#every day at my job I understand it more and more

[curiousorigins]

As someone who had Chronic Pain for the first like 25ish years of my life... Abled people literally do not understand the concept of a pain that never goes away.

They literally can't.

It's impossible. It even felt impossible for me because my pain was so early and so consistent that my brain literally just ignored it until one day I was doing physical therapy for a different injury... and it was just gone.

I felt it's absence and I felt the best I've felt in 20+ years.

I hadn't had a particularly good meal that day. Still had my stomach issues. Slept badly. My back hurt. Probably dehydrated. Definitely had tooth pain. But that was literally the best I can in memory, had ever felt.

The closest experience I can describe to it, is when you've got an abscessed tooth and they relieve the pressure and the pain is just gone and it's wonderful.

If there is no absence of pain... there is no relief. You can't just sleep in and feel better. You can't just drink water and feel better or get a new pillow etc. That's just your new default.

Now as someone who had previously considered myself abled who now has had an official disabled tag on me and all that... (I for the most part lucked out with a temporary disability. But know that plenty disabilities are chronic, permanent or get worse the longer you go.) I felt I was educated that I was an advocate but absolutely nothing prepared me for my body failing me so consistently. I listened to disabled folks and tried to amplify their voices.

I 100% was the person to go to bat for people who were in pain on my team. The problem is that for many people, pain is temporary. With rest, it goes away. With healing it gets better.

Most of those folks are sadly not educated. And conceptually it's a hard concept to work on despite all the empathy in the word.

The bigger the chain, the less likely that the person making the schedule can just hire another person and of course we all know companies have been understaffing on purpose for decades. This is definitely a Worker Rights issues. We've got a toxic working environment almost everywhere and the majority of the Working Class that's still working literally does not remember it being any better. You absolutely deserved better. And You definitely could use the support of an Advocate. I got in multiple fights on the behalf of co-workers all the time for these kind of issues. And when I was temporarily injured on the job, I had co-workers who fought for me too. The problem is people don't understand that we must stand together for this. For the abled folks, this is a temporary problem... just like their managers have been telling them understaffing is a temporary problem.

Look at your disabled co-workers folks and realize... one day that's going to be you. We literally all will at some point most likely be classed as disabled in some way. Sometimes permanently and sometimes not.

What you stand for TODAY is what might be left for you when it's your turn. Your managers/middle manager answer to a higher power then you and that is the greed of a very rich guy who literally sees you all as EXPENSES not VALUE.

DO NOT sacrifice YOURSELF on the Alter to Someone else's greed.

I understand the job market is tough and there are crappy work places that reveal themselves as crappy slowly. But YOU help create the CULTURE at WORK. ANYTIME I overheard management complain about such and such an employees issue with scheduling or with their ability. I ALWAYS spoke up.

I mentioned what a hard worker they were. How we'd been short on people for a long time. How we all deserved to be staffed enough that every one of us should be able to leave for 2 weeks and not have the store fall apart. I made people team lift. Reminded them that Corporate could not give them a new spine.

I trained most folks to speak up. And the more I did it, the more of use who would speak up.

And United We Bargain Divided We Beg.

The primary thing a manager is supposed to do is keep us compliant enough to work. Disgruntled rumblings are powerful when echoed.

Speak Up. Speak Up about TEMPORARY PAIN caused by WORK. TEMPORARY PAIN becomes PERMANENT PAIN if allowed to CONTINUE. PAIN is your body's FIRST attempt to get YOU to STOP doing something THAT IS HARMING YOU.

They decided that our anti-fatigue mats were a hazard. (It was actually the fact that our Stockroom was too small for the Stock they sent us and our Staff couldn't clear it with no space to work.) And tried to remove them. Every one of us had our shoes wear sooner and we all had greater back pain. I made sure to voice how weird it is that I hurt more now that we didn't have those mats. Sometimes I'd even sit down when we were unloading the truck to give my back a rest. I'd tell my other co-workers to do as well.

If a manager had the power to bring them back came in when I was sitting... I'd interrupt their telling me off for sitting that I literally hurt and what the cause was. That I'd probably be going to the doctor soon.

(Be sure to document your work pain by texting (not work but also work) other people about it. About how you hurt because blah blah at work. You might need it to prove that they should be paying to fix you if you ever need doctoring or disability pay.)

We got the mats back.

I would like to see more people talk about how jobs treat disabled employees.

I used to prep, wash dishes, and cook at mellow mushroom. I had chronic pain that wasn't NEARLY as bad as it is today, but it was still very debilitating. I told my employer "i cannot stand more than 4 to 6 hours. I CANNOT do shifts longer than this due to my illness." And even though i made my boundaries VERY clear, everyday i worked it was 8 hours at the least and 10 or 12 at the most. I would go up to my manager and say "look i really need to leave, my shift is over, my chronic pain is killing me." And he'd say "we really need to here, you HAVE to push through." And so i did, and after one, ONE month of that job my crps got incredibly worse to the point where i could no longer walk my dog around the block which was .5 miles. I quit, and that was FOUR years ago, and ever since that day I HAVE BEEN BEDRIDDEN AND HAVE TO USE A WHEELCHAIR. It is my biggest regret in life.

My best friend who has seen my whole journey has recently developed undiagnosed chronic pain, and she is in the EXACT same scenario i was 4 years ago. Busting her ass at a pizza place with extreme pain that hurts her so much she tells me "im in so much pain i don't even feel like a person." She doesn't feel LUCID. And her manager and coworkers are saying the same thing "if you don't help us you will let us down, we'll be in the shit."

That job thats hurting you isn't fucking worth it. I promise you no money is worth losing all your physical abilities and never getting them back. Your coworkers and boss do not give a shit about you, so don't you dare suffer for them. They will never understand your struggle and they will never try. They truly think being understaffed is worse than whatever pain you experience. They would rather you permanently damage yourself than inconvenience them. FUCK THEM. DON'T FUCKING DO IT!

[sugurouge]

— yes, my lady : sebastian michaelis x f!reader

content warnings! reader is a descendant of the phantomhive family, power imbalance (master/servant) but also (human/demon), somewhat monsterfucking if you squint (i wanted to make use of his ‘true form’ a little), smut, size difference, manhandling, praise, pet names (my lady, darling, dear), orgasm control, sacrilege, a tiny bit of blood, topics of loneliness

summary: after another tiresome day out in the world, you are greeted with your recent mistake—sebastian. a hand-me-down from your ancestors that you summoned by chance and who now apparently has a contract with you. yet this modern world, working women, independence, and your awfully bratty attitude are challenges that are entirely new to him. however, he did swear to serve you. so, allow him to take care of his tired "mistress"

wordcount: 5k | my kinktober masterlist

It’s not every day that your job becomes stressful enough to fully tire you out. But today, today was even more draining than you had anticipated. Deep red eyes watch your tired form from across the hallway, raking over your figure as the owner remains quiet. Sebastian hasn't quite understood the fulfilment behind humans working themselves to the bone, nor the desire for young women to eagerly venture out to conquer “corporate,” as you once called it.

Yet, understanding or not, he is sworn to serve you and look after you. You are in his care until the contract is completed.

For this, he steps forward, his touch as sultry and gentle as his voice that welcomes you home. “My Lady,” the demon begins, as strength returns to your figure upon the stabilising hold of his hands on the small of your back while you remove your heels. You meet his smile with a glare from your pretty eyes, still wary of your newly added décor.

“I can handle myself just fine, Sebastian.” Yes, you’re a feisty one. Sebastian has been well aware of that fact since the moment you met. You dislike men staring at you in the street, loathe the forced small talk with them at work, or having to humour one of them when all you want is to be in the safety and comfort of your home. The once safe haven you now share with some sort of butler, or so he proclaimed. Never would you have expected such an outcome from your family’s antiques.

But here you are, the independent woman from before, now with a handsome devil at your beck and call. “You appear particularly exhausted tonight. Why not let me take care of you and help you to a restful night?” Sebastian proposes with gentle calmness to your vervour as his hands return to rest behind his back.

He irritates you. His act of concern for you when all he truly cares for is your soul. The motive is clear, yet he play-pretends to be something you cannot wrap your head around. “And what could you do for me?” you challenge in return, crossing your arms in front of your chest as the tip of your nose lifts a little higher to meet Sebastian’s gaze. “Anything you wish,” replies the butler, without a hint of malice in his words. “I would propose running a hot bath, brewing a warm cup of tea, and—” he pauses, clearly having caught himself with an idea you would despise.

The proposal sounds pleasing, almost exactly what you would do if you weren’t feeling too lazy to run a bath for yourself. But he doesn't need to know that. Your expression remains unfaltering, almost challenging. “And what? Speak, Sebastian.” The quirk of your brow ticks Sebastian off in just the right way, your confidence and demand a challenge he secretly enjoys.

The distance between your bodies grows smaller, and a gloved hand tips your chin up as red hues draw near. “A massage for your exhausted figure, my Lady.” He drawls the title, a pinch of condescension hidden in his words. You can’t resist the idea of standing on your toes, leaning further into his space to see him shrink away as your lips almost brush Sebastian’s while you speak: “Carry me, Sebastian.”

Yet, he does not shy away. He feels your pulse quicken, hears your heart drumming a beat of bravery, while your sweet lips could offer a relief he hasn’t felt in millennia. A smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth upon your demand and, without hesitation, you find yourself in his embrace. Knees and shoulders pressed firmly against his body, Sebastian carries you to your bedroom.

He knows tonight won’t be easy on him. Sebastian is well aware of the mischief you try to conceal, to seem more mature than you actually are. But tonight you appear different; tonight, you bring new challenges to your rendezvous once your head finds its rest on his shoulder. The tease of your breath against his neck, your smaller fingers playing with his necktie as you wet your lips. Nothing good comes from those pretty lips, Sebastian notes.

“Sebastian?” How can you suddenly say his name so softly? He looks down to you, the crimson tinge to his eyes making him appear like a starved hunter under the faint lights of the streetlamps and mood lights in your apartment. “The water is already set and at the perfect temperature for the female body.” Of course, he had heard your footsteps from afar and decided that tonight would be perfect for a bath. He is an expert at planning, at being one step ahead of everyone else. That is, until you continue speaking. A simple command, short and to the point, too alluring: “Undress me.”

You need to try harder if you wish to get a rise from him. For now, you find yourself seated on your bathroom counter with a newly found frown adorning your face. It doesn’t suit you, but it entertains Sebastian. “Your wish is my command,” he speaks an octave lower, honey almost dripping from his words before skilled fingers smooth out the fabric of your blouse. Sebastian’s gaze does not meet yours while he unbuttons it; he stays focused on the task without lusting over your exposed skin.

Suddenly, you wish he would want to devour you. The gloved touch that teases your upper body is not enough, yet so close to the fulfilling feeling of desire that you miss.

The clothing item is pushed off your shoulders before his touch ghosts along your waist. “May I continue?” The question is accompanied by one hand held out to you, palm facing up for you to grasp and rise to your feet. In one swift move, you find yourself staring at your reflection in the mirror as Sebastian spins you around to undo the intricate buttons of your skirt you had struggled with this morning—why must designers place them in such difficult spots?

To nobody’s surprise, they are undone as quickly as your blouse, before your silk dress follows suit and pools around your ankles, leaving you in nothing but a tantalising set of underwear—dark red, almost a perfect match to Sebastian’s eyes. You eyes meet through the mirror and you refuse to shy away. No, like the little vixen that you are, you lean forward just enough to expose yourself further to your demon as you pretend to busy yourself by wiping off your lipstick.

It feels humbling to witness his gaze remain unfaltering; Sebastian continues to look into your eyes rather than the places you want his greed to be. “I will prepare your tea now,” he states as business continues as usual before leaving you alone.

A sigh is all you allow yourself as your shoulders slump. You really tried to seduce him. At the thought, you find a smile tugging at your mouth, the lust to be desired something that has been missing for a while now in your life. You know work, you know how to overwork yourself, and you have no time for flings or meaningless encounters. That was when he entered the picture.

Upon Sebastian’s return, he finds you seated in the bathtub; You’ve made sure to keep your hair out of the water and expose your neck, for hungry eyes to appreciate the shein layer of damp on your skin. The plate beneath the teacup meets the ceramic of your bathtub as your widened—nearly pleading—eyes shoot up to challenge his. If only you had acted a second quicker, you would have caught him staring at your cleavage, barely covered by the water and foam.

“Is there anything else you may need?” Sebastian inquires. He hates to admit it, but tonight seems like a greater challenge than he anticipated. How the simple word “You” could weaken a demon of his calibre is something for future Sebastian to concern himself with. Present Sebastian relishes the desire tugging at his stomach, the way you stare at him so submissively. Until you continue speaking: “Massage me, my butler.”

You turn your back to him as he takes his place behind you on the edge of the bathtub. Would you still be so smug if he grabbed your cheeks between his fingertips? If he forced you to look deep into his eyes while coaxing the cutest sounds past your lips? How can you act this way when at night you hump your pillow and beg for more, something better? Yet in the daylight, you behave like a spoiled princess, and he only adds to that imaginary status of yours. How badly he would love to ruin it. One or two more slip-ups, and he might find a loophole in your contract and commands.

To your dismay, gloved hands meet the skin of your neck. “Take them off, Sebastian. Touch me fully.” Your words bounce off the bathroom tiles, and his reply of “Yes, my lady,” echoes back. Shivers elicit along your neck as his skin touches yours, and the strength behind Sebastian’s touch massages the knots and the sorrow from your shoulders.

The moment is sweet enough to let your eyes fall closed, your head resting against Sebastian’s thigh as you sigh a gentle moan of relief. The sound snaps Sebastian’s attention to your face. With your eyes closed, he allows himself a moment to admire your features. Even a demon can admit that some humans are indeed beautiful. Sometimes, that beauty doesn’t surpass their soul, but in your case, there is something so unique about you that captivates Sebastian’s attention and lust.

You catch him staring as your eyes flutter open, the position you find yourself in so vulnerable, with him leaning above you. “Naughty butler…” you tease, and Sebastian wants to wipe that cheeky smirk right off your face. “If you have so much time to stare at me, you might as well wash my body for me.” The disrespectful teasing, as if he were nothing more than a pet, reminds Sebastian of someone else, someone he couldn’t wait to devour many years ago. But what else could he do but make himself useful for now?

In a swift move, Sebastian shrugs off his jacket and pushes up the sleeves of his buttoned shirt before kneeling beside your bathtub. He appears disinterested again, putting on a perfect mask of nonchalance as he runs the washcloth along your shoulders and arms, warming your figure and letting rose-scented water wash the sorrows away.

Until you’ve had enough of this act. Until you grow overly confident as you lean into his proximity: Your fingers lace around Sebastian’s wrist like a personal handcuff, your eyes locking onto his. “Be more thorough, Sebastian. Wash away the filth.” You go as far as to help him run the cloth over your chest. The drag of his nails against your sensitive skin sends shivers down your spine, and Sebastian watches you attentively, to witness your pupils dilate, the pink tip of your tongue darting out to wet your lips as your noses almost touch. He has never obeyed such a troublesome person before.

You start to bring out the worst in him—something that wants to teach you a lesson, something to remind you how different the roles could be if it weren't for this contract. The washcloth is pushed over your breasts and dips beneath the surface of the water to run along your stomach before being abandoned entirely as Sebastian’s fingers dip into the supple flesh of your thighs. Blunt nails drag along your inner thighs, and he loves to watch the shift in your demeanour; how you grow shy beneath his touch, your stare faltering as he draws dangerously close to your sacred area.

There is no bite to your bark as you cry out his name, your need for him too evident while you try to maintain a pretence. "S-Sebastian!" Finally, you act as your thighs press shut around his hand, panic ever so evident in your pretty eyes he can't stop the devilish smirk from spreading across his features. "My dear, don’t tell me you expect to play with fire and come out unharmed…"

The next moment, your back meets the cold stone as Sebastian races forward, hands placed left and right from your figure on the edge of the bathtub. The impact forces a puff of air to escape your lips as your eyes snap up to meet your butler’s dark pair, searching for a trace of humanity in those pools of crimson. "Behave…" you attempt to regain control, which is met with a chuckle. "I only follow your commands," he challenges as the cloth returns to clean your body. "You wanted me to be thorough, let me be thorough."

However, the lips that crash against the racing pulse in your neck have nothing to do with the command of cleaning your body. Sebastian acts upon his own selfish accord, upon the lust you’ve ignited by teetering too close to the dangerous territories of demonic desires.

And he makes you feel too good as he ravages you, suckling and nipping at your skin until you can't help but moan, your head falling back to offer him more space. You can't even think of a fitting command, the sweet words for him to "Don’t stop, please," a much more natural reaction as his palms cup your breasts, pinching and pulling at your nipples until you whimper ever so prettily.

"Who would have thought you could turn into such a sweet darling?" Sebastian teases with whispered words against the shell of your ear, the hum that follows so deep and low it has your stomach fluttering. Your fingers lace between his dark strands, effectively holding him in place as you return to being face-to-face with Sebastian. Shamelessly, you allow yourself to rake your eyes over his sharp features. You've never wanted anything more than him. But the thought evaporates upon the sharp sensation of nails against your waistline and hips, upon the pair of fingers pushing between your folds before rubbing against your clit.

Oh? How willingly you part your legs now, Sebastian muses.

"Is this thorough enough, my lady?" he mocks as his fingertips press against the opening of your pussy, your eager hole giving way slightly as he pushes past. He knows what he’s doing to you. He sees it in the crease of your brow, feels it as your hips buck against his touch. "More, Sebastian, I need more tonight." Like the greedy thing you are, you take it upon yourself to play with your breasts, yet the silent plea in your eyes tells your butler all you want is for him to take care of you.

“Oh dear,” he whispers gently, but smiles victoriously as your moans tumble from your trembling lips when two of his fingers push inside you. "Do you give yourself to me? Allow me full reign, hm?"

The idea sounds great, perfect, until you manage to flutter your heavy eyes open and see the devious apparition in front of you. Sebastian’s eyes are more slanted, set ablaze, deep pink hues now replacing his usual red, with lust overflowing past his thick lashes as pointed teeth hide behind his full lips. Giving yourself to a demon doesn’t seem like the best idea, but the fingers stimulating your gummy spot have you nodding regardless. How lucky you are that you need to use words under these circumstances.

“Darling, tell me,” Sebastian urges as his thrusts become harsher, uncaring for the water or your comfort as your tits bounce and your walls clamp so promisingly. “N-no, no, Sebastian! Just, ah—” you falter as you try your best to stay present, to keep control over this demon while he fingerfucks you. “Think, speak, quickly, little Lady,” he further pressures you. What he wouldn’t give to do with your body whatever he wants. “Just-, just tonight! Sebastian—” the way you moan his name makes you a sinner itself, it should send you to all seven hells as the echoes ring inside his mind. “Look after me, tonight,” you finally manage to cry out as your walls pull in desperate need. “Make me feel good,” your final demand.

But instead of sweet release, you feel the disappointing emptiness as he retracts his fingers, leaving you a heaving mess in your bathtub—only now do you notice how cold the water has turned. “You can ask more nicely than that, my dear.” There is little consideration to be spared for the length of your bath once a strong arm wraps around your waist. Sebastian wastes no time in having you seated on his lap, your wet form drenching his clothing as he spreads your legs over his thighs and presses you flush against his chest. “I will look after you until the day you die,” he whispers into your ear, and maybe if the words weren’t so true and less intimidating, you could consider them romantic.

You notice that Sebastian’s form has returned to fully human, with almost tender eyes meeting yours this time around, turning your desire mellow and seasoned with sweetness. “Kiss me, please.”

He follows suit as your lips crash together a moment later, his palms stabilising your back in his hold. “More…” you breathe. Your fingers reach out to guide one of his hands on your back, between the valley of your tits, down your stomach, until you ultimately buck your hips against his, seeking further friction in desperate need. He tightens his hold on your body, tugging gently at your frame as he leans forward to suck on your wet skin, leaving marks in his wake. A small grin tugs at his lips as a soft whimper escapes you. “What’s wrong?” The whispered question makes goosebumps spread over your skin as the chill of his breath battles with the warmth of your bathroom.

“Want to be ruined by you.” The words that fall past your lips seal your fate. “Please, make me feel good, Sebastian.” You sound so desperate, only a fool would resist. “Taint me,” you shamelessly sigh against his ear, “Let me feel you.”

“Taint you…” he murmurs, halting his movements momentarily to witness you grow impatient before one of his arms holds a firm grip around your waist, restricting your movements as you’re now fully pressed against his chest. “How much more does my little Lady want to be tainted?” His free hand ghosts along your puffy lips, your slick making the drag too easy, too appealing to not draw circles into your clit, only pulling back any time he feels you squirm on his lap. Your little cries are music to Sebastian’s ears. It’s so good, too good, the way his fingers move, almost as if he already knows all your weak spots. “Do you wish to experience bliss only I could give you, and ruin yourself for all eternity?” His questions urge you to wrap your arms around him, to hide your face in the gentle embrace of a monster, as though you’re trying to hide from judgement itself upon your immoral fantasies. “I wish for that, Sebastian.”

No further words are needed, not when your lips convey more as they meet Sebastian's. A kiss so fierce, he may steal the air from your lungs and drag you to hell himself. Teeth pull at your bottom lip unapologetically, his tongue meeting with your own, entwining with another until you taste him. Meanwhile, the familiar stretch of his fingers, accompanied by the filthy squelching of your arousal, threatens to overload your senses. The teasing returns as your lips part to allow Sebastian a front row seat to your desperate play, as his thumb presses into your clit. You really yearn for this orgasm, don’t you? Of course, you do, with how tightly you clench around his digits, pulsing as though you’re trying to keep him inside—as if he couldn’t offer you a much better alternative.

“Let go, my dear, you look so beautiful right now, I want to see you come undone for me.” Sebastian encourages, as his fingers expertly curl against your walls, each time pushing past the limits of what you’re able to take. So you let go, finally, allowing your eyes to shut as your fingers fist the fabric of his dress shirt. He’s never received praise in a prayer-like form, the sighing thank-yous tumbling free between your moans, so unlike the feisty thing you pretend to be. You are adorable. “Very good, my darling, just like that.” Sebastian whispers, as the movements slow down until his fingers still inside you, until the heaving of your chest and the trembling of your thighs calms, and you fall into his embrace.

But much to Sebastian's surprise, and despite his predictions about your exhaustion, you return his previous affections. Your lips kiss along his neck as you undo his necktie, fingertips already so eager to free him from the confines of his clothes, it makes Sebastian wonder who the real glutton between you two is. “My Lady,” he innocently halts your advances as he entwines his fingers with your own, kissing each tip while holding eye contact. “Shouldn’t we proceed to your chambers? I don’t wish to bring needless discomfort upon you—you need your strength to handle me.” At that, you feel his tongue drag along your pointer finger before a final kiss is placed on its tip, while a devious smile returns to Sebastian’s lips. If only you wouldn’t look so adorable each time he teases you. But you are already too far gone to keep up pretences, when you can instead allow someone else to finally be your resolve.

So it's only natural for you to command Sebastian once more. “Bring me to my bed,” you mumble while your arms already lace around his neck. He follows.

Yet it catches you by surprise once you’re simply dropped into your bouncy mattress and sea of pillows. However, in the next moment, you find yourself caged underneath Sebastian. Your hands roam free to undo his dress shirt and shrug it off his figure, allowing your nails to drag over his pearly skin until you reach his pants and finally feel what lies hidden behind the dark fabrics.

You seem in control, until firm hands spread your thighs and Sebastian leans in, to nibble along your inner legs, shining in the moonlight as he dives between your thighs to lap at your cunt, his tongue pushing past the tight ring of your entrance before dragging all over your hot and puffy pussy. He then licks and kisses his way up your stomach, sternum, and nipples, while the surprising satisfaction of his cock—hot, hard, and leaking with pre-cum—coats itself with your juices. He grinds against you until you writhe for more, until his hands find rest on the back of your knees so he can press your legs up against your sides, fully opening you to thrust into you without struggle, without restraint, as lust overcomes him.

You shake your head at the stretch of his girth welcoming your pussy, sweet pleas mixed with whiny complaints escaping your lips without much thought. “‘S too much, Sebastian… can’t…” you admit. The chuckle that follows is devious, before a soft sigh in satisfaction follows as tender lips place an adoring kiss to your cheek. “You will,” Sebastian whispers, followed by the command “Now just surrender to me.” His lips seek out your own once more as he picks up a relentless pace.

Your nails dig into his back, leaving red streaks that run deep. You can’t look at anything but him—his strong body on top of yours, the visible strain to his muscles while he ruts into you—until you find yourself once more captivated by his eyes. He almost looks at you lovingly, no hungrily. But Sebastian doesn't just want to consume your soul; no, his desires reach beyond basic greed. He wants to own you, to keep you to himself, to reign over you until your best years are over. You can see it clearly while swimming in crimson. But with the delicious drag of his cock inside your walls, you might just let him. Who would have expected you to be tamed this well by getting fucked?

“Please, please, please,” you exhale as your head lolls from side to side, writhing beneath your very own demon. Oh? You’re quick to beg. Quick to turn desperate, so eager to have more of something that should never have been yours. “Sebastian, Sebastian,” you repeat like a mantra as his hands hold your fragile body, digging into your hips to force you into a perfect arch for Sebastian to ravage your skin. He litters kisses over your chest, laps at your nipples, and drags your hips back down to snap against his while he is guided by gluttony.

“Give yourself to me,” you demand with no trace of shame in your bones, finally giving him a task worthy of your beautiful soul. “Stay with me, be mine…”

You almost feel dizzy with how easily Sebastian hoists you up until you’re on all fours, ass perfectly exposed for him to fully sheath his cock inside you, effectively pushing your upper body into your sea of pillows. But in stark contrast to his rather harsh handling of your body, his lips return to press soft kisses along your back. “I am yours if you are mine, my darling.” The words flow like honey before your blood coats Sebastian’s tongue as he breaks the skin, engraving himself on your skin.

Your fingers dig into the cushions, searching for support as you struggle. But the strong arm lacing around your body is all the comfort you will need from now on; his cold touch will soon set you ablaze.

Sebastian is deep inside you, the head of his cock finding your sweet spot almost naturally as he perfectly curves against your velvet walls, hips snapping against your arse cheeks with unforeseen fervour. His hands dig into your hips, surely bruising your hip bones for the coming days, but you’ve never felt this good before. Never so full, never as cared for as by the monster that is in love with your soul. You moan his name in delight, making Sebastian proud once you eagerly bounce back into his thrusts.

The husky sounds of pleasure grow clearer as his movements slow down. You feel yourself being further pushed against the mattress, to spread your legs to spread wider and arch deeper, for his penetration to slowly steal your sanity. Who would have expected the pressure of his palm against your stomach would make you clamp around him this much? Moaning, whimpering, pleading as you beg for mercy, trying to tell him it’s too… “Too good, Sebastian, I’m—”

His movements are slow but precise, accentuating the way you desperately clamp around him in an attempt to hold him inside you for eternity. “Yes, fall apart. Let go for me,” Sebastian’s eyes roam over your smaller body beneath him, a sweaty, shaking mess. He will take care of that right after you are done. For now, instead of worrying, his hands grab at your ass almost aggressively, spreading your lower lips even further as he ruts into you.

The high-pitched squeal that escapes your throat when he picks up his pace again serves as a perfect display of your misery. Tears prick at the sides of your eyes as your hips are pushed back to meet Sebastian’s relentless thrusts. “Make me proud, little Lady...” is his final demand, with sneaky fingers returning to play with your clit as he hoists you off the bed, holding you tightly against his chest.

You’re fully seated on his cock, entirely engulfed by his embrace and consumed by the same demon, just as you bask in the sweet release coursing through your veins. Sebastian allows himself to be lost in your pretty cries and the way your pussy practically drips from both of your orgasms. True to his nature, he watches you like a devil on your shoulder; dark red eyes witnessing your fucked-out expression with the cutest smile illuminates your features.

His lips caress your neck as he whispers, “Do you feel better now?” You hum and let your fingers card through his hair, a tired “I do. Thank you, Sebastian” exchanged from your mouth to his ear.

Swiftly, Sebastian moves to carry you back to your spacious bathtub and lets it refill with warmth. “How about my Lady actually relaxes this time around?”

dividers by @/cafekitsune

[fungateshortcakes]

It was nice while it lasted

My (now ex) best friend just ended our four year friendship, said she didn't see any future in it because we weren't chatting as much as we used to. She was my best friend, but i wasn't hers. I probably haven't been for a while. My birthday is this sunday and I wished she hadn't done this just two days before my birthday. I need comfort, so here is a short Logan drabble♡

Pairing: Logan Howlett x mutant!reader

Wordcount: 1k-ish, maybe a bit less

Warnings: english isn't my first language, none, just fluff, and a bit angst, friends to lovers, implied chubby reader

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You sniffled quietly as you looked down at your bright phone screen. I'd like to break off contact. You read it over and over again. You had hoped you would never have to see these words, not with her. You were so stupid to think that your friendship would get repaired somehow.

You lived at the x men mansion, she lived far away in another city. So meeting each other was rare. The first time you met, she slept over in the mansion. Everyone liked her and you both had a great time. You would have done everything to get that back, that time, these moments when everything seemed like it was just how it was supposed to be.

After she finally found a job after searching for months, everything changed. She didn't answer your texts anymore, only if you were lucky. You tried to reach for her, tried to talk to her. But her replies were sparse and often dry. Said it was because she didn't know how to answer your texts and that she was so tired every day from work.

You tried to be understanding, tried to reassure her that it was alright. But when you saw pics of another girl on her instagram and later some random guy that turned out to be her new boyfriend, you felt it. That ache. You weren't her best friend any more. She could easily live without you. You were the only one suffering. You needed her, but she didn't need you.

You sat on your bed, wiping your tears. Why were you so damn stupid, you should have seen it coming. You were no ones favourite, you never have been. You weren't the number one for anybody, no one would chose you in a room full of people. You knew that, and that hurt.

Suddenly, the door to your room opened. It was Logan, he had a plate loaded with your favourite food in hand. He wasn't looking at you yet. "I got you some food, bub. Why weren't you down for dinner-" he started to ask but as he lifted his head and saw your tear stained face, his brows knitted together on his handsome face and he strided over to you with purpose, putting the plate on your beside table. "What's going on, bub?" He asked in the softest voice he could muster.

Your voice was hoarse and you just couldn't get a word out. He climbed into bed with you, sitting next to you and wrapping one arm around your shoulder to pull you against his side, his head on top of yours as he let you cry and shake in his arms. He wore that grey oversized sweater with nothing underneath. The fabric was so soft under your cheek. And so warm, smelling like him. You shoved your unrequited feelings aside, trying to calm your racing heart as he hugged you.

As Logan let you sob, his gaze shifted to your phone that laid abandoned on the sheets. I'd like to break off contact. He read the name over the chat and it dawned on him. He didn't need more information to know exactly what happened. You had always talked about your best friend and he had even met her one time. She was decent back then, but you would always come to him to vent when your best friend did something that hurt you. He had always told you to drop her, that she wasn't good for you, that you had so many friends and people that actually loved you around you every day. With people he meant himself. He loved you so much but never spoke up.

There was a time where he thought you and your best friend were together. Back then you'd get that question a lot because you were just that close. He was a bit salty about it and secretly hoped you would break up. When he found out you weren't actually together, he was awfully happy about it, a kick in his step.

As bad as it sounded, he was glad that the horror was finally over. He had witnessed your mental health worsen every time you beat yourself up over your best friend. He was frustrated when you blamed everything on yourself and wouldn’t see how bad she was for you. Still, he understood your tears. There had been a time where she really was your best friend and you loved her, you could tell her anything back then. And that was the version of her that you missed, the version you still held onto.

"I know this sounds rough, but you are better off without her" he mumbled against your temple, planting an experimental kiss there. As you didn't back away, he saw it as an invitation to leave his lips pressed against the side of your head. You hiccuped, nuzzling even further into him. "Why...why does it always happen to me? Why can't I keep friends, why do I always get so attached when I am worth nothing for the other person?" you questioned, voice thick from the tears. "All I want is to be loved by someone just as much as I love them" you muttered, swallowing the lump in your throat, but it didn't seem to budge.

He loved you. He loved you like you loved him. He did, so badly. But both of you didn't know. And it was eating you up inside.

You pulled back to look into his eyes "Am I unloveable, Logan? Don't lie to make me feel better" you asked him. You always told you that you couldn't be loved. But slowly you really started to believe it. I mean, who could possibly love someone like you? You were chubby, pretty introverted and didn't dress like the average. You had been bullied all your life for your looks, your personality and your mutation. The fat funny friend is who you were, the one that got asked out as a joke and was told, that they couldn't imagine you in a relationship. It was something you never truly learned to live with. You tried to hold onto the illusion that was love, hoped that one day it would find you like in the sappy romance movies you watched. You doubted it.

Your question hit Logan like a ton of bricks. "Unloveable? Are you even hearing yourself?" He asked and you had never seen him this shocked. You couldn't understand why. You had expected him to agree with you, allthough you never wanted to hear that from him.

Ever so gently, he held your soft face in his hands, wiping your tears away with his strong thumb. "You are the most easiest person to love, trust me on that"

Unbelieving, you shook your head. "I said don't lie-" you started but he shushed you quickly, your head secure in his grip as he forced you to look at him. "Look into my eyes and tell me that I am lying. Come on. Say it" he urged you on, his gaze intense and burning that it took your breath away, silencing any words you might have had. Even though you didn't correct him, he knew you weren't believing him.

He sighed, it would take a while to get all these insecurities out of your head. And your heart. But you were worth that effort.

"Let me show you just how much I love you" he mumbled before your heart threatened to jump out of your chest as his lips landed on yours. It was everything you had ever hoped it would be and you could almost not believe that this was real, that you weren't dreaming.

Pulling away, more tears spilled over your cheeks and Logan panicked. "Oh- shit, I'm sorry, that wasn't right of me" he coughed, his neck burning red in embarrassement. He was taking advantage of you, wasn’t he?

But before he could slide off your bed, you pulled at his sleeve. "No, no, it was alright. You couldn't have reacted any better" you giggled through your tears. His breath hitched as you zipped down his hoodie to snuggle against his warm, bare chest. You could feel his heartbeat quicken underneath your ear, though Logan quickly eased against the contact.

He zipped his hoodie back up behind you, keeping you close to him as you cuddled and kissed on your bed with this newfound information of you both having pinned for each other for years. You felt warm and safe and for the first time in a while, you felt like everything would be okay.

As long as he was with you.

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This was painful to write and incredibly personal in some aspects. I know that this probably won't gain as much attention because of that, as it may not be relatable for most.

But still, if you are going through something similiar, you aren't alone. There are many people that struggle, that feel this way about themselves. And while knowing that this doesn't really sooth the ache, it will get better. One day. I hope.

[sonotpattismith]

my blues for my brain (megumi fushiguro x reader)

word count: 8.7k inspired by: fate by grey reverend content: angst, fluff, mentions of car accidents, hospitals, invisible string theory, me pretending gojo is still alive for my mental health

“Please don’t leave me here.”

These words were ones all too familiar to you, in an all too familiar scenario. The difference was, it wasn’t you clinging to life with blood soaked skin. Instead, it was the strange boy that had just raced out of the over-priced cafe that you worked at to make a dime during your summer semesters. 

You could recall the exact, desperate words falling from your own lips as a good samaritan crouched in front of you just a few years back, your fingertips just a hair away from death’s door. In an act that would serve to veer you off any sense of understanding for your purpose in life, that person didn’t leave you to die, despite the chaos that was ensuing around him. When you woke, you had more questions that filled your prayers than thanks. 

Why did you live if others had died the same fate that was allotted to your own life? There was meaning to everything that happened in one’s life— at least that’s what everyone told you when you woke in your hospital bed. What was the meaning of this though? Were you meant to find a new purpose in your life; was this meant to steer you in the right path? If so, why did you end up working a minimum wage job as you scraped up enough money for a college education you still had little to no clue what you wanted to do with yet? 

Up until that day, as the pale stranger’s desperate grip on your hand slowly weakened with his waning consciousness, you were sure you had failed whatever god saved you all those years ago. As the man before you opened his eyes for the briefest of moments to beg for your mercy, you thought meaning had finally found you. 

“You’d think for a café in the middle of one of the busiest streets in Tokyo that there would be a little more excitement in here every once and a while.” Your coworker droned as she stared at the front door, which hadn’t opened in exactly forty-one minutes. Who was counting though? 

You shouldered into her with a half-hearted smile as you made yourself a mid-shift drink. Today’s choice happened to be a matcha latte, though you often switched it up for the sake of having something new to look forward to everyday. Peering back at her and then toward the hustle and bustle just outside the shop, you sighed dejectedly. What meaning did standing behind this counter for hours a day have? Perhaps you should be enjoying the life that was granted back to you so fortunately, you thought as you trailed an absentminded finger down the scar that ran down your arm. 

Snapping from your haze, you offered her the most encouraging smile you could muster in the midst of your perpetual existential crisis. 

“Staring at the door isn’t going to make customers appear.” You scolded, and she peered over at you with a bored glare, to which you chuckled lightly. “Quick, pick a syrup, and we’ll put it in my matcha to see if we’re horrible at our jobs or not.”

At this, an amused smile stretched across her face, and she quickly straightened up to look over the options. As you two bickered over which of you had more abysmal taste than the other, the rare chime of the front door interrupted your concocting session. The both of you snapped up like dogs who just heard their food bowl rattle in the next room. 

Appearing slightly out of breath and frantic, a man stepped into the café. There was a determination in his step as he rushed over to the register and rested his hand atop the counter to lean in with purpose. There were prominent, pink scars lining his face, so large in size and quantity that you wondered what kind of trouble someone seemingly your age could have gotten himself into already. Forgoing your growing curiosity, you mustered up a welcoming smile. 

“Welcome! Can I get—”

“Did you see anything strange passing around here just a second ago?” The two of you spoke at the same time, but he paid no mind to your cut-off question as he stared expectantly at you. 

Your mouth slowly shut, brows furrowing in the process as you tried to recall anything that had happened in the last five minutes, but the only memories that surfaced were you trying to decide between lavender or hazelnut syrup. 

“Maybe we have, but we reserve the right to withhold answers for paying customers, actually.” Your coworker chimed in with a mischievous smile, clearly just desperate for any business on this slower-than-usual day. The raven-haired man sighed indignantly.

“This is serious—”

“So is our no loitering policy.” You had to repress a tickled smile at her persistence. She smiled triumphantly as he grumbled and frantically fished a few spare yen from his pockets and slammed them on the table. 

“A black coffee!” He growled his order at her before returning his attention to you, a scowl set deeply on his already intimidating face. Beside you, your coworker mumbled something in reference to his boring order before working to prepare it. “Now what did you see?”

You almost felt bad after the fact, that you could only pathetically shake your head at his question. 

“I’m sorry, I really haven’t seen anything. What are you looking—”

A frustrated grunt from the disgruntled man cut you off, and before you knew it he was storming out of the café. An amused scoff escaped you as you watched him leave, and your coworker leaned against the counter beside you.

“Just our luck— we ask for entertainment, and we get crazy.” She commented with a shake of her head. “He left his coffee, too.”

This made you tear your gaze from the door to the lidded, brown cup she set down on the counter. His yen were still sat messily before you, and you suddenly felt bad for having coerced him into buying something. Peering out to see him speaking to a few pedestrians just outside the shop, you grasped the cup and exited your post behind the register. 

“Hey!” You called out, ignoring your coworker’s questioning as you poked your head out the door. Sighing when he appeared too preoccupied to notice your calls, you prepared to try one more time as he continued his frantic trek through the bustling city. “You forgot your—”

The blaring sound of a truck’s horn sliced through your attempted good deed of the day, and you could only watch in stone-cold horror as the offending vehicle slammed into your distracted customer. His uniform-clad body jolted across the street with a velocity you had trouble keeping up with. Your eyes wouldn’t allow you to stop following the movements no matter how hard you tried though. The steaming cup in your hands slipped from your trembling fingers before splattering across the ground in tandem with the stranger’s blood across the street. 

Vehicle’s horns were blaring behind the truck that had come to a screeching halt. Behind you, your coworker rushed out, shouting words you couldn’t process in your shell-shocked state. You watched with vast, unblinking eyes as his body finally rolled to a stop, and he twitched out in agony. With unwavering precision, you could swear you knew the exact pain that was coursing through his body at that moment; the fear that must be setting his wounds ablaze. It wasn’t that long ago that it was you, laying in uncertainty, at the mercy of whoever might have felt your life was worthy enough to try saving. 

So, you ripped your arm out of your coworker’s frantic grip, and your legs raced toward the scene. The truck driver was stumbling out of the driver’s seat, a horror-stricken expression etched onto his features as you dropped down to your knees beside the barely conscious man. Blood coated the corners of his lips as he continued to weakly sputter up the substance. 

“Oh my god,” You babbled mindlessly, hands hovering over him as you contemplated what to do. As if reacting to your voice, his head swayed in your direction, but his eyes remained shut. He was pale— dare you say even paler than he was when he walked into your shop just moments ago. “Call an ambulance!” You shouted at the truck driver, who seemed to be too shell-shocked to spring into action himself. Upon hearing your frantic order, he immediately began fumbling with his cellphone. 

Turning your attention back to the stranger, you noted he was now struggling to pry his eyes open, a deep navy color squinting back at you. 

“Can you hear me?” You questioned, fingers twitching with the urge to turn him on his side in an attempt to prevent him choking on his own blood. You didn’t know what was broken though, so you opted to carefully tilt his head toward you. He only stared deliriously up at you as blood began to ooze from the side of his mouth. “Is there someone I can call? 

Megumi’s mind was in a state all too familiar to him though. It clung on the border between life and death, and, in the past, it was a constant struggle of whether or not it was worth fighting to get through. Now though, he was desperately grasping at the straws of his consciousness. It was his first mission by himself after the trauma his mind and body had endured during the Culling Games. After everything he’d gone through, all the battles he’d fought and the mental strife he’d worked through, this couldn’t possibly be how he left this world. A meaningless and pitiful death— is that what he would have to show for when his friends asked what became of him in the end?

“Hey, hey, stay awake, okay?” Megumi was pulled from his wallowing thoughts by the frantic voice above him, and it sounded as though he was under water, though it wouldn’t surprise him if there was blood in his ears as well. His lips parted, but all that left them was a strangled groan. Your fingers, still warm from his black coffee that had just been clutched in your hand, squeezed gently at his cheeks as though to rouse him from sleep. They slipped from his face and fell into his hand, giving his fingers a soft squeeze. “Squeeze my hand if you can hear me.”

Weakly, you felt his trembling fingers grasp back at your hand. You found yourself smiling encouragingly at him, though you doubted he could see it. The sirens of an oncoming ambulance had you looking behind you, and you could see the flashing lights in the distance cutting across the traffic. From your peripheral, you saw your coworker racing out toward you, pushing through the small crowd that had formed. 

“He just— it came out of nowhere. He’s—”

“He’s suspicious as fuck.” She finished for you, concern pooling in her eyes as she grabbed your free hand in an attempt to tug you up. As you stumbled a bit, you felt the stranger’s cold hand grasp at your wrist, turning your attention back to him. “Let’s go, the ambulance is already here. This guy was probably caught up in some seriously shady shit.” 

She was right, and you knew it. It was evident from the grotesque and oddly placed scars that lined his face, the strange uniform he donned, down to the odd questions and abrupt departure he had graced you with before the accident. Still, your memories of meeting the exact same fate kept you empathetically tied to his side as you peered down at him apprehensively. He opened his eyes once again, and it appeared as though he was mustering every last bit of strength he had left. His fingers wrapped around your wrist desperately as his lips parted to plea with you.

“Please don’t leave me.”

It was a cry that was so uncharacteristic of him, but he only knew one thing at the moment. The warmth of your hand and the soothing sound of your voice was the only thing tying him down to the land of the living. Without your grounding, he felt he may slip away, resigned to the fate he had just fought so valiantly to avoid. 

The plea clutched at your heartstrings as the paramedics rushed to the scene. They were bustling around you, asking you questions while simultaneously shouting foreign terminology at each other as they immediately began tending to the situation at hand. Your eyes remained locked on the stranger’s as they slowly drifted shut, and he offered one last desolate squeeze to your hand before darkness seemed to consume him. 

“Ma’am,” The gruff voice of the paramedic beside you pulled you from your trance, and it was then that you noticed the tear that slipped down your cheek. Blinking it away, you looked up at the man, still shell-shocked. “Do you know this man?”

“I…” Your words got caught in your throat as his final plea rang in your ears. Glancing up, you saw your coworker on the other side of the sea of medical personelle, shaking her had at you with wide eyes. In your palm though, the limp, cold hand of the stranger still lay. “He’s my partner.” You lied in a haze, watching as they prepared to carefully shift him onto a stretcher. 

Your lie earned you a ride in the ambulance beside him, staring in an absent haze as the team moved like ants around him, peeling his lids back to check his eyes with a tiny light, cutting his shirt down the middle to check his vitals, prying an oxygen mask over his parted lips and expertly starting an IV on his limp arm despite the rustling of the fast-paced vehicle. They attributed your inability to answer any questions to your shock, which was partially true, but you also feared revealing your white lie to them with the wrong responses. 

Police were awaiting you at the hospital when the ambulance came to a screeching halt.  They questioned you about the accident and what you had seen. You complied easily, however couldn’t help but grow nervous once the staff at the hospital asked you to fill out paperwork on your ‘partner’s’ behalf. 

The pen in your hand shook as you stared down at the first blanks. 

FIRST NAME

LAST NAME

Of which you knew neither. 

“Is everything alright?” The soft voice of a compassionate nurse questioned as she typed away at her computer, likely awaiting your information to complete his admission. 

You looked up at her patient eyes, and you couldn’t hold back your lie any longer, explaining to her what had actually happened. Her slow nod made you feel guilty, as she thanked you for your honesty and explained the paperwork would be different now as they had no way to identify the stranger. He had no identification on him, and the cellphone they’d found in his pocket had shattered in the midst of the accident.

Perhaps you should have gone home after you’d given them all the information they needed, but you stayed in the small waiting room, anxiously bouncing your leg and chewing on your lip. As hours seemed to pass by, you’d perk up each time someone would come in, hoping any of the visitors would be coming to claim the stranger that was currently being tended to in the intensive care unit. They each came and went though, and you remained the only one awaiting him under the fluorescent lights. 

Your eyes were beginning to burn when the nurse you had spoken to hours prior walked carefully up to you, that compassionate smile everpresent on her lips. 

“I know there’s no relation, but I thought you’d like to know his condition is relatively stable as of right now.” She offered, causing you to sit up in the stiff, plastic chair. 

“Thank you— really.” You sighed breathlessly to which she nodded in return. For a moment, you wondered if you were overstepping by asking for anymore details. Casting your eyes down to your lap, you chewed pensively on your lip. She seemed to take note of your bashful apprehension, smiling knowingly. 

“You’re currently the only contact we have for him. There wouldn’t be a problem if you wanted to pay him a visit.”

So, with your fingers wringing nervously at the hem of your shirt, you followed the nurse through the unit and to the room he was occupying. Though you had seen first hand the damage the accident had done to him, you still had to bite back a shocked gasp upon seeing the various monitors he was hooked up to, as well as the clear tube running into his mouth and down his throat. You had endless questions for the god-sent nurse, but she had already mentioned that her shift was ending, so you didn’t want to hold her any longer. 

“He hasn’t woken up yet, but they can still hear you, you know?” She explained with an encouraging smile as she leaned against the doorframe. Tearing your gaze from the various lines and tubes connected to him, you peered back at her in shock, but the nurse only nodded affirmatively at you. “It helps. Especially since he’s by himself.” 

Following her polite goodbye with a promise that she’d be back on shift tomorrow morning, you were left alone with the stranger. It was silent in the sterile room, only the persistent beeping of his monitors filling the space around you. A shiver ran down your spine as if the below normal temperatures of the hospital were finally catching up to you as you shifted your weight from one foot to the other. 

“This would’ve been a lot easier if you had stayed back to drink your stupid, black coffee.” You began hesitantly as you circled the raised bed. Pursing your lips, you slowly sat down on the chair beside him. Toying with the end of the blanket that hung off the bed, the ragged rise and fall of his chest caught your attention, and you wondered how much of it was thanks to the tube running down his throat. “I wonder if you ever found what you were looking for.” 

As an assistant came in to check on him, you peered awkwardly down at your lap while they checked his vitals. Once done with the routine checks, you watched her move the blanket back over him and gently adjust certain chords to settle more comfortably around him. It made your heart warm that they seemed so attentive to his comfort, even if he wasn’t conscious enough to notice. You thanked her quietly as she departed from the room. 

“You know the nurse’s assistant was the only one in the room with me when I first woke up after my accident.” You explained to the unconscious man before you. A fond smile settled onto your lips. “My parents had stepped out for a while just to get some food. Just their luck, huh? He held my hand while I was waking up so I wasn’t all by myself. It meant the world to me.”

It felt as though Megumi was trapped right back in the barrier between his mind and his soul— helpless to find an escape. This time around though, he had more of a will to fight. There was no way he had gone through everything and exhausted his mind, body, and soul, all to meet his demise because he didn’t look both ways before crossing the damn street. Another part of him wondered if this was fate granting him mercy. Perhaps if he didn’t die here, hooked up to all these tubes and machines, his cards held something sacreligious— a gruesome and grotesque death rather than the comparably mundane one that had befallen him. After all he’d been through, maybe this was blissful; the only happy ending that could be promised to him. 

As he lay in that strange veil of unconsciousness though, as if at the bottom of a pool, looking up and barely able to see the sun’s light poking up from the surface— someone was there with him. Your voice sounded as though it was just above the feet of water that separated him from life, muffled but still familiar. It was the same voice that had coaxed him into trusting his body to let go, not knowing whether or not it would be strong enough to reemerge again. 

His brows furrowed— that he could feel, and he willed himself to swim up to the surface as the soft hum of your tired rambling filled his ears. Why were you here? Why were you still here? The sorcerer needed to know, and the urge pushed him to keep struggling against the surface pressure that weighed him down. 

You weren’t sure how long you had sat there mindlessly babbling to the unresponsive man. Wariness was beginning to weigh down on your eyes and shoulders though, likely because you had been up since four that morning to prepare for your shift. If you stopped talking, you thought you might flop over and pass out yourself. He couldn’t be by himself when he woke up, you determined. 

Some staff had come in and dimmed the lights in the room what seemed like hours ago, so they weren’t so harsh in your tired eyes as you tilted your head back to stare at the ceiling while spewing out anything that came to mind. 

“My coworker finally texted me, you know. She said the only weird thing that passed by the shop today was you. Are you in some kind of gang? It would explain the uniform and all the…” Your rambling slowly died out as the sound of sheets rustling filled your ears. In an instant, you were sitting up properly in your uncomfortable chair. His hand twitched against the sheets, and you breathed out in anticipation as you watched his face contort in discomfort. The chair you had been occupying for hours slid back as you stood up abruptly to get a closer look. “Hey— can you hear me?”

Megumi forced his eyes open with what seemed like all the energy left in him. He half expected to be in Shoko’s infirmary with his friends hovering obnoxiously over him, or even in his room where he’d awake in his bed and realize he’d dreamt the entire scenario. The blinding, white ceiling tiles above him were different from the ones he’d grown accustomed to over the years though, and the dull ache radiating through his body served to remind him that he certainly hadn’t been graced by any reverse cursed technique. 

Those mysteriously dark eyes stared incredulously up at the ceiling, and you could see the confusion begin to morph onto his features. All too soon, that confusion shifted into panic as he tried to speak, only to be met by the grueling realization that there was a tube shoved down his throat. 

“It’s okay!” You quickly reassured, placing a careful hand on his shoulder to redirect his attention. With the little he was able to move, his eyes shifted as fast as he could manage to look at you, wide in subtle horror. You took your eyes off him for a second to push the nurse call button to alert them of his waking. “You were in an accident. You’re in the hospital.”

As he peered down at the state of himself, he only seemed more unsettled. You figured it was the mangled state he was left in that freaked him out, but what was going through his head was the mission he’d left behind, along with the curse that was likely still running rampant. Still, his inability to speak paired with his limited mobility certainly didn’t do much to settle his nerves. You watched him become more agitated as he attempted to move each limb to no avail, likely thanks to the arsenal of drugs coursing through his veins. 

“It’s alright, you’re okay.” You insisted, peering out the open door to see if the nurse was nearby. Looking around the room, you left his side for a moment to quickly snatch up a marker from the white board on the wall. You uncapped it and placed it in his hand, securing his weak grip around it before offering your arm. “Is there someone we can call? What’s your name?” 

As he stared incredulously down at your offered up arm, your questions were a jumbled mess in his disoriented mind. All that kept running through his head were questions of who the wide eyed, eager girl at his bedside was, and why her voice had been the only thing he could recall from his supposed accident. Megumi’s fingers trembled as they fought to lift up the marker. A muffled grunt escaped him as he tried to get a grip on it, and it clattered to the floor along with the last string of his patience. 

The sound of the marker clanking against the squeaky clean floor rang in his ears, taunting him in his weak state. Just as he began his attempted thrash against the scratchy sheets, the nurse finally stepped in, picking up her pace a bit as she saw the state of agitation he was in. In an instant, she was dialling someone for help, though you couldn’t be bothered to listen to her, desperate to get any answers out of the stranger. Once again, you offered up your hand to him, placing his fingers against your awaiting palm.

“Trace it on my hand, something—”

“Don’t push him.” The nurse urged as more staff members seemed to flood into the room. She was maneuvering over to the line of his IV with a syringe as she attempted to deescalate the situation herself. “He wasn’t supposed to wake up; if he becomes too agitated he can injure himself further.”

“Wait—” You attempted to stop her as she pushed what you assumed was something to calm him down into his line. Logically, you knew it was in his best interest, however your gnawing curiosity had you hoping he would stay conscious for the least bit longer to provide any answers. It only took seconds though, as the drug flooded his system, and the tension in his shoulders seemed to settle back against the flat bed. His eyelids moved torturously slow as he blinked hazily, and you knew the opportunity had found its way to evade you. 

“I-I’ll wait outside.” The dejected reminder fell from your lips, though you were sure the staff were too occupied to pay you any mind. Just as you moved to get out of their way though, the stranger’s weak fingers laced around your hand. With the waning of his already deplorable strength, you felt the pads of his digits press against you, urging you to stay. Looking up with a quiet gasp, you found his half-lidded eyes on you, a desperation in them that seemed so misplaced on his hard features— even if you didn’t know him. 

Megumi thought maybe if he held onto the now familiar presence that had been beside him all this time, that it would be the one thing to keep him alert enough to continue pushing through the haze of his unconsciousness. Whether it was your continuous, honied voice that pulled him from his drug-induced coma, or the fact that he’d pulled himself out of the depths of chains much stronger than the pharmaceuticals currently in his system, he didn’t know. What he did understand, was that your gentle fingers brushing against his knuckles was practically the only thing he could still feel, and it brought him a comfort he was not prepared to surrender just yet if he were to be pulled under again. 

So, you clung on to his hand as his eyes slowly shut, bleary irises focused on you till the very end as the staff bustled around the room and spoke with the doctors. Even as you felt your own lids growing heavy that night in the darkness of the intensive care room, you couldn’t bring yourself to untangle his fingers from yours. Unable to fight the gravity that weighed down your body to remind you you had been up since four that morning, your head slumped forward and rested on the edge of the bed beside your conjoined hands. 

You hadn’t the energy to think about how odd you may have looked clinging to a complete stranger as you snoozed. Instead, the embarrassment hit you when the kind nurse from the previous day, seemingly having recently clocked in for her shift, gently woke you the next morning with a prepackaged breakfast sandwich. With burning cheeks, you used your free hand to frantically smooth your disheveled hair down and wipe at your under eyes that were undoubtedly smeared with yesterday’s makeup before accepting the food with a shy but grateful smile. 

You waited for her to finish her morning checks on her patient before tearing into the sandwich as your rumbling stomach was demanding of you. In the meantime, she updated you on his condition with jargon that you tried hard to keep up with, but it was offensively early in the morning. Nodding along, you suddenly wished you had paid more attention to all those hospital dramas your roommate used to watch incessantly. A relieved sigh escaped you when she departed, letting you know to press the call button if you needed anything. 

“You’ve really gotta get it together soon, dude.” You commented through a mouthful of bread as you peered over at him thoughtfully. At the very least, you thought, his hand seemed warmer than it had yesterday, and you could only hope that was a good sign. “This hospital food sucks.”

Tossing the wrapper into the small trash bin nearby, you huffed out a sigh. Leaning in closer to him, you hesitantly pushed the thick, black hair away from his face, brushing it gently back against his scalp. A gulp forced its way down your throat at the sight of the thick scars that lined his eyes, and you found yourself carefully brushing against them with baffled curiosity. 

“Who are you?” You whispered, and for a moment you could swear his brows twitched into a furrow.  

“Hasn’t anyone ever told you it’s bad luck to cheat death?” A smoothly amused voice beckoned from the doorway. 

You instantly flinched away from your hovered state over the stranger, the hand that was grasped in his tightening in surprise as you looked up. Leaning against the entry was a tall man that nearly took up the entire door frame. His hair was a striking white that almost rivaled the blinding lights of the hospital room. Though concealed behind dark-rimmed sunglasses, you caught a glimpse of his startling blue eyes as he seemed to tilt his head in amusement at the scene before him. What captured your attention most of all though was the uniform he donned— one nearly identical to the one the mystery patient had been wearing during the accident. 

“Geez, after all you’ve been through, and a truck is what takes you out?” The man’s quip was this time directed at the John Doe, shaking his head with a smile as he slowly strolled into the room. 

“You know him?” You breathed out in relief, watching the fond expression on the man’s face as he scanned over the injuries. 

“Hm? Oh, yeah, he’s my student.” He responded casually, hands shoved into his pockets as he circled the bed curiously. “I assumed he was just ignoring my calls. Go figure, huh?”

The casual lightheartedness in his tone only served to confuse you. You couldn’t wrap your head around the fact that of all the people that came to claim this stranger, his teacher was the first? On top of that, how was he not brimming with concern upon finding the student he seemed so close with in intensive care? Your eyes skimmed down the strange uniform on his long body, lingering just a tad too long on the swirled button on his chest. 

“So, what’s the deal? You a girlfriend he didn’t tell anyone about?” 

Snapping up from your trance, you felt your face heat at his accusation, and you quickly shook your head. The corners of his lips twitched up in amusement. 

“I saw the accident happen.” You explained, allowing your gaze to drift back down to the patient. The edges of your teeth sunk into your bottom lip as you recounted the events of the last twenty-four hours, and you were struck by the absurdity of it all. “He… he asked me not to leave— you know, before he passed out.”

“So you didn’t?” His question sounded more like a statement, you noted. You nodded with a soft sigh. Peering up at the teacher with a pursed lip, your free hand reached up to graze the oddly-shaped scars on your upper arm. 

“I’m sorry if I overstepped. I just… was in a similar accident not too long ago. So, I empathized with him— that kind of fear, you know?” You felt the need to explain it to him, as you were sure you looked like some sort of stalker at the moment. The man didn’t respond, peering pensively down at you for long enough to make you squirm in your seat. “I guess I should go now.”

A wave of unnecessary guilt crashed in your chest as you slowly stood from the chair you had been in for countless hours. Giving once last, lingering regard to the unconscious man, you gulped down the confusing lump in your throat and smiled softly. 

“I hope you find whatever you were looking for.” You whispered, gently sliding your hand from his and placing it carefully over the blanket. Nodding respectfully at the man who had been silently watching the entire encounter, you began walking toward the exit. As you hand grazed the door frame, you turned around apprehensively to find the white-haired man already peering back at you knowingly. “What—What’s his name?”

With a fond smile, the man looked back down at his student as if to say we have a lot to catch up on when your ass wakes up before looking back at you. 

“Megumi.”

His name rang through your mind in the droning days that followed your fated encounter. With every order you rang up, his frantic entrance replayed in your head. Each unfruitful study session paved way for the cinematic replaying of his awakening, projected onto your imagination over and over until it became your favorite film that lulled you into relentless, insomniatic nights.

You wondered if his condition had improved, if he had left the hospital, if he was wondering about the girl who he clung onto at his most vulnerable. As the days dragged on, and you wistfully poured out a customer’s black coffee, you realized you had left those answers behind in the hospital room that morning. Still, the more logical part of your mind told you it was for the best given the concerningly curious circumstances of his accident. Additionally, the equally mysterious man that had come to claim Megumi only fanned the flames of your suspicions. 

Despite the impending sense of danger that came each time that supposed teacher’s words rang in your head—

“After all you’ve been through, and a truck is what takes you out?”

You weren’t sure if it was your concern over his recovery, or the gnawing curiosity about the life he led that had you walking back into the hospital almost a full week later. Whichever it was, it was strong enough to push down the nerves fluttering in your stomach as you walked up to the familiar reception front desk. It was the same woman that had you fill out the paperwork when he was first admitted, and, despite it taking her a bit, she remembered you. 

“Listen, I’m really sorry, but the process isn’t as easy now that someone signed his paperwork. I can’t disclose any information to you.” She explained apologetically as you slumped forward on the cold desk. There was a certain sorrow in her eyes as she watched you sigh in defeat. 

“I mean— could you just tell me if he’s okay?” You pleaded, already dreading the thought of having to leave that day with no answers. 

“I wouldn’t even be able to confirm or deny that that patient is still in our system.” It seemed it was upsetting her just as much to deny you, and it wasn’t your intention to make her job anymore difficult than it was. “I wish I could have been of more help to you.” 

You nodded in silent understanding, offering a grateful smile nonetheless as you pushed off of the desk to take your walk of shame out of the building. Perhaps it was a sign; the thought fleeted into your mind on what seemed like the endless trek to the door. This denial was the closure you needed to move on from this bizarre, chance encounter that happened to mimic one you witnessed firsthand just years ago. In stark terms, whatever seemed to be lying at the bottom of the mysterious well that was Megumi— wasn’t your business.

In the same notion though, maybe it was fate that that oddly large, white haired man was strolling into the very doors you were trying to exit, coffee and a paper bag clutched in his causal grip. Your mouth opened and closed as you looked up at him, unsure if he’d even recognize you or care enough to acknowledge your being there. As if sensing your silent stare, he glanced up from his phone for a moment, doing a small double take upon seeing you.  

“Pick up another straggler?” He teased, sliding his phone into the pocket of his uniform with a known smirk. His head tilted toward you. “What was it this time? Just so happened to be around when they mysteriously fell out a window?” 

Despite the fact that his seemingly playful nature was making you feel more comfortable, you still couldn’t help the heat that rushed to your face. Attempting a breathless chuckle, you smiled nervously at the man. 

“The hospital should start paying me commission, huh?” You quipped with apprehensive amusement. A short but genuine laugh broke through his teasing facade, and he nodded for you to walk with him. Pushing past the slight shock of how easily this was going for you, you stumbled after him. 

“I’m assuming you’re not here to see me?” 

Chewing on your bottom lip, you watched the bright tiles passing under your feet as you followed him through the hospital. Once again, you were hit by the realization that you were meddling in something you seriously had no business in. Still, the nonchalant man leading you through the hallways didn’t seem to have any sort of reaction to your curiosity.

“I’m really sorry if I’m overstepping, it’s just been kind of eating me alive.” You confessed with a halfhearted chuckle.

“Well, if it makes you feel any better, our little overachiever isn’t in intensive care anymore.” He informed with an almost proud smile. 

“Really?” You didn’t intend to sound so relieved, but it was an almost instantaneous reaction. 

“Yuuup. Officially graduated.” He confirmed as he wiped mock tears from under his sunglasses. “Go see for yourself, his room’s right here.” 

As he stopped in front of a cracked open door, you hadn’t even realized the man had been leading you to pay Megumi a visit. Glancing up at him unassuredly, you didn’t have a chance to ask if he was sure before he was waving you off nonchalantly.

“Actually, if you don’t mind taking my stuff in there.” The teacher requested, not giving you a chance to protest as he shoved the coffee and bag into your hands. “Forgot my phone in my car.”

Your brows furrowed for a moment, cause you could have sworn you had just seen him slip the aforementioned phone into his pocket just as you ran into him. There was no time to question it though, because in an instant, his freakishly long legs were traversing him back down the way you came in. With a barely noticeable huff of disbelief, your gaze drifted to the cracked-open door in front of you. You shook your head before pushing in anyway, trying to be mindful of the nearly overflowing coffee cup that was desperately trying to spill onto your hand. 

“Shit.” You muttered under your breath with a flinch as you felt a scalding drop offend your skin. 

“You’re not Gojo.” 

“Shit!” You repeated with a start, posture jolting up to face whoever it was that damn near just sent you to the afterlife. 

What you hadn’t expected to see was the very awake and very alert Megumi sitting up in his hospital bed. His mouth was free of the tube that once restrained it, though you could still hear the after affects of it in the rasp and crack of his voice. In fact, the only thing he appeared to still be connected to was an IV pole and what looked like a heart monitor. 

You could have killed the tall stranger, whom you presumed was the Gojo character he was talking about, for not thinking it important to warn her that Megumi was no longer unconscious before you waltzed into his room so nonchalantly. In truth, you expected to drop by, see with your own two eyes that the man hadn’t succumbed to his injuries, and be on your merry way. 

“Ow! Fuck,” You were babbling at this point, pacing around for anywhere to put down the damned coffee cup that had just scalded your hand in tandem with your startled jump. The black haired man watched you silently, almost moving to get up to help you before he remembered the brace that wrapped his right ankle. “I’m so sorry— I had no idea you were awake.” 

Your frantic apologies continued spilling from your lips as you ran your stinging hand underneath the sink that sat in the corner. You did it partly to soothe the pain, but another part of you just didn’t think you could face the poor man after completely invading his privacy. 

“That weird guy with the sunglasses told me to come in, but then he just—”

“You were the one that stayed with me after the accident, right?”

Unable to gage the flat tone in his voice, you slowly turned the faucet off before finally turning to face him. In the time you hadn’t been looking, it seemed he had pushed the hair out of his face, and he was sitting up a little higher in the bed than you remembered. The book in his lap laid open and forgotten, his large, dark eyes focused intently on you. 

“Uh, yeah.” You admitted softly, wiping your hands nervously on your bottoms. “You were outside the cafe—”

“I remember.” He stated flatly, making you bite down harshly on your bottom lip. Megumi was coming off as rude, guarded, irritated— he knew he was, but he couldn’t for the life of him gather his thoughts well enough to express the gratitude he felt for you. Even more so though, he couldn’t possibly bring himself to understand the curiosity and fondness that had been festering over the past few days in your absence. 

A silence enveloped the room, and you suddenly wondered where the hell his teacher was— desperate for anything to break the tension. 

“Well, I should probably go.” You finally mustered out, setting the bag and cup down onto the counter before turning to leave. “I-I’m glad to see you’re doing better. Sorry again to—”

“Wait,” Megumi urged, leaning forward so quickly it had him wincing with the pressure on his injured ribs. Your hair swayed as you whipped your head back at him in question, and you thought you saw the slightest pink hue on his cheeks. “Sorry, I’m… on a lot of meds. You don’t have to leave.” 

His excuse made your brow slowly quirk up, an amused smirk barely concealed on your lips. Attempting to push down your amusement, you pursed your lips and glanced out the door for any sign of Gojo’s return. Upon seeing only the hospital staff bustling around, you slowly made your way over and sat down on the chair beside his bed. For a moment, the two of you simply stared at one another in silence, both of you unsure of what to say next. 

In your brief study of his now conscious face up close, you noticed each sharp feature of his, from his straight nose, to the strong line of his jaw. Somehow, despite their dark hue, his wide eyes seemed to soften his face even if just minimally with every caress of his long, thick lashes against his cheekbones. You wanted to avert your eyes to stop the incoming flush in your cheeks upon the sudden realization that Megumi was incredibly attractive, but you couldn’t seem to tear your eyes away.

In a last ditch effort to preserve any dignity, you were grasping at straws to say anything. 

“What were you look—”

“Why did you stay?” 

The both of you began simultaneously, but his question made you clam up. There wasn’t malice in his tone, but a raw curiosity instead, an urge to understand. His brows were slowly settling into that familiar furrow you remembered seeing on his sleeping form constantly. 

“I— You asked me to.” You answered simply, your voice quieter than it was before. A small huff of breath raced out his nose at your response. 

“So you just do whatever strange men you just met tell you to do?”

“I think I preferred you when you still had a tube down your throat.” You laughed breathlessly, a little shocked at the sass that emanated from the seemingly reserved man. Almost immediately, he rolled his pretty eyes at your comment, but there was a ghost of a smile threatening to assassinate the cool-boy persona he had built up. 

“Why did you stay?” Megumi asked again. There was more conviction in his rasped tone this time. Subconsciously, your hand creeped up to grasp at your scarred upper arm, and he followed the motion intently. His gaze narrowed slightly at the raised skin, a hint of recognition flashing in his eyes as he continued to stare. 

“Two years ago, I was in a similar accident. There was all sorts of hell breaking loose in the city, so I didn’t think anyone would help me, you know?” You recounted with a sad smile, feeling your breath tremble at the memory. “I still don’t know how they got me out— some guy that was around. He almost ran right past me. I never got to thank him, or ask him how he got me out from under the car. I was already in the hospital when I woke up.”

He processed your words for a moment, blinking slowly down at your scar as the puzzle pieces seemed to click together in his mind. It sounded too familiar— just as the marks on your arms were ones he’d surely seen before. 

“And that scar—  you got it from the accident?” He assumed, though he already knew the answer. You nodded, looking down at it yourself and allowing the tips of your fingers to trace each curve. The corners of his lips twitched up on their own accord, eyes softening with the revelation that fate had always been on his side. “Kind of looks like a bite.”

There was a subtly bemused tone in his voice. You didn’t quite understand where it was coming from, but as you inspected the mark closer with this perspective, you hummed in fascination. 

“I don’t really see it.” You mumbled. 

In an instant, his fingers had reached out to fold gently around your arm. Your eyes fluttered up to look at him in surprise, but he was still focused on your mark with a soft fondness. Swiping his thumb over the raised skin, the pads of his fingers mapped out the familiar canine marks of his demon dog. 

As if the feel of it ignited his memory, he could almost perfectly recall the sight of the large hound tearing through the wrecked car as Megumi exorcised the curse that had been at the cusp of the mangled traffic jam. Working on his command, the boy watched as the dog emerged, dragging a girl out of the rubble by her arm. The skin around the bite was already bloodied and bruised, but you certainly still had more of a chance of survival than you had before the damned bite. 

At once, there was an understanding in his still foggy mind that the machinery of right and wrong he had grown accustomed to over the years was far more prophetic than he ever cared to give it credit for. It didn’t matter what reason you gave him for staying by his side that night, because he already understood it wholeheartedly on a much different level than he had anticipated. Megumi had always been the type to search for reason in his own kindness while cynically picking apart the kindness of others. After all he’d been through, perhaps this was the final nail in the coffin of his nihilistic pattern of viewing his moral compass. 

“See, Megumi? I told you your knight in shining armor would come back for you!” That familiarly sarcastic voice that you had now been able to name Gojo, had the both of you flinching back from the unexpectedly intimate moment. Megumi’s face seemed to sour instantly as the man strolled into the room with a wide smile. “This kid was driving me insane, asking me about you as soon as they pulled that tube out of his throat.” 

The patient grumbled, and if he had more strength and less shit hooked up to him, he would have thrown a pillow at his teacher. Glaring dangerously at him, Megumi swatted his hand away as the older man began to ruffle at his hair in mock affection. Despite his clear mortification, you smiled amusedly at the scene before you. 

“Thanks for looking after the little guy for me.”

“I’m starting to think I should get a job here.” You joked back as you stood from your chair. You looked back at Megumi, who’s hard gaze was slowly melting into subtle confusion as he watched you rise. “I’m really glad you’re okay.”

You bowed in thanks to Gojo before making your way to the door. 

“You’re leaving?” Megumi stopped you at the exit for the second time that day. Had you looked now, you would have caught the deadly glare he shot his sensei’s way for ruining the moment. 

With your hand on the door, you turned around to offer him a warm smile, one that had his shoulders slumping forward as if enveloped in the most welcoming of blankets. 

“Gotta get to work.” You explained regretfully, chewing on the inside of your cheek. In a spark of confidence that was surely spurred on by the fact that you still had endless questions for the man, you continued with a bashful grin. “But you know where to find me. Maybe you can actually stay for your order this time, hm?”

Gojo almost had to turn away to hide the laughter bubbling in his chest upon seeing the dumbstruck expression on Megumi’s face as he could only muster up a small nod. You found yourself nodding along with him. 

“I’ll have your order ready.” You teased with a wink. “Black coffee, right?”

The boy breathed out in disbelief, watching with pink tinted cheeks as your hair swayed behind you while you took your leave. He wished with everything in him, since fate seemed to be playing so mercifully with him these days, that his ankle would miraculously heal in time for him to chase after you to catch one more glimpse of your glittering eyes and incandescent smile. Perhaps he had already had his fill of fate’s luck for one lifetime though, because he could only remain seated dumbly on the hospital bed, jaw hanging down just a hair as he breathed out. 

“Right.”

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[menacingpolkamusic]

I think many women and queer people fall into the trap of treating men nearest to them as a stand-in for the patriarchy they truly hate, because the men closest to them can actually be hurt. The alt-righters threatening to rape them can't.

Unless you're like, Catholic and/or really want to, you're not required to love someone who hates you. I'm sure there's a different strategy to getting through to that person, and that's probably something male allies should take on.

But as for men who truly want to be allies but are intimidated because of women's frustrations (no matter how valid!), such as this man on the Chewed Gum show asking how to model positive masculinity + his feelings on the man/bear question, Alyssa Ljub had a great response (abridged version):

[[READMORE]]

[...] My brother [...] struggled a lot with being a very like sensitive, emotional kind of guy and that manifested as being angry and defensive when he was a teenager and through his more younger adult years, now he's 32 and a full adult and he's really understanding that what he's wanting to express is a more full range of emotions, but he didn't feel comfortable doing that because he was falling into that same mental pattern of that's not manly, men don't cry [...]

In the process of writing the TED Talk, I had given it to my brother to read and he went over it and [...] he encouraged me to look at it again and every time I referred to these like really atrocious things that had happened to women throughout time [...] he encouraged me to look at it and really consider [...] is "man" the word that I want to use, is it because men did this or is it the patriarchy, is it this system that we've created.

And at the end of the day, he was right because we all are victims of this same mentality, like this patriarchal mind space is the reason why [...] you are not super comfortable expressing a full range of emotions or it took you a long time to get there, similarly with my brother and similarly with how we all [choose the] bear and then we have a hard time understanding how men can't see it.

It's all the same system, it's the same machine and so there's a part of me that's always sort of like, it feels good to join in other voices that are able to say "bear and fuck the men who don't understand and that's not my job to teach them" and blah, blah, blah, like there's part of it that will always feel like turning the knife and it feels good for that moment but that's not actually a productive conversation and [...] that's not helping anybody.

And so the other part of it is, okay, [...] we're in this dialogue and [...] oh my gosh, men don't actually see it, they don't really understand why we feel that way and if they can't really understand it and they're in the same system that we are, it kind of is our responsibility to explain because if we don't, we're leaving them to their own devices to figure it out and when they're left to their own devices, they're at the hands of the same system that's telling them to shut down their emotions, be defensive and ignore what we're describing as physical risk that we feel with with strange men and that's not helpful, that's not helping anybody grow.

And so it's frustrating to some women, [...] "I shouldn't have to explain that" and I 100% get that, that's so valid but I think in this conversation, when we talk about how we move forward from how we have pushed men into being a specific type of person that is fitting into [...] this prototype [of] being really tough and minimizing emotions and unable to be vulnerable so that they can appear strong, when we've put men into that space, what pulls them out of it is vulnerability and softness and care and saying it's actually okay for you to want to be emotional in this time and it's actually completely okay that you're hearing this argument where people are saying bear over and over and you're like, "what the hell, I worked so hard to be the kind of man that people would be comfortable around and [...] I worked so hard to undo everything that I was inundated with as a child, like, and you still said bear?"

[...] I would encourage anybody who's listening who has that reaction of like, "I don't want to have to explain it to people. And if they don't get it, that's on them." I would encourage them to also consider how productive that conversation is. And if you, in that very moment, wanted to be productive. Sometimes we're like, "this is not worth it, I don't feel like having this conversation," whatever, that's fine [...]

I feel like that's the biggest thing that is inhibited for so many men in this system. They're not given the permission to feel everything that they want to feel and have a safe space where there might be an adult or a therapist, whatever, whoever is around them to say, "it's okay that you feel that way. And at the same time, the reason why women are saying bear is because even though you're a safe space, the information that we have, the statistics that we have about how many men are not is enough to make me say bear."

[...]

But I think at least in the way that I've experienced this conversation, especially with someone close to me, like my brother, where I've grown up with him obviously, and I've known him my whole life and seeing what made the biggest difference for him was allowing him to feel vulnerable and feel the full range of his emotions and actually process them through. Like actually see [...] "these are all the things I'm feeling and this is how we're gonna resolve it. And now I've learned something because I've actually resolved this feeling."

I couldn't have said it better myself.

[little-diable]

Our suffering ends now - Tommy Shelby (smut)

It truly has been a while since I’ve last posted a Tommy fic, but I love how this came together. Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this, your comments keep us writers motivated! Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: She has mourned his death for the past years, all until her boss speaks of him, leaving (y/n) to wonder how she could have been betrayed like that, blindsided by lies. It’s time for her to return to the man she has believed to be dead.

Warnings: 18+, smut, unprotected piv, reunited lovers, some angst and crying

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x fem!reader (3.5k words)

Trees blurred past the window she sat close to, hands holding onto the book she carried with herself. Her eyes burned from being awake for so long, having to change trains every few hours, set on making it to him before night would break. Hours ago her heart had raced in her chest, pounding against her ribcage as if it was trying to flee from her. And she couldn’t blame it, knowing that what she was about to do would be uncomfortable, scarily so. 

This journey broke more promises than she could count with both of her cold hands, and yet she hadn’t been able to fight against the need to see him again – after all these years. She could still hear Ada’s and Polly’s voices speaking to her, forcing her to leave that one cruel night years ago. With tears rolling down her cheeks she had given in, watching the two women pack her bags before accompanying (y/n) to the train station. A foolish mistake she had been forced to live with. 

She was torn between hurt and anger, not understanding how the two women she had once loved like her own sisters could have betrayed her like that. For years she had lived with the knowledge that her lover was dead, that he hadn’t made it home after the war. Lies, nothing but lies she had been fed. 

If it hadn’t been for her job she would have kept believing the lies, not doubting what she had been told by the two. If it hadn’t been for the way her boss had spoken of him, she wouldn’t have stopped grieving the loss of the man she had once promised to love until her death. If it hadn’t been for the sinking feeling growing deep within her, she wouldn’t have purchased the train tickets that very night before calling the only man she had kept in touch with. 

Her legs ached as she rose to her feet, ready to step out of the train in hopes of spotting him. A deep breath was sucked into her lungs as (y/n) started moving, holding onto her suitcase while the cold evening air wrapped itself around her. 

“(Y/n)!” The smile widening on her lips only grew as her eyes spotted Alfie, rushing towards him to throw herself into his arms. He held onto her, hugging her as if they hadn’t seen each other in years, even though it had only been a handful of weeks. His comforting scent wrapped itself around (y/n), cozying her along as he slowly parted from her. “You haven’t aged a day.”

“You fucker.” The words rolled off her tongue before she could stop them, earning a few shameful gazes from couples brushing past the two. But Alfie’s loud laugh distracted her enough to keep smiling at the man she had crossed paths with years ago, instantly learning to love him like a brother. 

“Come, come, let’s get some food into your system and then you can tell me all about why you have summoned me to Birmingham, yeah?”

…

“Pain has never suited you, and yet it never dims your beauty.” (Y/n) raised her eyebrows at him in an almost mocking manner, drawing a smirk onto Alfie’s lips. She pushed herself further into the couch, legs tucked underneath herself while Alfie sat close to her, waiting for her to finally shed some light onto her mysterious behaviour. 

“You remember what I told you about him, don’t you?” A sigh left Alfie at her words, eyes momentarily fluttering close as if his annoyance was already getting the best of him.

“I told you I would marry you, there is no reason to mourn a life with a husband you never had. Say the words, Alfie marry me, and I will, yeah? Is this why you so desperately needed to see me, pearl? Because of some boy who fell at war like so many others?” Her jaw muscles began to tick in anger, a fire started to burn in her eyes at his words. (Y/n) had to let go of a few deep breaths, trying to keep calm before this could spiral into another fight neither of them would win.

“He’s not dead.” It was a simple sentence, and yet it carried more pain than all others she had spoken in a long time. It almost felt as if every single vowel had sharp teeth, scratching at her tongue as they rolled right off the strong muscle to leave behind wounds that wouldn’t fade. 

“What? Did his ghost suddenly appear at night? Did God speak to you-,” the sharp call of his name interrupted Alfie, forcing him to quieten down with anger tugging on his features. For a moment, neither of them spoke a word, letting a heavy silence fill the room. Ever since their paths had crossed, she had told Alfie all about him, without ever telling him his name, he knew nothing but the endless moments she could still remember, the love she had been fortunate enough to experience. 

“I heard it at work, my boss spoke of him and his brothers. He’s alive, I’ve grieved a man who was never dead all because I believed lies I had no reason not to believe. That’s why I called you, if somebody could help me find him, it’d be you.” Tears welled up in her eyes, rolling down her cheeks as if the sky itself was crying for her and all those horrible years she had lost to mourning him.

“What is his name, (y/n)?” Seriousness clung to Alfie as he asked the one question he had never dared to ask, shoulders tensed, lips pressed together as if he already knew the name she was about to whisper.

“Tommy Shelby.” All Alfie did was stare at her, making goosebumps appear on her arms as he shot to his feet, turning his back on (y/n) while a sound torn between a groan and a shout tore out of him. She was close to flinching, not understanding why he was reacting that way. 

“I can’t take you to him, (y/n). You’ll take the first train home tomorrow morning.” (Y/n) mimicked his movements while an almost hysterical laugh clawed out of her. Slowly, Alfie turned back towards her, both stared at one another, waiting for the other to break first. 

“I won’t leave, not before I see him again. What do you even know of Tommy, Alfie?” With two quick steps he had reached her, hands finding her warm face to cling to her. Pain was swimming in his pupils, a pain that reached far deeper than she could imagine. His calloused thumb stroked her skin as he softly shook his head at her, seemingly fighting to find the right words.

“Tommy Shelby is a devil, yeah, he’s a man who’d kill you without needing a gun nor a knife. He’s not the man you once loved, go home, forget about him and allow me to show you glimpses of a life you deserve to live, pearl.” (Y/n) pushed herself into his arms, cheek pressed against his chest to listen to his racing heartbeat. She clung to the man she wished she could love like a lover, a man who’d treat her well enough to offer her the world. And yet her heart couldn’t let go of Tommy, of the life she ached for like a starving woman dreaming of a soup to warm her aching body.

“Take me to him, Alfie, this is a decision that’s only mine to make.” 

……

Her fingers were interlaced with his, feeling his thumb stroke the back of her hand while she shifted her weight from one side of the pillow to the other. Both were staring at the door, waiting for the sound of somebody knocking on the wood to reach them. With her breath hitched in her chest, (y/n) had problems breathing, tensing even further as the sound could finally be heard. 

And then her eyes found his frame, a man dressed in a sharp suit, in a thick dark coat and a cap whose shadow hid most of his features. Alfie rose to his feet, hiding her behind his frame as if he was still giving her the chance to turn around and leave, “Tommy, I’d say it’s a pleasure to see you again but we both know that’d be a lie, yeah.”

“What am I doing here, Alfie? I don’t have much time.” Silence began to stretch itself through the room, a silence that was filled by the sound of (y/n) clearing her throat. Alfie was forced to step aside as she rose, forcing all eyes onto her. For a moment nobody spoke, icy eyes wandered over her features, forcing her to straighten her spine and to blink away her tears. She struggled to believe that he was real, he had changed, had grown older and yet he still looked like the boy she had sworn to marry. 

“Tommy,” his name left her like a whisper, a sound that made him take a step back as if his personal hell was awaiting him. He kept staring at her until Alfie pushed himself closer to (y/n), forcing Tommy’s eyes to flicker from her to his enemy. “Do us a favour and give us some time alone, please, Alfie.”

It took Alfie a second to give in, staring at Tommy for a few more seconds before he reluctantly left the room. The door fell shut with a heavy thud, making her jump while it began to dawn on her that she was finally alone with Tommy, just like she had imagined for all these years. 

“It felt like a dream, you know, to hear your name again after all these years where I grieved you, believing you to be dead.” (Y/n)’s voice trembled, shaking with every further word she spoke. Her wide eyes clung to his confused features, watching his expression harden. She took a step closer, halting in her step as he shook his head, forcing her to stand still once again.

“You don’t need to lie to me, (y/n). You left without a word, forcing me to return to an empty home.” A sob left her, rumbling through her louder than intended. Now it was on her to shake her head, to cover her mouth with her shaking hand while bile filled her mouth. It felt like a cruel joke, allowing her to see through the game Ada and Polly had played on both of them. 

“Tommy, they told me you died, they made me pack my bags, made me leave home to start my life all over again in a different city hours away. I didn’t leave on my free will, why should I? I was ready to marry you, to start a family, you have to believe me.” She tried to move again, successfully this time, coming to a halt right in front of him. (Y/n) allowed herself to cup his cheek like she had last done the day he had left to fight in a devastating war. His piercing eyes kept staring at her glassy ones, watching her tears fall.

“Who’s they?” It was a simple question, a question rasped out with pain dripping from the words. Her tongue kissed her teeth, all too aware that this situation was about to spiral into another heartbreak. 

“Ada and Polly.” Nothing but a whisper, words that made anger widen on his handsome features. His gloved hand found hers, gently pushing her hand from his cheek to get some more distance between them, clearly hurting (y/n) with the simple action. 

“It’s good to see you again, (y/n), now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got a busy day ahead. I hope Alfie takes good care of you.” Tommy turned from her, ready to leave the room while she choked on another sob.

“He’s nothing but a brother to me, Tommy. I never loved another. I can’t even bear the thought of being close to somebody who isn’t you.” He halted in his step, letting the words wash over him before wordlessly leaving the room. Leaving (y/n) behind with another cruel sob leaving her.

……

It had been hours since she had seen Tommy, hours she had spent with her cheek pressed to Alfie’s chest, drowning in the tears that didn’t seem to stop rolling. He had clung to her, had whispered comforting words to try and soothe her pain, without any luck. All until the phone call that had reached him, asking him to bring (y/n) to the Garrison at 4pm, not followed by any explanation. 

And so it came that she was leaning against Alfie as they stepped into the empty place, letting her eyes wander through the room. She found herself distracted for a moment, until her name was shouted by Arthur’s familiar voice, forcing her into a tight hug that made her chuckle in delight. 

Her body shook as they were led towards a room in the back, allowing her eyes to meet Tommy’s icy ones. A cigarette was held between his lips, the smoke engulfed him as if his shadows had moved up his body, whispering commands to him. It took Alfie a moment to let go of (y/n), to press a kiss to her hairline, eyes drawn back to Tommy, “If I find her crying again, I won’t hesitate to finally put a bullet between your eyes just like God intended, yeah?” 

It felt like a deja-vu, reminding her of their conversation hours ago after Alfie had left. She didn't dare move as Tommy kept smoking, intensely studying her. He leaned back in his chair before he reached his hand out, wordlessly urging her closer through the now empty room. (Y/n) moved slowly, feeling her heart skipping beats as he pulled her closer, forcing her to stand between his thighs.

“I dreamt of you, back in France. You were the only thing keeping me alive. I even prayed, to you or whoever would fucking bring me back to you. And then you were gone. They said you couldn’t wait any longer, that you couldn’t endure the pain.” He had his eyebrows furrowed, no longer able to look at her. A sigh left (y/n), she leaned back against the table to get a better view of his hard features, feeling how torn he was.

“They told me you died, that there was nothing left for me here. I didn’t get a chance to protest, they packed everything up and then I was suddenly on a train up north.” Her words drew his eyes back to (y/n), looking at the woman he had always loved, even as he had tried to hate her. Tommy tugged on her hand to pull her into his lap as if he still needed to convince himself that she was real, not a trick of his tired mind.

“They will pay for the hurt they’ve caused you.” It was a promise, filled with darkness and hurt, but (y/n) didn’t find it in herself to worry. Not when she was this close to him again, finally. 

“Is it true what Alfie told me? Did you get married?” He swallowed before his hand moved up her thigh, coming to rest on her waist. The silence told her everything she needed to know, leaving her to wonder how that woman had managed to capture his heart while (y/n)’s had been missing half of hers.

“I did, her name was Grace. I loved her, and yet it was no love like ours. Nothing could ever be like that.” A soft smile tugged on her lips, trying to forget about the woman who had once been at his side. Alfie had told her of her, of every detail he had picked up on over the past months, stories (y/n) was desperate to leave behind. 

Whatever it was that urged her on to move, it grew stronger with every passing second, until her lips ghosted over his. Tommy instantly reacted, searching her lips to press a hard kiss against them. He tasted of whisky, of cigarettes, and tea, nothing like the kisses they had last shared as young adults, tasting of a bright future that had been dimmed weeks later. 

The kiss grew more passionate as she began to shift around, wrapping both arms around his neck while her legs rested on either side of his. Their tongues fought for victory as his hands moved up her sides, tracing the body he had longed for in cold and dark nights. She was his warmth, the warmth that had been robbed from him beneath the surface of the earth, hiding away in tunnels that would forever haunt him. 

“Tommy,” she mumbled his name against his lips as both sucked air into their lungs, unable to stop clinging to one another. “Touch me, prove to me that you’re real. Let me feel you, please.”

His grip on her grew tighter, icy eyes watching her for a moment before he kissed her again. His hands found the seam of her dress, pushing the skirt further up her thighs with his hands finding her warm skin. A groan tore out of him as he touched her through the fabric of her undergarments, drawing a soft moan from her parted lips. 

Tommy spoke no warning as he stood up to place her down on the table. They held eye contact, wordlessly communicating while he pulled her undergarments down her legs, hand instantly drawn back to her heat. He touched her with care, gently brushing through her slip to collect drops of arousal. 

(Y/n)’s head rolled back, eyes fluttering close as he began to circle her pulsing bundle. Even though her mind struggled to figure out if she was truly experiencing this, if her lost lover was back to bring her pleasure, she didn’t find it in herself to care, to ask any other question. 

He looked like the devil, towering over her while pushing two fingers into her tightness. Tommy had been the last man she had allowed to touch her, and yet it felt so different to be touched by him, a new sensation she was already addicted to. He moved slowly, curling his fingers against her swollen spot while his thumb kept rubbing her pulsing bundle. 

She choked on his name, calling it out into the evening as if she was trying to summon him. He marvelled at her while he brought her pleasure, reminding her of all those times he had imagined this happening, aching for her while other women warmed his bed. And yet they hadn’t been her, no other woman had ever managed to make him feel this alive, eliciting a love for life deep inside of him. 

“I need you, all of you. Make love to me like you once did, Tommy.” He fumbled with his belt, freeing his hard cock from his trousers before brushing through her slit again. His hand found her throat to pull her in for another kiss the second he sank into her, feeling her walls flutter around him. 

It felt as if the world was ending, as if this was the last thing they could experience before their lives would end. And yet, (y/n) could only pray that death would be this beautiful, this comforting, finding herself in the arms of her lover. 

Tommy moved with care, fucking her softly for a few thrusts before he picked her up again to sink back down on the chair. He allowed her to take what she was aching for, fucking herself on his cock while his strong hands supported her. Every now and then his hips began to jerk, forcing his cock deeper into her tightness. 

“Heavens, I missed you, Tommy. I missed you so much.” Her eyes were too tired to cry again, and yet she felt as if she was whimpering for him, for the time lost, and the dreams that had been buried six feet under. His hand kept a possessive hold of her throat, keeping (y/n) close to whisper to her. 

“You’re mine, (y/n), no lost time will ever change that.” The second his thumb found her bundle again she was done for, ready to let go with his name bleeding from her tongue. He held onto her as she came, knowing that he wouldn’t last much longer himself. 

It hadn’t been long since he had last found comfort with another woman around, and yet it hadn’t nearly felt this good, this intense, this right. Tommy forced his eyes to stay open, to watch her fall apart as he followed moments later, imprinting himself on her walls. 

For a minute or two neither of them spoke, letting go of heavy breaths while their bodies stayed connected. Gently, he helped her off his lap, only to pull her back in the second he’d redressed. Neither of them could let go, scared that the other would leave their side otherwise. 

“What will happen now, Tommy?” She was scared to speak the question, didn’t want to be pushed away by the one man she’d never be able to stop loving. His hand pulled her back against his chest, chin placed on top of her head while alighting a cigarette. 

“Now you’ll find a new home here, with me. Our suffering ends now.”

[anadiasmount]

https://www.tumblr.com/anadiasmount/766146994146295808/could-you-write-something-about-jude-realising

I loved the only jude pov idea so could you write something about jude telling his (and/or your) parents that he wants to marry you and he’s been thinking about it for a while and that he’s convinced you’re the love of his life and he will do anything he can to prove it to you every single day

this might be a little rough but hubby jude has my heart… 😕😕

“here’s your morning juice and vitamins, don’t forget we have a dinner tonight,” you half understood jude as he spoke quickly, he was late for training like usual, but he never left without saying goodbye. whether you were awake or not, a kiss on your cheek and he was gone for the day. though today seemed different, felt different but you brushed it off.

jude was running late to his appointment, he had no training today but you didn’t have to know that. he went to a small yet very popular jewelry store in downtown madrid, where he had picked out your dream engagement ring. he needed your friends help and they were more than willing to make that trip and helping out a nervous jude.

the ring was set to pick up, and he would ask for your parents blessing tonight when you visited them. you were oblivious, they were oblivious. only your friends and him knew about this. yet all he wanted was the scream that he was closer to marrying you. he had no doubt that you’d say yes. jude knew you wanted to get married, with him. you had drunkenly confessed after a night out and reminded him weeks later when you said your first “i love you’s”.

so jude was ready. you were ready.

you had graduated and landed your dream job. he considered you as his wife already. you knew him from the back of your hand but with jude, he wouldn’t fail to answer any questions related to you. whether it was from your favorite foods, to a movie, to a makeup product, to a favorite memory, he knew all of you. inside and out.

your friends had gasped and covered their mouth, eyes tearing up when jude showed them the ring. they all were in awe, jude especially since it was getting real for him. he couldn’t deny that feeling in his chest, getting choked up with his own emotions, knowing you were his forever home. the only home he wanted to be in, in this life and the other. “it’s absolutely gorgeous jude!” one of you friends reclaimed.

“our y/n is going to love it!” replied your other friend to while jude let out a breath of fresh air. “when do you plan to pop the question?” they asked, “after international break, we have a couple days together and i want to take her on a small getaway. but i want to get her parents blessings first, which we’re doing today because we’re going over,” jude nodded, hearing them let out a small squeal of excitement.

“look mom…” jude whispered, his dad sitting down next to her as jude pulled out the red velvet box from his back pocket. “is this what i think it is?” she gushed, opening the box gently, her hand resting against her chest as she admired the ring. “having this around me is so tempting you don’t understand. all i want is to ask her to marry me,” jude smiled, immediately thinking of you.

“i don’t even have to ask if you’re sure, your eyes and smile say it all,” his dad said making jude look at them. “we’re happy for you both. there’s no doubt in my mind that the two of you are made for each other. while marriage can be hard, it’s also the most beautiful thing that’s ever been created. she’s your soulmate, protect that forever,” his dad continued, standing up to give jude a hug. where he couldn’t contain his emotions.

“thank you guys for everything…”

on the way back, jude had picked up a few groceries and snacks for you. along with his bouquet of flowers since it was time to get a refresh. making sure to stock up on waters and different beverages as well.

after a while jude had returned back to your house, immediately looking to see where you were. “y/n? darling?” he asked, “in here! i’m in the study!” you yelled, meeting jude by the doorway where he engulfed you into his arms. “god i missed you so so much,” he murmured, smelling the sweet scent of your hair. you tippy toed and pressed a small kiss on his lips.

jude laughed at the small state you were in, hair in rollers, and he was guessing setting powder beneath your eyes and nose. “i’m almost done getting ready, i just had to quickly take a call because they needed me to give authorization for something. do you know what you’ll wear?” you say as you walked into the kitchen and drank water.

“yes i do…” jude couldn’t stop staring at you, that look he gave you full of love and respect. “i know i look funny but it’s just the powder,” you laughed, “stop! why are you looking at me like that!” you exclaimed walking over to where he sat. “because i love you, but you do look a little goofy with this on,” he joked feeling the playful slap on his shoulder. “go get ready! now before we catch traffic!” you said seriously while jude just nodded.

while jude anticipated to be nervous, he wasn’t. the sense of comfort yet worth filling his head. this was a huge deal, asking your parents for their blessing. but jude could radiate the answer from a mile away. the love you had together was so traditional and old school, the two of you loved that. it didn’t exist much these days, but the love you and jude had made everyone around you feel alive and happy.

as the night filled with laughs and talks of the past, you had taken over and helped your sister in law with the babies. jude knew this was his chance so he booked it, watching as you disappeared and went upstairs. “could i talk to you both?” he whispered seeing how their faces pulled into confusion but followed him either way. the three of them sat in the living room, jude pulling the ring back out from his back pocket.

“i’ve never in my life been so tempted to risk it all for a person. y/n is my person. my happiness. my home. my all in this world. i never knew if i’d find that. but with y/n it was a quick and undeniable feeling. i feel like i’ve known her my whole life. she knows me more than i know myself, and i knew she’s the one for me since she’s stood and sacrificed for our love…” jude said, your mother letting out a few tears as she looked at the ring.

“it would be an honor if i could have your blessing to marry your daughter. i promise you now i will take care of her forever. not just for marriage, but it’s because im giving you my word. because i love her with my entire heart…” jude asked shakily, knowing how much this meant to you and him. knowing this is just a step closer to finally having your happy ever after.

“you have my blessing jude,” your dad said, standing up and hugging him deeply, knowing there’s no hesitation because jude has never given them the reason. that he knows jude isn’t lying and will stick to his word. “yes you can marry my little girl,” your mother gushed going to jude and hugging him tighter, the two men laughing. “you did an amazing selection with the ring… she will love it,” she said.

“i’m willing to prove whatever it takes to show her how much i love her…” jude sealed. “what are you all doing without me,” you came back with a huge smile, joining your parents and boyfriend.

“i want in on whatever it is…”

[peachdues]

I understand that this might sound really silly but I am SO invested in the world building in Compass. It is SO well done and had left me with so many questions, not because it's incomplete or vague in any way but because it's genuinely peaked my curiosity. Is there a hierarchy amongst the Hashira? Is Sanemi somehow less respected then, say, Tengan, since he seems to have more privileges and a nicer hideout? Is it because Sanemi does more "dirty" or less profitable work? What jobs do the other Hashira control? Will we see more of Genya in the story? Feel free to ignore this, but I love your writing and this fic even though I'm not even a huge Sanemi fan.

NO NO NO NOT SILLY AT ALL?? DO YOU UNDERSTAND THAT THIS KIND KF ASK IS EVERY AUTHOR’S DREAAAAM AHHH

Ok ok, I’m calm. I’m so calm. THANK YOU SO MUCH??!?😭😭😭 I’m do questions first.

1. Is there a hierarchy among the hashira?

Not in any significant way except for when they’re all called together for a meeting, Uzui tends to lead — but I also think that has more to do with personality. Orders for jobs tend to come from the “higher ups” (*cough* Ubayashiki family). Other than that, they each help out on jobs for the others if the opportunity arises. Sanemi might be a little unique in that his job tends to be enforcement of the other Hashira’s jobs, which is why you see him doing a lot on behalf of the others. Future chapters will show him working jobs with other Hashira, though — namely, Iguro.

2. Is Sanemi less respected than the others because of his title?

Nah, Sanemi plays an important role for them, in that he’s able to hunt down/collect what the others can’t. Him living in a shit hole has less to do with his title and more to do with his personality. Uzui might have more properties, but they *all* live in the Silo, except for Rengoku. Part of that is convenience, since most of their activities run out of that end of the City/that’s where base is. For Sanemi, too, he doesn’t really need anything nicer — it’s just him, after all, and he puts most of his money into Genya’s (and now Reader’s) savings.

I could add in that Sanemi also doesn’t think he’s allowed to have better than what he’s got. That’s an ongoing theme with him, and it bleeds into his living arrangements, too.

3. What other jobs do the Hashira control?

So far, we’ve seen that Kanae ran a very profitable drug operation (RIP the Kochos) that’s now up in the air since her murder. Uzui runs nightclubs that are largely for sex work purposes. Iguro deals with stolen goods (like, high priced items), and Rengoku does white collar stuff. More details will come next chapter, as the Hashira will come together for a meeting. Note that one canonical Hashira is not a Hashira in the Corps in this story — in fact, they’re not a Corps member at all, but a civilian.

4. More genya??

lol, yes, Genya will come back!! He has a much bigger role to play later on/near the end of the story.

Okay, now I can say alsmsosmskskasm thank you so, so much. Not only did your ask make me feel all giggly and happy, but it truly made my day. Being asked about these kind of details is seriously every author’s dream — there’s so much I have that went into making the world/setting for Compass that might not ever make it onto the page, so to have someone ask about the dynamics and the background of the story just makes my heart sing. Thank you so fucking much.

[soft-sunbird]

Hey, Tumblr community. I'd like to bring Samer, Shorouq, Qusai, Eileen, and Hisham into the spotlight here. I want you to understand that these five beautiful souls should be as important to you as if you grew up next door to them and had known them all your life.

But because you didn't, let's return the favour to our newest influx of users. Let's not forget that asks go both ways. Let's not forget that this site used to thrive on ask games and people had been wistfully sighing about the fact that nobody sends asks any more right up until the great Palestinian arrival on Tumblr. These people have done an amazing job of adapting to an unfamiliar platform, they go out of their comfort zones every day to make an effort to connect with us, and I want to believe that the best parts of humanity are still alive in this corner of the internet.

I've been on this website for about as long as I've been dating my partner - over ten years. How do we keep things fresh and interesting between us after ten years? We never stop sharing things we think the other person would like. We make a conscious effort to think up silly questions to ask each other. And we listen openly when things are rough.

I definitely think that's the approach we should be taking here, and I am encouraging you SO HARD to reach back out to the people reaching out to you. Please. These people are genuine and lovely and you have the power to make a real difference in their lives.

Honestly, I’m not asking for much. What would mean the world 🌎 to me and my family right now is simply a message from you—a kind question about how my family is doing or how my children are holding up. This small gesture of care is enough to remind us that we’re not forgotten.

Each of you, whether a well-known blogger or just starting out, has the power to make a meaningful difference. A simple question, a brief message, or even an acknowledgment of our struggles can have a great impact. Your kindness would not only lift my spirits but also bring warmth to my family, reminding us that we’re in your thoughts.

🌹Thank you 🙏 for being here, and please know that your concern, however small, has a profound effect on our lives. 🌹

For anyone interested in following our story, you can find it through the following links

My original story

My donation campaign link.

🍉🌹🇵🇸🍉🌹🇵🇸🍉🌹🇵🇸🍉🌹🇵🇸🍉🌹🇵🇸🍉🇵🇸

@dlxxv-vetted-donations @a-shade-of-blue @aces-and-angels @heritageposts @heritage-post age @riding-with-the-wild-hunt @sar-soor @i-am-aprl @feluka @myceliacrochet @mangocheesecakes @sayruq @intersectionalpraxis @acepumpkinpatrick @turtletoria @pcktknife @determinate-negation @appsa @aria-ashryver @akajustmerry @flower-tea-fairies @punkitt-is-here

[wandixx]

Ok it closes out on me when I tried typing it the first time-

Anyway, I'm a sucker for shock value ones, just so funny to me, so how about M'gann being nervous about introducing bf danny and it happens at an inconvenient time! Could go ghost royalty, ancient of space or anything, hell ghost as dragons would be pretty funny, up to you though!

I'm not sure if I did a good job at this, but I didn't want you to wait too long and real life is keepimg me busier than expected, so for now, it's here. I may continue it one day (I also have different version of fill for this prompt, because neither idea felt right, so if you'd like to see I too, just let me know whatever way is most convenient to you)

This wasn't supposed to happen like that. M'gann didn't have a super detailed plan on how it was supposed to happen, but even her vague (thought and rethought every night) ideas were anything but this. It was supposed to be a calm, low-stakes situation. Maybe even make it look like an accidental meeting, Team in civies hanging out around Happy Harbour, bumping into Danny and then she'd just introduced him, perhaps adding ‘btw, he is my boyfriend’ almost like an afterthought. This seemed like the best possible scenario.

This was also, as expected with the way hero life is, the exact opposite of what actually happened.

Of course, it didn’t start with anything heralding the absolute disaster this day had to become. Kinda accidentally the Team stumbled upon something between a cave and a basement, and in it a group of people, who decided to perform a summoning of a genie so they could… wish for stuff. They didn’t even look like cultists or villains of any sort, just a group of random adults from seemingly very different backgrounds. M’gann had a really hard time understanding what actually brought them together other than their wishes.

Which was actually pretty useful when it came to fighting them, because nobody really cared about their fellow summoner, just trying to save their own butt. She kinda wished more of their opponents were so incompetent.

Though, she spoke too soon because in the excitement of the fight, somehow all of them didn’t realize that one or two of the summoners… actually managed to finish a summoning. It was honestly a little bit embarrassing.

But, it was too late to dwell on all that, as right above the summoning circle appeared a circle in a worryingly familiar shade of green.

Of course, this one time she didn’t have any equipment from Danny, had to be when the Team encountered a ghost.

Ghost in question was a beautiful woman, with long hair covering one of her eyes, in a blue outfit that was related to one of Earth cultures, but M’gann didn’t know which, and a bunch of bracelets on her wrists. Martian could make a hazard guess on who it was, based on the stories Danny told her.

“We don’t have time for explanations, I think I know who this is, if I’m right for the love of everything that’s dear to you, don’t say the word ‘wish’ out loud” she demanded over the Mindlink.

Before she finished, Artemis took silver tape from somewhere and slapped a piece of it over Wally’s mouth. M’gann understood the sentiment but still… it was a little bit too nuclear option.

Desiree (if it was her) didn’t attack anyone, looking a bit confused, giving Team a moment of reprieve to plan and for Kid Flash to make sure none of the summoners could make whatever wish they wanted either. Also with the use of silver tape. Djinn’s were always tricky.

M'gann used this moment of everyone getting their bearings to curse herself for not bringing any ghost weapons this time. Any other mission, Team or not, she had something on her but today? Today she had nothing.

Excluding the summoning engraved into clips holding her cape but it was kinda last resort. It wouldn't annihilate everything in one mile radius or something but she didn't want to drag Danny there if he was during a test, other ghost fight or something. She knew better than anyone that he didn’t need more distractions.

Conner crashed into a wall right next to her. Artemis seemed to lose her cool when none of her arrows seemed to reach the ghost while Robin was trying to make some counter plans with Kaldur. They couldn't do a thing to Desiree and it was a matter of seconds before she stopped entertaining them and went to the city. It… would end badly, most likely. Danny would prefer to get involved before it got that far. Yeah…

She really wished she didn’t have to call.

“I have an idea, cover for me for a minute or two”

“Bold of you to assume we can stop her from anything”

“I believe in you Wally. Just distract her”

“My water attacks seem to be effective weapon against her”

“That’s aster! What do you plan to do, M'gann?”

“Summon another ghost”

She expertly ignored yelling that followed, taking the golden clip off of her cape. She held fabric in place with absentminded use of telekinesis, while she focused on an engraved pattern. Danny's summoning circle wasn't actually too complicated or intricate but she needed to do it just right. And frankly, she just liked looking at it. Physical proof that her boyfriend would be there if she needed it. Drawn representation of who he is, the deepest and truest parts of his soul written in the language that only Universe itself could fully understand.

And it was beautiful. Absolutely incredible. Much better than Desiree's circle, thank you very much.

M’gann dropped to her knees and grabbed leftover chalk from previous summoning and crouched to quickly draw Danny's seal. She had a lot of practice from all the times she doodled it on a whim just to get something of him with her when she missed him the most. She rarely actually summoned him, again, it was difficult to align their schedules, but she was very familiar with the first step.

And it was really easy from there.

She placed the clip in the middle of the circle, shapeshifted one of her nails to get a bit of blood on the chalk and leaned back.

After a careful, deep breath, she started an incantation, putting as much power in her voice as she could.

“I call upon you guard of Amity Park, I call upon you dearest child of the Ice, I call upon you one favored by the Time, I call upon you vanquisher of the Fear, I call upon you subduer of the King, I call upon you defender and the guide, I call upon Phantom, both worlds beloved child”

Circle erupted in green light, putting a momentary pause to the fight. M’gann was still blinking spots away when a figure flung itself out of the summoning circle, right at the Desiree.

“What the fuck?!”

Only after the first punch was thrown did Danny turn back to her, with his usual, somehow both gallant and bashful smile, that without fault made her knees get a little weaker. She smiled back.

“Hello Starlight” he greeted, sounding almost casual.

“Starlight?”

“Hi Angel. Nice of you to drop by” she answered in the same manner. Wally tried to yell from behind the duck tape.

“Angel?! M'gann, who is he? Who is she?!”

“I will always come if you call” he said without any doubt, suddenly as serious as if he was sharing information that could break or make the world.

It certainly worked like that to her world. She actually melted a little on the inside.

“I know”

“Actually, that's kinda cute. I still have no idea who this is, but you go girl”

“I feel like it's not the right time Artemis”

“Not to interrupt… whatever this is, but the other ghost is escaping” Robin cut in “Also, if you want to make out afterwards, please find the room, Batman and Catwoman are traumatizing enough“

Few people snorted, while Danny blushed green. He darted back at Desiree, clearly to escape the embarrassment. M’gann stood up, totally at ease now, that he was there to take care of it.

“Will you need a hand? I don't have any tech but we have a trick or two up our sleeves!” she asked, projecting her voice so it carried through the cavernous basement without yelling.

“I'm good for now but thanks for asking!”

“M’gann, can you give us anything substantial? Who is this? How do you know him?”

“One question at the time and let's wait until he finishes, okay?“

She cut off Mindlink before anyone agreed or protested.

“Miss Martian!”

“Soup time!”

With a blast of light, Desiree got sucked in and Danny landed in front of them with a proud grin.

“My job here is done”

“It truly is. You're getting faster too”

“And thanks to who is that?”

“You”

Danny sent her both an incredulous and playful glare.

“Of course. I miraculously found a ways to not be a mess and don't crash through every wall on my way and–”

“Well, no but–”

“Let me remind you, you're not alone… also who are you dude? And where did the other lady go?” Wally asked, right after ripping the duct tape off his mouth.

“Oh, well, I'm Phantom, I usually work in Amity Park?” he said a bit unsure, as if calling him a protector was under any question. That just wouldn't do.

“He's a hero from Amity Park”

“Thanks love. It's nice to finally meet you all. M talked a lot about you!”

“Can't say same about you, sorry”

“That's fine. I know M was agonizing over how to introduce me in the best way possible. I'm really happy it's finally over,” he paused for a moment, with his brows furrowed “Did I do good? This first impression thing?”

“You're… far less imposing that I personally expected after hearing Miss Martian summoning you, but–”

“M’gann how could you hide this from us?” Conner blurted out quietly, and oh, he sounded so utterly crushed. Everyone fell silent, the playful atmosphere gone as if it had evaporated.

“I never intentionally hid it. It wasn't significant enough to mention at the start and when it became important I felt like I couldn't just drop it at you during lunch or something. I always planned to tell you, there was just never the right time nor right words. I never wanted to hide it.”

“Even just me?”

“Especially you”

“You still should've…”

“Yeah, I should. I'm sorry”

“How long ago have you met?”

“Half a year ago,” Danny said before she managed to answer “It's all kinda my fault actually. I was really set on not getting mixed up with more hero business than I had to back then. I didn't want you or Justice League finding out about me. And when I agreed, it was already really late. I'm sure she'd told you all from the get go if I let her, I'm sorry”

“Why wouldn't you want us to know about you?”

“It's… Probably not the conversation we should have right here, over gagged wannabe cultists.”

“Valid. Let's call the cops and get going. You two have much to explain”

“And you're sitting eight feet apart until you do!”

Danny leaned in to kiss her, quick and playful, before he jumped back at the demanded distance.

“Well, this still went better than at your side”

“Absolutely”

*******

Also, here is some lil arts for a longish wait, sorry again, I hope this story is yours to your expectations

[farmhandler]

Ahhhh pls do Logan & cable attempting to bond, maybe over Wade??

There was supposed to be more bonding sjhskjhsa it's truly "there was an attempt" here

---

"You smoke?" Logan asked. He didn't know why he did, only that Wade's constant chatter about his latest job with Cable had involved several long monologues about the two of them "getting along".

He and Cable got along just fine.

"No," Cable said. He took the cigar Logan was holding and examined the label. "Expensive habit. Where I'm from, we don't make it a habit."

His tone said, you're all fucking idiots in this timeline.

They didn't not get along.

"Beats drinking myself to sleep," Logan said. "Can't exactly get cancer. But fine, just thought I'd offer. Where's Wade?"

"He told me he was going to find you."

Logan thought about how Wade had told him that exact same thing and shook his head. They were outside the X-Force base of operations, after hours, so he lit up.

"He'll find us when he gets bored of being an asspain," Logan said around his cigar. He pulled out his phone and tapped on it.

where the fuck are you, he texted Wade.

“What have I done to deserve your ire?” Cable said, which was exactly the kind of thing that earned said ire. Fucking prick.

Cable looked at him like he'd heard it. Logan forgot he was one of the telepaths around here that had zero qualms about abusing his powers to get what he wanted.

"You murdered Wade lately?" Logan said evenly. He pulled his cigar away and met Cable's eyes.

“Is that it? I see no point in stating the obvious, but since it seems you forgot, I will. We've both killed Wade. Multiple times.”

"You're awfully fucking comfortable making use of his inability to die." He took another puff and shifted to face Cable. "I read the mission reports shared by the X-Men."

"We make tactical, strategy-based decisions." Cable paused; probably reading Logan's fucking mind again. "No one under my command is thrown into unnecessary danger." He breathed out through his nose. "I don't need to explain myself to you. This is pointless."

"Wade can take it," Logan said. "Doesn't mean he should."

"What can I take?" Wade asked, popping up from seemingly nowhere. His mask was rolled up, and when he walked over, he laid an exaggerated, smeary kiss across Logan's cheek.

Then, probably because he wanted to piss Logan off, he tried to do the same to Cable. Logan was sure Cable would do their usual routine where he shoved him away, but he just sat there while Wade kissed his cheek.

Logan took a very, very long puff of his cigar while it happened.

"Well now it feels like cheating," Wade said, frowning. "You were supposed to stop me."

"I don't see why I should, considering that evidently I don't make any attempts to stop you from doing what you want, whenever you want."

"Of fucking course," Logan muttered.

"This no longer feels like it's about me," Wade said. "Are you two talking about the mission from the other day? I told Cable I could handle it, and I did. Everyone in the building fucking died!"

"Including you," Cable said. He sounded pissed. "I gave you very clear instructions. Orders."

"Which you knew I wouldn't follow," Wade said blithely. "We have an understanding. You try to do things by your annoying little book and I ignore you. It works every time."

Meeting Cable's eyes, Logan felt maybe a little chastened hearing that. Domino walked out calling Wade's name, and Wade skipped towards her.

"Be right back!" he called. "Don't fight over me until I am!"

"I don’t need to read your thoughts to hear how often you assume the worst of me,” Cable said to Logan.

"You're...yeah, you're fucking right," Logan admitted. "Sorry."

Cable looked at him for a while and then sighed.

"I don't make much of an effort either." He crossed his arms and pulled from his pack, of all things, lip balm. "I don't go out of my way to get Wade hurt. But in many ways, his skills are unmatched."

"I know. And I know you care about him. Same way I care about him," Logan said. He thought back to Wade's kiss on his cheek. He chuckled. "Maybe not the same way."

Cable's lips lifted into the closest thing to a smile Logan had possibly ever seen on him.

[donnerpartyofone]

This is from Adam Bornstein's column in Arnold Schwarzenegger's newsletter, which I feel somewhat silly about reading so faithfully but it is not infrequently interesting. Over the past few years I have been thinking about discipline, how you gain it and lose it, and what it does for you besides achieving a specific outcome. To say that the product of self-control is self-control itself may not sound very enticing, but it's pretty important. I feel like I've lost a lot of that over the last few chapters of my life, and I suspect that it is harder to gain back at my age, but I need to think about it.

I've been thinking about my entire life history with self-control. When I was a kid, I was masochistically disciplined. As early on as I can remember, I had this impression that life was essentially or even exclusively difficult and the only way to justify your existence and satisfy other people was to continuously demonstrate your ability to endure pain, boredom, frustration, deprivation, disappointment, and embarrassment, every hour of every day, forever. (Not that I always endured these things without having a fucking meltdown, but they were the entire content of my life it seemed, so I WAS enduring them) It wasn't all bad, I guess; I got good grades and, like, I remember enjoying karate classes, which are heavily predicated on repetition and endurance and delayed gratification. I had a weird fixation on the army; I didn't fantasize about war or patriotism or whatever, it was this whole thing about how I would be amazing at boot camp and getting yelled at. I also had some sort of bizarre idea about prison, like I would be the best at being a prisoner. This is because I'm a natural-born pervert.

Sometime in my 20s, I started to lose my discipline. I think there were a lot of reasons. A big reason is probably that I didn't have anything to be disciplined FOR. I'd been told my whole life that I was smart and I could be anything I wanted when I grew up, or whatever, so I thought that eventually it would start to become clear what I should do with my life, but it never did. The few things I thought would make a good career for me were things I had no practical understanding of, no idea what it took to make them into a job, so I just didn't do them. This surely means I was never going to be good at them anyway; I think when you're truly interested in something you become compelled by an affectionate curiosity about what you need to learn and do in order to participate in that thing. I may also be too intellectually deficient to have figured out the right questions about my interests, but anyway, all that youthful discipline I had built up to get good grades and satisfy adults didn't really have a purpose when I became an adult myself, so my grip on myself started to slip.

My early adult life was pretty bad. Just the basics of finding jobs and places to live eluded me; I never had the knowledge or the paperwork or the experience or the self-confidence to do the adult things, and I think this was pretty painfully obvious to other adults who were in a position to give me opportunities. I had a sense of being really stunted and way behind where I should be in my personal development, at my age, but I didn't know what to do about it. I did try; there's a perception about me that I just give up and don't try, so I often feel like no one is willing to recognize how often I try and fail, and I'm struggling to let go of my resentment about that. Anyway I continued my early childhood trend of having relationships with pushy, manipulative, abusive people who fed back to me the worst truths about myself, so they seemed very "honest" to me, a quality I admired. I spent most of my time just feeling bad and/or trying to survive social situations. It bothers me now when I think about all the years that I could have spent reading really great books that I still haven't read, trying to write and draw more, watching the movies that I'm still struggling to catch up on, seeing more art. Being in pain is a full-time job, it is incredibly time-consuming, and you will lose a lot more time if, in addition to being in pain, you are spending your evenings not reading Nabokov but watching The Jersey Shore and Mad Men and various other shows about abusive cheaters with your abusive cheating boyfriend who is shouting at the screen about how the girls force the guys to cheat, and who might start screaming at you and keeping you awake for days and chasing you into the closet if you betray the slightest hint of discomfort. All of that is extremely time-consuming.

When life got better, I think I had kind of a revenge reaction against discipline. Like in the early part of my life I had no money, and by the time I had some money I had no understanding of how it worked and no respect for it because I always had this powerful sense that everything is turning into ash before your eyes anyway and nothing is yours so who really cares. So if I got money, I'd just fucking spend it. Being so intensely disciplined as a kid had gotten me nowhere, as far as I could tell, so fuck it, I'm eating fucking candy bars, I'm having another suicidal bodega hoagie for dinner, why the fuck shouldn't I. I will sleep all goddamn day if I want, for days on end, I have a lot of self-indulgence to catch up on!

I'm not completely without discipline as a full-blown adult, I still have plenty of guilt and obligation and fear motivating me to go to the doctor and shit like that. I wish I were more motivated by optimism and a sense of building something, but I must say that doesn't often seem to work. The doctor is often frustrating and ambiguous. Sometimes I get a simple-seeming treatment for a problem, and it destroys a different part of my body and then I have to be on four new medications, and medications to control their side effects. Sometimes I pick up a new form of exercise and I feel good about myself for making an effort, and then the new routine causes problems I need to pay for treatment to fix. It seems I always have to sacrifice one part of myself for another and it's just a perpetual balancing act of barely-normal or sub-normal functioning. I wish it felt more like self-improvement. I wish I could enjoy feeling responsible without then feeling like I made a huge mistake and basically my whole being is just a lemon that does not warrant this much maintenance and concern.

But anyway.

After XX years I just had so many disappointments and made so many unpleasant discoveries, I started to wonder why people say "At least you tried." Like are we SURE that "trying" is, in and of itself, virtuous? Isn't it sometimes that you should "choose your battles" or something? Isn't giving up at least sometimes the actual correct and rational thing to do, when the ROI is nonexistent? What's with the "trying" all the time, what's with the not so subtle suggestion that there's some superior moral affect of trying?

It took me a long time to figure out that making an effort, at anything, even if it doesn't pay off in the specific expected way, builds you into a more resilient and capable person. I did have some counter-examples that helped me see what was going on, of people who performatively did the absolute bare fucking minimum and expected to be showered with praise and encouragement for it, and it was like this big trap to prove that nobody was giving them the unconditional love that they believed they deserved, and being in that behavioral habit all the time eventually rendered them incapable of actually sitting down and writing the thing or making the art or shooting the shot, or whatever, just for the love of doing those things and the curiosity about what could happen if you try. I saw that happening and I did not want to be like that. It painted a very clear picture of what "character" is, what is meant by "building character". The total refusal to ever make yourself uncomfortable doesn't only have specific in-situ destructive effects, but it also makes you a person who is generally less capable of dealing with life.

I want to get back to where I can make myself do things, not only out of fear and shame and masochism, and also not only to obtain a certain result which may not ever come, but just to rebuild self-control. I know that at my age, after a lot of neglect and nihilism, it's going to be harder to get that back. But it's gotta be worth it. I'm thinking about that thing where Arnold Schwarzenegger took ballet lessons to improve his posing, which by his account made him feel totally ridiculous, and like he knew he wasn't going to become a skilled ballerina or anything--but in the short term it did improve his poses, and in the longer term it made him more capable of doing things that felt embarrassing and hard and that he wasn't necessarily cut out for. That seems like a reasonable goal for me.

[britishassistant]

Twisted Wonderland was so real for having the enemies in the first Halloween special be entitled customers

[thebirdandhersong]

Lol

[lemongogo]

can i ask.how u guys practice ur creativity <3 how u practice ur imagination or like.. how u experiment with ur art, how u come to ideas and how u develop them.<3 pretty please <3

[flufflecat]

Got to stolen century in my relisten and started tearing up at work because of magnus carving the duck. Just me in the back room, crying over the dish sink for normal reasons.