#i don't know if i'm the only one seeing them but i still hate it

[side-by-side-sideblog]

As a butch individual I will not like you, fuck you, talk to you, make friends with you, or entertain you if you hate men, neither will my partner and other butches I know. It is not progressive, man hating isn't queer culture, because men are queer culture. Men are why I am masc, they accepted my masculinity first, lesbians were butch and masculine phobic to me for 8 years till I figured my shit out. I know that isn't the norm, but it isn't rare either.

These people put me back in the closet over and over. They don't support gender or sex being a spectrum, if they do they're showing no signs of it. They think saying men dni will stop guys who harass people but they don't stop because they don't care about consent and a dni doesn't change that. There are plenty of girl bloggers who also don't respect consent and send people gore and threats over minor disagreements. We don't go after them hardly at all in comparison considering we have people who've been doing that since 2016 and earlier that people still reblog and uplift because they're women. Men doing that on here don't get that treatment, because it's rightfully wrong. Most other sites white non queer men do getaway with that more while women don't, the Tumblr user base reversing that isn't progressive, because cis white women here get more slack then anyone else because trans fems, trans mascs, intersex people, and non white people get the "evil" tag over small shit, let alone actual bad things.

We teach in current society that men are incapable of consent, as if it's in their nature. This isn't true, but it sure does create a lot of guys who lack boundaries. That doesn’t mean Man = Bad it means society saying Man = Wild Beast is bad. A man is just whoever identifies as one, and identifying as a man has nothing to do with lack of consent, or toxic masculinity. I sometimes wonder if I identify as butch in a man way, idk, and I don't care, I am who I am, and women are who I spend time with in a queer way. My closeness to masculinity isn't traitor behavior. Femininity isn't Divinity, I do not worship women. Masculinity isn't an Ignominity, I do not criminalize men. Masculinity is also not Divinity, and Femininity isn't an Ignominity. Both can be fallible at times when the conditions are right, but they are neutral markers.

To make man = good we do that by just changing ourselves and our ideas of masculinity being bad, then we teach it to everyone else, including kids, friends, partners, and parents. When people stop the "boys will be boys" then more men will be taught consent.

I have an actual irrational hatred for a character that makes me burst into anger and hour long rants (not joking) because I see him as the epitome of toxic masculinity. Seeing him in a profile picture can ruin my day, but I do not put him in a dni list because I am not going to blame fans of him for my distaste in how the media itself supports his bad actions as good. Just like if I get harassed by men who lack consent, I will not blame all men and put men dni.

Saying "I block ＿" is better anyway.

Plus, how can you know someone's a woman? Not everyone has pronouns listed, gender listed, or just a big neon sign saying "I'm a woman." you will have no idea if people are respecting your frankly outrageous ask of who can follow or reblog your posts.

Men on this site who respect women and reblog posts do exist, and there are a lot of them. Also trans eggs who are on this site are not going to figure themselves out through media like mlp, she-ra, and whatever you post by saying men dni. My trans sister cracked her egg six months ago, so for her blog she would have steered clear of men dni disclaimers and probably blocked them out of respect. Now how does she undo that, go through her entire block list? That would be crazy work for people who wouldn't have respected her pre transition (which they didn't, not even other trans girls or queer gurls in highschool did, only now would they support her. That's what man hating does to people.)

There is no simple solution to keeping people away, oh wait... It's called blocking.

tldr; Having a dni for an entire demographic of people just for the flaws of a few inside doesn't work. It never will. People who don't care about consent will breach it to hurt you.

if you have "cishet men dni" in your bio i, a trans man, will not touch you with a 10 foot pole. i should not be forced to out myself as a trans man just to interact with you. on top of that, cishet men are not inherently evil. stop trying to reinvent bioessentialism with your "girl good, boy bad!" mentality.

[thekitsunesiren]

Danny, talking to Batman as Phantom: Trust me, I'm the least of your worries when it comes to my fraid in Gotham.

Bruce, narrowing his eyes while trying to figure out the threat: How so?

Danny: My sister is a huge fan of Har-sorry-Dr. Quinn's works and is inspired to go down a path as her as a psychologist. She's also one bad thing away from happening from also following down her path as a mad doctor.

Danny: My parents believe that you, your sidekicks, and your rogue gallery are all ghosts of some kind and want to capture you for experiments or tear you apart. And trust me, it is not fun.

Bruce, now worried: Wait-

Danny, still going: One of my friends is obsessed with plants and justice for the ecosystem. And when she got possesed by Undergrowth, she gained some powers to back it up. She also looks up to Poison Ivy and would definitely join her at the drop of the hat if she was asked. That, and Gotham is pretty much heaven on Earth for her. It had goth in the name!

Danny: My other friend is obsessed with technology and Oracle. He compliments your passwords and firewalls frequently. Calls them an exercise to make sure he hasn't lost his touch.

Bruce: Hang on-

Danny: But don't get me started on Wayne Industries. If he was here, he would've broken in and stolen all the tech for himself.

Danny: Dani might not stay long, but even if she did, she will cause trouble. Whether it's a few fights or a bit of graffiti, she will do something. Especially if you tell her not to.

Danny: And Dan? Well, I know how that will go, and it won't be a good thing if he's messed with.

Bruce:.....

Danny:.....

Bruce: And....and you?

Danny: Oh, I don't really care for Gotham. The skies are full of smog that you can't see the stars at night, and I hate clowns. The only reason I'm here is because Gotham University has all the classes I wanna take.

Bruce:.....I see.

[tiredofthehumanlife]

Is he mine? Fucking obviously.

also btw I color code my titles I don't pick them like this for the aesthetics of it

Barbie dolls: Touya Todoroki x gn! reader

Word: 6.5k

Summary: Touya almost died on national television and disappears from from the public's eyes with no way to contact him you decide to keep your pregnancy a secret from him

Warning: You get pregnant! idc of its m!preg or abo or magic or just bareback fucking that got you there I'm just telling you you got pregnant, you keep the baby btw, your son is named Kaito (which according to name berry means sea so there), your son refers to you by Ren and Rena which is a gender neutral term for parent it's like mom and dad essentially, you fuck dabi at one point it's not smut it's just mentioned, Touya goes to rehab and so if he's ooc then it's rehabs fault not mine, I am kidding but he is definitely not exactly dabi core dykwim, you grieve Touya even tho technically he's alive it'll make sense when you read it but you cry a couple times just fyi, idk man, mentioned once that you wanted children before w Touya, 'crotch goblin' used I j feel like that's some shit dabi would say but I digress, Elmo reference tell me if you find it, possible allusions to Kaito being autistic but like boo fucking hoo idk, mention of blunts, SIDs mentioned once, also mentioned that you may or may not have anxiety especially over your son, yeah okay lmk if you any blue words I didn't do that on purpose

Before the war, you knew Dabi. You knew Touya, as well. When he was watching over you from the shadows during the day, he was Dabi. When he was buried in your arms hiding under your sheets, he was Touya. You kept him close to you, there wasn’t another way you’d like to live. You hated to say it but you needed his eyes and hands on you. You didn’t care what he did during the day or even at night as long as he wandered back to you through your door. You didn’t care if you both sat on the couch and stared at the TV or if you ripped his clothes off with greedy hands, as long as you could feel the abnormal heat of his body on yours. Maybe that made you morally questionable, you didn’t care. You knew who you were and you knew who he was. You knew your lungs would collapse if you couldn’t see those blue eyes again. 

After the war that all changed. Watching your lover almost kill himself on live television made you feel sick to your stomach. You had to leave the building entirely, only to find it broadcasted all over the screens of passersby’s phones, billboards, and the small television behind the counter of every convenience store. You hid under your sheets, hoping when you woke up they would smell like him because he was lying next to you. 

You heard of his whereabouts through coworkers' gossip, news articles, and murmurs from the public. None of whom knew you had kissed him goodbye the morning before, having no idea what was to come. You read every article you saw. You eavesdropped on every conversation. You bought every magazine that even slightly mentioned the Todoroki family. You knew the only way you’d know if he was okay was through the third-person retelling by a reporter. 

He was in severe recovery. He was in one piece, technically. His father was paying for his bills. He was likely to be alright. 

Really that’s all you needed, yet somehow it still wasn’t enough. You needed to see him and hold him. You wondered if he was eating solids or if he was on a tube. You wondered if he needed you to add another row of staples. You hated when he asked that of you, you couldn’t turn him down when he looked up at you with his pleading eyes. It made you feel sick to your stomach but you were the only one, besides himself, he trusted to do it. What you would give up now to groan and complain about having to replace his staples. 

Slowly as time pulled along, Touya made the news less and less. You took fewer magazines from their rack, his face didn’t make it to the television, and you felt his image slipping away from you. 

Your sheet smelled more like you than they did him. His clothes had been through the wash multiple times now. You kept tossing them into the dirty hamper straight from the dryer because you couldn’t bear to throw them away or hide them in a closet. Your stack of newspapers and magazines stayed stacked at the corner of your desk. You cried when you had to sweep up the dirt from his boots by the front door. Then you cried for crying over that.

You felt pathetic the way you started to hate him for all this. You wanted to slap him and jab your finger in his face. You wanted to call him a selfish bastard.  You cried in your kitchen when you realized you accidentally bought his favorite foods as second nature. You couldn’t wrap your head around the fact that he had just slipped from your life like that. 

He was alive, yes but alive in the same way a relative across the world was. You knew they were out there but it’d be a cold day in hell before they were in your living room. 

You slowly pieced yourself back together. His clothes were folded and put away on the shelf of your closet. You stopped looking at them when you started to get ready for the day as time went on. You stopped buying his food. You threw out most of the newspapers, only keeping the pages that really mattered. You folded them all up and shoved them into a drawer in your desk. You stop seeing him everywhere in your home. You stopped seeing him in your mind. 

Just as you were getting back on your feet, the world played a sick trick on you. You found out you were pregnant. After some thinking and a lot of it, you made your decision. You were keeping it. Yes sure it came out of nowhere. Yes sure your baby would be raised in a single-parent household. You always wanted this. You thought of asking Touya about it sometimes but you always chickened out. Now you wouldn’t be doing it with Touya, but you could have the life you wanted. A child. You were ready, you felt it in your bones. 

You had the baby. For months before the due date, you had scoured for name ideas. You wrote down names you heard over conversations in cafes. You read every article. You considered naming your baby after Touya. You scratched that idea after realizing you’d like to have his consent for that. You thought of him on your couch over seven months ago. He would’ve said ‘Hell no. Don’t name one of those crotch goblins after me.’ You bought books on the very subject. You slapped post-it notes to your fridge when you found one you liked. Yet all that came crashing down when you finally had your baby in your arms. 

You were fucking worn out. Your hands felt like they were going to cramp from all the squeezing you did to the handrails and your poor nurse. Your hair was sticking to your face. You felt like you stinked. Your lungs felt heavy and your ribs felt tight. With your little ‘crotch goblin’ in your arms you felt a smile grow on your face. 

His face was scrunched up in a cry, a tiny fist pressed against his cheek. You gently rubbed the side of his face with your finger, trying to calm him down. His cry settled as he pushed his face toward you. You whispered a hello. You were fully encapsulated by him, your son, you paid no attention to the doctor still between your legs. Your baby let out a coo as he opened his eyes, staring up at you.

You knew babies could really see at this age, he was probably just looking in the direction of your voice. Whether or not he could see you had no effect on the color of his eyes. You knew them. They were the same ones who would stare at you from across your room as you got ready for bed. The same ones that would plead you for new staples. The same ones that sat across from you during dinner. The same ones that reminded you of the cold and freezing sea. 

“Kaito.” You muttered, earning a coo from him. You nodded. “Yeah? Do you like that name?” he huffed and pushed his nose towards your arm. You hummed. “Kaito it is, then.” 

A year and a half went by before you ever heard from Touya again. You were doing some cleaning while Kaito was at daycare, hurrying so you could still have time for relaxation before you had to go pick him up.

You loved him dearly but a toddler was a lot to handle. Especially alone. You found a daycare nearby that you trusted, and your mental health picked up drastically. A few hours of silence on the weekends and time to work from home without a toddler trying to lick a socket was all that you seemed to need to feel whole. As you were throwing his toys back into the large basket on the other side of the living room, you heard a knock. You paused before throwing the toy truck. You moved to the front door, peeking through the peep hole. 

A woman with white hair and streaks of red, glasses, and a blue sweater was waiting at your door. You pulled away from the door, unlocking it and swinging it open. She smiled at you once she saw you. 

“Hi, can I help you?” You asked, smiling but feeling terribly awkward about the whole thing. She nodded. 

“Hi, I’m Fuyumi. My brother, Touya, was finally released from his mess of operations and hospitals. And he-“ Your smile fell when you finally registered the name. Yes, you heard it but you just didn’t think you’d ever hear that name again. It had just floated over your head. You realize this was his sister standing in front of you. You closed the door so you were squeezed between it and the frame, smiling like it was a perfectly normal thing to do. You couldn’t let her see the tiny rain boots, light-up sneakers, and brightly colored toys on your floor. Fuyumi glanced at you over the frame of her glasses, a slightly confused look passing over her face before she schooled it. She pulled her bag from her shoulder, rummaging her hand through it. 

“-is finally in rehab. They’re letting him have pencils now after strings being pulled by our father. Anyway, he-um- gave me these letters. He told me I needed to find you. He said he wouldn’t trust anyone else to give these to you. He considered our mom, but he said-“ 

“Letters?” You repeated, watching her hands as they dug through her bag. She nodded, looking up at you for a brief second. 

“Yes. here they are, finally.” She pulled a stack of three letters from her bag, sticking them out to you. You quickly took them from her, taking the top one. You shoved the other two into your back pocket, tearing open the envelope. You yanked the folded paper from the envelope, unfolding it as fast as possible. You skimmed over the words, trying to move your eyes along the lines faster than you could. 

‘Love -don’t care- I haven’t stopped thinking of you- wish you could come to see me-I need to see home- your bed- do you think of me-I’m not sure how much longer-I can’t add you to my visitation-I miss you.’ You paused, staring at his signature at the bottom. ‘Yours, Touya’ was simple but he didn’t talk of his feelings. Ever.

You were lucky if you found out he liked dinner. You traced over his name with the tip of your finger. You stopped, looking up at the woman in front of you. She was watching you intently like every move was being cataloged. You slowly straightened your shoulders up and pushed the letter back into the envelope like you didn’t care at all. You put the envelope with the other two in your pocket, pretending you weren’t itching to read the other two. You cleared your throat, staring at Fuyumi like a child caught misbehaving. 

“He tried to get your name on the visitation list but they wouldn’t allow it. You had to be family.” Fuyumi said, giving you a soft smile. You nodded, feeling Kaito’s finger painting on the fridge staring holes into the side of your face. 

“Might’ve been for the best. I don’t know I’m really the same person he…liked before.” You said, squeezing the door a little closer to you. Fuyumi shook her head. 

“I’m not sure if that’s true. He’s told our entire family about you. I don’t think the change would keep him from you. However, I don’t really know you, do I?” Fuyumi said, clasping her hands together in front of her. You nodded. It’s a bit weird knowing that she had a nephew a few blocks away and she didn’t even know if you and her brother were really dating at all. Well, you weren’t now but were you ever? You snorted and shrugged. 

“It’s a lot of change.” You said, watching her closely. She hummed, pulling her bag closer too pher. 

“Well I have to go, I have lunch with Shoto soon. Just, think of sending him back a letter. I think it would be good for him to hear from you.” Fuyumi said before walking away from your door and heading for the sidewalk. You watched her go for a moment, feeling stuck in your place. You felt like you were watching Touya walking away again. You sighed before going back inside to finish reading the letters. 

You read the letters over and over again for a month. You read them so much you didn’t need to see the paper to think through his words. You spent your free time staring at the handwriting. You dissected the word choice, punctuation, and tone. You need to know every thought that went through his head. Kaito asked you what they were, in the words and format of a 1 ½-year-old would. You redirected him to his toys and started reading them only at night when you were alone in your room. You sat up in bed most nights, staring at his clothes on the shelf of your closet and picking at your nails. 

You thought through your two options. 

You could break his heart and tell him you couldn’t be with him. You had changed, you were someone new. You couldn’t see a future. You moved on. You had a new partner, one that didn’t have their face on the news. Whatever it would take to get him to move on. He needed someone else, someone not like you. Someone without a kid. 

Your second option was to tell him. Everything. He had already been through what a year or so of medical operations? That’s what Fuyumi said, wasn’t it? Now he was stuck in rehab, they just gave him access to pencils. He was slowly rebuilding himself. He was obviously making progress in the right direction, communicating. That was a big word for Touya. It was over paper but still. He used the word love eight times in those letters. Kaito would have to get adjusted to his family growing up. Change is hard for young children. Change is hard for you. You‘d be forcing this responsibility onto Touya. He’d either support Kaito or not. Either way, he’d have that thought in the back of his mind. Touya was barely standing on his own two feet right now. Most likely figuratively and literally. You couldn’t add a new stressor to his life. He’d throw a table or something and get his pencil rights taken away again. 

You made the mature decision to break his heart instead. You wrote it out carefully and edited it. You made sure it came off the right way. You sealed the envelope and addressed it using the information from the back of his letters. Maybe it wasn’t something that would make you liked by any of the Todoroki family, but it was better for them. You knew it. You told him it was the change. You had changed too much. You listed all the ways you weren’t the person he thought you were anymore. Of course, you jumped over the child-sized elephant in the room. 

You couldn’t bear to think of him crying over your letter. You wondered if his tears were still bloody. Most likely, that didn’t seem like something that was healable. You ignored the ache in your heart, pulling your son closer to you in a tight hug. You couldn’t think of Touya stuck in a sterile rehabilitation center. You couldn’t think of him reading your letter more than once. You couldn’t think of Touya at all, so you focused on Kaito instead. 

You didn’t get a letter back. You didn’t get any of his siblings at your door. Instead, you took Kaito to daycare, worked, took Kaito home, and went to bed ready to repeat. You and Kaito went on little adventures on the weekends, going to the park, play dates, swimming lessons, zoos, and museums. You couldn’t love your son and life more.

He was getting bigger. He was developing his own personality now, such a sweet boy he gave you cavities. Kaito was so bright. He was the smartest kid you knew and you weren’t biased at all in saying that. He was so beautiful and tiny. You wanted to wrap him up in a blanket and keep him in your pocket forever. Some days he would run through the living room like a plane and all you could remember was when he fit in the crook of your arm. He was so curious he asked you about the world every day. Some days he came home from daycare with a fun fact you never knew. 

The day he manifested his quirk was on the weekend in the backyard. You were on the back porch, watching him run back and forth through the oscillating sprinkler. You sipped your tea slowly, easing your anxiety about him slipping.

Kaito flung his hero doll through the water. It thunked in the grass, face first. Kaito yelled that he was coming to save the hero. He pressed his wrists together, jutting his hands out like a stream of power would rush through them. He jumped up, pushing his hands out again and giving himself a sound effect.

As he passed through the water you saw sparks and flames envelop his hands and fly straight to the ground toasting the ground next to his doll to ash. Kaito landed in the burnt grass, freezing and staring down at his hands. You jolted up onto your feet, setting your tea down and rushing towards him. 

Kaito slowly turned around towards you, a scared look on his face. You scooped him up, wrapping him in a hug. Kaito pressed his nose into your shoulder, holding onto your neck tightly. It’s a bit scary to see fire shoot out of your hands as a three-year-old. You stared at the ring of burnt grass, thinking back on the fire around his fingertips.

It wasn’t blue like his father’s, it was red like a campfire. A part of you was happy, he wouldn’t have to struggle to control a quirk as hot as his father’s. Another part of you was sad, you kinda liked the idea of your son growing up to be a hero and showing the world his blue flame was still hero material. Maybe Touya could find it out that way. You didn’t even know if Kaito wanted to be a hero. Maybe he’d do something simple. A third part was scared, fire is easily destructive. Kaito was new to it, he didn’t know how to control it. Your house could be in ashes in days. 

Touya would’ve been worried if he had been on the porch with you. Hellfire, like his father. Like the father he tried so hard to destroy and landed himself in the hospital and rehab. What made his father like that? A father like Enji fathering Enji? That’s how it works isn’t it, like passing sand from hands to hands, the trauma follows you in a terrible circle. 

Well, your son would have less sand, he’d love who he is. You pulled Kaito away from your neck, leaning your head back to get a full look at his face. His eyes were glistening and he was pressing his fist to his cheek. The image of him as a newborn in your arms passed over you. You wiped at the tears on his cheeks, kissing them afterward. 

“You got your quirk, Kaito. Isn’t that so exciting?” You said, smiling widely to settle his anxiety. Kaito pulled his hands from his face, looking at you confused. You bounced him on your hip and started spinning around, squealing about his quirk. You rested your hands on his back, dipping him down so he hung upside down just a little. You passed his head through the sprinkler, making him laugh loudly. You pulled him back up, dancing away from the sprinkler and the burnt grass. Kaito shook his wet white mop of hair out, drizzling you with water. 

Two and half years pass before Kaito starts school. He’s settled into the routine. He knows the time you give him breakfast, the time he gets dressed, the time he brushes his teeth, and the time you leave. Kaito would rather burn all his toys than be late for school. He’s made plenty of friends there. He’s already been invited to two birthday parties in the few months he’s been there. You wonder if daycare was that beneficial to him. 

Kaito walks his clean plate to the sink, standing on his tiptoes to gently set it in the bottom. You praise him before finishing your own. Kaito heads towards his room, ignoring your words entirely. Every morning he was on a mission to get to school at exactly the right time. Once he tried to get you to force him to go to school while he was sick. He whined about his perfect attendance before you told him he could watch TV. He dropped the subject after that. A knock sounds at your door. You look over your shoulder before concluding it was the mail. Sometimes they needed your signature. 

“Kaito, you better not forget your jacket! It's cold out!” You shouted so he could hear you through his door. You stared at his face peeking through his door as you swung open the front door. You pointed at him sternly, earning an eye roll. Damn you, Touya. You turned to face the mailman, face falling at the man in front of you. 

His hair had grown out and the dye had long been gone. Touya’s scars looked… healthier. Healed a little, paler and a little more moisturized. His staples were removed. You assumed they had been replaced with stitches that had healed over a million moons ago. Half his piercings were gone, a stud in his nose and two in each ear were all that he had left. Or at least was wearing today. His clothes were more put together, relaxed but not in the scrambled way they were a few years ago. Touya stood bolder now like he found something inside himself during rehab that made his chest puff out. His eyes were all the same. You thought if you ever saw him again, you'd only see Kaito in his eyes. You only saw Touya. 

“I finished rehab.” Touya finally said. Your silence stood in the air, like a confession of everything. You realized he could see into your home, slowly moving towards the door frame and holding the door tightly against you. Touya watched you with a look you'd only seen once before. In the middle of the night in your dimly lit living room, a movie in the background as the two of you kissed for the first time without sexual intent behind it. 

“Evidently. You look good by the way, rounded, healthy. Um, what exactly are you doing here, though?” You asked, leaning back inside to look at the clock. Three minutes before Kaito left his room. Five if he was having wardrobe malfunctions. You leaned forward again, pretending you weren't on a time crunch. 

“I know you sent me a letter. I know you said you didn't think I'd still care for you because you've changed so much but I think it's pretty obvious I've changed too. I just wanted to ask if you could give us a second shot we could try again as the new versions of ourselves. Every day I was in there I've been thinking about you. I haven't been able to-” You leaned back again, one minute, three with malfunctions. You put your attention back on Touya, nodding to signify him to continue. He paused, pulling his hand from his coat pocket. “-Am I interrupting something?” He asked. 

You froze, dragging your eyes away from the clock. You met Touya's eyes, staring at him with wide eyes. You weren't getting out of this, you wouldn't be able to. You sighed, pinching your brow. 

“No, I'm sorry Touya. It's very sweet and genuine of you to ask this but I really think there's just a big-” you waved your hands between the two of you. “-hurdle between us that we'd have to get through. I just think you should find someone else to love and cherish or whatever it is people say.” You threw your hands down, looking at his face again. He looked cold, he looked like the man who would show up at your door almost six years ago with blood staining his clothes. Touya shook his head, a new look meeting his features. He furrowed his brows. He stared at the step in front of him. 

“I just don't understand. I feel like this came out of nowhere before the letters, everything was fine, and then all of a sudden you were too different-” Touya said. Your heart dropped to your stomach when you heard Kaito’s door open. 

“Rena! Can you help me button my pants? The button is hard.” You could hear the pout in Kaito's voice. It reached Touya’s ears. You know it did. He froze, eyes glued to the ground. You didn’t bother trying to hide the wreck of a child’s home behind you anymore. The cat was out of the bag. You kicked the front door back, revealing all the toys and children’s books thrown across your living room. Kaito ran up to you, holding his pants up with both hands. You squatted down, pulling his pants together. As you slipped the button through the hole, Kaito greeted Touya. 

“Hi! I’m Kaito. Do you have a quirk?” Ever the extrovert, Kaito wanted to be friends with everyone he met. You zipped Kaito’s pants up. You turned back, pulling his sneakers from the shoe rack. You might as well while you’re already on the floor. You glanced up at Touya to see him staring open-mouthed at Kaito. Kaito was unaccustomed with this reaction, gripping onto your shoulder. 

“Touya. My son asked you a question.” You said, pulling Touya from the depths of his mind. Touya dropped down to his knees, getting on eye level with Kaito. You pulled Kaito’s sneakers on, tying the laces and pulling over the Velcro strap. Usually, he put his own shoes on but with the new friend, you thought you should do it. 

“Hi. My name is Touya. Yes, I do have a quirk.” Touya responded slowly. Kaito was his, there was no way Touya hadn't realized that. It wasn’t frequent that you ran into someone with those eyes, that hair, and that smile.

You looked at Touya as you pulled Kaito’s other shoe on. Touya moved his focus from Kaito to you. His mouth was still a little agape, staring at Kaito with eyes that only you could understand. Kaito squealed, he loved showing off his quirk. You pulled back, leaning away from him, watching his hands. A whoosh came with the balls of fire enveloping his hands. Sparks flew around the edges. He grinned down at his ablaze hands like a crazy person. You smiled at his excitement, looking over to Touya. He stared at Kaito’s hands, face unreadable. 

“Okay, Kaito. That’s enough. No quirk in the house, you know that.” You said, wafting his hands with air. It never put the flame out but it made Kaito laugh. He put his fire down, a few disgruntled sparks flying after. After an unfortunate incident involving your arm and his quirk, you both learned that Kaito needed a few minutes to cool off before he touched something again. The scar was still on your upper arm, a tiny handprint the size of a three-year-old. You didn’t mind it as much as you thought it would. It only reminded you of your son. 

“Hands up.” Kaito held his arms above his head as you pulled on his laces. You looked at Touya as you tied them. Touya leaned forward and held his hand up, all fingers down except for his pinkie. Almost like a pinkie promise. You and Kaito both stared at his hand as his pinkie caught aflame. It looked like a little blue birthday candle. Kaito’s eyes lit up like his hands, a giant grin pulling at his cherub cheeks.

”Woah! Do you have fire too? It’s blue! That’s so cool!” Kaito said, his little hand reaching out for Touya’s. Touya and you both moved faster than light. Touya shot his hand away, the fire extinguishing, and his arm held far away from curious hands. You pushed Kaito’s hand away, sending it back to his side. Kaito looked confused, facing you. 

“His fire is very very hot, Kaito. It’ll hurt if you touch it.” You explained, pulling the Velcro strap of his shoe over the top of his foot. Kaito hummed, fiddling with his hands over his stomach. You stood up, Touya following. Kaito looked over your shoulder at the clock and then down at the graph you had under it with a picture of the hands and what step in your routine it meant. Kaito gasped, rushing away from you for his bedroom. You smiled awkwardly towards Touya. 

“Is he mine?” Touya whispered, his tone unsure if he was ready for the answer. You watched Kaito pull his jacket on before slinging his backpack on. His coat was just a little too big for him. It kissed the tips of his knees and every time you saw it you thought of Touya and his jacket hanging on your coat rack. 

“Yeah, he's yours.” you wanted it to come out with strong conviction.

‘Yes, Touya he's yours what are you going to do about it.’

‘No Touya he's mine but he's genetically related to you, yes.’

‘What do you want from this information, Touya'?

‘Get off my property Touya. Kaito isn't your problem’

All those months you spent planning how you'd beat him to pulp when you finally saw him again fell apart the second you looked into his eyes. Maybe that was Kaito's effect on you or maybe it was just the effect Touya always had on you. 

Touya nodded like he was accepting his fate, watching Kaito run up to you with your shoes. Usually, you didn't have your baby daddy standing on your front porch and you could get your own shoes. You pulled your shoes on quickly, keeping an eye on Kaito as he ran out the door towards the car. 

“Why didn't you tell me?” Touya asked, following after you as you locked your door and joined Kaito at the side of the car. 

“Not right now, I have to get Kaito to school so he can keep his perfect attendance.” You said, reaching over to pinch Kaito's cheek. He groaned and pushed you away, throwing his backpack into the backseat. Kaito pulled himself into his booster seat and buckled his seatbelt. You smiled at him, pecking his cheek and muttering praises to him.

Touya stood behind you, watching the whole ordeal and wishing he hadn't lost the first five years of his son's life. He didn't get to watch Kaito grow from a carrier that locked into the base to a car seat with a back to a booster seat. He didn't even know Kaito's favorite color. He didn't know anything about him. So with all that stirring in his mind, he whispered the one full sentence he could piece together. 

“Can I come too?” You pulled away from Kaito, looking back at Touya. He looked scolded. His shoulders were slumped and he was clasping his hands together at his stomach. He stared at you with wide eyes. You remembered when you grounded Kaito for trying to sneak out of the house at night. He wanted to go to the park, you had to explain that the park was something you visited during the day. He was sad at being grounded. 

“Yes! Rena, can he come? He can tell me at his fire! And his scars, they're so cool!” Kaito kicked his feet, thumping them against the back of the passenger seat. Your heart stalled at the mention of Touya's scars. 

“Kaito. Don't say-” you scolded only to pause when a warm hand rested on your shoulder. You had forgotten how warm Touya was. You missed not needing to pull your space heater from storage. You stared at Touya, eyes wild with concern. He shook his head, lips pressed in a tight line. 

“It's fine.” He muttered. You looked back over to Kaito who looked more than joyous to bring his new friend to school. You sighed, shrugging and moving for the front seat. 

“Get in.” You said, sliding into the driver's side. Touya quickly shut Kaito's door and slid in on the other side of the back seat. 

The entire drive you felt strange. You didn't like having your back to their interaction. A part of you worried Touya was teaching Kaito how to roll a blunt. Or maybe how to set your fire in your sleep. Maybe he was still bitter from the letter and all this was an act. 

The moment Kaito laughed so hard he started wheezing you took back all the negative thoughts you had about Touya. Kaito leaned over into Touya's lap, patting his leg as he wheezed. Touya chuckled with him, a relaxed smile on his face. He gently patted Kaito's back, turning his pat into a rub. Kaito sucked in a gasp of air before it quickly danced behind his teeth and transformed into another laugh. Touya panicked, a new worry that he was doing this all wrong, already turning into his father. His eyes shot to yours in the rearview mirror. You didn't catch them, focused on the road. He saw your smile and small laugh and felt his shoulders relax. 

Kaito had a hard time saying goodbye to his new friend in the school parking lot. Kaito complained and quickly latched onto Touya's arm, pressing his cheek into his scarred flesh. Touya patted his mop of white hair and wished him a good day. Kaito seemed to accept that, launching himself into the front seat to hug you goodbye with his arms around your neck. Kaito glanced over at the clock on the screen in the center of the dashboard. He muttered something and rushed out of the car, jogging towards the crosswalk. You and Touya watched as he was walked to the door by one of his teachers. 

You both sat in silence and stare at the door even after Kaito is long gone. Touya left the back seat and plopped himself into the passenger side next to you. You wanted to pull yourself out of your head and face him, but your eyes were glued to the door. 

It's been a long time since he was a baby. The first few months were hell on Earth. Everything sent you into an anxious spiral, his breaths were one second too long apart. You worried he was getting too much tummy time. You worried he wasn't getting enough tummy time. You worried about his diet. You worried about the sound of his cries. You worried about his number of cries. You worried about the cradle cap. You worried about SIDs. You worried sick over your son. 

To make matters worse, you worried sick over his father. The first year and then some you wracked your brain thinking about him. Where was he? What was he doing? How was he feeling? What state was his body in? Could he still feel? What was he feeling about you? Had he already moved on, found a cute doctor, or something? Was he too far gone and close to death that he didn't even have the time to consider things like that? Why hadn't he said something to you yet? Would he even like you still? Would he even like your son? Would he even want to know if he has a son or would ignorance be bliss for him?

“He is so…” Touya's voice fell like he wasn't sure the word to choose. You knew how the man from five years ago would respond. 

By the time you had finally settled your anxieties over your son's father, Kaito taking up all your capacity for worries, his letter arrived at your door.

You stared at the door to his school, the brightly painted sidewalk making you feel warm. Touya was next to you now, staring at the same school. You knew where he was, what he looked like, the state of his body, his thoughts on you, and what he was doing. You could hear his breathing in your silent car. You knew it all and yet, you still worried for him. You wanted him to touch you again. His hand on your shoulder sparked something that went dormant after five years. 

Annoying. 

Gross. 

Snotty. 

Clingy. 

Sticky. 

“beautiful.” Touya finished. You felt the air in your car slip out the window. You dragged your eyes from the school door, looking at him. He wasn't looking at you, staring at the school. You furrowed your eyebrows. That word you had not expected at all. You thought you'd have to drive Touya home in silence and fully cut contact this time. 

Have you had him tested yet? for anything because that child is just- 

“What?” you said, staring at the side of his face. Touya looked at you, finally meeting your eyes. Your shoulders sank. He unfortunately always had this affect on you. 

“Your son is so beautiful. He’s just like you. I look at him and all I see is you. Kaito is just…” His eyes traveled back to the door Kaito had disappeared through. You wouldn't see him again for a good six hours. 

“I can't explain it but he's just so perfect. I just don't understand how such a sweet person could have anything to do with me. Which is how I felt about you all those years ago. He is a carbon copy of you, you know that?” Touya said, a small smile playing on his lips. He sighed and stared at you, watching your face. 

“He is beautiful.” You paused, keeping your eyes on Touya. You stared at Kaito some nights when he was asleep in your bed from a nightmare and only saw a chubbier and less scarred version of Touya's face staring at you. 

“He looks like you,” you muttered, starting your car again. Touya sat back in the passenger seat, pulling the seat belt down.

“I have photo albums at home. Would you like to see?” you asked as you pulled out the school driveway back towards your home. Touya rubbed at his face. He quickly nodded. 

“Yes, I would,” Touya whispered, looking out the window. 

[marshemillow]

Just learned about fucking baeddelism.

Was anyone going to tell me that tumblr was the creation site for a literal actual rape cult on the premise of making anyone who is not a trans woman look like The Enemy, or was I just supposed to find that out myself???

Guys. GUYS. Please, holy shit, can we just drop fucking radical feminism already??? There's nothing in it worth keeping!!! Like we're far past the cult score of mormonism at this point, we're WELL into heaven's gate levels of cult, and you still don't realize how wrong this ideology is?????

STOP TRYING TO MAKE "FUCK ALL MEN" WOKE!!! IT'S NOT WOKE!!! IT WILL NEVER BE WOKE!!! IT'S RADFEM BULLSHIT AND IT BELONGS IN THE TRASH!!!

Now, if you actually don't know much about this topic, you might be wondering WHY radfem ideology is so bad, even unrelated to the mistreatment of trans people? Well, remember that men and women are actually not so different. I love the story of the men who wrote the movie Alien who wanted to have a female protagonist, but none of them knew how to write a good, strong female character. So you know what they did? They wrote Ripley as a MALE character, and then just cast a woman to play her. You know why that worked?? BECAUSE MEN AND WOMEN ARE THE SAME!!! We are all just human beings who are born fumbling and making mistakes!!!

It was actually genius, because Alien was created by a man who believes that rape and forced birth are underutilized concepts in horror movies, and having it happen to male characters forced the audience to see the horror of it unrelated to the rampant misogyny of the time that technically persists to this day. It's no surprise to me that the male writers of the movie recognized their weakness in being unable to write a female character and basically life-hacked themselves into it by writing a good male character instead. Nintendo was even inspired by this angle, which is why Samus in Metroid is also a woman!

THAT'S why radical feminism is bad at its core. It's totally valid to have actual androphobia as a result of normalized violence by men against women, I'm sure it happens all the time, but the solution to that problem is NOT to lean into it until you start thinking of men as subhuman monsters incapable of kindness or love. Not only does that hurt men directly, it also hurts women by denying their abuse from other women!!! AND it denies abuse where men are the victims, even by other men and ESPECIALLY by women!!! Not to mention that it completely erases the identities of nonbinary and genderqueer people who exist outside the rigid gender binary.

And don't even get me STARTED on how radfems treat intersex people!!! Holy shit, that could be a whole post all on its own. Intersex people get so little recognition and are violently erased by all aspects of society, even the groups that should be including them in their activism!!! Radfeminism wouldn't be complete without intersexism, eh? They go together like peanut butter and jelly!!!

And one more sidenote is that radfems' first target was butch lesbians. That's right!!! Not even cis lesbians are safe from terf bullshit!!! So much of their ideology is just related to masculinity being evil compared to femininity, which is why even cis lesbians who hate men can still be targets for harassment. (Sound familiar?)

I honestly find it really ironic that so many trans women today still seem to hold baeddel or TIRF beliefs, because the people who suffered the most under the original baeddel movement were trans women. They were the ones who were subjected to heavy cult indoctrination, where they were expected to agree with the cult leaders with unquestioning obedience, even after the leaders raped them. This isn't to downplay the suffering trans men went through because of them of course, but I find it sickening that modern baeddels still act like no abuse even happened because trans women are "incapable of abuse," or even trying to erase the transfem identities of the victims. It's absolutely vile.

Anyway, fuck radfem ideology. If you're a man reading this post, I love you, I respect you, I see you, and I know you ALL are capable of doing good. I appreciate every man who feels inadequet, like they don't count as real men, like they need to bend over backwards to prove themselves to everyone, who feel like they can't cry or show emotion, who are subjected to bullying and harassment for being "sissies," whether under the patriarchy or under the shadow of radfeminism. You don't deserve to suffer, and I hope it gets better.

Remember that we should be hating IDEAS, not people. Feminism should be about equal opportunity for EVERYONE. If you think feminism should be about flipping the script so women are above men, you're doing it wrong.

And just in case the piss on the poor crowd finds this post again...I also hate incel ideology and think it's just as dangerous (maybe more so because of actual male privilege) as radfem ideology. They really are just two sides of a bullshit gender essentialist coin.

It doesn't mean anything btw if you say "terfs dni" but still say all of the same things they do. Just so you know.

[sanguineterrain]

the worst day of february | jason todd

Summary: Cold and defeated on the worst day of February, you stand on your apartment rooftop, contemplating giving up. Then the Red Hood drops in and makes you tea in your apartment.

Pairing: Jason Todd x gn!reader 

Word count: 2k

Warnings/tags: suicidal ideation, disordered eating and sleeping habits, depression, reader doesn't attempt suicide but thinks about it a lot. a sort of hopeful ending. jason being a really really good guy.

please take care of yourselves - don't read this if you think it'll upset you.

divider

One day in February—it doesn't matter which day; it might be someone else's day too, but it doesn't matter, and it doesn't matter which February either—you realize that you've forgotten how to be happy.

When you think of February, you don't think of much, except that on those big visual calendars of the months that they put up in kindergarten, February is always pink. Pink like an organ. Pink like guts. Pink like love.

But your February—all the Februarys you've had—is blue-gray. It's like someone's cast a moody shadow over your February. It's the director's choice, clearly, to light your February like you're at a wake. It's not your choice. It's never your choice.

Here is the problem. The problem is that you're too scared, but you want the attention of someone who's killed themselves. Shame digs its claws into you at such a perverse thought. But it's true. Even if it's one person who takes a moment to inspect your guts on the sidewalk, or your body in the bathtub, you want them to hold your rigor mortis and say, what a loss. Is there anything I can do?

And then you'd pop up from the bathwater and say, why yes, there is something you can do, would you mind changing the lighting? It's bringing me down.

You're on the roof of your apartment. You don't know why, because as stated, you're too scared. And it's nighttime, and you're a speck of dust, which is comforting at times and haunting at others. Dust on a roof. Easy to be carried off by the wind.

You don't want to die, exactly. You want to rest. No amount of sleep destroys the exhaustion. Instead of marrow in your bones, it's the desire for rest that only comes through death. Unfortunately, despite not wanting to die, death seems to be your only path.

His footsteps are quiet. You don't realize that you're not alone until he's there next to you, hunched over the ledge on his elbows.

You flinch.

"Sorry," Red Hood says, and there's no smoky breath that accompanies his words like they accompany everyone else's. You wonder where the air from his helmet's filter goes.

"It's fine," you say, even though your nervous system is still reeling. It's not fine, because you hate being scared, but it also doesn't matter, so it's fine in that way.

You have a great view from the city up here but appreciating the city is difficult when it's all blue-gray shadows. Your stomach hurts. You've never felt more unbearably yourself in your life.

"Everything okay?" Hood asks.

"Yeah," you say, not bothering to lie. Not bothering to tell the truth either.

"'S cold up here."

"I'm not gonna jump."

"Didn't say you would," Hood says mildly.

"That's why you're here. You think I'll jump, and it's your duty to make sure I don't. But I won't. Too scared. I just wallow instead."

"Wallowing ain't so good either."

"Yeah," you say, throat hurting like you've swallowed a splinter. "Probably not."

An audience would see your funeral-lit life and make the obvious prediction that something bad is about to happen. The director is telling a story, and he's giving hints. You, as the protagonist, are expecting bad things too. Perhaps this is where it starts.

"You live here?" Hood asks.

There should be a curl of fear that strikes you, because Red Hood—terrifying, gangster, born and bred Gotham Red Hood—shouldn't be landing on your rooftop and checking to make sure you aren't gonna spill your guts.

He doesn't seem so terrifying, though. He doesn't seem like a gangster either. And what's wrong with being born and bred Gotham? You like it. Hood is familiar even though you've never met him before. Something about his voice, his stance, the fact that he gives a shit enough to talk to you for a minute. It feels like maybe the universe doesn't want you to kill yourself right then.

"I live here," you say, taking too long to answer.

"Alright," he says. "Lead the way."

You look at him. He's turned around now, facing the roof access door.

"What?"

Hood points a thumb at the door. "Let's go to your place."

"Why?" Why, you ask, instead of the fuck?

"'M thirsty," he says.

Well, if he's here to assassinate you, it won't matter if you bring him to your apartment or not. And now that he's mentioned it, it is cold. Probably because you're up here without a coat. A coat hadn't seemed important when you were in your apartment choking on stale black air.

Maybe you should warn Hood about the stale black air. But you feel like he won't let you return to your apartment if you do.

Hood goes first, leading you back inside. He goes down the stairs slowly, letting you drag and set the pace. It's so stupid. You feel like crying. Why is he going down the stairs with you at your stupid slow pace?

You stop two floors down. This would be another hint to your audience, the fact that you're so close to the roof that you can just climb a couple flights.

You open your apartment. You'd left it unlocked.

"Do you often leave your place unlocked?" Hood asks.

You shrug. "I don't go out enough to get the chance."

Hood doesn't say anything else but he does do the deadbolt when you're inside, as well as the chain lock.

"Shoes off?" he asks. You nod. You both remove your shoes.

Then you stand like you're not in your own apartment. Hood herds you like a sheepdog to your tiny kitchen table. Then he starts opening cabinet doors.

"Got a kettle?" he asks.

You stare at the back of his helmet, your eyebrows knitting. "A kettle? How many Gothamites do you know own kettles?"

"It's the only dignified way to make tea," he says.

Maybe Hood isn't so born and bred Gotham. "Were you raised by British monarchs?"

"Kinda," he says. He evidently gives up on finding a kettle and instead puts water to boil on the stove, even though you have a microwave. Weirdo.

Suddenly, you realize you haven't thought about death for a whole five minutes.

"Got any decaffeinated tea?" Hood asks.

You have a barely opened box of Sleepytime. You point at the top shelf. He hums and retrieves the box, taking out three tea bags to drop into the boiling water.

Hood takes out two mugs. He's surprisingly apt at navigating an unfamiliar kitchen.

He gives you your mug and sits across from you at the table. He's huge at your table, but he gracefully crosses his legs despite the limited space.

"Didja eat?" he asks.

"I had some cereal a few hours ago," you say.

Hood nods. "Fine. But you gotta eat real dinner too."

You don't think it really matters what a corpse-in-training eats, but you nod anyway. Hood's tone invites no deliberation.

"What's your favorite food? Drink your tea."

You scrunch your face and take a hesitant sip. The hot liquid burns your tongue for a moment before you swallow.

"I like pizza," you say. "And burgers. And ramen. But lately, everything tastes like nothing."

You'd tried to find joy in food a few days ago because you couldn't find it anywhere else. You'd torn open a pack of Swedish Fish and shoved the box into your drawer after eating two pieces because it'd tasted like melted plastic to you.

Then you'd bought an expensive brand of chocolate bar, desperate to be happy, desperate to be flooded with dopamine. Nothing. You'd tossed the chocolate, feeling distinctly broken. What monster doesn't find joy in their favorite candy?

You only eat to cure the hunger pains, because you can't take anymore pain. You eat to survive. Not because you want to, but because dying by starvation takes too long.

"That's okay," Hood says. "'S good you're eating."

You scoff. "I don't need consolation."

Hood doesn't give you the satisfaction of an argument. He's going to make you feel alive in a gentler way, even though you don't deserve it. "Drink your tea."

You drink. His mug remains untouched. You feel like you're in a play. This isn't even real tea, it's just colored water. And Hood's stage direction is to not drink his colored water. It's just for show.

You look out the window, expecting to make eye contact with an audience member. You're waiting for the second act. You're waiting for the end.

"I don't want anymore," you say when your mug is half-finished. Trying to finish the tea feels like prolonging the inevitable. The audience wants to go home. They have lives to get back to. They can't live with you and the stage forever.

To your surprise, Hood nods. "Okay. C'mon."

He stands up from the table. You follow him to your bedroom. He pulls open your shirt drawer. You notice the two guns strapped to his hips, two strapped to his ankles, and one bigger gun on his back. You wait for the director's guidance on how you should feel. None comes, so you remain apathetic.

"Choose a shirt," he says. You pick a plain pink t-shirt. Hood closes that drawer and opens your pants drawer. "Choose."

You take a pair of worn pajama shorts because you overheat when you sleep, especially when you're depressed. You're sweaty from your lie-in till two that you took earlier today. Your face is greasy. You're sure your hair isn't nice either.

"Go change," Hood says, walking out of your room. "I'll be outside." He closes the door behind him.

You change, if only out of shock of the Red Hood giving you orders.

"Done," you say, probably too quiet for anyone to hear. But Hood comes in. He looks you over.

"Good." He points to the bed. "Lie down."

You do. Your sheets are gross. They haven't been changed in at least a few months. You're suddenly swollen with shame that anyone, even the Red Hood, is seeing you in this state. Your eyes fill with stinging tears. You should've died before it came to this.

"I'm sorry you had to stop to do this," you say.

Hood's silent for a moment. Then he walks to your side of the bed. He crouches down. His helmet eyes glow in the dark. You've never been less afraid.

This is a plot twist you did not foresee. A new character. A guardian angel. Red in your blue-gray.

"'S not always gonna feel like this," he says.

More tears, more splinters in your throat. "It's felt like this for so long."

"Yeah," he says gently. Gentler than you fucking deserve. "I know."

The writer has overridden the director's wants, and has introduced some new foreshadowing. Should your audience believe it? Or is this a fake-out?

You lie back and want to die a little less. One young woman in your audience chokes up. She believes that you believe you’ll live. She will stay here for as long as it takes for you to make it through act two.

"If you have to go, it's okay," you say.

Hood settles against the wall near your bed. He pulls one knee against his chest. It's almost like you have a friend.

"Nah," he says. "I don't have anywhere to be. I finished my patrol. I'll stay till you fall asleep."

He doesn't ask to stay, and that feels good, not having to make the choice, to face the shame of wanting another person to care about you.

You screw your eyes shut. "Thank you," you whisper.

"I'm gonna bring you a kettle," Hood says.

You laugh. It's small and brittle but it's real. "Okay." You'll have to make it through the night. Red Hood is bringing you a kettle.

You lay there for a long time, not sleeping. You keep your eyes closed. You focus on keeping your breathing even. Then you open your eyes to check.

Hood is still there, sitting against the wall. You wonder if he's fallen asleep too. His voice startles you.

"Still here," he says. "Said I wouldn't go till you sleep. Meant it. Don't worry."

Maybe tomorrow's sun won't be so blue or gray. You fall asleep.

[kangaracha]

QUEENMAKER | CHAPTER 26

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pairing chan x reader

genre ninth member au, angst, fluff, coming of age, social media, cancel culture, anxiety, depression, forbidden love,

summary To JYPE, the solution is simple; take the sole trainee that will not debut with your brand new girl group, and use her to replace the missing vocalist in your male group that insisted on starting as nine.

Unfortunately, to the fans and the members themselves, it isn't that simple.

status ongoing

taglist OPEN

a/n my cat is very sick this weekend so leave some comments to distract me, thankyou. have a lovely weekend, cuddle your pets

previous | masterlist | next

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Your phone drops from your hands onto the floor of the practice room, thunking softly against the hardwood. Your head follows, falling backwards in a controlled motion that ripples pain through the sore muscles of your abdomen, your legs, your back. The bright lights of the ceiling are little relief, even when you throw an arm over your tired eyes.

Your whole body aches, but that's nothing new. You've been at it for hours - and days, and months. You work hard and the crowd won't cheer, and you work harder and the company ask for more, and you put your every waking moment towards it and the fans don't see the difference, and the voices online are never happy, and the work just keeps coming, one performance after another, opportunity after opportunity to make a fool of yourself.

Your body hurts. It's inevitable. 

It's fine, even. It's been six years since you traded in youth for the promise of fame, after all; pain becomes a constant companion after a point, every dancer knows that. If your body doesn't hurt, then you're probably doing something wrong.

You have to get up. 

It's your own voice that gives the order, your mind that knows you have another performance to run through before you can be done, but your body doesn't move, the heat of it soaking into the lacquered floor. The will to dance has leeched out of your bones with it, and it feels guilty to admit that even to yourself, but there is nothing in you that wants to dance again. You kind of hate dancing right now - but this is your dream and there's one chance to get it right, and you cannot hate dance for even one moment.

You have to get up. You don't move.

The door opens, but you barely notice it, your breath settling and your eyes blocked from the light. You don't open them until the toe of a shoe nudges your side; then, you squint up at the blurry figure above you, waiting for your tired eyes to adjust again.

It's more the shape of his shoulders and the stout figure that give him away than the details of his face. "Binnie," you greet him with a sigh and rub at your face. "What's up?"

"Nothing," he answers. "Were you asleep?"

"No." You look up into his face again, but you're not sure he's convinced. "I'm just...resting."

A wry grin crosses his face, laughing out at you even as he offers you a hand up. "You looked more like you were dying," he tells you as he pulls you up into a sitting position.  "Or in a crisis."

"I am in a crisis," you quip. "I'm not very good at my job."

A finger flicks your forehead. You stare up at him accusingly, but he only shrugs. "People who say bad things about our noona get flicked," he informs you, and he doesn't sound the least bit remorseful. 

"You've got a lot of Stays to flick then," you grumble; and then add, "Slacker," to cover up the guilt that stabs at you so hard you nearly cringe at yourself. Ungrateful, he's going to say, or whiny. It's all you can think, so surely he would too. 

All he does is smile though. "After lunch," he promises. "Are you coming to eat with me?"

You stare at him, bemused. "I'm in the middle of dance practice."

Changbin frowns. "You said in the group chat that you were done."

"With that performance, yeah," you say, your hand drifting unconsciously towards your phone. "I still have the MAMA performance to try."

"It can wait until after lunch."

"Lunch can wait until after practice too."

"Not if it's that new place around the corner," he argues. "They close so early, this is my only chance."

You don't mean to, but you know your face tightens and your belly rumbles, suddenly aware of how hungry you are. "I have a diet, Changbin," you remind him gently. "There's at least four of the other kids at the company, they'll go with you."

"You've been suggested a diet," he amends without missing a beat. "Doesn't mean you have to do it."

"Do you come from another planet?" you scoff, squinting up at him. "Did we not sign the same contract?"

The smile he gives you is impish, spelling out trouble all over his face. "If you just ignore them long enough, they give up," he informs you proudly.

Your gaze runs over him again critically, tight shirt and loose pants cutting a figure you could never hope to mimic. "You're all muscle though," you point out, your finger jabbing accusingly in the direction of his chest, "even though you eat like a garbage can. Some of us are just fat."

"Garbage can?" he repeats incredulously, his voice rising with every syllable. He steps back, shaking his head, and you climb to your feet yourself, reaching back to fix your hair as you stand. "I eat like a normal person."

"Like three normal people, maybe."

"Come to lunch with me and I bet you'll eat more than me."

"You can come to lunch with me, in the cafeteria, sure."

He stares defiantly as he chooses his next words. You meet his gaze evenly. "I don't want to eat chicken and salad in the cafeteria," he whines after a moment. "Who even said that you were fat?"

"JYP himself," you deadpan, only cracking a smile at the anguished laugh that comes out of his mouth in response. "I don't know. A manager somewhere. Does it matter?"

You can see the teasing spirit drain from his face as his smile fades, his face turning to things that are softer, more serious. "As long as you know that you're pretty enough to make most of us look ugly, it doesn't matter."

You scoff again, your tongue tasting acerbic against the embarrassed red of your cheeks. "Pretty enough to be here," you reply. "Not the prettiest."

Changbin's arm is a heavy weight across your shoulders, squeezing you tightly as he all but drags you towards the door. "You're the prettiest girl I've ever seen," he says; and somehow, it is so friendly a comment that it doesn't heat your face again, nor come off as awkward; but that is Changbin's effortless charm, his friendliness. His ability to listen without judging.

Anyway, your lips curve up into a smile, your elbow digging into his side just long enough to make him let go of you so that you can open the door. "It's all plastic, buddy," you quip as he steps through, and pull it closed behind you. "I'm a modern scientific miracle."

For several seconds, he just looks at you, unsure whether to laugh or not. "Have you done anything?" he asks, just to ask, ambling along casually beside you. "You have such a nice face shape."

You contemplate your answer before you give it, your mouth opening and then closing again. "Maybe a little here and there," you say and let a little grin slip onto your face. "Maybe not. You know I was dropped from Midnight for being 'the wrong look', right?"

"I didn't know that," he says, cutting a glance at you. You wonder if, under the genuine astonishment that plays out over his face, he can see the way that acknowledgement still guts you like a knife. You'd managed to say it out loud without cringing away from it, at least; maybe the hurt is starting to dull. Maybe one of these days you'll be able to look forward at what you've got without also looking back at what they'd taken away from you.

"Well don't go changing now," Changbin says, pushing straight past the whole dilemma. "They think you're the right look for us; don't ruin it."

"I only aspire to look like you, Changbin-ssi," you assure him. 

He laughs at you; actually, properly laughs, his voice echoing down the hallway. "You can start by actually going to the gym," he tells you. "And going to eat ramen at the new place down the street. You can't claim to be Changbin when you're so small."

"Bit rich, coming from the smallest person in the group," you mutter under your breath, and you can't help but snort a laugh at the affronted shout that sounds from beside you as he tows you towards the elevators.

---

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@keepswingin

[lycheeloving]

Second chapter!! Happy Valentine's day <3

Bruce finds you at work and doesn't leave you alone.

< first chapter

The next day at work, it all feels like a fever dream. Did you really meet Bruce Wayne? And talk to him all night? You feel a bit nauseous just thinking about it, but you just remind yourself that you'll never see him again. Even if you did get along really well...

Whatever, you'll just daydream about kissing him in the moonlight, that's just as fun as the real thing, right? Not that you could compare it to the real thing,  you'd have to kiss someone at some point to know what it's like.

Maybe you should have kissed Bruce yesterday, he certainly seemed like he would have been ok with that, but that was probably just wishful thinking anyways. Oh well, too late now.

The bell that lets you know somebody entered the store rings and rips you out of your thoughts. Fuck. You hate when there's costumers, which is why you chose to work at the shittiest bookstore in Gotham. And are hiding in the back.

You're supposed to say something like "I'll be right with you!", but you're not going to do that. You hate talking loudly. Especially to strangers, especially when you can't even see them. But you never even say anything when you're out in the front and making direct eye contact with them, so whatever. You just hope they won't ask you for help with finding anything, just having to ring them up is bad enough...

Why do you have to get costumers at all? Fuck, you should really look for a job with less contact to people, but this is the best you've been able to find so far.

You reluctantly leave the safety of the back room, only to find a guy in an oversized hoodie and sunglasses absolutely beaming at you. Why is he looking at you like that? Should you know him?

Only when he takes the sunglasses off do you realize that it's Bruce. No way, how did he find you? You feel your palms getting sweaty.

"Finally! I found you! Do you know how hard it was to find this book store with the minimal description you gave me?" 

Not hard enough, apparently, considering that he was able to find you this soon. It hasn't even been a full day!

He's still smiling at you. "I've been to multiple book stores this morning! I'm so glad you told me you'd be working today, or I would have had to ask everyone if you're one of their coworkers!"

"Yeah, well, if I had wanted you to show up here, I would have given you more details, probably." You deadpan, hoping your voice isn't shaking.

He's not deterred, he just keeps talking as if you hadn't said anything: "Wanna get lunch with me? When's your break? We could go to that café around the corner that I saw on my way here!"

Is he not getting that you don't want him here? Well, you do want him here, but you don't. You want him to think you don't want him here so he'll leave before you can embarrass yourself.

"I can't leave for my break, I have to stay here. I'm the only one working right now, I can't just- just lock up and get something to eat." Your boss actually allowed you to do just that, but when you came back from doing it the first time, an angry costumer was waiting for you and yelled at you for 10 minutes about how it's rude to just close the store in the middle of the day. You don't want a repeat of that, so you started eating your lunch at work whenever there were no costumers. Which is almost always, luckily.

"I could go get you something and we can eat here! It doesn't seem like you get a lot of costumers so we won't even be disturbing anyone!" Why is he so persistent? Can't he go talk to some supermodel or something?

"I'm not hungry." You kind of are, actually.

"That's fine, we can just talk! I just wanted to spend some time with you. You know, I haven't clicked with anyone like this in a long time, I couldn't just let you go."

Wait, is he serious? Well, why else would he go through the effort of looking for you... But still, you can't quite believe it. Are you being pranked?

"You should go. What if costumers start showing up? I'm sure you don't want some weird fan to recognize you."

Bruce ignores what you say and stays. He talks to you for about half an hour, well, mostly he talks at you, until he has to leave because his lunch break is over. You just stand there, perplexed. Does he really want to hang out with you?

He returns the next day. And the next. And the next. Every day, always during his lunch break. It takes a few times until you stop trying to ignore him, a few more times until you start actually talking to him, and a few more times until you agree to eat lunch with him. Not go anywhere else, just eat your own lunch at the bookstore.

You can't stop yourself from trying to push him away a little bit, though.

You put down your fork. "You know, it's rude of you to keep visiting me at work, where I can't just leave. This is basically harassment."

"If you want me to go, I'll go. Just say so, and I'll never show up here again, I promise."

You don't want him to leave. Well, you do, because you don't want to get even more attached, but you don't, because, well, you're getting attached. You can't bring yourself to make him leave.

You huff and roll your eyes. "Whatever." You pick your fork back up and continue eating.

He tries to suppress a smile. Gross. He's so cute.

Whenever he catches you playing a silly game on your phone (which is basically every time he enters the store, as you love slacking off), he insists on befriending you on it if possible, so when you're not hanging out he'll send you a booster on your candy-crush-esque game, or play against you on a quiz app.

Sometimes he uses the chat option there to tell you to go to sleep when it's late and he catches you playing, even though he's obviously awake as well! Hypocrite. It makes you smile every time. 

One day while you're eating lunch together, a few months after he first showed up, he puts down his fork and says: "I think I need to make this more clear. I am interested in you romantically. I want to date you."

You almost spit out your lunch, but manage to swallow it without choking. "H- Wh- Huh? What?"

"We can just be friends, I'd love to be friends, we already are friends, in my opinion, but I would also love to date you. So if one day you decide that you want to date me, please let me know."

You already want to, but you will absolutely not be informing him of that, thanks. Asking for what you want? What are you, a well adjusted person? You blink owlishly at him instead of saying anything. That should suffice as a response, right? No, you should probably say something.

"...Look, even if I was interested in dating you—", which, again, you literally are, but why would you tell him that;

"—you're famous, and at some point it would come out that I was dating you, and the paparazzi would publish one single picture of me and I'd immediately panic so hard I would pass out and die. This—" You point your fork between the two of you. "—is already risky enough. Whatever this is, anyway."

Bruce, as always, chooses not to address the parts of what you were saying that were clearly your anxiety speaking and simply grins.

"So you do want to date me? It sounds to me like you're just looking for excuses. Don't worry, if I don't want anyone to know about you, noone will! People don't tend to recognize me when I'm not wearing a suit, especially in environments where they're not expecting me, so anywhere outside of my workplace and fancy parties. It's worked so far, hasn't it? Not a single person has recognized me here! Dating won't change that. So, if you do want to go on a date with me, just say the word. Please."

What word? Wait, he means that metaphorically, right? No, but seriously, what would you say, how would you say that without sounding totally weird?

"That's not what I was saying. At all. Stop misinterpreting me." You roll your eyes at him. He changes the topic, but he keeps smiling until he has to leave.

Lying awake that night, you think about what he said. Does he actually like you? Or is he just pretending, because he likes a challenge? Knew you'd be difficult to get close to, and he gets a kick from being someone's first relationship, kiss, everything, and then leaving them? You feel nauseous and you suddenly feel cold. How are you supposed to figure this out? You try to tell yourself that it's only your anxiety speaking, that Bruce is actually a nice person and wouldn't do that, but you can't quite convince yourself.

The next day, your way home after work (and after pretending your conversation with Bruce yesterday didn't happen, which luckily he played along with), you see something on the ground that reflects the light in a way that catches your eye.

What is that? It's kind of hidden behind a trash can.

You take a step closer, hoping it's not some kind of trap, but you can't think of a villain who would hide shiny things on the floor to kill civilians. At least not in that color, the Joker would make it colorful, and this object appears to be... black?

Oh, it's a Batarang! You've never seen one up close, but they can't be super rare with how often people online post about having found one, there's even one guy who collects them and has an entire wall plastered with them. Allegedly. People online are saying that most of them are probably replicas, but you can't tell, as you've never seen a real one. Until now.

That makes you think, just how many Batarangs does Batman have? More than enough if he let's random people keep them. You think about picking it up and taking it with you. It would be really cool to have a Batarang...

You reach out towards it, but stop right before you touch it. Is it stuck in the floor? Fuck, just how sharp are those things...?

Maybe you should leave it here, you'd just cut your hand open on it, trying to get it unstuck.

Plus, maybe Batman will find this one if you leave it here, and then re-use it! Reduce, re-use, recycle, Batman!

You leave it where you found it, after taking a few pictures of it as proof.

The next day, Bruce asks you if you did anything interesting yesterday, like he does every time he sees you. Usually you'd say no, but you did find that Batarang... Would Bruce care about that?

While you're contemplating, Bruce says: "You'd have said no by now if nothing had happened! Come on, please tell me?"

Fine! Whatever! You'll tell him, even if he'll probably think it's boring.

"Ok, so, on my way home yesterday... I found a Batarang. And, um, it got me thinking, well, first of all, how many of those does that guy have? If he's just leaving them lying around like that, right? Oh, and, it was so sharp, it was stuck in the floor, though I guess maybe that just means Batman is really strong? Either way, I thought he doesn't kill, right, but considering what he's working with it's a miracle no criminal has ended up dead yet, right?" You stop rambling, realizing that Bruce hasn't said anything yet. At least he appears to be amused.

"You have a lot of thoughts about Batman, huh?" He grins. "Yeah, he must have tons of those things, I've seen the posts. Did you take it with you?" He didn't respond to your killing thoughts... Oh well, you did give him a lot of information all at once.

"No, I didn't... But I thought about it! I mean, it seems like that's what everyone else is doing, but with it being stuck in the floor like that I was worried I would cut my hand open trying to get it unstuck! And with my luck there would have been germs or poison on it and my wound would have gotten infected, like, immediately, and I would have died. So I left it there for Batman to hopefully find again. I mean, he should probably be reusing the ones he already has, right? Reduce, reuse, recycle, I'm just helping Batman be more climate friendly!" There you go, rambling again.

Bruce seems almost too amused at all of this.

"Well, do you want it? I can come with you when your shift is over and help you get it unstuck, if you want. If nobody else has already taken it. I'm sure Batman won't mind. And if it ever comes out that he's not trying his best to be climate friendly, I'll personally go kick his ass, I promise."

"Uh. Um. You don't have to do that!"

"...Kick his ass or go get the batarang for you?"

"I meant getting the batarang, but also please don't fight Batman. He'd wipe the floor with you. No offense."

"Well, first of all, I think I'm just as strong as Batman-" You roll your eyes at him. Dork.

"And second of all, I don't have to get it for you, but I want to. Please let me?"

Ok. Fuck. Whatever. This is the first time you'll be seeing him outside of work, excluding your first meeting.

"Uh. Ok? I, um, my shift ends at 8."

"I'll pick you up in front of the store, then. It's a date!"

"Uh! No, well, yes, but, it- um-"

"I'm just teasing you." He winks at you. Winks! Is he trying to kill you? You turn your face towards your food so you don't have to look at him. Asshole. Stop being so hot.

Later, at 8, he's already waiting for you in front of the store while you're locking up.

"Ready to go?" He smiles.

"Uh, yeah! Sure!"

You start leading the way to where you found the batarang, talking about whatever comes to mind on the way.

Finally, about halfway on your way home, you reach the place where the batarang should be. You hope it's still there, but somebody else could have taken it. You push the trashcan it was behind to the side, and...

There it is!

"Look, it's still here!" You turn around to Bruce, smiling. He smiles back. You fight the urge to giggle or hide your face behind your hands, he needs to stop being so cute.

"Didn't you say it's stuck in the ground? Why wouldn't it be here anymore?"

"Uh, you said you'd help me get it out? Somebody else could have done the same thing!"

"Right. But they don't have my getting batarangs unstuck from the ground skills."

You roll your eyes. How often could Bruce have come in contact with a batarang? His only advantage compared to you is that he's stronger and not afraid of cutting his hand open. At least that's what you think.

You watch as he grabs the batarang and gets it unstuck in seconds. Seriously? It was that easy?

"Woah. I think I would have been able to do that myself, that looked super easy. Sorry to have made you come all this way..." Apparently it wasn't stuck in there as much as you thought? Even if a considerable part of it disappeared beneath the ground. Hm. Weird. Maybe there was a batarang shaped hole there before it landed there? Or Bruce is just a lot stronger than he looks.

"No, I'm glad I came along! I wouldn't have wanted you to cut yourself accidentally." He wraps the batarang in a piece of fabric. Some kind of rich people tissue, maybe.

"Let me carry it home for you?" He looks at you in a way that makes you melt a little bit. Ok, fine.

"Oh, uh, sure!" You did enjoy walking around with him. And not just because walking with someone in Gotham is safer than doing it alone.

"Also we could maybe order dinner? And eat together at your place?" And let him into your apartment that's not cleaned up? That looks shitty even when it is cleaned up?

"Don't push it."

"Or we could go somewhere? I'll pay, of course."

And absolutely embarrass yourself and make him never want to see you again and talk about you to journalists that you're a horrible person, which gets published in every newspaper ever so you have to move and change your name? Ok, maybe that was a bit dramatic.

Bruce can clearly see the anxiety on your face.

"It doesn't have to be a date, if you don't want that."

Be brave! Be brave! You can do this!

"Uh." You almost choke on your words. "And... if I do... want that...?"

You might actually pass out, this is horrible. If he doesn't respond in less than a second, your flight response is going to win and you'll run away. And quit your job, so he can't find you again.

"That would be wonderful! We can take it slow, ok? Absolutely no pressure to do anything you don't want to do whatsoever, I promise."

You nod, not feeling brave enough to say anything. Maybe those were your last words ever.

"So... Dinner at your place? As a date?"

You nod again. Shit, fuck. Are you actually going to date Bruce Wayne? What were you thinking? Wait, does going on one date even mean you're 'dating' him? What's the definition here?

You start walking again, leading Bruce to where you live. If he hates your apartment and leaves and you never see him again that's fine and you'll be able to handle it, right? But that won't happen, so calm down. But if it did happen, you'll be fine and ok and fine. It's fine! Oh fuck, what if you misunderstood him? Did he even mean dinner tonight? Are you embarrassing yourself by assuming he'll come with you right now?

Bruce walks right beside you and starts talking again.

"I'll order. What do you want?" While saying this, he puts an arm around your shoulder. You tense. Woah.

"You said you'd take it slow!" Look at that, you can talk again.

"Too much?" Yes. But also no. But yes. But no.

"I don't know! Maybe?" He takes his arm away and you can breathe again, but somehow at the same time you miss his warmth.

"Don't worry, I'll take it so slow. The slowest. You won't regret dating me, I promise. This'll be so much fun, you'll see." He smiles.

You don't know about that, but you do know that at the very least it'll be interesting. You hope he won't notice you looking up what the definition of dating is on your phone while he's ordering food later.

[queer-froggit]

i'm ending it here because i'm boutta be here all day lol

ramble under the cut!!!!

lust's friend group is very tiny because everyone judges him for his job, but they're also all sanses so they're like "eh, not my problem" and really just ignore him, and even besides them lust has to work to get people to respect him. horror and lust are frenemies because they HATED each other at first sight- horror was very vocal about his prejudices and lust doesn't take shit from anybody. however, they're both old men just trying to get through their hell of a day without killing themselves, and they find common ground in that (same thing with lust and cross, except for them it's more lust teaching cross how to take himself seriously and turning into rivals instead) in my interpretation, lust dated a lot of people before realizing he was aro, with blue being his longest relationship. a lot of shit happened, but they're besties now.

horror and wine are frenemies because lthough they relate to ecah other, they do it in a "i pity you way", which pisses them both off. horror could never work for the royal guard, and i like to think horror takes his brother to move in with farm after leaving nightmare. it's basically saejun teaching him how to be a person again, and i think geno and farm would also make nice friends, since "old men who have finally learned to be content with what they have" trope. speaking of geno, i think he HATES reaper, like hate hate. i still haven't read aftertale, my only sources are analysis and pages out of order, but it just feels right to say? reaper likes pissing people off, so he sees geno as a pal because of this hate.

reaper and wine are dreams mentors, since reaper was supposed to have an appearance in dreamtale. reaper is more of a "using to learn your god powers" mentor while wine is "using your societal power", but they basically teach him that not everyone is going to want to be buddy buddy, and that's not something he should see as a failure (since they both have gone through the horrors). wine sees black as a more upbeat version of himself, but nox is always trying to be an opp, so he sees to reason to be friends. also they all hate fell because they think he's lazy and all bark yet no bite lol.

dust and fell are obviously friends in canon, but i feel like they especially relate because of their feeling of being trapped in hell and having to be guarded all the time (they're SO 30 for 30 by sza coded it's ridiculous), and if not romantic, i think that feeling can get familial. horror sees fell as a fake though, because he thinks underfell is just "undertale but they say fuck", so he thinks fell is all talk while he knows he wouldn't survive a DAY in horrortale (no one would), but dust and horror are friends, so horror forces himself to tolerate fell and give him advice about surviving (but more in a condescing tone).

sci and fell are a secret third thing because i could see them being siblings, rival friends or romantic (curse you cpau) so idk. same thinf with wine and cross because they're both royal guards who have gone through dictatorships, so they should relate to each other, but tehy're both bitches so they would probably be enemies, but them sparring would be so perfect???? maybe like a "my mentor is a bitch but it's to train me to do better", which works perfectly because cross is always trying to get people to see him as a superior, and wine always feels superior (but it's to do the same thing as cross), so wine talking down to him riles him up enough to try and beat him, and they can both let their stress out when they spar :) (they eventually realize that they've been living in a dictatorship where rheir leader has been incredibly selfish, don't worry)

swap and blueberror... idk how to explain it. i think they're very jinx and ekko coded. blueberror is the more hyper and blunt version of swap, and swap has to calm him down sometimes, but they would be besties because they bounce off of each other 👍

nightmare and ink are colleagues beacuse i said so :) ink is nightmare's equivalent of people watching video essays as background noise. also nightmare wanted to study fresh because he sees him as an anomaly (someone whose emotions he can't read, yet feels uneasy around him, depsite not knowing who he is), but then learned like one thing about him and decided not to open that can of worms. fresh just thinks nightmare is weird.

i think that's it... thank you for the chart sign!

Ship chart but it’s not a ship chart it’s a friendship/found family/QPR chart

[adrift-in-my-own-thoughts]

Yknow, what hurts me the most about Luka and Hyuna's relationship isn't even the fact that after god knows how many years without seeing her, Luka's first reaction to seeing Hyuna again is to smile. Because he's so in love with her that the literal gun against his head means nothing, just the fact that she's there is enough for him, allows him to feel truly happy, and his first thought is probably something along the lines of I missed you or I'm glad you're here or I want to hold you, to hug you again. Nor is it the fact that again, despite however many years it's surely been since she last saw him, Hyuna's immediate instinct to seeing Luka in potential danger is to throw herself into harm's way instead, sacrificing her own life just to make sure this boy with so many health issues, this puppet of the aliens, can live for a little longer.

No.

What saddens me the most about their relationship is the fact that Hyuna didn't hate him because she disliked Luka, she hated him because it was too dangerous to care about him. The only other person she ever loved that much was her brother Hyun Woo, and she watched him die in front of her eyes when they were all still children. This forced Hyuna to learn and accept that loving someone was too dangerous, risked both parties getting hurt whether with the intentions go hurt both or just as a side effect of one being hurt anyway. And so this other boy she loves, perfect, innocent Luka? What other choice does she have but to push him away to keep them both safe? She says at the end of Wiege that he was her only weakness, and I don't think that Hyuna meant because he was soft or weak himself (although that most likely is also true, judging from all his health conditions and etc), but because she couldn't possible bear the thought of losing someone else, and she couldn't let him get hurt from losing her like she was from losing Hyun Woo, either. She also said she had to keep moving forward, probably meaning she couldn't be held back by the fear or burden of caring about another as well.

So she's basically forced herself into hating Luka in order to protect them both, and I imagine she's managed to push him somewhere in the back of her mind for the last few years somewhat successfully, and yet. Yet she still rushes to save him when she sees that gun pointed at his head. She's injured and probably desperately needs medical care and is who knows how important a member of the rebels considering what we've seen her do for them so far and she still just runs as fast as she possibly can in that moment to move Luka out of the way and take the bullet herself. Luka probably wasn't even aware of what she was doing until the last second, when he was watching the life slowly leave Hyuna's eyes as he finally gets to hold her in his arms like he did when they were kids once more. And he will have to spend the rest of his life knowing that Hyuna's last action was to make sure he could live, knowing that her last breaths were spent telling him to forgive himself and live with love. And what do you do with that? When the one you love probably more than you even love yourself suddenly shows up out of nowhere and you can't even say a single word to them before they're just. Dead in your arms after literally giving more than they had to save you.

That's what hurts me the most about Luka and Hyuna's relationship. Despite everything, despite her best efforts, Hyuna still loved him so much that she sacrificed not only her own life, but potentially others as well if her role within the rebels or her knowledge was important enough. That Luka loves her so much he disregards his own safety to just rejoice in seeing her again. That he would've died happy knowing she was still safe, and yet she died instead so that he would be the one to stay safe, without even a second thought.

[soapyghostie]

Slashers maybe going to get a mani pedi with their s/o like get their nails done at a salon and all that like with nubbins especially i wana see that

Welp, I felt like doing another request and suprisingly had time to do it. I hope you don't mind if I made this into a Horror House prompt. I'm absoutely obsessed with Horror House and it's my only motivation to write anything at the moment. Hope you enjoy!

Horror House

Jason is hesitant at first, not really understanding the appeal, but he goes because he loves spending time with you. The nail techs are terrified, but they still do their job, and Jason just sits there quietly, letting you pick a nice clear coat or soft pastel for his nails. He actually enjoys the hand massage and you’ll catch him staring at his nails later. He’s impressed by how good they look. 

Michael just stares the entire time. No reaction, no comments, just silent intimidation as the nail tech works on his massive hands. You pick a deep, midnight blue for his nails. Even though he acts like he doesn’t care, you’ve noticed he’s been more careful with what he does with his hands as if he doesn’t wanna ruin them. 

Freddy totally makes nonstop jokes about how they’re gonna fix his burnt skin. “Bet you haven’t worked on hands this crispy, huh?” He gets a bright, obnoxious red polish and makes suggestive comments the entire time, just to embarrass you. The techs are so done with him, but you just roll your eyes and enjoy your time. 

Bubba is nervous but excited! He’s fidgety at first, but once they start filing his nails and soaking his feet, he’s so happy. You pick a nice pink for him, and he’s obsessed with how they look. He shows Drayton and the others when you get home like a proud child. 

Oh, Nubbins is living for this. He’s making weird little giggling noises the entire time, kicking his feet in the water, and wiggling his fingers at you after they paint them. Definitely asks for little smiley faces on his nails and makes a huge mess, knocking over polish bottles while the workers try to stop him from putting his feet on the counter. 

One word for ChopTop: Twitchy. He keeps messing with his nails the whole time. “Damn, my cuticles are all fucked up. You think you can fix that, babe?” He picks neon colors, just to be extra, and absolutely peels the polish off within an hour after getting them done. Hey! He had fun.

Drayton complains the entire time but doesn’t stop you from dragging him there. “Ain’t no man of mine gonna be sittin’ around wasting money on damn fingernails!” However, you catch him admiring his nails later when he thinks no one is looking. 

Thomas is pretty nervous because he’s not used to being pampered, but once you hold his hand and reassure him, he relaxes. He actually really likes the feeling of the hand massage, even though his hands are rough and scarred. You paint his nails a simple dark color, and even though he hides them from everyone else, you know he secretly likes them. 

Bo acts like he hates it. “This is some real dumbass shit, darlin,” but ohhhh the minute they start massaging his hands, he’s melting into the chair. Let's you pick the color and pretends not to care, but you hear him telling Lester later, “Shit was actually kinda nice.” 

Vincent absolutely loves it! He’s an artist so, of course, he appreciates self-care and aesthetics. He goes for a matte black or deep blue, and he keeps his hands extra still to make sure they look perfect. You catch him taking pictures of his nails later to use for reference for his wax sculptures.

Lester is super excited to get his nails done. He’s pretty chatty with the nail techs and being his usual goofy self. “Ya think my feet are the dirtiest you’ve ever seen?” (Yes, Lester they are). Picks a bright color like orange or green and proudly shows them off to his brothers. They just shake their heads at him. 

Norman is a little shy at first, but he enjoys being pampered. Goes for a natural buffed look, something subtle and classy. Later, he tells ‘mother’ all about it, and you’re not sure if she approves or not. 

Hannibal has been here before. He probably has a regular place that serves him wine while he gets his nails done. Picks a deep burgundy color and lectures you on the history of nail care while you’re just trying to enjoy yourself. 

Amanda acts all tough, but she secretly loves it. Gets black nails or some cool edgy design, like little skulls. Absolutely pulls the “We should do this again sometime” while pretending it wasn’t her idea. 

Billy Loomis is skeptical at first but lets you talk him into it. Gets black nails but acts like it’s just for the ‘cool goth aesthetic’ and not because he actually enjoyed the experience. Stu makes fun of him, so Billy immediately drags him to get one too.

Ohhhh! Stu loves it! “Babyyyy, why didn’t we do this sooner?!” Gets something stupid, like glow-in-the-dark polish, and won’t stop wiggling his fingers in your face to show it off. 

Chucky complains the whole time but secretly enjoys it. Picks a tacky, obnoxious color, probably bright red. He gets wayyyyy into the hand massage and makes inappropriate jokes the entire time. 

Girl! Tiffany absolutely LIVES for pedicures! She has a specific salon she only goes to because “they know how to do my nails right.” She gets long, sharp, black-and-red stiletto nails, and if anyone messes up her set, she will KILL them. 

You have to beg Brahms to go because he’s scared of people seeing his face. He ends up loving the feeling of the warm water and gets super clingy afterward, expecting more pampering from you. Gets a soft pastel color because he secretly wants to match you. 

Billy Lenz just giggles the entire time and talks in his usual inappropriate manner. The nail techs are extremely uncomfortable. Gets Christmas-themed nails even if it’s the middle of summer. 

Pyramid Head just sits in complete silence while everyone panics about how to do his nails with those massive hands he's got. He ends up getting a deep, bloody red because you picked it for him. He doesn’t say much about his nails, but he loves them. He makes sure not to chip the paint off them.  

Carrie has never gotten her nails done before, so she’s shy but super excited. She picks a soft pink or a pretty glittery polish and stares at her nails in awe when they’re done. Later, she keeps looking at them, feeling beautiful and loved. 

Jennifer is in her element. This is her thing. She picks a sultry, sexy color like deep red or glossy black. She bullies you if you pick something plain, but after she’s done teasing you, she’ll insist on fixing them. She loves going to a nail salon, but she doesn’t mind doing both of your guys’ nails at home. She’s a nail pro. 

Danny loves the attention, winks at the nail techs, and makes flirty jokes the whole time. He’s actually gotten some of the nail techs to fall head-over-heels for him and try to get his number. Obviously, he denies. He gets straight black with blood splatters because he has a brand. He definitely smudges his nails on purpose so you have to go back with him. 

Leslie is way too excited to get his nails done. He acts like he’s studying the experience for his “slasher routine.” “Self-care is critical when you’re doing all that running, you know?” He gets something wild, like a gradient of dark green to black, and absolutely records a little monologue about it for his documentary that he is making.

[oceanicwriting]

hey, bro!

summary: where mattheo riddle is obsessed with his best friend sister, and for the first time, he can fuck her without protection and now he doesn't give a fuck about who knows what. not even his best friend.

pairing(s): non-wizard mattheo riddle x non-wizard female!reader

a/n: i'm so sooooorry this took me a while to post... but here it is! i'm still doing my road trip and i have no idea when i'll be back, but i have some good ideas if you are patient with me hehe.

+18 smut, unprotected sex, missionary, praising

ㅤㅤㅤ —mattheo, —you moan as you feel his lips descend to the neckline of your shirt—. mattheo, wait.

ㅤㅤㅤ you thought he would ignore your voice because he easily lifts you up to sit on the counter, standing between your legs ready to receive him. although he continues to caress you with his large palms, he seems attentive to listen to what you have to say.

ㅤㅤㅤ —we can’t do this, —you whisper, looking him straight into his soft puppy brown eyes—. theodore could catch us, and we both know that would be fatal.

ㅤㅤㅤ —i can handle it, —he says, smiling and leaning in to kiss you again—. where does all this guilt come from, baby? i don't remember these words when we did it at my house, my car, the beach, the closet, the bathroom...

ㅤㅤㅤ you roll your eyes at his tone. funny but ironic.

ㅤㅤㅤ —get to the point.

ㅤㅤㅤ mattheo caresses your face with one of his hands, moving his thumb delicately over your cheekbone lit up red. his other hand travels to your back, where the neckline of the shirt allows him to feel your warm skin against the tip of his fingers. a shiver runs through your body, as weak as ever to his cold touch.

ㅤㅤㅤ —i don't think all the other times you cared so much. —you hated that his gaze enjoys so much seeing even the slightest reaction of your body to his presence—. theodore is drunk and, minutes ago, he went with my cousin to his room. why is that not illegal?

ㅤㅤㅤ you laugh, playing with the collar of his black t-shirt.

ㅤㅤㅤ —besides, it's my fault that his sister is so fucking hot? —he questions, letting out a soft laugh.

ㅤㅤㅤ you give him a punch on the shoulder as he tries to lean in to kiss you again. lately, he didn’t seem to care if theodore, your brother, found out about you two, and it was driving you a little crazy. mattheo growls at your action and raises his eyebrows in confusion.

ㅤㅤㅤ —not here. go to my room in five. —you jump off the furniture, pushing mattheo against the wall.

ㅤㅤㅤ —there’s my girl.

ㅤㅤㅤ mattheo riddle and theodore nott have been friends since they were five. when they met, after your family moved to his neighborhood, you had just turned three. over time, the brunette became a constant figure at home. now the two great friends shared an apartment near the university in the busy streets of london.

ㅤㅤㅤ your story with mattheo is somewhat different. sure, you knew each other since you were little, but theodore became an overprotective brother by the time. no one could ever get close to his little sister, much less his friends who he knew so well. everything turned upside down when you turned thirteen, and your parents sent you to a boarding school for girls in the outskirts of the country. you didn't see mattheo again until a year ago, where all kinds of things started to go wrong.

ㅤㅤㅤ the first time you two had a run-in was eight months ago. theodore, after having insisted for hours, took you to a party with the strict condition of not being near his friends. the big problem started when your brother drank so much that he was unable to drive the car, and mattheo was the only sane one to take you home. if your brother hadn't drank more than he should have, you wouldn't have had the slightest intention of getting close to them, and everything that's happening with mattheo would never have blossomed.

ㅤㅤㅤ from that time on, mattheo started looking for you, and even if you insisted that it was forbidden, nothing could stop the desire of your eager bodies.

ㅤㅤㅤ and that's how you've ended up, once again, whimpering under his sticky body. you're not fully aware of how many times you've cum under the brunette's caresses, but you're sure you've enjoyed each one of them. the labored breathing, aroma of the room, and condoms thrown on the floor were proof of that.

ㅤㅤㅤ —shit, —he whispers, coming out of you to throw away the condom that was squeezing his cock—. so perfect. and just for me.

ㅤㅤㅤ you barely smile because you're still a little lost from the explosion of sensations you'd experienced seconds ago. mattheo, until now, had tested your pussy until exhaustion. he had bitten, licked, and sucked every corner of your naked body with the need to mark you until the last day of your life. of course, as fascinating as everything he'd done before, burying himself in you over and over again wasn't going to be left out of the long night.

ㅤㅤㅤ —how i love to see your face after the orgasm —he whispers, caressing your legs, standing between them—. so beautiful and bright.

ㅤㅤㅤ seeing him naked and stained by soft pink marks can only awaken a new wave of need that intoxicates you. it is an unrecognizable force of desire that generates all kinds of thoughts loaded with lust. then, motivated by instinct, you hug his waist with your legs and pull his arm.

ㅤㅤㅤ —what is this? —he questions, resting one of his hands on the bed so as not to crush you—. seconds ago, you were screaming that you couldn't take it anymore.

ㅤㅤㅤ there is a hint of concern in his voice for taking you to an unknown limit, but also a certain mockery that does not go unnoticed motivating you to rub your pussy against his slowly hardening crotch. it was as clear as the day that mattheo riddle could never resist you.

ㅤㅤㅤ —mattheo. —the guttural moan that escapes your lips is enough to make him lose his mind a little—. i need you to fuck me again. i need to feel every inch of you, please.

ㅤㅤㅤ —baby, i don't...

ㅤㅤㅤ knowing exactly what he was going to say and taking the initiative you speak—. i don’t want you to use a condom. please, mattheo, i need to feel it all inside me.

ㅤㅤㅤ how could he think straight when you’re rubbing yourself shamelessly, his lip marks glistening on your chest, and you’re smiling like the devil himself has possessed you?

ㅤㅤㅤ mattheo’s lips tangle with yours in a messy, exhausted, needy kiss. it was such a strange mix that your heart skips a beat against your chest. he settles against your pussy, finding your entrance and gently pushing himself inside you. he didn’t want to go fast because mattheo wanted to remember every corner of your insides with agony.

ㅤㅤㅤ —you feel so good.

ㅤㅤㅤ when his member is completely inside you, you feel his warm skin throbbing and stretching your muscles to the limit. the feeling of that connection drove you completely crazy because being with mattheo was already dangerous territory, and having him inside you without any barriers was even more exciting.

ㅤㅤㅤ —do it slowly —you ask, moving your hips to let him know that he could move.

ㅤㅤㅤ just as you had asked, mattheo does not rush. his entries and exits are smooth, enjoying the exquisiteness of your hot interior. he was fascinated by the way your muscles embraced him, sliding without problem against your walls that could have made him cum from the first moment.

ㅤㅤㅤ soft moans begin to escape from mattheo's lips, forcing you to pay attention to those sounds that you had rarely heard. they were loud, husky, and shameless, perfectly matching the clash of their bodies and your own moans.

ㅤㅤㅤ —shit, i could get addicted to this. feeling you like never before, —he whispers, kissing your chest and speeding up the movement of his hips—. but i can’t take it anymore.

ㅤㅤㅤ a soft cry escapes your mouth at the speed that tickles the inside of your body. mattheo separates his chest from yours, raising your hips held by his hands and burying himself deeper this time. you try to keep your composure, but it’s impossible not to whimper and shudder.

ㅤㅤㅤ —mattheo, i can’t... —a stream of tears escapes down your reddened face—. i need to cum.

ㅤㅤㅤ he doesn't respond, dropping your body back against the bed and stimulating your clit with one of his fingers. the simple contact makes you arch your back in unrecognizable pleasure, clouding your gaze.

ㅤㅤㅤ —so stupidly cute, —he whispers, admiring the way his cock comes in and out of you to discover every corner of your interior—. you're going to look so gorgeous after this. come on, baby, cum for me.

ㅤㅤㅤ you close your eyes tightly, moaning loudly at the amount of sensations that whip through your entire body. then, you feel it, a relieving heat that runs through your entire body accompanied by a soft pop. mattheo has just left your interior to cum in your abdomen, while a soft convulsion releases your own orgasm.

ㅤㅤㅤ you can’t open your eyes because you’re too tired, irritated, and relieved to do so. mattheo takes the liberty of cleaning you up, tidying the room soon after.

ㅤㅤㅤ —you can’t fall asleep, —you whisper, feeling the heaviness of his arm around you—. mattheo?

ㅤㅤㅤ —i know, baby. i know.

ㅤㅤㅤ and the truth is, you should have found the strength to get him out of the room, but you didn’t, waking up the next morning with his arm still squeezing you.

ㅤㅤㅤ —mattheo!? —it's a little scream that you have to stifle with your own hand, getting out of bed and watching him wake up lazily—. shit! mattheo, wake up. you have to go. now.

ㅤㅤㅤ —five minutes...

ㅤㅤㅤ —what? —you climb onto the bed, pushing him towards the edge as best you can—. shit. come on, please, mattheo...

ㅤㅤㅤ and the silly smile that appears on his face at your useless efforts doesn't help the panic growing in your chest. then he pulls your arm, making you fall on top of his bare chest.

ㅤㅤㅤ —do you know that you're wearing my shirt? i can't leave without it.

ㅤㅤㅤ the truth is that you hadn't realized that until he mentions it. mattheo, in an attempt to kiss your lips, approaches your face with impulse.

ㅤㅤㅤ —if that's what you need to get out of the fucking bed.

ㅤㅤㅤ and mattheo shines at the idea of ​​seeing your tits. however, the second you try to take off the garment over your head, your door bursts open. theodore nott, your brother, is now part of the equation.

ㅤㅤㅤ —what the fuck am i looking at? —at each word he pauses a little, exchanging his gaze between you and his best friend.

ㅤㅤㅤ mattheo has jumped out of bed, and the obviousness, given his semi-nakedness, is comical.

ㅤㅤㅤ —god! —you approach your brother, determined to push him out of your room—. why the hell are you coming in without knocking?

ㅤㅤㅤ —hey, bro!

ㅤㅤㅤ if it weren't for the fact that you know that's the worst thing he could say, you would have considered that goofy smile one of the cutest you've ever seen on his face.

ㅤㅤㅤ —shut the fuck up! —theodore bellows, pulling his best friend closer to pull his arm with your failed attempts at stopping him—. i'll talk to you later. walk, motherfucker.

ㅤㅤㅤ —theodore, wait!

ㅤㅤㅤ mattheo doesn't seem to have the best face in the world, but he doesn't seem sorry or afraid either. what the hell is wrong with him today?

ㅤㅤㅤ —see you soon, baby.

ㅤㅤㅤ and you can hear mattheo receive a blow, followed by your brother's voice saying—: you're not going to see her anytime soon, shit face. what the hell do you think you're doing...?

[deadbeatbirdmom]

Happy Valentine's Day my fellow RWBY fans. This should be a day focused on love. Which is why I'm going to talk about something that's been troubling me for a while. This isn't about any single post, and I'm not singling anyone out. I'd put this under a read more cut but I think it's important enough not to do that. Scroll down for TLDR and a poll.

One of the common courtesies of tumblr etiquette is: don't tag hate with things like a ship tag or character tag. Or should be common, but let's face it, it's more like uncommon.

A good chunk of tumblr users who I end up blocking are those who post hate in tags like the 'Bumbleby' tag, or 'Yang Xiao Long' tag (it'd be the 'RWBY' tag too, but I don't often go there and rarely post in it). No, it's not toxic to block people, it's how you control your tumblr experience. It's how I avoid seeing hate, or try to.

But there are some tumblr users who I don't want to block but also end up putting hate in the tags: some of my fellow fans. It's not intended the same way as those who do it out of spite, but the end result is the same: your fellow fans end up seeing stuff they might prefer not to.

There's another rule, an old one that predates tumblr: don't feed the trolls. Don't give them attention. Please delete anon hate rather than answer it, although I definitely understand how trolling trolls can be fun. Just please don't tag it with the main tags or you'll do the anon's work for them if it's hate about a ship or character.

I see all too much fan art around that gets far less engagement than posts trying to fight back against hate (and unfortunately share the hate at the same time, especially when it's something from elsewhere like reddit or twitter). If you like the art, don't only hit that heart button, reblog it too!

RWBY fandom isn't dead, but we do need to do our part to encourage artists to make and share more art. Likes alone don't help the art get in front of more fans. I don't think everyone looks in the tags to find art, some will rely on those they follow reblogging art. This goes for sharing fic too! And giving fic writers comments (and kudos on AO3).

This is an appeal to keep negativity out of the main tags. I'm not saying you can't post whatever you want, just when it comes to tagging: please spare a thought for your fellow fans who are incredibly tired of negativity. If all else fails, maybe include a tag that can be added to filters? 'Wasps' for posts about Bumbleby hate, maybe?

I don't know about anyone else, but if I wanted to see hate and get angry, I'd be on twitter or reddit. I check tags here on tumblr to find fan art, and to see fellow fans talking about how much they love RWBY and its characters and ships, and find interesting theories and analysis.

I'm also not entirely sure how tumblr works with followed tags and words mentioned in posts. Do untagged posts still show up if the word appears in the post? Does that mean breaking the word with a backslash or something to avoid it showing up? I don't know, perhaps something to consider.

TLDR: please don't feed the trolls and don't tag hate with main tags. Show RWBY fan artists and fic writers some love and reblog their posts, and comment on fics!

One last thing: a poll to find out if I'm an outlier and posting hate is actually normal in this post-twitter world.

[runninriot]

your heart's safe with me

written for the @steddieholidaydrabbles Valentine's Day pop-up event and @steddiebingo main card fill for the prompt pre-relationship

rated: T | wc: 1.000 | tags: pre steddie, pining, love confessions, implied friends to lovers

   "If I have to see one more couple kissing, I'm gonna be sick. Can they just not? I'm already miserable, don't need them to rub it in like that," Steve groans and Eddie gets it; it's hard being single on Valentine's day.

That is, if you're name is Steve Harrington. Self-proclaimed former ladies’ man, who never really had a problem scoring a date until he lost his crown when he climbed off his high horse and became part of the loveless losers club Eddie's been a member of all his life.

   "Can't even go to Robin's for our annual Fuck Valentine's date because she's seeing her new girlfriend tonight. I mean, I love that for her but- god, it sucks being alone."

   "You do know who you're talking to, right?"

Steve turns to look at him, confusion making way for understanding.

   "Oh, uh, sorry."

   "You should be. I've never had a date on Valentine's day. Or ever, for that matter. But do you see me complaining? No. So suck it up, man. You'll find the right one. Maybe not today but- they're out there somewhere."

Eddie hates to even think about it but there’s no denying the fact that one day, he'll have to come to terms with Steve being in a relationship with someone that isn't him. It sucks, but that's just how things are.

   "You could come to my place after work," Eddie offers before thinking it through. "We can watch some cheesy romcom. You can complain about how unrealistic it is and I can make fun of you for crying over the happy ending."

This makes Steve laugh and Eddie takes it as a win; he loves making Steve laugh, loves the sound of it.

   "So that's a yes?"

After their shift, they separate ways only for Steve to make a detour home because he complained about needing to get out of his smelly work clothes and take a shower.

Eddie would've offered his shower and his clothes for Steve to change into but it’s better that way – better not to give his mind any more reason to create fantasies he definitely shouldn't have.

So, he uses the time to freshen up and clean up some of the bits and bobs scattered around his apartment. It's not messy, not really. Nothing like Wayne had augured when Eddie moved out to live on his own. It's more like organised chaos but because it's Steve coming over, Eddie puts a little more effort in it than he usually would.

An hour later, Steve finally arrives.

   "For how long it took you to get changed, I thought you'd be dressed up a lot nicer for me," Eddie jokes when he opens the door and finds Steve standing there in comfy sweats and hoodie, hair tousled but still unfairly good looking.

   "Sorry. Robin called because she was freaking out about her date, so I had to calm her down. You know how she gets when she's nervous." Steve shakes his head and sighs, smiling fondly, "But I stopped at the pizza place you like. Brought your favourite, as an apology."

His smile turns from soft to cheeky and Eddie happily takes the large box handed to him.

   "I could kiss you right now."

Eddie could kiss him always, but Steve doesn't need to know.

They get comfortable in the small but cosy living room, eating while watching the movie Steve chose - something about best friends who are obviously meant to be but too oblivious to realise it. Eddie's not really paying attention, just enjoys Steve's presence. Letting his eyes linger on the man beside him every now and then, smiling whenever Steve smiles, counting the moles on his face and neck, wishing he could kiss every single one of them. It's stupid, maybe even risky to gawk so openly, but Steve doesn't notice - or at least he doesn't call him out on it.

   "This is so stupid," Steve says and Eddie laughs because he's been waiting for it.

   "How do they not know? I mean- it's clear as day that he's into her. How can she keep looking for love when it's right there?"

   "Sometimes you just don't see what's right in front of you, I guess." Eddie swallows hard; he knows too well what it's like not to be seen.

   "Okay, sure. But then why doesn't he just- tell her. I mean, they're clearly perfect together."

   "It's not always that easy."

   "I'd want to know. If there was someone loving me like this, I'd want them to tell me."

Steve turns to look at him and Eddie's breath catches in his throat.

Does he know? Does he suspect something? That can't be. Eddie never told anyone about his feelings for Steve.

   "What if they're scared?" It already sounds like a confession and Eddie curses himself for not keeping his mouth shut.

   "Scared of what?"

Eddie scoffs frustrated.

   "I don't know, Steve. Rejection? Losing your best friend? Having your heart broken?"

He didn't mean to snap at him but this conversation really hits a nerve.

   "But what if..." Steve trails off, seems lost in his thoughts, "What if they love them back?"

Eddie has the sickening feeling that they're not talking about the movie anymore.

   "They wouldn't know unless the other person gives them a sign."

   "Something like that?"

Before the question even sinks in, Eddie’s lips are sealed with Steve’s that are tentatively pushing, opening up just enough for a hint of tongue Eddie chases with his own, falling easily into the rhythm of Steve's lead.

Eddie keeps his eyes closed for a long moment after they part, contemplating whether he dares to believe this is real.

   "Your heart's safe with me," Steve whispers sweetly and Eddie realises then, that this crush hasn't been so one-sided all this time.

Next year on Valentine's, he promises himself, he'll make it extra special for Steve. Tonight though, sharing pizza and kisses and confessions is enough to make it perfect.

[babyjinsu]

[r/Unsent_Unread_Unheard] you don't give a fuck about me, but i still do.

PAIRING ⟢ seunghan hong x fem!reader

GENRE ⟢ reddit au, oneshots, written, angst

CW ⟢ the use of "bitch" and "slut", he sounds like he's going to murder you icl, kind of dark? seunghan doesn't know if he hates reader or he still loves her so it's lowkey everywhere n messed up, implied cheating

SYNOPSIS ⟢ a heartbroken ex boyfriend expresses his deep hatred and his love for his ex girlfriend on r/Unsent_Unread_Unheard.

💭 seunghan is crazy here...

[r/Unsent_Unread_Unheard] you don't give a fuck about me, but i still do. posted by u/hanseung • 19h ago

i'm such a fucking idiot. i don't even know why i'm writing this knowing you won't read, and even if you do, you couldn't be bothered to give a single shit. nothing about me has ever mattered to you because you're just a selfish little bitch.

i don't know why it took me so fucking long to notice and realise (or maybe i always fucking have but i'm just too delusional) why you were always looking at him and how your stupid eyes never settled or lingered on me the way mine did on you. i wanted to believe what we had was real so maybe that's why i was constantly ignoring the warning signs. i really shouldn't have.

i still think at one point you loved me, but not in the same way i loved you.

i loved you so so much... and the worst part? i still fucking do yn. i would've done so much for you and us if you could just love me fully-heartedly. or at least fucking pretend to?? we were 'together' for 2 fucking years for fuck's sake, you could've just continued that act and we can all be happy instead of being a fucking slut.

this whole time i was just a placeholder while you waited for him to be available. your heart belonged to someone else this whole time. and out of everyone, it just had to be my fucking brother? seriously yn? you couldn't choose other people besides my own brother?

i don't think you know what that does to a person. but knowing you, i know you do but you're just a snobby little spoiled bitch who only thinks of herself. i bet you fucking wish the i love yous that i whispered were from my brother. the nights we spent together too? did you picture his face when you look at me because we look similar? how many times did you almost moan out his name instead of mine?

i want to hate you sooooo fucking much yn. i don't deserve this kind of love from anyone, much more from a cheating bitch like you. you're such a horrible person, and i hope karma bites your ass back. i hope nothing in your life goes right and it destroys you, and you'll realise that it is all thanks to me. i'm praying for your fucking downfall yn. you will never be loved the way i loved you.

since i've said too much anyway, i just want to let you know that i look for you in other girls. sometimes i don't do it on purpose, sometimes it's a pattern. i look for pieces of you and let myself believe that this time i can make it work. and when it hurts them, i want you to know it's all your fucking fault yn. you made me the person i am today. it's all your fault. you will live and carry the pain of these girls that i've emotionally hurt.

you never had to grieve me because you were never mine in the first place. but i was yours. my whole being was yours. i practically fucking devoted my life to you. i rejected snu to enroll yonsei with you AND my brother. the fuck yn... did you use witchcraft on me?

i was just some guy you were with to get closer with my brother, and congratulations on accomplishing that mission. hope you know that when you guys are married, we'll still be seeing each other for christmas, new years, holidays, and celebrations to come. you'll never fully get rid of me yn.

you don't give a fuck about me but i still do. and i bet that boosts your ego you bitch.

💭 well... ◡̈

[urautismdiagnosis]

Dashi Design (and her lore for my au)

DASHIIIIIII she has my life eeee

Dashi is my go getter queen, also the headshot of her is her correct hair texture its just that the total body art is a bit older but yeh :>

Dashi lore for my au under the cut

ONTO THE LORE FOR DASHI IN MY AU 🎉🎉🎉

First of all, let's take a little look at her interests- surfing, photography, going out to cave dive for those photos-

And she does all of this stuff, that alot of people might only do as hobbies, to the max!

Whenever she has any interest she always goes as high as she possibly can-

Her family is kinda rich, like "we have rich person hobbies and have expensive vacations every year 💅" kind of rich. Hence why she was able to get so much support for all her interests at a young age, whether it be surfing or photography competitions and so on.

Anyways she's also got an older brother, (I've named him Dan btw) and he's the eldest

See the thing about him and dashi is that they used to be super close as kids yk? He was the oldest sibgling and big brother and both he and dashi were both similar in alot of ways! They were both super competitive and determined to reach their goals, he also was the one who got her into surfing and taught her a ton of stuff!

They were close kinda like how dashi and koshi are...

The thing is though a big part of his identity was being the golden child and amazing big brother and perfect high achiever son, so when dashi started getting older and developing her like.. whole seperate interests and identity that her brother...

Well they started clashing alot, because well she couldn't play the "little sister" that he could teach so everyone could admire how amazing he was, instead she was having her own achievements that he couldn't have any credit in.

He was the kind of older brother who... well choose to be kinda patronizing to make themselves more masculine and popular... and at a certain point it went from "aw big brother helping teach his lil sister!" To " ur actually talking down on me and I hate that, and whenever i try to bring it up you act like I'm a 5 year old when I'm not. Also I dont need ur bad advice on this, I know what I'm doing and ur just acting like a pro in something u don't know anything about"

Alot of his identity and self worth comes from bragging about *his* achievements

The undermining of her own achievements didn't even just come from him either, alot of her passions and skills were just seen as hobbies for fun and not real jobs. Its why she ended up as primarily a computer specialist, she worked as a meteorologist actually! She would use those advanced machines and systems to track and decipher weather, and even was a co-pilot for the weather researchers... but her parents just kinda saw it as her just "being a weather girl"

Her parents are genuinely very kind and caring, nuturing her interests and always trying to be there for her emotional needs but, but they're very out of touch. The type of people to just... not understand why saying a certain phrase *actually is kinda specist* or *why photography actually matters to helping climate change* or *hey actually you can't just try to feed wild animals food even if they act cute cuz it'll hurt them and no it actually IS really bad for a variety of reasons and-*

That sorta thing...

They do genuinely love and try to support her tho, they just... wanted her to get a real job so she could have a good life :/ they're genuie ly nice folks who love to help people out tho

Regardless though,dashi still wanted to fulfill her passions and dreams and needs,and then she learned about the octonauts

at the time thr octonauts were a VERY experimental and risky organization, but she did research and genuinely believed and wanted to be part of what could possibly be a revolutionary organization for rescue, research, exploration, and conservation-

So she applied in secret.

The thing is though, Dan had found out. Their relationship at the time was strained at best but they were still siblings. But then he snitched.

her parents. Freaked. Out

To say they were concerned about their daughter going out to just- possibly- "die in the middle of the ocean!" Or "be stuck and trapped with strangers in the middle of the ocean!" Or "struggle to ever settle down because you're in the middle of the ocean!" Or "get stranded on an island in the middle of the ocean!" Or "get eaten by a whale and cry because u weren't ever able to get back with ur ex u sarcastically said ud get back with because we kept talking about how amazing he was and how we thought ud get married and how sad that made us and then you'd die in a whale in the middle of the ocean!" Or whatever 🙄

Like girl did get swallowed by a whale but it was chill yall need to calm down 💅 like so what if siphonphores tried to eat her once or if the octopods crashed or nearly crashed several times? Like she handled it yall need to have some faith in ur daughter smh

Anyways needless to say they made the process SO HARD esp since Dan STOLE HER LAPTOP WITH HER FILES because he was "woRriEd foR hIs baby SiStEr trYiNg tO ruuN AwAy🥺🥺🥺" She is a grown woman btw and a highly renowned professional in her career.

anyways she managed to join thr octonauts anyways and her parents did chill at least half a year later once they realized she wasn't gonna die in the ocean and that she was fine not "settling down" for a while, they still DONT understand it but like they were just worried their daughter was going crazy and running away (THANKS FOR ADDING A BUNCH OF DRAMATIC LIES TO CHANGE THE STORY DAN)

Anyways she and Dan don't talk anymore, if u ask either of them about it "they just drifted apart", koshi doesn't really know what all the drama that happened was tbh :/ she just remembered them fighting over a laptop and figures they never really got along 😐👍

Anyways dashi makes it a point to never make koshi feel the way dan made her feel

Also dan ended up becoming a lawyer for businesses if u were interested :/

Dashis parents sound pretty bad here and they def aren't perfect, but they're usually just uninformed and they genuinely do have a "we should help everyone in our community ^v^ " mindset and taught dashi alot about self confidence and etc

If u made it this far then congrats!

Btw she didn't start out as a scientist when she joined the octonauts,its actually something that she added to her skillsets and shellington supported her thru it

I'll have to make a dashington post soon lol and also tall about her relationships with the rest of the octonauts crew

She and peso were the last two octonauts to join

[darklinaforever]

After years of Lestat's mental and physical abuse of Claudia it is normal that she decided to kill him.

What the hell are you talking about ?!

Lestat literally did nothing to Claudia until she made a huge mistake that put them all in danger.

Whether mentally or physically.

People love to avoid that the only reason Claudia started hating Lestat in the first place was because he was the one who turned her into a vampire (and then because he didn't want to make a companion for her - when obviously he wasn't going to turn someone as young as Claudia into a vampire again -, and because he had a mistress - except that in theory that's only Louis and Lestat's business, not her -.) Not because that he mentally or physically abused her.

She had literally already taken a dislike to him at the end of episode 4 or I repeat he had never done anything serious to her.

And even if he had continued to never do anything of that kind to her, she would have tried to kill him anyway (film and books to support this).

And even in episode 5, in fact, he was not objectively mean to her before she literally caused the police to arrive at their house and because of all that mess he let slip that she was a mistake (not justifiable to say that to his daughter, but understandable when we are from Lestat's point of view knowing that children must not be turned into vampires at the risk of becoming mentally unstable later and that Claudia at this moment confirms all the fears that he could have had and she is even worse than what was expected because clearly he did not expect the massacre she caused). It was at this moment that everything changed for Lestat regarding his perception of Claudia and his relationship with her (and things only tragically worsened over time for various and varied reasons). Because of a monumental mistake on Claudia's side, cause before, once again, he had nothing against her and had never been mean to her in any way before this crucial and inevitable event for Claudia because of her nature as an eternal young teenager (and no, making her look at Charlie burn is not something motivated by malice towards Claudia on Lestat's part, but a desire for her to face her mistake, understand what she as done, don't forget it and don't do it again. Basically, a simple lesson from a vampire parent !).

Not to mention the fact that Claudia's hatred for Lestat was based solely on what she knew about his transformation into a vampire which was twisted by Louis to give himself the best possible role in the story.

Claudia, in origine, therefore does not hate Lestat at all because he allegedly mentally and physically abused her.

And once again, even if he had never done anything physically or mentally abusive to her, she would have tried to kill him anyway (still film and books to support this).

Objectively, the worst thing he did to her physically in the show was grab her by the throat (something I remember Louis will also do later) and brutally push her when she tried to get involved in the fight he had with Louis.

Literally, this is the worst he's done to her physically.

And in fact, apart from this moment, he never physically harmed her at all !?

I'm not counting episode 7 because at that moment, Claudia literally tried to kill him... And no, I don't consider that Lestat pinning Claudia against a cupboard, and him suddenly grabbing her arm, as physical abuse.

Because we have to put these scenes in their context, which are that Claudia has done huge, super dangerous stupid things, and that Lestat in the first case interrogates her with Louis and that in the second case he panicked when he learned that she had tried to turn other people into vampires.

And if I'm supposed to see as the ultimate proof of Lestat's mental abuse of Claudia the moment when he greets her with coldness (after she had gone away for 7 full years, knowing that in addition the last time they saw each other was during the immense and dangerous massacre that Claudia perpetrated in the bayou) and his two deliberately hurtful remarks towards Claudia - about Charlie and the fact that she was a poor destitute girl - (precisely after she said that she was coming for take Louis with her, and once again refused to hear the simple fact that the vampires outside are dangerous and once again accusing him of lying about it and wanting to scare them with that), we're going to have a little problem, because I mostly see this as a huge argument resulting from a lack of communication and mutual mistakes on both sides, which ended up causing resentment for both which took root through the 7 years of separation.

Then, after that big Loustat fight in the end of episode 6, Lestat and Claudia were on an equal footing with the daily insults towards each other and again I find that Claudia was a little above Lestat in terms of disdain. She is truly the student who surpasses the master, as their chess games show.

People love to paint Lestat as the ultimate villain in the trio's family downfall ; the great abuser from whom Claudia and Louis rightly free themselves ! When in fact they are all almost equally at fault (Louis and Lestat still remaining slightly above Claudia because they are the ones who made her in the first place) in this family tragedy.

They are literally vampires. Monsters. A detail that people love to forget and which adds a lot of context to certain extreme reactions of these characters. None of them are really innocent in this whole mess and they all have their faults.

I'm fed up with this unjustified demonization of Lestat by the public.