#and then i ended up hurting myself | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

snipersfucker · 10 months

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request from @infintyfandoms: Thought! Mirage is always so reckless, well what if one time he went too far and hurt his friend or s/o (either)?? I feel like he’d blame himself so bad - even if he was blind sighted by a distracted driver. Never drive crazy again or not drive around again or what??

angsty mirage x fem!reader times. thought of making it a headcanon thingy but nah. this one might need a warning that there are descriptions of serious injuries. and im also writing this on 0 hours of sleep thank you very much

A silver Porsche parked in front of the vinyl store you just walked out of was catching the attention of every passerby. Both men and women's eyes were stopping on the vehicle for a bit longer than they would on any regular car, their heads turning slightly to allow them to do that.

Mirage loved that. He loved transforming in different models everyday, the next one even more prestigious than the one before. Just to get that attention every single time.

You noticed a couple of teenage girls staring at your boyfriend, and even though you were fully aware they were doing so only because he was a good-looking car, you still rolled your eyes at it.

Your feet led you to the Porsche and you hopped in. Before getting the chance to point out the shameless staring of the group of teens, Mirage spoke up, "Whatcha got there?"

Your gaze had shifted to the vinyl case before you placed it down on the passenger's seat without much thought.

"Music," you responded casually in a light tone, putting your hands on the steering wheel, even though you knew Mirage would be doing the driving. "You got fans," you murmured under your breath but Mirage could obviously hear it. Your eyes landed on the girls again, and although you weren't particularly jealous, you still didn't appreciate it too much.

"Hell yeah, I do, baby," he said proudly, the grin in his voice palpable, even though you couldn't see it at the moment. And then, he added, a little bit more quietly as if he was saying this to the man who literally stopped in front of the car to admire him, "You wish you looked like that, huh?"

You let out an amused snort, and patted the gear stick with your palm to give him a sign to drive out of the parking lot. "C'mon."

"Let me honk at him," he'd asked for your permission seconds before doing it anyway without you allowing him to, causing the man to jump in his spot and then walk away. You just smacked the passenger's seat in disapproval, not even going on a rant about his behaviour because it was a daily occurrence for Mirage to do whatever he wanted.

"Hey!" he exclaimed, offended by your sudden reaction, as if he wasn't used to it, "I'm all for violence unless it's directed towards me," he muttered, sounding like an annoyed child. Then, without any warning, he revved the engine and drove out of the parking lot onto the main road. You only rolled your eyes without a word but then, you noticed how fast he was passing all the other cars in his lane, which he would usually cuss out for being slow, as if their owners weren't driving under the speed limit for safety reasons.

"Mirage…" you warned him, using his full name instead of a nickname, which he did not appreciate but decided not to speak on it and just change the topic.

"Jus' tell me it's not George Michael," he said with a short sigh, as if it was very important to him that it, in fact, was not George Michael.

"Mirage..." you warned him once again, ignoring his words, gripping the steering wheel with much more force now to hopefully get him to slow down.

"Nope," he said simply, understanding what you meant without you even having to say it. If he was in his humanoid form, he'd probably cross his arms on his chest and shake his head with that signature smirk indicating that he knew he was in control of the situation. "That's what you get for hitting your poor boy," he added, sounding very content with himself, revving the engine once more just to show you that he, in fact, was not planning on slowing down.

You scoffed. "You deserved it."

"For what?" he began talking in that specific, overly innocent tone, and you just knew he was going to say something sarcastic that would only annoy you even more, "For being so cute and funny?" He asked rhetorically, as if he wasn't aware that he really needn't have honked at that man, and then drive as recklessly as he normally would when you weren't inside him.

But he was very much aware. It was just that his pride didn't allow him to apologise.

"For being a little shit." You decided not to banter with him as per usual, but just to get straight to the point. Even though you were possibly risking starting an argument between you two, you just needed to reprimend him at the moment, especially now that you noticed how nonchalant he was about it.

"Ouch," he pretended to be hurt by what you just said. And although he wasn't actually offended, he still wasn't really in the mood to let you win.

So he sped up even more.

Noticing the opportunity presented right in front of him, the almost empty road ahead of you two, he floored the gas pedal, making you let out a short, quiet noise at the impact in which you got pushed back into the seat.

"What the fuck are you doing?" you asked him with anger in your voice, not raising it just yet, and not actually expecting a response. But you got one anyway:

"Takin' you on a ride date, baby," he answered sarcastically, his overly sweet tone making him sound even more annoying than before.

"Mirage, I—"

If he wasn't as sure in his abilities as he was, he'd never drive over three times faster than the speed limit allowed, never wanting to actually risk you getting hurt in any way.

And it wasn't even his fault, when a sport's car drove right into his left side, before you could even finish your sentence.

It wasn't his fault that the car ran a red light, that it was supposed to stop and wait for him to just drive away without getting thrown to the right by the impact.

It wasn't his fault that he was now rolling over for the fifth time, his roof and sides hitting the hard asphalt every single time.

You weren't even making any noises anymore so that he would know that you were with him, conscious, alive. He ignored the sound of his glass shattering, his metal body getting scratched, bent and painfully ruined, just to be able to hear your breath.

The other car was in a much worse condition, but he didn't care. The only thing occupying his mind was you, your heartbeat he would do anything to hear again. He needed to make sure you were still there.

He felt it all. He felt the pain that came with getting drove into by another car, with flipping over with unimaginable speed and force. But he needed to make sure you were alright.

And he couldn't even do anything to stop his worst nightmare from beginning to play right in front of his very optics.

Then, after a few moments that felt like hours to him, everything finally came to an end. The hiss coming out of him was still hearable, the hot steam, the liquid pouring out of his fual lines threatened to mix with the flames growing with every passing second. But it was finally quiet; no noise of metal hitting the asphalt distracted him from listening to your body.

His spark nearly exploded with relief when he heard the faint sound of your heartbeat. He wanted to transform, to be able to hold you, to get you out of him so that his bent roof wouldn't be pressing against your wounded head.

When people began to gather up around him, he realised he had a decision to make: to transform and risk getting hunted down just like it happened to Bumblebee, or to stay there and pray to Primus, pray to the people now surrounding him that they'd help you and make sure you were okay.

He wanted to scream at them to hurry up, to get you out, to make that heartbeat of yours sound more promising. To let him know that you weren't going to—

The idea of losing you forever crossed his mind for a split second before he could even stop it.

And it was his fault that he was going a lot over the speed limit, too distracted by the need to tease you, to win the argument, and show you that you had nothing to say in the way he was behaving.

It was his fault that there was crimson running down your forehead, the drops rolling past the hairs of your eyebrows, all the way down to your jaw, then staining your shirt with your own blood.

It was his fault that your body felt lifeless against his ruined upholstery, the only motion it was making was an almost undetectable rise of your chest every couple of seconds.

His train of thoughts got interrupted by the distant sound of sirens getting closer and closer to him. The people were talking, someone was yelling, it all making an irritating mixture of human noises he didn't need to hear at the moment.

Mirage felt his left door being opened or rather being torn out of him in a couple painful motions. He didn't care.

He just wanted them to take you away from him.

When he no longer felt your weight on his driver's seat, he almost let a sound of relief through his radio, but just now noticed that it's been ruined, making it impossible for him to do so. He hadn't paid attention to it earlier, too stunned to be able to say anything to you, even though your name and endless questions if you were okay wanted to escape him.

Cold liquid hit his hot metal body, the lower temperature of it somewhat helping him get in a clearer state of mind. Even though he felt deserving of being on fire, he appreciated the slight relief it gave him.

Somebody placed you on a stretcher, put you carefully in another vehicle, and then closed the door. He couldn't see you anymore but was sure the humans would take good care of you. Better care than he was able to offer.

The loud sirens hit his audio receptors before he registered the ambulance leaving the crash site.

And the sound was still bouncing against the interior walls of his helm every single day since the accident. The imagine of your limp body, his steering wheel covered in your blood, your head pressed uncomfortably against the remains of his left window...

Two whole weeks passed and he couldn't think of anything else but you. You in that horrible state he put you in himself.

The guilt was eating him alive, and even though he'd make Noah visit you everyday in the hospital to make sure your condiction was stable, he still couldn't help but beat himself up and be worried sick.

"Concussion, five broken ribs, broken arm and nose, and she was fucking bleeding from her liver, man," your mutual friend told him after leaving the hospital for the first time, after the doctors allowed anybody to visit you, even though you weren't conscious yet.

It affected Noah nearly as much as it did the robot. The only difference was that the human had no reason to blame himself for it, because it wasn't his recklessness that nearly killed you.

Mirage fell silent.

He got quiet, very quiet, unusually for him. Every Autobot he used to hang out with knew what happened, how much you meant to him, and how affected he was by the accident. They noticed the sudden shift in his behaviour, the once bubbly personality disappearing just so he could dwell in guilt in peace.

The thing that bothered him a lot among others was that he couldn't see you. He couldn't walk into the hospital you were being taken care of in. He couldn't sit next to you and tell you how painfully sorry he was for doing it to you, for putting you in danger, for hurting you so much your pain radiated off you body and made him feel it, too.

Noah insisted on repairing him, and he agreed purely because then he'd be able to park in front of the hospital to be as near you as possible.

But he was a wreck, both physically and emotionally.

And it still didn't change when you finally got discharged. He was not the one to pick you up from the hospital, it was Noah and Bee. He couldn't face you.

You asked about him when you woke up from the coma, your friend sitting next to you on the uncomfortable hospital chair only shrugging in response, telling you he didn't know anything about Mirage, where he was or how he was.

It was a lie. The robot was spending his time either in the garage, getting fixed by his only human friend, or out on the road, hoping that maybe, just maybe someone would crash into him again, making him feel that pain again. That pain he thought he deserved for harming you.

And when you insisted on Noah taking you to the garage to see him, after getting the information about his location out of the poor human, Mirage couldn't help but feel even worse than before.

You were alive, of course you were alive, but he also did notice the way you winced with every step, how dull the colour of your skin was compared to the times before the accident, how fragile you looked, standing there in front of him with Noah not leaving your side in case you'd collapse onto the floor.

You were alive, but also in so much pain he couldn't even look at you without feeling a strong sting in his spark.

His optics shifted to Noah in an instant, as if he was trying to bash him for taking you here, which he responded to out loud with his hands raised in a defensive gesture, "She threatened me."

You didn't even know what you were feeling at that moment. A mixture of sadness, annoyance, impatience, and hurt made you unable to say anything, forcing you to just stand there in silence. Suddenly, a short wave of pain washed over your right side, making you grimace and put your only free palm on the area surrounding your liver.

As soon as Mirage noticed your movement, he made an involuntary step towards you, his servos extended in your direction, as if he was trying to both comfort you and catch you if you were to fall.

Noah immediately asked, "You okay?" His eyes shifting between your hand on your side and your pained face. You just nodded.

Uncomfortable silence fell between the three of you, and the other human was close to replacing it with whistling just so that he wouldn't have to stand there awkwardly without a word.

"Imma just leave you two, yeah?" He scratched the back of his neck, his feet already leading him in the direction of the exit. "Jus'... scream if you die or somethin'..." he added, the awkwardness making him joke about things he normally wouldn't joke about.

And then, he left. He left poor Mirage with even poorer you. Alone.

You let out a grunt, making your way to the nearest chair to sit down. He was ready to help you with everything, but he didn't know if you even wanted him to, so he just stayed in his spot.

"You look bad," you commented, lazily motioning to his beaten-up body with your hand. The raspiness, the weakness in your voice almost made him drop to his knees.

He responded unsurely after a pause, a forced, unamused smirk on his face plate, "...You should see the other guy."

It was awkward. Awkward as never before, you two having always found it pretty easy to communicate with each other. But now... Now he couldn't help but feel that unpleasant feeling in his tank when you spoke up and made him say something back to you.

And it was his fault.

Your reaction to his little joke wasn't something you could control. A short, quiet chuckle left your mouth, causing you to grab your right side even more tightly and a wince of pain on your face to deepen.

She can't even laugh.

He felt so excruciatingly bad he had to fight himself not to transform into a car and just drive away.

You wanted to tell him that you've been told the other driver didn't make it. But you knew the war it would start in his mind if you shared that information with him, so you stayed silent.

"You look terrible," he muttered after a few moments of observing your body, as if to himself to comment on the damage he'd done.

You snorted, shaking your head in amusement. "That's exactly what every woman likes to hear," you responded, deciding that a little banter would be better than sitting without any words being exchanged.

Mirage's eyes widened slightly as he took a step towards you, his servos up in the air again in a specific gesture that indicated that he didn't actually mean it like that.

He had this tendency to make things worse with his words, and normally it wouldn't bother him at all, but this time it was you. He didn't want to make thing worse with you.

"No, no, you're pretty. Gorgeous, in my humble opinion. Walking perfection even," he wanted to correct himself, spurting word after word just to show you that he didn't want you to be mad at him. "Geez, I'm sorry," he added, bringing his servos to his face plate to cover it in... embarrassment.

Something new for him.

You shook your head, looking up at him with a small smile. "I do look kinda ter—"

Before you could finish your sentence, he said with much more confidence now, "...For everything."

He rarely apologised.

But you deserved to hear it. Even if you weren't ready to forgive him just yet, even if you were to never forgive him, he just needed you to know that he regretted it.

You frowned, opening your mouth to say something, but he interrupted you again, "Maybe I shouldn't have be the fastest car in Brooklyn that day. Maybe I should've listened to you and not be a little shit," he recalled the way you called him these few weeks ago, just minutes before the accident. With determination in his tone, he continued, "You can hate me, I can take it." But then, he changed his mind as soon as he realised he would prefer if you didn't hate him, "Actually. Hate me for the next three days at max. Please. If you don't want me to rip my vents out."

You snorted weakly once more, the movement of your body making you wince in pain again.

He finally found enough courage within himself to get closer to you. With a couple of steps, he kneeled down in front of you and extended one of his servos in your direction, as if non-verbally telling you to stop laughing and not cause yourself even more pain.

"'m sorry," he whispered his apology again, the sincere look in his optics showing you just how much he cared for you.

"It wasn't y—"

"It was," he interrupted you in a much more serious tone, but it was still filled with softness, "I was stupid..."

"Nothing new," you managed to blurt out before closing your eyes shut and grunting, a grimace on your face as you felt another sting of pain, which you were kind of used to now.

You opened your eyes and looked up at his worried optics observing your every move, his servos desperately wanting to touch and help you but he knew it'd only make things worse due to his size.

You let out a short chuckle at your own joke as soon as your body allowed you to.

"Not funny," he reprimanded you with a serious face, not finding your apparent discomfort amusing at all, even though he agreed with your words.

"You were just making jokes ab—"

"So?"

You rolled your eyes at him. "Child," you insulted him, fully aware how much he hated being called out on his childishness.

"I'm older than your cute little Earth, please," he scoffed.

"No, you're not," you deadpanned.

"...So?"

"I hate you," you said, although a small smile on your lips betrayed you.

"That's the spirit," he sighed but the corners of his lips curled up as well. A beat of silence passed and his gaze went back to your face, "I meant that."

You frowned slightly.

"I am sorry. For being the..." he was about to say something that would hurt his pride and ego, but decided it was worth it, "...the dumbest machine there is. Even a hairdryer is smarter than me," he insulted himself, hoping the sacrifice would make you like him again.

"You're right." You nodded, fighting back a chuckle.

He raised his arms in a playfully offended, confused gesture. "You could at least disagree, damn."

You shook your head in amusement.

After another beat of silence, he said seriously, "You're never coming inside me again."

"Wow."

"Should've worded it better, yeah..." he trailed off, "Primus, woman, give me a break." He let out a small laugh when he noticed your amused reaction to his sentence. "No, seriously... I... You're my girl, yeah? Don't want you to... You know, be in pain."

Why did he have to be so awkward about his feelings? Now that he finally had the chance to show you how much he loved you and never wanted to see you hurt again.

"I still have your..." he wanted to say that he still had your blood on some of his parts that didn't want to come off, but then decided it wasn't the best time to tell you that, "I almost lost my mind when I couldn't hear you," he confessed, his tone regaining its sincerity, the look in his optics describing his guilt to you without words.

He was referring to the moment he was so desperately trying to silence everything around him just to be able to find your heartbeat.

"I'm okay..." Your tone was soft, quiet, as if you were trying not to scare a lost, disoriented puppy.

"You're not okay," he disagreed with a slightly clenched jaw, angry at himself, not even for a second at you, "You..." He lowered himself so that he'd be able to whisper to you, as if saying these words more loudly would make them come true someday, "You almost died... I almost killed you..."

His face panel was close enough to your body for you to put your hand against his warm, metal cheek. Mirage immediately melted at the touch, his optics closing slowly just to allow him to savour the softness of your palm as much as he could.

"It wasn't your fault..." you started your monologue, this time the robot allowing you to continue, "I didn't die. I might have a broken bone or two..." He opened his eyes at this sentence, giving you a sad look. "...But I'll be alright. I didn't die," you repeated, which gained you an unsure nod from your boyfriend, who was now avoiding making eye contact with you.

You didn't force him to look up at you.

"I promise..." he trailed off, not wanting to show you how weak he felt, "I promise I'll never do that again..." His gaze went back to meet yours as you smiled softly, your eyes filled with love you had for him. "I'll never be dumber than a hairdryer, you have my unreliable word. And I'll never argue with you. I'll just say that I'm sorry, and that my woman is always right, and I'll shut up for as long as you want me to. And I... I'll never drive over twenty-five. Yeah, it hurts. But guess what hurts more. Seeing you with a broken bone or two."

Joking might've been the only way he would be able to overcome the sorrow he felt within himself. But it worked both for you and him. You really wouldn't have it any other way.

"Tell me," you whispered with a slight head tilt, slowly closing the gap between your faces.

He frowned, not understanding what you meant by that, but then the small smirk on your lips explained it to him.

He rolled his optics, the remains of guilt still evident in them, although with every passing second and every joke, they seemed to disappear bit by bit.

"'m sorry. My woman is always right," he repeated himself, pretending to find it very boring, as if he didn't really want to admit that. But he did. He did want you to know that he meant every single thing that rolled off his glossa.

Your smile widened immediately, your eyes closing as you minimized the gap between your and Mirage's lips completely.

And then, after long weeks of not being able to forgive himself for hurting the only woman he loved, he was finally able to feel relief.

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why-bless-your-heart · 14 days

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Girl in my writing group was shocked to learn that a typical novel length is 50k words.

She’s at 70k.

#I thought maybe I could encourage myself by doing a little visualization tracker.#I just ended up hurting my feelings.#I’m still at like. 8k words.

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confusedsiewmai · 7 days

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Sometimes, I don't like looking at Frieren fandom things is because it feels so alienating as an aroace person sometimes.

I relate to Frieren in a lot of ways. The way she goes through life at her own speed, the way she has a certain way of doing things that is hard to change, the way she struggles to fully understand others but is still compassionate and tries, and last but not least, the way she doesn't feel romantic or sexual attraction the way most people do.

So when a fan posts something about how elves like Frieren don't really feel romantic or sexual attraction and it's wonderful that Himmel's unrequited love with her is still portrayed as something beautiful, healthy and valued, but the comments section is just filled with people being like: No!!!! That's not true!!! Frieren loves Himmel even though she doesn't realise it!!!!

Or even the more "generous" ones are like: No!!! She is just falling in love with him years later!!! The whole story is about how she regrets not pursuing it until it was too late!!!!

And like, every person has their own interpretation and ships. But it really is a bit saddening as an aroace person that sees Frieren also as an aroace who probably would never feel as much romantic love for Himmel EVER. People have almost this... need to correct people that Frieren loves Himmel romantically.

#sousou no frieren #frieren at the funeral #talking to myself #aromantic #aroace #asexual #of course. i have only watched the anime. but the source material itself has said that elves are not in touch with their romantic feelings #i think that is VERY aroace #and should therefore make frieren's feelings up for interpretation #and less of smth ppl rush to correct. like its AWFUL that frieren doesnt return himmel's feelings #and it hurts me a bit... because i see so much of myself in frieren #why r ppl ok with her living her life at mostly her own pace and struggling to understand ppl #but not so much with her aroace-ness.... u know?#and if anyone is interested abt my interpretation of frieren's feelings #frieren sees himmel as a pillar and closest friend. her entire journey is her grief over losing such an important person in her life #the only other person like that for her was flamme. and she managed to spend time with her till her death #but she miscalculated this one and ended up only staying with him for ten years #((another reason why i really connect with frieren is definitely her grief and regrets))

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hwiyoungies · 9 months

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light a flame wonwoo for @kimsmingyu <3

#svtgifs #svtcreations #svtsource #svtdaily #forsvt #fywonwoo #i was trying to be a little shit but ended up hurting myself in the process LMAO #b.edits

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melverie · 7 months

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Okay but since they're clearly planning on making Lucifer last again I want them to really go all in

Make him act like the biggest prideful asshole to ever exist. Have him act like he literally thinks he's the pinnacle of all creation. He should absolutely tear into everyone around him for the tiniest of mistakes while also highlight that he would never have let that happen. Let him distance himself from his brothers because they're "all beneath him anyway". I want him to tell Diavolo straight to his face that maybe "someone more qualified" should become the next Demon King while clearly referring to himself. I just want to see him really succumb to his sin

And then when MC enters his mind, I want him to be so utterly broken by his pride. The chaos that it caused, how it robs him of his ability to speak his mind, properly show his feelings and be himself. By all of the expectations that are constantly placed on him. By the torment of feeling like he's responsible for Lilith's death, the guilt of not being able to tell his brothers that she actually exists. By being convinced no matter what he does he somehow always manages to hurt the people dearest to him in some way

Just this once I want him to (more or less) openly be completely vunerable and a real mess of emotions

#and then afterwards they have a drunk karaoke session and lived happily ever after. the end :)#@devs give me more vulnerable Luzifi please i promise i'll be nice afterwards <3 #also i think we're still missing luci's line from the website...?#the “my pride hurt my brothers” one #anyway setting myself up for disappointment again wuuhh!#obey me #obey me nightbringer #obey me lucifer

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chrollohearttags · 3 months

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my whole YouTube feed is filled with videos about the Stanley cup/Sephora kid thing and maybe bc I haven’t used tiktok in months but I’m so lost as to why everybody, including the kids themselves is being blamed for this problem lmao.

#there’s only one enemy and that’s capitalism/consumerism #not to mention the parents who think being an ‘ipad kid’ is cute and quirky bc they don’t want to raise their kids beyond the baby stage #like why are you mad at an influencer who’s job it is to sell a product for not monitoring if ur children are watching #that beauty influencer is not selling to them or for them #they’re a business + brand marketing to other ppl their age #people who can actually afford the products #not somebody who barely has lunch money less known 3 bands to drop on drunk elephant #like I have so many young cousins/kids in my neighborhood who are being brought up this way + it’s the internet’s fault always #not the fact that their parents don’t do anything #and what gets me is that somebody like me who’s made content online like cosplay/anime or even writing fanfic #has to worry about censoring myself for some brat I’m not even thinking abt #and it hurts creatives who are just looking for an escape #when I’m reality the only problem is that these parents are lazy and expect some random youtuber to teach their kids the things they refuse #it takes a village yes but at the end of the day that responsibility lies on the person who birthed them #I’m sorry #cherry chats 🍒

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blackjackkent · 4 months

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So... I was already going to write something about Hector and Karlach, and Hector being forcibly reminded that Karlach would rather die free than go back to Avernus and live, and Karlach laughing it off in the dryad's vision, and Hector feeling like shit about it.

And then this happened when I went back to camp:

"Ngh. Soldier... my engine. It hurts... I think this might be it. Soon. Thing's burning hotter than I knew it could."

"But look - we've just about made it to the city. That'll do me. Let's go protect it. Whatever happens after that is between me and the so-called gods."

"You don't think we'll find you a cure?"

"With this heat going, I can't spare the energy to think. I just want to enjoy whatever's left of this life of mine. Anyway, it could be worse. I'm exactly where I'm supposed to be. With who I'm meant to be with. How many people can say that?"

-------

She laughs again, grins and shakes it off, and suddenly he can't take it anymore.

"Damn it, no!" he snaps. "Stop that! Stop laughing about it, as if it doesn't matter!"

She blinks, draws back a little, startled. Hector very rarely loses his temper; the last time she saw it was in the House of Healing against Malus's terrible cruelty. Not here, not in camp, where they're safe and they're together. "Soldier--"

"Don't 'Soldier' me." Hector's jaw works and then he looks away from her abruptly, staring down at the ground. "This isn't funny, Karlach. It isn't a joke. You heard what Dammon said. If we don't find a cure, you'll die."

Karlach's smile fades. "You think I don't know what death means, Hec?" she says more sharply. "I've seen way more of it than you have. I know what Dammon said, and I also know what I said. I'm not going back, not ever. Not even to save my life."

"I know. Believe me, I heard every word when you told me." Hector's lips draw into a tight line. "I'm not talking about that."

She hesitates, puzzled. "What are you talking about, then?"

"How am I supposed to feel, when you look at me, and say you're about to die, and laugh?" He looks up at her, his eyes burning with frustration and pain. "Do you expect me to laugh too? Do you expect me to pretend like it makes no difference?"

She frowns. "No, I--"

"Because I can't," he continues hoarsely. "I can't laugh. I can't shake it off the way you can. I..." He pauses, rubs a hand down his face, desperately trying to regain his habitual control, but it feels completely lost to him right now.

"I will never, not once, tell you what decision you need to make. This is your choice. Your life. I wouldn't take that away from you." He shakes his head. "I respect you too much for that. It's your body and your soul, your free will and your choice. But I need you to respect me too, enough to believe that what you choose affects me too."

He feels his voice crack, and dashes his hand in frustration and shame against his eyes, feeling dampness in them. "I love you," he whispers, clenching his fists at his side in the struggle for control. "I love you, Karlach... so much, so deeply... I didn't know feelings like this existed in the world until I met you. I was taught to be self-reliant, to need no one's reassurance, to keep my heart wrapped up in books and faith and dust, but then I found you, and there's no going back to that. I'm lost in you." He hesitates. "As... as I hope you're lost in me."

He can see her expression twisting with emotion but he doesn't give her time to speak. It's all coming out now, everything he usually doesn't have the words - or the bravery - to articulate. "I'm not trying to change your mind. I've learned so much from you, from everything we've experienced out here - and one of the things I've learned is that there are things more important than living or dying. That there are things worth dying for. If this is yours... I won't stand in the way."

He swallows. "But I need you to understand that... I don't know what I will do without you. And when you laugh, when you act as if it doesn't matter that you will be gone... it tears my heart out."

Silence. He's run out of words and stares at the ground in front of her feet, his shoulders tight with the effort of keeping his voice steady.

When she finally answers, her voice is softer. "Dammit, I'm... I'm sorry, Hec. I really am. This, how I am..." She gestures vaguely at her own chest. "In Avernus, it was the only way to stay sane. You had to laugh about it all, or you'd go mental." She snorts bitterly. "I told you, that's the only reason I hung around with Flo. She was a bastard, just a complete motherfucker... but she made me laugh. And I couldn't make it otherwise. It would've crushed me."

She pauses for a moment and then goes on. "I don't want to die, Hec. I really don't. I never had the chance to live like this, loving someone, loving you, and doing good work, and feeling like I mean something. And I don't want to hurt you. Gods... that's the last thing I want."

She reaches out cautiously, takes his hand. He draws a sharp breath, although his shoulders instinctively relax, feeling the familiar pulse of her heat against his skin.

"I love you too, Hec," she says quietly. "You're not the only one who never thought life could feel like this."

He lets the held-in breath out shakily and grips her hand like a lifeline in a storm. "I'm scared, Karlach," he admits in a whisper. "I don't know if I can do this alone."

"You won't be alone." She smiles slightly. "We've got a pretty good group going here, now. And you're way stronger than you think. I've seen it." She hesitates. "Proud of you, y'know."

He closes his eyes and swallows desperately against the lump in his throat. "Thank you," he says softly. A pause. "I'm proud of you too, you know," he adds after a little while. "For standing by what's important to you. I want you to know that, no matter what else happens."

Her fingers tighten around his fiercely. "And I won't laugh about it, not anymore," she adds with a slight nod. "Didn't think about how it sounded to you. I won't make that mistake again."

He nods, musters a slight smile as he looks up at her. "Thank you. That's all I ask."

She steps forward, wraps her arms around him tightly, and he sags forward into her, burying his face into her neck. It's a great irony, he reflects, that the same heat which is going to kill her makes him feel so warm and comfortable in her arms.

His eyes squeeze shut against her and he lets out a single gasped breath, almost a sob. But only the one. Then he has control again, and all he does is lean into her and hold on as if his grip might somehow prevent her from ever slipping away from him.

And though he will not say it aloud, inwardly he prays for some miracle, some way out of the darkness that sits in his future when she is gone. Because he truly does not know how he will bear it.

#bjk plays baldur's gate 3 #hector carlisle #drabble #long post #bg3 drabble #karlach x tav #karlach/tav #karlach bg3 #karlach cliffgate #karlach #oops i made myself sad :(#i am trying really hard not to spoil myself on her act 3 questline #but the temptation to look it up and see if there's any chance for a happy ending here is very strong #:( poor hec is trying so hard to do the right thing #and it hurts so bad

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skrunksthatwunk · 3 months

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you go to a lesbian blog and find it says women only!! no men allowed!!! and go oh! excuse me, um, what about other lesbians? plenty of lesbians are genderqueer... and they go well, okay, go fuck yourself tim chop off your sweaty dick and stop calling yourself a lesbian. you do not have a dick, actually. you think about that fact often, even though it does you no good. you do not tell this person that.

you go to another lesbian blog and it says women only and you try again, and this time they change it to wlw + nblw only (non-men who love non-men :D). and you'll say hey i appreciate that but gender's not really that cut and dry for a lot of people. someone could be both a man and nonbinary, for instance. i just worry that you're looking at nonbinary as a generic third gender, or an extension of womanhood. i mean yeah you include nblw in your tags but all your posts are about pussy-havers exclusively. what's with that? and they say go fuck yourself you pervy man pretending to be a lesbian. you tried to sneak in but i won't let you.

so you go to a lesbian blog with a dozen or so posts about queer people needing to be more weird about it and you sigh in relief. but you still see the men dni. that's odd. hoping for the best, you say hey! i know you mean well but please maybe don't put men dni at the end of the lovely posts on your lesbian blog bc some lesbians are men. and they'll be like ok!! well you're allowed ;) and you say no that's not. no. some men are lesbians not just me. you think about your own dicklessness and wonder if that's why you were given entry. and you add that even if male lesbians are allowed, there's no indication of that. how would anyone know without asking? and they're like ohh gotcha gotcha well men dni + this is for sapphics only!! and you'll be like ok well that treats the concepts of men and sapphics as mutually exclusive identities and i just told you that's not true and you agreed with me so.. i don't think that solves our problem. and they're like. ok. fine. men dni but genderfluid and multigender people are allowed! and you're like no see that's. that's still the same thing.. you're saying the same thing just with different words. if you don't want men to interact but you're fine with multigender/genderfluid/etc ppl interacting then you either don't see them as Real Men (because they don't reach a standard of Full Manhood) or Complete Men (because they're only Part-Time Men), both of which suggest that they are, in some way, not men or less-than men, which is invalidating and defeats the point of the exception in the first place (accommodation) OR that you don't really mean the dni which is confusing and inconsistent and makes guydykes feel weird and uncomfortable and excluded from the lesbian space you're trying to cultivate. and they're like um. ok. so. cishet men dni? and you're like well i think that makes more sense, but what if someone identifies as both a cishet man and a sapphic? again, if we're trying to accommodate the genderfucky populace then that has to be a possibility that is considered. and they say god you people are never happy. what do you want me to do? what am i supposed to say to keep the right men out? and you pause. you empathize with the need for a space free from dudes trying to fuck you straight and feminine. dudes who watch lesbian porn and joke about what they'd do if they were allowed into girls locker rooms. who look at you like a piece of meat, and like someone who looks at women like pieces of meat in the same way he does. you get it. you know. you want a space where you can be sapphic, too. that's why you came to these blogs in the first place. you brace yourself and you say well i don't know that there are "right men" to keep out. i don't know that there's any single label that would accomplish whatever it is you're trying to accomplish. you could go for "sapphics only" or "queers only" and i think that might be the closest thing to what you want, but it's never going to be perfect. creating any exclusive space is going to shut out people you didn't account for, and the broader the label, the more people will be shut out that you didn't want to shut out. and what about people who don't know if they're allowed? what of questioning transbians, where are they supposed to go? and, frankly, i think i might rather my dykey posts get read and appreciated by a gay guy who sees me as a man than a woman who only sees me as a sacred womb, pure from male perversions or violence or whatever. i think community might just be more complex than a dni can handle. and they look at you and say i don't want to not have a dni. i think you're too permissive. you can't just "what about" or microlabel your way into everything. go fuck yourself, i bet you're not even a lesbian anyway. go find a real problem to get mad about.

you go to a lesbian blog. you ignore the men dni because you know you probably don't even count to them. or maybe you do count and, out of respect for your manhood, they'd shun you accordingly. you try to feel okay about that. you scroll past dozens of posts about mediocre men and gagging at straight friends' boyfriends and how gross and undeserving men are of the beautiful women they couple up with and how all women should be gay so they can get treated right and and and and and. you finally find a post about curling into someone you love and feeling at peace and try to lose yourself in it. you know that feeling is what unites you, what makes you belong. you try to focus on it. you think about carding your hands through a butch's hair or lacing fingers with a femme and feeling warm and loved and more yourself than you ever have before. like this is who you're meant to be. you read about lesboys and butch boytoys and genderfucky dykes and big hairy deep-voiced wonderful women (like you want to be someday, like you wish you could make yourself) and you try to ignore the men dni underneath each and every post. and you daydream about meeting someone kind and earnest at a lesbian bar even though you don't think any such bars exist within three states of you and you can't drink and don't want to drink because you need to be in control of yourself at all times so you don't fuck up like you're always about to and here in the nonexistent lesbian bar you feel wanted and safe and in good company. you picture your ideal, happiest self. it is a mistake. ideal-you has a goatee. not the mascara one you smear on and call drag even though you know it's not drag, not really, the beard you call drag because you think everyone would look at you sadly if you told them it was just to pretend you had something out of your reach. a beard that's soft and that you grew and that cannot be smudged away if you get too comfortable with it. the dream shatters. your people pull away from you, their scoffs mixing with the mind-numbing gay girl bedroom pop you learned to settle for just to have something that almost resembled you, they all pull away and turn their backs and do not look at you. you're too close to being a man now, even though you're the same amount of man as before. and they know you're not supposed to interact with men, not as you would with dykes, at least. and it sours. it's all your imagination, all in your head, but it sours.

you sigh. you think about how small you are. how short, how narrow, how feeble. how your voice pitches up when you talk to strangers because it's easier to speak quietly when it carries more, and because you're nervous. because it's a chore to talk, like everything is. you think about testosterone. you think about how your family would look at you, the questions they would ask, your answers they would only pretend to accept. the uncomfortable glances and whispered questions they'd try to hide from you. you think about how small you are, and how small you will always be. how you don't know of a way to fix it, but even if there was one, no one would want you anymore. you'd be the only one thinking it made you a cooler dyke. you think about how you don't even want a T-voice all the time, how you'll never be able to switch it at will, because you don't know how and can't bring yourself to figure it out. you think about how your throat closes around every hint of your own attraction. how wanting is perverse, how wanting is invasive, how wanting is embarrassing and too vulnerable so it must stay anonymous, as an online witness, and how you can barely manage to form or maintain friendships because your brain makes you pull away, always spinning out and struggling to recover from the simplest of interactions. how they'll all leave you and you won't chase after them at all and how that will hurt them. how stuck you get. how it looks like nothing's holding you back, how that frustrates everyone who thought you were going to be more than you were. the people you love who understand except when it comes to being ghosted, being shut out. how you don't want to hurt them. how you can't tell them that because you're stuck. how you turn to stone when touched, how you never reach out, how you lose your speech and can't look at people, how your autism is fun and sexy until it becomes real and you never see them anymore, how much you longed for someone who knew everything without you having to explain, and who loved you anyway. how unreasonable you know that is to expect of anyone. you think about that not-even-real lesbian bar. you think about how you still can't drive. how you can't leave your home on your own, without dragging somebody into helping you. how you can't leave your body. how you can't leave your manhood behind.

you think about finding another lesbian blog and ignoring everything. about skimming it for the parts you can juice some meaning from. the parts men ignore and don't understand, and how typical of you it is to do so. or the parts where you're not welcome and you should accept that, because it's for lesbians only. how you are a lesbian anyway. how you're meant to choose lesbian or man, how each is a betrayal of some kind to yourself or your people, your family, your lovely strangers, your rare friendly acquaintances. about the parts that tell you you're not wanted, that you're ugly and lazy and gross and insert yourself everywhere without even asking. about the parts that tell you you are hated, and how lesbians are above it all by rejecting men. how lesbians are each blessed miracles. about the parts that say you should be ashamed of being whatever twisted confused freak you are, of everything, of looking and wanting or not looking or not wanting, of picking and choosing instead of taking it all in with a smile. after all, shouldn't you take it? or is your ego too fragile, as men's so often are? aren't you tired? good. we're not here for your consumption. and we sure as hell don't want your company or "community" or whatever. didn't you read the sign? no boys allowed. and if you want to come in you have to make up your mind. as if you haven't told them the only answer you have. you're both. you're both.

you know you broke the rule by interacting.

but it gets lonely sometimes. you wonder if they know.

#before i maybe get yelled at:#1) no i do not think ppl are evil for having men dnis no i do not think these are all equal transgressions even #though there is an overlap that should be examined that i think is based in a degree of lesbian separatism + exclusionism #2) yes there are lesbian blogs and people that are cool about genderfucky people. i'm not talking about them #3) this is a stylized vent post about trying to find lesbian content on tumblr that isn't like this. all these dnis/rules are ones i have #encountered. no i do not literally tell these people to change their dnis to suit me. the conversations are symbolic and ideological in #nature. if i find a blog with men dni i generally go somewhere else. it's about emotions. it's about my feelings on that it's not literally #about dming someone demanding they change things. it's not about demanding that You change things or else you're a bad person.#4) it is about the conflicts and hypocrisy and inconsistency of strict and exclusive sexuality labels persisting in gender-diverse spaces #and how it affects me as a lesbian who is a man who is a woman who is fucking whatever else. and yes it is about transphobia too.#5) it's about how lesbians feel the need to exclude men and how i think efforts to do so fail and hurt ppl and are often misguided #tht i think also comes up in like. bi lesbian/mspec lesbian/gaybian discourse. i'm not any of those myself but it seems like there's overla #6) if this post seems whiny and sad and insecure that's because it probably is. i have a right to be all of those things.#7) no i do not think all lesbians are man-hating assholes. i am a lesbian. i love lesbians. i love dykes and most of them are fantastic ppl #i just think the general bullshit of the world leads to this defensive thing that ends up hurting others in our community y'know?#8) i get that my perspective/experience is a bit unusual and many lovely ppl haven't considered it. that's part of why i'm sharing this #nyarla dni #<- sorry man it's too vulnerable. gonna keep this one to the internet-only folks

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