#no stranger will be worse than the people who are actually related to me

[m-has-a-blog]

look, between any random man on the street and my dad i'd rather the rando. one of those people drugged me as a joke and it was NOT the rando

[bilightningwriter-writing]

PSA for "Prompt" tags

*Only tagging every prompt tag I can think of because there's a common issue that's getting worse in all of the ones I follow*

Many new writers here seem to not understand what "prompt" or "inspiration" or even "list" tags are for. I've seen many who just seem to go, "Oh, this says otp/fluff/angst in it, I should put that on my post!" Which, no, that's not how it works.

What "prompt" (and similar) tags are for:

- generic inspiration

- ex: character A and character B go on their first date, what happens?

- list of words/things meant to *prompt* ideas

What "prompt" (and similar) tags are NOT for:

- answered asks from prompt lists (just say "prompt fill" or something)

- original writing/fic writing posts

- something that's more of a writing update than an actual prompt

Like, maybe it's just me because I don't see anyone really addressing it. I also tend to just block repeat offenders (aka those who do this often), so others who are also bothered most likely do the same. But it's been a growing issue, especially in niche prompt tags that already don't get enough activity with people making those prompts.

I get it, you're excited and want others to see what you've written. Which is understandable! But putting red balls in a "Green Balls Only" bin is just going to get people annoyed at you and your blog blocked. Technically, yes, things are related, but that doesn't mean it should be in there.

Categories are made for a reason. Please be aware of others, and if you're unsure what goes in a tag, look at the popular section of that tag. Granted, that's not always perfect (as I see a lot of Stranger Things or MCU fic posts get enough notes that they clog even that section), but it's a start.

I'm going to let this circulate for a while before I start blocking people again. Because, good news! You can remove tags from existing posts, and then your post will stop showing up in that tag. And I really don't want to inadvertently block someone I might enjoy reading. Just, you know, with the proper tags.

[softcursechoso]

Somewhere, We Do: Ch. 1

JJK x Reader

Nanami x Reader

Masterlist

MDNI! // 18+ //NO SPOILERS ARE OFF LIMITS!

Ch. 1 Warnings: None

Summary: Drowning in the monotony of corporate life, you and Nanami both find yourselves at the end of your ropes—exhausted, overworked, and utterly disillusioned. The world of deadlines and fluorescent office lights has drained you both, but fate has other plans. In each other, you find solace, understanding, and a passion neither of you expected. But in a world where duty always comes first, can love this intense truly last?

Words: 3.5k+

HAZELNUT ESPRESSO

Shinjuku : 1:30pm : The Flour Garden

“If I have to remake one more goddamn Iced Honey Lavender Matcha with oat milk, two pumps of vanilla, one pump of caramel, light ice, and a dusting of cinnamon I’m gonna lose my shit!” The voice of a very impatient barista cut through the crowd like a knife. 

The Flour Garden is where you were. A modern jungle of caffeine fueled chaos was clearly on the menu today. It was nestled in the heart of Shinjuku. The cafe was an architectural fusion of industrial minimalism and warm organic textures. There were polished concrete floors, matte black steel framing that ran down the glass windows and let in the hazy midday winter sunlight.

Hanging ferns and pothos cascaded from geometric planters, and was a nice counter to the contrasting monochrome furniture. It was a nicely decorated spot when it wasn’t packed practically shoulder to shoulder.

Every table was filled, and every booth occupied. The sheer volume of conversation created an ever-present buzz that crackled with frustration- which is what probably ticked off the barista. But shit, it was lunch time in one of Tokyo’s busiest districts.

Maybe the frustration was getting to you too. “Tch, be a little more unprofessional for those in the back, lady.” You mumbled under your breath, “Is it too much to ask for a black coffee and a damn donut? The hell are these people ordering?” 

A low grunt of agreement rumbled behind you, “Tell me about it.”

The line inched forward at a snail’s pace. No, worse than a snail’s pace. Was time reversing? 

You crossed your arms over your chest, “The cafe up the street has food twice as good with half the attitude.” 

The stranger behind you spoke again, a tinge of irritation behind it. “I have to be back to work in thirty minutes.”

You laughed, exhausted, from the relatability. “Same, and it’s so dumb. I spend half my break walking to this shitty cafe, just to stand in line for ten minutes. I sprint back to work, and attempt to scarf it down in five. How the hell does an hour lunch turn into five minutes?” 

Ughhh, you were pulling your hair out… well, not actually. The swoop bun was quite sleek today. Couldn’t mess that up. 

“That’s a desk job for you.” The person sighed.

The words were a little too close to home. Who were you talking to? 

You finally turned around, and when you did, you stalled… like completely. The man behind you was tall, broad, and absolutely miserable looking. Somewhere between wanting to wither away and wanting to beat everyone's ass in this godforsaken cafe. 

His blonde hair was neatly parted to the side, and you couldn’t really see from this angle, but it kind of looked like he had a bit of a fade going on in the back perhaps? Maybe a little undercut or something? He was very handsome, and his features were sharp. Kento Nanami.

He radiated exhaustion and the kind of stoic indifference that only came from years of corporate suffering. You knew it all too well. 

“Tell me about it.” You laughed slightly nervous over knowing who you were talking to now. “Where are they overworking you at? Cause listen, I-”

Before you could finish talking, something slammed down hard on your foot. Your right black pump was scuffed. Why?

“Ow!” You reeled back.

A man had stepped in front of you, cutting in line. His heavy boot stepped on your foot in the process. 

You stare at the man with knitted eyebrows, just baffled at this shit. “Um, excuse you?”

“Excuse you.” He snaps back at you with unwarranted sarcasm. 

You gesture behind you at the line that stretched all the way to the entrance and nearly out the door. “The line starts way back there. You can’t just cut—and also, you stepped on my foot, hello?” 

The man barley even turned back your way, waving a dismissive hand over his shoulder. “Shut up, bitch. I only stepped out of line for a minute.”

First of all… what? You didn’t know where to begin. The fact that he was in line, sure, but he definitely had been gone for like fifteen minutes. Or maybe the fact that he never asked you to hold his place. Or the fact that he was so casually calling you a bitch!

Yeah, he picked the right one today. You took a sharp inhale, preparing for rebuttal when- a delicate hand is placed on your back for a brief moment. 

“Excuse me.” The businessman stepped in front of you, partially blocking your view. “You can either step out of this line, or you can step outside.” 

Oh shit!

His tone was calm, but the weight of it was deadly. It felt like the temperature shifted. It was winter in Tokyo, but that ice had nothing on this man. It was suddenly very cold in here.

The man who cut you turned around and immediately froze up. It was as if he had sensed something primal and inescapable. A hulking businessman at the end of his rope? He didn’t want this fight. 

“Whatever. Food sucks here anyway.” He hurried away.

“Hold on.” He placed a powerful hand on the man’s shoulder, “You stepped on her foot.”

It wasn’t just a comment. It was a very stern suggestion to do something about it. Make amends if you will.

The wiry man looked at Nanami with the fear of God in his eyes before turning them to you. “My- uh, my bad lady.” He shrugged out of the light grasp and hastily left. 

Nanami took a step to the side, gesturing for you to resume your spot in front of him. Almost like the warmth had returned in one fell swoop. Could this guy control the temperature or what?

You turned to him with a grateful smile, “Thank you so much. That was very kind. You didn’t have to do that.” 

Before he could respond, the barista’s sharp voice rang out. “Hello?! It’s your turn miss there’s better food up the street.”

Oh damn, she heard that? 

You bowed politely to the man behind you once more before stepping up to the counter. The menu loomed before you and suddenly you went blank. What did you want again?

“Hmm…” You tapped your fingers against the counter, eyes skimming the options. “Strawberry danish… nah, might be too sweet. Chicken Pesto Sandwich- I’m not gonna finish that. Miso butter toast?” You sucked your teeth, “That’s not a meal though…”

The barista sighed loudly, “Are you being serious? You spent all that time complaining about the service and you have the audacity to come up to this counter not knowing what you want?”

This lady was so rude, but unfortunately she was very right. You couldn’t even be mad. 

“Hold on, that’s not true. I know what I want… I juuuuust…” Panic began to set in. Fuck! You were taking too much time! “I waaaant theeee…”

“Ma’am?!”

“Hojicha dirty latte and gochujang miso grilled tofu?” You regretted it right after saying it. Why were you trying something new? This never ended well. Oh well.

“Finally.” The barista huffed under her breath as she began to put in your order. 

Before you swiped your card, you leaned in a little bit. “Oh, can you also ring me up for a hazelnut espresso for the guy behind me?”

It was your way of saying thank you. After she took your name and you paid, you’d scan the cafe for an open seat.

Like the heavens above blessed you with luck, a small group walked away from a booth. Ah! Yes! And they didn’t leave a mess. Amazing.

You swooped in immediately and slid into the seat. You’d smooth down your black pencil skirt before sitting down. Yes, a black skirt suit is what you wore. Black blazer and white button up with a black tie. Just like the guy behind you said- that’s a desk job for you. 

You’d pull out your phone while you waited for your name to be called. The cafe remained a chaotic blur of white collar workers rushing in and out. Groups of college students huddled in conversations. Overworked baristas slamming espresso shots into machines. Meanwhile you were half tuning out when you got a message notification.

Your best friend and coworker. It was always a risk opening her messages in public… or private. You clicked it open absentmindedly and immediately regretted it.

[Kaya 🤡]: LOOK AT THIS DICK PIC MY STALKER EX SENT ME! LOOK AT IT! WHY WOULD HE SEND THIS?!?!

Your phone nearly slipped your grasp as you attempted to click off, “Holy-” You slapped the phone face down on the table hoping no one in this crowded ass cafe happened to see. 

It was never a dull moment with this woman. The two of you met back in high school. You remained tight despite going to different colleges, and serendipitously ended up working at the same office. 

With a heavy sigh, you typed back: 

[You]: Why the hell would YOU send ME this?!

The message was read immediately, and three little dots danced as she typed back.

[Kaya 🤡]: Because I needed to share my pain. That’s what best friends do. Now you have to suffer with me.

[You]: Block him.

[Kaya 🤡]: No, because then where would I get my daily dose of horror?

You exhaled sharply, shaking your head with a faint smile. This was absurd, but it was also the nature of your relationship. Never failed to exhaust you. Never failed to entertain you.

As you buried your face in your phone, your peripheral vision caught movement. You glanced up to see a small plate with mont blanc set in front of you. Chestnut strands cascading in delicious swirls and dusted with powdered sugar. Mmmm!

Your eyes traced the retreating hand that placed it there, following it up the sleeve of a well tailored black suit. Oh..OH! Him!

“Consider it a thank you for the coffee.” He gave an almost imperceptible smile.

You gazed up at him with a slightly amused smile. “I bought the coffee to thank you for earlier though. Seems you’ve one upped me.”

His expression didn’t change much, but there was something subtle in his eyes. Something knowing.  “So it seems.”

You exhaled a small laugh, “Well at this rate we’ll be locked in a cycle of favors. I’m not sure if I’m ready for that kind of commitment.” 

He made a faint sound, almost a hum of amusement, though his face remained neutral.

You tilted your head slightly, “Where did you say you worked again?”

“I didn’t.” He replied simply. “But I work about three blocks away. Stockbroker.”

You let out a knowing- “Ooh. Salaryman?”

He exhaled through his nose like something caught between a laugh and a sigh. “Something like that.”

You pointed at yourself, “Human Resources. I’m in that similar direction.” You nodded to the empty seat, “Would you like to have a seat? I dare you to find somewhere else to sit. It’s packed in here.”

He hesitated, “I couldn’t impose.”

You rolled your eyes with a light scoff, “Sure you can. It’s just a seat, not a ticket to a luxury resort. If it were, then yeah, I’d reconsider.” 

Something flickered in his gaze. Interest perhaps? Small, but distinct. “Dream vacation, I assume?” 

You nodded, resting your chin in your palm. “I’ll only talk about it if you impose on my lunch break.” 

He gave a soft nod before taking a seat opposite you in the booth.

Hell yeah! You just secured the sexy salaryman at your table! Okay- play it cool…

You smiled, “Just so we’re not total strangers, you can call me-”

You perked up upon hearing your name get called for your order. Finally.

“That.” You gestured toward the counter, “You can call me exactly that.”

For the first time the faintest trace of amusement crossed his features, “Nanami.” He nodded, “And I appreciate your generosity.”

“You’re welcome Nanami.” You pushed yourself out of the booth, “I’d ask you to save my seat, but then you’d be one upping me again and I just can’t have that. I will be right back.”

You made quick work of collecting the food you definitely didn’t care to eat or drink before you returned to the table. You’d scoot back in the booth and start digging into that mont blanc.

“So,” he prompted, lifting his cup. “Tell me about this dream vacation.”

You stuck your fork into the dessert, a smile crossing your face before you started, “Oh, I’ve put a lot of thought into this. It’s been a long time coming.” “Let’s hear it.”

“Malaysia.” Your smile softened. “Waking up in an overwater villa with the waves gently lapping beneath me. The sunrise spilling gold across the ocean. I want my mornings to be slow. Just wandering the streets, sipping teh tarik. Maybe visit the market and buy some tropical fruit. Quiet afternoon in the Cameron Highlands. At night I wanna see the lantern lit markets and just enjoy the life of not having to send another goddamn email explaining that begging your coworkers to invest in your pyramid scheme does not qualify as networking… even if for a moment.” 

The words just poured out of you. It was unfiltered and passionate, and although Nanami didn’t outright smile, you noticed how he never interrupted. He sat with his elbows on the table, fingers loosely curled around his espresso cup, and his hazel eyes fixed on you. 

You’d continue, your eyes turning slightly out the window beside you now, “I think I’ve been putting it off because I have a feeling that if I go I’ll probably never come back.”

There was a silence. Comfortable silence. Like the words were being considered and taken in. But it was then that you realized that was probably way too much to be saying to a stranger.

“I am so sorry.” You frowned just slightly, “I feel like for someone who works HR I should know social boundaries a little better. That was probably a lot for someone I just met.”

The blonde shook his head, “Not at all.”

There was no false politeness in his tone. No empty courtesy. It was just calm and measured with sincerity. It was like he meant it. 

You took another forkful of the mont blanc, “I usually don’t talk this much.”

“I usually don’t listen this much.”

Well that caught you off guard. 

“So what I’m hearing is, I’m special?” You tilted your head, smirking.

“I might phrase it a little differently, but sure.”

You chuckled, “Careful Nanami. That almost sounded like a compliment.”

He exhaled, “Well, slip of the tongue I suppose.”

You grinned, “Well since I completely overshared, it’s only fair you do the same. Dream vacation. Let’s hear it.”

You could see his eyes almost dim. Like there was something so real about the answer he was going to give you.

“Home.”

Shit…

Maybe it was an answer far too real. If home was a dream vacation, then that meant he was being far more overworked than he ever let on.

The conversation continued, and the hustle of the city roared outside. It felt like time was kind enough to slow down for you just a little bit so you could enjoy this conversation with a relatable stranger. 

The smell of brewed espresso and cinnamon wafted through the air. It was like a warm moment of peace. 

“Yeah, so I studied at Duke. Four years, in and out and then I came back to Japan.” You shrugged, “What do I have to show for it? A mountain of debt hidden by a prestigious name.”

Nanami made a quiet, amused sound. Almost like he knew.

“That sounds like higher education.” He took a slow sip of espresso. “And unfortunately, not an uncommon story.”

You sighed dramatically, slumping in your seat just a tiny bit, “I know, but you see, I had this idea that I could be the exception. Get my degree, come back, and just boom! Instantly land a high paying job with a great title and live up to my full potential.”

“And instead?” He quirked an eyebrow.

“Instead, I came back as another statistic, Nanami.” You sat back up.

Your words were clearly amusing to him.

You leaned forward now, resting your chin on your palm, “I didn’t go to one of the best schools just to have some underqualified middle manager with a big ego push all their busywork onto me… but according to my bank statements- yes the hell I did.” 

And with that, something incredible happened. You actually got the stoic man to laugh. Not exhale. Not smirk. Not just a hint of amusement. A low, but very real and genuine chuckle. That honestly felt like a win, and you would certainly count it as one.

You wouldn’t call him out for actually having laughed for the first time during this conversation, but you were going to internalize it for sure. 

Still smirking, he rested his arm on the table, “Alright then, tell me this. What is the worst part about your job?”

You let out a long, suffering sigh, “Oh God, I have decision paralysis now. There are so many options. I guess I have no right to really complain because I just got this job like three months ago, but it’s the same shit as the last job. The work life balance speech they sell you during orientation is a joke.”

The man nodded as his intrigue deepened. “Yes, the infamous corporate lie.”

You nodded, “Yeah, they're like we want you to thrive. We care about our employees. Take your time to adjust. Go at your own pace.” Your eyelids lowered in irritation, “Then a month in they start sending emails at 11:42pm like- Hey can you circle back on this?”

There it was again, you coaxed another laugh and it was so worth it.

He set his cup down, “And of course they follow up the next morning asking you something else as if you weren’t already up to your neck in work.”

You slapped your hand against the table. “Exactly! And you can’t even be mad because technically they didn’t say you had to answer last night, but if you don’t you're suddenly not a team player and you’re the unreliable one in the office now.”

The blonde sighed deeply, “Ah, corporate manipulation at its finest.” He’d pause for a brief moment, “So you think there is more to life than just work?”

It was a simple question, but he asked in a way to gauge where your head was at. It wasn’t that he was seeking an answer to some deep philosophical question. But, come on, did he know who he was asking?

“I think that most people convince themselves that work is the means to an end, but that’s just because they don’t know what they’d be doing otherwise.” You shugged, “I mean there has to be me more to life than this, because I for one cannot put up with this shit for the next forty years.” 

He’d chuckle once more, and you could tell he was getting comfortable with doing so.

You’d continue. “I think life is about building character.” Your fingers traced the rim of your now finished latte. “It’s not about standing on the shoulders of giants, but becoming one yourself. Forging your own path.” 

Once again his gaze was steady and calculating. Listening.

“You either stand with the greats or look up to them as far as I see it.” You grinned, “And I don’t know about you, but looking up for too long makes my neck kinda hurt.

He laughed once more, “You’re an interesting one.”

What a compliment! Or, at least you’d take it as one.

Before you could respond, your phone vibrated against the table. Your alarm! Shit! You were supposed to be back already. Your lunch break was over, and you were officially late. It was worth it though. This conversation was nice. 

“Damn, back to work for me.”

Nanami finally took the last sip of his espresso and collected the trash from his lunch. “Same here.”

You smiled at him, genuinely, “This conversation was a surprising pleasure.”

His eyes stayed locked on you, like he was taking in the moment one final time before the interaction was up. “The pleasure was all mine.” He’d pause for a beat, “Should our paths cross again, you can just call me Kento.”

Ah! Your heart! Did it speed up or stop?! It was so hard to tell! Kento?! First name basis?! 

“Alright, Kento. I’ll be seeing you.” You’d gather your purse and your tray with your now eaten lunch before heading back to the corporate battlefield.

You’d take a half step away before turning to him again, “Thank you.” Your voice was softer this time, “It’s been a long time since I laughed like that.”

He didn’t know it, but you felt like you were drowning lately. It was like you both met at the end of your rope and somehow combined it to buy each other a little extra time. It was more than just a pleasant conversation, for both of you.

Your feet felt like anchors now. Were you really about to leave? You were going to let this sexy salaryman with all this potential walk out of your life like that? Your heart was pounding. Could you ask for his number? Would that be weird? Too suggestive? Shit!

You’d take a few steps away, but something was gnawing at you. Don’t do it. Don’t leave yet! You turned around…

“Hey.” You both spoke in unison.

“Yes?” You replied first.

“Please, after you.” 

You hesitated, forcing your nerves down, “Do you want to exchange numbers?”

His eyes stayed on you, and the faint smirk crossed his lips, “You read my mind.”

Play! It! Cool! 

You pulled out your phone and handed yours to him, and he’d do the same for you. This was not the day you were planning on having, but honestly, after all the corporate bullshit you’d been putting up with lately… it was the one you deserved. 

Kento Nanami

New Contact: Saved

[deer1nheadlight]

i d i o t

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big brother!Takami Keigo x little sister!reader

Keigo, to escape his suppressed feelings, rushed into marriage with a random girl. As his sanity crumpled under the weight of his guilt, the tabloids published rumors of your first public relationship. A mental breakdown ensues.

Or: man refuses to admit to being a siscon, instantly regrets it

WARNING: incest, con to dub-con to con, squirting, omorashi, impregnation, dacryphilia (not quite but a lot of sobbing), psychological torture (on Keigo but kinda light), anal, loss of virginity.

A/n: SPOILER FOR BHNA. I have absolutely not watched BHNA past season 3 and what I know about Keigo at the end of the series is pretty much just from reading the wiki page. (EDIT: I didn't even realise the last season isn't out yet. MAJOR SPOILER TO WHAT HAPPENS TO HAWKS at the end of the manga) That being the case, my story may make Keigo incredibly out of character. Unfortunately for this poor man, I am alive to make great men do pathetic things, and so for whatever he's become at the end, spin in a circle 30 times and throw that out the windows for me my beloved.

A/n 2: to @iwaasfairy , thank you so much for encouraging me to post this! I was the anon who sent in that one ask the other day. It was actually really fun learning how much effort posting content is. I hope this icky ewy fic is a fun read <3

Word count: 9.2k

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Keigo married her in August.

They divorced within the same year.

It was a huge waste of money, that whole ordeal, and the poor girl was even made out to be the bad guy. Someone spread the rumor that she had been cheating on him all over the internet, and her reputation as an up-and-coming idol was all but ruined. Not that it was merely a rumor, she did cheat, but you sympathized. Because if on your wedding night, your husband got completely black-out drunk and then treated you like a stranger in your own home afterwards, you'd seek other people too. Life is way too short to wait around for an idiot, you've realized.

You stand there emotionlessly watching your older brother on his knees in front of your doorstep. He looks even worse than the day he stood at the altar for the first time, and for a second you almost feel bad for him.The color continues being siphoned from his face the longer you stay silent. Despite all he's been through, he doesn't think he has ever experienced such a sense of hopelessness like this. Even when he was in danger of losing his life, it didn't feel as terrifying as right now when he's in danger of losing you. Had he been honest with himself from the start, maybe he could have prevented the entire mess. He had mistaken your calm façade for acceptance of his dumb decisions.

His relationship with you could not have been more uncomplicated, but he tried to make it so anyway. You both knew you loved each other more than siblings should. Way more. Whether it was the result of the fucked-up childhood you two had that caused your codependency or that you're both just doomed to fall in incestuous love the moment you're born, the truth is simply that he adores you. And you adored him too.

But Keigo tried (and miserably failed) to conceal it. When people are in love, it's pathetically hard to keep themselves in check around their lovers, and he was no different. Before he knew it, his hands would keep planting themselves on your hips, holding your hair, and stroking your hair. His eyes would become hazy, and all he could see was you. His lips would then find your forehead, your nose, your ears, and while convincing himself just a platonic peck is completely normal, they would suction themselves on your own and stay there for hours.

Yet whenever you say "I love you" to him, he'd never say it back without poorly concealing it behind some reminder of your blood relation. He'd add something unnecessary like, "I love you too, you're my baby sis," or "you're the best sister in the world," or God forbid, "kiddo." Kiddo. You hate "kiddo" more than anything. It grates because of what it means coming from him, drawing a line between you, puts you below, out of reach, not even in the same world. It implies you're only a kid to him, and that couldn't be further from the truth.

He, more than anyone, sees you as the beautiful woman you have grown up to be. That term he used is so that he could fool himself into believing that you're still the same little girl he'd only felt familial love for many years ago. While that was already a blatant lie by the time Keigo got his first boner, he still clung to that unendearing nickname like a lifeline, hoping it'd save him from his perverted feelings. All it did was fill up another milliliter in your bottle of repressed anger every time he used it.

Moral. He was so obsessed with morality. By the gods, you sometimes felt as though you didn't deserve to be called his sister. While his abuse led him to believe in heroes and become a better person, your abuse led you to believe in him and rely on only him.

One day, you were being taught about the different kinds of crimes in the world, the ones besides punching and kicking people or robbing a bank. The kinds that were more insidious, lurked behind closed doors and hid in plain sight. Although some topics were incredibly morbid, none of them disturbed Keigo more than that one. That one that said he can't love you the way he wanted to. You had no problem letting it go in one ear and out the other, though. The only time you learn is when he teaches you again afterwards.

However, you remember him staring at you after the lesson with this pained look on his face. Maybe things could have ended right there had he been a stronger man, but instead he only learned how to make better excuses. Kissing you is moral; siblings in other countries kiss like this all the time. Shielding you from other men is normal; he's just very protective. Bathing with you until you were forced to live elsewhere for your respective missions is completely fine; your wings are hard to take care of, after all.

Kept downplaying the kind of grooming he was doing to you and expecting you not to fall for it. How could you not? You were only a stupid little girl, after all. He was your entire world at that point, and rejecting him was like rejecting yourself.

So day by day, your love kept twisting, and eventually you began expressing it. At first it was difficult to understand why he wouldn't do the things in those naughty books to you, despite reading them all the time. The furthest he'd go is a hand groping your breasts, even though they said something about his penis going in your tummy. It wasn't until you looked it up after seeing the word "taboo" everywhere did you realise why. Still, it's not like you care. Unlike him, you don't have much passion to be righteous. You were always ready to receive everything he gave you, no matter how "wrong" it was.

Maybe that's what made him arrogant. Why he believed that the moment he finally reached back for you, you'd still be there waiting. For a while, that was the case. You let him delude himself because you didn't want to burden him even more, you loved him too much. Especially when your spy training was nowhere near as grueling as his. Your task as an "inferior specimen" was to simply climb the social ladder as an actress to gather intel and connections for the HPSC. Well, that's not easy either, but between dancing with villains or with actors all day, you'd choose the latter.

One day, that all changed, though. The events that caused society and the very idea of heroes to collapse shook you awake from the dreamy and shapeless state of your relationship with Keigo. You experienced true despair sitting beside his hospital bed the day he lost his wings. Life is too short. You can't continue like this. You need to hear him say it before either one of you gets to die, or to never say it at all.

You made the decision to confront him on the rooftop of his flashy penthouse during a cold night, after the dust had settled. Did he deserve that reality check so soon after surviving a war and becoming a president? Why, yes. It was long overdue. Your bottles of feelings that you've been filling up and putting away for his sake were bursting open, so for once in your life you did something for your sake.

Usually when you meet at that time of the day, there is only so much to do. But that night, it was to either push your feelings off the ledge of that tall building or give it all to him. You said how you felt, confronted him about his actions, each word you uttered twisted the knife further into his stomach. Your hands gripped his collar, bringing him down to eye level as you begged him for an answer. It couldn't go on like this.

He'd seen this conversation coming since the day he taught you to kiss, but it wasn't any less scary. And he'd promised himself that the day you're finally fed up with his shit, he'd gather enough strength to stop his tainted love for you.

You did not take kindly to his idiotic ramblings. It was not the answer you were looking for. Idiot, idiot, idiot. He shouldn't have apologized, he should have taken responsibility for corrupting you like this and then trying to claim the moral high ground. There was no need to have said sorry, you would never forgive him either way.

When he couldn't get it through his thick head that if he was a scum to have these feelings, what did that make you? – You walked off the ledge. It was nice seeing him trying to save you without his wings, forgetting that you had your own. Smaller, weaker ones that don't even resemble his enough for the public to make the connection, but strong enough to carry you away from the idiocy of it all.

It started falling apart for him from there.

After that night, you'd avoid him like the plague. Retracting your arm as if you're being burned every time he touches it. Pushing his affection away when you have never once done such a thing. Missing his calls when the only other time you ever did was when you were out cold on the hospital bed from a dangerous mission.

At first he thought that you were doing so because you hated him now and were forcing him to own up. It was terrible the first day, only got worse as it went on. Blew up your phone with apologies and had four panic attacks before receiving your last text. "Think about the last thing I said." He read it over and over again, but the only conclusion his bird brain could come up with was that he had already tainted you and there was no way to atone. Did you want him to leave you alone forever?

He had a feeling he'd dug a huge grave for himself when it was you whom he couldn't take his eyes off of at his wedding instead of his own bride. Suddenly, his reason for even doing an arranged marriage in the first place became moot. He thought tying himself to a random girl would remind him to stop having these sick affections towards you, and finally he can let you be.

It didn't.

When he showed up at your door to deliver the wedding invitation, your reaction was not what he expected. Had you asked him to think again, to call it off, he had a feeling he would have done so in a heartbeat. If you told him you'd forgive him, gave him any indication at all that you still care, just do what you ask, he would have done anything.

However, you didn't say any of that. You instead congratulated him with a smile he hadn't seen in so long and told him you'd love to give a speech at his wedding. He left your house hollowed inside and out, wondering whether it was too late to call off the engagement himself.

The answer was obvious. But he was a coward, and so he did nothing.

It felt like shit kissing someone who wasn't you. The girl was terribly excited about getting to marry her favorite former hero, but having her face grabbed and turned to the side when she thought she was finally kissing him proper really dampened her mood. It also left a bad taste in her mouth when Keigo seemed more focused on a random actress guest than his newlywed wife.

Especially when that actress' speech brought him to tears for no reason. He excused it by saying the woman had helped him during a really tough time, and he was so happy to see her there, but those tears felt indescribably sad. Then, he went and got drunk out of his mind, not even passing out in their wedding bed but at a hotel.

After that, she was like a ghost in his home. Keigo treated her like a fan, not a lover. He signed up for an arranged marriage but hadn't laid a finger on her body. He was always gone, to God knows where, came back at the dead of night, gone again before the sun rose. Even though he was no longer a public hero, he was still barely present at home. Of course no woman could handle letting their prime waste away like that.

You knew it was cruel to have given that speech about how much you "admire" him at the wedding. You didn't quite care enough to have laid it out any differently. You knew he thought getting married would get your attention, after how you gave him the cold shoulder and all. He thought you'd give him another chance when he delivered the invitation, because he looked like death when you barely lifted a brow. Sometimes he forgets you're an acclaimed actress. You wanted to let time knock some sense into him, because apparently his skull was too thick for your delicate hands to ever try.

The tabloids publicized images of you caught linking arms with a hero just a week after Keigo finalized his divorce. It caused a huge commotion due to your fame and that guy's popularity, to the point it even managed to take the spotlight off Keigo's failed attempt at a normal relationship. Then the overexcited guy even let it slip where he went on the day those pictures were taken, and the internet had a field day speculating.

No news concerning you escapes Keigo. It was no surprise that the supposed rumor made it to him as well. In all your years, never once had a scandalous story like this not been immediately squashed for fear of upsetting your millions of male fans, so the fact that it'd gone to this degree meant your manager let it be at your request, or that the paparazzi couldn't be paid enough to shut their trap because they caught something real.

Sitting on his bed staring at the blurry image of you smiling like an angel at some random man seemed to have helped him gain a few IQ points. His hand, in scrambling to reach for the spare keys to your house, knocked over the half-empty bottle of whiskey, and it lay forgotten on the floor after his front door slammed shut with a BANG!

Keigo was in no condition to drive, and luckily his chauffeur did not question why he was asked to take the man to some random convenience store in the middle of the night. As soon as the car turned the corner, he immediately bolted through the alley, down, down, down the streets, and finally arrived in front of your door. The dim moonlight made it harder to realize that no matter how hard he jammed the key in, it wouldn't turn because it was no longer the same lock.

When you opened the door, he was already on his knees, disheveled, his fists slightly scraped. Whereas before, if he was in distress, you would have been by his side in an instant; now, as he meets your disinterested gaze, Keigo feels waves of dizziness wash over him. A deeper despair than any villain could ever inspire. It's as if he's lost before he could even fight.

As satisfying as it was to make your cruel brother break so beautifully, you'd rather not have any passerby question why there's a man having a panic attack on your porch. You keep your face blank as you finally crouch down to take his hands and guide him inside silently. He doesn't make a sound, heart soaring just from feeling the heat of your fingertips again.

"Speak." You allow him, after you've served him a cup of dark coffee and yourself sweet tea. Keigo is sitting across from you, hunching over the table, both hands wrapped around the cup like a child being scolded, staring at the dark liquid inside. With your permission, he finally finds the courage to look up, only to wince upon seeing your poker face again.

"I'm sorry," his voice quivers, and you almost snort because it's the most predictable thing he could have said. Christ, your small hope that he would have gotten everything through his head by now is already dashed. Your poor brother needs more guidance still.

"I—I am so sorry, I was stupid, it was pointless, I've been lying—"

"Stop, Keigo," you interrupt and relish in the sight of his teary eyes. You never call him Keigo. Always at least Keigo-nii, oftenly nii-chan. Your usage of honorifics is a reminder to you both of the sacred and unbreakable bond you two share. You never use it when there are other people around because you weren't allowed to disclose your relationship to the public, lest you interfere with each other's mission. But not using it now when it's just the two of you makes it feel as though you've disowned him.

His lips tremble, and he could barely squeak out your name before you cut him off again.

"What are you here for?" You ask as if you didn't know. The dispassionate question has caused the first of many cracks in his fragile sanity to form.

He draws in a deep breath through clenched teeth. "Is… is it true?" Saliva pools at the back of his mouth, a drop of sweat runs down his back, both wanting to hear and fearing your answer. But such a vague question doesn't deserve your time. Today you force him to face the consequences of his dumb decisions.

"What is true, Keigo?" You twirl your spoon around, forming a whirlpool in your cup, not even gracing him with a glance. Apparently, sugar dissolving is more interesting to look at than the man crumbling before you.

He curls into himself further. If he still had his wings, you've no doubt he would have tried to hide behind them. “Are you..." he gulps, looking more like a little boy afraid of the dark than a hero who's been through hell and back. "You've started dating?" He clarifies, his voice shaky. He really hopes against hope that you would say no. That it's only a rumor, that he's still your only love. The mere thought of no longer belonging to you makes his eyes damp.

You laugh through your nose. That question made it sound as though you were some innocent maiden learning to love for the first time and not the depraved person whose first kiss is her nii-chan.

"Yes." You give him a clipped answer, knowing it will break him even further.

He is silent. You're not sure if he's breathing. His grip on the cup tightens until you think it might explode in his hands, the rattling sound of ceramic against wood tells you he’s shivering, millions of thoughts running through his head.

"Aren't you going to congratulate me?" It almost amuses you how you're able to say it without any hint of malice, without sounding bitter or spiteful. You're genuinely curious how far he can be pushed until he spills over.

"I..." he begins but stops short. He doesn't realize he's started crying until he feels something wet on his scarred hands.

Your anger has not been appeased, but your heart is softening just a bit. Still, you stay stoic because you need him to learn from this moment. He begins openly sobbing now; "I'm sorry" keeps falling from his lips. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, over and over and over again until it becomes a strange chant, every sorry uttered is another piece of his composure splintering off.

It is time for the closing act. Your teacup is empty, his coffee untouched, you set them both down on the table now. Linking your fingers with his own, you circle the table and pull his trembling figure into your arms. Through gasps and sobs, he reaches for you, holding on for dear life. You card a free hand into his disheveled hair, forehead to forehead, you have him focus on your eyes. "Why are you sorry?" Your whisper seems to have unlocked some hidden wisdom he stashed away and had forgotten about until now. Threads unravelling in his head, things becoming clearer. You've never once pushed him away. It was him, the problem, all along.

"Because I was wrong, I lied, I can't have a normal relationship with you, I can't—" You press a kiss on his bottom lips to silence him for a moment and he chokes. It feels like breathing again after being underwater for months. Your hand releases his, and he immediately chases after it until he realizes it was taking off his jacket.

"And remind me why you wanted a normal relationship with me again?" He closes his eyes, letting you dish out your revenge. All he wants to do is take it all and hope for your forgiveness.

"I wanted to be a hero. I was a hypocrite, I ruined you but I wanted to be a hero." A few tears slip down his chin. He thinks he must be a masochist, because when your tongue licks them away, his cock kicks awake in his pants.

"You know it was you who taught me it was alright to French kiss you, right?" You tug his jacket away and button by button, open his sweat-soaked shirt. "You corrupted me first." The hand in his hair doesn't stop massaging his scalp, and you can feel him nodding frantically even though you're kissing down his navel. Keigo grips the couch until his nails claw open the fabric. Doesn't dare move an inch lest you stop loving him.

"Open your eyes." And he pried them open immediately at your request. The sight he sees makes him think he's dead, actually, or is in a coma somewhere. Your wings are spread open, the chandelier lights reflect off of them in such a way that it frames your head, creating a halo. Looking down at him from above, like an angel coming to deliver his sentence, a hand cradling his head and the other on his erratic heart. "What do you want?"

Quivering lips, trembling hands, shaking like a leaf in a typhoon, he reaches out for your face. You allow him to pull your forehead towards his lips and peck it.

"I love you. I'm in love with you."

Ah, catharsis. Crying Keigo, stumbling Keigo, carrying you to your bed. He lays you on the plush mattress and promptly undresses himself but doesn't dare touch your sacred body. He kneels at the foot of your bed and scrambles forward at the beckoning curl of your index. You wrap his fingers around the knot that holds your bathrobe close and let him tug it apart, opening you like a present. A silky nightgown underneath that makes precum leak through his boxers.

He chokes back a sob as you wrap your hands around his neck in a comforting hold, your thumbs angling his jaw to look straight at you as he commits more and more sins to your body. His hands move on their own without him needing to look away from your eyes. Slipping under your gown, feeling your bare waist, your bare breasts. You allow him to do as he pleases. His inhibitions melt away like butter against the warmth of your skin. The warmth that he yearned for his entire life but always beat himself up over before he could taste it.

A drop of rain hits the windows and a bolt of lightning rips through the skies before it starts pouring. Like his dirty feelings, Keigo thought. It took almost losing the love of his life for him to start owning up to his mistakes. He will live to atone to you for the rest of his life. It has always been for you anyway, he remembers now. He wanted to make the world a better place so you could live a happy life. He wanted to be a hero so not only could he protect others, he could also protect you. He wanted to be strong so that he could provide and care for you forever. Somewhere along the way, he lost sight of that, didn't he? And it didn't help that the HPSC taught him all sorts of bullshit growing up. While he was off chasing some ever-moving goalposts, you were always behind him, picking up the things he dropped so you could hand them back to him when he took a break, and then goofing off again. He's wronged you, and it's a bigger sin than accepting his unacceptable love.

Again, he weeps, the tears blurring his vision until your hand caresses his head to ground him and wipes them away. He's lowered himself to lay his cheek on your stomach now, his cock still straining against his underwear and he had to push it into the mattress to relieve the pressure just a bit. Your thighs are around his neck, holding him comfortably until he stops sniffling.

"Please take me back," he pathetically whimpers, kissing your stomach and curling his arms around your thighs, spreading them further apart. The scent of your pussy reminds him of all the times he snuck a sniff of your dirty panties when he did the laundry. He'd rationalized it in his head that it was just accidental; he just happened to bend down too far and smell the cotton pink pair conveniently placed at the top of the pile, and just as accidentally licked a fat stripe over it a few times. His dick would then accidentally rub against his hands, and then he would come in his pants most coincidentally.

You chuckle and continue scratching behind his ears. "You know, he's a really nice guy. Took me on his jet, we had dinner on top of Tokyo."

"I can take you for dinner anywhere in the world, I'll buy you an airline," he mumbles in between hickeys on your stomach, which rocks slightly from your laughter. Only after exactly 10 slightly red little marks have formed does he begin moving down, slipping off your little panties.

"I didn't really care for that, though, you know I'm not materialistic. But, he was always there for me." At this Keigo rips his eyes away from the most beautiful pussy he's ever seen to look at the most beautiful face he's ever seen. Shot fired, his heart bleeds again. He is so handsome with his features twisted in guilt and damp from the tears.

"I won't ever leave again, even if you kill me," he lifts your left hand to his face and begs, "please?"

"Prove it, nii-chan." You wipe away the last of his tears, loving words send euphoria through his veins. Like a hungry dog, he dives down to take your entire pussy in his mouth, making out with it like it's your face. He realizes your pussy tastes like a forbidden fruit he doesn't want to stop eating, and it's overflowing with slick. He can't stop salivating, and at some point, he begins a suctioning and pushing motion, sucking out all of your delicious juice before pushing his tongue full of spit inside, wanting to reach every part of you. He uses a finger to push it even deeper in, then two, scissoring your tight cunt open. Suddenly, his fingers meet a sort of resistance, and he comes up for a breath and a confirmation. You only coyly smile.

Your hymen, your hymen is still intact. That guy hadn't defiled you before he could. He is so happy, he kisses your mound in reverence. The both of you will take all of each other's firsts, every single thing. Keigo grinds his tongue on your clit and becomes gentler at fingering you, just swishing around his globs of spit inside your pussy. You keen as his mouth gets hungrier and he keeps flicking your clit like a light switch with his thumb. Sneakily, he would bring his free hand down to swipe and gather as much of his precum as possible and bring it up to push into your pussy, pressing it all inside together with his spit. It's as though he wishes to fill you up as much as possible, and this was the pre-stuffing. Then, using his lubed-up thumb, he teases your anus, hooking it inside when you're distracted and before you know it, he's got at least a finger in both of your holes.

You didn't expect to get so much joy from punishing your beloved brother like this. His desperate marking of his territory makes you wonder if you had pushed him too much, but your rational and empathetic mind blinks in and out of consciousness as the waves of stimulation assault your clit. You've spent so many nights alone on your bed, trying to finger yourself to completion but never could. He ruined you for simple pleasures, and you'll be damned if you don't make him take responsibility now.

Your pussy is drenched in fluid, so much so that when you start squirting, even Keigo doesn't comprehend at first. As soon as he does, he latches his mouth on your pussy and doesn't let go until the sweet fountain stops sputtering, and you have to weakly push him away from oversensitivity. But he has two hands, so one is still prying your tight butthole open while the other is gently slapping your pussy, making dirty plap, plap, plap sounds, trying to coax more of your juices out.

Reluctantly, he pulls away completely once he is sure nothing more can come out and your thighs clamped around his fingers. "My girl squirts," he incoherently comments, blissed out, intent on diving back for another taste before you push him away, moaning for him to wait.

You gasp in between bouts of clarity, coming down from your high. He obeys, leaning back to sit on his heels and wiping his mouth, then licks each of his fingers clean. In the corner of your eyes, you see him peer into his wet boxers, cheeks flushed red to the tip of his ears because he came from eating you out and had no idea.

Everything feels so clear now. What even held him back for that long? He's almost proud of his self-control before he remembers without it, things could have been so much simpler. Or at least, with more of it, he could have really kept his tainted claws off of you.

A hand tugging his soiled garment down reorients him to the present again, and he takes everything off. Oh well, can't put spilt milk back in the bottle, all you can do is lick it clean from the counter. He's the only one completely naked now, while your nightgown was only pushed up past your nipples.

Shallow breaths mingle with your quick pants when he crawls up to hug you. His arms snake around your torso and his head settles in the crook of your neck, kissing up your jaw. Eyes half-lidded, barely lucid from having just acted out part of his most depraved fantasy.

"Keigo-nii, tell me," you whisper comfortingly while both of your hands lovingly run through his hair like how a good mother might, "how does it feel to see me go out with someone else?"

At your words, his body tenses up, snapping him back to reality. His arms get tighter around you as if afraid you'd slip away the moment he releases. The poor man hesitantly pulls back to meet your eyes, his own starting to get glassy again. You are being serious, looking for a real answer, but he could hardly tell apart the pain of recalling that blurry image and the pain of your knees gently gliding over his neglected cock.

"It hurts, like—" He sucks in a breath when you interrupt by hooking your legs around his hips and forcefully pulling him up, lining the red, weepy tip straight on top of your cunt. The vulgar sight of having his penis so close to his baby darling sister's pussy forces more wispy white sperm prematurely out of him. Years and years of pent-up cum reserved only for you proves to be of benefit, you don't even need lube.

"Like what?" Being the lewd sister you are, you torture him with agonizingly slow drags of your wet cunt against his cock, never quite letting him feel enough for his pleasure. "Like—like, like I died, like you got stolen from me, I wanted to kill him," he stutters through his answer because all of his blood has already run to his other head.

You smile a dangerous smile that has sweat dripping down his back. Your right hand stops stroking his hair to reach down for his cock, and your left one pulls his right out from underneath you to link them together. It's as if you are slow dancing with each other, only that it's on a bed and he's on top of you.

Delicate fingers line up a brute cock to your pussy that is dripping honey like a river. The head catches on your opening, and Keigo has to fight every demon in him that is screaming at him to slam forward. Only once you tug lightly on it does he dare move. Gently, gently, until it meets resistance. He squeezes your hand for support, as if this would hurt him as much as it would you, and commences the act of true incest. Fucking his sister, his blood sister, worse, taking her virginity, worse still, doing so without a condom. But at this stage, that may be the very least of his concerns.

You dutifully accept every single veiny inch he gives you into your awaiting heat. The wet, sopping noise of a meat rod being inserted into a runny pussy has both of you throw your heads back. It hurts and burns because Keigo is just that damn big, but you could hardly care about that when it's filling the hole in your heart that you've always felt was missing. Your angelic giggle causes Keigo to become even more blissed out as he sheaths himself inside you. With over an inch left out, his tip presses a kiss to your sacred womb as if greeting its lover coming home.

When he manages to catch his breath and refocuses his eyes, your tears are the first thing he sees and he almost panics. Keigo bends down to kiss them away, but in the process stirs his cock inside of your pussy and hits a spongy spot that had clear liquid spray out of you. You keen loudly, gripping his hand so hard it leaves four little crescent moons on the back of it. He leans down to offer you his entire neck and shoulder, so you bite down at their juncture.

"You took it," you mumble, and he nods. Your insides suddenly feel a bit wetter, and it's not your fault. Whatever guilt he has in his body about his depraved feelings for you must have been exorcised already because Keigo only feels proud to hear those words. His heart is positively thrumming in his chest, a reaction he might constantly have when he's around you from now on.

In the minute that everything stills to let you adjust, the storm has worsened to the point that every few minutes, lightning strikes. Unsurprisingly, your copulation renders the both of you deaf and blind to anything that isn't each other. But your next question, while he's seated deep inside you, had Keigo go frigid like he's been electrocuted by a bolt from outside, and the suffocating guilt returned tenfold.

"Did you ever think about how much it hurt when the first girl you married wasn't me?"

Wide-eyed, gaping mouth. He reminds you of that one famous expressionist painting from the past, something about a scream. You would have taken a picture if he wasn't balls deep inside you right now.

It really tells you all you want to know. Poor, dumb brother of yours, thankfully you're just as dumb to be able to tolerate him. Despite having perfect control over every muscle in his body, when he's around you, all his training is really for naught. That's where you and he differs, you're a professional, see? Your awards aren't just for show, after all. Of course he has no idea your angelic smiles were all a trap.

Predictably, his recently patched dam breaks open again, more violently this time. "I–I, hic–I'm sorry! I'm sorry, agh! I'm sorry, I'm so sorry…" He sobs like a pitiful boy. It would disturb people to their core if they saw such a scene, the former number two hero deep inside his little sibling, crying uncontrollably on top of her while she cockwarms him.

"Hey, nii-chan," you lean up and rub your cheek against his tenderly but with no intention of comforting him, "maybe I should go marry a random guy too. Have his kids, try and forget about you?"

Trembles wrack through his body, and the bed shakes as though there is an earthquake. "NO, please! No, I can't handle that—I love you too much, I would die!" And you have no doubt it's the truth. Your brother can try and hide his sick thoughts as much as he wants, but you know him more than anyone, even more than himself. Now you shall serve up pleasure, to weaken the blow and reel him back in. You buck your hips upwards and his dick somehow presses in a bit more snug, another half an inch inside. It makes him go cross-eyed despite the emotional assault he's experiencing.

Then your hips pull back and leave only the tip in now. Poor, delirious Keigo made the mistake of looking down and was greeted with the sight of pink substances covering his dick. It takes him a second, but he realize that is your blood mixed with precum, and it dawns on him that your womb is right there.

"I'm glad you understand, Kei-nii," you shake his hand and he looks away from the heavenly sight to look you in the eyes, "I forgive you."

Three words that grant him more relief and hope than a cupboard of whiskey could. Finally, he feels able to smile again. After months of not using the muscles, it came out a bit lopsided and toothy, but you don't mind.

"Now, Keigo-nii, won't you carry out your duty as my big brother?" Oh, you didn't have to ask. He's already pushing his dick back into your cunt with more excitement than a hound in rut. Then, once he was sure you could handle the two pumps, he immediately set a brutal rhythm of jackhammering in your pussy. His free hand slips out from cradling you to play with your clit that's now engorged from so much stimulation. He times his flick with his thrust, occasionally delivering his finger to his mouth so he can still taste you while fucking you.

With his size, he had no trouble finding that sweet spot in your walls and abusing it to his benefit, making your pussy continuously leak clear liquid out in spurts. Fuck, his sister's pussy is too erotic, too fucking sexy for him to last much longer. How he wishes for the day when you sit on his face to come soon.

Your toes curl and your gaspy moans bounce off the four walls, encasing him in a bubble of the sweetest song. He can't help but look down to admire your squelching pussy that makes the nastiest noise each time he pulls out. As if it is pleading with him not to go. Suddenly, he notices the most breathtaking sight. Each time he thrusts in deep, he can see your stomach slightly form a little pouch in the shape of his cock. It's right below where your cervix is.

His previous dark thoughts come back to mind. Letting go of your hand for the first time since you started, Keigo lets it trace your figure, from your bunched-up gown down to your perky breasts that he has to neglect for now, down to your waist where your insides are currently being violated and onto your stomach, catching that little pouch every time it forms. He cups it in his hand, then splays his fingers out above the expanse of where your womb should be.

"I need to have it," he drunkenly says out loud, a bit of craze tinting his eyes. His thrust starts to become heavier, more deliberate, with intent.

"Huh, nii-chan?" With your orgasm rapidly approaching, it's a miracle you caught his delirious talk, partly due to the slight shift in pressure of his drags. But then he catches your mouth open, and splooch! A fat glob of saliva was spit straight inside, on instinct you swallow it. A second after you comprehend what just happened, your lower mouth reacts first by spraying the meanest stream of squirt all over his chest, bathing Keigo in your holy fluids. It's a good thing you drink lots of water, you're pretty sure you'd be dehydrated at this point from the kind of sexual reaction he keeps pulling from your body otherwise. Your orgasm crashes onto you in waves, making you twitch and your pussy try to suck his dick in further.

With great effort, Keigo fucks you through your high and taking advantage of your state, he grinds in as deep as he possibly could, and the last half an inch manages to bully in as well. Tip of his cock against the very opening of your womb, he finally cums ropes after ropes, semen coating your inside and pushing through the tiny hole. He distracts you with a clashing of tongue and teeth, praising you for being a good wife. Even though his entire body is on fire, he doesn't forget to keep toying with your little button as he rides you through your high.

A minute passes by, and your cloudy eyes finally clear. Did you black out for a moment? Is that what they mean by "the little death"? It's almost scary how good it feels, you want to have Keigo giving you one every night. You try to catch your breath and realize he's latching onto your mouth. Kissing him back with as much vigor as you could muster because your body is nearly limp at this point, you don't question why he's still buried to the hilt inside you.

But another 5 minutes of French kissing pass and your pussy is starting to feel tingly again, so you try to pull away. Surprisingly, your lover doesn't let you. He instead chases after your pussy to stay inside, at which point you break the kiss to ask why.

"I need you to have my baby, I'm keeping it plugged until I recover," he explains as if it's the most natural thing in the world. And it suddenly hits you that in your inexperience, you've completely forgotten about the possibility of getting pregnant. Why, it may cause a huge scandal and that other poor guy would probably become the biggest suspect in the public eye. Your career may be halted, or worse, destroyed. The millions of delusional fans you have may skin you.

But all of that seems like such a footnote in comparison to the implications of what Keigo has just said.

"Are you… trying to breed me, nii-chan?" Fuck, such a hot mouth saying things that feed his dick all the energy it needs for the second round. "Yeah, I need to have you completely tonight, I can't make the same mistake twice. I love you too much," he pauses and then adds, "baby sis."

Before, that was a reminder to himself that he can't ever have you. Now, the meaning has been thoroughly corrupted. Only he can have you. Big brother's rights.

Your pussy throbs around his thumb, which replaces his cock when he suddenly pulls out, and in one smooth motion, he flips you on your stomach and rips your nightgown off of you completely. You're both naked now, and the shift in his demeanor tells you your previous control over him has diminished. Fly too close to the sun, and now your poor brother is traumatized. You have a feeling your words won't stop whatever he's gotten into his head at this state.

Keigo kisses your shoulder blade and down your spine, a hand caressing your tits until finally stopping in between your butt cheeks, which he spreads open. His mouth comes down not long after, biting into the flesh of your ass, but his real goal is the other unclaimed hole he also needs to plug up before you're allowed to rest. Semen sloshes around in your womb, and some try to leak out, which is immediately pushed back in by his thick thumb. That one digit is as wide as three of your fingers pinched together and for now it works, but Keigo reminds himself to buy a proper plug soon.

He continues to apply soft pressure on your oversensitive clit to get you ready again with the hand plugging your pussy, while the other begins penetrating your anus. The rings of muscles there are much tighter, signalling to his salivating mouth how it should be of use. You squeal in protest when it registers that your back hole is about to be broken into, because you never expected for your anal virginity to get taken within the same day. You try to jerk away, but your body is exhausted from the brutal breeding you've just endured, and your brother is pinning your legs down with his own, rendering your struggles useless.

"Wait! Nii-chan, another day, s'too much…" Your objection is met with placating shushes and kisses to your rim. Keigo's tongue darts out to swipe at your anus and he groans, red cock head angrily leaking again. It bulges and hardens in great anticipation.

"I'm sorry, baby, I can't. It'll be good, I promise," and whether or not it's true, you think you'll forgive him anyways because his uncontrollable possessiveness is getting your pussy to cry. His index and thumb pry your butthole far enough apart for him to let a steady stream of spit run into it, preparing you for your second violation. Then, when he decides enough lube is present, his tongue enters the entrance, blocking anything from exiting. It feels so foreign, you've never played with that part of yourself before. Then, writhing like an eel, it begins molesting your insides with scary enthusiasm. All the while, Keigo is still fingering your cunt and abusing your nerve bundles, pressing that spongy spot inside that tangles the wires in your brain to also enjoy your anus being used.

The pressure builds again, your third orgasm quickly creeps up on you. After two rounds of playing with your body, Keigo has memorized all the telltale signs of your body reaching a climax, and he pushes his tongue in even deeper. As deep as he could, teeth catching on your flesh. Your knees bend and toes curl, you let out a gurgling whine when you come, squeezing around his fingers and tongue and perhaps soul as well. This time your orgasm is clean and dry, maybe your body has run out of liquid finally.

Once more, you two try to catch your breath. Keigo takes his face away and lays it on your butt cheeks, basking in the messiness of your lovemaking. Is this lovemaking? How much more love can he make when it's already bursting at the seams, threatening to give him a heart attack at the ripe old age of 24. Nevertheless, he is nowhere near as patient as you and crawls up to nip at your neck, coaxing you back to awareness sooner. Your hair is sticking to your cheek from your sweat, which he dutifully brushes away like a good husband would and runs his tongue across to collect the liquid, only making it damper in the process. You blearily blink open your eyes, that previous orgasm is intense in a different way, but you don't know if it's from getting your anus eaten out or if your orgasms intensify the more you have them.

No matter, as soon as you're conscious again, Keigo's penis, in all of its rock-hard glory, is at the back entrance. From above, he presses his left hand on top of yours, threading them together, and his right forearm lands above your head, trapping you into his cage. Your hips stuck up slightly, allowing him the perfect angle to press ahead and penetrate your slightly more accepting ass. It's still painfully tight, squeezing him so hard he thinks his dick might just snap off. Your cries to stop only make him more encouraged, his cock jumps when you wiggle your butt.

It hurts a lot more than being fucked in the pussy. That place was built for such a thing, and you didn't think your virgin brother would even last past the first round, at least that's what you hear happened to most boys. It seems underestimating his love and lust for you is a terrible idea, and now you're the one who has to take responsibility for your actions. But the feeling is so foreign, so weird, you can't decide if you like it because you have no idea your colon is able to stretch so far, and your main centers of pleasure aren't getting toyed with. However, having your big brother hovering atop you, panting like a horny hound, gripping your hand so tightly and shedding a few overwhelmed tears makes you feel satisfied as well.

Slowly, Keigo starts moving. He laughs breathlessly in a dazed manner and whispers to no one in particular, "I took it, I have it, it's mine," over and over again. Drunk from your anus, drunk from your pussy, now if he could mark you inside and out with his cum, he'd finally feel at peace. It's subtle, but after the pain subsides, you begin enjoying having your brother's dick stirring up your colon almost as much as having it breed your pussy. For every thrust, he kisses your ear, your shoulder, your cheek to apologize for what he's putting you through.

Then it begins to feel really good, perhaps there is also a magic button inside your butt that makes things feel good. Maybe Keigo is just that compatible with you, able to draw out your magic spots without even trying. Your cries turn into moans, and soon pleas for him to go faster, go deeper, which he of course obeys. It's scary how just ten minutes ago, you were wailing and trying to escape, when right now you're meeting his thrusts and begging for his cock like a slut. But you're no slut, just the most perfect little sister in the world.

In and out, cum from your pussy unfortunately leaks out without anything to stop it. More concerningly, however, you feel a strange, different sort of pressure building inside you in addition to your usual orgasm tells. It isn't like when you squirt, instead it feels a bit hotter, more urgent. Your free hand limply reaches down to touch your clit and try to figure out what's going on.

Keigo's eyes are shut tight, forcing himself to focus on your moans and your moans only; hence, why he didn't catch you touching what's his. He is still worshipping your neck in hickeys and bites that may or may not be forming to spell his initials.

"Baby, cum for me," he rasps, and as fast as lightning, his left hand releases the death grip it had on yours to fly down, catching your fingers and guiding it to play with yourself. You realize too late that his dick is knocking on your bladder with every deep stroke. As his large hand teaches you the rhythm of his strokes, your eyes shoot open when a terrifyingly familiar sensation starts up. It was just a spurt at first, but it was enough for you to figure it out.

"Wait! No! I'm peeing!" Your panic juxtaposes the sick bliss apparent on Keigo's face. If you see it, you might finally understand how deep and sick his fixation is, because the thought of fucking his little girl so hard she runs of squirt and has to pee instead have him seeing stars. He can count them if he keeps his eyes closed, it was so vivid. But they remain open to peer down to where he's humping into your ass like a rabbit.

Clear as day, you piss yourself on the bed. It's a stronger, hotter stream that flows continually and runs down your thighs instead of spraying everywhere when you squirt. He can't figure out which one he likes seeing more. Ignoring your protests, he forces your hand to reach further down and disrupt the stream. It soaks into his already pruney fingers, and he cums inside your waiting ass.

It is mortifying. You haven't peed yourself since you were 5. Why you are now is beyond your wildest guess, and it is embarrassing to admit that orgasm is the best you've had so far. It shames you and elevates you at the same time. You can't stop your sniffles when Keigo pulls out mid-ejaculation to shove his rod inside your pussy again, as if to share his loads with the hole. Your anus winks and puckers, pushing out his semen involuntarily. He has to put two fingers in to stop it again.

Your uterus feels bloated. The copious amount of cum and slick sloshing around in there is trapped, unable to get out. When you come to, Keigo is now underneath you, but you're lying on him chest to chest. You blink your hazy eyes clear and see him licking your hand that was previously drenched in your pee clean. His cock is still inside, pumping more semen out every now and then. If he had more hands, he would like to be stroking your hair and wings too.

But you feel no regret, truly. Your old brother is gone now, replaced by the real, guiltless sisterfucker that he actually is. He's finally truthful to his feelings, breaking himself open as much as he broke you. His unabashed grin when you catch him putting each one of your fingers inside and sucking tells you as much. Though you can hardly feel your limbs, you try your best to motion for a kiss, to which he obliges. Before he can give you what you want, you whisper against his lips.

Your kiss is salty from the tears.

"I love you."

━━━━━━━━━━━━༺❀༻━━━━━━━━━━━━

Copyright © 2025 deer1nheadlight. All rights reserved.

[genderqueerdykes]

Thinking about trans and gender related surveys (that as long as they're not like, from transphobes, I love to take because survey!!!)

But then how almost every single one has "what sex/gender were you assigned at birth" and the answers are "male", "female", and "intersex" and if you're lucky, "other".

There are ones that don't actually dig into or study intersexism in any way that even ask, "if you're intersex, were you assigned male or female at birth", and when the (always perisex) people who created the survey are asked about it, invariably the answer is something like "oh well, the gender/sex you were assigned at birth has an impact on the life you've lived and discrimination you've faced so I thought it was more important than actually asking you about the life you've lived and discrimination you've faced". Like hun, no....

If there is an "other" option, especially on a trans-focused survey, I just put "I will not disclose the agab/asab that was used to erase my intersex identity" down or similar. Like ah yes, let me just give you the label that's been used to force social and medical violence on me for decades so you can pretend to know what I have and have experienced... ha! No.

When will people learn that if you want to know about someone's experiences, you have to ask them about their experiences? It's so simple, but so many people just don't seem to get it!

And while the "were you assigned male female or intersex" ones reek of ignorance, given that the vast majority of intersex people WERE assigned female or male INACCURATELY (and therefore it perpetuates erasure to force people to choose between what was assigned as a form of violence and what they are", I almost hate the ones that force intersex people to disclose the agab/asab that's been weaponized against them more. ESPECIALLY when the survey creator then smugly explains to the multiple intersex people upset about it, "well, it 'tells' me what you've been through" (so I don't have to bother to ask or learn and can just assume)

Like, to my awareness I did not have surgery as an infant, though given my birth and pre-adoption history I have very little way of knowing for sure. I WAS however coerced onto a hormone based "treatment" when the first signs of my sex characteristics changing popped up, which also made my dysphoria significantly worse when I was already suicidal due to being abused. And then I've been told I'm basically [agab] and not "really" intersex (despite the vast majority of the intersex community saying my variation IS) by a lot of the trans community especially.

I mean, what it really boils down to is people asking "but are you male or female intersex". Often to determine whether I'm "boy or girl nonbinary", even.

Like no actually. Knowing my agab tells you nothing about my sex characteristics, socialization, puberty, discrimination and oppression I've faced, and so on. That's the whole point intersex people have been exhaustively trying to make!

I'm not giving you my CAGAB when every time I have before it's been used against me by the very same people that demanded it

Just. GAH.

thank you for taking the time to send this, i really appreciate you making your story heard. i am so sorry you've gone through all of this. it can be such a gauntlet to be a queer intersex person. there's so much behavior and common rhetoric that hurts us because so many people are obsessed with figuring out what genitals a stranger has. the fact that people literally lump nonbinary into girl nonbinary and boy nonbinary.

people do not realize how obsessively binarist & gender essentialist they have being. but it's constant. you shouldn't have to disclose your assigned sex at birth. you shouldn't have to disclose your genitals at all. other queer people shouldn't be dying to know what genitals you have and have had.

[p13rc3-th3-m4tt13]

could i request spencer x cinematographer!reader? maybe they meet at a film festival or something

The Lens I See Through

of course! i love this request, it's very unique and super cute. i had a fantastic time writing this and i am so glad that this was my first request! <3 thank you very much anon for requesting this! :D

cw; cinematographer!fem!reader x spencer reid, strangers to friends, reader wins multiple awards, mentions of a second date, no use of y/n, reader making a film that's slightly emotional, reader being very happy, spencer being slightly more forward than he typically would (making the first move)

description; It's your first year submitting an award at your local film festival. You didn't think it would get much traction, but not only did you win awards, but you also met a handsome, tall stranger who wants to go on a second date with you.

category; fluff <3

word count; 2.2k

a/n; i hope this is what anon had in mind when they said "film festival..." i'm not really educated on these kinds of things; i've only ever been to one and this is what it was like, so i hope i got this right. also, so sorry it took me so long to get this out! i got busy the day after i finished my essay and never really caught back up...

You were at this year’s annual competitive film festival in your town after submitting a film for the very first time. You had been to this festival before, but had never actually submitted anything. You were surprised when it had been accepted, but then again, it was some of your best work so far, so you were glad to have it recognized.

You knew that this meant hundreds – possibly even thousands – of people had a chance of seeing your short film, along with other films that could be better or worse than your own. You didn’t necessarily care if you won anything this year, seeing as it was your first, you were just glad that you had been accepted.

Before the awards for the festival started, everybody had the chance to walk around and meet people and groups who had submitted films through the booths that they had set up. Having a booth was optional, and since it was your first year submitting a film at this festival, you decided not to have one just yet, especially since you were a standalone filmmaker.

Not having your own booth gave you the time to walk around to see the booths that others had set up. Some people went along with a theme relating to their films, which you thought was neat, and others had a plain booth with a few brochures on their tables. You liked them all, nonetheless, and you visited as many as you could.

A particular booth caught your eye, though; not because of any particular theme, but instead a person. It was not even the person behind the booth, but rather a man standing in front of it and speaking to the person running it as his eyes quickly scanned over the brochure he had been handed.

You had seen this man before; last year, even, at the film festival. Then, you didn't have the courage to speak to him. Not much about you had changed, but you were at the booth beside him and he seemed like he would be there for at least a few seconds longer, so you couldn’t help but approach him.

As you got closer, his head snapped up and turned towards you, a small smile forming on his face as he saw you. His smile already melted your heart. You returned it, giving a soft smile of your own as you stood beside him at the booth.

“Hi there,” you said, both to the person running the booth and to this tall, handsome stranger. You took one of the brochures from the table so that you wouldn’t seem like you were just coming over here for the handsome man who was now standing beside you, although you most definitely were.

“Hello,” the man said, still smiling as he looked down at you. “Are you just here to look or are you a filmmaker yourself?” A crease formed between his eyebrows as he asked you the question and you took your eyes away from the brochure and looked up at him instead.

“I’m a cinematographer, yes,” you said, almost sheepishly. You figured that he would think this title meant that you were helping with large films, meanwhile you mainly worked on your own on somewhat short films, rarely anything that was seen by eyes other than your own and those close to you.

“That’s neat,” he replied, shifting slightly towards you. “I’m guessing you entered something into one of the competitions then, hm?” His smile formed into a grin and you felt your cheeks threaten to get hot as you nodded your head.

“Yeah, I did,” you murmured. You weren’t the most confident about your filmmaking skills, but you knew that you weren’t the worst. Hopefully, if this man saw your film, he would be at least somewhat impressed by it.

“Interesting. What did you enter for?” He seemed to be somewhat nervous as he spoke, as if he wasn’t very used to social interaction. You didn’t mind it, though, and with the topic at hand, you just so happened to be the same way.

You shrugged your shoulders. “Nothing much. Best Short Film, Best Newcomer, Best Standalone Cinematographer.” You were still somewhat shy as you spoke, but knowing that he was as well gave you a bit more confidence.

You watched as a crease formed between his eyebrows, showing his confusion. “Oh, so you make films on your own? That’s really neat. What do I need to search on the website to find the film you’ve entered for the contests?” He flashed you a soft smile, and you hesitated for a moment before finally telling him both your name and the title of your film so he could find it.

“Well,” he said, still smiling, “it’s very nice to meet you. My name is Spencer Reid.” He nodded his head towards you and you couldn’t help but return the smile he was showing you.

“It’s nice to meet you as well, Spencer Reid.” Your smile widened slightly. “Did you submit anything into any of the contests, or are you here to look at the works of others?” You held his gaze – though not intensely – as you asked the question.

“I’m not exactly a filmmaker, but I do enjoy seeing those who are filmmakers express themselves through this form of art. I feel like it isn’t appreciated as much as some of the other forms of art are, so I like to be sure to stop by here and a few other annual festivals when I’m free.” Spencer’s facial expressions changed quite a bit as he spoke, something you couldn’t help but find endearing. You nodded along as you listened to him speak, finding his appreciation for filmmaking to be very sweet.

“That’s very kind of you. I do agree that we aren’t appreciated as much as others are, so I appreciate you for appreciating us.” You laughed at your own silly sentence and Spencer did as well, his smile only widening, causing a slight blush to brush over your face from just how handsome he looked.

“Of course, of course. Always here to appreciate you cinematographers.” Spencer chuckled softly, his gaze drifting away from yours as he did so. He paused for a moment before speaking again, stumbling over his words as he did so. “Hey, so, this might be kind of out there, and I’m sorry if it is, but it seems like we’re both here alone, so would you like to go to the awards ceremony later together?” You watched his face become increasingly red as he spoke and you couldn’t help but smile at how adorable he was.

You nodded your head just as his gaze met yours again. “Yeah, of course, that sounds great.” You were still smiling as you spoke and you watched as the smile returned to his face as well. “Do you want to walk around and look at the other booths a bit before the awards?” You tilted your head to the side slightly as you asked the question.

Spencer nodded his head and looked around for a moment. “Should we just start by walking straight ahead?”

You looked around as well and shrugged your shoulders. “Why not?”

—

About an hour later, you and Spencer started making your way to the auditorium for the awards ceremony. You decided that you wanted to sit somewhere near the front, so you started towards the ceremony about twenty minutes early to ensure that you got good seats.

“It’ll be easier for you to get to the front to take your award from here as well,” Spencer said with a smile once the two of you sat down. He had a bit more confidence in you than you had in yourself…

You scoffed and shook your head. “Oh, whatever.” You playfully rolled your eyes at him. “I doubt that’ll happen.”

“Well,” Spencer started, “If I’m thinking about this correctly, last night when I watched your film and all of the others, yours was one of the most aesthetically and emotionally appealing that I saw, as well as one of the most memorable. Typically, whenever people are picking something that they want to win, they’ll pick the thing that they think looks best or the thing that they’ll be sure to remember for longer.

“Research suggests that people tend to remember things that are more emotionally significant to them, as well as things that draw their eye to them. Your film did both of those things, with the topic of it being somewhat emotional and the lighting and aesthetics of the film being pleasing.” Spencer smiled at you once he finished speaking. You had heard him ramble like this once already since meeting him, and you absolutely loved it.

You returned the smile that he wore and nodded your head. “Well, thank you for the logic behind it, Spencer.” You chuckled softly, somewhat surprised at the rant he had gone on about the subject.

Spencer nodded his head as well, his lips forming into yet another smile. He could smile all day and you could tell that you wouldn’t get tired of it. He nodded his head once before speaking. “You’re welcome.”

  A few seconds later, the person running the awards ceremony stepped onto the stage. There was clapping and cheering, so you and Spencer figured that the both of you should most likely be clapping and cheering as well.

The person gave a short introduction, stating what the festival was and thanking the partnerships, before jumping into the awards. You knew that a lot of yours would be called last, but you didn’t mind. It gave you more time to prepare yourself not to be too upset just in case you didn’t win anything.

“Now, for the Best Short Film Award…” The announcer stated. Spencer glanced over at you so briefly you figured you might have imagined it. There was a drumroll in the audience – as there was before every award was stated to build suspense – and the announcer smiled as he called out a name that wasn’t yours.

You figured you wouldn’t win this one. It had the most entries out of the three things that you entered in. It didn’t upset you very much at all.

Spencer leaned over slightly so that he could speak quietly enough without interrupting the awards but also so that you could still hear him. “I know you’re walking out of here with at least one award,” he whispered. You smiled.

“Well, Spencer, I’m glad you have faith in me,” you whispered back, laughing softly as you did so.

After a few more awards were announced, it was time for another one that you had entered in. “Now, to award our Best Newcomer…” The drumroll once again. Spencer looked over at you, and this time, you knew you weren’t just imagining it, because he held your gaze.

The announcer said your name and you felt your face flush. A bright smile graced your lips, the same with Spencer’s, as you stood up and rushed onto the stage to take your award. You seemed to drown out the clapping and cheering as the announcer handed you the trophy you received. “Congratulations,” he said with a smile as he shook your hand.

You were still beaming as you nodded your head. “Thank you,” you responded, taking the trophy in one hand and shaking his hand with the other.

You made your way back to your seat and sat down beside Spencer. You were both still smiling brightly and he even chuckled softly as you approached. “Congratulations! I knew you could do it,” he chimed.

“Thank you,” you said in response, giggling softly from the happiness. You were practically buzzing the entire time until the next award you were entered for was announced. You snapped back into reality and focused on the man on the stage.

“And, the award for the Best Standalone Cinematographer goes to…” The drumroll again. The suspense was getting to you, and the few seconds of the drumroll felt like hours as you stared at the man ahead of you.

And then your name was announced again. You were so happy you could faint. You stood up from your seat and hurried onto the stage again with a somehow brighter smile than what you were wearing before, taking the award from the man and shaking his hand with your free hand. He congratulated you again and you hurriedly thanked him before practically skipping back to your seat due to your happiness.

Spencer was beaming, too. His smile stretched across his face and you couldn’t help but admire it as you sat back down. “Amazing job! You got two awards, and this is only your first time submitting a film. Imagine what you’ll get next year,” he cheered.

“I appreciate you for believing in me, Spencer,” you said, still smiling brightly as you did so. He nodded his head.

“Of course. And uh, hey,” Spencer paused for a moment before turning his body a bit more towards yours. “Since you won those awards, would you like to come to dinner with me sometime to celebrate?”

This was another trophy to add to your new collection. Spencer Reid was inviting you to dinner. If it was possible for your smile to grow any more, it did at that moment.

“Of course,” you said, nodding your head, most likely a bit faster than you should have.

“It’s a date, then,” Spencer said.

“It’s a date.” You nodded again.

[persianflaw]

ATTENTION ALL PERSONNEL!

ATTENTION ALL PERSONNEL! The M*A*S*H fanfiction community has been approved! actually it was approved two weeks ago but i was on vacation

This community is open to any and all fans of M*A*S*H fic. Whether you're a writer, a reader, or a total newbie, this space is for you! You can talk about fics you've loved, ask for advice about a sticky plot point in your latest WIP, ask for recommendations for a ship you like, share an AO3 link to your latest fic, or share snippets from your work; the world is your oyster!

>> LINK <<

(As of 6.21.2024, communities don't let you generate an invite link yet, so just like/reply to this post if you want an invitation! This post will be updated with a proper invitation link once that feature is implemented.)

RULES (May be subject to change, but probably not that much change, lol.)

Be nice. Duh. Any bigotry or unkind behavior will not be tolerated. Welcome everyone with open arms and open hearts, and be ready to make new connections.

18+ only. Go nuts. Show nuts. Whatever.

No gory or sexually explicit images. Most of these go against tumblr's TOS, and we don't want the community to get deleted.

Keep things on topic. We're joining this community to talk about fic, so let's make sure we keep our posts fic-related! General discussions about M*A*S*H are fun, but not what this community is intended for.

If you don't like something, scroll past. We all like different things, and that's what makes the world interesting. If someone shares a fic that isn't to your tastes, you don't have to read it. Leaving a rude comment on anybody's post will get you kicked. (If you're concerned that somebody is posting bigoted or hateful material, let me know, but I honestly don't anticipate this being an issue at this time.)

Use read mores for long posts or NSFW material. This makes navigating the dash easier, and helps prevent people from getting jumpscared by lovingly detailed descriptions of oral sex on the subway, something that has of course never happened to me.

Tagging or using content notes for your writing is encouraged. This is the best way to find your audience. People who aren't interested in a particular subject can skip over, and you'll also be able to draw in the people who are enthusiastically interested! If you think a particular topic might be especially sensitive, a read more is never a bad idea.

Only give concrit (constructive criticism) when asked. This is a somewhat contentious topic in fandom as a whole, so we're keeping it simple and asking that members don't give criticism on fic posts unless the author specifically requests it.

And one final note:

Small groups and communities can easily become cliquish. Few things feel worse than joining a group, hoping to find like-minded people, only to find yourself surrounded by what feels like an impenetrable friend group with no interest in talking to you. Nobody wants to feel alone in a crowd.

So when you join this group, don't just talk to people you already know. That defeats the point of joining this kind of community, anyway! Make an effort to talk to someone new. Leave a gushing comment about a stranger's fic excerpt. Tag someone who you think has a really cool interpretation of a character you like. Reply to a post that hasn't gotten any attention. Include people who seem a little shy. Be open and friendly and welcoming.

[utilitycaster]

In a recent post you mentioned that safety tools are a means and not an end, and "that misconception is already a massive problem". Could you expand on that?

I have my own feelings about the use of a lot of Safety Tools; primarly, that a lot of groups are focused on *just* implementing them but not do an effort into reducing triggering topics, putting all the weight on a singular person speaking out (Such as with X's and O's), but I'd love to hear your feelings on that matter.

So I may be misunderstanding you, and I also am not sure if you mean X and O cards by X's and O's, but if you are saying the issue is that safety tools require people to speak out...that is actually the thing I think they are good at doing, and I think any tool that doesn't place the weight on individuals speaking out will actually cultivate at best a generic one-size fits all dull table and at worse will be actively less safe.

My issue is a lot of people are more interested in the aesthetic signaling of safety tools - in "being a person who uses safety tools" rather than being a person who actually facilitates a process at their table that creates a safer space. You do not actually have to do a formalized X card or Lines and Veils process; you could just have a session zero conversation that says "hey, if you ever need to step away, or stop the game because you are really uncomfortable with something, that's cool and you should feel as though you are allowed to do this, and if there's anything right now that you know you are uncomfortable experiencing please let me know now so I can proactively avoid having it in the game and other players know not to pursue it; if you'd prefer you can send this all to the DM who will put out an anonymized list." I've had people attack me online for saying that I don't use X cards in virtual games because I straight up won't see them in time, but I tell players they can drop off or ask me to pause or stop; I am actively trying to protect my players by telling them how to signal me, but because it's not The Tool Some Stranger Not At My Table Prefers, said strangers have decided this is a bad thing.

Ulltimately though, and this is crucial enough for me to bold it: it is literally impossible to have a safety tool process for TTRPGs that avoids players having to speak up. Your table cannot read your mind. A card that encourages positive things does not actually help, in my opinion, because the DM still has a story to tell and part of stories is conflict and they can't just keep doing the one thing you like - not to mention that one person's O card might be an X card to someone else. This also assumes a set of for lack of a better term "standard" triggers (ie, many people don't want to have themes of sexual assault in their games; many people have arachnaophobia) and places an even higher burden on people who might have very specific triggers that are often not given the same weight or seen as a problem by most people. Some tables might explicitly want to explore difficult topics. (Related to this, but, I side-eye a lot of highly specific content warnings on shows or books because many of them also assume a very specific and standard slate, and I know people who have triggers that are consistently ignored and not warned for because they don't fit into the Normal Slate Of Things A Nebulous Group Has Decided Are Triggering.)

Safety tools should place the burden on the people at the table to speak up; but they should also serve as a signal that this is a place where you will be respected and listened to when you do. However, even among loving friends, there is no way to make a safe place for yourself without advocating for it. Any safety tool that claims to avoid individuals speaking up is a scam and a lie. But that is not what I'm talking about, I'm talking about people who get mad if you say "I don't use a card system, but I let people walk away without question and I listen to my players' feedback."

[serenhob]

I think people need to understand that 'fakers' are a much smaller issue to disabled people than 'fake claimers'

First of all a lot of people who 'fake' mental illness/neurodivergance are not 'faking it', they may not be neurodivergent/have a specific mental illness but most of the time they think they have do.

Faking normally implies a degree of awareness or malice but a lot are just relating to things that they are not fully informed of and coming to the conclusion that they are neurodivergen/disabled. Who/what does this effect?

Not a lot. There may be some misinformation (which obviously isn't good) but nothing overtly harmful to disabled people. To access any degree of accommodation you need a diagnosis so people aren't taking anything away because they will be denied.

And yes there are those select few people who do have awareness and malice in what they are doing, often to illicit sympathy and get money. It is these types of people who fake a physical disability in addition to mental and neurodivergence. But these are very rare.

Fake claimers however, are far more common and pervasive.

They are everywhere, they do it to actually disabled people. It is very disturbing to see in real life.

I have genuinely had strangers come up to me and say that I don't actually need my cane and try and take it off me. My own family members have taken my cane away from me and left me until they brought it back. I have had people tell me that when they push me and I fall that I made myself fall over. I have had people tell me that because I was able to hold onto my cane as they tried to take it away from me that I am lying about needing pencil grips. This is actively harmful.

And it not only happens with the people around you but with those there to help disabled people.

Due to personal bias there are professionals who say that you dont look disabled/autistic/neurodivergent/etc just because you do not present in a certain way (particularly with neurodivergent people who are denied for not being a 6 year old boy because that's how they think its 'supposed' to look).

Women and people of colour have been denied and misdiagnosed with conditions like hysteria, Bpd and anxiety disorders or, if it is physical, stress, hormones, periods, etc in place of the disability they actually have all because their conditions research was focused on white men/boys.

Ambulatory wheelchair users are told they don't need a wheelchair because they are not paralysed. Ignoring the fact that people use the mobility aid that suits them instead of being denied because they don't 'suit' the mobility aid.

If disability does not look how people initially imagined suddenly its not a disability at all.

It is a systemic and social issue that persists and is made worse by people getting upset over some random girl on tiktok saying she has Adhd.

If you do not like people being ill informed then advocate for education.

Fake claiming is a big part of abelism that we ignore and that needs to change.

[lit3rally-m1ke-whlr]

guys I accidentally deleted the essay I wrote in my drafts bc I’m an idiot (I’m crying) so I’m just gonna summarize in less words bc whatever I’m not typing several more paragraphs on this. Anyway I just had to say that I feel like there’s an ableism problem in the Stranger Things fandom. Either that or this fandom just doesn’t like when characters show obvious neurodivergent traits. We see this with El being either infantilized or deemed annoying by fans when she’s clearly developmentally impaired and autistic because she struggles with understanding social cues and just wants to be normal and fit in like everyone else. She was raised in a lab, obviously she’s going to be immature and not have a strong handle on her emotional responses to things, and you don’t have to like her but it kinda sucks that she’s being hated for these things when I can relate to her so much. We also see this with Mike, and I feel like the people calling him the worst character are forgetting he’s literally just a teenage boy dealing with trauma. Like it’s as if they were never a teenager before because trust me I was just like Mike at that age if not worse. I’ll admit I used to hate him too but maturing is realizing the reasons people dislike Mike can easily be explained by either internalized homophobia or neurodivergence. He’s a bad friend? It’s because he’s trying so hard to appear straight and struggles to balance his relationships in a healthy manner, and he often speaks before thinking about how what he’s saying comes across to others, which is something many autistics/ people with ADHD do, not because we mean to hurt others but we can often be blunt or brutally honest and come across as rude (or even just lash out when we feel attacked or hurt as a way to defend ourselves but it often comes out harsher than we want it to) in my experience. He’s a bad boyfriend? He’s actually not and even then it’s because he’s gay and not in love with El but just doesn’t want to lose her. Besides he doesn’t have a great model for what a loving relationship looks like because of his parents so he may not be able to differentiate between romantic and platonic love and stays in a relationship that he’s clearly not happy in because of societal pressure to appear straight and it would be suspicious (in his mind) if they broke up because a) El literally is the coolest girl on the planet, how could he not love her and b) he loses his cover and people might start to notice and question his lack of attraction to girls. But not only that, he clearly struggles with describing and expressing his emotions or recognizing those of others (aka alexythemia) which is common in autistic people. So if he didn’t notice El’s obvious discomfort at the skating rink that’s probably why, and it’s also why he couldn’t tell her he loved her (bc it was a lie but I digress).

But perhaps the best example and the reason I decided to make this rant post is Robin’s character in s4. I remember seeing so many people saying that once the writers decided to make her lesbian they realized they didn’t know what to do with her character, some even going as far as to say they made her ditzy and stripped her of her coolness, which basically proves my point about y’all (as in the fandom in general) not liking ND people because god forbid we unmask around you, it’s no wonder so many of us feel afraid to be our true selves in front of other people. It’s almost as if she was hiding behind a persona to seem more normal and not draw unwanted attention to herself because she’s a lesbian, and once she came out to Steve and was accepted she… didn’t have to do that anymore? She felt more comfortable and safe around him to show her true personality? I don’t know but there’s something off about the way people are acting like she’s suddenly dumb or just there for comedic effect in s4 when she’s literally been so useful like she’s the one who realized music could save victims from being possessed by vecna. She’s literally the same except now she’s out to someone and she gets nervous when it comes to girls she likes, big fucking deal. Not only is this mischaracterization ludicrous and flat out wrong but it’s quite upsetting to see as someone who can relate to Robin in season 4 and is also autistic. Yes, not everyone with autism is like that but some are and to say she’s no longer cool because of it just enforces the perception of autistics as weird and unlikeable just for simply being themselves and makes us feel like we can only be liked or taken seriously if we keep the mask on.

look at me I said I would keep it brief this time but I still ended up writing an entire wall of text on this anyway lol thanks for coming to my Ted talk ig

[vendetta-if]

Please don’t take this the wrong way, because I still think you’re writing is incredible and I look forward to every update, but am I the only one who finds Takeshi incredibly weird? Like he’s got a wife and 3 kids and yet he’s still pining over my dad who’s been dead for years now. It’s time to move on dude, come on.

If he was younger and single then I’d understand, but the way it comes off, to me at least, is pretty emotionally unfaithful. It reads like Takeshi views Viktor as “the one who got away” which is kind of a shitty attitude to have when you’re married with kids. We haven’t even met Rins mom yet and I already feel bad for her lol, this whole situation is uncomfortable.

Anyways, sorry for my rambling and if you got offended I really do apologize, I wasn’t trying to be mean. Good luck on your future writing!

I appreciate you being polite when writing this and don’t worry, I’m not offended 😁 I have talked a little bit more about him and his feelings for Viktor and about his marriage with Azami in other asks, but I realize that some of them, I answered like in the early days of this blog being up (boy, time sure does fly because it feels like yesterday to me 😭) and not everyone will have read all of the related asks.

So, everything is a lil bit more complicated for Takashi than what it might seem like on the surface, and of course, I can’t really put all of this history and backstory in the main story because it’s not focused on Takashi, or Rin, or the Aikawa, and thus, I understand why some people end up seeing Takashi in a worse light. This is, of course, not to say that he is perfect. I feel like no one in my story is perfect, even Viktor himself, and I like to keep it that way. But I hope my long-winded explanation in this post will help you get a clearer picture on Takashi and his complicated love life 😭.

And right now in the story, I’ll say that he has actually moved on from Viktor. Sure he still remembers and mourns him around the anniversary of his death, and talking about Viktor (and Yvette) is still a sore spot for him, but as they say, you don’t really forget your first love. Also, he has fixed his relationship with Azami (thus their decision to have the twins) by the time of the main story and they’re at their best right now and I’ll explain more in details below the cut.

I’ll put it under the cut because it’s going to be a long one as I try to summarize Takashi’s and Azami’s history together and some additional lore stuff for those who are interested.

For starter, his marriage to Azami was an arranged one that both of them didn’t really have any say in it and it doesn’t help that both of them didn’t even have time to properly get to know each other by the time they got married. They were also pretty young (around early to mid 20s perhaps? I don’t have my notes open right now).

It was a… politically strategic wedding that Takashi’s father and Azami’s maternal grandfather arranged.

And additional info since I don’t think I have mentioned this anywhere actually, but Azami’s maternal side of family is a Yakuza clan/family back in Japan and by establishing some kind of family relationship with the Aikawas—who focuses their businesses in the US—they hope to keep the door open for possibilities of expanding their own business abroad in the US through the Aikawas. They haven’t really done that, but it’s nice to already have and secure the connection. And vice versa for the Aikawas if they wanna do some business in Japan.

It doesn’t help that Viktor was literally Takashi’s first love and that they’ve known each other since they were kids. So, by the time of his marriage, Takashi didn’t really have enough time to kind of, let go or grow out of his feelings for his first love and he was basically getting married to a stranger.

But to think that this means that he automatically becomes an emotionally distant husband and father is wrong. He spent time talking and hanging out with Azami (mostly initiating them first because Azami is the more introverted and reserved one in their relationship), trying to build a relationship—that should’ve been built naturally in normal marriages—with his wife. It did end up being more like a platonic relationship at first than a romantic one, but still, Azami appreciated that.

He’s also a good, caring, and warm dad for Rin and he did take care of Rin as much as Azami did. I’ve said this before in another ask, but when she got married to what is basically a stranger, Azami expected the worse and Takashi was a very pleasant surprise for her.

I think along the way, Azami fell in love with him for real first, but the fact that Takashi still saw her more of a platonic partner and still had romantic feelings for Viktor at the time… It did put a strain on their marriage.

But both of them didn’t really give up on their marriage and even though it took years, they slowly work on their relationship. It was not an instant progress but over time, Takashi ends up falling in love with Azami as well and that’s also the reason why they had the twins like more than a decade after they had Rin (The twins are still very young in the story right now).

Rin was born because of both of their families’ pressure and expectation, but having the twins is the decision that Takashi and Azami made themselves out of love.

While his feelings for Viktor is still there somewhere in the background, it’s waay weaker and fainter than when he was younger. Right now in the story, I would say he has moved on, although he still remembers his first love occasionally, especially around the time of his death. After all, they say that you can’t really forget your first love.

But yeah, in the story currently, his relationship with his wife is at its best and he’s living happily with his family.

And while a part of his motivation to get Rin to marry MC is in part to kind of fulfilling an impossible dream of his, it is also just for… practical reasons. The fact is that the Aikawas have a little bit more to gain by tying the Morozovs in an alliance based on blood ties than the Morozovs do. The Morozovs have the stronger manpower and raw force/strength and nowadays, they have decent connections too.

I mentioned this before in the past ask about the two families’ history, but their alliance started out because the Aikawas were having a pretty rough time protecting their turf from the other criminal groups and families back in New York. They mostly have power by accumulating and brokering information and connections, but they’re a bit lacking in like raw force and power, and that’s where Grandpa Morozov saw the opportunity for alliance and went to talk with Takashi’s father. And the rest we know how it plays out.

So, yeah… I think that’s all I have to say in this post and I’ll definitely be referring to this post again if I ever get similar asks. I don’t know whether it helps you understand Takashi a little bit more or not, but I do hope it’s not as black and white as it once was 😅

[ar3s-r4t-qu33n]

Idfc if he's real or not, he's still worse written than Eddie. Also the problem is in his fans that are making him no guilty, innocent baby and always refering that Coyle/Eddie/Everybody else im outlast are the same. And if you think it'll work, try to compare Walker (with PTSD after war) with Franco (who is just a sicko). Anyway Barbi's simps are way more agressive than any other fans when you say something bad, what's a fact, about a grown ass man. I feel like those people are just little kids who are getting upset after school and shouldn't play the game ;) When I see all those comments with "He'S mY PoOkIE" I'm getting sick... Ya'll should get a brain

Guys look!! I got one!!

You don't deserve a response, because if you were old enough to be playing Outlast, you would be able to figure out that shaming people for (checks notes) liking a fictional character in a horror series? Is plain stupid.

It would also serve you well to maybe do some spell check before you come into my asks like this. I'd take you more seriously if you maybe drafted this one more time, but here we go:

First of all, you don't know me. You can check out my like, five posts and see that only two of em are Franco related and none of them baby him. In fact, I don't think I've seen a post yet by anyone who says "Franco is a sweet, innocent baby who did no wrong" because... That's the point. He's interesting BECAUSE he's done shit wrong. We are playing Outlast. Everyone is complex and awful and interesting. Just because not every post is marked with a little footnote that says "oh by the way everyone, Franco is a bad, bad man 🥺 I don't support his actions, I'm not a Franco defender, I just wanted to draw him being silly 🥺" doesn't mean we're all out here claiming he's a saint. The fact that he's a fucked up lil guy is why we like him. I feel like that's a given with all Outlast characters? But that's just me after being a fan of this franchise for years now, idk, being able to step back and analyse a community to see what they enjoy about something is quite a fun and easy task, I recommend giving it a try instead of coming into "loser nobody who has been on Tumblr for like a week's" asks to complain to me like I can put all the Franco fans in the corner until they learn to interpret characters the way you have decided is objectively correct.

But even if they are "babying" him and apparently ignoring that this is the Outlast series and Franco is a character from Outlast... Oh no! What horror! Someone is misinterpreting a VIDEO GAME CHARACTER what a terrible and unique crime!

Franco "just a sicko" Barbi was abused and neglected by his father, his mother was murdered, and he only ever received affection after he killed someone. But yeah, he was just born fucked up whereas every other Outlast character earned their trauma and the right to kill the player. What a senseless and just untrue take and I'm sure you know that, you just want to complain because that's all you people like to do. You want to feel morally superior over someone because you don't understand why they feel the way they do instead of just moving on and ignoring them like any other sensible adult would. Because who's actually getting hurt if some people think Franco is their lil Pookie? Is it you? Does it cause you psychic damage? Because last I checked, this is the internet. We are responsible for ourselves, so unless somebody is actually hurting anyone...

Block the Franco tag. You are brave enough to type out this whole message to a stranger online and act morally superior because comparing which video game character deserves the right to kill you is THE most mature thing in the world, so you're definitely brave enough to block the tag and move on.

You are responsible for what you see online, but ESPECIALLY on Tumblr, it is so so easy to hide content you don't want to see, and mind your own business. Quite frankly, I don't care if I come across as aggressive here. You came into my asks about a tag/fandom you clearly aren't in trying to act like you're better than the rest of us. That's pretty damn aggressive, wouldn't you say?

This is Outlast. A game about fucked up guys doing fucked up shit, and we love them for it. If that is too much for you, if the mommy issues gangster is too crazy for you but Eddie and Trager and Knoth and Coyle are completely fine, no questions asked? I don't think this series is for you. Sexual horror is a staple of Outlast. Childhood trauma is a staple of Outlast. You can't be shocked when people respond to a new character in a video game they like.

YOU are not better than me because you like Chris Walker and I like Franco Barbi. I can't believe you need to be told this, we are all in the same uncomfortable freakshow cesspit that is The Outlast Fandom, no one is morally good. No one is better than anyone else. You cannot claim moral superiority over any character because at the end of the day, I can point to Wernicke and say with my full chest that he is objectively the worst because he's a literal nazi, and what then? Are you going to tell me that Franco is worse than a nazi? The debate is over, in the list of "who is the worst of these awful people", Wernicke wins hands DOWN. The point is null because EVERYONE SUCKS HERE!!! THAT'S THE POINT!!!!

Is that enough for you? Or are you gonna keep harassing people through your alts or getting your friends to do it? I can go alllllll day, baby, you ain't making me feel bad about my interests in the O U T L A S T fandom, dear GOD, this is ridiculous. Don't fucking condescend me, telling me to "get a brain" you don't KNOW ME, I am a stranger to you, why do you feel comfortable coming onto my blog harassing me about a video game character? That's not a good look for you and now it is immortalised here. Anonymous or not, you still did this. Whoever you are, you typed that out and sent it to a random person you do not know and felt comfortable enough to do so.

That's weird.

[pebblepathblog]

13 Shocking Reasons Your True Crime Addiction Will Destroy Your Life (And Why You Should Stop)

How Your True Crime Obsession is Quietly Destroying Your Life and You Don’t Even See It Coming

Confession time, I never thought watching true crime could mess with my head. I mean, what’s the harm in binge-watching documentaries about murder mysteries, right? It’s all “entertainment” until you find yourself triple-checking your locks at 2 a.m. and side eyeing your neighbor’s white van like it’s out to get you.

Sound familiar? Buckle up, because we’re about to dive into 13 under the radar ways true crime obsession can quietly wreck your life, and trust me, it’s darker than the cases you’ve been glued to.

1. You’ve Become the CEO of Overthinking

Ever find yourself mapping out a full fledged escape route every time you hear a creak in the house? Watching hours of grisly stories rewires your brain to expect the worst. Every stranger looks like a potential kidnapper, every shadow hides a serial killer.

Sure, it’s good to be cautious, but hypervigilance isn’t protecting you, it’s exhausting you. Not every white van is out to snatch you, Karen. Sometimes, it’s just a plumber. Relax. (But maybe still lock the door, let’s not go wild here.)

2. Your Sense of Humor is Officially Darker Than a Black Hole

Remember when you could laugh at lighthearted jokes? Now, you’re the person casually dropping murder trivia at dinner. “Did you know the average human body takes two hours to dissolve in acid?” Um, Susan, maybe not during dessert.

Your friends might start avoiding you, not because they don’t love you, but because you’re making them lose their appetite, and possibly their trust.

3. Your Love Life Is a Dumpster Fire

Is it just me, or do true crime fans have the weirdest dating profiles? Between looking for “non murdery vibes” and avoiding “Ted Bundy energy,” it’s no wonder your trust issues are skyrocketing. When you’re watching shows that paint everyone as a psychopath, trusting someone new feels like signing up for doom.

Dating tip: Maybe lead with your favorite hobby besides true crime. Or at least wait until the second date before you start dissecting “the psychology of a killer.” Just saying.

4. You’re Becoming Emotionally Numb

After watching hundreds of documentaries, hearing about a real-life tragedy barely fazes you anymore. “Oh, another murder? Pfft, I’ve seen worse on Netflix.” But losing that sensitivity disconnects you from reality, and from people who need your empathy.

5. You Have a PhD in “Crimeology” (But Zero Real-Life Expertise)

Sure, you’ve memorized the warning signs of a stalker, but don’t let your binge-watching fool you into thinking you’re Sherlock Holmes. Overconfidence in your “expertise” can actually make you reckless. Just because you’ve cracked some cold cases online doesn’t mean you’re invincible.

6. Your Anxiety is Sky High

Raise your hand if you’ve avoided walking alone in daylight because you just never know. True crime bingeing rewires your brain to see danger everywhere, even in safe spaces. If you’ve gone from cautious to full-blown paranoid, it’s time to ask, is this worth it?

If you’re fearful of leaving home and your anxiety has increased, it’s time to take a break.

7. Romanticizing Criminals? Yikes.

Some true crime shows have a knack for making villains look…cool? Before you know it, you’re fascinated by the “charm” of a serial killer instead of being horrified.

Morality check: Crushing on a criminal is not the vibe.

8. Your “Me Time” is Missing

When was the last time you painted, exercised, or did literally anything that wasn’t true crime related? Spending every waking hour immersed in dark stories crowds out hobbies that actually bring joy.

Your mental health deserves more than doom and gloom.

9. You’re Low Key Isolating Yourself

Obsessing over murder cases might make you feel like part of a niche community, but not everyone shares your enthusiasm for grisly details. If friends stop inviting you out because you’re glued to yet another unsolved case, don’t be surprised.

10. You’re Stuck in a Loop

Let’s be real: true crime is designed to hook you. The suspense, the drama, the shocking twists… it’s addictive. But when you’re staying up all night binge watching, it’s your energy and sanity paying the price.

Listening to endless stories of pain and suffering can drain your emotional reserves. Eventually, you’ll feel too exhausted to care about the people who need you in real life.

Protecting your own emotional health isn’t selfish, it’s necessary.

12. Triggering Old Wounds

If you have unresolved trauma, true crime can hit too close to home. What seems like harmless entertainment can end up reopening emotional scars. Take care of your mental health before diving into the next binge.

13. The World Feels Hopeless

Watching true crime can distort your worldview, making everything feel bleak. You might start to believe the world is full of monsters, leaving you disconnected from the good and hopeful moments in life.

Don’t let the darkness of fictionalized drama eclipse the light in real life.

My Final Thoughts

Breaking Free From the True Crime Trap

Look, I’m not saying true crime is evil. But when it starts stealing your joy, your peace, and your trust in the world, it’s time to set some boundaries. Swap a few murder mysteries for a comedy special or a good book. Rediscover hobbies that make you feel alive. Talk to friends about something other than grisly crimes.

Because life is too short to spend it looking over your shoulder.

Share this article with your fellow true crime lovers, and let’s start a conversation about finding balance!

Enjoyed this story? If you love thought provoking stories like this one, make sure to subscribe for more! From heartwarming tales to controversial debates, we’ll keep you entertained and leave you with plenty to think about.

Don’t miss out, hit that subscribe button now!

[seabirdtxt]

Wish Upon

Wanderer takes a chance at catching a fallen star and earning himself a blessing from Celestia. It may be his only true chance at obtaining a heart.

Notes: Stardust AU! no use of 'y/n'. only very vaguely related to actual Stardust, this will veer off into its own thing pretty quickly. :3c

WC. 1.4k

----- ⚘ -----

For as long as he has existed, the puppet has wanted a heart. As time crawls on, he moves from one name to the next, each with its own lived experiences.

He is just a Wanderer, now. After everything, fate decided he still wasn’t done with the world just yet. In the wake of his defeat at the Traveler’s hands, and his subsequent ‘adoption’ by the Dendro archon, Wanderer thought his aspirations of obtaining a heart were behind him.

Until he hears the rumors of a star being knocked loose from the heavens.

There are all sorts of myths attached to falling stars, they are said to be manifestations of Celestia’s favor, granted to those who have earned a boon from divinity greater than even the archons. They come in the form of blessings of strength, in star-forged weaponry, incomparable wealth, and fame. A wish to be granted beyond the bearer’s wildest imagination.

Which is why, when Wanderer sees the star falter in the sky before beginning its descent, he decides he wants that blessing for himself.

The journey to the edge of Liyue is a blur, quite literally in Wanderer’s case as he rides the wind at the fastest speed he could muster. The shine of stargold in the distance growing ever fainter as he races toward it. Dawn is just beginning to break when finally, finally, he stumbles upon the crash site.

That’s where he sees you, standing amidst the rubble and overturned trees, sitting in the glowing crater and cradling a nasty gash on your head. A stranger, with strange clothes, and a strange, dim glow in the morning light.

For a moment he’s angry, wondering how you could have gotten here before him, before he is overtaken by reluctant concern. He allows himself to land, stepping lightly as he comes to your side.

“What’s wrong?” he asks none too gently, uncaring of being rude to a newcomer, and crossing his arms as a frown overtakes his features. He nearly startles when you look up at him, and the light from the rising sun makes it seem like your eyes shine.

“They attacked me,” you explain, sniffing sadly as you rub your injury, spreading blood over your skin with the careless motion. With a noise of disgust, Wanderer reaches down and yanks your hand away, ignoring your weak cry of protest, and cleans the blood from your head with the edge of his own sleeve.

“You’re going to make it worse, idiot,” he scoffs. After he’s sure you won’t try to touch the injury again, he rips a strip from his own sleeve and uses it to bandage your head with perfunctory gestures. When he’s done, he stands up straight and admires his own first aid skills. “Alright, now that that’s taken care of, who attacked you?”

You smile at him gratefully, running your fingertips along the edge of the cloth. You draw your hand away before he can berate you for touching the site again. “There were people, with masks on,” you tell him. “They took something very important from me…”

“Treasure hoarders,” Wanderer guesses, looking over the edge of the crater to see if the group had left any traces. “I’m assuming you’re talking about the fallen star, right? You’re pretty naïve at best to have come out here without a weapon or fighting experience, and you’re an imbecile at worst. Really, you’re just lucky they didn’t kill you outright for your stupidity.”

You don’t respond, biting your lip to hide the tremble as his harsh words wash over you. Wanderer almost falters at your pathetic expression, but catches himself before he can do anything irrational, like try to comfort you.

“It doesn’t matter,” he shakes his head, the bells on his head ringing in the early dawn. He turns and begins walking away with lazy strides. “I took care of you, so stop whining like a baby and go home, already. I’m going to go find those treasure hoarders. See ya.”

“Wait!” He hears you scramble behind him, but he doesn't bother turning around until you’ve caught up. “Wait, I have to come with you!”

Wanderer’s eyes narrow in annoyance. “I promise that you really don’t,” he snaps.

“What are you gonna do with a star-core by itself?” You counter, hands on your hips. “You’re looking to get a wish granted, right? A core on its own can’t do anything, someone has to wield it.”

“You mean like a catalyst?” Wanderer drawls while summoning his own weapon, the bell giving a faint chime.

“Sort of!” You nod hastily. “But each core is keyed to its specific owner, so you won’t be able to use it.”

“And how do I know you’re telling the truth?” Wanderer raises a single eyebrow, feeling the irritation bubble up further inside him. “For all I know, you could be after the star to take that wish for yourself. I won’t babysit you the whole way just for you to steal it from me at the last second.”

“We'll, if I’m lying, you can…” You trail off, gesturing wildly with open palms. “Leave me in the middle of nowhere! You said it yourself, I’m unarmed and helpless, and I have no way of knowing where you’d go. Please? I promise I’ll keep up!”

Wanderer doesn’t move as he gives you a long, considering look. In all honesty, if you do end up trying to rob him he knows you don’t actually stand a chance against him in a fight. The only thing he would have to lose, is time.

“Fine,” Wanderer turns away, resuming his pace. “Don’t slow me down, and don’t annoy me.”

There’s rapid footsteps as you hurry to fall into line beside him. “I get the feeling you’re the kind of guy who’s easily annoyed?” You ask, which Wanderer refuses to justify with a response.

For almost an hour the silence persists, to Wanderer’s relief. Tracking the treasure hoarders is a bit harder than he anticipated, finding traces of several individual groups scattered around the immediate area. Eventually, he deems one group of footprints as the most recent, and begins following them.

Most annoyingly, he cannot fly as long as you’re accompanying him. Well, he could, technically, but what if you’re telling the truth? He may need your help achieving his goal after all, so ditching you would do him no good. Besides, you’ve been behaving yourself so far. Relatively speaking.

He steals a glance in your direction, watching as you pick a leaf off some plant and put it in your mouth. He would be worried about potential poisoning, but he recognizes it as a berry plant, and he lets you chew on the leaf. He looks on with mild amusement as your face scrunches up and you open your mouth to stick your tongue out, carefully peeling the half-chewed leaf out of your mouth and putting it back on the ground.

“Having fun over there?” He asks, snickering as you jump in surprise at his sudden vocalization.

“I thought the leaf would taste as good as the fruit,” you reply with a shrug. “I tried a rock earlier, too, but it was too hard to properly crunch. It tasted like salt, though.”

“Are you a dog?? Stop putting random things in your mouth for no reason.” Wanderer sighs, walking over to you and grabbing your wrist. He drags you over to another plant, this one with a tall cluster of blue flowers on it. He picks a few leaves off and shoves them in your mouth just as you’re about to say something. “Here, have this one.”

He lets go of you as you chew on the leaves, a look of wonder on your face. You give him a broad grin, picking the rest of the leaves off the plant and holding them close to your chest.

“These ones taste good!” You say after swallowing. “What are they?”

Wanderer can only give you a blank stare. “Are you serious? You don’t know what mint is?”

“I don’t know what anything is!” You answer cheerfully, putting another mint leaf in your mouth. “I’ve never been here before!”

“What? You’re kidding, right?” Wanderer thinks he may be in over his head right now. He absolutely did not sign up for this. “But you know what salt is, you just admitted it yourself before!”

You laugh at his disbelieving expression. “Of course I know that! There’s salt in space.”

“Space?!”

“Uh-huh,” you nod quickly, seemingly oblivious to how confused Wanderer is becoming. “That’s where I’m from! You know, because I’m a star!”

You’re a what?!

[eeriesilkworm]

(some minor discussion of leaks and speculation, do not read if you are avoiding mentions of leaks).

The Bychance drama in the tags has been interesting to observe as a newer fan. I’ve been watching Stranger Things since 2016, but only recently started following the online fandom in anticipation of ST5, as I enjoy reading peoples fan theories and speculation.

I started seriously shipping Byler earlier this year after a re-watch and lurked Tumblr to gain some deeper insights. I’ve never been in the habit of shipping random characters together, so I wasn’t around for the initial “crackship” of Bychance, or any other crackships (apparently Will x Gareth used to be thing?? LOL).

For me, my introduction to the idea of Bychance was through some interesting and well-thought-out theory posts. I’m certainly not fully convinced, but I do see some merit in it. Stranger things have happened, I suppose?

In terms of the age-gap discourse, I feel somewhat out of my element to contribute. I’m a bit older, it’s been a while since I was in high school. I never seriously dated until I was 19 and have only dated people at least 4+ years older than me since.

With the leaked images of Andy and Chance on the school grounds wearing their letterman jackets, I’m led to assume they’re still in high school in ST5, most likely seniors. That and the locker titled “Jock 2” makes me think these two boys are not yet graduated.

With ST5 taking place in the fall of 1987, this would make our main cast of “kids” 16, with Will specifically being approx. 4 months away from turning 17. If Chance is a senior, then he would be 17/18 depending on his birth month. That’s probably an age gap of just under 2 years. 2 years seems small on paper, but I get that age differences are more significant when you’re younger.

I’m inclined to let my opinion on the “ickiness” of Bychance be led by fans of a similar age to our “kids” in the show, as I’m unable to remember what my thoughts on that kind of age gap would have been when I was that age.

(Though, I do feel teenagers now see relationships and dating–for better or worse–differently to when I was a teen, and of course, differently to Gen X teens as well).

In terms of Bylers receiving harassment in their inboxes from Bychancers, that is always unacceptable, but I am a little bit suspicious. (Not suspicious that people are planting them of course, but rather, who is sending them).

It could be due to the kinds of blogs I follow, but I very rarely see people seriously shipping Bychance or wanting them to be endgame. The idea that there is a quiet underground of Bychance-truthers exacting a hate campaign is very odd to me. Then again, I’m newer to the fandom, so perhaps I just overestimated the level of maturity to expect on here.

Finally, the discourse surrounding whether Bychance theorizers should post under the Byler tag. In my opinion, if their theory/ speculation is directly related to a positive outcome for Byler, I think they absolutely should. After all, that’s how I came across it: I was introduced to Bychance as a potential plot device, not a ship, so that’s how I see it.  If you don’t want to see Bychance theories or speculation under the Byler tag, I recommend you block the Bychance tag altogether. As for actual shipping fanart or fanfiction, I think this should remain solely under the Bychance tag. But that's just my take, no one here is the tagging police.

I’m not sure why people are so upset. I really like that the Byler fandom is not an echo-chamber, where everyone shares the same thoughts and ideas about what ST5 will look like. The way I see it: if you don’t agree or don’t like, you have every right to simply not interact with it or even make your own thoughtful counter-opinion post.

Anyway, I’m not sure who will read this long-winded post of my own, but I hope it can resonate with at least a few people who see it. I’m not inclined to get upset over a speculative theory on a website that encourages fans to delve deep into fandom. I read plenty of posts on here that I don’t agree with, but I’m still glad to have read them and known that someone interprets the material differently to myself.

I hope anyone who has been harassed (whether pro or anti-Bychance) is okay. Immature and unkind people will say all sorts of things anonymously, don’t let them get in your head.

Remember to be kind, rewind, and use this site with care. 😊

[bunnies-and-loverboys]

To the (trans)masculine person looking to get into actually wearing lolita fashion

including out and about, and not just in the secret of one’s bedroom

Hi! I’m an average trans guy with a love of lolita fashion and also a big hairy bear body that is very much not a cisgender woman’s body. Here are some pieces of advice I have collected from my time wearing the fashion, that I think can make the experience of wearing the frills a happier one when one is transmasculine, or, frankly, any sort of masculine.

The list is a bit long, so it's under the "read more". Happy reading!

Evaluate what makes you uncomfortable in a gender-related way and what doesn’t, then act in consequence. I know that having long hair and wearing skirts doesn’t bother me, but shaving myself makes me feel quite dysphoric. Thus, I wear my lolita dresses and skirts happily, while sporting a neatly trimmed beard.

Experiment to avoid some bad surprises. Related to the first piece of advice, if you don’t know whether something will make you feel uncomfortable/less manly/dysphoric, try it out in private before you go to an event, to avoid feeling uncomfortable at the event or having to leave before you want to out of discomfort. I wasn’t sure If I’d feel better taking pictures of myself in my lolita coords without a beard or with, so I shaved and tried to take pictures and found that I preferred to sport my facial hair while wearing lolita. While experimenting beforehand won't get rid of ALL bad surprises, it'll already be a good number avoided.

Be ready for things to not fit you as they should or not fit you at all, but do not get discouraged. A lot of lolita clothes are made with a conventional woman's body in mind. If you do not have breasts, you might find that some tops and dresses have weird proportions on you, like the waist of a garment being much smaller than the bust of that garment. In that case, either look for custom sized clothes or get a size bigger than what you’d need and alter it/get it altered to fit you. If you are taller, or broad in the shoulders, or fat, or multiple of those qualifiers, it will be harder to find lolita clothes that fit you, but there are options. Some brands have wider ranges of size or provide custom sizing; turn to those. Don’t beat yourself up about smaller clothes not fitting you, although I know it is hard when you really like the design of something and it doesn’t come in your size; some people alter things that don’t fit them to make them bigger, though, so not all is lost. If you want to start making your own lolita clothes, go for it, it is not seen as a bad thing, in fact, most people I’ve met found it really cool.

Be prepared for strangers to be weird about lolita fashion. That may come in the form of being asked strange questions (“Are you a boy or a girl? Is this a regional costume? Is it cosplay?”) or in the form of people looking at you weird and whispering among themselves, or in some cases even heckling or worse. Some may opt to do specific things for peace of mind. For instance, when commuting in lolita fashion, I wear a face mask and long socks to get less attention about my facial and body hair. It is also good to be in groups while commuting, or at least with one other person you know. If people are weird to you, remember it's them being weird and not your responsibility for them being weird; you're just out and about wearing clothes.

Be prepared for people to assume that you are a woman if you are not displaying any conventional outward sign of masculinity while wearing lolita fashion. For some people, I understand that it may be a dealbreaker, especially if you are a transgender man who has spent a lot of time and effort into be recognized as a man publicly. Personally, while I don’t like it, I understand that they are rarely blessed with meeting someone who wears lolita fashion, much less men doing so, and do I consider it a fair, if unfortunately wrong, assumption. Additionally, be prepared for people to assume that you are a transgender woman if you are displaying outward signs of masculinity while wearing lolita fashion. Most people who aren’t super informed about queer people know of transgender women more than they know of gender-non-conforming transgender men, and some more bigoted people will lump cis queer men and transgender women together arbitrarily in their refusal to understand more about transgender people or queer people in general. While being a transgender woman is not an insult (though some people may try to make it one, in less elegant terms), you can politely inform them that you are a man if it suits you to do so, or ignore them and go about your day.

Wearing lolita fashion as a man is definitely intimidating, but if you love the way it looks and find ways to make it work for you, and you have fun wearing it, then you’re doing it right. Lolita fashion is about unashamed joy in pretty details, and anyone of any gender has a right to unashamed joy in the garments they want to wear. A lot of lolita fashion wearers I have met welcomed me gladly upon seeing me genuinely enjoy the fashion, and a number of them are queer themselves, although most often women. So, there’s room for men in lolita fashion, and let us never forget that Mana, the icon himself, is, after all, a man (although not the big and hairy variety).

I haven’t seen a whole lot of men rocking the fashion, and even less the ones with a bear physique, but I hope this encourages anyone who has been wanting to try, but felt intimidated by it, to give it a shot!