#“shut up” “make me��� is a love language

[nahoney22]

Hello there!

Congratulations on 4,500 followers!

May I request a NSFW prompt 30: come closer and keep me warm or something like with F! Reader x Mayday, please?

He needs more love!

Warmth in the Night*** 🌊

🫧 pairings: Commander Mayday X Female!Reader

word count: 1.9k

prompts:

• “Come here and keep me warm.”

plot: Trapped with nothing but a lousy flickering fusion lantern to keep you both warm, yourself and Mayday decide to take advantage of this time alone.

warnings: NSFW, 18+ only. Established relationship, cuddling (amongst other things) for warmth, kissing, consensual sex, p in v sex, cock warming, dirty talk, explicit sexual content language, praising, fingering, trapped in a snow storm.

authors note: im so sorry for the wait @ladypunz and I apologise it’s short! But you’re right, he does deserve some love!

“Do you think it’ll hold?” you ask, your voice trembling as much from the cold as the worry gnawing at you. Together, yourself and Mayday had managed to barricade the rickety door of the abandoned shack you’d stumbled upon, but the raging blizzard outside wasn’t letting up.

Mayday steps back, eyeing the door with his hands on his hips. “Should do,” he says, his tone calm but a little cautious. “And if not… well, we’ll cross that bridge when we get to it.”

You try to laugh, but the bitter cold seeps into every part of you, stealing the sound before it can form. Stars, the bitter breeze stabs at your skin like little needles.

Pushing aside your discomfort, you move to help him gather whatever scraps of blankets and fabric you can find and then drape them around a fusion lantern. It was the only thing providing little warm but its light flickers weakly, threatening to go out at any moment. The thought of it completely shutting down makes you nervous which doesn’t go unnoticed by Mayday.

Setting his helmet on a cracked, uneven table, he steps closer, his gloved hand brushing against your frosty cheek. His touch was warm despite the frigid air.

“Don’t worry,” he says, his voice steady and reassuring. “We’ll get through this. We’ll rest tonight, and by morning, the storm will have passed. Then we’ll make our way to the rendezvous point.”

You lean into his touch, seeking out the comfort it offers, and before you know it, your arms are around his waist, clinging to him as if he’s the only thing keeping you knitted to warmth and safety. “At least I’m with you,” you say softly.

His lips curve into a fond smile as he wraps his arms around you, his hands rubbing gently up and down your back in an effort to warm you. “Likewise.”

You were both meant to be delivering supplies to an outpost but were caught off guard by the sudden storm and luckily, you and Mayday had been together for a while now. He liked to tease that you fell for him first, and while that wasn’t entirely untrue, it didn’t mean he didn’t fall harder. He was everything you wanted in a relationship and you were glad he was so calm in a rather precarious situation.

“How are we on rations?” you ask after a moment, sitting down on the pile of tattered blankets whilst he pushes a broken table against the door just for a little extra reinforcement.

He grabs his pack, rummages around, and pulls out two ration bars, offering a wry smile as he hands you one. “At least it’s the flavor you like.”

“Lucky me,” you mutter with a half-smile, taking the bar and nibbling on it. If you were going to be stuck here, you wanted it to last.

Once the makeshift barricades are as secure as they’ll get, Mayday settles in beside you, the two of you huddling under the pile of blankets. The only light comes from the pathetic sputtering lantern, and the majority of warmth from each other. Despite your best efforts, your teeth chatter relentlessly.

Mayday drapes an arm over you, pulling you closer until your back is tucked against his chest. “Come here,” he says, his voice low and soft. “Keep me warm.”

You don’t hesitate, nestling into him, your head resting in the crook of his neck and shoulder. His warmth envelops you, a small reprieve from the biting cold.

“That’s better, isn’t it?” he murmurs, pressing a tender kiss to the back of your head.

“A little bit,” you admit, your breath shaky, though you can’t deny how much this was helping.

Night falls swiftly, the wind still screaming against your shelter. “I hope this storm ends soon,” you whisper, your voice barely audible above the howl of the wind.

“Me too,” Mayday replies, his arms tightening around you. “But at least the company’s good, right?”

You smile despite everything, catching the teasing lilt in his voice. “It’s perfect,”

“You know,” Mayday murmurs, his voice low and teasing as his fingers trace gentle patterns across your stomach, “it’s been a while since we’ve had some time alone.”

Your eyes, which had been closed in contentment, flutter open. A playful smirk spreads across your lips as you tilt your head just enough to meet his gaze. “You’re right,” you say softly, your voice holding a hint of mischief. “It has been a while.”

Mayday’s answering smirk is wicked, a flicker of heat sparking in his inviting eyes. He leans down, capturing your lips with his, the kiss starting soft but quickly deepening into something more needy.

A gasp escapes you as his hand tangles in your hair, pulling you closer. You turn fully to face him, your fingers threading through the textured strands of his long hair, tugging gently. The sensation draws a low groan from his throat, his lips parting against yours as your tongue slips into his mouth.

The kiss turns hungrier, more demanding, as his hands begin to wander. One gloved hand peels away, and when his now-bare palm glides over your skin, the chill of his touch makes you gasp again.

His lips curve into a smirk against yours, and his free hand slips lower, exploring with deliberate slowness until it finds the waistband of your pants. He pauses for just a moment, enough to let anticipation coil tightly in your chest, before sliding his hand inside.

You tremble under his touch, his fingers brushing against your folds. The coldness of his skin sends shivers across your body, but it only heightens the heat rapidly building between you.

“Already wet for me?” he murmurs darkly, his lips brushing against yours. His thumb circles your clit with an intense and measured pace, and he bites down lightly on your lower lip. “You needy girl.”

A whimper escapes you, your body arching into his hand as waves of pleasure roll through you. “C-can’t help it,” you stammer, your voice breathless. “You’ve been neglecting me.”

A low groan rumbles deep in his chest, his mouth moving to your neck, leaving a trail of hot, open-mouthed kisses along your skin. His breath is warm against you, a stark contrast to the icy air around you.

“Let me fix that.”

His fingers move with purpose now, sliding against you with expert precision. Every flick of his thumb, every stroke of his hand, draws soft gasps and moans from your lips. The storm outside is forgotten, the cold replaced by the searing heat of his touch.

“Mayday, shit… don’t stop,” you plead, your voice trembling as you clutch his shoulders, your fingers digging into the fabric of his under-armor.

He grins, a low, knowing chuckle rumbling in his chest as he tugs your pants down just enough to give his hand the space it needs. His fingers slide against you, then press inside, drawing a sharp gasp from your lips. The sound makes his grin widen. “You feel so pretty,” he murmurs, his voice rough and reverent. “So perfect.”

Your hips buck instinctively against his hand, desperate for more. A string of curses falls from your lips as he adds another finger, spreading you open with a skilled, deliberate rhythm. His lips find your neck again, trailing hot, searing kisses along your skin that make you shudder beneath him.

“Stars, I’m g-gonna—” you stammer, the words caught in your throat as the pressure inside you builds to a dizzying peak after a measly few minutes.

“Yes, you are,” he growls, his voice laced with hungry satisfaction. His lips leave your neck, his gaze locking onto yours as he watches you unravel. Your eyes roll back, your body arching as pleasure crashes over you in an uncontrollable wave.

You come undone, trembling and gasping his name like a prayer. “Yes, you fucking are,” he says, his voice thick with pride, his fingers slowing but never stopping, coaxing every last ounce of bliss from you.

Stars blurred your vision, your body trembling as waves of you come down from your high. You felt drunk on his touch, the aftershocks of your climax leaving you breathless and spent. Sweat glistened on your brow, your legs shaking as you tried to steady yourself.

“That’s it,” Mayday murmured in your ear, his voice low and soothing. He withdrew his fingers carefully, his touch lingering for just a moment before he lifted his hand into the faint glow of the lantern. Slick with your arousal, his fingers shimmered in the dim light.

You closed your eyes briefly, letting the moment sink in, before looking up at him with a lazy, somewhat goofy smile. “I think it’s only fair if I return the favour.”

His lips form into a smirk, and without hesitation, he leaned down to kiss you, his mouth claiming yours with renewed desperation. As his tongue brushed against yours, your hands found their way to the waistband of his pants, fumbling with the latch. Mayday chuckled against your lips, helping you shove them down before kicking them off entirely.

Your breath hitched as his cock sprang free, thick and swollen with need. He gripped it lightly, stroking himself with deliberate slowness.

A soft moan escaped your lips at the sight, and an idea formed in your mind. You slipped your pants completely off and shifted closer, your hand wrapping around his length. He gasped at the initial contact, your touch cold against his heated skin, but the sound quickly melted into a groan as you aligned him with your entrance.

With a gentle roll of your hips, you guided him inside, both of you sighing as he stretched you open and settled deep within. His forehead dropped against your shoulder, and he let out a sinful groan, his arms wrapping tightly around you as he buried his face in your chest.

“Fuck, it’s been too long,” he rasped needily, “You feel amazing.”

You bit your lip, your walls fluttering around him, clinging to every inch of him as he throbbed inside you. A teasing smile played on your lips as you whispered, “You like this, Commander? You like being in my pussy?”

“I love it,” he groaned, his voice muffled against your skin and knowing full well that you calling him Commander gets him all hot and bothered. One of your hands tangled in his hair, holding him close as you shifted your hips experimentally.

But before you could start moving in earnest, his grip on you tightened. “Stop. Stop,” he panted, his tone commanding yet soft.

You froze, concern flickering in your eyes. “Is everything okay?”

“Don’t move,” he said, his voice ragged. Pulling back slightly, he cupped your face with both hands, his gaze locking with yours. “You’re keeping my cock so nice and warm.”

It took a moment for his words to register, but then a playful smile tugged at your lips. “Using me as a cockwarmer, are you?”

“Yes, baby,” he murmured, pressing a delicate kiss to your lips. “You’re so damn warm, and it feels so good. Just… let me stay like this for a while.”

Your smile softened, and you leaned into him, brushing your lips against his once more. “Anything you want.”

Settling against his chest, you let your body relax, your arms wrapping around him as his cock remained snugly sheathed inside you. He pulled the covers over the two of you, cocooning you both in warmth.

The storm outside howled, but for the first time in hours, you felt nothing but comfort. You didn’t know how long this moment would last, but for now, you hoped the storm wouldn’t let up anytime soon…

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[revelboo]

Could I maybe ask you for some Jazz (maybe some smut)? The scenarios you've written for him are absolutely delicious and he is my absolute favourite other than Starscream.

I would literally sell my soul for more Jazz 🫡

Sure! Plus it’s probably a good idea to remind that this is an 18+ blog every so often since there’s about 100 new folks since the last reminder

18+ mass displaced mech 🌶️

IDW Jazz Scenarios

Jazz x Reader

• Servos curling around your wrists, you arch as they’re gently pinned over your head and Jazz looms over you, one corner of his mouth twitching into something genuine instead of that fake mask he wears so often. With you he shows his real face, and that’s what you need more than anything, the good and the bad. All of him, not an act. Head dipping, his lips brush your cheek, trail along your throat. And you can feel him humming softly against your skin. Murmuring words in his own language as he explores. Singing to you between swipes of his glossa, kisses, and soft bites.

• Mapping you out slowly, finding and lingering whenever you make a soft sound or shift under him, his spike is pulsing against the inside of your thigh as he makes his way down, releasing your wrists. Seeing how patient you can be for him as he whispers to you all the things he can’t say out loud, because despite how easily he flirts with you, these things are too fragile. Too real. Denta grazing your belly, he realizes he’s singing to you instead of speaking, but he doesn’t stop as he stretches out between your thighs. Feels those soft hands on his helm, ghosting over his door wings to make them flick. The first stroke of his glossa making you arch under him with a sound that’s equal parts desperation and surprise. “Jazz.” Loving the way you said his name just then, breathy and almost a plea. Needing more.

• Head thrown back as he settles between your thighs so you can’t shut him out, all you can do is cling to his helm and feel that clever, lying mouth stroking over you intimately. Taking his time, seeming unbothered by the way your thighs are trembling as those big hands slide under you, tipping your hips up and then that glossa is inside you, stroking deep. Curling. And he’s humming again as he tastes you, servos tightening until his grip is almost bruising when you try to buck in his grip. Because this is torture, his mouth and glossa unhurried when you just want to race toward that finish line. Until you’re begging him.

• Those little, ragged noises, the gasps, whimpers, but also his name falling from your lips. Straining his control as he lifts his head and presses a bite against the inside of your thigh. Not breaking the skin, but leaving his mark on that soft skin just to hear you suck in a breath. See those eyes flash at him as he crawls back up your body, glossa sliding over his upper lip. “You’re damn sweet, doll,” he says as you hook your legs around his hips, trying to drag him to you as he settles over you. Sliding the length of his spike against you.

• “You’re killing me,” you moan as he grinds against you, but still not entering you. Playing with you instead. And he presses his face against your neck, laughing against your skin. Hips shifting so the head of his spike slides against you, your fingers digging into the seams in his plating when he finally finds you and drives into you in a slow thrust to stretch you. His denta and lips teasing your throat as he rocks himself.

• Those blunt little fingernails dig into his mesh as you squirm under him, trying to get him to move faster inside you. And he will, but he wants to savor this feeling of connection and belonging that he finds only in your arms. Accepting all of him, the horrible things he’s done. Healing him just by being you. “Sing for me, kitten,” he growls, hips moving against you, thrusting deep. “Give me everything.” And you do, clinging to him making those soft, needy sounds that are only for him as he takes you.

• No longer toying with you, every deep drive of his hips winds you tight. Hearing and feeling him humming to himself again as he nips and bites at your neck. Leaving marks, but you don’t mind those little mementos of him. Every hard thrust pushing you closer until you come apart in his arms. Hear him groan against your skin, hips rocking urgently before he sheaths himself deep and you feel him release inside you as he rests his head against yours, your breath mingling with his ragged venting. His nose brushing yours as you search for his optics through the glow of his visor. “Hey, doll,” he whispers to you as you loop your arms around his neck.

[librarygarten]

Hello, i loved all your LU scenarios, specially the ones where the chain reacts to their games, they were so well written.

I was wondering if you could do some scenarios where the reader talks about some Zelda trivia with the chain, like the development of some games (Majoras mask was made in just one year and the director of Zelda don't like it, there were supposed to be more dungeons in Wind Waker) or the reception of their releases (Four swords adventures sold less than a million copies, WW was poorly recieved unlike TP for it's art style, this changed as time passed, etc.), perhaps some easter eggs or cameos (Talon and Ingo looks like Mario and Luigi, Link appears in other games as a cameo).

Okay, but why is this lowkey me 😭. My autistic ass would NOT shut up about their games, even if I was telling them stuff they didn't want to hear about.

It was a peaceful day. The chain had found an inn to stay at for the night. Nobody was injured. Supplies and spirits were high. Until Wind decided to ask you a question.

“So, if our adventures are games, does that mean you know everything that happened during them? Like everyone we met, everything we did, EVERYTHING?” Wind asked. Some of the other Links brustled, clearly uncomfortable with the question and what you might say. You smile nervously. 

“Basically? But you don’t talk in the games, so I don’t know anything you said.”

“But who made the games? How do they know about our adventures?” Wind asked.

“Oooh boy.” You scratched the back of your head, “There’s a company called Nintendo, they made most of the Legend of Zelda games. I think Four’s games were made by a different company, though. That’s why some of the details are a bit screwy.”

“What’s that supposed to mean!?” Four snapped his head up to look at you, forgetting the weapon he had been working on.

“Oh, uh…” you stammered, “Well, the other company made your games, but they didn’t use the same stories as Nintendo did, so the lore gets a bit weird. Like, your Ganon is probably a completely unrelated guy from the Ganon that Time, Wind, Hyrule, Legend, and Twilight all had to deal with. The way he randomly turns into a pig in your game after getting that trident or whatever doesn’t match up at all with how Ganondorf turns into a pig after being sealed away by Time’s Zelda in an alternate timeline where Time dies during the final battle.”

“Wait, there’s a timeline where Time DIED?” Twilight is behind you now, and you’re not sure when he got there. You turn to look at him, his face full of panic.

“Yeah, Ocarina of Time kind of broke the timeline into three different paths. The game was so popular it became, like, the most important part of the timeline. It actually sold so well that the people who made the game made a sequel to it, Majora’s Mask, in under a year, which is kind of insane. For context, Ocarina of Time took over twice that long to make.” Time raised an eyebrow at your explanation, but decided he didn’t want to know more.

“Wait, if there are multiple timelines, how can you know which of our adventures are ours and which were just really similar? The many timelines means there’s infinite possibilities.” Sky asked, reminding everyone that he was the only Link to ever attend school (and remember it), and apparently he studied multiverse theory???? Moving on.

“Well, there are some differences between languages, I guess? Like, in the English version of Link’s Awakening, there’s a quest to get a mermaid’s lost necklace, but that was just a change the translators made. In the original Japanese, the quest is to get the mermaid’s bikini top.” You chatter on, missing the blush that creeps up Legend’s neck and ears. “And some of the items in Wind Waker are mixed around between the English and Japanese versions. Like maps, heart containers, and rupees are in each other's spots.”

“Can we go back to the part where there’s multiple Ganons, apparently?” Wild gripped the edge of the table, his knuckles white. You hadn’t notice him sit down. Actually, the whole chain seemed to be listening now. Wuh-oh.

“Oh, well, not at one time. Unless the dragon cutscenes from Tears of the Kingdom happen after Skyward Sword and Breath of the Wild is after all the other games. Then, Calamity Ganon was just kind of… chilling under Hyrule Castle while Four and Time dealt with their respective Ganons. But fans still argue about where your games fit on the timeline.” You shrug, trying to downplay how absolutely terrifying dealing with two Ganons at once would be.

“Wait, why do fans argue? Isn’t there an official timeline?” Hyrule asked. You groan.

“Yes, but it was published before Breath of the Wild was released, so we need to figure out where it is on the timeline based on the stuff in game, which is hard, because there's so many easter eggs.”

“Easter… eggs?” Warriors tilts his head.

“Items or decorations that reference other games. Like, in A Link Between Worlds, Legend’s house has Majora’s Mask hanging on the wall for no discernable reason. And in Breath of the Wild, there’s areas named after places in Link’s Awakening, like Koholit Rock and Goponga Island, which makes no sense because those places were dreamt up by a wind fish. Not to mention the fact the ruins of Lon Lon Ranch can be found, but there’s no way that structure would have been in as good of condition as it is for how old it is. And Lurelin village is an almost exact copy of Outset Island, but again, the timing is just too far apart.”

“But you never answered my other question.” Wind tapped your shoulder, stopping what would have been an hour-long rant on where Wild’s games fit on the official timeline. “How did ‘Nintendo’ or whoever else know about our adventures with that much detail?”

“UHHHHHH………. OH WOULD YOU LOOK AT THE TIME.” You quickly stand up from the table and launch yourself out the nearest window, escaping the conversation. (You were on the first floor. You’re fine).

[rose24207]

Hidden past

Summary: Lando discovers his girlfriend’s secret criminal past, born from her desperation to protect her family, and vows to stand by her side despite her insistence on handling it alone.

Genre: Mafia!Lando, angst, fluff

TW: Mafia, dealing, mentions of forged documents, theft, traumatic past

A/N: literally no one asked for this but there you go! English is not my first language. I hope you enjoy it though! Requests are open and welcome!

Masterlist

The rain fell steadily, painting streaks against the glass of Lando’s study. It was the kind of night where the world outside seemed distant and forgotten, and yet, for him, the world was suddenly far too close.

Lando leaned back in his chair, his dark eyes fixed on the thick report spread across the desk.

Her name was at the top, bold and unrelenting: Y/N L/N.

The papers within painted a picture he hadn’t expected—a story of desperation, of quiet rebellion, and of lines crossed.

Petty theft.

Smuggling.

Forged documents.

He traced the words on the page as if trying to soften their edges, but they refused to bend.

This was her.

His girl.

His strength.

The woman he had believed was untouchable, her laughter brighter than the darkness he carried within himself.

But now he could see it clearly: the shadows that clung to her, not unlike his own.

He set the folder down with a deliberate motion, pinching the bridge of his nose. He had spent years navigating a world of criminals and betrayals, but this?

This struck deeper.

The weight of her secrets felt heavier than any enemy’s blade.

His thoughts were interrupted by the soft creak of the front door. He didn’t need to look at the clock to know she was back from her late errands—her voice reached him moments later.

“Lando? You still awake?”

He stood, the report still clutched in his hand, and stepped into the hallway. There she was, shaking off her coat, her hair damp from the rain. She turned toward him with that familiar, warm smile. But as soon as she saw his face, her smile faltered.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, her brow furrowing.

Lando held up the folder, his expression unreadable. “I need to ask you something, love.”

Her gaze dropped to the report, and he didn’t miss the way her shoulders stiffened. Her eyes flicked back up to meet his, and he could see the silent calculations running through her mind. She sighed, brushing a strand of wet hair from her face.

“Let me guess,” she said softly. “You know.”

Five years earlier

The air was sharp with the sting of winter as Y/N stood at the edge of a dimly lit alleyway. Her thin jacket offered little protection against the biting wind, but she didn’t shiver.

She couldn’t afford to.

Her younger brother’s face flashed in her mind—pale, sickly, his chest rising and falling with labored breaths.

“We can’t pay for the medicine,” her mother had whispered that morning, her voice breaking as she tried to shield the children from the truth. But Y/N had heard. She always heard.

She didn’t hesitate when she left the apartment that night. She’d heard about a man who could “help” for a price.

“You’ll owe him,” a neighbor had warned. “And you don’t want to owe men like that.”

But Y/N didn’t care.

All she knew was that if she didn’t do something, her brother wouldn’t make it through the month.

Now, standing in the alley, she clutched the envelope tightly in her hands. It was sealed shut, the contents unknown to her. The man she was meeting didn’t ask questions, and neither would she.

“First time?” a voice drawled from the shadows.

She turned sharply, her heart pounding. A tall man stepped forward, his face hidden beneath a hat and scarf. His hands were stuffed into his coat pockets, but there was an edge to his posture—a predator sizing up prey.

Y/N straightened her spine. “I have what you asked for.”

The man smirked, clearly amused by her attempt at confidence. “Let’s see it.”

Her fingers trembled as she handed him the envelope. He opened it, flipping through the stack of counterfeit documents inside.

Satisfied, he nodded.

“Good work,” he said, slipping the envelope into his pocket. “You’ve earned your pay.”

He held out a small bundle of cash, but when she reached for it, his grip tightened on the money.

“One piece of advice, sweetheart,” he said, his voice low. “Once you start down this road, it’s hard to turn back. You ready for that?”

Y/N swallowed hard, meeting his gaze with a defiance that surprised even her. “I don’t have a choice.”

The man studied her for a moment, then released the money into her hand. Without another word, he melted back into the shadows, leaving her alone in the cold.

As she walked home, the weight of the cash in her pocket felt heavier than it should have. She told herself it was worth it. Her brother’s life was worth it.

But deep down, she knew this wasn’t the end.

Present Day

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Lando’s voice was low, almost tender, as he looked at her.

Y/N crossed her arms, her chin lifting defensively. “Because it’s my past. And I’ve dealt with it.”

“Have you?” he pressed, stepping closer. “Or are you still carrying it alone?”

Her jaw tightened, and she looked away. “I didn’t think you’d understand. You’re—”

“What? Too clean?” he interrupted, a bitter edge to his voice. “You think I don’t know what it’s like to make hard choices?”

Her eyes snapped back to his, fire flaring in them. “You don’t know what it’s like to watch your family starve. To hear your little brother wheezing and wonder if this is the night he won’t wake up. You don’t know what it’s like to look at your mother’s tears and realize you’re the only one who can fix it. So don’t stand there and act like you understand.”

Lando’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t look away. “You’re right,” he said quietly. “I don’t know what that’s like. But I know what it’s like to protect the people I love. And I know how it feels to carry the weight of the world on your shoulders.”

She shook her head, her voice softening. “I didn’t want you to see that part of me. It’s not who I am anymore.”

“But it’s a part of you,” he countered. “And I love all of you, not just the parts you let me see.”

Her defenses cracked, and she looked down, her hands twisting together. “I thought I could leave it behind,” she murmured. “But it keeps following me.”

Four years earlier

The factory floor was dimly lit, the air thick with the smell of oil and metal. Y/N stood at a conveyor belt, her hands moving mechanically as she packed boxes. It was grueling work, but it was honest.

She thought she’d left the shadows behind until a familiar voice broke through the hum of machinery.

“Didn’t think I’d find you here.”

She froze, turning slowly to see the man from the alley leaning against the wall.

His smirk hadn’t changed.

“What do you want?” she asked, her voice sharp.

“Relax,” he said, holding up his hands. “I’m not here to cause trouble. Just thought you’d like a chance to make some real money again.”

“I’m done with that,” she said firmly.

His smirk faded, replaced by a cold edge. “You don’t just walk away, sweetheart. You owe us.”

Her stomach twisted, but she didn’t back down. “I paid you what I owed. We’re done.”

The man stepped closer, his voice dropping. “Nobody’s ever done. You’ve got skills, and we’re not letting them go to waste.”

She clenched her fists, the weight of his words settling over her. She thought she’d escaped, but she realized now there was no escaping people like him.

Present Day

Y/N let out a shaky breath, her voice barely above a whisper. “They didn’t let me leave. Every time I thought I was out, they pulled me back in. I was too scared to fight them. I thought if I kept my head down and did what they asked, they’d eventually let me go.”

Lando’s heart ached at the vulnerability in her voice. He stepped closer, gently taking her hands in his.

“And did they?” he asked softly.

She shook her head, tears slipping down her cheeks. “They only stopped when I left town. But even now, I still look over my shoulder.”

He reached up, brushing a tear from her cheek. “You don’t have to run anymore, darling. I’ll make sure they never touch you again.”

She pulled back, shaking her head. “No, Lando. This is my burden to carry. I’ve spent my whole life fighting for my family. I can handle this.”

“You don’t have to fight alone,” he said, his voice firm but gentle. “Let me stand beside you. Let me help you.”

Her walls crumbled, and she fell into his arms, her body trembling with the weight of years of fear and guilt.

“For so long, I didn’t think I deserved this,” she whispered against his chest. “You. Us. I thought I’d ruined my chances at happiness.”

He held her tightly, his voice a low murmur in her ear. “You deserve everything, love. And I’ll spend the rest of my life proving it to you.”

As the rain continued to fall outside, they stood together in the quiet, their shadows intertwining.

For the first time in years, she felt a glimmer of hope. Maybe, just maybe, she didn’t have to carry the weight alone anymore.

Thank you for reading!

[hearmeoutgirl]

Hey, guys! I hope you're doing well.... I thought of a new plot and wanted to write it! Enjoy reading!

(note: please write your suggestions, my brain has trouble producing them)

[Side note: English is not my native language, please forgive me if I make any mistakes🙏]

Subject: You See Your Ex At A Party

~~~~~~~~~~~

It was an ordinary night. You were looking out at the sea while the warm wind blew through your hair.

You were clearly overwhelmed. While the party inside was going on with all its might, you were leaning on the railings on the balcony, looking out. A few meters away, a few young people were kissing, more were having sex, they seemed to be having fun. You were startled when your phone vibrated in your pocket. You put the red paper cup in your hand aside and looked at your phone.

When your friend sent you messages one after another about finding her, you realized that she was drunk and that the possibility of you getting into trouble had increased. You had come to this party upon her request. "Lighten up a bit, Yn... Enough with this depressed-girl vibe," she had said to you when she came to invite you to the party.

You and your friend knew the reason why you were a depressed girl, as your friend called.

Damn Cameron....

You tucked your phone into your pocket and headed inside. You put the paper cup in your hand aside and entered the party. The noise around you made you wince, while the intense smell of alcohol and drugs made your stomach turn.

Damn Cameron. Yeah, damn.

Your gaze began to search for your friend under the high light. A lot of human bodies were touching yours, you could feel their alcoholic breath on your neck. You had better find your friend before you throw up. Your phone vibrated once more in your pocket and you saw that it said your friend was in one of the bathrooms upstairs. You headed for the stairs to go upstairs.

You grunted as you were looking at your phone when a body collided with you hard. It had to be a Pogue. You rolled your eyes at him as he looked at you and started walking up the stairs.

But it didn't take long. Right after I stepped on the first step, a body appeared at the top of the stairs. He was wearing one of his black polos. Black pants underneath. You thought he'd be a little depressed for a party, until you realized you were also wearing black shorts and a black crop top.

Damn Cameron.

When your gazes met, you looked into his blue eyes for a second. They were staring deeply. As if they were trying to see something. You looked away as you swallowed slowly. You always did that.

(back to the past)

You were giggling. You were giggling in the middle of the night in the arms of the man you loved. Even though it felt like a dream, it was real.

"Rafey...." you spoke between laughter. "Stop now..."

Rafe smiled without taking his lips from your neck, his hands touching your bare waist under your shirt. "No... I love your smile..." He looked up into your eyes and kissed your chin.

Your cheeks flushed slightly as your hands ran through his freshly cut hair. You smiled, but avoided his gaze. You always did this...

(now)

After staring at each other for what felt like more than a few minutes, you took a deep breath. When your phone vibrated once more, you remembered once again why you were here. For your friend.

Damn Cameron.

After looking at your phone, you quickly started climbing the stairs. Rafe was watching you with cold eyes. You felt like you were going to fall with every stair you climbed without looking at him. Rafe was looking at you with his arms folded across his chest. Since he was upstairs, he either went to the balcony upstairs to smoke or...

or to be inside a woman. And you hate this thought.

Rafe's large hand grabbed your bare arm as you passed him on the stairs. Before you could even open your mouth, he pulled you into a nearby room. Your eyebrows furrowed as the door slammed shut behind you and locked itself. "Rafe what are you doing?" You grew up but you couldn't see him. You couldn't really see. The lights were off. "Turn on the light." He knew he hated the dark.

You felt a sarcastic laugh coming from your throat. All the windows in the room were closed. There was no light coming from the yellow room either. You felt Rafe’s breath on your face as you shifted uncomfortably in your seat. “Still scared of the dark, little girl?”

You paused. The sarcasm in his voice broke your heart. You averted your eyes. You really did this a lot. “Turn on the damn lights, Cameron.”

You felt a hand brush your hair behind your shoulders. There was no doubt who it was. Large hands were touching your hair with a familiar ease. "You must learn the darkness, little girl." The coldness in his voice frightened you. You didn't like it.

Although, judging by what he did after you left, it was true that he had turned into a complete psychopath. It didn't make sense that this man who had killed a police officer would touch your hair so gently.

"What do you want from me, Rafe? Leave me alone. I need to go to my friend..." you spoke nervously. You wanted to go to your friend.

And another mocking laugh... "Your friend? Oh little girl... you still don't get it, do you?"

You paused... what didn't you understand?

"Let me enlighten your tiny mind... I convinced your friend to bring you here tonight. The same thing about going upstairs... Because I wanted... I wanted you with me."

When his hands found your cheeks, your eyebrows furrowed, trying to see his face. "You... you're talking nonsense."

It probably wasn't true. Rafe couldn't have been that crazy.... Right?

"Yn... you don't understand... look at me..." you grumbled as his hand lifted your chin up.

"I'll see if I can... but there's no light." Rafe sighed in exasperation and turned on the light. His hands found your cheeks once more as you squinted at him.

“Now? Is there anything else wrong?” When you stayed silent, he sighed once more and looked at you. “I know I’m not perfect… but you know that we’re both ugly in our own right, but beautiful and perfect together.”

"Rafe...." just as you were about to object to him, a pair of lips touched yours.

When you got over your initial surprise, you moaned quietly and wrapped your arms around his neck. You couldn't stand it. You couldn't stand his absence. When you opened your lips for him, he happily stuck his tongue in and kissed you. His mouth looked like a crime scene. And even if you were guilty, he was a witness.

"You're mine, little girl... you've always been mine..."

This wasn’t right. It shouldn’t have happened. You shouldn’t have given in to him as his lips moved from your jaw to your neck. Be proud girl, be proud!

"Rafe.. stop! No... that's not true..." you placed your hands on rafe’s muscular chest, trying to push him away. But you failed. Your hands gripped his shoulders as he wrapped his arms around the back of your thighs and lifted you onto his lap. “Rafe… stop!”

But Rafe didn’t hear you. He was sucking on your neck like a hungry animal as he laid you down on the first bed he found in the dark room. His hands were everywhere. They wouldn’t stop. Your hands grabbed his thick biceps and tried to stop him. You wanted to do this right. Not like this . . .

“Rafe, stop!” Rafe paused as your voice grew louder. His face was buried in your neck. He looked up at you as he took a deep breath. You couldn’t see his face. And as if he sensed it, he reached for the bedside lamp and turned it on.

"What?" his voice was muffled by the kisses he had just left on her neck. "You're mine, Yn... you know that, don't you?" his hand roamed her body. He slid between her legs and cupped her pussy over her shorts. "This beauty is mine too... this body... all of it..."

Your eyes looked into his blue ones. You pushed him off you as you sighed and leaned your back against the headboard. Rafe growled in annoyance and stood up. You saw the anger in his body grow and his body pace around the room in anger. “What the fuck do you want, Yn? Huh? Not enough of this whore stuff? What the fuck do you want.”

You swallowed slowly and looked away as Rafe rolled over and kicked the seat next to you, cursing. “Benj, you’re driving me crazy! You’re driving me crazy!” You pulled your knees up as you sighed in fear. You flinched when Rafe angrily punched the wall.

"Rafe..."

"What did you want that I didn't do, Yn?" There was pain and anger in his eyes when he turned to you with his bleeding hand. "Huh? I became a good man... just for you! I fucked the fucking drugs! For you! Fuck! I stood up to my father for you!" You looked at the blood dripping from his hand to the ground. Every word he said was driving the dagger into his heart even deeper. "I left everyone behind and came to you... I came here, Yn... for you! Fuck I disregarded my pride for you!"

You stayed silent as tears streamed down your face. Rafe continued to pace the room angrily. He continued to mutter as his hand rubbed the bridge of his nose in irritation. “What happened to us? What happened, huh?”

You sighed but couldn’t answer. The reason you left was simple. You didn’t want to stay in a toxic relationship. Add Rafe’s constant tantrums and jealousy to that… you couldn’t take it. But now that it dawned on you, you stayed silent. Every word of what he said was true. He had broken things off with his father, for you… His friends made fun of him for still wanting you, but Rafe was still there for you. This man didn’t know what else to do…

Rafe paused for a moment as he paced the room and looked at you. “Anyone else… is there anyone else?” Your gaze shifted from the hardwood floor to his. You frowned at him as you sat there with your knees drawn up. “There is, isn’t there?” Rafe took a step towards you, his hands shaking with anger. You swallowed hard. “Who is it? Huh? What bastard?”

You shook your head quickly. But Rafe didn’t even see it. “N-no… no…”

"Which pimp touched you, huh? Which one fucked you like I did? Answer!" When he took another step towards you, your eyes widened quickly and you shook your head.

“Rafe no… there’s no one… I swear there’s no one… it didn’t happen…” Rafe calmed down a bit when he saw the fear in your eyes. But the anger was still palpable.

"and it will never, ever happen. do you hear me? I won't let you..." When you shook your head, he sighed and sat on the edge of the bed. His back was turned to you. He leaned his elbows on his knees as his shoulders slumped tiredly. "I can't let you, Yn... I can't let you slip through my hands... not again..."

Not again... oh... his mom. Not again...

You looked at his back, biting your lower lip. "There's no one left. There's no one left, Yn..." You hesitantly approach him. A hand touches his tense shoulder. His anger is still in his body, but he leans into your touch involuntarily.

He sighed nervously as you wrapped your thin arms around his shoulders, leaning your cheek against his broad back. “Still going on? I mean… your nightmares?”

He swallowed hard. He sighed as you nuzzled your cheek against his broad back, looking at the wall in front of him as your arms wrapped around his shoulders and touched the tiny stubble on his chin. “Sometimes. I can’t sleep at night.”

You knew why. It was you.

(Back to past)

"Looks like someone's late again..." Rafe was sipping his beer on the couch as he looked at your body entering the living room. It was one of those winter months. And you went to help your close friend because she had just given birth. Of course, you didn't know that this help would last until midnight...

You took off your jacket and bag, setting them aside and walked over to the fireplace, feeling your cold hands. “Looks like someone’s still not asleep…” you mumbled quietly. The house was silent except for the low sounds of Rafe’s boxing match and the crackling of the wood burning in the fireplace.

Rafe finished his beer, set it aside, and reached for the remote, turning off the screen. He lifted his large body off the couch and walked behind you. A pair of arms wrapped around your waist as his chin rested on your shoulder. When he surrounded you from behind, he took your hands, which were tiny compared to his, in his own and heard them. "You know I didn't..." his face rested on your neck. "It's so hard without you, baby..."

You smiled and leaned your back against his chest. You chuckled quietly when you felt the coldness of his rings in your hands. “I wonder what you’re going to do while I’m gone…”

Rafe sighed. His arms tightened around your waist as his lips kissed the line of your jaw. “I’ll always have you in my arms.” You smiled. That was what you wanted too. I

t wasn't certain whether you would go to heaven or not, but being able to taste heaven between these two pairs of arms was enough for you.

(Now)

I felt your back tense up against his cheek, and you remained silent.

“This is so shit, Yn.” He sighed and leaned back against you. You let him as your legs spread out to the sides. You accepted him. Like always. You slid back into bed and spread your arms, leaning your head on the pillows.

"Come here...." you mumbled quietly. His cold gaze softened as it met yours over your shoulder. Your big man couldn't bear you. He glanced at the door before approaching you. After he realized it was locked and no one could disturb you, he approached you. He got between your legs. His arms wrapped around your waist as his face leaned against the hollow of your chest.

“I hate you…” Rafe sighed in relief as you wrapped your arms around him, your hands tucked into his shirt, arching his back.

"At least you can feel something..." He grinned slightly and his eyes slowly closed. It was obvious that he was sleep deprived.

You sighed and stroked the hair on the back of his neck. “Topper said you’ve been on drugs for the last few nights.” There was disappointment in his voice. He promised you.

Rafe shrugged nonchalantly. He wrapped his arms around you tighter, leaning his face against the spot between your neck and chest that your shirt left exposed. He pulled your shirt down. “It’s the only thing that helps me sleep.”

You rolled your eyes and reached for the blanket next to you as Rafe finally rested his face comfortably against your skin, covering you with it. His huge body was already warming you. “You promised... you wouldn’t drink...”

Rafe said sarcastically. "You promised... you wouldn't go..." This situation caused you to remain silent. You leaned your lips against his hair as you sighed deeply.

"Rafe Cameron... I love you..." The issue between you was still unresolved but you couldn't stop the words that came out of your lips.

Rafe kissed her skin as he grinned against hers. "I'm dying for you, Yn. I feel like I'm living for you..." he mumbled before falling asleep. "Your smell... my home."

Hey guys! I hope you liked it! I don't know exactly how I feel while writing this chapter but I get a lot of Taylor Swift You're Losing Me vibes... even though they end up together...

Your suggestions are very important to me! Please don't forget to comment!

[hairmetal666]

Never in a million years did Steve Harrington think he'd be standing in the drama club room in front of Eddie the Freak--who's sitting on a goddamn throne with his full lips pulled into a smug grin--asking to be taught how to play Dorks and Goblins. Yet, here he is, face a burning shade of crimson, as he explains for the sixth time what, exactly, he needs.

"Munson, it's not that hard. Henderson wants me to play in the--the game thingy they're doing when Will is home for a visit."

"Yeah, Harrington, and I stop listening every time you call it a game thingy. You obviously don't care about this at all, so why should I waste my time helping you?"

Steve rolls his eyes. "What if I pay you?"

Munson's face goes through a complicated series of changes before falling into a neutral mask, no smirk or teasing smile to be found. "You'll pay me to teach you dnd? Are you fucking kidding?"

"No?' Steve draws a hand through his hair, watches as Munson's dark eyes track the movement. "I thought you might help me out cause those kids never shut-up about you, but I'm willing to put money on it."

"Huh," Eddie says. He steeples his fingers under his chin. "Maybe I misjudged you, Harrington."

Steve lets himself smile at this. "I don't think you did. I don't give a shit about this game."

"Didn't take you for one to have a bunch of nerdy child friends."

"I'm their babysitter," he says, realizes immediately it was a mistake.

Eddie cackles until it turns into a full-bodied laugh, tears leaking from the corners of his eyes. "You are something else, Harrington," he manages.

For his part, Steve hopes Munson hasn't noticed how bright red his face is. "Does that mean you'll help me?"

"I guess," he rolls his eyes. "But if you're just screwing around, I'm out."

"No, yeah, totally," Steve nods too hard, sends his hair cascading into his face. "Sounds good. How much?"

"Huh?" Eddie tilts his face up, giving Steve a perfect view of the smattering of faint freckles across the bridge of his nose.

"I said I'd pay you. What's the going rate for dnd lessons?"

"Oh, nah, free of charge, Harrington. Henderson would eat me alive if he knew I made you pay."

The smile they share is soft, tentative, and Steve doesn't notice the swathes of pink decorating Eddie's pale cheekbones.

---

They meet up in the drama room after the last bell. Eddie is waiting on the throne with his feet propped on the table, sipping a Mt. Dew. His eyes widen when Steve walks into the room.

"You're on time," he says.

Steve scoffs. "Why wouldn't I be?"

Eddie shrugs, sets his feet on the floor. "Just wasn't aware that the King put a lot of stock in punctuality."

"C'mon, man, I'm trying not to be that guy, and I'm definitely not king of anything. Unless maybe it's Family Video, but even then, that's Robin."

"You're kind of weird, Harrington, you know that?" Eddie's dimples bracket his smile. The sight does weird things in Steve's chest.

"I've been told, yeah." Steve smiles back. "Where do we start?"

They start with dice, with a character sheet.

"Chaotic-good human Paladin?" Eddie asks.

He shrugs. "That's what Dustin keeps screaming at me. I got no idea what any of it means."

"That's not entirely true," Eddie says. "You've kept up with me so far."

"Yeah, that's you. Dustin rambles and then accuses me of not listening when it's over my head. When he goes on long enough, I start to get a headache right here," Steve rubs the spot between his eyes.

"That kid," Eddie says with the right combination of affection and frustration. "I don't know, you seem to have picked up on some of the stuff he said. You have a solid idea on gameplay, at least. I'd say you're doing pretty good."

"Thanks," Steve laughs. "No migraine yet, so that's a point in your favor."

"Migraines?"

"Head trauma."

"Byers?"

"And Hargrove."

"That was Hargrove?" Eddie asks.

"Hit me in the head with a plate."

"What the fuck."

"He was pissed that Max was friends with Lucas. He came after them. I couldn't just let him--I think he would've killed Lucas."

Eddie nods, hands fiddling with a die. "No wonder those kids love you," he says.

"We've been through some shit together."

"Guess it makes more sense why you wanted to learn dnd."

"As much as it pains me to admit," Steve rolls his eyes. "I love to make those little shitheads happy."

"Well, based on the way they talk about you, you succeed."

"You too, you know?" Steve offers. "All I've heard about the last three months is 'Eddie's so cool,' 'Hellfire's so fun.'"

"Jealous?" Eddie laughs.

"Completely," Steve admits.

"Don't worry, Harrington, I'll make a nerd out of you yet."

---

They meetup after school every day they can over the next two weeks. At first, Steve is surprised that he doesn't really mind spending so much time with Munson, that he actually, kind of, has fun. And the more time they spend together, the more Eddie infiltrates his space. Leans into Steve's side as they sit next to each other, brushes their hands together, hovers over his shoulder, faces nearly touching, as he checks stuff on Steve's character sheet.

It makes Steve feel--well, it makes him think of what it would be like to run his fingers through the soft gloss of Eddie's curls; wonders what that plump mouth would be like pressed against his own; can't stop thinking about if Eddie is as vocal in bed as he is everywhere else. He knows he also likes guys, has for a while, but he's never in his life wanted someone this viscerally; so much he can feel the ache of it in his teeth.

It's the last day before the campaign for Will, and Steve is fucking sad. He thinks maybe Eddie is too. He's at least quieter than normal, explanations not at their usual fever pitch. An hour before they usually call it quits, he claps his hands together (too gently, too unlike himself), says, "That's it, Harrington. You're not going to be more ready than this."

"Right," Steve says. Can't help his eyes from darting over Eddie's face, aching to know what he's thinking. "You'll be there tomorrow?"

Eddie bends his head over his notebooks. "Nah, I don't need to intrude."

"But--"

"It's okay, Stevie. I get that it's family only." He looks like he really means it, but his eyes are sad, don't shine like they should.

Steve doesn't know what to say to that, just nods, and then there's nothing else. They stare at each other for a few very long, quiet seconds, before Eddie says, "I'll see you around, Harrington."

"Right, yeah. You too." And he walks out of the drama room with the heaviest heart he thinks he's ever had.

---

Steve thinks he won't miss Eddie. That if he doesn't dwell on those hours spent with Eddie, learning dnd, that the missing will go away.

It doesn't.

Which is how he finds himself back at the high school on Wednesday, standing in front of the drama room door, willing himself to go inside. Eddie's on the throne, the typical notebooks and binders and Mt. Dew cans clustered around him, but he's not engrossed in imagining up a new campaign for Hellfire. No, his head is in his hands, knees drawn up to his chest.

"Eddie?" Steve asks.

His head pops up, and even in the low light, Steve notices the silvery tracks of tears down his cheeks.

"Steve! What are you--" he hastily wipes at his face with his shirt sleeve. "What are you doing here?"

Steve's acting only on instinct, crossing the room and dropping to his knees, taking Eddie's jaw between his palms, thumbing away the wetness on his cheeks.

"Did someone hurt you?" he asks.

Eddie's laugh is wet. "Nah, Harrington. I only have myself to blame for this one."

"Can I do anything?"

"Are you trying to kill me?"

"Sorry?"

"You, Steve Harrington, kind and compassionate? Learn dnd to make your little nerd friends happy? Who are you?"

"I'm just me, man," Steve blushes. "But, uh, I came to thank you." He's still holding Eddie's face in his hands, can't help but notice the way he flushes, how his dark eyes dart away from Steve's.

"I really liked hanging out with you," Steve says. This close to Eddie, his mind doesn't quite feel like his own. All he can think of is big eyes, soft curls, full lips.

"Yo--you did?"

"So much," Steve whispers. He doesn't quite remember moving, but now their foreheads are pressed together, warm breath mingling, lips almost, almost touching.

"I liked it too," Eddie breathes. After a few seconds, he laughs. "Knew I'd make a nerd out of you, Harrington."

"Shut-up," Steve laughs.

"Make me," Eddie says, and it's just that easy. Steve crosses the space still separating them, presses his mouth against Eddie's.

The kiss is slow, exploratory, the gentle discovery of how they fit together, the promise of all the things they can do in the future, all the pleasure they can bring.

"I'm not a nerd," Steve says when they part.

"No, you're right. You're like a nerd by marriage. Nerd-in-law," Eddie giggles. His eyes are bright, face pink, the most beautiful thing Steve has ever seen.

"Shut-up," Steve giggles right back.

Eddie raises an eyebrow, the dare obvious, and Steve doesn't hesitate to kiss him again.

"You wanna get out of here?" Steve asks when they part, significantly more breathless, jeans significantly tighter, than when he arrived.

"You're gonna have to role persuasion for that, Stevie," Eddie smirks.

[hauntingofhouses]

i know I've mentioned my interpretation of mizu's gender a million times on here but i don't think i ever fully elaborated on it.

so on that note i just wanna ramble about that for a bit. basically, it's my reading of the show that mizu is nonbinary, so let me dig into that.

putting the rest under the cut because it ended up being pretty long lol. also here have a cute mizu pic of her being happy and most at ease with herself, symbolised by her letting her hair down. <3 ok let's proceed.

thus, when i refer to mizu as nonbinary, i am interpreting mizu as a woman, but not ONLY a woman. not strictly a woman. she is also a man. she is also neither of these things, she is something in between, while at the same time she is none of these at all. i've said as much many times, but i just don't want people to think that when i say nonbinary, it inherently means a "third androgynous gender" that essentially turns the gender binary into a gender trinary. not only is that going against what the term nonbinary was crafted for (to go against rigid boxes and categorisation of gender identities), but also, not all nonbinary people fall under that category or definition, and that's definitely not the way i interpret mizu.

okay before i go deeper i'd just like to address some important things. first of all, this post is an analysis of canon, and thus everything i am arguing for is about my own interpretation of the show, and not some baseless projected headcanon i am projecting onto the character. please remember there is a difference between an interpretation (subjective; interpretations will differ from viewer to viewer, but ultimately it is firmly rooted in evidence taken from the source material) VS a headcanon (unrelated and often even contrary to what is presented in canon; opinions wildly differ and they cannot be argued for because there is no canonical evidence to back it up).

ALSO please note that nonbinary is an umbrella term. this means that it applies to a vast range of gender identities. other identities that fall under the nonbinary umbrella include agender, bigender, genderfluid, and so on. however, it's my personal preference to use the term nonbinary as it is, simply because i'm not a fan of microlabels (more power to you if you do like them and find they suit you more though!).

also, before anyone fights me on this, let me clarify further that gender means something different to everyone. it's not your biological sex or physical characteristics. but at the same time, gender is not mere presentation. you can be a trans woman and still present masculine���either because you're closeted and forced to, or because you just want to—and either way, that doesn't take away from your identity as a woman. same goes for trans men. if you're a trans man but you wear skirts and don't bind or don't get top surgery, that doesn't make you any less of a man. because gender non-conformity exists, and does not only apply to cis people! some lesbians are nonbinary and prefer using he/him pronouns while dressing masculinely, but that doesn't mean they're a man, or that they're any less of a lesbian. neither does this mean that they're a cis woman.

the thing about queer identities in general is that, like i said, they mean something different to everyone, because how you identify—regardless of your biological attributes and fashion or pronouns—is an extremely personal experience. so a nonbinary person and a gnc cis woman's experiences might have plenty of overlap, but what distinguishes between the two is up to the individual. there's no set requirements to distinguish you as one or the other, but it's up to you to decide what you identify as, based on what you feel. either way, by simply identifying yourself as anything under the LGBTQ+ umbrella, you are already communicating to the world that you are not what a conservative, cisheteronormative society wants you to be.

which is why i find all this queer infighting on labels to be so ridiculous. because we're all fighting the same fight; the common enemy is a societal structure that divides us into set roles and expectations purely based on our biological parts. that's why biological essentialism in the queer community is a fucking disease. because by arguing that women are inherently weak and fragile and soft and gentle and must be protected from evil ugly men, while men are inherently strong and angry and violent and exploitative of women, these people are advocating for the same fucked up system that marginalises and abuses women as well as effeminate and/or gay men.

anyway. i'm going on a tangent. this was meant to be a blue eye samurai post. so yeah back to that— the point i'm trying to make is that there's no singular way to identify as anything, as everyone's views on gender, especially their own, is specific and personal to the individual.

so with that being said, yes you can definitely interpret mizu as a gnc cis woman and that's a totally valid reading of the text. however, interpreting her as nonbinary or transmasc also doesn't take away from her experiences with misogyny and female oppression, because nonbinary and transmasc folks also experience these things.

me, personally, i view her as nonbinary but not necessarily or not always transmasc because i still believe femininity and womanhood is a very inherent part of who mizu is. for example, from what we've seen, she does not like binding. it does not give her gender euphoria, but is instead very uncomfortable for her both physically and mentally, and represents her suppressing her true self. which is why when she "invites the whole" of herself, she stands completely bare in front of the fire, breasts unbound and hair untied. when she is on the ship heading to a new land in the ending scene, she is no longer hiding her neck and the lack of an adam's apple. we can thus infer that mizu does not have body dysmorphia. she is, in fact, comfortable in her body, and relies on it extremely, because her body is a weapon. instead, what mizu hates about herself is her face—her blue eyes. she hates herself for her hybridised racial identity, hates herself for being a racial Other. hates that she has no home in her homeland. thus it is important to note that these are not queer or feminist themes, but postcolonial ones.*

* and as a tiny aside on this subject, i really do wish more of the fandom discussion would talk about this more. it's just such an essential part to reading her character. like someone who's read homi k bhabha's location of culture and has watched this show, PLEASE talk to me so we can ramble all about how the show is all about home and alienation from community. please. okay anyway—

nevertheless, queer and feminist themes (which are not mutually exclusive by the way!) are still prevalent in her story, though they are not the main issue that she is struggling with. but she does struggle with it to some extent, and we see this especially during her marriage with mikio, where we see her struggle in women's domestic spaces.

on the other hand, though, she finds no trouble or discomfort in being a man or being around other men—even naked ones—and does not seem stifled by living as one, does not seem all that bothered or uncomfortable navigating through men's spaces. contrast this to something like disney's mulan (1998), where we do see mulan struggle in navigating through men's spaces, as she feels uncomfortable being around so many men, always feeling like she doesn't belong and that she's inherently different from them. mizu has no such experiences like this, as her very personality and approach to life is what can be categorised as typically "masculine". she is straightforward and blunt. her first meeting with mikio, she tells him straight to his face that he's old while frowning and raising a brow at him. she approaches problems with her muscles and fists (or swords), rather than with her words or mind. compare this with mulan, who, while well-trained by the end of the movie, still uses her sharp wits rather than brute strength. this is a typically "feminine" approach. it's also the approach akemi relies on throughout the show—through her intelligence and persuasive tongue, she navigates the brothel with ease. mizu, in contrast to someone like mulan and akemi, struggles with womanhood and femininity, and feels detached from it.

thus, in my opinion, mizu is not simply a man, nor is she simply a woman. she is both. man and woman. masculine and feminine. she has to accept both, rather than suppress one or the other. her name means water. fluid.

as a side note, while i do believe mizu is nonbinary, i also primarily use she/her pronouns for her, but this is a personal preference. i find it's easier to use in fanfic (singular they is confusing to write stories with, but again, that's just my feelings on it, and this is coming from someone who uses they/they pronouns). i also lean towards she/her because it's what the creators and all the official promotional copywriting of the show uses. and even though i am a "death to the author" enjoyer, i feel that when interpreting things that are left open-ended, it does help to look at the creators' take on things. also because, in general, being nonbinary simply doesn't necessitate the use of they/them pronouns. nonbinary is not just a third gender. it's about breaking the binary, in any which way, and that's exactly what mizu does, constantly.

also, i'd also like to mention that one of show's head of story even referred to her with the term "nonbinary", rather than simply "androgynous" (see pic below). and it's possible this could be a slip up on his part, in which he believes the terms are interchangeable (they're not btw), but regardless i find it a very interesting word choice, and one that supports my argument.

so anyway yeah that's my incredibly long rambling post.

TL;DR nonbinary mizu rights 👍🏻👍🏻👍🏻 congrats if you reached the end of this btw. also ily. unless you're a TERF in which case fuck off. ok i'm done.

[karinaing]

I JUST REWATCHED PIWON MOVIE AND I HAVE THINGS TO SAY

[bueris]

okay maybe I should seriously reconsider my path in life and sell my soul to marketing or journalism instead

[ilovecoffeeandchemistry]

why does talking to my grandma feel like inhaling some kind of poisonous gas that makes you suffer so much that death would be a kinder fate

[pigeons-with-jello]

People will say shit like 'german is such a weird language' then their frame of reference is french spanish and italian, its almost like youre comparing three langauges with one root and another with a completely different root. who would have guessed that if you compare two different languages with orgins and bases and roots, theyd sound nothing alike??

[wavesoutbeingtossed]

.

[musclesandhammering]

Completely out of the blue, but the line “Goodbye stranger, it’s been nice. Hope you find your paradise.” + the megstiel death scene has me weeping.

[queerlyquillish]

ok but the thing is that "hurt" is an adjective, verb, and noun. so the linguistic poeticism is still there, albeit in a slightly different way. yes, "hurt" as a description of a person's state holds true across tenses because it is indeed an adjective, but the fact remains that it's a lexicologically interesting word! personally, what i find really neat is that "hurt" is both an intransitive verb used for the person being wounded and a transitive verb for the act of wounding someone. it's an intriguing concept to think of pain as something that draws connections between people. something that weaves together victim and perpetrator in some inseparable way. that you can't hurt someone without it changing you as well. idk what exactly that says about pain as a human experience, and it's a lot of using imagination and metaphor to extract and extend meaning from language, but it's still fascinating!

[iammissingautumn]

Why do gay people have to be what *you* categorize as non-stereotypical in order to have stories written about them. Is there some surplus of GNC Jewish gay men in media that I’m not aware about? Are Jewish gay men only allowed to be masculine? Are masculine queer men perpetuating stereotypes simply by having preferences? Help me understand here. “Jock” is a shorthand, not a catch-all. “Jock” Stan likers (or whatever) do not do what you describe, and you are strawman-ing your entire argument.

bro. i just don’t like reductive stories. That often go into fetishistic stories. If you want me to like it like you obviously can prove me wrong. Show me the complex fic and art that talks about their gender. I’m speaking to my experience of almost a decade of being in the South Park fandom. I’m talking about stuff I’ve seen eight years ago. I’m talking about stuff i’ve seen five years ago. I’m talking about how I haven’t seen anything better.

If jock Stan fans aren’t what I’m saying they are, show me the artists and writers you love. That’s what I’m saying. Why do you have to stone me because I don’t like One dynamic because it makes me uncomfortable via it portrayal. I think Kyle is rlly rlly GNC via just being himself.

Please bestie I need u to understand that “Strawman-ing” is misrepresenting what someone is saying and attacking an non argument. Which is what that last anon did. Brought up a bunch of things I don’t agree with. And I responded via saying that’s not what I meant nor what I said. It’s not misrepresentation to show how I said none of what they pointed out. That’s grasping for straws.

Honestly I don’t wish to help you understand, and it’s not unreasonable to say I don’t like something because I’ve only seen people be weird about it. If you love this so much, please show me that love, don’t pinch my nose and shove down my throat why Im Wrong Actually for not liking smth. Stop making this some political statement. I’m not here to say anything about this random ass shit you bring up. I’m saying all I see is people making content stripping these characters of their genuine personality for the sake of gender roles. And people aren’t holy for liking this interpretation. You obviously have your head too far up your own ass to understand that.

I never said this ship needs to adhere to me. I just said I didn’t like something bc it has made me uncomfortable. Why do I have to like your “Jewish gay GNC” dynamic. bc it’s valuable to you? Because you think that makes the dynamic more valid? are ships just coins to you to get more diversity points? that’s just so basically not how this stuff works

[heartslobbf]

me realising i love slaughterhouse-five so much bc its just. such a disabled narrative. about the dehumanisation of disabled people, the disbelieving, the denial of our realities. radical in its assertion that diagnoses are there for abled people's comfort, that health and truth are social constructs and aaaaaa. aaaaaaa. i hate you 'lets diagnose this fictional character' fuckers i hate you 'therapist reacts' channels. by disregarding and 'explaining away' the fantastical elements of slaughterhouse-five you are asserting the normative bullshit that dehumanises disabled people!!!! fuck!!1 this is everything!!!!! i cannae believe how goddamn ableist so much criticism of this book is but also yes i can because oh my god people are ableist. anyway if you can access it read '"spastic in time": time and disability in kurt vonnegut's slaughterhouse-five' by adam barrows because its a banger article that helped me articulate better a LOT of my feelings about this novel. also hehehehehe guess who found some wider reading to help with his writing on disability in rgu (a la the meta and surrealism of it all) :)