#only situation i can really see a case is white women weaponizing their whiteness to target poc mainly black men | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

heyftinally · 5 months

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https://www.tumblr.com/heyftinally/748388217187958784/i-love-bitching-about-taylor-swift-and-im-glad?source=share

Hi I saw this on my dash and wanted to say I agree with your anon and your reply so much. The thing that annoys me the most isn't that she stays silent about x issues it's that she constantly claims to be a massive ally/activist for x groups/issues but when it's actually time to be an active ally she says NOTHING. It's clear in her doc she only said all that she did about being an ally and how actions speak louder than words to make herself look good bc people were calling her out, not bc she actually cared. What has she done since that doc was made in 2020? She hasn't done many actions and even with just words she's been mostly silent on things.

It's like her constantly claiming she is a massive feminist and cares about women's issues but when many women [along with trans men and NBs] had to deal with abortions being banded/illegal on a federal level in the USA she didn't say anything until after the decision was finalized why bc she's billionaire rich and worldwide famous so it wouldn't effect her. Her fans claim her speaking up before hand wouldn't have done anything and that is the dumbest shit I've heard given her fame and power status. She only cares about feminism or any women's issues when she gets to be at the center of it and she just uses it as a weapon so others can't hate on her.

Let's not even get started how she's the appitmy of "white feminism" [or how I see it caring about feminism only when it benefits herself] bc she screams feminism but I didn't see her saying anything when a poor innocent young woc was getting racist death threats from HER fanbase bc of a tweet SHE made. Wasn't the actresses fault that one line joke was made blame the writers of that netflix show! This situation alone tells me she hasn't "changed/learned" like she claimed in her doc.

She's the exact same as she was back in the day when she was silent on the fact white supremist groups idolized her and claimed her as "one of them". She was silent for years on the matter and only said something when she changed from typical southern country gal to liberal pop girlie and her older pop fanbase was like umm what is this? I honestly don't understand how ANYONE over looks the ws group situation. It's very alarming. She's not a kind of done some questionable things person it's VERY red flag things she has done or in this case not done.

When it comes to the music portion it's just like you said if she wasn't shoved down our throats 24/7 and treated like the greatest artist who ever lived we wouldn't care so much her music is average and her latest album was awful. All the lyrics I've seen on SM are so wtf? Who wrote this? THIS is the "greatest writer of our generation"? Outing her ex as someone with mental health issues and how you just wanted him to "easily get better" so you could love him? Outing yourself as awful [yet again] by saying the things your other ex did was just "bad jokes" and you thougut you could fix him bc racism, misogyny and SAing workers on stage at your concerts are just "bad jokes". Romanticizing 1800s America. Acting like you had a lower class upbringing with many bills to pay when really you had a rich upbringing and your daddy bought your way into the music industry.

Also her putting out 20+ versions of one damn album so she can make as much money as possible and have as many streams as possible is so 😵‍💫. It was such a cash grab when she had the backs of midnight vinyls be a puzzle picture that forced fans to buy 4 vinyl copies of 1 damn album or it just looked like an incomplete shelf piece for fans.

Lastly it's just like you said most of us who dislike her don't dislike her because she's a women it's bc she's an awful person who uses x issues and people to further her own agenda and only really cares about herself and will step on anyone just to make herself look better and more of a victim. The only victim thing she has actually dealt with was her music being bought from under her BUT now she owns her own music and found a way to make it a huge cash grab for herself so she could get that billionaire status. 🤩 She needs to stop using feminism as a means to try and stop people from calling her ass out for being problematic!!!

The post anon is referring to is here, for those wondering

Anon, you are so very, very right, and I personally want to give you a round of applause: 👏🏻👏🏻👏🏻👏🏻👏🏻

One thing I want to elaborate on (because I find it endlessly funny/ironic), is where you said "She was silent for years on the matter and only said something when she changed from typical southern country gal to liberal pop girlie..."

Taylor Swift was *never* a "southern country gal". She's from Pennsylvania. A big white McMansion with a swimming pool in Pennsylvania. All those old songs about summer nights in the country? The cowboy boots? Sweet Tea (referenced in an unreleased song)? Yeah, lies. She painted the image of a good ol' Tennessee princess pretty darn well, didn't she? I'll admit, she fooled me for a while on that, too. But no, she built her career on fraud from day one.

The rest of your ask I'm going to hit point by point, because it's beautiful and made my day and you deserve it.

Performative is her middle name. I about choked when she - a self proclaimed LGBTQ+ ally (side note: you don't get to just decide you're an ally, it's not that easy) - got up on stage in a known LGBTQ+ safe state to make a statement about queer rights, and somehow left queer people out of the statement. It was all "it's so hard for us as friends, family, and allies to see our loved ones face such hatred". As if being an ally is harder than being the queer person actively afraid of getting hate crimed???????? She somehow managed to center herself even when actively talking about an oppressed minority group she has nothing to do with unless she can profit off of us. And she can't even put us at the center of our own oppression. If I hadn't stripped her of her ally status before, that would have done it.

If Taylor Swift can make the impact that she does on economies, the environment, and social trends, she could absolutely speak up about human rights and make a positive change in the world. But she doesn't. Her feral mob loves to brag about how much power they have, but they/their hive mind leader never uses it for anything good. They're just her minions to go bully whoever she's decided deserves her high school mean girl nastiness next. So many artists with ⅛ the reach she does make positive change every day, and she can't be bothered to pay someone to tweet her fake support for oppressed minorities or to stand against a genocide. And it's because she cares about money above all else. Her fans accept the bare minimum of scraps, so she's able to play both sides - before it was the white supremacists and people who weren't raging bigot trash, and now it's homophobes/racists/genocide supporters and people who don't see those things as bad enough to stop supporting someone who happily aligns herself with bigots. It's pure self serving greed.

Is her music shit? Yes. Has it been shit for a while? Yes. But there's alose a lot of music I don't like, for one reason or another. I've never been a fan of "Hey There Delilah" even though it was a MAJORLY popular song. I'm not much of a fan of Maroon 5, or Post Malone, or Yungblood. But unlike those bands, if I turn on the radio at any point, I *will* hear a Taylor Swift song withing twenty minutes. And another one twenty minutes after that. Despite having her blocked/filtered on every social media possible, I see more about her than artists I actively follow the personal accounts of. That's a PROBLEM. Because it's not just that I think both she as a person and her music suck - I'd ignore her as much as I could if that were the case - it's that despite ACTIVELY trying to avoid her, I'm forcibly subjected to her shitty music and shitty actions daily. And her shitty actions aren't just annoying! As a queer person who has queer, black, and disabled friends, her bullshit actively impacts our lives. One of my disabled friends was totally blindsided by this recent "asylum" bullshit, and was so shocked and hurt because, in a different time, they would have been sent to an asylum. They're physically disabled with a degenerative condition. They would have been sent away, drugged up, and forcibly given electroshock and brain surgeries until they died/were murdered. And Taylor Swift is using that aesthetic - disabled people being exploited, abused, tortured, neglected, and murdered - to be "edgy". In turn, she's minimizing just HOW bad that abuse was. That waters down disabled history, and considering disabled people still have to fight SO hard just for basic respect, nevermind access rights and fair treatment, it's an overall thoughtless and disgusting thing for someone with so much money and access to feedback to do.

The multiple releases of albums is nothing short of a scam that her fans keep falling for. I've never in my life heard of an artist doing such a thing. Sometimes you'll get a platinum or deluxe edition if they hit a milestone with that album, which usually has 4-6 new songs and some new art/bonus pictures/a mini poster/etc inside. And that's it, that's the only "duplicate" album we got. Meanwhile, Taylor Swift will release the same album five times in one day, each with one different song and a different cover. She's actively preying on consumerism to line her already fat pockets. At least donate the money to charity! Pick an album = pick a charity? Nope, because she's incapable of not scamming her fans. Case in point: all the Eras merch that requires a masters in chemistry to wash without destroying you $60+ shirt.

She truly has such a huge victim complex that it might ACTUALLY be bigger than her ego. She's no feminist - she'll tear a woman to shreds as soon as it serves her purposes. Hell, she'll tear ANYONE apart just because she's bored. Whether it's siccing her fans on an actress for reading a script she didn't like or basic her ex (AGAIN) for the "crime" of having a mental illness, all she cares about is how other people effect her. She's incapable of compassion, yet weaponizes is and cries big white woman crocodile tears any time her conniving bullshit comes back to bite her in the ass. Then she begs for all the compassion she never shows anyone else. Hell, remember the fan that DIED at her Brazil show? Yeah, that poor girl's family had to CROWD FUND to afford to bring their daughter's *dead body* home for the funeral. Taylor Swift posted a half assed "thoughts and prayers" on her Instagram story - gone forever in 24hrs. But as soon as she gets called out for dating a known racist who gets off to abuse porn? She has every defense in the book as to why "poor little Taylor" doesn't deserve all that mean ol' accountability for her actions. And if she doesn't have the defense? Doesn't matter, her fans can - and have, and will - justify everything up to and including racist harassment, stalking, and death threats!

Genuinely, my dislike of Taylor Swift can be summed up in this: she's a shit person with shit music who uses her disgusting amount of power and money to do nothing but serve herself, regardless of who she hurts in the process. And the rest of us are forced to watch it happen because if you don't worship the chair she farted on people act like you're either stupid, a piece of shit, or both. And then those same people will go on tumblr and post "eat the rich" and "be trans, throw hands" memes as if they didn't just give $300 to a billionaire who couldn't give less of a fuck about any minority to ever exist.

Anyway, thank you again for this, anon. You cleared my skin, watered my crops, and gave me a small amount of faith in humanity back.

#ask #anon #anti taylor swift #taylor swift critical #long post

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genderisareligion · 2 years

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The whole “if Black women can be women, transwomen can be women too” is very violent and disrespectful to black women. But have you ever thought where these arguments come from? Me and one of my friend (both black women) had many discussions on how black women experiences have been weaponize to destroy feminism, while the destruction is sold as a genuine antiracist politics and I want to share with you parts of our analysis on this topic.

“The racism suffered by women is deeply linked to femininity AND exacerbated sexualization. This is not good. To make a human being just meat to be consumed in the dirtiest way. But even the most hygienic way is horrible.”

“Do you know an example where this is more brazen? Prostitution! White women were "worth" more, while black, Asian and indigenous women were the cheapest. Note that we are talking about an exploitative situation, but when posing the issue of race, the ruling class states that an oppressive situation is linked to the person's color/region. Thus, the white oppressed cannot see their common chains, because the other just by being black carries the "evil", the dirt... Constantly associated with slavery and prostitution.”

“Yup. And stereotypes are diverse. Black women were not seen as compassionate, for example. Racism weighs heavily on black femininity, it adds an explicit animalistic tone, it dehumanizes without softness.”

“Yes, and parts of the black movement still use misogynoir against black women themselves. For example, in the US, decades after the end of slavery, black women could only find work as domestics, while black men could not work (it is worth remembering that work in our society is a way of dignifying MAN). So many black men invented that black women were masculine, privileged (because they got the only job that, as we know, is a slave inheritance) and wanted black women to stay in the kitchen mimicking femininity because they felt threatened.”

Not fitting into femininity standards because they are also filled with white supremacist expectations never meant that black women were never seen as women. It just shows AGAIN how white supremacy and male supremacy are interconnected, because while the domination of women originated the other power hierarchies, it was racism that deepened them.

These arguments used by TRAs are nothing but a repackage of all misogynoir black women face to serve their agenda at the expense of black women!!! They are tokenizing and simplifying complex experiences that don't belong to them. Black women have always forced to choose between race and sex but it isn't only an unfair demand, it's an explicit form of misogynoir. We can't choose what part of ourselves have more weight and falling into this trap always means being used by racist white feminists or sexist black men. Or in this specific case, to protect white males of transgender movement.

🙌🏽

Thanks to you and your friend for the solid takes 💜

Y’all it really gets me that your average black woman can look at the world and how complexly it’s treated her and especially once in communion with other black women come up with such brilliant analyses and explain everything so well, and yet still people are confused as to what we mean by misogynoir

Anon mind if I include this in my magazine about intersectionality in a few months?

#shadow.txt #ask.txt #WOCTBI

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allthislove · 4 years

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There’s a certain type of white woman that hates Meghan Markle on principle.

TW for su*c*de mention.

I said in the previous post that they hate that Meghan illustrates that white femininity is not the gold standard that they have been taught that it is. And this, in my opinion, is exactly what their problem is. And this is why I have no patience or sympathy or kindness for these women. It’s not a new phenomenon. I’ve seen it before in fandoms. The way a significant group of white fangirls hated and still hate Iris West on The Flash because she’s Black and is the love interest of the cute, white main character guy. They go out of their way to ship him with any white girl he knows, because they can’t wrap their head around him choosing a Black woman over them. They need to feel like their whiteness automatically makes them more desirable than any Black woman. Even when they are gorgeous and smart and wonderful like Meghan Markle or Candace Patton.

That’s all I see from these white women. I see obvious and transparent jealousy that, if they couldn’t have Prince Harry, it wasn’t another white girl they could project themselves onto. It was a Black girl (and in many of the British white women’s cases, an AMERICAN Black girl.) And yes, I know Meghan Markle is biracial, but that hardly seems to matter to white people. They don’t see someone who is white with them. They see tainted blood. The tragic mulatto stereotype. All they see is a Black girl who dared to sink her grubby paws into the Prince Charming they were told they were owed their entire lives. All they see is a street hoochie who saw dollar signs and isn’t good enough. An uppity n*gress who doesn’t know her place.

I see it in the venomous way they say she “wants attention” every time she does or says anything. If she touches her baby bump, or says “It’s a girl!” on TV. It doesn’t matter that it’s the daughter of a prince, one of the most famous princes in the world, and it would be huge news that he was having a daughter no matter who his wife was. To them, the tainted negro children might as well not even be Harry’s. They’re Meghan’s, and she’s somehow awful for daring to birth them or even be happy about it.

It’s in the way they call a millionaire actress a “gold digger”, or say nonsense things like “she was a washed up actress before she met him” (She was STARRING ON A CABLE TV SHOW, which is a good enough job for Jennifer Aniston, but when it’s Meghan Markle, it’s “washed up.”)

They say things like this, because they can get the benefit of the doubt and claim they don’t hate her because she’s Black. Because if they say that, they’d show their true colors. But they do.

Because all in all, she’s done nothing wrong. All in all, she’s just a woman who married a prince. ANY woman on Earth, including Beyonce and Taylor Swift, would get a profile and position boost from marrying into the British Royal Family. Again, it’s THE MOST FAMOUS ROYAL FAMILY ON EARTH. There are other royals, but most of the world doesn’t even know many of the other royals, unless they’re from those countries or just happen to be interested in royalty in general. EVERYONE knows Harry and Will.

Kate Middleton was a veritable nobody when she married Will.

Meghan Markle was at least a pretty successful actress with a following of her own. And SHE’S the gold digger? It’s thinly veiled racist language. It’s the image of the ghetto Black woman pumping out babies to trap a man. It’s the idea that a Black woman can’t be worth anything on her own so she chases a rich man.

I mean, I know Priyanka isn’t Black, but similar things were said about her when she married Nick, and she’s PRIYANKA CHOPRA. She was already a huge Bollywood star. And again, it was white women leading conversations like this, because again, they were faced with the reality that white femininity is not the gold standard. That a South Asian woman could get their favorite heartthrob and they couldn’t, nor did a cute white girl they could project themselves on.

DON’T GET ME STARTED ON THE “MEGHAN MADE KATE CRY” LIE! This is a prime example of the weaponization of white femininity to demonize Black people. Been going on for centuries and will continue to. Weaponizing tears is the white woman’s bread and butter, especially if it can be used to demonize a Black woman. “Oh, boo hoo, that brutish Black thing made sweet little fragile, porcelain white me cry!” And to find out it was the other way around and NOBODY in that family said anything and just let the “angry Black woman” take the heat? It’s sick. And it’s common. It happens all the time. Because white femininity is soft and fragile and innocent, and Black women are never afforded that.

Even light skinned, biracial Black women like Meghan Markle. White women still refuse to believe she even has feelings. Crazy old hags like Megyn Kelly straight up think she LIED in the interview about HOW SHE FELT, because white people can’t imagine a Black person having feelings! They think we all just make it up because we’re trying to make them look bad or something, or that we like pretending to be hurt by their racism simply to make them look bad. So they don’t have to feel remorse for the racist shit they do and say. For making a pregnant woman hate herself so much that she didn’t want to live.

Like, we all know how bad hormones make people feel during pregnancy anyway. They can’t even believe that a pregnant woman who was being disparaged DAILY by the British tabloids ... felt sadness or hopelessness because of it?

Like, it really seems like white people think Black people have no feelings.

IDK, I’m still angry and hurt for her. And like, I’m so sick of white women only being feminists when it benefits them. I’m so sick of the absolute vitriol they have for Black women all the time. I HATE how they see us as beneath them, in every situation.

I really think these racist hags thought Harry would pick one of them. And when he picked someone not white, they couldn’t take it.

We have to stop letting white women hide behind this “I’m a woman, so I’m oppressed” shit, when they know exactly how to weaponize white supremacy to benefit themselves. And I don’t think Black women should have to be nice about it. White women need to get it to-fucking-gether and cut this shit out. Because it’s PERVASIVE, and like, when it’s a fictional character it’s one thing, but they literally drove this REAL, HUMAN WOMAN TO THE BRINK and they STILL refuse to stop. Inhumane cretins.

#Meghan Markle #harry and meghan #Prince Harry #racism #misogynoir #antiblackness #intersectional feminism #tw: sui mention #tw: suicide #tw: racism #meghan markle defense squad #white feminism

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sserpente · 4 years

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A/N: Requests from @watermelon1568, @lokisgirl5, @cocoamoonmalfoy and anon. This is so fluffy and maybe a little silly, but in a good way! Enjoy everyone and have a good Christmas Eve! ♥

Words: 2635 Warnings: so much fluff, mentions of blood, implied smut

Additional NSFW warning: This Imagine contains implied period sex, just in case this is something you are uncomfortable with.

Loki might be a tiny tad OOC in this one because the requests were just so fluffy but I did my best! Enjoy!

Loki sighed. There you were again, running around with a list in hand looking much like the one Santa Clause had been carrying in that Christmas film Thor had forced him to watch. For the past few days, weeks almost, actually, you had been collecting everyone’s Christmas wishes like a squirrel collecting nuts for the winter. Even he knew everyone’s Christmas wishes by now. You had truly asked everybody, even the cleaning women who came to tidy up the entire Avengers facility once a week.

Loki could not quite put his finger on what it was that fascinated him so much about you—all he did know was that he too wanted to get you a Christmas present, if only just to see the surprised look on your face. He almost snorted. It was disappointment he felt, disappointment and envy because he longed to be the one to put a smile on your face on Christmas Day—and he didn’t even celebrate Christmas, not really.

Furthermore, he had not failed to notice how you avoided his presence like you were playing cat and mouse. You had, much to his surprise, asked him for his Christmas wish too the other day, all timid and unable to look him in the eye and Loki had been so taken aback he had not known an answer. The God of Mischief was many things but he was not blind and not stupid—he was perceptive. Villain or not, you were into him—and he was going to get your confession.

Smirking to himself, and determined to put an end to playing tag, he followed you into the empty hallway on your way back to your room, pushed past you and then unceremoniously blocked your way.

“O-Oh… hey, Loki.” You chirped.

“Are you in a hurry?”

“I, uh, actually, um… n-no?”

“Well, you did ask me what I wanted for Christmas, did you not?”

“Oh!” Your face lit up. “Oh, yes! Yes, what would you like?”

Loki thought about it for a moment. He needed an answer fast to not look like a moron now.

His lips parted. “I do miss writing with a quill and ink. Could you acquire a set for me? Surely, they are still being used on Midgard.”

Geez! How had you not thought about that? Loki truly was a scholar with all those books in his room, and that was a marvellous idea. “Y-yes, of course!” You responded, nodding eagerly in the process. But when you moved forward, Loki, instead of letting you pass now, put his hand against the wall so you were trapped.

“Hmm… Is there a particular reason you always get so nervous in my presence?” He asked. Your eyes widened. Fuck.

“Y-you… you tried to… you almost took over t-the p-planet, you k-know.” You lied quickly.

“Ah, yes. Of course… that must be it.” He responded with a knowing smirk. Oh, fuck. Did he have to be so god damn gorgeous?

“You never said what it was you want for Christmas, my dear.” He said then, blue eyes locking with yours. Your heart skipped a beat—no, actually, you were wondering whether it was still beating at all. You did have a Christmas wish, of course and you wanted to do backflips all across the hallway that Loki of all people took an interest in what you’d like—or maybe he just wanted to make conversation. Keep calm.

“Oh… it’s silly. Not really possible.” You replied sheepishly, gasping when he hooked a finger under your chin to gently force you to look up at him. He was definitely going to be the death of you.

“Tell me.” He urged you on.

“The only thing I… I’ve always wanted to have a dog. A loyal non-human companion, someone to cuddle with when it’s cold and who will never judge me but love me just the way I am… and they are just so cute! But that’s not possible,” You repeated quickly. “Imagine an innocent little puppy when everything’s on fire and another alien race attacks the planet!”

Loki hummed. Dogs were not common on Asgard. He himself had had a pet snake growing but released it into the wild after Thor and his friends had repeatedly stolen it to play silly and dangerous games. He could see why you kept that wish to yourself. Living among the Avengers, a dog might get in the way during missions—he did not doubt it would be helpful and capable of tearing off their enemies’ faces but your worry for it would distract you from a fight.

Still… perhaps there was a way. A smirk grew on his lips and your flustered reaction to it pleased him, making it grow wider.

It was early Christmas morning when Loki returned. It had taken him all of his wit and cunningness to leave the Avengers facilities unattended and without anyone asking suspicious questions but he had succeeded. The wooden box he was carrying—with many holes in them so the little creature could breathe—Loki sneaked across the hallway and past your room to hide his present for you in his own, already imagining your priceless reaction… was he hoping for a hug? Oh, he was. When was the last time anyone had hugged him? Perhaps you would, upon receiving the fluffy little creature in the box.

The dog winced. “Shh! Quiet, you silly little creature, you are going to wake up your mother!”

It was then he heard an ear-piercing scream coming from your room. He nearly dropped the box, turning on his heel to storm into your room like a tornado annihilating everything in its path. Your bed was empty, the sheets ruffled. There was a small beam of light coming from your bathroom—the closer he came, the more he could make out the rustling of fabric.

“I bloody hate being a woman…” You murmured to yourself, making the God of Mischief frown. Alarmed, he stepped closer and entered the bathroom without knocking—he barely remembered to set the box aside to draw his daggers if need be.

You were sat on the toilet, your white Christmas pyjamas with candy canes and gingerbread men on them soiled with blood. Loki’s eyes widened. There was blood on the floor too… and on your fingers.

His fingers were itching to materialise his weapons, yet he could see no enemy who could have attacked you. You gasped when he barged into the room, concealing your nakedness from the waist down with some toilet paper.

“What in the nine happened to you?” The amount of blood was almost concerning for a mortal. Had someone surprised you in your sleep? Who had managed to break into the Avengers facilities in the first place?

“How did you get in here? No wait, you’re awake already? Umm… Merry Christmas?” You swallowed. Talk about embarrassing yourself in front of the God of Mischief.

“We need to get you to a healer… a doctor, that is what you call them here?” You stared at him for a moment.

The last thing he expected was for you to burst out laughing. The whole situation was so hilarious you even forgot to be nervous around him for once.

“Oh, Loki… I’m okay, I’m not dying, I promise. I got surprised by my period, is all.”

“Your… period? Your period… as in your menstruation cycle?”

“Yes. Do women on Asgard not have that?”

“They do but… not like this.” Heavens, he felt stupid. He had thought you were dying, openly shown his concern… and you had laughed.

“Loki…” It was like you had heard his thoughts. “Thank you for checking on me. I was just being frustrated but I promise I’m okay.” You had probably disturbed his sleep but the fact that Loki cared enough to come to your help, admitting that just perhaps… he actually liked you. “W-would you mind?” Loki raised his brows, his lips parting.

“Yes, of course.”

He turned around for you to get dressed again (never before had you been more grateful for the pile of more or less dirty laundry on the floor next to your toilet) and nodded, only realising now that he had indeed just proved that one way or another, he had taken a liking into you. It was then the dog winced again just outside the bathroom door.

“What was that?”

“Nothing. In fact, I shall leave you… how did you get out of that box?” Eager and curious, the puppy must have somehow knocked its wooden box over. When Loki looked behind him, he found the lid on the floor, the young dog hurtling towards you.

“Oh my god! Hey there, little guy! Where did you come from?” You giggled when the dog attempted to jump up on you. You picked it up, grinning when it licked your face. “Aren’t you adorable?”

Loki pursed his lips. Oh, great. Now he was getting the hug. He furrowed his brows. Heavens, this was an innocent little puppy. Against all reason, he already loved the little guy with all his heart himself, how could he possibly feel jealous?

“You were not supposed to see it yet. I was going to put the box under the Christmas tree.”

“R-really? You mean… he’s for me? Oh, Loki… but h-how? I mean… I love him. But how can I keep him safe here? Is that really a good idea?”

“Well… he is, in fact, not a normal dog.” Loki remarked.

Your eyes widened. “What does that mean?”

“Dogs are rare on Asgard but there are indeed a few traders who raise them. This unprepossessing creature has a life expectancy five times as high as Midgardian dogs—not to mention it is stronger, more intelligent and much like Thor and me, more resistant to pain and injury.”

“You’re a superdog then, aren’t you? Yes, you are, such a good boy. I need a name for him.” You announced. Loki raised his arms. That would be your decision. His pet snake had never had a name. “I’ll think of something.” Smiling, you stepped forward and kissed Loki on the cheek whose lips parted in surprise.

“Thank you so much. I didn’t think you would… why did you?” He said nothing in response. He couldn’t possibly tell you that he wanted a hug and that the only person he wanted it from was you. Your lips on his face had already felt like liquid fire, warming him from the inside out. Heavens, what was wrong with him? You were a mortal. He couldn’t possibly like you this much.

“You should go back to bed.” He said after a while, clearing his throat. “It is still early.” You nodded. He was right. Besides, you and your little puppy needed to get to know each other.

Needless to say, however, you couldn’t fall asleep again after you had gotten changed into new pyjamas and then cuddled with your new pet. Loki had gotten you a dog. Why? He owed you nothing, and quite on the contrary, you highly doubted Loki would even bother to get the rest of the Avengers a Christmas gift.

In the meantime, Loki himself returned to his room, shaking his head in the process. He was being ridiculous. The other day in the hallway, he had still managed to remain composed but the more time he spent around you, the softer he became for you.

He had been worried for you upon seeing all that blood and it had scared him. Love and affection weren’t exactly emotions he got to experience a lot and then for a human of all species…

He realised with a start just what it was that was happening to him. He was courting you, wasn’t he? He had not done anything alike in years, the last time for a beautiful Asgardian woman who had turned out to take more interest in Thor than him.

Loki was no expert on dating. He had never had the need for it… not until you. A growl escaped his lips. How dangerous for his already shattered heart would it be to give in to his desire and make you smile again? To feel your lips against his skin once more?

Another growl. He was addicted to you already. Jumping up from the bed, he left the facilities again, this time to head a few miles west. Frigga had always said that love goes through the stomach. He might as well try that strategy out.

About two hours later, there was a soft knock on your door. You stirred, eyes fluttering open. Your puppy—you had still not thought of a name for it—had curled up in your arms, still sleeping soundly.

“Yes?”

The door opened to reveal Loki. With a smirk, he produced something from behind his back—a box with the logo of your favourite pancake shop on it. Your jaw dropped.

“Merry Christmas.” He announced.

“Oh my goodness… Loki, you are so sweet.”

The God of Mischief raised an eyebrow. “Sweet is not exactly what I was hoping for.” He replied, albeit smiling. You sat up carefully to not wake the puppy, accepting the pancakes all the while licking your lips hungrily. Now that was one way to start Christmas Day.

“How about considerate?” You tried again, smiling up at him sweetly. Loki smirked, hands clasped behind his back. He almost appeared a little… awkward.

You longed to ask him why he was doing all this but then again… you could think of only one answer. It couldn’t possibly be, no?

“Care to share? They are really good.”

“It appears so. The entire restaurant smelled like a sugar realm.”

“Is that a thing?”

“No.”

“Oh… pity.” He chuckled.

Twenty minutes in which you silently ate with relish went by, the puppy still sleeping peacefully in your bed, with you unable to stop petting it all the time. Once you had finished the very last bite, you simply dropped the empty takeaway-packaging on the floor.

“Thank you so much, Loki. I couldn’t have imagined better Christmas presents.”

He nodded, watching your every move as you moved in to give him another kiss on the cheek.

This time though, in just this moment, Loki turned his head to face you again, your lips landing on his instead. You gasped, even more so when he deepened the kiss, moving his mouth gently against yours, tongue slipping between your lips to taste you. Oh my god. Loki was kissing you. Loki was kissing you!

It felt like a demon from Muspelheim had set his body on fire, from the inside out. Loki was ablaze. Unable to stop himself, his arms came up to pull you closer into his body until you were straddling him, your fingers digging into his clothes. You both knew where this was going.

There was no doubt you were going to wake up the little dog when you pushed him back on the mattress, overcome with a sudden confidence and hunger that made you feel invincible. Loki did not object. The only reason you hesitated was the fact you remembered just then that you were on your period. Reluctantly, you pulled away.

“Loki… maybe we should do this… another time. My… period, remember?”

“A little bit of blood will not stop me from ravishing you, my dear.” Your heart skipped a beat.

“A-are you sure?”

Loki nodded slowly and intimately, his blue gaze never leaving yours.

Next thing you knew, the both of you lost all of your layers of clothing one by one. Scratch making a list for Christmas presents for your friends to make them happy… you couldn’t quite believe that Loki actually reciprocated your affection for him. This certainly was the most amazing Christmas yet.

A/N: If you enjoyed this story, I would appreciate it so much if you considered supporting me on Kofi! It’s either for caffeine or red wine, I’ll take both. ko-fi.com/sserpente ♥

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allzelemonz · 3 years

Text

Noob: David Rossi X Male Reader

When you got the chance to interview for the BAU, you were excited. For most of your career as a fed you’d been with sex crimes. It sucked. You sat at a desk most of the day and rarely drew your weapon or had to show your badge to a soul. You felt like all that hard work at the academy was going to waste.

So when the interview was cut short, it was disappointing. SSA Hotchner had asked you the routine questions and gone over your file, but a plucky blonde wearing colors you didn’t even know about cut that very short.

“Sir, oh sorry!” She smiled over at you.

“It’s all right, what have you got, Garcia?”

“JJ said there was a case, urgent case.” She glanced between the two of you, a nervous look on her face.

“I’ll be there in a minute, thank you.” Hotchner dismissed her and she went on her way, closing the door behind her.

“It seems important, I can come back later-”

“No, no, why don’t you sit in on our briefing?” The senior agent urged.

“Oh, uh, sure.” You nodded along as he gathered files.

He led you into a new room with a round table situated in front of a large screen with a few other agents crowded around. Hotchner gestured for you to sit and he joined you after receiving a file from another blonde agent. A few more people trickled in and you did you best not to seem out of place.

“Now that everyone is here, before we get started, this is our newest member, SSA (Y/l/n).” Hotchner addressed.

You didn’t process what he said for a moment, but were caught up when everyone started applauding.

“He will be a secondary technical analyst out in the field, his qualifications are outstanding, and this is the first time he’s been told he’s hired.”

“You can’t just jump the gun on the guy, Hotch.” A rather handsome young agent leveled.

“No, it’s, uh, it’s an honor.” You tried to breathe properly. “Thank you, sir.”

“Let’s start. JJ.” He signaled to the blonde to start presenting.

It was a standard weird serial killer case, three bodies with a gruesome signature. Before you knew it everyone was exchanging theories and then packing up.

“(Y/n), I think for your first case you’ll stay here so Garcia can show you the ropes.” Hotch informed.

“Yes, sir.” You nodded.

The rest of the agents left in a hurry and you were left to follow the colorful blonde from before. After an extensive tour of her batcave she offered you candy and pulled a screen with profiles. Each picture was of the BAU agents and Garcia clicked on the first.

“Okay, quick rundown of the team, since we didn’t have time for introductions.”

She gestured to the screen in front of you with a flourish.

“This is the ever handsome Derek Morgan, he’s a sweet guy, really nice, and certainly not hard on the eyes.”

You tuned out momentarily as she rambled on about the team. She went through Prentiss, JJ, Reid. Hotch, and herself. Her last speech, however, caught your attention. He’d sat to your right at the round table. David Rossi. You’d seen his books around, but had never read one. He was a bit older and had some gray in his hair. He dressed nicely and looked richer based on the brands he wore.

“Any questions?” Garcia asked at the end of her rambling.

“Yeah, uh, Rossi.” You pointed at his picture on the screen. “What’s he like?”

A year into working at the BAU and you still couldn’t David Rossi out of your head. Garcia’s description of the man didn’t do him justice at all. In getting to know him you fell further into the charming trap that he naturally placed wherever he went. That’s why you nearly choked on your drink when Hotch paired you with Rossi for this case.

You went an entire year without being paired with him. Being the on site technical analyst put you on the other end of the spectrum from Rossi, but now that you’d been falling into the place of profiler a bit you suddenly found yourself in a car alone with Rossi.

“You alright, kid?”

“Yeah, fine.” You tried to quiet your beating heart as it seemed like people in Australia could hear it.

“You usually talk more don’t you?”

“No, no, not really.”

Rossi pulled over in an instant on the suburban street. He put the car in park and turned to your guilty face.

“Is it about the case?”

“No, Rossi, I’m fine.” You lied.

“Look, you can tell me now or I can bring it up to the team and they can get it out of you.” The Italian intimidation was clearly printed on his face.

“Hotch has never paired us up before.” You stated, hoping he’d run with that and come up with his own excuse.

“And?” He raised an eyebrow and you could’ve died from the disappointment he had on his face.

“I-uh…” Screw it. “I’ve had a crush on you since last year.”

Rossi sat frozen for a moment. You wished you could throw yourself out of the window, but by the time it would be rolled down it’d be too late.

“A crush?” Rossi questioned.

You nodded slowly. He looked around as he processed his thoughts.

“When we’re back in Quantico I’ll take you to this nice breakfast place and we can talk about this.”

He made you meet his eyes and all you could do was nod.

“In the meantime, focus.”

“Y-Yeah. I got it.”

The rest of the case went as normally as it could. The unsub was a middle aged white guy that had a bit of narcissism and a tendency to belittle women. Now you surrounded his house, everyone ready to apprehend him.

When Morgan kicked the door down you were met face to face with the barrel of a gun. You shot on instinct and were just lucky enough that the guy didn’t have the life left in him to pull his own trigger. Morgan grabbed the shotgun from the ground and tossed it away. You stood a bit frozen in place, your gun lowered only slightly.

Morgan called for the team and helped you out of your dazed state. He walked you back into the alley outside of the house and made sure you were good. He waited with you for a moment as you tried to process the details of your first kill in the field.

“Morgan!” You both turned to see Rossi walking to you. “Hotch needs you for a statement.”

Morgan nodded.

“I’ll stay with him.” Rossi gestured to you.

Morgan left and Rossi took his place leaning against the wall next to you.

“I thought I was gonna die.” You said.

“You did what you had to do, kid.”

“I just-”

“You did what you needed to do, end of story.” Rossi assured. “If you hadn’t taken the shot you wouldn’t be here now.”

“But-”

“(Y/n,” Rossi put himself in front of you and looked right into your eyes. “You’re in the right and you’re alive. That’s what matters right now.”

You nodded lightly, unsure of what to say. Rossi put his hand on your cheek and made you look at him again. He kissed you softly for just a second.

“If you hadn’t taken the shot I wouldn’t have gotten to do that.” Rossi smiled. “Now let’s get back to the team before they suspect something.”

“Are you still gonna take me to that breakfast place?”

Rossi smiled and gave you a nod of confirmation. You both went back to the team and gave your statements. The team was none the wiser to what happened in the alley.

#Criminal Minds #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds x male reader #david rossi #david rossi x reader #david rossi x male reader #rossi x reader #rossi x male reader

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fairyoftbz · 3 years

Text

a rewritten faith | l. juyeon

🪕 pairing: bartender! reader x cow-boy! juyeon 🪕 word count: 4k 🪕 genre: western! au, 1920s!au kinda?, angst to fluff 🪕 tw: mentions of violence, guns, fights, close death experience, deceased father, false accusations, swear words, the reader has some trauma 🪕 synopsis: you are the owner of the local saloon and something usual will happen, but it will take an unexpected turn. 🪕 a/n: i had this idea while watching a western film with my dad and i hope it's not gonna be too bad... 🪕 requested: no

╰☆☆☆☆╮

Your head turned to look at the entrance as the swing doors of the saloon burst open, two sergeants dragging another man inside, his face and body littered in bruises and cuts. He winced in pain as they shoved him against the counter not far from you, both giving him a hard slap at the back of the skull. With an attentive eye, you kept on polishing your whiskey glass with your used piece of cloth, watching everybody’s attention drawn towards the three men.

“You bloody bastard! Did you really think that you would get away with that? Raising your voice at Sir Landfield and seducing his daughter to use her for your own needs? Who did you think you were, the sheriff?” the entire pub erupted into a coarse laugh, some men hitting their pistol against the wooden tables to express their mockery. You, along with the waitresses, were the only ones to remain silent, your eyes darkening as you kept on drying your glasses. “I never touched Sir Landfield’s dau-” “Enough, bastard!” one of them yelled and punched him in the face, blood now oozing from the young man’s nose as his head swung to the side at the violence of the blow. He stumbled on the right, his wounded hand quickly grabbing the counter to prevent him from falling.

The church bells rang as it announced another hour of the day, the wind shifting some dirt and sand off the ground. Quickly glancing outside, you noticed a convoy drawn by horses walking down the main street, their whinnying getting louder as the man guiding them whipped their back and sides sharply.

“Gentlemen. What did your good-for-nothing do to our town? And what brings y’all in my father’s saloon?” you asked, the attention shifting from the culprit to you. You arched a brow as you slid the whisky glass you’ve just finished cleaning and another one across the counter, walking over the liquors to fill it for the men with their habitual orders.

“Ah,” one of them grunted. “This bastard thought he was the best in town and started arguing with Lord Landfield over some laws. He threatened him and even tried to get into his daughter’s panties!” one of them shouted as you poured alcohol into their glasses, noticing an arrogant smile plastered on his face. You didn’t like where this was going.

The culprit raised his eyes at you from his stool and observed you working, your orbs boring into his for a quick second before looking away to grab another bottle of liquor.

“Well, I’m pretty sure he had some good reasons to speak his mind to the mayor. Does he have a name?” you smirked as you placed a glass of herbal liquor in front of the soon-to-be-dead gentleman. He thanked you by a brief nod, and his face contorted into a grimace as he rose his glass to his lips, downing the drink in one go.

“He deserves to be hung by the balls, he’s from the Lees! Lee Juyeon! No one touches the mayor’s daughter like that except her husband!” the man on the left banged his fist onto the wooden counter, making everyone applaud and raise their glass at the idea.

Of course, you disagreed with their horrendous methods, but who were you to counter. Since you didn’t want to be the next in line, hung and burnt alive, you preferred to keep your mouth shut and observe.

“I never touched her!” exclaimed the-said Lee Juyeon but was quick to get shut up. “You don’t get to speak up, you piece of shit! If I said that you touched her, you did, end of the story!” Another man threw his fist right into the apparent lawbreaker’s nose, who immediately wiped his blood-spattered face on the side of his dirty shirt and spat on the floor.

You could tell that Juyeon was surprised by everyone’s agreement, trying his best to hide the fear in his eyes by clutching his jaw. One of the stablemen left the pub for a quick second before coming back, holding a long, white rope with a dirty smile on his face. Faces lit up in delight when he skilfully threw it in the air and swirled it around one of the massive wooden joists before tying a slipknot on the other end. The young man’s hand clutched around his glass, and he stared at you, noticing a hint of despair behind his two dark brown orbits.

You’ve seen many men and women in his state, but for once, you spotted something different. Sincerity, pain, and hopelessness could be observed in this man’s behaviour. He looked like he couldn’t hurt a fly, but you also knew that men were good at lying and being pitied when it was needed. However this time, for some reasons, you felt your heart pinch at the visible fear daunting the cowboy.

The men of law sat down at a table near the swinging doors and lit up their cigars thanks to the waitress’ matches, only to slap her butt as a thank-you. She giggled like a teen girl, which made you even more sickened by the situation than you already were, many people emptying the saloon in fear of witnessing death.

“Oi bastard, are you thinking of a way to shag the bartender before your sentence? She’s pretty cute, right?” one of the officers yelled as the delinquent’s eyes lingered on your working figure. You sent them a death glare, and they elbowed each other with a dirty grin, the idea of shooting them between the eyes titillated your mind for a quick second. “Try not to get us thrown out, she can be pretty rough, just like her father,” you heard them snicker, and you turned around to sigh and roll your eyes, trying not to get arrested either by ‘disrespecting’ them, even if it looked really tempting.

Abruptly, the oldest officer pushed a chair with his foot towards the young man, puffing some smoke out of his mouth, the action leaving a greyish trail lingering above their bald, dirty-minded heads. The stableman grabbed the man from the counter and forced him to get on the chair before shoving his head inside the slipknot and tightened it.

Exhaling sharply as it already happened too many times since your father passed away and bequeathed the saloon to you, you closed your eyes and looked away, mentally cursing the sheriff for choosing your tavern for doing such horrible acts of what they called ‘justice’.

“So, Lee, any last words before we shoot you in the head?” one of the officers insolently said as he expertly swirled his pistol in his hand, his other holding the cigar close to his mouth. From where you were, you could see the culprit gritting his teeth, trying to remain neutral.

“No, I don’t. Because I have done anything wrong, except expressing my honest opinion to the sheriff. And, as much as you want me to, I never laid a finger on his daughter,” the man spat confidently, only to have the two officers and some other men around the saloon unpleasantly shaking their heads.

“I can’t believe it. Even at the edge of death, he’s still willing to lie,” locking the cylinder before lowering the hammer of his revolver, the officer pointed his weapon towards the young man, who stayed as still as possible.

Everyone stared at the scene with intensity, some drinking their liquors or taking puffs of cigars like they were watching and enjoying some entertainment. The culprit was staring intensely at the officers, making them understand that he wasn’t scared of the gun nor facing death. You, on the other hand, were exhausted of those illegal actions and atrocious scenes that already happened when your father was still from this world. Luckily, he always made sure to give you to the tailor next door when such things happened, but it wasn’t really helpful since you became responsible for the aftermath at a very age.

They weren’t the ones that got rid of the dead bodies they shot inside your establishment, they weren’t the ones crazily rubbing the dirt and dried blood off the wooden counter or ventilating the building to get rid of the gory, metallic smell lingering around, nor were they the ones getting scared and sick of working in such sordid conditions. Some graphic execution scenes were still lingering in your mind even years later and shocking you to the point of getting sick and wobbly for a few days, getting flashbacks of the gun firing off. No matter how many people you saw dying in the saloon or while walking around town after witnessing some settling of scores, you would never get used to this sleazy, corrupted method of getting rid of people.

And this case was the last straw. You could not handle another bloody situation, where people would be cheering and happily exiting the saloon as if nothing happened, leaving you mortified and scarred for the nth time behind.

As the sergeant was about to pull the trigger, you were swift to get out your dad’s revolver from the small compartment under the counter and shoot the wooden beam in two precise bullets. The waitresses shrieked and the rest of the souls populating the saloon flinched, hands going to protect their head and ears. You shot the wood three other times to make some dust and pieces fall to confuse everyone, hiding some bullets in your corset before going around the counter and grab the man by the sleeve. Among all the panicked people trying to rush out of the saloon, you dragged the man out through the back door, letting one of the waitresses take the control of the saloon.

“Come on, we don’t have a lot of time!” you said out of breath, the muddy ground staining the pans of your dress with a dark brown colour. The man looked still shocked to have narrowly dodged death, catching his breath as your hands were fumbling with the knot keeping your horse close to the wall. Seizing the reins with a soft yet skilled hold, you were quick to slide your foot in the stirrup and swing your leg over the beast, extending your hand for the man to take it.

He messily placed his foot on the wooden fence and jumped behind you, his hand still in yours as the fence collapsed under his weight. You felt his jerky breaths fanning your neck as you commanded the horse to race off.

“Ya! Ya!” you angrily yelled, repeatedly squeezing your legs around the horse for it to go faster as you heard some gravelly voices lingering around the saloon. Your horse neighed and picked up the pace, its hooves hammering the dried ground of the main street as you bolted out of the town. “Lower your head, we need to go faster!” you yelled and the man obeyed, your heart pulsating in your temples as you heard some screams and people opening fire towards you, bullets going through a few wooden wains from the neighbouring houses.

“Sorry about the fence,” the man whispered and you shook your head, eyes still focused on the dusty road. “That’s the least of my worries right now. Hold onto me instead so we can lose them faster,” you spat and whipped the reins on the horse’s neck, the man’s large hands landing onto your waist. “What’s your name, by the way?” he yelled so his voice wouldn’t be covered by the horse’s noises, and you slightly turned your head to the side. “Y/N,” You simply answered, trying to ignore his hands on you as he was accused of inappropriately touching the mayor’s daughter and pushed your feet down the stirrups as you went up a hill.

The town was quick to disappear behind you as you hurried into the taiga, following the winding trail as fast as possible. The lawbreaker was still holding onto your waist, his hold strengthening as you didn’t seem to be ready to slow down anytime soon. The concentrated look on your face didn’t subside at all, sometimes looking back to make sure that you weren’t being followed.

Your heart skipped a beat as your horse jumped over the railway line, his hooves toughly landing on the floor as the way started going downhill again, the man behind you hitting his chin against your shoulder due to the force of the impact. He mumbled a quick apology, but you didn’t even hear it, the wind blowing in your ears preventing any sound to reach you.

You finally ordered the horse to slow down as you reached another dense forest, the air feeling chiller as the sun was struggling to get through the infinite branches of sharpened pine needles. You and Juyeon kept your head low, the latter pushing his hat further onto his head to protect his already severely injured face from the spiky needles. He let out a small hum of surprise when you reached a small cottage with a wide range of greenery surrounding it, not expecting someone to live here. The air was so pure and fresh that it almost hurt your lungs, with no sign of tobacco smoke or dust from the road to poison your inner organs.

Getting off the horse, you drew the gun out of your corset and removed the bullets, tossing the revolver on a lonely stump. The man recoiled at the sight of the weapon, but instantly relaxed as you went behind the cottage. He grunted in pain as he got off the horse, giving it a gentle tap and rub its muzzle. It snorted quickly and turned around, walking further into the greenery to relax from the intensive workout you went through.

When you came back, the cottage key in hand, your gaze fell on the man leaning against a trunk, dried blood and cuts still covering his face. His bottom lip was split open, and his cheekbones were bruised, eyes bloodied by the dust and the several hits he received from the men of law. You sighed as you stared at him, hand sliding in the key and unlock the door.

“Come in,” you said as you pushed the door open, walking across the room to draw the curtains out.

Juyeon slowly limped inside, eyes travelling around the small living room, falling straight on a chair after placing your dad’s revolver on the table, the wood creaking under the collision. He groaned in pain and closed his eyes tightly, his jaw twitching as he suffered in silence.

You gave him some privacy and walked to the kitchen, getting some wood planks and a bunch of herbs and weeds from one of the cabinets. Just like your dad had taught you, you lit up a fire in the chimney and hung a small cauldron to the chain. You stood back up, the room getting filled with a heavy silence, not really sure of how to act with a possible criminal in your secret home. He sighed and groaned in pain many times as you prepared a brew and some lukewarm water to freshen up.

His worried eyes met yours as you heavily placed a wooden basin with steaming water on the table next to him, your hands sinking a piece of cloth in the warm water and twisting it.

“Take off your shirt, I need to clean and check your wounds,” you monotonously said, and the man’s hands hovered above his top, hesitantly undoing the first few buttons while looking outside.

He gulped as he exposed his torso to you, your eyes widening in shock for a quick second at the state of it. He got beaten up severely, red, and purple areas already littering his entire thorax. The bruises looked excruciating and probably caused some inner injuries, hence his unnatural movements.

You quickly pulled his shirt away from his body and ditched it on the table, eyes now wandering around his arms. He was pretty muscular – you couldn't neglect the steel-craved abs embellishing his torso – but the cuts and wounds were critical enough to damage the view.

Starting by cleaning his wounds and body with the piece of cloth, Juyeon tried his best to remain still, but it got intolerable at some point. He started hissing and cursing – not at you, he was grateful that you were willing to put yourself in danger to save and take care of him – but more in pain, his eyes flooding with anger as he recalled the sergeants’ faces and their accusations.

“You know,” the man started through gritted teeth before groaning as the piece of cloth grazed against a sensitive laceration on his collarbone, “I didn’t touch the sheriff’s daughter. I'd never touch a woman like that despite what they want everyone to believe,” you quickly looked at him in the eyes and chuckled, your hand delicately grasping his wrist to lift his arm to clean the residues of the cut on the side of the torso.

“I think it’s impossible for you to do so,” your voice trailed as you focused on your task, the man questioningly looking at you. “How so?” “She’s on the other side of the world, probably a thousand miles away from us. Serena is a successful woman, she’s sacred to her father. You probably saw her mother strutting around town like she’s the next queen, which is something quite ridiculous but funny at the same time. Serena is the pride of the family because she got married to an Australian businessman and is now living like a good middle-class person, you know?” his eyes widened as you explained everything to him, his tongue clicking in frustration.

“Lies? I became the scapegoat of those assholes for lies?” you defeatedly sighed and shrugged as the man was furrowing his brows, getting upset. “Welcome to our town, I guess. It is how we, no they, make the peace reign there. We all know that nobody shouldn’t mess with the mayor, but I guess that you are not from here, so you miserably fell into his trap,” you offered him a compassionate smile and carried on with cleaning him, wiping your damp hands on your dress as you got back to the fireplace.

You came back with the cauldron, hands enveloped in the wet piece of cloth as you gently plunged it in the water, Juyeon flinching at the steam surfacing from the warm-cold impact. Your eyes focused on the plant-based mixture you had prepared to heal and sanitise his injuries, following your grandma’s textbook to the letter.

Juyeon groaned again at the warm solution being applied on his body, feeling his skin itch and burn as you kept rubbing the product in. He looked up as you focused on your task, now rubbing his arm while holding his limb with a certain grace. On your face, he could discern some sadness and exhaustion hidden in your features, his mind wandering to what possibly happened to you to be in this situation.

“And you?” he started with a more hesitant voice as if he was scared to frighten a deer, “what made you the bartender of this saloon?” your hand quickly stopped working but resumed almost instantly, but Juyeon noticed.

“Owner,” you corrected, and his eyes widened, an impressed look painted on his face, “I am the only survivor in my family, they all died from sickness or old age. I became the owner of the saloon as soon as my father passed away. He was in this horrible business, letting the authorities do their dirty work inside the bar, away from prying, curious eyes. Of course, since I am a woman and is only good at taking care of children and clean, they keep coming here no matter how many times I refused. I, fortunately, didn’t have to witness every single execution when I was young, but it still sends me into anxiety fits when it happens. I’ve seen a lot of people going through what you’ve just escaped from and it’s almost impossible to get rid of the flashbacks,” you briefly explained, feeling the tears well up in your throat at the mention of your deceased father and harrowing trauma, but you swallowed thickly and repressed your emotions, keeping a neutral face.

“S-Sorry, I didn’t mean it,” he mumbled, and you shook your head, wetting your hands in the basin to quickly get rid of any remaining substance. “It’s fine,” you emotionlessly said, hurrying back in the kitchen to get some time alone.

Juyeon didn’t mean to hurt you by stirring some hurtful memories, but of course, curiosity killed the cat. Thanks to you, he had escaped his humiliating death sentence, and all he did was unintentionally pressing the wrong buttons. Agonisingly, he gritted his teeth and closed his eyes as he got up, the room slightly spinning as he limped towards the kitchen to come to you. Your shoulders were heaving up and down as you attempted to muffle your cries and silence your emotions, not wanting to break down in a room with a man other than your father. It was one rule that you forced yourself to follow, not wanting to appear weak to anyone's eyes.

“I’m sorry, it wasn’t my intention to hurt you like that,” his cavernous voice resonated against the walls of the empty kitchen, making you wince and quickly wipe your face with trembling hands before turning around. “How could you know?” you said with puffy eyes, the sight squeezing Juyeon’s heart as you tried to give him what was supposed to be a reassuring smile. He slowly walked to you and took a gentle hold of your trembling wrists, his chocolate orbs boring into your own. The gaze that you had found quite intimidating a few minutes ago when he was angry against his attackers currently held something completely different. It wasn’t pity as you were used to when you brought up your past, but something more like compassion and tenderness.

“Y/N. I know I'm a complete stranger and a criminal in your eyes, but I wanna help you the way you did for me,” he started, and you stared at the ground, trying to get off his grip. “I don’t need help,” you mumbled, but he didn’t let you go, the grasp around your forearms tightening but still felt consoling.

“Yes, yes you do. Withdrawing yourself into silence won't solve anything, it will only give prominence to your sadness and scars and prevent you from moving on. You don't have anyone to talk to about it anymore, you keep everything to yourself and stay stuck in this state of distress. You helped me avoid death and run away, so let me assist you in breaking away from your past. At least allow me to try,” he whispered those words to you as if he was afraid someone else would hear.

Tears blurred your vision, something that didn't ordinarily happen when the discussion topic was your father. You always managed to hold back your tears, but for reasons that were still unknown to you, with Juyeon, it was like your brain allowed him to see your raw, true side for some reason, despite knowing him for less than an hour. Maybe it was the fact that he wasn’t from your town and wouldn’t be telling your secrets to anyone else to cause you harm or humiliation.

“One trauma at a time. You need to get some rest first,” you countered his argument by guiding him out of the kitchen, and Juyeon let out a chuckle, frustrated that you cared more about his well-being than yours. “Very well then, but promise me you'll let me help,” he asked as you walked him into the rocking seat where your grandfather used to take his nap when he was still in your life.

"We'll see," you whispered, helping him to sit down before giving him a small smile. He let go of one of your wrists and lifted your hand to his face, placing a kiss on the back of your hand while never breaking eye contact, the action of chivalry making your heart skip a beat.

"Thank you for everything you have done for me," He mumbled before kissing your hand again, his damaged lips curving into a smile as you let your hand linger in his, against his mouth.

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canary3d-obsessed · 3 years

Text

Lost Tomb Reboot Lewks: Part 13

(Masterpost) (Other Canary Stuff)

Warning: Spoilers for both seasons of The Lost Tomb Reboot and also vaguely for Daomu Biji in general

Look 66 belongs to Ah Ning, who has chosen, for this adaptation, to go with short hair, heavy makeup, and all-black clothes, but with a bit of a club vibe, rather than her more usual tactical vibe.

The short hair is a weird choice. The whole schtick with DMBJ adaptations is that you have to tell who's who by their costuming and styling, since the associated actors toss roles back and forth faster than Wu Xie and Xiao Ge on a date with Liu Sang.

Hot guy in a hoodie? Xiao Ge. Slightly dorky but ridiculously charismatic guy who dresses like Joey Ramone? Hei Yanjing. Man who's too old for fluffy bangs and puppy-dog eyes but is working the hell out of them anyway? Wu Xie. Ponytail, gun, and a whole bunch of disposable sidekicks? Ah Ning.

Ah Ning, Lost Tomb 1 version, with her signature ponytail & disregard for human life.

For this look, Ah Ning has gotten rid of her long hair, henchmen, weapons, and the part of her shirt that normally would cover her belly. This is an outfit that says "I am finally ready to fuck Wu Xie."

Unfortunately she decides to accessorize this outfit with a giant deadly snake.

This snake, unlike the equivalent snake in uhhhhhmmm a different DMBJ show that Ah Ning might theoretically die in, does not appear to be poisonous or have an unusual instant-kill-you ability. It just squeezes her a little bit, and the boys don't make any attempt to revive her, even though not-breathing is a super survivable condition, if it's corrected quickly.

This non-poisonous snake accessory is all about killing a woman so that men can feel manpain, and I am kind of offended that this version of Ah Ning went out like that, after being a badass in every other adaptation.

(more after the cut!)

The hypothetical other show where a version of this scene perhaps also happens does correct this, by having her talk about her acceptance of the risk of death, and by having the fucking snake be POISONOUS. I am not naming the show because where’s the fun in that? If you watch TLTR first, like I did, you get to be worried about Ah Ning in every other show she’s in, which is exhausting but also kind of fun. (I don’t mind women dying in fiction, as long as their deaths are an important part of their own stories, rather than just being important for the growth of the men around them.)

Thanks to poor accessory choices, Ah Ning and her snake necklace go the same route as Ye Piaopiao and No-Longer-Mute Chick; fortunately Xiao Ge didn't fall for Tattoo Artist Ah Tou or she'd be in the morgue with the rest of them.

Look 67 is young Wu Xie's jungle adventure outfit, featuring a bright white popover jacket with cream color sleeves from Scotch & Soda’s Club Nomade collection. Scotch & Soda have have thoughtfully printed their name on the string so that those of you who share Wu Xie's clothing tastes will know where to shop. You know who you are.

You would think highly visible bright white would be a bad choice for a jungle adventure, but apparently snakes in these parts are only attracted to goths.

Wu Xie is also wearing wired ear pods, which did not exist whenever this flashback supposedly happened, but if we're cool with sentient crustaceans and clams that can incapacitate a ruthless trained assassin (clams got legs!), we can be cool with ear pods.

The show conveys flashback-Wu-Xie's youth and naiveté by having him smile sweetly, not watch Ah Ning take her clothes off, and not attempt CPR after she gets lightly squeezed by a snake.

Looks 68 and 69 belong to Not Ah Ning, who is played by Liu Yuqi, who also plays Ah Ning. Her makeup is much softer and prettier as this character than as Ah Ning; this character’s job is to be pleasing to men, whereas Ah Ning’s job is to get male underlings killed on the regular, so I guess that makes sense.

This outfit is an amazing body-hugging soft green jumpsuit with raised quilty detailing on the arms and shoulders. Her jumpsuit perfectly matches the couch she's sprawled on, which is her subtle way of telling Jiang Zisuan that she is a nice comfy place to have a lie down.

She accessorizes this look with her usual soft wavy brown hair and a scattering of gold finger rings. I think she also accessorizes this with ass pads, because Ah Ning does not appear to be draggin’ this wagon in her scenes. I checked. For science.

When the first outfit doesn't work, she ditches the subtlety and goes for a Chanel-style suit in black, white, and red, with a with a black leather bustier underneath.

Unfortunately this is a wasted effort, because the Jiang Zisuan she tries this on is actually Wu Xie in disguise.

Wu Xie only likes girls if they are 1. secretly manipulating him while acting like a tiny adorable sidekick, 2. trying to kill him repeatedly while adventuring together, 3. planning to kill him as soon as the roads are clear but willing to bone in the meantime, or 4. are a skin effigy with a sentient crustacean in their head.

Sorry, Not Ah Ning; this was a good effort.

Look 70 features Wu Xie in a white thermal shirt, dark blue jeans, and fake facial hair. This is a good look for sitting with your not-quite girlfriend and wondering how you both managed to have romances with Bai Yu in parallel universes. (OP recently watched Love O2O, which is a trip for fans of DMBJ, Guardian, or feminism)

Fortunately Wu Xie doesn’t know that his second-favorite doctor/Zhan Rishan’s girlfriend also had a romance with Bai Yu or his mind would be entirely blown.

This is a soft, comfortable look, perfect for torturing someone, with help from your first-favorite doctor, by pretending to poison someone with nicotine, all so you can have a few moments of quality time with a cigarette before said doctor takes them away again.

Wu Xie's cigs are stored in a buttery-soft leather case that completely covers the brand name of the cigarettes, so apparently cdramas don’t go in for ciggy product placements.

Wo Xie wears this outfit with a silvery-metal watch with a black leather wrist strap. The watch appears to be round, and it probably tells time. (If you’re new to the Lewks series: I lack watch knowledge and that’s not likely to change.)

Wu Xie finally peels off his fake facial hair so we can see his pretty face again, only to replace the facial hair with an entire fake face. Fortunately, this face, belonging to actor Wu Lipeng, is also pretty.

Look 71 belongs to Wu Xie, initially (for this outfit) played by Wu Lipeng until his inevitable unmasking. So many actors have played Wu Xie, this whole disguise thing is barely worth blinking at. Wu Lipeng does a nice job changing his mannerisms to play Wu Xie, and this whole schtick eventually gives us Zhu Yilong's delightful performance as Wang Meng, so even though we eventually get way too much of not-Zhu-Yilong in the role, I’m good with it.

This outfit features black jeans, black tactical boots & gloves, and Ah Ning’s coin bracelet, although it’s mostly hard to see the bracelet. The outfit’s main feature is a possibly-leather jacket that’s been molded into a hideous and disturbing voronoi pattern.

This jacket is probably very expensive and took a lot of work to craft, but it makes him look like he’s wearing a Glad Force Flex garbage bag. I mean, I guess that's cool.

This outfit is good for several episodes worth of adventures, including getting tied up and being sassy...

...and underwater cave exploration, which is totally a thing that a person with critically damaged lungs can do.

This outfit is good for homoerotic wrestling...

...and also for heteroerotic wrestling.

This is also a good outfit for being gently cradled in the arms of your doctor, while you massage your throat in order to swallow what he's putting in your mouth.

The fingerless gloves are useful for helping Xiao Bai get out of not one, but two different situations in which she stepped on a trap without realizing it, requiring Wu Xie to get down on the ground and have a tense encounter with her foot.

Scenes like this are where costuming really makes a difference. In this shot, we we watch a stunt hand (Zhu Yilong has never had that long of a thumbnail in his life) hold a wire steady, while a stunt foot is pulled out from under it.

This shot includes a lot of visual texture and interest, from the hatch lines on the palm of the glove to the cross-striping of the boot lace. The complexity of this glove and this boot help to hold our attention when they’re in the frame, allowing the tension of the scene to build, instead of dissipating when the viewer runs out of things to look at.

Bonus Look 1

Carrying all that tragic baggage has given Jiang Zisuan spectacular arm muscles.

Bonus Look 2

Zhu Yilong with not-fake facial hair.

Daaaaaamn.

#the lost tomb reboot #reunion the sound of the providence #the lost tomb reboot spoilers #lost tomb lewks #spoilers #my gifs #canary3d-original #my stills #ah ning #wu xie #zhu yilong

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omegasamwilson · 3 years

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I literally had a panic attack when I watched Ayo take off Bucky's arm. I was born without my left arm and see a lot of myself in Bucky. I have a prosthetic and had to stop the episode and watch it later. And it really hurt me to see your completely disregard that and say I have no right to be upset. It really pisses me off. I'm fully acknowledging that Bucky did a terrible thing, and he needed to be stopped. But she didn't have to remove his arm. He wouldn't have hurt her. To see you refer to his arm in the tags as a weapon further hurt me. It's not a fucking weapon, it's his fucking arm. You're trying to twist this into a race issue when it's about fucking ableism. I'm brown not black so I don't know if you'll accept my concerns with your post

Hi, one, I apologize for what is sure to be a very long and very frustrated statement. But I’m dealing with a lot of shit rn (actually related to race and ableism specifically) but I wanted to respond because my ADHD ass will forget otherwise.

Okay. One, you say “he wouldn’t have hurt her.”

We, the audience, knows that. Ayo did not. What she knows is that the man before her was an assassin and sniper, even before he was captured and forced to kill by HYDRA. He was a WWII sniper and seemed to be quite skilled (I’m going to assume that’s one of the reasons HYDRA tried to experiment on him and picked him to he the winter soldier.) In any case, this newly reformed (and at the time, just barely reformed. As in, he was healed a month, maybe two months before the events of infinity war. So he’s been healed for a whopping seven months.) This newly reformed assassin, who had been the victim of either chemical or otherwise mental subjugation freed a terrorist from prison.

Not only did he free a terrorist from prison, he freed a terrorist that was obsessed with HYDRA. If any terrorist knew a back door to unlock the winter soldier again, it would be Baron Zemo, who knew each and every one of HYDRA’s secrets.

While Shuri is definitely brilliant, it’s entirely possible that HYDRA buried a safety within their “asset” just in case he was able to break his programming. It’s entirely possible that it was so well buried amongst the labyrinth that is the brain that even Shuri couldn’t find it. After all, Shuri isn’t a neuroscientist, and the brain is largely regarded as the final frontier. So it’s entirely possible that she missed buried programming.

So, we have a person that got rid of HYDRA’s programming seven months ago that just freed one of the only people on the planet that could have the information that could potentially reactivate the winter soldier. And THEN, we have a video of this man “acting” as the winter soldier in madripoor. This was uploaded on the internet and I’m assuming that Ayo saw it.

What proof does Ayo have that he won’t hurt her? That she won’t weaponize his arm and hurt her? What proof does she have that he’s not under Zemo’s control, that Zemo can’t control him in a second. The only thing she knows are that Bucky Barnes freed a terrorist that had access to all of HYDRA’s information, the terrorist appeared to control the winter soldier in madripoor, and it is entirely possible that there is buried programming designed to deactivate the winter soldier.

She deactivates it, realizes he’s fully in control of himself and says, “bast damn you, James.” As in, “fuck you for freeing a terrorist and acting like it isn’t a big deal. You are clearly acting on your own accord in this.”

And yes, it’s different being Black vs. being Brown. It isn’t to say that racism and ableism don’t intersect with Brown folks because obviously it does.

But l specifically asked for Black opinions bc of the demonization of Black folks, especially the trope of “big scary Black women” or “big scary Black men.”

It’s ironic I see this today when I have a story that is so relevant and anger inducing.

I work with white parents of Black children, usually through adoption since I work primarily with lgbt parents, but I do have some cis het white parents raising Black biological kids. One of the parents and friends got into it today because her autistic Black child got into it with their sibling (also disabled). The sibling intentionally triggered their older sibling and punched them and it escalated to the point where the bigger sibling finally reacted and shoved the younger sibling. It broke the younger kid’s glasses. The youngest is legally blind and needs very expensive and specific prescription classes to even have 20/40 vision.

The mom called the police on her child and the kid was arrested and charged. She is 15. Mom described the kid as aggressive and awful and terrible and all sorts of names. A ww called the police on her Black 15 year old child having a meltdown. And she played into stereotypes that Black people, Black women, are aggressive/scary/angry. A ww could’ve gotten her child killed for having a meltdown because she broke a white child’s disability aid.)

A ww couldve gotten her child killed because she played into anti-Black stereotypes. That white people need protection from them. Even when the white child was initially the aggressor in the scenario.

Sure, it’s different, but it plays to the same stereotypes. Poor white disabled person needs protection from the aggressive scary Black person, and we’re just going to assume that the Black person was being unnecessarily aggressive because it plays into all of the stereotypes about Black people. No, there’s no way that this Black person was making a decision based on a series of evidence that could point to them genuinely being harmed.

(By the way, in the scenario of the two kids, I think they both needed help and support, and that the police shouldn’t have been called period.)

Nope, it’s just an aggressive Black person being ableist.

The same systems that have everyone seeing Bucky as a cute little uwu cinnamon roll in need of protection are what caused everyone to see Ayo as an aggressive ableist Black woman. White people usually get the benefit of the doubt. The best intentions are believed even when the evidence clearly says otherwise.

The evidence Ayo had indicated that she had no idea whether the winter soldier could’ve been reactivated and whether or not Bucky could’ve been under zemo’s control. She had no idea. None. She made a decision based off that information. And the fact that Bucky didn’t react strongly indicated that he was acting on his own accord.

Mayhaps, Ayo might even have been trying to trigger the winter soldier. I just thought of this but it makes sense. That the WS would react very defensively and even potentially deadly to that level of fighting, even if his previous orders were different.

In any case, this situation isn’t comparable to every day disabled people because our disability aids to not double as weapons. Most people can’t do more harm with a prosthetic limb than they can with a regular limb. Bucky can. Bucky’s arm is also a weapon and that fact complicates matters considerably. If bucky’s arm were simply a regular arm with typical strength, it’d be a no brainer situation. But it’s not. We don’t know the wakanda enhancements of his arms, but we know in the comics, he could kill with a single punch using his arm. He uses his arm tactically to map his surroundings. He uses his arm to send off EMPs that can disabled weaponry. It even has a retractable blade for close combat. It is a disability aid that it also a weapon. It was designed to be a weapon. The normal conversations around disability aids don’t fit it because no one today has a disability aid that could kill someone in seconds and even cause larger scale damage with a targeted EMP.

And finally, I want to say this, I am truly sorry that you had a panic attack while watching the episode. That is never fair and it’s never fun to be triggered by television shows.

I do hope this helped to better explain and clarify my perspective.

#nonny mouse #ayo #tfatws #police cw #ableism #anti blackness

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petals42 · 4 years

Text

The Count (the old guard, joe/nicky)

okay, I have only two headcanons so far for The Old Guard and I was going to try to work them both into fic BUT just in case I don’t, here's one of them:

Joe and Nicky try to keep their death count even.

After hearing that they eventually can die, joe and nicky have an almost superstitious practice of trying to make sure that they die the same amount of times. Sometimes this means one literally throwing himself in front of the other so that they take the bullet and do the death. Sometimes it means purposefully lowering your weapon at a certain time. It always means keeping count of how many times you die. And how many times the other person dies. And comparing afterwards.

Sometimes they check in mid-battle, mid-situation; more often they wait until after. After the blood and the extraction and it’s usually when they are home and they aren’t embarrassed of it, not really, this obsessive counting and matching, but usually, usually, they wait until it is just the two of them again. Until they are somewhere soft and quiet and--

“Six,” Nicky says as he reaches under the hem of Joe’s shirt to help him pull it off. The action isn’t a prelude to anything, they are too tired for that, it’s just that Joe had been stabbed in the shoulder and though the wound isn’t there, even after a thousand years, Nicky still assumes that sometimes Joe must be sore from the injury.

It’s not a prelude, but he drops a kiss close to where he thinks the wound was anyway.

“Seven,” Joe replies, more a grunt than anything as he reaches for Nicky’s belt. Their clothes are clean, it’s been days since the raid, but it will be nice to get out of them anyway.

Nicky sighs to himself, more in annoyance than anything else. The sheets are clean and the floor is carpet; they’ll have to do this in the bathroom. And the bathroom is one of those modern all-white things and he’s not sure they have bleach on hand. If only pills and poison didn’t take so long and hurt so much.

“We could--” And there’s a hesitation that means Joe is going to argue against it; as he does sometimes. Only when it’s Nicky’s turn, of course; but Nicky shoots him a glare. They’ve had this argument before. He’s not having it again. Joe’s throat clicks as he swallows one word and spits out another “--go outside. Less clean up.”

“Then we’d have to put clothes on again,” Nicky replies. “And someone might see.” He steps out of his pants on the way, grabbing Joe’s gun from the bedside table. He moves quickly. He wants to get to bed.

He settles in the tub and blinks when Joe follows him. Then smiles. It’s something he loves about Joe; that he can still never quite tell when Joe is going to let Nicky handle it himself and when he is going to come watch him. It seems to be a 50-50 shot. Sometimes Joe can’t do it, can’t make himself hurt Nicky again, will only burst in after he hears the gunshot, while other times--

“I love you,” Joe says softly, taking the gun, and it’s in a language Nicky doesn’t need to identify because he knows those words in all of them. And then he’s lowering his head for a kiss and Nicky raises his chin and--

The shot hits him in the heart but he doesn’t feel the pain. Or if he does, he doesn’t remember.

What he remembers is Joe already wiping the blood from his chest with a warm towel as he wakes.

Usually they do it when they’re alone. It’s not peaceful, but it’s calm and they clean up and run hands over blessedly unbroken skin and hold each other and it’s superstitious and illogical and maybe it’s not even safe but it’s… it’s better than the alternative.

Of course, now with Nile around and Andy… Andy again, they are a team like they haven’t been for decades. There’s less and less splitting up after missions, more and more time spent sharing rooms or apartments and it’s not a secret, this thing they do, but it is private.

Until it isn’t.

It had been a hard mission. Hard because innocent people died and hard because even the people they were fighting against didn’t seem evil, because the desperation in their eyes was obvious and it was the right thing to do, maybe, but it felt hard. And it was hard because it was long. The intel they had wasn’t perfect and all four of them had died twice before even breaching the compound and Nicky had gotten cut off somehow and pinned down for almost twenty minutes before managing to fight his way out and even Andy had looked tired of it all before the end. It was a firefight that felt more like a battle, seventy two hours getting in, almost as many getting out and--

It was just hard. Nile let the others set up camp, opting to dig the latrine and daydreamed about getting back to some form of civilization where there was running water and a shower. Andy said she could have someone out to pick them up by tomorrow or the next day at the latest but Nile knows that just means more bumpy travel for a few hours. Or longer depending on who Andy gets to come out here.

She steps back towards the fire and sees that everyone must be feeling the same as her. Andy is half-heartedly chewing a granola bar, looking as if each bite has to be forced down, and Nicky is already asleep, passed out facing away from the fire so that Joe’s back will be warmed when he inevitably curls around him. Only Joe is still moving, adding to the pile of wood near the fire so it will be easy to keep going in the night and then opening a duffel to grab a blanket to drape over Nicky and then digging through another duffel to grab something else that he stuffs into the waistband of his pants and Nile has just enough time to assume to herself that it must be some sort of food before she is flopping into her own sleeping bag, eyes already sliding closed.

She sits up only to move a rock out from under her back and opens her mouth only to say goodnight.

That’s when she sees Joe lean down to press a kiss to Nicky’s temple, but instead of laying down next to him, he is rising and moving away from camp, away from the latrine, and she opens her mouth to tell him he’s going the wrong way.

“Let him go,” Andy says quietly. “He’ll be fine.”

Nile frowns at her, but her brain is a bit too fuzzy for questions. She mentally shrugs and curls up.

And shoots up as she hears the unmistakable sound of a gunshot nearby. Muffled by a silencer, obviously, faint enough that Nicky doesn’t stir, but it sounds like it came from the direction that Joe just went and she flings her arm out next to her to find her gun. Andy will be silently kicking Nicky awake and they’ll regret it, whichever idiot who managed to survive the compound and follow them here.

“Hey.” Andy’s whisper cuts through her panic nicely. Nile turns, ready to follow Andy’s lead. “Hey, it’s okay.” She is still sitting. She has not reached for a weapon. She is not waking up Nicky.

“What?” Nile says, keeping her voice low only so they don’t give away their position. “Andy that was a--”

“A gun, I know,” Andy says with a wry twist of her mouth. “It’s okay. No one’s coming to hurt us.”

“Joe’s out there!” Nile says, fighting to keep her voice low. Out there and if he’s shooting at something, that must mean-- “We have to go help him!”

“He’s not in danger,” Andy says. Nile tries not to sputter at her. Obviously he’s not in danger, he’s freaking immortal, they all are, but that doesn’t mean they should just let him fight this battle alone. That’s not how--

Another shot has her kicking her feet out from her sleeping bag. This one is even fainter as if Joe is moving away from them. Enough is enough. She doesn’t know what Andy is playing at but this is ridiculous.

“Don’t,” Andy says sharply and then sighs. “He’s-- they-- him and Nicky, they-- They have this thing.”

Nile stops moving. If only because Andy sounds the particular brand of annoyed and exhausted and regretful that means she is about to actually give up a secret.

“What?” Nile says when Andy’s silence lengthens.

“They try to stay even,” Andy finally replies. She looks at Nile as if Nile is supposed to know what that means. Nile’s face must ask the question for her. “With their… deaths. They try to make sure they have the same number so that if…”

She fades out. Nile’s brain finally catches on. So that if their final death is no more than a numbers game, they will be together.

“That’s…” Nile doesn’t realize she starts the sentence aloud and then doesn’t know how to finish it. Insane? Stupid? Romantic? Not how that works? How does she know how any of it works anyway, maybe that is how it works, maybe it is just some number that you hit and-- but, fuck, what if it’s not a number and it’s just random and Joe kills himself out there.

“It’s what they do,” Andy says. Only the tightness around her eyes reveals her true feelings. “They won’t stop.”

Nile blinks. It… she… Nicky had been pinned down today for almost twenty minutes. Who knows…

Another shot rings through the clearing.

Nile flinches.

“Go to sleep,” Andy tells her. “I’ll stay up.”

It’s an order and Nile lays back down for lack of anything better to do.

But she doesn’t fall asleep. She lies awake and she waits and counts as eight gunshots crack through the night.

Nicky is furious the next day. More angry than Nile’s ever seen him and Andy says nothing, but she gives the two men a wide berth, sending first herself ahead as a scout and than Nile head as a second scout and--

“That’s not how we do things,” Nicky hisses as both women fade into the trees. He comes to a stop and turns to face Joe fully for the first time since this morning. Since he had woken to see the silencer still attached to Joe’s gun and felt the tacky blood still plastered to the back of his head and realized what Joe had done last night. “How could you--”

He looks away from Joe then. Looks away and unbidden, his mind plays it out. If Joe had permanently died and Nicky wasn’t there. He would’ve woken up alone, back cold despite the fire, and no one would have known where to look at first, but they would have followed his tracks easily enough and he would have run only to see Joe’s body, already cold and damaged and--

He shudders. And then flinches as Joe’s hand reaches for his face.

For the first time in many years, Nicky slaps it away.

“I can’t believe you would do that to me,” he says and his eyes are filled with tears that he tries to stop from falling. It would be one thing for it to happen in battle, another if this theory of theirs was wrong, if it resulted in something horrific, but to not be there.

To not be there would be worse than death itself.

And Joe knows that. And the fact that he still-- he still-- Nicky doesn’t know what his face does. Doesn’t know how to continue.

“That is not how we do this.”

“I know,” Joe says. “I know, Nicky, I’m so-- I’m sorry. I just--”

He takes a breath then and it’s his turn to glance away. “You were gone so long where I couldn’t see you. And I couldn’t get to you. And I--”

His throat closes and Nicky opens his mouth to tell Joe that that is exactly what Joe had done to him, worse because he was not in battle, he was sleeping and unaware, but Joe looks back at him in that moment and his eyes are red and his voice is raw and desperate.

“I had to know the count was right, Nicolo.” It’s their old blench of Italian and Arabic; the language they created together at the beginning. “I had to make them match before I could sleep in case we were attacked in the night or something in you was still healing. Or not healing. You fell asleep so fast, and so easily, and you had been gone so long that I- I-”

He stops that and his hand makes an aborted motion towards Nicky’s face again before dropping to his side. “I’m sorry, my love. Truely.”

His eyes flick to the ground and then to Nicky’s face and Nicky is angry enough still to make him wait for one heartbeat, two, and then--

He grabs Joe’s face with both his hands, a touch too firmly to be called gentle.

“Never again, Yusuf.” Joe’s hands lift to curl around Nicky’s wrists and press them more firmly together. “You will not do that to me again.”

“I-” Joe starts and maybe he was going to say “I won’t” or maybe “I promise” or maybe the sound wasn’t I- at all but Nicky doesn’t give him the chance. He presses their mouths together and pours his anger into that, and his hurt too and desperation and fear and love and he knows Joe won’t do it again. Knows because Joe is kissing him the same way.

His left hand drops to Joe’s shoulders to pull him closer, ever closer, and his right trails to where he can feel the blood on the back of Joe’s head and it’s blood, but it’s dried, dried and the skull is whole and they are both wonderfully, wonderfully alive and for now, that is enough.

They will handle the rest of it together.

#the old guard #joe x nicky #nicky/joe #the old guard fanfiction #well its half headcanon half fic #a petals classic #also its 2k #i thought it was going to be approximately 15 sentences when i started #ALSO A PETALS CLASSIC #my fic #tog

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sylverstorms · 3 years

Text

Cassandra Dimitrescu x Maiden ----Valiant

The tavern is lively in the evening.

A fact you are endlessly grateful for. It provides an imperfect little sanctuary to drown out the mad howling from the outside.

The shrill sound is nothing new, nor out of the ordinary for you; it has been with you your entire life. Ever since you were a child, you remember the fear it instilled and the nights it kept you awake, shivering in terror underneath the covers of your bed. You remember the stories your mother told you about the monsters lurking in the darkness of the forest… even more so now that her warnings and tales are all you have of her.

Perhaps that subconscious terror is the very reason which had you seeking work at the inn.

You could do literally anything else in the village than tolerate the half-mad grouch that is the owner –he never even pays on time— yet you are still here. Possibly to escape the cold walls of your empty house at night. Possibly to avoid being alone with the howls and the padding right out your door. You don’t know how the other villagers do it. They’re either braver, denser or crazier than you give them credit for.

As for yourself, you know for a fact you are not as strong as other people think you are. Maybe it is your sturdy build that tricks them, or the killer glare you’ve perfected over the years of putting up with the town’s shit. Whatever the case, you are in no hurry to debunk the lie, even while you recognize it for what it is.

A distant howl threatens to crack the cocoon of safety you’ve convinced yourself you’re tucked into, so you focus on the drunken chatter and the bard’s soft music a tad harder. It’s just the wind. Just the wind out there. Your knuckles are white around the bear glass you’re in the process of cleaning.

And then something strange catches your eye.

At a shadowed, quiet corner of the tavern, a shopkeeper is speaking to a hooded woman. The scene would not be anything out of the ordinary… only, you know just about every individual in this damned village –it comes with the job— yet you do not recognize her.

And you’d remember that tight, lithe figure, that is for certain.

There aren’t many girls in the village who can make plain black robes look like an article right out of a fashion magazine. So, yes, she is the first thing your mind settles on. But your attention quickly shifts to the person she’s talking to. The man has had far too much wine to drink –you’d know, you served it— and he’s not exactly the type you’d trust being inebriated around women. Already, he’s looking at her like a starved beast salivating over a freshly cut steak.

Your hazel eyes narrow at his direction.

“I will ask you for the final time. Do you have what I ordered for my mother?” the girl asks, her silvery voice curling slowly around every word, as if she’s talking to a toddler or a fool. It’s as funny as it is cute, but you can’t let yourself smile just yet. Something in his gaze takes all the mirth out of the situation for you.

Instinctively, you’ve moved closer.

“I have it. Yes, of course. Come with me an’ I’ll give it to you.” There is a very obvious slur to his words that inspires no confidence.

You want to shout when the girl so very easily follows him outside.

There are too many things wrong with that thought. Her, possibly new to the village, alone with a lecher like him. Her, unprotected, out in the dark, where every soul in this cursed place knows not to be.

Suddenly, you’re hyperventilating and you don’t know why. You don’t know her and her wellbeing is none of your concern. Everyone in the town is out for themselves, that part was made abundantly clear to you a long time ago. There is no room for compassion, especially at night. She made a bad decision and the consequences are her own to deal with.

You are not a heroine to follow her out and save her from the wolves and the man’s intentions and the rumored monsters. You are not that good of a person. You know it like you know the sky is blue; you are not that brave.

But you must be stupid.

You must be, because it’s not a minute later that you hurry out the back door, as well. It’s difficult to see anything in the dead of night, but you manage to spot the pair on the side of the building. The shopkeeper is now leaning too close to her, a drunken grin to his lips as he reaches out to grab at her chest. The girl’s hand flies to her hip, the handle of a weapon visible there just under the shadows—

Your fist is faster.

It cracks straight against the man’s jaw in a sound that shouldn’t be so satisfying but it is. His head knocks against the wall and he falls backwards like a pushed domino. Howls echo in the distance but the sound of your heart is too loud in your ears to register them.

You turn to the girl to make sure she’s alright –to see her with a gleaming sickle in hand, hovering awkwardly mid-air. At least she had a weapon with her. Yet it’s not so much the blade as her face that captures your attention.

She is beautiful. All delicate features befitting a princess, curved nose and cupid lips and a small chin. Her brown hair looks silken-soft as it runs down the sides of her angelic face… but you haven’t heard of any angels with an umbral, rose-like tattoo on their foreheads.

You have heard of beings bearing such markings that you’d be smart to avoid.

The contrast between the attraction you feel and the danger you should feel leaves you hanging there, still and mute. She is the first to move, hooking her sickle back to her belt in a motion far too dexterous not to ring some alarm bells in the back of your head.

“Well.” she says. “Looks like I’ve been rescued.” she doesn’t sound rescued. “Unnecessary… but sweet of you.” If her smile wasn’t so pretty maybe you would have already started running indoors.

“N-no problem.” you say as you’re beginning to regret all your life choices.

Her eyes flash down to your neck, then back up to yours. You don’t see her move, but her hand is suddenly on your bicep, just above the curve of your elbow. You can feel the chill of her skin through your clothes. “Relax. You’ll have a heart attack.”

Easy for her to say.

A quiet moment passes between you, during which you are all too aware of the fact your back is now pressed against the wall and she’s in front of you. Then, “Is it the howling…?” she asks. You’re half-lying when you nod. “Don’t worry about it. I can’t very well let my valiant protector get eaten, now, can I?”

It’s meant as a joke, but your heart constricts further in your chest. Images you’d like to avoid thinking about come to mind. How casually did she say the word ‘eaten’, though…?

“I’m –not really any of those things.” You shake your head. “What did you need from this guy?”

Conversation is probably good, you muse. It helps with your nerves and it keeps her occupied. Plus, she’s kind of really cute, the way her voice so perfectly matches her face. You can’t help but add that to the list of reasons.

A pout crosses her balmy lips. The moonlight that caresses her face makes them glitter. “I wanted a surprise gift for my mother. My order should have arrived by now –so maybe I don’t need him, after all.” Maybe I don’t need him alive is what she doesn’t say but strongly imply.

“No, no! I can get it for you!” you say the second she makes to move towards the unconscious shopkeeper.

A soft, airy chuckle leaves her lips. “Didn’t you say you aren’t a valiant protector?”

“Words I stand by. But there’s been enough loss in the village as it is.” you somehow find the courage to reply. “I’ll get it from him tomorrow—”

“So, that’s where you are.” Another female voice chimes in, this one several tones darker than firmer than the brunette’s. The figure that looms in the darkness wears a similar attire, but she feels more ominous than the one in front of you. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you.” she says, stern, like an older sister you don’t want to ever cross.

“Sorry, sorry, I’m coming.” The brunette waves with her free hand. The one that’s not still on your arm. She turns back to you, her expression sweet amusement once more. “Be home tomorrow night and have my order with you, yes?” You can imagine it’s impossible for anyone to say ‘no’ to her when she bats her lashes like that.

You also don’t want to imagine what will happen if you refuse.

“Uh— Yeah.”

She beams. She downright beams. “Excellent!” She steps away and you take a much-needed breath…

But then she seems to think twice about it and slips right back into your space. Dainty fingers catch your chin, deceptively strong. Cool, soft lips land on your warmed cheek. She smells good, is all you can think about while she’s that close. Like the cold and roses and faint undertones of something metallic.

“Thanks, sweetheart.” she purrs.

The edge of her hood brushes your forehead and she’s out of reach before you can even blink. She waves at you from her sister’s side, who looks none too pleased with any of this.

And then— she blends into the dark and you finally register how cold it is outside.

Ko-Fi

#Cassandra Dimitrescu #lady dimitrescu's daughters #lady dimitrescu's daughters x oc #lady dimitrescu #tall vampire lady #resident evil village #resident evil 8 #fanfiction

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lazarettta · 3 years

Text

Misthios IV

Characters (Spartan!Reader x Mother Miranda)

Rating (T)

Word Count (3.4k)

Warnings (none I don't think)

You're up roaming around the castle and run into Miranda and Alcina.

It's been an exhausting but thrilling six months since you've gained the eye of this region's reigning ruler. Their Queen was ruthless as she was beautiful and you were quickly learning that she had a particular taste for blood that you haven't seen since your days in Sparta. Creative and cunning as she was, especially when it came to acts of revenge, but she took care of her kingdom and her people so long as they were loyal to her and her alone.

It was that last rule that forced you to discover just how cruel and destructive the mountains of Norway could be because you were tasked with chasing down a group of runaway slaves—as a punishment. This was different from your 'normal' punishments.

There was nothing special about these fucking slaves, they were just stupid enough to think it wise to steal from their Queen and then dare escape. It angered you so much that she'd send you on this quest when a small squadron of low ranked knights would've done fine.

It had taken you a week and two villages to finally catch up with them into the mountains. The conditions were harsher than what you were prepared for and you had to abandon half your gear and continue on foot. The cold was too much for your horse to handle, but he was old and you were sure to put him out of his misery before continuing on your hunt.

You'd caught them asleep in a cave a few miles away from a village that was tucked away into the mountain side. You purchased food and another horse, costing you all the silver you carried but it made your hunt easier and quicker. You hadn't been looking for the cave but a small fire through the thick of the trees caught your attention. Tying your new mare a distance away, you crept towards them, sticking to the tall grass and the shadows.

They'd all been sleeping so peacefully, even their so-called 'watcher'. It was almost too easy to just go and kill them quietly one by one...but Miranda had specific instructions for you to follow if you wanted her forgiveness. She wanted to hear them scream while she slept and that was exactly what you intended to deliver. You unsheathed one of your twin blades and with practiced ease, you swung right as the watcher’s eyes snapped open.

You were startled awake by a scream that you weren't sure if it was from your dream or if it was a real one. You sat up half way in the bed of the guest room you were put up in, leaning on your elbow ready to spring from beneath the sheets but nothing ever came. After another full five minutes of sitting and waiting with no result, you let yourself fall back onto the soft pillows and threw an arm over your eyes as they began to leak tears.

Nothing of sadness or the sort, you were simply exhausted—you were still in your clothing with your parka not too far away just in case you had to use the window for a quick escape. You even kept your boots on, even though it was too warm for you but you'd deal with it as you've been through more uncomfortable situations that couldn't even compare to simply being hot. Of course if you take off a few layers you'd be fine, but paranoia hasn't exactly been very kind to you in the past years...with good reason too. You hadn't died in over ten years and you planned to keep that streak going.

But even as those thoughts comforted you a bit, sleep evaded you—no longer finding you worthy of its pleasures and you just laid there sprawled out and tangled within the soft white linen sheets that were probably now dirty thanks to you. You didn't care. They probably had more somewhere.

Resigned to the fact that you'd probably never be able to go back to sleep, at least not any time soon, so pushed aside the heavy duvet and slipped out of the bed quietly. You moved towards the window but the only thing you could see was the few trees below and a land covered in blankets of undisturbed snow. A little further beyond the tree line, you saw smoke coming from the chimneys of the factory before you turned away from the view and left your room. You looked left and right of the hallway but there wasn't a sign of life to be found, not even that little maiden Alcina practically made your shadow. It was probably later than it actually felt and she was probably asleep...everyone probably was.

Checking your watch— ah, right. Miranda even took that. She took everything you could use as a weapon and it tickled you more than it annoyed you. Unsupervised, you can now take your time to feel your way around. You didn't get a chance to get a good look at everything before but now you did, and it was an opportunity to get to know the Lady of the castle. You'd long dismissed the thought that anything in this village was normal, it had more secrets and shadows than a horror book you guessed.

Walking through the halls of the second floor felt like a trip down memory lane—no particular region as most all castles were the same. Large and filled with fancy portraits and trinkets that could house and feed five families at a time. Carpet so plush and soft that you could feel it through your boots with each step. It absorbed your weight like a welcome home hug. Clearly Lady Alcina was a woman of finer things in life and that extended far outside of her wardrobe and preferred wines.

It just unnerved you how quiet everything was, a castle thing large and prosperous had to have staff minding it twenty four seven. Nonetheless, you finally came to the door that you recognized during your brief tour as the 'wine room'. Like everything else you'd come across, the door was finely made from dark red oak with gold trimmings—just like Alcina's stagecoach.

Without a second thought about it, you opened the door—simply with the intent of getting a better look at the wine collection the maiden mentioned during your tour. But that thought was cut short because the room wasn't as empty as the silence in the hallway led you to believe as you'd walked into a full conversation by two people; one you were hoping to avoid for a few days and the other you thought was asleep...or well away from your location. You were wrong on both accounts.

“Heisenberg is a blundering fool leading a pack of fleabags, Miranda. He is going to fail again!”

“And we don't have time to stress other options, especially that one! We're out of time already and—”

“Exactly we're out of time so just ask her—” you pushed the door open a little more and it creaked quietly.

They both turned to you and you stood frozen in the doorway, unsure of what to make of the scene in front of you or what you just overheard. Miranda and Alcina were sitting at the small table, well Miranda was, Alcina was sitting in one of her custom chairs a little further away and both women had two glasses filled with dark red wine. Alcina wasn't in her white dress anymore, instead she'd changed into a pair of dark slacks and deep red turtle neck and she was barefoot. A far cry from the regal dress she wore earlier but she still carried herself in the same manner.

You did your best not to think about how good Miranda looked without that damn mask on her face...even in those robes she still wore, Miranda was beautiful. Beautiful as the day you first met. You forced yourself to keep your attention on Alcina and not Miranda, who was now staring a hole into the side of your face like she was trying to will you into looking at her.

“Oh. Shit, I didn't know this room was occupied.”

Alcina glanced at Miranda briefly from behind her wine glass, her expression unreadable when she settled her eyes on you again, “Of course not, dear. Is everything alright?”

You cleared your throat, fighting the urge to look at Miranda because you could feel her trying to will your eyes in her direction, “No, actually I—”

You were interrupted by an ear piercing scream and high pitched laughter right behind her, on the verge of being hysterical. Lady Dimitrescu sighed heavily behind you and finished her wine before setting her glass down and rising to her full height.

“Please excuse me, it seems that my daughters are teasing the poor maids again.”

You started to comment that it didn't sound like it was teasing but you kept your mouth shut, knowing better than to stick your nose in the wrong place too soon—it never really turned out very well for you the first time. It would never cease to amaze you how fast and quiet Alcina moved despite her size, but it still baffled you that she hasn't ever gotten the doors to her own castle fixed to fit for her . But those thoughts were pushed to the far corners of your mind when the door clicked shut—leaving you alone in the room with Miranda, forcing you to acknowledge her now. You shoved your hands in your pockets and sighed, you weren't expecting to see her again so soon.

You still hadn't had time to get your shit together after the last time you two spoke, or more like argued back and forth. Easily falling into a pattern as if you hadn't been centuries apart. You still weren't sure how you were supposed to feel about that.

“Take a seat, (Y/n). Would you like a glass of wine?” Miranda broke the silence but she didn't break eye contact with you once she caught you eye, holding you as if she physically had her hands on your face. “We don't have to talk if you don't want to, (Y/n).”

“Oh, so now we're suddenly interested in what I want to do?”

“Yes, of course. Wine?”

You scoffed, rolling her eyes at her typical answer and you wanted to say no, you opened your mouth to do so but instead you were getting closer to the table she was sitting at. She poured you a glass of wine, and handed it to you. You raised an eyebrow, she couldn't have set it down for you? She insisted on handing it to you and the way Miranda was holding the glass left you no choice to place your hands over hers to take it from her. Those gold claw rings were ice cold against your skin and the edge of one nicked your skin but not deep enough to draw blood.

You had no idea what you wanted to say to Miranda, you weren't ready to talk about what you two needed to talk about but you weren't sure if you could sit here and do small talk with her over wine. It was so easy for you to get up and leave, maybe go back to your guest room and lock the door. So what was stopping you? Why was it difficult?

Miranda, who had been watching you intently, interrupted your rapid thoughts, “You always were a loud thinker, (Y/n).”

“Nothing interesting, trust me.”

“Oh I beg to differ,” Miranda chuckled, shifting in her chair slightly to angle herself towards you a little more. You sort of hated yourself for thinking how well she was pulling off the priestess look, “I could always tell what you were thinking even from a mile away. You were always quite the unique distraction.”

“You never complained before.”

“No,” she agreed, her voice dropping an octave or two lower, “though I doubt I ever will.”

You looked up, she didn't look away and you didn't know what to think. And for once, even if it was just for a moment, you saw a hint of uncertainty in her eyes.

“Miranda, what do you want? Why are you keeping me here?”

“Because we need to talk, (Y/n), to...clear the air as they say, I guess.”

“Yeah, okay, I got that part earlier,” you licked your suddenly dry lips, your nerves starting to buzz a little, “But that's not a good enough reason anymore.”

Miranda scoffed, actually rolling her eyes at you, “Why not? Closure heals the past. Doesn't it?”

“But what do you expect after that?”

“What do you?” she threw the ball back in your court as she refilled her own wine glass from a different bottle than what she used for your own, the wine she was using was a little darker and thicker. It didn't surprise you that the question was thrown back at you, she always did that when she was trying to keep the upper hand or get it.

But it didn't mean that the question wasn't a good one because what did you want after this? Would it even matter after all of this time? Have you ever forgiven her, really and truly moved on? Did she even care back then, did she care for you...or what you could do for her?

Miranda was watching you the entire time become lost in your thoughts, a trait you still carried with you. She picked up her wine glass and took a sip, her clear eyes taking you in while you were distracted enough to not notice her doing it so blatantly. You still looked the same as the last time she saw you, minus the murderous rage that had twisted your beautiful features that evening.

The modern world has touched many parts of you but your eyes still hold so much more than they did centuries ago. Being a warrior was now outdated and something of an historical myth but you still carried yourself as one, and Miranda could see new scars on your brown skin on the exposed skin she saw earlier on your neck and arms.

She'd been watching you for days before finally making herself known to you after going back and forth with herself during those agonizing days. Being far more irritable than she normally was and Miranda was positive that Lords Heisenberg and Moreau were quite sore with her at the moment. Well, Karl certainly would be. Seeing you made her angry...at first. Angry for the grief you left her with, the shatters you left her to pick up on her own.

Years of pent up thoughts and plans of revenge she'd enact when she got her hands on you came down to a single moment when she finally did get her hands on you and she couldn't do it. Miranda eyed your neck, where you should've still been bruised. She had you right where she needed you with one hand wrapped around your neck because you were so unsuspecting. It would've been so easy but she couldn't...so she knocked you out and threw you in a cell where she could keep a better eye on you. And perhaps no longer be so distracted from her work.

“Look who's thinking loud now.” you mumbled around the edge of your wine glass, finally taking a sip of the damn thing. Miranda wouldn't hesitate to bet that you assumed it was somehow poisoned even though you watched her open the bottle. “Good thoughts, I hope.”

Miranda hummed softly, “Do you really wish to know?”

You chuckled, and Miranda's eyes were drawn to the way your jaw clenched and unclenched when the wine hit your taste buds again, “With the way you were staring at my neck...it's not that hard to guess, Miranda.”

“You're only half right, my dear.” At your raised eyebrows, Miranda's smirk only widened, “My hands were wrapped around that strong neck again, but breaking it is far from my mind now .”

Your snort turned into a chuckle that was clearly infectious as Miranda joined you. Nothing was remotely that funny, if it was funny at all, but you were tired and the situation brought forth too many emotions for you, either of you to really process, and all you could was just...laugh.

Miranda was the first to sober up a bit though the smile never completely left her features. “Ah, and well... you know, it wouldn't do to try and kill the only other person on this wretched rock who knows me. Will it?”

You're very well the only person in this wretched world that will ever know the real me and still love me for it. Quite a miserable thought, isn't it?

You jumped when the door opened behind you and Alcina stepped into the room—you'd almost forgot where you were for a moment. Almost. Alcina took one look at the two of you, curious to find you actually still in the room much less sitting at the table sharing a glass of wine with Miranda. Especially with what she overheard earlier and how much tension you two create together.

Alcina knew that she interrupted something, probably something she had no business to but that did not stop her from sitting back down in her chair in her goddamn castle. And whatever drama that was happening within her territory was now her drama and she was going to get a front row seat. Alcina lit up another one of her cigarillos and pulled heavy before she released it in your direction.

“Running a business is quite the headache when no one else understands your vision, I swear. Don't have kids, (Y/n). They're messy and nothing but trouble.”

“Noted.” you forced a chuckle, not taking her bait but now you were trying to finish your wine as quickly as possible without seeming like you were trying to run.

“Well, how about it then, (Y/n)? Tell us a story, you couldn't have been a mercenary your entire life. Or have you?” You glanced at Miranda and saw that she was glaring at Alcina but the taller woman wasn't paying her any mind. And really, the only reason Miranda hasn't verbally intervened is because she was interested in your answer as well. Even if Alcina was asking just to poke at the situation for her own amusement.

“I've put away my shield and sword a long time ago,” you didn't bother to mention that you did keep them both in pristine condition just in case, “I've been enjoying the little things life has to offer.” lame. And a lie.

“Oh come now,” Alcina scoffed, not accepting your answer—it wasn't a very good one anyway, “That's—”

“Actually,” When it was clear that Miranda wasn't going to save you from this woman's nosiness (why would she?) You quickly drank the rest of the wine, it was really too sour for you, and rose from the chair. “I think I'll try to get some more sleep. Thanks for the wine and...yeah.” Could you be any more awkward?

Alcina was howling by the time the door slammed shut behind you and she took another pull from her cigarette stick, still paying no heed to Miranda's heated glare. “Oh, you're going to have to tie that one down if you want her to talk to you.”

“I will have your head if you stick your nose in my business again, Dimitrescu.”

“Then don't store your business in my castle.” Alcina shot back, meeting Miranda's glare head on but immediately conceded when she felt Miranda's growling through the vibrations of her glass in her hand that was still resting on the table. “Alright, alright...but you're always welcome to use my dungeons. Use chains though those biceps of hers could probably break through the ropes.”

“Alcina, that is enough!”

The Lady of the castle just laughed lightly until it tapered off into a pleasant hum around her famous Sanguis Virginis wine while watching Miranda readjust her face mask. Her eyes brighter than they have been the last few hours., Alcina pushed for one more question—deciding to risk Miranda's wrath, “How'd you ever let such a handsome creature slip between your fingers?”

Miranda sighed heavily, no pause in her strut to the door, “Egos and misunderstandings.” she was gone before the lock clicked into place.

I'm so sorry for being hella lazy, lol, I'll add the other chapters of this story today 😭😭😭😭

#resident evil 8 #mother miranda x reader #mother miranda #resident evil #resident evil village #lady alcina x reader #lady alcina #alcina dimitrescu #dis tew much #assassin's creed odyssey #simpin for these bishes

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doberbutts · 3 years

Note

Hey thank you for posting about gay/trans men’s experiences. It’s really interesting to see a whole other side of the lgbtq experience(I’m a queer cis female). Honestly it has made me realize that I have been guilty of saying all men except trans men, which is not great.

Yeah it's... really not.

There are a fair number of straight white men who have been victimized, attacked, assaulted... and they are just as deserving of a space to process their trauma and talk about how they have been negatively impacted, without people constantly going UMMMM SWEATIE....... YOUR PRIVILEGE at them.

And, besides that, by saying 'all men..... except trans men' you are effectively saying you do not consider trans men to be real men. If they pass. If they don't pass. If they are stealth. If they are visible. If they date men. If they date women. Pre op. Post op. If they were raised with female conditioning. If they weren't.

You lump us all into a category, and that category is 'men who are not men but we call them men to not hurt their feelings'. And it sucks!!! Every time I see someone do that, that is what it says to me. It's transphobic. It's homophobic. And it hurts ALL men, because when you paint all men as dangerous predators, you don't just shame vulnerable men back into their respective closets. You also tell men who you do not consider vulnerable that they are nothing more than predators and abusers that must apologize every day for their existence.

Men have absolutely been responsible for some very shitty things in this world. So have women.

I am black, trans, gay, and disabled. One of the most dangerous groups for me to interact with is white women. Historically, they are who call the lynch mob to get people like me killed for the sin of walking on the same sidewalk. In present day, I see an awful lot of white feminists and white wlw protest the Karen stereotype. Despite that very real danger that white women present to me, if I were to say that women are trash or that all women need to suck it up and apologize for what happened to men like Emmitt Till and do better before I'm willing to reconsider, if I judged you all by the Karen stereotype that only exists as a stereotype BECAUSE OF THE DANGER TO BLACK PEOPLE... you know exactly what would happen.

Remember that beside every plantation owner stood a white woman who saw no problem with her husband beating and raping and torturing my people.

Remember that it was white women who weaponized their whiteness and their percieved frailty within their patriarchal roles to demonize, dehumanize, and murder black men.

Remember that it was white women who excluded black people and especially black wlw from the face of women's rights, who told them that the movement was not for them, who told them that they would have to wait their turn, who turned their backs on their sisters when race came into play.

Remember that it was a pair of white lesbians who paraded that adopted black boy around when black lives matter started, who forced him to hug the police he was very afraid of, who beat and abused and starved him and the rest of their adopted black kids. Who drove off a fucking cliff with all of them in the car and we still have not found his body.

But men are dismissed and silenced for protesting the double standard, and if I sound angry it's because I am. I'm not angry at /speficially you/. I am not angry at queer women. I'm not angry at white women. I am not angry at any woman. I understand that there are bad people of every creed color gender sexuality race religion and more. But I AM angry that every time this comes up, what happens is that men are told their lives are perfect and easy and they have unconditional privilege and the world is as safe as can be for them.

Where was Devonte Hart's safety when his adoptive white lesbian mothers murdered him? Where was his privilege when they poisoned the court case against his birth mother, who desperately wanted her children back? When was his life of being taken from his birth mother and then tortured at the hands of people OUR GOVERNMENT allowed him to be in supposed to be perfect and easy?

We will never know if Devonte was queer. We will never know what type of man he would turn out to be.

His life was still precious. He wasn't trash. And he was murdered by queer women after they realized they'd no longer get away with torturing him.

I don't hate queer women. I count quite a few among my friends, and they are just as appalled at the situation as I was. They are just as disgusted by this attitude as I am. But I am tired of being told that it is solely my gender that is the problem, and that anyone attracted to men must have something wrong with them. And I am angry that I have to explain how not only is 'all men... but not trans men' is such a terrible line of thinking.

That boy did not deserve the fate he got, even if he would have grown up to be straight. And it wasn't men who hurt him, either.

#devonte is one #emmitt is another #I could keep throwing out names of black boys killed by white women #they are countless

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writerpeach · 4 years

Text

Roommates: Part One

IZ*ONE Hyewon X Male Reader

7813 words

Categories: smut, oral sex, detective! hyewon

18+

---

Read on AFF

Read on AO3

"Please come in."

The second meeting with Detective Kwon was eight days after the first. Thankfully, you were there under much more pleasant terms, trading being led in handcuffs to roaming freely, greeted with smiles, and offered coffee.

Instead of being tossed inside a windowless cold room, you were meeting Detective Kwon in her personal office, quite the inverse of scenery. Greeting you with a welcoming smile instead of threats, she offered a seat and you sat down, scanning the awards on her walls, the various cabinets, and files as you spotted a small piglet plush resting on one, not bothering to mention it.

You felt comfortable. You weren’t being yelled at or questioned, and you certainly weren’t fearing for your life or freedom. The detective engaged in polite conversation, her friendly tone putting you at ease as she inquired how you were handling the change of being on the opposite side of crime.

Detective Kwon had been promoted due to your cooperation, earning the rank of Chief Superintendent. Changing into a more supervisor role allowed her to command her team more efficiently but still allowed herself to do what she was best at, getting information out of uncooperative suspects in any way she knew how.

Eunbi had a different look since you last saw her, chopping her hair short which gave her a more youthful and vibrant look.

“You look good, detective,” you complimented, earning a blush from the sharply-dressed woman across the desk.

“Thank you. You know, we really owe a lot to you,” she said in earnest.

“I didn’t do much, detective. It turns out you can be a very convincing woman.”

“You gave us valuable information that would have taken us weeks to find.”

Shuffling around papers and organizing a dossier Eunbi looked up and her expression softened.

“But we still have a lot of work to do to take down your former boss. The Goda clan is in shambles. We’ve made several arrests lately, we have them on the run.”

“That’s wonderful to hear. To tell the truth, I was never comfortable with some of the things I saw during my time as a clan member. It still keeps me up at night.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. What you’re doing has been very helpful, we couldn’t have done this without you.”

“If that asshole gets locked up then it’ll be more than worth it.”

“Now, there are still a few high ranking members we don’t know the location of,” Eunbi said and slid three pictures across the desk, two men you recognized and one you didn’t.

“Is there anything about them you can tell us?”

You studied their pictures before speaking. ”Never met this guy. These two were the boss’s right- hand men. When he needed someone taken out, a business shaken down for protection money or anything else that he didn’t want to dirty his hands for he used them as his errand boys.”

“Do you have their names?”

“Afraid not. I was too low down the totem pole to really know them.”

“That’s fine, we’ll work with what we have and I’ll make sure our investigation team makes this their priority. It might take longer but we’ll find these thugs.”

Eunbi smiled. It was different talking to her like this, cooperating with her, and not being threatened to spend the rest of your life behind bars.

“How are you holding up? This can’t be easy.”

“Like I said, some sleepless nights. A lot of looking behind my shoulder, thinking someone I swore loyalty to is coming after me. This is all I’ve known for most of my life, so being on the other side of things is hard to get used to.”

“That’s understandable. The monitoring app we installed on your phone tracks your location with pinpoint accuracy as long as you allow us to. If you ever end up in trouble you know how to activate it right?”

“I do, thanks, Detective. Let’s hope I never have to.”

“Yes, let’s hope. The sooner we can get these scumbags off the streets, the better we’ll all be.”

There was a sudden knock on the door that broke the tension.

“Come in!” Eunbi said.

The door gently swung open and in walked a petite girl, blue mixed into her dark bobbed hairstyle. “Sorry to barge in, boss.”

“It’s quite alright, Detective Miyawaki. You wouldn’t interrupt without a good reason.”

“We’ve got new leads on potential suspects. A stolen vehicle was spotted downtown in an abandoned warehouse, it appears it was used in last month’s weapon smuggling ring that was shut down.”

“And you’re sure they’re still there?”

“According to our surveillance, no cars have been in or out of the warehouse all day. There could be underground tunnels but that’s highly unlikely given the layout of the building .”

“Excellent work, Detective. Put out an APB immediately.”

“Right away, boss.”

The young girl bowed politely and left the room.

“We’re getting closer with each day thanks to you,” she said with a mild sense of relief in her voice.

“You have a good team here it seems.”

“It gets pretty stressful but they’re wonderful and I couldn’t do my job without them. Between forensics, our investigation team, and our computer analysts, there's about twelve of us working non-stop.”

“Impressive.”

“Now, I do need to talk to you about the security detail we promised you.”

“What about it?”

“As you can tell, we’re swamped. We need all the men and women we have working around the clock. At this moment we don’t have the resources to monitor who may be looking to harm you. We’re looking into a third-party security service to protect you but getting approval at a time like this is no easy task.”

“That’s really quite alright. I don’t leave my house much these days, and I have cameras all over my house.”

“No, it’s not, it was part of our terms and I won’t fall back on it. I can offer you an alternative, your safety is a necessity not just as part of our case against the Goda clan.”

“An alternative?”

“Yes,” she responded, pushing a button on the black phone on her desk. “Detective Kang, can you come to my office, please?”

Seconds after the door opened, and in walked an incredibly attractive woman with purple-dyed hair tied in a loose ponytail, dressed formally in a white shirt and gray jacket and almost as busty as Detective Kwon. She took a seat in the wooden chair next to you.

“This is the guy, Detective Kang.”

“Ah, so you’re the reason why we’re putting all these jackoffs in prison? It’s very nice to meet you,” she said, extending her hand and shaking yours gently.

“Nice to meet you too, Detective.”

“Oh, you can just call me Hyewon,” she said with a shy smile.

“You see Detective Hyewon is the second-best detective here. She works really hard, she’ll be sure to surpass me soon.”

“That’s not likely boss. Nobody can interrogate like you can.”

Eunbi proudly smiled and quickly changed the subject. “Now, while we’re unable to offer you the protection we promised, we have an offer that’s a bit unorthodox.”

“How so?” you said with a puzzled look.

Hyewon spoke up. “We can’t monitor you 24/7 at this time but in lieu, I can offer you a safe place to stay.”

You furrowed an eyebrow in confusion.

“As I said, it’s a bit unorthodox but given the situation, we believe it’s a good compromise,” Eunbi said.

“You see, I have a spare bedroom that’s just collecting dust. Equipped with the latest home automation, reinforced windows, and a 24/7 monitoring system. My house is very secure and located away from all major parts of the city.“

“That’s a generous offer but I don’t need a babysitter.”

Eunbi laughed. “We’re not saying you do. These men are out for blood and we don’t know who might show up to confront you. Like you said you don’t get out much and Hyewon can do most of her investigative work from home. It’s a temporary solution, you shouldn’t be there for more than a month.”

“Along with my elite detective skills I spent two years in culinary school, I can cook as well as I can catch criminals,” Hyewon added nonchalantly.

“We won’t force you to live there of course, but you would be safer than at your own home.”

The two detectives looked at you, anticipating your answer. You gave it a moment to ponder over.

“I’ll give it a shot.”

“Thank you. Your safety is our number one priority.”

✦✦

Moving to a new place even temporarily with someone who was a complete stranger was a bit awkward, to say the least. You only brought essential items over to Hyewon’s place, surprised by how large it was and grateful for two separate bathrooms.

It was an understatement to say it was strange living with a beautiful woman you had just met. It took an entire week to adjust to the complicated situation, but each day that passed you both opened up little by little. It turns out Hyewon wasn’t lying, she was a fantastic cook and you had a multitude of things you shared in common.

The first week went by quicker than expected. Awkward exchanges of quiet good mornings gradually turned into full conversations, sharing stories of being on opposing sides.

Hyewon had plenty of tales to share of her short two year career - ranging from month-long investigations to chasing after suspects, to seeing a dead body for the first time. Hyewon shared the unexpected frustrations of being considered the prettiest woman in the station and having to prove that she wasn’t hired for just a pretty face.

After helping her clean up the intricate feast that was a most delicious breakfast, she took a seat on one of the kitchen island stools, refilling her coffee.

“I have to head into the office today to help out our team with some investigations. I’ll be working late most likely. You have both of our numbers if you need anything though, okay?”

“I’m not a puppy, I can survive one night,” you teased.

“I know, I wasn’t insinuating you were...” Hyewon replied as her awkwardness returned, her embarrassment strangely cute.

“The fridge is full of groceries but I didn’t have time to cook anything, sorry.”

“Don’t be. I’m not that bad a cook myself, It’ll be fine. I’ll hold down the fort.”

“Okay. Call if you need anything.”

✦✦

Hyewon’s spacious two-bedroom house felt rather lonely without her in it. You caught yourself talking a little too much to her living room virtual assistant, the eerily human voice being the only human contact you had that night meant it was time for something else.

Heading to the fridge to grab a soda you conducted your own investigation of your own, having free rein of the house you gave every room except her bedroom a look, well decorated with light red and pinks everywhere.

After watching a couple hours of tv and making a quick meal you decided to sleep early. In the morning Eunbi wanted you to come in and sign a few affidavits and you wanted to be fully prepared for that process.

When you woke up that morning something felt different. You didn’t quite know what time it was, but judging through the light shining through the sheer black curtains of your room it had to be at least 6 a.m.

As you struggled to adjust to consciousness, you couldn’t help realize the obvious weight and pressure on your body. Your vision cleared, and the unmistakable purple hair snuggled against your chest belonged to a feminine figure that could only belong to one woman. Hyewon.

While you enjoyed the comforting warmth of her body, you weren't sure what she was doing on top of you. She felt your movements and stirred awake and you were about to get your answer.

Hyewon lifted her head off of your chest, realizing where she was but not looking any less confused.

"Good morning?" you said, just as confused as her.

"H-hi…” she sleepily said. “I can explain…I think..."

"Take your time," you said.

Hyewon gathered herself and laid down beside you flat on her stomach.

"We had a late night and we didn't get much done yesterday. Our leads ended up as dead ends, so I didn't get home until around 2 am."

"Sounds rough."

"I washed up and going to my own bed seemed so lonely, and your door was open and well...your bed looked so welcoming and inviting. I only laid down for a few minutes but I guess I fell asleep and ended up on top of you and so here we are."

“Sure was an interesting way to wake up.”

"I'm so sorry,” she said as she buried her face in her hands.

“It’s not that big of a deal, Hyewon. It’s all cleared up now so I understand. I’m just sorry I woke you.”

"You didn't wake me. Well, part of you did but.."

She hesitated. "I felt something poking me when I was on top of you," Hyewon blushed.

"Oh god. Now I'm the one who should be sorry."

Hyewon giggled. "Is this the famous morning wood I've heard about? There's nothing to be sorry for..."

"Have you not-"

"Had sex before? I'm not a virgin, I've just never slept with a man before.”

“I see. Do you not like men?”

“I”m not against sleeping with men, I just haven’t had good experiences. Women are gentle and their skin is so soft and they smell amazing.”

“All of that is definitely true.”

“I’m just picky I guess. Meanwhile, Eunbi will sleep with anyone who will put their head between her thighs.”

“I bet that’s a very long line of people.”

“It is. I was at the top of it.”

“You were?”

“She...she was my first. I’ve only slept with a few women after her, and we still fool around from time to time when work doesn’t keep us busy.”

“And here I thought my morning wood was over.”

Hyewon blushed and covered her mouth, hiding against the mattress.

"I'm really sorry, I-"

"There's nothing to be sorry for. It happens…” you said embarrassed.

“I just like having someone to talk to in the morning,” Hyewon said.

“I do too.”

“Would you be okay…” she hesitated.

“With sharing the bed? I don’t mind.” you interrupted. “It’s plenty big for two people.”

“No I-I mean if y-you don’t want-”

“I don’t mind at all, Hyewon.”

Hyewon paused. “I probably snore though. And some days I’d have to get up before you do, I’d hate to wake you. “

“I’m a really heavy sleeper,” you said, trying to deflect her excuses.

“If you really don’t mind, then I’ll sleep here too. My room does get rather lonely…”

Sharing a smile, the thought of sharing a bed with Hyewon made your sudden arrangement more enjoyable.

“I can sleep away from you or put the pillow on the other side of the bed.”

“No, that’s not necessary. Just sleep how you always do.”

“Okay,” you agreed, settling your agreement.

If Hyewon snored in her sleep, you never once heard her. Keeping things casual, you told each other good night and good morning, sometimes both and sometimes neither depending on if your schedules met up.

Hyewon’s sleep attire went from long sleeve pajamas and pants, and as she became more comfortable with the situation she herself became more comfortable and more casual.

Ditching pajama pants for shorts, long sleeves to tank-tops, and eventually settling on oversized shirts enough to cover her up. Except for the time it didn't and you got a glimpse of her cute butt and the black pair of boyshorts underwear she didn’t know she was showing off.

You had reached the third week of living with Hyewon, and you were as comfortable with her as being in your own skin. Sharing a bed wasn’t as complicated as you thought, although there certainly were moments where a leg brushed up against your own and vice versa. Avoiding physical contact completely was impossible though and you didn’t think much about it.

“Good morning,” Hyewon sat as she sat up, yawning widely and stretching her arms high up. You turned your head to the side to greet her.

“Morning. Heading into work today?” you asked sleepily.

Hyewon shook her head and messy violet hair went everywhere. “Eunbi has a bunch of interrogations scheduled, so unless she needs me for something I’m staying here.”

“A nice relaxing morning then.”

“Mhmm. Want breakfast?” she asked, throwing her side of the covers off and standing up, doing a quick stretching routine.

“Breakfast sounds great.”

Lifting your head up you realized you weren’t the only thing that had woken up, gritting your teeth and laying your head back down.

“I’ll...meet you at the table.”

“Morning wood again?” she teased.

“Yeah...You know too much about me now.”

You were more than thankful the blankets weren’t thin. You waited for Hyewon to leave the room so you could make a beeline for the bathroom, but instead, you saw the wheels turning in her head.

“Do you want me to help?” she asked as innocently as she had just asked about breakfast. You nearly choked.

“Help…? You repeated, making sure you weren’t hearing things.

“You’re always hard in the morning. I’ve felt it poking me in the back, and I know how annoying it must be to wake up throbbing like that.”

“H-hyewon I-”

“It’s not a big deal,” she smiled as she threw herself at the covers.

You still couldn’t believe it.

“I’ve jerked off a guy before. He finished in like twenty seconds so I never got to enjoy it.”

“You’re that good, huh?”

“I’m definitely not,” she laughed.

She tossed the covers off, leaving the sight of you pitching a tent through your boxers in plain sight.

“You poor thing,” she said as she stared at the huge bulge poking through your underwear. She took a breath as she grabbed the top of your boxers and slowly pulled them down, revealing your needy cock that throbbed as it was released.

Her eyes went wide. “You’re really big,” she said, not wasting time as she wrapped her slim fingers around your length, forming a tight fist and began slowly stroking.

You moaned at her touch. Her hand was cold which brought a different yet pleasurable type of sensation. “Hard like a rock,” she smiled as she continued pumping and you quickly began leaking all over her fingers. For someone inexperienced, it felt good, but you’d have to try really hard to screw up a handjob.

Hyewon looked at the clear liquid coating her fingers with a curious look.

“So much precum,” she said innocently as she licked one of her fingers clean, waiting a second to form an opinion.

“It tastes good.”

“The real thing tastes better.”

She blushed. Tightening her grip, she quickened her strokes as she settled on a rhythm and looked up.

“Does this feel good?”

“It feels great.”

Hyewon’s innocent eyes as she jerked you off was such a bold contrast. The last woman who had touched you was Eunbi, a master of teasing and anticipation. Hyewon’s straight to the point was a nice change.

“How long does it usually take?” she asked, genuinely curious.

“To cum?”

“Yes.”

“It depends on a lot of things. Who’s doing it, what they’re doing, how they’re doing it…”

“Am I not doing a good job? You didn’t cum yet,” she said, feeling concerned.

“No, you’re doing great. There’s not a lot of stimulation with a handjob, so unless you really know what you’re doing it’s gonna take a while.”

“Anything I can do to make it feel better?”

“Do you have any lube?” Hyewon shook her head disappointed.

“That’s fine. You can spit on it.”

Hyewon listened and did as told, letting saliva drip out of her mouth she spat multiple times on your cock. The friction felt better instantly.

“Anything else?”

You were already at this point, might as well up the ante.

“You could uh. Take your shirt off?” You said, testing her reaction. You waited nervously.

Hyewon thankfully didn’t seem to mind. She grabbed the hem of her large black overshirt and lifted it over her head. There wasn’t a bra on underneath to cover up her pale chest. She had the same pair of underwear you had seen that one time. Her breasts were big, not as big as Eunbi, but still sizable and the perfect shape with perfect pink nipples. Her stomach was toned and tight, Hyewon’s body was downright delicious.

“Holy shit.”

Hyewon smiled. “You like my body?”

“I do, you're pretty hot, Hyewon."

She smiled and kept stroking and you couldn’t peel your eyes off her delicious tits. So large and round, you wanted to dive in immediately but didn't want to get greedy.

After just a few minutes you felt your abdomen tightening, subconsciously fucking into Hyewon’s fist, drooling at her newly exposed tits.

“Fuck, I’m close,” you moaned, leaking even more.

“You’re going to cum?”

“Y-yes,” you replied.

Hyewon gripped harder and stroked fasted, encouraging your release with her eyes focused on your cock, anticipating your release. You were almost there, staring at her beautiful tits bouncing in time with her strokes, waiting for your climax to arrive. With a forceful grunt, you exploded in her hand, hips jerking and groaning loudly as you released and coated her fingers with your hot seed. She kept pumping until you were drained, keeping notice of your sensitivity as she winded down her movements to a halt.

She looked on in surprise as her fingers were covered in your stickiness. She grabbed a tissue to clean herself off, but not without giving one of her messy fingers a sample.

“You’re right, the real thing does taste better.” she smiled. “Now let’s get some food in us.”

✦✦

There was a surprising lack of awkwardness around the table as Hyewon served breakfast. Scrambled eggs, both sausage, and bacon cooked to perfection as per your request. She knew you needed a little extra energy after draining your stamina.

“How is the case proceeding? Any closer?” you asked, not wanting the conversation to steer towards what had just happened.

“Things are complicated. We’re finding it harder to apprehend the suspects we need, they’re on the move constantly. They know we’re onto them but we don’t have the resources to send more teams.”

“They own so many businesses they could practically hide anywhere in the city, sadly,” you said.

“This is so frustrating,” she said. “But we have to move forward, taking any steps we can. I’m going to be spending a lot of time at the office next week.”

“I’ll take care of the house, it’ll be in tiptop shape.”

Hyewon nodded. “You’ll also have to take care of morning wood on your own, mister,” she teased.

“Back to the old ways then,” you sadly said.

Hyewon paused as she finished her eggs, chewing carefully as she formed a thought.

“I feel bad. Although, you know I kind of liked it.”

“Liked what?”

“I... liked jerking you off. Feeling how hard you were, hearing you moan when I touched you. I felt something...seeing you throbbing when I made you cum.”

Hyewon’s typical blank expression morphed into a deadly smirk.

“I can see why Eunbi likes her job so much. That feeling of control is just...intoxicating.”

“Do you like taking control, Hyewon?” you asked.

“In my job absolutely not. But in the bedroom...I don’t know yet. Maybe.”

“We’ll have to do some investigating then.”

“Guess we will.”

✦✦

You didn't see much of Hyewon that week as expected. Your sleep schedules never synced and you ended up fast asleep alone before her, usually waking up to an empty bed.

"Long day?"

"Long week."

Hyewon didn't follow up on the conversation that night, drifting away to sleep. Over the weeks of becoming familiar with each other, you had gotten closer with Hyewon, both figuratively and literally. There was something that was never spoken about but you often woke up with an arm or leg draped over your body, or her chest pinned to your back. You certainly didn't mind the welcome intimacy.

During a rather peaceful sleep, you felt something jolt you up.

"Were you asleep?" she asked.

"No, I wasn't," you lied.

"I can't sleep," she frowned.

"Too much on your mind?

"I guess. What do you do when you can't sleep?"

"I lay there for a few minutes and try to relax. If it doesn't work warm milk usually does the trick," you said.

"We're out of milk," she pouted. "Any other ideas?"

"Honestly when I really can't sleep I just jerk off. Puts me out like a light."

Hyewon felt her cheeks flushed as she hid her head in her hands.

"I can leave the room if you want..." you said.

"What for?"

"So you can…you know."

"Touch myself?” She said innocently. “I've never given myself an orgasm. I just let Eunbi do everything for me."

"I see," you said as you formed an idea.

"Can't you just do what Eunbi does to yourself?"

"I don't think it would be the same."

"Well, I'm out of ideas then. Unless you want to call her in the middle of the night."

"She'd kill me."

Hyewon huffed in frustration. You were fresh out of ideas and sympathized with her. Looking over her it was kind of cute how frustrated she was, bundled up neck-deep under the covers as she watched the ceiling fan, trying to do anything to fall back asleep.

She turned onto her side, her doe eyes facing you. “Can you help me?”

“Help you what?”

“Help me fall asleep…”

“How do you want me to do that?”

“Ah, don’t make me say it.”

You smiled. “Do you want me to give you an orgasm, Hyewon?”

“Y-yes... If you don’t mind...”

“Not at all.”

You threw the covers and sat up, making your way to her position. Hyewon had on a black cotton t-shirt which you lifted up enough to see her hips. Her underwear was pink and lacy, covering up just enough of her skin to still be sexy enough.

“Can I take these off?” you asked. She nodded and lifted her butt. You grabbed the top of her cute underwear and began to slowly pull it off her hips, peeling it off her body and down her smooth long legs.

Hyewon nervously kept her legs locked together, but after seeking her approval you spread her thighs and revealed her beautiful pink pussy. Kissing up her inner thighs you heard her gasp as your lips made contact with her soft warm skin.

“Your body is so amazing,” you said as you planted more wet kisses on her pale thighs.

“T-thank you. It’s not as nice as Eunbi, I wish I had her figure,” she said sadly.”

“It’s not a competition. I’m sure you have things Eunbi is jealous of.”

“I-I guess so.”

Not wanting her to be down on herself anymore you interrupted her and licked up and down her thighs, painting them with long swipes of your tongue. She whimpered.

“O-oh, fuck…”

Making your way in between them, you kissed her center before running a finger through her folds, watching the way she looked.

“You’re wet.”

“I-I can’t help it...”

You started warming her up by licking up her pink slit, giving yourself the first taste of her pussy, and inhaling her aroma. You explored her folds with your tongue, cleaning off her juices until you reached her clit. You blew a puff of hot air against it and she whined.

“You have such a pretty pussy,” you said, and before she could respond you swirled around her hardened clit, running circular patterns along it before taking it into your mouth and sucking.

“Ahh!” she moaned. You continued to eat her out, tasting her juices and licking everything up as her warm thighs wrapped around your head.

Buried against her crotch you went wild, tasting all of Hyewon’s delicious sensitive pussy, suckling on her clit wildly as she squirmed and moaned.

“Fuck, you’re so good at that. No wonder Eunbi likes you.”

You kept the pressure on her clit, suckling hard and you brought a finger inside her cunt, and then another, curling them and finding her spot immediately. Hyewon’s hips bucked as she moaned loud, as you licked and sucked everything that leaked out between her luscious legs, feeling her body trembling and reacting to everything you did.

“Oh god, oh god! I’m going to cum!”

Looking up straight at her buried in between her heavenly thighs, you licked and sucked up her clit, and Hyewon came almost right away, making a mess on your face.

Slowly removing yourself from her pussy and licking your lips, helping her ride out her orgasm, caressing her thighs as she came down from her high, panting, and still seeing stars.

“Hol- wow. You’re really good with your mouth.”

“Do you think you’ll be able to sleep now?”

“I will...but I don’t want you to go without returning the favor.”

“I’ll be fine,” you said.

“You made me feel so good though, I just want to do the same,” Hyewon protested

“I don’t want to keep you up.”

“You won’t.”

“I can just go jerk off in the bathroom, it’s no big deal.”

“You don’t need to do that. After what you just did for me I want to help you too,” she said.

“Besides, I’m already half-naked,” she said as she pulled her shirt off, letting you see her wonderful full breasts for the second time.

“Now I’m fully naked.”

You felt the throbbing in your crotch as your eyes focused on every inch of her body.

“You don’t have to get naked to give me a handjob.”

“A handjob? You deserve much more than a handjob.”

“What do you have in mind?”

“I want us to both be tired at the end of this,” she smirked.

You had established Hyewon as the innocent and naive type, and while you were mostly spot-on seeing this side of her changed that.

Hyewon gestured for you to lay down and you took her former position, adjusting the pillows to your liking. Taking a kneeling position, you spread your legs for her, the anticipation high already.

She lingered there for a moment. Her face stayed blank, the same way it had the first time you met her. It gave you the chance to admire her face, her pretty brown eyes, her cute nose, and cherry red lips, lips that you didn’t realize were so plump and kissable.

“Are you going to keep your shirt on? It’s only fair I see you naked too isn’t it?” she asked.

She had a point. Grabbing the collar of your shirt, you lifted it over your head and tossed it off the bed,

“Now we’re talking,” she said, biting her lip. “You have a really nice body as well.”

Staring just a little longer than you expected, Hyewon’s view went to your crotch.

“What do you want me to do?” she asked.

“You’ve never given a blowjob before?”

She shook her head disappointingly. “Jerking off that one guy is the only experience I’ve had with men. And now, you.”

“Just do what you did that one morning, but add your tongue and lips. Be careful with your teeth though.”

She nodded in acknowledgment. “I've seen porn. Just suck it right? Like a popsicle?”

You couldn’t help but laugh. “There’s more to it than that, but yeah.”

“What do I do to get you hard?” she asked.

“Well, I’m halfway there, just rub it through my boxers.”

She followed your instructions, using her hands to create friction through your crotch awkwardly. It was cute how clueless she was about this.

Hyewon’s eyes opened wider and within a matter of seconds before a bulge had formed.

“That didn’t take long,” she smiled and knew how to do the rest. Tugging your boxers down, she left you in the same state of undress as her, your cock twitching as it was freed to meet her.

She did the same thing she did before, albeit with more confidence this time, wrapping her cold hand around your shaft and keeping a tight grip. Using smooth movements she stroked slowly, the now-familiar pumping motions becoming more natural.

Using the earlier example a bit too literal, licking up and down one side of your shaft like it was an actual popsicle. It looked awkward but didn’t stop from feeling good. She did this on all sides, and you directed her to move her tongue lower, helping her figure it out one step at a time.

“You’re getting it,” you praised her, as she continued lathering up your shaft.

“Go lower,” you told her and she got the message, licking your balls with shallow swipes of her tongue, causing you to groan.

“They’re sensitive right?” she asked.

“Very, so you have to be careful,” you replied. Hyewon nodded cutely.

“Put your lips around the tip, start out gently. That’s the part that feels the best.”

Licking a little more she traveled up until her mouth found the tip of your cock, eyeing your length. When she was ready she licked her lips and wrapped them around your swollen tip, hollowing her cheeks as she started sucking gently. You let out a deep breath and a moan immediately, the softness of her plump lips indescribable as they surrounded your cock.

“Like this?” She asked as she carefully sucked, trying to keep her teeth out of the way as she drew out your pleasure.

“Yes, that’s perfect. Feels so good already.”

Feeling proud, Hyewon took more inside her mouth, almost reaching the middle of your shaft as she activated her gag reflex.

“Don’t take it all at once,” you warned. She looked so damn pretty giving you head. Innocent Hyewon with her lips all over your dick, it was a wonderful sight, even the first few inches inside her mouth felt absolute heaven. She got used to it little by little, knowing where her limits were as she bobbed her head up and down, keeping her eyes dead centered on you.

“Your lips feel amazing. You’re a natural at this,” you praised, the warmth of her wet mouth driving you insane. Maybe it was the porn videos, or maybe she just had a gifted talent, but what she was doing to you felt so fucking good. Her lips were perfect for giving head, their plumpness sucking the life out of your cock as her throat made loud slurping sounds, infinity pleasing to your ears.

“You can use your tongue too,” you suggested, and after a moment you felt her wet tongue splashing against your underside, causing even more pleasure.

“Fuck.”

You leaned back against the pillows, closing your eyes and listening to Hyewon’s mouth slurping your dick, her warm lips doing their work. You’d have to train her to deepthroat at some point, but if she was already this good at sucking you off you were in for a treat.

Hyewon took you rather deep, gagging herself a few times before pulling her mouth off and stopped, stroking your length.

“You okay?” you asked.

“Mhm. I don’t want you to cum yet.”

She had a determined look in her eyes and you could tell she wasn’t ready for things to end.

“I want us to feel good. At the same time,” she said.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. I’ve never felt a dick inside me. That changes tonight,” she said, growing more confident.

“Not even a toy?”

“No. Eunbi doesn’t want to use them, she thinks I’m not ready yet. But I am.”

“If you say you’re ready then you’re ready.”

“I am.”

With her expression determined she and straddled your lap, giving you even more time to stare at her naked body.

With her warm thighs on each side of your waist, Hyewon grabbed hold of your cock and lined it up with her entrance. Her pussy was so pink, just as pretty as she was and plenty wet. She carefully lifted herself up, and with very delicate movements she lowered herself onto your cock, both of you gasping as she was penetrated for the very first time.

“Shit,” she moaned, the new sensations so overwhelming to her.

“Take your time,” you said, watching carefully and caressing her thighs. She sank down a little deeper, gritting her teeth as a mixture of pain and pleasure hit her all at once. Her pussy squeezed your shaft tight, almost painfully so even guided by her intense wetness.

“How’s it feel?” you asked. She looked unsure.

“I-I don’t know yet.”

Hyewon moved her hips back up until she was almost empty, moving back down and you watched as the tip of your cock disappeared inside.

Giving her time to adjust, you let her do everything, only taking you as deep as she felt comfortable with.

“You’re so fucking big. I feel so stretched already,”

“So tight, Hyewon. You feel amazing.”

“That’s good right?” she asked.

“Yes. You’re even tighter than Eunbi,” you admitted, not that you would tell anyone else that.

Hyewon braced herself by holding on to your chest, carefully trying to position herself. Once she slowly adjusted, her hips began moving, and she began riding you.

“So damn big,” she repeated. “Eunbi must love this.”

She moved slowly at first, hips gently moving up and down, letting herself feel that intoxicating stretch. The pain had subsided and she only felt pleasure, moaning softly already. Her walls tightened more and more as she took you deeper inside her, leaving a trail of slick covering your cock to aid in penetration.

“You feel really good inside me,” she said, at first not letting more than half of your shaft inside her pussy, trying to control her breathing.

Hyewon carefully found a rhythm, riding with a slow but constant pace, her tits gently bouncing with every movement. You couldn’t stop staring, mesmerized by the way they jiggled, adding to your arousal.

“You really like my tits don’t you?” she asked.

“Of course. They’re perfect.”

“You can touch them if you want,” she said.

“Oh I’ll do more than just touch,” you replied, and she beamed, giving the go-ahead. Running your hands up her tight body and feeling her soft pale skin you grabbed a handful of them, groping them as you felt her tight pussy lips squeezing your cock. You didn’t need to compare them to anyone else, they were perfect as is - soft, heavy, and delicious.

She rode a little faster, moaning louder as you buried yourself in her scrumptious tits, sucking on her tits and feasting on them, being careful to not overstimulate Hyewon.

“You’re so wet, Hyewon,” you said, watching her slowly fall apart. She replied in groans and moans, taking as much inside as she could, relaxing herself.

“I’m going to feel this in the morning,” she said, lips curling as she pushed herself all the way down, impaling her pussy to the hilt.

“Oh god!” she moaned as she bounced up and down, riding faster with all of you inside her tight cunt. You wanted to feel all of her body, wandering your hands around her delicate soft skin as you settled on her ass. Plump and tight, you squeezed it, still letting her do the work.

“Fuck, oh fuck! I think I’m going to cum!”

“Then cum for me, Hyewon.’

“I-I will!” she said, louder than expected. Bouncing her ass on your cock she leaned backward, supporting herself on your thighs as she exerted more energy in her hips.

“Oh fuck yes, I’m gon-”

Not even able to finish her sentence, her body lost control as she came violently, rolling her hips as her tight pussy pulsated around your cock and you felt a wave of juices drowning your cock. Her pace slows down significantly, trying to ride out the first orgasm she’s had that wasn’t a woman's fingers or tongue and the pleasure is so intoxicating to her that she might pass out.

“H-holy shit,” she said, as she looked up for the first time in several seconds, almost embarrassed by how loud she was. Her eyes were fully glazed over after her orgasm and her pussy felt even tighter and wet around you, but she had just enough strength to keep her hips moving.

“You need to cum too,” she said, regaining her senses as her whole body leaned forward, pressing herself against your body and you unexpectedly felt her soft lips against yours.

“That’s for making me feel so good,” she smiled, running a hand through her hands, returning to her past pace.

“Now I want this pussy to return the favor.”

With a tired gaze on her face, she bounced again on your cock as you kept your hands around her waist, feeling the sweat misting across her perfect skin. You wanted to freeze the moment in time. The way she moaned with every thrust with that pretty voice, how wet and tight she was, the way her supple breasts bounced deliciously, it was all incredibly arousing and yet too much at the same time.

“I’m gonna cum too,” you blurted out, words becoming difficult to use. Her eyes lit up.

“Good. I wanna see how much you can fill me up.”

Her lewd words and the way her wet pink flesh squeezed your cock made it impossible to hold on, giving a few more thrusts as you buried yourself in Hyewon’s tight pussy. Lustfully staring into each other's eyes, you throbbed inside her and groaned her name loudly as you began filling her hole up, shaking as you emptied wave after wave of plentiful thick seed deep into her cunt.

Once her tight pussy milked you of everything, giving Hyewon every last drop she collapsed on top of you, the warmth of her hot sweaty body and her weight comforting yours.

“It’s so warm,” she said, gasping and panting in your ears. She rested there for what felt like hours as you both tried to breathe normally again. Heaving panting filling the room as Hyewon used your chest for leverage and gingerly lifted herself off of your cock, decoupling your tangled bodies.

You watched together as the mess you left inside her slowly leaked out of her pussy, a steady thick stream of hot cum the was the evidence of the intense pleasure she had given you, dripping down her thighs and splashing against the bedsheets.

Hyewon’s chest is still heaving, her purple hair out of place as she tried to catch a deep breath. She looked at your depleted cock and the combined juices still left on it and instinctively grabbed and took it back into her mouth, sliding it down her mouth as much as she could to clean it off, before using her tongue to do the rest.

“I’m going to need to taste a lot more of this.”

With her stamina used up, she crashed, her skin kissing yours as her wonderful breasts pressed against your chest as if she were using your body as a pillow.

“That was amazing.”

“Are you okay? You rode my dick so well.”

“I...I’m good. I could use a shower, but I can barely move.”

“Probably be worse in the morning.”

“Then I’ll deal with it in the morning,” she said. Her final words before she drifted off, tired, her naked body still rested on yours. It wouldn’t take before you followed, sharing one of the most peaceful nights in some time.

You woke up restful and full of energy for once, Hyewon was surprised to see you wake up a few minutes after she did.

“You’re up! Good morning,” she sweetly said.

“Good morning, “ you replied.

“Sorry if I snored.”

“I didn’t hear you if you did.”

“Are you heading into the office?”

“Yes. There’s been a big break and we have the advantage for once. Eunbi needs the whole team to be there.”

“Want breakfast?” she asked, not bothering to put on pants yet.

“I do, but I have everything I need to eat right in front of me,” you boldly said.

Hyewon blushed. “You’re feisty this morning.”

“When do you have to be there?”

“In about an hour.”

“An hour is a lot of time,” you said.

“I know that look…”

"I don't know what you mean by that."

"I'm sure you don’t…" she said as she plopped on the bed on her stomach, bare feet up in the air.

“I wouldn’t mind one for the road. It’d keep me in a good mood all day.”

“Don’t want you to be late though.”

“I do have to still shower and get ready, but I’m sure Eunbi won’t mind if I'm a few minutes late...”

“We’d save some time if we just went straight for the shower.”

Hyewon looked flustered.

“And water,” you added.

Hyewon pondered, sitting up. “My shower is rather big, so you’ve sold me,” she said, removing what little clothes she had left on and gestured to you to follow her, not that you needed any instructions to.

She liked the water as hot as it would go. Her body was beautiful naked, but as water flowed down her chest and onto her flushed skin, matting her dyed hair to her gorgeous features. it enhanced her naked body even more. Hyewon came on your cock as you fucked her from behind and pressed her against the cold shower tile and she finished you off on her tits, carefully away from the water to make sure you got a chance to savor your handiwork.

Drying her hair off and deciding on what to wear, Hyewon’s phone rang.

“Detective Kang speaking.”

“Yes, boss. He’s right here.”

“Understood. We’ll both be there.”

Tossing her phone onto the bed she took a seat and finished dressing as you waited for her explanation.

“We’ve made an arrest on one of the Goda clan’s lieutenants and we have a potential lead on the patriarch. Eunbi wants you to be there to give any assistance and make sure he doesn’t escape.”

“Why me?”

“You know the way they operated and any potential backdoors they might exploit. We’re looking for any and every advantage we can use. Your knowledge of their operations will be a powerful ally at this point.”

“I’ll do what I can, I can’t promise I’ll be useful.”

“That’s all we’re asking. Now let’s get going, I’ll let Eunbi know we’re on the way.”

#izone smut #hyewon smut #male reader #hyewon #izone #reader insert #kpop fanfic #kpop fanfiction

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kirksfattitties · 4 years

Text

asks you can smell the privilege and internalized ableism radiate from

(tw for ableism and other bigoted implications)

i’m bad at reading tone but even i understand that this is 100% you being condescending and trying to cover it up with smiley faces and false sincerity. and i don’t appreciate that.

before i get into deconstructing your shitty ableist argument, i want to explain the reasons i believe in self diagnosis (self-dx):

even professional diagnosis doesn’t start with a doctor diagnosing you. there has to be a reason for seeing the doctor. some people see a doctor in their adult life because they’re struggling, some people are taken by their parents, some people are referred or suggested that they see a specialist. whatever it is, you don’t just see a doctor and they magically give you a neurodivergency. people have neurodivergencies before they see doctors and even if they NEVER see a doctor.

the psychiatry system is flawed in MANY ways and to say that it isn’t means you’re denying the experiences of people with less privledge than yourself. also like psychiatry isn’t gonna suck your dick. you don’t have to be a bootlicker lol

in many places (hi hello i’m from america where our government tries to indirectly kill us by not providing us with adequate healthcare! i and many other people have many issues we can’t get fixed because simply our government cares more about the economy than us), seeing a psychiatrist or a therapist or going to a mental hospital or WHATEVER is INCREDIBLY expensive. and to assume that everyone has access and enough time/money/energy/transportation/whatever to do all of that is classist and elitist.

ANYTHING medical (including mental health) is biased towards white cis men. most studies are done on white cis men/boys. because of this, people who aren’t white cis men (or people who aren’t perceived as white cis men) are often not diagnosed. the system is racist. the system is sexist. the system is transphobic. people don’t know how to diagnose autism or adhd or personality disorders or other neurodivergencies or even mental illnesses in black people and other people of color, in women, in trans people, etc. and GOD FORBID someone be in multiple (or all) of those categories. saying “just go get diagnosed :)” is a privileged statement to make.

shocker! the psychiatry system is also ableist. if you’re already diasabled (whether it be mental or physical) and you see a doctor about ANOTHER disability? the doctor is most likely going to shoot you down. or at least be weary about someone having mutliple disabilities.

also most people who diagnose are neurotypical. they have never and will probably never experience neurodivergency so they can never fully understand it. they operate off of stereotypes of neurodivergent people and usually only stereotypical behavior of neurodivergent white cis men (which, as i mentioned before, is problematic for anyone who isn’t a white cis man). neurotypical diagnosers don’t know the neurodivergent culture and aren’t trained to recognize very common things (like masking for example).

a professional diagnosis can also be weaponized. not everyone can get a professional diagnosis because there are some neurodivergencies (such as autism and personality disorders) and mental illnesses (like depression) that can have legal and medical respercussions to have in your record. trans people can be denied medical and legal transition for being professionally diagnosed. people can lose custody battles for being professionally diagnosed. a professional diagnosis can be used as justification for taking away someone’s body autonomy (especially if that person is also physically disabled).

a LOT of neurodivergencies also have some type of symptom (or symptoms) that make it difficult to interact with people. troubles recognizing facial expressions, troubles understanding certain phrases and types of speech, paranoid about people, audio processing issues, being nonverbal in an environment that doesn’t accommodate for it, overstimulation, extreme social anxiety, discomfort in new situations, problems with eye contact, and a lot more. because like. for many nd people, interacting with people is very difficult and stressful. and hey. if you want to get a professional diagnosis? take a WILD guess what you have to do? FUCKING INTERACT with people! LIKE?? JEHDJJDKEKKDKDKDS. do you know how many professionally diagnosed nd people i know who made their appointment COMPLETELY on their own without help from a parent or family member or friend? LITERALLY ZERO! and i know A FEW nd people who have professional diagnoses! so if someone has social issues that prevent them from doing tasks like calling and making an appointment, showing up for an appointment, talking during the appointment, etc and ALSO doesn’t have familial or friend support (because newsflash! people who are friends/family of disabled people can still be ableist)? almost impossible to get a diagnosis! plus, the diagnosis process is TIME CONSUMING. not everyone can focus on a task for that long and not everyone can miss work/school for that long.

so those are the reasons i support self-dx. (although there’s probably more that i’m forgetting but i have adhd and it’s hard for me to remember things!)

so hopefully you now understand my reasons for believing in self-dx, and perhaps even you’re pro-self-dx now because before you were just uneducated on these issues and how they impact people who aren’t you.

but in case you’re still anti-self-dx and probably hate already-marginalized neurodivergent people, let’s talk about this horrendous ask (series of asks, actually) that i got sent. i feel like i can feel the self hatred and internalized ableism OOZING from this ask and into my inbox, so thanks for that i guess /s

“Sometimes people who self diagnose can take away from those who are actually nd, even sometimes from themselves.”

starting out strong with the ableism on this one by separating people into “self diagnosed” and “actually nd” people. self diagnosed people ARE actually nd

there’s not a limited number of nd resources. this isn’t a math equation of only x amount of people can be nd because there’s only y amount of resources. more people realizing they’re nd will actually MAKE more resources for nd people and will bring more awareness to being nd

even IF someone self diagnosed, and they go back on it later, what harm was done? they learned some coping mechanisms? they made some nd friends? neither of those are problematic and i think they’re both actually very helpful. i think nt people SHOULD learn more about nd people and stuff because i think that will lead to WAYYY less misunderstandings and WAYYYY less ableism

“There are many people who fake nds for attention,”

hey anon, what fucking world do you live in that nd’s are cool enough to fake having? because i would LOVE to live there. like, i literally had a post about my personality disorder (which i will not be specifying) i had to delete because people were sending my anons about how i was “scary” and “threatening” now that they knew i had the personality disorder i have. last year i left a discord server because the ableism i was recieving from not only the members of the server, but the mods as well. there are very few people i know irl who i tell about my personality disorder, but when i tell people about my adhd, they start treating me different. they infantalize me and make fun of me and use “jokes” about stereotypical adhd behaviors to alienate me and they even TELL OTHER PEOPLE without my permission. i was SEVERELY bullied throughout elementary and middle school for being nd. i have been refused job and educational opportunities as well as literal medical attention for being nd. people aren’t “faking” being nd, and if they were they probably wouldn’t be doing it for long because it’s not something that’s EASY to deal with.

kinda ironic that you’re saying people can’t diagnose themselves but that YOU can tell when someone is faking their diagnosis. that’s both hypocritical and a double standard.

masking exists. if you think someone isn’t “acting nd enough” they’re probably masking because they’ve been fucking bullied and harrassed. also you’re probably basing whatever you think nd is on stereotypes. not every nd person is sheldon cooper lol.

this is a side note but can we talk about how you’re literally just taking transmed rhetoric and molding it to fit nd people? like. you really come onto MY NONBINARY NEURODIVERGENT blog and expect me to validate your recycled “but what about the REAL [insert group] people?” ??? like grow up, elitist. you’re not better than anyone else just because you lick some boots 🥾 👅

“and claiming that self diagnosis (and this is just what I interpreted) is just as valid as professional diagnosis”

it is 😌

the only difference between self diagnosis and professional diagnosis is that a professional diagnosis can also get you medicine. not every neurodivergency needs meds and not every neurodivergency can be treated (at this time or even ever). for example, my pd (self diagnosed) doesn’t have a specific treatment but multiple symptoms of the pd (all professionally diagnosed) have specific treatments and medicines that work, so patients are given/diagnosed with/prescribed those instead. also, medicine doesn’t work for everyone! and sometimes people are allergic to or take medicines that will conflict with any new medicine.

“can really devalue the account of someone who actually has a disorder”

here we go again with that “self diagnosed” vs “actually nd” bullshit. literally just say you hate poor people n minorities and leave lol

someone having a different experience than you isn’t devaluing you, but if you’re the one who always has the spotlight maybe you should use your privledge uplift other marginalized people instead of feeling angry when everything isn’t all about you 100% of the time

“I have a second ask”

i don’t want it

“Plus it can be damaging for a person if they self diagnose wrong.”

how? what if they learn information that they wouldn’t’ve otherwise known like coping mechanisms that help them with their own neurodivergencies? that’s definitely not a bad thing

i think it’s funny that you bring up that people can self diagnose wrong and don’t even MENTION that doctors can diagnose wrong. like. you know. the people who GIVE OUT MEDICINE to people. i think it’s MUCH more dangerous when a PROFESSIONAL diagnosis is wrong. what are self-dx people with wrong diagnoses gonna do? read up on nd tips? maybe smoke some weed? drink some coffee? that’s about all they can do with a self-dx. but if a MEDICAL PROFESSIONAL gives you an INCORRECT diagnosis, they can ACTUALLY fuck you up.

“I was recently diagnosed with PTSD, a disorder which I would have never considered I’d have.”

that’s great about your professional diagnosis! i don’t know you but i’m glad you’re finding out about yourself and getting the help you want and/or need /srs

sorry if this sounds blunt, but honestly i’m not surprised you never considered you could have PTSD. based on your asks, you sound like you have a lot of internalized ableism you need to work through and a lot more research about neurodiversity you need to do. being anti-self diagnosis is a common belief among a lot of people with internalized ableism and a lot of these same people are the ones who have no issue with and even SUPPORT auti$m $peaks. many nd organizations that are run BY nd people (like asan) actually support self-dx.

“If I had of diagnosed my own symptoms and then started treating myself or taking precautions based on my self diagnosed "condition", it could of really hurt me.”

how? taking precautions to preserve your mental health is NEVER a bad idea. i’m not ptsd, but someone i care deeply about DOES have ptsd and has shared a lot of the precautions and coping mechanisms for ptsd with me and honestly they’ve been incredibly helpful. it’s almost as if different neurodivergencies and/or mental illnesses have overlap and that’s why there’s a whole community for us to be able to share these resources and information with each other!

the same person was rejected a formal autism diagnosis because of their ptsd, plus the fact that they’re transgender and the fact they have symptoms of adhd. it’s not really my place to talk about their experience with professional diagnosis, but i’ll send this post to them and allow them to add on their experience in a rb if they’re comfortable with that. but it’s almost as if their experience with the professional diagnosis process was unhelpful, harmful, ableist, and transphobic 🧐 and unfortunately this is a pretty common experience

“Also, by self diagnosing, I devalue the account of a person with the disorder l assumed I had.”

how? if someone thinks they’re nd, they have a legitimate reason for thinking so. either they have another neurodivergency than the one they thought they had, or they’re neurotypical and need to figure themself out and have a need for support. either way, they learned more about the specific neurodivergency, more about the nd community, and more about themself. i don’t see how that’s a bad thing.

if you think self-diagnosed people’s experiences inherently have less value, that is straight up ableism. especially considering that other marginalized identities and minorities have trouble getting professional diagnoses, you might also be bigoted in some other way. or at the very least, refusing to acknowledge your privilege.

“only one more I promise”

i don’t want it

“I understand that doctors are expensive and professionals can get it wrong,”

okay. if you understand this, then dm me your information so i can bill you for the cost of my professional diagnoses, the cost for my therapy sessions, the cost for my medicine, and the cost for transportation to and from all these places. PLUS the cost of the work and school i’ll be missing for these sessions. 🤲

“but self diagnosis can be really harmful to yourself or others.”

nah, you’re just ableist and a gatekeeper lol

“If you feel like you have a disorder, go see a psychiatrist, you may have it.”

[remembers when i went to a psychiatrist who diagnosed me with two major symptoms of a personality disorder and said i had other symptoms of the pd as well but refused to diagnose me with the actual personality disorder because i was a minor at the time and he told me “kids don’t have personalities so they can’t have personality disorders”. i understand being weary about diagnosing children with personality disorders because they aren’t fully developed but this dude straight up told me that i didn’t have a personality. this man literally only worked with children so that means he literally never diagnosed personality disorders. this man was literally just lazy and didn’t care about his patients. this man also refused to believe me when i told him the medicine he prescribed me made my symptoms worse and even made me hallucinate. he ignored me and refused to change my medicine so eventually i just changed psychiatrists and they put me on a new medicine that DIDNT make my symptoms worse and DIDNT make me hallucinate. also i looked it up after our session and apparently ONLY people with my pd and related ones experience hallucinations on that certain medication. it’s almost like his refusal to diagnose me and ignoring my symptoms/concerns harmed me. this man also constantly misgendered me and told me that homosexuality and transgenderism should’ve still been in the dsm. like golly, it’s almost as if being queer and neurodivergent in an extremely conservative state is harmful and dangerous. and that psychiatrists aren’t immune from being homophobic and transphobic and ableist.] but yes :) perhaps i should see another psychiatrist in this conservative state :)

“I don't want to undermine anyone's actual experiences, but it can be dangerous.”

then stop undermining people’s actual experiences :)

no ❤️

“If you feel like something's wrong, go see a professional.”

the whole point of the neurodiversity movement is that there IS no such thing as a “normal” brain, so saying that neurodivergent people have something “wrong” with them is ableist.

💰 🤲 hand it over

“I don't want to offend, I just don't want anyone to get mislead or hurt. :)”

you absolutely meant to offend. you literally said that self-diagnosed people’s experiences aren’t valid and have less value than people who have professional diagnoses

i know more people who have been (and personally have been) mislead and hurt by professionals than by simply existing as a self-diagnosed person

also i want to say that being pro-self dx is NOT being anti-professional/formal diagnosis. i think that people should absolutely get a professional diagnosis (if they are able to without negative repercussions)! being pro-self dx is more inclusive of marginalized people (like people of color, women, lgbtq+ people, people with multiple disabilities, etc). pro-self dx is simply just saying that professional diagnosis isn’t the only option

(neurotypical people and anti-self dx people don’t add anything; pro-self dx neurodivergent people are allowed to add with their experiences if they want)

#asks #long post #nd adventures #ableism tw #sexism tw #racism tw #transphobia tw #misgendering mention #medical abuse mention #not star trek #homophobia tw

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