#// he's got some good experience with kids but when it's your own things can be bumpy

[clytemnestradidnothingwrong]

I've got thoughts on this article that I'm going to share whether anyone likes it or not.

"When my first son claimed he was trans, I eagerly ‘affirmed’ him. When his three-year-old brother decided he wanted to be trans, too, I realized I’d made a terrible mistake."

Gay and "transgender" are opposing concepts, and this is one of the many things that prove it. When a sibling comes out a gay, you don't usually have another sibling following.

"My friends and I felt like we were the cool kids, on the vanguard of the revolutionary wave that would change the world. We were going to achieve what people in that milieu call “collective liberation.”

I used to think this was admirable and that people like this were just misled, but the more I gain exposure to these types, the more I think no, they're not really that well intentioned. A lot of this modern "social justice activism" just seems to be unearned hero complexes. Are you really so self-absorbed that you think asking people to say pronouns is truly going to save the world?

"Having children and experiencing the love and devotion I felt toward them, was a game changer for me. I began to experience internal tensions. My thinking was split between what I felt instinctively as a mother; and what I “should” be feeling and doing as a white anti-racist social-justice parent."

As much as SJW types annoy me, I do think it's a real shame that "social justice" has just become another sniff-your-own-farts movement instead of I-actually-care-about-other-people movement. Just feeds into my theory that humans by nature are not good. I'm also sick of everyone asking us to repress our instincts in favor of embracing whatever narrative is trendy.

"Because I’d felt victimized by my parents’ rejection of my sexuality, I wanted to make sure to honor my own children’s “authentic” selves. In particular, I was primed to look for any clues that might suggest they could be transgender."

This is what everyone's doing now, and it's disturbing. Fake woke parents like this who immerse themselves in faux social justice are convinced "trans" people are the world's most oppressed group, and are thus constantly on the alert for any signs of being "trans". If "trans" people hadn't killed the feminist movement and gay rights community, these kids would just be allowed to be themselves. Especially because a lot of traits that everyone believes now means "transgender" actually mean gay. Whether they realize it or not (and tbh I think many do deep down), these pretend liberals have primed everyone to sniff out signs of homosexuality so that modern medicine can "fix" it through "gender affirming care".

"My spouse and I raised our sons with gender-neutral clothes, toys, and language. While we used he/him pronouns, and others called them boys, we did not call them boys, or even tell them that they were boys. In our everyday reading of books or descriptions of people in our lives, we did not say “man” or “woman”; we said “people.” We thought we were doing the right thing, both for them and for the world."

My coworker does this. She has a son and she calls him "he", but she won't ever refer to him as her son or as a boy. People have deluded themselves into thinking this does something good, but all it does is make it harder to acknowledge reality.

"Even when our first son was still young, he already struck us as different from other boys—being both extremely gifted and unusually sensitive. By age three or so, he started to orient more toward the females in his life than the males. “I like the mamas,” he would say. We started to attribute some of this difference to the possibility that he was transgender."

To me, this reveals the inherent misogyny of trans activists. The idea that a boy can't prefer being around girls instead of others boys is misogyny.

"Instead of orienting him toward the reality of his biological sex by telling him he was a boy, we wanted him to tell us if he felt he was a boy or a girl. As true believers, we thought that we should “follow his lead” to determine his true identity."

"Trans" kids are like vegan cats - they are made, not born.

"At the same time, I was taking a deep dive into the field of attachment and child development. This made me understand that attachment is hierarchical; and that parents, not children, are meant to be in the lead. This obviously conflicted with my insistence on letting my child decide his gender. Sadly, it was the latter impulse that won the day."

You would think anyone who is familiar with child psychology at all would understand the child should never lead, but that would be underestimating the power of group think.

"I told him, “When babies are born with a penis, they are called boys, and when babies are born with a vagina, they are called girls. But some babies who are born with a penis can be girls, and some babies born with a vagina can be boys. It all depends on what you feel deep inside."

Every time I hear or see this "what matters is how you feel!" bullshit, I wonder what less individualistic cultures think when they read it. Because when you take a step back and look at it objectively, it comes off as incredibly self-centered.

"He continued to ask me what he was, and I continued to repeat these lines. I’d resolved my inner conflict by “leading” my son with this framework. Or so I told myself."

Rationalizing the irrational. If she had taken a step back, maybe she would've realized she only made him more confused, which is what leaves children vulnerable to the abuse that is "gender affirming care".

"His question, and my response to it, would come back to haunt me. In fact, I remain haunted to this day. To the extent I was “leading” my son anywhere, it was down a path of lies—an on-ramp to psychological damage and irreversible medical interventions. All in the name of love, acceptance, and liberation."

Again, I'm beyond disgusted about how twisted the "progressive" movement became. I'm disgusted by how ALL well intentioned movements so quickly descend into something evil.

"On the way home that night, I resolved to put all my own feelings away and support my transgender child. And that is what I did."

A "trans" kid of your own making.

"We told him he could be a girl. He jumped up and down on the bed, happily saying, “I’m a girl, I’m a girl!” We—not our son—initiated changing his name."

I wonder if you (or any trans activist) ever considered that maybe he was so excited to be a "girl" because you told him he could be after he spent years asking you what he was.

"We socially transitioned him and enforced this transition with his younger brother, who was then only two years old and could barely pronounce his older brother’s real name."

That's pretty fucked up that you tried to force this crap on a 2 year old, actually.

"When I look back at this, it is almost too much to write about. How could a mother do this to her child? To her children?"

I ask myself this every time I see a mother "transition" her child. The answer is almost always CLOUT.

"Once we made this decision, we received resounding praise and affirmation from most of our peers."

See?

"One of my friends, who’d also socially transitioned her young child, assured me that this was a healthy, neutral way to allow children to “explore” their gender identity before puberty, when decisions would have to be made about puberty blockers and hormones."

From an outside-of-the-cult standpoint, this makes no sense. He's not exploring anything. You've locked him in.

"We sought out support groups for parents of transgender children, so that we could find out if we’d done the “right thing.” It hadn’t escaped my notice that our son hadn’t exhibited any signs of actual gender dysphoria. Was he actually transgender?"

No. Nobody is.

"At these support groups, we were told, again, what good parents we were."

There's that clout as a reward again.

"We were also told that kids on the autism spectrum (which our son likely is) are gender savants who simply know they are transgender earlier than other kids."

Well, this explains how they justify butchering autistic children. Talk about rebooting the Indigo Child.

"At one of the support groups we attended, we were also told that transgender identity takes a few years to develop in children. The gender therapist running things told us that during this period, it’s important to protect the child’s transgender self-conception—which meant eliminating all contact with family or friends who didn’t support the idea that our son was a girl. I believed her."

This is such an INSANE thing to tell your clients, holy shit, that therapist should be FIRED.

"Looking back, I now see her comments in a shockingly different light: this was part of an intentional process of concretizing transgender identity in children who are much too young to know themselves in any definitive way. (One set of parents attending the group had a child who was just three years old.) When identity is “affirmed” in this manner, children will grow up believing they are actually the opposite sex."

Exactly. There's no "exploration of gender" or "finding yourself" at all. It's creating a "transgender" child out of thin air.

"The therapist endorsed the same approach that many adolescents use on their parents, who are urged to write letters to grandparents, aunts, and uncles to announce the child’s transgender identity. In these letters, the conditions of continued social engagement are made clear: Recipients must use the new name and new pronouns, and embrace the new identity, or they will be denied contact with the child."

Can someone who isn't in the trans cult explain to me how this ISN'T manipulative, borderline abuse?

"His claim to be a girl became more insistent when both brothers went to school part-time, because their program included pronoun sharing. Why could the older sibling be a “she” when the younger sibling couldn’t? Our younger son became more insistent, and we became more distressed."

He saw the attention and affection his brother was getting and wanted it for himself. That's it. That's the explanation.

"We made an appointment to see the gender therapist whom we’d met at the support group. We truly believed that she would be able to help us sort out who, if anyone, was actually transgender. To our shock, the therapist immediately began referring to our younger son as “she,” stating that whatever pronouns a young child wants to use are the pronouns that must be used."

Oh honey, their livelihood depends on transing people. They're never going to say "no, you're not trans".

"When I pushed back and asserted that I wasn’t yet convinced our younger son was in fact transgender, she told me that if I failed to change his pronouns and honor his newly announced identity, he could develop an attachment disorder."

Oh, I'd love to see the evidence for this claim, because it sounds like bullshit.

"For the next two years, my partner and I dug deeper, agonized, and then continued digging again. Everything we thought we knew or believed that had led us to socially transition our older son began to unravel."

Feels like leaving a cult, huh?

"In the days following my first conversation with him about going back to his birth name and pronouns, during which I told him that males cannot be females and that we were wrong to tell him he could choose to be a girl, he got very mad at me, then sad. Then, the next day, I felt my son rest. I felt him release a burden, an adult burden that he, as a child, was never meant to carry."

You'll never convince me there's such thing as a "transgender child". Only an abused child.

"Since that time, we’ve all been healing. My son is now happy and thriving. We’ve watched him come to a deeper peace with himself as a boy."

What these evil, greedy butchers don't tell you is that if you had never been exposed to the regressive concept of "transgender", this never would've happened, and these "trans" kids would've just grown up to be unique boys and girls. "Transgender" takes the innocence and health away from children, and I'll never forgive those demons for inventing it. Good for her for getting her and her family out of this cult.

"I feel like someone who’s escaped a cult—a cult whose belief system is supported by our mainstream culture, the Internet, and even the state."

Cults aren't just confined to small towns or ranches in the middle of nowhere.

"I fear for the future—the future of sensitive, feminine, socially awkward boys. I fear what the world will tell them about who they are."

The fact that gay and disabled kids are being led down this path of medical experimentation and lies absolutely disgusts me. You can call me mean, you can say I'm awful and hateful, but at the end of the day, I'm not the one telling people they were born wrong.

May this mother and her sons find peace.

By: Anonymous

Published: Oct 16, 2023

When my first son claimed he was trans, I eagerly ‘affirmed’ him. When his three-year-old brother decided he wanted to be trans, too, I realized I’d made a terrible mistake.

I was a social-justice organizer and facilitator before social justice took over the progressive world. I was at the nascent movement’s forefront, introducing the concept of intersectionality to organizations and asking people to share their pronouns.

My friends and I felt like we were the cool kids, on the vanguard of the revolutionary wave that would change the world. We were going to achieve what people in that milieu call “collective liberation.”

Within this context, I came out as a lesbian and identified as queer. I also fell in love, entered a committed relationship, and gave birth to a son. Two years later, my spouse gave birth to our second son.

Having children and experiencing the love and devotion I felt toward them, was a game changer for me. I began to experience internal tensions. My thinking was split between what I felt instinctively as a mother; and what I “should” be feeling and doing as a white anti-racist social-justice parent.

Because I’d felt victimized by my parents’ rejection of my sexuality, I wanted to make sure to honor my own children’s “authentic” selves. In particular, I was primed to look for any clues that might suggest they could be transgender.

My spouse and I raised our sons with gender-neutral clothes, toys, and language. While we used he/him pronouns, and others called them boys, we did not call them boys, or even tell them that they were boys.

In our everyday reading of books or descriptions of people in our lives, we did not say “man” or “woman”; we said “people.” We thought we were doing the right thing, both for them and for the world.

Even when our first son was still young, he already struck us as different from other boys—being both extremely gifted and unusually sensitive. By age three or so, he started to orient more toward the females in his life than the males. “I like the mamas,” he would say.

We started to attribute some of this difference to the possibility that he was transgender. Instead of orienting him toward the reality of his biological sex by telling him he was a boy, we wanted him to tell us if he felt he was a boy or a girl. As true believers, we thought that we should “follow his lead” to determine his true identity.

At the same time, I was taking a deep dive into the field of attachment and child development. This made me understand that attachment is hierarchical; and that parents, not children, are meant to be in the lead. This obviously conflicted with my insistence on letting my child decide his gender. Sadly, it was the latter impulse that won the day.

At around age four, my son began to ask me if he was a boy or a girl. I told him he could choose. I didn’t use those words—I imagined that I was taking a more sophisticated approach. I told him, “When babies are born with a penis, they are called boys, and when babies are born with a vagina, they are called girls. But some babies who are born with a penis can be girls, and some babies born with a vagina can be boys. It all depends on what you feel deep inside.”

He continued to ask me what he was, and I continued to repeat these lines. I’d resolved my inner conflict by “leading” my son with this framework. Or so I told myself.

His question, and my response to it, would come back to haunt me. In fact, I remain haunted to this day. To the extent I was “leading” my son anywhere, it was down a path of lies—an on-ramp to psychological damage and irreversible medical interventions. All in the name of love, acceptance, and liberation.

About six months later, he told my spouse that he was a girl and wanted to be called “sister” and “she/her.” I received a text message about this at work. On the way home that night, I resolved to put all my own feelings away and support my transgender child. And that is what I did.

We told him he could be a girl. He jumped up and down on the bed, happily saying, “I’m a girl, I’m a girl!” We—not our son—initiated changing his name. We socially transitioned him and enforced this transition with his younger brother, who was then only two years old and could barely pronounce his older brother’s real name.

When I look back at this, it is almost too much to write about. How could a mother do this to her child? To her children?

Once we made this decision, we received resounding praise and affirmation from most of our peers. One of my friends, who’d also socially transitioned her young child, assured me that this was a healthy, neutral way to allow children to “explore” their gender identity before puberty, when decisions would have to be made about puberty blockers and hormones.

We sought out support groups for parents of transgender children, so that we could find out if we’d done the “right thing.” It hadn’t escaped my notice that our son hadn’t exhibited any signs of actual gender dysphoria. Was he actually transgender?

At these support groups, we were told, again, what good parents we were. We were also told that kids on the autism spectrum (which our son likely is) are gender savants who simply know they are transgender earlier than other kids.

At one of the support groups we attended, we were also told that transgender identity takes a few years to develop in children. The gender therapist running things told us that during this period, it’s important to protect the child’s transgender self-conception—which meant eliminating all contact with family or friends who didn’t support the idea that our son was a girl. I believed her.

Looking back, I now see her comments in a shockingly different light: this was part of an intentional process of concretizing transgender identity in children who are much too young to know themselves in any definitive way. (One set of parents attending the group had a child who was just three years old.) When identity is “affirmed” in this manner, children will grow up believing they are actually the opposite sex.

The therapist endorsed the same approach that many adolescents use on their parents, who are urged to write letters to grandparents, aunts, and uncles to announce the child’s transgender identity. In these letters, the conditions of continued social engagement are made clear: Recipients must use the new name and new pronouns, and embrace the new identity, or they will be denied contact with the child.

After about a year of social transition for our older son, our younger son, who was by now only three years old, began to say he was a girl, too. This came as a complete shock to us. None of the things that made our older son “different” applied to our younger son. He was more of a stereotypical boy and didn’t show the same affinity for the feminine side of things that his older brother did.

The urge for “sameness” is a primal attachment drive in many family members. We felt that our younger son’s assertion of being a girl likely reflected his desire to be like his older sibling, in order to feel connected to him.

His claim to be a girl became more insistent when both brothers went to school part-time, because their program included pronoun sharing. Why could the older sibling be a “she” when the younger sibling couldn’t? Our younger son became more insistent, and we became more distressed.

We made an appointment to see the gender therapist whom we’d met at the support group. We truly believed that she would be able to help us sort out who, if anyone, was actually transgender.

To our shock, the therapist immediately began referring to our younger son as “she,” stating that whatever pronouns a young child wants to use are the pronouns that must be used.

She patronizingly assured us that it might take us more time to adjust, since parents have a hard time with this sort of thing. She added that it was transphobic to believe there was anything wrong with our younger son wanting to be like his older transgender sibling.

When I pushed back and asserted that I wasn’t yet convinced our younger son was in fact transgender, she told me that if I failed to change his pronouns and honor his newly announced identity, he could develop an attachment disorder.

We were unconvinced. But, again, we wanted to do what was right for our son and for the world. We decided to tell him he could be a girl. And that night at dinner, we told him that we would call him “she/her.”

Right after dinner, I went to play an imaginary game with him, and I wanted to be affirming. So I put a big, warm smile on my face and said, “Hi, my girl!”

At this, my younger son stopped, looked at me, and said, “No, mama. Don’t call me that.” His reaction pierced me to my core. I didn’t turn back after that.

For the next two years, my partner and I dug deeper, agonized, and then continued digging again. Everything we thought we knew or believed that had led us to socially transition our older son began to unravel.

I continued to study the attachment-based developmental approach to parenting and learned more about autism and hypersensitivity. We decided not to socially transition our younger son. Not only was he not transgender, we now realized, but our older son probably wasn’t either.

He was just a highly sensitive, likely autistic boy who saw a girl identity as a form of psychic protection. It also provided him a way of attaching to me through sameness.

My spouse and I decided that since we’d been the ones who’d led him down this path, we were the ones who needed to lead him off of it.

A year ago, just before our older son’s eighth birthday, we did just that. And while the initial change was hard—incredibly hard—the strongest emotion exhibited by our son turned out to be relief.

In the days following my first conversation with him about going back to his birth name and pronouns, during which I told him that males cannot be females and that we were wrong to tell him he could choose to be a girl, he got very mad at me, then sad. Then, the next day, I felt my son rest. I felt him release a burden, an adult burden that he, as a child, was never meant to carry.

Since that time, we’ve all been healing. My son is now happy and thriving. We’ve watched him come to a deeper peace with himself as a boy.  

Our younger son is also thriving. Once his older brother became his older brother again, he happily, and almost immediately, settled into his identity as a boy.

I feel like someone who’s escaped a cult—a cult whose belief system is supported by our mainstream culture, the Internet, and even the state.

I fear for the future—the future of sensitive, feminine, socially awkward boys. I fear what the world will tell them about who they are.

But no matter what the future holds, I will never ever stop fighting to protect my sons. I am no longer a true believer.

[vadlings]

Represention of Autistic Frustration in Laios Dungeon Meshi

Like many other autistic people, I related strongly to Laios Touden while reading Dungeon Meshi. This post isn't going to spend time disputing whether he displays autistic traits or not—while I could do that, I want to focus on why specifically his portrayal struck a chord with me in a way the writing of most other autistic-coded characters has not.

Disclaimer: as the above suggests, this post is strongly informed by my own experiences as an autistic person, as well as the experiences of my neurodivergent friends with whom I have spoken about this subject. I want to clarify that in no way am I asserting my personal experience to be some Universal Autistic Experience. This post is about why Laios' character feels distinct and significant to me in regard to autistic representation, and while I'm at it, I do feel that I have interesting things to say about autistic representation in media generally. This also got a bit long, so I'm sticking it under a read more. Spoilers for up to the end of chapter 88 below.

The thing that stands out most to me in regard to Laios' characterisation is the open anger he displays when someone points out his inability to read other people. This comes up prominently in his interactions with "Shuro" (Toshiro Nakamoto):

The frustration pictured above (Laios continuing to physically tussle with Toshiro, using crude language toward him) becomes even more notable when you remember that this is Laios, who, outside of these interactions, is not easily fazed and often exists as a lighthearted contrast to the rest of the cast. Then we get to Laios' nightmare.

In Falin's words: "Nightmares love emotional wounds. Wounds you hold in your heart. Things that give you stress, or things that were traumatic for you. They aggravate memories like that and cause the dreamer to have terrible dreams." (chapter 42, page 10.) (damn. i'm properly citing for this post and everything.)

Thus, Laios' nightmare establishes an important fact: even if he is unable to recognise social blunders while he's making them, he's at least subconsciously aware that other people operate on a different wavelength to him, and that he's an outsider in many of his social circles (both past and present). His dream-father's disparaging words stress the impact this has had upon his ability to live up to the expectations set out for him, and we also get a panel of kids who smirk at him (presumably former bullies to some degree). Toshiro's appearance only hammers home how much Laios is still both humiliated and angered by his misunderstanding of their relationship.

I've thought a lot about anger as concomitant to the autistic experience. When autistic representation portrays ostracization, it's generally from an angle of the autistic character being upset at how conforming to neurotypical norms doesn't come easily to them; as a result, they express a desire to 'get better' at meeting neurotypical standards, a desire to become more 'normal' (whether the writing implies this is a good thing or not). In contrast, not once does Laios go, "I need to perform better in my social interactions, and try to care less about monsters, because that's what other people find weird." His frustration is directed outward rather than inward, and as a result, it's the people around him who are framed as nonsensical.

The Winged Lion starts delineating Laios' anger, and Laios' reaction is to think to himself, "It can sense all my thoughts, huh?" (chapter 88, page 16.) This is the scene that really resonated with me. I'm not saying I have never felt the desire to conform to neurotypical norms that is borne from insecurity, but primarily, I know that I don't want to work toward becoming 'normal'—I don't want to change myself for people who follow rules I find nonsensical. It's the difference between, "Oh god, why can't I get it," and, "WHY CAN'T YOU GET IT?" (phrasing here courtesy of my friend Miles @dogwoodbite). And for me personally, Dungeon Meshi is the first time I've seen this frustration and the resultant voluntary isolation from other people portrayed in media so candidly. Laios' anger is not downplayed or written to be easily palatable, either.

The culmination of Laios' frustrations in this scene wherein we learn that Laios has fantasised about "a pack of monsters attacking a village" drives home just how alienated he really feels. I need not go into his wish to become a monster himself, redolent of how many autistic people identify/have identified with non-humans to some degree as a result of a percieved disconnect from society (when I was younger, I wanted to be a robot. I still kind of do.)

Obviously, wishing death upon other people is a weighty thing, but the unfiltered nature of this page is what deeply resonated with me. The Winged Lion is laying Laios' deepest and most transgressive desires bare, and they are desires that are a product of lifelong ostracization by others (whether intentional or unintentional). This is the brand of anger I'm familiar with, and that my neurodivergent friends express being familiar with, but that I haven't seen portrayed in writing so explicitly before—in fact, it surprised me because most well-meaning autistic representation I've experienced veers toward infantilisation in trying make the autistic character's struggles easy for neurotypicals to sympathise with.

Let's also not neglect the symbolism inherent to Laios' daydream. "A pack of monsters attacking a village". Functionally, monsters are Laios' special interest—he percieves everything first and foremost through his passion for monsters. His daydream of monsters attacking—killing—humans, is fundamentally a daydream of the world he understands (monsters) overthrowing the world that is so illogical to him, that has repeatedly shunned him (other people). I joked to my friends that it's an autistic power fantasy, and it actually sort of is. And in it, his identity is aligned with that of the monsters, while his anger manifests in a palpable dissociation from the rest of humanity. This is one manga page. It's brief. It's also very, very raw to me. I think about it often.

To conclude, I love Laios Dungeon Meshi. This portrayal of open frustration in an autistic character meant a lot to me, and I hope I've sufficiently outlined why. Also, feel free to recommend media with autistic representation in the notes if you've read this far—I would really like to see if there is more of this nature. Thank you for reading. I'm very tired and should probably sleep now.

[hachiane]

things that are not talked about enough in Love and Deepspace pt. 2

thanks to comments on part one and perusing LADS Reddit and Youtube, here are more ttantaeilads part 2 Wanderer Bugaloo: a reminder that these are canon in the LADS universe:

Despite being big eaters, Sylus and Xavier don’t like wasabi

Zayne is a kaomoji enjoyer

According to Sylus, Mephisto is not 100% waterproof

Sea God Rafayel kicks MC off a cliff

Glowing singing toy handcuffs exist in Linkon

Xavier once waited for rice to grow

In addition to sleeping sitting up, Sylus is also a stomach sleeper, or he became one after meeting MC

MC has also said she sleeps on her stomach when she's tired after missions

Rafayel stepped out of the bathtub, slipped on a paintbrush, sprained his ankle and checked himself into the highest ward in the hospital

According to Zayne, if you wear a black tie and white shirt, you will resemble 85% of him

Sylus got a money tree stolen from him

Zayne accidentally buys a water tank instead of a cup

Sylus, the type of person to hold anything you give him while he’s on a call

Hotpot flavoured desserts exist in Linkon

Xavier owns a star-shaped wand seasoning shaker

Rabbits were once set loose in a hospital

MC gets stalked on two occasions

"okay but like we can just stand there and look smoking hot" is a line Rafayel commented once

MC turns a warped vinyl record into a fruit plate

Xavier will fight your boss

Zayne is good at snowboarding

MC once caught a lobster while surfing

Sylus almost dies in the desert

Xavier leaves a plant unattended that it grew roots to cover his floor

MC is good at origami and sometimes teaches it to the kids at Akso Hospital

Artsy Birb is a second grader

Zayne's nickname at a restaurant "Two Seasonal Specials Dine-in"

A version of Monopoly exists in Linkon

Xavier’s status “After slaying the Wanderers, the bread in the microwave is straight fire”

Rafayel and the way he names his fish friends: 001, 002 and 886

Lil S Pet Store almost came to be

A steakhouse in Linkon serves steak that has one-third of it cooked and calls it medium-rare

Sylus uses an ammo box as a grill – it failed

The two squirrels that frequently visit Akso Hospital are named after medication

Sylus prefers sour salad dressings

Or he likes sour things in general; he made a salad with green apples

Xavier accidentally gets hired for handing out flyers and selling flowers on the street

MC cannot handle horror movies or horror-themed escape rooms

Immersive experiences as part of marketing efforts are so immersive that it puts users into day-long walking expeditions, causes breathing problems and real body injuries, but are okayed in Linkon

Xavier and MC snoop on people near their apartment block and text each other about it

Despite being a doctor, Zayne will dodge medicine for hot cocoa when he has a flu

Rafayel replying to MC's comment: "okie dokie artichokie"

Dragon Sylus's torn pants stay up despite not having a waistband or belt

Bunbun has legs

Xavier and his too many diplomas

Sylus uses the word "fugly"

Zayne uses the word "angsty"

Rafayel has a bathtub next to a couch in his living room

Zayne is some level of bilingual

Sylus recommends a series of hard spirits as a dinner option

Despite being a doctor, Zayne (attempts to) dodge a dentist's medical advice

Wasabi Octopus's legs smell like mustard

edited on 25.12.24 for accuracy

[velvetwyrme]

which deception would have an sti AND fuck cars?

in reference to: https://www.tumblr.com/penny-anna/767952128217104384/imagine-youre-a-mechanic-in-the-transformers?source=share

okay. so. first off. anon, thank you for sending me this because the idea that you read that post and just went- "hey, you know who i should pose this question to?" and sent it to me- is hysterical and i lvoe u.

anyway theres also a Texty answer under the cut if you want to read that, because i genuinely DO have thoughts about this, but i wanted to draw that comic because this ask made me laugh very hard when i saw it in my inbox.

also, the thrilling conclusion of the comic answer:

he fucked that car!!!!!!!

hi! Texty time. I think a lot of them would have/be one but not the other (either has a STI or is a Carfucker) but i included some of those here anyway because i think my thought process was funny for some of them. this is all purely my own opinions etc. etc. no basis for anything only vibes. i went through a lot of options and came to a lot of conclusions.

to reiterate the Chart for claritys sake:

Soundwave: No STI and no Carfucking. This is true across all versions of Soundwave imo. Rumble and Frenzy are a solid no on the STI front and a solid yes on the Carfucking.

Starscream: no STI, no Carfucking (despite what Soundwave thinks). TFP!Starscream specifically might have an STI though. Sorry man. Skywarp definitely has/had a STI but gets it treated on account of his trinemates. No Carfucking. Thundercracker would fuck a car but doesn't have an STI.

Shockwave: ??? - I'm not sure I want to know. "Once, as part of an experiment" was the original thing I wrote for his answer lol. True across continuities as well.

Anyway. moving on...

My actual answer for Megatron: REALLY depends on continuity. Here's a sample:

G1? Yeah, probably both. I can see it.

IDW/MTMTE? Nah. Maybe? ... Nah. I feel like if he had an STI it'd have been back when he was a miner. Would not fuck a car.

Earthspark? I feel like no STI but yes to the Carfucking. Except he feels really guilty about it after. I still haven't watched ES but this is the impression I get from him.

TFA? oh god. i don't know... i don't know....... he probably fucks cars. No STI.

TFP? Yeah absolutely are u kidding me? Yes to both.

Constructicons: I feel like they'd be a yes to both, but not at the same time, so they wouldn't have been the one/s to transmit a STI to a car. Also Hook would be ON TOP of treatment. Once they ALL got infected after combining into Devastator, and that was miserable for everyone. Nobody has fessed up to being the one who had it in the first place, but now they have treatment on hand just in case.

Also while on the topic of combiners... I think some of the Stunticons are also pretty good candidates for STI/Carfucking. Motormaster, Drag Strip and Wildrider in particular shfkgbekfbk

I considered Tarn/The DJD and Overlord just because of how freaky them guys can get, but I think Tarn runs too tight a ship for that to happen, and Overlord is preoccupied with. worse things. The Scavengers on the other hand... sorry to Misfire, I can see him giving a car a STI. Relatedly, Grimlock would fuck a car but not have an STI.

Who else................................ wait.

Astrotrain. I can see it. Okay bye im going to sleep this took me too long to reply to fhfjfbrmfbdj

[lunajay33]

Waiting🖤

Summary: After decades of being alone without a love of his own he finally finds her in a gloomy town of forks, his brother Edward isn’t the only lucky one

Pairing: Emmett Cullen x f! Swan reader

Warning: angsty, fluffy sunshine Emmett

•Masterlist•

I never thought much about the future until suddenly the friends I adored most started relationships and left me in the past as if our friendship never even mattered, like their boyfriend was the most important thing

My sister and I use to be close as kids but when she moved away with our mom and rarely visited me and dad, who she regularly called Charlie, we grew apart leaving me feeling like I lost all my friends and my sister, after a while I grew depressed and I never wanted to leave the house, dad grew concerned and after many absent calls from school he allowed me to start home schooling myself and my grades have never been better

Most nights it was just me and Charlie some days I’d get the courage to go down to the reserve hang out on the beach with Leah, Seth and Jake, sometimes I’d go for hikes in the forest behind the house just to clear my head, but other than that I’d stay in my room listening to music, reading the books dad would bring home for me, and doing school work

That’s how life was for so many years, it was routine and it never bothered me and dad loved having me around, after Bella and mom left he was so broken and with my help, even as a little girl, I pulled him out of that deep dark hole and he became that Charlie that joked around and made me smile

But then dad got the call that Bella was moving back for the rest of highschool since mom would be traveling with Phil for baseball, hopeful that I could reconnect with my sister again

Dad and I picked out a new bed spread for her hoping she’d love it, and he even let me pick out a new book as a thank you for helping him out with getting everything ready for her arrival, after a few days it was time for dad to go pick Bella up from the airport in port angeles, I was a nervous wreck which was crazy I mean she’s my sister why should I be nervous

Finally the familiar sheriff cruiser pulled up in the drive way, I walked out the door with an umbrella quickly shuffling over to Bella to cover her from the rain knowing how she favoured the warm dry weather, complete opposite of me

“Welcome home Bella!” I smiled as we walked back inside as dad got her bags following closely behind

She shook off her coat and placed her little cactus down on the counter

“You’ve grown so much you’re a year younger but you’re already taller than me” she said as she hugged me

“Come on bells we’ll show you your room!” Dad said as he walked up the stairs with her bags

She settled in for the rest of the day until it was supper time, I set out the table and dished up our meal, dads game playing in the background as we ate

“So are you excited for school on Monday?” I asked

“Not really but atleast I’ll have you there”

“What? No im homeschooled remember”

“Well…..” dad drawled out

“Dad what did you do?” My heart was racing now at the implication

“I thought since Bella’s back now it would be good for you to get out there again, you need some experiences honey”

“But you know I have no one there, no one wants to be friends with me we’ve been over this”

“You might make new friends honey, give give it a chance for your old man” I sighed slumping back in my chair trying to wrap my head around having to socialize again

“Atleast you’ll be with me, dad said since your grades are so good you got bumped up a grade and can have some certain classes together, depending on our courses” that settled my anxiety a little

Bella and dad cleaned up from dinner as I sat out on the porch, in desperate need for fresh air to do its magic, only 2 more days and I’ll be back in a school again, who knows maybe some new kids have arrived and aren’t too set in their groups yet

Monday came quickly and I was a ball of nerves, I glanced in the mirror as made sure my hair was just the way I wanted, wearing a casual outfit, simple flared black leggings, a dark rich blue longsleeve with my old worn out dark brown carhartt jacket, quickly spraying my vanilla perfume

I walked down stairs to meet Bella in the kitchen, she grabbed an apple as she picked up her backpack from the table

“Are you ready to go?” She asked

“Almost can I make a tea quickly?” She nodded and I quickly wiped together a chai tea latte, grabbing my lunch from the fridge and meeting her in the truck dad had gotten for us but since I didn’t have my license, seeing as I never needed one before now, she would be driving us

The drive to school was calming, hearing the steady rain fall against the windshield, pulling into the parking lot everyone stared until we got out, I kept my eyes down as Bella led me to the schools main office

“Okay here’s your schedule, we have math together at the end of the day, the bells about to ring so I gotta head to world history are you good to find your way to chemistry?”

“Oh ummm yeah I’ll be fine”

“Okay see you at lunch” she smiled gently before she left down the hall

Looking at my schedule I memorized the room number hoping it wouldn’t be too hard to find, turning the corner I rammed into what felt like a brick wall, dropping my books I look infront of me to see the most beautiful guy I’ve ever seen, his eyes a golden amber, hair as dark as night and his skin as pale as snow

“Sorry about that, I haven’t seen you around before” he said soothingly as he handed me the books that had momentarily scattered the floor, not even realizing he had picked them up, too busy oogling him I suppose

“Oh yeah I’m just re-enrolling here again, just trying to find my class” he looked down at my schedule a striking smile adorning his face

“Come this way gorgeous, got the same class” walking along the mostly bare hallways I noticed his gentle glide, I’ve never seen such a…..well such a perfect human, obviously I was way out of my league if I could think he’d ever be interested in me, I mean I’m plain and simple what would he ever see in me, best I stay in my lane, but dad did want me to make friends so that couldn’t hurt….right?

We got to the classroom and the teacher assigned us to sit together, the class went by pretty boring, every now and then I’d take glances at Emmett and I swear he did the same but he was probably just looking at someone else, moments like this made me wish I was a beautiful as my sister, she never had a problem with guys wanting her, they basically drooled over her, even if she never acted on any offers she was still wanted

It felt like I was a living ghost most days, no one noticed me anywhere I’d go, a big reason I wanted to be homeschooled, now I’m thrown back into this miserable place, I’ll bet by lunch time Bella with have a table full of new friends while I sit alone, not even a second glance from anyone

Lunch time rolled around and as I entered the cafeteria I searched for Bella and just as I guessed she was surrounded with bright smiles, excited to get to know her, she glanced my way and I waved hoping she’d wave me over to sit but she just gave a half assed smile and got back to talking with her new friends, I felt my heart rip at that, thinking things would be different this time with her here but I guess I was wrong

I found an empty table near the windows and made myself comfortable for another lonely lunch, I pulled out my bag from my backpack but my appetite was lost and I had no desire to eat so I just pushed my lunch to the side and looked out the window just wanting to go home

{Emmett’s POV}

I couldn’t get her out of my head, she’s the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen and her blood sings to me, when she bumped into me in the hallway I felt my whole world shift, she didn’t talk much but just being near her felt right

Lunch came, my least favourite part of the day, having to pretend for an hour, I glanced around the cafeteria hoping to catch a glimpse of my mate again, my eyes landed on her sat alone looking glum a few tables down, the others followed my gaze and smiled knowingly

“Who’s she?” Rosalie asked

“I think she’s my mate”

“Her thoughts are overwhelming loud” Edward stated

“What do you mean?” I asked nervously

“She’s not the happiest girl, I can hear how depressed she is, how unwanted she feels”

“I can feel how broken her heart is” Jasper added

This has to be the worst feeling knowing the one I’m suppose to love unconditionally and she is quite perfect in my eyes, has been broken and feels unloved

I got up from the table and made my way to her sliding in the seat across from her, her eyes were so glazed over with sadness she didn’t even realize I sat down

{Normal pov}

“So how’s your first day?” I jumped snapping out of my thoughts noticing Emmett is sat across from me

“Oh sorry I didn’t see you, ummm today has been fine I guess, thanks again for helping me earlier”

“It’s not problem, umm I was wondering maybe if you’re not too busy this weekend if you’d wanna hang out?” My heart raced at this

“Really? You wanna hang out with me?”

“Yeah of course, who would wanna spend time with the most beautiful girl in the school” his smile warmed my heart but quickly faded at a realization

“Is this a prank, because if it is it’s cruel” I said as my bottom lip wobbled

“No what? I would never do something like that I really wanna get to know you, so how about after school on Friday I’ll meet you in the parking lot and we can go do something?”

“Okay……sure id really like that” his face beamed with excitement

“Perfect it’s a date then gorgeous”

This felt surreal there’s no way there wasn’t a catch here, how could someone wanna spend their free time with me, but like Charlie said it doesn’t hurt to try, I just hope this doesn’t break my heart more

Part 2

[moonastro]

groom persona chart

north node in the houses

what is a groom persona chart? this chart exhibits qualities that your husband will have and possible placements that can be seen in their chart. it is simply a chart all about your spouse in a woman's chart. the asteroid groom can be identified using the code 5129.

the nn in the groom persona chart can symbolise what we will learn from each other from our husband and he from you. its also what fate events are stored in for the couple.

reminder: this is my interpretation from observations and first hand experiences, so don't take this to heart.

nn in 1st house: this placement may have some identity issues with their partner and its not like omg he's so much more better than i am no no, this placement can usually question you whether you are doing a good job of being a partner to your husband, always worrying about them, making sure they have the same feelings towards you, constantly may battle your mind into thinking they dont love you as much as you love them, its more of concern or worry rather than anything else. the fate of your relationship with your husband can be tied down to creating an image of yourself through your partner or through their eyes. constantly this placement may encounter fate to do with rumours of their relationship, and being forced to live with others peoples opinions about their marriage or their partner, some may think that you could have done better or vice versa.

nn in 2nd house: the thing that you and your husband can have to go through is learning how to live with each other. it may be strange and there can be some invasion with personal space and getting used to having to share your stuff with them but its what you may have to work through. i feel like you two may have to go through a certain time with struggles with money if this is aspected badly, like there could be a time where you may be unemployed during your relationship with your spouse or vice versa. what i also noticed with this placement is that you and your partner could have to got through some sort of asset situation, depending of the aspects, this can be losing things, being prone to breakages/burglars/ stealing, or just spending money on useless things that done serve you for good.

nn in 3rd house: this placement can go through phases of communication blockages. often misunderstanding each other but it gives great opportunities to work on it and take time to understand one another, their intentions and their motives. the destiny for this placement allows the person to teach one another and especially learn about each other, constantly finding things about each other, however, i did realise some misunderstanding that comes with this placement that can make you think why your partner lets say acts the way he does or vice versa. language barriers are very common with this placement, often having a spouse who speaks another language.

nn in 4th house: this placement offers some time to getting used to each others comfort and energy. this attracts your partner and yourself to accumulate how to comfort each other and make each others safe place which indicates differences in style of living, agreeing on how to decorate your home according to both needs as you may have different styles and way of living. the destiny set for your relationship is creating a family dynamic between each other, having kids or having lots of it can be common for this placement. usually you can have difficulty expressing ones feelings for one another and can have your own way of expressing your love which can be quite indifferent for each of you, can be as simple as approaching this unconventionally, for example love language instead of expressing ones emotion could be making a cup of coffee every single morning, or agreeing to every tantrum they have etc.

nn in 5th house: you can actually learn how to be more carefree and loosen up when in a relationship with your husband. they will teach you how to be more creative, how to take initiative in different ways such as having a different approach to life. destiny set for this couple is definitely having different creative motives, one can be very creative, always creating new things, being active with art, music, developing etc and the other can be the opposite so that may be something this placement can have to work with and go around with.

nn in 6th house: fate with this placement can be rather difficult, you may have to go through different stages of reflection with your partner, always trying to find time for each other, work can be crazy for both of you or for one of you, this placement really needs to slow down with life and focus on each other rather than your own individually. usually the couple can be too busy for each other and with that could cause some trouble with creating a bond as they may even view each other as room mates at times as their lives can literally be like a schedule, wake up, work, home, sleep that kind of thing. usually destiny associated with this can be learning how to live with each others flaws, differences with their home styles, like one can be cleaner than the other or one may always clean and the other hates to clean etc.

nn in 7th house: destiny set for this couple can definitely be learning how to be loyal with one another. there can be some struggle associated with relationship issues such as cheating or being unfaithful for your partner. also having crushes and liking other people while being in a relationship with your partner can also be something that could happen for this placement. creating enemies while in a relationship with your spouse can be common, usually because you and your spouse could be very attractive and others may have crushes on both or one or the other and so this creates some enemies because you chose each other rather than the other people who thought they had a chance with you.

nn in 8th house: north node in the 8th house can bring an extreme intense change of outlook and setting of your life. with your husband, everything can completely change in your life from you comfort to your surroundings. the lesson that you may learn from each other is learning how to share emotions that suit both partners. there can be a missing piece to your bond but your fate with your husband can be to settle down with whatever transformations you may go through, talk through it and create comfort for one another. also, there can be rather extreme moment that happen between you two so it is important to be there for your partner and him for you in these hard moments. you may bond through your hard moments as well and that can create a very close relationship between you two.

nn in 9th house: so for this placement, the couple will eventually learn from each others previous experiences that they had and share them amongst each other and that may mould you or you husband. this placement has full faith in their partner meaning that whatever you may mention to your spouse, he may take it personally and have the same impressions as you. your fate with your husband can be tied to having same opinions and learning how to get over the indifferences in each others views and values. your relationship with your husband can thrive if there is a healthy solution to where you both agree to disagree or find a viewpoint in which you both agree with. there can be some getting used to your in laws as well.

for example-my mother has this placement and she has a difficult relationship with her siblings therefore whatever she says to her partner, he believes her and most of the things she talks about them is negatively and so my father has the same negative outlook on her siblings as well if that makes sense. even though he didn't see it happen or didn't experienced the negative experiences with them, he still hold a grudge towards her siblings even though they did not do those things towards him. its him believing her and her opinions. this also makes sense as the sign its in is in cancer so the emotional, trust, and family topics relates to her opinions and the fate that both share.

nn in 10th house: this placement often has some struggle with career and public image. usually one may view their career as the most serious thing in the world and may put it before their partner. also one partner can act one way at home and completely different when in public and in front of other people which can be something you would have to work on as this can be caused from being scared to be viewed a certain way. being too strict on your spouse, constantly arguing about things, having misaligning attraction towards each other, one may love the other more than the other does to them.

nn in 11th house: this placement has destiny set with their partner to do with social life, usually friends or anyone that either you or your partner hangs out with can cause some issues for the relationship, maybe causing less time to hang out like always being with friends rather than your partner, or going out to a friend or with a friends instead of hanging out with your partner and this can go both ways also. differences in goals, sympathetic reasonings like you may have different approaches to the problems with the world or people who have it way harder than you and your spouse could not care less, this can cause problems.

nn in 12th house: the thing you have to go through with your future spouse is that you'll have to learn how to spiritually connect with your husband. the destiny set for your relationship with your spouse is to finish something from a previous life with them, completing business and thriving in the place you are supposed to be with your partner. also being able to combat and talk through addictive substances for either you or your spouse as one of you may have an addiction to smoking, drinking, vaping whatever it maty be. it may be an issue as this can mean that you may not like it how your spouse does it or vice versa. another thing with this placement is that you'll have to get though unrealistic expectations of your spouse, you may think or idolise your spouse to a point where you can be disappointed so that could be an issue also.

[allfortheslay25]

Bestie, your brain 👌👌👌 i love all of your aftg au's, mermaid and omegaverse especially. Any headcanons or other things you wish people would ask but haven't/generally be willing to share? Hope you're doing well 💜

Another au from the secret stash!

All for the Cult

I hid this one cuz I’m afraid it’d be controversial and up until this week, I hadn’t even shared it with my sister

I actually am writing a fic for it but the fic will not be published until it is completed. I don’t want to risk leaving it in the public on a hiatus so it’s safe with me until I can finish all the chapters

Basically instead of exy as the base of AFTG, it’s bastardized religion. Exy technically exists but instead of Tetsuji continuing Kayleigh and his pet project, he turns to forming a cult. Exy ends up being a dying sport no one really cares about unless it’s Kevin Day who still plays on the side of his true passion, communing with God.

Neil was a human sacrifice raised for slaughter until his mom took him and ran. Homeless and with no way out, Neil joins Wymack’s staff at his wayward home/church where junkies and sob stories go for their last second chance. No one actually has to pray to god or believe in the Bible’s teachings to work there as it is not a standard church and more like a theater than anything

The more kids Wymack recruits, the longer he gets to keep his church and program at the school

(Also side note but I was doing the comic of andreil but forgot my house looks like a Catholic Church threw up in it so I got awkward and couldn’t finish it)(oh and my sister renamed it all for the debauchery cuz she got to read the altar scene lol)

Key points and fun facts of this au:

- the Ravens are a cult cult instead of a sports cult

- Riko is obsessed with his holy trinity (perfect court)

- The Moriyamas are still a crime unit but Nathan is sort of a satanist on the side (Would like to say mass majority of satanists are not evil or bad, Nathan just is)

- Neil was born as a sacrifice. Mary took him and ran tho before the ritual

- The Foxes are ppl from broken pasts who work at Wymack’s church for scholarship/community service.

- Wymack’s church isn’t a standard catholic kind. He has his own unique spin on it so even those who aren’t religious can still work there. Campus students attend the services to watch the plays, hear the readings, listen to the choir, and some even use the confession box. Some even go to donate as the Foxes are connected to a bunch of charities

- Andrew is not a real priest. The cousins were apprentices for Luther for a couple years to get him off their backs. Because of his experience and eidetic memory, Wymack has Andrew do scripture readings and other tasks. In return, Andrew gets to be off the meds the entire time of mass

- the Foxes attend classes and work shifts at the church in their free time. If they flunk classes or skip church, their scholarship is revoked

- all of the Foxes live in the upstairs rooms above the church

- When Andrew first met Luther, Luther promised to take care of the Cass situation as long as Andrew gave God a try. Andrew only agreed to read the Bible and took Nicky’s since the Hemmicks were worried he’d vandalize a new one. Andrew thought it was a good read but mostly was humored by all of Nicky’s annotations

- Andrew doesn’t care about religion enough to hate it so he’s fine chilling around and hearing the preaching

- When Neil goes to the nest, he agrees to spend those weeks in Riko’s church where he’s ofc tortured. Riko no longer has the desire to sacrifice Neil as long as Neil joins his cult

- Renee holds a Bible study on Sunday evenings and Saturdays so weekends are Andrews days off

- Lots of their readings are done performatively with music, spoken word poetry, or with their own unique spins/translations of the text. (Every mass always starts with a disclaimer that what is being said/shown is their interpretation and not to be taken as the honest god given truth)

- whenever they raise enough money or supplies, the foxes celebrate by getting wasted; Wymack’s treat

- Betsy is still there for mandatory therapy sessions since the point of the scholarship is to rehabilitate troubled youth

- Abby is Wymack’s assistant but she also is a part time nurse

[aurorawhisperz]

I Just Wanna See You Shine (r.c.)

contains: smut (18+), swearing.

rafe cameron x overachiever!reader

summary: everyone counted on you to be the valedictorian, the go-to for tough subjects and the one who never got in trouble. one day, rafe cameron had came up to you for some tutoring but it turns out he was just paying for the pleasure of your company.

i just wanna see you shine ‘cause i know you are a stargirl.

if everybody was betting on valedictorian, everybody would be betting on you. you were the one person who had it all figured out; high grades, perfect attendance, a reputation for never stepping out of line.

no drama. no distractions. no boyfriend. you were the only person who actually cared about deadlines, assignments and getting into a good college even as a rich kid.

at kildare academy, no one really cared about what you did or didn’t do. everyone was rich, privileged, and used to getting what they wanted.

graduation wasn’t a huge deal; chances for success were handed to you with a silver spoon. the kooks had money, connections, and opportunities waiting for them at every turn. even if they flunked a test, they’d still get into the best colleges, all thanks to their families’ influence and wealth.

people didn’t expect much from your personal life, if anything, they just assumed you didn’t have one, too busy studying to bother with parties or boys. and even if you did, rafe cameron would be the last name anyone would think of.

he was everything you weren’t; wild, reckless, the kind of guy who didn’t care about grades or the future. he drove fast cars, lived life with no sense of direction. and you? you were the complete opposite.

right now, you’d find yourself breaking a rule you swore you’d never cross, all because of that stupid boy.

you knew he was up to no good the minute he slipped those silver glasses off of your face.

this was the tenth-ish guttural moan rafe had let out. his eyes fluttering closed for a moment as he feels your walls squeezing around him. rafe was completely lost to the need, the primal desire for you. the one thing missing from his great list of achievements. his body strained with the effort to resist the urge to take you, to make you his.

rafe was completely at your mercy, completely undone, his body twitching with need as you moved your hips against him. his eyes were locked onto yours, his stare desperate and pleading, his voice a ragged whisper as he moaned your name over and over again, each repetition edged with a hint of desperation, as if he couldn’t stand to be without you for even a moment.

“why are you so fucking good at this?” he breathed out, a little surprised, but also impressed. his mouth hanging open with every movement.

“one terrible experience,” you replied matter-of-factly. “i didn’t bother with anyone else. i don’t waste time. i’m a fast learner, though. especially when it comes to… watching. visual things tend to stick.”

you never would’ve imagined that rafe cameron, the kook prince, the guy who practically owned kildare island, would be wrapped around your little finger. but somehow, he was.

his mouth watered as you leaned over him, your boobs hovering so close to his mouth. his hands clenching around the bedsheets, his body rigid as he waits for you to say something.

rafe swallowed hard, his breath coming in quick gasps, his entire body tense and straining with the effort to hold back. the effort to stop himself from rolling you both over and to stop himself from fucking you so dirty, but in this moment, rafe was completely under your control, and he knows it. he can't help but want you.

“you can touch me.” you held onto his shoulder for some sense of control as you continued rolling your hips. rafe let out a low, guttural moan as you gave him permission, his eyes closing briefly as he waited for you to descend closer. then he leaned upwards, taking your breast in his mouth, his tongue swirling around your nipple as he suckles you, his hands moving to your hips, holding you in place.

rafe’s hips bucked up into you as he slid himself deeper, his voice a low, ragged moan. “you feel so good..” he gasps. “feel so damn good…i can’t get enough of you…fuck…”

“yeah?” your thumb moved to rub over his bottom lip. “can’t get enough of me?”

rafe’s hands grabbed at your hips, his touch nearly painful.

“we’re gonna do this again, and again, and again, darlin’,” he muttered, his voice low and rough as he thrusted up into you. “all” slap. “night.” slap. “long.” slap.

you pulled on your clothes, moving quietly as rafe laid there, worn out and more exhausted than you’d ever seen him. but that smile tugging at the creases of his lips—his smirk that you knew so well was still there. his voice broke the silence, his tone lazy, but with that familiar edge of smugness. “looks like i got something, or someone, to add to my collection,” he said, the words carrying a challenge, as though he was satisfied by the moment but still trying to hold some control.

as you reached for your shoes, he propped himself up on one elbow, his voice thick with that cocky tone as he started running his mouth again. “well, well, look at you. the overachiever, the one everybody thought was untouchable, sucked right into my world.” rafe let out a low chuckle and his eyes locked onto yours. "guess it fits the narrative. you were the only thing missing from the story.”

you stood up, slipping on your shoes but you couldn't help the grin that tugged at your lips even if his words punched your ego so badly.

moving closer, you leaned down slightly, lowering your voice to a seductive whisper. "if you tell anyone," you said, your words deliberate, "i’ll have to tell them about how you were so willing to submit and how you were shaking and almost crying under my control.”

without giving him a chance to say anything back, you pressed a quick kiss to his lips, a short one but it left a spark behind. you walked confidently to the door, not glancing back until you reached the threshold.

“see you around, kook prince,” you tossed your bag over your shoulder. rafe shifted, a devilish smirk lighting up his face, and replied with that trademark cockiness, “see you around, princess.”

[hannieehaee]

you said in your svt with an older s/o that mingyu gives the vibe to be with milfs so,,,,, mingyu with a milf maybe? with her cute baby (p.s. stepdad!gyu!!!)

18+ / mdi

content: youngerbf!mingyu, stepdad!mingyu, you have an infant from a previous pregnancy, cute fluff with the baby, afab reader, smut, oral (f receiving), etc.

wc: 1364

a/n: i know nothing about babies but i hope i did well with this hehe<3

masterlist

"babe, have you seen lola's pacifier? i swear i've looked everywhere! she won't fall asleep tonight if she doesn't get at least half an hour with it before bed," you huffed, continuing to search at every nook and cranny if your apartment.

but you received no response from mingyu. and strangely enough, there was no noise in your apartment at all, opposed to the usual babbles or cries of the tiny resident of your home.

this would worry many others, but you knew the very logical explanation for this. you knew that the moment you walked into your baby's nursery, you'd find the dreamy image any woman would kill to have in their home.

and surely enough, as soon as you opened the half-closed door, you came face to face (or more so face to back) with mingyu's frame as he cradled your baby in his arms.

his gigantic arms dwarfed the tiny baby more than you thought possible, but his hold was nothing but delicate. the swaying of his arms provided her with the perfect motion to ensure she remained calm as she fell asleep. it was when he turned slightly that you managed to see that she was not fully asleep, but instead on her way there as she suckled on the pacifier you'd been searching for earlier.

"she's almost asleep, i think," he whispered when he sensed your presence. he turned to you then, baby still in motion in his arms, "am i doing this right?"

his time with the baby was not a new thing, but he still often worried about messing up. mingyu loved kids, but he had never loved one as he loved your lola. he was also slightly intimidated by the difference in experience between you. despite this being your first and only child, he believed your age simply made you wiser when it came to taking care of lola.

you continuously assured him that he was more than perfect with her, but mingyu, being mingyu, would still chuckle and deny it.

it was sometimes hard to decide whether lola or mingyu was the most adorable.

"you're doing perfect," you reassured, "here, let me take her so i can put her to sleep," you went to take her from him, feeling bad that he'd been taking of her on his own while you cleaned up dinner.

"can i- uh, can i do it?", he asked.

it made you smile. and of course, you concurred.

it took a few minutes, sneakily removing the pacifier and setting her to sleep on her crib. you remained at a close distance, but still allowed mingyu to do all the work on his own. the visual was one that went straight to your heart. your appreciation for mingyu grew impossibly bigger every time he showed his selfless love for your daughter.

your steps were quiet as you left the room, setting up the baby monitor before exiting with quiet hums of affection towards your daughter. once in the living room, you couldn't help but give gyu a quick hug and a kiss on the cheek to reward him for being so good.

in response, he held your hand as he led you to your bedroom, closing the door behind him as he sat you on the bed.

it wasn't done with any implications in mind, but they still invaded you when he began to casually change into his pajamas in your presence. you simply sat there and watched as he did so.

"you're amazing with lola, you know that? watching you makes me wanna pull out a ring," you joked.

mingyu chuckled in return, shirt off momentarily as he grabbed for a tank top, "don't. i already have plans for that."

"oh?," you stood up, walking over to him and halting him as he attempted to pull up some pajama pants, "you've got plans?"

he caught onto your drift immediately, "can't tell you, or else i'll ruin the surprise."

"can you give me a sneak peek, then?"

your hands wrapped around his shoulders while his let go of his pants and locked on the small of your back, a wolfish smile invading his lips.

"well, no, but i can give you a sneak peek of something else."

and then he kissed you, teasing completely thrown out the window.

it was soft in nature, the way in which he kissed you. you could tell he was tired, holding you in a way that screamed exhaustion mixed in with some neediness. his lips invaded yours in languid smacks until he led you back to the bed, sitting you as you'd been before.

before you could say anything, he knelt, pleading eyes betraying his large frame as he silently asked you to make space for him between your legs.

once they were opened, his hands pushed them even further apart, mouth leaning down to kiss at the skin revealed by your loose pajama shorts.

"'m tired, baby. but i still really really wanna make you feel good," he mumbled after a few pecks to the skin, "i'll probably wake up horny, but that's a problem for tomorrow.

"i'll take care of your problem, angel, don't worry. now just keep doing that ..." your words trailed off when his hands snuck under both layers of clothing, blindly finding their way to your sensitive bits.

"fuck, so wet, baby. were you expecting this?", he teased, "lemme get these shorts off, okay? wanna see it up close."

you lifted your hips to aid him, soon finding yourself unclothed from the bottom half and deciding to throw off your shirt to match. mingyu smiled from under you, biting his lip at the sight.

"you make it hard not to fuck you."

"then do it," you challenged.

"first thing tomorrow, i'll have you on your hands and knees, baby. but for now, i have something else i need," and those were his last words before his head lowered and joined the circling of his fingers, opting to sneak in a finger while his tongue took over in playing with your clit.

you gasped, hands digging into the duvet under you as an almost automatic reaction. but mingyu whined at this. something about wanting you to pull his hair instead. and who were you to deny him?

"taste so good after a long day, shit," he mumbled between swipes of his lips, "need to do this every night."

you encouraged him as your legs attempted to close around him and your hips begged to cant into his face. he was good at warding these things off, but more often than not, he welcomed them. it showed him how desperate you were for him even as he gave into you, he'd once said.

"shit, baby, keep going. gonna cum, fuck," your breath hitched and sped up at the same time. your body felt like it was on fire. everything was on edge.

"i know, baby, just, fuck, don't scream this time, okay? don't wanna wake up my baby," he said so naturally, knowing that you truly saw her as his own.

it was a strange dichotomy of emotions, both awe and arousal, but it made your orgasm all the better. your love for mingyu combined with your need for him made you see stars. your body didn't pay any mind to the boy beneath you, taking what it needed from him as he kept attacking at your cunt, knowing the sensitive sensations afterwards always made your eyes roll back.

it took a few moments after the fact for you to catch your breath, but your boyfriend had already managed to find a damp rag to clean you with in the meantime.

"knocked you out again, huh? i'm pretty good at putting people to sleep, i've been told," he snickered when you swatted your hand at him jokingly.

"suddenly he's the expert."

"hey, your words, not mine."

within a few minutes, he managed to get you tucked under the covers and into his arms with the same ease as he'd done with lola less than half an hour ago, providing you with a kiss to your temple as he adored doing to her too.

[undreaming-fanfiction]

Just My Type

This one is for @henderdads with her prompt - accidental first kiss. Happy Valentine's Day, Cass! I hope this will bring you some joy!

Steve Harrington wasn't known for sharing his problems with others. He was the one who resolved all your issues, not brought more to the already very overcrowded table. The kids needed some stability, and as much as he loved Nancy, Robin, and Eddie, they weren't exactly fit for that role. The girls would soon leave Hawkins for college (Steve was so proud his heart could burst), and Eddie had his hands full with the whole finishing high school thing while still recovering from being nearly eaten by demobats.

No, Steve had this handled. He was the least fun of the four, but reliable. As far as the kids knew, the only issue Steve had was his inconsistent and ever dramatic love life, nothing else.

When Steve's eyesight started getting worse, likely from all those concussions, he handled it on his own. No need to worry anyone. A secret pair of glasses for home, prescription sunglasses for driving (and yeah, he looked cool in them, despite the kids' grumbling), and that was it. They didn't need to know. Everything was working out just fine. He was great at faking things.

At least until that fateful day. But we’ll get there. First, something about Steve’s love life.

See, Steve was dating around. He had been feeling anxious, unfulfilled, and the more he thought about it, the reason wasn’t Nancy for once. Even stranger, he knew he was over her, but the feeling of needing something and not being able to get it wouldn’t leave. So he got out there, used his charm, and prayed he’d finally find the one.

So far, it wasn’t working out. Most of the girls he went out with were lovely, kind, and gorgeous, but there was always something missing that made him break things off before anyone could get hurt. He had a type - curly or wavy dark hair and even darker eyes, but hey. It wasn’t his fault that Nancy had been the closest to an ideal relationship he’d ever had! That had to be the reason, he thought. Maybe his concussed brain decided that curly hair meant a good girlfriend.

“It’s not like I can help it,” he lamented, pretending not to see Eddie’s amused smirk. They had become good friends after their Upside Down near death experience, and as Dustin never failed to mention with a truckload of disgust, they were now practically inseparable. “Who doesn’t like curly hair? They’re making it this whole thing. I’m over Nancy.”

Eddie snorted and tossed his chemistry textbook somewhere towards the pile of stuff that might have included his desk. “Uh-huh. Sure thing. So this new one-”

“Jenny.”

Eddie snapped his fingers. “Yes. This Jenny. It’s just a coincidence that she’s a dead ringer for Wheeler.” He nudged Steve’s side with his bare foot. “Come on, Harrington. Be honest with your only adult friend.”

Steve kicked him in retaliation. “Wow, rude. I’ll let you know, I have Robin!”

“Buckley is so much more than a mere human, Steven. She doesn’t count, she surpasses our species. Whereas I,” he announced to the broken ceiling fan, “am very human, non-judgmental, and I have seen you go through half a dozen ladies of the same type since the spring break. So?”

Laughing, Steve kicked him again. “So nothing. She doesn’t look like Nancy. Hell, she looks more like you - her hair is darker, more wavy, and she has those really pretty dark eyes. And she’s tall. Are you saying you’re my type too?”

Eddie rolled over and batted his eyelashes. “I don’t know, Steve, am I?”

Steve hit him with a pillow in the face. If he hadn’t been so busy laughing, he might have just noticed the tinge of longing in Eddie’s voice.

..

To recap: the two things that led to the most important day of Steve’s life were a) his tendency to date a certain visual type of girl; b) his unwillingness to admit to anyone that he needed glasses.

Here’s what happened.

Steve, being both a good friend and a good boyfriend, took Jenny to see Eddie perform with the Corroded Coffin. Was metal his favorite music genre? Not really, but he wanted to support Eddie, and Jenny didn’t seem to mind, she even agreed to wear a Corroded Coffin t-shirt from Steve’s wardrobe.

Steve found himself enjoying the concert way more than he’d expected. The alcohol helped, sure, but it was so heartwarming to see Eddie in his element, scarred, but still the same. Steve had even learned to recognize the lyrics within all the noise, and even if he wasn’t ready to discuss that with Eddie yet, Steve considered them surprisingly deep. He really hoped Eddie would make it big, he was a wonderful guy, and life owed him big time.

After the concert, Jenny excused herself to the bathroom, and Steve went to grab some beers. His head was pleasantly buzzing, and even though his eyesight was more blurry than usual, he found his way through the crowd with ease.

He put down both beers and wrapped his arm around Jenny’s waist. He’d lost track of time at the bar, she must have come back in the meantime. And so, as they tended to do, he touched her cheek and turned her face into a quick kiss.

Steve noticed several things at once.

First, stunned gasps from the Corroded Coffin members, along with Robin’s snickering.

Second, Jenny’s cheek felt different. Almost stubbly?

Third, it was the best damn kiss he’d ever had.

And fourth, before the kiss could end, he felt something wet - the beer he’d just brought - hit his head and back, along with an angry shriek.

What happened next was a blur, and not just because he had trouble seeing it. He was vaguely aware of a second Jenny hitting him with her purse and storming off, Robin trying to control her laughter, and the person next to him, also drenched in beer? That was Eddie.

“Eddie, I’m so sorry!” Steve instinctively grabbed napkins and started drying off the beer in Eddie’s hair, on his jacket. “I...OK, not the best time to tell you, but I’ve noticed I can’t see shit, and normally I wear glasses, but I couldn’t take them with me because I look like a baby accountant or something, and I didn’t want you guys to worry. And uh, you probably know, but your hair looks kinda like Jenny’s, and I’m really sorry I did that without asking.”

Eddie was motionless, letting Steve fret over him. He was just staring into the distance, cogs turning in his brain.

Robin, bless her heart, re-directed the Corroded Coffin guys to grab a mop and a dry t-shirt from Eddie’s van for both Steve and Eddie. After that, she started ushering the unlucky pair towards men’s bathrooms, to “wash off that smell before it’s too late.” She snapped her fingers in front of Eddie’s eyes, getting him to move.  

As she shoved both of them towards the sink, she grabbed Steve’s hand and pulled him close. “Since you are freshly broken up, I would strongly suggest you think hard and fast about why you made that mistake, Steve. I can’t spell it out for you, even if it would be easier for everyone involved.”

Steve took a deep breath. “Yeah, uh...I think I might know.”

“Might?”

“I definitely know.” He rubbed his forehead. “I’m so dumb. That...even if I didn’t mean to, it wasn’t fair to Jenny. Or the ones before.”

Robin smiled at him and, not unkindly, patted his shoulder. “They’ll get over it. In the meantime, your man looks like he’s about to faint. Don’t mess this up, OK? I couldn’t stand to see you brooding again and going through another set of Eddie substitutes.”

After she closed the door behind Steve, she grabbed the mop and started cleaning the mess. She could say it would cost Steve a lifetime of driving her around, but she knew he’d do that anyway.

..

In the bathroom, Eddie was slowly finding his words. “You...you kissed me.”

Steve took a step towards Eddie, trying not to spook him. “Yeah. I know it sounds like bullshit,” he said, pushing down the bitter memories of that word, “but I really mistook you for Jenny. I can’t see much, especially when it’s dark. I’m really sorry, Eddie.”

He couldn’t see Eddie’s face, but his voice didn’t sound fine. The music from the club drowned out most of the quieter sounds, but Steve could swear he heard a sniffle. “Of course,” whispered Eddie and he seemed so sad. Steve wanted to punch his own face. “Of course it was a mistake.”

Eddie straightened his back and wiped at his eyes before turning towards Steve. “Don’t worry, Steve. It happens. I mean, you should feel more sorry for yourself, you’re single again, and if Jenny or anyone from the club talks, they’ll think you’re a-”

“I don’t care.”

With a bitter chuckle, Eddie shook his head. “You don’t get it, Steve. You have a reputation to protect. Our lovely and pious citizens of Hawkins expect something like that from me, they know I’m...wrong. But you? You’re the golden boy. Steve, you should think about what this will do to you.” He wasn’t looking at Steve, his eyes were glued to the floor. Steve didn’t need a hint to know why Eddie was blinking so rapidly, why he sounded so strained.

He reached out and grasped Eddie’s hands. “Eddie. I really don’t care. I won’t feel sorry for what someone might think. The only reason I’m sorry is that I kissed you without you agreeing to it, in front of people, because...” He took a deep breath and squeezed Eddie’s hands. “...because I wanted our first kiss to be something special. Not a case of a mistaken identity caused by my shitty eyesight. And I wish I could have done it differently, that we wouldn’t be in this dirty bathroom, and sticky and disgusting from that beer. But even if I’m sorry for not asking you, I’m also glad. Because it made me realize something really important.”

Eddie was staring at him with wide eyes, still wet with tears, but there was a hint of a smile on his lips. A hint of hope. “And what is that?” he asked.

Steve moved several wet strands of Eddie’s hair from his face. He looked just a little bit like a wet rat, but to Steve, he was the most beautiful person he’d ever seen. And he couldn’t wait to bury his hands in Eddie’s hair properly, when it was freshly washed. Maybe smelling of Steve’s shampoo. That was a thought.

He stroked Eddie’s cheek and for the first time in so long, he felt puzzle pieces falling in place. This was right.

“I realized that I didn’t answer you when you asked me,” he smiled and pulled Eddie closer. “You, Eddie Munson, are exactly my type.”

[kenwio]

Joker's kid! Reader and their hair adventures

Route: recovered dove

Masterlist | previous part | next part (coming soon)

Author's note: I finally did it! All the requests about Joker's kid and their hair journey are here! Hope I`ve done good enough ;3 This week was valentines Day. I know I'm late for it, bu I hope it went well for you ^-^

Warnings: Grammar (as usual), psychological trauma, triggers

Adjusting to the manor, getting alone with family, building friendship with Chlory, and attending therapy : all of those things improved your mental health greatly. On one of your session your therapist brought up the idea that you should find a healthy way to express yourself, as any kid should try at least, that you can experiment and showing your personality through your appearance, and to find your own style and after soke thought you decided to give it a shot.

You could try to wear colorful clothes, but you liked dark color scheme that you've seen your family (except Dick) preferred to wear and which you also picked up , besides every time you see purple and green clothes you feel uncomfortable. As for the style of clothes, you liked them relaxed comfortable and soft, so your style,.if you could say so, was exactly that, relaxed. The thought of body modifications went straight out of a window, you had enough of experiments on your body and enough experience with syringes your body for now. Makeup was..  to hard, you were still adjusting holding crayons, what to say about brushed. Besides, makeup had so many things and rules, styles that you didn't really catch up with. And so you decided that you should try to dye your hair. You knew you would NEVER dye your hair green! You don't want to have anything connected to the nightmare of your life anymore. But you remember your mom had tips of her hair colored, one of which was pink.

So you did some research on how to dye hair, types of dyes, techniques, and all the things. Although you had some vague memories of how your biological father dyed your hair, you can remember how the process was painful, you remember your mom told you that when she dyed her hair it, didn't hurt. A few times, she was able to dye your hair instead of Joker. She did so without hurt. Maybe this memory also made you more inclined to dye your hair. Maybe this way, you would still have some connection to her. Back to your new perception of hair dye, it wasn't that hard since you caught up on chemical reaction in the root of the process quickly. After reading about different types of hair dyes and different ingredients in them, you found one that was a good choice for you. The problem was how to get them.

Although you already brought up the idea of dyeing your hair to Alfred, you did not introduce your dad to the idea, and you had no idea how Bruce would react. And although Alfred was supportive of your idea (he was happy to know you found a courage to express yoursekf and joked that he would be happy too see something bright and not dangerous at the same time in the manor) you were not sure of Bruce.

You told him about you wanting to try dye your hair on the way to your therapy session. Although he knew you had a decision about it with therapy, he was still surprised to hear it. He gently asked you for your reasoning, and to your surprise on the way back, he took you to buy few hair dyes that was good quality and safe (he did all necessaryr esearch while waiting you) and haircare products which was good quality and suited for dyed hair. After Alfred helped you cut your hair in style you wanted, you began the process of hair coloring. You diligently followed instructions, coloring your strands in the right order, trying not to mess anything up. After you washed excessive dye and dryed your hair, you got your result. Your hair was pink, but not as bright as you thought (you knew about hair bleach, but you decided not to risk it), but you loved it. It was a cute color and a bit peachy.

Chlory, who was first to see you, couldn't contain her amazement repeating cute and loud "I am Chlory" over and over. The second who saw you, was Damian, who heard how loud  Chlory and instantly went to check on you, hoping  that you are okay (thought he would never admit it), and when he entered your room he was startled. He remembers you having your natural color of hair, one which he was used to, so seeing you with new hair color was .... surprising. He had to stare at you for a few seconds until you turned to look at him questionably

- Are you trying to make a statement? - he asked, a sharper than intended

- uh - you hesitated - no? Why?

- your hair ... it's different.. interesting. - he said, staring a few more seconds and walking away, leaving you confused.

Your family learned about your adventure soon enough, and all of them were accepting. While Jason was more surprised (silently praying it wasn't connected to the rebel phase (he had one so bad, and he was concerned for yours would be worse)). Dick was happy to know you started expressing yourself. He showered you with praises, saying how adorable you were, and you really were since you seemed more happy now and helped you do various hairstyles. For him, your cuteness went higher up, and his awe with you went to new levels. He also was happy to discuss with you what hair color you should try next. As for Tim, he was the one who notced that now you opened your obsession, connected to having all color's of hair dyes possible (except green), and he kinda enables it, showing you new tones and limited collections, leading to your bathroom becoming filled with dyes. You seem happy, so he is happy for you.

As your pink hair began to fade, you decided to go with the next color your mom had in her hair - blue. And, at first, it seemed fine. Sure, color turned out to be more turquoise than on the label, but it was fine. What you didn't expect is for color of your hair to wash out so quickly and suddenly. At first, you thought nothing of it. But one evening after the shower, when you saw yourself in the mirror, you saw green in your hair. It suddenly was hard and painful to breathe. Your heart hurt your ribs. The bathroom seemed to get smaller. You couldn't tear your eyes away. You swear you heard him. You couldn't move. You couldn't run or hide.

You skipping dinner made family worried. And they all decided to check on you to find you sobbing hard, breaking down. Jason and Tim were the first ones to get what was wrong and what triggered you... green in your hair. While Bruce and Dick helped you calm down, they exchanged a quick conversation, which led you to the moment: once you calmed  down they acted instantly, knowing you don't need trigger (and they too), so here you were, sitting on the floor of Tim's bathroom with him next to you, and Jason on the edge of the bath . Tim is showing you blue hair dye, which fades to purple while instantly sending Dick to buy it, and Jason prepares your hair for the next coloring. You three spend the entire evening together (as a squad of kids who were danaged by Joker) working on your hair and leading it back to blue, and also talking lots. After that, and other's returning from patrol an emergency movie night was arranged starring yout favorite documentary, and while Bruce fall asleep holding you, few others went soon, leaving you and Damian to have a good and long discussion about film.

Your hair journey went on, featuring all the colors (even black for the connection with bats), different haircuts, hair dyeing done by all family, and more happy memories. You took the roud and you've certainly liked it

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Thank you for reading! Feel free to let me know what you think about my work! Hope you have a good day 💖

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Author's note 2 : it was only my first week back in studying field, but I alredy have so much work, I'm alredy tired, and I managed to get sick... I hope to post every week or every two weeks. Life is chaotic, but i will try my best to deal with it. And here i want to thank you all for your support, it means a lot to me 💖

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♡ Tag list ♡

if i forgot someone or anyone want to be added please let me know

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[steddieas-shegoes]

if you look deep enough into steve’s eyes, the colors start to shift from a medium-brown to light, almost golden, like his hair in the summer, like his skin when it’s wet.

eddie finds himself noticing these things more often as the year after vecna passes. on the anniversary of nearly dying, eddie thinks he’s noticed everything about steve.

but then steve shows up at his door after dropping the kids off at their respective homes, a smile on his face, and something mysterious in his eyes. something that distracts eddie from the golden specks the reflect off his porch light. something that only eddie really gets to see.

“wanna take a ride?”

“where you taking me, big boy?”

steve blushes, a soft pink that would be warm to the touch if eddie was brave enough to reach out.

“it’s a surprise.”

eddie trusts steve, so he gets in his car and doesn’t ask anymore questions.

steve talks about something dustin did on the way, complaining with a fondness only steve could have for the kid.

it hits eddie as steve pulls onto a side road.

the field.

the wildflowers bloomed early this year, and eddie had mentioned recently that he would like to make new memories in a place where he was facing death or prison exactly one year ago.

he didn’t think anyone was listening, but apparently steve was.

steve parks the car and eddie doesn’t think he can look at him yet. he thinks he’s gonna cry. he thinks he’s so deeply in love with this man that he may never experience anything like it again.

it’s dark, but the moon is bright. there’s still a light chill in the air, but eddie’s still wearing his leather jacket from hellfire earlier, so he barely feels it.

they walk together through the field, close enough that their hands brush, but still more distance between them than eddie wants. he’s surrounded by beauty: the flowers, the stars, steve.

he stops when steve does.

they both look up at the stars for a few minutes, silent so they can hear the crickets and their own heartbeats.

“a year ago, when i almost lost you, i thought about all the things i didn’t get to do or say or know about you. i was angry for a long time.” steve turns to eddie, giving him a sad smile. “it wasn’t fair that you had to go through all of that and i couldn’t do anything. the doctors weren’t doing enough, and the cops weren’t doing enough, and no one understood how important it was that they fix it.”

eddie’s watching him, baffled. he’s not sure where this is going and he’s worried that his own feelings may be clouding his vision.

“i couldn’t make your pain go away. i couldn’t make it easier. i couldn’t help you walk again or play guitar. i just had to watch.”

eddie feels a tug in his stomach, a pull that leaves him breathless.

“but i watched. and i saw every side of you. and i don’t think i’ll say this right, but i practiced with robin and she thinks i did good.” steve breathes in and turns to face eddie completely. “i learned a side of me that i didn’t know about while i watched you. i learned that love looks different than what i always thought. and i learned that because of you.”

“because of…me?” eddie’s trying not to get his hopes up, but he’s pretty sure they’re higher than ever.

“because you love so loudly. everyone you love knows it and you aren’t scared that they’ll run away. it’s probably because it’s impossible not to love you.”

eddie thinks he actually is experiencing some kind of post-death dream. maybe he got too high in his room and steve never even showed up at his door.

“eddie? did you hear me?”

eddie focuses on steve’s look of concern, on the golden specks in his eyes that the moonlight makes shimmer.

“i don’t know?”

“i said i love you.”

“oh. then, no, i didn’t.”

steve’s face falls and eddie realizes a second too late that his response to steve saying he loves him wasn’t the exact thing he’d been holding back for at least six months now.

“i just thought you should know. um. so i guess i can wait in the car if you wanna stay a bit longer-“

eddie is only staying in this field if steve is with him, so he wraps his arms around steve’s shoulders and hugs him harder than is probably safe.

“i love you. sorry i’m a dumbass and didn’t say it the second you did. i was trying to convince myself this was real life.”

steve laughs against his ear and eddie’s pretty sure they belong like this.

“why now?” eddie asks as he pulls away.

“because i told myself if you didn’t do it by today, i would.”

“how long have you been waiting on me?”

steve lets out a breath. “eight months give or take.”

“that is…much longer than i would’ve expected.”

“yeah, well, imagine being the one waiting.”

eddie smiles at steve, and steve smiles back, and eddie notices a new thing.

steve harrington’s got a crooked tooth. an imperfection to some, a sign of being human to eddie.

“what’s that face for?” steve asks.

“you’re perfect, stevie.”

they kiss in the field where eddie was saying goodbyes a year ago. they look at stars in a clear sky while holding hands and talking about what their future might look like. steve’s head rests in eddie’s lap while eddie traces steve’s lips with his finger, memorizing the curl of his lips when he smiles and the feel of the vibrations when he hums a song eddie doesn’t recognize.

steve picks flowers, and eddie makes a crown, and they both say i love you in a million ways.

they walk along the edges of the field, where the rv was parked while they prepared for the worst. eddie shivers at the memories, but steve kisses his shoulder and the back of his hand and he shivers at that instead.

they ride back, and eddie sings along to whatever songs play on the radio, even if he messes up the words. steve laughs and it’s better than any music they could listen to.

they kiss on eddie’s porch, surrounded by darkness because no one turned on the outside light. it’s so late, no one would see them anyway.

steve stays at eddie’s, but wayne’s home, so they’re quiet and keep their hands above the waist even though they so desperately want to touch, and kiss, and bite every inch of each other.

they still get carried away, which doesn’t surprise eddie at all. what does surprise eddie is how quickly steve sits in his lap, rutting against his stomach and biting back moans and whimpers and eddie laces their fingers together and squeezes, meeting each thrust with his own. neither of them last long, coming in their pants like virgins. they laugh, but they kiss through it, teeth clacking as they gasp for breath.

they take turns in the bathroom in case wayne wakes up. steve comes back into eddie’s room without a shirt and hair slightly damp. eddie feels his heartbeat quicken as steve hops into bed next to him.

they sleep with steve curled against eddie’s chest, eddie’s arms around his back, sweaty but content.

content and happy.

and when the sun rises the next morning, eddie wakes first and notices another new thing about steve: he drools in his sleep.

[illnessfaker]

tw: black+trans death

from the_yvesdropper on instagram:

our beautiful black trans brother, 35 year old Righteous Torrence "Chevy" Hill, was murdered in Atlanta, GA this weekend.

he went by his nickname 'Chevy' he was originally from Macon, GA. he owned Evollusion, which is a black/ queer owned LGBTQ+ salon in Atlanta that provided and dedicated full service to specializing in hair, nails, barbering and makeup. growing up as young black queer boys/kids, the barbershop experience can sometimes be a tricky space to occupy, this was something that Chevy understood and wanted to cultivate a space of safety where you can also get the affirming look and style you want, and he did exactly that.

Chevy was a beloved son, brother, partner, and father.

one of his last posts that had a photo of himself said :

"if you truly know me, you know i am a humble, modest, private man, that i love my community, i have the love of God in me and will give the shirt off my back to any soul in need, also i never post pictures of myself, legaey give myself credit, that stops today, i am my legacy!"

(a close friend of Chevy asked if i could share more then one photo of Chevy, since he never posted photos of himself and in recent years he got the confidence to want to share more photos and now he won't get the chance to)

Chevy, hey king, hey brother, hey angel, thank you for everything, i lové you, we lové you, i'm so sorry. there are a lot of photographers in heaven who will be able to photograph you as the glorious black trans angel that you are.

there will be a homegoing service/memorial for our brother

there aren't many details about what happened but apparently he was shot by a family member last wednesday, the 28th (at least this article was the one linked in relation to his murder.)

judging by both the IG post and the comments section he was well-loved by many people and those people have many good memories with him and nothing but good things to say. this is a comment that was left by tirajmeansgolden which was hidden by IG for some reason:

I started testosterone in February 2020. I hit this man up at the end of 2019 after numerous Google searches for an LGBT-friendly barber near me (and by near me... he was a good 35-40 minutes from the rural area I was in outside of Atlanta: but when I found out he was a trans man and that his business was the first and only LGBT hair bar, I knew it would be worth the trip). I was a dysphoric mess in his DMs one Sunday. I hated how my hair was growing out. I never had a "masculine" hairstyle before but decided one day I would buzz it all off myself, then allowed it to grow out a bit... I sent him a video and despite him being closed on Sunday, he told me to come through. I got my hair braided and he gave me my first really masculine fade. Explained the different terms. Lined me up. Was asking me about my decision to transition and provided some helpful advice + guidance. I told him how I was a therapist and he was hype and said he talked with a group of trans men and he would love for me to stop by and also give some mental health tips. So whoever said he was humble - wow, what an understatement. Such a community man! Made me feel SO comfortable because barbershops were a source of major trauma and triggers for me. They were such an integral part of my early transition (I just celebrated 4 years later week). And he was such an integral part of the Atlanta Queer community with hosting events like Queer Con. How I found so many other great resources + queer businesses/artists. May you rest in peace, Chevy. You'll be missed. You've made such a different in the lives of countless people. You definitely were living your Purpose + left a legacy behind ...

[alexiswritingstuff]

Everyone can heal.

Pairing: Logan Howlett x Gn!reader

Summary: Logan falls asleep in the day room at Xavier's school, you accidently startle him awake and end up getting hurt.

Genre: hurt/comfort.

Warnings: mentions of blood, and descriptions of wounds, mentions of nightmares.

This is the first time that I am writing in a while, so I hope this isn't just straight up terrible.

A/n: this if my first fic for Logan, so like I usually say when writing for a new character, I may not have portrayed him in an accurate way. There might be parts that seem out of character and such, so please keep that in mind while reading!

Anyway, I've watched the X-men movies since I was a kid. And after watching the new Deadpool and Wolverine movie I was put right back at square one. So, here you go!

I hope you enjoy!!

Logan masterlist.

It had been a long few days.

It was one of the first weeks that you had actually tried to be a professor. Of some sort.

Now, generally, you weren't exactly the kind of person that worked well with kids. It was a lack of experience on your end, as you hadn't gotten the chance to grow up with much others.

But you wanted to learn. Or... did.

The main fault was that you had forgotten to weigh your personal life, more so the things you needed, alongside being a professor in a school.

See, there were a few things that you didn't know about your abilities beforehand. Charles managed to bring some to light, and in turn, you had to figure out how to use them: Incorporate them into your training, into your fighting skills.

It was a lot to relearn. And you misjudged just how much it was going take it out of you.

Though, you didn't seem to be the only one.

Logan was practically in the same boat. Maybe even a little worse. I mean, he was good with kids, but working with them was different, especially when it's a whole group of them at a time. He even bailed on his own classes once. Or twice... could’ve been more.

But you couldn't exactly blame him.

This was the man that barely stayed a week anyway. He was always leaving, whether it was for a bar or something else, you didn't know unless you went with him.

He wasn't used to it yet. The change of being alone, pretty much all the time, to suddenly being surrounded by a boat load of people 24/7. It was understandable. Especially to you, which is probably why you had got to know him so well.

It was the end of the day. The sun was tucked far beneath the horizon, blanketing your part of the earth in a complete darkness. Minus the slight light pollution.

The hallways of the schools were empty at this time, each kid, hopefully, getting a good night's sleep for the next day of learning. But you could never be sure when it came to the teenagers.

It meant that there were less things in the surrounding area for the sound of your footsteps to bounce off. And that, combined with the size of the archways themselves, allowed the echoes to ring a lot longer than needed. 

You were on your way back to the day room, having made a quick stop by the kitchen to get more sodas in order to soothe the joint annoyance of having a lack of beer. 

It was where the two of you usually set up for quiet moments like these. There wasn't really anywhere else to go, unless you wanted to be stuck in an empty classroom, or have to sit on a freezing bench. And neither of you had an interest in being near a bed.

The most important factor about the day room, however, was that it had a TV. Which just so happened to be the first thing you heard after passing through the final corridor.

It was distant, set at a cautious volume. It must've been one of those talk shows, or maybe some kind of sitcom, as a chorus of laughter would erupt after almost every sentence said.

Either way, it didn't really matter. It had only been put on for background noise. A sound that would carry the silence whenever the two of you had stopped talking, unsure of what to bring up next.

Though, it seemed it had worked a little too well.

The last time you got a look at Logan, he had resumed his usual position. He was upright, back pressed firmly into the sofa as if he were trying to meld with it, and leant against the palm of his hand that had his elbow digging into the armrest.

Your feet halted in a matter of seconds of turning into that doorway. Your tongue was curled in your mouth, lips parted and remaining so, as your eyes had landed back on the man.

He was lying in the opposite direction. His body was sprawled across the length of the couch, though his feet were cursed to hang loosely over the edge. His muscles looked tense, regardless of the usual relief that sort of position was supposed to give a person. But that wasn't the interesting part.

His eyes were closed.

At this point the condensation on the bottles had begun to grow into little drops of water, joining together, one by one, before leaking onto your skin.

Your steps were slow, testing each of the floorboards beneath your shoes to avoid the ones that creaked like an old door.

Logan wasn't a person who got tired easily. It was part of his mutation, that of which you had learned very quickly, but apparently it had manifested into thinking that he couldn't even feel it at all. I guess you were wrong.

Though, in his defence, he may not have even meant to fall asleep when he closed his eyes.

Eventually, you had made it to the edge of the couch. There was a side table on each end of it, the safest and the closest option regardless of the fact his shoed feet were almost right above it.

You took one of the bottles in your free hand, making sure that your grip was just right, before beginning the descent to the table.

You held your breath, narrowed gaze flickering consistently from the eventual destination to the sleeping man. The concentration had even caused your tongue to poke through your teeth as you took about a step closer--

And then bam.

Right as the bottom of the bottle had touched down on the wood, this sudden guttural sound rippled through the air. It had you stumbling backwards, gaping in the direction of the continued noise that sounded like fear itself.

In front of you, now, was not the same sleeping man. In fact, this man was sat up, though almost hunched over most of his body. His arms were raised, aimed straight ahead, and that happened to be right at you.

“Whoa-- hey!”

He was heaving. Each breath taken almost shook his entire body. And the noises... They were almost like growls.

They were so deep and harsh as they pushed out of his throat one after the other, but his inhales were somehow even worse. It was like all the air in the room had suddenly dissipated.

It wasn't until you heard the seams of the couch starting to rip that you realised his claws were even out, the ends just about digging into the pillows beside him.

“Logan, hey, it's me, okay? Look,” you attempted to call, trying to lower your head so that he could properly meet your eyes, “Look, it's me!” And then he did. He saw you, even if It took a moment for it to actually kick in. 

He was still heaving, his gaze was fierce and his eyebrows never eased. He had even slightly choked on a breath on its way out.

But you saw the way he had slightly leaned back. There was a relief within the swirl of other emotions.

Until his gaze lowered.

Now, at some point in the past few minutes, the other bottle in your hand had been discarded. It most likely hit the edge of your shoe, sending it to roll off into some corner of the room where it would be forgotten about until morning... But it hadn't smashed.

So, why did something sound like it was dripping?

“Y/n.”

By the time your eyebrows had furrowed in confusion, Logan had hurriedly shoved himself up from the couch, his claws shrinking back between his knuckles within seconds. “Shit.”

You were lost. The sudden switch in atmosphere had you just standing there, fixated on the man that was moving towards you with this look on his face. Similar to one of guilt.

“Logan?” You had barely gotten the name out before you suddenly felt a hand on your arm. Your head snapped in its direction, lips parting so that you could ask what the hell was going on. And then he slightly tilted your arm.

There was your answer. “Oh.”

Three marks. There were three lines etched diagonally into your arm, one deep enough that it led the pooling blood to trickle down your skin. How did you not feel that?

“Fuck,” Logan's hand was careful. His fingers were light and gentle as they grazed the side of your arm. Hesitant. His breaths were getting louder again. “I'm…”

“I'm sorry,” he attempted, his voice barely escaping as a whisper, “I'm so sorry.”

His eyebrows were more furrowed than they were before. The rest of his face was sort of scrunched up too, like he couldn't believe what he was seeing. Or he was disgusted by it.

“Logan,” You tried placing your hand on his closest wrist, but he immediately retracted. He let go of your arm, “Hey, look, I'm fine, okay?” you started louder, more insistent, “It doesn't hurt.”

Logan shook his head for a moment. He took a slight step backwards, his stance heavy. His eyes never moved. “I'm sorry.”

He grunted, the frown taking over his lips deepening for just a moment before his torso twisted. He grabbed the neck of the successfully placed soda, and then just walked around you.

“No, wait,” You tried to reach out, wanting to grasp his arm or even the fabric of his top, but he swerved, completely avoiding you, “Logan?”

You couldn't even make another attempt as if your other hand was away for longer, more blood would end up dripping on the floor. So, your body turned, desperate eyes following the man in a way that was more of a plea than anything else.

But he never looked back. He continued walking through the doorway, rubbing hard against his temples with a final grunt before disappearing behind the wall.

~~~

The time, at this point, was unclear. The clocks in this school were usually around the learning areas, mostly in the classrooms, which created a sort of guessing game anywhere else.

It was apparent, however, that the sun had just begun to rise. Peeking over the horizon enough so that a bright mist seeped into most of the corridors.

You found yourself back in the hallways. There wasn't a very clear reason as to why than this inability to sit. A failure to be still for seconds at a time, regardless of the tiredness that had started to cling to your skin.

But that was the last thing on your mind.

You kept thinking about it; the previous encounter. It was sort of plaguing your mind, more so how you handled it.

Granted, it was in fact your first time having to deal with a situation like that, and usually you were on the other side. Though this seemed different, like something had just been exposed.

You were aware of the fact that Logan had nightmares. I mean, it was one of the most believable things about him, considering the things he'd gone through. The extent, however, was undetermined.

Until today.

A huff of air sifted through your lips as you attempted to straighten your spine, stretch the accompanying muscles that had grown tense over the past few hours.

The aimless walking was almost nice. The surroundings were mostly quiet, excluding the wind that whistled against the glass of the windows, having picked up some time earlier.

It was that time of year again. The group of months where the weather grew cold and the plants began to change. It almost made the school feel cosy even if there was no heating in the hallways.

In fact, where you were now was the coldest, and it wasn't until you looked up properly that you realised you were about to walk into a dead-end.

Slowly, your feet came to a stop, your lazy eyes blinking hastily in the blaring yellow light, which was starting to mix into this sort of orange.

Your shoulders lowered, a sense of relief filtering through your system as the decision had been final. You were going to go to your room, maybe even get to lay down for a few hours until it was time to teach.

So, you turned on your heel, taking about a step in the other direction as your blurry eyes attempted to focus on the closest doorway, until you could note the surroundings. It was the kitchen.

Now, that door was always open, usually swung all the way back and held by a stopper. But a light was on. Allowing you to properly get a view of the room and what was in it.

More so who.

Your movements had halted right as you were about to take another step.

Logan.

He was sitting at the narrow table at the back, set between the array of windows. His elbows were against the surface of it, one of his hands clasped around a bottle he had just set down. He swallowed, and so did you.

There was an initial pause, seconds taken to calculate the right decision, before you went in. Your lips parted, ready to release the script you had gone over in your head for the last hour--

“I didn't mean to hurt you.”

Instead, you were frozen. The volume of his voice, and the angle he sat at, almost made it seem like the words didn't even come from him. He probably heard you before you had even come down the hall.

Your eyebrows furrowed, “Logan–” you tried, but his mouth opened before you could even finish, “Just let me talk,” He hadn't moved. He was in the same position, still holding the bottle, and staring straight forward like there was someone there across from him. “Okay?”

You brought your lips together, placing a hand on the kitchen island to distribute your weight. Logan took the silence as acceptance and he cleared his throat. “I'm sure you already know,” he had begun, sparing the slightest glance your way for confirmation that didn't even need, “about the... nightmares.”

It was as if something in his mouth went sour when he said it, like the words itself tasted bad.

“Some are about the past, you know-- bits and pieces of it, anyway, but…” Logan paused for a moment, both verbally and physically. It only held for a few seconds. And then he sighed. “There are other ones too- Ones... ones where people get hurt, and, I'm…”

“I'm the one doing it.” It was a slow movement, an action that looked like it had to be forced, as Logan suddenly began turning in his seat. He met your eyes with a look that had your eyebrows furrowing all over again, “I'm the one hurting people.”

“Y/n, I'm sorry.”

“Logan,” you started, shaking your head in disagreement with the apology, but he only repeated it. “I'm so sorry.”

You made your way to the edge of the island, pace slowing once round the corner, “Hey,” Logan's gaze had shifted as you moved. It was lower, directed at a specific point. He was looking at your arm.

It had been engulfed by a layer of, hopefully, the appropriate bandaging. An attempt at following the tips Jean had given you from previous injuries.

But it being covered somehow made it seem worse than it was.

“Hey, look at me,” you called, stopping at a good place where you were actually in front of him, yet still a good distance away so he wouldn’t want to back off. “Look at me.” 

The next words only left your lips when he had finally decided to comply. “I'm fine.” you assured, the tone of your voice much lighter than before. But that made the look on Logan's face shift, “I hurt you.”

“It was an accident,” Your response was quick, your voice making it sound so simple. Like the sentence said should’ve been accompanied by a shrug of the shoulders. Logan didn't like that, “Accident or not, I still hurt you, Y/n.” His tone was riddled with this disbelief, as if he couldn't believe that he had to tell you that in the first place.

“And, I'm still here, Logan.”

You didn't understand it. The two of you had trained together many times, each round ending with either one receiving a new injury until your skills developed. Hell, you had been in battle together.

A little scratch was nothing. “It was a mistake-- my mistake. I'm the one who startled you, shit like this happens.” you tried to assure. Logan scoffed immediately, “What-- Does that make it magically okay for me to hurt people?”

“No!” you huffed out, the ability to contain your annoyance dwindling the more he challenged your statements. “No, okay? But-- You know, what-- Look.”

You took a few more steps, the care for all of the previous caution going completely out the window as you grasped an end of the bandaging, and unwinded the material before pulling back the padding beneath.

“See?”

Logan almost looked like he had buffered for a few seconds. He blinked, and then again, and then twice really fast, as if it would change what was in front of him. His hand had even flexed, like he wanted to reach it out, though it remained on the table.

They were gone. Each mark, each line that was carved into the skin had completely gone. Disappeared without a trace. There wasn't even a scar.

“You…” He spoke slowly, his eyes trailing up the length of your arm to your shoulders. And then your face. “You can regenerate?”

“Granted, a little... Well, a lot slower than you-- But, yeah.” you confirmed, wrapping the bandage up in your hands before placing it on the kitchen aisle behind you.

Logan leaned back slightly in a way that straightened his up spine. He brought his legs from under the table and set them in the direction the rest of his body was facing. He had turned right towards you.

“Are you serious?” The complete deadpan had you staring right back at him. You couldn't read the expression, nor the stance. You didn't even know what to call it. “Yep.” You blinked. Logan didn't move a muscle, “You can heal.” 

Now, you could hear it in his voice. It wasn't just a statement, a form of repetition to clarify the new information. He was getting mad.

You furrowed your eyebrows, “I... I don't really know what else you want me to say.” Which was the truth, the whole healing thing was one of the things you had discovered with Charles. 

It's an entirely different process than it is for most anyway, let alone when it comes to Logan. At the moment you actually had to activate the process for anything to heal. But you were working on it.

I guess it just slipped your mind.

“So, you were just willingly acting like a damn damsel?” The lines around his eyebrows deepened the way they usually did when he was getting angry. And they weren't stopping.

“A damsel?” you repeated, even tilting your head as a wordless question, and he just nodded. “You stood there. You just stood there until I came to you-- You didn't even try to stop the bleeding. Hell, did you even notice?”

That look on his face never changed. You hated it. The way it darkened his eyes, or tensed the surrounding muscles. The most bothersome thing, however, was the fact that it was aimed at you. “No,” you started, this time with a deeper voice. “No, I didn't-- You know, why?”

“Why?” Logan commanded, the veins around his neck becoming apparent. It was as if he was trying to win an argument, get the upper hand and serve some kind of justice, like you had done something wrong.

He was supposed to be relieved.

“Maybe, it's because that was the last thing I cared about, Logan!”

The two of you were just staring at each other. At this point, both of you were almost heaving, the past few minutes taking the air out of both pair of lungs.

The expression on Logan's face twitched for a moment, a crack in the anger that usually wasn't breakable. His posture had become more of a slouch as he suddenly decided to lean back a little, like before.

You watched with curious eyes when he then sighed, breaking the held gaze to grab his bottle of soda and bring it to his lips.

It all resembled a puzzle. A constant attempt to find the right piece, the right thought, that would fit it all together. But there was a lack of progress. You were at a loss. 

Was he mad that you didn't tell him? Was he actually mad that you didn't do anything about the scratches? Were you reacting the wrong way? Did he want you to hate him? Were you supposed to?

Or did he think that you couldn't grasp the situation? The severity. The big 'What if?' Maybe he was in fact tired. 

Just a different kind.

You started to move after another few seconds, the sound of your shoes against the tiles piercing through the layer of created silence. It was apparent that Logan was watching, albeit discreetly, following what he could as he took another swig.

Your movements concluded by the length of the table he was sitting at. You leaned onto it, releasing that weight that had started aching both your knees and your feet from standing for so long.

By the time your eyes were back on Logan, his own had snapped away.

You took in a deep breath of the cold air, feeling it hit the back of your throat, your shoulders deflating, “I get them too, you know... Nightmares.”

There was a beat of silence again. A lack of movement, or reaction. And then he met your eyes again. Slower this time, almost hesitant. He set his drink down ,listening. So, you continued, “I wouldn't go about comparing them,” 

“But, I understand enough to know what it's like.”

Logan sort of huffed a laugh after that. Not a malicious one, or in disbelief of the sentiment. He was acknowledging it. “You shouldn't have to.” 

He was back to that whisper of a voice again. It was still deep, and a tad gravely, almost forceful. But it conveyed enough. “Neither should you.. yet,” you paused, shrugging your shoulders, “Here we are.”

This time, the huffed laugh was louder. More pronounced in a way. It left a mark on his lips, leaving them curling at the corners. It fit right in. You wanted it to stay. Maybe a little too much, “At least, now, I get to say that I was attacked by The Wolverine and survived.” 

The comment was a little dangerous, especially if taken the wrong way. In all honesty, your eagerness allowed it to be blurted right through your lips before you could catch it. 

But Logan practically snorted. “Shut up.” he breathed, bringing the soda back to his lips. You pretended that you didn’t hear him, even crossing your arms over your chest, though a grin had slightly appeared, “I could even say that I defeated him.” 

In about a second his eyes had snapped to yours, a singular brow rising as the bottle smacked onto the surface of the table, “Okay,” He swallowed, “you did not defeat me, bub.”

“Oh, really?” you challenged, attempting to mimic his expression. “You were done after one move.”

Logan pushed the chair with his back in a way that had the legs screeching against the tiles. He stood from it, moving about a step to the side before continuing towards you.

“I was distracted.” he pointed out, gaze narrow as his eyebrows decided to furrow in an attempt to support his justification. “Excuses, excuses,” was all you said, accompanying it with a light shrug.

Logan was right in front of you now. He was close, about a step away. Though, the longer he looked at you, his eyes scanning across the skin of your face, that amusement once held had begun to fade.

He became sort of serious, the tension making the lines of his face more prominent all over again as his lips curved into more of a frown.

“I don't want it to happen again.” He was avoiding your eyes now, his own gaze cast downward. They were following his hand as he had brought it to your arm, the fingers of which ghosting across where the marks had been like he could still see them.

“Logan,” you started, your voice quiet yet loud enough that his attention was recovered. The two of you were looking at each other again, this time properly. Your features eased, all of the concern and the previous anger completely melting away.

You brought the hand of your previously injured arm upward, and he watched it until it went out of his vision.

You gently placed your hand on the side of his cheek, your palm pressing into the hair of his mutton chops which brought his gaze back to yours. And then you smiled lightly, just enough that he could see it, “Even if it did, I am not going anywhere.”

There was this quick twitch in Logan's expression. A split second of movement that had almost gone unnoticed until it happened again. His eyebrows pinched together.

Before you could say a word, he had suddenly pulled you forward, away from the table you were once against.

By the time you were up straight, his arms had wrapped around your body one after the other, entrapping you in this warmth that the kitchen could never achieve. It had you copying him as fast as you could, letting your hands land across the skin of his back and the fabric of the tank top.

Logan's head was planted on your shoulder, his hair sort of tickling the side of your face as he tucked himself in further. 

His body slightly deflated after a moment, a sort of gravelly hum of content rumbling from his throat. He obviously wasn’t putting his entire weight on you, the two of you would've tipped over within seconds. But you could feel it.

An extra weight that you were glad to carry.

[awearywritersworld]

gratitude

gojo satoru x reader summary: gojo wakes up early one morning, suddenly aware that he can't live without you. w/c: .5k tags/warnings: fluff. gn!reader. a/n: happy jjk day!!! masterlist check out my latest work for gojo here

gojo satoru is something of a stranger to gratitude, but can anyone really blame him? he was born with unmatched strength, unaccustomed to the blood, sweat, and tears many people shed to gain even a fraction of the power he possesses.

he's the son of one of the wealthiest clans in japan, so he's never gone to bed hungry, nor has he ever had to wear a pair of shoes that were past their prime. he's also blessed with good looks, always flaunting the kind of smile that makes people turn their heads.

now, that's not to say he's never felt thankful in his life. quite the contrary. he was thankful when nanami returned to jujutsu tech and when yuuji came back to life even after sukuna ripped out his heart. hell, he was thankful for the kid at the bakery who served him a particularly exquisite lemon loaf last week.

but he's never felt true gratitude. you know, the kind you experience when you're given something you can't possibly live without. the kind that moves you, shakes you to the core.

that is, until he's laying in bed beside you, already awake as the sun begins to kiss the morning sky. his eyes trail over your face in the pale blue light of dawn, taking great pains to commit every little detail to memory.

it's then that he feels it, gratitude that seeps into his bones and fills him with relief, hope, and elation all at once. gratitude that changes him as a person, because how could he exist without you? without the soft curve of your nose, without the fullness of your lips, without those cute little snores that let him know you're still sleeping peacefully?

you're laying on your stomach, your back exposed and the sheet bunched around your waist. he traces each divot of your spine with a careful and loving touch, acutely aware that there isn't a thing in the world that could possibly compare to the feeling of your skin against his own.

"'toru? what're you doing awake?" you ask groggily, pulling him from his thoughts.

"hmph.. can't sleep 'cause you're such a blanket hog."

"yeah? are you sure you're not just staring at me again, all googly eyed and creepy?" you pop one eye open to discern the look on his face.

"i've got no idea what you're talking about," he asserts, pulling you against his chest in an attempt to obscure his guilty grin.

you've already seen it though. "i think you're delusional or something, you should get some more sleep."

you feel his chest shift, a breath of a laugh passing his nose. "yeah, you're probably right."

you hum, satisfied with his answer, then tangle your legs with his and close your eyes. "i love you."

gojo has taken a lot of things for granted in his life, he's smart enough to know that, but those three words? from your lips? he'll be grateful for them until the end of time.

"i love you, too."

taglist: @torusmochi @moonmalice

[formosusiniquis]

This one goes out to that old guy I saw at walmart yesterday loading up his pioneer woman cookware onto his motorcycle while enter sandman played

steddie | G | WC: 1154

---

“Hey baby, can you?”

“No.”

Steve's sweet tone sours immediately returning to the much more familiar gently bitchy tone Eddie knows and loves. “You don't even know what I was gonna ask.”

“Twenty-five years of marriage, lawful and not, Sunshine. I know when you're about to ask me for some shit we don't need.”

“Why would I be calling you if we didn't need it?”

“Because if you needed it you would have told me about it when I said, ‘Stevie, sweetie, light of my life, sun to my dawn,’” he looks around trying to figure out where the hell they moved the oranges and why the produce section is never in the same configuration anytime he comes here. He makes eye contact with a kid wearing an artificially faded printing of his own tour merch looking at him with a starry eyed look of recognition not of the celebrity but of family.

“Did you forget where you were going with that old man?”

He decides he might as well put on a show, both halves of this conversation already know he's going to do what he's told. “‘Stevie, my one truth north, my muse, my reason to continue living, my dearest husband, I'm going to Walmart,’ I told you not but thirty minutes ago and asked if you needed me to get you anything and you said no.”

“Oh, you aren't going to monologue for your adoring public all the sweet names I called you?” Steve is amused, he can tell, he's always been able to tell. He's accepting this as his penance for not giving Eddie an actual grocery list when he left.

“Well dear heart I am in public, but if you think we can find another grocery store to go to after getting banned from this one. I guess there is the Kroger on the other side of town.” The kid laughs, tries to hide it behind their hand, but if Eddie has had anything in this life it's experience with teens eavesdropping on conversations they shouldn't be.

“Oh you're really hamming it up, huh, Teddy. Can I tell you what you're getting me yet or do you still have a couple minutes in your set?”

He's given up on oranges, moves on to the onion he actually came here for, the lone ingredient for dinner that he'd forgotten from his clicklist. If they want to actually have the roast tonight it needs to start soon. “What is it that you remembered we needed, oh song of my heart.”

“I already sent you the link so you get exactly what I want.”

It's just ominous enough of a non-answer that he pulls his phone out of his pocket, juggling it and the five things he'd already grabbed that weren't on his one item list. He doesn't have the time to regret not grabbing the cart he was sure he hadn't needed when he sees what he's been sent.

“I'm on my bike! Where am I going to put that?”

“I'm sorry, am I hearing you correctly? Was I right when I said, ‘Teddy bear, my stars, my bard-’”

“You aren't on speaker.”

“My beloved damsel in distress, maybe the motorcycle isn't the most efficient of midlife crisis vehicles. Aren't you going to want something with more trunk space, why don't you get a Caddy or a Bimmer for old times sake. And what did you say?”

“I don't recall.”

“Probably for the best wouldn't want you banned from Walmart, what would the tabloids say?”

“Nothing that would match your wit, Sweetheart. Does it have to be this one?”

“Yes, the plaid matches the kitchen remodel, so be a good boy and strap it to your bike. And remember we've still got one kid to put through school if she decides to go, don't bring home any strays with you. Do you need to do your encore now, baby?”

“I accept your quest, my dashing prince. I shall return home with my bounty posthaste.” Encore complete, audience still enraptured, Eddie dips into the sincere. It's been nearly thirty years together and he's not once ended a call without saying, “I love you.”

“Love you too, my knight in denim battle vest. I'll see you when you get home.”

The call ends with the usual dull toned beep beep, the playlist the call interrupted starts to filter back into his earbud. He realizes he's going to have to walk right past the kid to get to the side of the store with Steve's Instant Pot.

“Hear they're about to have a reunion tour,” he says gesturing down at the reprint of their Came Back Wrong Tour shirt. The faux-fading has left a crack through his own face at the bottom making him unrecognizable, not that he looks the same now as he did at 25. “Those old bands just don't know how to retire.”

“I think it's smart that they're playing up the recent tik tok fame.” The kid says, “No one's even seen their lead singer since the 90s and after their first national tour he'd started wearing that mask.”

It hurts a little bit the way the kid says 90s like it's some bygone era lost to time. Tries to appreciate instead how good the mask idea had been, he'd really been an innovator. “That was a pretty sweet gimmick, you think he'll bring it back? It's kind of Orville Peck's thing now isn't it.”

The kid slumps, managing the impressive feat of looking desolate while standing over the tomatoes. “Probably, not that I'll see it. I couldn't manage to get a ticket.”

That is something he can fix, “Here,” he manages to grab ahold of his wallet, “as luck would have it, I've got a couple spares.”

The kid looks torn between fear and elation, it's likely at least the second strangest thing to ever happen to them in a Walmart. “Oh I can't-”

“No strings, I got it through work for my sister-in-law to go with my husband. She asked why none of the good bands ever have reunion tours so… not going obviously. And my husband insists he's too old to be that close to the stage. You'd be doing me a favor really.”

“If you're sure,” they say, the hesitance more a mannered necessity than real.

“Sure as shooting. Seriously, here give me your name so my husband knows who to make the thank you note out to.”

“Aspen, thank you really!”

Twenty minutes later when he’s got a kitchen appliance bungied to the back of his bike he’ll appreciate that something good came out of this. Three weeks later when he’s standing at the front of a sold out arena he’ll mostly appreciate another chance to be dramatic, “This next one is for Aspen who didn’t laugh when an old man tried to flirt with his husband in the produce aisle. Gareth, count me in.”