#i cannot explain this behavior. you cannot make me

[ashmacg]

I am staunchly against the idea that queerbait even really exists, at least to the extent it sounds like folks believe it does or in the way people seem to be defining it. All that is vague to me, though, so let me explain what I'm getting at: First of all, let's establish that any and all moments anyone experiences queerness—and all humans are capable of experiencing queerness, mind you—are an absolute good. Any and all moments of performative queerness, done for any reason, are in and of themselves queerness. To act queer is to either be or experience or perform queer for the duration of the behavior, which is to engage in queerness. Lifelong or five seconds, it matters not. Queerness is always queerness and always valid. Queerness is an experience and feeling and state of being that can exist in any person, at any time, for any duration, for any reason, and independent of the knowledge of anyone other than said person. In all scenarios in which queerness exists, the queerness is in and of itself absolutely valid, and it is entirely valid to manifest in the way that it does. If queerness is somehow used to harm, the queerness and its provenance are not wrong—the act of harming, specifically, is wrong. If a cishet man does drag badly to insult queer folk, it is not wrong that he is doing drag badly—slay, queen. It is wrong that he is attempting to foment stigma and queerphobia in society. Promoting queerphobia and doing drag badly are two separate actions even if done simultaneously. This is an example of why criminal law (let's use an NTSB case w/ plane crash as rhetorical example) is vastly written to require both an action (say, doing thing[s] that result in death) and an intent (desire to make ppl dead) and this is why an airline pilot who simply makes a mistake under pressure or cannot recover from a bad situation is not charged with murder or even manslaughter. Yes, the pilot did a thing that caused death to happen (mistake) or didn't do a thing that would have made death not happen (attempted to prevent crash but was not capable). We do not blame the pilot unless they consciously wanted death to happen (murder) or failed to attentively want death not to happen (manslaughter). We do the investigation in order to determine whether or not someone did something that is wrong under the Action+Intent definition of the law. Sometimes 150 people die and no one did a damn thing wrong. Cpt Picard would define that as part of life. Those things happen. Sometimes it's weather, sometimes it's because it wasn't possible to know that some component would fail or malfunction because maybe metallurgy hadn't gotten there yet or we didn't have the tech to simulate the range of conditions that caused the particular accident. Those things don't necessarily constitute crime or injustice, because we don't live in a just universe. We may all be char-broiled tomorrow by a Gamma Ray Burst aimed at us purely by astronomical chance and while it would be massively and horrifically tragic, it wouldn't be wrong. There would be no culprit, no being remotely at fault, and it wouldn't be wrong at all. It would just be something that happened.

This is why, like OP, I am not at all convinced that Naruto and its canon are queerbait. We have no evidence that can convince us that Kishi intends to make Naruto and Sasuke's subtextual romance be taken as a reason for gay=bad or w/e or that gay guys should never be open about it. Being closeted happens to people just as Kishi wrote it to happen to Naruto and Sasuke. Indeed, we instead have evidence that vaguely suggests Naruto is meant to be a tragedy about two gay young men learning to love in a world that is so against their love and even love in general: homophobic enough for Sasuke to say nothing and Naruto to internalize homophobia—and also full of killing and oppression and injustice. Full of misogyny, too, and we see it erode the explicitly intellectually-brilliant Sakura like a strong acid. We can even conject, without it being batcrap crazy, that Kishi might be a closeted gay man trying to sneak pro-gay shounen content past the censors at Weekly Shounen Jump and Studio Pierrot, because how else in early 21st-century Japan can one reach the shounen demographic to that extent with a pro-gay message?.

If we were talking about J* R*****g writing as Robert Galbraith and making a subtextually trans character as the bad guy on account of gender identity; then, yes, that would definitely be queerbait, because it baits queer representation and SWITCHES it with queerphobia. Pretty sure that's what ____bait is meant to entail. Bc otherwise, at least in terms of queerbaiting, if we define it as suggesting queerness in a character but never actually confirming it in the narrative, it's no different from writing a character who is closeted without privileging the narrator with that information.

Remember, 3rd person omniscient means universal knowledge, like an actual factual god, and is different from 3rd person surveillance state or 3rd person w/ access to the console log of Deep Thought or 3rd person Minority Reporting absolutely everything within a 12-megaparsec radius, all of which are very different from 3rd person who works in the cubicle nearest the water cooler; additionally, why would we rely on the narrator of any nth-person and class to be absolutely reliable and forthcoming? Deities are allowed to have discretion and it's entirely possible for a universal god to lie and withhold info for any reason, even malicious ones. And it's not like authors are actually explicitly telling us exactly what narrator type they are using at any point in the story, because many types can use the same linguistic patterns and have the same apparent scope of knowledge at various points in the narrative. It's better reading when writers "show it, don't tell it", so we can't hold them accountable for describing in detail every plot element. That would make the average children's storybook balloon to the word count of War & Peace. Do you want Snow White to have the narrative sprawl and density of Tolkien's Legendarium?

To conclude:

As I see it, in order to determine if a work (containing a potentially- but unconfirmed-as-queer character) is queerbait, we must answer the following question:

Can we reasonably assume the queer bait is deliberately being SWITCHED with a queerphobic message or vibe, whether by apparent conscious intent or subconscious motivation?

If yes, queerbait.

If no, not queerbait. Just a character who isn't out in the scope of the narrative. Don't punish queer characters for staying in the closet, that's queerphobic. The characters don't owe you visibility. Don't expect the narrator to be reliable and don't expect them to just tell you what the main idea is or tell you what message to take from the story. The narrator may be an asshole in a story meant to change minds for the better, so don't act like they are required to be an ally or even virtuous—the narrator can be like another character external to the plot itself. Don't punish authors who without malice write implicitly closeted characters by intent or accident, that's queerphobic to the author, from whose experience and imagination came the character in question. The authors don't owe you their own authenticity or their characters'. The author may be so far back in the depths of the closet they can't even tell the closet is present and it would be queerphobic to punish them for accidentally writing their truth that we find lacking in representation. It would also be queerphobic to end up criticizing an author for failing to be out of the closet or write queer visibility into their works when they may be afraid to do so, because for one thing, net worth can't make up for being tarred and feathered by bigoted media or society*. Nor should we expect a closeted queer creator to suffer abuse for any reason.

*Look at what happened to Ryuchell. Fame and wealth did *exactly* nothing to save them from queerphobia. You don't know what Kishi's expenses are like for his work; and if he is never published again bc of homophobia, he has to make it last the rest of the duration of life he hopes to live—and that's assuming his $20-30mil net worth is in liquid assets and not largely made up of the Naruto IP, which SJ and/or SP could use a corrupt legal system and public homophobic ire to strip from him. You don't know what his family would do nor how that would affect him emotionally or psychologically. POTENTIALLY QUEER CHARACTERS & AUTHORS & CREATORS DON'T HAVE TO TAKE ON SOCIETY'S ABUSE JUST SO YOU CAN FEEL SEEN. That's not how queer liberation works....

Someone in that poll said not to watch naruto bc it's queerbait and I hate to tell you this but naruto wasn't trying to queerbait you it's actually the number 1 example of "text is so misogynistic it becomes gay"

[wildestdreamsblog]

Elysian: a Latibule Spinoff

Pairing: Doctor/Mafia!Kim Seokjin x Intern!Reader 

Warnings: Yandere behavior, Possessiveness, Manipulative behavior, If you’re not 18+ please, PLEASE, do not interact. Be mindful of the warnings. Let me know if I miss anything.

A/N: What a busy busy busy busy month for me. I'm so tired and here's me hoping that I get Seokjin's ticket ahuhu. ALSO, Please do comment or reblog if you like this update :>

Masterlist, Part IX of __

“Jimin-shi! To what do I owe this pleasure?”

Kim Seokjin’s voice echoed throughout the emergency room. Despite the swamped room, Seokjin’s razor eyes saw him amidst the chaos that was the room. It was 11 in the evening and yet, the man himself looked like he just stepped out of a photoshoot. Park Jimin, on the other hand, was the perfect picture of a stressed chick. He was still in his police uniform, his hands covered in blood, and his hair was tousled as though he ran his hands throughout them several times already. In extremely unusual circumstances, the younger man’s hands were shaking.

Suffice to say, the night had been long for Jimin.

“What happened, Jimin?” He asked, glancing to his right where a certain woman on the hospital bed was being attended to by the nurses and doctor.

Jimin’s eyes were brimming with tears as he struggled to tear his gaze away from her. “Hyung-”

Seokjin’s demeanor turned serious just by the panic he saw in his brother’s eyes. This man did not even flinch nor showed any panic when he was stabbed just a month ago, and yet, someone’s pain was causing him to feel this. Her pain was causing him to break. Her tears were unraveling him.

“B-Bear is hurt... She needs stitches. S-she’s terrified of needles,” he explained, his plump lips quivering. He held his bear’s hand even as she glared daggers at him and attempted to pull her hand. “You can glare at me all you want, but you’re going to get treated. I’m serious.”

The policewoman looked at him with shock, “No, leave me alone and let me go home! This wound will close on its own!”

“How?!”Jimin’s voice rose up, fear and helplessness apparent in his voice.

“Like how ancient people heal their wounds! Natural healing! Science!” she answered, her voice increasing just as much as his was. Suffice to say, they were disrupting whatever peace the emergency room had. Their back-and-forth was quickly becoming a spectacle in the ER, drawing the attention of nearby patients and nurses alike. Nurses exchanged glances. A doctor paused mid-step. Somewhere, a child with a sprained ankle stopped crying just to watch the chaos unfold.

“No! That’s how they died so young!”

“You’re not making sense, Jimin!”

“You’re not making sense, Bear. You cannot and will not win this round. All other rounds, yes. But not on your safety. Never about your safety.”

“Jimin–”

Jimin’s jaw clenched at her stubbornness. He was done arguing with her. “Okay, she needs to be sedated.”

“Uhm, if I may, isn’t that a little extreme?” someone asked cautiously to which Jimin threw him the most vicious glare ever known to man, enough to shut him up. The poor guy took two steps back and nearly dropped his clipboard. It was the kind of glare that could end a war. Or start one.

Seokjin sighed and rubbed his forehead before gesturing to the nurse to do what Jimin wanted. He was the picture perfect of a man who’d given up on logic in the face of family theatrics. He sighed, maybe this was why his brothers were so brat. He would often cave in and gave these assholes what they wanted. Was he to blame? Eh. Who knew?

It was another round around the ER when Seokjin went a full circle and found himself orbiting back to the same room, bracing for yet another of Jimin’s emotional meltdowns because things didn’t go his way with Bear when instead, what he saw was his own version of sunshine.

You were gently smiling at his Bear, holding her hand like you were her old friend, like you’d known her your entire life even if this was your first real conversation. You were seated on her left, and on her right was a doctor who had been smiling at your animated anecdotes as you distracted her from the needles. Jimin was on the end of the bed, looking worriedly as the needle pierced through Bear’s skin repeatedly as the doctor patched her up. His eyes never left Bear’s face, and every time she flinched, he did too.

You were so dependable, Seokjin thought. And, God, so beautiful, too.

Seokjin initially thought that you were a sunshine in his dark little world. He thought maybe your light was meant just for him, like a rare thing he’d stumbled upon and quietly tucked away, selfishly.  But as it turned out, you could also light up other people’s worlds.

He knew in his mind that you were helping her.

He knew what you were doing—helping Bear through something raw and terrifying, easing Jimin’s heart in the process. He understood it, admired it even. But that didn’t stop the strange twist in his chest, the dull ache that settled just beneath his ribs.

But he didn’t know how he felt about this. He thought that maybe it was jealousy or even resentment – but it was none of those things.

His psychiatrist had once warned him about this—about the way he fixated, that he tended to fixate about how once he found something—or someone—worth holding onto, his grip became too tight, too desperate. His therapist had said he should watch out for that.

Well. Oops.

He could be a little intense, sure. But who had time to return for another session, right?

“All done!” the doctor said cheerfully, snapping off his gloves with a practiced flick. He gently taped the final piece of gauze over Bear’s stitched wound. “You need to rest the arm for a few days, absolutely no lifting or reckless behavior—”

“Define reckless,” Bear muttered, her face still pale, but her voice dry with sarcasm.

“Exactly that,” Jimin replied with a resigned tone in his voice. “You need to not be yourself for at least seventy-two hours. I’m going to make sure of that.

And you–” Jimin turned to you, relief etched on his face. His brows were furrowed, “you still haven’t accepted my follow request on Instagram. Explain.”

You blinked owlishly at the sudden shift in his demeanor. One moment, he was dead worried for the patient and next, his attention was solely focused on you as though you personally wronged him.

“What are you talking about?”

“Your mutuals with Jungkook,” he answered in a matter tone as though that was all the explanation you needed, as though that clarified everything.

 Huh?

“Do I know you?”

“God, he’s being extra weird again,” the policewoman muttered in embarrassment. “Someone sedate me so I don’t have to witness this.”

“Seriously? Hyung never talks about me? You never heard of me from Jungkook? Impossible.” His eyes narrowed with exaggerated betrayal. “Accept my follow request and follow me back.”

Bear groaned from the table. “Can I go into a medically induced coma now? Just until he leaves the room?”

Jimin raised his brows in anticipation as he looked at you pointedly. Then, as if to add insult to injury, he began tapping his foot on the floor with impatient flair—tap, tap, tap—like a passive-aggressive metronome counting down your refusal.

“Please don’t stress her,” Seokjin interrupted, having seen enough of Jimin’s shenanigans.

“Yes! Don’t stress me,” Bear added, gesturing to her shoulder exaggeratedly to remind Jimin, who had very recently panicked because of her wound, to calm the fuck down and leave the poor doctor alone.

Seokjin shot her a look before shaking his head. “I’m not talking about you. I’m talking about her-” he paused to point squarely at you. “Don’t stress my sunshine out!”

Jimin sputtered in surprise. His? Sunshine?

Those two words really came out of his hyung? Unprompted? Unforced? Uncoerced?

He couldn’t even process what was happening when Seokjin kicked him out of the emergency room for disturbing his patients and his sunshine.

---

But Kim Seokjin should know that he couldn’t easily shake off one Park Jimin.

And you should know that you couldn’t shake off Kim Seokjin as evidenced by how he followed you during your break in the only coffee shop opened nearby. And so, instead of enjoying your coffee and making progress on your paper in peace, you now found yourself seated across from both men, who were bickering like unsupervised children.

It was one in the morning.

You did not have the energy for this.

You were too sleep-deprived for this.

“This is the last time my hospital will treat your–” Seokjin was saying, tone sharp.

“That’s not allowed! It’s a violation of Hippocratic oath or something!”

Seokjin rolled his eyes at him because really, he would bring up that oath in front of him, a doctor and also a mafia prince? Wasn’t that a little far reaching? “Not if you keep on disturbing the ER everytime she gets injured at work!”

“I can’t control how I feel, hyung!”

“You can! Be like Taehyung!”

Jimin huffed. “You can’t just blacklist me because I care about her well-being!”

You rubbed your forehead in exasperation, fingers digging into your temples as if you could physically press the exhaustion out.  You couldn’t even pretend that you weren’t hearing them. You sighed, “Can you fight over there?” you said wearily, pointing toward the far corner of the coffee shop.  “I would like to enjoy my break in peace. And you two are giving me a headache.”

Seokjin immediately turned toward you, eyes wide with alarm. The argument screeched to a halt. “A headache? What? Is it bad? On a scale of 1 to 10, how severe is the pain?” he rattled off, already in full-on doctor mode. “You know what, never mind, I know what it is. You’re dehydrated. You never drink water. It’s always coffee, and you skip meals—sunshine, a snack is not a meal!”

Before you could stop him, he was already halfway to the counter.

“I’m ordering you proper food. Sit tight. You’re too thin! You need nutrients!”

You were too used with his sudden and exaggerated outbursts that you didn’t even pay him any attention nor did your eyebrows lift at his outburst. Meanwhile, to say that Jimin was shook was the understatement of the year. He literally looked like someone told him that Santa Claus was real and had taken up kickboxing or something. His face was comical as his eyes followed his hyung before it returned to you.

His mouth opened and closed a few times before he leaned in, eyes bouncing from Seokjin’s back to your face. “Oh my God,” he whispered in dawning horror. “Hyung cares about you.”

Well… he did change your lightbulb without being asked. He fed you countless times, even when you insisted you were fine. He drove you home almost every night, even though his shift ended earlier than yours. He went to your apartment first thing after getting back from that out-of-town trip without even resting. He waited for you, every day, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Did that mean he cared for you?

Or was he just making up for the way he treated you?

“That’s…debatable,” you muttered.

“Noona, no. I-it’s not,” he answered adamantly. He pointed at his hyung who was busy trying to buy everything in the menu that he thought you’d like. “That man is never like that.”

You raised a brow. “I think you exaggerating.”

“I’m not,” he said, dead serious. “Kim Seokjin doesn’t care about anyone who isn’t his family.”

You frowned. “Right… you all say that. You’re ‘brothers.’ But Jeon Jungkook is his ‘brother.’ You’re Park Jimin. None of you even share a family name. So how does that work?”

“His father adopted all of us,” Jimin said dismissively with a wave of his hand. “Irrelevant to the story. Anyway—what did you do?”

“Huh? What do you mean?” why did it feel like he was accusing you of some voodoo shit?

“I mean, how did you breach the wall that is Kim Seokjin?” Jimin asked, staring at you like you were some kind of supernatural phenomenon. “What spell did you cast? What ritual? Did you bribe the ancestors?”

You stared at him.

“I told him several pickup lines,” you said flatly.

He gasped. “That was the catalyst?!”

You sighed, already regretting saying anything. “But that doesn’t mean that he likes me. He’s just being…Seokjin,” you explained as slowly as you could just so you could all move on from this. You would not even dare entertain the idea that someone as perfect as he was would like someone as messed up as you.

When he said that you were beneath him before, it hurt because it was the truth.

You were so far in social standing that liking you would be similar to extending aid to someone in need. If anything, his care felt more like charity. A favor. A well-meaning upper hand extended to someone in need.

“Let me tell you something about that man,” he started with a smile, leaning in like he was about to reveal state secrets. His voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper, the grin on his face tempered with sincerity. “No one alive in this world can make Seokjin do anything he doesn’t want to do.”

He let that sit there, letting the weight of his words hang between you like a challenge.

“Think about that,” he added softly.

You looked at him.

Really looked.

And for the first time, a crack appeared in the neat little wall you’d built around the truth. Jimin wasn’t teasing anymore. His expression was open, eyes serious.

You turned your gaze toward the counter, where Seokjin was still arguing with the barista about whether you’d prefer shrimp tempura or gimbap, completely oblivious to the existential crisis he’d just caused.

You frowned.

Because now you were thinking about it.

And you weren’t sure what scared you more—the idea that Jimin might be right…

Or that you wanted him to be.

“Don’t put meaning where there shouldn’t be one, Jimin. Listen to your noona.”

“You seem kind, and you calmed my bear down. So, I’m going to give you an advice,” Jimin said casually, his eyes trained on his hyung. “The game you’re playing is dangerous.”

You tilted your head to the side, confusion apparent on your face as you tried to digest what the detective and Doctor Jin’s brother was trying to say. “I-I’m not playing any games, Jimin.”

But Jimin only tilted his head, almost amused. He smiled at you, and you almost shivered from how cold it was. It was as though he knew something you didn’t, as though he pitied you about not knowing what he knew. His eyes shifted to his brother who was Now making his way back to your table with a tray of before focusing on yours again. “My hyung…is not the kind of man you can play games with. If all that is merely games to you, I suggest you stop now while he still lets you.”

There was something more to what he was saying, and you were never patient when it came to riddles. “Or else what?”

This time, he smiled genuinely at you. “You don’t want to find out.”

Park Jimin’s words rang in your head like a loop.

In fact, your shift ended without you realizing it. His words echoed in your mind, both his assessment and his warning as though his hyung liking you was a double-edged sword. You were so out of it that you almost missed Seokjin.

Leaning against his car, arms crossed loosely, hair catching the soft streetlight—Kim Seokjin watched you with quiet patience.

Once again, without fail, he had waited for you.

And for the first time in your life, someone waited for you with a smile.

Not out of duty. Not because he had to. But because he wanted to.

For the first time, someone cared for you like that.

Not halfway. Not with conditions. Just… you.

And damn it, you were falling.

You were falling hard for Kim Seokjin.

And this time, you knew—you wouldn’t be able to stop.

He respected your silence. Didn’t ask if you were okay or try to drag you into conversation. He respected your silence like it was something sacred. Instead, he just drove—one hand on the wheel, the other resting near the gear shift, eyes focused on the road, calm and quiet. He was merely contented with driving you home. It was enough for him that he made sure you were safe, that you were comfortable, that you were with him, breathing the same air, alive and whole.

But your mind was in a turmoil. Jimin’s words. The weight of your feelings. The fear of hoping. It all churned like a storm you had no name for. You were never someone who would rather overthink. You were never one to do messy daydreams nor fantasy endings. You were taught early in life that you could never escape your reality no matter how hard you tried. You were no princess.

There were no happy endings waiting at the end of your story. Only survival. Only endurance. Only trying to get through one day to reach the next.

And yet—when he parked and walked you up to your apartment, when he stopped just short of your door like he always did—you turned to him with something close to bravery in your eyes.

You weren’t one to flinch from the truth.

“Do you… like me?” you asked, voice quieter than you intended, but steady.

He didn’t pause. Didn’t blink. “Yes.”

One word. Solid. Certain. No hesitation.

You stared at him, heart thudding in your chest.

“Care to elaborate?” you managed, your voice dry to cover how it shook.

Seokjin gave you that maddeningly unreadable look—calm and fond, as if this whole conversation had already played out in his head and ended exactly here.

“I think you’re smart enough to figure it out.”

There was no smugness in his tone. No teasing. Just truth.

He studied your face, then—like he could read every unspoken fear in your silence—he took a step closer, enough that you had to tilt your chin slightly to keep your eyes on his.

“And I know you need more time to process this,” he said gently, his voice low and even. But beneath that calm was something weightier. It took him sleepless nights filled with thoughts he didn’t know how to untangle. It took him buying a goddamn mansion—impulsively, irrationally, drunkenly—because he couldn’t stop thinking about you and needed somewhere, something, to anchor the ache in his chest.

It took him a while to get here. It took him a lot of sleepless nights and a very expensive mansion which he bought during his drunken nights because of you. And to be brutally honest, it took courage for the mafia prince to come to terms with his feelings. And so, he would give you time to accept his feelings.

And he was sorry to say—truly, deeply sorry—that now that he had come to terms with it, there was no going back.

There was no turning off what he felt. No dimming it.

He could give you time. He would give you space.

But not distance. Not disinterest.

Because you were already his.

“So I’m going to go tonight,” he finished, softer now. Not a retreat. A promise. “Good night, my sunshine,” he said, a faint smile touching his lips.

Then, with a final glance, he turned away.

“I’ll see you tomorrow.”

You were left in front of your apartment door, watching as he walked down to his car and drove for the night. The silence that followed should have felt peaceful. But it didn’t.

Instead, it pressed against your chest like a warning.

You didn’t know how long you had been standing there—too long, maybe—before you heard the soft creak of the door behind you.

Then a voice.

Low. Familiar. Drenched in smoke and menace.

“Got yourself a rich boyfriend, I see.”

You turned, startled, eyes widening.

There he was. Leaning casually against the doorframe like he belonged there. A cigarette dangled between his lips, the ash long and crumbling, and that same awful sneer curled his mouth.

You hadn’t seen him in weeks. You’d dared to think he’d disappeared.

Your heart pounded—fast, frantic, terrified. The same way it always did when he came to collect.

He let the smoke curl from his lips before speaking again.

“Why don’t we invite him here, hmm?” His head tilted toward the direction Seokjin had gone, voice mocking. “Maybe your shiny new prince can pay all your father’s debts. Bet he could clear it in one transaction.”

He took a step closer. Too close.

“Ah, but then…” He grinned, all teeth and malice. “I’d miss these monthly visits of ours. Wouldn’t you?”

You didn’t answer. You couldn’t.

He flicked ash to the floor, then looked at you again. His eyes gleamed with cruel amusement.

“What do you think, sunshine?”

[wanderingblindly]

Tapping the sign in my pinned posts; minors, do NOT interact with me about smut. Ever. I will block you immediately for your own good.

Now, I would like to step on my soapbox about this for a moment, because it’s rarely explained why this is so problematic. It’s more than just minors being at risk for things like grooming — after all, if you have faith in your ability to talk to adults safely, then why should you care? It will also affect the accuracy of your self-perception.

Teenagers naturally want (and need!!) to explore their sexualities in a way that’s safe. And for some teenagers, that includes fiction online. I’m never going to say what you can or cannot read, because I’m not your parent.

But it is NOT normal to do any exploration with adults. And it’s not because minors are “too dumb to understand things” — it’s not about that at all, really.

Talking about sexually driven things with adults when you’re a minor, intentionally or otherwise, can establish that as a normal behavior. If the adult you’re talking isn’t aware that you’re a minor, they may be very nice, they may make you feel seen and heard, and they may make you feel validated. And those things can be really addictive as a teen! It’s fun and exciting and relieving to not be Weird for having these thoughts; it might be aspirational to see adults being candid about their interests, and you want to be like that too.

Accidentally talking to “good” adults may lead you to behave differently than you would around peers, because you want to fit in and match their energy. This may negatively affect the authenticity of your self exploration; are you actually learning about yourself, or are you attempting to mirror people that you admire?

Accidentally talking to “good” adults may open the door to talking to adults who know you’re a minor and want to take advantage. And because you’re desensitized to it, your guard may be dropped; the baseline of what you accept in conversation has changed.

All that said, I — as the responsible adult — remove myself from the equation. I choose to not actively encourage or participate in your exploration, and I prevent potentially unsafe scenarios by doing so. It is part of my responsibility as a mindful adult to actively ensure that minors do not get desensitized to speaking about certain topics with non-peers.

The thesis is this: minors should talk to adults as it pertains to things like life advice, safety concerns. Exploration should be done within your peer group, both for your safety and for the safety of well-intentioned adults who may not realize that you’re so young.

[bacchuschucklefuck]

i like that the power scaling in the worse manga AU goes a classmate → a biotech genius with four extra machine arms → a self-engineered "perfect life form" → a circus gymnast → a tour guide → a LARPer

[zouisalmightie]

parent said they aren’t going to spank their kids and then decided to just let them do whatever they want. like there are so many ways to help guide your child thru life why do yall think it’s either beat the kid or just let them run wild???

[bunnyboy-juice]

LMAOOOOO YOU'RE FCUKING KIDDING MEEEEEE

[chronicbitchsyndrome]

i have been in community with profoundly developmentally disabled peers and peers with brain damage my whole life, bc i had a childhood diagnosis. i have also been leftist my whole life; my mother was a marxist and raised me that way, and while their politics were absolute dogshit, they were lefty dogshit.

my entire life, i have seen leftist educators throw mentally disabled people away as "lost causes" because they couldn't engage with the material the way it was being presented. leftist outreach and education does, genuinely, have a massive lack of accessible material. to be blunt, people are not interested in retrofitting their leftist outreach to be accessible to people who learn best through episodes of sesame street.

as in, i have repeatedly faced outright laughter and cruelty over the idea that this could be a priority. or even something that we consider doing at all.

"people who are that mentally disabled don't need to know about these things," the kindest interpretation goes. ("people who are that mentally disabled don't interact with the world, anyway, they're all in institutions or monitored 24/7 by their parents," the uncharitable underlying assumptions go. "they wouldn't be a worker who needs a union. or a library attendee. or a member of the community garden. or a volunteer at the food bank. or or or")

the people i have seen this hurt the worst, over and over again, are profoundly mentally disabled people of color whose lack of access to accessible antiracist education is causing real danger in their lives. institutionalized disabled people of color who have learned racist ideology and behaviors from white authority, whether they were adopted by white families or incarcerated in care institutions run by white staff. who are treated lower than garbage by leftist educators, who view them as "lost causes," as unworthy of time and effort and attention, as deserving of their abuses because they... what... internalized the abuses that make up every aspect of their lives since birth?

i see people saying things in this conversation like "disability isn't an excuse for racism or transphobia or whatever, people have the obligation to improve themselves." oh, believe me, i have seen again and again how many privileged disabled people utilize their disabilities to punch down on others, try to escape accountability for their punching down by citing disability. but individual weaponization of identity is just that: weaponization of identity.

the power structures at play are what they are. it is a noble and admirable goal to want leftist outreach and education to be more accessible to all. if that is truly your goal, you must eventually reckon with the existence of people who do, actually, really need it presented in a picture book. or an episode of bluey. or a conversation where you only use examples of people they know in real life, using things that happened to them personally. the existence of people who cannot grasp forms of abstract reasoning, who need information presented as rules, or as guidelines, or as categories. the idea that yes, fully grown adults who need daniel tiger to explain racism to them are human beings who not only deserve access to that very thing, but who also deserve to be a part of leftist spaces and benefit from leftist organizing. are people for whom it might be INTEGRAL they get to be a part of leftism. are victims of racism themselves and suffering without access to antiracist spaces and community and support.

and you will need to reckon with the abject cruelty of your peers who laugh and mock the very idea of this. you need to reckon with the fact that a lot of people you respect, a lot of leftists doing genuinely good work, will respond to this by making fun of the people you're serving, even outright telling you their violent fantasies about these people. that is the experience of organizing in leftist spaces for profoundly disabled people. that is why so many of us burn out so fast. there IS a structural problem with mentally disabled people being seen as disposable and not a part of community. and it is EXTREMELY present in leftist organizing and outreach efforts.

[seamany]

The post that solved it all for me PART 1

NOT MY POST, THIS IS MOBILEBLACKSMITH2535 VIA REDDIT

(It might sound like I'm yelling at you in this paragraph but these are just things I wish someone told me like years ago) Here is where I talk about everything law of assumption that helped me ACTUALLY become a master manifestor. The law of assumption, as I see it, is the law of being. You cannot experience what you are not being. Coming from a person that used to cry myself to sleep every night feeling frustrated, hopeless, and extremely tired of putting all this effort into something and getting absolutely nothing back, this shit is real. Please do not take this post with a grain of salt. Please do not toss my story in with the probably hundreds of other "I have shifted" threads/videos you have witnessed. If you want to shift listen to every word that I say. I can't explain why we have this power I just know that from November of 2020 to July of 2023 I have been working my ass of to get somewhere, anywhere. In between those 3 years I had an on and off behavior towards shifting. I used to force myself to forget about shifting for a few weeks because it hurt too much to think about it. I felt like I won the lottery and I couldn't cash in the money. It was awful and I wouldn't wish that feeling of hopelessness on any other conscious being. Sometimes I would watch shifting tik tok compilation videos on YouTube and get a surge of motivation that would soon die out along with any semblance of dignity and self-esteem I had left. I'm telling you not asking you to see me as a real completely sane person because that is exactly what I am. Even though I'm creative and spiritual (not religious, spiritual), I can't help but see things logically. It's just my nature. I like patterns, formulas, structured systems, explanations, science, etc. I knew the probability of hundreds upon thousands of people describing in detail their experience of shifting couldn't be a phenomenon but a real...thing. I, for some reason, never doubted the possibility of shifting, more my capability to do it. Along my journey I've had my moments of distrust surrounding shifting in itself, and as I rounded onto the 3rd year of attempts I had increasing feelings of dread and anger. I was angry at the world that I live in, feeling dreadful that I couldn't escape it all. Then on one fateful fateful day, specifically July 31rst 2023 at about 8:30 am, I shifted. It was easy and it was effortless. Just as everyone says, but that's not something I'd like to focus on in today's post. I'm not making this post to tell you how simple shifting is or to "let go" (whatever the fuck that means) or to change your mindset. Those things are all useless compared to the thing that just clicked for me on July 31rst 2023 at about 8:30 am. What I am going to tell you is going to be so stupidly straightforward that your mind isn't going to want to believe me at first. You are going to try to make it more complicated than it is, just like you probably did with shifting when you first learned about it. But assure you that you should take what I am about to say at face-value. You don't need to let go, you don't need to change anything about yourself, you don't need to "release blockages", you don't need to reprogram your subconscious mind. You are done. You have your desire already. You are finished and there is nothing left for you to do.

LOOK AT MY PAGE FOR PART TWO

[pettysreverie]

Kinda really obsessed with the idea of him becoming super obsessed with you after fucking you…

CW: AFAB!Reader, stalking, obsessive behavior, yandere-esque behavior (if I missed something, pls kindly let me know!)

Like, I imagine that maybe he’s just come back from deployment? Would explain why he’s so starved for a good fuck, ya know?

Probably meets you in a pub (bc duh) and after a few drinks between the two of you, you both decide to go back to his place.

He figures it’s gonna be nothing too big of a deal. Certainly nothing he hasn’t done before.

Who hasn’t taken a bird back from the pub for a good fuck?

But the moment he slides into your cunt, he knows that he’d been wrong.

Whatever he’d been doing before was not fucking. Was not having sex. Because sex with you—with your slutty cunt and those heavenly sounds you make—is bewitching.

As if your cunt is putting him deeper and deeper under a spell with every twitch and clench.

A spell he gladly welcomes.

Your body is so soft and beautiful. And you…you’re so pliant and willing—batting those pretty lashes at him with that dazed, fucked out look in your eyes.

And that’s when the spell cements.

When a flip switches inside of him.

When something…changes.

He grips your ankles and hoists your legs over his shoulders to drive his cock even deeper inside of your quivering heat.

Your back bows off the bed and your hands grapple the sheets, moans tumbling from your kiss swollen lips as your eyes nearly roll all the way back.

“Yer mine. All mine.”And there’s a stutter in his breath as he moans, his hips momentarily stuttering in their otherwise relentless movements. “Say it fer me, love.”

But with the way he’s got you practically folded in half—knees all but bent to your chest with your legs draped over his back—replying to him is the furthest thing from your mind right now.

He angles his hips, driving long and deliciously thick cock directly into your sweet spot over and over again—seemingly determined to drive you insane with pleasure.

Seemingly determined to fuck you positively dumb.

“Say. It.”He grits out, his voice taking on an almost animalistic, growling tone.

There is something so primal about his command. Something about it brings out such a fundamental instinct in you that you cannot help but to comply—to submit.

“Y-Yours…”You manage to utter amongst your incoherent babbling and moaning.

One word.

You only speak one word.

But one word is all he needed to hear.

He fucks you well into the morning. The sun rises, its light shining through the cracks in the curtains by the time he turns you loose and allows you to rest.

And rest you do.

When you wake up, it’s practically evening!

You’re quite embarrassed. But like the gentleman he is, he assures you that he does not mind. In fact, he even offers to pay for your transportation home.

You decline, too embarrassed about your faux pas.

And for you? You assume that, while this was an amazing experience, it was a one time thing. You don’t expect to see him again.

But you do.

You run into him again and again and again.

At the market. At the park. At the coffee shop.

It’s fate! It’s the universe! It’s gotta be something, right?

It’s…him.

You really thought he was going to let you go after that world altering fuck? The way you blew his mind? The way your cunt hypnotized him?

Silly, beautiful, stupid woman.

Just the thought of someone else having you like that…no, he doesn’t even want to think about it.

How could he let you get away?

No, he had to hack your phone.

Not like it was hard…sure he’s more of a “field” agent. More used to having a gun in his hand and his boots on the ground, but he’s no stranger to some lines of spyware code.

Besides, you made it quite easy for him by sleeping in as long as you did…not that he minded of course!

You look so peaceful while you sleep. So beautiful, actually.

And really, he was so very glad he’d hacked your phone. How else was he supposed to know where you lived when you rejected his offer to pay for your transportation home?

But now that he’s in your phone, he’s practically in your life already.

Every contact you have saved, he knows.

Every place you go, he knows and can go there too. (How do you think your two have been running into each other so often?)

Every post you like. Every pin you save. Every song you playlist. He knows it all.

Not that you know it…not that you ever will.

He’ll let you believe it’s fate. Or the universe. Or whatever. Doesn’t matter to him, really.

Besides, you’re already his.

You even said so yourself…remember?

(Oh you don’t? Then why doesn’t he just remind you?)

[drchucktingle]

As an autistic person, did you struggle to make and keep friends? And have you found friends through the writing world? I ask because my mom always said i needed to find my people. I did finally find them (they are neurodiverse trans nerds, haha), but not until i was like 30. And i wonder if its true of other autistic people too. So i guess my question is: did you find your people, and when?

thank you this is good question. i have always had a LOT of CLOSE BUDS even from a very young age. i would actually say that i am unusually socially adept in my way and that it is partially BECAUSE of my autistic trot. LETS TALK ON THAT FOR A MOMENT

'BUT CHUCK YOU SAID YOU ARE ON THE SPECTRUM AND AUTISTIC BUCKAROOS CANNOT BE SOCIALLY ADEPT' some say. and sure it is UNUSUAL overall, technically speaking, but there is also an important reason we talk about this as a spectrum of buckaroos and not a monolith

when buckaroos ask me what it is like to be autistic i try to explain like this: there are certain cues and markers from the outside that serve as a sort of identification checklist but because of masking they are not always correct. instead i see it as question of WHAT IS IT LIKE INSIDE YOUR BRAIN?

internally my brain is different. its taking in way more information all the time, including the stuff that neurotypical buds block out, and that can become overwhelming. it is hard to navigate because i do not have that automatic neurotypical 'here is what is important here is what is not' function

so yes i can be easily distracted and zone out as i watch the patterns and fractals spin off. and yes i can miss certain things in social situations. in many autistic buckaroos this makes large groups overwhelming and the OUTPUT of behavior matches what we typically know as signs of autism

FOR ME however, same thing is going on inside, but i have managed to HARNESS that information. even from very young age i see that everyone is DOING THE HUMAN ACT but instead of rejecting that and shutting off i think 'well okay i am just going to do THIS because thats what they actually want'

in other words, most neurotypical buds say one thing that has a kind of spiraling social-cue-related OTHER MEETING (they do this ALL the time) and instead of rejecting that i have trained myself to be REALLY REALLY good at knowing the hidden meaning. it is EMPATHY but on a sort of LOGIC BASED level

and because i have always been pretty good at that, people like to trot around me and say 'wow this is a good friend they understand me'. now for ME that can be a little exhausting and there are things i need to do and stims and all that to release the effort, but overall it is worth it to me

OTHER THING is that i was a successful CREATOR AND ARTIST BUCKAROO from an early age which is socially seen as 'cool' especially when you are trotting around in your youth. it is not particularly FAIR but it is true that some level of fame makes buds treat you well even if you are 'weird'.

of course it can be a sort of FAKE 'treating you well' but as an autistic buckaroo it is still more of a chance than you might otherwise get. this timeline has sort of carved out a very special little sliver of social grace for the token odd artistic weirdo to have a seat at each cool kids table

ANYWAY that is the trot of my life. it is a unique trot that i dont get to talk on much but since you asked THERE YOU GO. every chance i get to say 'I LOVE BEING AUTISTIC' and talk on HOW MUCH IT HAS IMPROVED MY LIFE i try to take a moment and do that. when i was young i had few autistic heroes

and OF COURSE it can be difficult and overwhelming and we need to have space for those stories and voices, but i want young buckaroos who get this diagnosis to know there are ALL KINDS of stories and trots on the autism spectrum. MINE IS PRETTY DANG COOL and maybe yours will be too. LOVE IS REAL

[lynleaf]

gif from

coping and caring for littles with RSD!

what is rsd?

(r)ejection (s)ensitivy (d)ysphoria is an experience of intense emotional pain caused by perceived failure or rejection. in short, it is a heightened sensitivity to rejection. this condition is linked to adhd because it is believed to stem from disregulation of rejection-related emotions and behavior. although it is linked to adhd, it can also come from other forms of neurodivergency, ptsd, bpd, and other conditions.

in littles, this can look like:

🍀 intense negative reactions to angry, indifferent, dismissive, or annoyed tones of voice directed at them

🍀 overperceiving or "inventing" threats around them, can lead to heightened anxiety or sudden mood changes

🍀 adverse reactions to having structured caretaking (a.k.a "firm hands"), being told what to do, or being disciplined

and can result in:

🍀 fussy littles

🍀 emotional and physical shut downs or social withdrawal

🍀 outbursts, tantrums, or fits

🍀 negative self-talk, rumination, and defensiveness

if you are a little with rsd, here are some ways to manage (even while regressed)!

- giving yourself positive affirmations

"i did nothing wrong", "they are not upset with me", "i am loved and seen", "my opinion is valued and i matter"

- counteract your immediate response to perceived negativity. if someone says something in a rude tone, think of other possible reasons they may be upset.

"they are not upset because of something i did. they might not be feeling well, they might be having a bad day, or they might be stressed or tired right now. the way they reacted to me is not my fault"

- write down what happened, how it made you feel, and some ways you can make yourself feel better

- think about what is in your control and what is out of your control

e.g. you cannot control someone else's emotions, but you can control your breathing

calm your amygdala

- take big deep breaths

- practice identifying something in each of your senses

"what can i hear, what can i see, what can i smell, what can i taste, what can i feel"

- remove yourself from the situation if you can

take a brain break, go to a quieter location, watch a video of something you love, listen to a song that calms you

- hug your plushies!

- use a pacifier or chew toy

if you are a carer for a little with rsd:

- be patient! your small may not be able to idenitify why they are feeling or reacting this way in the moment. sit with them and don't rush them as they process their emotions

- if they are being fussy or verbally combative, it is valid to feel overwhelmed or stressed. remember that above all else, you are in control of your body and how you choose to respond. keep your voice level, avoid using aggressive language, speak gently, and reinforce positive talk

- ask them how they are feeling and listen to them. let them explain their emotions, even if they seem irrational. what they feel is real to them! validate their feelings

- help your little figure out ways of coping that work for them. give them options

"do you need some quiet time alone to calm down? would you like for me to hold you? how about we watch your favorite show? or we can play something together! you can pick!"

this is something that i have struggled with all my life, and it seems to be heightened when i'm regressed. i hope this helped others struggling or who know someone struggling, at least a little bit! <3

if you have rsd, remember:

the people in your life want you to be there. your friends care about you! you are not a bad person because you made a mistake. everything you do doesn't have to be perfect, you are human! and you are deserving of love no matter what. <3

[wordbunch]

a/n: to all my moots and friends, no you didn't see me post this and yes im still your comfort lotr girl!!! to all others, hello & welcome to my newest obsession yes I have been corrupted. ENJOY!!!!

emperor Geta headcanons

warnings: toxic behavior obviously lol, mild nsfw-ish mentions, this man should be taken with caution by all means

this man loves like he was starved and then brought to a feast - he inhales and devours every inch of you, every texture, scent, sound, personality trait, quirk, he will eat you UPPPP in every sense of the word; he wants his senses full of you and he can't ever get enough

he is definitely a very obsessive and possessive person, observant, sharp, witty. also when it comes to prayers and sacrifices, he means business - he dead seriously prayed for a wife who was headstrong, intelligent, passionate and fearless; someone who could match him in every way, whom he could verbally spar with, word for word, but also someone who'd have his back unconditionally as he doesn't really have many people to genuinely rely on. he wanted an equal, and he was also hoping for someone either his age or even a bit older - he was afraid of having a childish partner who wouldn't properly fill in a tremendously important role

he is 110% a switch and it fully depends on what kinda day he'd had and the mood he's in

contrary to many interpretations and rumors, he isn't horny 24/7!!!! like yes he IS insanely attracted to you, but his days can be so impossibly draining and tedious so sometimes he would just rather lie down with you and have you close, than do anything else. also, he doesn't do quickies or anything of the sort; he likes to go all in and take his sweet time with you, or let you have your way with him. he enjoys being dedicated and not distracted in bed with you. all in or nothing for this man. and yes he is vocal.

one thing that makes him feel absolutely AMAZING (and you realized quite quickly thankfully)is when you draw him a bath - yes it must be YOU specifically who does it - and then either give him a shoulder rub or wash his hair, or both. he will become putty in your hands and relax more than he can explain in words. pamperrr him sometimes 🥹😭 he finds it so thoughtful that you do this for him at the end of a taxing day; after all, there is nothing in the world he wouldn't do for you.

speaking of, when Geta notices something is off with you, he won't ask if he can make you happy again somehow, he will ask you to name what you want him to do, and he will do it. you are the only person with that effect on him.

most definitely is turned on by someone who is smart and witty and perceptive. also he has very keen eyes and he can read even your slightest signals, even in a crowded room, especially in a crowded room, and he also appreciates when you can read him without him having to verbalize anything to you

the most Protective Person of all time, God forbid someone looks at you wrong!!!

showers you with gifts

you will LOVE this - he likes when you match in some subtle, or obvious, way, like the same pattern on your robes, the same gems on your jewels, anything that shows off your bond and shows that you belong to him and he belongs to you completely. 🤍

almost weekly he has night terrors and horrible dreams either about his childhood/how they were treated by their father, or about something awful happening to you. you always do your best to comfort him, knowing that you're the only one who can do that and the only one allowed to see him in such a state

so you whisper sweet nothings to him, like promises you would never hurt him in any way and that you will always do your best to protect him and love him

touch starved, touch obsessed, cannot sleep without you in the bed, cannot sleep when you are on a journey somewhere and misses you terribly; can barely wait for you to return and then grip you in his arms and just breathe you in

obsessed with your scent

very often you are his impulse control and you just have the power to center him when he's losing his grip on a situation

he is so used to being in control (or having to be), that he will really spiral when a situation is getting out of hand and he feels not powerful enough to stop or change something. he is really bad at holding it together when shit is going down, and half the time he seems to be two steps away from a breakdown. honestly, sometimes you just have to let him rage, panic, and vent it out in whatever way, and he will come back to himself- and to your embrace-shortly.

he needs your approval and appreciation like air. if you don't think he is doing a good job, if you don't think (and show) he is smart, capable, if he isn't the center of your universe, nothing else matters at all

he will combust if he doesn't have at least a hand on you at all times

sometimes he still can't believe how you love him - people who touch him usually either want something from him, fear him, despise him, or all those - your gentle touch is an unfamiliar, yet welcome sensation; he can't get enough.

let's be real he can get anything he wants from you when he looks at you with those gigantic brown eyes, but somehow he seems unaware of that (and you already give him everything anyway)

if big gatherings and constant celebrations aren your thing, he will not let you out of his sight and, as much as you need him there to comfort you, he needs you on his arm to feel happy, safe and fulfilled. you just complete each other. 💛

as much as he enjoys every single loving nickname you give him, especially if you call him 'your' anything - your love, your darling, your heart, your pride and joy - but even more he will melt if you just call him by his name, as one of the very few (if not only) person who utters it with love, softness, adoration...unlike many who spit it out hatefully like poison

Geta feels veryyyy smug and proud of himself when he does an act of service for you, such as giving you a massage or bringing you a drink - look at him, he gets served things left and right, but he remains SO devoted to you only.

well, was that something? leave it to me to humanize the worst (actually historical) person ever and give him some PROPER FLUFF🫠

[ozzgin]

I love your work! you have such a fun take on yandere's and I would love to see what kind of yandere hcs you could cook up for a host-club / paid to go on dates with you yandere ❤️ double points if you can make it so that the reader is never really one to cross a line or think the yandere really likes them...

If you don't want to do this prompt tho I completely understand ❤️

Yandere! Host x Reader

You've never considered yourself to be the type frequenting host clubs. Yet the loneliness is becoming noticeable and perhaps it's your lack of experience keeping you out of the dating scene. Mingling with paid professionals could prepare you for a future boyfriend. Except your assigned host has other plans in mind for you. Content: gender neutral reader, inexperienced reader, obsessive behavior, manipulation

Ah, you definitely don't belong here. He can tell within seconds and he hasn't even reached the table yet. You're nervously readjusting the sleeves of your shirt - do you usually not wear such outfits? - and merely glance around the room for a brief moment before casting your eyes back down in sheepish modesty. Well, not necessarily a sight of unpreceded novelty. Many people are intrigued by the idea of a host club, so even just idle curiosity is enough incentive for one to end up among the charismatic crowd of paid affections. Today it's you who has stumbled into the hungry mouth of the wolf, and he happens to be the one to entertain you away from whatever unpleasantries are currently consuming you.

He gently stretches his slender fingers across your shoulder, a feathery touch light enough as to not startle you. You look up and acknowledge his presence, ready to stand up for introductions. His hold on you is firm, letting you know there is no need to leave the comfort of your sofa. "Now then, this isn't a job interview. You don't need to be so formal." He explains with a chuckle. You nod. Embarrassingly enough, your eyes are glued to his face for longer than what you'd consider polite admiration. A waste of good looks is your immediate thought. Surely someone as stunning as him could've worked as a model or actor. You suspect he isn't as enthusiastic to meet you as his voice leads one to believe, so the ability to pretend certainly isn't missing.

One peek at the table next to you, and the answer quickly presents itself. An older woman is inspecting the menu, surrounded by multiple bottles of champagne whose name even you recognize. You doubt the average acting career could provide this amount of luxury. The corners of your lips curl slightly upwards in a pitiful self awareness. Sadly for this guy, you're not a big spender. Whether he, too, is aware of this disappointing fact is impossible to tell. His handsome features remain cheerfully relaxed. "Tell me about yourself. What brings a darling like you here?" He inquires graciously, resting his chin on the back of his hands as he settles before you with an intent gaze.

You narrate your hardship: whether because of your looks or your awkwardness, something impedes you from having acquired a partner; and so the idea of gaining experience through less orthodox means came to fruition. Your host listens carefully, refilling your glass every now and then with a compassionate frown, lips parted in unspoken sympathy. Of course, he understands. Naturally. Once you're finished, he straightens himself in newfound determination: worry not, he will be your coach in love.

Thus begins the unusual partnership. You hadn't expected the man to readily agree to such a ridiculous request. A handful of visits have made it clear to you he's in high demand, most likely one of the top earners. Why would he waste his precious (and otherwise profitable) time with a humble customer like you? Maybe it's bad form to refuse lower paid offers too often, so he's keeping you for balance. You'll never know. His professionalism betrays no hint of annoyance.

You cannot help but marvel at his masterful lying. It becomes quite clear to you why so many people fall helplessly in love with paid hosts. Everything is executed with the utmost care for detail. The loving caress of the cheek he occasionally initiates, seemingly unprompted. The long, ardent stares into your eyes, as you must practice your eye contact. His hot lips brushing against your fingers while he spoils you with diminutives and sickly sweet words of appreciation.

You frequently have to remind yourself that everything is dictated by a contract. A code of conduct meant to be replicated for you and all other clients coming afterwards. How many other poor souls fawn over this alluring devil? You wouldn't want to burden him with an additional customer who forgets boundaries. You know your place too well.

Admirable manners. Frustratingly so. He wishes you'd just give in already and drop the shy act around him. You've caught his interest from the moment he spotted you in that cluttered, crowded room reeking of overpriced alcohol and solitude. Everything about you signaled blindingly clear: you're someone others can easily take advantage of. To think you would've landed right in his hands, to be molded as he pleases. The little sob story about being inexperienced with men, your clumsy attempts to follow along his flirts. Oh, you're just begging to be defiled. Again, and again and again, until there's nothing left of you. Then he'd caringly patch you back together and start anew. His very own corner of innocence.

The indecent daydreams are cut short when you proudly announce, during one of your dates, that you finally feel confident enough to pursue a genuine partner. You have booked a nice hotel room for this occasion; One last gesture of grandeur to show your gratitude for all the advice and love (even though it wasn't genuine). He's sitting on the edge of the plush mattress, dumbfounded, fiddling with the thick, ornate border of the bed runner. Huh? What the hell are you talking about? He's spent all this time getting to know you. What gets you flustered and bothered, what makes you excited, sad, anxious, angry, bored. He taught you how to come out of your shell. Why, so you can go ahead and waste yourself on some fucking idiot?

"My, aren't you eager. You haven't even had your first kiss." He says with a cheeky smile. "I think I can manage-" you want to say, but he quickly interrupts with a curt: "No one likes an amateur kisser". You're immediately silenced. His voice sounds cold, with a hint of anger in it. "I'm sorry, darling love, it's true." He resumes in an entirely different tonality, dragging his words with an eerie kindness attached to them. He tuts a little, turning towards you and patting his knees. There, there, don't look so deflated. If a simple observation like his hurt you this much, how would you handle the much meaner, downright heartless world out there?

Such is reality. Men are cruel and you had the bad luck to be born with a gentle heart. He delicately guides you to sit in his lap, cupping your burning face between his large hands. He knows this expression too well - you're humiliated. And thus, can he truly allow anyone else out there to see you so vulnerable like this? No, this kind of intimacy is reserved for him. You must understand. He has disciplined you to his liking, and simultaneously learned all the nooks and crannies of your being. It's too late to go back to a simple host and client relationship.

"Why don't you practice with me first, love?" He breaks the silence, placing his lips against your forehead in encouragement. You feel a sudden pressure faintly throbbing underneath you. "T-the kiss?" You ask hesitantly, trying to ignore the sensation and squirming in his tightening hold.

"Everything."

[satoruxx]

THE SPACE BETWEEN COMFORT AND CHAOS.

✧ PAIRING: wolf!toji fushiguro x f!reader | 4.3k words

✧ SUMMARY: wolfhybrid!toji, hybrid au, flashback centric, grumpy x sunshine, animalistic behavior, mentions of injuries, violence, societal inequality, arguments, hateful speech towards hybrids, dysfunctional families, and a shit ton of angst and anger, lil fluff at the end !!

✧ RHEYA'S NOTE: hiii it's my birthday this weekend so i'm dropping chapter 4 as a quick thank you for all the support !! i love you all so much <33 this one is very toji centric and gives a lot of his past and lore to explain why he is the way he is and what led him to find reader !! there is a lot of inequality in this chapter so keep that in mind as you proceed. as always i would recommend checking out the previous parts before reading this :33

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the smell of blood makes toji's eyes crack open. it fills his nostrils, heavy and metallic, and it makes his hair stand on end. despite being so used to that scent, it still makes him uneasy, because sometimes he cannot tell whose blood it is.

once his eyes adjust to the dim lighting, he can't fall back asleep, though he knows he still needs rest. a series of cracks echo from his joints as he sits up, pulses of fatigue swimming through his muscles. pushing up from the ground, he casually approaches the metal bars of his cell.

his cage.

his nose twitches, the smell of blood stronger now that he's closer. a loud yawn rips from his throat, eyes catching some guards dragging another hybrid who had fought that day. he watches them throw the unconscious animal into his cell, not sparing another glance as they turn away. the sounds of their boots gets on toji's nerves, but he does not even have enough time to pity the poor creature.

another set of guards approach his cell. he's sure that they might once again tell him off for being too aggressive, or for not following orders, or for another whipping, but he's saved this time because they're just escorting a hybrid.

a familiar hybrid.

"what's wrong?" toji drawls, lips tugging into a casual smirk. "did y'lose?"

the tiger hybrid hisses angrily in return, as though personally offended, and bares his teeth. his striped ears starkly contrast his pinkish hair.

"like hell," sukuna answers proudly.

toji is about to comment on the various bloodied scratches littering sukuna's body, but one of the guards roughly shoves the tiger into his cell.

"get in!"

sukuna turns to pin him with a murderous glare, tone even and chilling. "touch me again and i'll kill you."

the guard scoffs, unbothered, before shutting the barred door behind him. sukuna's anger rises, but he does not say anything else, choosing to stare daggers at them until they've disappeared around the corner. toji understands the feeling. it would be a piece of cake to rip their throats out, especially for predators as vicious as wolves and tigers.

but they can't. one scratch on a human and they'd be put down.

a beat of silence passes. toji is sure the hybrid sitting across the hall is also thinking about the same thing, so used to biting his tongue just to stay alive.

(he remembers the first day sukuna got thrown in, hisses and snapping teeth as he cursed the guards with all sorts of creativity. toji had been underground long enough to see the same spectacle over and over again, and so he hadn't really given a damn at that time. the two passed weeks in silence, purely focused on their own individual fights and then immediately falling asleep once back in their respective cells.

toji was no expert at reading people, but he could tell that the tiger was as stubborn as he was—they refused to acknowledge one another.

and when they were finally pitted against each other, it was a messy fight. toji still remembers the way the crowd had roared at their aggressive attacks, every draw of blood eliciting some sick twisted pleasure within them.

toji had been used to putting in the bare minimum during his fights, finding it relatively easy to win against other predators. but that fight against sukuna was the first time he struggled a little bit.

the tiger will never admit it, but the feeling was definitely mutual.

so after the brawl, when they were both quietly sitting in their cages and hissing at their wounds stubbornly, there was a brief moment of acknowledgement.

"where the hell did you learn how to fight like that?" the tiger had eyed toji warily, thick brows furrowed in a way that made him look extra grumpy.

after that, it seemed that there was a mutual sense of respect between the two of them. they are not friends per se, definitely not. both toji and sukuna know that if it came down to it, they would kill the other in the arena if it meant staying alive.

but there was an understanding that they were both on the same level. and it seemed that those who ran the fights understood that too.

after all, fights between the two of them were always a very popular spectacle.)

even now, sukuna doesn't look at toji, too busy muttering a string of insults aimed at the guard from earlier. toji ignores them, used to it. they remain in that same silence, not uncomfortable, but not really comfortable either.

toji takes a seat, crossing his legs and leaning against the cold bars. he can still hear the sounds of the guards footsteps echoing through the halls, and that just makes him crave freedom—another familiar feeling.

he should be used to it by now. craving what he cannot have.

sukuna seems to know what he's thinking, because he scoffs with a dramatic roll of his eyes. "don't start."

"you don't ever think about running?" toji ponders, dragging his claws across the stone floor. the tiger's ears twitch, sensitive to the sound, and he throws toji a scathing scowl.

"run? where the hell would we go?" the tiger grumbles, crossing his bulky arms. "you know they'll just find us again. it's pointless."

"but it's happened before," toji insists, scratching behind his ear absentmindedly. there have always been whispers floating through the compound, of hybrids with guts of steel that took it upon themselves to make a run for it. though several were caught and devastatingly punished, there were those who they never saw again. the idea that they must be somewhere where light shines and wind blows is strangely comforting.

"yeah rarely," the tiger snorts in return. a quiet hiss of displeasure escapes his lips as he notices the claw marks running up his arm, and he carefully begins licking at his wounds. "most of the time those fools get caught. and then they get punished."

toji shrugs noncommittally, leaning his head against the bars. "worth the risk."

sukuna curiously peers at him from over his injured arm, heavy brows furrowed. "you really think it's that much better up there?"

"anywhere's better than in here." toji says it resolutely, and sukuna, normally so snippy, says nothing to rebuke him.

before the conversation can continue, toji's nostrils fill with a familiar scent—cigarettes, ironed clothes, faint whiskey. he suppresses a roll of his eyes.

"look who it is." he sarcastically cranes his neck, watching as shiu kong approaches his cell with a nonchalant smile.

"you sure do look relaxed for someone who just had me do a shit ton of paperwork." shiu leans against the wall, eyeing toji through the cell. toji does not like that he has to look up to meet his gaze, so he gets to his feet and casually crosses his arms.

"what the fuck did i do?"

"lots of people enjoyed your fight yesterday. with the polar bear?" shiu pulls out a cigarette, and toji's nose crinkles. "you've got an increase in bets, y'know?"

"who cares?" toji mutters, pushing away from the bars to pace around his cell.

it's not like any of the hybrids get that money.

"i do," shiu chuckles, cigarette balanced between his lips. "you're helping me get paid."

"lucky you," toji sarcastically shoots back. shiu snorts in amusement, crossing his arms.

"anyways, i'm thinking this is a good time to host a big fight for you. the timing is good." toji's "manager" (if that's what you can call him) eyes the wolf as he exhales a puff of smoke. toji's eyes narrow in return, a feeling of anticipation and mild irritation crawling up his skin.

"so you two—" shiu nods his head towards the wolf and the grumpy tiger sitting across the hall. "—prepare for a show, alright?"

sukuna curses colorfully, and toji rolls his eyes. "relax. i'm not giddy to fight you either, asshole."

"yeah because you'll lose," the tiger hisses, baring his teeth.

"oh yeah? that's not what happened last time." toji grins wolfishly, watching sukuna's anger rise.

"because you fucking cheated!"

"aw, little cat can't handle a few bites?" toji's amusement becomes more palpable, enjoying the argument—a very common occurrence for the two of them. "that's why dogs are better."

"i'll kill you," sukuna utters ominously, his striped tail puffed and curling in an aggressively defensive display.

"try it," toji smirks back.

"alright easy boys," shiu chuckles, shaking his head in mild exasperation. "save that energy for the actual fight. people eat that shit up."

"and somehow we're the animals," sukuna grumbles, deciding he's done with the conversation as he heads over to the corner of his cell and curls up on the ground.

"well yeah," shiu shrugs, unfazed. "you should be used to that by now."

they are.

"anyway i figured i'd let you know." the older man turns to face toji. "i know most of the fights are pretty easy for you. but since you both are top tier fighters, prepare how you need to."

"it's not like we've never fought before," toji replies dryly, ears twitching. "i know how it goes down."

"well okay." shiu adjusts his suit jacket, shoving his hands into his pockets.

from the corner of his eye, toji can see sukuna listening in, face impassive.

"you two give me a good show, alright?" shiu casually waves over his shoulder, before heading off back in the direction he came.

"whatever," sukuna grunts, turning on his side. toji watches the tiger's tail lazily flick—side to side. "i hate dogs."

toji lets out a dry chuckle. "well i'm not the biggest fan of cats either, asshole."

again, they aren't friends, but the bleakness of their situation makes it easier to tolerate one another.

a week later, they both face off in the area as promised. shiu claps toji on the back before he heads in, a gesture that makes the wolf's skin prickle, but he brushes it off. he could have someone worse be in charge of him, but shiu is a bit easier to get along with than most of the humans down there. though toji isn't naive—the only reason shiu is so casually cheery around him is because toji is his biggest moneymaker.

that's what it all came down to.

sukuna and toji have both fought enough times to know how to play to the crowd's wishes. they bark and snarl at each other like they are truly wild, claws and teeth and blood everywhere because they know that's what gets the humans going.

that's what gets them to open their wallets at least.

sukuna takes the victory this time around, which is not inherently unusual—they both have a fairly even split of victories and losses. they play up their enmity, and everyone goes wild.

even though hybrids are the shackled ones, somehow these humans remind toji of puppets—so easily manipulated.

the two of them stand and rile up the crowd at the end, acting like they truly are nothing but feral animals who know only to growl and snap at each other. as soon as they hear the sounds of money being exchanged and the roar of conversation they are escorted back to their cells.

toji's ears ring with the sounds of groans and cheers, the same familiar words grating his ears.

"i told you sukuna would win this one!"

"yeah but i said toji would draw first blood, so pay up!"

imbeciles. savages. nothing humane about them.

in their cells, both of them do their best to clean up their wounds. but a fight this aggressive usually results in equally rough damage.

"i think you fractured my rib or something," toji grunts, wincing as he sits down. sukuna throws him an unimpressed look through the bars of his cage.

"not my fault you're weak."

toji's middle finger flies up automatically, and sukuna's lips pull up to one side. "ask them for medical if it's that bad."

"yeah right," toji snorts, licking away the blood that has been dripping from the corner of his mouth. "like they'll listen."

it's more of a curse that hybrids have a better pain tolerance than humans. the medics here never take their injuries seriously for that exact reason.

no instead, they are expected to clean up as they can and prepare for the next fight, letting their body heal as well as possible. humans have always been so hypocritical.

they both relax in a welcome silence. toji suddenly realizes how tired he is, jade eyes straining as he attempts to fix himself up. he knows the rules—damaged merchandise is treated as such.

his ears pick up the faint sound of footsteps approaching, and he realizes that it's probably shiu coming over to update them about the earnings of their fights.

but he is entirely surprised.

"wow, you're definitely a sight."

toji's eyes narrow, teeth gritting. his mood plummets, ears straightening and tail going rigid. the sound of that voice makes every bit of hatred in toji's body come bubbling to the surface. he glares over his shoulder, spitting out each word with extreme difficulty. "what the fuck do you want?"

naoya zenin looks down his nose at the wolf, a greasy smile on his face. naobito zenin stands just behind him, arms crossed with a barely visible look of disgust on his face.

toji's cousin conveniently ignores the accusatory question, peering around the cells and hallway with feigned interest. "these conditions are terrible!"

he finally pins toji with his gaze, an evil smile pulling at his lips. "well, that's to be expected for animals."

"what the fuck do you want?!" toji growls, claws digging into the ground. naoya's eyes light up at the anger, knowing full well that those claws can never come anywhere near him.

"temper! temper!" the blonde gasps, tutting at toji like he's nothing more than a child. "haven't you learned how to control yourself by now?"

"let me out of this cell and i'll show you just how much control i have." the wolf's voice is no more than a rumble, dark and ominous because there is nothing in the world that toji hates more than his own family.

naoya shakes his head, feigning a look of disappointment. "so violent. it's a good thing we put you in here. who knows how dangerous you could've been to us."

the words hit their mark, a jab of self-hatred. toji's green eyes flit over to his uncle, sharp and accusatory.

the one who ratted him out to this godforsaken place.

toji knows when normal families have a predator hybrid born into their home, they lie and cheat and hide them away from this life—too desperate to keep their child away from such danger. after all, it's not the child's fault they were born a predator.

but not toji's family. not the zenins, who took one look at him and waited for the second he turned 18 before hauling him off.

nothing but a bunch of rats.

he knows that he was worth a lot of money. a healthy and fit wolf hybrid, broader and stronger than most of his own species. and of course, his family was quick to sell him off, glad to be rid of this curse on their family—the only shame.

toji had grown up knowing he was hated, but he never thought a family could do something so horrible to one of their own. he stopped seeing the best in people after that.

"you brought this on yourself," his uncle states now, emotionless. his opinion on hybrids has not changed one bit, and yet he shamelessly comes to the compound to collect a portion of the winnings that toji earns. "born with tainted blood."

"you're acting like it's my fucking fault, old man," toji spits out, hackles raised. he wants them to leave, because all he feels when looking at them is nausea.

"it's your damn mother's fault. couldn't keep away from my brother. she ruined him," naobito's emotionless voice takes on a tone of hatred, and toji tenses. "filthy dog whore."

toji's reaction is instantaneous. he's at the bars in a second, teeth bared and spewing curses as he makes a mad grab for either of them. he doesn't care—all he wants to do is tear them to shreds. toji can feel his wounds open further, can feel blood dripping over his skin, but all that seems miniscule when they are in front of him.

the cause of every single misfortune he has ever had.

naoya hops out of the way, laughing—it is a mocking, grating laugh that echoes throughout the hall as he watches toji desperately struggle. "see see! this is why you're dangerous!"

naobito shakes his head, as though he's thoroughly disappointed, but he does not say anything else.

"anyways, well done today!" naoya continues, grinning as he crosses his arms. "you earned a lot of money for us."

toji glares at him, dropping his arm and taking a step back. somehow, being further in his cell is much more comforting than being in their line of sight. he keeps his lips tightly shut.

naoya's voice turns taunting as naobito heads off without another word. "such a shame my dear cousin wasn't born normal like the rest of us." he follows his father without a care in the world, knowing how well his words sting. "had to be born an animal freak."

the hallways is empty. toji takes a few steadying breaths, pushing the anger away because he knows that there is truly no point in keeping it. it's not like this anger has done him any good. maybe if he had gotten angry earlier, he would have zenin blood on his hands—the thought gives him a sick sense of satisfaction.

"your family fucking sucks…" sukuna pipes up from across the hall. toji scoffs out a laugh, but it is far from amused. he turns away.

suddenly the blood on his hands makes him feel disgusting—so much more animalistic than human.

"tell me about it," he mutters, back turned. his ears pick up the sounds of sukuna curling up in his corner, and in a few minutes, quiet rumbling snores follow.

toji sighs, approaching his sink and staring at the cracked mirror he's grown used to seeing himself in. he takes in his reflection, disgust rolling in his stomach.

he thinks he'd probably be considered decently attractive if he was a regular old human. but the dark furry ears, the sharp canines, and all the scars ruin him. adding his haggard clothing and feral eyes and all the blood and dirt on him, he can understand why he is considered so untouchable.

an animal in every right.

he turns the sink on. he is briefly reminded of another time, a time where he lived in a family house and slept in a futon that was warmer than anything he's ever slept in. he can remember wearing things other than rags, occasionally a yukata and other times a t-shirt. he can remember eating a home cooked meal and drinking sake and feeling sunlight on his skin.

and yet even in those better times, he has always had to hear the words of his family cursing his existence. cursing his mother's name for seducing his father and ruining their bloodline with her animal blood.

the only dark stain on the pristine zenin family.

toji sighs, scrubbing the blood from under his claws—like clockwork. the water in the sink turns a mocking shade of pink, and as horrible as it is to say, toji is glad the blood is not his.

he wipes his paws across his ragged clothes, and stares at himself in the mirror.

he isn't ashamed to admit it—but he hates what he sees.

naoya's laughter rings in his ears as he shuts his eyes.

"hey toji?"

his eyes snap open. when the haze clears he sees your features come into focus, soft and curious. your scent floods his nose, and a pleasant shiver runs up his skin. there is a quick sense of relief when he realizes that he had been dreaming of a time in the past, and he steels himself, expression indifferent as he sits up. he briefly recognizes the stark contrast between the hardness of the stone floor in his cell and the softness of your couch—his tongue sits heavy in his mouth.

"what?" he grunts, rubbing at his eyes. he tries to throw you a mock irritated glance, but either it comes off too mild or you've become good at ignoring it. "when'd you get here?"

"a few minutes ago. i got takeout." your lips pull into a teasing smile. "unless you'd rather go back to sleep?"

he pins you with a scathing glare, and annoyingly enough, your smile becomes wider. he stands up, popping his joints and following you to your kitchen table, before diligently taking a seat—in his chair.

toji silently watches you bustle around, grabbing utensils and plates to evenly distribute the food. his stomach growls eagerly, and he realizes just how hungry he is—he recognizes that his body is getting used to being fed so often, and he does not know how to feel about that.

toji's eyes zero in on silly details, not knowing why he does it. your hair is a little messy, not as neat as when you left for work that morning. you've taken off your jacket, the absence of the restrictive fabric making your movements easier. he thinks you've probably had a good day, because your expression, though fatigued, is still relaxed—a small, almost miniscule smile remains on your face.

there a strange satisfaction the settles in his chest when he notices that. he doesn't know why, but the idea that you've had a nice day rather than a difficult one puts him at ease.

"how was your day?" you speak up, briefly making eye contact with him.

(toji does not understand why the small contact makes his stomach flip.)

he grunts, nonchalant. "not bad. didn't do much."

"the injuries are good?"

toji rolls his eyes, dropping his chin into his palm as he pins you with an intrusive stare. "yeah yeah. you ask this every day."

"well it can be good one day and not good the next," you reply defensively, frowning at the chicken you're currently dropping into his plate. but you look satisfied to hear his answer.

toji chuckles mutely. "sure kid."

(the nickname came randomly. you never commented on it. he didn't either.)

he hesitates for a second, before clearing his throat. "how was yours?"

you glance up at him, too quick for him to analyze the expression, but he thinks he catches a faint trace of pleasant surprise. "it was good. boring but not bad at all."

he nods awkwardly—the internal satisfaction grows stronger. his stomach rumbles again as you walk over and place his plate in front of him, and the smell hits his nose immediately—his hunger is all consuming.

(your scent is one of the few human scents he has truly found pleasant.)

and yet he finds himself patiently waiting until you plate your own food, sitting across him quietly. he presses his hands together, bowing his head as he mutters a quiet "thank you for the food" before tucking in.

(he does not say your name, but he thinks he is thanking you—his own twisted version of a god.)

he stays quiet for most of the meal, focusing on the unique and savory taste of the food. months ago he would not have imagined being able to consume such delicacy, but all you have done since you walked into his life is show him that he can have much more than he ever dreamed he could.

you blabber about random things as you eat, telling him about something you saw or what you did throughout the day. he listens.

you're in the middle of updating him about some stupid work drama, which, as embarrassing as it is to say, toji has been looking forward to hearing about. he does not interrupt you, trying to rack his brain for all the details you've spilled the last time.

(it's pathetic how quick he finds them. something about listening to you talk that makes everything else seem useless in comparison.)

"so anyways her husband found out and got mad. but then she basically tried to deny it and said that he was accusing her of nothing." you shove a mouthful of rice into your mouth, rolling your eyes. your tongue flicks out to lick at your lips—toji's eyes shamefully trace the movement. "it's a whole thing now because obviously the dude she was having the affair with works with us too."

"what a bitch," toji answers. your eyes crinkle with amusement, eager to hear him participating. you've probably since realized that he does find your gossip interesting. but it's more than that—he does not know why it's so easy to talk to you.

"right? i hate cheaters," you mutter, stabbing at your chicken.

he does too. something about being a dog that makes loyalty so damn important to him.

(maybe that's why he feels physically ill when he thinks about leaving your side.)

you continue rambling about your cheating coworker with a newfound conviction. toji listens, occasionally dropping a dry remark, and you either laugh or nod emphatically. his lips quirk upward at every reaction. he continues eating his food—slowly so that he can match your pace. which is odd, because he was so damn hungry before.

but even as he quietly chews on the flavored meat, he finds that satiety comes a lot quicker when he quietly listens to you talk.

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if your name is here but you didn’t get tagged, it’s either bc your blog is new/blank/empty or you need to check your privacy settings !!

[whateversawesome]

Spy x Family's Secret Story

A few days ago, I learned something interesting at school: some stories have secret stories.

Hopefully, I can explain it: a secret story is what is not told explicitly in the narrative, but that the reader can understand by the character's behavior, thoughts or actions.

The most interesting part is that this secret story is, in many cases, what pushes the main story forward.

So, of course, I had to apply this to my sxf brainrot 😏 It took me a while to figure it out, but I think I got it...

Remember this panel?

It's one of the most celebrated panels in the manga. We finally got to see Twilight shirtless 😎 and we've enjoyed countless fanarts of it (thanks to all the wonderful artists 👏) Well, it was precisely this panel and the timing of it what made me realize about Spy x family's secret story.

This is the first time we see Twilight naked, right? This was also the first time he realized he was vulnerable.

Here, Twilight, master of disguise, best spy of Westalis, rips his disguise, admits that he has weaknesses and shows us that he's injured because of this vulnerability.

Think about the symbolism of it; a person is at their most vulnerable when naked and we didn't see him in this state until he had that conversation with Yor. Even though the arc was about catching Wheeler, the secret story of that arc was about weakness. Wheeler himself mentioned it several times and it's not a coincidence that in this arc Twilight shows weakness not once, but three times:

1. By not killing Yuri (and getting shot)

2.By getting hurt during the confrontation with Wheeler and lastly...

3.When he sees Yor again!

It's also not a coincidence that he got physically hurt because he showed weakness. I suspect it won't be the last time this happens. Keep that in mind for the future...

All this is related to that secret story l mentioned at the beginning. I think SxF secret story is precisely that, not weakness, but vulnerability.

That conversation he had with Yor was about that; she was trying to convince him to be vulnerable with her (more on that here). And his thoughts were about that too; he's telling Yor in his mind he lives in a world where he cannot be vulnerable.

And that last line!!

It's exactly what secret stories are about: unsaid things.

The fact that an arc about weakness and vulnerability started and ended with Yor and where Twilight acknowledged his weakness is very significant. Do you see it too? All this happened because of her and I think he knows it too.

Twilight's struggle with vulnerability is what pushes the story forward and ultimately what makes so many of us connect with the characters. Clearly, he's losing the battle with himself and he's trusting and relying on his wife more every day; we see it in his behavior. We all want that to happen too!

Because, what is more human than to become vulnerable because of love?

[acexsmhking]

Poly!Brim x GN!Reader

╰┈➤ General Head-Canons for Brian & Tim

Summary: General Head-canons for our two lovely older men

Warning(s): 18+ content, sexual content, GN!Reader, Canon & non-canonical content, personal adaptations

SFW!!

Okay so… this is a.. very weird, complex yet not complex situation

Brian and Tim’s very individual relationship is… unlabeled. It’s so platonically romantic that there just wasn’t a label to fit them

Best way to describe them is soulmates, they just are what they are.. and it’s kinda gay

Brian and Tim have been together like this for years, almost two whole decades. Since back in their college days they’ve been inseparable

You most definitely meet them sometimes after Brian resurrects (he is not dead!!! As they drag me to a padded room)

At first everything is just friendship, it takes awhile to gain their trust, especially Tim’s as he some.. heavy survivors guilt

The romantic part of your relationship starts happening very… uhhh natural?? Not rlly talked about kinda way

At some point those cheek kisses and friend dinners just had a shift in them and none of yall addressed it

It wasn’t until you took them home to meet your family and introduce them as your boyfriends subconsciously that you all had “ohhhhh” moment

I literally cannot explain to how absurdly healthy a relationship with Brian and Tim is. Like it is so emotionally, physically, and spiritually fulfilling

Like whether poly or individual they are so Jowwnoanswn

Ahem. Pardon

Brian is most probably the tallest one, since he is 6’4 and he EATS it up. He just loves when you or Tim call him to grab something that he may or may not have placed too high

Don’t be fooled though, Tim is definitely the strongest one out of pair. He can hold you and Brian

That one couples TikTok

They BOTH spoil the ever loving shit out of you. Like it’s just constant. They come home with flowers or trinkets or something

Brian is the most likely one of out the two to bring you things like rocks and shells

It goes without saying Tim is.. incredibly socially awkward. Although not nearly as bad as when he was younger

When he’s talking to new people he has a nasty habit of picking his fingers, Brian always holds his hands when he’s there and you pick up on this habit. Also holding Tim’s hands

Tim is the middle sleeper. A duty bestowed without his knowledge

He’s just soo cuddly and Brian really likes his leg space

You and Tim both collectively steal Brian’s cloths. His jackets, hoodies, shirts, boxers, pants, shoes. The man can’t even defend himself

You are now Toby’s mom.. figure.. kinda. He’s a little hostile towards you at first (more like a lot) but he warms up to you.

You very much so live an American dream type lifestyle. Gated community, pretty houses, wrap around porch. Whole shebang.

Again I mean… being possessed by a white.. tentacle.. static entity isn’t fun and you miss “basic” forms of living

Meeting Hoodie and Masky though was… well.. something.

Occasionally Masky would just front to hang out with you and Brian. Of course early in the relationship you never knew these “behavioral changes” were him and only Brian did

Hoodie typically only fronts on occasion when Masky is around. He’s still a little mad at Tim and likes making him beg for it

However, seeing them in their clothes that you had once noticed shoved into the corner of the closet was.. scary

They don’t hurt you, but I mean just walking downstairs for water one night and seeing two masked men in your home?? Yeah you reached for the gun

Of course it was a weird confrontation, they can’t talk so they could only give you hand gestures until Hoodie calmed you down enough to grab a piece of paper and pen

Safe to say… you were pissed. In a way. And that’s when you learn about everything. Who they are, what they’ve done, what they do and what Toby is

It bridges a lot of unanswered questions. Questions you never really asked cause again they make you feel so safe and secure your mind kinda just.. goes dumb around them

Hoodie is the most physically affectionate. And I mean.. rlly affectionate. Masky is very.. shy. He has to warm to you a bit before even sitting on the same sofa as you. But once he feels comfortable oh boy

It can be a bit… suffocating

Sometimes Masky will just come and lay on you. And while Masky/Tim aren’t super tall they ARE big boys with some hefty muscle and fat(dad bod Tim<3) … like their cocks OMG WHO

Date nights with Hoodie and Masky then become a thing. Typically at home dates since they feel more safe in their masks, like a barrier from the outside world and anything that can harm them

Masky is now the one bringing you rocks, sticks and shells

Hoodie brings you little flower crowns/rings

The boys LOVE seeing you in their clothes. Masky especially.. try not tease him too much

Jessica is definitely you’re bff, you both have scheduled girls dates to relax and just vent/rant about things and gossip

You also meet Jay but it’s very rare as Hoodie and Masky like to keep you away from them, ESPECIALLY Alex.

You learn to cook for Toby. He surprisingly very specific about very certain things. Not picky. Just specific (he’s picky)

Yeah Brian and Tim don’t let you 20ft from a forest. You are told to stay VERY clear from those and if you hear static not to look up

You learn basic first AID from Hoodie/Brian as Masky/Tim is the one that usually comes home the most hurt

NSFW!!

WOWZA.

Bro, you ain’t getting out of bed LMAO imma be so fr

CAN WE TALK ABOUT BODY-WORSHIP. like these boys will spend at least two fucking hours just worshipping you

Kisses, biting, eating you out, massaging you

THEY ARE SO

Crashing our sorry

First of all, they’re both the kind to like wining and dining first but, if you have those real needy needs, especially after they’ve been gone a while? Yeah you gon find out today

You are 100% between them in some way, shape and or form. And god are you getting CREAMPIED. Tim is definitely more open to cumming without a condom with Brian influencing him

Like the devil on his shoulder LOL

they’re just perverts with an unspoken cum fixation

WHO SAID THAT OMG

Now.. threesome with Masky and Hoodie? May you rest in piece. It’s Masky’s turn to influence Hoodie, making him a little more rougher and uncaring than usual. Wow do y’all have a lot of outdoor sex

PRAISE PRAISE PRAISE PRAISE

Having sex with Tim and Brian is actually so loving it’ll like make you puke. Ugh. #needthat. But also they’re both more than open to uhh.. exploration

HOODIE RECORDS EVERYTHING

Like I mean he edits that shit he is INVESTED

When they’re gone Hoodie will fr just send you videos un-announced a little “thinking about you<3” type thing

Perv

The aftercare; dude. No cause like it’s top tier

Candles, food, shower then a bubble bath afterwards. It’s godly. They will actually DoorDash whatever the fuck you want, spend that money babes they don’t care

That thang is worth every penny to them

LMFAOOO

They lovvvveeee cuddles, so much. Tim/Masky can actually be quite clingy and since Brian/Hoodie are so used to it they fr just encourage it. Sigh imagine laying between them<3

SOMEONE SEDATE ME😭

Brian will never admit it but he loves it when you get your nails done, loves seeing them all pretty wrapped around his cock

Tim lovvveeeessss hair, loves any and all new haircuts you get. Want to decide on a hairstyle? He’s your guy. He will wank that shit too if you have like even the smallest inch

Ngl, Tim’s usual spot is between you and Brian but after sex they both just love cuddling you, like I mean Tim will literally lay you on him and Brian will just be wrapped around you both. Good luck trynna breath

Brian is hiding sex toys that he’s too shy to bring up to you and Tim. Once you find them you actually tease the living hell out of him. Yeah, good luck using those on both of them

HELLO BRIAN/HOODIE PUTTING A REMOTE CONTROLLED VIB IN YA WHILE YOU GUY EAT OUT OR SOMETHING.

Please tell me I’m not the only one.

The mixture of praise and slight degrading/bulling between these two is actually chefs kiss. Delicious

All in all, being with these two is the highest form of honor really and your holes are definitely satisfied LOL

: ̗̀➛ Bro I wrote this forever ago and just like deadass got distracted LMAOOO @an-3moia this is for you pookie. Also y’all Tim will be getting his own fic soon. This will prob be the last fic I post for the day while I work on other things in my bat cave here. Good day my loves — Ace