, no, no! He is not the best at that! It’s Little Mac!” Spinner is at the counter of the bar, seated next to Shigaraki, his scaled fingers jabbing into the counter beside them. 

Shigaraki seems unbothered, an assessment you can only make by the posture he held and relaxed form. You couldn’t make out any kind of expression behind the hand covering his face. 

“That’s dumb. He’s easily countered by Ness.” He supplies and this answer only seems to frustrate Spinner more. The latter groaning and desperately pleading his case. 

You can’t help the way a smile tugs at your lips as you walk towards the counter yourself, hoping Kurogiri would supply you with more of that fizzy clear soda you enjoyed. 

“Hey, healer!” Spinner calls, making you snap your head towards him. “Tell him! Little Mac could beat any competitor with no trouble if you’re skilled enough at playing him!” 

You fight the frown making its way onto your face. “Um…” This was about a game, you’re sure but the name of it eludes you. “Is this that fighting game that came out a while ago?”

Spinner is enthusiastic as he nods, just happy you recognize it. “Yes!” 

“Oh, um,” your brows furrow as you try to remember the details of it, but it’s fuzzy in your mind. “I don’t really remember much, but I always played as the character with the blue dress. My father said games like that rot your brain, though, so he took the console before I could really get good at it, sorry.” 

The memory makes you huff a bitter laugh, mood souring at the idea of a fun game potentially ruining your young mind. “Gotta make sure dad’s keep their daughters’ undivided attention at all times, right?”

The comment was more towards yourself — thinking out loud, really. But the feeling of all eyes on you makes you look up. 

You feel like you’ve said something wrong with the way you feel the eyes on you. Even when you let out a small awkward laugh to break the tension it remains. It makes your stomach turn as you are constantly reminded of your unusual upbringing. 

Spinner speaks first, with a look of genuine worry on his face. “That’s… not normal. Why would he do that?”

“Um, I’m not sure.” You walk past the group, forgoing the soda and instead choosing to head straight for the tunnels, eager to get out of there and more than ready to shower and go to bed. “But I think I’ll head in for the night.”

It’s a feeling you can’t outrun, you realize as you sit in the shower of the bathroom — allowing the water to run over your body and you watch as it flows down the drain. 

You wish so badly things were different. That you could have been a normal child with a normal upbringing and a normal life. 

But that just hadn’t been in the cards for you. 

You tuck your head down into your hands as your thoughts spun around you. Toga's words invade your mind, swimming around in your head and you agree with them. 

You were just like a caged bird. 

And even though that door is open, you know exactly what lies outside of it. You know exactly who is watching and waiting for you to take the bait, to come out and risk capture again. The repercussions of escape this time may be much more dire than before and you just couldn’t take that chance. 

The warm water of the shower masked the tears running down your face, but nothing could cover the burn of them. The way they sting at your eyes as you fight to maintain composure. 

You know exactly why your father took the console from you. Some shitty reasoning lying beneath the real issue of how much attention you were putting towards it instead of towards him. 

It was bullshit.

It makes you feel sick. 

—------------

Everything feels more peaceful at night. 

It’s a comfort you didn’t expect to find here in the league but it is a welcomed one. 

The days can feel long but the nights are calm. Even though more than a few of the members are working throughout the night, you are safe to relax and enjoy them. You’ve even started filling your bookshelves. It’s only three books for now but they keep you entertained. 

Even when your leader pays you a visit, you don't feel afraid. 

Tonight Shigaraki is your patient and he is as quiet as the night. The lack of disembodied hand daunting his face is obvious as the pale moonlight lit the room — bathing his natural features in a soft light. 

You’ve learned that there seems to be more than meets the eye when it comes to Shigaraki. 

He never asked more than he needed to know, his eyes never lingered.

Tomura Shigaraki had goals and his focus was undoubtedly on them at all times. It made you feel… safe. Like you weren’t a burden indebted to him. Like you had autonomy. 

Never anything you had at home. 

No one in the league really bothered you or impeded into your space. It was refreshing. It’s why you feel the boldness within you that gives you the strength to ask,

“Why did you send Toga to train me?”

The question breaks through the stillness of the room, catching Shigaraki by surprise, but his expression stays neutral — only opting to raise his eyes from the ground and meeting yours. 

The question seems to pull him from his own deep thoughts. His eyes were carmine red and they seemed to glow in the light of the moon. The intensity of them makes you want to shy away. 

“She seemed like a good fit.” 

“Is it because she’s a girl?” You feel emboldened in the space of your room. The door, forever cracked, allows more light to bleed into the area. 

He doesn’t miss a beat. “It’s because she can fight.”

Silence. 

You move to heal the next area, a cut along his arm. He went out into the field today and didn’t come back unscathed. 

“Does that bother you?” His question surprises you and it shows on your face. 

You shake your head, it doesn’t. “No, it’s fine.”

He hums in acknowledgment. There’s an awkward air to the space now, but you’re sure it’s only on your end. Your nerves prickle as you work on his arm, past his deadly palms. 

“She did pull a knife on me though.”

 “That damn brat.” He huffs a little sigh. “She wouldn’t hurt you.”

“Yeah, I figured that out after. Shook me a little though.” You pause taking in the calm of the room. “Thank you.”

He looks surprised, the small tick of his brow giving the expression away. 

“I’ve been thinking about what you said… and my father.” You look down, focusing your gaze along the arm you’re healing. His skin is so pale. You were so close. “I never thought I would get the chance to stand against him, or even fight him. But… I want to be able to if it comes down to that.” 

Shigaraki says nothing and you aren’t sure he’s even heard you, yet you go on, speaking the most you have since you’ve gotten here. “I think in any situation, I want to be strong. I want to try to stand on my own. Working with Toga is a good choice, I believe.” 

You swallow, nerves catching up to you and it’s a wonder you’ve said this much. You don’t know where these words are coming from, but you can’t help but wonder if you should have probably kept them to yourself.

“That’s good to know.” 

His voice surprises you, causing your eyes to look up and meet vermillion. It sends heat spreading along your face and you feel stuck — frozen in place as his gaze locks you into a trance. 

Shigaraki is not bad to look at once he no longer had his face fully covered. You can’t help but wonder if it’s inappropriate to think of your leader as cute. Handsome, even. 

Lately he has shown you something akin to kindness, but you know better than to let your guard down. He is still a villain. A villain with goals of taking down society. 

But…

He could be kind. You feel desperate to find some kind of connection in this new world you’ve found yourself in. You’re not sure what pulls you towards your leader — be it the promise of safety or guidance it just does.

You break out of the trance you’d found yourself in moving along to the battered bruises along his upper arm. 

“Also… is Spinner always like that?” The question falls and the corner of your mouth ticks up in a small smile. 

This piques his interest. “Like what?”

“Nerdy. Ecstatic about video games.” 

Shigaraki huffs a laugh, barely there and light. A blow of air from his nose and nothing more. “Yeah. He’s kind of a weirdo.” 

You laugh at this, words falling before your brain can catch them. “That’s rich, coming from you.”

You instantly regret it, freezing your motions and wondering if you’ve made a mistake. 

Shigaraki actually laughs. It’s short and shallow and rings in your ears. You decide you like it and would do anything to hear more of it.  “Yeah, well, it takes one to know one.” 

It’s silly, really. The way you would take any crumbs of generosity after years of the opposite. Years of violation and violence can never compare to consistent kindness and respect.

When you feel your cheeks flush at the sound of Shigaraki’s laugh you feel strange. The feeling makes you remember a quote you had read from one of your mother’s old poetry books. 

Something about silver spoons and knives. 

But still, you want to indulge the feeling. 

“Hey, Shigaraki?”

He hums in acknowledgment, eyes meeting yours again. It makes you focus on anything else, the ground is your subject for now. 

“Do you think the investigation will go anywhere?”

“No, they have nothing in their corner.” He’s confident, and continues, “guys like that are full of shit.” 

The bluntness surprises you, though it's not unwelcome. “You think so?”

He scoffs at this, “Yeah, it’s all for show. There are no criminals and he’s hiding something deeper behind the pretense of you going missing. If they dug closer into the issue, they would find his lies. He wouldn’t want that.”

You nod in agreement, and for the first time you feel yourself relax a little. Shigaraki was not only sure, but he had the reasoning to back it up. The confidence made you feel warm — glad you were not in this alone. 

“Got anything else for me?” You ask, the hint of a smile sneaking onto your lips as you finish your healing. Shigaraki shrugs, shaking his head as he moves to stand. 

You don’t know how you hadn’t seen it before but there’s a bandage around his hand. Wrapped tight and kind of sloppy, you reach for it before you think about it, your innate need to help bleeding through at the worst times. 

This was perhaps the first mistake you’ve made since joining the league. 

Shigaraki’s reaction tells it all. His movements are fast and sharp. 

The way he recoils from your touch makes you think you’ve burned him. Shigaraki is on his feet in an instant, knocking the chair he previously sat on backwards and sending it tumbling to the ground. 

Your eyes widen in shock as you try to reach out again, an apology quick on your lips, but he’s far away from you now — more than an arms length away and ready to put more distance between you two.

“Don’t,” his voice is low and his glare is sharp, if you didn’t know any better you would think the rise and fall of his chest was from panic instead of anger. “Don’t touch me.”

It hits you then and you curse your carelessness.

His hands.

You almost touched his hands, without a care in the world — just wanting to help your leader out and fully heal whatever you could. 

You were so close to danger, so careless.

“Shigaraki, I—” You don’t get to finish your thoughts, already lost to the open and slam of your bedroom door. The air of the room is quiet and still, the only reminder of his presence being the overturned chair left behind. 

The silence rings in your ears as the distressed expression on Shigaraki’s face replays in your mind. For someone supposedly so cold to react so strongly to the smallest possibility of accidentally activating his quirk makes you wonder what else lies beneath your leader's layers. 

It makes you wonder just who Tomura Shigaraki is. 

[sir-yeehaw-paws]

Random Collection of MGSV Things I Noticed

Venom hallucinates Skull Face or, hallucinates around Skull Face in both the Skull Face mission and directly thereafter. In one, he's just distorting how he looks and sounds, in the second, he just full out see's Skull Face behind Kaz when he's quoting him.

When Code Talker is put back in the chopper after Metallic Archaea, Venom sits him in the seat, but Ocelot buckles him in. This task apparently needed the both of them to pull off. (I guess Venom couldn't just sit Code Talker down and buckle him up too?) You can drive a whole ass tank in front of soldiers and sometimes they just won't notice. But they will sometimes notice your car and put C4 on it to blow it up.

I/ Venom kicked Huey right before accessing the Walker Gear and it stopped him from doing any of his whining or even his usual narration for the entire mission. He was blissfully silent.

Huey has a bag on his head the entire time Skull Face confronts Venom with Sahelanthropus after you rescue him. Because of this, I assume that Huey is going strictly by sound, and the way Skull Face is yelling, to understand what is happening.

(I've mentioned this one before but) Huey tries to lie and claim that he never met Hal-somehow forgetting or thinking Venom wouldn't notice that he had a full on picture of Hal with Strangelove at his desk in the lab.

*This one is from Reddit, but if you're really struggling with Quiet, weather modification+rain will distract her for a few moments. The same trick can be used on the Skull soldiers.

*Shared in a video-you can hit Mantis with the blast arm if you're absolutely struggling with that mission task.

*Mentioned before but this still amuses me: Ocelot implies that Skull Face killed Josef Stalin.

Venom was most likely seasick for most of the boat ride. (See boat tapes for how disgruntled he gets talking about it)

*Another tip from Reddit that I've used myself: You can do offline combat deployments to destroy weapon sheds, transports etc. If you do this and attack outposts and guard posts afterward, they can't call in back up or resupplies temporarily. This is 50/50 on effectiveness and by region.

It is always raining in the cut scene when Venom boards the chopper before the Skull Face mission.

Soldiers knocked out and then put in dumpsters and toilets will NOT wake up for HOURS (nobody asked but the longest I've waited is an hour and a half or so in real time) and the other soldiers will not find them. Sometimes this extends the alert for a long ass time though, so be gentle with it.

Something to separate Venom from Big Boss I never thought of before? When Huey is yammering about cloning to Venom, he quips "It'd make a good movie" (Also implying Huey's talk is bullshit). I find this interesting because we know Big Boss barely watched movies, or gave them any thought at all.

Adding to that, Venom is more logic minded. He outright dismisses Ocelot when he talks about the supernatural, and doesn't appear to hold any belief in it. Whereas Big Boss does, and has personal experience. (This, granted, is something I'd brought up before, but I still find it interesting).

To continue, Venom is hinted to be more sentimental than Big Boss. We all know about making the diamonds from the soldiers ashes. But he also tells Kaz he wants to keep Sahelanthropus on base 'as a mark', and as 'proof we brought at least one crisis to it's end'. (I'm aware this sort of thing has multiple meanings)

When Code Talker is talking about the vaccinations (the infamous ones that render all the men infertile), he later clarifies that it is 'almost certain' meaning that there is a chance it wasn't a 100% guarantee. (Just in case anyone wants to have some fun with headcanons there wink wink)

I'll add onto/expand this list maybe periodically, but I'm in a retrospective mood again so here we are ;)

Add your own too if you like!

[emsfallingsky]

Indignation

Sam X Reader

Word Count: 10.1K

Warnings: 18+ ONLY! Angst, jealous, alcohol, mentions of cheating. Graphic sexual content, language, unprotected sex, choking? fingering, kissing, edging, name calling.

Four months ago

“Sammy, where were you last night?” you asked him, remembering the phone call from the night before. Sammy looked at you and shrugged, brushing you off a bit as he took a sip from his drink.

“No where?” he replied sitting back on the couch. You frowned at him walking around the side of it and sitting down next to him. 

“You sure? You made it seem like it was something serious- important…” you said, looking back at him with a look of concern written on your face. Sam shifted around in his seat a bit awkwardly, not breaking his attention away from the show you had put on earlier. 

Sam clicked his tongue to his teeth and cocked his head to the side looking at you. His expression almost looked like he was a bit pissed off and his eyes were set harshly on you. “No offense but it’s not really any of your business,” he spat, pushing his tongue to the inside of his cheek and taking another sip of his drink, his cold stare pouring into you over the rim of it. 

You blinked a couple times and frowned at his response, feeling a bit taken back by the sudden harshness of his voice. “Well, no offense, but I think it is a bit of my business since you made it seem like it was such a big deal and the fact that you suddenly had to do this ‘thing’ at one in the morning,” you spat, crossing your arms over your chest as you shifted your weight on the couch. 

Sam let out a scoff and twisted himself on the couch, so he now faced you. He let out a deep sigh, his eyes locking onto you, his brown eyes that normally were so bright and warm now looking dark and cold. ‘God, you really just have to fucking push at poke your way into everything hm?’

Your eyes grew wide and you shook your head, your mind feeling scrambled as a bunch of different emotions and thoughts swirled around in your head. ‘My fucking bad for wanting to know where and what my boyfriend is doing at one in the morning!’ you spat back, raising your voice a bit. 

Sam shifted in his seat and threw his hands up in the air. ‘See! That’s always the fucking problem isn’t it! Gotta be all up in my fucking business 24/7. God! Can’t even fucking breathe when I’m around you sometimes,” Sam spat back, scoffing while he waved his hands around wildly. 

“Jesus christ! You know that’s not true Sam! Just wanted to make sure you were okay since you wouldn't tell me. My fucking bad for being your caring girlfriend and wanting to check in on you,” you scoffed, rolling your eyes. 

“Don’t get a fucking attitude with me! Fucking bullshit. You know what…I don’t want to deal with this tonight, I think I’m gonna leave,’ Sam spat back, quickly rising to his feet. 

“Sam c’mon! Don’t fucking do this right now. You don’t have to leave,” you said, finding your own self quickly rising to your feet. 

“Nah, I’m over this shit. Always some bullshit with you,” Sam replied, throwing on his jacket. 

“You’re seriously getting mad at me because I was worried about where you were and what you were doing at one in the fucking morning Sam!?’ you yelled at him, hoping your words would render in his head and make him understand.

Sam scoffed and was about to reach for your front door when he turned around, letting out a small laugh that you knew was anything but kind. He rolled his eyes, looking at the ceiling, pushing his tongue against his cheek before setting his eyes squarely on yours. He smirked at you and rubbed his nose with the back of his hand. "You really wanna know what I was doing?” Sam asked smugly. 

“Yes Sam, that’s all I’m asking,” you said, letting out a breath of relief hopefully about to get the answer you had been waiting to hear. 

Sam crossed his arms over his chest and smirked. ‘Went to go pay an old girlfriend of mine a visit.”

You felt your whole body suddenly freeze at his words. All the anger that had been pent up inside of you quickly washed away and a sudden wave of nausea came over you, settling into the pit of your stomach. “Y-you what?” you asked, blinking a couple times, trying to make sure you had heard everything correctly. 

‘You heard me,” Sam replied, clenching his jaw tightly together while he stared at you blankly. 

“W-what the fuck Sam. W-why- fuck! Did you…Sam did you fucking sleep with her?” you asked, feeling your mind start to spiral as all the emotions that were wracking inside your brain pushed forward all at once. 

“Cause, you’re fucking exhausting sometimes! Just needed a fucking break,” Sam said, running his hands through his hair. 

Hot tears welled in your eyes and your vision became blurry as you stared back at him. You felt the familiar ache of your throat constricting as you tried to blink back tears. You swallowed thickly and looked back at him, preparing yourself for the blow you were about to get. “Did you fuck her?” you whispered.

Sam looked at you, his face showing no emotion and his eyes looking so soulless that it made a chill run up your spine. “If that’s what you want to call it…then yes. I fucked her.”

Now four months later, you found yourself sitting at your vanity lazily swiping on dark eyeshadow as you tried to get ready for a night out. You weren’t too quick to hop on the idea of going out but after the endless nagging from your friends and comments that they had barely seen you since you and Sam split, suddenly the idea didn’t seem too far-fetched. 

You wouldn’t say you made much of an effort on deciding what to wear outfit and makeup wise, but you did decide on something a little flashier than your everyday wear. You decided on a black smokey eyes and to keep the pattern going, settled on a simple black dress that hung to your curves and your old, but trustworthy pair of docs. 

One of your friends texted you the name of the bar along with the address and what time to meet. You laced up your boots and grabbed a leather jacket and took a quick glance at your phone to double check the time. You grabbed your keys and were soon on your way to the bar.

As you pulled up to the bar, you took a look around noticing the fluorescent lights of the sign that bounced off the old brick of the building and a good amount of cars parked on the outside. The street had a few people walking by the outside of it and some stopped to check out the bar or make their way inside. You never usually come to this part of town so you weren’t familiar with this bar but based on the looks of it, it seemed like quite a popular spot. 

You parked your car and climbed out, walking quickly to the entrance since your gps had taken you through an alternative route, putting you a few minutes behind. You opened the front doors and quickly scanned the area before landing on your friends, seated at the corner and giving you a wave. You flashed them a smile and made your way over to them where they greeted you with big smiles and warm hugs. 

An hour or so went by and you were feeling good. The drinks were flowing and the alcohol had made you a bit more loose and you could feel the warmth radiating off of your face. You hadn’t realized but you had missed going out and having a good time with your friends. For the first time in a while, your mind wasn’t wandering back and lingering on the empty hole in your heart left by Sam. Instead, it was filled with smiles and loud laughter that you didn't know you had desperately needed. 

Your friend was in the middle of telling a story when you saw her eyes flash up above your head and then grow wide. You frowned and she ducked back down and met your eyes. “Fuck, I think I just saw Sam.”

You stared back at her, a look of shock on your face not knowing what to say. You opened your mouth to say something but she stopped you and took your hand. “Let's not let his presence ruin the evening. He hasn’t noticed you so let's just ignore him but it might be best if you don’t turn around,” she said, giving you a reassuring smile and small squeeze to your hand. You smiled back and nodded. Ignore him…right. No big deal. 

Your friends went back to chatting and you desperately tried to make yourself present in their conversation but you couldn’t ignore the nagging feeling that had crept up on you. Your foot had started to bounce and you found yourself taking frequent sips of your drinks trying to will yourself to not turn yourself around. You knew deep down you shouldn't but you desperately just wanted to catch a glimpse of Sam, just wanting to see him before your own eyes. 

You tried your best to shake off the feeling, trying your best to immerse yourself back in the conversation but you were suddenly drawn away by hearing laughter coming from behind you. A laugh that you could easily recognize and pick out anywhere. 

The tops of your knuckles grew white as you gripped your now empty glass that sat before you. You heard the sound of his voice in the background and you felt your jaw start to clench. You went to take another sip of your drink and when you looked down you noticed it was now empty. You excused yourself, walking over to the bar, making sure your back was kept turned away to avoid Sam. 

You made your way over to the bar, leaning against it while the bartender greeted you and took your order. As you waited, you plucked a straw from the dispenser next to you and began to fiddle with the end of the paper. You could hear Sam’s voice in the background and while it was faint, it was the only thing you were able to hear. 

The bartender slid your drink back to you and you gave a small smile as you thanked them. You took a sip of your drink and then you hear it again. The sound of his voice. You let out a sigh and clamped your eyes shut but then found yourself turning around to look over to where he was. 

Sam was standing next to his friends, leaning on a table with a drink in his hand. He was dressed in a denim button up that was held together by a single button, exposing his chest and a necklace that hung in the middle. His long hair draped over his shoulders and you watched as he lifted one of his hands, running it through his long locks. 

You felt your stare grow cold on him and you let out a small tsk, feeling anger start to boil within your veins. You found yourself disgusted at the idea that you had once cared for him after he showed you his true colors. Now the sight of him left you feeling sick. 

The word hate was one you didn’t often use but it was now the only word you could think of when you thought of him. You didn’t know how someone could be so selfish and ruin your whole relationship after you two had put in so much time and effort to build it.  

You let out a sigh and brought your drink up to your lips to take a sip. As you did, Sam’s eyes met yours over the rim of your glass. Your eyes immediately grew wide, and you watched as he frowned and blinked a couple of times before you watched his mouth form your name. You let out an internal groan and watched his face drop. 

Sam ran his fingers through his hair and sat down his drink on the table in front of him and you watched helplessly as he started to make his way towards you. You quickly threw back the rest of your drink and looked around the bar seeing a restroom sign and walked swiftly towards it. Sam was following close behind, calling your name and you fought with every fiber in your body to not turn around and face him. 

You rounded a corner and were about to push open the door of the restroom when you felt a gentle hand wrap around your shoulder, slowly turning you to him. You felt your body immediately freeze as you turned around. “Y/N, can we talk for a second,” Sam said

You didn’t meet his eye and looked down at the floor but his presence was something you couldn’t ignore. It felt like time was now at a standstill as the two of you stood in the small hallway. You took in a shaky deep breath only to be met with the smell of his cologne. You felt your teeth grit together and felt tears start to prick at the corner of your eyes. 

In the span of time that you two had broken up, you hadn’t really gone through what had happened much and let yourself fully comprehend the situation. You hadn’t spoken in full depth about what had happened, let alone come to terms yourself with it. All you felt was a deep pain and the only thing that seemed to linger was pent up anger and frustration. Now with him standing before you, you could feel that anger pulling at your edges, threatening to unleash your wrath upon him. 

The tears that now had formed in your eyes started to sting and you swallowed trying to push them aside. You blinked them back and shook your head, your attention still pointed down towards the floor. 

You couldn’t see it, but Sam’s eyes danced across your face as he tried to wrap his own head around everything. He opens his mouth to say something again but shuts it, not knowing how to get to you. He finds himself feeling a little lost and confused. There were times when talking to each other about the issues at hand had come so easy and natural and now as the two of you stood in front of each other, everything felt disconnected. 

Out of the corner of your eye, you see his hand start to come up but then you see him drop it. You hear Sam clear his throat and you can see his weight shift as he drops his head, leaning himself a bit into you as he speaks. “C’mon Y/N, just wanna talk…please talk to me.”

You feel the tears that were threatening your eyes spill over. You push your tongue to your cheek while you quickly shake your head. Sam reached out and took your hand in his. “Please…,” he sighs. “Look, I know I fucked up but…I-I still love you. Always have.”

Sam’s words hit you hard and you feel a rush of emotion spring forward. You hated the way he’s speaking to you and how he’s trying to sound sweet and empathetic knowing damn well he is at fault and the one to blame for all of this. 

The anger that you started to feel boil in your veins now felt like a blazing fire and every part of you wanted to scream. You slowly lifted your eyes off the floor and when you met his eyes, you felt yourself crumble to pieces.

His face was still handsome as ever and he had that look on his face you had seen many times before, that showcased just how guilty he truly felt. Sam’s eyes danced all over your face as he tried to read you and you felt yourself wanting to reach out and touch him but you pushed the thought aside. 

Sam’s hand was still gently wrapped around yours and you felt his thumb come to swipe over the top of it while he locked eyes with you. He swallows and you watch his Adam's apple bob in his throat. “I’m so sorry,” was all he whispered.

You feel your lip start to tremble and you watched as his eyes quickly glanced down, taking note of it. You quickly rip your hand away from his and shake your head once more before pushing open the bathroom door and locking yourself inside it. 

Sam takes a step back, taken by surprise by your sudden action while his eyes follow you as you close the door in front of him. His mouth is parted a bit, and his brows are knitted closely together out of confusion. He takes in a deep breath, clenching his jaw while feeling his own frustration settle upon him. 

As you now stand in the bathroom, you feel like your body is on fire. Your hands seem to have a mind of their own, mindlessly fidgeting with one another and your body can’t stand the thought of trying to remain still. You pace around the small room, taking in deep breaths while you try to calm yourself but find it nearly impossible. Your mind wrapped around itself while all of those ‘what if?’ questions shot its arrows at the walls you tried to pull up to protect yourself from falling down the dark hole you knew would send you spiraling.

With one final shaky breath, you found it within yourself to still your body for a second to try and get a better grip on the situation before you. The familiar ache that was left in your chest four months ago, was now once again making its presence known. You closed your eyes, placing one hand on your heart and inhaled through your nose, holding it for a second before releasing it fully. 

A long tear made itself known as it ran down the length of your cheek, but you quickly wiped it away with the back of your hand. You open your eyes, turning over to the sink and seeing your reflection in the mirror that is set above it. You took a few short steps towards it, running your fingers through your hair, trying to smooth down the edges as you tried to pull yourself together. 

You took a quick glance at the door since you’ve been met with nothing but silence from the other end for the past few minutes. Maybe he left…

Just as you were about to reach for the door, you heard a few soft knocks wrap against the door and the sound of Sam’s voice followed right behind. “Please…please just give me a chance and let me explain everything. Look, i-if you don’t want to now…then maybe another time but, I would like to talk to you about everything. Just open the door, please…open the door.”

The breath you took caught in your chest and you stared at the door, your eyes darting back and forth while your mind began to race far too quickly for you to collect any rational thought from it. You hated that he sounded so desperate and that he stood there behind the door pleading- begging for just one chance to let him in. You opened your mouth and went to find the right words to say to him but shut your mouth, failing to do so. 

You crossed your arms in front of you, bringing one of your hands to your bottom lip, rolling it between your thumb and pointed finger. You truly were at a loss of words. Somewhere deep down inside of you, you did want to talk it through, and you knew you desperately needed that closure, but it would come with consequences.

That part of you that had been left feeling fragile and wilted was because of Sam. You may not be healing or coming to terms the correct way but you were desperately trying to move on and you knew that opening up that old wound would only cause more harm than good.

“Please Peach.”

Damn it. Why? Why did he have to say the nickname he had given you, knowing exactly what it does to you. You felt that little impending flicker in your heart and you took in a deep breath. It couldn’t hurt…could it. 

With that final breath, you took a step forward, extending your hand out and unlocked the door. You slowly opened it and saw Sam leaning against the door frame. His eyes were cast down to the floor, but he quickly flicked them upward upon hearing the door open. 

Now with his face so close, you could see every detail. You observed him and watched while he let out a breath he had been holding and his shoulders dropped down. His eyes met yours, a genuine and heartfelt expression written upon it. The corner of his mouth lifted just slightly, almost undetected but you were able to catch it. 

“T-thank you,” Sam cleared his throat, “for opening the door.” He let out a little breathy laugh and brought his hand up to his face, his fingers brushing over the patch of hair on his upper lip. “I was kind of going crazy out here,” Sam mumbled, reaching out a hand and touching your shoulder. 

No. You shifted your body away, moving his hand off of you. You knew your boundaries and you weren’t going to let him step on them in any way. You cleared your throat and looked at him, putting on a brave face. “Please don’t touch me,” you said, your voice strong and unwavering as you spoke. 

“Sorry,” Sam said, quickly ripping his hand away. “Habit,” he mumbled. 

You rolled your eyes a bit and let out a huff. “Yeah, well you should maybe drop it then,” you spat, crossing your arms in front of you, suddenly feeling your blood start to boil. The anger pent up quickly was making itself known and while you tried to tell yourself that you would be able to talk to him calmly, you knew it was a lie. 

“W-why?” Sam asked frowning, tilting his head to the side while trying to read you. 

“Because I’m not yours anymore Sam,” you said with a scoff, leaning yourself against the opposite side of the doorframe, staring him down. Sam’s expression dropped and you watched him frown again, his face contorting into what you could only read as confusion. 

Sam then looked up and met your eyes again. “Oh…so-so you’re seeing someone then?”

You stood there, astounded by his words. You clenched your jaw, raising your eyebrows, trying to wrap your head around his question. You looked away, a small laugh of annoyance coming from you. “Okay first of all, you have no place to ask me that question or just assume that and second, even if I was…it’s none of your business,” you spat back. 

Sam looked at you, crossing his own arms over his chest and smirked. “Oh, so you’re not then?” He asked, raising one of his eyebrows. 

A frustrated groan left you and you pushed off the door, taking a step forward towards him, feeling the anger starting to unravel. “Talking to you is fucking pointless and like I said it’s none of your business.”

Sam’s whole demeanor changed, and you watched his eyes bore into you. The soft-spoken side of him was now completely gone and instead his presence felt dark and heavy. Sam pushed his tongue to the side of his cheek, looked down and took a step forward, almost like a silent challenge. The image of him four months ago flashed into your mind. The same cold stare. 

His body now stood closely to yours and you sucked in a breath to only find it catch in your chest. “You know, I really don’t know why you’re so fucking cold to me. Don’t know why you suddenly act like this after and act like my love never meant anything to you.”

That piece of string that was holding you together at the edges suddenly snapped, making you fully unleash your wrath upon him. “Are you actually fucking kidding! You’re seriously standing here wondering why I act so fucking cold to you after you left to go fuck your ex?” You spat at him, moving your face dangerously close to him. 

Sam scoffs and rolled his eyes. “I was only over there for a bit,” he says in a tone that is too nonchalant and makes you clench your fists at your side. “And for the record, it was because I was fucking desperate ok. I do feel like shit about it,” Sam mumbled. 

You sneer back at him. “Excuses don’t fucking matter Sam. You cheated. Point blank.”

“I know!” Sam says in a raised voice, lifting his hands up and then running them through his hair whilst tugging on the roots. “Look I know I fucked up okay! It’s just- fuck, it was when we were going through a rough patch and I…I don’t know. I just needed something.”

“So you decided that something was going to your ex’s while your girlfriend sat at home and you could’ve easily talked and communicated what was going on?” You asked in utter disbelief. 

“God, Y/N! I know okay! I know! I regret it every fucking day. God…I- you know I still fucking love you,” Sam says, lifting his eyes to meet yours. The same look of desperation written on his face while his eyes danced around your face, trying to gather a response from you. 

A frown instantly formed on your face. “Fuck you Sam,” you said, moving to walk past him but he steps to the side blocking your path. You scoff and look down at the floor. 

“Please, just please…I wanna work through this.”

Now you’re the one to push your tongue to your cheek while slowly raising your eyes back up to meet his. Your stare became ice cold, and you hold his steady. “Well for the record, I hope it was good and everything you dreamed of,” you say coldly. 

Sam steps away, his face dropping. “No actually it wasn’t. Nothing…nothing is as good as it was with you. She- she was nothing…meant nothing.”

Your face drops a bit, but you quickly pull yourself back together and look straight at him. “If that’s the case and I’m really that ‘good’..., why did you never call or text? You do remember that I told you I wouldn’t mind continuing to hook up…” 

Sam pulls his mouth to the side and brings a hand up to scratch the back of his head. “If I’m being honest…I don’t know. I guess it just didn’t feel right. Felt guilt…still do. But I mean there were times I was tempted especially when I saw you at parties. I saw you that one night when we were all at Danny’s that one night and I swear I almost asked you but then decided not to. Found another girl to distract myself instead. I mean shit, that’s kind of the situation for every time I happened to see you out and about, whether it be at a party or not. Had to go and fill the void somehow but it just left me feeling guilty.”

You stood there in utter disbelief while Sam confessed and laid everything out for you. You didn’t know that’s how he had been feeling and a little part of you felt bad even though you knew you shouldn’t because it was his own reckless actions that led you both to where you are right now. 

Instead, you pulled yourself back together and glanced at him. “So…you’ve been hooking up with other people then?” you ask, crossing your arms over yourself. You don’t really know what willed you to ask the question, but you would be lying if you weren’t a bit curious. But something else lingered…jealousy maybe?

Of course you knew there was that chance that he would go and now be able to see other people all he wanted but part of you felt a bit upset about the fact. You thought back to those nights when the two of you first started seeing each other and the way you both were frantic while you ripped the clothes off each other before you could even make it into the house. 

Those weren’t the only memories. You missed the softness and sweetness of him too where soft touches lingered and just the smallest brush of his finger would leave you melting into him. It was the way the two of you were able to communicate how much you meant to each other without having to pull and find the words. The passion that was once shared between the two of you now was torn down rubble left behind.

Sam stands before you letting out a sigh as he slowly nods. “Yeah…I have been sleeping around a bit,” he confesses, letting out a nervous chuckle. You stand before him nodding, not knowing how to answer. 

“Not going to lie, it doesn’t help…feels like fucking shit and it’s meaningless. I think that’s why I don’t get much out of it. There’s nothing there. I don’t think I want to continue having sex with no connection. If I’m being totally honest…I just want you,” Sam confesses, locking eyes with you. 

You could feel the cracks slipping beneath you, but you desperately tried to keep them hidden. You cleared your throat and looked back at him with an unwavering stare. “No thanks, don’t think I want a man who’s been sticking their dick in other women.”

Sam’s eyes grow wide as he stares back at you. He quickly shakes his head and frowns. “I don’t Peach…don’t want to continue doing that. I don’t want to be with other women. I just want to be with y-”

“But you enjoy it right? Like fucking them?” you ask, quickly cutting him off. 

Sam shifts a bit and shrugs. “I mean…sometimes. Look I don’t really wanna-”

“How many? How many girls have you been with since we’ve broken up?” you asked, clenching your jaw. You seriously don’t know what’s leading you to ask so many bold questions, but you find yourself unable to hold back. In truth, you aren’t really sure you want to know but find the question slipping for your lips anyways. 

Sam goes silent, his face falling while contemplating on if he should really tell you. You see him hesitate but finally he speaks up in a voice that is barely audible. “Ten or so…maybe more,” he mumbles, staring down at the floor. 

A shocked look comes across your face and your eyes frantically dance around his face, while trying to rearrange the frantic thoughts that swirl in your head. “S-Sam…what the fuck.”

Sam’s expression drops and you see him look away, running his hand over the back of his neck. “Like I said, I know it’s not good. It all was meaningless…just needed something to drown in while I worked through shit I guess- look. I don’t want to be that fucking guy, just pl-”

“Did you use protection?”

Sam’s eyes meet yours again, his own look of shock on his face as a deep crease forming before his tightly knitted brows. His mouth hangs open and he shakes his head from side to side in utter disbelief. His hands hang at his side and you watch as he bunches them into tight fists before bringing them up. “Yes! Of course, I did…w-why would you ask me something like that?”

You stare back at him, holding his stare. You didn’t bother to hide the relief that not only showed on your face but also on your body. Your shoulders dropped a bit and the breath that you didn’t realize you were holding was slowly let out of your body. Then before you let your whole body relax, your stare turned cold and you spat the word, “Was it worth it?”

Sam’s eyes meet yours and you see that same flash of guilt come over his face, but it is quickly whisked away seeing his jaw clench and hands ball into fists at his side. “No,” he said, in a tone that made the hair on the back of your neck stand up. “It wasn’t.”

There’s a dull ache in your own jaw as you clamp down on your teeth, nearly crumbling under the weight. You narrow your eyes at him. “You sure?” you say and then for whatever reason, find your feet having a mind of their own as they take a tiny step forward. 

“You sure you don’t like it? Taking home any girl, you want?” you ask, tilting your head to the side and letting your eyes briefly drift to his lips. Sam sucks in a visible breath, following your own eyes. Sam closes his eyes for a split second and then looks away. 

“Don’t.” The tone in which he spoke should’ve made you freeze but instead, you took the words on as a challenge. 

A smirk comes onto your face, and you take another step forward, your body only inches away from his. With his face turned to the side, you found your eyes looking at the exposed part of his neck, his pulse beating wildly under his skin while he tried to put on a stern front. 

“Oh, come on Sammy,” you whisper, leaning yourself into him and letting your breath hit his neck, hoping your own little nickname would do the trick. Your eyes look down, seeing his chest still while he holds his breath. “Don’t lie…I know it was fun.” 

You lean yourself further forward, letting the tip of your nose come into contact with the skin on his neck. You hear the audible shutter of his breath and feel one of his hands, grab onto your hip. “Peach,” he grows, the grip on your hip tightening. 

A smile comes across your face, and you let your lips brush against his neck. “Anything to get your dick wet right?” And then you place a gentle kiss on his neck. A small moan escapes Sam and that was the sign you needed to continue your taunting and teasing. 

“Did you fuck them hard?” you asked, sucking at the sensitive spot where his neck met his shoulder. Sam let out a small groan, his hand staying on your hip, his fingers digging into the flesh with such force that you were sure there would be marks later. 

“Some…” he whispered, letting his head fall back onto the door frame. You raised one of your hands, letting it rest against his chest and then gripped the fabric of his shirt and tugged him into the bathroom, quickly locking it behind you as you pressed him against the door. 

His eyes poured into your, half lidded with that sultry look you had come to know so well. You smirked up at him as he looked down at you over the bridge of his nose. You moved his hair to the side, continued to pepper his neck with kisses but this time, pressed your body against his. 

Sam groaned at the feeling and returned the action by gripping your hip and pulling you close against him. Now with the two of you pressed up against each other, there was no hiding the affect you were having on him as you felt his hardness press against your lower stomach. 

You halted your kisses and raised your head just slightly as you swiped the tip of your nose against his jaw. You placed a soft kiss against it and then moved your mouth to hover over his ear. “Did you imagine they were me?”

Sam’s body stiffened beneath you and he turned his head to look at you. You saw a dangerous flare in his eyes and you knew you had crossed a line. Before you could say anything to dull the tension, Sam lifted up a hand and held it against your throat. You let out a small gasp and with his thumb, he tilted your face so it was staring directly at him. 

“I only imagined they were you when I fucked them so hard that they couldn’t even walk, let alone talk after it was over.” Sam hissed through his teeth, his cold eyes staring back at you so intently that you shivered. Your thighs clamped together, feeling your arousal take over you. You thought maybe he didn’t see but you saw his eyes flick down to your legs for a brief second.

You went to look away from him but his hand that was wrapped around your throat, made you unable to and you were forced to stare back. You swallowed thickly and went to open your mouth to say something, but you were cut off as Sam smirked and leaned forward, hovering his mouth over your ear. “Is that what you want Peach? Want me to fuck you so hard that you can’t even speak?”

The only response you gave him was a small whimper as you nodded your head. Sam pulled away and smirked at you, releasing his grip around your neck and swiping his thumb over your cheek. “Yeah? Is that what you want?” Sam asked, lowering his head to catch your eyes that you had ripped away from him, the tops of your cheeks flared with heat, feeling a little embarrassed at how you were able to give in so easily to him. 

“Good.” Was all Sam said before his mouth found yours. The intensity of the kiss was something you couldn’t even begin to describe. Your mouths danced over each other while the two of you pawed and grabbed at each other, trying to find ways to get your bodies even closer to one another. 

Once Sam’s tongue entered your mouth, you couldn’t help but let your body collapse into him. The taste of him again on your lips was enough to drive you mad and you found that even though your distaste for him was rooted deeply, you couldn’t deny wanting him just one more time. 

The faint taste of the alcohol still lingered on his tongue. The musky scent of him combined with the way he tasted was enough to drive you completely mad. You pressed your body up against him, rutting your hips into him which made the two of you moan into each other's mouths in response. 

Sam gripped your hip tightly and then he quickly spun you, pressing your back now to the door. He removed both of his hands from your body and pressed the flats of his palms against the door, trapping your head between him. His chest rose and fell quickly, and his lips were a bright shade of red, raw from your kissing. 

The same cold eyes poured into you and you watched the muscles in his jaws strain. “You wanna fuck? …Lets fuck,” Sam said and then pressed his mouth against yours, this time with far more force. The only thing you could do was grab the fabric of his shirt and hang onto him while he devoured you. 

While the two of you let your mouths and hands roam over each other's bodies, you realized this wasn’t just any normal hook up. This was a dance. A dance of dominance but also an understanding. The two of you had found a way to communicate all the thoughts and feelings that swirled between you without actually finding a way to voice it. You knew it might not be the right way, but it was the only way you found it fit between the both of you. 

The hand that was left clinging to Sam's shirt then moved, starting on the single button that held his shirt together. Your fingers quickly worked on it, popping it open and revealing the smooth skin of his abdomen. You let your fingers rake down his skin, your nails just barely scratching against him making Sam let out a hiss through his teeth. 

Sam removed one of his hands away from the door and moved it back to your hip but this time, he balled up the end of your dress and let his hand rest against your bare skin. He continued to kiss you deeply, swiping his thumb over the band of your thong. You said a silent thank you to yourself for deciding to opt on a black thong tonight. 

Sam slowly removed his mouth away from yours and let his lips brush against the side of your cheek as he attached his mouth to your neck. You sucked in a gasp, bringing your hand up to his head and tangling your fingers through his longer locks. You let out a small his when you felt his teeth graze over the sensitive skin in your neck which made him rumble out a small chuckle against it. “Always so sensitive for me, Peach.”

“Fuck you,” you hissed back, sucking in a gasp as you felt his lip suck the skin of your neck into his mouth, making you arch your back into him. 

“Oh trust me, you’re going to,” Sam growled before he took your leg in his hand and lifted it to wrap around his middle. Sam pressed his hip into you, his erection brushing up against the bundle of nerves that were now aching to be touched. A small moan escaped you and you wiggled beneath him, trying to chase the feeling of him against you. 

Sam sucked in a hiss and brought his other hand to your hip and pushed them back against the door. “Quit doing that,” Sam spat, resting his forehead against your shoulder while he struggled to maintain his composure. 

You smirked and despite the force his hand had against your hips, you managed to wriggle yourself just enough to brush your core over him again. Sam lifted his head and glared at you bringing one of his hands to wrap against your neck again and press your head back against the door. “Is that a challenge?”

You bit your lip, trying to hide the smirk that was spreading across your face and nodded. “Fine,” Sam said, removing his other hand from your hip and letting his hand snake down between the two of you and ran a finger against your clothed clit. You cried out, clamping your eyes shut while biting your bottom lip so hard you almost punctured the skin. 

Sam started to slowly draw circles against it, making your body flare with heat that stretched from the top of your head and out through the tips of your limbs. “Yeah? You like my fingers on you?” 

All you could do was nod, your jaw now hanging freely as you stirred and moaned beneath him. Sam smirked and brought his face against your neck, nipping and sucking at your skin. He pulled his hand away and you were about to let out a groan of complaint when you felt his hand dip under the elastic band of your thong and start to work over you now with nothing in between you. 

The slow circles he drew against you were daunting. He knew every inch of your body and even if you tried your best to hide you were reaching your climax, he would know. That’s how you knew he was just trying to tease you and rile you up. His fingers would press against the spot that could easily make you melt into his hand and would circle it, feeling your breath catch and just as you felt your approach start to creep up on you, he would pull his fingers back, just letting them barely dance across you. It was all part of the game…trying to see who would be the first to melt into each other first.

“Always so fucking wet for me,” Sam mumbled against you. His fingers started to pick up against you and you sucked in a sharp breath, feeling that wave start to crash over but he pulled his hand away. You clenched your jaw and let out a whine, gripping his hair by the root and tugging. 

“Knock it off,” Sam scolded and then knocked your breath away, delivering a small smack to your clit. Sam smirked at your response and then practically drained all the life out of you when he dipped one of his fingers into you but before it was pushed fully inside of you, he pulled it back. 

Sam pulled himself away from you just a bit and you watched his hand come to face and then suck the digit coated in your arousal into his mouth. His eyes fluttered and he let out a deep groan. “Always taste so sweet for me, Peach.”

Your whole body practically melted and your hand reached out for him, snaking down to rest against his erection that strained against his jeans. Sam sucked in a sharp hiss looking down and brought his hand down to rest on top of yours, pressing your hand harder against him as he rutted his hips into your palm. 

His eyes flicked back to yours and in a cold but stern voice commanded you. “Turn around.” You stood before him, feeling yourself starting to unravel at the seams. Sam had always been dominant and demanding with you, but this felt new. The deep gravel of his voice and his unwavering stare made your arousal pool and left your body shaking with anticipation. 

You did as he said, turning yourself around so you now faced the door. You felt Sam step behind you, his musky cologne wrapping around you and made your head swim. Sam grabbed both of your hands that were now dropped at your sides and lifted then, pressing them flat against the door. “Keep your hands right fucking there. Don’t you dare move them.”

You swallowed thickly and sucked in a breath. “Yes sir.”

Sam let out a growl and grabbed your hips and pushed himself against you. He pressed the tip of his nose into your hair and mumbled against this. “You want this Y/N?” he asked in a soft voice that almost made you crumble. 

“Please,” you whimpered. 

That was all Sam needed before you heard the sound of him undoing his belt, followed by the sound of his zipper sliding down. Sam reached down, lifting the bottom of your dress up and letting it bunch up just above your hips. He reached a finger into the elastic band of your thong and yanked it down and then swiped a finger through your wet core. 

A cry of pleasure left your lips but only lasted for a second as he withdrew his finger away. You felt one of his hands grab the back of your neck, pushing you forward. You turned your head to the side, letting your cheek come flush with the door and your eyes then grew wide at the sight before you. 

The mirror to the side was just in line of your view and you watched Sam pull down his pants, letting his cock spring free. Sam must’ve somehow sensed you watching him in the mirror because his eyes came up to stare back at you in it. A small smirk appeared on his lips, and you watched him look down and grip himself in his hand, slowly stroking over himself. In the reflection of the mirror, you were able to see the muscles in his stomach twitch as he let his hand lazily stroke over him. His brows bunched together, and his mouth fell open letting out a soft groan. 

Sam’s eyes then met yours again and you watched as he brought his hand to his mouth and spit it in. He rubbed his hand over the head of his cock, the muscles in his jaw clenching at the feeling. He then gripped his cock in his hand and swiped his tip through your dripping core. 

Your back arched at the feeling and you felt Sam’s hand tighten on your hip. Sam gave a couple more teasing swipes against you before lining himself up. The wind was instantly knocked from your chest as Sam pushed himself in with one hard thrust, filling you up to the hilt and delivering the familiar sting as you stretched around him. 

A low groan escaped you and you clamped your eyes closed while one of your hands that was pressed against the door bawled into a tight fist. You hear Sam let out a groan, stilling inside of you while you both got used to the feeling of being with each other again. 

The feeling of him was truly like no other. You would be lying if you said you didn’t miss the way he fucked you, knowing your body like the back his hand. You gladly accepted the familiar sting that he made you feel as your walls stretched and wrapped around him. “Fuck Sam,” you moaned. 

Sam withdrew himself almost all the way before he plunged back into you, delivering another hard thrust into you. The tip of him brushed against the hidden spot within you that could make you become undone before him. Sam’s hand gripped into your hair, holding you flush against the door as he started to build a slow but powerful rhythm, thrusting into you deeply and letting the tip of his cock brush against your cervix. 

The sound of Sam groaning behind you as he drove into you made your walls start to flutter around him. Sam let out a hiss at the feeling and you watched in the mirror as he fucked into you. His attention was cast downward, watching his cock coated in his arousal as he fucked into you. 

Sam’s rhythm started to pick up and all you could do was lean against the door for support, feeling your body start to grow limp from the amount of pleasure that swirled inside of you. Sam delivered a powerful thrust that made you claw your nails against the door. Sam picked his head up, removed his hand from the back of your neck and then wrapped his hand against yours, holding it to the door. 

“You like that, Peach? Like when I fuck you hard like that?” Sam asked, pulling himself almost all the way out and plunging back inside of you, gripping tightly against your hip. With all the strength you could muster, you lazily nodded your head. 

“Already got you speechless Peach. I just started baby,” Sam mumbled into your hair. Sam then started to fuck into you so hard that you were left seeing stars. This tip of his cock was brushing against your cervix so hard that you could feel the muscles inside of you start to ache. 

With the force Sam was driving into you, you now were quickly approaching your release. You felt yourself start to squeeze around him and your legs started to buckle but you willed yourself to stand up straight. A high-pitched moan escaped you and you felt Sam nudge the side of your neck with the tip of his nose. “I know baby, I know you’re close. Can feel that pretty pussy squeezing me.”

Sam removed his hand from your hip and snaked it around you, letting his fingers dip between your legs. The tip of his finger started to circle around your clit, this time with purpose as he drove you over the edge. 

Your whole body shook and a low deep groan escaped you as your release overtook you. Stars danced behind your lids as you felt your body drift to that far off place of nothing but pure bliss. From behind you, you heard Sam let out a deep shaky groan and felt himself spill into you, folding himself over and pressing his head to the top of your shoulder. 

The two of you were left a panting mess as you tried to collect yourself. You then mustered up the lingering strength you had and slid your hand from beneath his and went to push yourself off the wall but were stopped as Sam grabbed you by the back of head and pressed you back against the door. “Uh-uh, I’m not done with you just yet. Turn around. Face me.”

Sam slid out of you, making you let out a whimper at the sudden emptiness. You could feel the dull ache between your legs that you knew would leave you sore in the morning. 

You turned around to face him, seeing the end of his long hair plastered against the damn skin of his neck and face. His chest was still heaving as he fought to regain his composure. 

His deep amber eyes looked back into yours and you felt yourself suck in a breath. He then moved himself towards you, his eyes looking down to your lips before he placed a gentle kiss on them. All the words he had wanted to say were now left on your lips. 

Sam’s hand then moved to your hips and in one swift motion he picked you up, pinning you against the door. You instantly wrapped your legs around him, your hands coming to the back of his neck as you wove your fingers through his hair, tugging him closer. 

“Wanna fuck my cum into you,” Sam mumbled against your lips, sliding one of his hands behind your back while his other hand snuck between the two of you, gripping his cock in his hand. This time as he pressed himself into you, your walls gladly invited him back, slick with both of your arousals that dripped out of you. 

Sam slowly pressed into you, making him moan against your lips which you swallowed. With this different angle, you were able to feel him even deeper than before. You gripped your hands into him, expecting him to deliver the same harsh thrust but were relieved when he started to slowly thrust into you. 

Sam knew you were sore and already at your limit and this time he wanted to take his time with you. He wanted to silently remind of the times before he fucked everything up. Wanted to remind you of all the passion that he would give you- the passion he still had and felt for you. Wanted to remind you just how sorry he truly was and remind you all the love he still had for you. This time there was no dance, no game, no fight for dominance. Just the silent understanding that this was the closure the two of you needed. 

He continued to softly fuck into you, rolling his hips upwards and brushing against your g-spot. His free hand came to hold the side of your face as he gently slid his tongue into your mouth. You gladly accepted it letting out a small moan as the two of you ran your tongues over each other. The two of you were panting and sweat coated both of you. You were sure your hair was a wild mess but you didn’t care. This was all you wanted. 

Sam pulled away and looked at you, this time his expression soft and knowing. His eyes cast down as he watched himself slide into you, his cum dripping out of you and onto his cock. He returned his stare up to you and you watched a wave of uncertainty paint across his face. You removed one of your hands from the back of his neck and brought it up to his face, swiping your thumb over his cheek. He turned his head to the side and placed a gentle kiss into your palm. He looked back at you and held your eyes. “Baby, I- I’m sor-”

“I know,” you said, swiping that same finger across his cheek again. You then leaned in and placed a gentle kiss on his lips. Sam groaned against you and you felt his breath start to shudder, signaling you that he was close to his second release. Your walls squeezed around him and he stilled his movements all together. “Don’t…I want you to come. Wouldn’t be fair,” Sam spoke softly, shaking his head and unable to now place his eyes on yours. 

You were now the one to grip his face and tilt it up to you. You could have sworn his eyes looked glossy as his eyes met yours but as you went to inspect further, it was gone. “Just want to make you feel good,” he said, removing his hand from your face and letting it come between the two of you. He started to slowly circle your clit with his finger and then started to slowly thrust into you again. You bit your lip letting out a cry of pleasure.

You went to look down to watch his hand and cock work on you but were stopped feeling Sam’s nose brush against your jaw. “Look at me,” he whispered in a voice that was so soft, it made you crumble. You shifted your eyes back to his and all the memories you had of him swirled in your mind. All the good times the two of you had shared, all the passion that once was shared, all the love that had once lingered- still there but this time was a flickering flame compared to the roaring fire that it once was. 

The two of you held each other’s gaze, this time biting your lip for a completely other reason as you felt it start to tremble. Sam frowned and he shook his head. “Don’t cry baby, it’s ok. Just focus on the way my hand feels, okay?”

You nodded your head and sucked in a deep breath trying to clear your thoughts and focus on the feeling he sparked between your legs. He was taking his time with you, trying to coax a second climax from you slowly knowing there was no need to rush this time. 

Sam’s fingers picked up just a bit while still continuing his steady slow pace and it was just enough as you felt your legs start to shake around him. Your brows knitted together, and your jaw hung loosely as you sucked in a sharp breath. 

“There you go baby, give it to me,” Sam said, moving his head to yours and pressing his mouth against yours. You moaned into your mouth and felt your whole body shake as you let yourself go against him. This time, it wasn’t just stars that danced behind your lids but instead, a whole galaxy that swirled before you. Everything moved slowly together, the colors being clearer as they swirled and weaved within one another.

Sam’s second release followed you as he let out a groan and pressed his forehead against yours. You wrapped your arms around him, holding him close for what the two of you knew and recognized as the last time. You let a small tear slip out of your eye as you held him, letting all the emotions, good and bad spill out of you. You let yourself acknowledge them and then let them go. They were no longer yours to hold onto you. 

You weren’t sure how long the two of you stayed wrapped in each other's arms but it was the place the two of you found comfort. Sam then pulled his head away and looked at you, lifting his hand and wiping away the lone tear that ran down your cheek. He placed a gentle kiss on your cheek and withdrew himself from you, slowly setting you back down. 

Your legs were a bit wobbly, but you were able to stand. You reached down and pulled your panties back up and smoothed down your dress while Sam started to re-buckle his pants. Sam cleared his throat and ran his hand through his long locks. You moved away from the door and did the same, smoothing your hair, trying to make yourself look presentable. 

Sam then walked to the door, unlocked it and turned around to face you. “Bye Peach,” was all he said as he pressed a kiss to the side of your cheek. 

“Bye Sammy,” you said. You watched him open the door and walk down the glowing hallway back to the bar and that was the last sight you had of him…

Tag list:

@iliana-gvf @thunderstomp-and-tequila @bathingin-thelight @darianh07 @gretas-sweat @withlovegvf @dannyshair-blog-blog @gretasfallingsky @ohfodthefeeling-gvf @stardustcatcher @mysticalstarcatcher

[manstrans]

Pregnant trans masc anon back again and coming off of anon because... Well, why not?

I just saw the other anons you got about my ask saying that pregnancy is always feminine or whatever bullshit. And I want it to be known:

Being pregnant was the most masculine I have ever felt. Never in my life have I felt stronger. Never in my life have I felt more connected to my body. Being pregnant helped me learn to love my body in a way I never have before. The parts I resented had a purpose: to care for, to nourish, and to protect my kid.

There's lots of cishet normative garbage in the world about what it means to be a dad. But being the partner to carry and birth our child? To me that is peak fatherdom. All of the things a father, a dad, is supposed to be - the provider, the protector, the solid ground in which to seek refuge - I got to be from day one. And because of all the garbage people have thrown at me because I am a masculine person who got pregnant, I know that I did the most fatherly thing I could do: I put the needs of my child and my family first. I let my transition take a backseat for almost 2 years so my wife and I could finally have a family after years of trying.

So fuck anyone who wants to make me feel like being pregnant isn't masculine. Pregnancy is only feminine because of cisnormative bullshit. And if being queer for as long as I have has taught me anything it's that societal ideas of masculinity and femininity really mean nothing once you break them down. Anyone can be anything. Anything can be masculine or feminine.

I am a trans masculine person who is sometimes a man. I am a husband. I am a father. And I am so tired of people refusing to question the ideas they've inherited from cishet society. Acceptance of what has always been is a problem queer people have been fighting for as long as society has hated queer people. And maintaining societal ideas that work to silence some or render them invisible is not going to get us, as queer people, anywhere. Maybe it's because I'm considered old now, but I've given up trying to fit into a box that was not made for me. Because, at the end of the day, the people who are going to hate queer people and want to erase us aren't going to stop just because we squeeze into ill-fitting labels they built. Claim whatever labels you want. Feel as much or as little of that label that is comfortable for you. But don't tell others that their understanding of that label or how it fits them is wrong.

I'm sorry for getting angry at your anons and sending you an essay. But I'm coming off of anon, so perhaps they'll come directly to my askbox if they want to make claims about pregnant masculine people.

^^^^^

also I think being angry is justified here tbh

[venriliz]

where do you draw the line with AI in the sims, with some modders such as TurboDriver talking having used it to an extent? https://tag.hexagram.ca/wickedwhims-a-conversation-about-adult-content-creation-and-responsible-adult-mods-design-in-the-sims-franchise-by-aurelie-petit/

hii! :]

i bet u mean this here right?

AP: Do you ever use AI in your work? TD: Oh yeah, because I do a lot of this stuff myself. Most of the time, I try to get other people involved, but sometimes, I just need simple things and I struggle a lot with coming up with ideas for writing. There’s so many of these descriptions in the mod and I don’t know what to write. And so, I ask ChatGPT for ideas on what to write, and it just tells me the kind of wording I can use. It never tells me anything that I can directly use because AI is awful still, but it’s good for ideas. I haven’t found any other AI that’s useful for this, other than building my own and it takes so much time that I gave up."

first of - i actually wasn't aware that turbo uses chatgpt DESPITE knowing that AI is bullshit and i think it's obvious that i don't like that kind of ai usage either. so yeah, i'm critical of turbo for using ai for something as relatively simple as writing a description... of course if english isn't your first language or you just have problems with grammar or writing in of itself it can be hard BUT there are and must be different ways to deal with that other than chatgpt or other ai.

since i'm not into gameplay rn i haven't used wicked whims in a while but obv turbos mods are essential for a lot of simmers to even pick up the game but that shouldn't make him using ai ok either. it might not be as on the nose as these ai-simblrs generating their "screenshots/renders" but it's still not great lol. u obv can argue that turbo did most of his modding by himself in comparison to the ai-simblrs where most of their "work" was done by ai but that shouldn't excuse chargpt usage either. still not cool.

my opinion is that ai-generating is completely obsolete, we've always been able to live our lives without it before it became a thing so why use something as "useless" that causes so much harm in so many ways?

sadly i have a feeling that using ai will become something like smoking has been for a long time before it became banned inside in most places and generally more awareness of the dangers was raised. despite smoking being so harmful it became a normalized thing and most people didn't talk much about the bad side of it just because so many people did it. (to be fair there's nothing positive about smoking lol) unfortunately using ai seems to be taking a similar path with its usage being normalized despite all the bad things that come with it BUT that shouldn't stop us from critically thinking of it and speaking up, right? :]

(btw i'm sorry if this came off as rambling but... english isn't my first language and i didn't use chatgpt lol °-°)

[heroicleader2763]

Look at this STUPID BULLSHIT "restarting in 12 minutes and 58 seconds" this SHIT comes up on my computer EVERY SINGLE DAY automatically "your pc needs to restart to finish instaling important updates" every single day and every single day i click "later" you know why i click "later"? Because theres no option to click "never". I want to click "never" I NEVER WANT TO INSTALL THESE BULLSHIT MEANINGLESS I HATE THEM I HATE THESE STUPID UPDATES LOOK AT THIS SHIT EVERY DAY THIS COMES UP AND YOU KNOW WHAT HAPPENS WHEN YOU CLICK "LATER" A FEW TIMES? WHEN A FEW DAYS GOES BY AND YOU KEEP CLICKING "LATER" AND "LATER" BECAUSE YOU DONT WANT TO FUCKING DO IT YOU JUST WANT TO PUT IT OFF? AUTOMATIC BULLSHIT THAT TURNS OFF YOUR FUCKING COMPUTER AND YOU CLICK "LATER" IT TAKES AWAY THE OPTION TO CLICK "LATER" AND SAYS "HERE ARE YOUR ONLY OPTIONS" BASICALLY PUTTING A KNIFE TO YOUR HEAD AND SAYING YOU CAN EITHER WAIT 11 MINUTES AND ITLL TURN IT OFF FOR YOU OR BITE THE BULLET TO SHUT IT OFF NOW IT DOSENT EVEN GIVE YOU THE CHOICE TO SAY "NO" ITS JUST COMES UP, WHENEVER IT WANTS, AUTOMATICALLY, AND SAYS "FUCK YOU" AND TURNS OFF YOUR COMPUTER NO MATTER WHAT YOUR DOING AND IN 10 MINUTES AND 47 SECONDS LOOK AT THIS SHIT! IM FUCKING RENDERING SOMETHING YOU FUCKER IM DOING IMPORTANT SHIT! WHY DO YOU NEED TO INSTALL UPDATES? SOME MORE SPYWARE SO THE SSA CAN KEEP WATCHING WHAT IM DOING?

Do you also have the same problem, Pin? 😔😇😊🥰🤗

...Yeeahh, Kind Of. Sometimes.

[lixel-5]

i printed out Stanley and put him on cardboard so i can carry him with me (i’ve taken him to school a few times…) and it got me thinking about his model. tl;dr i made headcanons

His original model, the one in the mod, is straight up stolen from HL2. that’s not even a headcanon that’s what Davey Wreden did. Stanley kicked ass in that blue jumper.

Once the Narrator started making the HD remake of the mod, he obviously had to make Stanley an actual model. At this point, he was in a feverish state of hyperfocus and tunnel vision and he mashed a few scraps together to make. stanley. and his uneven eyebrows and terrible posture. (affectionate)

Despite Stanley’s model being a Shepard’s pie cooked by someone in a serious psychotic episode, the Narrator thought it was perfect.

In his rush, he messed up. Stanley’s right hand was slightly off set with his forearm. The game rendered this as a light line, resembling a long faded scar.

(The Narrator doesn’t notice it because Stanley’s left handed. Once he does, it’s because Stanley specifically pointed it out, asking where he got it. The Narrator bullshitted something about a workplace accident. Stanley knew he was lying and never mentioned it.)

As time goes by and Stanley develops a personality and all, his model grew with him. At some point, the Narrator told him he had developed freckles. He didn’t have a mirror to confirm, but eventually he noticed a few across his body.

His hair got thicker, and maybe more curly? Eh, he couldn’t tell. The Narrator wanted it slicked back, anyways. (Stanley eventually got permission to grow out his hair. He never got far before deciding he liked it short.)

A few other, smaller things. A crooked tooth, a slight bump in his nose, a mole on his back, etc.

Stanley never gets to see his face (mirrors don’t work in the Parable), but as time goes by if face and body feel more his, like he’s taken control back from the Narrator.

heheheh he’s so silly i love stanley he’s my favorite guy ever

anways; gore. what’s stanley parable headcanons without some angst and blood?

TW/CW: mentions of blood, self mutilation/harm, mental breakdowns, psychotic breakdowns, and harsh scars.

if you don’t like any of those things: you’re all good, the rest of the headcanons are centered around blood and scars, so you’re not missing anything

live laugh love the stanley parable am i right or am i right?

back to our regularly schedules program.

Sometime towards the early days of the HD remake, Stanley has a mental breakdown.

He’s done the Zending more times than he can fathom, and it just not doing it for him anymore.

He claws at his skin, tearing skin and drawing blood. It’s much more painful and effective than a couple short falls.

He cuts into his face with nothing but his fingers, he attempts to slit his throat but fails to get deep enough.

Once he’s done, he bleeds out under the florescent lights of his office.

It was in an area the Narrator had little control over, all he could do was call out to Stanley and wait for him to lose enough blood to die.

Once respawned, Stanley was left with harsh scars everywhere he cut into. The Narrator says he has mo clue why Stanley’s injuries stayed over the reset, but he knows; Stanley wants them.

After respawning, Stanley spent nearly an hour grazing his finger tips over the jagged skin on his face. They weren’t sensitive, as if they had been there for years.

He did the freedom ending a few times as a sorry, even steering away from the broom closet.

He could hear a slight shake in the Narrator’s voice for countless resets afterwards.

The scars eventually faded a little, but were still noticeable once you got closer than 8 feet.

[sevicia]

wip compilation April to present day, not including those OC duo sketches I posted the other day nor unfinished references

1. Agnes + Mary flesh prison - I started this one April 4th (I checked) and honestly has been in wip city for such a long time you MIGHT be inclined to think I've abandoned it but I really haven't because I want to render all that stupid flesh stuff sooo bad I just get sidetracked everytime I blink

2. Mary moment - From somewhere in July, I did the sketch (+ a second one for a companion drawing) on paper and only decided to start coloring recently and I reaaallly need to figure it out but we move

3. R1999 fav. character meme - Sometime this month (all drawings from here on out are from August LOL) I found a fave character template and it sounded funnnn so I just need to color them in. ehe

4. Idiot comic thingy - Least likely to be finished I just think Domi looks cute here sorry. He's a regular at the library that Lulu helps out at and he's friends with the librarian. She recommends him supernatural romance books LOL he's ruining his own tough guy personality >:(

5. Proseka fav. character color wheel - I like to play and draw :3 one fav chara per color of course

6. Agnes doodly thing - I did a sketch for this one in class with a bunch of stuff flying out of his head and it's fun but also just a way for me to scribble almost mindlessly 😭

7. Paula + Alice moment - I just think they're neat... and also I want to try a dif. coloring method LOLL

8. Agnes + Mary thing - I've chosen to refer to this one as Fluster Him Friday even tho I'm not sure what day I initially drew it but once again just having fun with different ways of drawing :3

9. Agnes and Mary again (sorry) - This one's just her being bored while waiting for her lame ass boyfriend to come back to life after he blew his brains out (see drawing #6) because I think it's cutesies

10. New guy - He's just new guy and I wanted to draw him doing some bullshit

TED Talk over it is almost 9 AM. My bad

[k-s-morgan]

hi katie <3 hope you are well and happy. I was wondering if we could get snippet for Rule For Rule? I can't wait for the second part.

Hi! Thank you so much <3 I actually don't have anything written yet, but I know what's going to happen in the chapter for the most part, so I drafted a quick (but very important scene). Here it is. This takes place after they become teens.

----------------------------

It was Thursday, and Jay was sitting on his bed, writing down one acid formula after another in his horrendous loopy handwriting. He added notes, scratched them out, wrote some new ones, and so on and on. He didn’t stop talking even for a second during all this — the strangest, the boldest, the most endearing ideas were spilling from his lips in a non-stop flood of words, and Bruce found himself completely and hopelessly charmed.

At first, he contributed some ideas, too. Making a unique blend of acid wasn’t something he was really interested in, but as always, Jay’s enthusiasm was infectious. It sent his heart speeding — it lit a fire that settled somewhere low in his stomach, warming him and making him content to sit here and just watch Jay talk forever.   

Gradually, though, his fascination rendered him silent. He was less interested in the specific words Jay was muttering and more interested in the rapid play of emotions on his face. The number of things Jay was capable of experiencing simultaneously never ceased to amaze him. Bruce knew how to laugh and how to rage, how to find something curious and how to yawn in boredom, but he could only feel one such emotion at a time. Jay could be everything at once one minute and then switch to another mixed set of reactions the next one. It was confusing sometimes, but it was just one more thing that Bruce loved about him. Years knowing Jay, being his closest friend, and he still couldn’t predict him.  

“Well?” Jay demanded. His eyebrows were arched in an impatient question, and with a start, Bruce realized that he missed the content of the last several minutes.

“Sorry,” he said sheepishly. “Care to repeat that?”

Jay tsked at him, but he seemed to be in too good of a mood to take offense.

“What shall I call this lovely creation? Acid won’t name itself, you know.”

“Uhm… yeah,” Bruce murmured after the pause got too long. Jay was distracting today — everything about him was distracting, from his green unruly curls to pale skin to sharp eyes and his lips, which looked even redder than usual. They were also surprisingly glossy, glistening at Bruce invitingly. Was it lipstick? “I mean, yes, I know it won’t name itself. Are you sure you want me to do it?”

Jay’s eyebrows climbed even higher.

“Why would I ask you something I don’t want you to answer?”

“I thought—”.

“Name. Now.”

“‘Love kills,’” Bruce blurted out. As soon as he realized what had just escaped his mouth, he went bright red, his gut sinking in complete mortification.

Oh God. Something was really wrong with him today. Where did this bullshit even come from?     

He was afraid to look at Jay — the problem was, he never stopped, so he was treated to a flash of confusion that quickly turned into derisive amusement.

“‘Love kills,’” Jay repeated slowly. “Seriously? No, wait, seriously seriously? Who are you and what have you done to my Brucie?”  

If only the floors could open and swallow him whole.

“Shut up,” Bruce grumbled. As he expected, Jay burst into pleased laughter.

What he didn’t expect was the way this laughter affected him. A shiver of need shot up straight through him. His heart stumbled again, and for a moment or two, he was left breathless, almost mindless with a sudden surge of want.

To make it worse, Jay threw his notebook away and jumped right on top of him, wrapping his arms around his neck and rubbing his cool cheek against Bruce’s flushed one.

“Do tell me more,” he purred, and the sound made Bruce tense, his heart almost jumping out from his chest. “Since you are oh-so-full of creative ideas, I’d like to hear some more options.”

“Shut up,” Bruce repeated. His voice was so hoarse that he could hardly identify it as his. “It’s just acid. Take the first letter from every insane component you plan to throw in there and you’ll get your name.”

Jay snorted, pointedly rolling his eyes.

“You are such a bore,” he complained, but the too-wide smile on his mouth contradicted his words. Bruce stared at it, unable to look away.

Jay’s lips were covered with lipstick. It wasn’t the first time, but it was the first time Bruce found it so appealing. His brain, which had already been grinding to a halt for the latest half an hour, stopped for good. His skin burned, and he wanted to pass this heat to Jay, to see if it would take and consume him to the point of brainlessness like it did with Bruce.  

The temptation was too strong to resist it. Without thinking, he leaned down, almost shaking with the thought that he could kiss him, that he would kiss him, would finally taste this perpetual grin with its poison and lipstick and whatever else it hid.

Jay recoiled from him.

Bruce was so focused on a kiss to be that it took him a second to register this. And then his heart was dropping again, only for an entirely different reason.   

[wolfmoonblues]

i wrote this on halloween at 4 in the a.m.

fans of my ocs rejoice for cringe fanfic and art i'll never render be upon ye. sketchy illustrations included <3

al/lupa pt ???

---

Lupa marches after Al on an empty bridge. The night’s cold, and cloudy, and Al is stopping at the railing with her arms crossed, and the wind buffets her words far apart when she speaks.

"No, I can’t let you follow me. Not again. Not after what happened."

"Al, there’s no way in hell we’re letting you do this alone." Lupa’s cheeks are flushed raw. With her camouflage of bruises and bandages, half-shifted and barefoot, she figures she must look ridiculous; she could care less.

On the other hand, as far away as she stands and wearing a top of only gauze and angel glue, Al radiates a soothing, magnetic warmth. The imprint of her wings markings pulse gold over her back—self-healing.

"Yes the hell there is. Are you hearing me?" Her words snap Lupa back to attention. "You got hurt because of me. I’m doing this by myself."

Lupa snorts. "Whoa, so we’re just uninvited to saving the world from a crazed god? And you somehow have the final say on this? Look at that—you haven’t changed a bit. You’re just as fucking precious about your moral high ground as always."

"It ain’t about that."

"Yes it is." Lupa growls, and continues, "You always have to be the one that takes it that far. You always have to be the hero. Hell, if I hadn’t stopped you just then, you would’ve died a third time! Do you know how insane that is? Al, look at me."

"What?" Al grits her teeth. Lupa knows she’s supposed to care about what she’s saying, and she does, but her words come out petulant and bitter.

"I’m asking you—do you know what it would mean if you died again. No do-overs, no "divine intervention", definitely none of god’s favor. You’ve run out of chances, and where does that leave us, huh? Where does that leave me Al?"

Al holds her hands over her neck, and stares into the ocean below them. Her brows furrow and her lips scrunch and her words come out with barely yoked patience.

"Lupa…look. I was so close. So close, and without me having to worry about y’all—and without you pulling that dumbass stunt—I could’ve probably gotten him to give in. And I wish you’d just given me the chance to finish it, because now we don’t know where he went, and we have to start all over."

"Giving you that chance would mean you’d be dead for good."

Al groans. "Or he would!"

"Or you both would."

"So what. Because Auris dies for good. I’m one person, Lupa, and there’s nearly six billion more out there."

"Isn’t that worth it?"

"I know my answer. It sounds like a self crucifixion." The bitterness seeps back in, then. "We’ve been with you every step of the way. And now, suddenly, we’re just another one in six billion?"

"No!" And Al snaps now, finally raising her voice, enough for it to crack, "No, you four are everything to me. And I almost saw what it was like to lose you, and I can’t cope with that. I can’t worry about you and Auris at the same time. So I gotta do this alone."

She throws her hands out to the horizon. "Who do you think I’m really doing this for?"

"Bullshit.” Lupa says. “You have at least two other friends. And—and if the world explodes there can’t be anymore Star Trek either."

"Lupa—"

"And you care too much about every stupid person that exists anyways, Doc, you just said so, so don’t pull the best friend discount on us either. I know you. I know who you are. You’d save the world if it was just you and some dipshit you didn’t know from Adam, and you’re the only one of us nice enough to do that. So that’s why we’re going. We want to make sure you’re the one who makes it there."

A long pause, and then, finally, a sigh.

"Lord, you make it so hard to think sometimes. I hate when you do this."

"Do what? Make sense? Care about you? You’re a real fucking nutcase, you know that, right?"

Al stares at Lupa with a gaze so incomprehensible it makes her take a step back. It almost reads as pity, or maybe an apology. The angel leans closer to her, tilts her head.

"You’re bleeding again."

"Aw, shit—" Lupa brings her fingers up to her lips and finds the gash opened and trickling warm. "I thought you patched me up."

"My magic gets weaker the closer I am to him. He drained me a lot." She fishes a band-aid out from her pocket. "Stay still."

Lupa winces when Al’s thumb brushes at her chin, smearing the red away from the wound. "Ouch. Ouch."

"Sorry." Al mutters, absently. Lupa cranes her head back, let’s her eyes roll.

"You know I always hated doctors, right?"

"I know you hate me right now."

The sting of antiseptic—and the comment—hurt more than the wound does.

"Al, I didn’t mean that. And I don’t."

"I don’t understand why you wouldn’t. It’s like I’m taking you all to your graves." Al mumbles. "I wish you could just let me go, Lupa. Let me do this alone.”

She tends to her, but her voice falters to shambles and Lupa can feel her fingers tremble over her jaw. She reaches up to stop her working hand from applying more pressure and stares until Al stares back.

"I’m sorry." And Lupa feels the heat of a stupid confession storm up her throat and temples, steamroll out her mouth before she can stop it. "But if I had to fight him every day for the rest of my life to stop him from hurting you, I would. I would rip into him with my bare hands if I needed to. And if that means I hate you, then I hate you more than anyone else in the whole fucking world right now. I swear it."

And she realizes she’s crying hot and terrible and stupid tears. Al is looking at her like her heart’s been broken into a million pieces. Her thumb still lingers on the corner of her mouth, then, and as if remembering it’s there, she pulls Lupa’s face to hers and kisses her, and for a second every single combative word she very truly planned on saying disappears.

It’s a short kiss—blink, and you miss it, really. Lupa barely lets herself fall into the weight of it, finds the warmth and softness leave her mouth far too soon for her taste. Before she can even close her eyes fully, Al’s leaning back.

"Wait—" Lupa breathes, searches the space between them to find purchase again, but Al’s hand lifts her chin up and tilts it to the side. Lupa doesn’t dignify her with the whine gritting between her teeth. Al’s mouth is smeared now with Lupa’s blood. The gash near the werewolf’s lip is healed—she knows, because Al’s tracing her fingers over it, and it’s smooth. The touch makes her head swim.

"You did not just kiss me to heal a stupid cut."

"Maybe." Al’s eyes flick to hers, and Lupa scowls at the amusement in them.

"Don’t mess with me like that." And she sees a flash of anxiety in the angel’s eyes. "Please, Al. There’s already so much going on as it is."

“Sometimes I wonder how they screwed your head on when you were born.”

"Excuse me?"

"Of course I didn’t kiss you to heal the cut." Al crosses her arms and huffs, "I didn’t…know I could do that." The genuine embarrassment in her expression breaks Lupa down like sugar into coffee, and all the pent-up, angry fear melts into a laugh.

"You’re serious?"

"...Yes."

"Alma, wait,—“ Lupa wheezes, light from the stupid giddy prank of it all. "C’mere. Stop looking like a kicked dog."

Al bows her head and Lupa picks it back up with her hands, and for the first time in a long minute, she smiles wide. “I’m not that mad at you, you know that?”

A moment, and then. "I do. I think."

"Well, I’m not."

Al winces.

"I’m sorry." She says. "I know you don’t hate me. That was a dumb thing to say."

And Lupa realizes suddenly that Al is tired, not only physically, not just from sharp words and tempers, but with an exhaustion in the blood and bones and soul. A burden that makes itself visible only in its weight, and the way it draws cracks of stress into its carriers, in how all the shiny bits that lived in the angel seemed dull, now.

“Don’t worry, it’s not even the dumbest thing you’ve said today today.” She finds herself cajoling now, soft like one is with fragile things. "No, that was when you really thought I wasn’t going to follow you wherever you go."

"I can’t hear you." Al tries to muffle her face into Lupa’s shoulder, but Lupa butts her head to Al’s and holds her gaze.

"Hell or heaven, baby. You can’t get rid of me that easy," she grins, "and you should know better."

For a moment it’s just the sea below then and the throb of the city in the distance and the wind cutting between their faces. Al’s breath rattles, and she lets her eyes close tight. "I’m scared."

"I know."

"Not of Auris."

"No, I know that too."

"Don’t promise me shit, Lupa. Don’t you promise me you’ll be okay. Don’t be stupid. Just stay alive."

"Okay."

"No, don’t promise me."

Lupa laughs, and says, "Yes ma’am."

Al glares at her with a fake annoyance and a very real love and pinpricks of golden tears at the corners of her eyes. She sniffs, and hiccups, in a small voice, "Sorry I kissed you."

The werewolf remembers, and blushes to her ears. "Oh. Right. Well, payback, or whatever. I kissed you last time."

"And it can’t happen again, right?"

"We also said that last time."

"Hm."

"Yeah."

"Maybe if you don’t die."

"I can’t promise you shit, remember?" Al gives her a look, but Lupa continues, merry now. "It’s in God’s hands now, Jinkies."

"I bet you feel real Catholic right about now."

"I think every saint is super jealous of my exact situation."

-

um the end okay byeeeeee

[risu5waffles]

CW: self-harm, injury (post stitches photo, no gore)

So, we talked a bit on stream last night, and i don't know how much sense anything made beyond the concrete details. It's hard to put into words really, where my head is. Even when things are happening, like, i know they're real, and the result of decisions i am making, have made, but they don't feel really real? i've thought a lot and a long time about cutting myself, and i never really thought it was a particularly good idea. i didn't see it in any way constructive or helpful. i wasn't even really sure it was filling a bad need. And yet, i'd find myself, now and then, digging in wiv a box cutter, like, "ope, i guess this is what we're doing now, then." And even then, even now, my brainmeats are like, "what's this chickenshit now? How come you can't even lean into this ? We've known gals what look like they've been rolling round in bobwire." It's true. i've known more than a few gals who've gone and really fucked themselves up, and thinking of them, and looking at my arms, and even now i think to myself, "oh, we could go way harder than this."

So, yesterday i did. Not that that was the intent. To the extent there was an intent. i'd been putting it off wiv tasks since the night before, 'cause that works sometimes. "Can't do this now, we've got laundry to do, don't want blood on clean clothes. Well, now we're home, but how about a run of Isaac first. Oh, well, now we're too tired to get up to dickens. Oh, it's morning, but let's record a few archive episodes first. Well, those'll have to get edited now." Sometimes it's just loading one more thing and one more thing, keeping yourself busy long enough that the feeling passes. And usually you're lucky. And then sometimes there's a gap.

i didn't even really feel it. That's bothered me in a lot of different ways since this started. Like, it ought to hurt. That i've so divorced myself from myself it didn't feel much worse than a scratch. i knew i'd really fucked up this time when the wound spread open and i could see i'd cut down into the fat. It bled surprisingly little. And even then looking at it, and knowing this was a really bad scene, there was a part of me that was like, "this ? This ain't nothing. run it under a tap a bit, slap on a bandage, and get on wiv your day." Even now i half-think that, even though i know it's pure-d bullshite. Was worrying about infection that got me to go the ER. It'd be one thing to hurt myself and wind up wiv an ugly scar. It'd be quite another to get sepsis and die. i'm not well, but i'm not suicidal. Well, not actively suicidal. i've been thinking of suicide on the daily since i was a kid. But i still don't particularly want to die? It's a hard distinction to explain, and generally i just don't try to, and live wiv the results.

(i have some other, worse pictures, so i have something to throw at the brainmeats and say "yes, actually, this was bad." those pictures will not be shared. ever)

Can we talk for a moment about affordable healthcare? Now it's pure bullshite they tagged me an extra 7700yen for not having a referral (to the ER?! Like, what?!), but that means the cleaning and six stitches i got ran me 2000yen. The looking at i had this morning (they wanted to be sure my arm wasn't going to fall off. Spoilers: it is not going to fall off)? 220yen. i don't even want to think what that would've cost in the US. Would probably have to cut my arm off to pay for it. Now, i'm of the mind healthcare shouldn't cost anything at all, and the Japanese system is far from perfect, but... like... i was able to afford it.

The last time i did this, which did not require stitches, couple of weeks back? It was in one of those gaps where i couldn't do anything but wait for the episode i was working on to render, so i could start up the next. So, i look up from it, from my arm, looking for something to clean away the blood and see how bad it was this time, and there's the episode bumper up on the telly. "For fierce trans joy" all in big letters. And i felt such a sense of shame. Just deep, weary shame, like i was caught in a betrayal of community. A betrayal of concept. "Is this, am i, what 'fierce trans joy' looks like?" i felt such disgust and self-loathing. And still it did not stop yesterday from happening.

So where am i? Where are we? i have responsibilities to my community, if to nothing and no one else. i do take what i do, as little as it may be, seriously. That's why i decided to talk about it last night, and why i'm setting things down here, now. i'd rather have folx know, and be able to decide how or if they want to be wiv me, than not know and be hurt and surprised later? If i can't do right by the people who've done right by me, what kind of shitheel am i?

i'd like to say yesterday (or worse) won't happen again, but i didn't think yesterday was going to happen until it was happening. i can say, at this exact moment, i don't want to cut myself, but i'm not entirely sure that's a meaningful statement? All things considered? i'm trying to set up a trip to see my folx this summer that is really also a trip to see if i can finagle my way onto HRT somehow. i don't think progressing wiv the meatside of my transition is going to magically cure how deeply fucked my processing has gotten, but i know the past four years (four years already? Fuck me sideways) not making any real progress at all has not helped in the slightest. Figuring my shite out on the eve of a global pandemic was, as the kids say, a spot of poor timing. Besides, to the little extent i actually feel want, i want this. That has meaning all on its own.

So, yeah. That's the that. Things internally suck. i had a pretty bad scare. My brainmeats are still trying to downplay everything. But, like, i don't want to die. And today was a nice day. i put on my best dress, and went out to Kichijoji, and bought some stickers. i'm making curry, because even if i don't ever feel particularly hungry, i know i have to eat, and my curry is pretty good. Tomorrow's another day off (was s'pposed to work today, but, like, hospital), and hopefully it'll be nice, and i'll get a few things done and go down to Harajuku and look at all the pretty clothes that not even cis girls fit in (seriously, the first time i went, i thought the shops were stocking for actual children).

Love all y'all. You take care now, stay safe, and have a wonderful day.

(i didn't bring the parking sign, it just hasn't been in any pictures recently)

(old hands, can you pick out the new stickers? if you can tell me, you get a cookie. also my undying love. but you'd have gotten that anyway)

[beeelderly]

What are AT LEAST three things u like about the art u make? Also what are things that you enjoy about the process of making art?

you are such a gem you sent this on a day i felt chatty and then i never saw it. well now im chatty again and i will finally give you my answer: I really like the care and detail i put into situating characters in poses and interactions with each other and their environment! i might not be good at drawing the specific Objects they interact with but i like the tactileness . ummmmmm second, i like that i have expressive lines! whether they are dynamic in width or direction, i feel like i put a lot of oomf into that part of the process for me . i try to keep a single line continuous and limit sketchy lines when im trying to do Clean Linework. and finally i like how since i hate adding detail to things every single detail i include is important to me in some way, rather than just filling space ! ^_^

The process of making art is soo scary i feel if you've been away for it for a while. it really is a groove you gotta cultivate. but i appreciate that no matter how crummy i feel i am at making art, something gets made no matter what! even if i delete it, i still went through the motions of making shapes and thinking through what i care about.

i like the process of sitting down and working on a piece i am in the middle of, and i just need 2 grind through it to get there. i feel like "the home stretch" can be super time consuming but i can listen to podcasts or audiobooks and zone out and have something real polished up by the end.

i also like the fact that if i work really hard, i can draw anything. but at the same time, if i work really lazily, sometimes it can look just the same! i like the process of choosing to do stuff "correctly' vs "cheesing it" because that part of the process feel the most Artisty. any computer can make a perfectly rendered image of a snail on a wet flower but only i can choose to bullshit the flower and focus on the snails wet pleading eyes. i love Intention.

thank you for the ask!

[svartalfhild]

I'm deeply frustrated by the way leftist terminology gets picked up by right wingers and twisted on its head and then slingshotted back to centrists who then start wringing their hands about how both sides are equally bad.

Like, god, every time my centrist father starts making derisive comments about getting canceled or the woke mob or some such thing, I want to punch a wall, because he's parroting fashie bullshit and serving their cause without even knowing it, and I don't know how to explain to him that he's been tricked into thinking leftists are just as much his enemy as the fashies because he doesn't actually engage with progressive political discourse at its source. He gets everything second or even thirdhand.

Here's how it happens. Leftist discussions give rise to a particular term or idea. Fashies pick up on this and start using it to claim victimhood, thus rendering said term or idea controversial. Mainstream media sees a controversy and reports on it, giving an equal but very shallow 5 minutes (at most) to both sides of the issue, thus removing the original context and nuance of the topic and giving the average person an incredibly shallow understanding of what's happening. Naturally, news outlets also love to interview the leftists who have taken the original idea too far, because the people who take it too far make more of a splash and give the most simplistic, timeslot-friendly explanations for what they're about. This of course gives further credence in the centrist mind to the notion of both sides being bad.

Basically, the average person ends up not actually knowing what certain leftist terms or ideas mean and dismissing them as bad because they know nothing about where they really came from. They've received the most bad faith interpretation of something two or three steps removed from its source.

My dad thinks progressive thought has moved into the ludicrous and simplistic, and he constantly satirizes leftist ideas, believing he's the one with the nuanced take, because he hasn't come even within a mile of nuance since the 80's. He's not a "true progressive"; he's a puppet with a conservative's hand up his ass.

These thoughts came to me today because my dad and I were having a conversation about TV censorship in the 60's, and he felt the need to say that "today, it's the left that wants to cancel things", and it made me so angry, because there's about four layers of headass to unpack there.

"Canceled" started in progressive spaces as a quick way to refer to refusing to give someone any further time, attention, and money because they had done something reprehensible. There is discussion within the space about what circumstances warrant cancellation and what requires further examination or goes too far.

Sometimes, people get canceled for stupid reasons. Conservatives latch on and use this to prop up their own claims of victimhood and "censorship" when they get righteously canceled. Overzealous leftists who've looped back into conservatism through "think of the children" and similar logic get lumped into the issue.

News media puts it all through their Nuance Killer 3000, and hey presto, you've been tricked into thinking leftists are all assholes and that the bad actors are representative of the whole, thus making you a victim of conservative bullshit from another, more convoluted angle. Getting cancelled, which once meant being held accountable for shitty behaviour, now gets used to mean unjust persecution and censorship, thus allowing assholes to escape consequences while they get busy doing all of the actual censorship.

Censorship today isn't getting cancelled. Censorship today is the same as it was 60 years ago. It's preventing people from having open discussions about sex, gender, race, class, etc. in a way that challenges the ruling class and its conservative ideology. If you can't see that, then you've fallen for the right's distraction.

[mashed4077]

there are very few characters i'd say this about, i like a lot of shitty little guys but i'm always critical of them and am happy to hold them accountable for their bullshit (and mentally beat them with a stick), but i'm legitimately a frank burns apologist. he's literally so emotionally immature and he's got a child-like understanding of so many things, i don't think he's put any thought whatsoever into the bullshit he says, he doesn't even notice that his opinions piss people off so it's not even like he's intentionally being a piece of shit for attention - he legitimately doesn't seem to know better, he's operating entirely on ignorance and gullibility.

frank's a character who's desperate to do what he's been told he's supposed to do, and what a person's feels they're 'supposed' to do is entirely dependent on what they've been taught is right. sometimes we develop different morals, independent of what our childhoods taught us, but a lot of the time, we really internalize values we were taught as kids. i'm sure hawkeye's father is the one who taught him that freedom, individuality, authenticity, empathy, and humanity are crucial, and that influenced hawkeye's need to do what's right when it comes to making sure people don't get mistreated or exploited. frank, on the other hand, was taught the exact opposite, not unlike margaret - individuality and freedom aren't important; you fall in line, and you do your duty. for frank, that's marrying a woman he doesn't like, having three kids he doesn't seem to really care for, becoming a doctor even though he didn't want to.

we can see what frank genuinely does value / want in the two things he actually consistently seems passionate about; margaret (his only friend; someone who bolsters him, enables him, is typically on the same page as him, seems to accept him, treats him kindly for once), and money - and i see frank's greed as less about wanting more, more, more, and more about security, about the status symbols and the fact that when he has them, that means he's done well, that he's doing what he's supposed to do, that he's a success in the eyes of the traditional world he's been brought up in. that's why he brags about owning his own practice, why he brags about his 30,000 dollar house and two cars (or was it a 30,000 dollar car and two houses?), why (iirc) he brings up being a member of a country club - these are things he's been told he should covet, things he's been told are a point of pride, but they don't actually make him happy in any way. but he values money because it lets him have these things, and then he can exist safely in his repressed, deluded little bubble where it's enough.

and it's why he won't let his wife go; we know frank had a rough childhood, we know he does deal with insecurity on the very very rare occasion he lets himself reflect on anything. i don't think it's a stretch to say that on some level, frank feels defective. people don't like him and he doesn't seem to know why, his parents and his brother didn't really like him and he doesn't know why, his wife and kids don't seem to like him and he doesn't know why. as i said, frank's pretty repressed and deluded, but he does have a few vulnerable moments that show he's aware of this, and it bugs him. he wants to fit in. he wants to be liked. he does fit in, on a surface level, back home in indiana, amongst the other conservative morons he associates with. nobody really likes him there either, but he's got everything everyone else has (or better!), which renders him acceptable, respectable, which is what he's been told the goal is. and then he can pretend that's enough, because it's easier to be accepted than it is to be liked, and he knows the steps to win acceptance (at least with that crowd), but the secret to being liked, to forming connections, eludes him. he really doesn't know what he's doing wrong there. which, i read frank as autistic and i get that, and i feel for him on it, i really do. it's so alienating to feel like you're just missing something everyone else seems to have come built with.

i didn't finish my thought; he can't let his wife go even though he's unhappy with her because it'd unravel his security. it'd ruin that illusion of "i've made it, i've got a wife and kids and a great job like i'm supposed to, therefore i'm not defective!" he'd lose the identity of being a husband like he thinks a proper 1950s man should be, he'd lose the financial security of being middle-upper class. he'd become several things he's been taught to look down upon, things that would make him Bad, that would affirm that he's defective.

and you know what? all of this is why hawkeye bothers him so much. hawkeye's free from all the shackles frank's willingly entrapped himself in. he's unmarried, he's eccentric and fairly openly neurodivergent in his behavior, he loudly and obnoxiously plays freely with sexuality and gender. these are all things frank's been told are bad, and evil, and worse, they're things that exist inside frank that he's terrified of. frank's canonically queer, people don't like to acknowledge it because they hate him, but hating a queer character doesn't make them any less gay kjdfhdk. and the show plays with gender with him a bit, too. and he's threatened by hawkeye, hell, and by klinger too. when he's back home, he doesn't have to associate with people like them, so it's a distant concept, such deviancy, and he can try to forget the parts of himself that he can't seem to temper, no matter how wrong he's been told they are. but when it's right in front of him, it's that terrifying reminder.

and worse - they're happier than he is. i mean, they're still at war, they're not that happy, but they're free in themselves, they have fun, they get to experience joy because they let themselves, because they haven't been taught that doing your duty as an American Man is of the utmost importance and that there's very rigid guidelines to that and having any fun outside of that is unacceptable and wrong. and i think on some level he does envy that.

idek what i'm babbling about anymore, but yeah, i just find it hard to hold frank responsible. i think he's a victim of middle america. i think he simply had the misfortune of being a queer autistic man born into that world, into a world that wasn't built for people like him, that inherently sees him as lesser, and he's so overcompensatory in his behavior to prove that he can do it, that he can be what he's supposed to be. his political values are because he's desperate for rules, guidelines, and a sense of order in what he perceives as a hostile world that he's not equipped to deal with, let alone thrive in, because he's also well aware he's not the strong masculine figure he ought to be, and he's merely doing a bad impersonation of one. that's frank in general, really; he's so desperately trying to fit into a mold that simply doesn't match his shape. i think if he escaped all that, it'd be a good start in him being better all around. of course, his political alignment isn't his only problem, he's got a lot of other shit going on, but it's the main thing i see him condemned for. he's also toxic as hell, and i think that environment only enables him.

within the show, i don't think redeeming frank would've been a good idea and i'm glad they didn't (although i also have a lot of issues with the way his arc ended and the way he was written in s5 in general but i digress) - but i don't think it'd be impossible. i don't even think it'd be hard. he just needs to be told that it's okay to be an individual, that he doesn't have to keep trying to fit himself into a pre-existing mold that wasn't built for him when he can simply build one for himself that he actually fits and is happy in. and that's why he's just pathetic and tragic to me, rather than genuinely unlikeable; he doesn't even know what he likes, what would make him happy. he doesn't even have a sense of self. it's just sad, and i can't hate him for it.