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robo-writing · 2 days

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I saw your requests were open, so I have to ask for… pain 😔

Can I request a Logan x afab!reader HCs or full fic about how reader is getting older and he kinda isn’t yk? Like going from when they first met, to readers deathbed, and how he has to live without them for the rest of his life 🫶🫶

Also take care of yourself DRINK WATER 🥰

Oh yeah, it’s angst time.

It's sooner than later that you'll be alone Synopsis: You live a long life, but not as long as Logan's. Warnings: 3.2k words of gut-wrenching angst, mentions of blood, grieving someone after they're gone Author's note: Hope you're happy anon, I cried five times writing this <3

He had first met you in your twenties—twenty-three, to be exact.

Young, bright eyed, naive. You were kind, where he was not. You were hopeful, where he was jaded and angry at the world. He loved your innocence, how you always saw the best in others—suppose that’s what made you such a good counselor to the children. You listened—really, truly listened—made anyone that walked through your office doors feel welcomed.

Maybe that’s why he found his way to you. When the nightmares wouldn’t let him sleep and the voices wouldn’t let him think, he shuffled to your bedroom door without a goal in sight, bare feet padding against the polished floors. His knuckles meet your door, seconds passing by before he asks himself why the hell he’s even here in the first place.

Before he could walk away he heard your feet shuffling, followed by the click of your doorknob.

He felt guilty for waking you up, eyes red and face puffy, but you didn’t even question why he was at your door, just rubbed your eyes and opened the door wider for him to walk in.

It was silent at first. You offered him some water, passed him a blanket, and just sat there. You never pressured him to speak, and he didn’t feel compelled to. Maybe five minutes later he said something and you just nodded in his direction, encouraging him to continue.

For the first time in a long time, he talked. And you listened.

It became a ritual between the two of you, staying up late at night just to chat. It wasn’t always about his past, sometimes he just needed to let it all out, and you were the perfect outlet. He felt like you didn’t judge him, and that’s all he ever needed.

Eventually he wanted to hear you too—he preferred it that way. Talking about lesson plans and movies, little things that seem mundane but made him feel less like a patient and more like a friend. You were a welcome distraction, and an added bonus was that you were really cute when you were talking.

He was the one who made the first move. He remembers every detail, from your pajama shorts to the over-worn tank top sliding off your shoulder, your eyes bright as you went on about a new baking recipe you wanted to try. Sat on your bed, looking so relaxed he couldn’t help but stare and marvel at your beauty.

“Logan?” You ask, waving your hand in his face. “Hello? Earth to Wolverine?”

The moment you called out his name he was already making his way to your bed. The mattress sinks beneath his weight, and you let out a soft noise of surprise before he plants his lips against yours.

Yours are soft compared to him—everything about you screams softness, innocence and purity, and he’s not sure if a man like him even has the right to be next to you, much less kiss you. He’s certain his soul is filthy, tainted—a layer of black that’s sure to muck up your own if he keeps this up. He knows this deep in his heart, but greedy man that he is, he keeps his lips locked to yours.

Once, and then never again. He can’t be with a girl like you, and he knows it.

You hold him by the neck and pull him back when he tries to leave your embrace. Maybe it’s pity, he thinks, the way your hands tug him by the shirt and cling onto the fabric. Maybe you’re only entertaining him, stringing him along just to laugh in his face, mock him into ever thinking he had a chance. If you are, he doesn't care, because at least now he’s got a taste of what he could never have.

The two of you finally separate, a silk-thread of spit connecting the both of you, looking at each other with a mixture of shock and confusion. What happens after this? How does he return to what you had before—how can he, when he now knows your chapstick tastes like cherries?

He makes a move to leave, but against all odds your hand is still clinging onto his shirt. In that moment he knew he was the luckiest man alive because you begged him to stay in that cute voice of yours, begged him not to leave when his hands made their way up the front of your shirt—begged him for more when his lips wandered lower.

By your thirties you already had a shiny ring on your finger, one that he can say he proudly put on your finger. A gold band adorned by diamonds, it shines in the orange light of the sun, staring at you from its red-velvet housing.

It’s the first time the X-Men see him cry, tears running down his face when you run into his arms screaming yes, yes, over and over as he holds you in his arms, sunset illuminating your features. He always thinks of you as beauty personified, but watching you admire the diamond-studded band with awe—the one thing that signifies you as his—he can’t help but look at you like icarus does to the sun.

The wedding was small—neither of you minded. Hank was the ringbearer, and Charles walked you down the aisle, and when your vows were said and done the priest could barely finish the ceremony before Logan lunged forward and kissed you, dipping you at the altar accompanied with a cheer from the people you consider your family.

Scott has the video saved on his phone. He pretends it pisses him off, but he had Jean send him a copy later. Sometimes he watches it when he thinks you’re asleep, but little does he know you are very much awake.

In your fourties’ you have a house together, somewhere upstate where no one can bother you. A cozy wooden home where it’s just you and him, relaxing by the fireplace and watching tv every day. When he’s not helping the X-Men he works at a local lumber yard, the highlight of his day being when he comes to work, grabbing his equipment from the truck.

His co-workers jeer at him every time, call him whipped like butter, but they wouldn’t understand what he feels. He certainly doesn’t seem to care, especially when it’s your kiss pressed to his cheek.

He can safely say his life is perfect. It’s domestic, it’s everything Logan ever dreamed of, everything he thought he could never have—and it’s all thanks to you. He wakes up every morning grateful to you for giving him the greatest gift he could ever receive: serenity.

Between the fairytale ending and his rose-colored glasses, he doesn’t notice it, not until you’re in your fifties and he’s—he’s not.

You’re aging, and he’s staying the same.

You still love each other and he’d never, ever, think about leaving you, but the realization sticks with him. He thinks about it late at night while you sleep next to him, pressed against his side. Your scent, your touch, he memorizes it all because he doesn’t know when he won’t be able to feel it again.

In your heart you know it too, but you don’t say anything—you don’t want to scare him away. He’s only just begun to get used to normalcy, and you don’t want to take that away from him. You don’t want to watch him fall into the honeyed trap of isolation again, return to that shell of a man you only just helped him shed.

So when you’re watching tv together, he makes sure to cradle you to his chest extra tight. When you’re sitting by the fireplace, heat radiating off your skin, he makes sure to memorize the way the fire illuminates your face. When you’re whispering his name after a night of love-making he etches the sound deep into his synapses, memorizing each syllable.

No matter what, he’ll remember you.

By your sixties you’re faced with an awful truth, one neither of you want to admit but your smile lines and crows feet stand contrast to his barely aging face. You get stares when you mention he’s your husband, some curious, some judging. You were called a cougar once by a shopper, finger pointed accusatory while Logan told her in no uncertain terms to go fuck herself.

He was there to reassure you then, but he can’t be there all the time. You don’t tell him that this wasn’t the first time you were accused of being a predator, and you don’t plan on doing so.

Maybe this counts as acceptance, faced with the truth in the worst kind of way, but at least the both of you can say it out loud now—

You’re going to die, and he’s going to outlive you. It’s just a fact, but it still makes the both of you terrified.

Your seventies are rocky—you want to enjoy the time you have left, but Logan wants to make sure you’re safe. In his eyes you know he has only love for you, but you can see the fear in them too, how he coddles you every day. Your bones are starting to ache, you’re getting slower. Where you used to go on hikes with him you now choose to stay home, your stamina not like what it used to be. He thinks you don’t notice how he watches you carefully around the house, how he’s so eager to help you. You’re flattered, but also annoyed—it’s a short-lived train of thought when you look at him.

He still looks at you like he did when you first kissed.

He still loves you, and you still love him. For now, that’s all you need.

He finds you on the floor in your eighties—eighty-three, to be exact.

The moment he sees your resting form behind the counter he sprints into the kitchen. There’s broken glass, a trail of blood running from your temple, and you’re completely out of it, eyes closed shut. He calls your name, shakes you, but nothing. He knows you’re still alive, he can hear your heart beating but he can feel how weak it is under his clammy hands, the soft thump nowhere near as strong as it should be.

He doesn’t know what to do—he’s long since been familiar with blood but this time it’s you, and he’s panicking. He doesn’t know what to do.

The ambulance arrives, longer than usual because you live far away from the city. Maybe if they’d gotten there faster they would have been able to do an infusion. Maybe if the phone wasn’t so far you’d be able to call 9-1-1 before you passed out. Maybe if he was at home he would’ve been able to see the early signs—

“Sir? Are you alright?”

He looks at the clock on the bedside wall: 7:38 pm.

It’s well into the night, five hours have passed since you were admitted, and an hour since you died.

He’s been staring at your body for who knows how long. The doctor pronounced you dead, said you had a heart attack and hit your head on the way down. An accident.

A fucking accident.

“Sir, was she related to you?” The young nurse asks, contemplating whether or not she should even speak. Wordlessly, he nods.

“I understand you’re grieving,” she continues, standing at his side. Her words are full of empathy, none of which he needs but lets her speak anyway. “I saw on your hospital logs you share the same name, I can’t imagine how it must feel to lose a loved one.”

He nods again.

“If you don’t mind me asking, how old was she?”

“…eighty-three.” He answers. “Her birthday was in a month.”

She shakes her head. “That’s a shame.”

“It sure is,” He says, reaching out to touch her hand. It’s cold to the touch, a cruel reminder. “It sure is.”

You would’ve been eighty-four now.

He still lives in the same house but it’s not the same without you. It’s lifeless, empty—all the love you poured into the decor now just an awful reminder of what he lost. He thinks about tearing it all down sometimes but he knows you’d probably kick his ass if he so much as touched your crystal vases.

Your side of the bedroom is untouched, he moved all his stuff to the separate one the week after you died. It hurts to sleep there knowing you’re gone, but sometimes he’ll sit by the nightstand, a drink in hand and stare at the empty spot where you would be. Sometimes if he stares hard enough, he can see you through tear-rimmed eyes, hear your laughter through the dull buzz of the alcohol.

He misses you. He’s not sure if he’ll ever stop.

He doesn’t know what possesses him, but he opens your closet. It’s an indulgence, a moment of weakness—he promised he wouldn’t touch your stuff and here he is, rummaging about.

Coats, dresses, shirts, all memories flooding back to him as he moves past them. The black dress you wore on your first date, the sundress you wore for your anniversary—

When his fingers brush against the lace, his heart lurches. He doesn’t need to see it to know, but he tugs anyway, revealing your wedding dress hidden deep inside. The most beautiful thing you’ve ever worn.

He takes the gown between reverent hands, as if the fabric would fall apart, disintegrate if he was anything but cautious with it. It still smells like you.

He finds the box labeled “wedding” next to it, and without hesitation pulls it from its corner. Wedding invites, flowers, old videos, everything that you could have taken as a memory, you had it. You even kept the cake toppers.

What surprises him though, is a notebook. It’s tiny, leather bound and slightly worn, every page a new entry. He flips to the first page and his heart nearly stops.

Dear Logan,

If you’re reading this, I’m probably dead.

His eyes widened. When did you write this? The small book suddenly feels like lead in his hands, it’s a struggle to pull his eyes back to the ink-stained pages, but he does so anyway.

I hope I managed to give this to you before I pass. I wish I could explain to you how much I love you, and how much I worry about you. You’re a stubborn asshole, could never see the good in yourself but I did—I still do. I’ve known you for thirty years now so I’m willing to bet you’re probably reading this drunk, blaming yourself for my death.

He doesn’t know when he started crying but your words make him laugh through the pain, wiping the palm of his hand against his cheek. He used to say you were secretly a telepath, always able to read his mind. Seems it’s a talent that extends beyond the grave.

Anyway, rambling aside, I wanted to give you something to remember me by. You’re going to live longer than I am, we both know that: but maybe my memory can live along with you.

His hands are shaking, fingers stumbling through the next page with bated breath.

Entry one, not sure how I should start…I’ll figure it out later. Your beard grew out a little so I offered to help you shave…

I think I did a shit job but you didn’t seem to mind, or maybe you were trying to save my feelings? I don't know which one. In any case remember to take care of yourself, I might be gone but like hell if I’m gonna let you let yourself go!

Attached with a paperclip is a photo of the two of you in the bathroom, you smushing his face while he stares at the camera annoyed, or at least it seems. There’s a hint of a smile on his face.

He remembers that day. You were cuddling him and complained his beard was scratchy. He let you sit on his lap while you gave him a trim, you said your lines were crooked but he didn’t give a shit—he had you all to himself, and that’s all he needed.

A small huff of laughter escapes him, even in the afterlife you’re still bossing him around. He flips to the next page—

Entry two, don’t isolate yourself! I know you Logan, that lone wolf shit doesn’t work and you know it too! When’s the last time you talked to the other X-Men, huh?

Your words rattle in his head, feelings of guilt blooming. They call occasionally, but he never picks up. Charles is the only one he ever gave the time of day and even then the mention of your passing is a sore subject. One time Scott showed up at his house, helped him clean up a bit before leaving; he never said thank you.

His eyes flick to the phone on his nightstand before continuing to read.

Entry three, don’t starve yourself! I left a couple of my recipes in the last pages, just in case you missed my cooking…

Entry four, I have a secret album of us on my phone. The password is…

Entry five, stop being so hard on yourself…

Entry after entry, all stories with advice for when you’re gone. Clean up after himself, don’t try to find peace at the bottom of a bottle, remember to find a hobby…every single page, accompanied by a description of what you did that day. Went hiking, went on a dinner date, stayed at home and watched tv—almost an entire year's worth of reminiscing in the form of a tiny brown journal.

By the time he got to the last one the sun had begun to rise. His eyes burned with exhaustion, but the thought of stopping never crossed his mind.

The big three-six-five, happy anniversary! It’s been a year since I started this project and I think I should end it here, so I’ll end it with the best advice I can give you.

Logan, you need to move on.

I know it hurts, but I’m gone, and you can’t spend your life chasing after a woman who isn’t here anymore. You deserve more in life than to grieve. I love you more than anything in the world, which is why I’m telling you it’s okay to move on.

I’ll always be with you, so don’t think that you need to feel guilty. I know you love me, and I love you.

I’m giving you permission to forgive yourself, and let me go.

He re-reads your words. Once, twice, even three times before they really sink in. I’m giving you permission to forgive yourself, and let me go.

At that moment it all comes crashing down on him. Your death, the funeral, the pain and longing, the grief—all of it. Everything he’d ever tried to push aside by drinking, culminating into this single release of emotion.

He cries. A full-bodied, pathetic display, he sobbed while holding your last memory to his chest until he was red in the face, until his lungs burned. He sobbed until he had no more tears to give, then sobbed some more.

Even in death, you were still listening.

#Robo writes #logan howlett #logan howlett x reader #james logan howlett #wolverine #wolverine x reader #wolverine angst #hope this was sad enough for you anon #graphics by strangergraphics!

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merrybloomwrites · 2 days

Text

The Only Way of Knowing You (Chapter 1)

Story Summary: After a chance encounter, Y/N finds herself on a series of dates with Harry Styles. She shares with him her innocence regarding physical intimacy, and he takes his responsibility in teaching her all about that very seriously.

Chapter Summary: Y/N is overjoyed to head to the hospital to meet her new nephew, and ends up meeting Harry Styles as well.

Word Count: 1.7K

CW: mentions of people giving birth

AN: So excited to finally post this series! I've really enjoyed writing this and hope you'll all like it. Thank you to the anon who requested shy virgin reader!

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You’re anxiously waiting to get a text or a call from your brother-in-law. You’d spoken to your sister yesterday morning and she mentioned that she felt like she was having contractions and would probably be in labor soon. So casually! You figured that since this is her second baby she must be feeling more relaxed about the whole situation.

But that doesn’t stop you from worrying about her for the whole day and a half between that call and when your phone finally rings again, Brian’s name appearing on the screen. He’d been sending regular updates to you and your parents and the last one sent almost two hours ago just said “it’s time”.

So this call must mean your new nephew is finally born. You quickly grab the phone and answer the call.

“Brian, hi!”

“He’s here!” He exclaims. “Born at 1:35, 7 pounds, 2 ounces, 21 and a half inches long.”

“How is he doing? How is Kyra?”

“He’s perfect! Kyra did great, she’s resting at the moment. We'll send a picture soon. She asked that no one come this afternoon but we’d love for you to stop by tomorrow. Your parents are coming in the morning and bringing Wyatt to meet her little brother.”

“Ok great! I’ll talk to them and coordinate what time.”

“Awesome, you’re gonna love him! Listen I’ve got a couple more calls and I want to get back to them but I’ll talk to you later.”

“Bye Brian, give Kyra my love!”

“Will do, bye Y/N.”

You hang up and literally squeal with excitement and relief that he’s here and everyone is doing well. You let out another happy noise when you get a couple pictures from Brian. You’re immediately in love with this little boy, even if he looks like an alien/old man hybrid. You wish you knew his name, but your sister made it clear she is keeping it a secret until you and your parents meet him in person.

At 8PM your mom calls and you figure they just got Wyatt to sleep. You talk for a bit and make plans to all meet at the hospital the following morning at 11.

You’re so excited that it’s nearly impossible to fall asleep, but you manage. The next morning passes quickly, and suddenly it’s time to head to the hospital.

Once there you find your parents and your niece signing in and you do so as well. Finally, the four of you make your way to the right room. Just like when you met Wyatt nearly three years prior, you immediately fall in love with this little baby the second he’s placed in your arms.

“Everyone, meet Jasper Lucas,” your sister says.

For half an hour you all get to spend time with Jasper as well as check in on Kyra, who truthfully looks fantastic for having just given birth the day before. You and your parents step out in order to give the family of four some time together.

Your mom comments that she could use a coffee and your dad hastily agrees so they head off to the cafeteria. You figure they must not be used to taking care of a toddler and decide to go over and help out that evening.

They ask if you want anything and you decline, choosing to instead go into one of the family waiting rooms and check on a project for work.

The room is empty when you enter but after a minute you hear footsteps. Looking up from your phone, you’re shocked to see who just walked in.

Harry Styles casually sits in one of the other chairs. You subtly glance at him, noting his jeans and sweater combo, as well as the look of pure excitement on his face. After pointedly looking anywhere but at him for a moment you can't help but turn towards him again.

“Hi!” he says cheerfully when he notices you looking at him.

“Hello,” you manage to squeak out.

“I’m Harry,” he says, leaning towards you with his hand out.

“I’m Y/N,” you reply while politely shaking his hand, hoping you’re doing it right. Which is wild because you;ve shaken hands with people hundreds of times but like, this is Harry Styles.

“My sisters just had a baby,” he adds, and now you understand why he’s practically vibrating with glee.

“Congratulations! Mine has as well. Is this Gemma’s first?” You realize a second later how creepy you now sound, using his sister's name when he hadn’t even told it to you.

Before you can apologize he laughs and says, “Yes, her first. So you know who I am then?”

“I mean, I don’t live under a rock so yes, I am aware that you’re Harry Styles.”

“Can you do me a favor then, love?”

You nod, willing to do anything he asks, especially if he continues to use such sweet terms of endearment like ‘love’.

“Gems kept this whole pregnancy private, and isn’t planning to announce she’s had a baby for a few weeks. I probably should’ve kept my mouth shut, but I just had to tell someone. Can you help keep this a secret and not let anyone know about the baby?”

“Oh of course, yea, secret’s safe with me.”

“I appreciate it. We may be adults now, but I think I’ll always fear the wrath of my big sister,” he says with another laugh. “Is this your sister's first as well?” he asks.

“No, I have a niece, Wyatt, she turns three next month,” you reply.

“And this little one, boy or girl?”

“Boy. His name is Jasper. My sister always said she wanted one girl and one boy so I guess she got her wish.”

You refrain from asking him the same question, not wanting to look like you're asking for personal information about his family, but he apparently doesn’t feel that way because he says, “Gemma had a girl. The tiniest little thing. I think. At least she looks that way in the picture.”

“You haven’t been able to see them yet?”

“Not quite, they needed a few more minutes before they were ready. Our mum’s in there with her, has been the whole time, so I’ve been anxiously waiting on my own.

“I feel that. I was the same way the past couple of days.”

“Well at least we have each other now, I feel much less jittery being able to talk to you,” he says.

“Glad I could help. People say I’m an excellent conversationalist.”

“Oh I can see that already, I’m quite enjoying this conversation.”

Just then Harry’s mum, Anne, walks into the room.

“Harry dear, they’re ready for you,” she says, giving you a quick smile before she walks out again.

He jumps out of his seat and says, “Sorry to cut it short, but-”

“Not a problem! Go, meet your niece. Bet she’ll be very happy to meet her Uncle Harry,” you reply.

“Would you want to keep talking? Later?”

You look at him, confused. “I’m not sure how long I’m going to be at the hospital.”

“Oh, no, I didn’t mean here. I just meant, maybe we could meet again, some other time. At some other place. Preferably with better coffee.”

“Are you asking me to hang out with you at a coffee shop?” you inquire, wanting to make sure you fully understand what is happening.

“I am. Sorry, it’s been a while since I’ve actually asked someone on a date, guess I’m a tad rusty.”

Your eyes go wide at the word ‘date’. You were already perplexed, wondering why he’d want to hang out with you as friends, but making it a date?

Your mouth works faster than your brain, and before you can really think through your answer, you hear yourself saying, “I’d love to get coffee with you.”

“Fantastic! Here, write your number in my phone and I’ll text you to set something up,” he replies while unlocking and handing over his phone. You’re practically on autopilot typing in your info and handing the phone back to him.

“I should go, I’ve got a niece to meet. It really was lovely chatting with you.”

“I agree. Say congrats to your sister for me!”

“I will, please say the same to your sister.”

“Of course,” you reply.

“Goodbye Y/N. I’ll talk to you soon.

“Looking forward to it. Goodbye Harry.”

With one last shy smile, he walks out of the room, leaving you standing there feeling rather shell shocked. You don’t have long to dwell before your own mother pops back in saying Kyra is ready for you all to go back.

You spend another hour there before leaving to go out and get some lunch. While you’re at a local restaurant, trying to encourage Wyatt to eat her lunch rather than play with it, you get a text from Brian saying Kyra and the baby will be discharged later that afternoon.

After lunch you go to their house and entertain Wyatt while your parents make sure everything is clean and ready for them to come home. Brian, Kyra, and Jasper arrive just before dinner, so you stay to make sure everyone eats and is as content as possible.

You leave after cleaning the dishes, knowing everyone is ready to settle down for the evening. Back home you hop in the shower, and when you get out, you have a text from an unknown number. It reads, “Hello, Y/N, it’s Harry.”

Your eyes go wide and you let out a nervous giggle. Honestly, there’s a part of you that thought you had hallucinated the interaction this afternoon, but here’s proof that it all really happened. Before you can type back you get another message from him saying, “If you’re not busy, how would you feel about getting coffee this Saturday? Say 1PM at Inkwell Cafe?”

“Sounds perfect,” you reply. Your phone dings again a second later and you read, “See you then! Have a great rest of your week.” After sending a quick “You as well!” you toss your phone to the side.

You get into bed, and reflect for a moment on everything that happened since getting up that morning. You knew it’d be a wonderful day; how could it not when you got to finally meet your perfect nephew?

But to have met one of your favorite celebrities and now have a date with him? Never in a million years would you have guessed the day would end this way. You fall asleep feeling like the luckiest person in the world.

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AN: Thank you so much for reading! I hoped you liked this chapter and can't wait to share the rest!

#harry styles x you #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x reader

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froggiewrites · 1 day

Note

saw you had requests open! would you be willing to do Ace + a reader with back pain that can keep them from doing things they usually enjoy? totally cool if not! love ur stuff ^-^

Thank you for the request!! I hope you enjoy this one anon, I tried to make it sweet and comforting for you. 💙

Pain Relief

Pairing: Ace x Reader

SFW

Summary: Your pain stops you from enjoying today's festivities, and Ace tries to comfort you. Warnings: Fluff, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Chronic Pain Word Count: 1.2k

You’re having one of your bad days.

Sometimes you can push through just fine, the pain nothing more than a minor hindrance eating away at your edges while you work. Other days it’s a bit harder, holding you back from more difficult tasks, forcing you to stop and leave some things halfway done. And some days are like today, where you spend most of it laying face first on your bed, holding back tears. At this point you can’t tell if they’re from the pain or the disappointment of missing out on yet another feast, yet another party, yet another thing you cannot do.

It almost hurts more how kind everyone is about it. You’ve never asked for any kind of accommodation, but you still find your crewmates trying to help where they can. Yesterday Marco assured you he has a stash of painkillers just for you the moment you need them. You thanked him, even though they don’t seem to help much on days like this. Today, you’re greeted by thundering footsteps and the delicious smell of the feast from above growing closer and closer; Thatch has personally come to bring you a plate.

“Doing any better?” His voice is soft, hesitant to break the silence that surrounds you.

You left out a groan of pain when you attempt to sit up to face him.

“I see.” You can hear the sympathy pouring from him, as well as the gentle touch of a hand on your shoulder urging you not to move. The plate appears on the nightstand right next to your head, filled to the brim with all of your favorites. Some spicy, some sweet, some savory, all of it combining into a smell so mouthwatering you’re able to bring yourself to move, if only to shift closer to your feast. “I tried to make sure I got all of your favorites. If you want anything else, I can bring it down later.” He sets a glass of water down as well.

“Thanks, Thatch. I really appreciate it.” Your voice is a little wobbly, strained from the pain, and while you can’t see him wince you can almost feel it.

“No problem. I’ll…leave you to it, if you don’t need anything else.”

You would kill for some company right now, some distraction from the pain. But you hate the idea of being a bother, of tearing anyone else away from the action you so desperately wish to be a part of, so instead of voicing your needs you simply give a pained smile. “I’m alright. Thanks, though.”

He hesitates a moment, and you wonder if he’ll stay, but he sighs quietly. “Alright. Someone else’ll be down soon to check on you.”

He makes his way back upstairs, and you manage to reach out for your plate to grab a small piece of bread, which you immediately shove in your mouth. Normally you would try to savor it, but your stomach is grumbling, and your pain is demanding your attention, and there’s tears stinging your eyes. At least with this you can pretend just for a moment that you’re on deck, feeling fine, surrounded by your friends and their warmth.

“Enjoying that?” Ace’s voice is familiar and jovial, and a shiver runs up your spine the moment you hear him. The door closes softly behind him, and in an instant you can feel his weight on the bed. His hand rests lightly on your leg, bringing you more peace than you’ve felt all day.

“Yeah.” The word struggles to get out around the bread, but you manage, and he quietly laughs at the sound and sight of your cheeks stuffed full.

“Good. You deserve it.” He picks up another piece of bread, holding it in front of your face, pushing it close to your mouth. “Come on, enjoy another.”

You swallow, then open your mouth. He delicately places the piece on your tongue, fingers brushing your lips, before he pulls back. “Do you mind some company for a while?”

“Wha?” Your mouth is still stuffed full, and he chuckles again, laying down next to you.

“Do you mind if I stay down here with you? I’ve missed you.” He’s looking at you not with the pity you expected, or any sort of sympathy. His eyes are filled with nothing but pure and honest affection as he regards you.

You nod.

“Perfect!” He leans in, snuggling closer to you. One of his hands brushes against your back, and you wince, before he presses more firmly, making you cry out and squirm. “No, just one moment. I promise it’ll help.”

You don’t understand what he means, too lost in your own discomfort, before you feel a warmth spreading from his palm and into your skin. It doesn’t make the pain disappear, but for a moment, when you close your eyes, you can pretend it isn’t there. You can focus instead on the feeling of Ace laying beside you, his large hands on your back, his quiet pleased humming as he realizes he’s been successful in helping you.

You expect him to say something about how you can’t go upstairs, how he’s sorry you’re stuck down here while everyone else has fun. Instead, he whispers, “Thank you for letting me stay.” Like you’re doing him a favor. Like his presence here is just because he wants to be.

“Thank you for staying.” Your voice wobbles with emotion, though you try to hold it back. You grab the hand that isn’t on your back, holding it close, clinging to him like a lifeline.

He chuckles. “You don’t have to thank me for that, sunshine. I’d give anything to be here with you. No one else on this ship compares. No one else in the world.” He presses closer, his nose pressing into your neck. “You’re worth a thousand of these feasts.”

You hold his hand tighter. “I still wish I could go. I was really looking forward to this one.”

“There will be other parties.”

You can’t keep the sorrow from your voice. “But they won’t be this one.”

He doesn’t deny that. “But there will be parties. And for this one?” His hand gets a little warmer, relaxing your muscles and making your eyes droop. “For this one I’ll be right here with you. And we won’t have to worry about anything anyone else is doing. You’ll be too busy enjoying my company.” He almost giggles at that last one, and you can feel his nose crinkle as he says it, smile wide and uninhibited as it presses against your skin.

"So true,” you murmur, fighting a smile. “How could I ever want anything else?” It’s almost embarrassing how much you mean it, but he can’t see the blush on your face, so you don’t bother holding back your dorky, toothy grin. You’re melting into his touch, starting to forget the loneliness, the grief at what you’ve lost tonight, however small in the grand scheme of things. The only thing that matters right now is Ace, his warmth, his touch, his voice as he happily tells you whatever silly story he thinks will catch your attention at the time. By the end of the night, curled into his side, his warm hand rubbing soothing circles onto your lower back, you almost forget about the party above deck, or any of the world outside of this room.

Tag List: @pandora-writes-one-piece

#ace x reader #portgas d ace x reader #portgas ace x reader #one piece x reader #ace x y/n #ace x you #one piece #portgas d ace #ace one piece

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dean-winchester-is-a-warrior · 2 days

Text

Preparing for Battle

Summary: It's that time of the month, but Jensen's ready to battle with you.

Pairings: Jensen Ackles x Reader (You)

Warnings: None. Fluff. Jensen comfort. Implied smut.

Word Count: 616

A/N: So, I got this sort of request from a dear, sweet anon who I always love to see in my inbox. But she's ailing a bit because being a woman sucks sometimes. So, I wrote something that I hope will comfort and cheer her. ❤️ I wrote it pretty quick so it could get out to her, so sorry for all the likely mistakes.

A/N 2: Also, of course, as always this is a Jensen from within the multiverse who is single. This is a complete and utter work of fiction.

“Hey.” Jensen’s voice was soft and questioning as he came into your bedroom to see you sitting up in bed and crying.

He sat on the side of the bed, facing you, and noticed you were looking at your phone. He used his knuckle to brush a tear from your cheek.

“Baby what’s wrong?”

He tried to see what was on your phone, so you showed it to him and he pressed play on the video you’d been watching. After viewing it for a minute he shook his head and looked at you.

“Period started?” He asked.

You nodded. “This morning.” You said with a sniffle.

Jensen shut off your phone and hid it under your pillow. “Sweetheart, you know better than to watch ‘soldiers coming home to their dogs’ videos when you’re on your period. They make you cry at the best of times.”

You brushed your tears away. “It’s just proof, you know, of how pure their little puppy souls are.” The tears started again in earnest and Jensen reached over to grab you a tissue.

As you blew your nose, he kissed your forehead. “Okay, well I’m off work for the next few days, so be prepared for pampering.”

You shook your head. “Jensen, you don’t have to do that. You’re home to relax after working for two weeks straight, I don’t want you to-”

He cut you off and jumped up from the bed. “Nope, too late.I’ll be back in under twenty minutes.”

And like a flash he was gone, leaving you slightly flummoxed.

True to his word he was back fifteen minutes later, hauling four overloaded bags into the bedroom. His smile was broad and happy. He began plucking things out of the bags and tossing them onto the bed.

“Okay, I got…chocolate. Lots and lots of chocolate.”

Every brand of chocolate bar, some with nuts, some with caramel, some with nougat, landed unceremoniously on top of the blanket.

He continued, pulling out a heating pad. He lifted it up. “A new one of these bad boys because the ancient one you inherited from your mom is bound to burn the house down one of these days.” He dropped it and dug into the next bag.

“Chips! Etcetera.” He said, pulling out a ridiculous amount of salty snacks, including pretzels and popcorn. He brought out a six pack of ginger ale. “For the nausea. Ooh!”

He raised his finger and then dug in another bag, taking out two boxes of Midol. “But also this, for all the other shit that comes along with mean Aunt Flo.”

You giggled. “Aunt Flo?”

He grinned and shrugged. “That’s what the women in my family called it.”

He finished emptying the bags, adding gummy bears and worms, chamomile tea, trashy magazines and 2 quarts of ice cream to the pile surrounding you.

Then from the inside pocket of his jacket he pulled out a little paper bag, and inside were two small bottles of massage oil. He held them up and gave them a little shake.

“Also, apparently massage is supposed to be very helpful.”

He brought them over and set them on the table beside the bed. He slipped out of his jacket, tossing it over the chair in the corner, and you sighed, admiring the way his black t-shirt clung to his broad shoulders, and pulled tight across his biceps.

Sitting down on the side of the bed again, he leaned forward and kissed you slowly. You let out a small whimper and Jensen moaned lightly and pulled back, letting his forehead rest against yours and speaking roughly.

“Apparently orgasms also work really well on cramps.”

You laughed breathlessly. “Well, put away the ice cream and let's find out.”

Tags under the cut.

@lyarr24 @lacilou @deans-spinster-witch @globetrotter28 @suckitands33

@alwaystiredandconfused @jzackles @jackles010378 @impala67rollingthroughtown @krazykelly

@candy-coated-misery0731 @envyaurora95 @spnwoman @deans-baby-momma @luvr4miya

@arcannaa @viviwatchestv @winharry @ladysparkles78 @kr804573

@whimsyfinny @lastcallatrockysbar @kazsrm67 @slut-for-evans-stan @sexyvixen7

@hobby27 @waywardcheshire @libby99hb @k-slla @leigh70

@eevvvaa @kickingitwithkirk @foxyjwls007 @notinthislife50 @roseblue373

@mishkatelwarriorgoddess @avanatural @mrsjenniferwinchester @all-alone-he-turns-to-stone @deangirl96

@stoneyggirl2 @fanfic-n-tabulous @traiitorjoe @nancymcl

#jensen ackles rpf #jensen x reader #jensen x you #jensen ackles fluff #jensen ackles comfort fic

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batmanisagatewaydrug · 3 days

Note

Here's a light-hearted ask!

Have you done any sex ed work with college and graduate populations? If so, what are common points of confusion? And do you have any funny or nice stories about college sex ed presenting?

Also, thanks for running this blog! It's been really helpful for me in seeing sex as less stressful and more pedestrian. Hope you're having a normal one!

hi anon,

fortuitously I started teaching sex ed while I was in college and I work at a college now, so I've had a fair bit of opportunity to work with college students in person in addition to all the young adults who send in asks here :)

I don't know if I have any particular stand-out stories coming to mind right now, but overall I've always found this demographic to be really inquisitive, open-minded, and excited to share. almost every time I've presented my workshop Queering Virginity it's been with college students, and they're always really receptive and eager to kick that ball around and play in the space with me trying to poke and prod at virginity and figure out what, if anything, it actually means.

some of the most common points that come up aren't so much confusion (although on at least one occasion I have to be the bearer of bad news re: people with vaginas being able to give each other STIs) as opportunities for expanded knowledge. for instance, not a lot of college students know about internal condoms, because few people know about condoms, period. I think something much more widespread is a desire for reassurance that what they feel and want and do sexually is normal and okay, which I think transcends demographics in a pretty huge way.

#sex edventures 2024

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morphids · 10 hours

Text

false pretenses, hange zoë

so im absolutely obsessed with this thank you for putting this idea in my head😰😵‍💫wish i could tag u anon </3

original request here [X]

pairing: college au - engineering student!hange x student!female reader - they/them pronouns for hange, afab anatomy for both

summary: the best way to get what you want is to do it yourself right?

warnings: listen this is real slutty ok, explicit sexual content 18+ minors dni - loser lesbian!hange (hange has that autistic nerd rizz), its always the quiet ones, r thinks she’s slick af, poc friendly- no physical descriptions of reader, kinda-bratty/switch!reader (r gets v subby) top-leaning!Hange, strap, dirty talk, nicknames, munch activities, fingering, finger sucking, cunnilingus, praise, brief asphyxiation, i cant think of anymore

wc: 4.9k (not proofread)

an: excuse the shitty engineering attempts im not a stem girl!! hope y’all enjoy <3

—

You watched Hange from across the library, gazing over their features as they frowned. Brow creased as they solved equations that your professor had so kindly left everyone to complete after your seminar. Sometimes you’d catch their teeth nip at their bottom lip, in pensive thought.

Hange wasn't around many people, not that you saw anyway, usually kept to themselves or with the same two friends you'd seen them with. Their head often deep into a book or back hunching over a desk working some form of assignment, headphones placed over their hair.

Looking over their face, you studied Hange's strong jaw, the way their slender hand held up the weight of their head as the other scribbled down notes into their notebook. The sluttiest black tank top layered underneath an unbuttoned white dress shirt, draping over baggy brown straight-leg pants. Hair up with so many layers resting against their cheeks, framing their lovely face as multiple strands plumed out from within the hair tie. Their amber eyes lay under small, thin, glasses atop their nose. God, that nose. Perfect to sit on. Perfect to ride to holy heaven.

If it wasn’t clear, you'd had a bit of an eye on Hange for the last semester, they had transferred from a different university a while back. Upon seeing them for the first time, you wanted to speak to them. Their slightly introverted nature had made you keep your distance, though, but it was getting harder to fight the urge to go talk to them. I mean, how weird would that be? Hi, I know you don't know me but I've been obsessed with you since you transferred here? Yeah right.

No, you had to be more creative than that.

You needed a valid reason to speak to Hange so that you didn’t come across as the world’s biggest creep. Luckily for you, Hange was by far the smartest person on campus. Grades always incredibly well above average, scoring top marks in every assignment they’d submitted. So much so, that the professor had pretty much already taken them in under his wing. Due to their helpful nature and extensive knowledge in a fair range of fields, your professor was preparing Hange to be his TA after graduation. Oftentimes, passing Hange over to tutor students in his classes that lacked the grades that were expected of them at this stage in the course.

And even more luckily for you, you seemed to be really struggling with the new module. Or at least that’s what your alibi was. Who needed to know that your grades had actually been consistent passes? You were pretty strong at your theory, but you had only slightly slacked off in your classes during your professors teachings of mathematical methods and linear equations. It couldn’t hurt to get a bit of extra assistance to fill in the missing gaps.

Deciding to bite the bullet, you walked up to Hange, they barely noticed a presence beside, music blaring through the headphones, until your shoes came into their peripheral vision, spotting the black boots right beside the chair.

Their gaze followed up your bare legs, eyes slightly widened as they realised you were indeed about to induce a conversation with them and not just wandering past to get to an actual destination. They removed one cup of their headphones off their ear, holding it up with their fingers so they could listen to you. You noticed the multiple bands resting above their knuckles, bulky metallic rings varied with different patterns and weldings.

“Oh, um— hi?” Hange spoke, slightly confused, they had been deeply distracted into their equations, not anticipating someone coming to speak to them. Definitely not you, of all people.

“Hey, um— sorry to ruin your flow, but I was wondering if you could,” hesitance struck you, feeling your carefully planned script fall apart under Hange’s gaze, eyes still wide and nodding their head as a prompt for you to finish, removing the headphones fully to rest the band on the back of their neck. Why are they so hot, you thought, fumbling over yourself. “If you could tutor me with this module, you’re the smartest person in this place according to Mr. Fritz,” You joked, softening your words with a meek giggle. An attempt to make not make it seem like a big deal even though you could feel your heartbeat thump in your ears and throat.

“You can totally say no, of course,” you quickly added, after realising you didn’t actually offer them an out, not wanting to pressure Hange into having more on their plate than there already was.

Hange’s eyebrows pulled together, lips split as a wash of suspicious perplexity strained their features, only for a second before returning to normal. Back to their friendly warmth with an amiable smile stretched on their lips.

“Sure, I’d love to help,” Their eyes held yours, you to let out a faint breath of relief. “I’ve got a few things to do on campus for a while, but, I can meet you after?”

“That’d be great, thank you!” You offered to exchange phone numbers for ‘easier communication’ to plan around Hange’s schedule, before duly proposing that they come over to your dorm, as the library closed after five o’clock, and your roommates were gone for a week-long field trip.

“I’ll let you know when I’m on the way, then,” They smiled, an amused smirk etching itself on their lips before they could help it.

“That’s perfect, I appreciate it,” You beamed, “I’ll, um, leave you to your equations,” You stepped away, turning around to make your exit from the library. Hange didn’t miss the way your eyes fell onto their lips for just, perhaps, a little bit too long than was deemed socially conventional, or the way you seemed to grow flustered as they stimmed with their fingers. Hange’s gaze followed you as you walked on, trailing down to your exposed legs underneath a short skirt that hung over thick, sinuous thighs. Hange looked back down at their notebook, as they chuckled, shaking their head with endearment at your crafty deceit.

Hange certainly isn’t stupid, due to their proximity working with the professor, they were painfully aware of the more… problematic students in Mr. Fritz’ class. You were never one of them. In fact, he had even used some of your past assignments as example guidelines for the newer students. Needing help with the easiest part of the module? No way were they believing that.

—

A knock at your door, and you smoothened the fabric of your clothes, hoping to reduce any lingering creases or maybe even just to calm your nerves. You had tidied up, making your bedroom look more presentable and less like a cove of disordered chaos.

Opening the door, there stood Hange, handsome and ravishing in all their tall glory. A hand reached up to stabilise the one strap of their backpack that hung on their shoulder, the other strap dangling behind. You tried to stop, you really did, but you trailed over their figure, lured into their nonchalant stance that just exuded casual confidence as they looked back at you, an eyebrow cocked up.

Breaking contact, you welcomed them in, Hange dropped their backpack onto the floor to relieve the weight of all the heavy textbooks from their shoulders. Hand raising back up to remove the headphones from their neck, placing them atop their bag, hooked on the top handle.

You sat at your couch, leaving enough space for Hange to comfortably place themselves on. Trying to be discreet, you watched as they took off their dress shirt, hanging it on the arm of the couch, you presumed Hange was using the layer against the slightly cooler breeze outside— you couldn’t lie, you were kinda glad to see it off. Hange’s bicep was well sculpted against their black tank top as it melted into toned forearms. Tanned and strong. There was a brown cord bracelet dangling from their wrist as they rested it on their propped up knee. God, I’m no better than a man, you thought.

“So, what’d you need help with?” Hange pushed up their glasses with their ringed index finger, you wondered if that was something they often did subconsciously before beginning a task.

“Linear algebra and probability theory,”

“Hmm,” Hange nodded, a short tug at the corner of their lips, leaning their elbows on the top of their thighs, “Yeah, that stuff is pretty hard, but,”

“What did you score on the last exam?” Hange turned their head your way, amber eyes meeting yours, with a devious look.

You froze, shit. It felt like a trick question, surely Hange didn’t know the score you totalled? Surely, Hange didn’t know that you were just seven marks from a full score? It almost felt as if they were luring you into a trap; to see if you’d double down with the lie and continue with this facade or if you’d crack and admit defeat. Lose-lose either way, you’d end up embarrassed or having to make yourself look incredibly foolish.

Voice breaking in your throat, you held eye contact. Whereas Hange’s was steady and sharp, yours felt like you were just exposing yourself further the longer you remained silent.

“I-I don’t remember,” A neutral answer, you decided, totally not because you had been rendered nonverbal, clearing your throat and seeing the way Hange’s lips stretched fully into a knowing smirk.

“Hmm, you don’t remember,” They were definitely mocking you now, voice low, humming and melodic as you felt the thunder in your chest beat. You looked down at your thighs, fingers fiddling with a loose hem on your skirt.

“Getting the impression I wasn’t invited over for some homework,” They chuckled, leaning back against the support of the couch, arm stretching over the top.

One sentence and it was out in the open, the illusion you thought was so deceiving completely shattered as your true intentions came to light. Yup, embarrassing, just as you thought.

“So, why don’t you tell me the actual reason you invited me over,” If the last sentence was a stab to your confidence, this one was an extra twist in the wound. Hange was smirking at you, the mirthful look in their eyes showing you that they were relishing in your embarrassment and flustered face.

You swallowed a deep breath, feeling your skin ignite both with anticipation and nerves so lethal you almost wanted to bury yourself underneath the seat, never to be seen again.

“I, uh—“ you mumbled, the script had truly crumbled, you had no plan B apart from just spewing out the truth. You’d die before you had to do that.

“You seem a bit flustered,” Hange hummed, leaning on the back of the couch, as their thighs came to spread, “Why’s that, hm?”

The unlevelled confidence that radiated from them just seemed to further your own unease. It wasn’t often you felt that way, usually being the one to initiate flirtations with others. Yet, everything about Hange just seemed to drag you into a state of bashfulness, totally out of character as you failed to make eye contact.

“Will you look at me, love?”

You ceded, eyes meeting, as you let out a sigh. Hange placed a testing hand upon your bare knee, tentative runs of their thumb over the skin. Soft, Hange thought. The feeling eliciting shivers down your spine, warm waves down to your core, reducing you to a state of feeling unreasonably touch-starved. Hange gazed down your thighs, deliciously covered by the fabric of your skirt, moistening the edge of their upper lip with the tip of their tongue, before flickering their eyes back to you.

“What is it you really want?”

Fuck. A short gasp escaped your throat as their hand trailed up, fingers reaching underneath the hem of the short skirt. Hange was toying with you, no doubt about it.

“I… I wanted to speak to you,”

Humming, their hand moved further, “Why?”

“I found you…” you paused when their fingertips skimmed over your panties, your thighs twitched. “C-captivating, needed a reason to speak to you,”

Hange chuckled, as they leaned forward to reach the bottom of your ear, your breath hitching as their lips ghosted over the skin.

“You could’ve just asked, pretty,” Hange’s voice whispered against your ear, as you closed your eyes. You were so down bad.

“Think I haven’t noticed you, huh?” One light kiss at your skin, “Think I haven’t seen the way you stare at me?” Another kiss, ever so gentle that you almost melted into them, biting back a needy groan. Hange’s hand squeezed at your thigh, fingers towards your centre, just barely grazing over the fabric.

“I mean—god, darling, if you wanted me to fuck you that badly all you needed to do was ask nicely,” Hange’s teeth nipped at your lobe, drawing out the skin with it.

“So, ask me nicely,”

Another squeeze at your inner thigh, and no longer could you withhold the groan that you’d been holding back. You were fighting so many demons right now, hesitant to verbalise your inner desires. Hange remained near your ear, licking at the soft skin. Fuck it.

“I want you so fucking bad,” Your voice came out so much whinier than you expected, used to hearing that tone from others, but never from yourself.

“Aren’t you gonna say please?” They chuckled, dragging it out, teasing. Hange eyed the pout at your lips, the slight frown in your brows—could tell you were used to getting what you wanted easily, to not submitting. They planned to fix that.

“Fucks sake—please, Hange,” You pressed your thighs together, trapping Hange’s hand as they gripped you, as a prompt for them to do something, anything.

“Better.”

With their other hand, the one not currently trapped in between your legs, Hange grabbed at your hip. Kneading over your hip bone, where the dainty zip of your skirt dangled. The sensation caused your thighs to loosen autonomously, as Hange opportunely released their hand an inch. Slipping underneath the hem of your damp panties, fingers teasing at your slit, collecting your slick.

“You this messy just for me?” Their sinful, warm words made you shiver, goosebumps down your arms as they hit your ear. You wriggled, skirt rolled up to your hips, exposing your panties. Messy, indeed. You were growing impatient as you attempted to roll your hips into their hand, craving contact. Hange’s fingers recoiled, pushing from your slit pulling the fabric with as they tutted. Tightening their other hand on your hip once more, stilling your movements.

“C’mon, surely you’ve figured out how this works by now,” Hange’s words sounded so sweet, if it wasn’t for the absolute torture lurking underneath. Eager to tease and play with you for as long as it would take for you to actually listen and cede. With a brattish groan and a sigh, you nodded.

“Words, darling, use them.”

“Y-yes, shit—all for you, Hange.” Voice breathy, avidly impatient. Your core leaked more slick when it clenched, totally ruining your panties as it clung to your folds. The sight absolutely delectable. “I need you so bad—can’t take it,”

There it was. Finally.

“Was that so hard?” Hange hummed, a satisfied smirk creeping over their lips as they teased a finger down your slit, only slightly breaking through your entrance. Pressing your lips against theirs as you whimpered into the kiss, biting at Hange’s plump bottom lip.

“Now then, be a good girl and stay put.”

Hange pressed their finger fully into you, soon adding another two once they saw how keenly you were taking them already, walls wet and ready. Your head fell into Hange’s neck, meek moans spilling from your mouth as their slender fingers hit the back of your squishy walls.

Without removing themselves from your warm heat, Hange cased a hand at your ass, pulling you on top of their lap. Using their clothed thigh to rut their fingers up even further, other hand forcing your hips into gyration against them. The friction from their jeans hit against your sensitive clit and with their fingers inside you, you were a hot mess already. Needy and desperate from their heartless teasing.

“Ah—that’s…fucking good,” You hissed, as Hange lapped their tongue down your neck, before sucking, branding you with many dark marks leading down to your chest.

Catching the hem of your shirt, you threw your arms up to discard it, revealing your breasts to the room’s cool air, heaving up and down with heavy breaths. Hange almost moaned at the sight of you, shirtless with a short skirt pooled around your hips, draping over their knees. Of course you weren’t wearing a bra, they thought. As Hange thrust their fingers into you, their mouth wrapped over your nipples, flicking over them with their tongue. Nipping lightly over the peaks. You arched your back into them, feeling yourself grow closer, the tension in your abdomen building as you bit your lip.

Your hips lost their rhythm, aimlessly chasing the feeling of Hange’s fingers deep within you. Languid gasps and breathless moans escaping your lips. So, so close to your peak until the sensation was suddenly stripped away, leaving you totally empty. Hange removing their fingers, you could hear your own slick cry as they did, your walls tensing.

“Wha-“ You were a bit dazed, a truthfully a little annoyed, you had been so close.

“You’ve not earned it yet,” Hange laughed, clearly relishing in your frustration. They liked this, liked making you destitute, left wanting. Hange had every intention of fixing that sugared insolence they could see within you. Had every intention of tearing it inside out.

Hange reached down to their leather belt, maintaining eye contact as they unclasped the metal peg, lifting you up off their knees slightly to pull their jeans down, before removing their tank top. Their chest rose up and down, bound beneath a black binder. You could see their own centre soaking through their underwear. You ogled their figure, groaning as your sinful thoughts worsened. The kind of imagination that would surely commit you to purgatory indefinitely.

Hange pecked your charming pout away, before bringing their soaked fingers up in front of your mouth. Spreading your lips open with their thumb, shoving it inside so you could taste your own slick on it. Their other fingers followed suit.

“Clean up your mess,”

Hange watched you, your lips bruised and plump as they split to allow entrance for their index and middle finger. Sucking your juices off them as you moaned, gagging as they hit the back of your throat. Brows pinched and eyes brimmed with tears from the hot burn. Hange’s thumb pressed against your bottom teeth, pulling your jaw open, a line of drool slipping out from the corner of your open mouth. Hange would kill just about anyone for you, they thought. Irreversibly addicted to you, your needy eyes and the way you fell to follow their orders.

“So beautiful,”

Hange hung over you. Looking into your glassy eyes, with the hold against your jaw, pinky finger at your chin, they held your mouth open, spitting on your tongue.

“Swallow.”

You did. Quite happily as you groaned, muffled as your mouth was stuffed. Feeling yourself grind against Hange’s bare thigh, your core clenching around nothing as you yearned for the feeling of their fingers back inside you. Your inner thighs completely soaked, spreading it all over Hange’s bare legs.

“Such a good girl—so obedient for me,” They hummed, relieving their attack on your mouth, taking their fingers out and grasping the back of your neck, “Wonder if anyone else has ever slut you out like this, hm?”

You shut your eyes, leaning into their touch as you whined out a passive ‘No’, shaking your head to Hange’s question, not fully trusting the strength of your own voice. Fuck, you were totally gone, lost in salacity and paralysed by your own thirst. Almost brain-dead as your desire thumped in your ears, and throbbed at your core. About to explode from your own ardour as it’d eagerly been building up. Hange was divinely addictive, a substance you should never have risked trying. You could never possibly go back now, too ruined to ever possibly go to anyone else. Totally and utterly hooked on Hange.

“Aw, look how docile you are now, pretty.”

Hange kissed at your neck, coming back up to meet your lips again as you mewled against them.

“H-Hange— please, need more,” You squirmed against their lap, “Can’t take it, need to cum so badly,” You were finally begging, hesitation leaving you to fend for yourself as Hange had you right where they wanted.

“Yeah? How do you want it, baby?”

In between strained breaths, you pointed to your drawers. Strategically placed next to the couch, as Hange reached over. Chuckling once they saw your strap in its resting place.

“This what you want?”

Nodding, you rutted against Hange’s thigh, forcing some friction to rub against your clit.

“Please, fuck,” You sobbed, visions of Hange stuffing you with your strap forcing you to squeeze your thighs against Hange’s lap.

“Since you asked so nicely,”

Hange gently nudged you off their lap, to allow them to slide the harness over their thighs. You sat beside them, legs folded underneath yourself. Hand placed delicately on the side of their head, pressing sweet kisses down the skin of their neck as they adjusted the harness to fit around the circumference of their thighs. Hange shivered under your lips, eyes shutting as they indulged in the sensation for a moment, cursing as you began to lick under their lobe. You were delightful.

Hange’s hand danced along your thigh, fingers streaming past your slit as they groaned at how unbelievably wet you were.

“You’re fucking sublime,” They groaned, dragging you over their lap, hands ripping both the skirt and your ruined panties off your legs. Hange laid their back on the couch, folding your bare thighs over their jaw. You bit your lip in keen anticipation, it was almost as if you had manifested this.

“Fuck—Hange, I’ve dreamt about this for so fucking long,” Your legs twitched above Hange’s face, as a radiant smirk shone on their lips.

“Yeah? Thought about this?” Their hands clung around the plush skin of your ass, fingers squeezing tightly. They pulled you on to a steady stream along their face, teased a lick up your folds before your slit was pressed down against their flat tongue, lapping up your slick as their nose rubbed over your clit.

“F-fuck, so much—was just like this,” You gasped as you rode Hange’s face, watching dumbly as their face contorted with gluttonous solace. Eyebrows creasing as they focused on eating you out. You crumbled, finally feeling some release after being teased for what felt like many unbearable hours. Truly, it was better than you could have imagined, Hange’s fly-aways catching on their cheeks and the sides of their face as they grew dampened, your slick slapping their cheeks and fogging up their glasses from splatters and wet heat.

Resting your hand on their knees for stability, your fingers acted on their own as you came to reach underneath the strap that was dangled in the air, waiting to be used. Your fingers came to meet Hange’s folds, sliding easily past their sensitive labia, nearly as wet as your own, aching. Having been unbearably turned on since they saw your body’s visceral responses to them.

“That’s—so fucking hot, shit,” You whimpered, lost in the feeling of Hange’s insistent tongue slowly flicking deep against you and the way their centre seemed to just suck your fingers right in. Hange let out a muffled, guttural grunt into you, the vibrations making you clamp your thighs tight against their head. You almost felt apologetic, if it wasn’t for Hange, who seemed to get riled up by the very prospect of being choked out by your luscious thighs. Oxygen supply decreasing as amber eyes rolled into the back of their head, toned arms pulling you closer against them. Leaving behind marks on your skin that outlined where their fingers had been digging in.

Whilst simultaneously, you were plunging your fingers knuckles deep into their entrance. Your body leaning back as you bucked your wrist against them, fingers curling inwards against their walls. Hange’s eyes were stuck on you, watching as your body rocked against their mouth. Head hung back and breasts perked up as beads of sweat trickled down, illuminating your skin, the fine hairs around your stomach standing upright. Looking properly, they spotted a few moles scattered on your stomach, your lips were swollen as they bit out mutters of curses under your breath. Still trying to return the favour even despite feeling ruined. How divine.

The sight alone brought Hange to their knees, hazy pleasure erupting through them as they felt their body tremble. Truthfully, Hange seldom let people touch them, opting to typically give rather than receive, yet they felt like giving you permission to do whatever you wished with their body. They were so hypersensitive, extra responsive under your ambrosial touch. Debauched gasps melted into your core, still lapping at your slick as they rode through their own peak. Shuddering, as they seized their thighs against your wrist.

“Did you cu-“ Your excited, breathy voice was cut off by Hange grabbing your wrist, ripping your fingers out of themselves from overstimulation, their centre tensing with arousal dripping down their folds. Hange nodded as an affirmative, you could tell they were slightly stunned. Hange held your wrist against your back, elbow folding over as they lifted themselves up. Disconnecting your slit from their mouth, and moving you around as you returned to facing each other, your legs resting over their lap once more.

Hange’s spare hand caressed your jaw, uniting your lips together as they melded over yours. Sloppy, open-mouthed kisses, slipping their tongue into your mouth. You whined as they angled the tip of the strap over your folds, your slick lubricating the plastic. Hange was frenzied, desperately needing to see you stuffed with the silicone length. Elated from their own high, their words grew more depraved.

“Need to fuck this pussy,” They rasped, voice at the lowest frequency you’d heard from them, “Prettiest fucking pussy I’ve ever seen,”

Your lips parted as Hange slipped the tip inside, stretching your walls out as you gripped onto their shoulders. Hissing as you adjusted to Hange burying themselves into your tender flesh. Sinking yourself down on the strap as your hips undulated against them, pressure building up again within your abdomen as Hange fucked the strap deep into you. Tip massaging over your inner walls, repeatedly hitting that same spot that made your breath catch in your throat and your vision go white.

“Fuc—keep going, pleas—please,” Mewling, you shut your eyes, eyebrows furrowing as your nails came to scratch at Hange’s back. Your words coming out in broken sobs, tears spilling down your cheeks as you were split apart on your own strap.

“So full—Hange—“

Hange sucked against your neck, then licking over the sore spots.

“Taking me so well,” Hange praised, voice sweetly laden with saccharine honey, “Sat so pretty on my cock,”

“ngh—Shit-I-I’m gonna come,” You were shaking, thighs trembling and abdomen twitching. Finally about to release after being so cruelly edged twice. The expression on your way was picture-worthy, fucked out and wanton.

“That’s it,” Hange kept rutting up into you, muttering praises, “Come all over me, baby,” A nibble at your earlobe and you were done for. Your climax reached you, tensing up your spine, mouth agape as you shuddered, face contorted.

“You look so pretty when you come,”

Your core tightened as you spilled out your release; the force pushing the strap out from inside you, squirting all over Hange’s lap. The hardest you’ve ever come in your life.

Hange didn’t relent just yet, making sure to fuck you through your peak so you could ride every second of it. When you finally stilled, your head fell onto Hange’s neck, murmuring softly against their clavicle. Sighing, you lifted your head up, greeting Hange’s half-lidded eyes with your own. A beat and Hange reconnected your lips together, gently kissing you as you came down. Mind still fuzzy and reeling. Their hands caressed your hips, thumbs running down your skin.

“You’re beautiful,” Hange whispered, pressing a tender peck down against your swollen lips, “Wish you would’ve talked to me earlier,”

You laughed, breathy and uneven, as bashfulness struck again. Once the cloud of lust had settled, you were left with nerves, that doe look back in your eyes as you weren’t quite sure what to do now. What if Hange never wants to see you again? After all of this, you don’t think you could handle being emotionally ghosted. It was unlike you entirely, but the interest in Hange remained, simmering as you relished in their tight hold— a hold that almost promised you it wasn’t going to leave. You dared to dream.

“What are you thinking about?” Hange muttered, resting their forehead against yours, eyes closing.

“Um…” You hummed, hesitant, “This, I guess, I’m a little… nervous,”

“I guess I am, too,” They chuckled, pressing their head closer, hands still setting your skin aflame, “But, i-if you’d like to, I wanna take you out,” Pausing, “On a real date, that is, not under false tutoring pretences,”

You pulled your head back, trying to suppress the smile that threatened to stretch, an attempt at masking the hopeful beam in your eyes.

“I’d love that.”

—

listen u guys 😭 someone pls sedate me or give me a lobotomy cos what am i meant to do when i PINE over 2d characters

let me know if u guys enjoyed <3 i love to read ur comments and inputs

#guys the way im in love with them should send me into a clinic #put me in a room with them i’ll show u a rumbling #also i had to take a few days inbetween writing this bc i have v little time on my own to just … wordvomit #if its ass im sorry i tried 😭#lesbian #hange zoe #hange zoe x reader #hange zoe x reader smut #attack on titan #attack on titan smut #hange zoe fic #hanji zoe #hanji zoe x reader #hanji zoe x reader smut #aot #aot smut #fics #lesbian smut #attack on titan fics

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sturnsdc · 2 days

Text

You look beautiful

pair: Carl Grimes x fem!reader

warnings: TWD scenes, just fluff, slight angst, awkward and embarrassing Carl and Yn, beginning of what could be smut.

words: 2,6k

A/N: thanks @livingdeadgirlflorette and anon for giving two wonderful ideas. I'm really sorry that the story came out so short and shitty, but i still hope that some part of it is good enough !! <3

both are +16

dividers from @cafekitsune ! ♡

main masterlist carl masterlist

CARL'S POV

"you're going out… to get medical supplies… with her? just the two of you?" Michonne asked me once more, and i had to hold back the urge to roll my eyes. Still, i know she senses my annoyance because she laughed and spoke again, "in my day, we called that something else, but okay." I chuckled a bit at her comment and lightly hit her arm to make her stop teasing.

she’s always like this ever since she found out about my feelings for Yn. She seizes every moment to make a comment or give me a look. And it got worse once my dad found out. It only took a few hours for the rest of the group to know. Everyone except her…

but can anyone really blame me? when we arrived in Alexandria, there was a group of teenagers like me—two boys and two girls. She didn’t seem to fit in with them and only talked to her friend Enid. However, when Ron introduced us, she gave me the biggest smile and started talking to me.

she’s so sweet and beautiful, but at first, i couldn’t understand what was happening to me. She started appearing in my dreams, in different scenarios that made me wake up with my heart racing, followed by a strange feeling of emptiness when i realized it had only been a dream. Then she was present everywhere, even without physically being there. In every conversation, in every thought, everything started reminding me of her.

i started noticing her more, and our conversations were no longer enough. So, i began stealing glances at her now and then—when she studied, when she helped with chores, and when she began sneaking out, just like i’d seen Enid do on several occasions. That's when curiosity got the better of me, and i started sneaking out after her, discovering her little secret.

she would climb up to what looked like a treehouse, a bit far from Alexandria, and i thought she hadn’t noticed me. But just as i was about to take another step, her voice surprised me.

“should i be worried that you’re following me, Carl?” she asked, though i didn’t hear any anger in her voice. She sat on a branch at the entrance to the small treehouse, looking down at me.

i remember stuttering as i tried to come up with an excuse, but she just laughed and invited me to come up. She showed me her safe space, and with that, she let me see a side of her that no one else knew. From that moment on, we became closer, and my feelings just grew and grew until they were undeniable.

when Ron shot me that day, i thought it was all over, that she would stay away or wouldn’t even be able to look at me anymore. I wouldn't have blamed her if she did; it took me weeks before i could even look at myself in the mirror again. Why would i expect her to see me as the same Carl as before?

but she did. She held my face in her hands and wiped away my tears again and again.

so, can anyone really blame me?

“earth to Carl, earth to Carl. Please return from Ynland,” Michonne's voice pulled me out of my thoughts. She's looking at me with an eyebrow raised, and all i could do was look away, embarrassed.

“sorry, i got distracted. What were you saying?”

“that you should already be heading to your ‘supply run’ with your dear friend,” she said, emphasizing ‘dear friend.’

‘oh, fuck.’ i opened my eyes wide.

“goodbye,” i said hurriedly, running to my house to grab the bag i had left by the door. Once i had it, i rushed back to the entrance of Alexandria, where she was waiting by the car we were going to take. “Sorry, sorry.”

"'s okay, i just got here anyway," she said, then smiled in that beautiful way she always does, almost making me sigh. "Let's go?"

“yeah, sure,” i replied, trying to snap out of my daze, quickly tossing my bag into the back seat and getting into the passenger seat. She followed my lead, settling into the driver’s.

it’s not the first time we’ve been in a car together, but it is the first time i’m not driving. Still, i’d trust her with my life.

YN'S POV

i try not to look at him too much, but it's almost impossible. It's like there’s a magnet pulling my eyes toward him every second. I just need to control myself enough not to crash the car.

it’s the first time we’ve gone on a run alone together, and i can only remember Maggie and Glenn’s words:

"don't devour him with your eyes, at least not right away," Maggie told me, almost like advice, while Glenn laughed beside her and i started to blush.

"yeah, wait until you’re in a quieter place," he added.

‘i can barely look at him without blushing and feeling butterflies, and they expect me to make a move? hell nah.’

"you know, plaid shirts look good on you," Carl suddenly said, and i had to resist the urge to slam on the brakes. We had only been driving in silence for a few minutes, but not only did he startle me, when i understood what he said, i started blushing like never before. I gripped the steering wheel tightly, feeling my legs tremble. ‘how can you say that so easily?’

"thanks… i guess i’m copying your style now," i tried to joke to hide my nervousness. I don't know if i succeeded, but he let out a small laugh, nodding.

"it’s true, you’re copying me," he teased.

"it’s because you’re too cool," i said, and from the corner of my eye, i noticed his surprised reaction. His whole body seemed to tense up. But before he could respond, i had to stop the car—we had reached our destination. It had taken us a long time to get there because it was a pretty remote place Daryl had found some time ago, and it hadn’t been looted. He hadn’t been able to bring everything back because his backpack was already nearly full. "let’s go." he nodded, and we both grabbed our things and our weapons.

"yes, ma'am," i heard him whisper, and suddenly my legs felt like jelly. I had to make sure my heart wasn’t going to jump out of my chest from how hard it was beating. I didn't respond and couldn’t even look at him, so i started walking toward the pharmacy entrance, holding my gun and flashlight, walking cautiously but firmly.

i carefully opened the door, trying not to make too much noise. we both entered, making sure the place was clear—and it was. We quickly split up, each filling our bags with whatever useful items we could find.

"i think i’m ready. What about you?" i asked, approaching his side of the store.

"almost ready, just need these last bottles," he said, putting them in a pocket before slinging his bag over his shoulder. "let’s go."

when we stepped outside, we noticed the sky was already getting dark, so we hurried to the car, putting our bags in the back seats like when we arrived and then getting in the same seats. That’s when i inserted the key and tried to start the car...

but it wouldn’t start.

the damn car wouldn’t start.

we ran out of gas, but how are we supposed to fix that now? we'd have to walk through the small town, but with it being dark, it would be pointless.

"what do we do?" i asked, and my tone clearly showed how scared i was, making Carl look at me.

"we need to find somewhere to stay. we can’t make it back in the dark," he said, and i swallowed hard, nodding nervously.

"okay, but where do we go? we don’t know this place," i shifted uneasily in my seat.

"we’ll have to walk around a bit and find an open house or something."

and that’s what we did. We got out of the car with our stuff, turned on our flashlights, and walked side by side through the small town where we were now trapped, surrounded by silence and growing darkness.

when my panic started to rise from not finding a place to stay, Carl touched my hand, pulling me out of my thoughts and showing me a house nearby. It looked old, but the door was open. We quickly walked over, quietly entering and checking the first floor for anyone. After confirming it was empty, we went upstairs, finding a hallway with three doors. The first led to a bedroom with one bed, an open and empty closet, and windows covered with newspapers and blankets. The second door led to a bathroom. The last door was blocked, with a note on it saying the room was unusable.

Carl and i exchanged glances, silently debating what to do next.

"i can sleep on the floor if it makes you uncomfortable..." he started to say, so i had to push my nervousness aside for a moment and shake my head.

"no, there’s no way i’m letting you sleep there, Carl," i refused, walking into the bedroom as he followed. I dropped my bag by the door, and he placed his next to the bed. "We're grown, i think we can share a bed," i said with sudden boldness.

"are you sure?" he asked, and i nodded.

"i’m going to change, be right back," i told him, heading to the bathroom to get changed. I took off my shoes, socks, pants, and shirt, staying in my underwear and buttoning up the long plaid shirt to cover what was necessary.

‘i just need to get through this night, just this one,’ i told myself, trying to calm the flush spreading across my cheeks at the mere thought of spending the night with him.

CARL'S POV

i took advantage of the time she spent changing to leave the flashlight lighting up the room, then went to sit on the bed over the sheets, leaning against the headboard.

‘can i really do this?’ the truth is, i don’t know. And just the thought of spending the night in the same bed as her makes me anxious. ‘What if i do something stupid while i sleep? what if i talk in my sleep and say something i shouldn’t?’ ‘What if i start dreaming about her, and she notices?’

the sound of a door closing pulled me from my thoughts, and then she walked into the room, looking even more beautiful.

my heart started beating so hard i could feel it in my ears, and heat rushed through my body, concentrating in my face and neck and ears. I tried not to stare, but before i could stop myself, my eyes scanned her from head to toe, making it hard to breathe, and i struggled to swallow.

she moved closer to the bed, but on the other side. I didn't realize it until she waved her hand in front of my face, snapping me out of my trance.

"hello? ´you okay?" she asked, smiling with a bit of amusement, clearly noticing my reaction.

"yeah, yeah, i… got distracted," i lied, feeling a tingling all over my body.

"aren’t you going to change your clothes?" she asked. I glanced at my clothes for a second, considering it, but quickly dismissed the idea.

"no, i’ll just take off my shoes," i said, doing exactly that.

then the room fell into a tense silence, and i turned to look at her. She was already watching me, and her gaze made the words catch in my throat. I wanted to tell her how beautiful she looks, but i didn’t dare.

all i could do was look at her, wishing i could close the distance and crash my lips against hers.

i wondered what was going through her mind, if she felt the same tension i was feeling or if it was just my imagination. I debated whether i should make a move, but i was scared, and the very thought made my hands start to tremble. She seemed to notice because she took one of my hands and stroked it, looking away at that moment.

"why are you nervous?" she asked, almost whispering as she lifted her head to meet my eyes again. I swallowed hard.

‘should i tell her the truth?’ i could hear my friends' voices telling me to go for it, to tell her already. And even though i’d told them no and practically laughed in their faces for even suggesting it, now the idea didn’t seem so absurd.

"it’s because of you," i finally admitted, watching her eyes widen.

"because of me? wha- what do you mean?" she stuttered.

"you..." i sighed, deciding to be brave. "You look beautiful, and i can’t stop thinking about that and how much i want to do something about it," i confessed, feeling a weight lift off my shoulders as she started to blush, looking adorable.

"and why don’t you do something?" she said softly, and i had to make sure i heard her right before clearing my throat and doing what i had wanted for so long.

i raised the hand she was holding and brought it to her cheek, pulling her face closer to mine to press our lips together. She kissed me back a few seconds later, and although it was a little awkward, we tried to make the kiss special.

when we pulled back a bit, i looked into her eyes, noticing how they sparkled, and her cheeks were even redder than before. Seeing that made me want to kiss her again, and that's what i did, this time more intensely, making her let out a small gasp.

NORMAL POV

both of them started to feel the heat spreading to every part of their bodies. Yn decided to be bold and sat in Carl's lap, wrapping her arms around his neck while he placed his hands on her waist, trying to keep her as close as possible. Soon, the room was filled with the sound of their lips meeting again and again, in a make out session that grew more intense with each passing moment.

Yn began to try to close her legs, to rub her thighs, but both the position and Carl stopped her. The boy by spreading her legs a little wider, making her put her full weight on his lap. The contact made Yn whimper and Carl groan from the sensation. Taking advantage of the moment, he slid his tongue into her mouth, turning the kiss into something messier as his hands began to roam over her legs, sliding up to the hem of her shirt, which kept rising due to their movements.

they pulled back a little after a few minutes, panting from the sudden intensity, and looking into each other's eyes with the love they had kept quiet for so long.

"i really like you, Yn," Carl said, without breaking eye contact. She smiled and leaned in to give him a peck.

"and i really like you too," she replied, making Carl kiss her again, picking up where they left off just moments ago.

the rest of the night, they spent enjoying each other’s company, expressing their love in different ways until morning came.

then… though they had barely slept, they set out to figure out how to get the car started. This time, they walked hand in hand, unafraid.

but of course, nothing could save them from their friends' teasing, who understood everything with just one look at them.

it was something they would definitely never forget.

taglist: @jamiesturniolo

#sturnsdc #the walking dead #twd #carl grimes x reader #carl grimes #carl twd #carl grimes x y/n #carl grimes oneshot #the walking dead series #i love him

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genderqueerdykes · 2 days

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I was wondering if you (or maybe any of your followers) know if there was ever gay men who identified with dykeness, in queer history? Similar to how a lot of [butch] lesbians would / do identify as fags, or the identity "faggy butch", was there ever something like that with gay men / achilleans and the word dyke?

I'm just wondering bcuz I'm an achillean who identifies with dykeness!!!

that is an absolutely fantastic question, because i have so many followers who are faggy butches, and there IS a rich history of people who identify this way. there are many of us. i'm a faggy butch, myself, but i havent found literature yet that talks a lot about this, myself

too many people gatekeep queer femininity when it comes to being a feminine dyke, a male dyke, a dyke who's queer for men, and so on. a lot of people gatekeep bigender, genderfluid, gnc, non binary and bisexual dykes, especially femme dykes, from ever being men or being attracted to men if they want to be dykes. it's wrong. it's not how people actually identify

does anyone have any good books, zines, or really anything for this anon? anything would help at all, even anecdotes and other personal experiences work. other people's posts. anything helps!

good luck, i hope we can get you some answers

#asks #open to replies #open to response #dyke #achillean #fag #faggy butch

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l0stfoster · 3 days

Note

Paul anon here to say eeeeeeYEAHHHHHHHHHHHHH I LOVE ME SOME CURSED PAUL DOODLES THATS MY SCRUNKLY BOY IM LOEHEVDJDGUEHE I LOVE PAUL HOLDEN

I wanna know more about the feather situation now tho ohhhh you got me intrigued ohhhh my goddddd

And paul just thinking and knowing hes the reason johnny’s in a wheelchair and that’ll probably haunt him for the rest of his life cuz now hes so associated with the greasers he probably knows johnny a lot better now and ohhh im gonna be sick . He probably has so many feelings about the shit he did b4 he was kicked out of the house ohhhh my sweet boy i love you so bad

Paul anon I hope you know you're an icon among the writers. Novva has previously expressed how much they want to put you in a jar and observe you (/pos)

As always I am so joyous that you're enjoying Paul here hehe. I've said it once and I'll say it again. Canon Paul can go kick rocks, Cursed Paul, on the other hand, needs a break from me. I talk a lot below so yeah another below the cut.

The feather situation was a little thing I'd thought about recently, since I've brought up to the writers before about how Two would eventually offer Paul a feather for flock marking, and Paul, by god, does NOT want the feather. Not only does he feel like he doesn't deserve it for what he's done; but it proves something about himself too- that he's getting attached. What the fuck does it say about him if he begins to connect with these people? It doesn’t help the guilt, that’s for sure. Two tries for probably months to get him to take it; literally days on end of offering and being ignored or shrugged off- finally, Paul takes it, but he doesn't wear it, nor does he keep it on his person. The only reason Paul wears it visibly for the first time is because god DAMN does Two pull off some REALLY good sad, pathetic bird eyes (and Dally looks ready to kill him for upsetting Two-Bit, so.)

He just gets so damn unlucky with the timing and circumstances surrounding it. Not only do the harpies already hold beef with him because of Two’s original jumping and the feather issue (most of them are clueless to the fact that Two’s forgiven him, while others are aware and have kinda chilled), but having a soc who’s harmed one of their own in their territory does not sit well with a majority of them, even all these months later; something especially impactful to the Shepard’s Gang. The second one harpy spots Paul with this feather, the immediate assumption is that he’d taken it just as he did with the first one.

I don’t talk about the Shepard’s all too much, but this is a good time to mention that Two and Tim are pretty good friends— so, well, he takes this as a matter that he can settle himself; and it’s a good way to warn this rich boy imposing on their territory that he’s on strike two of three, whether he’s one of the cursed or not.

Paul Gets Jumped, Part 2. It’s definitely not as bad as when the socs got him because, despite their gripes, Tim is half aware that Darry does gaf about this guy (he’s very out of the loop, and doesn’t even know the two are dating). As bad or not, it does freak Paul the hell out due to how familiar it felt to the first time he was jumped. That’s called trauma big guy, you and Johnny can bond over shaking like chihuahuas when you walk home alone. They take the feather away from him too, and you bet your ass he will NOT ask Two-Bit for another one because he doesn’t want him thinking Paul had purposefully disposed of it, especially with how often he’d been turning it down. This mf also ends not up being very fond of harpies outside of the ones he knows (ie; Two, Mrs. Mathews, etc) for a little while. Refuses to walk outside the house unless he’s got someone else with the gang. Two dive bombs on and grabs Paul while he’s walking home once and the entire East side loses power for like 5 hours lmao. Two was not happy when he found out about it too. Harpy: “Oh yeah we got this back from a soc while ago here" Two: Two: “-Isn’t that Paul’s?” Harpy: Harpy: “Th. The soc?” Two: “Yeah??? Paul??? Darry’s boyfriend?? This was his-“ Harpy: “I mean, he had it b- ohhh shit. You gave it to him on purpose.” Two:

Tim is very confused when a ruffled Two slams the door open and off its hinges at his house

Two, slamming the door open: “WHY WOULD YOU JUMP HIM WITHOUT EVEN ASKING ME ABOUT THE FEATHER????” Tim, half asleep on the couch: Tim: “..g’d mornin'?”

ON THAT NOTE Paul is,, so utterly haunted by both Johnny's and Two's disabilities, and that is absolutely not helped by the fact that they don't even seem to hold it against him. In Johnny's eyes, Paul wasn't the one who'd jumped him, resulting in him carrying the switchblade that killed Bob. He wasn't the one who held Pony underwater with the intent to kill. Two himself already knows that Paul didn't expect him to be burned as he was, nor was he the one holding the lighter. The blame the gang directs at him varies; especially when they see that the two who fell victim don't even seem to be mad about it. I think that a large reason as to why Pony throws his blame at Paul for Johnny is because, well, Bob's not around to take it. He's an emotional teen who's taking it out on the person he knows had some correlation to it. Besides, I think all of us know Pony blames himself for the church fire; directing that anger at Paul makes it easier to cope.

But yeah, Paul's practically eaten alive by the guilt. It sure as hell doesn't help that he already feels bad for being directly related to the witch that cursed Tulsa.

#foster talks #the outsiders #the outsiders musical #foster answers #cursed tulsa #cursed tulsa au #paul holden #johnny cade #two bit mathews #ponyboy curtis #tim shepard

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sxfterhearts · 19 hours

Note

can I request a cute date with intak that takes place in the rain but doesn't stop them from enjoying their time together?

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ sweet bf!intak x reader ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅

♡ genre/warnings: fluff!!! y/n is having a bad day but a cute rainy date with intak makes everything better <3

♡ word count: 1,216 words

♡ author's note: ahh thank you so much for requesting anon!! this is the first time i've written in over a month omg i hope you enjoy reading this as much as i enjoyed writing it :")

damn it.

you were late. by 10 minutes, to be exact.

on any other day, you were punctual. but today, of all days, things just didn’t seem to be going your way.

your pre-exam tradition – two half-boiled eggs for breakfast, turned out to be very hard-boiled this morning. you rushed out of the door to catch the bus with a lingering dryness in your mouth (from the yolks, no doubt), only to realise when you were approaching the bus stop that you forgot your umbrella and there was no time to turn back. there were no free seats on the bus so you had to stand by the back door, shuffling awkwardly every time the bus made a stop. your regular seat by the window overlooking the school field was taken by some lanky, blonde boy. and to top it all off, you overheard your classmates claiming they wrote down completely different answers to yours as you dashed out of the exam hall to catch the first bus out of there.

the moment you stepped out of the bus, you felt it.

a drop. and then another. and then one more.

you sighed. today, of all days, why did everything have to be so difficult?

you took cover under the bus stop as rain began to fall all around you. your lips worked itself into a permanent pout as you pulled out your phone, fingers flying across the screen as you sent a quick text to update intak that you arrived at your meeting spot, and to apologise for being late.

you were meant to go on a date – the first in two weeks. a date to unwind after the exam you’ve been studying and preparing and dreading all week. a date to walk around seoul forest and be one with nature and take in the greenery, the ponds and the birds chirping. a date to spend time and be with your boyfriend, intak.

who, speaking of, was calling your name from across the street.

“y/n!!”

you looked up, and felt your tense shoulders and furrowed eyebrows relax itself upon meeting his eyes. the weight you carried around all day gradually lightened. there he was, your boyfriend, hwang intak – happiness personified, million-watt lopsided smile, umbrella in hand. if he had a tail, you were absolutely sure it’d be wagging excitedly by now.

“hold on!” he shouted before looking both ways and sprinting towards you.

you watched, transfixed, as your happiness spread and unfolded before your very eyes. you couldn’t help but to feel your heart tug and pull you towards him.

“hey,” intak saw you and his excited smile shifted into one of understanding and empathy. he could tell, by your body language and facial expression, that today hadn’t been the best for you.

instead of exchanging greetings, you just hugged him. you wanted to; no, needed to recharge your batteries by being close to him.

intak just smiled quietly while hugging you back. as your boyfriend, he knew that you needed time to soak in the present moment and enjoy being in his embrace. he realised, as you snuggled closer, that he liked the thought of being needed like this.

after a few silent moments, you peeled away and looked up at him.

he looked back expectantly. “better?”

“so much better. i’m all recharged.” you placed a sweet kiss on his cheek and he replied by pressing his soft lips on your forehead. “but the date is ruined.”

“what do you mean?” he followed your line of sight, which was shooting daggers at the grey skies above. “we have an umbrella, y/n.” he chuckled.

“but…”

“c’mon, it’ll be a little uncomfortable, but we’ll have so much fun. trust me! here.” like magic, intak conjured up two cans from his pocket. a hot latte for you, and a can of soymilk for himself. “have this, it’ll warm you up.”

the two of you linked arms and walked around the park. while savouring your warm drinks, you pointed things out to each other. the little things, like how the water droplets gathered on a single petal or leaf, or the buds that were ready and eager to bloom into flowers, or the funny shapes of the puddles, and jumping over said puddles. you both huddled close as a chilly wind blew over you, coaxing the trees into a flamboyant dance and the leaves to rustle in a calming song, accompanied by the gentle pitter-patter of rain on your shared umbrella. you closed your eyes and took a deep breath, letting nature wash away the remnants of your tiring day.

intak couldn’t resist the urge to take photos of you – you standing in the rain, you crouching down to admire the flowerbeds, you chasing the ducks around the pond. inevitably, he got himself wet in the process.

“it’s just a bit of rain.” intak shrugged and shot you his signature smile. he shook the droplets off his hair and sprinkled you with raindrops in the process.

and you know what? he was right. before you met him, you used to be really set in your ways. you were not particularly spontaneous, and would feel uncomfortable if things didn’t go to plan, or worse, if there wasn’t a plan. but since meeting intak, who had a completely different outlook on life, you’ve been exposed to a new perspective. you learned to go with the flow – to let things go, to focus less on the outcome and to just have fun in the process. it was like something inside you shifted.

you found a dry patch under a big tree. using a stick, you began to draw shapes in the dirt. intak quickly caught on, and tried to add his own drawings to yours. the two of you tag teamed, taking turns drawing each stroke of an animal that the other had to guess. you failed miserably, given your lack of artistic skills. the game concluded when intak drew a heart with your names in the centre. it was so cheesy, and it made you feel like the main character’s love interest in a high school romcom, but you loved it.

intak didn’t mind being a huge cheeseball, as long as it meant he got to see that pretty smile of yours. yes, definitely worth it, he decided as you leaned in for a kiss that tasted like a mix of coffee and soymilk– a perfect combination, he thought. after all, the boy is in love with you.

“shall we get lunch?” he asked.

“yes, but i’m craving pancakes. kimchi pancakes, vegetable pancakes… and makgeolli.”

intak shot you a knowing smile. the initial plan was to try this new viral pasta restaurant close by. that was the reason why you met near seoul forest in the first place.

but it just wasn’t the right weather for pasta – it was raining, and the only correct answer for what to eat on a rainy day in korea is pancakes and makgeolli. the sound of oil splashing and splattering when frying the pancakes, or jeon, resembled the sound of raindrops.

intak was happy because he knew you were becoming more open to trying things, and learning to adapt. he felt his chest blossom with pride.

“i know just the right place.”

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umbralaether · 2 years

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A question about process. Do you think that Eisha is a reflection of you, or maybe a reflection of the life you want and are living vicariously through, or is she a complete fiction that you have fun imagining? I'm having a hard time writing from the perspective of someone other than myself, so any tips would be appreciated! Thank you!

Oh boy 😅

Well, to be honest Eisha does have qualities of myself mixed in (my more negative qualities) but she is also a lot of the things I wish I could be. I do tend to write self indulgent things that help me (if you’ve ever noticed my tendency to write hurt/comfort it’s mainly cause I find it soothing for myself) & I do live vicariously through her, too, which is why a lot of my writing is romance-focused.

As for writing from someone else’s perspective, I try to look at what I would do in the situation, and what I wish I would do in a situation. Then I write the latter, and tweak it to add specific character quirks that I’ve established for Eisha. You could also try to have your character do the opposite of what your do, but this really comes down to what you want your character to be like. Are they hot-headed? Are they more likely to be consumed by their inner emotions? Are they aloof, cynical, or detached? Are they cool in times of stress? If it helps, write a list of character traits you want your character to have that you can refer back to.

I also find ask prompts that are character focused to be extremely helpful for developing your character. Ones that ask how your character would act in certain situations, how they tend to respond in tough times, even silly stuff can help solidify your character.

#I hope this was in some way helpful to you anon #perhaps my followers can also add an insight too I’ve only been writing for under a year #writing #writing tips #character development #asks

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fumifooms · 4 months

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You’re the resident chilchuck expert, so I was wondering about it there’s any canon evidence that he did smoke or drink alcohol when the kids were younger. I always thought it was something he picked up due to the strain of long jobs, when the kids were already older, but you seem to think differently and I was wondering if there was anything in canon that made you think that way!

Now that you mention it I guess it’s true there’s no evidence he did. Smoking we literally only know he does at all because of one post-canon panel where he has a pipe, so no, maybe this stick-looking thing in the panel below too though, I’m not familiar with medieval blunts eh. We’ve only gotten one panel of him and his daughters interacting when he was younger so that’s not too insightful on that end, and every time we see him young and freckled it’s in a job context so again not really where we’d expect him to be drinking. The earliest proof (/heavy implication since we don’t see inside his cup I guess) is 3 years before canon when Laios hired him, where he’s at a bar, classily placed in front of all the bottles ✨

Yes alcohol is almost certainly a way through which he copes especially with stress, so if we go with the theory he started around when work got stressful, well… Chilchuck started working as a dungeon diver ~10 years ago so when he was ~19, making Mei, Fler and Puck ~6 and ~4 respectively, so from that draw the ‘stressful enough to start drinking’ line wherever. We don’t know what he did before that with any certainty, and it could be he did odd jobs, lived off mostly mutual aid and community work, or just focused on only raising the girls. Half-foots tend to be poor and I see a lot of that in Chilchuck specifically so I don’t think he could have afforded to not have some paying work though.

Alright, so then why do I think he did drink when the girls were younger?

I give a more complete rundown of the info we do have on his alcoholism & his family with panels and references + all the speculation I make from it here. But the most targeted and objective answer I can give is:

Of course there’s just very very little we know of Chilchuck’s life with his family, and I think that’s by design too. I think the details being up in the air is to allow more nuance of the topic, like, will trying to reconcile go well, is their relationship salvageable? We don’t know, because we don’t know. So the message of giving hope a chance even if it’s a long shot, that things could truly go either way, is more relevant, impactful and meta in that way. How long was he usually away for work travels into dungeons here and there? How did he act with them? All we can really do is "it’s likely that", it’s a game of which way we think it’s more implied. There’s no right and wrong answer, it’s all Marcille-like larping the events out.

My main reason for thinking he did is that his father died from overdrinking and Chilchuck is very aware of that. He mentions his death casually in the extra about their stance in alcohol and in his Adventurer’s Bible profile, etc. He acts towards the alcohol presumably the same way his father did: with abandon, uncaring for the health effects, probably happily too considering Chil says "dying doing something you love is a good way to go". Very nonchalant. So you see what I’m saying here right, wether he started early or late, his view of alcoholism is very influenced by what he saw of his father growing up, it’s something he’s always been aware of and saw in a mostly positive light, something that was inherited you could say. It’s something that was normalized to him from a young age. Regardless or where it goes from there I do think this part is pretty inarguable. If he views it positively and we know that in the present alcohol is his favorite food that he loveees, why would he have held out on it? Personally that all makes me think he started drinking very young, especially since I don’t think they limited alcohol to age as much as modern standards (and I mean, teen drinking is obviously still a thing). And here you could argue, maybe his father only started being more alcoholic later when Chilchuck moved out, or something! And to that there’s nothing I can say except I think that’s a strained theory, and that Chil might even have largely cut contact with his family after moving out (since he and siblings are listed as almost strangers and he doesn’t seem to have much emotional attachment to his parents, but also we know he rents out his place to "a relative"), but it’s true we have no evidence. "I’ve picked up the same unhealthy substance abuse as my father haha! No big deal right haha" repeated several times to me just reeks of intergenerational trauma, & the alcoholism gene as they call it. Like effortless sliding into drinking as if it’s second nature, it’s natural after all, it’s normal after all, it just makes sense, it makes you feel good and that’s what matters.

BUT from my interpretation then we have a whole other layer: Alcohol is of course not all bad always. I think he’s always liked alcohol and drank it on occasion and it brought him joy etc etc, but I think here the implication in the question is, how much effect did his drinking have on the family relations and how early? And that isn’t so much about when him drinking started but when the alcoholism started. Addiction is defined by a habitual need, that has negative effects from filling that need (physical, psychological, social, etc) and negative effects from withdrawal. If Chilchuck drinks to cope and he can’t not cope without it, that’s addiction, if it affects his relationships, if it’s a need he has, it’s addiction. Addiction can be very insidious or look very casual, and how much people around the person are affected by it is case by case. Cheerful drunks can be sooo annoying and uncomfortable though let me tell you. Drunks are drunks. And this sounds harsh, but even if people around them don’t mind drunks it’ll still have some effects here and there, living with one can be such a challenge, ily drunks good luck with everything much like Chilchuck you deserve good things 🫡　

Ok so with the dad thing and the "ok well maybe he’s always drunk casually but it grew worse with time around when he started working as a dungeon diver" precision made, the other bit of info we have that can inform this is that Chilchuck is on a harsh diet and that alcohol is a hunger suppressant. We know Chilchuck "used to be fine not eating for two days", that literally on screen to quench his hunger so it doesn’t keep him awake he goes to drink water, drinking is his instinct to hunger. Again alcohol is a hunger suppressant and if you want info on that the internet has a lot of research and anecdotes about it. He diets to be light enough to not trigger traps, so it’s something he’d have started after dungeon diving most likely. Between the stress and the diet, yes it’s extremely likely he started going harder on alcohol after he started working in dungeons. There’s arguments on wether two days without eating is less bad for half-foots than humans, but apart from smaller portions there’s nothing that indicates half-foots should get less than 3 meals a day. They need less food but that’s because their bodies are smaller: the need is proportional to the body, not smaller than others’ races, the % of need is similar even if the kg amount of food isn’t. There’s also a popular headcanon with support basis that half-foots run hot and have a faster heartrate and whatnot, and that points towards a faster metabolism rather than a slower one: a bigger need for eating rather than a smaller one. He has the same bmi, 18, as Mickbell, but perhaps because Chil is much taller he’s less intensely visibly underweight with ribs showing than Mick during the bath extra, it’s most apparent when he becomes tallman.

Alcohol is something so important and omnipresent in his character that I have trouble believing it’s something that was part of only a small fraction of his life. It’s his immediate go-to, his no-brainer solution to a good time, I’ve sort of always assumed especially after looking at his family that it’s something he discovered decently young. Like he just acts like someone who’s always had alcohol to fall back on and started young idk. Alcohol is one of his 5 keywords. Alcoholism is very ingrained into his world view and life, his "it doesn’t matter" stance his ‘work hard play hard’ mentality his idea that the world is harsh so you get relief where you can, so it just makes sense to me that it’s always been in his life, if not actively then at least looming.

So yes, in summary, my take: Alcohol was always something he wholly enjoyed to an unwise level, but it could have been considered casual until he started working into dungeons and his need for it on a regular basis intensified. Alcohol has always had positive association to him as far as we see, so when it started being a problem he didn’t see it as such. To quote him, "I drink anytime I get the opportunity to". Why always? Approval of father’s alcoholism. Why alcoholism at all? Diet + stress & coping mechanism & emotional stunting + relationship issues, and she decided she had enough after they went out for drinks.

Conclusion

Chilchuck having drunk from a young age makes sense to me and it’s the strongest narrative angle I see on the table, but that’s objectively a me opinion, yes! There’s no evidence, moreso there’s canon basis and supporting info, but it’s all very left up to interpretation. I’ve made my own interpretations of things from the scraps we see, like everyone else making Chilwife and daughters content. Wether you have a stance on the topic or prefer to leave it vague in your takes, it’ll be a matter of what you think makes most sense, or what you’d rather believe I suppose (which is literally fine)

There’s a lot of subjectivity in even just setting up causal links like you probably noticed during this and I was careful with my word choices, because we’re just extrapolating from what we see and unless Kui states it explicitly from a reliable mouth all we can do is have informed opinions on most things. This particular interpretation is influenced by other details I’ve come to form about my interpretation of Chilchuck too, the more psychological and emotional sides of him and the timeline and how his marriage even happened, unplanned pregnancy imo. Like I hope you see what I mean, this wasn’t supposed to be a speculation post just a quick simple answer but there’s sort of just no other and concise but complete way with the subjectivity nuance to put "maybe it could be yes because of this but maybe it could be no because of this" haha

Edit: Wait the phrasing on this… Interesting. "In recent years"— This does imply that if not just his alcohol consumption increasing then the diversity and quality of it did, so either he indeed did start drinking more (not necessarily meaning he didn’t drink before) assumedly because of his wife leaving, or he started drinking other/more different kinds of alcohol maybe due to the union he formed + his experience gave him greater salary than he had previously (and no wife and family to provide money for), a mix of both perhaps.

#Also he’s a lot like my own dad so to me with how he is it’s just an immediate “oh yeah he has always drunk duh of course”#So i can admit to bias. Or to specialized knowledge and authority on analysis idk in which way that tips the balance in my favor or not lol #Dungeon meshi #chilchuck tims #meta #alcoholism #This post was meant to be short :|#-slaps chilchuck’s family- this baby can fit in so much projection #I have like 3 chil alcoholism & chil family fic wips rn weeeeee #I’m the kind of alcoholic’s kid who grew up to never touch alcohol btw so like. Ik Chil could not have drunk young i just think he did #Can we appreciate the alcohol opinion & resistance chart actually. So often in media it’s either “alcohol’s a source of fun yippee” and #“alcohol is evil”. Thank you Dunmeshi for diversity of opinion thank you for nuance i rarely feel so seen #Izutsumi deserves to tell Chilchuck he stinks #AND BY THE WAY I hope you don’t feel talked down on anon. Ik you seem to have your own interpretation already & that’s good #sometimes i was adressing like. The General Public TM more than you which is why I spent time on some things like ‘think what you want’ etc #Okok i hope that covers it. Help where does the time go #It’s the sort of thing that makes Kui’s masterful storytelling by implying things here and there until it forms a big picture frustrating #for meta. Like! You can’t prove Chilchuck has been poor/grew up in an empoverished family/environment. There’s no evidence #but also you cannot tell me with a straight face that he isn’t and hasn’t like omg. But then it takes 30 pages to explain how he’s coded #Stop showing and not telling Kui smh /j #Ask #I think a lot about the trolls comic and man he was already so tense and grumpy and yelling. I do think that guy was stress relief drinking

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nyehilismwriting · 11 months

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hi, i just want to say thank you ig for donating your patreon earnings to palestine...im in a place where supporting palestine is easy and in fact my workplace just did fundraising for palestine but i just realized its not like that everywhere. i saw the twitter thread of people losing their job for even just speaking about palestine so again i just want to say thank you...it just make me feel the world is less lonely

yeah....I know the news (or lack of it) coming out of palestine lately has been pretty unbearable, but the palestinian people haven't given up, and neither can the rest of the world - I'm not in a position where I can afford to participate in direct action, but I do have income and if I can provide an intermediary for people who are worried about reprisals from financial donations that's something I'm happy to do.

obviously, I'm not an expert or a spokesperson, but I do think public opinion is changing fast and the people in power are realising that; the UN already called for a truce today, and while it's not a resolution, it's a sign that international pressure is building against israel (and the US and the UK and other complicit governments) - the palestinian people deserve safety and freedom, globally and on their own land, and we cannot demand anything less.

what's happening is horrifying, and the response from people in power in the west has been unforgivable - politicians, institutions, and corporations all have blood on their hands, as far as i'm concerned, but the people on the ground do care, and are finding ways to show it. you're not alone, and there's more work to be done.

#good on your work!! I'm glad to know some there are places like that #I hope this makes sense sorry for the stream of consciousness #but yeah it's. it's awful and unbearable even hearing about it. but it is not the end and it is not for us to decide when that will be #if Israel are forced to open a humanitarian passage into gaza those organisations are going to need all the resources they can get #and that's something I can help with in my own small way #just like you and your work #and the people attending protests and sharing tweets and resources and stories #and the people shutting down arms factories in the UK and the US #you are not alone and neither are the palestinian people. even if it feels like it #anon

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stephofromcabin12 · 4 months

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🫵 this is gonna get personal for a sec, I'm bisexual and demisexual, and my family keeps making homophobic comment. I haven't come out to them because of the comments, I just need something honestly.

[I have not edited this and I wrote it p soon after waking up so apologies for any typos or tangents — I hope the point shines through — in case someone hasn’t told you today: You’re valued, You’re worthy, You bring something to the table no one else can bring; Yourself. And I’m glad you’re here🩷]

Hey lovely anon,

Let me start by saying: You owe no one the priviledge of knowing that side of you. That’s a gift you choose when and where and to whom you give. Just because they’re family does not automatically give them an all access-pass to all of you. It’s a privilege earned through mutual respect and kindness. Don’t feel that you must come out to them, especially if you worry it’s not going to be received well.

I understand the wish to share it, because it is a part of who you are but you must remember that there is no arguing with ignorance, especially not if it’s stubborn and self-inflicted.

A therapist once told me that everything people say to you is a reflection of themselves. Meaning, if people feel the need to joke about you, point fingers and criticize you unwarranted, it’s usually a marker that they see how evolved you are, how smart and accepting and glowing you are. They see how easily you rest in yourself and allow others to do the same; and they’re uncomfortable with that because they lack those skills, and so they must try to knock you down to their level, so they can feel better. Let them try. The key in doing that is to Observe their behavior but don’t Absorb it. Know that it’s not you they’re talking about when they say those things; it’s them. And that’s got absolutely zero to do with you.

Don’t sink to their level, that’s exactly what they want, anon. Rise above it, floating over their lowly, narrow-mindedness really puts just how small their world is into perspective. Becoming bitter only festers into something worse, and you shouldn’t allow that kind of rot into your garden, it you can avoid it. Cut it out at the root and let something better and healthier grow instead.

Next, I want you to remember that there are people out there who will celebrate you, who will love you and accept you as you are and as you grow, regardless of what labels you pick up or put down or replace or find again (because labels are just a marker of here and now, not a definitive statement, because people aren’t definite—I’m not trying to sound like those people who say sexuality is just a phase but rather that you should focus on what feels like you right now rather than search for a label to put on it; sometimes there isn’t one, and that’s okay too. Which I’m probably only feeling called to say because I wish someone had told me that when I was younger and obsessing over what word to introduce myself to the world with, instead of just introducing me as myself)

And maybe your family can learn how to be those people, in time, if they’re willing to learn; oftentimes people are cruel towards things they don’t understand—and it’s not your job to force someone them to understand, anon.

You can present the opportunity to them, but you can’t make them learn. They have to want that for themselves. Give them time, sometimes they need that. But if they refuse then that’s their loss. You don’t have to make a big fuss about this. You just don’t grant them access to that part of you indefinitely until they earn it back. Simple as that.

A piece of advice from someone who had to learn to bite their tongue instead of engaging with idiocracy: Sometimes the best thing you can do for yourself is learn to shrug it off. No, it’s not fair and you want to educate, you want to share your truth and teach them some empathy. But you can’t. It’s not up to you.

And it’s an endless cycle. They won’t learn until they want to. So unclench your jaw, and drop your shoulders and learn the beautiful words: “Sure, whatever you say!” Before promptly moving on so you don’t feed their need for discussing things they dont understand or have a say in, in the first place.

They expect a fight. They expect to be proven right in their belief that they’re the rational one by making you lash out. And if you simply dismiss them in a levelheaded way, then you strip them of both of those things. You signal that “I heard what you said, but that’s an immature and uneducated thing to say, so I’m going to give you the grace of letting it slide and moving on” - akin to not entertaining a petulant child; they don’t know better, or feign not to anyway. So you’ll treat them as such. They say kill them with kindness, I prefer gentle redirection. You’re not hardening to match them, you can be firm and gentle at the same time. That’s real power. That’s maturity. Take a deep breath and tell yourself that your journal and or your therapist will hear all about this.

But move on. Save yourself the added irritation.

Next ask yourself: Do you love yourself? Do you accept yourself? Have you made a home for yourself in your body and soul and stand by it, no matter what? Do you show up for yourself and trust yourself?

That’s all you need at the end of the day, anon. The opinions of others who don’t understand you—and sometimes don’t wish to understand you— don’t matter. The right people will not always understand you at first; but they’re curious about you, and want to learn about you because they love you.

I can’t say if your family falls into that category, and the experience of hearing harmful, ignorant comments from the people who are supposed to be in your corner is all too familiar in the community. But my old 7th grade teacher once sat in our class, which consisted of 20 young girls—all of whom struggled with our identities in one way or another— and told us a story about her son, who was maybe 5 or 6 at the time. She told us how he came home crying after being called names by the other kids in his class. Before messaging the school, she sat with him, hugged him and asked him to repeat everything they’d said. Every little thing.

He did. He listed it all— admittedly very juvenile insults but to a five year old they’d been detrimental— and when he finished, she looked him in the eyes and asked:

“Well, are you?”

“Am I what?”

“Are you all those things?”

“No! That’s why I’m so upset! It’s not true!”

“Okay, then that’s all that matters. Who cares if they *think* you are something. If you know you’re not, you’ll prove them wrong eventually by simply not becoming their assumptions.”

I’m sure she phrased it more in a way that a young child would understand but to us, who were older: 13 and having to decide who we were, it was a golden. Once you know yourself, anon, it takes a lot for people to get to you. Because anything they throw at you, you simply hold up to the truth of you, and if it doesn’t fit; throw it away. It’s not yours to keep then.

Regardless of the outcome, if you choose to come out— because it is your choice, and you don’t have to be out to be in the community, and you don’t have to be out to everyone you know— Know who you are. Rest in it.

When people question it or try to tear it down; don’t crumble. You can’t be a twig here, anon. You have to grow to a point where it takes more than a miss-step to break you.

You have to rest in your own self like an old oak tree with roots reaching miles down into the earth and branches stretching tall to the sky; unafraid to be seen— because there’s nothing about a tree that doesn’t belong here. You’ve grown that tall on your own; you’ve earned this spot in the sun just by staying true to yourself.

All that noise, wind and earthquakes doesn’t matter. You’re rooted in the earth’s core. It’s taken too much strength to grow to be knocked over by a gust of wind or stone thrown. Tree’s aren’t bitter either. Or vengeful. Its so easy to become that but don’t. It’s not worth it. Be as a tree: observing, sometimes seemingly still but always growing quietly. Be everything you wish to have: you want safety and security; become a shelter for yourself. You want friendship and love? Become your own biggest adorer, and your own most trusted friend. You want power and respect? Learn to be powerful without being cruel, and to respect yourself even on your bad days, and bad years. When you do that, others who have done the same healing will recognize it in you, and vice versa, and you’ll find what you’re looking for when it’s meant for you; because you already have it all in yourself. No one can take it from you, or give it to you if you’ve already given it to yourself. And why shouldn’t you? You deserve all those things and more.

Stand tall, anon, and know yourself. You know who you are, and you know there’s people out there who love you, and support you, even if you haven’t met them yet.

I’m with you. You’re not the first to walk this path and you won’t be the last, in that sense you’re never alone. We’re all cheering you on☀️

#it’s hard to give peptalks on this stuff #its so individual #but i hope some of this helps or resonates in some way at the very least🌈❤️#i’m wishing you all the best in the world anon #as a fellow bi I get it #esp when biphobia is as rampant as it is rn #but you’re the only one who knows who you are; screw em if they can’t appreciate what you offer #someone else will💙💜🩷#pep talk #encouragement #pride #asks and answers #ask game🫒

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