#some people treat their bodies like they're not a living thing that they need to take care of and it shows

[fabulouslygaybean]

i wish i could tell people that ive got anxiety without them treating me like im some fragile little flower

[iberiancadre]

I've talked about this before but I have a deep dislike of sentiment like this within "leftist" circles, regarding unions. And it's practically always from USamericans, go figure.

(Before anyone interprets this post on bad faith, which is inevitable, I am not against being in a union and I am not telling people not to join a union, it's the most inmediate form of protection workers have and that is, in fact, good)

It's this overbearing insistence on joining unions, treating it like the best (and only) way of achieving workers' liberation, and I think that shows either a bad understanding of what unions are or a bad understanding of how capitalism works. Unions are bargaining bodies for workers, that's it. They aren't revolutionary, and they aren't going to kill your boss. And I want to really hammer in this point. They aren't revolutionary. Precisely because their role is to bargain, and to achieve better conditions within the system of salaried work.

You are never going to "liquidate the ownership class" by getting longer breaks, paid holidays and an excellent health plan. Keep in mind, bargaining with the capitalist is necessary, and that in itself isn't non-revolutionary, not necessarily. But the only purpose of a union is to bargain. I really don't think people get this. A union's only purpose is to bargain, it is to negotiate. Negotiations also necessarily imply compromises and unsatisfactory deals. Unions are not a magic key to not being exploited, and they especially are not the way to liberation.*

I think this is especially prevalent in the US because of two things:

Their labor movement is so fucked that any kind of opposition to capitalism is by default radical. And therefore some people feel it's enough to just tell people to join a union. However, this isn't unique to the US and many places have it much, much worse

Living in the imperial hegemon makes it very easy to ignore any other place outside of their little sphere. People can go years engaging in left-of-DNC circles but without ever leaving their USamerican community, they end up not knowing who James Baldwin is, to give a topical example. This affects the US labor movement by allowing them to ignore other places' struggles, so it's very easy to see anything they do as the horizon of political action. They only need to look to their own country for examples in action, and the truth is that the labor movement in the US has been largely very mild. In the cases when it has not been mild (notable exceptions include the Black Panthers), it's largely forgotten, demonized or revised in bigger circles.

So you get people who call themselves communists just for being unionists. But a communist is someone who identifies the core of exploitation to be the very structure of capitalism and work and attacks it. You are not a communist, however, for believing the core of exploitation is your shit boss who refuses to pay for dental.

And what's funny is that 90% of what people on here claim to be communist and anti-capitalist is just the norm on most of the world. People will hype up the DSA or VoteSocialist2024 as if they're breaking ground, and then you read their programs and they're just socialdemocrats. They are nothing more than reformists, just another manager of capitalism.

My father works for one of the biggest textile manufacturers and distributors in the world, and unionization is the norm, it's a "union job" but it's still shitty and exploitative. There are in fact 3 unions, and they engage in petty electoralism within the workplace, only sometimes actually protecting worker's rights, and that's a country-wide norm. This is what unions end up becoming when they become established, especially with a friendly government in place.

CCOO was a union created in the late fascist dictatorship in Spain, and they were genuinely fighting (with guns!) against the dictatorship. And the moment the dictatorship ended and they became the largest union in the country, they slowly became less and less radical, and more complacent. Last year they signed a labor reform that legalizes highly precarious and inconsistent forms of work contracts. That's not "liquidating the ownership class", that's just social-democracy when it doesn't need to be the opposition anymore

To wrap up, a note on syndicalism, anarcho-syndicalism, etc.

Unions are by their very nature an organization that only operates within one aspect of the life of the working class, the workplace. Sure, it's the main one and the part that defines us as a class, but it isn't the only one. In order to actually "liquidate the ownership class", you have to take power by force, and that will have to involve intervening outside of the workplace. What syndicalists used to claim is that unions can be the base of a socialist society and organize the entire working class to destroy capitalism. However, at that point, you have created a party and called it a union. And not only a party, but a myriad of them, each with their own characteristics and desires. So a multi-party system. I will not get into the viability of multiple parties in socialism in this post, but they are not unions in anything by name.

Footnote under the cut:

*I know I'm repeating myself a lot these days on this topic, but if you live in an imperial core country, there is no way to have prosperity (as the example above puts it) without some of that wealth coming from imperialism. It does not matter if your particular country never had colonies, it does not matter if your country is stereotypically nice (fuck the Nordic countries). And no, the expoliated wealth does not only remain within the capitalist class, there is always at least some circulation of wealth from the capitalist to the workers within any welfare program. If your workplace can afford to have long breaks, that is at least in part because your capitalist is profiting from the exploitation of the third world, and because the entire economies of imperial core countries uses the wealth extracted to support their deficits and to stabilize their currencies.

It's not a hard concept. If you can understand that it's basically impossible to manufacture batteries for renewable energy without exercising violence on places like the Congo, it's not that hard to understand the same is true for most things.

[harmoonix]

♡ Thank u, next ♡

♡♡♡ (Astrology Observations) ♡♡♡

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🪷 3 Asteroids chosed by me in their home element:

♡ ASTEROID AMOR [1221] (Being in love with love) ♡

Asteroid Amor in Water Signs = Amor in Water signs love with a deep passion about their partners, they are their partners soft place and care. The native may feel very connected with their partners

Asteroid Amor in Fire Signs = Amor in Fire Signs burns like the flame of love crushing their hearts, they are the type to do everything and risk everything for their partners. Very strong/confident/powerful partner vibes who is ready for everything

Asteroid Amor in Earth Signs = Amor in Earth Signs is full of grace and nature, they are the sweetest when it comes to their love signs and know how to make someone to feel satisfied

Asteroid Amor in Air Signs = Amor in Air Signs comes like a melody about love, charming and chatty about their love life, they're the type of person who can compose a song for their partners or to have something that reminds them about their lovers

♡ ASTEROID LUST [4386] (Sensuality is within you)

Asteroid Lust in Air Signs if full of charisma, they have this aura of wanting to be the one who starts a conversation with them first, they are so flirty in their words and can possess a very sexy voice

Asteroid Lust in Earth Signs are the natives who give "dominate me" vibes, they will give you the moon and the stars, they like to spoil people and to make them feel satisfaction

Asteroid Lust in Water Signs are enchanting as a sirene, they will enchant people with their innocent looks, they crave for more and more, they'll make you to want more of them to have them in your soul forever

Asteroid Lust inf Fire Signs full of passion, full of joy, they're like hottest flame in the room, catching everyone's attention and making them curious about you, they'll be so intimidated by your presence

♡ ASTEROID APOLLO [1862] (Adoration) ♡

Asteroid Apollo in Water Signs have mesmerizing eyes, sometimes they can be tired eyes but they are still mesmerizing, very magnetic yet soft to touch hard to reach

Asteroid Apollo in Earth Signs have that gorgeous hair, gorgeous looks, they have a thing for fashion and keeping themselves pretty 24/7,

Asteroid Apollo in Air Signs receiving attention and adoration for their sensual beauty, their voice, their heart is full of love ready to share it with the world

Asteroid Apollo in Fire Signs adore to be in the spotlight, to take the attention, striking personality that can catch new people coming in their lives

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+ Some Short Astro Observations:🪷🪷🪷

🪷 - Cancer & Pisces placements tend to give wrong people the 2nd chance in their life

🪷 - Scorpio Moon/Moon in the 8th house can have a hard time to trust people, they just don't wanna get hurt anymore

🪷 - Uranus in the 7th house could've had more relationships in the past, somehow it can be chaotic to think back in the past for them

🪷 - Capricorn Placements/10th house don't like to be disrespected, especially when they treat people with so much respect

🪷 - Chiron in the 10th house/Capricorn are protected by karma when it comes to their career/job

🪷 - Leo Placements really know how to love themselves correctly when they need that self love

🪷 - Pluto or Lilith (h12) aspecting Sun can get envy without even realizing, there is something about you that people envy

🪷 - 6°, 18° degrees on the ascendant can have a fragile body/ they can also be more aware of their body than others

🪷 - Moon in the 10th house hate/dislike to show other people their emotions

🪷 - Saturn in the 6th house harshly aspected can make you to lose motivation fast/ or to be lazy at times

🪷 - Chiron in the 1st house or aspecting the ascendant can be an another indicator of having an fragile body

🪷 - Saturn in the 12th house/Pisces and Saturn at 12°, 24° degrees loves sleeping a lot

🪷 - Chiron at 1°, 13° and 25° can struggle with their anger/anger issues, and with patience aswell

🪷 - Eva asteroid (164) aspecting Sun are such a beauty, and their beauty lasts for ages/decades, they are so feminine

🪷 - Neptune in trine/sextile/conjunct Uranus can make you more spiritual or "awaken" spiritually, you may also have a really great intuition and possibly passion for astrology

🪷 - Sun or Moon aspecting Saturn harshly can sometimes go in a depressive state of mind, like having this depressive mood following them

🪷 - Chiron aspecting Moon can have some wounds/pain with their mom/ and from their childhood

🪷 - South Node in the 9th house/Sagittarius can feel very disconnected/detached from Religion/Some of them can suffer form religious trauma

🪷 - Chiron in the 12th house can feel very disconnected/detached from God for example or having this feeling as that God doesn't help them

🪷 - Chiron in the 12th house is also an indicator of having deep traumatic wounds that have to end in this life

🪷 - Aphrodite (1388) in Gemini/3rd house or aspecting Mercury has a really shooting voice

🪷 - Aphrodite (1388) square or opposite Venus can have a hard time to commit their feelings or to understand what they truly feel for their partners

🪷 - Mars in the 6th house can really be good at sports, especially if you do daily sports or physical activities

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Honestly, the end of an era. Especially the 2023's era, because with December coming soon we have to say goodbye to this year.

How have you been guys? I hope you are doing great and don't forget to take care of yourselves and to eat, drink, give yourself the love you need

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I hope everyone who reads my notes has a blessed Sunday ☀️ Celebrate the Sun today!☀️

Thank you. Next

☀️ H a r m o o n i x ☀️

[z0mbiefrank]

i have a lot of thoughts i'd like to document about mcr's auckland show, but here's just some of the things gerard said that hit me particularly hard.

first off, of course, we have the quote of the whole night, which i'll try not to dwell on too much.

"In the face of extermination, say fuck you."

there have been many posts about this. despite it not being included in the live stream, this video swept the dashboard. there is a pride flag front and centre in the audience. gerard is barely visible but all we needed was his voice. within hours it had inspired countless textposts and art pieces. i know i'm not the only one who cried. it is exactly what i needed to hear during this time of trans rights being rolled back all over the world. then came this video where you can see gerard. they walk right to the front centre stage, legs planted strongly in their skirt and tights, face set with intent, and he spits out those words for the whole world to hear.

now this next one i have not seen any posts about, but it struck a chord with me anyways. before planetary go they speak to the audience:

"You all look wonderful. You do. I see you when the lights are bright on us. I see you. Don't worry, I see you. There's some wonderful costumes. If they're costumes. Are they costumes?" The audience yells back with a resounding "No!" source video

every night my chemical romance performs, they look out to a crowd of visibly queer people staring right back at them. my mcr show was the first time i saw my trans best friend able to walk into the men's bathroom with his head held high. recently there has been a huge onslaught of anti-transgender laws across the world. i'm sure we've all seen posts pointing out that gerard's cheerleader dress they wore in Nashville would now be illegal. the new tennessee bill bans "male or female impersonators who provide entertainment that appeals to a prurient interest." many people have claimed the bill is 'only' about drag performers, as if that would make it okay, but we know that is not true. right-wingers have proven time and time again they view trans women as nothing more than "female impersonators". they treat transgender bodies as nothing but a fetish, or a prurient interest. they argue against gender-affirming medical care on the same phone they use to watch transgender porn. they believe transgender identity and queerness is a costume. it is something we can take on and off. something they can ban and eradicate from their country. but it's not a fucking costume. it's who we are.

which leads me to the encore. this was the only show during their tour with a planned one-song encore (excluding festivals), and that song was their most famous of all time, welcome to the black parade. the band walks back on stage and the only thing gerard says is

"Be who the fuck you are." video

an incredibly important statement that has always been a core part of my chemical romance's message. but with everything that's been going on, with frank saying one of his favourite thing about these tours is "g being able to just be himself", with gerard's gnc outfits making headlines, i feel like that was the perfect sentence to close the show

[lilywastaken]

now hear me out: witch hunter!ghost x witch!reader...

he's visiting a town with the rest of his team to investigate a claim that there might be witches running rampant around the small countryside village, only to fall victim to a resident's charm while they conduct interviews.

she's a sweet woman who insists on curing the scratches that he's gathered across their travels, using tonics and herbs from her cute little garden and letting him pet her pet cat, who seems to have taken liking to the dark and imposing man, rubbing it's little black body against his boots and purring when he leans down to scratch under its chin.

it doesn't even clock in his mind how every single detail about you and your life correlates exactly with the obvious signs of a witch, but he's too spellbound with you to even realise.

he informs the others that none of the people he's talked to seem to have made the infamous deal with the devil, but due to the panicked way the leader of the community had written to them, they decide to stay to investigate further, staying in the small inn near the outskirts of town and luckily for simon, near your cottage.

despite the clear liking he's taken to you, he's still as emotionless and snarky as he would be with anyone else, and his chest tightens every time you laugh or giggle out loud at one of his dark jokes, most unladylike for any other woman, but you don't seem to care to hide your snorts or amusement around him, something he completely adores.

he insists on helping you with your garden, claiming you have no need to get your hands dirty when he's used to doing dirty work (both taking lives and tending to his own garden back home), sitting at your kitchen and watching you make the tonics and medicine you help treating anyone who has fallen ill in the village, standing close by whenever someone comes in with an injury, absolutely in awe at how they're cured almost immediately, thanking you gratefully before leaving. although, he does not miss the dirty glares some of your neighbours send you when they think you're not watching, making him grow confused, not understanding why they would harbour such feelings towards someone as kind and helpful as you.

it's not until he's taking a break at the pub, listening to gaz drawl on about some thing or another, when he catches wind of two women's conversation, frowning beneath the leather mask he wears in distaste has he takes in their poisioned words.

"-making moves on my poor husband. i swear, she's put some type of spell on him, that vile witch."

"oh, i know! my brother told her off last monday and guess what!? the next day, he fell off the roof and broke his leg! bloody bitch probably cursed him!"

"gosh, i cannot wait until those hunters finally get her! i have no idea how she's managed to evade their suspicions, she's done nothing to hide herself!"

"well, by the way that masked man has been loitering around her home, we'll be lucky to have a burning at the end of the week!"

they both laugh, the high pitch shrieks that they let out enough to make the glass in simon's hand shatter, shoving his seat back and leaving a dumfounded gaz in the pub alone as he walked away.

the splintering wooden door slams open as he shoves himself into your cottage, dark eyes landing on your crouched figure and then the second one, body freezing as he makes eye contact with his captain.

"simon." the man grunts, alerting you of your favourite visitor's presence as you pull back from the wound on his leg you were treating, a sweet smile on your lips.

"simon!" you repeat, cleaning your hands with the bucket of water next to you, wiping away the dried blood in the rags as price sends a warning look to his subordinate, the blond furrowing his brows in confusion, before the conversation he'd overheard before came to mind.

no.

no, price didn't know.

and, god, no, you weren't one of them.

you... no. no.

"let's get going. thank you for the help, miss." his whole body went into autopilot as price pushes him out of the cottage, the short wave and caring smile you sent his way the last thing he saw before the door was slammed shut.

neither of the men spoke on their trek back to the inn, and simon did not sleep a wink that night, terrified of what would happen in the coming days.

surprisingly, there was nothing. no finding of stakes, no gathering of firewood, no detainment of you.

so maybe, price hadn't picked up on you. even though simon was still convinced you were not one of those.

until after a few days of pouring rain, simon wakes up to a cold room and the absence of johnny, who he knows for a fact that never woke up before him unless forced to, something he'd learned after years of sharing the same room with the scot.

and as he walks out into the muddy roads, that oh-so familiar smell hits his nose.

the burning of wood, of grass, of cloth, of human.

his heart dropped into his stomach, following the trail of ashes that had blown across the roads until he arrives at the town square, the burning piece of wood in Gaz's hand along with the flames consuming the hay and grass that lay across the ground of the plaza, the fire slowly consuming your beautiful white dress he'd seen you sew barely days ago.

simon barely takes notice of price coming towards him, attempting to hold him back from rushing into the crowd simply staring up at you, your eyes falling down upon his struggling body, your face going from the calm expression it had been in to shock, pulling at your tied up wrists instinctively in a frail attempt to rush towards him.

"simon...!" you breathe out, soot entering your lungs as you inhale, tears filling your eyes from the burn as you watch him wrestle out of his captain's grip, his boots stomping against the rocky ground as he shoved past the gawkers, leather slamming against the kindle, ignoring his team's shouts and the fire burning his clothes and skin, reaching the stake you were tied to, his face out in the open due to the way he'd rushed out of his room, dark eyes reflecting the flames that were taking you both.

his shaky hands come behind you to untie the ropes around your arms, caging you with his body and allowing you to rest your head against his shoulder, tears streaming down your cheeks as you look down at the burns forming across his legs.

"stop." you pleade, trying to push him away with your chest. "stop, simon, stop...!"

"shut up!" he snaps, throwing the ropes into the fire as they came undone, letting you collapse into his arms as you were let free, your hands gripping his dress shirt. "you're going to be okay, we need to-"

his voice broke as he looks down at your sunken eyes, your lips dry and cracked as if you'd just ran a marathon, but looking down at your intact legs and burning dress, he realises where all your energy had gone.

"simon.."

no.

"please, stop-"

no. you....

"you're going to die, simon, please!"

you couldn't be...

"i won't be able to save you, simon, listen to me!"

you were wailing at this point, trying to push his body down the small burning hill, but his body doesn't budge.

"simon!" his captain's grating voice pulls him out of his stupor, his hands growing tighter around your waist as he locks gazes with the furious looking man, your wails becoming static in his ears as he doesn't think twice as his now blistering hands pulled your legs up, letting you grasp onto his neck instinctively as he holds you bridal style, ignoring the searing pain rushing through his body.

"simon, don't, don't you dare!" you scream, the first time he's heard you raise your voice at him. "please, i'm not worth saving, you know what i am! i don't deserve to live!"

liar. you... you were worth everything.

you were worth the burns on his body, the destruction of his ideals and the pain the mere sight of you in tears gave him.

he doesn't care what you are.

you're... a witch. what he swore to destroy and what he has been hunting for over a decade.

but you're not... you're... not evil.

maybe none of them were, maybe if he'd taken the time to get to know the women they'd burnt before he'd have realised sooner, that you were just people.

and he wasn't going to let you get hurt. maybe it was a bit selfish or ironic, but he didn't care. he'd take you away from this town, from his colleagues, from the pain, let you live in peace somewhere were no one would bother you.

and if you let him, he'd come with you too.

he ignores price's shouts about the so called spell you'd put on him and as he looks down at your shivering body in his arms, the way you're curling into him, the way you were wailing for him to save himself moments ago, he couldn't...

even if you had put some type of spell on him, he didn't care. never had he felt like this. and yes, he'd deal with the consequences of this later, but for now, as he runs through the forest with your trembling body in his arms, he couldn't care less.

he isn't going to let anyone hurt you any more than they have.

(brainrot for this idea is open please 🗣️)

[hollowdeath]

I LOVEEEEE YOUR HARRY FICSSSS 😭😭🙏🙏 I literally cannot get enough, your harry fics are amazing ❤️

I was wondering if you'd be willing to do an enemies to lovers type thing with dark!harry, similar to the one you did with "the dark side" fic, but maybe they're rivals due to quittich, yet they both just have tension they don't know gow to handle, so one day they just kind of get so worked up in an argument they start making out. (P.S. I loved the thing you did where harry came from y/n saying he hated him 😫😫 also the part where harry gets turned on from y/n scolding him. If possible, could you incorporate that in there? Thank you smm ❤️❤️) I hope it's not too much trouble ❤️❤️❤️

thank you so much for requesting this, i hope you enjoy!!!

pairing: slytherin!harry james potter x gryffindor!fem!reader (18+)

summary: you and harry have been quidditch rivals ever since you've become captain of the gryffindor team. the tension between you two rises until one of you needs bandaged up by the other, leading to you making a discovery about the school's bad boy that leaves you baffled and insanely curious.

cw: smut!!! angst, mentions of blood, degradation kink, sub!harry x dom!reader, dry humping

word count: 7k

it was your final year at hogwarts and, more importantly to you, it was your last year as the gryffindor quidditch captain. you took major pride in your status as captain, and dedicated a majority of your time outside of class to leading practice, coming up with new plays, and making sure that annoyingly good slytherin captain kept his distance from you and your team.

harry potter was well known at hogwarts years before he even came through. the boy who lived, or whatever. you had never paid him much mind to begin with because you knew he reveled in his own notoriety.

see, potter wasn't just the slytherin quidditch captain. he was the most vile, egotistical, disrespectful wizard you'd ever had the misfortune of interacting with. on top of thinking he was some kind of miracle that blessed everyone's presence wherever he went, he specifically treated you worse than the mud on his shoes. not just because of your status as gryffindor captain, but because you were the only student who wasn't afraid to stand your ground with him. had it not been for quidditch practice 4 times a week and games every friday, you would've done everything you could to keep your distance. however, things didn't work out that way, and you ended up forming a sort of rivalry with the boy that the student body found all too exciting.

it started last year when potter and his friends made a dumb poster and hung it up in every boys bathroom: a drawing of someone falling off their broom with your face printed out and glued to it, along with harry's whose drawing had just knocked you off victoriously. they had put "[y/l/n] vs potter: this friday at 6" at the top like it was some kind of promotional advert. and, as much as you hated it, it actually somewhat worked.

from that game on, the other kids began picking sides every week to see who would win. the crowd turnout became the largest it had been in your entire time at hogwarts. some came in support of potter or were otherwise afraid of what would happen if they didn't, while a good amount of students started to become your biggest supporters the more you showed your skills in the game.

see, you didn't just become captain by having a recognizable last name unlike some other people; you had been playing quidditch since you could fly from a young age, and made the team every single year before finally being nominated for the position by your own teammates. you made a promise to them that day that slytherin would no longer be known as the winning house, and that they finally had some competition to sweat over.

and sweat they did. your first game as captain was an easy win, and so were the next 3. it wasn't until the slytherin players learned they actually had to try in order to win now that they began winning every other game as well. that's where harry stepped in.

harry was someone you always tried to avoid during your years at hogwarts. you didn't socialize with many slytherins to begin with as you found some of them to be rather grating and obnoxious, but especially not with slytherins like potter. it was students like him that gave the entire house a bad name. everyone thought he was so charming besides his cocky attitude, but you saw through his act right away. you think that's partially why he singled you out of anyone as his target.

once he set his sights on you, it was impossible to avoid him. it's like he had some sort of tracker on you the way he always managed to pop up in the most random of places simply to upset you. not that you'd be surprised, as along with harry's sickening bravado came his disregard for moral ethics. if there was a way to cheat, lie, or steal your way into getting what you wanted, potter was already on it. he knew no bounds when it came to his little schemes either. from stealing your game plays and sharing them with his teammates to spreading rumors about your players to playing clearly illegal moves during the game only for nobody to notice but you, potter seemed to revel in the rivalry everyone pushed onto you.

you hated giving him the satisfaction of breaking your cold demeanor, but sometimes his antics pushed you too far. he knows how protective you've become over your teammates, so he'll target them when he can't get to you, especially the younger ones. this is where you've blown your cover quite a few times as you can't stand seeing your first years cower in fear anytime they see potter. yelling, spitting, nearly getting physical with him on several occasions when he ignores your threats to leave the kids alone or else. it's as if he rather enjoys getting such a rise out of you, and not just to fuel the public rivalry.

today was your last day of practice before the last, biggest game of the semester. your team knew to meet at the field at 5 pm ready to go as you had plenty of plays you wanted to perfect before playing against the slytherins tomorrow night. practice had only just started with a few flyers in the air before you heard a commotion of voices coming from behind you.

you turned and saw harry leading his team onto the field, laughing obnoxiously and pointing at your teammates in mockery. you swear you felt steam coming from your ears when you told your team to wait and let you handle this.

you stormed up to potter with an accusatory pointed finger. "you. get the hell off my field now before i call mcgonagall out here, potter." you spit at him before pushing his chest. harry takes the push and just laughs, shaking his head at you.

"[y/l/n], i'm not sure how many professors have to tell you that this field isn't yours before you let us use it for practice as well," he said with a smirk, changing his grip on his broomstick and letting it rest on his shoulder. you narrow your eyes at him and cross your arms over your chest. "you know damn well we practice here every week at this time, and yet you're never able to find a time outside of that to spend with your own team. curious, isn't it?" you ask him sarcastically, your tone biting.

harry's smirk drops slightly. "are you suggesting that i'm trying to sabotage your chance at winning the season tomorrow? because i'd never do such a thing, [y/l/n], and it hurts that you think of me in that way." he responds just as sarcastically. a few of his players snicker and laugh just behind him, earning a nasty glare from you that has them shut up quickly.

you look back at harry who's waiting for a clever comeback from you, nearly on the edge of his seat to see what you have to say this time. you hate how much he thrives off getting you upset.

"fine. practice, then. you'll need it." you tell harry with a cold tone, giving him a disgusted look up and down. you take a step forward and point your finger back into harry's chest, your faces less than a foot away from each other. "but if you mess with any of my players, even as a joke, i will gut you like a fucking fish." you tell him in a hushed tone. you think you see his pupils dilate slightly, but you were probably mistaken. "got it?"

harry's smirk only grows as he starts backing away slowly. "got it, princess." he laughs, turning to his little group of followers for approval before they run off to the other goal post opposite from your team. the nickname is new, and for some reason it made your stomach drop and heart race like crazy. that potter kid just knew exactly how to get under your skin.

you tried to focus on your own team's plays for the rest of practice, but you could clearly hear harry and his friends saying your name and laughing too often for your comfort. anytime you happened to make eye contact with harry, you made sure to scowl at him and promptly turn your attention away. just his sheer presence made your blood boil and skin crawl.

for the most part there were no issues in the sky, the slytherins mostly kept to their side besides the few times harry's friends were messing around and ended up coming close to a few of your teammates. you scolded them each time, but they would only laugh at you and fly off to tell harry about your outbursts. other than that, you ended up getting a lot accomplished in order to be prepared for the game the next day.

however, towards the end of practice, your teammates were having some difficulty with a new technique you taught them, so you took the time to demonstrate it with another player in the sky. you were just about to start instructing when your teammates started calling out to you frantically. you didn't have enough time to process what they were warning you about before you felt someone fly into you from behind, nearly causing you to fall off your broomstick.

you could feel yourself falling to the ground, but your grip on your broomstick remained tight enough to quickly get it under you just in time to somewhat break your landing. you tumbled to the ground with a pained groan, and heard someone else fall just to your left. you could feel the wind get knocked out of you in the air, so it took a moment for you to properly breathe as you tried to sit up.

your teammates got to you in seconds, asking if you were okay and trying to help you up. that's when the pain set in. standing up-right you could feel your rib cage aching and your shoulder throbbing. "i'm fine, i'm fine," you told everyone, brushing off the grass stains on your clothes. you turned to see who had fallen next to you, and who else would be lying there but harry potter as his slytherin teammates rushed to his aid as well.

they're helping him stand up and you can feel the rage building inside you. you break away from your teammates' grasps and march up to harry as he's wiping the grass stains off his own clothes as well.

"you did that on purpose, you pest." you snap at him. harry looks at you incredulously as he fixes his practice jersey. "are you mad? it was an accident, i wasn't looking where i was going, drama queen." he snaps back, giving you a dirty look up and down. you can feel your jaw clenching and fists balling at your sides. "oh yeah, sure, you just so happened to run into me of all people in the sky. you know, you're such a…"

you pause in your anger noticing a gash on the side of harry's face with blood starting to drip down his cheekbone. harry notices your concern and gives you a confused look. you sigh and instinctively pull down the sleeve of your sweatshirt to hold it against his wound. "now you have a giant cut on your face, for fuck's sake," you tell him, your voice a mix of panic and exasperation. harry winces at your hand making contact with his face, but his eyes grow with concern hearing your panic.

you turn to your team and start guiding harry towards the school. "practice is over, do not be late tomorrow." you announce to them hurriedly, trying to keep your sleeve against harry's injury as you rush him off the field.

harry actually manages to stay quiet on the way to the infirmary despite your anticipation to shush him the entire way for making crude jokes. instead he remains silent and lets you urgently guide him through the empty halls.

once you arrive at the infirmary wing, you notice the entire room is full of people. every bed is taken, ans every nurse is running around frantically from patient to patient. you and harry share a confused look before you roll your eyes and find a nurse between beds. "excuse me, ma'am, i'm sorry to bother but um, potter here was being an idiot and got a cut on his face that just needs to be bandaged quickly." you motion towards harry and feel him give you a nasty look out of your peripheral for calling him an idiot.

the nurse, completely exhausted, sighs and motions towards a room to the side of the check-in station. "look, we are swamped with a potion experiment gone wrong here. if it's just a cut that doesn't need stitches there's a first aid kit in the little room over that way." she tells you quickly before being called away to another patient. you try to intervene but she's already jogging away, leaving you with a bloody harry in your hands. literally.

you sigh, clearly annoyed, and turn to examine harry's cut again. pulling your blood-soaked sleeve away, you see the blood flow still hasn't slowed and decide to just bite your tongue and help harry despite your hatred for him only growing in this situation.

you drag harry towards the little room, opening the door and turning on the lights to reveal the smallest examination room you'd ever seen. you had no idea this was even here, but it only contained a sink, a cot, a locked medicine cabinet, and a first aid kit. you closed the door behind harry and locked it. you grab a few paper towels from next to the sink and walk harry over to the cot. "sit," you command him, practically pushing him with your other hand to sit down.

harry looks up at you softly, way softer than he's ever looked at you. it makes your heart skip a beat but you ignore the feeling quickly. "here," you tell him coldly, handing over the paper towels. "just apply pressure on it while i get the first aid kit."

harry does as he's told and you slowly pull away your sleeve, making a disgusted face at the stains left on the cuff. you sigh and pull your arm back through the sleeve, starting to take off the hoodie altogether. "well, that's ruined," you complain, throwing it to the floor, leaving you in a tiny tank top and workout shorts.

harry's watching you intently, adjusting his glasses and shifting his weight in his seat. you walk to the sink and thoroughly wash your hands in case any blood happened to get on you as well.

opening the first aid kit up you find a tiny bottle of isopropyl alcohol, cotton rounds, and bandages. pouring alcohol on the cotton, you turn to harry and still find him watching you.

you give him a look. "what?" you ask with pinched brows. harry, for once, looks flustered as he turns his eyes away from you, instead staring at the floor below his feet. you just roll your eyes and set down the alcohol, walking towards harry and pulling away his hand from his cheek.

"here," you say, moving his jaw to look up towards you. "this is gonna hurt a little," you tell him before gently cleaning the cut with the cotton round. harry winces, but his eyes never leave your face. you try to ignore his gaze but it becomes even more intense the longer you take to stop the bleeding. you can practically feel his stare burning holes into your skin, and you start to feel that familiar annoyance rise in your stomach.

"i know i'm pretty, potter, but can't you look anywhere else?" you complain, giving him a cold look before returning your attention to his cheek. harry's eyes drop again, but end up falling on your chest this time. you back away and scoff, throwing the cotton pad into the trash next to the cot. "perv," you mutter under your breath.

just as you're preparing the bandage on the counter next to the sink, you hear harry say something from behind you. "you're gonna have to speak up, kid," you chuckle, throwing away some wrapping in the trash. "your, um, your back," you hear him stutter.

you turn to give him a confused look. "what?" you ask. harry motions towards your back, and you turn to look at yourself in the mirror above the sink. you look at your back and pull up your tank top slightly to see a massive bruise forming on your ribcage. you gasp at the size and color, immediately turning your anger towards harry.

he already looks prepared for your rage before you can even start to say anything. "you bloody prick, i know you did this on purpose. do you seriously want to win so badly you'd nearly break a rib to get there?" you snap at him, pulling your shirt back down and angrily marching towards him still sitting on the cot.

"i told you, [y/n], it was an accident." he says. you pause. he's never called you by your first name, at least not to your face. you were actually surprised he knew what it was in the first place.

harry looks up at you innocently, his eyes soft and brows raised. this just angers you again. you take another step towards him, your legs practically between his as harry tilts his head up to keep looking at you.

his glasses are crooked, his hair is a mess, and the cut on his cheek is still raw. and still, for some reason, your heart skips a beat looking down at him. you've never been so close to his face. you've never noticed his freckles before.

"you should just be glad i haven't targeted you the way you've targeted me all these years, potter. you're lucky i'm a nice person and don't believe in revenge, or else you'd be the one with nearly broken bones and a bruise the size of your lungs." you spit in his face, your tone razor sharp.

harry's expression hardly changes at your words. if anything his eyes only soften more watching you become filled with anger.

"and wipe that innocent look off your face before i do it for you. you should be thanking me for patching up this cut and not making it worse." you continue to vent at him as you step away to grab the bandage from the counter.

you're just starting to press down on the adhesive of the bandage around harry's injury when his eyes meet yours again. "thank you." he says, his voice broken and whiny. something about the way he says it makes your stomach drop to the floor. harry's usual annoying temperament was completely gone, no longer making mocking jokes or insults towards you, instead only speaking softly and looking into your eyes even softer.

confused and feeling a strange mix of emotions, you finish applying the bandage on harry's face without a word.

you start to put away the first aid kit, taking one last look at your bruise in the mirror with a sigh.

"i'm sorry." you hear harry say quietly. you look at him, his expression empathetic and almost concerned for you. it was then you started to believe the incident really was an accident. why would harry ever be apologetic for something he'd usually take loads of pride in, like knocking you off your broomstick?

you swallow nervously and look away from him, fixing your shirt. "you should be," you try to remain cold, but your voice is breaking. "i'm just glad you also hurt yourself in the process. you deserve to feel some of the pain too." you say in a deadpan voice.

you pick up your sweatshirt off the floor and start soaking the sleeve in some hot water to at least try and get some of the stains out.

"you're right." harry says behind you, his voice somber. you roll your eyes at his pathetic attempt to seem remorseful, turning to him curtly. "i know i'm right. and you know what else? you're just a loser who picks on people to feel better about yourself because you're insecure." you insult him.

you expect at least some kind of reaction from harry, but he just continues to watch the ground with a sullen expression. "i know." he says quietly.

you groan and turn to shut the sink faucet off, walking towards harry with the same accusatory pointing finger from before. "and you can stop with this whole act you're putting on 'cause it's pissing me right off," you nearly yell at harry, getting in his face. he just looks up at you with those big blue eyes again, biting his lip harshly.

you went to scold him again when you noticed a rather large bulge in his pants from where you were standing above him. you thought you were just assuming, but once you took a step back, you knew exactly what was happening with a smirk growing on your face.

harry nervously looked down at his crotch before quickly attempting to hide his obvious erection. he adjusted his pants and tried to use his shirt to cover it, but you were already laughing at him. "this cannot be real, this has got to be a setup. there's no way you just got turned on by me insulting you for 10 minutes straight." you could hardly get the words out from laughing so hard.

clearly embarrassed, harry looks between you and his erection with fear in his eyes. it only makes the situation that much better for you as you continue to humiliate your own bully.

"u-uh, this isn't, um–" "don't try and tell me this isn't what it looks like, potter. i know exactly what's going on here." you interrupt him and cross your arms. "you're such a loser that the only way you can get off is by having girls hate you. y'know, most guys get erections from making out with a girl, not getting threatened by them." you mock him, still a hint of anger laced in your voice.

harry's looking at you with that same innocent expression, but there's something else in his eyes that makes you pause. he's not just embarrassed, he's actually enjoying what you're saying to him. you can see his pupils dilate just looking at you, his bulge only becoming more obvious the longer you mock him.

you want to be disgusted at this situation. you want to hate the way harry's looking at you and leave the room with a huff to tell everyone about his little kink. you want to call him a disgusting creep and slap him across the face for ever thinking of you in such a way. but, you don't. because you can't.

you should be disgusted. you should be creeped out. but, for some reason, you're just not. you should be filled with rage ready to tell him off again, but, instead, you find yourself full of curiosity and…flattery?

of course it's never flattering for a guy to get an erection thinking about you being upset with him, if anything it's quite morbid. however, with you and harry, everything finally started to make sense. this is why he was always pushing your buttons just to get a rise out of you, or why he seemed to thrive off of your heated interactions. because he did. he found pleasure in your anger.

again, you should be fuming, but you're just not. your heart is racing and so is your mind. you're completely flustered at this point, possibly even more than harry is. you can feel the blush on your neck and cheeks and can't tell if the embarrassment you're feeling is secondhand or not.

still looking up at you, harry attempts to cover his erection up again with his pants. you just laugh at him again as there's no real point, you're more than well aware of his predicament at the moment. his blush is so severe he's nearly completely red, and you can see his hair start to stick to his forehead from the sweat. while you'd usually feel nothing but contempt looking down at harry's innocent expression, this time you feel a bit different. he almost looks younger now, his eyes soft and lips slightly hung open.

you notice the bandage around his scar starts to lift a bit around his eye, so you sigh and place a hand on his bandage to help reattach it. again, harry almost winces at your movement, and you can see his erection twitch under his pants. god, he really does get off on this.

while fixing it, harry's still watching you intently. "i'm sorry," his voice is soft but deep, making your blood run cold. you pause to look him in the eyes. "and what are you sorry for?" you lead him on.

harry's brows furrow together slightly. "for…well, y'know," he trails off, offering a fake, awkward chuckle. you smirk as you look back at his bandage. "no, i don't know. so why don't you tell me, potter?" you ask teasingly.

without fail, harry shifts in his seat uncomfortably and tries to subtly hide his erection again. your smirk only grows at his predictability.

"u-uh, well, i-i'm sorry for…for, um, getting turned on by you…" his stuttering is only making you enjoy the moment more. maybe part of you likes seeing him squirm like this under your hand. "by me…?" you lead him on again, taking a step away to examine his bandage. harry swallowed nervously watching you. "by you…being mean to me." he says meekly, his voice small and embarrassed.

you smirk at him again and decide to test the waters. "good boy."

harry's face absolutely drains of color. you can practically see his heart thumping out of his chest. and, if you weren't wrong, his hands actually started shaking in his lap.

you start laughing again at his reaction, hardly able to hold back from how funny this situation was to you. harry potter, the school's bad boy, the top slytherin student, the quidditch captain, your biggest rival, has a literal kink for being degraded. and he had the nerve to ever try and call you a loser.

"sorry, it's just so funny to me," you tell him between laughs, wiping tears from your eyes. "actually, no, i'm not sorry. i think you deserve to be laughed at for this. what guy actually gets horny from girls being mean to him?" you ask rhetorically, crossing your arms again and examining harry in front of you.

he's completely disheveled and getting sweatier by the minute. he breaks eye contact after your question, nervously scratching the back of his neck to waste time. "uh…" he starts off, clearly not knowing what to say to that. you just continue smirking, watching him struggle. "i mean, is it every time a girl is mean to you this happens? i'd imagine with your attitude that would be pretty often." you joke, partially curious but mostly just trying to make him squirm more.

harry shakes his head, both of his hands rubbing at his face and wiping the sweat from his hairline. "n-no, it's, uh…" he starts again, eventually trailing off with a sigh. you start tapping your foot impatiently. "i'm waiting." you say in a mocking tone.

harry tenses again, still not looking back up at you just yet. his body language is clearly uncomfortable and defensive. "it's not…all girls, okay? it's just…you." he finally spits out, clearly struggling to put his thoughts into words. "this only happens with you, i swear. a-and it's only started this year, and i don't know why." he rambles, speaking with his hands, his eyes still fixated on the floor.

for once, you're speechless. you weren't expecting that confession from him, and you certainly didn't know how to react to it in the moment. i mean, this potter kid has had it out for you since day one, he's practically made you two enemies on the field and off, and now he wants to tell you all this? it's a bit confusing, to say the least.

harry sighs, resting his face in his hands once again. "look, i'm sorry about all of this, okay? all of it, not just today, but everything. i shouldn't have been so rude to you all this time, especially not for the reasons i have…" you can practically hear harry wincing at his own words. he uncovers his face but continues to look down. "just…please, please, don't tell anyone. i know that's asking for a lot considering all i've done to you, but…please, [y/n]." he's nearly begging.

you just watch him carefully, trying to figure out how to respond to all of this. on one hand you're inclined to feel insulted, disrespected, and downright disgusted at this information, but in reality…you're just obscenely curious. i mean, how often does a guy get turned on by you being mean to him? and not just you, but specifically, only you. does that mean he actually likes you? or is it only a sexual thing? and how would that even work?

as your mind continues to raise more and more questions, you feel yourself speaking before you even decide what to say.

"fine, i won't tell anyone. if," you take a slow step towards harry. he looks up at you with flushed cheeks and wide eyes. your heart leaps at the sight of him so vulnerable beneath you. it's as if you can see him thinking anything, anything for you.

you're not sure what's possessing you in this moment, but you can't stop yourself from pushing the limits further between you and harry. again, your mouth starts speaking for you.

"if…you let me help." you say with a smirk, closing the gap between you and harry and standing between his legs once again. he's looking up at you in complete shock, his eyes examining every inch of you in front of him. he's trying to speak but his mouth just keeps opening and closing, gasping for air and nervously chuckling.

arms still crossed, you wait for harry to say something and enjoy seeing him be the speechless one this time.

he eventually looks back up at you, biting his lip again and leaning back slightly. "help…me?" he asks, confused. you laugh at him, shaking your head. "yes, potter. help you. can't have you leaving here with that," you motion down to his pants with your head. "can we?" you ask seductively.

again, you're not sure what's making you act like this right now, but you honestly didn't mind it. you already got a kick out of insulting harry anyway, why not watch him struggle a bit harder under your thumb in this tiny exam room?

harry's completely frozen. you smile at him this time, the most genuine one you could muster in the moment. "if you want to, of course," you say quietly, softening your gaze at him and fixing his messy hair. harry makes a soft sound and leans into your touch, his eyes closing. you giggle to yourself, he just looks so innocent resting in your hand.

the moment didn't last long as you tighten your grip on the hair on the back of harry's head, pulling it so he's looking right at you. his eyes open and a soft whine escapes his lips. "i'll take that as a yes?" you ask smugly, leaning down until your faces were nearly touching. harry does his best to nod his head, swallowing nervously and glancing at your lips.

you smile at him again. something just felt so right when you were in control, seeing harry's front disappear as he became a mess in your hands. you felt powerful, confident, and, to your dismay, insanely turned on from the entire situation. your feelings of hate and desire for harry drove you mad, yet he seemed more than willing to be the recipient of both.

so, you lean forward, and you kiss him.

it's soft at first, slow, shy, you feel like harry's barely breathing. eventually he catches up, nearly moaning into your mouth as you feel your stomach fluttering. you put your other hand on his cheek and sit on harry's lap, your knees resting on the cot around harry's hips. you feel his hands tread carefully up your thighs and under your shorts, his fingers digging into your skin roughly.

this time you can't hold back your moans, causing harry to melt even more into you. his lips were soft, careful, but so eager. it's like he was starving and yet still took his time with you.

you pull away slightly, your breath heavy and forehead resting on harry's. "lay down," you command him, climbing off his lap. harry quickly lies back on the cot, kicking off his shoes in the process. you do the same before crawling back on top of him, carefully resting your ass directly on his erection.

harry openly groans, his hands reaching for your hips and squeezing the skin roughly. you bite your lip to hold back another moan. you slightly adjust your position and cause harry's head to roll back against the cot. "[y/n]..." is all he manages to say in his broken voice.

he's already such a mess and all you've done is sit in his lap. who would've known all this time his teasing you was just a cover up for this?

"this'll be easy. you're already practically falling apart on me, potter." you tease him, your cold fingers finding their way under his jersey. harry's body shivers, his hands moving from your hips to your waist. his fingers crawl under your shirt as well and cause your skin to break out in goosebumps.

he slightly smirks at this reaction, but you don't let him have his moment for long. "and don't get cocky," you warn him before you start grinding on his erection. his head rolls back in pleasure again, his mouth hanging open and fingers digging into your skin. you smirk to yourself. "don't forget you're the loser who likes to be insulted here." you remind him harshly, your hands running along his chest under his jersey.

harry's noises are completely pathetic, his hips bucking into yours for even the slightest bit more friction. you stop grinding into him and he lets out a shaky breath, looking at you with needy eyes. he looks so worked up already and you've barely done a thing.

"shirt off," you tell him, pulling at the material. harry, again, doesn't hesitate to follow instructions. he removes his hands from your waist and quickly takes off his jersey, throwing it to the floor.

your breath hitches in your throat looking at harry's soft, sweaty skin in the dim fluorescent lighting of the exam room. you never realized just how toned his shoulders and chest were, or how many scars and bruises he seemed to have, both new and fading.

you look back up at harry, his eyes nervously watching your every move. you lean in to kiss him again, messier, needier. his hands return to your hips and practically force you to start grinding on him again. you would've intervened if you weren't just as desperate to continue rolling your hips into harry's hard erection.

a soft moan comes from your lips as you grind into him harder, your hands resting on his chest for support. harry groans, his brows furrowing. "shit," he mutters, only encouraging you to go faster.

you could feel how wet you were through your panties. your stomach was tightening already, making you feel a bit embarrassed of your own desperation. seeing harry be so willing to please you only had you wanting him more.

just as you start to feel yourself blush at your lack of self control, you notice harry's panicked expression, his grip on your skin guaranteed to leave bruises. "what's wrong?" you ask, somewhat sarcastically and also concerned.

he struggles to get a sound out. "hmph, gonna, fuck, please, don't," he's stumbling through his words, barely able to keep his eyes focused on you. his hands try to stop your hips, but his grip his weak.

"stop what?" you ask curiously, slowing your hips slightly but rolling into him harder. harry moans, his hand covering his mouth hearing how loud it echoed through the tiny room. you just laugh at him and pull his hand away, guiding it to your chest. harry's eyes widen, trying to pull his hand away.

"stop, gonna…cum, if you don't," harry whimpers, squirming under your weight as his legs try to escape. you take your opportunity and pick up your pace, giving harry an evil smile.

"aw, already?" you ask, forcing his hand back to your chest. you guide his fingers along the curves of your breasts through your thin tank top, causing him to breathe even heavier. "you haven't even gotten to see these, and you're already about to cum? i was right, you're such a fucking loser, potter." you tell him, guiding his hand back under your shirt.

you can feel him struggling under you even more, his torso only getting sweatier. you just grab for his other hand and guide it under your shirt as well. he watches as intently as he can, his eyes still rolling back in pleasure at the pressure in his lap.

you help him lift his hands higher and higher until he's cupping your tits under your shirt, your breathing becoming hitched at the feeling of his rough fingers running across your sensitive nipples.

"fuck," you say under your breath, loud enough for harry to moan and grope you rougher, lifting your shirt above your tits. you gasp at the feeling and look back down at him, a sweaty mess with eyes barely open.

"please, please," harry starts begging, his hips still trying to squirm away from you. you place your hands on his sides and push him down, continuing to chase your high. "just stay still, harry," you nearly whimper. you realize you've never called him by his first name either.

that's when he comes completely unraveled beneath you. he's practically crying out in pleasure and desperation, his hands roughly squeezing the soft skin of your tits as his head is thrown back against the cot. just watching him fall apart like this has you shaking on top of him, feeling the warm wetness of your panties leaving a mark on harry's jeans.

it takes a few moments for both of you to come back to earth. harry's hands eventually loosen their grip on you before quickly pulling away, his eyes wide and panicked again. "sorry," he says quickly, his cheeks completely flushed.

you just shake your head and laugh, climbing off of harry's lap and adjusting your shirt. harry sits up and runs his hands through his hair, trying to catch his breath still.

the room is a bit awkward, but you eventually start to chuckle and push harry's shoulder lightly. "so…" you lead him on. harry chuckles as well, hanging his head low. "so…" he repeats, his voice still soft.

"so…is it wrong of me to assume you might actually like me?" you ask, picking up harry's jersey and handing it to him. he offers you a shy smile and puts it back on, shaking his head. "y'know, i'm not sure there's a way i could've made it more obvious." he admits half heartedly.

you laugh again, feeling a blush crawl up your cheeks. you turn away from him and grab your sweatshirt from the sink, the sleeve still completely stained.

"i really am sorry about that, i have a few you could borrow if you'd like." he says with a smirk, pointing towards your sweatshirt. you roll your eyes. "well, good to know your cockiness hasn't gone anywhere." you respond, suppressing a smile.

he chuckles. "never will." he says confidently. you give him a look and take a step towards him, causing him to swallow nervously.

you laugh at him again. "yeah, okay, pretty boy." you tease him, stepping away and towards the door. he follows behind you, still blushing like crazy.

leaving the exam room you notice all the nurses are still running around like lunatics, having no idea what's just happened only a few feet away from them. you and harry share a knowing look before running off together, laughing as you reach the halls.

"y'know," harry says between laughs, looking over at you with nothing but love in his eyes as you continue walking the empty halls. "don't think i'll go easy on you tomorrow just because of…that." he says, motioning behind him with a shy smile. you smile back at him and offer your hand. harry looks a bit hesitant, but shakes it anyway. "wouldn't want it any other way, potter."

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[jennifer-jeong]

Hi there :)

Can I request some headcanons about Xiao and Wanderer (separated) with an old s/o? Like, they've been together for decades, but reader is a mortal and they're not, therefore they don't have many years left to live now that they're in their 80s. I would like something sweet but feel free to add some angst in it.

HI ANON TY FOR YOUR ASK! Ok so I’m literally goiNG TO CRY because I actually purposely make my own self insert immortal because this makes me so depressed but dw I will make it a fluffy happy ending. I would be unwell if I didn’t make it a happy ending LMAO

[Fluff + Slight Angst] [Xiao/Wanderer x Reader] Mortals

CONTENT

Fluff, some angst, gender neutral reader, HAPPY ENDING WOO, CHARACTERS ARE 18+

XIAO has been alive for longer than he can genuinely remember and most of it was spent suffering alone. He’s scarred so deeply that even until the end of time, the marks will never fade. He can’t get rid of his past but you came along and he realized he could at least start to heal from the centuries of pain. Your time together has been the best years of his life and it makes his heart ache to think that you’re about to come and go before even living for a fraction of his life. He’s watched your mortal body age but he still thinks knows that you’re the prettiest thing he’ll ever encounter. Xiao has always treated his time with you like it was limited, even when you were younger. He’s been getting desperate recently though, your body has slowed down, and you’re well into your elderly years. He’s always wanted to ask you if he and Zhongli could help you with this, return you to your younger body and help you live forever. But, he thought it would hurt you. Immortality is more of a curse than a blessing and he of all people should know that. But as your health deteriorated, he started to plan how to ask you without pressuring you. Honestly, when he finally brought it up, you giggled at him and said “I didn’t even know you could do that.” He blinked as he realized how much time had passed and how he really had been avoiding it all these years. It was just somewhat unfathomable to a 2000 year old being that all these fun years with you had already been a few decades. He explains why he felt bad suggesting it, but you quickly comforted him and thanked him for even bringing it up. You said you needed some time to think about it but you knew that you wanted more time with your beloved. It’s near impossible for most people to find their soulmate and so since you found yours, you wanted to somewhat selfishly hold onto him as long as you could. Of course he secretly felt the same though. Your time together might end soon as the traveller discovers the underlying mysteries of the world or it could end millenia later. Either way, you knew you’d be able to face it, together.

WANDERER has been through so much over the past few centuries of his life and he’s believed his emotions have been so useless to him as he isn’t even human. His suffering, pain, and desire never made sense because he always lacked a heart. He thought he’d be doomed to this forever until he met you. You breathed life into his mechanical body and into his new anemo vision heart. He felt truly alive with you, it was like he was freshly born as a real man when you came into his life. He took a while to properly warm up to you before he could express himself in a healthy way but you always had the patience for him. The problem was that he couldn’t have the same patience, not because he wasn’t a healthy partner, but because your life had a definite end. He was impatient because he couldn’t lose you and he didn’t know what else to do. He consulted Nahida/his mom about it and she suggested using his body as a template to create a body for you. One that would last forever with him. He was immediately overjoyed to hear that there was hope and he almost forgot to consider that you might not want to live forever. He probably tries to gauge if you would want to by prodding you with small questions but you see straight through him. You know something’s up, and you tell him that you know there’s enough trust between you two for either of you to speak freely. So he does. You take some time to debate it and decide to do it because even if at some point you can’t take it, you’d talk to him about it and come up with a solution (but you doubt that'll come up <3). There was a lot going on in Teyvat at the moment but just knowing that you’d have more time gave both of you peace. He was worried that afterwards you might not be the same, and that you might become emotionally hollow. But you knew that with him there, you’d never feel any less alive. Even without your physical body, you both had your souls, and it was all you’d ever need.

Thank you for reading!

|| MASTERLIST <3 ||

[autisticsupervillain]

Autistic Avatars not realizing that they're Avatars because they're just "like that": a thread

The Eye

Special Interest in the supernatural = constant food for The Watcher

You know about Interest? TELL ME EVERYTHING

"Hey man listen to me infodump about this horrifying ghost story I read for twenty minutes, alright?"

I need to Know everything about something before I partake in it.

"How did I Know that? Eh, I probably hyperfixated on it at some point."

I cannot be misunderstood so I'll beam the facts into your brain.

The Web

I must plan everything 200 steps in advance before doing anything.

I have prepared for all possible outcomes, I can now have this one conversation.

If I set up all these variables long in advance, then I can do everything correctly and Win the social interaction.

I cannot do anything before The Plan says to.

"I practice my social skills by talking to my spider friends." -Martin "Autism" Blackwood

The Stranger

I cannot socialize without being Uncanny.

If my socialization seems like an act, that's because it is. I practice it in the mirror every day.

Theater Kid

How do you Normal Human?

The Anatomy Class.

Assuming fellow Stranger Avatars also just have the 'Tism. They're not trying to be creepy, honest.

Can't do faces. Doesn't notice when you get replaced.

Being subtly off is too subtle for me.

The Lonely

"I have failed the social interaction. Let the fog reclaim me."

Talking to people is draining my batteries even faster than ever. I need to be alone for approximately 384,400,000 years.

Nothing can overstimulate me in the cool, blinding fog.

Nothing unpredictable can happen in the fog.

The fog is your friend.

The known connection between autism and depression feeds the fog.

The Dark

Why is the sun so god damn bright? I'm going to blow it up I swear.

Night Owl.

Everything's decently quite at night and people leave you alone.

Same overstimulation preventatives as the Lonely tbh. Dark and fog are good concealers.

The dawn is your enemy.

The dread florescent lights shall never bother me again. They break upon my arrival.

Can and will infodump to the monster under my bed. Even now it feels like it listens.

The Spiral

Autism makes getting other mental illnesses recognized hard.

Autism dissociation from body and mind. When did it become 3 AM and why do I hurt? Why am I grumpy? What vital self care task did I forget?

Literal mind doesn't often match reality. Reality is specifically unspecific.

Spaced out and wandered off. Where the fuck am I?

I'm not a mental baby, please stop treating me like it.

I'm not inherently dangerous, please stop treating me like it.

Memory problems my beloathed. Did that happen? I dunno.

What Is Time?

What Is Me?

The Gender

Why do things only make sense to me? What does no one else make sense?

The Flesh

Autism Genderfuckery = Flesh fueled dysphoria.

Meat is the only texture that's palatable. Especially the Mystery Meat.

Will never try any other foods. Too picky.

Infodumps about the horrors of meat processing at dinner and ruins the meal for everyone. More steak for me.

Hates PETA.

Double the arms means double the stim. You weren't using them, right?

Working out is a great stim.

The Corruption

Practices social interaction with the bugs who live in my walls.

"Insects are disgusting. I love them!"

Will protect endangered insects by any means necessary.

According to all known laws of aviation-

Relationship boundaries struggles.

Difficulty noticing sickness symptoms.

Is that nausea or am I overstimulated? *Accidentally causes supernatural plague outbreak*

Difficulty getting diseases diagnosed because of both Autism and noticing too many symptoms so the doctors assume they're faking.

Forgot vital hygiene needs.

The Bugs Are My Friends! They keep me company when I'm sick!

The Buried

Weighted blankets are insufficient, I need the Earth to reclaim me.

Avoid social interaction by tunneling everywhere like a mole.

101 facts about worms.

Forgor hygiene again. Time to become dirt.

Digging a hole is good stimming.

That guy who had to be buried alive to sleep properly. What do you mean you don't want to be buried?

The End

Aradia Megido from Homestuck.Com

That's it, that's the list.

The Desolation

The Autism Temper.

Losing relationships and friendships to ableism and your own disability constantly.

The Fire is a wonderful stim board. Watch it crinkle.

Just watching candles melt for hours.

The fire and thrill gives my life passion again.

Jude Perry.png

The Vast

Accidentally terrifying people by infodumping about the horrors of nature.

The stimulus of falling.

Nature/Space/Weather Documentary on in background always.

Okay, but from how high did you fall? I want to calculate your velocity as you fell through the void.

Weirdly enough... power scaling?

Power scaling is just the art of determining how easily your favorite characters can destroy mankind so... yeah, I can see it.

Brain empty, only terminal velocity.

The Hunt

Cat Autism

The inherent hyperfocus of the hunt. The chase. Your prey.

Studying the habits of your latest hyperfixation/Hunt assigned prey for days at a time.

I've spent so much time hunting in the woods that I forgot about human society. The Missing Person's Bureau have written you off for dead.

Returning to society to sell your wears and realizing you aren't human anymore.

That's okay. Social interaction is random. The Hunt makes sense.

It's black and white. Predator and prey. Humans hunting monsters. It Makes Sense.

The Slaughter

The incredible human WW1 documentary.

"Did you know?" *Describes horrible historic warcrime*

Takes apart puts back together guns from their collection.

The list of known casualties from this war is incomplete. With my help, they can expand it. :)

The Extinction

The world is spiraling towards its end and only you seem to care.

It hurts to be this passionate about a lost cause.

You Will Make Them Care.

[kedreeva]

Eris (top), Citrine (middle), and Bismuth (bottom).

What you can notice here is the same thing I'm usually on about- leg length in peafowl. These three birds share a father, and the latter two share a mother as well. Eris was hatched and raised for the first 3 months of her life on a farm that was using a low-protein chow (18-20%, with peanuts for treats, but they're feeding better now!) and kept here in quarantine in a 10x10 for the next month (we're working on a bigger quarantine pen), vs Citrine and Bismuth being raised here on 28% + fresh foods and scratch grains in a 1200ft+coop pen. I don't think that there's anything wrong with Eris' genetics (I've seen her mother, too, and I would be highly surprised if she produced short birds), but this is a PRIME example of how early care can affect these birds for their entire lives.

I have gotten into far too many arguments with people about peafowl care and nutrition. I hear parroted all the time that "high protein twists their legs" when that's 100% not the case. It's not the protein alone. They NEED the protein to grow appropriately. But they ALSO need the SPACE to grow out properly. When people keep them in tiny spaces (brooders, rabbit hutches, 10x10 "run") AND feed them high protein, they have the protein to grow but not the space. When people keep them in large spaces but DON'T give them enough protein, they have the space but not the resources to grow into their legs. I've seen people keep these birds in rabbit hutches until they are 3+ months old. I have seen people keep breeding adult TRIOS in 10x10 cages- the minimum space requirement for them is supposed to be *500* square feet for that many. Once they grow up in that small of a space, there's no recovering from it later in life. They won't ever put on more leg length.

Another thing I want to speak about is tail shape. There are many people online who will tell people bogus ways to sex young birds (particularly whites). Barring/no barring by 3 months (Spaldings can keep it longer, some over a year), spurs/no spurs (plenty of hens have spurs), leg length (a nice hen will have long legs, too), leg thickness (a domestic blue hen will have thick legs, too), chest/neck lacing (I have seen males with this as well), face shape (come on now), "center stripe" chest feathers on males (hens can have this too). There's a lady on FB who thinks she can vent sex peafowl (you cannot, their reproductive junk is too far inside the body).

One of the ways people claim to sex birds on is tail shape. Girls will have an even tail arch, like Eris up there, and boys will have middle feathers on their tail that are taller than the ones to either side.

Except... if Citrine were a white bird with no feather markings, that would get her sexed as a male.

While it's TRUE that ADULT females have a crescent tail and males have a spade tail, until they are 2+, hens can still have the same kind of tail as the males. They're dropping so many feathers so fast as they grow, it can look like anything along the way, and by the time it stabilizes into a proper yearly molt schedule, the male's train feathers will have begin to differentiate.

The most accurate way to sex baby peafowl is blood/DNA sexing, or the LOSS of barring on the backs/wings. Barred wing males do not EVER lose their barring. For solid wing birds, it's blood/DNA sexing or looking for the arrow feathers; hens do not EVER get arrow feathers in their saddles. Anyone that ever tells you otherwise IS guessing- they might be very good at guessing, and some of the stuff it's unusual to see the opposite sex have whatever characteristic (it's /unusual/ for males to have scalloping on their neck, but it CAN happen when they're young), but it's still a best guess until you see a loss of barring or the presence of arrow feathers.

Citrine, by the way, kept her barring til she was almost 6 months old.

[femmefatalevibe]

Femme Fatale Guide: How To Learn To Love Yourself & Heal From Toxic People

Allow yourself to feel all your emotions and thoughts, authentically and without self-criticism or judgment: Acknowledge that you're grieving. Accept that you need to mourn your loss. Even if it is better to move on in life without these people, it is healthy and completely valid to grieve the relationships you had with these people – regardless of whether they were one-sided, deluded, or otherwise toxic. Allow yourself to cry, be angry, lie in bed, etc. Hit a pillow, sleep in all day on a weekend, or wear a set of pajamas for a WFH day. Give yourself permission to engage in self-soothing behaviors without any type of self-harm or self-sabotage.

Rest, relax, and pamper yourself in your leisure time: Spend time taking it easy – reading, watching TV, doing a face mask or another indulgent skin treatment, using a body massager, cooking dinner in a silk robe and slippers, lighting a candle, cozying up in a blanket, etc. Allow yourself to feel at peace. Create a sanctuary in your space.

Take time for introspection and self-discovery: Being in any type of relationship with toxic people is draining and can cause you to feel as though you've lost a part of yourself by trying to make the relationship succeed. Now, it's time to reclaim yourself after you've courageously cut out these toxic people from your life. Consider and honor your deepest desires, values, interests, hobbies, lifestyle, goals, aesthetic, food, sexual, entertainment preferences, etc. Go on a self-discovery journey to figure out who you really are, what you believe, and who you will work to become as you enter this new, exciting chapter of your life.

Journal, read, eat healthily, work out, drink plenty of water, and sleep: Go back to the basic healthy habits. Try to journal for at least 5-10 minutes a day (using a 5-minute journal, morning pages [writing 3 pages of stream-of-conscious thoughts first thing in the morning], journal or shadow work prompts), make 2-3 whole food, plant-based meals with carbs, veggies, fruits, proteins, and healthy fats, find some ways to incorporate movement into your day – 30-minute walk or yoga session is enough if that's all you can manage consistently, have your body weight in ounces of water daily, and sleep for around 7-8 hours a night. Do some inner child healing by taking care of your core needs.

Indulge in all of your favorites: There's a lot of fun you can have when you have total freedom regarding your daily activities and choices. Give yourself permission to enjoy this solitude. Wear your favorite outfits every day (occasion-appropriate options, of course), including pajamas, loungewear, lingerie, and accessories. Make your favorite meals and snacks throughout the week (incorporating some healthy options in there to feel your best – I love a good oatmeal bowl, frozen grapes, baked Japanese sweet potato, or a hummus and vegetable plate). Watch your favorite TV shows or movies. Indulge in a glass of wine you love or reread a favorite book. Create a masterful playlist. Plan a day of your favorite activities (a long walk, getting a coffee, indulging in a spa day, going to a farmer's market, going to a yoga class, etc.) Treat yourself like your own best friend.

Get comfortable doing things alone: Honestly, no one cares or is paying attention to if you're doing activities alone or with someone else. If someone shows too much interest in your solitude, they're probably projecting their own insecurities regarding their perceived social ridicule. Take yourself shopping, to the nail salon, out for a meal, to the movies, etc. alone. Personally, I love doing most of these things alone anyways. Running errands alone gives you some space to clear your mind and think freely.

Define what an ideal social life and/or relationship looks like for you: Once you've become comfortable with yourself and living life on your own terms, it's time to embrace your desire for human connection and socialization. Consider the types of people you want in your life – their values, personalities, interests, goals, favorite activities, relational boundaries, etc., and where/when/how often you want to interact with them.

Create an action plan: Reconnect with the people in your life who continue to show up for you and have been a light through these toxic relationships and their lasting effects over the months or years. Decide on the places, groups, and ways you'll reach out/try to meet these people. Figure out how to expand your network, and make new connections. Don't be afraid to put yourself out there. You won't vibe with everyone you meet, but it is worthwhile to engage in small talk with several strangers if even one of these new faces, later on, becomes a good friend or acquaintance. A varied social circle is a great way to enrich your life.

Take small steps, then strides: Be gentle on yourself throughout this entire process. It is perfectly okay to take one day at a time during the grieving process. Everyone's healing journey will look different and evolve at a different pace. Don't let these toxic people remain in your heart, mind, and spirit. Remember that you deserve love, kindness, happiness, success, peace, and patience.

[warmblanketwhump]

hello hello! after an accidental hiatus, I'm back with an entry into the surrender an ask game that @save-the-villainous-cat and @epiclamer put together where we all swapped asks. thanks so much for doing this!!!

here's my ask: Hi! I’ve become obsessed with your Hero Gets Yanked By An Upstanding Citizen Into Their Window And Into Their Heart post and I was wondering if you could- maybe- on the off chance- if you have time- come back to it for another scene? I just love the duo’s dynamic so much, the lovable hero who is trying a little too hard at any given chance, and the citizen who is wholly unafraid to manhandle a superhero into their home and into their life. That’s the vibes I was getting from their short interaction anyway- I love them so much aaagugfyduhijigififiguftgb your writing makes me go insane” Submitted by @yourheartonfire

The hero checks once, twice behind their shoulders, then collapses on to the rickety fire escape. It's off the beaten path, away from anyone. Sure, there's a little prickle of guilt that it's a Saturday night, and there are probably dozens of crimes afoot that need their attention.

But the past few weeks have run them absolutely ragged. If they didn't know better, they'd think that someone was scheming against them deliberately. call after call, summons after summons, each one more dire than the last.

People count on them—people need them, and they like the feeling of being needed. But they're exhausting, aching, injured, absolutely spent. Their leg throbs with a recent injury that they haven't had time to treat, and they can't remember the last time they slept more than three hours at a time.

They lean their head back against the scarred brick of the apartment building, letting their eyes slip closed....

.....and when a wailing siren sounds in the distance, the hero tries not to whimper.

Get up. It's time to go.

And they do get up. Too quickly.

Their toe catches on the edge of the rickety fire escape, and before the hero can react, they're falling, tumbling, twisting, too exhausted and spent to do anything to stop the inevitable pull of gravity on their body.

The last thing they see is the extended metal overhanging of the fire escape before pain shot through their body, and darkness overtook them.

_________________

The hero hoped that when they awoke, they'd somehow find themselves in their own spase, yet comfortable bed, that the last two months had been just a nightmare.

Instead, they hear frustrated, disembodied grunts and feel someone pulling at them, tugging them over something hard and metal and painful for their aching body.

"Get...in...here..."

The hero wants to swat the hands away, but their limbs are dead weight at their sides, and their voice gets stuck in their throat when they try to cry out. So darkness falls again.

_________________

When the hero wakes a second time, they're aware of a throbbing in their bad leg and a pounding in their head, and an ache that's more painful than anything they've ever felt. They're in a dark room, save for a softly glowing salt lamp in the far corner, and they're aware of being tucked under a thick, soft blanket on some sort of couch or daybed.

It's comfortable, safe, warm—and wrong. They have no idea where they are or who they're with, nor how long they've been there, nor how many lives have been lost while they've been knocked unconscious.

They try to call out, but the "hey" comes out as more of a raspy whisper, and the blanket is far too heavy for them to toss from their broken body. In their efforts to move, something gets knocked over with a crash.

"Hey, hey, hey now, don't move. Shhhh." A figure darts into the room and the hero feels two hands against their shoulders, pressing them back into the bed.

"W--where..."

"You're....here. At my apartment. Figured I didn't want to leave you out on my fire escape all night." The shadowed figure flicks on another lamp and the hero winces, hand flying to touch their face—

Their bare face.

A strangled cry flees their throat. Not only have they failed their city, but someone's seen their face, seen how utterly, desperately ordinary they are beneath it all. This someone knows who they are and could ruin it all. Their eyes flicker up to see the stranger standing at the foot of their bed, holding their disguise tenderly in their hands.

"I'm so sorry....I didn't want to take it off, but you were bleeding from a pretty nasty forehead cut, and I didn't want to leave it too long." The stranger's hand lightly ghosts over their hairline, and the hero realizes there's some sort of thick bandage over where the throbbing is radiating from. "I won't tell a soul. Promise. If you have some sort of mind control....thing, you can even erase my memories, if you want, but you need like....a ton of medical attention first. I've done first aid and an outdoor wilderness survival class a couple times, but you probably need some kind of doctor, but I get if you don't want to do that with your identity and all that...."

"Won't....won't bother you" the hero slurs, trying to sit up again, before collapsing back down. Try as they might, they couldn't leave this cursed couch.

"Oh no, no, you're not bothering me at all. You just sorta...freaked me out, is all. And there was a TON of blood, and I couldn't just leave you there, so I just kinda—" the stranger motions with their hands "yanked you right in here, did some first aid, and here we are." The stranger adjust the blankets, tucking the hero in tighter. "You looked pretty banged up."

I supposed I did, the hero muses to themselves. "It's....been a rough few weeks. But I'm okay."

"You sure?" The stranger's brows furrow, and their hand gestures to their leg. "I'm no doctor, but that gash on your leg looks...pretty bad. Shouldn't someone be looking after that?"

Hero hears the subtext of the question. Shouldn't someone be looking after YOU?

The hero isn't quite sure what to say to that. How long has it been since someone tended their wounds, tucked them in, brought them in from the elements, and asked how they were?

"I'm....I'm alright." Hero's mortified to hear the smallest wobble in their voice.

"Hero, that's not what I asked." The stranger's voice is firm, yet gentle, their hand resting on their uninjured knee.

"Right." The hero sniffles, suddenly unable to speak.

The stranger seems to understand the thousand thoughts of the hero's mind that flood the silence, then gently pats their other uninjured leg. "Well, in that case, it's time we get started now that you're awake. I'll get the bandages, and we'll really get you cleaned up and take stock of how much healing you've got ahead of you. No promises, though—I told you, it's only a couple first-aid classes, so don't you judge my wound dressings."

Hero's suprised to hear their own thin, crackly laugh. "Wouldn't dare."

[useramor]

May I perhaps ask why you don’t like Taylor?

You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to, in just curious! Either way I want to say I love seeing your posts and I just think you’re the coolest❤️

let me start by saying that you don't need a moral reason to not like something or someone. sometimes they're just annoying. that being said, while i do think taylor is annoying, i also do dislike her for moral reasons. disclaimer over. on with the reply.

honestly i used to like her!! if you scroll far back enough i'm sure you'll even find some taylor swift posts, or me talking about the speak now listening party my cousin hosted that she roped me into participating in (and the fob themed bracelets i made). what really put a sour taste in my mouth was the show in rio.

she's a rich white person. i shouldn't have expected better. but i did, because it's taylor swift, and people love her. and then the show in rio happened. the girl – ana clara – died, and her response just angered.....everybody i know. i'm brazilian, i live in brasil and to go on twitter, to talk to my swiftie cousins, and find out that people were creating a gofundme to pay to get ana clara's body to her parents because they're from the interior do rio and couldn't afford to do it themselves? all the while this billionaire was on stage saying she didn't want to talk about it?

meanwhile, in the us, when a white fan passes out during a show taylor's mom shows up at the hospital and takes pictures with the fan and gives them taylor merch. it's such a sick double standard. and she's not the only celebrity to treat poc fans this way, but she's the only one you can't say a word about, because it's misogynistic. because taylor's untouchable.

and then there's the private jet thing, and the silence on palestine thing, and the sexual assaulters she's friends with thing and just. i'm supposed to ignore and excuse all of that for mediocre albums?

don't get me wrong, i don't think she's a horrible musician. i don't even think people should stop listening to her and hate her and harass her. i'm not your mom, i'm not here to boss you around. she's even got songs i really like, but i don't love august enough to ignore everything else.

and then also she's a huge raging capitalist and a billionaire and i hate both capitalists and billionaires on principle.

that's it. i don't usually talk about her because i don't care enough to be making anti posts, but it's one am and i'm not worried about the consequences right now so :P

also thank you!!! you're the coolest too :)

[comfortless]

He definitely has a complex about being considered middle aged. Me personally, I see him as one of those guys that tell you they're a couple of years younger than they actually are, in the beginning, cause be feels too old for someone younger and (in his mind) 'cooler' than him.

I feel like joining the army at such a young age must've made him feel like an adult way too soon, and maybe back then he must've felt superior like 'All the people my age only care about love and having fun, I'm way too mature for those silly things'. (Could be a copping mechanism to deal with the fact that he wasn't getting love anyway, and wasn't included in all the fun his peers were having. Rejecting those things altogether are a way to take back control and make himself feel better, he's too busy becoming a real man anyway). But now that he's older he does feel like he missed out on things, and regrets not being a silly teenager when it was acceptable and expected at that age.

He makes me think of that one Yves Olade quote that goes like "I thought so many things & never said a single one aloud. I choked on such longing I couldn’t spit out. Yes, desire is so different when God bore you hungry. I could have devoured anything and still have been starving." When you get no love from your parents is one thing (still hurts) but when you get cast out in other social circles also, it makes you feel bitter like nothing else on this earth. It creates this feeling that you're the one that it's being inadequate for even daring to want connections to other people and you begin to resent people and yourself for wanting to be around them. There's this shame that settles on top of your chest when you want love but you feel like that's the cause of all your suffering in the first place, like you're doing it to yourself. This reminds me of another quote : "in front of my mother and my sisters, i pretend love is cheap and vulgar. i act like it's a sin- i pretend that love is for women on a dark path. but at night i dream of a love so heavy it makes my spine throb- i dream up a lover who makes love like he is separating salt from water." (Salma Deera, "salt"). I feel like this might apply to younger Konig, when convinced himself that love is for weak man to protect his poor heart. But now that he's older and has the money, the position and the body of a real man he needs to get a taste (just a small one, just once) of what he had missed out on in his youth. He finally feels deserving enough to attempt to have real intimacy with someone, not just quick hookups that leave him more hungry.

FEEL FREE TO NOT ANSWER THIS I'm just in a silly mood and had to psychoanalyse my babygirl real quick. Also, sorry for my English =))

how could i possibly just leave this in my inbox, anon?! this is all so correct…

thank god he wears that hood, because even on the field the sun isn’t hitting him too much - (he thinks) he can pass for early thirties. not that any lady who takes an interest in him is really considering his age much anyway, it’s always the shy “how tall did you say you were, again?”s or “what is your real name?”s that are telltale signs of interest. they ogle his build, the accomplishments he will prattle on about given the chance, the haunted look in his eyes and the strange lilt to his voice, the scars and lines only make him look cooler. if only that wasn’t such a rare treat.

he’s just in his head about things always. he missed out on the sweet, awkward dates: the mutual rush of adrenaline from holding someone’s hand for the first time, sneaky pecks in the schoolyard, passing notes and calling throughout the night. he never got to experience having his parents drop him off at the theater to take some girl from class out or… hell, even getting to go with a friend who wasn’t gossiping behind his back. König’s never gotten to live like any other, normal person, he’s been denied that since being birthed into a world that did not want him as much as he did not want it.

so, of course he’s bitter. he’s horribly bitter even now when things have finally started to fall into place for him. he’s got a stature even Adonis would be nervous around, a savings account so stocked he isn’t even sure what to do with the money, an impressive title, his own place, a car, and some of the soldiers even consider him a friend. he gets invited out every now and then, doesn’t mind downing jäger and listening to his men talk about their current affairs: what women they’re seeing, or how their children are, where they plan to go on leave. he takes to living vicariously through them. he even finds it fit to lie, pulls up a picture of some random woman every now and then to boast about how he made her come undone on his bed last leave with a stupid laugh. the truth is that no, last leave he bought a nice fleshlight, took a thirteen hour depression nap, maybe went on a long hike and had a film marathon on his own.

having a woman show him any interest immediately activates some self-destructive behavior: he’ll hound her (screw double texting, it’s moreso in the dozens. little “miss you”s and stupid accusations he immediately wishes he hadn’t sent), either withdraw into himself if he even feels slightly abandoned or become even more intense and clingy. no one’s ever loved him, not properly, so how is he supposed to know how? if his own parents hated him, then who is going to have the patience and understanding to teach him? his approaches are almost childish, the way he goes from boyish and giddy to closed off and pitiful. /: and the self-loathing only amplifies during these times, because my god he should be more disciplined than this by now. all that being said, i do think he would settle and be as well-behaved as a neglected bull could be if he feels his affection is being reciprocated. he just needs time (and a good therapist).

squealing at the poetry and how much thought you’ve put into this message. <3

Yves Olade is sooo good to quote from for him! i think that “You can have my heart if you have the stomach to take it. Kiss me hard enough to invert me.” suits him just as well, especially when it comes to the trepidation and fear amidst the sparks of him finally, truly having someone be selfless and loving with him.

König in love is a very special topic to me!! there are so many different ways this rabid dog could take to handling it and by and by he always seems to choose the most aggressive / uncanny approach, held back by a leash that no one’s ever thought to untie, constantly growling and leaping at anything that gets too close just to simmer down to whimpering and begging the second he’s pet just once!!

[liyazaki]

"specially abled" and "disabled" are absolutely, unequivocally not interchangeable terms. & yeah, it actually is that deep.

I wish my autoimmune disease made me specially abled instead of regularly ill. I'm a pro now at managing constantly-changing treatment regimens, coordinating monthly (if not more) doctor visits & endless bloodwork, but alas- that's not a superpower. it's the day-to-day reality of living with a disability.

I can only speak as a someone who was relatively healthy before I got sick, but the mourning period I went through was brutal. getting diagnosed with an incurable disease brings a metric fuckton of grief with it, requiring a huge perspective shift.

I'm an intensely independent, self-reliant person- sometimes to my own detriment. unsurprisingly, coming to terms with this new reality was no small task.

when I was finally diagnosed, I made a playlist (my go-to coping mechanism). I played one song on a loop because of its namesake line, & it still packs an emotional gut-punch for me: "I needed to lose you to love me."

I was angry at my body for 'failing' me- for having zero control over such an all-important outcome (my health). I had to reconcile myself to the reality that my life was different now. I had to lose my old view of myself to love the new version that needed more sleep, more sick days, more accommodations.

it took me years to get comfortable using the term "disability" to help describe what's now a big part of my lived experience (especially since mine is invisible). it went from being a foreign term I could've never imagined using for myself to my bridge to self acceptance.

(note: I have my own complex relationship with the term, as do most people. I’m talking about the harm in equating terms here, not implying that anyone should use these words to describe themselves. that’s entirely up to the individual.)

there's nothing romantic about my disease- a quality that "specially abled" imbues for me. do I- & all disabled people- have special abilities, valuable experience & unique skills? you bet your ass we do. one has absolutely nothing to do with the other.

every person has the right to choose the terms they're comfortable with to describe their experience. for me? treating "disability" like a dirty word 1) glosses over (if not entirely erases) the very real, life-altering struggle inherent to my condition, & 2) muddies the waters, potentially making it even more difficult for disabled people to get the accommodations we need when we need them.

using terms like "specially abled" isn't some evil, awful thing, though. if anything, it tells me that the person is trying to be delicate & respectful with their word choices. I genuinely appreciate that, even if it's misguided (in my opinion).

when in doubt? listen to how people describe themselves. honor them by using the same descriptors (unless they tell you otherwise). choose to believe people when they tell you how terms affect them.

forgive yourself if you don't always get it right- who does? perfection isn't the point- effort is the point. kindness is the point. respect is the point. how we get there is as varied as people, but it starts with the words we use.

[fanfic-gallery]

manger's random tots #8 [ NSFW MDNI ]

|| cw (dead dove) : implications of stalking, spying

» manager's note: with the trending of the milkman over all my social media nowadays, i've decided not to hop on this train- but instead, write about some other type of pretty boy with a low paying profession (no, this is not a 'that's not my neigbour' fic, thank you) hope you guys enjoy...? (i had the idea him being an oc in mind but you can slap whatever character you want <3)

the neighbourhood mailman; absolute sweetheart, can do no wrong- sometimes giving away small little treats and nick-nacks along side the letters, pulling off light tricks and pranks to gargle a laugh or two, trying to brighten people's days.

yet, most don't seem too kind about his selfless gestures; impatient and grumpy bastards telling him off, yelling at him to knock it off with his piercing bike bell and 'nice guy' act.

on days like those, the only thing that seemed to be his light at the end of the tunnel, after gurgitating hours of cycling about under pretty harsh weathers, being chased off walk-way after walk-way... was you, his last patron of each day.

you weren't one of the first few in his delivery route; yet, you barely lived far down, so why is it that you were always his last? "...don't know... your letters always seemed to be at the bottom of the pile~" is what he claims; when in truth, he just wishes to spend the rest of his late-evening chatting your ear off with fun little misadventures he had during the past week.

he felt... cherished for once in his life; not someone needing to deal with the sour attitudes of people when they're all huffy or some boy-toy, taking his acts of service as an invitation to go running their hands all over him. he loved how he could play around, joke and complain without having the need to refrain himself. he felt... alive.

so it was to no one's surprise that he developed a massive crush on you; always giving you a little extra compared to the other townsfolk. full length handwritten letters, extra savings of candy and snacks he's been distributing that day, that box of pastries you seemed to have been eyeing up for the last few days or that prize you didn't manage to win during on one of your latest trips to the arcade.

seems light-hearted enough, right? if only you knew what other little treats he placed within your regular delivery... envelopes holding typed-letters; pouring his love for you over the many, many pages... each line, each paragraph... sometimes even rambling off into tangents- tangents of what he had been dreaming to do to you since day one... since the day you noticed his pains and took upon yourself to heal him back up.

yet, these sick fantasizes, these twisted thoughts on paper- you never blamed him for it, why would you went the initials signing off the letters eerily matched the creep that lived a few houses down from yours, who always seemed to have brought themselves false hope in charming you even after you said no.

no... you would never blame the innocent, naive mailman who's barely paid enough to suffer from verbal abuse every day of his life; barely having the funds to keep a himself together; yet, still cherished the happiness of others over his own.

maybe that's why you always seemed to accept his 'lustrous' gifts, especially that medium-sized stuffed bunny he so graciously sewed for you for valentine's to rid you of your loneliness. its soft yet limp body still laying on your bed, oblivious of the shine behind its dull black spheric eyes.

"...hah... hah...~" lustful eyes smiling as his flushed features melted against the monochrome screen he's stuck himself to, body trembling with each stroke of his throbbing cock, relishing in the soft breaths as you slept, spurring more pre to drip down his plush thighs, drenching the ground beneath his cheap desk chair. "...soon... soon, my love... i'll tell you the truth..."