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missmeinyourbones · 10 months

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AND EAT IT, TOO

a/n: here it is. the nasty megumi dick sucking. AFAB reader, oral (m receiving), finger sucking, spit, dubcon to be safe but it’s not like that. NSFW MINORS DNI

…..

megumi’s a lot of things, but you know it to be true that a sucker is at the top of his list.

at least for you, it’s true.

because if anyone asked him anything more than twice, his patience would wear thin. but you—you don’t think you’ve ever even gotten to a second rejection, because after the first, megumi always says yes to you.

like right now, when you’re bored and palming his half-chub through his pajamas.

“you don’t have to do anything,” he feels you purr against his abdomen, your nimble hands working their way beneath his sweats with ease, “just lay back.”

when he’s finally freed from the constricting cotton, he’s heavy against your tongue, and you feel him growing harder and firmer with every flick and drag. the muscle gently darts back and forth, teasing and flat beneath his shaft.

megumi takes his chances and half sits up, looking down at where you entertain yourself between his thighs. your eyes are closed as you hum against his cock, both hands wrapped around it and gently squeezing and stroking the unattended parts as you work on his head.

“babe,” he whines through gritted teeth.

you allow your eyes to flicker up at him, though your mouth remains latched onto the delicate tip of his cock, “hm?”

megumi shakes a bit when he breathes out a weak, “you’re killing me here.”

he feels you smile, your mouth tightening as your teeth ever so gently graze against his head. his abdomen instinctually tightens and his hips slightly buck upwards when you giggle sweetly.

“i’m having fun.”

he watches you pull away from him for a moment, brushing your hair behind your shoulders and readjusting yourself. he feels a twinge of guilt as he eyes the string of spit weave from his leaking tip and to your pretty puffy lips.

before you can lean back in to continue working him into your mouth, megumi scooches up further on the edge of the bed and leans down to caress your sweet face. he watches your lips twinge upward, and he just knows your fighting the urge to call him a romantic, even now, at the most vulgar of times.

he lets the pads of his thumb gently caress the outline of your lips, before stopping at your bottom one and slightly pulling at the spit-covered swelling.

he lets his pointer and middle finger slip between your lips, which you eagerly allow. megumi grits his teeth at the instant warmth, and though it was against his cock, something about the sight of your tongue swirling around his fingers is doing just as much for him.

he watches you hum and suck, slowly taking more of his digits over time. a bit eager, he lets them slide particularly deep on one pump, and his eyes light up with nothing but pure filth when he hears you softly gag against his fingertips. with your smaller hands gripping around his wrist, he wants to take a picture.

eventually, amidst your magical ways, his cock ends up back on your lips.

his eyelids feel heavy when you spew a bubble of spit directly on his tip. he watches the way your saliva melts against the pearls of pre-cum he’s been leaking for the past ten minutes.

you’re usually incredibly handsy, so much so that megumi spends most of the time wondering how your hands can feel like they’re everywhere at once. but with the way your mouth swallows him nearly whole, and your left hand is pressing against his lean thigh for stability, he wonders what game your playing at.

maybe you want to tease him, but that thought goes out the window when you purposefully constrict your throat with a swallow. maybe you’re testing yourself—trying to make him cum without even using your hands. it wouldn't be the first time, and it certainly won’t be the last.

but when megumi hears (feels) your muffled moan against his cock, he finally notices your right hand lodged between your own thighs, delicately rubbing your clit in those sweet slow circles he knows you love so much.

he watches you swipe your fingers through your folds, collecting as much slick as you can and cruelly teasing your hole, before pulling back up to your bud and rubbing once more.

you’re teasing yourself while getting him off, he comes to realize. and he swears on everything he knows to be true that he might faint in this very moment.

he’s positive he can smell the glistening of slick that shines down your thighs and against your wrist. he wants to taste it for himself, wants to lick every inch of you and then some.

but between you gagging once more and his high practically right fucking there, megumi decides he doesn’t have to be greedy right now.

he can enjoy this first. have his cake and eat it, too.

#not edited fuck it we die like men #megumi x reader #megumi fushiguro x reader #megumi smut #megumi fushiguro smut #megumi x you #megumi fushiguro x you #megumi fic #megumi fushiguro fic #jjk x reader

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knifefightandchill · 1 month

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#re #re4r #resident evil 4 remake #re4redit #resiedit #reedit #ashley graham #videogameedit #dailygaming #gamingedit #i was actually super excited over the fact that i was able to edit her eyes brown because aaaahhhhhh #listen i play on console i don't get to mod xD #my gifs #in this house we love and respect ashley graham #no caption we die like men. but no really i don't want to do codes ;w;#i was really happy with these though

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arieswritez · 21 days

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puppy love

puppy love | yandere!mark grayson x afab!reader | MULTI-CHAP: 3

chapter 2

cw; DARK CONTENT!!! MDNI!!! reader is neurodivergent, ableism, growing up is messy & adults suck, angst, niceguy™/slight incel mark, childhood friend/bully!mark, mark gets his powers sooner, teeny tiny implications of pseudo incest (blink and you'll miss it), violent rape, threats of violence, & canon typical violence, stalking, implied murder, gender & body dysphoria, mentions/implications of disordered eating, mark teases reader about their body once, overall asshole mark, implied grooming (mark handles it but he's a lil bitch about it later), so, victim blaming, misogyny, the inexplicable horrors of being afab, objectification, sexualization

about; you don't know how long i could stare into your picture and wish that it was me i guess it's different 'cause you love him but i've got an interactive sick and twisted imagination and that's gotta count for something - not allowed (tv girl)

you'd found a boy that made your heart go thump thump, thump. and you knew very well how the rest of that story usually went.

your love was encompassing. asphyxiating and obsessive. and in the very first moment the two of you interacted, you knew, this could be it.

you didn't blame yourself.

you couldn't blame yourself.

blame the love stories.

the disney movies with the princes and the magic mirrors. breaking curses with true love's kiss. much like the fabricated sugary fantasies, your potential life with him unfolded before your eyes.

he could be the one.

true love's forever kiss.

you imagined it all.

movie theater dates, awkward parental meetings, proposals, a home, kids, pets. arguments. therapy, even. pushing through at the end. death. rebirth. trying it all over again in the next life.

all you had to do was get him to stick around.

you had to make him understand that you could be his true love kiss, too.

you had to be perfect.

. . there was just one miniscule problem.

the boy so happened be on the same baseball team as mark.

it's the way the two of you had met.

despite the fact that you were supposed to be there for mark: your eyes were . . elsewhere. your eyes - then your focus - had gravitated towards him even before the first pitch. and you found yourself blushing as you watched him stretch: holding his baseball bat over his head.

you'd made it your only goal to attempt to extract as much information about it from mark as discretely as you could. and frankly, you should've known mark would be able to read you like the back of his hand.

because he found out what you were trying to do embarrassingly quickly.

and he was just as quick to shut it down.

you hadn't noticed the boy before. not really. but since the baseball game, he seemed to be everywhere. and you were excited to find that he was the new addition to mark's friend group. you knew this because you saw him and mark sitting together during lunch.

which meant they were at least acquaintances.

so imagine your shock when you came to find out. . mark didn't like him.

everything about him seemed to rub mark the wrong way. mark would clam up the moment you mentioned your boy. he'd change the subject. or his mood would just straight up sour. he'd go quiet and avoidant. and when you kept pushing, he finally snapped.

your boy was stupid.

your boy was shallow.

"don't say i didn't warn you." mark would mumble.

but warning you wasn’t enough.

your boy barely looked at you.

and you weren't sure if it was in part because of the way you acted. . the way you looked. maybe he was so out of your league that he'd completely removed you from his radar.

you'd watch him from across hallways and excitement would swell in your chest when you found that you'd be walking in opposite directions.

you'd see him coming.

he'd see you.

time would slow as you walked past him.

your heart rate would pick up.

but his eyes would remain forward and time would pick back up again as soon as you were past each other.

all it'd leave you with was the bitter taste of rejection in your mouth and a deep ache of anxiety bubbling in your stomach.

the only thing that sobered you up were the dizzying possibilities.

he hadn't seen you. he hadn't noticed the effort you'd put in.

but eventually, he would.

you don't know what it was that grabbed his attention.

mark was vehemently against introducing you two.

you were at a loss until you realized that you'd just have to try harder.

whenever mark left for the bathroom, you'd made it a mission to swipe mark's phone during study sessions. you'd go through his socials and send yourself screenshots of both his follower count and who he was following.

it was a long tedious progress but eventually, you'd found your boy's account.

thankfully, it was public. which meant the the decoy accounts you'd made to snoop just in case he was private turned out to be a waste of time.

you looked through his followers and did your homework on anyone he showed a particular interest in. you'd even made a list of the usernames of the people who’s posts he interacted with the most.

and soon you became a master of disguise.

you studied them top to bottom.

those that went to the same school were far easier to emulate.

you copied their mannerisms, the way they styled their hair, you changed the cadence of your voice, the way you rolled your r’s. your clothing grew tighter and your slouch was now an exaggerated upbeat gallop as you chased after the object your new affection, hoping one day he'd notice.

. . and the exact moment he looked into your eyes and did a double take. . you did one, too.

it was completely out of surprise before you caught yourself and continued to saunter away from him with butterflies in your stomach: flapping their wings so violently it felt like you'd be swept away.

his attention was the most excitement you'd felt. . in a long time.

and you knew you'd do anything to retain it.

it was a sickly sweet feeling: syrupy, sticky. clogging your vascular system to the point your head swelled. the lack of oxygen only heightened your fantasies.

the attention was addictive and so, so good you found yourself chasing that high all the time. going to extreme lengths to get his attention. even if they’d end up embarrassing you after.

you never allowed yourself to wallow in the feeling of dread that settled in your stomach when you did everything in your power to get his attention, though.

specially whenever it made a smile stretch across his face.

whatever you did faded into the background.

it was all worth it in the end.

something was wrong with mark.

and he needed to get to the root of the problem fast.

he was looking at you. . differently.

he talked to his dad.

nolan had said something about the changing moods having to do with his powers. how being intense and passionate was just in his blood.

he talked to his mom about it. albeit in a more discrete way. he'd never be able to live it down if she'd found out you were making him behave a certain way.

she'd just chalked it up to it being puberty.

mark didn't know who to believe.

he just wanted to stop thinking about you.

his nerves were shot to shit whenever you were near.

senses heightened: you were a fog blanketing his brain until your voice carried with it a technicolor vision.

he could smell you coming like a damn blood hound.

he could hear your pulse while sitting next to you.

something was wrong with mark.

he knew it when his teeth ached when you'd stretched your neck: raised your arms over your head and let out a little sound of pain and discomfort.

something was wrong with mark.

when the day's turned warm and wet. . and your clothing became more revealing.

he could see more of you.

freckles and moles, blemishes and scars, he hadn't noticed before.

he'd follow sweat drops rolling down your skin.

smooth. soft.

he'd held you, once.

when was the last time?

something was wrong with mark.

he'd lay awake at night staring up at the ceiling.

thinking about how you'd looked while you concentrated on a book. while you looked down at your phone. while you listened to music: smiling when a song you liked came on.

your little humming. . but not singing.

never singing.

mark noticed you'd stopped singing in front of him when he started to make fun of you for it.

that, too, was how mark knew something was wrong with him.

the way your moods would shift like tides under a crescent moon whenever he'd said something excited him. he felt pleasure - a violent zap of electricity shooting up and down his spice - watching your eyes light up or darken when he'd say something to you.

about you.

i like your hair today.

light.

you talk so goddamn much.

dark.

i missed you.

light.

your stories take fucking forever.

dark.

something was wrong with him when he found his own mood depended on fantasizing on how he'd make you feel that day.

if he was in a bad mood, seeing you in one, too, was a sure-fire way to make his day a whole lot better.

something was wrong with mark.

when he'd have to smother the sounds he made while imagining you -

something was wrong with him. . when red, hot anger consumed him when one of his friends made a smart quip about your body.

when he couldn't just laugh it off anymore.

something was wrong with mark.

. . or so he thought.

because he'd later find out. .

. . no.

something was wrong with you.

all of a sudden: mark was the one double texting.

triple texting.

mark was the one asking if he could hang out. . and when the fuck did he ever need permission?

mark was the one seeking you out.

something was wrong with you.

and he needed to get to root of the problem.

he picked his brain apart in an attempt to figure out what it was. you couldn't be under any stress. you looked fine. better than fine.

you looked happy.

fucking elated.

to the point where mark couldn't affect your moods anymore.

mark wanted to know what the fuck you were so happy about.

why the fuck you were so happy when he was falling apart at the seams. when his world was crashing down.

and there you were, completely fucking oblivious.

mark had always been curious.

and so, he went to see you.

the two of you were in your room.

you'd excused yourself to go to the bathroom.

and mark started looking.

you were predictable.

he knew where you kept your journal. despite how many times he'd found it and read it aloud - holding it above his head whenever you tried to snatch it away - he'd always managed to figure out your next hiding place.

it was easier that way.

he pretended he didn't know where it was.

you pretended to have some privacy.

he pretended not to know every single, minute, insignificant detail of your life.

of your thoughts.

thank fuck you were still so naive.

thank fuck for dairies.

he'd found it in a box under your bed.

and after flipping to the page with the freshest set of ink. . he'd found out what your problem was.

you'd found a boy who'd made your heart go

thump.

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dawnbreakersgaze · 28 days

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Excuse me but the idea of MC and Xav sitting on their respective balconies and texting each other The Tea while people watching in their neighborhood is both so silly and so endearing to me.

So let's go on a small adventure, shall we?

Warnings: None.

Just fluff. Pure, unadulterated fluff.

The late morning sun was already warming you through the windows of your tiny apartment before you'd even stepped foot outside. It was finally mid-spring in Linkon, which meant you could enjoy your late breakfast on the patio without having to worry about a stray chill or errant frost dampening your weekly Saturday 'brunch' plans.

Opening the patio door with your granola bar in one hand and phone in the other, you settle into the cushioned bench that overlooked your apartment courtyard and took a deep breath. Sometimes it felt like winter was neverending in Linkon, but you could finally feel the tension of the gripping cold that had settled in your bones start to slowly bleed from you.

After getting comfortable, you finally pulled out your phone, and quickly found your brunch 'date's' contact info, sending him the customary "Get up it's people watching hour" text.

[Hey Xav, you up? I'm already on my balcony?]

It doesn't take long for his reply. This has been your weekly tradition for a few months now. Ever since you had both just so happened to see that kid getting dragged down the street by the monstrous hound, it had become something of a... habit for the two of you to text each other the funny happenings on your street when you were home. Not that either of you were particularly prone to gossip, but the simple domesticity of it was oddly comforting after a long week of getting slogged on by wanderers.

[Yeah I'm up. Give me a sec]

The soft ping of your notification broke the peace, followed shortly by the shuffling of his patio door sliding open from above you. Sure, you could simply call out and greet him, as the acoustics out here are great and the soundproofing is atrocious, but the silence is cozy, and the atmosphere almost feels magical. This is your ritual, after all.

It's a bit like a storybook scene, you think, the two of you sharing a moment in time together yet still separated by some outside force. Maybe it was silly, but the fabricated longing almost made it feel romantic in a way that you're sure your neighbor would find ridiculous.

When you hear his footsteps above you come to a halt, you immediately notice something in particular is missing, however.

[You forgot your coffee Xav. Are you gonna be able to stay awake?]

[How could U tell?]

[I didn't smell any burning 🤭🔥]

He doesn't reply, but you can hear the huff he makes over the railing as his footsteps retreat, fading behind the sliding door once again. You don't even try to hold back the laughter his reaction elicits from you, hopeful the concrete carries it to him easily.

When he finally does reemerge, faint smell of bitter charred beans on the wind, his phone is already buzzing with the morning's newest additions to your people watching portfolios.

An older man you'd long ago dubbed "Green Thumb" who liked to frequent the flower garden outside your apartment complex was already taking photos of the new stargazer lily blossoms that had just opened this morning. So enamored by the vibrant petals, he didn't even seem to notice the couple he'd backed into who'd happened to spill their groceries all over the sidewalk. You heard Xavier call "Watch out!" From above you when he'd recognized the impending impact, but at your distance, it was no use.

[That was nice of you Xav. Too bad it didn't help 🫠]

[I can't believe they didn't see Green Thumb. He was so hard to miss. Even when Ur distracted U still see better]

[HEY! I'm not the one who sleep walks! 💀]

[And yet I'm always there to guard Ur back partner]

He's right of course, though you're not going to tell him. Xavier likes to play the part of a soft and harmless little thing, but it doesn't take much to stoke the hunter into burning hotter than you intended. His evol might be light, but you know better than anyone that light, under careful concentration, can start a blazing fire if you're not mindful. His teasing isn't ever harmful though, so instead you decide to simply poke the bear.

[Only because I'm starting to suspect you like it back there]

The distinct sound of a phone accidentally hitting the concrete marks the end of that thread.

Its not long before another of your regulars, pair of young kids Xavier had called the Trouble Twins arrived on scene. Aptly named for the number of times their poor mother has chastised them for chasing the ducks and picking the flowers, the siblings were quite the rambunctious duo. Today they seem to be a few steps ahead of their vigilant mother, rushing into the park with high-pitched hollers and improvised swords made of small branches they'd found. Today's unfortunate conquest seemed to be the pigeons that were being fed by the local grannies.

[They look like a pair of knights today don't they?]

[Knights? Don't knights usually protect people?]

[Maybe they're protecting us from the pigeons]

[Xavier those old ladies look pretty mad idk. That one even tried to chase the boy and almost caught him!]

The pause in messages was punctuated by his soft laughter above you, carried on the spring breeze. It was so warm, so genuine, so comfortable. You didn't need a mirror to feel the heat bloom in your cheeks; the overwhelming sensation of ardor flooding you at the the very sound.

[You're right. He needs more training. A good Knight should never be caught by an old lady]

[.... I don't think that's the message here Xav]

The rest of your morning goes back and forth like this for another hour. Watching your favorite people pass by, concocting new and interesting stories for them as they pass your balconies. Xavier has very interesting and oddly insightful opinions on those around him, considering you don't really recall seeing him with many friends. None the less, his company and companionship on your balconies has easily become your favorite part of the week. The only noises between you are the laughter that passes back and forth as the texts volley from one to another.

Finally, as the afternoon sun starts to become an uncomfortable heat, your phone chimes once more.

[I'm getting kind of hungry]

[Oh good. You're warning me this time. Thanks!]

[What?]

[No. I was going to ask if U wanted to go to lunch. With me, I mean?]

And just like that, the storybook was snapping shut. No longer a fragment lost in time where two people gazed at the same scene together from two separate places, but a tangible moment you could step into. Something intimate and real.

Perhaps you stayed in this thought a moment too long, or your silence below him made him second guess himself, as the chime of your phone snapped you out of your daze again.

[I didn't mean to impose if U have plans]

[I know it's Ur day off too]

Fumbling with the suddenly slippery device, softly cursing, and praying he didn't hear, you quickly hammer out the only thing that's been playing in your head on repeat-

[Yes absolutely! I'd love to grab some lunch I'm starving]

[Meet me downstairs in 30?]

#look i had 3 hours of sleep and i chose to this idk why #written in a single go like a psychopath #and now im going to bed gnight ♡#lnds #love and deepspace #lads #l&ds #love & deepspace #xavier #xavier love and deepspace #xavier lnds #xavvy baby #kay writes #this text was just too cute I had too i was over come with emotions #god why is Xavier so adorable ugh #so soft boy sometimes i love himb #also-#not proofread we die like men #sorry im Le~ tired ill edit tomorrow

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sonder-paradise · 2 years

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𝐅𝐥𝐮𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐌𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐬 — 𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐧 𝐈𝐦𝐩𝐚𝐜𝐭

◊ characters. venti, kazuha, heizou, xiao, gn!reader

◊ genre. fluff, flustered boys bc i can

— 𝐕𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢

naps with the anemo archon always seem so relaxing for the soul. the two of you curled up like lazy cats against the stump of a careening oak tree or hidden beneath the covers was always a warm invitation for venti to admire you.

on this afternoon, in particular, he awoke once more to see you still sound asleep, curled up against him and happily dozing the day away. he smiles fondly, playing with a few loose strands of your hair.

that was until you shift in your sleep, eyes half closed and mind still in your dreams. "venti...?" you murmur, "come 'ere." he's a bit startled to feel your arms around him tighten and pull him even closer to your chest.

the action has him growing pink in the hazy afternoon sunlight. hiding his face in the confines of your figure whilst trying to pretend he isn't absolutely taken away with the way you had called out for him.

— 𝐊𝐚𝐞𝐝𝐞𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚 𝐊𝐚𝐳𝐮𝐡𝐚

it’s truly a difficulty to see kazuha react in such a way. but you can find it easily when you play with the wandering samurai's hair. his head leaning against your chest while you filter through his pretty white and red-streaked hair. his eyes are closed and you can feel his soft breathing while he relaxes in your grasp.

"kazuhaaa," you croon, poking his cheek. his eyes open and he smiles softly up at you. "something the matter?" he asks.

you comb through his hair once more before shaking your head. "nothing, i was just thinking that your hair looks so pretty." he's taken a little off-guard by the comment; the tips of his ears turning red in the autumnal light cascading through the trees.

"you... you think so?" kazuha mutters, toying with a side piece from his bangs. his face is littered with a heavy blush that you find absolutely becoming of him.

— 𝐒𝐡𝐢𝐤𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐢𝐧 𝐇𝐞𝐢𝐳𝐨𝐮

bringing you back home after a couple rounds of drinks truly was becoming a bit too much of a routine for the detective. you leaned against his body sleepily, hazy from the drinks and the moonlit atmosphere around you two. he laughs softly at your drunken behavior as you chatter about how sweet he is and how he's too dreamy.

"okok, but you have to promise me something, m'kay?" you hiccup, poking him in the chest avidly. "and what is that thing?" heizou asks, holding onto your hand with a gentle squeeze.

"that you don't... no wait i forgot it," you murmur to yourself, attempting to comprehend what you had lost. he waits patiently, continuing to guide you back home.

"oh, i remember! you have to promise to kiss me tonight!" you lean in close as you scold heizou, despite him not being your lover just yet. the ticked look in your eyes and the severe demeanor have him doubting whether or not you genuinely are drunk.

"got it?" you restate. he nods, half-amused and half-flustered at the straightforwardness he's receiving. "of course. i promise!" the words have him covering his flustered smile with the back of his hand while he feels the cooling wind soothe his rising temperature.

— 𝐗𝐢𝐚𝐨

the call of his name has him appearing before you in the blink of an eye. his eyes dart around for a second as if to take in his surroundings. he knew you enjoyed taking advantage of his name and the power it gave you. it seemed this was one of those nights.

"is something wrong?" xiao says, observing the strange, curious gaze in your expression. something told him you had just wanted to see him again.

"ha! i knew it!" at your exclamation, his eyebrows furrow and he gives you a look of adorable confusion. you clasp his face in your hands, a smile on your lips that has his heart racing.

"you really do have gorgeous eyes, xiao." the look of confusion on his face blends in completely with the growing blush on his cheeks. his eyes blinking rapidly and gazing down as if he cannot comprehend your compliment. honestly, you called him here for something silly like that...?

Taglist: @xo-cuteplosion-xo

#[🖋] writing #no editing we die like men #we're gonna ignore the fact heizous is slightly longer than the others #i just like writing him sob #kazuha x reader #kazuha drabbles #heizou x reader #heizou shikanoin #heizou fluff #venti x you #genshin venti #venti x reader #xiao x reader #xiao scenarios #xiao fluff #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin fluff

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ghcstcd · 3 months

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Another Feesh :)

#fish #fish art #water #aquatic life #aquatic animal #water color #color pencil #guache paint #illustrations #animals #animal #colors #artists of tumblr #artists on tumblr #no editing to the painting we die like men #I didn't go for accuracy I went for a good time #ghcstcd #art #drawing

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mixtapedoh · 1 month

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vernon as highschool crush pls for lonely boy 🧍‍♀️

vernon my bestie beloved bastard ♡ you really are requesting for the people, lindsay.

;༊ — lonely boy

pairing: hansol vernon chwe x gn!reader genre: fluff, high school au word count: ~3.3k warnings: language, mild threats among friends, a lack of originality (but perhaps ameliorated by an understanding of the conventions of trope?)

olive's notes: firstly, hahaha.......... pretend like this wasn't something you sent me actual months ago.... and pretend like i gave the prompt the justice it deserves....... shhhhhh, i answer things in a timely manner and can still be considered a tumblr writer. secondly, this is quite glaringly based off of and colored by my memories of high school, so expect United States education system nonsense <3.

☄. *. ⋆ hansol vernon chwe x high school crush.

— the hardest thing about crushing on this fucker is that he's everywhere

simultaneously the biggest cryptid in the whole student body (if you had a nickel for every time your journalism teacher asked: "has anyone seen hansol this week?" to absolute crickets you'd be able to pay for at least 2 years of college) and also the most social person to ever grace your high school halls, hansol was everywhere all at once, and contradictorily, nowhere when you sought him out.

you wanted to avoid seeing him because of something embarrassing you were sure he had noticed? bam. right there beside you, sitting on the same row of auditorium seats for the assembly.

you wanted to catch a glimpse of him while the both of you were assigned to photograph the basketball game? viola. gone, nowhere to be seen; and yet your friend will tell you later that he was there the whole time, snapping the best photos of boo seungkwan's legendary 3-pointers (which you certainly hadn't missed, so where had he been??).

— yes, having a crush on hansol vernon chwe was exhausting. there was no way to save face — trust hansol to be there at your worst hours (like that chemistry presentation where the color palette you used for your PowerPoint was too light for the old projector screen to show properly, and so you half of your graphics were unreadable, inspiring your professor to dock 10 points, despite that fact that when you pulled it up on a computer screen - or any other device that wasn't an old ass projector at least 15 years out of date - the graphics were just fine and the detail above required). it didn't matter the specifics of the occasion, it was simple fact you'd always somehow manage, in your darkest moment, to look out and see hansol — always a kind smile, with something encouraging in his eye, despite, but still horribly, embarrassingly, and irrevocably present.

— and then, as it if weren't bad enough, hansol vernon chwe had the absolute gall to be unbothered, unfazed, unable to be rattled or shaken in any way, by comparison.

oh sure, you'd seen him cringe before at him friend's (mostly kwon soonyoung's) antics; you were familiar with the way vernon expressed any and all emotion with the whole of him — his every muscle tensing and twisting in a way so visceral and real, you could feel embarrassed, too, by just looking at him — but the envy was this: it was never at his expense that such feelings would arise. vernon was never embarrassed because of something he did or caused or felt. his life was far too chill and unbothered for that. others could be embarrassing around him, but all of his actions flowed so smoothly — rolled over the shoulders of everyone else.

the closest he'd ever get was doing something explicitly stupid just for the enjoyment of others. but, the catch was this: they enjoyed it !!!! it was funny and not cringe worthy !!!!! the net effect was positive.

it was infuriating. sometimes you weren't sure if you wanted to kiss hansol or strangle him with your bare hands.

— but let's take things back to journalism.

— because of course he took journalism.

not exactly the most exalted of the journalism students or anything, hansol was mostly known for his opinion piece articles and, of course, availability and willingness to go to any school event to take pictures and help fill in the blanks of the article anyone was writing.

he had friends in any and all school functions and events. from sports to musicals, science fairs to choir recitals, you could say, "is anyone going to this very obscure and random FBLA presentation?" or "did you know that the coding club is going to be attending an event at another high school this saturday?" and hansol would immediately perk up, pull out one of his headphones and go, "yeah, i'm gonna check it out. did you need a ride?"

— and it was because of that — his being everywhere, inescapable and offhandedly thoughtful, open and so easily warm — that these pesky feelings even started, in the first place.

— just when it happened is perhaps inconsequential (in all actuality, it likely started before your journalism daily exposure, just slowly, more of an itch at the back of your mind than the brash insistence it was, now) but it was definitely the fault of journalism. maybe that band and orchestra festival in 11th grade where you went with hansol to do a write up on all the high schools attending (placing undue emphasis on your high school's multi-talented band leader, lee jihoon, who could play half the instruments in the room), or maybe that series of debate tournaments you both covered in 11th grade, or when the two of you took over the baseball column that same year and when the heatwave spiked early, vernon would attend each game in sleeveless tops, always with an extra ball cap in tow since you would (conveniently, perhaps?) forget one of your own and the sun made it impossible to see what was happening, beyond.

yes, just when it hit was neither here nor there, because at the end of the day, the problem remained: you were hopelessly down bad for one hansol vernon chwe. fuck.

— and you couldn't escape him if you tried.

and trust me, at one point, try, you had.

— after all, at the beginning of your senior year, you somehow ended up being in the same spanish class as him and his friend joshua, and after a whole year (and subsequent summer break, when your journalism teacher found an opportunity to have a section of the city newspaper be dedicated to "the youth of journalism," and weekly, your journalism club was able to publish in the city newspaper) of crushing on hansol with a vehemence perhaps concerning, you knew you couldn't handle having to have embarrassing debates, conversations, and role play scenarios with him.

in perhaps two weeks you were in the counselor's office, exploring alternate class blocks. in the end, you were stuck in a ceramics course instead of your preferred electives, but at least when the unit on "la familia, el amor y todo lo interpersonal" came up, you were role playing as a couple alongside jeon jungkook, who couldn't stop making you wheeze with laughter from his overextention of the r at every available chance, rather than your crush, hansol.

(all it would have taken was one "te extraño" from hansol through your fake hand phones to absolutely floor you. someone call the school nurse, you're fallen and perhaps can never get back up again.)

— so you avoided him there, and even before that, during your junior year, you had mostly eaten off campus on your second schedule days when you and hansol had the same lunch hour and the risk of running into him at a time potentially embarrassing was at an all time high, seeing as nowhere was safe — the social butterfly he was, hansol managed to have business in every hallway of the school. not a single area was risk free.

yeah, junior year really had just been a mess of emotions you hadn't wanted to name, and so instead, elected to pointedly ignore. you were glad to say that while spending your hard earned money to eat out 2-3 times a week was a bit of a low, you had solidly moved out of that phase of your life by spring that year, and could stomach the risk of Being Seen by someone who had captured your attention so strongly.

and yeah, even though you had a bit of a backslide when changing spanish classes senior year (which could be chalked up to self-preservation, truly), you had solidly moved past that whole Avoidance Stage of your Crippling Crush on One Hansol Vernon Chwe.

— so hansol couldn't be avoided. that much was abundantly clear. and you had to interact with him in journalism and (god willing) be normal while doing so, and luckily, while all that exposure didn't exactly desensitize you to his overwhelming charm, admirable confidence, infectious smile, endearing jokes, comfortable aura, and oh so beautiful eyes, it had forced you to just,,,,,,, accept some things.

— accept that you had a raging crush on hansol, but that it could be managed... so long as none of your mutual friends found out.

— you were pretty sure that wonwoo knew, but at least he was ✨subtle✨ and generally checked out of things like that. genuinely, he could not care less, and so he made it no one's problem. you could probably tell him your most rancid, vulgar thoughts, and he would just file it away in his mind as: "nasty shit i can never unhear" and go about his day. compare that to your other mutual acquaintance, seungkwan, and well...

— but for the most part, it seemed that senior year was inching away, another year with a crush on hansol, and another year where you didn't say a damn thing and refused to leave anything close to a hint for him to pick up on.

— but mercy didn't exactly exist for you, now did it.

— the horrible series of Epic Fumblings and Incriminating Moments began in october, when hansol and joshua decided to make a podcast to convince the school that an AV club could be a fun addition to the roster of School Sanctioned Clubs (an idea they really should have had back in august — you know, when clubs were first getting registered and students were accosted in the hallways with club information slapped on astrobrights with strong ~graphic design is my passion~ presentation)

they had needed someone tech savvy enough to get them the podcast equipment and teach them how to use it (and just,,, do all the technical aspects for them 🥺👉👈 pwetty pwease 🥺👉👈 we're just silly boys who want to talk about random shit but are trying to pass it off as being Constructive in Some Sense so that it looks good on college applications) and so obviously their search had sent them in the way of wonwoo, who only seemed to have free time on the exact day and time you two would joint study for your college level government and politics course.

so of course he asked if the two of you could move your study sessions to a different location (he swore he could multitask? okay overacheiver) so that he could both study with you and help the stupidly handsome hansol and joshua with their brilliant podcast idea.

and of course, you'd forget the first time and wonwoo would conveniently not answer his texts for 20 minutes, allowing for the most embarrassing stage of him finally picking up his phone (on speaker?) to you yelling "jeon wonwoo, i will personally castrate you and throw it in the ocean so you can be eaten alive by the creatures birthed from the subsequent sea foam if you don't come to the library to study right now. i have been waiting for 20. minutes. where are you?" and hansol and joshua would hear you. and have the gall to laugh.

and of course wonwoo wouldn't even give you the grace of not having to show up to his house (your new study location) to study for the day. in fact, hansol gave him the brilliant idea of threatening to train an eagle to peck at your liver daily - not eating it fully, just put in it's beak and twist the flesh. since you can't grow another liver overnight, of course. don't you just love mythological punishment.

(and that wouldn't be the end of the embarrassing podcast adventures, either. the time shua cajoled you into being a special guest????? truly, you dodged a bullet not being in spanish with that fool. he's impossible to refuse and the worst of it was that he knew it.)

— or what about the december gift exchange in journalism?? that was certainly not your finest moment, trying to get chaewon to change names with you so that you could gift something to hansol (something lady luck had never granted you despite all the blood, sweat, and tears you sunk into this journalism group of yours), and he heard you, mid-conversation.

seungkwan had told you hansol had been talking about it later, and you quite literally saw him connect the dots in slow-motion as he recounted the story. "y/n, do you have a crush on hansol????" it would have been bad enough that he practically yelled the accusation in the stands of the football field, but then he had the gall to triumphantly gasp and break into hysterical laughter upon your clear embarrassment at being caught. it was during lunch! you're shared lunch break with hansol! who knew where that fucker was! he probably saw the whole exchange!

(in the end, chaewon didn't change names with you (she traded with some other journalism traitor so she could gift to sakura) and even though hansol didn't have your name, he got you something regardless, saying it was thanks for putting up with he and shua stealing wonwoo during your (once peaceful) study sessions. you had decided against getting him a gift regardless, and so you had to awkwardly seek him out during winter break to shove a poorly wrapped box in his hands, with a mumbled apology for your tardiness in gifting, something he pushed away cooly, as expected (but were those red ears of his from just the cold, alone?).)

— and then, well, once everyone came back from winter break and seungkwan knew of your crush on hansol... school became less a Place of Learning and more a Viscous Time Loop of Shutting Seungkwan Up Before He Spilled The Beans.

kicking him under the table. threatening his livelihood. slapping a hand over his mouth on one occasion because seungkwan couldn't take a joke and his retaliation of choice was calling over hansol right there and then and forcing you both to awkwardly sit in the bitter soup of Revelation.

— and then there was february. oh, february. how easy it is to loathe february.

— it was already hard enough getting through the embarrassment of valentine's day themed fundraising — every year, your literature teacher (who oversaw the student body officers — that first exposure to the cruel reality of rigged elections, a popularity win if there ever was one) offered extra credit for students who volunteered time to help the sbo's with their silly little business venture of "roses for $3, sugar cookies with shocking pink frosting for $2, heart suckers for $1, sonnets written by the creative writing and theatre kids for $7.

every year you volunteered for some reason or another - maybe your grade needed it, maybe you were doing sbo president seungcheol a favor because no one signed up, maybe you were following the stupid advice of seokmin and were doing it for the plot (code for: please don't leave me alone at the stand, i will buy you all the sugar cookies you'd like, just don't consign me to spending my lunch break in this particular layer of hell in solitude). this year was no different in you signing up to do time, but seungkwan sure was different, asking you every day if you managed to see if vernon sent anyone something (he had — soonyoung had convinced him to pitch in to send jihoon 16 sonnets, to be read aloud in the middle of class). if he had sent you something (he hadn't).

but when you got an anonymous rose sent to your 2nd class of the day, with a cryptic note attached, your friends wouldn't let you live it down all week. (who had sent it, though? they would have had to be very strategic as to when they placed the order — you had certainly never seen one for yourself in your daily exchange of goods, and seokmin was suspiciously tight lipped about the whole thing (very uncharacteristic of him — who had the ability to buy dk's silence, and better yet, how had they done it???)).

— yes, valentine's day was bad enough. but to add to the mix was always hansol's birthday. last year you'd gotten him a gift since you had worked quite a lot together during that month, and it just felt... normal. comfortable. something kind to do that wasn't weird in anyway. but these days, facing hansol was almost as embarrassing as it had been during junior year when you avoided the mere sight of him like seeing him smile would end in you contracting the plague.

as the day inched ever closer, you were seriously considering missing the day entirely. taking the day off. pretending to be sick. but that wouldn't get you out of seeing him the day after. and the day after that.

perhaps fleeing the country would be a totally normal reaction and solid plan.

— and then joshua invited you to hansol's surprise birthday party.

well. at least that cleared up whether you should get him a gift or not.

— to say that, at that moment and for the subsequent days afterward, were overthinking the whole thing would be to extremely understate reality.

you were about to pop a blood vessel over this shit.

wonwoo was invited, too (how charitable of them. making sure there'd be someone there to scrape you off the floor when you inevitably discovered the power of self combustion) and it was rather comical to see the two of you: cool and calm wonwoo, and you with the internal dialogue of WHATTHEFUCKWHATTHEFUCKWHATTHEFUCKWHATTHEFUCKWHATTHEFUCKWHATTHEFUCKWHA

all holding a cute little gift between you.

— and the surprise birthday party really was a Legitimate, 5-Star, Genuine Quality, Surprise Bona Fide™ - a success by all measures. a shock in more ways than one: a surprise for hansol who had no idea the party was happening in the first place, getting called over for what he expected was a casual videogame night; a surprise for lee chan, somehow, when he saw that shua got you to come 15 minutes before show time to help blow up balloons - a shock so big he started to say something with a wild grin and was immediately dogpiled by mingyu, junhui, and hoshi; a surprise for all the friends amassed when you proved to be quite adept at party games like their incredibly convoluted version of mafia; and a surprise for you, later that night, when hansol offered to take you home

— the two you decided to stop at an empty playground before parting ways and see who could jump farther off of the swings. he won by a wide margin, but you had the skinned knees to prove your effort and the memory of hansol laughing so hard he could barely breathe — his smile so wide it could've filled you completely, banish any longing from your chest for a moment of unique closeness and bliss — and perhaps that was a consolation prize, enough.

but then you and hansol were on the swings again, seeing who could tighten the swing chain the most and spin the longest, and between the motion blur, you heard hansol admit defeat and when the swing stopped, his face was all too close to yours to shrug off as friendly, and his hands were holding the swing chain on either side, and when he spoke soft and low to crown you the victor, you kissed him.

and the biggest surprise of the night was when he kissed you back.

☄. *. ⋆

blog home

#olive.writes #seventeen imagine #seventeen x reader #seventeen x you #svt x reader #svt imagine #svt x you #vernon x reader #vernon imagine #vernon x you #svt vernon x reader #svt vernon imagine #fuck idk how to tag anymore someone tell me what i'm doing #also me????? WRITING??????????? SOMETHING LONG FORM?????????????? ohmygod it's been actual years since i've posted writing on tumblr #if my formatting isn't pretty yet give me time i'm out of practice okay #no i have not edited this we die like men

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whump-in-the-closet · 9 months

Note

Hi! I know you’ve written stuff like this before and I absolutely adore it so I have to request some more sidekick whump? Either hero’s or villain’s sidekick, doesn’t matter!

Have a nice day!!

Sure! Went with hero’s sidekick here because of ✨vibes✨

Villain stood over the blindfolded Sidekick, tied to the chair with hands twisted behind them. Their chest rose and fell unevenly, breath freezing in the air.

They were terrified.

Good.

Villain crouched down to eye level with Hero’s Sidekick. “Rise and shine.”

Sidekick jerked back in the chair, straining against the restraints. “Fuck you—” their voice was raw, spent from screaming for help that would not come.

“Ah ah ah, language,” said Villain. “I would have thought Hero taught you better.”

An unintelligible snarl.

Villain leaned close, yanking off the blindfold. They smiled without showing any teeth. “Now for the first order of business.” With a quick, rough gesture, they pulled off Sidekick’s mask.

“Hey!” Sidekick blinked frantically, trying to adjust their eyes to the cold light. Their breathing was shallow. Panicked. “Hero—” they started to say, then broke off abruptly.

Underneath the mask was a cloud of dark hair and tired eyes. No trademark scar. No dye or piercings. Unsettlingly average. Ordinary.

Villain rocked back on their heels. “Hero what? You think he’ll come and save you still? Or were you going to say, Hero’s gonna kill me?” They laughed. “I’m far ahead of him in that.”

Sidekick looked down. Away. Anywhere that wasn’t Villain.

Villain stood and started inspecting the tools laid out on the table. “You do understand this is business, right?” They lifted up a long, curving knife. “It’s nothing personal.”

Wiping the knife off on the hem of their shirt, they spun back on Sidekick. “For purely business matters, you’ll have to give me your name.”

Sidekick’s lips tightened. No. But their eyes were on the flashing steel.

They shrank back into the chair as Villain circled behind them. “Fine. Be difficult,” they whispered, uncomfortably close to Sidekick’s face.

Villain slammed Sidekick’s head into the table.

Stars. Brilliant-white-pain stars.

Villain’s grip relented long enough for Sidekick to register the pain. And then slammed their head into the wood a second time.

Crack.

“Your name?” said Villain.

“You…you should know. Your mom gave it to me—” Sidekick’s biting response twisted into a cry when Villain yanked their head back until their neck threatened to snap.

When Villain drove Sidekick’s head into the wood this time, Sidekick’s vision went black.

Blood stained the tabletop.

Villain shoved the tip of their blade towards Sidekick’s face.

Hovering there.

Sidekick saw double. Everything was ringing.

“Alright then, smartass, what’s Hero’s name? Tell me, and you’ll go home without any scars,” whispered Villain. “Well, minimal scars.”

Sidekick drew back, shuddering. Their eyes burned with unshed tears. “I—” Their voice cracked. “I can’t.”

Villain shrugged and traced the tip of Sidekick’s ear with the blade. At the touch of the cold steel, Sidekick bit back a sob. They did not beg, but they wanted too. Desperately.

“Your loss, really,” said Villain. “I can do this all day.”

The steel cut down, and something sticky and wet dripped down Sidekick’s ear and the side of their throat.

“Can you?”

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capegloam · 4 months

Note

I used to be a close transmasc friend of yours but you have genuinely made me (and others) sick with your fake top surgery tattoos. It's disrespectful, it makes fun of and trivialises a symbol of progress/pride that relates nothing to you. Binding is damaging and painful, you have no idea the pain actually transmasc people go through daily, hourly, by the minute or second to bind. You have no idea the pain of personally growing up transmasc. It's layered and it's complicated and it is Not yours. It will never be yours. You are appropriating our pain. Its disgusting. You are going to lose many friends and make many enemies for this. Hope you have fun faking being transmasc, I see half of Twitter already believes you. I don't want drama with you, or want you to publicly share this or talk to me. I'm just sharing this with you because it has made me sick to my stomach ever since I saw it. And this is an action you need to seriously rethink. You need to publicly come clean on those posts that you are not transmasc. I can tell you've worded it so it's hard for people to tell. You are lucky I haven't publicly made a statement.

woke up today to all of these anons. unsure if they are all the same person but I'm going to treat them as such.

the fact of the matter is, my gender identity is more complicated than "i want to be transmasc". twitter is a horrible place to explain myself because of the character limit, and because i don't like justifying myself to people i don't know. Seeing as i've now been kicked/banned from a specific discord server i used to be in, i know exactly who this is, and i finally feel comfortable explaining myself fully. i know you, i care for you, and we're here on tumblr where i can actually sit down and write a proper essay. Thank you.

i'll break down my responses specifically to what you said, because I want this to be a good conversation.

(under the cut because its long, lol)

"it's disrespectful, it makes fun of and trivializes a symbol of progress/pride that relates nothing to you" — I derive no comedy from the tattoo. I didn't decide I wanted it lightly. saying that it "makes fun of" that symbol is categorically a misinterpretation of my earnest & sincere intent. I wear my heart on my sleeve, always.

saying that my experience "relates nothing" to the transmasc experience is a true statement. I started with a body I should've been comfortable in. The truth is—I was not—I am not comfortable with my body. I don't want a binary body. But my transition experience? was not anything like the transmasc one. I grew out my hair. I bought skirts and dresses. I began collecting earrings, all of them gifts from friends who love me. But when I approached HRT, I realized I wasn't happy with being a woman. I didn't want to get closer to a newer, different binary body. I wanted to be both, trans man and trans woman, simultaneously. I am bigender and nonbinary. to boil me down to "just wants to be transmasc" completely ignores the other half of me that wants breasts, that wants a feminine chest. my next step with my transition is, honestly, purchasing a breast form.

the issue now becomes, why get the tattoo if thats how i feel? if I still want a chest in some form or another?

because, I don't want my bare chest to be a source of dysphoria for that part of me. Remember, at the same time that I want breasts, i also don't want them. at the same time that I want long hair, i want short hair. at the same time I want masculine clothes, i want skirts. I am all of these things and MY PAIN is not being able to be everything combined all at once. It is, frankly, an impossible transition goal.

The scars take my natural chest and they turn it into something new that acknowledges my hypocrisy, that its not just the body of a man, that there is room for more, here. Just because it looks flat doesn't mean thats all it could be, or thats all it was. I want that symbol of transformation because I wish I got to transform. What is more "trans" than wanting to transform?

I will never be transmasc. That just doesn't properly describe my experiences, and it doesn't even fit my feelings about myself. But, at the end of the day, top scars don't belong just to transmasc people, they belong to nonbinary people too. AFAB people who don't seek being gendered one way or the other get top surgery, too. That's the group I feel closest aligned with, (except I want to be gendered both ways, simultaneously, rather than not being gendered at all).

ANYWAYS. thats the deep and thorough explanation of my gender i've been holding back from sharing on twitter. I don't even want to begin to imagine how many tweets long that thread would be LMAO.

back to breaking down your responses, sorry for the tangent. I felt that it was pertinent to illustrate how this tattoo is still a symbol of progress and pride to me, and how I relate to it through my experiences, so you can understand me. I still care about you. you will always be a friend in my mind, so you deserve it.

"Binding is damaging and painful, you have no idea the pain transmasc people go through" — I am well aware of the side effects of binding. They are the reason I didn't pursue HRT to obtain a chest, with binding as a solution for me still wanting a flat chest simultaneously.

That being said, I am living with the consequences of binding. My partner cannot breathe normally, and I constantly feel concern for his wellbeing whenever we need to do something physical (move furniture, walk uphill, etc.) BECAUSE of his history of binding. I know the damage it does.

"You have no idea the pain of growing up transmasc. It is not yours, it will never be yours" — this is true, though I could similarly say that you have no idea the pain of my strange feelings either. Just because we don't experience each other's exact pain doesn't stop us from feeling empathy for each other, for wanting better for each other.

The difference between us is—when I see someone in pain, i want them to do whatever they need to do to relieve that pain. when YOU see someone in pain—with MY pain, my strange pain that you don't understand (that you THINK you understand, but you don't)—your instinct is to use YOUR pain as a justification for hurting others. The fact that you're hurting is an awful one, and I am sorry I can't help you relieve it. But when you see another person happy because they've found a way to relieve some of THEIR OWN pain, it makes you angry. It doesn't make you happy that I found a way to transform my painful, dysphoric relationship with my body into a euphoric one.

as a community, we should rejoice and be happy when other trans people successfully make steps towards defeating their personal struggles with their body. We should be empathetic to each other's experiences. I understand your anger, but its not justified.

"You are going to lose many friends and make many enemies for this" — so far the only friend I've lost is you. all of my irl friends have been supportive, my partners are supportive, my online friends are supportive. Do all of them understand my complicated gender identity? No. I think maybe a lot of them think its a little stupid, honestly. But they're still happy for me. I'm very lucky to have friends who love me. I love them a lot, too, and they know it.

The enemies I've made from this don't know me, and I don't know them. They're not worth my time. You're different—YOU, anon, are worth my time. I know you. I care for you. Long after you have buried me in the ground for being a horrible person (in your eyes), i will still be thinking positively of you. I will still be rooting for you. That will never change.

"I don't want... you to publicly share this" — I'm sorry but you can't control what I do. If you wanted this to be private we should've had a private conversation about it. I was waiting for you to DM me and you never did. I wanted to have this conversation, and this is the place we have to do it, now that you've sent me these anons.

"I can tell you've worded it so its [hard to tell that you're not transmasc]" — This is true. I don't feel like spending 2 hours typing heartfelt responses to people I don't know on x dot com. (Thats how long its been, btw. I've been writing this for 2 hours now. Hopefully that stands for something—to help you understand how much I believe you deserve this explanation. I believe you deserve a lot more than what i've given you.)

I did not obscure my AGAB on purpose. I just think it doesn't matter and is not important enough to disclose. I'm nonbinary and I want a nonbinary body. That should be the end of the story, as far as the greater trans community should be concerned.

"You need to publicly come clean that you aren't transmasc"

quite frankly, its a little uncomfortable for you to assert that I should have to "come clean" about my AGAB. An interest in the genitals of trans people is something transphobes are particularly keen on. I think you should consider the parallels between your arguments and theirs. You still have some internalized transphobia to unpack.

I was there once too. I've already forgiven you.

Anon 2

I feel like I've already addressed your arguments here. I don't care what people who don't know me have to say about me. They don't know me.

You should consider your status as a popular furry artist, anon. Its not unreasonable to assume that people agreed with you purely because of your following. I've received supportive messages from several people I met in your discord server about my tattoo, so I can assure you that not everyone in your circle feels the same way you do.

Anon 3

I'm not lying about being transgender. Nonbinary is a transgender identity. Your interest in my AGAB, asserting that I need to come clean about it, is a transphobic assertion. Attacking a nonbinary person because you feel that they aren't being trans the right way is textbook nonbinaryphobia.

Anon 4 — "My binder made me sick today, i couldn't eat i felt faint and ill" — i'm genuinely sorry to hear that. No one deserves to have to endure that kind of pain for so long. You deserve better. You deserve to look at your body and feel happy. Everyone does.

"I felt sick remembering what you did. That you don't take transmasc pain seriously, or respect us" — I do take your pain seriously, and I respect you as a person. This long thoughtful post is evidence of that.

I understand the disgust you feel at the thought that someone would want to feel the pain you feel. But thats never what I wanted. Thats what you believe I wanted.

The truth is I have my own pain too. my own, personal, complex pain, which i've attempted to explain above. I shouldn't have to be burdened with explaining it to everyone who asks. I don't owe them my soul. I owe my soul to my friends and my partners, and I give it freely when asked by them. You asked. on tumblr dot com, my friend.

If thats not respect, then I don't know what is. Respect is a willingness to meet another person where they're at. I know that when you're hurting its hard to see the hurt you're inflicting onto others. Please trust me when I say I've been there, too. I've hurt. I've hurt others because my pain said that it was justified. I'm healing from it, from the guilt and the shame. I'm finally stopping the cycle of pain and self-hatred within myself. I hope you can get here with me someday, too.

I meant it when I said you'll always be a friend to me. I hope you take my words to heart.

have a nice day, thanks for reading 💛

#transphobia #no editing or peer review we die like men

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twila-star · 4 months

Text

Hey guys! Did you miss me?!

I'll admit I have been taking a much needed break from tumblr while I try to work on my unfinished WIPs to post. I have just been feeling uninspired and stuck so I've been working on the way I used to write and enjoy doing it too.

This includes little snippets and one-shots of aus I've thought of and wrote in an inspired frenzy, no editting, just raw, lol.

I don't know how much consistent activity I'll have moving forward but I feel like I'm making good progress with my creative block and hope to show all my new projects I'm working on now!

So here's one of my WIPs, au where there's a 'zombie' infection turning people into chimeras!

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Killua felt the chill roll down his back along the sweat rolling down his tense spine. Killua’s eyebrow twitched as he heard the click of Gon’s gun when he shifted in front of him and Killua reminded himself to be as still as he possibly could as he gazed at the broad span of Gon’s shoulders instead of the people beyond him. Killua could have snorted as he saw the red light reflecting off of Gon’s black leathers.

“Gon, move-” Pokkle started, in a reasonable, soothing tone.

“Shut it.” Gon growled sharply, and Killua had to hand it to Pokkle for keeping his cool in this situation but he’s sure that having a whole guard detail beside him helps with that. Pokkle breaths in a deep breath, Gon trains his gun on the movement smoothly, trying his best to put reasoning behind his words without escalating. It was why he was voted to be in charge of their little sanctuary group.

“Gon, you see what the indicator says,” Pokkle said, eyes firm but full of sorrow, at this point everyone knew everyone else intimately like family. “He is infected.”

Outside, somewhere above them, a chimera cry screeched like glass, sending a skittering of fear down Killua’s spine, ebbed by the fact he was still safe in their community bunker. For now anyway. The cry was right on time, tragically hilarious as though as reminder of the vicious monster Killua will soon turn into. The glaring danger they’ve all worked hard to protect and hide each other from. If Killua is going to turn into that, the answer on what to do next is obvious.

“No!” Gon’s voice boomed, his frame blocking most of Killua’s center from any shots the 6 guns pointing back in response to Gon’s one might do. Gon’s voice was adament in resolution, but Killua could hear how it shook. What he was scared of now, there must be a landry list Killua could only guess. He wished he could turn Gon around and ease him as he’s done a thousand times before. “Killua won’t turn into that. He won’t.” Gon’s head moved a fraction of an inch, as though he wanted to turn his head and check on Killua himself, but Gon definitely knows better than to take his eyes off who was in front of him. Killua knows them just as well not to make any sudden movements despite still being a sentient human, not a merciless chimera just yet.

“Gon, every instance we have ever had of someone being infected never results in anything other than them becoming a murderous chimera. You remember that last instance with Reina, and what happened afterwards was a disaster. You agreed for the best of everyone’s interest was to never let anything like that happen again.” Pokkle said, and pointedly looked up at their screening device behind them. It had two lights at the top, black marker written over the bulbs, human over the green light and ‘chimera’ over the red light. The one that was lit up now once Killua ran through diagnostics.

Gon’s arm holding the gun shook as though he was fighting against logic and his emotions. Only Killua’s eyes moved as he carefully regarded the back of Gon’s head, and gods he wished he could see what face he was making, figure out what he was thinking with just a glance in his eyes. They were close enough that they could practically read each other’s minds.

“That was different! THIS is different- Killua- it was never suppose to happen to someone I know!” Gon said, his voice raw and heartbreaking with emotion. “It was never suppose to happen to Killua.” Gon said, his voice gravelly low and Killua knew he was crying. Killua only allowed himself a small intake of emotion charged breath, still keeping with his self preservation instinct to be a still and unthreatening statue. He barely had time to let the knowledge of what this meant for himself- slowly losing his mind to a sickness that will cause him to kill anything that moves outside fellow chimeras (no, no killing, not again), Killua’s heart instead was breaking for Gon. Gon would at least still have his mind, left alone to long after Killua while Killua won’t remember a thing about Gon. He will lose his best friend, his everything, to a rampant pandemic creating half animal powerful monsters.

Pokkle’s eyes watered in a snap moment and a tear fell loose at Gon’s insistence. Killua didn’t dare his heart to flutter with something as dangerous as hope at the look in his eyes. Pokkle glanced left and right at the guards training their guns steadily on the two bunker valuable agents, and frowned, shaking his head as thought he only know just saw what was happening.

“G-Gon…” Pokkle’s voice broke and Killua saw Gon’s shoulders drop a fragment. It caused the tight coil in Killua’s chest to unwind a smidge in turn. “What would you have me do? He’s a danger to everyone here if he stays, he’s another dangerous number if we let him go. There is no cure yet. What would you have me do?” Pokkle sounds as stuck and shaken as Gon. Pokkle has his own burdens, his own people he needs to protect- and the one willing to make the most brutal of decisions to do that. Ponzu, Killua wondered if Pokkle was thinking what he would do in Gon’s shoes if it was his life partner Ponzu that triggered the chimera indication.

“Let us go.” Gon said. Us, he said. Not Killua.

“Gon…” Killua dared to speak for the first time since that terrible moment after his diagnosis, a panicked warning in his voice.

“Gon, that’s-” Pokkle started too, his eyes hardening again.

“Let us go!” Gon said again, louder and more determined, and Killua knows that tone. He’s been on the receiving end of Gon’s stubborn mind before. “I’m not leaving Killua and I’m not letting you kill him. We leave the bunker, you can keep everyone safe, and I’ll bring us as far away from here as possible so there won’t be a chance he can attack our usual patrols and scavenging spots.” Gon said, his voice resolute like he held the simple answer to everything. Pokkle’s frown eased but Killua was still beside himself. More so now that Pokkle seemed to be considering it.

“Gon, that’s a death sentence. You go with Killua, then when he changes, he’ll kill you. If you don’t die to the other chimera before or after.” Pokkle argued. If Killua didn’t know they would shoot him on the spot for it, he would jump forward in front of Gon and shake him by the shoulders and tell him there was no snowball;s chance in hell he was letting Gon do this.

“I…” Gon paused and seemed to have trusted he made enough progress with Pokkle to turn his head enough to meet Killua’s burning glare with one of his eyes, then back to the guard detail. “I love Killua. I don’t want this for him. If I need to, if he asks me to, if it comes down to it-” Gon said.

“That’s a lot of if’s Gon.” Killua hissed, livid.

“I’ll put him down myself. But I want to be with him.” Gon said, letting out a shaky breath, his shoulder’s tension finally loosened up. Killua bit his lip, a sharpened fang piercing his skin (was his teeth always this sharp?) and he made eye contact with Pokkle. He put as much pleading as he could into his eyes and shook his head slowly. Silently begging Pokkle to force Gon to let him go. If not just with a bullet through his head, at least to leave the bunker but to keep Gon here. Pokkle has dealt with Gon and Killua often as they are the number one agents to go out for scavenge and come back with the most results with the least possible setbacks or injuries. Pokkle knows Killua doens’t show a lot of emotion often, or even vulnerability, so he hoped Pokkle saw now that he was desperate as he poured his will to make sure tey stick to protocol. Eliminate infecteds. Keep the majority safe.

Even if Killua goes, the bunker still has a good bet with Gon helping to provide.

Pokkle took in his look and then regarded Gon. He closed his eyes, breathing in deep, and Killua knew he was about to make one of those brutal hard decisions.

“Fine. You both go.” Pokkle answered with a set eyes, eyes still glossy.

“What?!” Killua cried out, straightening up more as Gon sagged in relief before straightening up again and nodding, all business like he was given a package to deliver to an ally community. “Pokkle, you can’t be serious! I’m screwed but you have to save Gon! You can’t let him do this!” Killua said, and took his first step forward since he stepped out the machine. The guard’s guns raised again in alarm just as Gon turned and shoved a crooked arm into Killua’s to drag them back out past the machine.

“Gods bless.” Pokkle frowned, sad with a tragic frown as he watched Gon use his superior strength to muscle Killua out. Hah, he didn’t know tragic, if Killua ever got back here and got his hands on Pokkle, he was going to show him tragedy.

“Pokkle! Bring Gon back- He can’t stay out there with me! Gon-!” Killua cried and realized he was talking to the wrong idiot, because that idiot was only doing what this other idiot wants. “/Gon!/” Killua hissed, tripping over his own feet at the pace Gon was dragging him backwards. But it didn’t matter, he might as well have been being carried by Gon. “Gon, stop please, you can’t come with me! I’m sorry I was careless and I got infected but this isn’t your purgatory to deal with! Go back, please, we don’t know how this transmits, you could still be clean. Let me go and tell them you change your mind please..!” Killua cried, trying to find his footing to give Gon some kind of resistance but they were already up the stairs, the light of the door illuminating them. Killua barely recognized his voice as his own, it was pitched high in panic and desperation, and he was started to feel a rising frenzy in his chest to lash out and stop what’s happening, to protect his best friend. “Gon, at least look at me!” Killua’s voice cracked in a screech.

Gon stopped before they exited out to the decrepit streets above and whipped his head to glare at Killua. Killua’s chest pierced with cold shock as he sucked in a gasp and whatever words he was going to say. Gon’s face was contorted between rage and grief, tears streaks still on his face from when he was presumably crying in front of Pokkle moments before. His lips were pulled back showing gnashed teeth and sucking in gasping breaths, probably from exertion having to haul Killua physically up stairs while he was struggling against him. And Killua could see through everything, something he sees in Gon rarely and yet much too often, an emotion Killua always wants to wipe away from Gon’s face and bolster his strength- it mirrored what Killua felt in this moment.

Gon was terrified.

“/Don’t/…” Gon hissed, lowering his face closer to Killua, rage burning in those eyes. “Ask me something as impossible as that.” Killua pressed his lips together, his chest burning with so many emotions.

Now he knows why Pokkle let Gon go.

“Gon…” Killua whispered and he noted the wobble to Gon’s lip. Killua frowned, his heart hurt. He slowly shook his head. “I love you too…” He answered Gon’s earlier confession. They’ve never said it to each other before. Gon’s eyes widened, softer more liquid emotion pour into his eyes. Killua only took a breath before they were back on the same wavelength with each other, as always, and their lips were smashed together and their tongues delved into each other’s desperately, selfishly. They don’t know how long Killua has or if this will be the last time they can kiss like this. Killua’s chest roared with emotion and nearly overwhelmed him, but soon the ones that overcame every other emotion was love and affection for Gon. He was ruined and probably obsessed, and Killua realized Gon was probably the same way. Even if Gon stayed, he was as good as a liability, completely useless to the community as he either self destructed or lashed out and isolated himself from everyone after Killua left or died. The brutal decision Pokkle made was cutting down the community efficiency in half letting go both halves of the power agents.

Killua could barely process to feel bad for pokkle and the rest of the community when he just felt overwhelming relief that this terrible curse won’t be spent by himself but he’ll have his best friend to go through it with. They parted with heated, tentative pants. Killua’s etched Gon’s face into his very precious memory as Gon looked at him with those beautiful eyes he fell in love with.

“Together then…” Killua whispered and Gon nodded, trying to hold down a smile. Killua didn’t bother and smiled freely. They headed out as they did a hundred times, Killua watching Gon’s back and Killua at ease knowing Gon’s got his back, and kept to cover to avoid the chimeras.

#hxh #hxau #hxh au #killua #gon #Chimera au #Hunterxchimera #Hxc #Hunterxchimera au #chimera killua #no editting we die like men

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nuttynutcycle · 6 months

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Prompt fill for @epiclamer prompt fill game! “Okay I know it was literally JUST posted but what about a switcheroo, tall villain and short hero :]'

“Little one,” he hummed, “Come out of your hiding place.” His grin sharpened as he reduced a pine tree into splinters and broken branches. “I won’t bite.”

That was less than reassuring. The protagonist clutched the stolen plans closer to her chest, barely daring to breathe.

The antagonist had sneered when he found the empty case, smiled when the protagonist barrelled out of their hiding place through a window and laughed as she ran into the forest. Equal parts leisurely and methodical, the glint in his eyes riveled the one lining the axe.

“Leave the plans behind. Still time to escape.” the antagonist cut down another tree and the protagonist winced. She curled her body and crawled under a fallen tree, moving as quickly as she dared.

After weeks of preparation, three bribed guards and nine bypassed levels of security, leaving the plans was not an option. Her breath hitched when she saw the electric fence come into view. The buzz in the air meant the antagonist had gotten the power back on before she had predicted. Stomach on the ground, she wiggled into a rotting log. Gross, but effective.

“I know your face.”

She unrolled the plans and winced at another tree crashing through the underbrush. Her eyes flickered over the diagrams, committing as much as she could to memory.

“One of my more impressive talents is my ability to find people,” the antagonist said as casually as having a chat about the weather. “And those they care about.” Another tree fell, skewering the moss below. “Can you really protect everyone?”

No, but that’s a problem for later. She took one last look at the plans, counted to three and crawled out of the log and into plain sight. The sticks hurt her hands and the dust made her cough.

The antagonist grinned, eyes shining through the haze.

“Are these your plans?” She held up the plans in mock surrender. “I thought they were your diary. My bad.”

He twirled his axe. “Giving up that easily is a disappointing end.”

“What can I say?” Her shrug did nothing to hide her tremor. “You make very effective threats.”

“One of my many talents. Drop them on the ground.”

“I’d like to make a deal,” She swallowed dryly. “I give you the plans, you turn off the electric fence for the next ten minutes.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Counteroffer – I put my axe in your knee and take the plans before your first scream is finished.”

“Shame, I was on track to win the ‘Best Legs’ contest at work.” The protagonist slowly backed away.

The antagonist laughed at that, some mirth entering his grin. The tip of the axe rested against the ground. “Alright, have it your way. As soon as my property is back inside, I’ll turn the fence off for ten minutes.”

“…I have your word?” The antagonist was many things, but in their line of work, his word was as close to honourable as you could get.

The antagonist nodded.

Maybe the protagonist would regret this, but she tossed the plans to the antagonist. The antagonist reached up and casually placed the plans on an overarching tree branch – out of the protagonist's reach.

“Thank you for returning my work.” The antagonist’s expression shifted, eyes sharpening and smile hardening.

Welp. “This was nice.” She struggled to keep her voice steady as he matched her backward scramble step for step. “But my team is waiting for me, I really must be going-“

“It was foolish,” his hand slammed into a tree beside her, sending splinters and wood chips flying, “to memorize my property.”

The protagonist’s voice faltered. “We have a deal.”

“And as soon as you’re secured in a cell and the plans are in their case, I’ll cut power for ten minutes. I’m a man of my word.” He levelled the axe at the protagonist, and this close, the bloodstains were clearly visible. “Walk.”

The protagonist’s breath hitched as she turned back towards the imposing building.

“Don’t be upset.” The antagonist said from behind, axe twirling. “Desperation suits you.”

#my writing #writing #prompt #prompt fill #snippet #writing snippet #heroes and villains #hero x villain #protagonist and antagonist #sorry this took so long!#no editing we die like men #sorry for the crappy writing

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blue-bujo · 7 months

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Bowled Over (Roy Kent x Reader) Chapter Masterlist

You work at a bowling alley and a young girl named Phoebe has a birthday party there. You catch her uncle's eye.

Roy Kent x female reader.

Comment below to join the taglist!

Chapter One: The Other Beautiful Game

Chapter Two: Being Better

Chapter Three: Dual-Purpose Distraction

Chapter Four: Feelings

Chapter Five: First Date

Chapter Six: A Disastrous Date

Chapter Seven: Deserving Something Good

Chapter Eight: Roy Kent, Baby Whisperer

Chapter Nine: coming end of January/beginning of February

#roy kent bowled over #roy kent #roy kent x reader #ted lasso #ted lasso fanfiction #mutual pining #slowish burn #reader is a bowler #because I was a bowler #hence the terrible pun title #my writing #no editing we die like men

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themothcriminal · 2 years

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I'm a man of my word

#no transitions we die like men #+ I'm so so tired and can't be bothered #jerma #jerma985 #jerma edit #jerma fancam

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feldsparse · 5 months

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There's Nothing Warm Between Us:

Il Dottore (Zandik) x AFAB Reader

(SFW, Fluff)

(Silly little drabbles I thought up in my head of a Modern Girl in Tevyat situation. Don't ask me how they met just know (Reader) was a STEM girlie. Residental lunatic needed an assistant and now they have awkward moments together cause they're both emotionally stunted. That's it that's the premise)

An exhausted animal sits in her little office at the end of the day, the door closed and a blanket around her shoulders. A moments peace usually wasted away by scribbling at reports and schematics. Experiments are more fun, well if you don't mind the rotten work that follows with it. She doesn't, not anymore at least, the blood washes down the drain at the end of the day anyways. There could be better ways at spending time than writing. Sleeping perhaps? Gods what those eyebags under her eyes would give just to get some fucking sleep. The lack of melatonin in Teyvat is a downright blasphemy. Big pharma and American healthcare had its wonderful little perks. Now she works for a man of many faces who you should probably never accept drugs from. Maybe when her courage arises to ask one of the more...softer? Segments for anything akin to horse tranquilizer then maybe. Zeta or Epsilon would probably help she thought, but when one listens the others will no doubtedly start asking as well. Damn Dottore and his connected consciousness. Wait would he help? The assistant tilted her head at the thought before shaking it indignantly. He has enough problems, his segments making up about twenty-four and himself making seventy-five of them. She's not going to be the one that breaks it to a hundred. Forcing her eyes awake and doubling down on the reports in front of her, the clock striking at five when she walks out of her own office and places the papers in a 'Done' folder outside of Dottore's office. A measured knock follows on the door to signify it's delivery, better than bothering him to tell him they're done. A couple segments passing by and nodding at her in greeting, Beta excitedly telling of his latest experiment. Delta notices the exhausted look in her eyes drags him away quickly, a thankful smile given from the assistant in turn. She retires to her office again and props her feet on her desk and leans back in the chair. Despite the futon next to the desk she knows if she falls asleep there she's waking up at 3am feeling like shit. Just for a moment, nobody will probably bother her. She leaves the blanket on the futon and falls asleep, embraced by the cold chill and the arms of the office chair.

POV Change:

A knock sounds at the door, Zandik stands at your office, wanting to go over some of the results from your report earlier. Hoping you haven't gone back to your quarters, or he could always bother you, it's not like you have anything better to do. After no response he checks to make sure your door is locked, surprisingly not. Opening the door slightly he lets out a soft sigh at your appearance. Arms crossed over your chest and head leaning onto your shoulder. He walks into your office quietly and debates waking you up for a moment. Most of his segments have been noticing your decreased energy as of late, a loss of weight as well. He frowns at the idea that you remind him of himself sometimes, though you're not a monster like he is. You've been distancing yourself again, most notably after the 4th anniversary of you appearing in Tevyat.

Should he ask how you're doing?

You'll probably just say you're fine and go back to working. A fools approach to a deer ready to flee at anything unknown. He gently lifts your glasses off your face and sets them on the desk.

Should he move you?

Would you wake up?

He tests his thoughts and leans down to lift up your legs and slides his other arm around the middle of your back. After making sure you don't wake up he moves you onto the futon, startling slightly when you shift around and curl in on your body. The warmth of your body seeps past his gloves and makes him retract his grip from prolonging it's welcome. He eyes the blanket and decides against covering you up, it's much more believable that you wouldn't if you moved yourself. He turns your chair, looks at the scene, and quickly and quietly removes himself from your office. Turning down the thermostat in hopes you wake up cold enough to move back to your own quarters.

Hours Later:

You wake up cold on the futon, looking around confused as your vision was blurred. Looking up to see your glasses setting on your desk, and office chair turned. It wouldn't be the first time you've moved half asleep. As you stood up you put on your glasses, slowly blinking to adjust from waking up you noticed something.

The stack of reports you finished earlier sitting neatly stapled and papercliped. Lying on your desk.

#dottore #dottore x reader #dottore x you #dottore x fem!reader #dottore x y/n #Jesus im so tired writing this sorry if its bad #no editing we die like men #dottore is zandik #god i wanna write about his goofy little segments

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