#it's. i don't even know if it's worth it actually

[servndipityz]

Hii! I wanted to request a Nam-gyu x reader smut story where it's Obviously Readers first time at a club despite only being a year or two younger than him. Maybe with the reader being a virgin too? I can't get this idea out my head 🙏 Rest is up to you, thank you so much<3

a/n ── hope you like it! absolutely loved the idea :)

CLOSER

warnings ── SMUT! MDNI, takes place after the games (don't ask me how they got out lmao i just know that they're alive and happy), porn v plot, p in v, unprotected sex, sex under the influence, virginity loss, corruption kink kinda? oral (f receiving)

word count ── 8k

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a month. a month and a half, if nam-gyu was being precise. but who’s counting?

it had been a month and a half since they’d gotten out of those fucking games. a month and a half since he’d started to get to know you better.

and more than a month and a half since nam-gyu had had sex. but who’s counting?

as shitty as his old life was, he couldn’t have been happier to have it back. promoting club pentagon again, getting high every weekend, slipping right back into his little trashy life.

plus, now he had something he didn’t have before. you.

he’d met you there, in the games, and he’d been doomed from then on. it was a strange sort of thing, really. nam-gyu was never the type to feel things. at first, he actually thought he’d caught the flu. then he figured it was just some kind of ptsd after the games—which, to be fair, he definitely had, but that was a whole other thing. but no, the tingling in his fingertips whenever he touched you, the stupid flip his stomach did when you talked... that wasn’t a mental disorder, no matter how much he tried to convince himself it was.

he’d never felt that way about a girl before. almost... caring. maybe it was more than caring, but he’d never admit it. anyway, you and him were in some kind of limbo. you weren’t something, but you weren’t nothing either. you hung out multiple times a week, texted semi-regularly, and had messy make-out sessions more times than he could count—but less than he would’ve liked. never more than making out, though. and yeah, that thought crossed his mind sometimes. he wasn’t an expert on these things, but he’d taken girls to bed for much less.

you always seemed to stop things right before they got too intense, and he’d be lying if he said it didn’t bother him. having to beat his meat every time after hanging out with you wasn’t exactly fun. but somehow, you seemed worth it. so he, the most impatient man in the world, had decided to be patient. for once.

anyway, even though he knew you weren’t really used to clubs, he figured he’d invite you to club pentagon. he wanted you to have a fun time, see where he worked, see how his life was before the games. he wanted you to let loose a little.

"thanos will be there, it'll be fun," he’d said, and it hadn’t taken much to convince you.

so there you were, the cold biting at your legs in your short skirt, gripping your purse tight as you eyed the long line of people waiting to get in. then, skipping it—feeling very glamorous all of a sudden.

"i'm, uh, friends with nam-gyu," you said, the words coming out almost like a question as the bouncer looked you up and down. you gave your name, and after a moment, he finally spotted you on the list, letting you in without much fuss.

as you stepped into the club, you were almost left in awe. you'd never really liked clubs—not really. when all your friends started partying, you gave it a shot before deciding you preferred a more chill vibe. getting drunk with friends, sharing a blunt, that sort of thing. but then again, the shitty clubs your friends dragged you to in your teenage years couldn’t compare to club pentagon.

several stories high, you could barely make out the ceiling. lights of different hues illuminated the space, smoke spilling from canisters, the bass-heavy music pulsing from a dj booth stationed at the center of the main floor. to say it was packed was an understatement, and you didn’t wonder why. the place was incredible.

you looked around, suddenly awkward. what now? what were you supposed to do? where were you supposed to go? how—

"nam-gyu!" you called out, spotting him weaving through the crowd toward you. he glanced up at you, nodding in greeting. kept it cool. he always kept it cool.

nam-gyu wasn’t expecting you to look this good. which, in hindsight, was a mistake.

your hands found their place on his shoulders before you even thought about it, familiar but not entirely effortless. still getting used to this. to him. to the way he let you in but only just enough.

"you came." he smirked slightly. his hand found your waist without thinking, the fabric of your shirt soft beneath his fingers. he barely had time to process it before you leaned in, pressing a quick kiss to his lips. barely there. almost shy.

you weren’t used to that either. you pulled away just as quickly, catching the way nam-gyu’s dark eyes flickered over you before he schooled his expression into something more detached. not detached enough, though. the way his thumb ghosted over your side told another story. he was playing it cool. always.

"this place is super cool," you said, spinning slightly to take it all in.

the music pulsed, deep and low, the bass rattling the floor beneath you. the air smelled like expensive liquor and cheap cologne, bodies pressing close under flashing lights.

nam-gyu scoffed, pleased despite himself. "yeah?" he chuckled, tilting his head at you, his expression settling into something smug. "c'mon, i’ll show you the vip section."

and of course, you let him.

he led you through the club, already losing track of its winding paths, but nam-gyu moved like he owned the place. and he liked it—you could see he liked it. guiding you like he held any real power, his hand still pressed firmly to your lower waist as he did so. he liked being the one guiding you, showing you his world like it meant something. like he meant something here. and maybe he did. maybe you saw it too.

"look who it is!"

the voice cut through the air just before you reached the top of the short staircase. thanos. loud as ever, his grin splitting his face as he all but threw himself up from the couch. the two girls draped over him barely had time to react before he pulled away, arms open wide as he closed the distance between you.

you barely had time to brace yourself before he engulfed you in a hug, laughter rumbling from his chest. the scent of cologne and alcohol clung to him, heavy and overfamiliar, like he had been here for hours.

"damn, lookin' good!" he said as he pulled away, giving you a quick once-over—no real interest behind it, but enough to make you giggle.

it really was crazy how being stuck in some life-or-death games could make people this close in such a short time.

"okay, chill." nam-gyu rolled his eyes, but there was a faint smile on his lips, his hand never leaving your waist.

thanos ignored him. "have a seat, señorita." he gestured toward the black leather couch, and you, along with nam-gyu, walked over to sit down. thanos dropped back into his seat, slinging his arms around the two girls, who seemed more than happy about it.

you ordered a drink as soon as you saw an opening, your nerves slowly starting to settle. though, judging by the weird looks you got for passing on the white powder on the table and the little bags of funky-colored pills, not everyone was on the same page.

there were other people you didn’t recognize lounging on the couches—probably some of nam-gyu’s friends or co-workers. thanos started rattling off introductions, including the girls, and as the alcohol finally started running through your veins, you felt yourself relaxing, settling into the atmosphere a little more.

you weren't sure how much time had passed, but the warmth of the alcohol was settling into your limbs, making everything feel just a little bit softer. the music vibrated through your chest, the flashing lights casting shifting colors over the VIP lounge, and you were beginning to understand why nam-gyu liked this place so much. it was loud, chaotic, a little grimy—but undeniably alive.

"you good?" nam-gyu leaned in, voice low against your ear. his breath was warm, his hand sliding from your waist to rest on your thigh, fingers pressing absentminded circles into your skin.

"mhm," you hummed, tilting your head toward him. "it’s actually kinda fun."

"yeah?" he smirked, like he knew he'd be right all along. of course he did. "told you."

his hand squeezed your thigh lightly before retreating, but not before dragging his fingers a little too slow against your skin. you rolled your eyes, but you didn't move away.

"hey, hey!" thanos suddenly called out, raising his arms to make sure everyone was listening. "how about we play a game?"

some people groaned, others laughed. a game?

"what game?" someone asked. thanos smirked, clearly pleased that he had everyone's attention.

"never have i ever," he said, his grin widening as more groans followed.

"aren't we a little too old for that?" you asked, smirking like the idea amused you.

"i'm not." he shrugged. "are you girls?" he leaned back, and both girls shook their heads vigorously.

you turned to nam-gyu, who seemed more interested in watching you than the conversation. your cheeks warmed when you caught him staring.

"wanna play?" you asked. he just shrugged. he wasn’t really into these kinds of games—he wasn’t into any games, really—but he didn’t care enough to argue. whatever passed the time.

eventually, everyone gathered around the table, all eyes on thanos as he ordered a round of the strongest drink he could think of for everyone.

the first few rounds were harmless enough. “never have i ever gotten a secret tattoo.” “never have i ever been arrested.” stupid things. you sipped your drink when necessary, laughing at some of the stories that followed, the warmth of the alcohol sinking deeper into your skin. nam-gyu barely participated, only taking a sip when he absolutely had to, but his hand had found its way back to your thigh, his fingers drumming absentmindedly against your skin.

then the questions started shifting.

"never have i ever hooked up in a club," one of thanos’ girls said, grinning like she already knew the answer for most people here. a bunch of hands reached for their drinks, nam-gyu included. you hesitated just a second too long before passing. his eyes flicked toward you, but he didn’t say anything.

the next one wasn’t any better.

"never have i ever had a one-night stand," some guy threw out. almost everyone drank. except you. you felt it before you even looked—nam-gyu was watching. his fingers stilled against your thigh for half a second before they resumed their lazy tapping, like he was processing something.

it wasn’t weird, not really. plenty of people hadn’t had one-night stands before. but it was the way you hesitated every time, the way your fingers toyed with the hem of your skirt, the way your throat bobbed as you swallowed.

"never have i ever had sex in a public place," thanos threw in, laughing when half the group groaned.

nam-gyu took a sip. you didn’t.

you looked up at nam-gyu, meeting his gaze for just a second too long. you knew what he was thinking. knew he was piecing it together. maybe he’d already suspected—maybe he already knew—but this was confirmation, wasn’t it?

"wait," thanos interrupted, a slight crack in his voice from how drunk he was. "you're cheating!" he pointed at you.

"what? i'm not." you frowned, confused as everyone turned to look.

"c’mon, your glass is almost full. you haven't been drinking."

he wasn’t wrong. sure, you’d taken your fair share of gulps, but considering most people were on their second drink—some even on their third—it was true.

a flicker of anxiety crept in, the alcohol in your system making you let out a stupid giggle. "i'm not cheating," you shrugged shyly.

"she hasn’t been drinking on the sex ones. i've seen it."

your smile vanished completely. one of the girls next to thanos had spoken, but it was nam-gyu you worried about. you’d caught him noticing earlier, but you kind of hoped he wouldn’t actually put the pieces together.

hoped he wouldn’t realize you were a virgin.

but now, with everyone watching, you were running out of luck.

"yeah, because... because i haven't done some of those things."

it was normal, you told yourself. being a virgin. the right time had never come, and you weren’t about to give it up for some scumbag at a club. you knew you shouldn’t be ashamed. but this? definitely not something you wanted everyone to know.

"what?" some guy blurted out, brows furrowed. "those were easy. you're telling me you never had a one-night stand?"

you pressed your lips together awkwardly. what did he expect you to say?

meanwhile, nam-gyu hadn't stopped watching you, his hand—resting on your leg—now completely still.

it was driving you nuts.

but as you looked over at thanos, you knew it was definitely over for you. a slow smile crept onto his previously confused expression as realization dawned. "holy shit, you're a virgin!"

your stomach twisted. a hot wave of embarrassment rushed up your neck, burning under the weight of every pair of eyes on you.

"what? no," you scoffed, trying for casual, but it came out a little too forced, a little too breathless.

thanos’ grin stretched wider. he could smell bullshit from a mile away. "oh, come on," he laughed, leaning forward like he was about to drag this out, like he was about to make it a thing.

panic prickled at the edges of your brain. you needed to get out of here. fast.

your phone. yes. a perfect excuse. you yanked it out of your bag, squinting at the screen like you’d just received the most urgent message of your life. "shit," you muttered. "i gotta go."

you were already pushing up from your seat before anyone could react. nam-gyu's hand slid off your thigh, his fingers barely catching against your skin before falling away completely.

"wait—what? already?"

"yeah, sorry," you said quickly, grabbing your coat, your bag, whatever you needed just to make a clean escape. "totally forgot i had something early tomorrow. can’t stay."

someone called after you. maybe thanos. maybe one of the girls. you weren’t sure. you weren’t listening. you were already weaving through the crowd, heart hammering, barely remembering to toss a quick "bye!" over your shoulder before the club swallowed you whole.

still sitting on the couch, nam-gyu's mind was spinning, and he was barely even drunk.

of course you were a virgin.

it all made sense now. the way you looked at him sometimes, the hesitation, the way you could go from teasing to flustered in seconds. the way you pulled back like you weren’t sure what would happen if you didn’t. and maybe he should’ve known, maybe it was obvious, but somehow, it still caught him off guard.

he hazily glanced toward where you'd just left, the rest of the crowd still laughing and talking around him.

nam-gyu wasn’t the type to walk girls home.

but then again, he also wasn’t the type to like girls.

so he did the only thing that made sense—he downed the rest of his drink, got up without bothering to say goodbye, and pushed his way through the club.

it was late. the streets were dangerous. he didn’t want you to die or whatever.

when he finally stepped out, the streets were dark, damp from earlier rain, and the air was sharp against his skin. he scanned the sidewalk, found you a few blocks ahead. you were walking fast, arms tucked close, head slightly down.

he hated this. hated how he cared. hated how natural it felt to push through the lingering crowd, to break into an easy jog—casual enough to not look stupid, but fast enough to close the distance. he just hoped everyone else was too drunk to remember him, of all people, running after someone.

“hey!” he called out once he was just a few steps behind you.

you turned at the sound of his voice, startled.

he caught the flicker of something on your face before you wiped it away—too fast, too practiced. a tear.

“nam-gyu?” you asked, confusion in your voice. “what—”

“i’ll walk you home.” he shrugged, casual, like it was no big deal. like it was just something to do. he shoved his hands deep into his pockets as he caught up to you, his face carefully neutral.

you gulped. the last thing you wanted was to be around him right now.

“okay.” you trailed off, unsure of what else to say. how had it come to this? you’d survived hell together, yet suddenly, everything was so awkward. he wondered the same thing as he walked beside you, lighting up a cigarette.

you felt bad. it wasn’t like you hadn’t thought about it. a million times, actually. nam-gyu seemed so experienced, so mature, and you were just… a virgin. all those times you’d stopped things before they got too heated, all those times you’d held yourself back.

you weren’t even boyfriend and girlfriend. you didn’t want to burden him with the responsibility of taking your virginity. it was stupid, but you knew how men felt about it. they didn’t want some little girl who didn’t know what she was doing. they didn’t want to deal with it.

so ever since the games, ever since you two had started… whatever this was, you’d felt like you were leading him on. you knew you couldn’t keep it up forever. sooner or later, he’d find out and leave. you just hadn’t expected it to be this soon.

after a whole block in silence, he finally spoke.

"so you're a virgin?" nam-gyu blurted out, though he already knew the answer.

it wasn’t a judgment, just an observation—dry, matter-of-fact. he took a slow drag from his cigarette, the ember flaring briefly in the dim light before fading into the night air.

you cursed under your breath, shutting your eyes like that might somehow erase the last ten minutes of existence. as if not seeing him would make this less mortifying.

“…yeah.” the word barely made it past your lips, your voice low, hesitant.

when you finally risked a glance at him, he wasn’t even looking at you. his gaze was fixed on the cracked pavement, the faintest furrow in his brow betraying some kind of thought process.

you sighed, arms crossing tightly over your chest. “i know it sucks. i’m sorry for not telling you, but it’s not exactly something that comes up after almost dying multiple times playing kids’ games! like—hey, i know we just survived the most traumatic experience of our lives, but by the way, i’m a fucking vir—”

"'s fine."

the words were abrupt, cutting your rambling off before you could spiral any further.

you blinked, arms falling to your sides as you realized you’d been gesturing wildly, like that might somehow defend your own inexperience. meanwhile, nam-gyu just kept walking, cigarette perched between his fingers, deep in thought.

"really? you're fine with it?" you asked.

the truth was, nam-gyu wasn’t exactly thrilled.

it wasn’t even about you being a virgin, not really. it was the fact that he’d thought about fucking you ever since the games. which was humiliating enough to admit to himself. a man had his needs, after all. but once again, he found himself in the unfortunate position of giving a shit.

he exhaled sharply, rubbing a hand over his jaw.

"…yeah." his voice was low, clipped. he wasn't mad—just thinking. weighing his options. where would this leave you?

he hated himself for liking you this much. not being an asshole was unfamiliar territory.

"if you don’t wanna have sex, i understand," he added after a beat.

you widened your eyes. "no, no!" you rushed out. "i do wanna have sex."

his brain stalled.

you swallowed, hesitating as he watched you, gaze steady but sharp, like he was trying to read between the lines. you shifted, tucking your hands into your sleeves. "i've just… never done it. and i don’t know… i didn’t wanna bother you or… anything."

it sounded beyond awkward.

nam-gyu frowned, processing. not because he thought anything bad about it—just because it never occurred to him. he’d assumed you weren’t interested in having sex at all, or that you were waiting for some deep, poetic reason, for someone that wasn't nam-gyu. but now you were here, telling him this, cheeks burning, voice all soft and uncertain.

and now he had to keep his shit together.

"so… you want me to, like…" his dick twitched in his pants, betraying him immediately. no way this was happening.

"i mean—only if you want to…" your cheeks were burning, you were sure of that now. you felt like a teenager talking to her crush.

if he wanted to? his jaw went slack for a second, a breath slipping out as he stared at you. it was barely a question.

"fuck yeah, i want to," he let out, low and firm, like he needed you to understand.

something shifted then. the air got tighter, the weight of the moment settling between you. you bit your lip, eyes flickering over his face like you were still trying to wrap your head around this. then, slowly, a smile crept onto your lips—breathless, nervous, electric.

"okay." you let out a shaky little laugh, grabbing his wrist. your grip was warm, solid, like you’d made up your mind and there was no going back now. "okay, let’s go."

nam-gyu nodded, following your lead, his heart hammering in his chest as he picked up the pace. your apartment wasn’t that far.

the apartment was quiet when you stumbled in, breathless, a little drunk, and buzzing with something you didn’t quite know how to name. nam-gyu followed, the door clicking shut behind him as he leaned back against it for a second, exhaling like he was trying to steady himself.

the air between you was thick, charged with a long time of yearning. your heartbeat thrummed in your ears as you toed off your shoes, glancing over at him. he was watching you, the way he always did—like he was already thinking ten steps ahead, figuring out how this was going to play out.

he hadn’t touched you yet. he was letting you decide.

so you did.

you took a step closer, then another, until you were right in front of him, your fingers hesitating before curling around the hem of his jacket. his breath hitched, just barely, and that was all the confirmation you needed.

you pushed up onto your toes, closing the space between you. his lips were warm, the taste of smoke lingering faintly as he kissed you back. he let you set the pace, his hands coming to rest lightly on your waist, thumbs brushing against the fabric of your dress.

it wasn’t the first time you’d kissed, but something about this was different. more urgent. more deliberate. maybe because, for once, there was no stopping this time.

your fingers tugged at his jacket, slipping it off his shoulders. he let it fall to the floor, his hands finally pressing into you properly, gripping your waist, pulling you closer. a quiet sound slipped from your lips, and you felt the way he stiffened at that, his grip tightening.

“fuck,” he muttered, voice rough. he pulled back just enough to search your face, his dark eyes flicking between yours. “you sure?”

you nodded, chest rising and falling with each breath. “yeah.”

a muscle in his jaw twitched. his fingers brushed the side of your neck, then curled around it, his thumb ghosting over your pulse. “we stop if you change your mind.”

you swallowed. “i won’t.”

the look he gave you was unreadable—something dark and determined—before he tilted your chin up, kissing you deeper this time, slower, like he wanted to make sure you felt every second of it.

nam-gyu wasn’t soft—he wasn’t sweet. he wasn’t the kind of man to whisper tender nothings or stroke your hair. he didn’t coddle. but the way his hands moved told you everything you needed to know.

the drag of his fingers down your spine. the slow, deliberate way his palm flattened against the small of your back, pressing you flush against him. the heat in his touch, like he was holding himself back, forcing himself to move slow, to let you set the pace. it sent a shiver through you, and his grip tightened in response, like he felt it too.

you let out a breath, your fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt, and he exhaled sharply against your lips before pulling back just a fraction, enough to look at you properly. his dark eyes roamed over your face, pupils blown, jaw tight.

"you're nervous." it wasn't a question.

you swallowed. "a little."

his thumb brushed against your waist, almost absentmindedly. "yeah. that makes sense."

you let out a small, breathy laugh, but there was an edge of vulnerability to it. he could see it. you could tell.

he tilted his head, watching you like he was trying to figure something out. then he exhaled slowly, his fingers tracing over your skin with a gentleness that was completely at odds with the sharp, rough way he usually carried himself.

"you know i won’t fuck this up, right?" his voice was low, almost casual, but there was something else beneath it. something steadier.

you hesitated for half a second before nodding. "i know." and you did. maybe that was why you'd never let anyone else touch you like this before. because it wasn’t about inexperience, not really. it was about trust.

and god help you, but you trusted nam-gyu.

the realization sent a flush through you, warmth blooming in your stomach as you let your hands slide up his abdomen, tracing the firm lines of chest beneath his shirt. his breath hitched just barely before his fingers flexed against you, like he was restraining himself from just taking.

"you wanna do this?" he asked, one last time, voice rough.

"yeah," you breathed.

his jaw clenched. "then tell me what you want."

you blinked up at him, suddenly hyperaware of the fact that he'd stopped moving, waiting, his hands resting heavy against your hips but not pulling, not pushing.

he was making you say it.

bastard.

you bit your lip, pulse hammering as you tried to work around the knot of tension in your throat. "i—i want you to touch me."

his fingers twitched, his entire body going still for a second. then he let out a breath through his nose, and his grip on your waist tightened.

"yeah?" his voice was just a little lower, a little rougher.

you nodded, heat pooling in your stomach at the way he was looking at you now—like he was barely keeping himself in check.

"get on the bed," he said.

your breath caught.

for a moment, you just stared at him, heart hammering, and then, slowly, you walked to your bedroom, him following you close. you backed up toward the bed, your knees hitting the edge as you lowered yourself down.

he followed, standing at the foot of the bed, watching you with that unreadable expression—half lustful, half like he couldn’t believe this was real. his hands went to his belt, and your eyes flickered down, pulse spiking at the sound of the leather slipping through the loops.

then, instead of undressing fully, he leaned down, hands bracketing your hips, pressing you back against the mattress.

"you ever let anyone touch you like this?" his voice was rough, like he already knew the answer.

you shook your head, breathless. "no."

a low sound escaped him, something dark, something pleased. his hands slipped under your skirt, palms dragging slow over your thighs as he pushed the fabric up. he took his time, tracing the shape of you, pressing just firmly enough to make you squirm.

"you thought about it, though," he murmured. it wasn’t a question. his thumbs brushed the sensitive skin at the tops of your thighs, eyes locked onto yours.

you swallowed hard. "…yeah."

his lips twitched, almost a smirk. "yeah? thought about me?"

your face burned. he was being cruel on purpose, making you say it.

"…yes."

"fuck," he muttered, like the confirmation did something to him. his hands moved higher, fingers hooking into the band of your underwear, but instead of pulling them down, he let them rest there, teasing.

"how’d you think it’d go?" his voice was lower now, almost a growl. "thought i'd just take you fast, rough? pin you down, fuck the innocence out of you?"

you sucked in a sharp breath, thighs twitching beneath his touch. he huffed a quiet laugh.

"bet you didn't think i'd take my time," he murmured, leaning down, pressing his mouth to the side of your neck. his lips dragged over your pulse, then lower, leaving a slow, open-mouthed kiss against your collarbone. "but i like knowing i'm the first one."

you gasped softly as his hands finally moved, slipping under your top, dragging it up inch by inch until he could pull it over your head. your arms instinctively came up to cover yourself, but he caught your wrists, pushing them aside.

"none of that," he muttered, his gaze dropping to your bare chest. he exhaled sharply, running his thumbs along the curve of your breasts before cupping them fully, testing the weight in his palms.

"fuck, look at you," he muttered, voice low and reverent. "so fucking pretty."

you whimpered as his thumbs brushed over your nipples in slow circles. he watched your face the whole time, reading every tiny reaction, every sharp intake of breath.

"sensitive," he noted, almost to himself. then he leaned down, tongue flicking over one peak before wrapping his lips around it, sucking just enough to make you gasp.

heat coiled low in your stomach as he worked, alternating between each breast, slow and thorough. it was overwhelming, the way he was handling you—not rough, not rushed, just taking his time, learning every inch of you.

one of his hands trailed lower, down your stomach, to the waistband of your panties. he paused, looking up at you, waiting.

you nodded, exhaling shakily. "please."

his smirk deepened. "good girl."

he peeled your panties down your legs, his fingers skimming over your skin like he was savoring the moment. you shivered at the sensation, at the weight of his gaze as he settled between your thighs.

“fuck,” nam-gyu muttered under his breath, like he hadn’t been prepared for what he was seeing. his hands splayed against your inner thighs, pressing them further apart, baring you completely to him. he didn’t look away, eyes dark and hungry, his tongue running over his bottom lip like he could already taste you.

your body burned under the scrutiny. you weren’t used to this—being seen like this, having someone take their time looking. you twitched, about to press your legs together, but his grip tightened.

“uh-uh,” he murmured, almost amused. “you’re gonna let me look.”

you swallowed hard, breath catching as he leaned in, his nose brushing the soft skin of your inner thigh. his breath was hot, sending a shiver through you as he exhaled, slow and controlled.

he dragged a single finger up the length of your slit, just enough to make you jolt, to make your breath stutter. "you're soaked, girl. you sure you've never done this before?"

heat surged through you at the teasing lilt in his voice, and you let out a shaky breath. "i—fuck, nam-gyu—"

"yeah?" he smirked, but it wasn’t cocky. it was something else, something almost fascinated. like he was enjoying this in a way he hadn’t expected.

his fingers traced slow, teasing circles over your clit, barely any pressure, just enough to make you whimper. your hips twitched, and his grip tightened, keeping you pinned.

"relax," he murmured, his voice low, almost gentle. "let me make you feel good."

then he leaned down.

you barely had time to register the shift before his tongue was on you, warm and wet and unbearably slow. your breath caught, your fingers twisting into the sheets as his mouth worked you open, his tongue dragging through your folds, lazy and thorough.

"fuck," he muttered against you, his voice rough. "you taste so fucking sweet."

the way he said it sent a fresh wave of heat pooling in your stomach. his hands pressed into your thighs, spreading you wider, keeping you open as he ate you like he had all the time in the world.

it was overwhelming—the way he was licking you, slow and deep, like he was savoring it. like he was getting off on this just as much as you were. his nose brushed against your clit with every stroke of his tongue, and it was too much, not enough, all at once.

your back arched, a desperate sound slipping from your lips. he groaned low in his throat, the vibration sending a shudder through you. "that's it," he murmured, his voice almost slurred against your skin. "let me hear you."

one of his hands slid up, his thumb replacing his tongue on your clit, rubbing slow, tight circles as he pressed his mouth lower, flicking his tongue against your entrance, teasing the edge.

"nam-gyu—" your voice broke on his name, breathless and desperate, and his grip tightened.

"fuck, you sound good," he muttered. his tongue pushed inside you, and the sensation sent a sharp bolt of pleasure up your spine, made your thighs shake.

"think you can take me?" he murmured, his voice muffled against your skin. "gotta get you ready for me."

you gasped as he pushed a finger inside, slow and steady, curling it just right. he groaned at the way you clenched around him, his tongue lapping up every reaction, every sound.

"shit," he muttered. "so tight. gonna feel so fucking good."

the words alone made your stomach tighten, the heat coiling low, winding tighter and tighter. he added a second finger, stretching you open, thrusting slow, deep, his tongue still working your clit.

it was too much. the pressure built fast, overwhelming, unbearable. your thighs trembled around his head, your fingers tightening in his hair.

"i—" your breath hitched, your body tensing.

he growled low in his throat, his fingers pressing deep, his tongue flicking faster, relentless. "come for me."

and you did.

the pleasure hit hard, shattering through you, knocking the air from your lungs. your back arched, your body tightening around his fingers, and he groaned against you, drinking in every last tremor, working you through it, drawing it out until you were shaking beneath him, gasping for breath.

only then did he finally pull back, his breath ragged, his lips slick and swollen. he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, his eyes dark, almost feverish as he looked at you.

"fuck," he muttered, voice rough, almost awed.

he climbed up over you, pressing a slow, open-mouthed kiss to your jaw, then your lips, letting you taste yourself on his tongue. his hands framed your face, thumbs brushing against your skin, steadying you.

his exhale was sharp, controlled, but his grip on your waist betrayed him—fingers digging in, like he had to hold himself back from wrecking you completely. his forehead dropped to yours for half a second, just long enough for you to feel the way his breath came heavy, ragged.

"you're gonna kill me," he muttered, half a groan, half a laugh, before he pulled back, eyes flicking down your body—like he was trying to commit every inch of you to memory. his fingers traced your thigh absentmindedly, like he still couldn't believe you were letting him touch you.

then he sat back, unbuttoning his jeans.

your breath hitched as you watched him work, his knuckles going white with how tightly he was gripping his belt. the leather slid through the loops with a sharp snap, and your thighs pressed together instinctively at the sound. his lips curled slightly—he noticed.

"don't get shy on me now," he murmured, voice thick with amusement, but he wasn't smirking anymore. no, his expression was darker, sharper. his fingers moved with slow, measured precision as he unzipped his jeans, pushing them down just enough to free himself.

your stomach flipped.

you had no idea what you'd been expecting, but whatever it was—it wasn't this. he was…big. thick. a flush creeping up his shaft, his tip swollen and slick with arousal. you stared, suddenly feeling very aware of your own inexperience, of the way your body still trembled faintly from the orgasm he'd just given you.

nam-gyu noticed.

"yeah?" his voice was rough, teasing, but there was something else beneath it—something dangerously satisfied. his fingers wrapped around the base of his cock, giving it a slow, lazy stroke, like he was savoring the moment. "that nervous?"

you swallowed hard, forcing your eyes back to his face. he looked wrecked, his dark hair falling into his eyes, his mouth slightly parted. his chest rose and fell heavily, like it was taking effort not to just pin you down and take—

"i can take it," you said, before you could second-guess yourself. your voice was breathless but steady, your chin tilting up just slightly in challenge.

his jaw locked.

for a second, he just looked at you, his gaze flickering between your eyes and your lips, like he was seeing you—really seeing you—for the first time. then, suddenly, his grip on your waist tightened, dragging you down the mattress until your thighs framed his hips.

"yeah," he murmured, almost to himself. his hand brushed over your stomach, your hip, sliding back down between your legs. his fingers traced your entrance, feeling the way you were still soaked for him. "i think you can, too."

your breath stuttered as he pressed two fingers inside you again, stretching you open. his thumb found your clit, rubbing soft, teasing circles—not enough to push you over, just enough to make your breath hitch.

"nam-gyu—" you gasped, hips twitching under his touch.

his free hand came up, catching your chin, tilting your head so you had to look at him. his eyes were dark, blown out with something almost ravenous.

"you still sure?" he murmured, voice low. "tell me you want it."

your pulse pounded.

you could feel how badly he wanted you, how much effort it was taking for him to hold back. and yet—he still gave you the choice. he was still waiting.

your heart clenched.

"yes," you whispered. "please."

his restraint snapped.

the second your lips formed that word, he was on you—pulling his fingers from your slick heat, gripping himself, pressing the thick, flushed head of his cock right against your entrance. he didn't push in. not yet. instead, he rocked against you, rubbing his length along your slit, smearing himself in your wetness, letting you feel every ridge, every inch of his size before he even tried to fit.

your breath hitched. your nails dug deep into his forearms, your body instinctively tensing.

"relax," he murmured, voice tight, nearly hoarse, like he was fighting against the instinct to just take. his free hand smoothed up your thigh, over the curve of your waist, warm, steady, grounding. "breathe."

you tried. you really did. forced your lungs to expand, to exhale, to let go of the tension gripping your muscles. but the second he started to push in, all that breath stuttered out in a sharp, broken gasp.

it was too much. the stretch, the slow, inch-by-inch burn as his cock forced your body to open around him, to take him. a kind of ache you’d never felt before, raw and overwhelming—too much and not enough, like your body was fighting him even as it craved more.

"fuck," he gritted out, his jaw clenching so tight you could see the muscle jump. his hands flexed against your skin, his entire body trembling with restraint. "jesus, baby—you're so fucking tight—"

your stomach flipped at the words, heat pooling deep in your core. he never talked to you like that. never called you things like that. but now, here he was, panting above you, voice wrecked and reverent, murmuring praise like he couldn’t help it.

after a few seconds, you whimpered, hands gripping his shoulders. "more."

his control broke.

he pushed in, slow but deep, a smooth, deliberate thrust that seated him all the way inside you in one stroke. your breath tore from your lungs, your back arching as the stretch bloomed into something fuller, hotter, the ache curling into something dangerously close to pleasure.

nam-gyu groaned, dropping his forehead against your shoulder. "holy fuck," he rasped, voice wrecked, almost pained. his fingers dug into your hips, like he was holding on for dear life. "so fucking good—you're so tight, so perfect, fuck—"

your pulse pounded in your throat, your entire body thrumming with sensation. there was still a burn, still that overwhelming fullness, but beneath it was something else—something deeper, something good.

you shifted your hips, testing, trying to ease the pressure.

his entire body locked up.

"don't—" his voice was strangled, desperate. his hands tightened, pinning you down. "don't fucking move, or i’m gonna lose it."

every muscle in his body was taut, locked, like a predator barely holding back from sinking its teeth in. his fingers bit into your hips, warning you, anchoring himself—but you could feel it. the way he was shaking. the way his cock twitched, buried so deep inside you you swore you could feel him in your stomach.

you swallowed hard, pulse hammering, skin burning where he touched you.

it was too much. too deep. too thick. your body fought to adjust, pulsing around him in helpless, desperate flutters.

he groaned, low and guttural, pressing his forehead harder into your shoulder like he was in pain. “jesus christ.” his breath was hot against your skin, ragged, almost like he was laughing. “gripping me so fucking tight. gonna break me."

you shivered at the rasp of his voice, your fingers sliding up his back, feeling the strain in his muscles. the raw need in him. you were doing this to him. you, all wet and trembling underneath him, still adjusting, still unsure—and he was losing his mind over it.

you swallowed, tried to steady your breath. "you can move," you whispered.

his entire body tensed.

you barely had a second to register the shift before he pulled back, just an inch, and then—slow, deep—he thrust in again.

your breath shattered. your mouth fell open, no sound coming out at first, just a strangled, breathless whimper.

then, before you could so much as blink, he started moving—pulling out halfway before snapping his hips forward again, setting a rhythm that had your breath stuttering in your throat.

he wasn't just fucking you—he was making sure you felt every inch of him, dragging it out, taking his time. and god help you, but it felt so fucking good.

"shit—" you gasped, fingers twisting in the sheets.

his hand slipped between you, his thumb pressing right against your clit, rubbing in time with his thrusts. your entire body jerked, pleasure sparking through your nerves like lightning.

"yeah," he muttered, watching you like he was starving. "that’s it. let me see you fucking fall apart."

nam-gyu’s rhythm grew rougher, sharper—his control slipping, his hips snapping forward with a force that had you gasping, clawing at his back. every thick inch of him dragged against your walls, the stretch now molten pleasure, the overwhelming feeling of fullness making your head spin. his body caged you in completely, heat rolling off him in waves, his skin slick with sweat.

"fuck," he rasped, voice ragged, his breath hot against your lips. "listen to you." his thumb pressed harder against your clit, rubbing tight, deliberate circles. "moaning like that—so fucking needy, aren’t you?"

"fuck," you gasped, your nails raking down his back, desperate for more.

nam-gyu groaned, dropping his head to your neck, his breath hot against your skin. "shit, you're taking me so fucking good," he muttered, his teeth grazing over your throat before he kissed you there—open-mouthed and messy, dragging his tongue over your pulse like he could taste how wrecked you were for him. "never had anyone inside you, huh? no one’s ever had you like this—"

his words made your stomach flip, a desperate, aching heat blooming in your core. you shook your head, gasping. "no—"

"fuck, baby," he groaned. "you don’t even fucking know—" his lips found your collarbone, biting down just enough to make you jolt, his tongue flicking out to soothe the sting. "how long i've been thinking about this. how long i've wanted to have my cock inside this pretty pussy."

his hands slid up, gripping your tits, squeezing, kneading the soft flesh in his palms. his fingers flicked over your nipples, rolling them between his fingertips, and you whimpered, the pleasure making you arch into his touch.

nam-gyu groaned, his tongue darting out to trace the swell of your breast before his mouth wrapped around your nipple, sucking hard.

"oh my god—" your back arched, your fingers twisting into his dark hair, holding him there.

he chuckled, a low, breathy sound against your skin, his tongue flicking over the sensitive peak before he sucked again, harder this time, drawing a desperate whine from your lips. his hips kept moving, slow but deep, every thrust sending a new wave of pleasure through you, making your stomach coil tighter.

"you're so fucking good," he murmured against your skin, moving to your other breast, giving it the same attention—his lips wrapping around the stiff peak, sucking, his teeth grazing just enough to make you gasp. "so fucking tight, taking me so well—fuck, i knew you would."

you whimpered, the heat inside you winding tight, too much and not enough at the same time. your thighs trembled around his waist, your nails dragging down his back.

"nam-gyu," you gasped, voice wrecked, desperate. "please—"

"please what?" he pulled back just enough to look at you, his lips swollen, his eyes dark, burning with something almost possessive. his fingers slid down between you, finding your clit again, circling it with slow, precise movements. "tell me what you need, baby."

you sobbed at the pressure, at the way it made your body twitch beneath him. "i—i wanna cum—"

his jaw tightened, his thrusts growing sharper, faster, the wet sounds of your bodies moving together filling the room.

"yeah?" his voice was strained, breathless. "you wanna cum all over my fucking cock?"

"yes—yes—"

"then do it."

he pinched your clit, just the right amount of pressure, and the coil inside you snapped.

your orgasm hit hard, crashing over you in sharp, shuddering waves, making your entire body lock up beneath him. you let out a high, broken moan, your walls fluttering around him, pulsing, milking his cock as he fucked you through it.

"fuck—fuck—" nam-gyu groaned, his hips stuttering as you clenched around him, the tight grip of your body dragging him right to the fucking edge.

"shit," he rasped, his forehead dropping to your shoulder, his fingers digging into your hips as he snapped his hips forward, harder, rougher. "gonna—fuck, gonna fill you up—"

your entire body shuddered at his words, at the realization of what he was about to do, and you let out a breathless, desperate "please."

that was all it took.

he came, hard, his body trembling as he filled you, his grip tightening almost painfully as he groaned your name, pressing his forehead to yours, his breath ragged, wrecked.

the heat of him spilling inside you made your entire body tremble.

he didn’t pull out right away. he stayed, breathing heavy, pressing messy, open-mouthed kisses to your jaw, your cheek, your lips. his hands—no longer rough, no longer gripping—slid soft over your skin, smoothing down your sides, your waist, your thighs, as if he was soothing you.

you were still shaking, your body aching in the best possible way, your mind swimming in a haze of heat and exhaustion.

nam-gyu shifted, his arms wrapping around you, pulling you close. his lips pressed to your temple, then your cheek, then—finally—soft against your lips.

"you’re a fucking dream," he murmured almost to himself, voice soft, like he couldn’t quite believe this was real.

your heart skipped.

then, before you could say anything, before you could think—

his hips rolled again, slow, lazy, his cock starting to harden again inside you.

"think you can handle another one?"

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© servndipityz 2025 — all rights reserved. do not modify, repost, translate, or plagiarise my content without my permission.

[bettys-redwinesupernova]

SUBTLE IS A STRONG WORD

rafe cameron x fem!reader

SUMMARY: rafe uses a tiktok trend to his advantage.

based on this request !! i hope it’s what you asked for @ursogorgeous13 , i decided to take the fluff route because it just worked :) I AM BACK THOUGH !! please read the authors note at the bottom !! <3

(check out my other rafe cameron & drew starkey works here !!)

WARNINGS: allusions to sex (oral m!rec), flirty!rafe, just pure fluff !! (lmk if i missed anything !!)

WORD COUNT: 800 words (approx.)

THIRD PERSON +

Y/N was curled up on Rafe's couch, scrolling through her phone while waiting for him to get back with their coffee. The AC was blasting, the distant sound of waves from Figure Eight's beach hummed in the background, and the scent of Rafe's cologne still lingered on his hoodie that she had stolen.

It was one of those lazy afternoons where neither of them had anywhere to be, so they had fallen into their usual routine: Y/N begged for coffee, Rafe pretended to complain about being her personal delivery boy, and then he left anyway because he secretly loved spoiling her.

She had spent the past few days showing him countless TikToks about the new Starbucks cup policy-baristas were now writing random little messages on cups, ranging from generic "Have a nice day!" notes to weirdly specific fortunes. She thought it was adorable. Rafe? Less so. He mostly nodded along, unimpressed, while she giggled at each new video.

But today, when he finally returned, drinks in hand, Y/N barely had time to thank him before she noticed the writing on the cups.

Her curiosity piqued, she reached for her cup first, eyes scanning the message.

"Give your bf a BJ❤️”

She blinked. Then, suspicious, she grabbed Rafe's cup.

"A BJ is coming your way❤️”

For a moment, she just stared at them, processing. And then, slowly, a grin stretched across her face.

"You have got to be kidding me." She turned the cups toward him, raising an eyebrow.

Rafe, the smug bastard, didn't even try to look innocent. If anything, he looked proud of himself.

"What?" he said, flopping onto the couch next to her, taking his drink from her hand.

Y/N bit her lip, trying not to laugh. "Rafe."

"Mm?"

"These messages." She tapped a finger against the cup. "You do realise I can recognise your handwriting, right?"

Rafe choked on his sip, coughing dramatically before shooting her an unconvincing look of confusion. "Pfft. What? That's-Y/N, that's wild. You think / wrote that?"

"Yes, I know you wrote it."

"You don't know that," he countered, but the twitch of his lips betrayed him.

Y/N leaned in, tilting her head. "So you're telling me that the coffee shop employees, out of the kindness of their hearts, just randomly decided to write this on our cups?"

"Sounds like it," he said, nodding solemnly. "Real ones. We should tip them."

Y/N burst out laughing. "Rafe! You're ridiculous."

"I'm a visionary, actually." He leaned back, stretching an arm over the back of the couch. "I'm just taking advantage of an opportunity when I see one."

She smirked, setting her drink down before shifting closer to him. "So, let me get this straight... You went through the trouble of faking a Starbucks trend just so you could subtly ask for-"

“'Subtly' is a strong word," Rafe interrupted, grinning. "I think it was actually pretty direct."

YN shook her head, chuckling. "You do realise I could have been the one to grab the drinks, right? What if you weren't able to intercept them first?"

Rafe shrugged. "Then I'd be in jail for public indecency, but it would've been worth it."

She laughed, shaking her head at him. "You're unbelievable."

"And yet, you're still here." He shot her a wink.

"Against my better judgment."

"Oh, please. You love it."

Y/N bit her lip, pretending to consider. "Mmm, maybe."

Rafe smirked, clearly enjoying himself. "Sooo... you gonna listen to the cup's advice or what?"

She gasped dramatically. "Rafe Cameron! | am shocked that you would ever suggest such a thing."

"Shocked?" He arched a brow. "Y/N, you're literally straddling me right now."

“…Touché."

Rafe chuckled, his hands settling on her waist as she playfully toyed with the collar of his polo shirt.

"You know what would be funny?" she mused.

"If you actually followed through?"

Y/N rolled her eyes, laughing. "No, dumbass. Next time, I should be the one to write something on the cups."

"Oh?" He raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "And what would you write?"

She leaned in, her lips just brushing his ear as she whispered, "No blowjobs for guys who fake Starbucks messages."

Rafe groaned. "Alright, you got me. That was a dirty trick."

Y/N smirked, patting his cheek. "And yet, you're still here."

He exhaled a laugh, shaking his head as he pulled her closer. "Fine, fine. But just so you know-" He gestured to the cups on the table. "—the next one's definitely gonna say 'Marry your boyfriend!"

Y/N snorted. "Smooth."

"I try."

And with that, he flipped them over, pressing her into the couch as she giggled beneath him.

Yeah, she was definitely writing the next one.

(divider by @kodaswrld !!)

betty’s notes ౨ৎ ⋆｡˚

hi everyone !! i’m back of holiday and i’m also older now (i had my 20th birthday !!), so sorry for going MIA but i just stayed off social media for my entire birthday trip but i’m going to be back to regular posts and updates <3

my drew starkey fic inspired by ‘sports car’ by tate mcrae will be up soon, been working on it today !! fulfilling requests at the moment so there should be another one up tonight :)

(a reminder that is is strictly fictional guys !!)

[imustbenuts]

Wolfwood is an underdog character screwed by social hierarchy and Japanese cultural subtext more ways than one: a messy half-assed write up.

This is me saying that Wolfwood is in no way the equivalent of 'white' or even near the top in terms of class even when viewed with a Japanese lens and there's at least a few threads you can follow that will lead up to that conclusion. So to try and (badly) cover this topic as best as I can, the sections highlighted in this post will be the following

Colorism and imperialism

Tribes and burakumin

Shintoism and the burakumin people

Wolfwood's entire fucking design

I explode

Colorism

So in short. Asia has a colorism problem on top of a racism problem, but people like me get really frustrated when a more American POV is applied to try and shoehorn the discussion into purely racism. The reason is: history.

So. Japan was super imperialist back in history. And so was China, which Japan took many inspiration from in terms of language, culture, and most importantly, governance.

In order for their particular system of governance to work, both China and Japan ended up having their own respective court systems where the aristocrats and nobility would spend their days indoors as they administer governance. (Or more accurately, to be so educated, cultured and refined as the world outside implodes.) Thanks to this system, there is essentially a walled garden system where the well-educated nobles would spend their time well away from hard labor like farming under the sun.

This meant there is a greater amount of favoritism towards fairer skinned people as opposed to tan, since it became a quick indicator of class and status. Bc only laborers tended the field under the harsh sun, and women got this especially bad, bc imagine her having to tends the field like a peasant. Gasp.

Anyway bada bing bada boom white skin eventually became so associated with beauty and status. The old poverb, "色の白いは七難隠す", or White skin covers seven flaws, refers to women with pure white (sometimes powdered) skin is attractive no matter what their physical flaw might be. Think Geishas and their job of entertaining at private events with a face full of white powder makeup.

This colorism also hits men less, but the idea of status stays.

...Wink. (To note the above gif here for a sec: IMO Vash doesn't qualify as desirable purely because he's a blonde. A foreigner. An Other. But the hiding flaws part might be worth chewing on.)

And now we suddenly are looking at some kind of a vague hierarchical system. And indeed, Japan has had a caste system of sorts in with varying degrees of social mobility depending on which era you look at. The lowest in some era were slaves. And even then, there is another class even lower than that, the Burakumin. Put a pin in this bc it'll be important in the next part.

Tribes and Burakumins

There are actually, in fact, different tribes in Japan even today. Current day, the well known ones are the Yamato people, who make up 98% of the population in Japan. Mostly fair skin, black hair. East Asian.

Then there are the Ryukyuans, who live mostly in okinawa with their own culture, and then the Ainus.

I don't want to get even MORE historical, but those two groups were conquered and forcibly had their culture identity, language, and even land stripped off them. Attempted to have loyalty towards the emperor instilled towards them at various points. One might think the presence of these two might mean that there were more tribes back in ancient Japan, and, yes, you would be right!

Many of them might have been assimilated into what we think of as Japanese people today. There are always variation in skin color, hair color and facial features alone if one pays attention even in Tokyo. Not all East Asian are fair skin and have straight black hair, but an overwhelming majority do. (plus hair dyes and perms wahoo. who's to know sometimes)

One example perhaps is this. Ever watched Princess Mononoke? Did you know that part of the story centers around Ashitaka, who is part of the Emishi tribe, who are a group who has been rebelling against the Emperor Yamato for 500 years? And so he shoots samurais on the regular?

So here's the rub: the Emishi were in fact a real indigenous group who were basically conquered and assimilated. Some did resist during the 11th century, with their villages/hamlet out deep into the north of Japan. They were of course, greatly outnumbered.

These people who resisted the rule all over Japan with different identities, names and culture and survived came to be called the Eta 穢多 (lit. abundance of filth). Later, Burakumin.

Now I mentioned the Burakumins. Burakumin are written like this 部落民, and refer to a strongly discriminated class of people who live in discriminated villages/hamlet. The kanji though, literally translates to "People who falls outside of the order", or, "Outcasts". In other words, even though there's a caste system which basically at least recognizes people as part of a governing system, the Burakumins do not qualify to even as to be human in this system.

And indeed, some of these tribes who had their culture and identity stripped off them are not even people in the eyes of the ruling government. Today, the term refers to the descendants of these people, and they do encounter a lot of discrimination and abuse in their daily lives from social to work. It's so bad that parents do not tell their children of the ancestry to avoid discrimination. Also its possible to know if one is a burakumin just by checking family names and registers jsyk, since they were once location based.

EDIT: those judged to be criminals also become part of this group!

More info by a Japanese guy regarding current day burakumin problem here on youtube.

Oh and also, many burakumin ended up joining criminal gangs like the yakuzas. Put another pin in this.

Shinto and the Burakumin people

Preface: shinto is a very sacred religion to many Japanese people and is still actively practiced today. Be respectful and just know I'm being hyper specific about this singular aspect of shinto. It is a very old religion and history which is fascinating.

But to not talk about this specific topic would be to kinda miss what Studio Orange has been doing to Stampede Wolfwood so I'm just gonna do this super quick. A more indepth messy write up can be found here if you like.

Right. So. Like with many religion, Shinto was also used as a means to convince people to fall in line. One thing that Shinto has is the concept of spiritual dirtiness, which is generated upon contact with death, blood and disease. Being dirty would then draw evil spirits and invite terrible misfortunes, so being clean is important in Shintoism. So important that meat was considered dirty. (With the exceptions of game meat and the whole religion thing applied to them.)

It's so important that certain professions such as Butchers, Tanners, Gravediggers etc were seen as so terrible that no one but the etas, the burakumins would do it. This whole thing then reinforces the hierarchy. And meanwhile the rulers in their court and shinto priests could conduct rituals to purify themselves.

And for me, this is the most insane thing since dirty jobs like that must be done no matter what era it is. Just by being alive, people get dirty and there's no avoiding that.

Anyway. In Trigun and even Japanese media, this gets translated into what I would call The Tormented Ones Whose Hands Are Permanently Stained With Blood.

Nicholas the Undertaker was certainly an interesting choice of writing. At least imo.

FUcK

Ok now to recap. I've established that even without colonization and talking about (american pov) racism specifically, there are still very real elements of Japanese history that is too strong, too deep, to intertwined with classism to ignore.

This is the historical baggage of Japan's colorism. Whether or not if Wolfwood is a burakumin here is not the point, but rather that it borrows from that issue all of its influence in varying shades.

It's the erasure of ethnicity and culture in its totality, or to be so consumed by the bigger ruling group that this thread straight up disappears. And to be considered so unwanted that even their descendants today are considered dirty.

They abolished the feudal caste system in the 1800s by the way. Still dealing with like over a thousand years' worth of shit though.

Now I can finally talk about Wolfwood.

Wolfwood's entire character design and writing choice.

Since trimax wolfwood is the base, I'll start with that.

Dark(er) skin, sunglasses, a business suit and a kansai dialect.

All of those are significant.

Now remember that I've mentioned Fair Skin and Black Hair to be the most defining trait of an East Asian. Even people who say East Asian even casually have that specific image in mind. But Wolfwood with the exception of BLR has always been depicted as just slightly tanned especially beside Vash.

The shade fluctuates all the time depending on the artwork, but it's clear that the production staff knows the roots his character design is touching on in order to elicit that "otherness" from the Japanese audience. Which is all that above. The entire post.

Sunglasses and business suit also has a significance. One might think it's just the outfit of an average Japanese salaryman, and yes, that would be technically correct. More so though, this combo is also the outfit style of the Yakuza. Sans ties maybe bc Ww hates his organization.

This is a picture of a Yakuza group known as the Yamaguchi-gumi. Their leader stands in the middle of this photo, the oyabun/father of the group, Kuzuo Taoka. More info and another rabbit hole here.

The Yakuza are a historically violent criminal gang whose membership often consisted of societal outcasts. Outcasts like the Burakumins, who due to their status in society could not find a proper job, and suffer abuse. Being in the Yakuza meant respect and status, and turned boys into men.

All that was needed is absolute loyalty to the leader, the oyabun or the patriarch of the group. If he says it, white is black and black is white. Disloyalty means to chop one's finger off.

If any of this sound even familiar.... Well, yeah. Unhinged criminal boss Knives and his merry Gung Ho Guns.

Next, kansai dialect. So, Japanese dialects are never properly taught when one attempts to learn Japanese. It's a thing that's not Standard and therefore unnecessary to learn. We learn the -desu's, -masu's, the keigo, but never the '-yan's', the 'eenen', the 'akan' or the chau's. (Or even the many other dialects out there)

I will now ask you to hold the idea that 'dialect' and 'language' can be interchangeable. The implications of the Standard Japanese is that it is the ruling class' language and the most proper form of it above all else. Seeing as the Capital of Japan is Tokyo, and their government centers there, it would not be stretch to also call Standard Japanese Tokyo Japanese.

Which means, Tokyo is the classy city and Osaka, the largest city in Kansai, is not as classy. Not as important. Not as well educated or hold as important of a place to the entire country.

It is also very common to hear Japanese people mask their dialect with Standard Japanese when they're in Tokyo, and then go back to their hometown and code switch. Because it's considered 'hick'.

Which, if you haven't considered is also a thing many of us do, I now present you the gift of this fun knowledge.

I Explode

In closing I hope this at least is interesting to chew on for anyone interested. It's by not means perfect and I might have gaps in my knowledge but fwiw, I hope it's at least fun.

Nightow has stated Wolfwood's ethnicity is ambiguous, which I would also interpret as him saying indirectly that Wolfwood is as valid an interpretation to see him as anything but a privileged guy having a good time in the story of Trigun.

It's possible that his ambiguity of roots is meant to simply elicit the idea of a "stolen child".

One fun thing I do consistently notice is that Fanon Wolfwood almost never is in a comfortable position in life even in AUs, and always somewhat broke. In both EN and JP. Which, yeah. Yeah.

There is intersectionality going on and I hope this post helps people see some of it at least. So thanks for reading! (sorry it got so long...)

Additional cool posts other people have written from their pov:

udon-tea's write up about wolfwood's unestablished canon ethnicity

interesting thoughts about tortoise matsumoto being the base and what they think of wolfwood's possible ethnicity

[regrator-the-ninth]

Forge the traction with your bare hands! Build it from scratch! Here are some ways to build fandom community when not a lot of it exists:

Create interactive posts! Accept requests, play ask box games, tag people in things you think they'd like!

Find people from larger fandoms that are similar to your small fandom and see if you can convince them to give yours a shot (don't cold message them like "watch my show pls"— that's a little weird, but if you already know them as friends or if they're asking for recs you can give them a polite nudge).

Create self contained content! Make art/write fics that will still be enjoyable even if the people looking at it don't have full context. It will draw outsiders in and make them curious about your fandom.

Encourage small creators (even if you are one yourself)! Everyone in the mostly dead tag is feeling discouraged from the deadness of the tag. Reblog their stuff with positive comments and tags!

Host events! "Why doesn't my fandom have cool zines and exchanges?" Because you haven't made them. Go make them!

I get that a lot of these are high time and energy commitment and not everyone has the bandwidth, but if you do, it's worth it. Everyone who doesn't have the bandwidth will be happy to join in once the momentum has built up and you'll feel like you have an actual community.

This is a slow fandom zone

None of that "Oh no they bomb-dropped all the episodes in a week 1 month ago, I'm late!" "The tag hasn't been active all week is the fandom dead?" "I only got a hundred shares the first hour no one cares about my art"

Slow down

Take a deep breath and slow down

Fandom is YOU. And me and everyone. If we doodle stick figures for a show that ended 30 years ago we aren't "late" or "doing too little", we're playing dolls in our own time and having fun with works of art that mean a lot to us

You can literally watch and engage with something that aired in 2004 as if it aired yesterday

If the tag hasn't been active for 14 months guess what? If YOU post there, it isn't dead. Literally you can talk about anything you want whenever you want there is no weird law against watching things that people aren't actively talk about

Let's be deranged about stories together

[tinylilacbun]

even after jj gets caught by the mercenaries the only thing he worries about is his baby...୭ ˚. ᵎᵎ

This was not what JJ had planned. To be caught, by the same guys that tried to off him and Kie when they got that amulet, because of Groff was the last thing he had on his agenda after his crash out.

Now, after being shoved into an engine room he paces back and forth, stopping to point a finger at Groff with a glare on his face. "Listen, I don't care what you got going on with those guys but I have to go back home, a'ight? You may not give a fuck about me, I can live with that, but I got a kid that that's expecting me to tuck her into bed later."

There's a beat of silence as Groff sits down on top of the metal steps, his hands intertwined together, seemingly shocked at this new information. "You got a kid?"

JJ sighs, leaning against the railing with his back facing Groff and crossing his arms. "Yeah...she's- god, she's the best thing that ever happened to me, actually. I mean, I did a lot of fucked up things. But she's the only thing I never regret in my life."

Groff nods with a smile that's everything but genuine which the blonde didn't notice at the moment. "What's her name?"

JJ says your name with adoration, smirking to himself as he can only think about how much of a fuss you're probably giving the others right now.

"She just turned three. A hyperactive little rascal, something she got from me apparently, at least that's what everyone says." He shrugs, scratching the back of his neck.

That describes it lightly.

You're basically a mini version of him, the same crazy locks, a dimple that is always seen on your chubby cheek, the mischievous and adventurous behavior.

Everything about you screams that you are JJ's kid, and you you can be sure that he's more than proud of that.

"Guess there's never a boring day then." Groff chuckles, trying to get on JJ's good side by doing small talk.

"You wouldn't know it." JJ remarks, turning his head to face him. "Since you gave me away to a drug addicted alcoholic before I could even crawl but who am I to care. I got someone worth fighting for and waiting for me to come home right now."

He adverts his eyes from him again, running a hand through his messy hair with a heavy sigh.

"She's a good kid...always polite and helping whenever she can even though she's still so small, probably thanks to Kie's and Pope's influence." He chuckles lightly, looking down at the matching bracelet that's designed in a mix of yours and his favorite colors that Sarah made for you and him a while back.

Groff stays uncharacteristically silent, taking in how JJ talks about you as if you're the most important thing on earth, which you are, to him at least or all the other pogues that watched you grow up.

"Just know, that if you pull any shit with me, I swear I won't hesitate to kill you before those mercenaries can." JJ suddenly threatens him, not planning on growing any kind of bond with the man who couldn't give a damn about him when he was just a baby.

The only thing that matters to him is you, his baby.

[luigilore]

write more of introverted nerdy luigi x hyperfeminine gf plssss him wandering around at sephora and ulta instead of waiting outside plssss

no like why would he ever wait outside that fr never crosses his mind... luigi is so invested. not so secretly thinks everything is insanely overpriced, like actually aghast at sephora lmfao. u explaining why the dior lip glow is worth it (seeing it on ur lips is very convincing), always carries ur bags, trailing behind you, + yes he pays for you!

staring at the dyson airwrap price like 😦... like alright sorry we don't all roll out of bed with perfect curls naturally. i feel like he would actually get lost at some point... luigi's calling u saying he's by the skincare and he needs to u to come over there. obviously he's not naturally into makeup or skincare BUT he likes whatever you like and he loves listening to you explain what all the different products are.

when you've been dating for a while he knows all of ur usual products like, "oh baby you're almost out of your moisturizer, right?" can even handle going by himself to grab u something omg... might call drunk elephant drunk hippo on accident but he's trying 😭

[essektheylyss]

idk I kind of feel like I'm an idiot bc I actually enjoyed cr 3 from the jump to the end but like the blogs who follow bc I feel they are definitely more articulate and insightful than me are like "the whole thing was meaningless and pointless! matt fumbled everything!" so maybe I'm wrong to have liked it all? I'm not really sure where I'm going with this sorry

I think one thing to keep in mind is that many (and in fact, I would argue, most!) people who are critiquing the story and construction have also generally enjoyed the campaign as a whole! Certainly I don't know anyone who stuck it out through the end who did not overall enjoy watching it, for various reasons; I know there are people who hate watch, which I think is an absurd and honestly really stupid waste of time, but from my experience they are normally making snide and vicious tweet-length posts rather than long considerations of what isn't working for them.

There are also a lot of levels of critique—I've greatly enjoyed a lot of moments in isolation that I simultaneously felt weakened, contradicted, or even actively undermined the structure of the story as a whole, but those moments were still really fun and interesting beats. The Arch Heart's cameo comes to mind, as does, in hindsight, some of the construction of the post-Solstice split, but there are plenty of others of higher or lower impact on the story. In the finale the Raise Dead falls into this place very strongly, so I'm going to talk about it at length for a moment, since it was an absolutely stellar moment for me personally and as such I do think it serves as very illustrative of an example where I simultaneously fucking love a moment while finding it worth significant critique. I think it also touches on the critiques you're referring to, which I would summarize overall as the idea that many of the outcomes feel influenced negatively by pulled punches on the part of the DM rather than a flaw of one player or another. (Also, I want to talk about it cuz I love it. :3) This got very long but I think that to your point, it is worth examining in this amount of depth.

First, the good: it is an absolutely phenomenal culminating point of an arc that was only really concluded in summary; I have, as noted earlier this week, written at length about how Essek is never situated as a protagonist, which is functionally fine and even good. He ends up tied very strongly to Caleb's arc, and moves in the narrative in such a way after 2x97 that allows Caleb to reach a concluding note, and strengthens that narrative. So we only really hear about the outcome of Essek's choices, his inevitable leave from the Dynasty, in the summarization of the campaign 2 epilogue. This is not inherently a problem, because he is not a protagonist. But this moment does functionally create a material representation of that denouement, and in particular the tension between the outcomes of his poor choices and the better—potentially even good!—person he is trying to be as a result of the Nein's influence, which does strengthen his arc in its own right.

This moment also, hilariously, bears out my argument from this post. That the resurrection should only work with this intervention, particularly while the Nein are involved, does follow through on the Nein's general positioning within Exandria. Essek's leave happening without a fight (and, frankly, with only one attempted Counterspell) both makes for a very well-paced moment and also maintains the overall sense of story that the Nein impart when they are on screen; I'm thinking again of how their Ruidus episodes feel, much like their campaign and their post-campaign one-shots, like an intrigue action thriller series, and this fits well in that framing.

So overall, it is a fantastic moment... for the Nein. The Nein are not the protagonists of this story. They exist in the world, and are such active agents that they do continue to develop and exert motion on the narrative into this campaign, and frankly, I think this would have been fine if the party given ownership of this story and campaign did not abdicate their responsibility for it with unfortunate frequency. They do not exert a strong control over their story, which is at odds with the fact that the Nein do, and are present and also involved by the nature of their ending. It completely overshadows Ashton's heroic moment, in that the culminating action beat of this sequence is Essek getting away, which kind of takes the wind out of the sails of the Hells' involvement in the gods' outcome. It doesn't negate it, certainly, but it does refocus the story from them to, for some reason, Essek. So in this sense, it occurs at the expense of the Hells.

I find that while the handwaving of using dunamantic intervention to push Raise Dead beyond its limits (if indeed the reason it didn't originally work was because Ashton's brain was essentially gone) fits fine and even well within the framework of the Nein's story, and an NPC being able to do so without a roll is fine, since NPCs are vehicles the DM uses to guide the story, this is a significant divergence from the overall mechanics of the world at large; even the Nein had to do a full ritual for the resurrection of their tiefling. Matt put those mechanics in place specifically to create narrative meaning behind resurrections, which can feel very unmotivated and like a get out of jail free card in D&D, and while it's been noted that this would've really strained the runtime beyond its existing length, prioritizing it at the cost of, for instance, more truncated end notes for the Nein and Vox would've bolstered the Hells' presence in an ending to their own story that even many of their fans felt was ultimately lacking.

Giving the resurrection full weight would've also given Ashton's sacrifice and the Hells' involvement more narrative weight; the reason the other parties are involved at all is because the Hells were truly running on fumes by that point, but any lack of involvement this created could've been alleviated by having them directly involved through pre-established ritual elements that are not contingent on them having any mechanical offerings. So this moment sits within the context of critique that I agree with: that it felt like a pulled punch that ultimately also served to decenter the Hells within their own narrative, when it could've been used with more deliberate narrative force.

At the same time, I fucking love it, and watched it four times in a row yesterday, because it is so good—and it is, as I described, narratively and thematically coherent in one sense! And I think that is one issue of the campaign: many, many great moments are excellent and coherent in a certain framework but are weaker to varying degrees when considered as one piece of a larger whole. There are so many frameworks at play in this narrative, and not enough direct intervention to manage those as frameworks rather than as a single story, but at the same time, I think those frameworks are far more apparent if you're really looking for them, and that's much more difficult, if not impossible, when you're in the midst of them and telling the story.

I also don't think this means one cannot critique this; in fact, I would say this is more an issue of being a serialized narrative than an improvised one, which is often how critique of it has been pushed back against within the fandom. I was thinking about this as I'm currently in a course on, quite literally, how to critique comics, and we discussed this week how Marjane Satrapi said in an interview after making the film adaptation of Persepolis, which was first a serialized comic, that she ended up preferring the film, and I speculated that was because with a film, one has the ability to make a more cohesive narrative purely by virtue of the fact that with a serialized form, you cannot go back and make retroactive edits when new developments come to light. This is something that long-running comics must constantly navigate (as do many long TV shows), and in extreme circumstances such as decades-old comic franchises, ends up resulting in infinite timelines and hand-waving, which becomes so ridiculous that at this point it's a meme. In that scenario, though, it is not presented as a non-contradictory story, let alone a cohesive one.

Many of the critiques of campaign 3 are operating within the idea that this is presented as one overarching narrative. (And honestly, comics and other narratives that don't utilize that presentation are also still critiqued on that merit by people who greatly enjoy the texts they're critiquing anyway.) Within that context, I feel that the framing of the Raise Dead, as well as much of what would be my critique of the other pieces I referenced (the Arch Heart's cameo and some of the party-split sections) if I was to do the same kind of rundown of those, actively undermine this presentation by introducing and forefronting too many conflicting frameworks that are not interwoven well enough to create a single, cohesive overarching narrative.

This is a very long-winded way to illustrate my point, which is that I would really encourage reading critique not as a lack of enjoyment of the campaign, let alone a suggestion that no one should've enjoyed it (and if you did, then you're not smart enough to know better), but as a way to engage with the text(s) as presented within one framework or another. I think this is sometimes obscured in online fandom spaces, where we're not engaging in critique in as formal of a sense as one would in, say, an academic setting, where the norms generally dictate the framework one is using is explicitly stated if not fully delineated within the critique, but it is, more often than not, still implicitly present within the critique.

And as a final note, I would also really urge everyone reading others' opinions on something they enjoy to resist the urge to elide their own opinions from the conversation, even if you don't feel as articulate or as well-versed in critique. Critique is a trained skill, so it is certainly something one can pick up if they are inclined, and at the same time, someone doing it does not mean they are inherently right—and in fact, with all argumentative writing, it is up to the reader to consider the argument and decide whether or not they agree with it. (You can decide that you disagree with me about the Raise Dead! Just because I wrote a thousand words on it does not inherently make my interpretation truth; it's just an interpretation. You get to say whether or not you think my interpretation makes sense based on the evidence presented.) Even here I'm using the framework of some critique that others have made, but I don't delineate in full myself. In doing do I'm not presuming that you agree, but I am presuming that you've read it and know what I'm referring to. Strictly speaking it's also not even saying that I take that critique as true; it's saying that I feel the conclusions drawn are applicable as a basis for my argument. If you wanted, you could even say that you feel that my argument is irrelevant to you because you don't feel those critiques are true! But you ultimately do have to be the one to decide any of that, which does involve a balance between a confidence in the formation of your own opinions on the text and an openness to entertaining others'.

[deesseshesca]

PAC: What vibes does your future relationship give off ? (18+)

Yankee Doddle went to town riding on pony.

LOVE READING FLASH SALE (LINK)

ALL READING REGARDING SEX AND LOVE IS 75 % MAKING IT ONLY 20$

YES EVEN FOR 2 FOR 1

OFFER AVAILABLE UNTIL FEB 17

I ACCEPT ALL FORM OF PAYEMENT ON MY KO-FI.

PILE 1

SONG : TAKE YOU DOWN - SZA

SORRY BABE BUT YOUR READING IS LONGER 😭

PILE 2 

SONG : BABY - REMA

6 swords (reverse), judgement (reverse) 8 wands, King pentacles (reverse) 

This is the friend of your older brother. He’s writing a paragraph as a text while he's drunk… which he will never send. He may engage in dangerous behavior because he's behind the wheel texting it but he's not driving … just sitting there. Like he took a moment away from the party to catch some fresh air.  

There's so much sexual frustration and tension in his body is incredible. 

There's a clicking of keys… which is important. Is like his pondering if he should leave or spend the night over like it was planned. I don't think he will actually drive … should he leave, he would tag along with other boys to an actual party. Is like your brother has a lot on his mind regarding another girl from uni … you will not know. You will just be shocked he came back from campus earlier. Even your mom, like her heart might stop. Lol she is so sure for a moment that your brother got kicked out, your brother may have problems accepting answering to more important people ever since he’s a child. Like he’s not annoying or rude, he may come like that but he actually has good reasons to act up. He may be a crash out, but it's always been justified. Lol the bffs are going through it with women … they both seem to deal with it the same way … running away. They may actually act like fucking twin brothers at times. 

What the actually fuck ? I though I actually dealt with my fucking heart. I aint even lie, this past years I try to take my fucking distance with you. I mean I am trying to stay alive and keep my balls. Do you know what would happen to me if your brother could read my brain ? Especially with the past I have, fuck what past … I am too emotionally available with females … he’s not wrong keeping me away from you . I mean … I may not be worth you but can your homeboy dream ? I did not know you have to ask permission to think ? Why do I have to ask permission to use my own brain while you take possession of my thoughts 24/7 like you are paying the bills in this bitch. Your brother told me, we were going to surprise you today. I know he’s was running away, I am always going to have bro back but fuck why do I have to fucked in the process ? You were in your bed, your long hair braided, legs hanging, wearing your short booty shorts, white tee dancing to some pop girl music (his snorting). Dancing like a maniac (explosion of laughter). The scream that came out of you is deserving of an Oscar but the way I had to keep my composure  when you jumped in my arms after hugging your bro was something. Fuck I miss having my hands around you, I miss caring for you, I miss your face, your scent and even your weird habits. Than you came downstair cooking something for me and the bros because your mom was caught up in a meeting and we can’t fucking cook to safe ourselves. Again I had to keep my composure, while your body was moving lazily to the music in your headphones. Keep my eyes on the game, keep my focus on the conversation, keep my attention on the character on the screen. When all I wanted to do was peeking at you. Than like you wanted to torture me … you put the plates a front of us with smile before running back upstairs to your bedroom. All I could think about for the rest of the evening, while drinking was do I claim a need to the bathroom so I can stare at you through the door … FUCK when did I become a such creep ? 

That man grew up in a house where spanking, physical abuse was the way to discipline. 

You often grow up, watching him with purple eyes, you thought maybe he had a temper he was hiding you because he's always calm whenever he deals with you, your family, fuck almost everybody, yet…

For some y’all actually know him since childhood and he always had bruises on him, so you never question it. When  you were younger you even though he had a purple birth scar. This shows the frequency and the normality of the assault he endured for your kid brain to normalize it. 

For some of you, that are fucking shock about that text … to confirm is him … go ask him about his family, childhood or parents, that will be your confirmation that's the pile for you. 

For the one too shocked to believe it, remember that energy is ever changing but if you keep up living the way you do, you will in fact finish your life with  the bff of your older brother. To unclaimed, change something … To claim … no need is already yours (I just saw someone giggling … LOL) 

This collective y’all are really shocked he will actually be interested in you because he treats you like a little sis… from my humble tarot reader opinion … he is too protective and soft for it not to be romance. The intensity in which he holds your gaze is too much to just be platonic 

I just heard : ‘’But nah girl…’’. BABE IF YOU DON'T WANT IT, CHOOSE SOMETHING ELSE. 

The card also shows that he is terrified to show care, empathy and love. You guys have no idea how stoic he is whenever he is interacting with his environment. The fact that he he check on you, the fact that you can call him when you need help (availability), the fact that he reply quickly (you don't how many people he leaves on deliver … ), the fact that he goes out of his way to always bring your fav snack, the fact that he always make sure nobody is annoying you at work, school or even calm your brother down when his become too smart with you . Or the FUCKING fact that he actually smile at (even though is fucking small), the fact that he don't mind hugging you. He's only that soft for you, there's not a single girl he fuck, been a relationship with or even flirt with in which he was this attentive and kind. 

He’s a lightweight when it comes to alcohol. 

VIBES: Crush, brother bff, secrecy, secret admire and one sided romance 

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PILE 3

SONG: JONI - SZA FT Don Toliver

POV is your past self and future self. Is like a small note. Maybe you guys use the note in your phone like a diary. 

The Chérie D’Amour coming from PILE 2, this is your POV from the situation in PILE 2. Also your brother doesn't know you are out there living an all year hot girl summer and have a whole roster. They only see you as your innocent self. Funny enough (my own  observation), now I understand how hard it is for you to believe what I wrote because you are the same. The dude plays mister nonchalant, while you play Miss Innocent. Both of you have a facade that does not exist with each other. Like you guys actually have an intimate bond with each other. You allow yourself to be soft with him and he allows himself to accept it.

PAST: 9swords, 9 wands (reverse) 

 You are on the bus. A week after a crazy night where u spend the night at your one night or maybe sneaky link. You just have an epiphany 

Honestly … I want more. Is it crazy to say. I want someone to hold me close while playing in my hair. I want someone to look at me like I am the star of their life, like maybe if they look away I may vanish. I want to be the banter of their existence. I want to be the reason for their every breath. I want to go on vacation with the one that loves me. The one that will spend hours, hours and his money just to see a smile on my face. Someone ready to die to hear me laugh. Someone who is just like Jack, will let me, Rose stay on the door  because he prefers a cold death than letting me feel the pain of Atlantic water. Someone will pick me up bridal style after I call him because I am too drunk with my homegirl and can't make my way home. I want someone to comfort me when the tears are rolling down  my cheeks, I want someone to drop anything when my voice has a subtle shake and I want someone to be my safe haven. I want someone who will enjoy spending time with me even when all we do is sit in silence in a quiet room. I want to slow dance in the living room while the dinner is cooking. (Bitter laugh) What the fuck for ? Even if the one came I will destroy it the same way I destroy the marriage of my parents. Maybe all I actually need is a break from having sex. I am tired of getting disappointed , I am tired of sexting, I am tired of the 2 am booty call, I am tired of being easy, I am tired of hair pulling, the spitting, the fucking, the aftercare, the uber, the walk of shame and the fucking hole that's keep growing deeper every time I come home to an empty house after giving my all to another looser because I can’t seem to attract he right one and I am too lonely to refuse anyone.

I am tired of feeling lonely . 

Future : Knight swords, Hermit 

I am hearing : ‘’ Omg he hears me ! Omg he knows my name’’ 

This one is a note but the intention behind it is almost like a prayer.

Please don't take him. Let him love me. Let him stay in my life. (Your eyes are burning with tears, none fell, you are holding on for dear life. You are sitting in your bedroom). I will do anything you ask. Don't let him resent. Let him love me forever. Don't let life take his warmth away from  me. I love every part of him, I love his tattoo, I love his grumpy attitude, I love the way he holds on to my hand. The way he always longs for some physical contact with me otherwise he loses his mind (bitter laugh, oh no… babe you broke … the tears are flowing slowly). I love the way he trust me with his Lego collection, with his car tools and on his bike. I love the way he let me in, my pretty boy, my very pretty boy, he don't deserve all that (Fuck … I finally got the vibe … he may have been in altercation or just an argument with his family which trigger him extremely which made him take its distance. Like you know he's in a dark place but he refuses to let you see him like that (aww now my heart is breaking … y’all going to make a cold ass bitch emotional, now he’s asking me if you are crying. He hates when you cry and it would put him in so much pain to know he is the reason for it). Usually he is transparent and you have amazing communication. That why you are ugly sobbing because it must be very bad, if he is taking his distance). He always comfort me when my periods hurt, when my mom say mean things to me, when school is too hard or life become to overwhelming. Even when I am trying to ignore him, he drop everything for me. I don't know what else to say … you must let him love me. Who else is going to look at me with so much love, caress me with so much passion, make love to me, worship my body with kisses, tell me how much he loves me and how hard is going to work so I never regret choosing him. 

Technically it's stop here …because you are sending him a voice note but since I love y’all let me add it here. I apologize because it might be too messy to read. 

Hiccup, hiccup, (his name), breathing trying to keep it in, breaking down in  tears, talking while having hiccups :  just so you know I love you. Please don't leave me behind, pretty boy. You remember what I told you … you ain't have to feel ashamed for what you did. Baby please come to me, we can work it all. Let me comfort you. 

Breakdown again:  Fuck I am stress. You better comeback (weak attempt to a bossy tone). Please (pleading tone). 

VIBES : Forbidden romance, one bed proximity, touch her and I will kill you, I want and see only her, I don't deserve her, she's too good for me, he's the only one that truly loves me and know me, we should not be doing this but can't seem to stay away from each other.

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PILE 4 

SONG : STAY - Adanna Duru FT Leven Kali

POV YOUR FS. 

I actually shuffled some cards but y’all nasty step dad came through. He's a fucking pervert Chérie d’Amour and I am so sorry you had to deal with this looser in your childhood. I am fucking sorry your mama did not protect you more. 

Your husband DONT PLAY WHEN  IT COMES TO YOU. 

Is a text after the first night spent together. 

Hey beautiful,

I know we just hang up and you probably sleeping rn. Fuck sure is 3 am in the morning but I cant get enough of you. I hate the fact that I can't dream because sleep is keeping me away from you. I want to spend every one of my seconds on earth dedicated to you. Texting you, calling you and hearing you. I am so obsessed with you girl … so you know we are lock in, lock in. There's nobody but us. I don't care if you're mad or tired of me, we are going to work this out. I see the bigger picture with you baby. That not the only picture I have of you… I love kissing you. When your lips lay on top of  mine, my eyes I can't help but close, pushing into a transit state of pure bliss. I love having sex with you, your moans are like  music to me. You have such a beautiful voice, I know I always compliment you about it. I guess you awakened a new kink in me babygirl.I  can recognize your voice, touch and scent in a room full of strangers because my soul knows you. My fav habits of yours when it comes to loving me … is the way you kiss my forehead, my eyes, my cheek and my lips in one setting just to make me smile. I love staring into your pretty face. That’s probably why I stare that much at my phone when u aint around. And she gets even prettier when I am thrusting in and out of your tight pussy. I love when you baby me, even though I am 6’4 (maybe taller) and 3x your weight. I love being the small spoon. I love being your good boy. I love finding safety in your arms. I aint joking girl … I am going nowhere. I LOVE IT HERE. 

VIBES: Commitment, marriage, long lasting romance, wedding day, husband and wife and growing old together 

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[lsunstreakerl]

sunny i would die for seb and lewis’s reactions to finding out they neglected max in that a/b/o verse

maybe... maybe more on this later... I'm already at 1.6k words though so here you go!

"I mean, come on man, it can't be any worse than Max."

Lewis's voice is light as he laughs, and he's trying to ease the new rookies into the pack, make them feel at home, but Daniel's jaw clenches anyways, scent sharpening.

He's been butting heads with Lewis for the past year- hard enough convincing Max that his omega status didn't have anything to do with him leaving, even harder to actually leave him.

He'd been hoping with three new rookies maybe the pack would start to ease up- they're closer to Max's age, knew him as kids.

But here Lewis is, using him as some kind of scapegoat, and Daniel-

Hulk nudges him gently.

"Mate- you are going to stink up the whole room if you don't quit."

Daniel forces the feeling back down, gets control back over his scent. Still- when Lewis gets a taste of it, looks over at him with concern- Daniel meets his gaze head on, lip curling slightly in a snarl.

It's openly defiant, and he's lucky no one else notices, otherwise Lewis would be forced to confront it immediately, handle whatever challenge Daniel has for him publicly.

But Lewis doesn't like to lead like that, so he just narrows his eyes before he finishes the rookie tour.

Daniel means to forget about it, scrolling his phone in the lounge when the door swings back open. Lewis stalks back in, and his scent is both confused and agitated.

"What the fuck, Daniel?"

Daniel barely glances up from his phone. He hasn't done anything close to forgetting about it- he's spent the last forty five minutes remembering every slight against Max, getting progressively more worked up about it, and his scent is permeating the room, defensive and angry.

If he's finally going to blow his lid about the Max thing, he's going to make it worth it.

Seb slips in, and both Charles and Hulk follow- two people Daniel is likely to listen to if somehow the pack alpha and omega can't get through to him.

They'll probably have a whole crowd by the time Daniel is done.

"Can I help you?"

Seb's eyebrows shoot up as Lewis snarls softly.

"I don't know what your problem is Dan, but if we could talk about it, instead of you challenging me when I'm bringing in rookies-"

Daniel scoffs.

"What, like bringing in rookies is sacred? I'm not exactly sure when you two started giving a shit about that."

Seb looks startled at being included, but Daniel's certainly not letting him get out of it.

"Daniel- bringing in rookies has always been important to us."

The snarl from his chest surprises even him, the result of years of watching Max, endlessly hopeful for approval and acknowledgment but never getting it, watching a pup- an omega pup- try and hide his heartbreak each time he's passed over-

Garages are not meant to be packs, but Redbull is, because the drivers pack has failed.

"Go ahead and tell that to Max, yeah? I'm sure he'll agree with you."

The scents in the room sour, and Lewis's face scrunches up.

"Okay- I know we dropped the ball on Max, but Daniel- he's a beta. And he's okay, clearly."

Daniel's scent is a thick cloud in the room, ozone and lightning, a near oppressive miasma.

"Alex is a beta. So was Sergey. That didn't stop either of them from being brought into the pack, did it?"

He abruptly stands up, and Seb takes a step back while Lewis snarls back at him, but Daniel's not backing down, not even to the pack alpha, not for this, not for Max.

"And don't fucking tell me that 'he's okay'. You aren't in that garage- you'd love to pretend he doesn't exist, wouldn't you?"

His accent has thickened, and Seb releases his scent a bit, tries to sooth the room.

"Daniel- I think we've had a miscommunication, yes? Max has not wanted to be in the pack."

"Oh don't- don't even start-"

Daniel's growling, low in his chest.

"You wouldn't know, because you never fucked asked- and if you had, maybe you would have realized that he did, he just doesn't know how to say it- and maybe that's because he's a fucking pup!"

He's right up and Lewis's face, and Lewis finally lets go on his scent- there's a brief moment where it's smothering, telling Daniel to stand down, but-

"Or maybe you could use your eyes, or your nose, or if you're feeling really generous, your brain- and you'll notice he's not a damn beta at all, you stupid cunts, he's an omega, and right now Redbull's picking up all the slack!"

Max had- Max had begged Daniel not to tell them, but Daniel can't keep it to himself anymore, can't bear to watch it- and Max feels betrayed enough already, it's not like he can make it worse.

There's a sharp scent change, horror from Seb and a deep note of surprise from Charles and Hulk, but Lewis-

Lewis makes a wounded noise, stepping back.

"No- no? No, we would have- we would have noticed."

Daniel feels the laugh bubble out of him.

"Well, great job on that front, cheers to the pack alpha, yeah? Wrap it up, Lewis Hamilton is soooo great he can decide dynamics now!"

"Daniel."

Seb's voice is sharp, the one he used when Daniel was younger, getting into things he shouldn't, toeing the line in press conferences. Daniel doesn't care- he's not the rookie anymore, he had his own rookie, and he's doing exactly what Seb taught him to do- protecting him.

Daniel doesn't want to hear whatever it is Seb has to say- something to smooth over the situation, to make it less than it is, and he doesn't-

He doesn't want to hear it.

"No, fuck that, I'm going out."

He stalks past Lewis, who takes a few steps after him.

"Hamilton, if you don't actually want to fight with me right now, stop following."

Daniel lets the door slam behind him, and some part of him feels the sting- he's treating pack like shit right now, but deeper, tucked underneath it-

He wants to go see Max. If only to sooth the ache in his own chest. Wants to curl up in the team nest and have Max doze off next to him, bury his nose in his hair and smell pine and tart blackberries, the slight edge of milky pup scent he hasn't quite managed to get rid of yet.

No one in Redbull has told Max- as far as Daniel is aware- that when he's curled up in a pack pile, deeply asleep, sometimes he'll purr.

It's a treasured memory, because Max straight up refuses to do it any other time. GP has the best luck in the team of drawing it out, but Daniel is a close second.

Was a close second.

He stops for a moment, realizing he can't. He can't go to back to Redbull and climb in the nest, can't curl up with Max and the others, and this is why garages aren't usually pack- it hurts too much when a driver leaves.

"Fuck."

------

It's Charles that breaks the silence, looking wide-eyed at Seb.

"Max? Max is an omega?"

Seb opens his mouth before shutting it again. He's not-

He doesn't know what to say. Doesn't know how to make it better, hasn't even fully digested the implications of what Daniel had shouted at them.

Max Verstappen is a beta. He's an aggressive beta, cocky and arrogant, who wants nothing to do with them, and he's a danger to the pack on track.

Seb's head hurts. Trying to reframe it-

Max Verstappen is an omega. He's practically still a pup, has pack bonded with his garage, and-

And wanted to be part of the pack. As a driver. Because he is, he's a driver, and he's so young still, and he's-

"Seb,"

It's Lewis with his hand on his shoulder, soothing him, and Seb barely recognizes his own scent, drenched in shame and guilt and sorrow.

"We'll fix it- we can go talk to him."

An omega. They're few and far between as is- the loss of Nico to the grid had been rough, and even now as Seb is thinking about it, Nico had spent so much time with Max-

"Lewis- Lewis, Nico knew-"

He sees the moment it hits Lewis as well, jaw clenching as his squeezes his eyes shut briefly.

"Damn it."

Lewis turns to Charles and Hulk.

"You two- none of this leaves this room until Seb and I get it figured out, got it?"

Charles nods meekly, half hidden behind Hulk, and Seb is sure the two of them smell horrid at the moment, but they need to fix this-

Omega. A pup, and Seb had seen Jos, there's no way Max got what he needed, and he's-

He's relying on his garage for his needs, when garages aren't built for it, aren't designed to withstand pack dynamics. They can't function under the strain, and the chances of having a Team Principal who is also a pack alpha are slim. A Team Principal and separate pack alpha leads to issues within the pack, and he has no idea how Redbull has been managing for two years.

God. Max wasn't even an adult, and all Seb had seen was an arrogant kid, hadn't even taken a second to look further.

Maybe if he had they wouldn't have missed it.

Instead, they now have a deeply damaged pack bond with Daniel, a nonexistent pack bond with a grid omega, and potentially an entire team under packbond strain.

How this is only blowing up their faces now is a miracle.

[shuenkio]

Secret Secret — ࣪𖤐 승민 .ᐟ

۫ ꣑ৎ Synopsis: They say, as a gay, never fall for the straight guy who’s affectionate and kind. But what happens when the straight guy finds himself falling for you instead?

۫ ꣑ৎ Paring: Seungmin x m!reader

۫ ꣑ৎ Genre: Fluff. ۫ ꣑ৎ Cw: none.

۫ ꣑ৎ non proof read ۫ ꣑ৎ Eng is not my 1st

۫ ꣑ৎ This is a work of fanfiction, do not throw unnecessary tantrums on this nsfw/sfw blog. ©Shuenkio

"Here!" He grabs your palm, place a chocolate bar all of the sudden. Causing you to furrow your brows, bewildered the scene.

"But what for?" You asked, still not recognizing his intentions yet. Today was Valentine's day, where everyone gave gifts or received them, and also the day of confessing their feelings to their loved ones you get it. But one thing that was odd was, Seungmin, the excellent and attractive employee in the company was the one who gave you, out all of the other girls, who had a big fat crush on him yet he chose you instead? Should you be happy or sad?

"idiot, it's Valentine day aigoo" the taller scoffed a heavy sigh before walk off, shove his hands back into his pocket act as if this never happened. You scratch the back of your head, unable to react to such a situation since never in your life receive gifts on Valentine's day.

"....what?" Once Seungmin is gone, all your co-workers beside you suddenly circling around like flies, some scream while some are even more excited than you. Who wouldn't when is THE Kim Seungmin, the nonchalantly blunted guy, out of the blue giving you a gift out of everyone, this should be displayed in the museum for real.

"Yaaaa M/N aren't you so lucky to get such gift??" Once say.

"UGH what did you do last live to live in my dream right now!!" Twice say.

"Gosh I better not hear you reject him, or Imma drowning you in this can" thrice say.

"reject? What reject, this is just a small gift right?" Keeping it low, there's no way he was y'know... Into guy? How is it possible if that was such an outright way to ask you out. Groaning was heard once you responded. Ever since you've been working here for god knows how long together with Seungmin, the latter will always find his way to take care of m/n secretly, giving rides home, act of service, helping m/n when he's struggling and gosh, there's so many. However, you don't think that kind of way, as a hopeless romantic guy from all the way childhood to this age now, you realized that you'll never find love since you're a homosexual. Never experience the high school love nor any kind of relationship ever. So when somebody is acting this way, you thought it was normal, isn't it?

"how dumb are you, Don't you notice how he acts when it comes to you ? You're the favoritesm" once say.

"true true, we get nothing during the new years eve but you got a fucking Rolex watch from him" twice say.

"m/n listen to us alright? If you're not certain about him, go ask him if it was worth the try, that man is not the straight forward one— we know how you feel when this happened but think Abt it, it has been a year now— but if you don't do anything, don't say we don't spare mercy, anything is possible just to make you say one word" thrice say.

Their advice lingers on your head. Face resting on your palm, pouting. Tskk it's actually a pretty serious thing for them and you tho, looking back to all the memories it sounds like you are his favorite indeed, as the time goes on it's far more than his favorite person.

"fine okay... I'll ask him this evening, I have dinner with him though" you stated, and focus on finishing your work. While your co-workers went back to their place with a happy grin spread across their face.

"kiss me~ don't say no—"

A sleek, jet-black luxury car rolled to a stop right outside the building, its polished body reflecting the dim lights in a way that made it look almost too perfect to be real. The engine gave a soft hum, like a low purr, almost too smooth to be true.

Then, the door opened—wide, welcoming. Like it was waiting for you.

For a second, you stood there, blinking. Was this really happening? This was getting a little too real, like something straight out of a movie.

You snapped out of it, stepping into the car with a mix of hesitation and something else—you weren’t entirely sure. The leather seat felt too soft, the smell of clean luxury wrapping around you. It was like you were in a different world, one where all of this was normal, and you weren’t still trying to figure out what the hell was going on.

You reached for the seatbelt, your fingers a little more unsteady than they should’ve been. As you finally settled in, you glanced at Seungmin.

His face was relaxed, eyes forward, fingers steady on the steering wheel—but there was that smirk at the corner of his mouth. That little smirk that made everything too damn real.

"All set?" he asked, his voice smooth and casual, like this wasn’t completely out of place.

Before you could even answer, the engine roared to life beneath you. The car glided forward, the world outside blurring as you were pulled deeper into whatever this was—whatever he was.

You couldn’t stop yourself from glancing at Seungmin, his eyes just flicking toward you for a second, that smirk still there, as if he knew exactly what was running through your mind.Yeah. You were definitely in trouble now.

( in third pov )

The soft hum of conversation filled the air as M/N and Seungmin stepped into the restaurant. The warm glow of fairy lights draped across the ceiling cast a golden hue over the Valentine’s-themed decor—roses in crystal vases, flickering candles, and a breathtaking view of the ocean stretching beyond the glass windows. The faint scent of saltwater mixed with the aroma of fresh pasta and wine. It was undeniably romantic. Too romantic.

M/N swallowed, eyes darting around. It wasn’t that he minded being here with Seungmin, but something about the atmosphere made his chest feel a little tight, his heart just a little too aware. And maybe—just maybe—it had to do with the nagging feeling creeping up on him lately.

Seungmin strolled up to the reception desk, hands in pockets, his usual composed demeanor unreadable. The receptionist, a cheerful woman with a clipboard, greeted them with a bright smile.

"Ah, welcome! Table for two? Are you a couple?"

M/N immediately parted his lips to say No, but before the word could form, Seungmin, ever so casual, nodded and replied, "Yes."

The receptionist beamed.

"Oh, wonderful! Happy Valentine’s Day! You’ll be getting our couple’s discount!"

M/N blinked, a sharp inhale catching in his throat. Excuse me?

Seungmin, on the other hand, remained perfectly unbothered, only lifting a brow at M/N as if to say, What? It’s a discount.

M/N’s mind spiraled in a dozen different directions. Was it just for the sake of the discount? Or was this something else? Something that confirmed that inkling feeling he’d been trying to ignore for weeks?

Still slightly dazed, he followed Seungmin to their table near the floor-to-ceiling window. The restaurant was nestled on a cliffside, giving them an uninterrupted view of the sea. The waves shimmered under the soft glow of the moon, the distant city lights twinkling against the horizon. It was the kind of place lovers would dine at, whispering sweet nothings over candlelit dinners.

And here M/N was, sitting across from Seungmin—Seungmin, who was all nonchalance, leaning back against the seat, sipping water like he hadn’t just thrown M/N’s entire world off its axis.

The meal went by in a blur, M/N hyper-aware of every brush of movement, every fleeting glance. Seungmin, of course, was the same as always, his aloof expression unreadable, his voice carrying that low, effortless ease. And M/N? M/N felt like he was malfunctioning internally.

Then, just as M/N thought he was in the clear, Seungmin casually slid something across the table.

A box. Wrapped neatly with a ribbon.

M/N stared at it. Then at Seungmin. Then back at the box.

"...What’s this?" His voice came out quieter than intended.

Seungmin tilted his head slightly. "A gift."

M/N hesitated. He could already feel the heat creeping up his neck, fingers trembling slightly as he tugged at the ribbon. The box opened with a soft click—inside, nestled in velvet, was a delicate silver bracelet. The charm attached to it was subtle, but M/N recognized the design instantly. It was something he had offhandedly admired months ago while window shopping—something he hadn’t even realized Seungmin had noticed.

M/N’s breath hitched.

His chest felt tight again, but for an entirely different reason.

"...Do you like it?" Seungmin asked, tone as indifferent as ever, but his eyes—those deep, steady eyes—held something softer. Something patient.

M/N swallowed hard, nodding, his voice refusing to work.

Silence stretched between them, thick with unspoken words. And maybe it was the dim lighting, maybe it was the leftover adrenaline from earlier, or maybe—just maybe—it was the fact that everything was finally making sense.

M/N clenched his fists under the table, gathering every ounce of courage he had.

"...Do you," he exhaled slowly, pulse hammering, "like me?"

Seungmin didn’t blink. Didn’t even hesitate.

He leaned back, exuding that same effortless calm, and said, "I thought that was obvious."

M/N’s heart stopped.

And just like that, everything he had been trying to ignore crashed over him like a tidal wave.

Seungmin watched as M/N sat there, frozen, his fingers twitching slightly against the table. His lips parted like he wanted to say something—anything—but nothing came out. His wide eyes, the way his breath hitched, the sheer disaster of emotions playing out on his face—Seungmin almost felt bad for him.

Almost.

With a sigh, Seungmin leaned back, arms crossing over his chest. "You know," he started, voice even, "I figured you’d be like this."

M/N finally blinked, snapping out of whatever internal meltdown he was going through. "...Like what?"

Seungmin tilted his head slightly, his expression unreadable. "Hopeless," he said bluntly. "A hopeless romantic who’s spent his whole life thinking love was something out of reach just because you’ve never had it before." He exhaled through his nose, tapping his fingers against the table. "And yeah, I knew you’d overthink this. But honestly? I don’t care."

M/N stiffened, his breath caught in his throat. "You—"

"I don’t care," Seungmin repeated, this time with a slow, deliberate shrug. "Because I already like you." His gaze was steady, unwavering. "And there’s nothing you can do about that."

M/N’s chest tightened.

Seungmin watched him, as if waiting, as if knowing exactly what was running through his mind. Then, with that same lazy, deadpan tone, he added, "So? What now? You gonna run away? Or are you finally gonna admit you like me back?"

M/N felt his heart lurch. He swallowed thickly, mind racing.

And then, finally, finally, he let out a breath and muttered, "...Fine." His voice was quiet, but firm. "Yes."

Seungmin smirked, like he had just won some long-awaited game. He lifted his glass, taking a sip of water, before setting it down with a soft clink.

"Yeah," he said, exhaling like this was nothing new. "Thought so."

M/N groaned, slumping against the table. He was so done for.

A/n: Guy guess what? I'm doing this experiment with Seungmin y'all!! I'm kicking my feet, giggling, & ate some wall while writing this 😋 my favorite so far— I'd love some comments, like really!!! Should I continue or whatever.

Funtalk: I can't help but to post this in advance, because valentines are 4 more days and I can't wait to see y'all reaction, so yeah...

[hiiragi7]

Educationism

Here's a word I learned recently that I want to share with tumblr. Educationism is the word for discrimination against less educated and uneducated people as well as the biases that higher educated people have against less educated and uneducated people.

Educationism is something I have experienced for a long time (first as a SPED kid and then as a highschool dropout with no diploma or GED) but never had the words to talk about and that really frustrated me a lot.

Educationism is something I wish more people would talk about. It's something that comes up all the time even in casual conversation, and even moreso in more heavy or discourse-y conversations.

Often I even see people trying to be allies especially to queer or trans or intersex folk and they end up engaging heavily in educationism - which is really draining for me as a queer, trans, intersex person who is not formally educated. (For example - "I bet TERFs didn't even pass highschool biology", a statement which both fails to acknowledge and hold accountable that TERFs make an active choice to be bigoted and frames not passing a class in highschool as the reason why TERFs exist, which gets tiring very fast as someone who very much did not get good grades or pass classes in highschool and yet is very much not a TERF.)

Being less educated or uneducated is constantly used as an insult and education is used as a measure of how much worth a person has and how good of a person they are, I am constantly put down for not being formally educated. Being formally educated, especially on a college level, also provides value to one's words and thoughts - Nobody wants to hear what a highschool dropout has to say, because they assume we simply aren't worth speaking to or hearing out.

When others learn that I am not formally educated, immediately they assume that I am lesser of a person than them, that I am lazy or simply don't try hard enough to become formally educated, that my life does not matter as much or is not as good as theirs, and that I am not to be taken seriously.

Additionally, I don't think higher-educated people really realize how little rights you have when you are not formally educated. It doesn't matter how much I actually know in practice, how much I read and study, how much unpaid labor or volunteer work or community work I perform, because I do not have a highschool diploma or equivalent the amount of things that I am allowed to do is severely limited.

Many areas of life, including large ones like getting a job or going to college, are largely not accessible to me because I do not have a highschool diploma or equivalent.

I also have to deal with quite a massive amount of social stigma and discrimination, and it feels isolating to not see anybody in my communities talk about it, especially in communities which are otherwise very welcoming and accepting and anti- various forms of bigotry.

So, here's me putting myself out there a bit in hopes that educationism as a term might be picked up and passed around more and maybe others might discuss it and learn something about it.

[rekino2114]

Could we get something with chara for the valentine's day event. I was thinking either 8, 9 or 10 you decide. We need more content for her

Chara valentine's day prompts

Pairing:female chara dreemur x gn reader

A/n:I decided to use a different writing style than usual since I thought it fit better with the prompts

Prompts list

Prompt#9: giving her a hersey's kiss instead of a real one

Y/n:Hey Chara do you want a kiss?

Chara:no

Y/n:what? You always say you love them

Chara:Always is an exaggeration, I can't say I hate them but I don't need one every hour

Y/n:come on pretty please, just a small one

Chara:you're gonna bother me until I say yes aren't you?

Y/n:probably

Chara:[sighs] fine I guess your kisses are nice

Y/n:I knew you liked them!

Chara:whatever

Y/n:Close your eyes first

Chara:why? That's weird

Y/n:no its more romantic

Chara:you better not do something weird

Y/n:don't worry I think you'll quite like it

[Chara sighs again but closes her eyes and opens her mouth, waiting for your kiss]

Chara:come on hurry up

[You take the chocolate out of your pocket and put it in chara's mouth. She's surprised at first, but as soon as she recognizes the sweet taste, she starts chewing it with a smile on her face]

Y/n:so did you like that?

Chara:Yeah.....but what about the kiss

Y/n:That was it, I gave you a hersey's kiss, it's a type of chocolate

Chara:oh...........ok

Y/n:did you want one that bad~?

Chara:when you told me you were gonna give me a kiss I expected a kiss

Y/n:well I did give you one

Chara:fine, if you wanna play it like this then I'm gonna get the kiss myself

Y/n:what do you-

[Suddenly, chara takes you by the collar of your shirt and kisses you passionately on the lips]

Y/n:........wow

Chara:now that was a real kiss

Y/n:Do you....want more kisses

Chara:Yeah

Y/n:which ones?

Chara:both, I love both.....but I guess yours are a bit better

Y/n:[giggle]:I'm glad you love me more than chocolate

Chara:obviously, would I kill someone for chocolate?

Y/n:yes actually, you very much would

Chara:come on, I'm better than that

Y/n:if you say so........wait were you implying you'd kill someone for me

Chara:did I stutter?

Prompt#8:feeding chocolate covered strawberries to each other

[Chara walks over to you eating a chocolate bar looking angry]

Chara:hey y/n, what happened to the chocolate bars in the fridge

Y/n:what do you mean? They're still there

Chara:no I brought 8, like 3 of them are gone

Y/n:......you eat way too much chocolate

Chara:just answer my question

Y/n:I melted it and made chocolate fondue

Chara:......what's that?

Y/n:Are you serious? You're obsessed with chocolate and don't know what chocolate fondue is?

Chara:I'm allowed to not know stuff, but I'm curious now what is it?

Y/n:it's just melted chocolate that you put in a bowl and dip stuff in

Chara:that actually sounds pretty good, can I have some

Y/n:yeah sure, I made it for us anyway

[You take a strawberry,dip it in the fondue and hold it over her mouth]

Y/n:People usually do it with strawberries, so here you go

Chara:I can eat it myself

Y/n:but i made it for valentine's day, it's more romantic like this

Chara:......you are so lucky I love you and chocolate

[She eats the strawberry and hums in happiness as her eyes sparkle]

Chara:wow that's good and I don't even like strawberries normally

Y/n:yeah, you'd probably eat a shoe if it was covered in chocolate

Chara:no seriously try it

[Chara dips a strawberry in the chocolate and shoves it in your mouth]

Y/n:....oh yeah, that is really good

Chara:see?

Y/n:i could have done without the force feeding though

Chara:I thought you said it was romantic

Y/n:You shoved it in my mouth how is that romantic?

Chara:whatever

[Chara looks at the fondue and the chocolate bar in her hands with determination in her eyes]

Chara:what do you think would happen if I dipped the chocolate bar into chocolate?

Y/n:diabetes, I think you'd get diabetes

Chara:.........worth it

Y/n:WAIT CHARA NO!

[deathbxnny]

Hello! Could I request Acheron, Feixiao and Jingliu x Angel! Reader, please? (In context the reeader is an extremely powerful entity that has lived for centuries, basically their job is to slay evil beings and demons. They don't have a true form as they can shapeshift. However they have 12 angelic pure white wings with a bright halo. They can use any weapons however they usually carried a hot flaming sword that can pretty much burn anything even Aeons. However they have a very unique and gentle aura as they can calm down their bloodlust or give them peace with just their presence alone. Despite all of that they are extremely kind and empathetic. However because of their extreme power and presence they can't always intervine and humans affairs as they are also bounded by rules. However they aren't afraid of bending them if it means they can save lives or make their beloved life a little better)

HSR women with an angel!Reader. | Acheron, Feixiao, Jingliu

I found this actually pretty fun to write about Anon, so I hope you'll enjoy this too!<3

Content: Established romantic relationships, hsr canon violence, sfw

Reader has no set pronouns.

((Not proofread))

》ACHERON

You being an angel often fades into the back of her mind, as your presence envelopes her scrambled memories into a warm and calming hug. She feels at ease around you, finally finding time to rest in between her hard and at times difficult workload as a galaxy ranger.

She respects you as an equal and doesn't bring up your inhuman nature ever. You are one in the same. But that doesn't mean she won't admire your strength in her own special way. With focused eyes, she'll watch your sword set ablaze in battle, wings spread wide as you take flight and soar through the skies like a free bird.

Acheron often ponders the meaning of your relationship, as she can't fully understand what it is about her that you like so much to stay for. She isn't anything remarkable in her eyes, just a wandering soul on an endless mission, but perhaps that's just another similarity that keeps you together.

》FEIXIAO

How exactly she got you to be her partner may remain a secret to everyone, as she herself often is at a loss for words. Especially when you shower her with her so much kindness and softness, something she rarely gets to have due to her rather harsh line of work. You are the only one who gets to see her so vulnerable.

Your prowess in battle leaves her beaming with pride every time. And your true form makes her sigh in wonder. She definitely asks to train with you for hours on end, even if you obviously go easy on her. She doesn't mind, as long as she can admire your form for longer this way.

She admires your respect for the rules of mortals, and her heart warms when you bend them for her or her people. Feixiao never asks you to do so directly, but it makes her feel good to know that she is worth the love and attention of an angel in this way.

》JINGLIU

Despite never saying it out loud, she's eternally thankful for your presence in her life. You keep her bloodlust at bay and give her the peace she so deeply yearns for. You ask for nothing but her love in return, and who is she to deny a divine entity? She feels undeserving of you, yet never says a word against it. A small selfishness on her part, perhaps.

Your holy form is burned into the forefront of her mind, a strong figure that she could never defeat and never wants to even in the depths of her crazed, sick mind. The light shining off your halo filters into her eyes through the blindfold and makes her sigh in relief every time you are near her. The pain is more bearable this way.

And yet, despite this deep love you share, she knows that it will end sooner than you want to. Even you can not save her, or perhaps she doesn't want to be saved anymore. It is an unspoken fate between you, too, and she'll let you believe that bending the rules of mortality will keep her at your side for longer if it is that that makes you happy.

[asheepinfrance]

i wrote this with futile devices in mind but i don't think that really shows. i don't think it matters cause i think this one's silly. there's not much of a plot, this is just sorta a day in patrick's life after moving back in, in my mind a week or so post-new rochelle. i hope you like it. as always, feel free to leave any thoughts, critiques, etc. in the comments, should you have any advice on where to improve. thank you <333

The sun rose an hour ago, and Patrick woke with it, whether or not he wanted to. He can blame Tashi for the disturbance, because apparently she’d been the one to choose the thin, white curtains that are doing absolutely nothing to block out the rays of sunshine threatening to make him actually do something with his day. He’d rather not, really, when it’s better to curl up and pretend nothing is real besides the warmth of his blanket for another few hours. Eventually, Tashi and Art join the sensory input keeping him from sleep. He’s not even comfortable anymore, too leggy and curled up to fit onto their couch properly, but he can’t make himself move. He likes that he knows they’re looking at him, learning to watch him exist again. Learning to be comfortable with him the way they used to be. 

It’s quite easy, actually, to get comfortable again. He hasn’t changed in too many ways, though there’s an air about him that hadn’t been there in their younger years. Whether that came with age, a natural maturation, or their absence they weren’t sure. They’d feel less guilty about the former, though. Tashi’s holding a mug in both hands, the warmth slightly stinging at her palms, heating the metal of her wedding ring up. She watches Art watch Patrick, who shifts slightly to cover his face with the throw blanket they’d lent him. How he’d ended up staying the night at their hotel the first time was unclear. Now, here he is, curled into the couch of their actual home, acting as Dad #2 for Lily when she and Art are training, and switching off when she finally gives in and coaches Patrick a bit. She’s sure her mother appreciates the break. 

She laughs through her nose, her shoulders bouncing with it, and the sound, or lack thereof, breaks Art from his trance. “Has he always been this deep a sleeper?”, she asks like she doesn’t know the answer. Art drums his fingers against the marble countertop, a satisfying, rhythmic wave created by just some skin and bone. She wishes she could be an artist in that way, just moving her body and making something worth seeing. She used to have that. “I don’t know, it’s been a long time”, he shrugs, sniffles a little bit. They both know that he won’t move until about 12 in the afternoon, just like he always had done.

Patrick “wakes” to Tashi’s eyes level with his, and he can’t imagine why she’d kneel for him of all people, and just for the sake of greeting him. The roles should be reversed and he knows it, Art probably knows it from wherever he’s watching this display from. He feels a bit like a child with the way she speaks to him, airy and soft like he’s delicate. He isn’t entirely aware that he is. “Hey… you sleep ok?” He grunts when he sits up, a noticeable ache in the muscles of his lower back that her gaze immediately falls to, her lips pulling down the slightest bit. He’d almost forgotten what it felt like for that disapproving of hers to be born out of concern. “You know you can always sleep in the guest room, right?” He shakes his head, waves his hand somewhere in her direction to signal disapproval, and she doesn’t really understand why he won’t take the easy way out. After all, isn’t Patrick known for it? But he thinks he hasn’t earned it yet. He has to make Tashi and Art remember he’s sweet, that he can be a better man than he’d shown himself to be, because no one loves a man who only wins for himself, and then again he rarely wins at all. Everyone loves a selfless champion, so no one could quite love him. So he needs them to remember he values their attention so deeply that just knowing the layout of their house now, watching them exist and love one another, knowing the name of their preferred coffee, that’s enough for him. He isn’t sure whose approval it is that he needs more at this point.

Patrick’s favorite part of the day, or at least, part of the day to himself, has become showering. He remembers the first night, back at the hotel in New Rochelle, he’d watched dirt he hadn’t known existed run off of his skin in that warm water and he felt new. He felt clean and pure and cried like a baby, curling onto that cold, tile shower floor. He only snapped back into his own body when Art had knocked on the door after an hour, fearing Patrick had fallen. Patrick isn’t sure why he let Art come in, shakily voicing his consent through the unlocked door, considering his state, but Art didn’t mind. He minded so little that he kneeled at Patrick’s side, still clothed, and held him through it. He ignored the shirt now sticking to his skin, the inevitable heaviness of wet denim, and let Patrick fall into him like he’d needed to for 13 years. His awe at consistent availability of warm water hasn’t run off, and he can’t get out until the jack-and-jill bathroom mirrors have fogged up with steam, and he lets himself hope for a bit that his toothbrush will join theirs in that little cup in between the two sinks. 

When he watches Lily later that day, sitting on his knees to watch her intently draw on a sheet of yellow construction, she doesn’t seem to notice the weight of her words when she says, “You know, Mama and Dad haven’t been fighting so much now that you’re here.” She’s like Tashi in that sense, not knowing that every little thing she does has everyone’s heart aching. He can’t help the little scoff that comes out, more from disbelief rather than annoyance, and Lily just goes back to scribbling on her paper. “Whatcha drawing, kid?” He asks, forcing himself to change the topic and not wallow in something sickening and sweet in front of this little girl he’s still finding his way around interacting with. She pushes the paper towards him, and when he flips it over, he finds four disproportionately drawn figures, two tall men, one woman with two lines for hair, and a smaller girl furthest right. He decides then and there he’s going to hang it on the fridge, and wonders when he got so comfortable so as to feel he can make an imprint on their home. Even one so small as paper placed on the fridge with a magnet.

At night, a time that comes with a star-riddled sky, after Lily’s been put to bed and Patrick insisted on washing the dishes leftover from dinner, he finds himself staring at a small family photo on their wall. Art, Tashi, and Lily, clearly younger then, on some sunny patch of grass. He wonders what life would be like had he been there, what their walls would look like if they had traces of him, too. He feels like it’d sully their image. Selfishly, he hopes they wouldn’t mind that hit to their reputation. Maybe he hopes they actively choose to endure it. It’s late now, Tashi and Art’s voices carrying quietly from their bedroom, and he knows he won’t sleep. He couldn’t sleep anymore because he was happy, and he’d become accustomed to only dropping from sheer exhaustion. From a brain shutting down purely because it couldn’t withstand consciousness anymore. He feels like a child awoken from a nightmare when he knocks at their door, blanket draped over his shoulder, twiddling his thumbs, asking if he can sleep in their room. He insists it’s just for the night, they insist they wouldn’t mind if it was for longer than that. He tucks himself between the two of them as carefully as he can, avoiding Tashi’s knee at all costs, though he knows it’s years past being healed. They don’t do anything but touch him, a natural press from lack of space, warm breath to goosebump prickled skin, and he has to force himself not to cry, laugh, moan. He just closes his eyes and lets himself melt. He thinks if he lets his eyes close long enough, melt enough, he’ll fuse into them. Maybe that’s what he needs.

[pandaofsecrets]

This convo got me thinking about how Ozai being a good parent and husband would actually be like (and how little that would actually change things), so here's the basics of the AU. It follows comics continuity because I think it's more impactful that way, and also because I really don't want to write two AUs for the price of one.

Okay, so first of all, how do we get here? Let's say that instead of Ozai becoming narcissistic as a coping mechanism (unlikely, but bear with me), he just kinda gives up trying to "prove his worth" and distances himself from his father and brother, distrusting them and trying to avoid their attention as much as he can.

Anyway, Azulon hears about the prophecy and wants Ozai married to Ursa, which. So much for not attracting attention. Azulon's logic here is that while he does want those strong firebenders, he doesn't want any of Roku's line to actually inherit the throne. So, marrying Ursa to his out-of-favor second son it is.

Needless to say, neither Ozai nor Ursa are exactly jazzed about the marriage. They're both essentially forced into it, and Ursa was already seeing someone, thank you very much. But they both figure that it's for the good of their country and that they can't really leave anyway, so they might as well try to make it work. Ozai works to make Ursa as comfortable as possible, and she cooperates with him as much as she can. A few months or so into the marriage, Ursa is pregnant with Zuko.

This is when Ursa notices that no one is replying to her letters. No one at all. Not Ikem, not her friends, and not even her parents. Like, she knows mail is slow, but it's been almost half a year at this point. Her parents at least should've written back by now. So, she does a little detective work, and puts together that Ozai is intercepting her letters.

Unsurprisingly, Ursa is pissed. She'd just begun to like Ozai, and he went and tore her heart into confetti. Incredibly betrayed (and also hormonal as all fuck), Ursa comes up with the very smart idea of writing a letter to Ikem in which she pretty much confesses to cheating on Ozai, reasoning that would hurt him pretty bad.

As Ursa expected, Ozai gets the letter and barges into the room, demanding to know what the hell she was thinking. "I knew it!" she goes. "I knew you've been intercepting my letters!" Ozai is like "Count yourself lucky it was me. What if it was my father? How would you have even begun to explain this to him?" He goes on to remind her that she was to give up contact with everyone outside of court, including her parents. He doesn't like his father's orders any more than she does, but he has to enforce them. He then burns the letter, telling Ursa that she can see whoever she wants, do whatever she wants, but she had better not let Zuko get caught up in any of it. Ozai makes a point to call Zuko his child, both because Ursa's letter did hurt him, and as a way to imply he cares about Zuko and Ursa doesn't.

A couple of hours later, both are feeling bad about the whole debacle. Ursa goes to see Ozai, who's in the middle of his usual "dealing with his angst by training until he straight-up collapses" routine, and they have a chat. Ozai apologizes for trying to imply she doesn't care about Zuko and for putting her in this position in the first place, and admits that he should've talked to her instead of going behind her back like that. Ursa swears she wasn't trying to get them in trouble, she was just so hurt by his actions that she wasn't thinking straight. Ozai promises her he'll find a way for her to contact and maybe even see her parents, so long as she promises to try and be less reckless. She agrees.

I'm skipping around a lot over things I haven't thought of in detail, so cut to a few years later. Zuko is around 7 and has just started his firebending lessons, Azula is around 5, and everything seems to be going pretty good. And then Azula starts firebending as well. Not only that, but she turns out to be a prodigy. Oops.

Ozai being Ozai, he immediately goes for damage control. He holds back Azula's progress under the pretext that it's going to be better for her in the long run, discourages her from attracting attention, and is generally very cagey whenever the subject of her bending is brought up. This is in sharp contrast to Azulon and to her teachers, who praise her for her talents and encourage her to develop her skills. So, naturally, Azula is really confused. If she's so great, why doesn't her father ever acknowledge it? This is made worse by the fact that Ozai can't really explain to Azula why he does things the way he does. So he just comes off as an unreasonable tyrant, which is. You know. Not at all the impression he wanted Azula to have of him. He knows what it's like to be the secondborn who is disliked by their parent, he never wanted to do that to his own child. It honestly feels like the universe is out to get him at this point.

So Azula becomes increasingly recalcitrant, and Ozai resolves to just give her space for the time being, spending more time with the one child who isn't fighting him at every turn. Seeing this as a rejection, Azula takes whatever pent-up rage she can't direct at Ozai and starts directing it at Zuko, meaning Ozai is put in a position where he has to protect one of his children from the other. Ursa tries her hardest to pick up the pieces, but that just ends with Azula writing her off as well. Azula also becomes aware of the fact that Ozai and Ursa are both pretty much powerless against Azulon, and that's where the fun begins.

It's a crappy situation all around, but it's about to get worse. Lu Ten dies and Iroh is about to return home from the Siege of Ba Sing Se, so Azulon tells Ozai that he has to give Azula to Iroh. Ozai is like, yep, there it is. There's the moment I've been dreading ever since I got married. Because due to the way this whole eugenics experiment worked, his children were never truly his. Azulon's vested interest in them meant Ozai never had any control over his own family, and Zuko and Azula were always going to be taken away from him sooner or later. But before Ozai can say anything, Azulon drops the bombshell on him. He has to kill Zuko, too. Ozai is like, fuck this. He doesn't care that Zuko was a failed experiment or whatever, that's his son. But he knows by now that his father cannot be reasoned with, so he asks Azulon to wait until Iroh comes home, buying himself time to figure out what to do. Surprisingly, Azulon agrees.

Ozai then goes to Ursa and tells her the tale of what just happened. Ursa goes, yeah, no, we can't afford to wait until Iroh comes back. Because even if they did, Zuko would still die. Ozai is like, well, there's gotta be something we can do. And that's when Ursa gets an idea. She briefly considers telling Ozai, but quickly thinks better of it. Patricide is a strong word. She knows Ozai wouldn't approve, so if she wants something done, she's gotta do it herself. Instead, she just says she knows a way, and leaves Ozai to mope.

Next morning, the palace is in chaos. Azulon just kicked the bucket, Iroh is away, and everyone is looking to Ozai for leadership. Ozai has a chat with Ursa and is like "You did this, didn't you?" Ursa is all "I don't know what you're talking about", and Ozai asks her if she really thinks he's that stupid. He then encourages her to get the heck out of Dodge, because someone is definitely going to trace this back to her and then they'll all be in big trouble, her especially. Ursa counters that she's not the same reckless woman she was 8 years ago, and that she made sure to cover all her bases this time, pinning the blame on supposed Earth Kingdom assassins. They sit in silence for a bit, and then Ozai confesses he can't believe Azulon is dead, and that he doesn't know whether to be relieved or to hate Ursa for murdering him. Ursa says that everything she's done, she's done to protect her family.

So Ozai basically becomes interim Fire Lord while waiting for Iroh to come back, and he does a pretty good job, having basically been acting Crown Prince ever since he came of age (with all of the responsibility and none of the credit, because Azulon was a dick like that). From here the AU can go any number of ways, from Iroh immediately taking over as Fire Lord, to him giving up his claim to the title, to Iroh trying to give up his claim and Ozai refusing.

I don't know if I'm ever going to actually write this AU, so I'm leaving this here, I guess? Lmk what you think.

[kitthenameless]

It's Omeluum time! And by that I mean, let's talk about some of the things many people don't seem to know about Omeluum and some of the things that commonly come up when people compare it to the Emperor.

(As far as I know, Om exclusively uses it/its, so that's what I'll use.)

One way in which the two illithids differ is that the Emperor doesn't have the same choices or opportunities as Omeluum to escape elder brains. He's a lot more at risk of being controlled again. Om just happened to be lucky enough to be born with magic that helped it.

Omeluum then worked with a lich. The Emperor eats criminals, and though we can't be sure that's all he's ever eaten, there is evidence in the game to support his claim. Did Om and its lich friend try to stick to criminals? We don't know. But even if they did, that still makes Om equal with the Emperor in that regard. And if they didn't, well, if Om felt like it couldn't stop the lich, maybe it figured this was at least less waste. Or maybe it didn't care either way. The point being, I wouldn't call this any more ethical than what the Emperor has been doing. (I'm not arguing about the ethics of eating brains in general, just that Om's choice is not ethically better than the Emperor's.)

After it tells you about that, Omeluum then ominously says it now eats people who "act against the Society's goals." It even pauses to carefully consider its words, and the words it chooses leave a lot of leeway and room for interpretation. (Such an underrated line and delivery. I love it.) Technically YOU are acting against the Society's goals if you refuse to give the gith egg to Esther, since it's the Society that wants the egg.

Omeluum sees itself as part of illithid-kind in a way the Emperor doesn't, using terms like "we" and "our" when talking about them, even referring to illithids as its ancestors after you tell it about the nautiloid.

Omeluum seems detached and more curious than anything about your problem and the whole situation, at least when you first meet it. But that's speculation, I can't say for sure what it's feeling.

It does however eventually realize that this brain taking over would be a bad thing for the entire plane. Which is in part why it is willing to die in order to save the Duke in the Iron Throne. This makes sense from a ruthlessly pragmatic standpoint---the Duke's life is more important for the city---and pragmatism is a very mind flayer thing (though I still can't imagine a typical mind flayer enthralled to a brain would think another race's life is worth more than its own). Omeluum is willing to risk or sacrifice in some scenarios to achieve its goals. The Emperor is also willing to risk his life in some scenarios to achieve his goals, like going with you directly into battle to fight the brain. Neither wants the Grand Design to actually happen.

And that ring it gives you (or rather makes you pay it for in some form, unless you persuade it otherwise)? It lied about that. But it did so for what it felt was a good reason, just like how the Emperor withholds info and lets you discover some things for yourself, in order to not overwhelm you and make you lose hope.

Ultimately, Omeluum gives you some elixirs or whatever if you save it and then gets out of town and lets someone else deal with the nether brain problem. Om is a scientist, not a fighter. Just like the Emperor is not a scientist and hence isn't trying to create a brain substitute the way Om is. They each have their strengths.

Last but not least (actually it is sort of least), Omeluum won't trade with you unless you do its quest first, which I find more annoying than anything the Emperor does 😅 And it doesn't give you the aforementioned reward until you help it in Act 3. Which wouldn't normally be a valid argument, but people say the Emperor is evil because he won't help you unless you help him. Well, Omeluum won't either.

But I did laugh at these few lines I found, though I'm not entirely sure it was being funny on purpose.

And we don't really know anything about Omeluum beyond that.

Anyway, my point is only that the constant comparison between it and the Emperor with the conclusion that "Omeluum = Good Mind Flayer, Emperor = Bad Mind Flayer" doesn't hold up in any meaningful way and lacks nuance, especially when there's so much misinformation. (If I've gotten any facts wrong, feel free to let me know, I don't want to add to the misinformation.) Neither one is a typical mind flayer, and we can love them both!