#making my own posts is scary actually. wow

[transmascblueblur]

What if Jak was trans? (Part I)

[Content warnings: semi-graphic descriptions of afab puberty (menstruation and unsafe binding in particular) with mentions of amab puberty, medical abuse/trauma/torture, mentions of ftm top surgery and HRT, some slightly transphobic & misogynistic phrasing/language, a brief mention of forced detransition, and subtext suggesting that cis adults see a trans minor naked without his consent, though NOT in a sexual way (as well as all the standard stuff you’d expect from the game Jak II, mostly violence).]

Out under the burning sun of the Wastelands, King Damas of Spargus is blessed with a gift from the Precursors: a baby girl.

Or so he thinks.

The heir to the Spargan throne enjoys desert life, riding the leaper lizards, watching the sand fly up behind the buggies as they speed out of the city's gate, sneakily observing the monks as they chant and perform their mysterious rituals. It's a happy, blissful time.

It doesn't take long, though, for the kid to realise that he's not a girl like everyone says he is, and communicates his feelings to the people around him as soon as he knows how. Damas, the leading reject in a city of rejects, a man ruled by nothing more than fatherly love, who would wage war on the blazing sun itself for his child, doesn't turn his back on his now-son, but embraces him. (Perhaps there are even other trans people in Spargus that ended up there for that reason, if Haven is generally a transphobic place?) He changes his former-daughter's name from the feminine Mara to the masculine Mar (or perhaps it was always Mar, in a gender neutral fashion). He cuts his son's hair, lets him wear his little dungarees, and since Mar is so young at this time, nobody who isn't already aware has no reason to suspect that Damas' son was ever anything else.

But then Count Veger strikes.

He hears that the banished King Damas, descendant of the House of Mar (and likely skilled in eco channelling), has had a son. Children are a lot easier to kidnap than adults, even the children of kings, and Veger needs someone who can channel eco for his experiments. In the night, he kidnaps Mar, whisking him out of his desert home and into the heart of metallic, miserable Haven City.

Damas' grief could swallow stars. He'll never stop looking, even if he has to empty the Wastelands of sand one grain at a time. Even if it kills him.

As surprised as Veger is to eventually discover that Mar isn't exactly a typical little boy, this doesn't affect his experiments, so he's content referring to Mar the way everyone else does, as a boy. All he truly cares about is unlocking the Precursors' secrets, anyway.

By means that remain unknown, perhaps after only a few days, or perhaps after many months, or something in-between, Mar is freed. Maybe Veger, or even an assistant of some kind, lets his guard down for just a second, and the sly little kid sneaks away, stumbling out of the lab and finding himself alone in an unfamiliar place — bare-footed, traumatised, silent. A stray croca-dog, just as dirt-covered and lonely as the boy, forms an attachment to him. With saliva dripping from flesh-rending teeth, he protects Mar from those that would harm him long enough for him to be found by Samos and taken to the Underground, where he also meets Kor.

Samos realises what that amulet around the child's neck means. As long as the kid sticks around long enough to be put on Haven's throne when Praxis is done away with, it doesn't really matter if he has shoes or not, right? Besides, as The Shadow, Samos has bigger priorities than babysitting. To the rest of the Underground, a scruffy little kid with short hair, dungarees, and a big croca-dog looks enough like a boy, so they have no reason to question whether he's a real boy or not. Besides, a lot the Underground's members generally prefer knowing that the heir to Haven isn't a girl, even if they can't quite justify why when Tess asks them.

Kor, meanwhile, already knows just who this child will become. Whilst baby Mar is now with the Underground, his older self has already come through the warp-gate and fallen into Praxis' hands, so Kor has seen the kid's older self at least once, and has seen at least a hint of the man - the hero - that he will grow into. (If he doesn't kill him first.)

And then, of course, shenanigans ensue. Mar meets Jak (thinks he's really cool) and Daxter (thinks he's really cute), is told to attempt the Tests of Manhood (and the door opened for him at first — he always knew he was a boy!), and gets kidnapped by Kor to open the Precursor Stone.

In the end, Mar watches as his former carer's severed head skids along the ground towards Jak's feet. (Gross. But also kinda cool.)

Then Mar realises that Jak is actually himself in the future, and gets the validation and euphoria he never knew he needed. He takes on the name Jak for himself, and travels back in time to Sandover Village with Samos, remembering nothing of his old life but the fading light of the warp-gate. (Unfortunately, he forgets that warning about the wumpbee nest.)

(Due to time loop issues, this means that the name Jak just appears from nowhere, since the Jak living in Sandover Village was given it from his older self that he met as a child in Haven, who heard it from his older self back when he was a kid, and the loop continues. If we want a satisfactory answer to the true origin of Jak's name, time-loop aside, my personal preference is this:

The Kid isn't speaking at all when he first arrives in Sandover, and Samos was always content to refer to him as just "The Kid" anyway, so without a way to clearly communicate his desire for a name with Samos, that's how he stays for a while. Over time, The Kid gets to know Keira, Daxter, and the villagers, and they get to know him. United by the same adventurous spirit, The Kid and The Explorer grow closer, and The Explorer then becomes known as Uncle. Samos is content to have someone else caring for The Kid, now that he has a daughter to take care of, and is happy for him to have some semblance of a family, so when Uncle suggests, you know, maybe giving the poor lad a name, Samos agrees. Keira and Daxter also suggest names, of course, but Samos flat refuses to let them, Daxter especially, who is currently a scruffy urchin but who he knows will one day be an animal, name the future hero of Haven. Furthermore, Samos is perfectly aware of the grim fate that Sandover Village will suffer when the warp-gate is reopened, so he allows The Explorer to name Jak as a small way for Sandover's people to live on.)

Time passes like thick honey in Sandover Village. The sea caresses the shoreline of Sentinel Beach, wind whispers and howls through the trees of the Forbidden Jungle, and yakows chew hay lazily over at the farm. Life is good, peaceful.

Jak grows up a bit, grows closer with Daxter and Keira, gets stung by some wumpbees, does a lot of exploring, makes a lot of trouble.

Eventually he finds himself able to talk sometimes, rather than just using the sign language he and Daxter invented for themselves, and doesn't mind doing it now and then. Then Daxter's voice starts dropping. A sudden jealousy starts gnawing at Jak, so he decides to keep quiet most of the time, even in the moments he can speak. (Daxter prefers the limelight anyway.)

Growing up has other downsides, too. Jak finds himself using whatever the women of the village recommend — certain types of grass, cloth, wool — to stop the bleeding that feels constant, even if it only comes every few weeks. And sweet Precursors, it hurts. (Not to mention the other strange stuff — headaches, tiredness, his gums feeling weird, an unsettled stomach, and the urge to cry and throw things, to name a few.) Keira, going through the same thing, gives advice and support, and whilst that makes it easier to bear, other boys don't have to suffer this, and that's all Jak can think about.

And then Jak's body starts really changing, visibly — especially his chest. All the while, Daxter enjoys a flat chest, a (small) growth spurt, no stomach cramps or bleeding, and a voice that cracks pleasantly, even if he himself finds it embarrassing (as well as apparently some... interesting dreams, but Daxter refuses to talk much about them).

When it gets too much to bear, Jak starts flattening his chest with bandages and suffers through the pain, periodically repairing the damage to his ribs and lungs with green eco. He has no other options. He'll always have to live this way, he knows. It's a horrifying truth, but perhaps it’s worth it when your two best friends - and all the other villagers, for that matter - can see you for who you are. But even when he begs Samos to please do something about all these awful, awful changes, the sage refuses, because even he doesn't know what to do. (Although, having already met Jak's older self, Samos knows that one day Jak's voice will be deep, his chest will be flat, and wonders how in green tarnation that will happen. It takes him a while to realise that the answer is not a happy one.)

Life goes on, and Jak grows older. For the first time, he finds himself truly envying his homeless, ill-treated, buck-toothed best friend, which just makes him feel worse, since Jak is objectively the luckier of the two (he's never accused of stealing, and always has a place to sleep). If Daxter notices Jak's jealousy, he's nice enough not to say anything. But no amount of envy on either side is enough to hurt their relationship, and they just grow closer the older they get.

More shenanigans ensue after the boys visit Misty Island (an inevitability, Samos knows, even if he did try to warn them). It all ends in a darkening sky, horrifying creatures crawling and fluttering out of a warp-gate, and a monster's voice cracking the tropical air like thunder,

"You cannot hide from me, boy!"

(It also ends with Daxter remaining short, furry, and bright orange. Overnight, Jak's envy is replaced with guilt as solid as the mountains.)

And just like that, Jak is back in Haven, lost and confused with nobody but an animal companion by his side for the second time in his life (but the first that he recalls).

But it doesn't last long. Seconds, at most.

Commander Erol has already received his orders from Baron Praxis, who was himself given a tip-off from Onin, and is expecting to pick up a teenage boy at the pier, and drag him to the prison kicking and screaming if necessary (through preferably with less fuss than that). Erol and his team retrieve the boy as planned, and Praxis is thrilled to finally have the most promising candidate for the Dark Warrior Program in his clutches. Imagine their surprise, perhaps when making Jak change into his prison uniform, when they notice something strange — he's not quite as male as that old soothsayer had made him out to be.

At first, the Baron is baffled. Onin had said a boy, but whoever this kid is, they're definitely the one. Their eco powers speak for themselves. Perhaps he sends Erol to ask Onin for an explanation, and perhaps she says just what she said the first time. So Praxis thinks about it. He's heard of people doing this sort of thing before, changing their sex, though he can’t quite fathom it himself. Of course, he could simply force this kid to live as female, change his name, warp his entire identity into what Praxis himself wants him — her — to be.

But then the Baron thinks some more. Jak wants to be a boy, badly. The tight bandages on his chest are a clear testament to that, and if the wise old Onin says he's a boy, she's probably not wrong. All it would take is some injections (which Jak will be no stranger to, since the eco will need to go directly into his bloodstream) and maybe some surgeries here and there. If Jak doesn't need to bind anymore, doesn't have to worry about menstruating anymore, and can grow the strength and muscle of a real man thanks to the testosterone, he will be a better warrior, and that works in Praxis' favour. Furthermore, it might even make Jak feel indebted to him, could even inspire some loyalty. After all, what use is your perfect Dark Warrior if he hates your guts, resists all of your commands, and is probably constantly plotting to kill you?

So the Baron makes Jak into a man and, as they will soon see, into a monster.

(It takes Praxis longer than it should to realise that, despite the surgeries and testosterone that he wouldn't have otherwise been able to access, Jak will never feel even an ounce of loyalty to him.)

Erol, meanwhile, has no qualms with Jak's transition. If anything, it makes him feel slightly better, because now he knows for sure that it's not a girl he's hurting (and this, for some reason, makes a world of difference to him).

Time crawls by like some dying insect as Jak rots in his cell. He's forced to train until he drops, takes beating after beating from the guards, suffers Erol's relentless sadism, screams and thrashes in the injection chair. It feels like years. He still remembers Daxter’s last words to him,

“Don’t worry Jak, I’ll save ya before ya know it!”

He wonders how long ago that was. He wonders if he’ll ever see Daxter again. He didn't know it was possible to miss someone so much, and wishes he never had to know that feeling.

Finally, the time comes. Sure, he’s a man now, and much stronger than he was, but no amount of dark eco in his blood is making him into the superweapon that the Baron has been searching for, and Jak is his last hope. (He's already seen the other four die, one at a time, wondering when it will be him.)

Praxis orders Erol to kill Jak that night. The Commander, now apparently bored of using him as his personal punching-bag and lab rat, gleefully agrees.

So Jak is left alone, lying limp in his restraints, the agony of another dark eco injection still blistering through his veins, only vaguely aware that at last, his suffering will end.

At one time he’d hoped to escape, to tear Praxis limb from limb, to make him suffer, but apparently that time has passed.

Now there’s nothing he can do but wait for death.

But then a familiar voice, like the sun through stormclouds, rings out through the sterile silence of the prison.

[weebsinstash]

As much as I strongly dislike when a series kind of "cages" the self insert/OC potential of its audience, it's becoming pretty clear that there's a certain level of pre-determined-ness to Sinners and their appearances, almost to the point it's vaguely implied entire sections of Pentagram City are like, ethnically/visually distinct and that every character we see fits into some sort of category and resembles other people. There's an Overlord who's a giant raptor dinosaur and there are other dinosaur Sinners (and also she's like the club/rave based overlord and even has a business, Klub Kaiju, interesting). Valentino is a moth and there are other moths and different bugs like spiders. In the most recent episode showing flashbacks of Hell in Alastor's past, there was a past female Overlord who had the same multi-toned angular swirling hair as Velvette does. In Vox's studio in episode two, he has members of staff that are visually similar to his own aesthetic. Even up in Heaven, Angel's sister Molly still has her spider aesthetic with a halo and cherub wings

so, i guess, to go where I'm ACTUALLY going with this post.... Moth Reader who winds up catching Valentino's eyes because "oh wow we're both moths, isn't that cute" and it escalates into him seeing you as his property, ESPECIALLY if you also have weird drugging/pheromone powers like him

Like can you imagine it? You smack down into the city while he's like having lunch at a cafe or his limo is parked at a light and you're standing up all confused and helpless and cute, hugging yourself as you look around this loud violent scary new place, and you two wind up making exact eye contact and he can tell you're crying and scared, easy prey. Could you picture Reader's equivalent of his coat being that you're in a little hoodie or jacket or shawl and it just unwraps while you're sitting with him. Idk. You accidentally inhale some of his smoke and just give a cute little sneeze and your antenna and your wings are all just poofing out, you basically just equipped that shit from your inventory. On the fence if Reader would have chest fur but maybe your hair hair is really big and long and silky

Moth Reader having eye spots on their wings that can lull someone into hypnosis, or you have some sort of pheromone that makes people weak to your demands, maybe even horny for you, like some mind controlling queen bee ordering her drones. Val's in the bathroom and some creep grabs you and all of a sudden your antenna twitch and his face gets hit with a little puff of 'dust' and suddenly he's letting go of you, "oh my gosh sweetie I am so sorry, here, take all the money in my wallet, you deserve it, I'm so sorry queen, I'm gonna go jump into traffic, sorry queen, sorry, sorry, im a worm, sorry, sorry"

Valentino having unique reactions to your "pollen" as another moth or at least an addict with a tolerance. He buries his face in your neck so you "poof" him on purpose and he's just hotboxing your scent and getting high and horny while you're struggling and squealing. He forces you to use your powers on him and others so they can feel happy and high. At some point he may even force you to keep producing the powder so he can sell it as a drug or a product and at that point you're BIG INCOME for him, he might as well carry you around like his personal vape pen

Like. Can you even imagine "oh yeah Im super lucky enough that i have these powers to protect myself and potentially manipulate others" and you think you're safe and untouchable and this man is like using his fucking credit card to shift your powder into lines to snort it like a rail of cocaine. You can turn "normal" Sinners into your helpless pawns but it loses effectiveness the stronger the person is and this man is like HOTBOXING your shit, all but passing out on the couch with you in his arms in pure drug seeking unrestrained bliss. And then he fucks ya cause I mean, it's YOUR fault he's all hot and bothered now isn't it?

Just Reader not even knowing how much danger they're in because you just got here and have no idea who this guy is and you're just spinning around looking at your new appearance and flapping your little wings and maybe you can even float or fly a little bit, all happy, big big smiles, being all "oh my gosh this is so cool, I feel so cute ^^" and you don't even realize you're practically modeling yourself on a runway to one very, VERY interested customer...

[bluewxrld07]

She's All I Wanna Be (Trevor Zegras)

Trevor Zegras x Reader - Instagram AU

Warning(s): Angst

Summary: Based off Tate McRae's song She's All I Wanna Be :)

dixiedamelio just posted a photo!!

liked by charlidamelio, mileycyrus, trevorzegras, and 1,250,542 others

dixiedamelio Inner Miley Cyrus Bangerz era.... oh and pc to Z

load more comments

user1 ok but her suit slays

user2 anybody else notice she didn't tag Trevor? Little sis if you ask me

user3 We all know they're together at this point. They just don't want to rip the bandaid off

user2 Right? We all know he dumped yourusername to be with Dixie. He's just trying to avoid confirmation

charlidamelio 🦆

addisonrae Bod goals af

trevorzegras 😳

trevorzegras sorry still in awe of u

user4 He doesn't even try to hide it

yourusername just posted a photo!

liked by jackhughes, yourbff, jamiedrysdale, colecaufield and 1,475,998 others

yourusername you want the girl with the small waist, and the perfect smile

load more comments

user1 She's always been so gorgeous I am obsessed w/her

user2 Glad to see a model who has the same body type as me owning it 🥰

user3 Yeeesshhhh Trevor's loss

user4 Why would she post something like this when her body looks like that? It's actually horrendous 🤢

user1 This is what healthy looks like first off? Second off she's a gym influencer who heavy lifts? What's your talent? Tell me her confidence levels are annoying you without actually telling me fr user4

yourbff Currrrves for daysss

yourbff Hottie w/ a body??!

jackhughes Bestie looking fine as always

yourbff um jackhughes bye she's my bff get your own bff since your last one has a trashy looking type jackhughes Shhhh don't expose me like that we don't claim it

trevorzegras just posted a photo!

liked by charlidamelio, dixiedamelio, alexturcotte, and 1,045,609 others

trevorzegras Obsessed w/ u

tagged: dixiedamelio

load more comments

user1 well this wasn't on my bingo card

user2 omg isn't that Charli's sister? I forgot her name. What does she do???

user1 I'm dead, you really clowning her lmfao user2

user3 So much prettier than what's her face

user4 I miss yourusername

user5 It's the fact that she's back to her darker hair? Anyone finding that a little weird?

dixiedamelio All heart eyes for you 😘

yourusername just posted a photo!

liked by yourbff, jackhughes, tatemcrae, gigihadid, and 2,649,913 others

yourusername if you say she's nothing to worry about, then why'd close your eyes when I said it out loud?

load more comments

jackhughes Bring me my matcha latte

yourusername I'd already be there if someone didn't drop it, so we're getting you a new one jackhughes yourbff It wasn't my fault the door didn't announce its presence..... jackhughes only you'd blame the door yourbff

user1 Literally love this girl

user2 Kinda crazy Trevor posts Dixie right after yourusername posted. He also never posted her, so what makes Dixie so different lmao

user3 what’s crazier is that Dixie literally just dyed her hair blonde and cut it so short, to now having dark hair and extensions 🤔

yourbff You look sooo good

yourbff IM obsessed w/ YOU

user4 The shade lmfao crazy

dixiedamelio posted a photo!

liked by noahbeck, charlidamelio, tanamongeau, trevorzegras and 3,146,098 others

dixiedamelio thanks vanity fair for the fun day 💅🏼

load more comments

user1 ohhhh boy…

user2 Yeah it’s scary how much she’s tryna look like yourusername

tanamongeau Wow Dix ballsy as fuck lmao

yourbff interesting.

user3 SO glad yourbff sees it too

user4 Dixie can try to look like her, but she won’t ever be able to lift like her. Bet she can’t lift anything over ten pounds

jackhughes just posted a photo!

liked by yourbff, colecaufield, l_hughes03, yourusername and 5,973,899 others

jackhughes We can lay on her and she still doesn’t feel a thing. Probably could lift us both with her eyes closed

tagged: yourusername, colecaufield

load more comments

user1 I’m living for Jack being on her side during this lmfao

user2 The SHADE LMFAO JACK

user3 Let’s see Dixie try to remake this photo bahahah

yourbff Pretty sure you all fell asleep like that too

yourusername we did lmfao

colecaufield comfiest I’ve ever slept

jackhughes 10/10 recommend

yourbff Writing out the yelp review rn

l_hughes03 I call top next time

yourbff just posted a photo!

liked by tatemcrae, yourusername, colecaufield and 1,347,856 others

yourbff I was just as amazed as Tate was when y/n lifted me onto her back. Carrying me on her back as well as she did with her last relationship. Stupid boy making her so sad

tagged: tatemcrae, yourusername

load more comments

tatemcrae That last line in your caption sounding a little familiar 🤔🤔

tatemcrae But also me next, me next!!

jackhughes I walked in on this

l_hughes03 I walked out on this

colecaufield I wanna be in on this

yourusername you’re all a pain in my ass on this

yourbff We just love you ok

*liked by yourusername, jackhughes, l_hughes03, colecaufield and tatemcrae*

user1 This friendgroup is what I strive to have in life

user2 Dixie kicking and punching air rn

*liked by yourbff*

dixiedamelio posted a photo!

liked by charlidamelio, trevorzegras, jamiedrysdale, alexturcotte and 4,137,980 others

dixiedamelio all mine plus bff

tagged : trevorzegras, alexturcotte

load more comments

user1 Girl keep him lmfao nobody gonna steal him like you did to yourusername

*liked by yourbff*

user2 Nah man not Alex bro rip 🥲🥲

trevorzegras all yours ❤️

charlidamelio He wanted someone he could show off whenever you go out

dixiedamelio I’ll wear a tight mini black dress with all my friends around 💅🏼

user3 ohhhh she PETTY petty

user4 Her and her sister wanna be besties with Tate and yourusername so bad omfg it’s a headache

*liked by yourbff and tatemcrae*

tanamongeau I think I’ve seen similar posts like these somewhere….🤔

yourusername posted a photo!

liked by jackhughes, tatemcrae, yourbff, trevorzegras and 7,247,113 others

yourusername I’m all she wanna be so bad

load more comments

user1 OH NOW THIS WAS A TWIST

user2 Not her turning the lyrics around to call out Dixie oop

tatemcrae lyric change approved 😚❤️

yourusername 🥰💅🏼

yourbff kind of like this version better

tatemcrae Glad I’m not the only one

jackhughes Permission to call you mommy after seeing this post?

yourusername denied

yourbff denied

tatemcrae denied

l_hughes03 Wow you got rejected more than me my Freshman year at Umich jackhughes

colecaufield The better looking ex

user3 It’s the fact Trevor liked the post too I’m dead

*liked by yourbff and yourusername*

[catboygretzky]

Do I even want to know what happened in the last 24 hours 😭 I'm almost afraid to ask but I'm also insanely curious

You probably don't want to know but I'll tell you because you have no choice. This will be long and...awful. But there are sources so that's fun! Please keep in mind that this was all released within 24 hours on Thursday, September 20th, 2024 and that, unfortunately, I haven't mentioned everything.

But! The GOP was certainly having a wild one yesterday.

To start things off:

The first 'Big News' to break was about Mark Robinson.

For those saying 'who the fuck is Mark Robinson', he's the current (R) Lt. Gov of North Carolina that is running for Gov. Before yesterday, he was best known for openly hating LGBT+ and Jewish folks, being a Holocaust denier, being (forcefully) anti abortion, saying it was better when women couldn't vote, anti immigrant, hating the civil rights movement, etc, just being a hateful Evangelical nasty fascist. MAGA to his core. Trump has endorsed him, saying he should be cherished and calling him "MLK on steroids". (Robinson is Black).

So, yeah, that's bad enough right? Yesterday it got even worse. CNN released a report about some comments he made on a porn site forum 12 years ago, the most prominent being 'i'm a black NAZI'. He also commented that he wished slavery was legal and that he'd own a few, and called himself a 'perv' that used to 'peep' on women in public locker rooms when he was a teenager.

Also the tale as old as time that I'm sure you could guess when I mentioned 'GOP' 'loudly transphobic' and 'porn site scandal' - trans porn was a favourite of his. Because of course.

Also of course - the GOP hasn't taken him off the ticket, and he will continue to be the nominee for governor in North Carolina!

Read the article, there's more about him and the situation in general. Mind the warnings.

-

Now on to our favourite worm brained bear eating anti vaxxer conspiracy theorist, Robert F. Kennedy Junior! I'm putting this under a read more now.

The first thing to drop about him yesterday was the news of an investigation after he allegedly cut off the head of a dead whale and took it home 20 years ago. Now I bet you're thinking, wow that's bad! Unfortunately for RFK Jr yesterday got worse. It was then revealed that he (70) was having an affair with right wing journalist Olivia Nuzzi (31) after New York Magazine suspended her.

Everything I learn about RFK Jr I learn against my own will.

-

Saying goodbye to RFK for now, let's move on to Rep. Matt Gaetz of Florida! This Matt Gaetz, with the botox if you didn't recognise him.

Scary lookin, right?

This isn't a completely new story (here's an article about how he alledgedly paid for sex with a minor) but new court filings were released yesterday alledging that he attended a drug-fueled sex party in 2017 with the 17-year-old girl at the center of the alleged sex trafficking scandal.

Sure is great to have such trustworthy men representing this country!

OKAY, on to the next.

-

This wasn't really breaking news because this is just Trump being Trump but he gave a speech at an ANTI ANTISEMITISM EVENT where he preemptively blamed the Jews for being the reason he'll lose this election, telling them they need to get their head checked if they vote for Harris (that's pretty much part of his stump speech by now though) and saying he'll reinstate his Muslim ban. White fascist blaming Jews? Wow, I did Nazi that coming.

-

I genuinely could go on, I really truly could.

Oh! Kamala Harris went on Oprah and it was really nice and not at all insane and she talked to the family of the first known victim of Trump's abortion ban and it was very touching. Trump's official social media then posted a clip of her talking about her gun and saying 'If somebody breaks into my house, they're getting shot' like it was a snatch when in reality Republicans in the comments are saying 'actually, this would make me vote for her'. Thanks, Trump Team for the free advertising!

Misc:

Chris Rufo (known racist and anti immigration right wing activist) got revealed to have an illegal immigrant wife, and then got revealed to be a user of Ashley Madison (database where people go to cheat on their partners)(Robinson was also on Ashley Madison).

Jasmine Crockett during her thing and ripping white republicans to shreds. (idk this was just fun to me)

Actually Republicans and Project 2025 got ripped to shreds and shut down in general by multiple Congress members.

GOP is on the brink of causing a government shutdown, because of COURSE they are.

Cards Against Humanity sues SpaceX over “invasion” of land on US/Mexico border.

Anyway there's actually MORE believe it or not but I can't remember if it happened yesterday. Thank you for reading, I'm always open to discussing current events. I don't think it's a well known fact that I'm into politics because I don't talk about it on tumblr because people are kinda stupid. Anyway!

[byslantedlight]

Hello OFMD Tumblr thingie, and all the amazing people who are out there, and especially the ones who've been making all the posts that have made me so happy over the last few months. 💖💖💖 First and most importantly, thank you, thank you, thank you, to anyone who sees this!

This is my first post to Tumblr (probably pretty obvious from my huge lack of Tumblr sophistication! And the length of this post...) If you don't count reblogging things that I wanted to be able to find again. I've braved up to comment thank you to people a couple of times, but that's been it so far. I must admit it all looks a bit scary from this side of the glass, even though I can also see how friendly people mostly are.

But OFMD fandom is big! And you've been here a long time! I loved Series 1 when I watched it, and knew I wanted to watch out for Series 2, but it wasn't until I re-watched it when the Series 2 trailer came out on BBC iPlayer that I fell veeeery in love with it! And by then you were already here, and there was a language and debates about things I'd barely even noticed, and it's mostly me staring with big eyes thinking wow, and sometimes huh? and... well, you know. Plus there's trying to work out Tumblr, which I definitely haven't actually managed to do yet, and possibly never will, so... I decided to just jump in and post summat. Even just rambling, which is a bit of a specialty of mine... I mean - what's the worst that can happen, right? 😬

So... how come now? Well, I can't make art or gorgeous screenshots or gifs. I do write, but I'm still hanging out to get the right voices in my keyboard... I know them when I hear them, but you've gotta get the right rhythm going, and I'm not quite there yet, I don't think. Although really, I should probably just sit down and try (and stop waiting for work to shut up and give me time - I should be a pirate and take it!)

Anyway (told you about the rambling...) what I'm mostly doing apart from rewatching the eps on a constant loop is reading the fic. I'm picking it according to kudos on AO3, and according to recs that I see on Tumblr, and it's occured to me that alot of the stories I'm loving must have been recced looong ago, and that newbies like me totally missed them, and so maybe I could do my own recs, even if they are of older stories, and someone might find them useful. You know, if I work out how anyone else might ever see my posts. 😁 And if people aren't put off by my probably age-revealing use of emojis. (But I am entirely age-appropriate for Ed and Stede, and if I had to look up what zaddy meant too, well, that just means I matched Rhys Darby's expression in the bts, right? 🤨)

So it's not much, but I'd like to contribute even just a tiny bit to OFMD fandom in return for everything it gives me, so... yeah. That's my plan. I'll start in a bit, but this post is probably already too long since it's just rambling. And kind of dull. I should probably have said tl:dr at the top, shouldn't I, but then maybe anyone who actually saw this wouldn't, so... See, I kind of live in hope. 😊

Okay. Tags next, right? ... ack ... why won't it let me create new tags instead of just using ones from the drop down...? Well, those will have to do for now... maybe someone who sees this will have mercy and tell me how? I'll just be over here being a slight failure at Tumblr... And if you've made it this far (how long is an acceptable post over here?! Not this long, I don't think...) - thank you hugely for just that, and may your dreams be OFMD and joyous!

[slutshamethesquirrels]

Lost Lamb

pastor's son!geto x fem!reader

length: 12.8K (oof my apologies)

cw/tw: prison, arrest, religious shenanigans, implied/referenced child abuse

Your ex, your first love, Suguru Geto has been granted parole after spending several years in prison for manslaughter. You want closure.

A Disclaimer:

friends, please listen to me before you start this fic: there is implied child abuse in here.

i intentionally left it vague, because i didn't want to dwell on it for any longer than i had to. i dont have any particular headcannon about what happened to the girls in this au. assume it's bad, basically is what i'm hinting at here.

Suguru Geto’s arrest had taken your small hometown by storm.

In the following weeks, everywhere you turned there was a reminder. His empty spot in the back pew on Sunday morning, his jacket on the door hanger in your bedroom, his mugshot plastered all over facebook. You wished every middle aged mother that commented on the posts accidentally got their fingers caught in the garbage disposal. You’d made the mistake of voicing that opinion to your own mother, who’d called you hateful.

Wow!! He was always such a sweet kid!! What happened!! PRAYERS!!

Is that pastor getos boy??

It’s that damn Gojo kid he's been hanging out with.

Sad. what happens when you take god out of schools.

i cant believe this!!

I knew the minute he refused to cut his hair and stretched his ears he was a lost cause.

Your parents had eventually taken away your phone, and after a particularly rough point, your bedroom door from its hinges.

Initially, he’d received a few charges. Murder in the second degree, and attempted kidnapping. Tacked on were lesser charges; unlawful possession of a firearm, simple possession of controlled substances. Eventually, those charges had been dropped and reduced until he was left with nothing but second degree manslaughter. It was a hell of a plea deal, and most of the town suspected it had to do with the family’s influence, however the judge had simply sighted “mitigating factors”.

You do your best to ignore the whispers, the rumors, but they bled in anyway. He was gone, long gone and yet he was right there on every local news station, in every tear, in every nightmare, falling from people's lips in the local diner:

“Did you hear about the pastor's kid?”

You can't see the nasally woman behind you, but you mind conjures up an image. Middle aged, bob cut, wrinkly and judgemental. You bet she collects expired coupons like Pokemon cards.

“Yeah! I actually went to that church a few times! Isn't that so scary?! I heard that he always sat behind those little girls at church. Creepy!”

Her equally as nosey friend wasn't wrong. Suguru did sit behind the Hasaba twins every Sunday. What they didn't know was he had confided to you once that they had a rough home life. Apparently his parents had temporarily taken them in for a while as toddlers so their parents could “sober up”, the details of which were unclear. He wouldn't give you specifics, but you could garner that whatever was happening behind the scenes since they’d been returned home wasn't good. You always thought Suguru was lying in wait for something to happen, though you never knew just what.

“I mean, how do you kill someone, kidnap their girls, and only get ten years?!”

“You have a preacher for a daddy, that's how.”

“That's crazy! And a possibility of parole after only three years?!”

“Girl, I know! And poor Mr.Hasaba! He always seemed so sweet, you know? He just had kind eyes.”

She had no idea what she was fucking talking about. That man was a creep. Your mother had an awful habit of making you hug older church members goodbye, and his hands always slid a little too low, held you a little too tight. He was insistent upon cheek kisses, and they always felt disgusting; sloppy clamps of his lips instead of soft polite pecks. Once, you’d tried to tell your parents you didn't want to hug him goodbye anymore, but they'd simply told you it was the polite thing for a little girl to do.

“I wonder what he had planned for those girls?”

“Thank god we’ll never know!”

But you wanted, needed to know. There wasn't a single part of you that didn't crave the answer to the question that had plagued you for weeks; What happened to him?

Suguru had always been a sweet boy. Your playground protector, puffing up his chest to kids twice his age when they pulled your pigtails. You recalled a time he'd found a dead bird on the lawn of the church, and promptly went and buried it by the woodline, complete with a few verses of Amazing Grace and a moment of silence. He'd cried, and you pinky promised to never ever tell anyone he'd gotten so upset.

A few years later, he’d become the envy of all your friends. Any girl in your grade would've killed to have a boy two grades above them walk them home every day. You had let them be jealous, and hadn't dared to tell them that you were pretty sure Suguru would never like you like that. In fact, when they started a rumor that you two had been caught kissing behind the bleachers, you didn't deny it at all.

Turns out you were wrong, and you’d never been happier than when Suguru had asked you to prom three years later. Your parents had been absolutely thrilled. By that point, Suguru had been around for years, and he had always been respectful and well-behaved.

Doors stayed wide open when he was over, but usually he didn't seem all that interested in whisking you away from the other members of your family, much more happy to sit in the living room, talking business with your father or future plans with your mother; she liked to prod him with intrusive questions, all of which he handled with exemplary grace. That doesn't mean they weren't mortifying for you, though. Suguru was your friend and here she was asking him about grandchildren.

You had a sneaking suspicion that it was less about your relationship with Suguru, and more about your relationship with Suguru, the pastor’s son. Your family name wasn't known for much in this town, but the Geto’s held control of the church and therefore, control of the town itself. To be related to them was your mother's golden ticket to sit with the uppity tennis-skirt wine moms at every ballgame. When he started sitting with your family every Sunday, she saw an opportunity and was more than willing to take it.

It didn't hit you until he arrived at your door in a fitted suit that night that maybe one day that could be a real possibility. You hadn't expected to feel like you did. Standing in the lowlight of the gymnasium, for the first time you noticed he'd grown to something beautiful. Long gone was your playground hero. He'd been replaced by someone taller, leaner, more… handsome. The chub of his cheeks was fading, but his dimples still appeared when he smiled, and everytime they did you got this roller coaster-esque feeling, like you were free falling right through the floor.

Your mom had reminded the two of you to leave room for Jesus when dancing, but that didn't stop you from wrapping your arms around his neck as you slow danced, pressing your body against his, making a mental note to repent later. His hands had fallen against the small of your back as you swayed, and it struck you just how big they'd gotten. The thought made you shudder. His forehead fell down against yours, awkward bangs toppling out of his bun and falling across your own forehead. You tried to keep your eyes open, memorize the way his lashes fluttered against his burning cheeks, but found the sight too powerful to withstand, instead shutting them. Which was maybe worse, because without the distraction of eyesight everything else felt so much more intense. You found the rise and fall of his chest comforting, the hotness of his breath fanning across your face intoxicating. You, somehow, hadn't expected it when he leaned forward and captured your bottom lip between his own, but it lit a fire in you that to this day you hadn't been able to quell completely.

He left for college your Junior year. You had tried to hold it in, not show any sign of weakness, but every minute you spent with him felt like a countdown. He was going to the city, where the girls were gorgeous and knowledge was a bottomless well. You couldn't convince yourself he'd still think of you, the girl from down the street with braces and bargain bin jeans when he had the whole world to choose from. It had all come to head on move-in day. For the first time, your parents allowed you to be alone with him. You were angry that it just so happened to be the day you'd have to leave him here, hours away. His assigned roommate hadn't arrived yet, so he got to pick which uncomfortable mattress and study desk would be his. Your hands shook as you pulled his clothing from bins, folding them and tucking them away into the stow-away drawers beneath his bed.

“Are you okay?” He’d asked, and that was all it took for the dam to bust. You’d frozen, one of his hoodies still gripped in your hands, but when you opened your mouth to assure you were just fine, your body had betrayed you. All that had come out was a broken sob. He’d immediately dropped to the floor beside you and pulled you into his lap, squeezing you like his life depended on it. He’d promised you he'd come home whenever he could, that he was definitely not going to forget about you.

”Y/n, I love you. Distance can't take that away from me.”

”You-. You love me?”

”Unconditionally.”

He buried his face in your hair, inhaling your scent and planting gentle kisses to your scalp. It wasn't until he sniffled that you realized he was crying, too.

”I love you too.”

He couldn't come back until two summers later. Initially, you’d stayed in daily contact. But daily video chats had turned to weekly calls, and then texting only. Those texts spaced out and dissipated just like you’d always feared they would. You were surprised when he’d asked you to meet up, even more shocked to find out that he wanted you to meet him at a hotel, away from the prying eyes of your parents, or his for that matter. At first, you'd been elated, excited that he still wanted to see you after all that time, but on your drive over you’d become angry. Every moment you'd spent waiting to hear from him, every tear you’d cried, every helpless night spent laying awake hit you all at once.

You remembered your eighteenth birthday, spending most of your party glancing at your phone, hoping, just praying he’d call. You remembered your mother's funeral, when you’d listened to his father preach over her open casket, alone. You remembered that party where you’d been caged against the wall by a man much larger than you, when his lips had grazed your skin and you tried to close your eyes and imagine it was him.

He was waiting for you outside the door to the room he'd paid for, but instead of the boy you expected you were met with a fully grown man. He was chiseled, defined, from the angle of his jaw to the curve of his bicep fighting the fabric of his t-shirt. His hair was so long, silken loose locks flowing freely from his scalp and tumbling down his back.

“Hi.” He said, casually, like he hadn't broken every promise he made you and ruined every potential date since just by existing, and being him, and looking like that.

Tears well in your eyes, and you don't exactly know what the emotion behind them is; some combination of sorrow and infuriation and relief because he was here. He was finally here.

“Fuck you.” You half spit, half choke, a gurgled laugh escaping your throat because it was almost funny, wasn't it? The way he was fine and you were a fucking wreck.

He blinks, and then nods slowly, and has the audacity not to fight you back.

“I deserve that.” He pulls a white card from his pocket and keys the door open.

“You do. You really do, Geto.” You almost sound like you're pleading, but when he takes your hand and yanks you through the threshold you don't stop him. And when he backs you against the door you don't stop him. And when his lips crash into yours with an unprecedented fervor you kiss him back, lips and teeth mashing together, desperation taking hold as his tongue bullies it’s way past your lips. He moans into your mouth and you feel yourself absolutely gush at the sound, your body's reaction only serving to piss you off more.

You pull away and he dives into the crook of your neck, one large hand smacking flat onto the door above your head, the other reaching down to hike your knee around his waist.

“I’m fucking serious, Suguru! I hate you!” You cry out, but your hands tangle in his hair as he suckles on your sweet spot, marking you. You were his, you were always his, and you would always be his.

“I know.” He breathes, rocking against you and grunting as his clothed erection grinds against you, slowly at first, and then quicker, whimpers and whines mixing together in the heated air as sparks dance in your belly.

“You broke my heart.” You tell him as the hand against the door moves to hike your shirt up, bunching it around your neck as his head dips to lap at your skin. It’s messy, needy, the way he laps at you like a dog in heat.

“I know.” He repeats, and you realize he's sinking to one knee when he drops your leg, his fingers instead fumbling for the button of your jeans, doing his best to get them off before you change your mind.

“You fucking ruined everything. You ruined me.” Despite your words, you help him remove your pants and panties all at once, lifting your legs and balancing with your hands on his shoulders.

“I know.” He throws one of your legs over his shoulders and his eyes trail slowly from your face to where your core drips right in front of his eyes despite your protests.

“Who’d you shave for?” His eyebrows raise slightly in curiosity as he realizes you're free of all body hair, his eyes lifting to meet your face again.

“Did you expect me to wait for you?” You ask, chuckling incredulously “It's none of your business, really.”.

You don't tell him you have a boyfriend. Partly because you feel a sense of shame about being a cheater, but mostly because despite everything, you don't want to hurt him. Besides, it was nothing serious, just someone to attempt to fill the gaping hole left in your chest by the man kneeling in front of you. The man whose eyes had gone dark and predatory at your words. You’d never seen anything like it from him before. Your pussy clenches around nothing at the sight.

“Did he make you cum?” He hums, presses his lips into your thigh.

“Oh, fuck you, Suguru.” You spit, and then immediately yelp when his teeth sink into your soft flesh as a reprimand.

“Answer me.” He chuckles against your skin and he moves higher, his tongue flat and warm against the sensitive surface.

“Make me.”

“Bad move.” He deadpans, and then licks a stripe from your entrance to your clit, agonizingly slow, smirking against your core as you whine. He repeats the motion once, twice, three times and then slurps at your entrance. The sound is disgusting, but you can't care when he's buried between your thighs, teasing you, playing with your cunt like a toy. You think you hear him mutter something about how good you taste but the blood pounding in your ears drowns it out.

“Come on, y/n. Answer me, baby. Did he make you cum?” He finishes his question off by parting his lips and blowing on your clit, the cool air icy against your arousal and his spit. You shake your head back and forth, rolling your bottom lip between your teeth and glaring down at him.

“ ‘No’ as in ‘No, he didn't.’ or ‘No’ as in ‘I’m not telling.’?”

“I’m not- ah!”

You're quick to swallow the rest of that sentence when he leans forward and begins eating you in earnest. That desperate motion is back, the flat tongued lapping he’d done to your chest earlier, eager to taste and take and pleasure you. His hand grips and the underside of your thigh that's hiked over his shoulder, nails leaving red crescent marks on your skin.

Your hands fly to grip his hair and you begin to rock against him in time with his strokes, crying out with every flick and swirl and lap of his tongue. The pressure builds as he learns your body, repeating motions that get the most reaction out of you until you're basically doubled over his head, white knuckle gripping his inky locks as you feel that white hot coil in your center wind tighter, and tighter, and-

He pulls back, laughing as you sputter out “Nonono please, please!”.

“Are you ready to tell me whether he made you cum or not?”

You could absolutely fucking scream. How dare he dangle your orgasm in front of you and rip it away, just like he’d done with every hope you had of a future with him.

“Ohmygod, he didn't make me cum but he also didn't abandon me after promising he wouldn't!”

His face falters beneath you, that devilish smile melting away just briefly as your words seem to hit him in the face. For just a second, he looks familiar again, and you realize those eyes are the same ones that wept for the bird in the courtyard all those years ago.

“I’m sorry, y/n.” He breathes, and before you can cry he's returning his mouth to your clit, closing his eyes and sighing into you as if the taste was soothing him somehow. His movements are now steady and fluid, and he uses more lips than before, almost making out with you in expert timing, lips smacking and slurping against you in a rhythmic motion. Below the lewdness, you can make out the sounds of him moaning, whimpering even as he drinks you down and if it didn't feel so good the fact that he seems so desperate for you would send you spiraling. This was the Suguru you knew. Honey sweet with an eagerness to please. You melt against him, gasping for air between whines. You couldn't even care that he was all but supporting your entire weight on his shoulder, but for what it's worth, he didn't seem to mind either.

A rough palm slides up the skin of your inner thigh, followed by the intrusion of two thick fingers gliding into you, not pumping but rather curling inside of you, sliding against a spot that has tears stinging at the corner of your eyes. Or maybe it is the fact that he’d come back to you after all that time, and you didn't know if he was planning on staying. Was he on his knees begging? You couldn't tell.

“Suguru, m’gonna- fuckyes, please! Cummingcummingcum-”

When your orgasm arrives, it washes across your body like ocean waves, one large crash of pleasure buckling your knees followed by several smaller ones, certain and steadfast.

He places your leg back down on the floor and you immediately fall to your knees, scrambling into his arms like he might run away if you don't, and he's quick to reposition himself beneath you so he can hold you in earnest. You think about the last time you were on the floor of some unfamiliar room with him and can't do anything but cry into his shoulder.

“Y/n?” He murmurs, and you hum inquisitively between hiccups.

“I don't believe in god.”

You draw a quick and stuttering breath as you brace yourself to sit back and look at him. His eyes are closed, though, like he can't look at you.

“I’m confused.” You admit, sniffling.

He opens his eyes to meet yours, his expression morose.

“I think I maybe never did. I always guilted myself, though. I thought-” He sighs and looks off to the side, his cheeks flushing as he speaks “I thought that it was the devil, trying to tempt me. I thought if I just prayed hard enough that it would go away-”

“Suguru, where is this coming from?” You ask, and he shifts underneath you, splaying his palm out behind him to support his weight, his free hand coming up to push his hair backwards, sliding through the root at his scalp and shaking the knots out, maybe anxiously.

“Just- just listen, please?”

That was years ago, when he’d explained to you how he lost touch with his faith. He called religion predatory, said it relied on offering desperate people a chance at salvation, at forgiveness, at love- only to take their money and run. Or convince them to vote one way or another. It was all a game of mind chess, at least to him.

He thought you’d hate him. He didn't want to hear you cry, beg him to come back home. He said hearing you devoutly defend the very system designed to harm you and keep you subservient would've been too much to take. He still loved you, by his own admission.

”There hasn't been a single day you didn't occupy my thoughts. I couldn't bring myself to rip you away from everything you've ever known.”

He would hate to see you now, crumpled at the altar, sobbing at the feet of his father, his mother's arms splayed across your body, her fingers intertwined with yours from above as she murmurs a prayer in your ear. She smells of the same laundry detergent his hoodies were always washed in, and it makes it all the more painful.

His parole hearing had been on Friday. His request for parole had been granted.

“Heavenly Father, we come before you with a heavy heart, burdened with the pain of one who has strayed from your path.”

It was always a little jarring, the way Suguru’s loss of faith came first in his list of sins in the forefront of his parent's minds. Still, all these years later, there's no one that still held this hurt the way you did.

”We know that your love is unconditional and your mercy boundless. I pray that you will lend us your grace to envelop my son, my sweet boy, in your grace and help guide him back to your light.”

You didn't know if you wanted to be a part of that. You wanted answers, mostly. You knew there had to be some reason, some explanation for his actions. You cry harder.

”Lord, I ask for y/n to be a vessel of your strength and wisdom in this difficult time. Help her to be a model of your love, showing patience, understanding, and unwavering faith. Grant her the courage to stand firm in her convictions while extending compassion and support.”

You can't argue with her, can't tell her that God has had his line disconnected for you since the day Suguru was arrested. At some point, you realized Suguru was right. Religion was a ploy for desperate people, and god were you desperate.

”Touch the heart of my baby, Lord. Open his eyes to your truth and fill his spirit with a yearning for your presence. May he feel your divine touch and hear your gentle whisper, calling him back to the fold.”

You didn't know what you could possibly say to him. Two weeks. Two weeks from today he would be home. You can't imagine what he’ll look like with a monitor strapped to his ankle. Your brain feels like sludge, so you focus on inhaling that familiar scent, imagining that it's him draped over your shoulders, the same way he'd hold you at football games in highschool.

”We trust in your divine plan, knowing that your ways are higher than our own. Let your will be done, Father, and give us peace in knowing that you are always at work, even when we cannot see the path ahead.”

For a while she just sobs into your shoulder, her white hot tears scalding your skin through your blouse as she cries.

”God, thank you. Thank you for bringing my baby boy home.”

***

“Y/n! Please, come in!”

The Geto household had been a second home to you growing up. As you stepped past Suguru’s mother into the entryway and began to remove your shoes, memories flooded your head like raging waters. Everything was so comfortable, so familiar. The gentle years-old carpet cradling your newly socked feet had been the backdrop for countless play dates, one- sided wrestling matches, and forts built from the blankets that had always been strewn across the leather couches and the barstools you knew awaited you just around the corner in the kitchen. You can almost see where your feet had worn a permanent path from the front door up the stairs to his bedroom door, though there's a part of you that knows that's unreasonable.

Pastor Geto and his wife both stood at the foot of the staircase, looking tense as they watched you shed your jacket and hang it on the coat rack. When you turn, you brush yourself off and wring your hands together. Despite the familiar place, everything feels uncomfortable. The skin of your hands feels like sheets of sandpaper grinding against each other, your jeans are pinching your waist uncomfortably, your shirt is constricting, it's too cold, it's too hot-

“Where is he?” You finally ask. You don't know why you're whispering.

“Upstairs, sleeping. He's…” Pastor Geto trails off, lets his head fall forward, and then up to the ceiling. Anywhere but your face.

“He's struggling with the adjustment period, we think.” Suguru’s mom cuts in, taking on the classic too-soft voice of an evangelical woman “He's been sleeping a lot.”. She nods, as if it's herself she wants to convince.

Your eyes trail up the stairs, and you nod and go to take a step forward, only to get stopped by the Pastor's hand on your shoulder. You lift your apprehensive eyes to meet his.

“Before you go, we wanted to know if it would be better for us to stay or if you wanted us to go. It's whichever you think will be best.”

Geto’s mother cuts in, quickly elaborating:

“We thought it may be best to give you privacy. We know this is emotional for everyone involved, but if you're worried…”

Oh. They don't want to leave you if you think he's going to hurt you. The thought almost makes you laugh, and then you remembered the whole reason you were here is because he was violent. Your Suguru, the one you knew, wasn't. But this one…

“It's okay, you can go.”

You wonder if that was the right choice as you watch them go, but ultimately you knew it was. If he could- if he did harm you, it couldn't be any worse than what he’d already done. At this point, a swift death would be a mercy.

Every step from the ground floor to the second is a labor, but you couldn't decide if it was one of love or desperation. You felt like twenty pound weights had been attached to your ankles, each stretch of your muscles burning like you’d just run a marathon. You know that twelve feet of altitude does absolutely nothing to air quality, and yet somehow with each rising inch you feel like the atmosphere thins. You reach the top of the stairs and creep your way down the hall, making eye contact with the pictures on the wall. Cheesy mall-quality photoshoots of him and his family, all wearing matching outfits and smiling in perfectly practiced photos. There are others, too; family dogs that had since passed, distant relatives you didn't recognize, your prom photo.

You physically recoil from the image. His hands resting on your waist, the butterfly kiss of the tip of his nose against your cheek that was covered in just a tad too much blush, the genuine smile you both held as you laughed not for the camera, but in spite of it. You remembered that night like it was yesterday. You remembered how gentle he’d been with you. Did he still know how to do that?

You pause to take a deep breath before you knock on his door, wrapping lightly at first to no avail, and then a little harder when you remembered he was asleep.

“Yeah?!” His voice echoes from the other side and from the tone alone you realize he thinks it's one of his parents. You bite your lip and try not to cry. Not yet.

“It's-”

God, why did your throat fucking burn like that?

“It's me. It's just me.” You call out.

For a second, all is quiet, and then your heart drops straight through to the ground when you hear frenzied shuffling coupled with the uneven slap of large feet against the floor from the other side of the door. He's flung it open in less time than you can back away, a t-shirt still following over the lower half of his abdomen as he stood frozen in the doorway, his eyes wide and his lips parted open as his breath seems to get caught in his chest. His hair is messy and his eyes are tired; soft purple circles beneath the expansive brown irises you’d always adored.

“Y/n?” It comes out as a question, like he can't believe you're actually standing there.

“Hi.” Is all you can manage.

You weren't sure what to expect, but it wasn't for him to sink to his knees in the open doorway, folding into himself and bowing whether he intended to or not. On the way down, his hands reach out for you, but stop just short of touching you, instead he pulls them beneath him, hugging them to his chest like he was simply trying to disappear into his self. You understood the feeling.

“Fuck, y/n.” It comes out as barely more than a whimper.

Moments pass like trying to pour cool molasses. You're stunned by indecision, stuck between what you know you should do and what your instincts demand of you. You’d never seen him so vulnerable before. His pride always, fucking always, won out over his emotions. But here he was, crumpled beneath you like a wounded man, assuming the same position you took at the altar every sunday. Was he asking of you what you asked of god? For grace and mercy and relief? For love?

You notice beneath the mass of knotted hair a tremor in his shoulders. It was quiet, near silent, but you could hear the faintest sniffling. He was crying. You had only ever seen him cry once before.

You sink to your knees in front of him in a much more controlled manner, but your fingers still shake as you shuffle forward on all fours until you can reach out and slot your fingers through his hair, grazing his scalp with your fingertips. His hair wasn't as soft as it used to be. You doubted they had his ridiculously expensive choice of shampoo in prison.

“You’re a wreck, Suguru.” You point out, and although you meant for it to sound very tough and strong-willed, it comes out in a breathy, shaky murmur.

He chuckles in a low rumbling tone, and then sits back on his knees, his palms rubbing at his eyes in an attempt to wipe away the tears before you can see them “I guess you could say that.”.

You sit back as well, planting your hands on your thighs and rolling your lip between your teeth and nodding slowly. It was too easy. You were too comfortable. You had the urge to throw yourself into him just like that, but you wouldn't. You couldn't. Right? You open your mouth to ask him why, or to scream, or to tell him that he was the lowest of the low, but nothing comes out, so you shut it again.

“Y/n” He breaks the silence first “I understand if you hate me, you have every reason to, but holy shit you have no idea how happy I am to see you.”.

His face is blank but there's a hopeful spark in his eyes. He looks just like he did the day he asked you to be his girlfriend, just like he did when he'd touched you under your skirt for the first time, just like when he'd met you outside that hotel room all those years ago. He doesn't want to show you his entire hand, but the cards reflect in his irises.

You despise yourself for your reaction.

You crawl towards him until you’re close enough to touch him, your arms slithering around his neck as you pull him into a hug. For a moment, he tenses, like he’s unsure if he should reciprocate, but then you squeeze tighter, practically begging him through action alone, and he concedes, strong arms snaking around your center as he buries his face in your shoulder. The sensation was both foreign and familiar. You’d been wrapped up in him more times than you could count on ten fingers and all your toes, but yet this one felt independent of the others. His palms were still warm, inviting, splaying out across either set of ribs from behind as if to guard your very breath from the open space behind you, but he was bigger now, buffer, his arms almost swallowed you whole and you find yourself briefly pondering if he’d spent his time in prison exercising. You refuse to let yourself think about him in an orange jumpsuit, or how his biceps would flex as he did pushups. It was not the time.

“Are you not afraid of me?” He murmurs, and you shake your head slowly.

“I know I should be.” You admit “I just can’t- I, I don’t- I missed you.”.

Your voice cracks and you choke a small sob into his hair. You were no stranger to crying by this point, but this time was less violent then the fits you’d become accustomed to dealing with thrice daily since the day of his arrest. These were tears of relief, you realized. It didn’t matter what he’d done, he was still Suguru. You still felt at home in his embrace. You still slotted perfectly against his form.

“I missed you too, y/n.” He squeezes you, just slightly, to accentuate his words “You were on my mind from the moment I saw those blue lights in my rearview all the way up until I fell asleep this morning, please believe me.”.

You pull the world's biggest breath in through your nostrils, leaning back with your hands on both of his shoulders, looking into eyes you’d dreamt about for years.

“You have so much explaining to do, you asshole.”

He cracks a small, tight lipped grin “I know.”.

A few minutes later, you're sitting on the foot of his queen sized childhood mattress with your legs crossed in a spot you’d been in many times before. In fact, it was “your spot” if you were to ask Shoko or Nanami. When you were younger, Suguru’s house had been optimal for studying. Your room was too small, Shoko’s family was dysfunctional, and Nanami swore he’d rather fail pre-calc then to ever let the three of you inside his house. Plus, Suguru had the biggest bed out of the three of you, plenty of room for laptops and papers and textbooks and snacks. The rules set by the Geto’s were that the door was to be left wide open and you and Shoko were to remain six feet apart from the boys at all times, so they would settle themselves at the top of the bed and you and Shoko would nestle yourselves at the foot. No one dared to even dream of mentioning that Shoko was way more likely to make a sexual advance towards you than either of the boys.

Suguru grabs a hairbrush from atop his dresser before settling into the head of the bed, letting muscle memory take over as he rakes it through his hair, as if he was suddenly conscious of the way he looked. It catches on the knots intermittently, causing him to wince against the feeling.

“Nice anklet.” You attempt to soothe the awkward tension with a joke “Where’d you get it?”.

His eyes flash down to his ankle monitor, and he laughs, a little mirthless, before shooting back:

“Claire’s.”

You snort and shake your head at him, trying to find a way to ask the questions that really needed to be asked without making it awkward, though at this point it seems almost impossible. He finishes up with his hair and tosses the brush onto his nightstand as he speaks.

“I wouldn’t recommend getting one, personally. You have to plug yourself into charge twice a day or you go to prison.”

“Mmhmm,” You hum “You know, your mom used to tell me this thing- something about actions and consequences, no- games and prizes-”. You sarcastically attempt to lament over just what it was, but you both know the answer.

“Would that be, uh, ’Play dumb games, win dumb prizes.’ ?” He plays your game with a smirk as you nod enthusiastically, sarcasm practically dripping from your hair as it shakes with the motion.

He rolls his eyes and chuckles, but heat floods his face and his eyes land on the carpet of his childhood bedroom. Was he embarrassed? Ashamed? Shame was good. Shame meant he knew he’d done something terrible. Shame meant there was hope.

“I know you’re waiting on answers.” He breaks the silence for you with a sigh, leaning forward and pawing at his forehead with his fingertips, as if he could rub away the clutter in his brain “But I don’t even know where to start.”. A sigh.

You nod, swallowing thickly, your eyes tracing the plaster on the ceiling “How about the beginning?”.

You didn’t mean it as a joke, but he giggles anyway “Yeah, I guess that would be a good starting point, huh?”. And so, following a brief pause, he tells you everything.

It started when the girls had been taken by child protective services. Panicked, their mother had called the Geto’s in a frenzy, begging them to take temporary custody while the Hasaba’s sorted out whatever it was that was going on at home. Seventeen and sheltered, Suguru’s parents had never given him all the details of why they were there in the first place, but in the sixth months they’d been there he’d undeniably grown attached to them. He described Nanako as “spunky”, said she had an affinity for fashion and anything shiny and pink. She was your stereotypical little girl, full of sass and glitter. Mimiko, on the other hand, was quiet, reserved, and spent her afternoons sat at the kitchen table with a handful of crayons and a few sheets of printer paper. She preferred not to be seen or heard.

Suguru was good with kids, he always had been. The girls were quick to shove into the role of big brother; protector. It was where he fit naturally. A fact you yourself had taken advantage of throughout your own childhood. There were no bullies, no monsters, no fears when Suguru was there. Nothing could get you. The girls seemed to have felt much the same. Nanako enjoyed pestering him, even at the big age of four whole years old. She’d beat on his bedroom door while he was studying, demanding he play with her. Drop Legos down in his boots when he wasn’t looking, force him to sit in the living room for hours on end while she knotted his hair up with sparkly elastics and butterfly clips. Mimiko, on the other hand, seemed to be afraid of him for the first few weeks, peering at him around corners as her sister made him her personal bitch.

“Eventually, she let her guard down.” He smiles fondly, shaking his head “I remember the first time she actually hung out with us. She brought her bucket of blocks out in the front yard and set like, six feet away from us while we drew on the sidewalk with chalk- well, I drew on the sidewalk. Nanako drew more on me than anything else. I’ll never understand how she figured out if she wet the chalk first it would stick to my hair. That was the longest shower I’ve ever taken in my life-”

With each passing day, Mimiko would sit a little closer, look a little longer at whatever Suguru and Nanako were getting into. Eventually, she spoke, asked if she could play, too.

“We were eating dinner one day and Nanako asked if I would be coming home with them when the time came. I had to tell her no. I didn’t even think Mimiko was listening, but she got up with her food and just went to her room.”

For a while, Mimiko had reset, if not backslid to a state worse than the one she had arrived in. This all came to a head after their final meeting with their case worker, after which Pastor Geto had enthusiastically told the girls that they would be returning to their parents soon. That night, Mimiko had simply strutted into Suguru’s open bedroom door to find him slaving over his laptop in the middle of the floor, diligently studying for his SAT’s. She’d come in with the force of a person four times her size and began absolutely pummeling him to the best of her tiny ability.

“I didn’t know what to do with that.” His brow furrows, troubled as he recalls the memory, his eyes darkening “It’s not like it hurt, you know? Not really, she was a preschooler and I was over six foot tall but still- kids aren’t supposed to hit, you know? And it was… she wasn’t hitting me like a child hits people, y/n. She was throwing legitimate left and right hooks, with follow through, and I just remember wondering where the hell she learned that. Anyway-”

He’d gripped her arms, just enough to contain her, and she’d shrieked with all her might, kicking and screaming at him to let her go while he begged her to calm down.

“Mimi, what’s wrong? Why are you being cruel to me?”

”I don’t want me to leave you!”

The immature phrasing breaks your heart. You could imagine what his reaction had been. The same soft pout he’d given you over and over throughout the years.

“I just held her, rocked her, tried to convince her she could come play whenever she wanted, y’know? But she was absolutely inconsolable. So I asked her why she didn’t want to go home, and she… God, she said-”

”He hurts us.”

“Their dad?” You interject, your voice trembling against your heightened emotion. You can feel dread pooling in your gut as he nods, confirming.

“What-” You swallow, feeling nauseated “What did she mean by that?”.

He looks you dead in the eyes and your blood runs cold. You had never before seen that expression cross his features. His eyes were always dark, but in that moment you were peering into a lightless cavern. He doesn’t elaborate, only shakes his head ‘no’. You don’t push it, and the momentary lapse of sanity seems to fade. You let out a breath you didn’t know you’d been holding.

He’d taken that information directly to his parents, who had reminded him that redemption was always possible. That we as people had to have grace for others. Jesus was friends with societal rejects. Whores, thieves, and beggars. All they could do was pray about it, they’d said, the rest was up to God and the state.

He left for college not long after that, but he couldn’t get the thought out of his head.

God and the state.

God and the state.

He tried them both. Over and over, spending his free time on his knees at the nearest chapel to his college campus, spending the drive home calling and anonymously reporting what he knew to any government official he thought would listen. All of his calls went unanswered, ultimately.

“The longer it went on, I- I don’t know. I went insane a little bit, I think. It’s kind of a blur. I just tried to knuckle down and study. The less I thought about it, the better I felt. And then Satoru-” He chuckles at the name, shaking his head incredulously and pawing at his eyes as he giggled like a little boy “Fucking. Satoru.”.

His college roomate, who you’d met briefly the summer before the arrest. You thought him to be a little wild, a little brash, but nothing prepared you for Suguru to tell you he was a little more than into psychedelics. He was always trying to get Suguru to loosen up a little, let himself experience something outside of the mundane small town life he’d always lived. Satoru was spoiled, rude, a nepo baby who’s daddy “allegedly” paid a large sum of under the table cash for him to attend the same prestigious college that Suguru did despite having a GPA lower than the Mariana Trench.

“He isn’t dumb, though. He’s actually a genius, I think. He could comprehend academic concepts I had to study hours for in minutes. He just has this thing with authority-”

It wasn’t until Satoru convinced him to start smoking pot that Suguru began to question the existence of god.

You screw your face up, and he puts a hand out to halt you from saying something you were never intending to say in the first place.

“Weed had very little to do with this. I didn’t get high and decide to murder anyone, it’s not like that. It just took the edge off of everything. I don’t think I knew I experienced anxiety until I smoked for the first time and knew what the world felt like without it.”

Without the cutting edge of his inner turmoil, and away from the prying eyes of his parents, he came to a conclusion one night while sprawled across his dorm bed as his high pulled him off to sleep; maybe God couldn’t do anything because he didn’t exist, and the state couldn’t care enough to do something about it, but he could.

He fought himself on it for a long while.

But every time he'd come home, he'd sit behind the girls in church, already perturbed by his irritation with religious ideologies, already uncomfortable with the way his Sunday best was digging at his skin- and Mimiko would throw glances at him over her shoulder, her eyes begging for him- for anyone to intervene.

“Do you remember the last Sunday I saw you before it happened?” He asked, and you nodded, your throat feeling tight at the memory.

You knew he hated church, it was all he’d ever talk about on the drive to the local burger joint after. You hated thinking of him in this way when he was so frustrated, but you always thought he looked incredible pulling his hair loose from his signature bun, thought his fingers looked so pretty tugging at the top buttons of his shirt, thought his snarl looked just as enticing as his smile in the afternoon light. Sometimes he'd pull his car off an old dirt road after, hike up your dress and take you right there just to blow off steam.

That Sunday was different, though. He had driven you straight home, his hands white knuckle gripped on the wheel at ten and two. Precise, methodical. His jaw clenched so tight you worried for his teeth. You’d considered asking if he was okay, but your mother whispered to you from the grave not to bother with men when they get like this. So you’d sat in thick silence, not even the radio on to help dampen the hellfire you could feel omitting from his pores.

“You know the Hasaba’s?”

He'd asked you, his voice grim and his eyes never leaving the road. You had nodded, a small

”Yes.”

Falling from your lips. His fingers had tapped against the steering wheel as he inhaled through flared nostrils.

”You ever notice how the dad's always a little weird with young girls?”

You didn't recognize his voice that day.

”Yes.”

He chewed on his cheek, nodding slowly, swallowing back bile.

”He ever make you uncomfortable? Push any boundaries?”

You’d gone silent, fixing your face to your passenger window, your breathing going uneven. You couldn't explain it, but you felt like it was wrong to answer that question truthfully.

He spoke your name like a warning.

”No.”

He’d laughed. Not the laugh you knew him for, but once that was low, humorless, painted in disbelief.

”Liar.”

“You were a real prick that day, y’know?” You half-spit at him, but your animosity is quickly quelled by his response.

He nods, pursing his lips “Yeah. I know. I don't know where my head was at the time, I think I had long since lost it. I could've at least told you I loved you before I pulled away-”.

“But you didn't.” You whisper, almost accusatory.

“You’re right. I didn't. It's one of my biggest regrets.”

When he’d dropped you off at your house, he hadn't walked you to your door or chatted with your dad like he usually did. He hadn't even looked at you, or waited in his car for you to get safely inside, instead speeding away before you'd even made it six feet from the car.

Three days later around dawn, the town was rocked by the news of Mr.Hasaba’s murder. He was found face up in his living room with a singular bullet lodged in between his eyes. It hadn't taken long for the authorities to lock in on Suguru. What are the odds that one man dies and another disappears in the same county at the same time? What are the odds that they attend the same church? What are the odds that the families would be intertwined and blended by way of two vulnerable little girls? It was obvious.

“The girls…” You struggle to find your words. This was the biggest part for you “What happened to them? What was your plan?”.

“I had them in the car before I ever pulled my handgun out. They were watching a movie on my phone with headphones in. Y/n, I know what people must think but you have to believe me, I would never hurt them.” His voice becomes rushed and hurried at the end, crackling on the edges and you can't help but scoot closer, holding your hands out for him to take. He does, and you give him a pointed look.

“I know. I believe you.”

He takes a deep breath, his eyes fluttering shut for a moment and then reopening before he continues.

“Satoru has this Aunt that lives upstate. She's middle aged, super rich, and has always wanted kids but can't have them. Uterine cancer took that away from her in her twenties. I always thought she'd be a great mom so I-”

You nod, understanding, your body sagging as you feel more weight than you knew you’d been carrying falling off your shoulders as he tells you about his plan to get the girls to her. He’d been apprehended about an hour out, but he'd begged the officers to call her.

“I told them I’d take whatever punishment they gave me without a fuss if they'd just get the girls to her. Life in prison, death row, whatever. The officers told me that wasn't for them to decide but they called her anyway and she was there within the hour filing an emergency protective order.”

He smiles a little “She’d never met them, y'know? But she heard there were kids that needed her and immediately rushed to get them. That's exactly what the girls needed, that type of love.”.

Apparently, the system smiles fondly at those who take down child abusers. Or at least, in his case they did. The D.A. had thrown out a hell of a plea deal in record timing after reading over his case.

“I still had to go to court for sentencing though. I think it helped that the girls were there. They were technically classified as 'victims’ but they got so excited to see me that Satoru's aunt had to take them out of the courtroom before anything had even started. They were yelling at me, yelling that they wanted to sit with me. I think the judge was a little amused.”

You squeeze his hands, smiling up at him through misty eyes.

“Don't look at me like that,” He breathes, his eyes soft “I’m not a hero, y/n. What I did was awful-”.

“I know. But you're not a monster either. I was so scared that…” You trail off and shake your head, not sure of what you're denying.

“It's okay,” He reassures with a placating smile “I get it.”.

“You don't, though.” You tell him, watching as his face contorts in confusion “Do you remember the first time you told me you loved me?”.

He nods “In my dorm.”.

“Right. Do you remember what I said?” You're slowly inching forward, crawling into his lap.

“You asked me if I loved you, like you couldn't believe it.”

You hum the affirmative, settling yourself on his thighs “And you told me you did. Unconditionally.”.

He nods, obviously still confused, and you let go of his hands to run your fingers along his jawline, noticing the way his cheeks flared red beneath your proximity.

“Whether or not you meant to, you set a precedent for me. Unconditional love is all I’ve ever known with you, Suguru. I was scared that if I came up here today and found every rumor to be true that I’d still love you… because I would. I’m glad that doesn't have to be the case.”

His lips meet yours, hesitantly at first, his hands carefully cupping the sides of your face and his thumbs swiping at the skin there, almost petting you in a way. His tongue pokes past his lips, just slightly, swiping against your lips deliberately. You're happy to part your lips for him, whimpering as he swirls his tongue with yours and washes you in the familiar taste. The wet sound and a pitiful handful of whines from somewhere deep in your chest fill the once stale and silent space as he guides you down and backward until your spine is flush with the mattress, one hand moving to cradle your head like you were breakable, like you falling against even something as soft as the plush of his bed without his protective grip may shatter you.

He pulls his lips from yours and hovers over you, planting both hands on the comforter on either side of your head, his hair tumbling down around you like a veil, until all you can really see is an obsidian void and him, him, him. His lips are pursed, eyebrows furrowing as he inhales slowly and his eyes flutter shut.

“I’m sorry, you didn't come here for this. I lost control, I-”

“Suguru Geto.” You reach up and let your fingers dance along his devastating jawline until you're gripping his chin between your pointer and your thumb. He opens his eyes slowly. You always thought he looked a little fox-like, his features pointed and sly, yet so soft on the edges. Gorgeous. He was always so god damn gorgeous.

“I don't believe in god. I can’t anymore. But every fucking night I’ve prayed for you. Just in case.”

His eyes flick across your features, some combination of reverence mixing with guilt painting his features.

“I’m sor-”

You cut him off again, this time by taking your fingers and sliding between his parted lips, pressing against his tongue to silence him. His eyebrows widen in shock at your dauntlessness.

“No. No more apologies. What I’m trying to tell you is that I love you, Suguru. If you want to apologize, fuck me like you're sorry.”

His eyes darken as you speak and he swirls his tongue around your fingers before sliding his mouth off of them with a wet popping noise, reaching up to grab your wrists and pin them on either side of your head, laying flush against your body as he dips into the soft curve of your neck, slurping and lapping at the skin there like all he ever wanted was to taste you.

“Since when did you get bossy?” He questions between kisses, a hiss pushing through his teeth when you grind down on his thigh “I’m not gonna lie, I kind of like it-”.

His teeth sink into your flesh and you rock harder against him, whining pathetically as he dips his head lower, letting go of your wrists only to rid you of your shirt and yank your bra down, not bothering with taking it completely off before he's got his mouth wrapped around one nipple, lapping in fat motions back and forth across your areola while one hand gropes your free breast, his thumb swiping back and forth over your stiffening nipple.

You curse and keen, writhing beneath him as he teased, relishing in his expert conduction of your body as he alternates between your breasts, sucking on your sensitive nipples and looking up at you with blown out pupils, drinking in the way your face contorts when he gets it just right. It isn't until your entire chest is damp with his saliva that you grip his hair, pushing on him and urging him downwards.

He chuckles but doesn't move, smirking up at you with sparks in his eyes “Use your words.”.

You pout, huffing dramatically “That's not very apologetic behavior, Sugu.”.

“How can I apologize appropriately when I don't know what it is you're asking for?” He coos, his grin carrying a wicked edge.

“You’re impossible, I’ll do it myself.” You push him back from you and he cocks a singular eyebrow as he watches you wiggle around and rid yourself of your remaining clothing, re-settling on his bed with your legs parted, your pussy practically dripping down your ass and onto his sheets. You realize as you trace over his still and captivated expression that you weren’t the only one that no longer knew the other. Just as you’d spent years apart from him, he’d spent years apart from you. You are different now. Older, wiser, more bold, less likely to take his shit.

You trace your body with your hand until the pads of your fingertips slip through your folds and make contact with your clit, your movements slow and deliberate, for now. Suguru’s eyes trace your every movement as he stands on the side of the bed and begins to shed his own clothing.

“Who’d you shave for this time?” He asks, the sound muffled as his shirt slides up over his chiseled frame and then his head.

“Why? Jealous?” You tease, and he scoffs incredulously as he hooks his thumbs into the waistband of his sweats, pulling them down and shedding them one leg at a time, taking a little longer on the leg that has the ankle monitor.

You move your fingers a little faster as you shamelessly reach out your free hand to palm him through his boxers, a moan escaping your lips as you begin to feel the pleasure of your own hand.

He grunts and tosses his head back, shamelessly thrusting against your hand “What if I am?”.

“Then you’d be dumb,” You fight to keep your tone even and confident “because I did it for you.”.

“Fuck.” He spits, seemingly losing all patience as he lunges down and flips your body until your front is flush against the mattress, your legs dangling off the edge and your toes barely touching the floor “Are you serious? Tell me you’re serious, y/n. You knew you were going to fuck me today?”.

“I didn't know, exactly- shit!” Your hips buck involuntarily as his hand slips between your thighs to roll your clit between his fingers, hard and slow “B-but there was a part of me that- nngh!- hoped-”.

That seems to be something akin to the answer he wanted, because he straight up moans into your shoulder blades before slathering the area in sloppy kisses, trailing down your spine with fervor.

“You’re mine, you hear me?” It's a question but you can't formulate a response, not when two of his fingers are slipping inside of you, stretching you out so deliciously “From here on out, I’m gonna be the best fucking husband you could ever ask for. You'll want for nothing. Just say it, tell me you belong to me, y/n.”.

“Husband?!” You half question half squeak, but he ignores you, only curling his fingers inside you with precision, hitting that gummy spot you could never reach with your own fingers that had you burying your face in the comforter to muffle your moans.

He pulls his fingers out of you and you almost protest but then he's on his knees, burying his face into your cunt from behind and causing you to nearly scream into the mattress. You give his college days credit for how fucking good he is at giving head, his thumbs spreading your lips wide so he can trace around your clit with precision, tracing figure eights around the sensitive nub before flattening his tongue and sliding one slow and wide stripe through your entrance. You expect him to stop there but he doesn’t, continuing his trail across your other hole and all the way along the crack of your ass.

“Suguru!” You're unsure if you're reprimanding him or crying out for more, and when you throw a glance over your shoulder he simply keeps his gaze locked on yours as he sinks his teeth into the soft flesh of your asscheek, causing you to yelp.

“Say it.” He tells you, his hand moving to toy with your clit.

“Say what?” You know what. You just wanna see how far he'll take this.

He tsks disapprovingly, his free hand moving to push two fingers into you again, curling in time with the stars he was drawing in your clit “I can do this all day, you beautiful little brat.”.

Your mouth falls open in a silent moan, your eyes scrunching shut as he adds a third finger, the stretch making you see stars. The flame that had been on a low simmer in your gut was now a roaring fire, flames lapping at every inch of your exposed skin with every well timed movement. It wouldn't be long before you fell apart on his fingers and you knew it.

Apparently, he did too, because he slows his movements to a torturous pace, chuckling as you attempt to shove yourself backwards onto his fingers as he pulls them back in time with your movements, seemingly amused with the way you’re squealing his name in frustration. It’s not enough, and too much. It’s so mean, and yet you can’t imagine yourself going a day without it ever again. You can’t imagine yourself going a day without him ever again.

“Make me cum, please-” You beg, and he hums condescendingly.

“You know I’d love to, doll but unfortunately I’m still waiting on those magic words.” He sighs dramatically and picks up the pace again, waiting patiently for your walls to start spasming around his digits again before returning to the same daunting pace.

“Oh my god!” You groan in frustration, slamming your face down into the mattress like a petulant child, one fist meeting the space beside your head in a shaky dejected punch.

“It’s actually ‘Suguru’, thanks.” He quips, and you’ve officially had enough.

You scramble forward until he’s pulling out and off of you with a slick lewd sound, and then flipping around to face him, all but climbing his body like a tree before twisting ever lock of hair you can find in one fist, yanking him down to eye level with you and using your unoccupied hand to shove your finger in his face with a exasperated pout.

“You, sir, are supposed to be groveling.” You remind him, and he smiles genuinely, with his whole face, his eyes scrunching into crescent moons and the white of his canines shining through plush and soiled lips. You have the same realization you had at sixteen; he’s so beautiful. Even now, even after everything.

…And then his tongue darts out and swipes a stripe up your pointed finger, and you cry out in protest and yank him back a little by the hair that was still gathered in your fist like he hadn’t just licked your literal genitalia, and he laughs the same way he did when you were kids, and your heart explodes in your chest.

“Is that what it takes?” He asks, his words coming out a little breathless, accompanied by a small chuckle “If it’ll get you to tell me you’re mine, I’ll grovel.”.

You roll your eyes, but he's undeterred as he reaches back and grabs your wrist, squeezing lightly to signal for you to loosen your fingers. You do, and he pulls your wrist to his lips, kissing languidly in gentle motions up your arm until hes reached your jawline, murmuring against your skin as he does so.

“I’m so sorry, baby. I never ever wanted to leave you. I love you, please. I love you, I’m so sorry.” His lips tickle against your skin, and he remedies it with kitten licks that have goosebumps erupting from your skin and heat pooling in your core.

His lips find yours and you feel yourself swelling with emotion as he speaks between sloppy wet smacks of your lips.

“M’ gonna get my shit together.” He promises “Gonna give you everything you want and then some. Doesn't matter if that's a camper that we drive around the country or a big house with a picket fence and a couple kids. I'll spend my life worshiping you, y/n. It's all I know how to do.”.

“Okayokayokay-!” You concede as you push yourself backwards as far as possible “I give up, I’m yours. Shut up and fuck me before you make me cry again.”.

He giggles and it sounds the mid-notes on a piano. Comforting, familiar “Since when are you afraid to cry in front of me? That's kind of our whole thing; crying.”.

“I’m not afraid, Suguru.” You scoff “I'm just sick of crying. I don't want to anymore.”.

You dip your hand into his boxers, taking his weight into your hand, causing him to hiss directly into your open mouth in response. You hadn't realized just how much you were affecting him, but the head of his cock is already slathered in precum, making it easy to stroke him in the way you know he likes, applying more pressure at the head and a little less at the base, pausing occasionally to press your thumb in circles across his slit, needy whines escaping your lips every time he blesses you with another drop of wetness, every time his cock twitches in your grasp.

“Shit, slow down-” He gasps, but grunts as he fucks into your closed fist regardless, like he can't help himself.

“Awh, Sugu, gonna come from a two minute handjob? Who are you?” You tease, and he can't even bother to giggle along with you, his brow furrowed in concentration and his lips parted in pleasure as he reaches down to push his boxers down to his thighs so he can watch you work his body, a needy, uncharacteristically high pitched keen escaping him at the scene below. You don't fail to notice the way a ridiculous amount of precum dribbles from his cock onto the soft skin of your stomach the minute he takes in the sight.

“A man who's thought about this every night for the past four yea-”

You pick up pace, causing him to cut himself short with a moan. Smirking, your free hand moves to gather the precum splattered across your abdomen, gathering the salty liquid with your index and pointer, grinning maniacally as he follows your fingers all the way to your mouth with wide, almost devastated eyes. You lick them clean, providing him with an overly dramatic whimper as you swallow, and his whole body tenses.

He snatches your wrists with force, pinning them above your head as he gasps for air and swallows thickly, his lips pursed together and his eyes scrunched shut as he wills himself not to cum, his dick spasming against your belly.

“No.” He says it in the same manner that one would use when correcting a mischievous dog, and now it’s your turn to giggle at him.

“Y/n, I am going to fuck you until you forget I was ever gone. I’m telling you. You've really done it now. Whatever happens next is your own fault.”

The words have you leaking, your cunt clenching around nothing.

“Please?”

“God. Fucking. Dammit.”

He all but tosses you up towards the headboard, rising briefly to shed his boxers before he kneeling between your parted knees, licking his lips hungrily and taking in a shaky breath as he grips to his last string of self control.

“You on birth control? Say yes.” His voice is distant; far away and fucked-out.

You confirm, but barely get the words out before he's flipped you into your stomach, pushing you practically flat against the mattress with his hands on the small of your back, using one of his knees to part your legs as far as they’ll go. It almost hurts, but before you can complain he’s pushing into you, a needy groan escaping his lips as you suck him in inch by inch, panting like he’d just run a marathon.

“Easy, easy, Suguru, please-” You beg, and his thumbs rub apologetic circles into your back.

“Sorry love, I'll be gentle.” He huffs, desperate “You just feel so good. Better than I remember. Tell me when you're ready, yeah? We're about halfway there.”.

Halfway? What the fuck do you mean halfway!?

…Is what you intend to say, but it comes out as a muffled jumbled mess as you do your best to accommodate him. You throw a glance over your shoulder just in time to see him gather a large wad of spit in his mouth and allow it to drain from his lips onto the place where your bodies meet. Your pussy clenches around him as his spit slides down the crack of your ass and flows over his cock, dripping down beneath the two of you onto the bed below.

“Like that, huh? You’re a freak, baby.” His grin is absolutely demonic.

You rock yourself back on him in response, effectively wiping that egotistical look off his face with one buck of your hips. He begins thrusting, shallowly at first, and then quicker, deeper, until he’s pounding into you with force.

Every thrust has you crying out into the mattress, mewling as he slides against your g-spot over and over, pushing down on your spine to angle you just right, and you silently thank god that he knows you so well. His slightly obsessive tendencies were more useful in some areas than others. You remembered the first time he fucked you, his eyes analyzing your body with surgical precision, mentally mapping every sweet spot in academic detail, committing you to memory and since then he seemed to know exactly how to use you to his satisfaction. You knew him well enough to know that nothing got him off quite like knowing he could get you off harder, faster, better than anyone else. Better than yourself, even.

He groans, allowing his head to fall forward until his forehead rests between your shoulder blades, sweat mixing between the two of you as he slows temporarily, rolling his hips rather than thrusting, leveraging his cock inside you and grinding down against your walls, the pleasure rolling over you in one never ending wave instead of repeated splashes.

“Fuck, Suguru-!” You keen, gripping at the sheets for some sort of purchase “Please, please, I wanna watch-”.

You slap at his forearm to signal him to let you move and he does, pulling out of you and watching with a fucked-out gaze as you settle on your back underneath him, moving to lock your legs behind his waist as he settles between your thighs and reaches down to guide himself back in with a hiss.

His thrusts are slow and methodical as he presses his lips to yours, swirling your tongue with his and allowing you to capture the wet muscle between your lips and suck, earning yourself a groan and a change in pace, lust overtaking his determination not to bust. He reaches down with one hand to rub the most delectable circles on your clit, whining and whimpering as you clench around him in response, the pressure in your stomach building at an exponential rate.

“I swear to god, it's like I can't get close enough.” You can't tell if he's blathering to you or himself but he reaches down and grabs the underside of your knees, throwing your legs over his shoulders and fucking into you impossibly deeper until you're certain he's bruising something inside of you. The pain mixing with the pleasure has you teetering on the edge of euphoria, your whole body tensing as tears pool in your eyes and you yelp with every thrust, trying to formulate words even though he's effectively smoothed over every ridge in your brain. All that's left is him and how good his cock feels reshaping your body from the inside out.

“I, I’m-” You attempt to announce your impending orgasm but no words come out, only an illegible mess of jumbled stuttered moans.

His hand slides down between your bodies to toy with your clit again “Please, baby, please cum for me, I can't hold out much longer. Not when you look like that.”.

The sound of him begging for you is the final nail in the coffin, your whole body spasming in an explosion of pleasure as you cum on his cock, damn near screaming his name, curling inward and gripping at his hair with desperation as he only pounds you harder.

“F-fuck, fuck, baby- yes. Holy fuck you're incredible. All mine. You're mine.” He's a blubbering mess above you as he blatantly chases his own high, his breath labored with effort, his eyes wide and drinking in your expression as you fall into the territory of overstimulation from the continual force. Your legs tremble against him, every thrust making you jerk and twitch beneath him.

“S-say it baby, fuck. Tell me who you belong to.”

“You, Suguru! I’m yours, please-!”

His orgasm hits him so fast it almost shocks him, his whole body stilling as his dick spasms inside you, painting your walls with an obscene amount of cum.

His muscles relax as he rests his forehead against yours, trying desperately to remember how to breathe. You tap at his shoulder and he mumbles an apology, helping you to pull down one leg at a time.

He pulls out and flops down beside you on his back, comfortable silence overtaking the familiar room, nothing but the sound of your breathing slowly evening out echoing off the walls.

You turn your head to look at him and he’s already staring at you, smiling gently.

“Hey.” He whispers cheekily, like an awkward teenager as he reaches over to brush locks of sweat dampened hair away from your forehead.

“Hi.” You respond in the same tone, grabbing his hand and bringing his knuckles to your lips, pressing kisses to each one.

“I think your parents wanted me to come up here and convince you that God was real.” You tell him, and he laughs, bringing his hands up to cover his face in embarrassment. You giggles meld with his, adding “I think I got a little distracted.”

“A little?” He questions through the laughter, and you nod.

“Mhm!”

“I mean, I think I saw him there for a second if that counts for anything-”

“Oh my god, you're so dramatic!” You playfully slap at his bicep and he catches your wrist, pulling you into his chest and wrapping his arms around your shoulders.

“I love you.” He murmurs, pressing kisses into your hair, inhaling your scent like he couldn't get enough.

“Unconditionally?” You ask.

“Unconditionally.” He confirms.

masterlist

[nathaslosthershit]

We need to try that again|| Jack Hughes x reader

Pairing: Jack Hughes x reader

Warnings: I never know what warnings to give, kissing (?)

Summary: In the heat of the moment, you kiss your boyfriend. The only problem? It was your first kiss with each other and he doesn’t feel he got to “savor” it enough. What a dork.

A/n: This is corny I know and probably so far from what Jack is like but let a girl be delusional. 

Word Count: 800+

You and Jack would be cooking a meal together, alone and in the comfort of your own home. Or, maybe he would play an intense and very important game where he scored the game winning goal in OT and you two would meet afterwards, running into each other's arms like it was a cheesy romance film. Maybe he'd take you to a nice dinner and before getting into the car ask “can I kiss you?”

Maybe these fantasies were stupid to spend your time thinking about but after almost a month of dating Jack, almost a month without a single kiss, you had been hoping for something romantic and sweet to mark your first of, hopefully, many kisses. But there has been nothing. Nada. You have been patient and were happy to wait longer for him but just wanted to know, why? Why has it taken so long for him to kiss you?

But now that you think about it, you could easily kiss him first. Maybe it doesn’t matter if its sweet and well thought out. Maybe what you needed was a heated, spur of the moment kiss with your beautiful boyfriend.

But is that what you wanted, something not thought out? Didn’t you crave the anticipation of waiting knowing it was about to happen. Knowing that the butterflies in your stomach fluttered at the same velocity as the ones in his.

While lost in thought Jack had managed to finally reach your apartment. He was supposedly at practice. Actually there was no practice but that's what he told you so you'd be surprised when he came over with take-out and flowers. On his way over, he had to bite his lip to stop the stupid smile on his face, but the older woman passing by noticed it, as well as his urgency and the flowers in his hand, and gave him a knowing smile as she laughed while walking in the opposite direction. It was clear to everyone, those in his life and those just observing, that this relationship was different and he treated it as such. 

He enjoyed the feeling of getting almost dizzy from all the excitement of being around you. It was new and so unlike anything he'd had with anyone else in the past. That's why he couldn’t get himself to make any new moves. It's scary to act when you feel something so intensely. 

Opening the door to reveal a very smiley Jack Hughes was a very shocking but very welcome surprise. 

“What the fuck are you doing here?”

“Wow come on don’t be too excited to see me” he replies snarkily. 

“Im sorry, I just thought you'd had practice, you did tell me you had practice, did you not?”

“I did but I didn’t have practice. Wanted to surprise you so I stretched the truth a little. You aren’t upset about that, right?” He suddenly looked worried.

In that split second, you had made up your mind. Grabbing his collar and kissing him deeply, he drops the bag of food and flowers from impact. The noise they made startled you enough to come to your senses. As you quickly pull away, you can see a mix of confusion, panic, and possibly lust on his face. His silence snaps you out of your post kiss daze enough to start freaking out.

“Shit, Jack. I don't know what- I wasn’t thinking, i'm so-”

“We need to try that again.” 

“Excuse me”

“You just kissed me”

“...I did”

“Quickly.”

“I guess”

“I didn’t get to savor it.” He coughs out. At this admission, his face is bright red and grows an even deeper red when he hears your laugh.

“Savor it? Oh my god, Jack, what romcom did you take that line from?”

“You know what? Maybe i'll enjoy these flowers and this food by myself if you want to-”

“Just get inside, Jack. I'll kiss you again but only if we aren't standing in the hallway for all my neighbors to see.”

When you pull him in and close the door, you realize this is what you had hoped for. Shared butterflied as you look at one another, waiting for the other to make a move, knowing what was next and being as excited as you were nervous for it. 

Finally he pulls you in.

“Much better” Jack mumbles against your lips.

[leclerc-s]

a paddock family christmas

series masterlist

nataliaruiz, penelopetrevino, isabellaperez, maejonesverstappen, maxjonesverstappen posted new stories

baby's first christmas, tears were shed shoutout seb for getting reindeer this christmas and hosting us! churro is not loving the snow taking my auntie duties very seriously this christmas seb's banned her from helping with tree decorating. it's very unfair. who can say no to her?

danieljonesricciardo, freyavettel, mickschumacher, charles_leclerc, and zoyatorres posted new stories

next up: christmas tree farm by my wife! 'tis the season 💞 mon coeur (my heart) according to logan, i'm officially a disney princess

rhysjones, baileywinters, isabellaperez, and dulceperez

one thing i will ever do is let this picture die. happy holidays! i have been entrusted with baking. hope i don't let seb down. moments after he threatened to yet again steal max's cats and to force daphne to adopt him so he can terrorize daniel 24/7 looks like someone is coming for charles' ferrari seat.

liked by sukiwaterhouse, sebastianvettel, zoyatorres, and others

nataliaruiz the easiest yes of my life

tagged: charles_leclerc

user restricted comments

sukiwaterhouse congrats! wishing you two so much love and happiness.

↳ nataliaruiz thanks babes, you're still my #1 don't worry!

↳ sukiwaterhouse i better be. that french fuck has nothing on me

↳ charles_leclerc I'M MONEGASQUE! YOU KNOW THIS!

↳ sukiwaterhouse i couldn't care less

zoyatorres still can't believe i got to witness this with my own eyes. however, no one cried more than arthur.

↳ arthur_leclerc STOP TELLING EVERYONE MY BUSINESS!

danieljonesricciardo welcome to the club! i call best man!

↳ pierregasly i think the fuck not! you already got to be best man at mae and max's wedding.

lorenzotl officially welcome to the family, although you've been an unofficial leclerc since 2019. love you, merry christmas to you and little star

↳ nataliaruiz love you enzo!

freyavettel MOM AND DAD ARE GETTING MARRIED! I AM A CHILD OF ENGAGED PARENTS!

↳ mickschumacher reminder, your actual parents are married.

↳ freyavettel shh mickey!

isabellaperez AND FOR ONCE LANDO DIDN'T SPOIL IT!

↳ landonorris THAT WAS ONE TIME ISA! LET IT GO!

mrsamclaflin i see he finally got the hint. goodbye mrs.dunne, you were the best fake wife.

↳ nataliaruiz he did! and goodbye to you mr.dunne, you were an amazing fake husband!

rileykeough i can't believe i lost my wife to a french?

↳ charles_leclerc I'M MONEGASQUE!

↳ rileykeough i don't care? you speak french = you are french. end of story.

sebastianvettel always knew you two were in love, even before you did.

↳ nataliaruiz no, you didn't! how could you know when even we didn't?

↳ sebastianvettel easy, he looked at you the same way i look at my wife. he was as the children say 'down bad'

liked by scuderiaferrari, maejonesverstappen, carlossainz55, and others

charles_leclerc pour toujours

translation: forever

tagged: nataliaruiz

user restricted comments

carlossainz55 felicidades cabrón!

↳ charles_leclerc thanks mate!

alexalbon he finally got the hint!

maxjonesverstappen1 it only took you 6 months to get the hint

↳ charles_leclerc i'm not as clueless as you all think! i was waiting for christmas!

↳ landonorris um, why christmas?

↳ charles_leclerc when we were 10 she said she wanted to get engaged on christmas with the people most important to her present. her dad and brother couldn't make it so i settled for all of you.

↳ georgerussell63 wow really feeling the love sharl.

↳ charles_leclerc i'm kidding, thank you for clearing you plans and making it out for her.

scuderiaferrari congrats to the happy couple!

↳ nataliaruiz build him a better car next season or things will get ugly

↳ scuderiaferrari ma’am you are scary.

zoyatorres PARENTS ARE GETTING MARRIED!

mrsamclaflin well congrats to the happy couple! it's about time!

↳ nataliaruiz why thank you mr. dunne!

↳ mrsamclaflin anytime future mrs.leclerc!

↳ charles_leclerc we were going to have problems if you called her mrs.dunne 🤺

rileykeough she's married to me leclerc?

↳ charles_leclerc you wish

↳ rileykeough oh you know she is.

rhysjones lightning mcqueen finally got his sally to say yes to marriage!

taglist: @burningcupcakefire @arkhammaid @sunflower-golden-vol6 @applopie @lorarri @mypage-myfandoms @bb-swift @thewannabewriter @you-bleed-just-toknowyouarealive @stopeatread @hobiismyhopeu @lilsiz @alessioayla @niniluvsainz @au-ghosttype @cowboylikemets1989 @justtprachisblog @rmeddar123 @nichmeddar @landonorizzz @unluckyyoshi @Mimolovescookies @brekkers-whore @natcha888 @camdensreg @mycenterfold @dear-fifi @prongsvault @kaa212 @anxxiousaries @julesbabey1 @julesbabey @georgeparisole @Smnthnclj

strikethrough means i couldn't tag you

¡leclerc-s speaks! merry christmas to those of you who celebrate! and to those of you who don't i wish you a very wonderful day. now, someone had to engaged or married on christmas! they are all my babies and i have to make them happy for christmas.

¡disclaimer! this is in no way making assumptions about the people involved in this story, this is all fake. it is a fanfiction please don't take any of what is said seriously. this is all for entertainment purposes and as a creative outlet for me. enjoy!

[capricorn-0mnikorn]

This Poll, about Doctor Who original characters

Has made me go all wistful and nostalgic. Because of her:

Eloise, the Pro-Fun Troll.

You see, she was conceived, and most at home, in the very specific Doctor Who fandom environments of the Usenet* newsgroups* Rec.arts.drwho and Alt.drwho.creative (mostly rec.arts.dw).

RADW earned something of a reputation for negativity, and a common refrain on the forum was "You are a pro-[X] troll, and I'm putting you in my killfile!" (like Tumblr's block list).

Supposedly, Usenet Newsgroup threads are still archived. But I tried, just now, to find my earliest posts about my little troll character, and coming up with nothing on the general, Public, internet, with every other place I've linked to her early existence also going dead -- including the music forum Mudcat.org.

But those links were not yet dead in 2003, and that's when I found, and copied, the record of her "Conception" into my private LiveJournal, which I later imported into my Dreamwidth:

Eloise was born (erm, popped into existance) on Feburay 5, 2000. It was during one of those perennial times in radw when bouts of "You are a pro-___ troll!" seemed to show up in every other thread. In one thread, there was a discussion of how Doctor Who monsters aren't really all that scary, and I made the following comment (just found this through Google -- ah -- the memories!): Hear, hear! I'd much rather have an engaging, fully-fledged story with cardboard props than a cardboard story and million-dollar props! to which another poster replied: A Doctor Who fan! Wow!! What are you doing here?? Me again: Having a great deal of fun, if you must know... to which a friend of mine replied: You are a pro-fun Troll, and are now in my killfile. Shocking what some people will admit to on this ng In that instant, the image of a pro-fun troll popped into my head, pot belly, long nose and all, only instead of living under a bridge, she lived under my computer desk, and was so small she had to sit on my lap to type her messages. The next day, I dismissed her existence as make-believe, but she wouldn't go away, and she's grown and developed a biography of her own over the years (she is now grown to the height that the top of her head is even with my shoulder when she stands beside me as I type ;-)). By March 12 of that year this Pro-fun troll and I decided that something had to be done about the nasty trolling and flame wars on RADW, and together, we posted the "Pro-fun Troll Manifesto" (or [What it means to be a Pro-Fun Troll] <-dead link) and launched the first round of "Pro-fun Troll Games."

The point of the Pro-Fun Troll Games was to take over the "Weekly Stats" in the newsgroup. And the rules were simple:

Put [Pro-fun] in the title of the thread

Any post put in the thread had to be on-topic for Doctor Who (and this was very loosey-goosey)

Praise what you enjoy before criticizing what you don't

When you do criticize something, it must be reasoned and constructive.

(basically, they were an early version of "What counts as good manners" in my pinned post, except for the Doctor Who-specific rule, of course).

The ethos of the Pro-Fun Troll "movement" is that we are all trolling for attention and validation. And that, in itself, is not bad. It all depends on what we bait our hooks with. And Trolling for laughter and fun, and making an effort to focus attention on creativity and kindness is good, actually.

After the decline of Usenet, I made some effort to get the pro-fun movement to spread to other places on the Internet. But people saw the word "troll," assumed all trolls were bad, and wouldn't join in.

For about three years, there was a little community of us. And for a while, we did succeed in taking over the Weekly stats. And we had a lot of fun doing it.

But the environment where we met each other is gone, now, and so many friendships have faded away.

And that's what makes me wistful.

[natsmagi]

sorry for making yet another textpost but i came across that post saying they dislike transfem natsume because he "canonically hates being perceived as a girl and tries to erase all sorts of memories related to that" and also went on to shame genderbends of him aswell. So, as someone who not only draws genderbends of natsume but is myself someone who is nonbinary and hates being perceived as a woman, i thought id offer my two cents

first of all; i think its important to note that natsume does NOT hate his childhood. in fact, hes quite happy that he had such an unusual upbringing!

what natsume hates is being perceived as weak. thats why he was raised as a girl after all, it was his mother trying to protect him from evil spirits. he doesnt hate the whole "-chan" or "wearing dresses" thing because he has a hatred for womanhood, its because due to his upbringing hes now come to associate those things as being weak. he begs tsumugi to forget about it because that means tsumugi remembers natsume being weak, and natsume thinks tsumugi still referring to him as "natsume-chan" means he still sees natsume as weak. (iirc natsume did however once say that he is a little sad that he doesnt really know how to relate to young boys due to this in poltergeist, but i couldnt find the exact quote. either way that just adds to the complexity of natsumes relationship with his childhood, because while he is happy to be "abnormal" in that sense, it has left him lacking in some areas)

i have to ask though, should this conflict of his not be something we hope he overcomes? should we not want him to develop a healthy relationship with various gender expressions? should we not want natsume to overcome his belief that feminine things = weakness? i want natsume to reach a point where he can wear feminine clothing and not feel like some damsel in distress because of it. i want natsumes character to grow. i want him to develop a positive relationship with his gender because natsume DOES enjoy some more typically feminine things, like baking! he used to bake with his mom when he was little! and i want him to feel like he can indulge in that side of him without feeling insecure.....

i LOVE transmasc natsume, my primary hc for him is transmasc nonbinary after all, but with all these things considered, shouldnt people be allowed to headcanon him however they want? if they hear his story and negative relationship with femininity and how that resonates with them and they themselves are transfem, should they not be allowed to hc him as such too?

which brings me to my next point; my own personal relationship with gender and femininity. i was raised as a girl and i fucking DESPISED womanhood. i hated everything about it. i hated how i felt forced into a box i didnt want to be stuck in, and i hated how it felt like my whole life had already been planned out for me due to societal expectations, aswell as me needing to present a certain way. i was peak "tomboy" growing up, constantly wearing super baggy clothes and wouldnt even brush my hair alot of the time. but despite that i remained miserable. i frankly hated how i looked and would constantly dye my hair vibrant colors in an attempt to make me like myself a little more. it wasnt until i realized "wow, im actually not a girl at all" that i finally let go of believing i needed to look a certain way (and thus, defying it) and started to dress for myself. i started to dress in clothes that made me happy and feel pretty! alot of which leans feminine, but clothes doesnt have a gender, and how you dress doesnt define your gender either, but it can still be a bit scary yknow? especially since i dont want people to think of me as a girl, and drawing a bunch of femstars has really made me learn to love myself more in a funny way. i can put these characters in clothes i think are beautiful, i can explore the more feminine parts of me that i adore but dont want to express in public due to how i want others to perceive me, but it has also warmed me up to femininity even more. because femstars to me feels detached from the expectations of society because its not a real thing!! there are no canon femstars designs!!! i can do literally whatever the hell i want with it and its been so liberating to me!!

all this to say; i think it really sucks seeing the way this fandom treats transfem hcs and explicit genderbends, because like ive said before; they can truly be something so personal. you dont know why that person is drawing what theyre drawing, so its a little unwise to make assumptions based on ........ Well, whatever it may be. i know very well that women dressing the way society expects them to SUCKS, esp if you have personal ties to it, but you have to realize the issue isnt femininity, but misogyny.

[see-arcane]

objectively the funniest part of frankenstein is that he didn't even abandon the creature, he went on a little stress induced walksie and when he came back BOOM no more creature. Actually I lied funniest part of Frankenstein is the creature going ''man my creator must think I'm an unholy abomination'' based on no evidence and then victor going ''man the creature I haven't seen in two years must hate me enough to hunt down my family and kill them'' ALSO based on no evidence. They meet up like "wow! you are really living up to my insane preconceived notions. This sucks."

The actual funniest part is that, upon meeting properly post-William and Justine deaths, the Creature guilts Victor into sitting and hearing out his tragic origin story and Victor is like,

"Man, I guess I really don't have evidence it was him that did the murdering and framing. That's my bad. I should sit and hear him out instead of judging him just on vibes!"

And then the Creature ends his sob story with,

"Yeah, no, I absolutely murdered the shit out of that small child (your brother) and cheered about it. Same with framing that hot chick (your nanny and family friend) in her sleep for being too hot and definitely bound to not want to date me if she saw me. Also, you have to invent me a girlfriend. You owe me."

And Victor realizes his vibe read was 110% accurate.

"This sucks."

And the Creature proceeds to carry on doing revenge-tantrum-Making Victor a Fellow Miserable Wretch plan while being 110% convinced that he is in the right and that Victor and his innocent loved ones have definitely for sure earned all of this very Luciferian and cool homicide

"This sucks so much for me, personally, as I feel so icky about the murdering."

"So? Don't murder anyone?"

"No, I'm gonna"

And then people for the next 200 years decided with increasing and worrisome lack of irony that Victor was the reeeal villain and the Creature was no more than an innocent baby boy lashing out at society..!*

*Society here not referring to literally any of the people who actually hurt the Creature, but instead entirely premeditated victims whose only crime was 'loved by Victor.' Which could have its own unique reads in how easily the story lens could have gone to the other half of the Luciferian motif--not hubris, but envy.

The Creature is alone, unloved. He discovers his Creator and his origins. He rages. He spies all these beautiful people in Victor's life; his true family. And when Victor refuses to make a custom wretch to be his companion, he rips Victor's family away, forcing Victor himself to become that desired loved-loathed counterpart. The Bastard Son VS the Loved Ones, plus a dose of highlighting how people aren't after Justice so much as a Convenient Target/Scapegoat. (RIP Justine, Victor)

But no no no, let's just stick with 'Too much science scary-bad! Pride and goals = family murder! Look at this dumb deadbeat dad suffer, ha ha.'

lmao

[doomzday-zone]

hey sorry it's me again (<- girl who needs to go to sleep) urrhm ok walks into ur office with a stack of papers it's me secretary over apologizer

anywah rum um um th hey hi so uh looks around can weeee talk about the really big theme of nowhere to hide in the book and the game interchangeably like um. um. hi. okay so I'm literally laying in bed right now complete darkness like oh wow the characters oh wow oh wow smacks into a wall face first. and um um

okay like I just feel like god this thing with like.. yeagh.. there really is nowhere to hide from your parents ❤ that's literally the ultimate thing being a child like you can't just LEAVE and that's actually such a scary ass theme and the way the house keeps getting put on more and more lockdown in the game is like This is so alarming ❤ BUT that doesn't happen (or isnt stated) in the book, the difference in the book since u havent read it is just that oz doesn't leave for a few days because he's scared and can hear the. the thing standing outside his door all the time and it's like (steps up to microphone) WOW I LOVE THE DIFFERENCES BETWEEN LITERALLY NOT BEINF ABLE TO JUST LEAVE AND THE MENTAL STATE OF NOT BEING ABLE TO Just Leave um and the way you run out of places to go in the game is so like ohhfmygodd sorry it's just really good like the game feels like it's suffocating that boy like u gotta get out of here because soon there will physically be no exit !! and the way the hiding minigames work ooogg ooohhh hi hey um hi sorry this game is written so beautifully it makes me physically nauseous only good fnaf game ever. uh but the hiding games not being designed like traditional hiding mechanics in games like holding a door shut or something, but stuff like oh keep the spiders away because it feels more like SORRY KID THERE'S NOTHING THAT YOU CAN DO OTHER THAN SIT THERE AND PRAY havr fun!!! ob my god head in hands like You can try to stop the toys or not breathe so scared but you can't physically hold a door shut because you're too little 🙁🙁😞😞😞😢 this game is so alarming I hate it not really but it's like ohntmmgdos and and and and hi hey okay so more with nowhere to hide like

I said this in my insane tags on that one post but the way that every single adult is like Oh you're so fucking strange weird little kid causing trouble . like it's not only like he can't tell anyone because he'd sound crazy but the universe being predisposed to everyone not listening to children about anything ever is like I feel like I've been punched in the face thanks like directly in the jaw my teeth r on the floorrr

like ugh I h h RATTLES BARS

um and and and looks around :c I can say more things but I just yeagh..

YEAAAAAAAA ARGHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! THEFUCMING. AHHHHHH !!!!!!! thats smth i REALLY REALLY like abt into the pit like you REALLY feel like ur put into the shoes of a kid here you can only do so much while trying and experiencing shit wayyyy bigger than yourself, n it just elevates the horror bc like, obv ur oarent/someone you love being replaced by an imperfect impostir is already a scary notion. n being a CHILD TOO????? like fuckkkkk man your options r dwindling. n the way kuds r treated in society n shit as well as eveything else, oswalds just a kid, hes in sixth grade like?????? how do you deal w this???????? theres a fucking EVIL ANIMAL in your house. the world is already si scary as achild w/o all this but yhis maies it ten yimes worse, AND your home isnt even safe either. the amount if stress n trauma this kid experiences in a work week is fuxking insane hashtag justice for ozwald gotdamn.

AD AND i still xant stop thinking about the fat like. oswald is forced to relive the trauma of the events n shit that transpired a freddys, from the child victims at the pizzeria, to Michaels and the crying childs in his own home. smth smth themes of generational trauma n whatever its insane my brian explodes into ten million bloody chunks.

n what u said abt the book..... man........ imagine being holed up in ur room for days in end bc of The Thing on the other end of the door. like LITERALLY FNAF 4 SHIT GODDD. oswald reliving the trauma of the entire fnaf franchise in five nights like: INSANEEE. CRAZYYYYY.

[idiopathicsmile]

10 comebacks to a woman who once told my best friend, then a chicagoan (like i was), "i love coming to chicago because in new york i'm an 8 but in chicago i'm a 10"

"exactly, that's something i love about living here, you know? it's not as surface-oriented and shallow as some other cities. like, the culture's just a little deeper and a little smarter than in places where everyone's only concentrating on looking their best at all times, you know?"

"oh wow, you really said that with your out-loud voice, huh?"

(LAUGHTER) "yeah, you're a ten here. sure you are." (LAUGHTER)

"just wondering: in the moments before that comment left your mouth, did you take a second to imagine how we, a bunch of people who very obviously live in chicago, would react? if no, why not? if yes, what on earth did you see? please write in complete sentences in the booklet provided. you will have thirty minutes."

"my god, do you assign yourself a number comparing your appearance to the appearances of the people around you everywhere you go? you know we have a limited amount of time on this earth, right? you know that after that, we die and death is forever, right?"

"hurrah, i've done it! i've finally met the one human on the planet who is capable of objectively, correctly assessing the relative attractiveness of everyone everywhere on earth. please, oh please pray tell: what number am i? what number is he? what number is she? numbers all around, please!"

"what an exhausting way to live. what a tiring way of interacting with other people. what a dispiriting way to view the world around you, a world teeming with life and strangeness and possibility. serious question: are you alright?"

"i was going to make a crack about new yorkers being looks-obsessed, but in retrospect i have no idea why. i'm sorry. i genuinely have nothing against nyc, a location i have visited only a handful of times, including one trip to see the very person to whom you made your ill-advised remark, lo these years ago, and we had what i would call a magical time. i don't actually understand pitting one city against another. i don't understand the mentality that there must always be a ranking, must always be a competition, must always, always be a winner and a loser. also if you're a ten, everyone else here is a twelve, baby."

"on some level, i do understand that eventually this ceases to be a piece about the irritating thing a friend's work colleague once said, and instead becomes a chronicle of my own deranged inability to let a grudge go—even a petty grudge, even a second-hand grudge, even a grudge which i am again compelled to inform you saw its spark of creation multiple years and several moves ago. (neither the friend nor i live in chicago anymore.) on some level, i understand that this turning point, the moment where any sensible reader went "yikes, jess really hasn't let this go, huh?" might have happened in the very title of this post. i have never met you, woman who maybe five years ago told some chicagoans you worked with that you're an 8 in new york and a 10 in chicago. you could have changed since then. you could have grown and deepened and evolved your thinking. i do believe people are capable of learning. maybe you even remember saying it, and regret it now. maybe not. but to be honest, worse things have been said—to me, to my best friend, to everyone who has been on this planet longer than a few years. life is exhausting and scary and wonderful and we are all going to die some day. you are an adult and that means you have had hard days, hard weeks, hard years even. you have been heartbroken, and sick with worry, and you have known terror, real terror, that animal fear that crawls up the spine and screams in the brain, and yet you found it in yourself to get in a airplane and fly halfway across a large country to be here, for the sake of a job you might not even like. we are all doing the best we can. i have to believe we are all doing the best we can. i could have written this post about anything. there were near-infinite possibilities and i chose this, a mean little caricature, and in trying to paint you, only managed a quick and unflattering sketch of me, a person obsessed with being right and being clever, but who frequently is neither. again, i have never met you, and if i do meet you i will never know it, and i have spent more brain space imagining a tiny, bitter vengeance against this single-sentence quote, relayed to me at a remove, than i have spent trying to learn calculus or teaching myself to garden or volunteering at a soup kitchen. if there ever was a winner or a loser in this bizarre equation it is fully possible that i have lost, simply by trying so hard to win."

"...ok."

[bobcatsquad]

Wow! My first writing I am sharing with the world! And my first post to tumblr. Heres to hoping someone else likes my little (hopefully not too out of character) headcanons. Minimal fluff! We want all of the villain fuckery around here.

Having a relationship with Albert Wesker

(As a fellow researcher/umbrella employee)

(Possibly morally gray reader)

So you wanna date the evil scientist…

First and foremost, Wesker is married to his job. His work will ALWAYS come first. And for you to be his partner, you would need to be a workaholic yourself and/or accept this fact. He greatly appreciates space.

That being said, you definitely can’t be clingy or constantly demand his attention, he is a very busy and focused man. Else he will begin to see you as more of a burden than a partner and he will retract. Independence is a highly attractive trait to him.

It can by no way effect his career nor divert his focus.

Respect this and he might let you in closer past his stone walls he’s put up to the rest of the world.

Before dating he didn’t pay you much mind and would often give minimal words. But as you proved your competence in the lab, showed interest in his achievements, showed interest in his actual wellbeing, and continued to genuinely try and form a deeper connection with the quiet, reserved evil genius, he started to truly see you. Started to pick you out from the faces he simply worked with to achieve his goals. He’d never had anyone show such care towards him, the companionship intrigues him.

This stoic intimidating man finally began to crack jokes with you and let you in on his dry humor.

Lots of bringing Wesker food on the days he forgets to eat because of project tunnel vision and giving him massages on particularly bad days after work. Sometimes he’ll even return the favor. He has lots of knots and aches from poor posture.

Wesker isn’t a very physically affectionate lover. It’s easy to think of him as cold or distant however he just shows his love in other ways.

This man can easily get along with others and cooperate in teams to get what he needs, however there are very few people he truly likes being around. You actually enjoy each other’s company, even if it’s just working alongside each other in silence sometimes.

The way to Weskers heart is to show genuine interest in his work! Even the scary and darker parts (love us a madman) It makes his tiny lil heart grow when you excitedly ask questions about his work, wanting to know more. And seeing your face light up when he reveals details. And of course all of the compliments to his genius-ness are lovely. He’s very passionate about his work and will never decline an opportunity to talk about it. It’s one of the rare times you see his genuine smile. Not the fake dry one he usually gives when dealing with others, but instead a soft, warm smile on relaxed features.

He likes to tease you a lot.

When he gives you a hard time, it’s because he cares and wants to see you succeed and bring out all your hidden potential he sees stored inside.

Sometimes even after work is wrapped up, you find yourselves just chattering away.

Nobody will ever mess with you, knowing you are close to Wesker. And if they do, they will surely regret messing with the human the blonde had grown quite fond of. We all know Wesker is the master of manipulation and can be very threatening when he wants to be. He is not a force to be reckoned with.

Although he rarely initiates physical affection on his own, one of his favorite things to do sometimes when waiting for a chemical reaction or something else in the lab to finish, he will briefly come up behind you, place his hands on your hips and rest his head in the crook of your neck, pulling you slightly into his chest as he watches over your shoulder whatever you are doing in the lab for a few moments. When nobody else is around of course, as he has appearances to upkeep. It’s kind of a de stressor for him. (And if he’s feeling frisky he might move his hands down to give your cheeks a squeeze before leaving with a dramatic fwoosh of his lab coat)

His love language is definitely gift giving. Actually you both do a lot of gift giving. You may bring him coffees, food from the cafeteria when he is too busy to get it himself and would otherwise miss out on eating, little desk trinkets you think he’d enjoy. One time during a party to celebrate the researching team finishing up a large, challenging project, Wesker presented you with a slim rectangular black box with a golden ribbon tied around it. When you opened it, inside there was a beautiful watch you briefly mentioned liking several months ago. He is very observant, showing that he obviously considers and listens to what you say. His gifts are always thoughtful.

Fancy dinners after hours, you will definitely be spoiled

Not big on pet names but will lovingly call you ‘dearheart’

You are the only one who can remove his glasses to look into those beautiful blue eyes without possibly getting an arm broken.

Just because he may never properly say “I love you” or do PDA or a lot of physical affection in general doesn’t mean he doesn’t appreciate you nor care.

When he fully trusts you he will let you in a little bit on his frustrations with umbrella, leading to lots of plotting together to take them down. Maybe you even start your own secret project together because what better way to bond than to build bioweapons with your s/o.

He grows to truly care for you and enjoy being around you and I think that’s the best thing you can ask for with this man. It’s not exactly a conventional relationship, but Albert Wesker the crazy scientist isn’t normal either. No fairy tale romance here fellas

If you are like me and love RE men and want to connect with fellow villain simps, I recommend joining the Arklay Mountains discord server where you can make new friends and thirst over murderous men together! ✨(Disclaimer: Server is 18+ only)

[ao3dorian-gay]

two of my moshang fic ideas come from the same premise.... im kind of weighing which i want to flesh out and outline.

basically. ok. og!mbj kills himself or otherwise dies after killing og!sqh, and instead of going wherever demons go, transmigrates to a svsss timeline where the Airplane has already landed, so to speak. except he actually just reincarnates as a random disciple. both vague ideas i have are making him an ding. and also he has no system unlike the other two moshang ideas i have.

the options:

(poll is above cut for formatting reasons)

also. MBJ's name asa normal Human disciple.... (family name wang, bc.. king; personal name.. 朔 shuo —- reasoning — idea of shuo as literary term for north, and the idea of “turning again towards to meet” bc it’s mbj’s re-meeting of sqh?…

but that seems like someone w that name has a wikipedia page. so how ab out 王希朔 (wang xishuo, name pending approval) which w those characters at least doesnt pull up any real person's personal page on google... idk. i'll work on it.

awakens as an an ding disciple a bit younger than shang qinghua (like… 22 to his 27 or smthng).. sqh has just become peak lord (and already working for mobei jun), and a lot of their cohort is taking on other roles (basically working in house at various businesses). perhaps og!wang xishuo originally would have. but mbj wants to see what sqh is like here. he seems so different when he's not trying to manipulate a demon... sqh is like. wow wang-shidi has suddenly learned how to use his height to great effect to glare at me imposingly!! Aren't i his shizun now??? why is he so scary (and hot)?????? System???? Mbj sets out to woo sqh; to outsiders, their power dynamics are reversed from og!world; once it’s revealed sqh is a spy ppl are like, poor wang shuo, fool in love. Except wang (xi?)shuo / og!MBJ has his own unhinged binghe shizun arc, even if the vibes are completely different lol. just happens a few years ahead of bingqius in this story and resolves quicker 

Still an ding disciple mbj , but — start time. they’re teens and the same year or just mbj being one or two years older, and “wang xishuo” is on the mission where sqh meets mbj. Stands aside and observes. Helps sqh rescue mbj more to try and understand sqh's motives. Sqh is like system wtf did i fuck UP. maybe wang xishuo, still grieving his own sqh, tells mbj: Dont trust him. you cannot, can never trust him. maybe mbj doesn’t, maybe this colors how svsss MBJ forever views sqh? Or else…idk. maybe even svsss!Mbj in a love triangle w himself, not realizing it. Sqh panicking and desperate bc mbj isn’t . trusting him, and system keeps deducting points., even if it adds points when he spends time w wang xishuo. when he finally does missions w wang xishuo again, it turns out system still counts wang xishuo as mbj for mission purposes, which sqh (oblivious!!) takes as a rare glitch in his favor !! maybe his personality made this extra he doesnt remember writing like him more than the original goods!! with how cold and cruel hs Favorite Character is to him, it's nice to see his cold shixiong and fellow an ding disciple melt a bit and actually act protective of him, even if he walks down the spy road with him...?

…I cant remember the other peaks i had ideas for lmao so ig hes gonna be random an ding disciple 王朔 / 王希朔 (wang (xi?)shuo* (*name pending approval) and the issue is . where the story starts.

these are clearly v rough sketches. posting curious if moshang nation has thoughts; also handy to have this typed somewhere

[shellbells-things]

So, I was chatting with some friends and we were discussing how, lately, the ASKS on Tumblr have been plagued with a bunch of “people” coming into our space, trying desperately to convince us that Jikook are basically estranged. It’s crazy how all over the place these ASKS are!

For example: “They have always hated each other and now they don’t have to hang out anymore. They are brothers and work friends only. They used to be a thing, but they aren’t anymore. They are cover for a real relationship. The company forces them to mention each other on social media. And my personal favorite….They’ve only seen each other a couple of times this year, they just aren’t close”.

What?! Are they stupid or something? Do they honestly think that the ONLY time Jikook (or any of the members actually) see each other is when they talk about it or post about it on social media? The rest of the time, nothing? Oh Lordy, I need something pretty to calm my nerves.

Phew! Thats better! Do these people really live in such an isolated world that they believe that the litmus test for a relationship is the number of posts on Instagram? Because that’s the standard they are holding Jikook to. Heck, I checked my own personal social media pages and saw that I’ve posted things about the people I actually LIVE WITH or that I see every single day…only a handful of times this year. So clearly, social media posts aren’t necessary for maintaining (or proving) a relationship.

We all know why that specific group of people are here. They NEED to try and disprove Jikook because if Jikook exists as a couple, then their fantasy is just that, a fantasy. And listen, they KNOW. They see it. Images of Jikook, in all of their Jikook glory, are burned on their retinas. They wouldn’t take Jikook moments and alter them (badly…oh so badly) by replacing Jimin’s face with, well, someone else’s, if they didn’t see the moments as romantic. Oh the second-hand embarrassment I get when I see those edits. Yeeeeshhh.

As for the so called “insecure Jikooker”, I can see how it happens. Listen, we used to basically LIVE with BTS. We saw them during practice, at concerts, eating together, backstage, on RUN BTS, Bon Voyage, Bangtan Bombs, In the Soop (1&2), during special content, at music shows and awards shows, photoshoots, commercials. They were much more active on social media, posting selfies on Twitter, talking in Fan Cafes, doing vLives regularly. I mean dang! It was constant. During all of that, from day ONE, we saw Jikook together. Sometimes they were quiet, sometimes they were loud. Regardless, they were always together (Satellite Jeon saw to that). Now, during solo era, we rarely see any of them together. And there is no “natural reason” for Jikook to be joined at the hip in the public eye. Before, they had reason, they had “cover” so to speak. But now? Suddenly, they share very very little about themselves. It’s quite the adjustment for fans to make and I can see how it leads to “discomfort”.

So now, I’m finally to my point! Jikook has been close for 10+ years, closer than close. They’ve risked a LOT to be together, worked through tough and scary times together. After all of the risk, hard work, and commitment, do we really, really think that different schedules would cause them to throw in the towel? Do we really think that having different work priorities would make them suddenly fall out? Really? I call BS on that. Out here in Normalville, people in relationships manage to go to different jobs daily, have sets of friends that do not crossover, even go on work or pleasure trips without each other, and still maintain a healthy, happy relationship. Couples in Normalville don’t have to post about each other regularly on social media, nor must they FaceTime all of their family, friends, and coworkers just to give them an update or their relationship status. Yet, this is the standard people are holding Jikook to. If they don’t prove themselves, they aren’t real? Wow. Harsh.

I saw this tweet and I thought it went well with my Ted Talk today. All you have to do is look at them and you know they have something special. And just because we can no longer see them as often, it doesn’t change the fact that their special relationship still exists. Just look at them. LOOK AT THEM. I feel confident, based on what we HAVE seen during this solo era, that Jikook are the same as ever. They are just having to travel down a new path together. And an actual BONUS for them, I think, is that they are getting to have a lot more privacy than they have had in the past. Anybody who says different has their own agenda and I, for one, don’t plan to give them any of my attention.