#so I just don't so like.. isn't that just me saying to myself I don't really care for my friend ? like even if its awkward for me wouldn't

[themaveriqueagenda]

this is really interesting! though parts of it seem slightly contradictory, because there's this

please apply them at will to yourself based on your own ideas about what it means to dress femininely or dramatically or androgynously etc.

but also this:

describing [...] a presentation others might consider masculine/feminine

is it up to one's own interpretation or about how others see you? particularly as an apothibinary person i have a lot of trouble taking on other people's perceptions of me as a self-descriptor, because they're usually binary(-adjacent). i'm also flat out just not going to give people power over my words like that. (i'm not saying that anyone who identifies as masc/fem because that's how others perceive them is wrong btw. i know many do it for simplicity as well as for self-empowerment. i just personally cannot.)

i also take issue with the

masc---fem scale

because if we can acknowledge that the gender spectrum itself isn't linear like that, we must acknowledge this about the spectrum of gender presentation too. you can be outside of the masc---fem scale or you can just simply not label your gender presentation at all.

another thing that feels a little off to me is that fox is described as an

androgynous, fluid, or combined presentation

while also being described as

[not resembling] the other sides of the spectrum

that latter definition is actually broader than androgynous, fluid or combined, as it does technically also include anything outside of that scale or nothing at all, but it's not truly accounting for that.

i'm aware the chart exists mainly for lighthearted silliness, but also you can say that masculinity and femininity are up to interpretation all you want, the chart is once again very stereotypical and doesn't really leave wiggle room for people with broader definitions of masculinity, femininity or androgyny. for example, i sometimes like wearing dresses which most would consider swan/feminine, but i feel deeply uncomfortable calling myself or my dresses feminine or swan (because let's be real, swan here is just another word for feminine).

i know this post is over 7 years old so how we talk about nonbinary presentation has evolved a bit. i'd be curious if anyone ever expanded on these terms to account for other gender presentations.

nonetheless, if i had to put myself on that scale, i'd probably be a crow-fox, because not resembling the other sides is the most how i conceptualise my gender presentation.

however, at this point, i don't really use any gender presentation terms, not even maverine or other outherine terms, because i no longer find them personally helpful to me. i could dress in exclusively skirts and dresses and i would still not consider my gender presentation feminine because i consider that to be misgendering. most people would perceive me as feminine though if i did that, so at that point, i wouldn't really be communicating anything if i called my presentation maverine when everyone else sees someone feminine. at this point, my gender presentation is synonymous with my gender. i'm maverique, so everything i wear is also maverique.

hopefully other people can get more use of this spectrum though and i'd be curious where all the maveriques & friends fall on this.

Non-binary Presentation Terms

Although words like butch, femme, masc, and fem have been applied to nonbinary folk since their inception, they don’t always meet the needs of non-binary people in comfortably describing the way we look. 

So here are a new additional set of options! We’ve considered two different “axes” here – one that relates most closely to the masc—fem scale, and one that considers “effort”, or a level of… drama or ostentation in a look. They can be combined as one pleases or used individually! 

Additionally, please apply them at will to yourself based on your own ideas about what it means to dress femininely or dramatically or androgynously etc. These words are not to be held hostage to cissexism or gender roles. These words also describe presentations that are inherently not binary – the only reason we’re using words like “masculine” and “feminine” to describe them at all is for ease of communication. They can and should describe particular looks, including those that people are inclined to gender, without actually gendering them. 

Note: These are not coined with the intention of being gender identities. They have nothing inherently to do with gender identity. You can be a demigirl stag, etc. (That said, if someone wants to use them as a gender because you feel it’s tied closely to your presentation, we’re certainly not stopping you.) 

Here they are!

Stag: A “masc”, “butch” or “tomcat” equivalent, describing a presentation one considers to be associated with ideas about masculinity, or a presentation others might consider masculine. 

Fox: Describing an androgynous, fluid, or combined presentation; can be applied to any presentation a person feels doesn’t resemble the other sides of the spectrum.  

Swan: A “femme/fem” or “doe” equivalent, describing a presentation one considers to be associated with ideas about femininity, or a presentation others might consider feminine. 

Sparrow: A casual, minimalist, muted or low-effort presentation. For example, for those folks who just roll through their closet and go. 

Crow: For presentations that are in-between, combined, or fluid along a scale of effort/ostentation. 

Peacock: For presentations that are high effort. Glam, dramatic, flashy, flamboyant, attention-drawing, etc. Dressed to the nines, so to speak! 

so anyway tag urself

(chart meant purely to be silly and fun, not to suggest actual criteria or associations. Disregard entirely if you resonate with the terms but not these goofy tidbits.)

Keep reading

[kurokawaia]

DAY TWENTY THREE - BABY TRAPPING 彡 Aizen Sosuke

WARNINGS :: x fem reader, afab, yandere, coercion, manipulation, baby trapping, no protection, missionary, fingering, cervix kissing, NC cumming inside, + more

| WC :: 2.8k+ | MDNI | 18+ | kinkmas m.list

You knew about Aizen, what he wanted to achieve-you were the only person he had told apart from three others. You were going to go ahead and help him make this dream a reality. To be in the company of Aizen was to be with a God-the level of control he had, it scared you, couldn't tell if you felt safe too. He's always there to protect you, keeps you hidden away so you can't get hurt. Still, something has always been a bit off about him; you noticed it, how his eyes would follow your every move, every breath. It started innocently enough with Aizen as a perfect gentleman, never forcing and yet giving you just enough space to feel independent. Subtle changes began to happen over time. "Are you going out again?" Aizen's voice came out soft, he is masking his disapproval, he's waiting for the right moment to force you to stay with him. You lifted your gaze from the mirror in front of you and finished styling out your hair. "Just for a little while. Soon I will be back." His eyes stayed on you a moment, his smile false as he stared at you. "I worry about you," he said, moving in behind you and setting his hands on your shoulders before trailing off down to your hands. "The world is a dangerous place, and I'm not always going to be here to protect you. You're only a healer, you can't do much, my love." Comforting, even, his words were sweet. You think. A lump, tense feeling began to grow in your stomach but you laughed it off, brushing his hands with a soft touch. "I'll be fine, Sosuke! I can take care of myself." But the seed had been sown. Over weeks, he came further into your life, and what you used to decide for yourself would, it seemed henceforth, have first to pass through him. And he keeps reminding you so often with a soft chuckle that he wants nothing but the best for you. "You know, you need to take more rest," Aizen said to you one night while doing reports. He leaned over you with his hand tucked in the back of your nemaki, drawing circles, almost to sooth you. "All this stress isn't good for your health." You faltered, words caught in your throat. "I need to finish this." "You don't," he returned smoothly. His fingers closed over your shoulder, tightening just a fraction. "What you need is to unwind. I don't like seeing you overexerting yourself." Before he could object further, he leaned forward and rolled the scroll shut before taking it in his hands. "I'll take care of everything," he whispered. "Just trust me." At first, it was very easy to confuse his overprotectiveness with care. He was attentive, loving in his own peculiar way. Before long, the control started to become more evident with each passing day. 

He never raised his voice nor did he yell. He didn't have to. His words had been enough to lead you to wherever he wanted you to go. And they were so gradual besides, too slight, almost imperceptible. He started taking you away from your friends, from your captain, your lieutenant, subtly making you feel they were not people you should trust. "They don't understand you the way I do," he'd say stroking your hair as you lay in his arms. "They'll only hold you back." And when you fell, he'd lift your chin so it faced his eyes, the skin of your forehead grazing his lips in a feather-soft touch. "I only want what's best for you." You had begun to lean on him, questioning your choices, and if indeed you really knew what was best for you. Then you went to Aizen to see if it was okay-the things you were doing. Aizen had this way of speaking, as though he was the only one who knew you. Lying beside him in bed, as night fell, you said what was pent up inside your mind, "Aizen, am I the only one who thinks this all went a bit too fast? I feel like... I'm losing myself." His response was immediate. "You aren't losing yourself, my love, you're finding who you're really supposed to be. With me, you don't have to worry about a thing. Always, I will take care of you," he says with a softness, but his words are like honey. Still, with those words somehow, it sent shivers down your spine. That was when the future conversations started, light at first, talks about what life could be if you stayed together. A house, peaceful life, children. "You'd make a great mother," he said one afternoon as his eyes latched onto yours. "Can't you imagine building a life with me?" Your heart had skipped a beat, but there was a growing discomfort. "Perhaps someday, but I don't know if I'm ready for that as yet." Aizen didn't press the issue then, but the subject kept coming up. He'd casually touch your belly, remark on how ideal it would be to have a family, how complete your bond would be if you were tied together in every possible way. "It's natural to be wary," Aizen told you one evening while you sat before the fireplace. His hand lay limply on your thigh, his thumb tracing soft patterns. "But do think about it. A child would only strengthen our love. We'd be forever bound." You laughed a little nervously and brushed the suggestion aside. "That's a big step, Aizen. I'm just not sure I'm ready." He smiled gently, his eyes concealing something, something that you don't notice. "You will see, in time, it is the best thing that can happen to us." You didn't know that in his mind, a decision was already made.

Aizen and you have had sex multiple times, so it isn't a rare occurrence for the two of you to have sex at least once a day, at the least, it would be once every two days. But, Aizen makes sure to leave you every night, making sure that you are so fucked out due to pleasure that you forget to notice particular things. 

Specifically, something that is about to happen tonight. 

Your arms are pinned above your head, as Aizen's fingers experimentally push past your slick folds, his fingers pressing past your clit, and a surge of pleasure courses through you, leaving you breathless and desperate for more.

 A moan left your mouth as your back arched to his touch. Your reaction made Aizen press down slightly more, and your legs squeezed around his waist, moans stringing out your mouth.

You felt his fingers slide down, and he found your seeping hols drenched with arousal. A finger slowly slid inside your heat, a whimper leaving your mouth. "Does this feel good?" Aizen asked, and you nodded frantically.

"F-Fuck... feels so good, Sosuke," you whimpered as he started to slowly pump in and out your soaked walls.

"Really?" He asked and you moaned as he inserted another finger into your walls.

Overwhelming, a perfect mix of pleasure and intensity, it leaves you unable to hold back your moans. You lean your lips against his shoulder, muffling those sounds that burst from deep inside you. His fingers delve deep inside your core, firing a flame that engulfs every thought. Every movement, every curl sends shockwaves of pleasure across your body.

You let go and surrender to his intoxicating rhythm of touches. The junction of his skilled fingers with the intensity of our connection cossets you closer to the edge and teetering on the precipice of release. It was just a pure moment of bliss, where time seemed to stand still, filled completely with an overwhelming pleasure that coursed through the veins.

With Aizen's fingers pumping in and out of your seeping hole relentlessly, there was a familiar tightness growing in your lower abdomen, and pleasure that had tightened inside your stomach. You wrap your shaking legs around him, trying to hold on to him as the pleasure overflows. Anticipation ripples your body, reacting to every single one of his touches and movements.

You chant his name into his neck as praises leave your mouth, your voice filled with desire and need. The tears welling in your eyes are not from pain but from the overwhelming pleasure that threatens to consume you whole.

At your pleading, sucks the skin around your neck once more, groaning against your neck, his voice husky with desire. His thumb starts pressing your clit with its fleshy pad, another layer added onto the sensations that are already so intense. The touch is electrifying, your back arches in response.

"Please, Sosuke," you sob. "I need to..."

"Let your body take over for you, you want this and I've got you," Aizen reassured, intertwining your mouths together, his mouth swallowing the moans that slipped out your mouth.

Waves of ecstasy wash over you, leaving your legs trembling and weak from the intensity of the sensations. He slips his fingers from your hole and you continue to tremble from the aftermath of the orgasm. You managed to release myself from Aizen's neck and move away from his hold.

"Feeling alright?" Aizen asks cupping my cheeks.

"...yeah..." you breath out slowly while looking into his eyes. Aizen makes you feel so good, all the time, always focusing n your own pleasure, it's like he's trying to win you over for something, to distract you from something-

"There is more coming," Aizen said slowly, his brown eyes piercing into your own and they widened.

"More?" you tease, "What possibly could you give me more of?"

"So much, my love," Aizen hums. "Just let yourself loose, don't focus on anything, just on the pleasure I will give."

He delicately bites the shell of your ear making you let out a quiet whimper. you could feel him smile against your ear at your reaction. Aizen's touch caused you to dig your nails slightly into his chest leaving light crescent marks causing more deep exhales of breaths to get caught in your ear.

Aizen moved his head and his body suddenly firmly pressed against yours and you whimpered at the feeling of his dick pressing up agasint your stomach. His lips mingled with yours his minty taste and smell overflowed your senses making it a complete euphoria for you. you cupped the back of his neck to create a deeper angle for him to go explore deeper into your mouth with our tongues continuing to entangle with each other.

Aizen groans into your mouth, the hand that was trailing down your thigh moved swiftly back to your waist and the other intertwined with your hair at the base of your neck, pulling you closer to him. you let out breathy sighs into him as your own hand interlaced with his chocolte and your other wrapped around behind his neck.

His other hand moved its way down to tightly lift your thigh up which made his body mould closer to mine making you feel his dick press up against your soaked core. The kiss slows down and turns soft and almost desperate it's as if he wants to take his time with you, savouring every inch of your taste, to take his sweet time to memorise you.

"Look at you," he teases. "Trembling under my touch."

Aizen pants against your lips and you didn't have time to reply as he pressed them against you once more. "Please," I whimper out.

"Hmm?"

"I want you...." you mumble. "Stop teasing me."

Aizen kissing your forehead like you were a child who listened to their parent. "Good girl."

He presses his lips against mine to take your mind off. you feel a hard tip get lubricated at your entrance making your back arch into him as you let out a strangled moan of pleasure into his mouth. He continues to push further into you making your eyebrows furrow together in pain but the pleasure is still overwhelming your senses making tears prick at your eyes.

"Oh, you feel so good," Aizen whimpers into your neck. "You're so perfect."

You moan. The feeling of pure ecstasy of him fully entered you, the pain gone.

You feel his dick scraping across your plush walls in all the right places as he slowly exited your cunt, but not fully. Your moans and whimpers get swallowed by each other. you feel his thrusts speed up and you moan in response, your walls clenching around him causing the grip Aizen held on your thigh and waist to tighten.

The coil in your stomach getting tighter and your moans slightly became higher. Aizen continued to groan into your neck after he pulled away from the heated kiss.

"You make- me feel so goo- d," you say moaning throughout your sentence, "Feels so good-" you felt the coil in your stomach snap as your back arched painfully into Aizen's bare chest causing Aizen to groan and his arms moved to wrap tightly around you.

You arched your back heavily, able at last to sink further into his embrace. Aizen leaned over, drawing you near to him and initiating a messy, moist kiss, pushing his tongue into your mouth, letting out grunts as he absorbed your sounds of pleasure. 

Effectively distracting you as he cums half in your cunt and the rest all over your stomach. He mimics that he's pulled out when in reality, he's got you filled with his seed, ready for you to bare his child.

-------------------------------------------------

 Aizen watched you from his chair.. "You're shaking, dear. What's going through your mind?" His voice was smooth, treacherous in a way that completely made it impossible for you to feel anything but relaxed and on edge all at once.

"I-I just don't understand...," you stammered, your hand falling to rest on your stomach, that for the last couple of weeks had started to show the signs of the life growing inside you. "How could this have happened? We were careful..."

Aizen chuckled low in his throat. "Oh, my love. Did you truly think I would leave something so important to chance? This was always a part of the plan."

You froze, your mind racing. "Wha... what do you mean?"

He stood, moving towards you with the grace of a predator stalking his prey. His hand cupped your cheek as he leaned down to whisper in your ear, "I made it happen. I want you bound to me in every way possible. You're mine now-mind, body, and soul."

It swept over you, you realise everything now. Every sweet word, every tender touch, was all an act to trap you. And in one swell, tears began to well within your eyes, but a gentle smiling Aizen wiped them away.

"There is no reason to cry, dear, this is for the best. Now you shall never leave me. You shall carry my child, and we will be bound together, forever." His lips pressed against your forehead. Your breath hitched as his hand slipped into your stomach. How had you not seen this all along? All those nights he had held you close, whispering sweet promises to your ear-all part of his carefully designed trap. He straightened, watching your. "You're too precious to let slip away. You see that, don't you?" His fingers brushed your skin. "You planned this," I whispered, more for my benefit than his. "You wanted this all along..."

Aizen smiled. "Of course. You really didn't think I'd leave a thing like that to chance, did you? I have always had a vision for us-a future wherein you would be mine-completely." You took another step backward, feeling the beating of your heart within your chest, but there was nowhere to go. "What if I don't want it?" you whispered almost soundlessly. "You are emotional now. Understandably so. But time will let you see this as precisely what you need." His voice was coaxing, speaking as he would to a frightened child. You shook your head, fighting down the panic rising into your throat. "I don't want to be trapped like this, Aizen. You can't just take away my choices." Aizen's hand rose to your chin, the pad of his thumb tipping your face upwards, forcing you to meet his gaze. "Oh my love, I have not taken anything from you. I've simply... ensured that we shall never again be parted. Is it not what you wanted, deep down?" "I... I don't know," you said, voice shaking. "Shhh," Aizen cooed, pressing a strand of hair behind your ear. "You are overwhelmed now. But in time, you shall see: our child will bind us together, and you shall understand that was the only way. You shall thank me for protecting our future. "Why?" one finally asked, barely above a whisper. "Why go to such an extent? Aizen's smile pulled taut over his lips, never quite reaching his eyes. "Because I love you. And when I love someone, I make sure they can never leave me." Aizen leaned down until his lips brushed against your ear. "There's no escape, my dear. Not now, not ever."

Do not steal, copy, modify, translate or use for ai Reblogs only!

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[episodes-ff]

Aftershock

Terry

Sitting up against the wall as I stared across at the door to our room, I waited in peril prepared to explain myself and apologize to Anaya. What I did was beyond the pail of disrespect and I want the chance to express how extremely disappointed I am in myself. Rubbing my eyes as I fought sleep for the umpteenth time to endure her wrath, I looked outside and watched the sun rising with the morning breeze. Hearing the door to the bedroom creaking open, I connected with her beautiful, red puffy eyes and watched as she and Maya exited the door. "Ny, ple-" Shoving her hand up, she angrily stormed past me into the kitchen to prepare some food for Maya as I blew a frustrated breath and shook my head. Taking a whiff of myself, I shuddered at the must entering my nose before going into the room to shower.

Finishing the much needed shower, I changed into a quick t-shirt and sweats before hurrying down to the kitchen. Halting in my steps as I spotted my mom and dad sipping their morning coffee as Anaya fed baby girl, I swallowed the major lump in my throat. "Good morning, everybody. Um, Anaya, can I speak with you for a moment?" "No need, your family is waiting on you in the living room." She spat viciously as she let out a vile chuckle and handed Maya to my dad; storming past me, she made sure to bump me hard on the way up. Knitting my brows in confusion, I glanced over to the living room to see Bree and I's son, Trey perched quietly on the couch on his tablet. "Anaya, wait!"

Running up the stairs behind her, I made it to the bedroom to see her sitting on the bed in tears. Dropping to my knees in front of her, I gently removed her hands from her face as she whined feebly trying to shove me away. "Get the fuck off of me, Terrence! You make me sick! Move!" "Please just let me explain, Naya." "Why?! Why would I want to sit here and listen to you talk about fucking this bitch and getting her pregnant? Cheating on me and disgracing our marriage? Hiding it from me for two years? Why are you trying to put me through this trauma?!" She ranted sobbing.

Lowering my head in her lap, I shook my head wrapping my arms around her waist. "There's no amount of words I can say to express how fucking sorry I am, baby." "You're not sorry, Terry. And you don't love me. This?! This isn't love, not in the slightest." "It's the worst mistake I've ever made, and I'm so ashamed that I ever hurt you like this. I know you don't want my word, but you have my actions that I will make this right." I pleaded crying as she hiccuped holding her face. "Your actions have done enough, I just need to be away from you right now, Terry. This all just hurts too much." Nodding as my heart shattered, I kissed her forehead gently before making my way back down to tend to the kids.

Anaya

After recovering my nerves and feelings, I took a relaxing enough shower and got dressed. Pulling my phone and wallet along with my purse, I slowly made my way back to the kitchen. "Oh, you look pretty dear. Where are you headed?" Miss Teresa asked as Terry looked up from holding Maya to stare at me. "Thank you, Mama. I just need to clear my head for a little while. I'll be back." "Understandable, sweetheart. Take your time." Nodding, I hugged her close before grabbing the rental keys and leaving the house. Sitting in the car for a little while as it warmed from the winter chill, I sighed before turning off my location and driving off.

Finally making it to the cemetery, I grabbed the fresh poinsettias as I trekked through to my desired spot. Making contact with her headstone, I set the plant down and thought of what to say. "Merry Christmas, Mommy. I know you would be so proud of your grandbaby right now. She's so smart and bright, reminds me a lot of you. She definitely has your personality." I smiled reminiscing on Maya's sassy side before I felt my emotions kicking in. "Mommy, please! Help me through this pain! I don't know how much more I can take. It just hurts so much." I cried thinking on all this drama. "Anaya?" Looking up, I wiped my tears as my gaze met with his. "Hi, Eric." I said addressing Terry's best friend as he smiled. "Well I'll be damned. When did y'all get into town?" "Um, we got in yesterday." "That's wassup, that's wassup! Where's my godbaby with her adorable little smile? I be seeing her here and there on FaceTime." "With her bitch ass father." I accidentally spat with venom as he looked up confused.

"You good?" He asked concerned as I nodded. "Uh, yea, my bad. It's just a lot happening right now." "Hey, it's no biggie. Everything ok with you and Tee?" "No comment right now." "My fault my fault, well I know y'all will get through whatever is going on. That man loves you to death as do you." He added making me scoff quietly. "Yea, well I'll see you around, E. I'll have him FaceTime you with Maya later so you can see her now." "That's a bet, thank you. You be safe, now." "You as well." Parting ways, I shook my head before finishing my conversation with my mom and heading to the car. Feeling a bit of hunger kick in, I groaned stopping at the store to get a light snack. I haven't even been able to hold down any food because of all this stress, and my appetite has been gone since I saw that bitch standing in the foyer with that little boy.

Shaking my head as I held back my evil thoughts, I strolled the aisles in a hurry for a snack when I ran into a hard figure. "Ohhh shit, my bad. I didn't even- Wait a minute?" The handsome voice soothed before helping me up. Dusting myself off, I looked up and smiled seeing him standing in the flesh. "Rome?" "Yeaaaaa, Anaya right?" "Yea." I blushed as he kissed my hand. "You know, I was waiting on that call but it never came. What have you been up to?" "Uhhh, well, I became a mommy and wife, and we moved to Miami." "Ahhh damn. I knew you weren't gonna stay free for long. Who's the lucky guy?" "I'm not sure if you remember Terrence." "Wait, that belligerent knucklehead from the club?" He asked as I sheepishly nodded. "Yea, going on five years married, seven in a relationship." I admitted flashing my ring. "I guess you like what you like." He casted shaking his head as I nodded. "Well, I guess that's my cue. It was nice seeing you again, beautiful." "It doesn't have to be a goodbye." I perked up reaching forward. "May I?" I asked at his shocked but smug gaze. "Go ahead." Smirking, I smoothly pulled his phone from his pocket and typed my phone number before sliding it back in his hand. "Call me sometime." "Most definitely."

****

Walking into the dark house, I set my purse on the kitchen table before reaching into the refrigerator to grab a water. "I know you're there, what the fuck do you need?" I sighed turning to face what I knew was him on the adjacent love seat. Finally flickering the lamp, he leaned forward into his lap as I watched him wiping more tears from his tired face. "Can we please just talk, Anaya? Why did you turn off your location?" "Don't worry about that. Where is Maya?" "Anaya." "Where the fuck is my child, Terrence?" Scoffing, he shook his head. "She's at the Christmas parade with my parents." "And your son?" "She came and got him before my parents left. Anaya please? Can we talk?" "I have nothing to say to you unless it pertains to my fucking child." I chuckled bitterly. "She's not just yours, Anaya." "Oh trust me, I know. Thank you for your services, soldier." I spat giving him a round of applause.

"Stop doing that." He gritted standing up. "Doing what? Acknowledging you in your truth?! We get it, Terry. It was a funky ass 'mistake' and you're oh so damn sorry. What the fuck am I supposed to do with that information, huh?! You still cheated, with Bree of all fucking people. And a fucking child is here as a result, has been for three years now." "Anaya!" "NO! You're done talking and frankly, so the fuck am I! I'm filing for separation in the morning." "WHAT?! Baby, no!" He shook walking over but I stopped him in his tracks. "Don't even. You've made it plain that I'm not your baby. We not about to sit up and continue to treat you like you're such a loving, doting husband when you obviously don't want to be one. I'm not discussing this shit anymore with you, Terry. You've crossed one too many lines, and I'll be damned if you cross me again. I'm filing in the morning and that's it, end of discussion." I clarified as he fell to his knees.

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[cjlouwho]

Twelve Christmases

chapter tags: discussions of a burn victim (nothing graphic), discussions of suicide and mental health, very brief mentions of things that happened in past chapters (Tommy's mom, military, red handkerchief, implied noncon), anxiety, depression, background character death, Tommy calls the crisis hotline

read below or on ao3

Day 10: 2022

“I'm calling Roberts in early, you can go home.”

“Captain Marks-”

“No, Kinard! What you did out there was careless. You could've gotten yourself killed.”

“And if I'd done nothing, that man would be dead.”

“He's gonna wish he were dead if he ever wakes up! He's got third degree burns on over seventy percent of his body! I don't mean to be harsh, Tommy, but you risked your life for a dead man walking!”

“So?” 

Marks took a deep breath, sitting back in his chair. “I'm gonna pretend I didn't just hear you say that. I know emotions are high right now, but you know as well as I do I can't have a pilot that isn't concerned about whether they live or die.”

“That's not-”

“Stop talking, Kinard,” Marks warned. “You're on the ground for five shifts, I'll reevaluate things myself after that. If I have any hesitation, for even a moment, about your intentions here, you're getting a psych eval. That'll put you on the ground forever. You understand me?”

Tommy pursed his lips, nodding his head. “I understand.”

“Good. Now, go home, enjoy the rest of your Christmas, come back next shift with a clear head.”

*****

By the time Tommy got home, it was nearing ten o'clock at night. His brain was a jumbled mess. It didn't seem to matter how many times he hit the punching bag in his garage, it was never enough.

After a quick shower, he thought about laying down.

But even the idea of that made him want to crawl out of his skin.

So, he began to pace.

He paced, and paced, and paced, with his hands on his hips. From the living room, to the kitchen, down the hall, and back again.

It all felt like too much. He wasn't just thinking about today. He was thinking about his mom. He was thinking about the military. He was thinking about the red handkerchief. He was thinking about waking up in a stranger's apartment with no clue what happened the night before.

He was thinking, thinking, thinking, pacing, pacing, pacing, and he needed it all to stop.

Just stop!

So he did something he never thought he'd do.

He wasn't even sure what made him do it.

All he remembered was pulling his phone out of his pocket and dialing the number.

988.

“988 crisis lifeline, this is Penny. How can I help you today?”

He froze.

“Hello? Is anyone there?”

He swallowed. Closed his eyes.

“I'm here.”

“Oh, good. May I ask who I'm speaking with?”

“Tommy,” no attempt to try for a fake name.

“Hi, Tommy! I'm Penny. I know I said it before, but I like to make sure the people I speak to heard me. Tommy, ca-”

“I'm not... I don't wanna kill myself,” Tommy interrupted, needing to make it clear. “I just needed someone to talk to.”

“Okay.” Her voice was soothing, familiar almost. A voice that Tommy hadn't heard in years. “That's what I'm here for, Tommy. What's on your mind?”

He tried to think of what to say. Tried to figure out the perfect way to start the conversation.

He was usually so put together.

But everything felt off.

“I hate Christmas.”

He wasn't sure why that was the first thing that popped into his brain at this moment, but it was out there now.

“A lot of people have complex feelings about holidays. It can be tough sometimes, no doubt about it.”

The tiny admission seemed to open a floodgate for Tommy. “My mom was thirty-eight when she died, and I'm thirty-eight now,” he explained. He was sure the words coming out of his mouth were just as jumbled as the thoughts in his head. “And she- she didn't die around Christmas. She actually died in June, so I don't know why I keep thinking about her today of all days, but I do. Not just her; I'm thinking about a lot of things. But it all sort of leads back to her at the end, I guess.”

“Was Christmas important to her?” Penny asked.

“She loved it when I was really little. Always liked looking at the lights and taking me to the mall to pick out things I wanted. I think my dad ruined Christmas for her though.”

“He wasn't big on the holiday?”

“He wasn't big on family. Looking back, I can see how being with him changed her. I didn't recognize it back then.”

“You were young. She probably didn't want you to recognize it.”

Tommy sighed, giving himself a moment to gather his thoughts. “She didn't get thirty-nine Christmases, you know? And that doesn't really seem fair. Because I'm here for my thirty-ninth Christmas and I don't even like the damn day. She deserved more. She deserved better.”

“It's never easy to understand why the people we love get taken from us too soon. It can be especially difficult when we lose them as a child.”

Tommy let out a humorless laugh. “She didn't get taken from me,” he bit out, “she left me.”

There was a pause on the line, then, “I'm sorry?”

“Yeah, she uh, she made that choice to leave herself. Stuck me with my dad, who never really gave a crap about me in the first place, and she... she was just gone.”

“I'm sorry about that, Tommy. That's a lot to have to deal with as a kid.”

“I don't ever talk about it, about her. I don't really have anyone to talk about it with. My dad never cared for emotions, so I just plaster a smile on my face and put my shoulders back and keep going.” Tommy shook his head, clearing his throat and wiping away the tears that were pooling in his eyes. “That's not why I called though. Not because of her.”

“Okay,” Penny replied. “Tell me why you called, Tommy.”

Tommy rolled his shoulders, trying to rid himself of some of the tension running through his body. “I did something stupid at work today, and I knew better. I just didn't care.”

“Can you tell me what happened?”

“I work for the fire department. I'm a firefighter pilot, but today I was on the ground. We were called to a fire at this house- well, more like a mansion- and we thought we had the place cleared. Then the daughter started yelling for her dad. I headed back inside and found him, um,” Tommy paused, taking in a shaky breath.

“It's okay, Tommy. Take your time.”

“He- He was at the source of the fire. A fairly large space heater exploded and the fire had spread quickly. The house was about to collapse, and I was being told to get out, but I stayed. Long story short, I was able to get the man out right before the structure collapsed. He was severely burned though. If he makes it, and it's a big if, he's going to wish he hadn't. My captain won't let me fly for a while now. Sent me home early.” He let out a humorless laugh. “I wasn't even supposed to work today. I took the shift because I hate this damn holiday.”

“You've mentioned that three times now,” Penny noted.

“What?”

“How much you dislike Christmas. Tommy, do you think that maybe the risk you took today had something to do with the fact it's Christmas? Emotions were already high, making you take risks you wouldn't usually take?”

“Hm,” Tommy hummed. “Maybe? I don't really know though, because I feel like I'm ready to take those same risks any day, anytime. I said it before, and I meant it, I'm not trying to die. I just... I don't think I care if I do. It didn't matter to me if I didn't make it out. We're all gonna die someday, you know? That's what I always figure. What's it matter if it's now?”

“I think it would matter to the people who love you. The people who care about you.”

“I don't think I know anyone well enough for them to be affected by my death.”

“Well, it would matter to me,” Penny replied matter-of-factly, and Tommy couldn't help but let out a laugh.

“I dunno, I can be kind of a bitch sometimes.”

“Thank God for that, I'd hate it if you were too perfect.”

“Well, I never said I wasn't perfect. Perfect and bitch can go together, right?”

“I think it's a great pairing.”

A smile lingered on Tommy's face. He couldn't remember the last time he spoke to someone so openly. “Penny?”

“I'm here.”

“Would you stay on the phone with me until Christmas is over?”

“Honey,” she answered, Tommy softening at the name, “I can honestly say there's nowhere else I'd rather be.”

Penny stayed on the phone with him until 12:01. She was willing to stay on the line longer, but by the time Tommy had watched the clock strike midnight, he was ready to go to bed.

He felt better. A little lighter than he had in a while.

He'd been in bed for about fifteen minutes, and was just dozing off when his phone buzzed.

It was Captain Marks.

The man from the house fire died on the operating table.

I know you wanted to save him, Tommy.

Unfortunately we can't save them all.

Tommy stared at the texts for a good ten minutes before switching over to the phone app and dialing 988 again.

[khorneschosen]

Just tell me to kill myself like an adult you product of barely contained propaganda. Also telling me about how much you like dead men is kind of pointless I don't see it as an act of defiance, I see it as pathetic.

Pro tip, just reference rather than just rehashing huge undigested chunks of my writing. Have some respect for.... The people I assume who like to read their opinions told back at them but done some how poorer, and just reference what I said.

Im sure if they read, which is a major assumption on my part, that they could if they were as smart as you think they are, understand it.

Security, safety, control over their husbands and family. As I said. It was referenced previously in that thing which you rehashed but did not read.

If you think Im going to make an exception for the goat fuckers, you are mistaken. They hate everyone, men women children, the only true citizen of a theocracy is god and he barely even uses those rights.

I know all of this is lost on you because you are unable to conceive of an existence different from the one youve been told.

Id invite you to a mental exercise on the subject but I doubt exercise at all.

Again, you have to say "women didn't do that" because you recognize it does in fact make sense and as I said, it has as much evidence for it as your system does. Nothing I described was wrong or atleast it can't be disproven.

Put away the accusations woman. Hysteria isn't a weapon here and its not a defense. Its a tactic and only works if I give into its standards. I don't. I see you fully and that is worse.

Don't you think its odd you have to act like this in defense of your ideas? Don't you think the way you are going about this is wrong?

Like read what you've written and ask yourself, would this convince me if I wasn't already convinced? What are you appealing to? What even is the point of this. I think you know it won't convince me. So what's the goal?

I know the goal. I can tell it to you if you like. It's something your philosophy doesn't openly talk about, few of your kinds of philosophies do. Its about how your own mind is wrong.

why do women always have to be the bigger person? why don’t men just stop “joking” abt raping us?

[cxffecoupx]

vanilla lips

kim mingyu + putting a gingerbread house together wc: 623 warnings: mentioned of food, making out author's notes: a little late, forgive me😔 but this seemed a lil adorable to me, so I hope y'all like it too <3 winter wonderland masterlist

when mingyu asked to come over, you weren't expecting him to bring a whole gingerbread house kit with him.

he lifts it up the moment he steps in, a huge smile plastered on like he's showing off a proud achievement.

"i got us a kit for gingerbread house," he says as he settles beside you on the couch, leaning into you instinctively. you get up to look at it, and furrow your brows when you don't see any brand names on it. mingyu seems to notice.

"i made it by myself. it's just outlines for the house and some ingredients; we're making it all from scratch," he adds with a wink.

now, you can only cook to save your life. baking is a territory you haven't entered yet, so it was natural for you to shudder a bit when he said 'we' instead of him alone.

"you mean to say, 'we' are baking it?"

he nods his head and you say, "gyu you know i can't bake right? i cannot afford to burn down another house.... again," the memories of last valentine's comes to your head and you shake it all away.

"don't you worry, my love. i meant i'll do the baking, you just have to sit and look pretty for me. you can manage that right?" he chuckles when you nod enthusiastically.

for the next 2 hours, the tv plays forgotten in the living room, because what can be better than watching your boyfriend bake in just a white tank top and grey sweatpants? sweat beads adorn his forehead and biceps as he mixes the dough; arms flexing with every movement when he spreads the dough into a sheet; eyes in focus mode and tongue peeking out when he draws the outlines on the sheet of dough.

the house isn't even halfway made and you're already drooling.

the baking time for the dough is used up for sloppy makeouts and flirty touches. you're too focused on the way his lips feel on your neck and how wet you feel between your legs where his fingers are playing when the oven bell startles you. he pulls away reluctantly, but not before placing a dollop of the icing cream on the corner of your lips and cleaning it away with his tongue.

an hour later, the counter is filled with the baked, house-shaped cookies, multicoloured icing creams and other decorations. he gets to work immediately, carefully tracing delicate designs on the walls before attaching them. within a short while, the house is up and standing, and your mouth remains wide open in genuine awe.

"wow, gyu... it looks beautiful-" you lean in closer to see more clearly. just as you do though, the whole structure goes falling down, cream flying onto your faces as the walls crash down. the two of you freeze, slowly turning to look at each other before bursting into laughter.

"you just knocked down my house, you home wrecker!" he says and kisses your forehead. you can only laugh helplessly. after a while of kissing and laughing, he gets back to work, while you stay a safe distance away to avoid any other mishaps. once he's sure that the house is firm enough, he calls you over to help decorate it, and the two of you get to placing the candies and marshmallows on it. when the work is done, you step back and admire your work.

"now we just gotta store it till tomorrow. the guys are gonna love it!" he giggles and turns to look at you to find you looking at him. you wipe a bit of the cream off the tip of his nose and lick it.

"how's it?" he asks.

"sweet, just like you."

[linddzz]

While yes, Viktor is confident too, but...

This man isn't shy? He's hyperventilating and nervous-tapping over the idea of giving a speech!

This man?

I guess Im not getting across like, the Vibe that I always see that bothers me? Viktor's got the social anxiety for sure, and it's VERY fair to assume that his condition makes him even more self conscious to be up in front of a crowd full of topsiders. He's pretty clear in episode 1 that he's aware of how topsiders see him and his cane use, and that's before his disability is even more visible.

But ALSO very few people ARE good on a stage in front of tons of people. And also there's a very specific connotation to "shy" that is beyond social anxiety.

Shyness to me, is its own flavor of social anxiety plus timidness. The actual definition is a bashful, timid nervousness. It has connotations of the wilting flower personality. Viktor, even when he's quiet around other people doesn't come across as nervous or timid in the slightest. His first introduction has him VERY confident and collected surrounded by enforcers and not taking Jayce being snappy and angry at him. As a kid there's more of an argument to be made because what awkward socially isolated kid isn't going to be shy. But at the same time he doesn't try to shrink away from Sky's attention, he still looks right back up at her, he just keeps on doing his own thing. Mostly he comes across as someone who does not know how to casually interact with people so he doesn't. He's got tunnels in his eyes lmao.

Viktor is complicated. Viktor is nuanced. It's why he's Ultimate Blorbo. He's withdrawn and awkward and not very good at interacting with people, but he's not timid about it. He is very self assured in himself.

But when I say fandom makes him shy it IS much more of the wilting flower timid woobie that I kept seeing in Season1 fics. There was SO MUCH of Viktor being the nervous soft spoken anxious thing who was just so happy Jayce was even giving him the time of day as if Viktor didn't sass Jayce about his notes right after he stopped the man from jumping lmaoooo

And idk not to be TOO OBVIOUS with my projecting but it's the part of Viktor I can relate to the most. I consider myself a quiet person who gets annoyed when people think that me being quiet = shy. I'm able to speak up well on zoom calls with colleagues and I also would rather drop dead than have to go up on a stage in front of a bunch of normal people who I know were expecting someone very different. I get nervous and shaky speaking up in front of a crowd of colleagues even! but afterwards I can go right up to people like "your presentation was insane tell me more right now." I am often quiet and uncomfortable in large social situations because I know that most people there are operating under a different wavelength than I am, I do not know what the right responses to things are, or I full on do not know how to not accidentally come across as a huge asshole and I don't want to be an asshole. And when I was younger I would have so many people come up and act like I was a little wallflower (bc oh boy can I also relate to being quiet while physically small meaning being constantly infantalized) who "didn't need to be so shy" and every time I was like "I'm not shy. I just don't feel any engagement with this conversation and I don't want to be a dick and tell you that, but if you gently tell me it's ok to talk one more time I'm gonna start biting."

(It got better as I got older bc I learned that if you're quiet but making active eye contact instead of staring off into other directions - not to avoid attention but because you're just thinking of other shit - people will stop labeling you as shy and instead say "intimidating" or "mysterious" which is also hilarious when what you're thinking about is "machine herald big naturals lmao" but it's better than being labeled "shy")

[quzen]

A lovely Happy Birthday to Aya!!

(his birthday is Dec 25th)

Summon: It's far too early for this....Where is my book??

Groovification: My Birthday isn't an excuse to wake me up like this....Though I suppose i can get back to reading.

Home: Do you want to hear about the story I read?

Swap Looks: I hoped the hood would make me less approachable...instead it just gets Atlas to poke fun at it...

Home Transition 1: I think I'll find myself more books today...or a new game. I deserve at least that on my Birthday....

Home Transition 2: Atlas feels the need to drag me out and about for my birthday after he figured it out....I wish he wouldn't.

Home Transition 3: I got a gift from Riddle today, a book I hadn't read yet. We haven't spoke much but I appreciated it.

Home Transition - Login: Sigh...Seriously? Can't even have a break today?

Home Transition - Groovy: I'm pretty sure Housewarden saw me trip over my own two feet while reading...I can't tell if me or him was more embarrassed by that....

Home Tap 1: Don't get used to seeing this...it's embarrassing enough.

Home Tap 2: Despite not having any plans myself, Atlas has practically a schedule for my birthday. I haven't even spoken to half of those people or care for half the activities...But I appreciate that hes trying I guess.

Home Tap 3: Cater got me star lights for my birthday. I'd say I'm not sure how he knew, but i think i know who told him so. Still don't know how he knew I liked stars though...

Home Tap 4: Back home, Ma would've made a cake and a bunch of sweets for today. I'm not particularly fond of them but she made them so, maybe I'll bring some from home some point.

Home Tap 5: I think i may hide away with the Hockey club for the rest of the day, I can at least rely on Mozie not to make a big deal of this...I'd stay in my dorm room but well, Atlas would find me...

Home Tap - Groovy: Oh? You're interested in this book? I'm slowly working through it, but Riddle had given it to me a while back. It's actually pretty good, coming from him that is ehehe.

Duo: [Aya]: Birthday wishes....from you? That's unexpected... [Cater]: Well it is your Birthday! Can even do a photo for the occasion. (might be a bit long apologies)

Birthday Login Message: Hello... Eh? My Birthday? It's really not that big of a deal as others make it out to be. Atlas had me dragged out all day so I'd rather not deal with more social gatherings, even if they had been a little fun....If you really want to celebrate with me, we can play a game or read..quietly.

If you wish to have the Ignihyde Relax BG blank feel free to ask!

[sleepynoons]

hi op feel free to ignore everything under - all you need to know is i love your writing *shakes head vigorously*

there are several things i think were immaculately done, but that'd require me to churn out an entire research paper, which i don't have the brain cells for anymore post-finals. so here are some scattered thoughts yep and yap

-

i don't gravitate towards mysterious or reserved characters because my personality simply doesn't mesh well with them. in fact, when i was watching wbk, i was always so wary of suo, and felt lowkey a lil uncomfortable with him LMFAO

but strangely enough, i think this discomfort became a very integral and driving force throughout my reading experience. of course, this was already the case due to the violent and dark nature of yakuzas, underground sex work, etc., but emphasizing suo's yandere-ness and how he doesn't shy away from it really completed the tone of the story. also, i feel like i came to terms with suo's character, which i rarely ever experience in general. really, this is all to say that it makes total logical sense in my brain to imagine a route where suo evolves into a yandere, and part of me strongly believes his real background in the wbk manga/anime won't be too happy-go-lucky either (otherwise the alternative would be like him wearing an eyepatch for the shtick bc he's a chuuni??? idrk????).

anyway, the reoccurring theme of redirection in suo's tactics really sealed the deal for me, and i think it was a good way to tie in references to his relationship to his master, the martial arts that we know he's especially good at, and how all of these things he's kinda exploited and sullied to "become a worse person for you." suo being very knowing and intentional is so snakey and creepy but also, i get a lil fucked up when it comes to men who are obsessed, so also incredibly erotic LMFAO i also just want someone to buy me a luxury penthouse out of concern for my safety *sad fist bump*

one thing i did find unexpected is suo's leadership within the yakuza. yes, necessary for the plot, otherwise he wouldn't be able to pull any strings. but because source material heavily emphasizes leaders as individuals like umemiya or sakura or even hiiragi, it's interesting to place suo in juxtaposition with them. not sure if it's bc i don't find suo particularly reliable in general, but i think this fic made me realize that he's still wise beyond his years and very, very ruthless. it's def very telling that, throughout the story, suo resorts to fear to assert power. anyway, i j think it was a particularly interesting detail to add in his role in the succession conflict.

btw, i do like how suo's change and transition isn't fully told or revealed. it's not a story meant for us, as it's a truth really for suo and reader. but even reader can't really keep up with him at times, and i find that dynamic really charming, as sadistic as that sounds. i like that reader is so vulnerable. i like that reader is not afraid to be vulnerable around him in the ways that matter, even when she's aware that he's fucking insane. and i really like that reader is aware of how much it takes to be vulnerable, so she doesn't push him. i think reader restrains herself (un)knowingly, and that's her way of loving him. obv less romantic in real life lol (don't try to fix anyone, been there, done that, lost myself, and still finding myself), but i do like how reader is suo's salvation :,,, even if she doesn't think she's particularly patient, she really is - like girl, Fuck Him Already!!!!!!

(could go on and on about how juicy the friction and tension is between suo and reader but that's for pt 2 hehehe)

this is kinda my half-assed transition into talking about reader, and honestly, my thoughts from earlier encapsulate the general thesis i have about her: she's really a lot like suo, way more than she thinks. i think she operates in very similar ways, just goes about it differently.

i think reader is way more reckless. she's very self-sacrificing. she's very good at putting up a front, even when she's internally low in confidence and self-respect. i think she just wants to be happy with suo, and hopefully, with their other friends as well.

and truly, i think suo has very similar end goals. i just think, with how things turned out, suo made the very calculated yet risky (also aggressive?) decision to do the things that he did. making their underlying principals and values and reactions so oddly similar, from my perspective, is sooooo neat, and it adds more depth to why they go so well together.

also, reader is so brilliantly the comedic relief in this whole thing. usually, in storytelling, it's someone else and is used as fodder. i really like how reader is a lil awkward and bad with timing and everything else, cause it makes the reading experience flow so much better. really helped with the pacing of the story, gave it the character + breathing space needed to process everything. i also just like my readers a little fucking hilarious.

anyway, op, so beautifully written - see you in pt 2 gg

TOKYO VICE | part 1

You knew that if you agreed to move in with Suo, you'd be setting yourself up for a life without autonomy. You also knew that these alarming behaviours were all signs that he desperately needed therapy to process his master’s untimely death. Living with a man in constant grief, who refused to talk about his trauma unless he was making up a lie related to the nation of China, was probably not a good decision. Doubly so when this man was clearly paranoid about losing you, and triply so when he was a high-ranking member of a violent syndicate. Unfortunately for you, you rarely made good decisions. (Or: After joining the yakuza, Suo develops the concerning habit of controlling every facet of your life. This is somehow less worrying to you than your uncontrollable lust around him.)

8.7k words. suo x fem reader. deeply unserious yakuza au. yandere suo (not abusive and reader is into it), dark comedy, a little angst, smut. warnings: borderline sex work, off-screen criminal violence. nsft – no actual smut in this chapter, but there are still graphic discussions of sex. mdni. thank you to @sleepyqinfei for beta reading and to @/cafekitsune for the banner!

sequel to sincerity and this sakura/reader wip

part 2 here

You’re not exactly sure why you and Suo have never fucked.

It’s certainly strange, given that you're pretty sure that Suo has expressed at least passing interest in you over the years, and you have felt a lot of interest in him. (By ‘interest’, you mean that you feel an insatiable lust around him that you fight to ignore on a daily basis.) You can't exactly pinpoint why nothing has ever happened despite this mutual attraction, especially given your profession and indifferent feelings toward casual sex.

You can think of a number of probable reasons, which are separate from those you classify as stupid reasons. The latter class comprises silly concerns like a fear of rejection, fear of abandonment, fear of not being pretty enough, fear of not being good enough, et cetera. All very juvenile feelings—insecurities that you had in your teenage years, the days in which Suo ran around Makochi as a delinquent while you worked an honest job at a bar. (It was a girls’ bar in the red light district, but that's neither here nor there.) Your circumstances have since changed, and those anxieties have since faded. None of them have any material consequence for your current life, so you don't see any point in thinking about them.

The stupid reasons, then, definitely don't have anything to do with why you've never fucked Suo. But you can think of a few, more concrete reasons that may explain it. For one, Suo has been your friend since childhood and it’s generally a bad idea to have sex with your long-time friends. He was also your roommate for a while and it’s an even messier idea to have sex with your roommates. And now, in your adulthood, he’s your landlord in addition to being your boss, which makes him the worst possible person you could have sex with. You could lose both your home and your livelihood if things go south—both severe, material consequences that should theoretically keep your lust at bay.

Also, he's also a member of the yakuza.

Now, strictly speaking—you're not really opposed to having sex with violent criminals. It’s definitely not a good idea, but you don't usually have good ideas anyway. But for the past several years, you’ve been pissed at Suo for joining the yakuza in the first place, which actually does keep your blatant attraction to him in check. You simply dry up when you think too hard about all the feelings of betrayal.

When Suo was on the cusp of graduating from Furin and thinking about his future, you’d grabbed him by the collar and made him promise not to join the yakuza. They constantly tried to recruit from Bofurin, and they especially wanted Sakura, Suo, and Sugishita. You were adamant about chasing them off from Suo and Sakura whenever they approached—you had no need to worry about Sugishita, as Umemiya had already said he shouldn't talk to them, so there was no chance he was going to—and you begged Suo over and over not to join. Delinquency was fine, but a crime syndicate was something else altogether.

Suo seemed serious about it when he said he'd listen to you. He even applied to colleges, talked about maybe becoming a teacher and eventually supporting you so you could stop working in the mizu shobai industry. Back then, he often teased you by saying that you should marry him and be his housewife (or he could be your trophy husband, if you so wished). You thought he was joking, but with the way he always talked about his life after his degree, you wondered if he would seriously suggest it.

Of course, it was most likely just teasing, and you were fine with that. You were simply excited that he'd found a career that would make him happy. Nirei had also been accepted to university at that point, and even Sakura had an honest job lined up on Keisei Street. The future had looked bright for everyone.

Then Suo’s master died, and he lost his fucking mind.

The two of you buried Suo’s master in a Chinese funeral. He had never had children of his own, having satisfied his paternal instincts by picking up strays, and he didn't have much in the way of family in Japan either, so you and Suo performed the shou ling yourselves. One person kept a constant vigil over his body while the other searched on Google for what arrangements should be made next. After all, while Suo’s master had immersed his foremost disciple in his culture, he had never taught Suo any funerary customs. He hadn't thought there would be a need.

Suo didn't cry nearly as much as you, but he was probably in more pain. Your master had trained you a little bit when you were a kid, and he'd taken you in for a while after your parents kicked you out, so of course you were gutted. But he had practically raised Suo, so it was naturally worse for him. More shattering.

You often think about the first night you decided you'd sleep with him in the same futon because he was crying so much. He insisted he was fine, but he didn't complain when you got under the sheets with him and started thumbing away his tears. When you took off his eyepatch, you found, to your astonishment, that he was crying from his missing eye as well. Both of you thought the tear ducts had been destroyed in either the accident or the enucleation, but it appeared that not even that prior trauma could mask his grief over this one.

Nevertheless, by the time of the funeral procession, Suo had stopped crying.

“Master supported us and taught us to stand on our own two feet,” he said as the joss paper burned. He took your hand in his and smiled. “So it'll be fine. We’ll be okay on our own. I'll make sure of it.”

At the time, you had found this very comforting. You didn’t think too much of it, as you had a bad habit of relying on Suo for your emotional stability. His master had raised him to be an emotionally intelligent person, so it had been fine, even though you had a track record of reckless decisions. He’d still exercised endless patience with you. He never once got angry with you, nor did he ever force you to do what he felt was the right thing. Instead, he gently redirected your self-damaging behaviours—not so different from the martial art that he practised.

He disapproved of the run-down and lonely conditions of your apartment, so he spent a great deal of time there and helped make it into a proper home. He didn't like how dangerous your job at the girls’ bar was, so he walked you to and from work every night until you never left without him. He worried when you started having sex with your customers, especially when you began having nervous breakdowns over it (you were, after all, still a teenager and really only interested in having romantic vanilla sex with Suo), so he staged an intervention with Nirei and Sakura. In this way, Suo convinced you that you were loved and protected and didn't need to do something you hated so much. They would get you out if you felt trapped. And you didn't feel trapped, per se, so you left on your own—but it was still only because of them. You promised them afterwards that you'd never do it again.

This was Suo’s brand of kindness as a teenager. He always taught people, guided them away from harm rather than steering them—a behaviour he’d mimicked from your master. Your master, in general, had defined all of Suo’s values and his way of living, which was honest and gentle and conscientious. It was one where he used his abilities to protect the weak and care for his friends. He even kept his spiteful and alarmingly violent tendencies under control, though sometimes he slipped when fighting genuine assholes. But he still tried. He tried because he strived to be as kind as his master—who represented everything that Suo wanted to be in his adult life.

Thus, the death of Suo’s master meant the death of his principles. It changed the kind of man that Suo wanted to be. You don't want to say that he became a worse person, but he absolutely became a worse person.

He especially became a worse person with you.

As it turned out, Suo’s idea of making sure that the two of you would be fine on your own was, well, not really fine. It wasn’t that he became cruel to you, per se. It was more that whenever he saw a problem with your behaviour, his approaches to redirecting it became—put as nicely as possible—heavy-handed.

After your master’s death, you got a job at a high end, yakuza-owned club. Two weeks later, Suo broke his promise to you and joined the yakuza. So I can stay close to you, he explained gently, wiping away your tears as you cried hysterically, but you're convinced to this day that he did it partly out of spite. So a few years later, when you started having sex with your customers again and he tried to stop you, you decided to spite him back. I need to stay on top of the rankings, you'd explained dispassionately. The mamasan said it's fine, and the manager doesn't care. He even thinks it's good for business.

Suo’s response was to simply become the owner of your club.

This move was very extreme, but also very effective. Any customer who so much as brushed against you on the premises was instantly thrown out, and the mamasan started watching you like a hawk to make sure you weren’t going to any love hotels after work. Douhan were off-limits. For the first time since your teens, you became completely celibate—not only because of your new workplace circumstances, but because you simply didn't want to find out what Suo would do if you got together with a man he despised (and he despised every man you dated).

His most absurd play was when he became concerned about your living conditions again. Your latest apartment was too plain, too small, and the area was too dangerous. It didn't even have a shower, and the other tenants behaved concerningly toward you when you went to the bathhouse at night. But the rent was cheap, and it was still an upgrade from your last place, so you shrugged it off when Suo suggested that you move. Even when someone tried to accost you at night, you were nonchalant about it. You kicked the shit out of them in a fight and continued your routine unbothered.

The next month, Suo bought a luxury penthouse and suggested you move in with him.

His offer (command) came with conditions. One of the bigger ones was that you'd let him accompany you out at night if you ever needed to run errands in dangerous places. Or—nevermind, actually. He should really just accompany you everywhere at night. Maybe during the day too. And—ah, there was no way you'd be going to work alone, nor coming back by yourself—you were now always to be driven by someone in his organisation, if he wasn't available himself. Rent was a point of contention, when you asked about it: you wanted to pay at market rate, and he insisted that there was no need to pay at all. He ended up proposing a highly discounted price, which would give you ample financial freedom, but questionable financial independence.

These were insane terms. You knew that if you agreed, you'd be setting yourself up for a life without autonomy. You also knew that these behaviours were all signs that Suo desperately needed therapy to process his master’s untimely death. Living with a man in constant grief, who refused to talk about his trauma unless he was making up a lie related to the nation of China, was probably not a good idea. Doubly so when this man was clearly paranoid about losing you, and triply so when he was a high-ranking member of a violent syndicate. Case in point—he was likely connected to the brutal accident that later befell the man who tried to assault you.

“I'm not sure what you're implying, but at least he didn't die,” Suo said cheerfully when you confronted him about it. Which really meant: At least I decided not to kill him. This was a flag bigger and redder than any other you've ever known, and you consider yourself an expert in red flags. You knew you should run in the other direction.

So naturally, you put your arms around him, tenderly said, I'm sorry I've been worrying you, and then you moved in the next day.

While Suo treats you with endless patience, you have personal limits to the patience that you exercise with him. Specifically, your patience with how he treats you.

You don't mind the lack of social freedom, nor the lack of personal freedom, nor the lack of freedom of movement. You also don't mind living with a man full of intractable trauma surrounding the death of every parental figure in his life; in fact, you'd rather be by his side than not, if he needs to cope with something so painful. And anyway, your friendship is otherwise unchanged if you ignore the heavy restrictions he's imposed on every facet of your life. So that's all fine.

But the celibate lifestyle that he's cornered you into? You simply aren't built for it. Holy shit, do you need to get laid.

Nearly two years without sex has brought you close to another nervous breakdown (there have been few better sources of entertainment or validation in your life), and worst of all, it has made your profound lust for Suo incredibly hard to ignore. Waking up every morning to him in a towel, his hair still wet from the shower and his broad silhouette exposed, tests the absolute limits of your self-control. The contours of his lean and muscled form are distracting enough; coupled with the vivid colours and lines of his irezumi, the sight of him becomes maddening. It is a horrible thing to be exposed to when you haven't gotten any dick nor strap in over a year. It gives you thoughts about him that are overtly sexual, which is bad, as you have materially consequential reasons for not wanting to fuck Suo.

Things with him must absolutely stay platonic. But with sexual frustration like yours, being platonic with him means that you need to get erotic with someone else. A boyfriend or girlfriend is out of the question; you don't want to be responsible for yet another brutal accident. So you instead decide to quit your job at his club and start working on Keisei Street. At least this way, you can start fucking your customers again.

It’s a perfect plan. Suo’s oyabun is very indulgent toward him, and everyone else in the family respects him too. He consequently has a tight grip on his organisation and the territory they control, despite his relatively young age. Not a single person is ever to touch Keisei Street—largely because Sakura is part of Roppo-Ichiza, and Suo is nearly as weird about Sakura as he is about you. Plus, many of his other fellow Furin alumni are in the gang as well. If Suo’s men ever started fucking with people on Keisei Street, it would not only have grave implications for gang relations—it would be personally upsetting for Suo. This means you can fuck all the Keisei Street customers you want, and not get a single one of them threatened or killed.

A pretty brilliant idea, if you do say so yourself.

Suo’s expression doesn't change when you break the news to him. He delicately places his teacup—custom-made from Yixing, just like the matching clay teapot—down on the mahogany tabletop, and he looks at you with a calm smile.

“Come again?”

“I'm quitting my job at Red Dragon,” you repeat. “I already gave the mamasan my resignation.”

“And she accepted it?” Suo asks, in a tone that is so carefully nonchalant that you know it means he is actually furious with her. “How interesting,” he muses. “What brought this on?”

“I've found a better paying opportunity on Keisei Street.”

“I'll give you a raise,” he says easily.

“A raise?” You cock a brow. “The pay is mostly commission-based at Red Dragon. You know that.”

“Then it would be unwise to leave. You have a loyal customer base at Red Dragon. All very rich, and”—his smile grows sharp—“very polite.”

Polite. An interesting word. It actually means: None of them will ever proposition or harass you because they know they'll be maimed if they do. An easy thought to use to your advantage.

“It's loyal but it's small. Everyone who's anyone in this part of town thinks that we’re married. Do you know how hard it is to pull new customers in when they're scared shitless of my yakuza husband? And anyway”—you frown, trying to look as pathetic as possible—“I'm lonely.”

Suo stares. He looks surprised, possibly because you absorb every minute of his free time with silly conversation, new restaurants, and skiing trips. (He likes snow, so you ask for these trips more for him to relax than anything else.) You also text him frequently on days he's working, and he very diligently replies, even if he's in the middle of something like a raid or a hit or brokering a massive deal. Suo still very strictly keeps to his rule of never touching his phone when in conversation with other people—unless he needs to text you.

So his suspicion is fair. Suo is very attentive and doesn't allow you much opportunity for loneliness. In turn, you’ve always been very happy spending time with him, even when it's only him.

“Lonely?” he repeats. “Are you, now?”

“Yes. You work so much,” you complain, which is not a lie, “and I don't have any friends to spend time with when you're gone.”

“You have friends from work.”

“No, I have competition at work. The hostesses are so cutthroat about rankings, they hate me. And each other.”

“You like Shuuhei and Hanzo,” he points out, referring to his men who most frequently chauffeur you.

“Yeah, they're friendly, and they're very funny. I like them, but I can't be their friend.” Suo stares at you, nonplussed, so you spell it out: “They're too scared of you to get close to me. What if it looks like they're trying to fuck the boss’ wife?”

“Hm…” Suo studies you, looking thoughtful. Perhaps for the first time, he's contemplating the consequences of restricting your freedoms and marking you as his. That is to say—maybe he's finally realising that you have no friends and no life.

The beads of his earrings glimmer as he tilts his head at you and frowns. Suo almost looks innocent with that confused face of his. “And how would working on Keisei Street help?” he asks.

“Because all our old friends are there!” you exclaim. “Sakura’s in Roppo-Ichiza now so he’ll definitely be coming by all the clubs. Tsubaki too. And Nirei and Kiryu visit them quite often—and even Tsugeura does sometimes, even though clubbing isn't one of his virtues.” You grab onto his arm, pull yourself close, and give him your most disarming, pleading expression. “Please, Suo?”

“Hm.” He strokes your cheek and looks at you fondly, in the way that one would do with an adorable and slightly annoying kitten. “I don’t think so. It’s not very safe there.”

He isn't wrong. Not only are you untouchable on his turf because of your association to him, Suo has also just crushed all the han-gure and petty criminals in his territory with brutal efficiency. His part of the red light district is, quite ironically, one of the safest places in the city, and certainly safer than Keisei Street.

But undeterred, you point out, “Shuuhei and Hanzo can still drive me there and back if you want. But I don't think it's necessary. Do you really think Sakura would let anything happen to me?”

This is the true brilliance of your plan: capitalising on the fact that Suo is as nearly as weird about Sakura as he is about you. He pauses as soon as you bring up the point, and you can practically see the gears turning. “Well, if it's him…”

“I even texted him about it. Look—here!” You whip out your phone, receipts ready. The corner of Suo's mouth lifts at your obviously rehearsed pitch. “He says he'd make sure I'm taken care of. And he says it'd be nice because he misses seeing us. Can you believe it—Sakura actually admitted that he misses us! Typed it with his own two hands and pressed send! I bet he was super embarrassed about it.”

“Huh. He even used a sticker. I've never seen him do that.” Suo smiles as he reads through the chat. He looks like his old self. You suddenly feel a little wistful, and also a lot bad. This started as a ploy to get laid, but it’s made you realise that you really do miss your friends—and Suo probably does too.

“If I worked on Keisei Street, then you would have plenty of reason to visit,” you point out, feeling somewhat tender.

“I guess that's true,” Suo says. Your heart aches a little bit at the look he gives you. It's a platonic ache, of course. Or at the very least, it isn't an erotic one. It doesn't really make you want to have sex with him anyway. But if you could lean forward and press your lips to his—platonically—then you definitely would.

Suo's civilian friendships are complicated by his double life. Quite unusually for yakuza, Suo’s syndicate insists on using pseudonyms and false histories to avoid anti-yakuza laws, on the off-chance that the police decide to do their jobs and actually enforce those laws someday. Lying for comedy is one of Suo’s greatest passions, so he was happy to manufacture an absurd backstory: his name is Yanzhao, and he learned kung fu in a Shaolin Temple before moving to Hong Kong and working for the triads. He wears the eyepatch because he lost his eye in an altercation with the cops, which he won. By the way, you're his criminally beautiful wife who he met in Macau. The two of you had to leave for Japan since he killed a police officer and now he's wanted by the governments of both China and Hong Kong. Also, he's a very devoted husband, so if anyone lays a hand on you, he’ll kill them too.

Somehow, everyone has bought into this story. Every criminal organisation in the red light district now fears a high-ranking yakuza known as Yanzhao, who is easily recognizable by his eyepatch and tassel earrings, and who is also homicidally obsessed with his beautiful wife.

In some ways, his infamy is convenient. No one wants to fuck with Suo, or with you by extension. But it also poses some issues: Suo has to keep a low profile in areas controlled by rival organisations, or else he might be ambushed. It also means he cannot easily go out and see his old friends. Even though he always masquerades as a civvie when he does, wearing stud earrings and a glass eye, it's still a little risky—especially since he likes to visit the strongest member of Roppo-Ichiza. While Roppo-Ichiza aren’t yakuza, they're still han-gure, so some of its more criminally entangled members might recognize him anyway.

But Sakura himself, bless him, has not put two and two together and figured out that Suo Hayato and Gui Yanzhao are the same person. This is partly because Suo lies very convincingly about his fictional career in the tea industry, but you think it's also because Sakura is so gullible it's endearing.

I use the glass eye now because it's better for networking, Suo had explained before Sakura could interrogate him too much, his voice too smooth and too quick for the other man to get in a word edgewise. My business partners find the eyepatch too silly. The tassel earrings too. By the way, would you like some Baimudan tea? I thought of you when I smelled it—I know you like fragrant things—so I picked some up for you on my last visit to China. I was there for business a couple of weeks ago.

He, of course, neglected to mention that said business involved meeting with the 14K triad.

Despite the enormity of Suo's omission (lie), Sakura is none the wiser whenever he meets with you. He thinks you're just a regular hostess who has freedom of movement and various other human rights, and that Suo’s just a regular guy who isn’t homicidally obsessed with you (a detail of Suo's fabricated life story that is unfortunately grounded in reality). All this to say, Sakura doesn't think twice about mentioning the fact that you have a routine of going to love hotels after work.

Suo, as always, remains calm in the face of unsettling information. He sets down his tea (just tea, without shochu), and politely says, “Pardon?” He's once again using the nonchalant kind of tone that suggests mortal danger.

“She's always going to love hotels after her shifts.” Sakura is frowning at you, pink but scowling. “I thought you said you were done with that stuff. You promised us you wouldn't do it anymore. Suo—are you really okay with this?”

On the one hand, you find it exceptionally sweet that Sakura, after all this time, remembers your promise and wishes to hold you to it. He was so worried about you when you started having those nervous breakdowns as a teenager, and he probably still is. On the other hand, you're shitting bricks at the fact that Suo is now aware of your activities. Because sure, he likely won't fuck with Keisei Street—but you realise, as he stares at you, that you can't be certain of this. After all, your fake yakuza husband has very real homicidal urges.

“Um,” you say. “It's just business.”

“Business,” Suo repeats.

“You don't have to do that stuff to keep good business,” Sakura grouses, unaware of Suo’s carefully suppressed rage. “You're real popular already.”

“Are you?” Suo asks, looking right at you.

“I mean—I told you the pay would be better, right?” you reply, voice oddly high and nervous, and this is when Sakura notices that something is wrong.

“Oh,” Sakura says, looking between the two of you. “Suo, you didn't know?”

“I didn't,” he says. “Actually, she told me specifically that she wasn't going to do that if she worked here.” He turns to you, still smiling. “That's the only reason why I allowed this at all, remember?”

A chill travels down your spine. You did, in fact, commit to a perpetually sexless lifestyle in order to be granted some semblance of freedom: Of course I won't sleep with any customers, you'd said. You know I don't really like doing that anyway. I promise I'll behave! I’ll be out of the clubs and right back home. Sakura said he’d make sure I’ll get to a cab safely after the bar closes and everything!

“Um,” you say again, but this time you have no follow-up.

“Wait,” Sakura demands, “what do you mean by ‘allowed her’? What, do you need to give her permission to work now or something?”

Suo smiles disarmingly at Sakura. Without missing a beat, he says, “Generally no. But we’re dating now, which complicates what she’s allowed to do with other men at her job.”

Sakura spits out his drink. You choke on your spit.

“I… um?!” Sakura’s staring at you, so you quickly recover. This is a mortifying lie, but it's better than Sakura finding out just how batshit Suo has become since his school days. “I thought we were going to keep that a secret, dear?”

“Ah, you're right. Sorry, I got too excited.” Suo gives you an endeared look before turning to Sakura. “We were going to keep it to ourselves unless we got serious about it. But we've been talking about marriage lately, so I thought it was fine to mention.”

“...”

You’re going to have an aneurysm. Why does every cover that Suo comes up with involve a marital relationship between the two of you?!

“Oh… holy shit.” Sakura’s expression is complicated—somehow, more complicated than yours, even though you’re the one getting cornered into a fake engagement. It's unbelievable how shy he still is about this kind of thing. Maybe it’s just particularly embarrassing since he's known you two for so long, you reason. Regardless, he remembers his social cues enough to say, “Congrats, guys. That's great. That's really great.”

Suo gazes fondly at you across the table. “We were thinking you could be our best man,” he adds, and you consider violently kicking his leg.

“O-oh. Uh, yeah! Sure! But what about Nirei?”

“Rather than having a maid of honour,” you say reflexively, used to lying through your teeth for Suo, “we’d like him to be our best man as well.”

“Oh. That makes sense.” Thrown off guard, Sakura completely forgets about the love hotel business. He whips out his phone. “When were you thinking of having your wedding? I'll put it in my calendar.”

“I’m not sure.” Suo turns to you. “What were we thinking again, dear?”

You're going to die. You're going to die and it's a good thing because if you survive this embarrassment, your future will be bleak. As soon as Nirei finds out about this, he’ll want to start helping you with wedding planning, and then it would just be too awkward to cancel things. You’ll have to enter a fake marriage with Suo, which will be completely sexless, because even with a vow of everlasting love, there are still too many concrete and materially consequential reasons for not sleeping with him.

Condemning yourself to a lifetime of sexual frustration, you reply, “I think we were talking about a summer wedding.”

The drive home is awkward.

Hanzo and Shuuhei pick the two of you up. Suo mentioned that he wanted to talk to you and you alone, so they bring the Rolls Royce with the privacy suite. The two of them are entirely cut off from you thanks to the soundproofing, which traps you with Suo, who’s drinking a bottle of oolong tea as the two of you sit in complete silence. You think he's waiting for you to squirm—which you do.

You stay like that for five, agonising minutes before Suo finally says, “So you're sleeping with your customers.”

You swallow. “Yes.”

“For business?”

“Yes.”

“How much do you make?”

You blink. “Huh?”

“How much do you get paid for a single night of work, including gifts that your customers give you in exchange for sleeping with them?”

You're halfway through citing your earnings when you realise where he's going with this.

“So you make less than you did at Red Dragon,” Suo concludes, “and you're very smart with your money, so I know you know that, and you probably went into this knowing that you'd end up at a net loss.” He turns to you, gives you a look so sharp that it almost scares you. All made worse by his civilian disguise, which makes him feel unfamiliar. His glass eye shines strangely in the light, and his scar tissue is hidden by the makeup you helped apply. You wish he'd taken it all off before having this conversation.

“So,” he says, “what’s the real reason you changed jobs?”

Already knowing that he’ll figure you out sooner or later, you admit, “I just wanted to start having sex again.”

Suo blinks. “You… what?”

“I wanted to have sex with people,” you repeat. “I hadn't been touched for nearly two years, okay? I needed to get laid or else I'd go insane.” You cross your arms and look away, suddenly feeling petulant. “I'm sure you've noticed that our arrangement makes it impossible for me to see people.”

He doesn't answer, because of course he's noticed. He’d designed his house rules with precisely this intent. If he accompanies you everywhere you go, then you can't exactly go on dates, and you definitely can't meet people for sex. Not unless you feel like having Suo watch as some anonymous guy fucks you, and you don't. As hot as the idea is, it’s definitely not platonic behaviour, and it would probably trigger the whole homicidal obsession thing.

“Do you like it?” Suo asks, startling you. You look at him, confused.

“What?”

“Do you enjoy having sex with your customers?” he asks. His voice and gaze are even. Unrelenting. “Does it make you happy?”

You stare at him, a deer caught in headlights. You didn't expect Suo to actually care about whether you enjoyed it or not, and you didn't really expect to care yourself either. But truthfully, you hated it. You simply weren't feeling it with most of your customers and avoided intercourse with all but one. Then in that one case you let someone earnestly fuck you, it was a complete letdown. Possibly the worst sex you'd ever had. You spent the whole time watching the clock, wondering how long it would take, and it turned out that your hookup had remarkable stamina but absolutely no technique. To pass the time, and in an attempt to feel something, you tried to imagine it was someone else who was inside you. You cycled through a whole list of people, including all of your exes, a few of your past customers, every single member of BTS, and then—finally, inevitably—your long-time friend, roommate, and landlord.

To your complete horror, when you imagined that it was Suo who had you folded in half, his cock so deep inside you that you could feel it in your throat, you came so hard that you drenched the sheets.

You lay there afterward as your customer showered, alone in the bed. Normally you'd be getting dressed at that point, but you were too distracted. You kept thinking about what it would feel like to be held by Suo after having your guts rearranged by him—embraced tenderly like you know he would do with you, kissing him platonically like you've always wanted to do with him—and you realised that you didn’t actually want to have sex with anyone else. Despite all your life experience, sexual experience, and job experience—in that moment, you felt like a lonely nineteen year old girl who wanted nothing more than to have romantic, vanilla sex with her best friend, but who was instead having impersonal, disappointing sex with various salarymen.

This was a feeling so disgusting that you’ve decided to never tell anyone at any cost.

“Yeah, it's fine. I guess I like it.” You pretend to study your nails. “Sometimes I cum, which is all I really want.”

Suo keeps staring at you. “That’s it?” he asks, voice measured and careful. You raise a brow, playing dumb.

“What do you mean?”

“That's all you want? Just to get off?”

You gaze out the window, trying not to look at his lips.

“Yes, that's all.”

No matter how batshit Suo gets, he always maintains a certain kindness and maturity in how he handles conflict with you. It's a lesson that he learned from his master, which has perhaps been distorted over time, but remains important to him nevertheless.

If you do something upsetting, Suo is never forceful about getting you to act differently. Sure, he has fucked up ways of either getting you to behave or making you understand the consequences of your actions, and perhaps he has his manipulative moments. It was probably not a good thing that he coaxed you into indefinite house arrest, for instance. But he never threatens you, and he never hits you, and he never disrespects you. In fact, more than anything, he makes it a point to never let you feel like you aren't loved.

So when Suo abandons you after that conversation in the Rolls Royce, you lose your fucking mind.

Suo doesn’t come home in the days following that evening, without any note nor explanation. For the first time in years, he stops replying to your texts. Your immediate thought is that he's been gravely injured or perhaps even killed, which sends you into a panicked spiral. But every one of his men who's come by to check on you has implied otherwise—but I'm not allowed to tell you anything else, anesan, I’m sorry, they all say. And when you realise that Suo is actually fine and he's just playing a fucked up mind game with you, one that makes you feel distinctly unloved, you feel simultaneously heartbroken and apoplectic. The man is not allowed to corner you into de facto imprisonment and then just fucking leave. In fact, if he tries, you might imprison him.

You spend a few days sitting at home and crying over this, as well as torturing yourself by thinking about useless things (fear of rejection, fear of abandonment, et cetera). But eventually, you get tired of wallowing in self-inflicted misery, and you decide to just track your fake husband down. His men have been adamant about not letting you out of their sight—presumably so you don’t fuck any more of your customers, because Suo can be spiteful like that—so you have to be strategic about your plan to find him.

You decide to do it during work. You tap out in the middle of a shift, feigning illness, so nobody bats an eye when you put on the most shapeless hoodie you own and throw on a face mask. Your chauffeurs (handlers) don't notice as you sneak off—and for the first time in years, you walk through the red light district all alone.

It feels strange not to be protected, and even stranger not to be surveilled. You marvel at the unfamiliar experience of complete freedom, and at the possibility of being able to run off and disappear if you so wished. But you don't, of course. Not only do you care too deeply for Suo to abandon him, you're also pretty sure he has your driver’s licence and ID card locked up somewhere. At least you haven't been able to find them, and Suo was oddly evasive about it when you asked. (I haven't seen them, he'd said, but I don't think you’d need either of those things immediately, anyway, do you? And you nodded in response, because it was true that you liked being his passenger princess too much to care about your licence.)

So rather than bolting for the subway, you head straight to your old workplace. The gleaming doors of Red Dragon welcome you as you cross its threshold, and you're greeted immediately by the scent of luxury colognes and expensive cigars—both evoking a strange nostalgia in you. Even the click of your heels against the marble floor feels familiar. You realise that you've missed the place despite its cutthroat culture and its owner’s authoritarian control over you, which you suppose isn't surprising. This club was more or less your home for years and, thanks to said owner, was the safest place you've ever worked.

And being that you feel you've returned to your very safe home, you don't expect it when you're abruptly stopped by the bouncer.

“Can I help you?” he asks, his arm in your way. You don't recognize him, but you see the edges of his irezumi peeking out from the rolled-up cuffs of his shirt.

“Yeah, actually,” you say. “I'm looking for Gui Yanzhao. Is he here right now?”

The bouncer—or chinpira, you guess—bristles.

“You're looking for who?”

“Yanzhao?” you say impatiently. “Eyepatch, tassel earrings? Owner of the club? Probably your boss?”

The bouncer steps forward and reaches for something in his pocket, which makes you suddenly nervous, and also makes you realise that in a hoodie and a face mask, you ordinarily wouldn't be allowed in this club, let alone into the room of its yakuza owner. You're so used to VIP treatment here that you simply forgot.

You take a step back. “Um. I think there's been a misunderstanding.” You lower your face mask, which doesn't help as you've never met this man, and he must be new. You’ll need to complain to Suo about his onboarding process later, if you aren't killed before you can find him.

It turns out that this yakuza rookie has a knife in his pocket, which is not the worst thing he could have been carrying, but is also not the best. You're getting ready to run in the other direction when a more senior member of the gang comes by. He gives you a startled look, which then turns alarmed when he sees his younger brother’s knife.

“Anesan!” he yells hurriedly, and he snatches the chinpira’s knife straight from his hand. His lunge for the weapon turns into a hurried bow. He pulls his colleague—whose face has turned very white in a very short amount of time—into an even deeper one. They look on the verge of prostrating.

“Oh, Yamashita. Hi! Is this guy new?”

“Yes! My sincerest apologies for my younger brother’s idiocy, and his insolence in raising a weapon at you.” There's a sheen of sweat on the back of his neck. “If you would like him to atone, then he would be more than happy to—”

“No, that's fine. I'd really like him to keep all his fingers.” If you have to see a rookie cut off his pinkie today, you think you might actually change your mind on running away. Fuck your documents—Suo can keep them. Surely life without proof of identity can't be that hard. “By the way,” you say, trying to change the topic before Yamashita can suggest alternative acts of atonement, “have you seen my husband?”

Yamashita hesitates at your question, looks conflicted. You feel a little bad for him, and for every other gang member who needs to worry about accidentally offending Suo. You watch him sweat for a full ten seconds before he says, “You can follow me. But anesan, you might find it unpleasant upstairs. I can find someone to drive you home instead, if you'd like.”

You give him a funny look. This was your workplace for a very long time—you can’t think of many things that would happen here that might seriously upset you. “What, is he cheating on me?” you guess.

“What? No! Aniki would never!” Yamashita seems genuinely shocked at the suggestion. “He's crazy about you!”

“Then I'm sure he’ll be happy to see me,” you say, although given that he's ignored your texts for four days straight, you aren't so sure. Regardless, this seems to be good enough reasoning for Yamashita, and you’re taken to the top floor of Red Dragon. You ponder the whole time, on the elevator ride up, just what exactly Suo’s been up to that's made Yamashita this nervous about letting you see him.

Then the door opens, and you’re given your answer in the form of several body bags—all cleanly zipped up and conscientiously laid out in front of the elevators in a single, neat row. A sight that is significantly worse than a rookie cutting off his pinkie finger.

“Oh,” you say faintly. You try not to throw up. “So this is why he hasn't been home.”

“Exactly!” Yamashita replies, beaming. “See, anesan, I told you. He'd never cheat on you!”

Suo is in the lounge of the top floor, which has been cleared of both civilians and corpses for the night. He's sitting on one of the couches, leaning back with his one eye closed, as if asleep. The golden tassels of his earrings are draped over the expensive leather of his seat, intertwined with his dark hair. A cup of tea sits in front of him, steaming. Even this far away, you recognize it by the scent alone: jasmine, probably from Longjing. One of the most expensive blends he has, and that which he saves for days he’s stressed, though he never admits it when he is.

The sight of him would almost look tranquil, except for all the blood on his knuckles and his cuffs.

Off to the side, two of his younger brothers are chatting away. One is pouring cups of some doubtlessly expensive liquor, and the other is smoking a cigar. There's karaage on the table too. You recognize all of this as part of a ritual that some of the guys like to do after a hit or a shootout, not dissimilar to getting ramen or McDonald’s after going to a club.

You catch a bit of their conversation as you approach. One of them holds up the liquor bottle (Isojiman sake, you now recognise from your girls’ bar days, one of the rarer bottles costing around nine million yen) and asks Suo if he wants to join. “No thanks,” he says predictably, “I'm on a diet.” Then he turns and looks right at you—startling you, because you had thought you were being fairly quiet—and gives you a smile so genuine that it reminds you of his Furin days. “Would my beautiful wife like to drink for me, though?”

“No thanks,” you reply, “but your beautiful wife would like to talk to you.”

The two guys clear out to give you some privacy. You’re left alone with Suo, feeling awkward after several days of resenting him for no reason. (You’d rather die than go to therapy, but the whole fear of abandonment thing is probably something you should start addressing.) You don't even know where you want to sit. Eventually, you settle for placing yourself next to him, which is a decision that Suo quickly overturns by pulling you into his lap.

A flutter erupts in your stomach as he settles you on top of him. This physiological reaction is absurd, as not even ten minutes ago, you were trying not to throw up at the line of corpses in front of the elevator. It should also scare you somewhat that Suo’s hands—delicately adjusting your body—are still covered in blood. But truthfully, you can't help but be happy when he makes you feel so loved.

You take one of the napkins on the table and start wiping at his knuckles. Tenderly, in case they're bruised or skinned.

“You didn't call or come home,” you start.

“I thought it would be too dangerous.”

You frown, thinking of all the bodies outside. “Was this a rival organisation?”

“No. They were ours.” He sighs. “A succession conflict. There are a few people who don't like how I'll run things if I take over.”

You nod. Suo is very old-fashioned in his ideals about the yakuza, which you think is an imprint of his master’s influence, and something that appeals to his current ‘father’. He values chivalry. He likes protecting the weak. His filial devotion to his deceased master has now extended to every member of his yakuza family, especially his oyassan. He’s almost certainly the top candidate for taking over after the oyabun dies, but being that part of his old-fashioned principles excludes lucrative projects such as sex trafficking, you suppose it’s natural that some people in his organisation would prefer him dead rather than in charge.

“You’ve never ghosted me during violent conflicts before though,” you say. “I was worried that something happened to you. Or that you were upset with me.”

Suo’s hand drops to your waist, pulling you a little closer.

“They knew where we live. They tried to get to you, you know.” Your eyes widen in alarm, so he cups your face with a palm. His thumb glides along your cheek, and your response is almost Pavlovian: your heart rate immediately slows at the comfort of his touch. “It’s fine. They won't bother you ever again.” The cheerful smile returns. “And if anyone else ever does, I'll handle them too.”

Your heart swells. Enthusiastic pledges of murder are not a healthy sign of affection, but after so much loneliness—whether from the past several days, or the years before that, you aren't sure—you can't find it in yourself to be disturbed. You feel and sound painfully fond when you reply, “I know.”

Suo’s expression dims a little then. “I thought you'd like the space anyway.”

“What?” You give him a confused look. You have never once given him any indication that you want even an inch of space from him. You'd crawl into his ribcage if you could. “Why would you think that?”

“I thought you felt suffocated. You left my club just so you could have sex with other people.” You blink, lingering on his wording. Other people. He continues before you can ask about it, sighing, “You didn't even ask me who I'd give permission to touch you. You just went ahead and decided on your own.”

“...”

You try not to look disturbed. Suo’s apparent wish to control your sexual decisions is news to you, and somehow more alarming than the murder pledge. And even worse—you immediately clench in response to his words. The thought of Suo dictating who does and doesn't get to touch your cunt is… well, your mind is heading in a distinctly non-platonic direction.

Trying to ignore the heat in between your thighs (but at the same time encouraging it), you ask: “Who would you have been, um, okay with touching me?”

“Sakura or Nirei,” he says immediately. “Though only Sakura would be interested.”

“What.” You gape at him, all arousal forgotten. “Bullshit. He would never.”

“Yes, he would.” Suo tilts his head. “Haven't you noticed?”

“I don't think there's anything to notice? And also—he’s so shy, I don't think he'd ever agree even if he were interested!” You give him a bewildered look. “He couldn't even look at us when we said we were getting married, he was so embarrassed!”

“Embarrassed?” Suo stares at you, an amused glint in his eye. “Is that what you thought was going on?”

“Was there anything else?”

He studies you for a moment, clearly entertained but not explaining why. “Well—it’s fine,” he says. “It doesn't matter for now. Especially since he's helping us plan a wedding and all.”

You make a face. “I still can't believe that's the cover you went for.”

“Are you upset with it?” he asks smoothly, and you huff and say yes, but from his sly look, you think he knows it's a lie.

Naturally, you deflect before he can further interrogate you. “So, given that you are now my fiancé, am I no longer allowed to work on Keisei Street and see customers after my shifts?”

You don’t expect it when Suo says, “No, you can.”

You stare. “What?”

“You can keep seeing customers if you'd like. You said it makes you happy, so why would I stop you?” Suo’s brow furrows, his usual calm replaced with concern. “Do you really think I do the things I do to make you miserable?”

Guilt gnaws at your heart. He looks so disappointed. “No,” you tell him. “I just thought it'd make you miserable that I was sleeping with people without your permission.” It is partly why you hid it from him in the first place, after all. You don't like to see him sad—you’re still haunted by the deep grief he was in, after your master died—and also, his misery tends to bring bodily harm to other people these days.

Cognizant of both concerns, you ask, “You’re really okay with me sleeping with my customers? I can stop, if you want.”

“No, it’s fine. I still don't like it, but you can continue for now if you want.”

Suo’s mouth curls—not in a gentle way, as has been his expression since seeing you walk in, but in a way that sets off your flight or fight response.

“I'm sure we’ll reach a mutual understanding soon enough.”

END PART 1

thank you genuinely if you read all that because this is a deranged au and I still can't believe I wrote it sldfkjsldfkj. please do let me know if you enjoyed my yandere suo delusions. sorry there was no smut in this chapter. I promise there is a ton in the next one (probably too much... lol. it's a 10k chapter and literally half of those words are about orgasm denial sldfkjalskdjdf). it's completely written and I hope to edit and have it up by next week!

also here is glossary of terms and world building notes if you are interested!

tagging @kweenkatsuki-fics !! <3

[allthecanadianpolitics]

Hey, I know this isn't your normal content so feel free to not respond, but what's your opinion on the "socialization" issue (as in trans men are socialized as woman and trans woman are socialized as men before transitioning and it effects their personality) ? Recently I've seen a bunch of posts saying it's a bad thing to acknowledge. Like trans men and woman saying people who bring it up are trans misogynists. But personally, as a trans man with many trans fem friends I feel it's an important thing to see. In my view of things it's a larger part of sexism and what children are taught. By saying a trans woman was "socialized" as a man when she was a child I don't mean she was raised with a bunch of privileges. I'm often referring to what could be very traumatic and is a brand of trauma I probably can't relate to. Most trans woman I know where forcibly excluded from learning how to cook or clean even if they wanted to because those aren't "manly chores" and where not taught how to keep themselves safe the same way cis woman are. Or in the experience of my friends even beaten for wanting to do feminine things, not just by parents but also by peers. Where as most of the trans men I know can cook and clean like no ones business but no one taught them how to fix a sink or their car or how basic financing worked and they got hit for asking about it because "that's not a woman's place". And although I fully believe all children should be taught how to do all these things so they can take care of themselves, I am also aware that's not the society we currently live in and most trans men need help learning how to navigate things like not talking over woman (they're so used to having to scream to be heard) and how to fix a financial or household issue while alot of trans woman need their girlfriends to explain to them that they can't walk down a dimly lit street with their headphones covering both their ears. Idk maybe I'm just misunderstanding the whole thing but I think acknowledging socialization Is simply a step in learning how to take care of yourself and keep yourself safe in a world that didn't think you needed that info

I think there's some value as a way to understand the way that each gender was raised and the way gender roles are reinforced, but even so you can say I was 'socialized as a man' as I am a Trans Woman, but at the same time, I never really acted much like a man because the more I was socialized to act like a man, the more I gravitated towards feminine things that didn't cause me dysphoria.

I have a completely different lived experience growing up compared to a Cis man, even when I wasn't aware I was Trans.

I did have to do a lot of unlearning toxic masculine things and needing to learn essential feminine things as I came out and started living for myself and my gender expression, but a lot of the things that people say I was socialized as a man to, I just never did because they made me extremely uncomfortable. Its because I was never a man.

You can try to socialize a Trans person to act against their gender identity but a lot of the time, those gender roles just do not get enforced, because they're so toxic to your sense of self.

[xoxoavenger]

What Is This Feeling?

pairing: Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader

summary: Y/N and Dean are certainly feeling something for each other, they just can't exactly put their finger on it. In the meantime, they'll rip each others throats out and annoy Castiel and Sam.

word count: 3003

warnings: a small mention of alcoholism, intense enemies to lovers, based on 'What Is This Feeling' from Wicked, you may think this is isn't Christmas themed but there is a grinch reference thrown around a couple times (I couldn't help myself)

12 Days of Christmas masterlist main masterlist

Dean had never felt this way about anyone before.

It was surprising, because he had been in a lot of relationships with a lot of women. But something about this woman made his head reel in a dangerous way. He wasn't quite sure what it meant, at least not until he talked to Sam.

"I swear, ever since the moment I saw her I've felt this way." He tells Sam as they drink beer in the library.

"Hm," Sam says, still looking at his book. He clearly is not too interested in what Dean has to say, which causes him to be a little upset.

"I'm being serious! I don't understand it." He knows he's whining, but he wishes there was a way for him to know what this feeling was. It's been driving him crazy for months on end. 

"Are you sure it's not love?" Sam asks as he looks over, and Dean makes a face.

"Definitely not love. More like," It's on the tip of his tongue, and his mouth turns down as he figures out what makes him dizzy about her.

Y/N and Castiel are having the same conversation in her room, just down the hall, at the same time.

"He makes my heart race. I've never felt anything like it. I can literally feel the blood leaving my face just talking about this." She tells him, swirling her wine in her glass. Cas frowns.

"It sounds like you're in love." He says in that stupid low voice, and she wants to hit him at just the word.

"Absolutely not. It feels more intense. Like," She narrows her eyes, because she knows exactly what the feeling is.

"Loathing."

~

After the two of them figure it out, their relationship somehow gets worse. Sam and Castiel can only sit on the couch of the hotel room, each holding a beer. The only thing that would make it picture perfect is if they were eating popcorn. Sam would get up and pop it if he didn't know that Dean would deck him for even thinking about standing and interrupting their argument.

"How could you let it go?" Y/N yells from her side of the room. Sam and Cas swing their eyes over to Dean as if this were a baseball game.

"Let it go?" Dean repeats, barely able to stop himself from sputtering. "What, did you want it to kill you? Or maybe I should have shot you and hoped the bullet went all the way through?" He yells, because the stupid werewolf had been able to run after they'd been track it the past couple days. Everyone knew the likelihood of them being able to find and track it again, especially so soon.

"I'm sorry, is your aim that bad that you couldn't shot it without shooting me?" She knows, deep down, that the werewolf was wrapped around her, that it would have been hard to get a clean shot with then way he was holding her like a shield. Cas had been able to swing and slice a chunk of the werewolf's arm with his angel blade, and the werewolf had made it's escape while Y/N fell to the ground and Dean had gone to her side instead of shooting at it, like Sam had been.

"Seriously? You know that thing was wrapped around you like a freaking slinky. Do you have a death wish?" He shoots, and she turns, putting her fingers to her forehead in annoyance. "Why are you turned around now?" He asks, and she explodes.

"Your face is annoying me!" She says it far too loud, and Sam and Cas exchange a look of surprise before looking to Dean. This has officially gone from arguing about the hunt to personal attacks.

"Ugh!" Dean groans, opening the fridge and grabbing a beer. "I need alcohol just to deal with your voice." He says, and she turns back around, steam practically coming out of her ears.

"Are you angry because they didn't have a new jacket at army surplus? Too bad the old one has a knife shaped whole in it. Although, that probably made it look better." She's going after whatever she can think of, and she knows this isn't going to stop any time soon.

"Alright," Sam stand, putting his hands up. It's gone on a little too long, and he's sure any minute now they're going to get a call from the front desk because neighbors started complaining about the noise. "Let's just say you two hate each other and call it a day, yeah?" He suggests, and Y/N shakes her head.

"It's so much more than hate." She's staring daggers at Dean, who is chugging his beer.

"Finally something we can agree upon." He says as he pulls the bottle away and wipes his mouth, and she just rolls her eyes.

"He makes my skin fucking crawl, Sam. I can't stand him." She says, as if Dean isn't in the room at all.

"What about him makes you so angry?" Sam asks, and she doesn't even need to look at him to answer.

"Everything. All of it." She says, and Sam takes a deep breath.

"Okay," Sam is trying to keep his cool, but he kind of wants to laugh. This entire situation is childish, and he can't believe the two haven't figured their shit out yet. "Y/N and Cas, you share a room tonight."

"I couldn't handle her being in here anyway." Dean says, finishing the beer and throwing it in the trash before immediately grabbing a new one.

"Is it wrong to call him an alcoholic?" Y/N asks as Cas grabs her arm and starts to walk her to the door. "Because personally, I think it's just saying the truth, but I know some people,"

"Please stop," Cas begs quietly, opening the door. Dean has fire in his eyes, and she's lucky her back is turned when Dean starts to stalk toward her. Sam has to grab him and pull him back as Cas pulls her out the door.

"What the fuck is wrong with you, Dean?" Sam asks finally as the door shuts and he lets go of his brother.

"Me?" Dean asks incredulously. "She's the one who started it!" He argues, and Sam just shakes his head.

"Y/N is a nice person. She gets along great with everyone else, and she always makes friends with people on cases. She even somehow has demons that like her more than you do. So yes, I think you're the problem." Sam tells his brother, and Dean just gets even angrier.

"She hates me too! There's not much I can do here, anyway." He argues, grabbing his stuff and walking to the bathroom.

"Maybe she wouldn't hate you if you weren't such a dick to her." Sam says, because he knows his brother can be a little rough around the edges, but Dean usually isn't this rude or upset with someone. There has to be a reason why they loathe each other, and Sam doesn't think it has anything to do with loathing.

~

"So, why do you hate him?" Cas asks Y/N as they pack up the next morning. The angel had let her off the hook the night before, but he needed answers now.

"Well, ever since the beginning, there's just been something about him. And I usually get along with everyone. But he doesn't make it easy, exactly." She says. She doesn't like talking about it, because she doesn't have a good reason for the feelings that bubble up every time she sees Dean.

"It sounds like you don't hate him." Cas tells her simply, and she just blinks.

"You're right, Cas. I loathe him. Entirely." She frowns, zipping up her bag. Cas doesn't know what to do about this. He just wants Y/N and Dean to get along, because he's getting so tired of them fighting so much. It's every time they see each other, every time they're together. It doesn't even matter if they're on a case, or who's watching.

A point proven when a couple hours later, on the way back to the bunker, they stop at a diner and a fight ensues.

"Just because you're the one who lost the werewolf doesn't mean you have to take it out on us by making us stop at the shitiest place." She tells him after they'd ordered. True, this diner didn't exactly live up to any standards, but she was overreacting slightly because of her feelings.

"I'm sorry you're just so entitled that you have to have a five star meal, but we don't exactly have the funds for that. Maybe, if you put in a bit more of your own work, rather than just joining all of our hunts, we'd have more money for better food." Dean goes off, voice raising. Instead of sending him a glare to quiet the argument like she normally does in public spaces, she doubles down.

"We have plenty of money, you asshat! You just need the greasiest burger you can get your hands on, because it reminds you of life on the road with your dad." She shoots back, and some people near them have started to stare. She doesn't have it in her to care anymore, and can only barely stop herself from telling Dean that their cards are fake and so is their money.

"Seriously? You think you can read me? Well, you're not a closed book!" Dean yells, far too loud for the small diner. "You're only with us because you're lonely and terrifies you. You've lost everyone you've ever cared about, which keeps you from caring too much now even when you're nice to everyone. And if it were up to me, you wouldn't even be here." The words are barely out of his mouth before Y/N launches across the table, legs underneath her on the chair and arms out to choke him. One hand grabs his head and she's able to push it to the table once, hard, before Dean gets his bearings and puts his hands on her wrists.

"You think you're so smart, Winchester? You're a boy who grew up too fast and never had a childhood. Your whole adulthood has been you acting childish, because around your dad you were never allowed to. I get you had a bad life, but you think you're the only fucking one?" She grumbles into his face, fingers still twisted in his hair. He scowls, because she hit the nail on the head.

"I don't give a shit about what you think happened. I know a lot of people who were dealt a shittier hand than me. But at least I'm trying to make the world a better place. You act like you owe everyone you meet something, as if you're the reason their life ended up the way it did. News flash, the world doesn't revolve around you!" He yells in her face. She moves to get up onto the table to get better grip and maybe even choke him with her thighs.

"Okay!" Castiel grabs her leg as she tries to move, pulling her back. She's still got a grip on Dean's hair, so she pulls him too.

"Ow!" He yells as she grabs her fingers and unwinds them from his head. Y/N ends up on her back in the booth, Castiel holding her legs.

"It's time." Cas says as he looks at Sam.

"Time for what?" Y/N asks, getting up on her elbows and trying to kick her legs out of Cas' grip. He just holds on tighter, then nods at Sam before sliding out of the booth, his hands still gripping her ankles.

"Let go of me!" Dean yells, definitely causing a scene. And then, Cas gets up and pulls Y/N's legs with him, holding them over his head so she doesn't hit anything. Curse his stupid fucking angel strength.

"Cas!" She shrieks, grabbing her shirt to keep it from falling and revealing her stomach and bra to the entire diner, all of which were watching now.

"Which way to your bathrooms?" Cas asks calmly, as if he's not carrying a full grown woman upside down. The server points to the side, and Cas and Sam drag Y/N and Dean into the bathroom. Y/N's laid down on her back, confused out of her mind, and Dean is yelling at Sam as the younger Winchester pushes him into the small one-hole bathroom.

"What the hell?" Dean yells. Y/N turns on her stomach, and Dean turns toward the door just in time to see it slam closed.

"Fuck," She mutters, getting up and moving to the door. She tries to open it, but the handle won't even budge. "They're holding the door closed." She tells Dean, who instantly moves to where she had been to try and open it.

"Let us out!" Dean screams when it becomes clear that he won't be able to open it either.

"Nope!" Sam yells out, sounding far too excited. It makes Y/N even more mad than she is right now.

"You two need to work it out. And until you do, you aren't leaving that bathroom." Cas says through the door. Y/N wants to pull her hair out.

"Ugh!" Y/N screams, taking in the bathroom. It's old and a little dirty, and she hates the smell.

"You have no room to complain. If it weren't for you, we wouldn't be here." He tells her, leaning against the wall as he crosses his arms.

"Me?" She asks incredulously. She cannot believe the gall of this man. "You've got to be kidding."

"You started the whole fight!" He throws his arms out, and she thinks her eyes may pop out of her head. She takes a deep breath, because she wants to get out of this bathroom before she's forced to pee in front of Dean.

"Why did you let the werewolf get away?" She asks quietly. It's the softest tone she's ever used with him. He sighs, unable to look at her.

"How many times do we have to go over this? I didn't let it get away. Sorry your hunting standards are so high, but it's not like you were helping either." The way he says it, the tone so crisp and the words practiced, she knows he's lying.

"I'm not trying to make fun of you." She tells him, grabbing some paper towels and wiping off the water on the counter. "I just know you're lying, and I want to know why." She tells him, throwing the towels away before sitting on the counter.

"How would you know if I'm lying?" He asks defensively, and she rolls her eyes as she tries to tamp down her own snarky response.

"Dean," She groans, taking a deep breath. "I know that we aren't exactly close. But we aren't going to get out of this bathroom until we tell the truth, and I'm actually kinda hungry." She says, and she sees his exterior crack a little bit. He breathes out a long sigh, then looks from the ground to the wall.

"I did let the werewolf get away. You were right. I could have helped Sam go after it. I probably would have been able to shoot it." He admits, and it honestly surprises her. She didn't think he would tell her, at least not until they had been in there for an hour. She was about to push when he starts talking again. "I just saw you fall to the ground, and your eyes rolled back into your head, and I thought that you were more hurt somehow. I just needed to make sure that you were alright, and finding the werewolf was the furthest thing from my mind." It's silent in the bathroom, and Y/N is sure that Cas and Sam are listening. Dean looks at her, and they lock eyes for a few long moments.

"Why would you care?" She asks quietly, but it still echoes in the tiled room. Dean clenches his fists, rolling his eyes and walking towards her.

"I don't actually hate you." He says, standing far too close to her.

"Loathe entirely?" She asks with a small smile, heart racing. She's not sure why, exactly, but she can feel her face heating as well.

"No," He chuckles, shaking his head. "But I think it may start with an L." He walks even closer, his hands going to each side of her hips. She can smell his body spray, the smell of him that hangs around the bunker and usually infuriates her.

She realizes that maybe now she isn't infuriated with him. She's infatuated.

"I think I feel it too." She tells him, voice low as her gaze moves from his eyes to his lips.

"I'm sure you do." He says with a smirk.

"Alright." She chuckles, throwing her head back in fake annoyance. He grabs the back of her head however, and pulls her into a searing kiss. All their emotions, all the heart racing and dizziness and blushing has all lead up to this kiss, where their lips move in tandem and their teeth clack as they both open their mouths. Y/N's pushed against the mirror by Dean, one of his hands slamming against it. She moans as her body arches into his, and her groans into her mouth as he puts one hand behind her back, pushing her impossibly closer.

"Do you think they're physically fighting?" Cas asks from outside the door. Both him and Sam have their ears pressed the door, however Sam is slowly starting to lean back.

"They're physically doing something." He replies, frowning. Cas jerks back, letting go of the door handle as he realizes what Sam is insinuating. 

"I'm not sure if this is going to be better than them fighting." The angel says, and the two go back to their table, where food is waiting for them.

"Worse." Sam says, trying not to imagine all of the shit that's about to go down in the bunker. "Definitely worse." 

//

tags: @avada-kedavra-bitch-187  @one-sweet-gubler @theoraekenslover @king-of-milf-lovers @lyarr24

[omgcatboi]

When I was a kid I was kind of chubby, and in my teenage years I adopted the mentality of ' if I get fit then I guess I'm better than I was ' ( which was internalized fatphobia , an extremely weird kind that was only intended to be directed at myself. Very strange considering I've always loved fat people and been obsessed with how much I love fat people and even have had fat characters even when I was thin. But even if the intention was only directed at myself, inherently, fatphobia affects everyone. But mostly fat people. )

This post puts it into words perfectly. Getting fit didn't make me happy at all, it just gave me a very inflated and untruthful ego. And that ego was used as a safeguard for fat phobia. Even if it isn't intended to affect others again it still affects others. There is just simply no way around It.

It wasn't until I was able to start testosterone and transition medically that I felt comfortable enough in my body to gain weight. And after that, all those thoughts of how amazing it should feel to be fit melted away. Because it was always a should and never a matter of fact. I never actually felt better, I just felt lighter and tougher. I was tough because I felt like I wasn't allowed to be vulnerable in this world.

And that's lame. That's a very lame way of thinking. It's super lame to think that you can't be allowed vulnerability in this world. It is a Injustice to yourself to deny yourself comfort and softness. I used to feel so weird about perceiving myself as fat for the longest time as a teenager. And my adult life it was nothing but longing to be fat. And then I was able to transition.

So if you feel very uncomfortable about being fat, you should really get down to the root of that. Because it could just be that you aren't happy living the life that you are currently living. And if you delve deep into it and take the dive and find out that you actually don't want to be fat in the end that's okay too. But in this world you need to question everything about yourself in order to solidify it, without over questioning.

Challenging your beliefs builds character, and it builds morale. It gives you perspectives you would have never had without challenging your own views even when your views end up being something you still believe in and still agree with after challenging them which is kind of the point sometimes. Sometimes you need to come from a different angle in order to give yourself more context in order to actually explain something.

And the more understanding you have about yourself the better. No matter what.

So why not take the dive? I'm not saying go to the fridge and start stuffing your face, I'm saying question why you feel so uncomfortable with being fat. Question it and allow yourself to feel the emotion so that you can follow it and trace it to its source. Were you bullied? Did you have an abuser that was fat in your childhood that warped your view? Is your parent fat and you just don't want to be like your parent so it translates into fatphobia?

I think if people were more honest with themselves the world would be a much better place.

not to bat at a hornets nest but. people who were super insecure or were bullied about being pudgy and "got better" by becoming thinner or super muscular never actually got rid of that insecurity, they simply became the image they felt they had to live up to

[thevegandarkelf]

Joshua "Scud" Frohmeyer NSFW Alphabet

A deal was made with @francisofthespook, and here's my part of the deal. She agreed to write Daryl's NSFW alphabet if I wrote Scud's, so here it is! Massive kudos to @dixons-sunshine for proofreading my work, as always, and to @francisofthespook for proofreading as well (I proofread yours, so it felt fair for you to proofread mine lol). I hope you enjoy it! To my general taglist people, I'm sorry if this isn't something you'd normally want to be tagged in. I figured I would just add y'all anyway lmao. This is hands down the filthiest thing I've ever written and I had to stop several times to fan myself.

Also these are MY OPINION. If you don't agree with something, that's fine, but please play nice.

NSFW alphabet template by @the-coldest-goodbye, dividers by @anitalenia

18+ below the cut, minors DNI

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

He’s big into aftercare! The cleaning up, the cuddling, the pillow talk, he loves it all. I think it’s one of his favorite parts of sex. Basking in the afterglow all cozied up under the covers with you, your bodies tangled together…God, he lives for that shit. After your first time doing something new, he’d want to talk with you about how it was, how much you liked or didn’t like it, and if you’d wanna do said thing again.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

For his own, I wanna go with the obvious and say his dick, but I think (and hear me out) that his stomach would also be one of his favorites. He thinks his scars are cool and are proof that he survived something he probably shouldn’t have, and I think he loves that part of himself. For his partner, he’s a boob guy, easy. He doesn’t care what they look like or how big or small they are. They’re yours, and that’s all that matters to him. And if you have any insecurities about them, he’ll be sure to show you how much he loves them.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

He loves to be inside you when he comes, whether that’s with a condom or without. He loves the faces and sounds you make when he’s twitching inside you, riding out his high. If you allowed him to come inside you without a condom, he’d be thrilled, but he’d still check in with you the whole time up until he comes to make sure that’s really what you want.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

This might seem like a cop-out, but he doesn’t have any dirty secrets. He doesn’t have any shame in what he likes in the bedroom, so there’s no secrets between you two. If he likes something or wants to try something, even if it’s something other people might find strange, he’s going to tell you/talk to you about it. If he expresses he’s into something and you’re not down to do it, he’s not going to feel ashamed for asking. Like I said, he has no shame in what he likes.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

He’s very experienced & absolutely knows what he is doing. He prides himself on being able to make his partner feel good, and all the skills he’s acquired over the years will aid him in pleasing you.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Cowgirl and doggystyle, both for different reasons. Cowgirl so he can watch you bounce on top of and fuck yourself on him. Especially when he’s high, he loves to lay there and just let you go to town again and again. Looking up at you through hazy, half-lidded eyes would make him crazy. Doggystyle (specifically facing a mirror) so he can watch you watch yourself take him. He’d lean over you and dirty talk into you ear, telling you to look at yourself in the mirror so you can see how beautiful you look taking him. Both positions are also great for him to be able to circle your clit.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Very humorous. He never takes himself too seriously, and that include in bed. Sex is supposed to be fun, and he definitely brings that. He needs someone that can joke around with him during sexy time. If he were to get more serious at any point, it would be when either of you are close to coming.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Yes, the carpet matches the drapes. He doesn’t care about grooming, though. He’s not bothered by body hair, both on himself or his partner. If you asked him to clean up a bit, he certainly would, but otherwise, he doesn’t care. He’s not unhygienic though, he just isn’t bothered by it enough to do anything about it. For you, though, he’d do anything.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

That depends on our little angel’s mood. Sometimes, he just wants to lay back and let you do the work, but he’d still praise you and tell you how good you’re making him feel. If he’s releasing some pent-up frustration, he’d still be soft with you, but he might not be as giggly or romantic as usual. For special occasions, like your birthday or anniversary, he’d really ramp up the romance, adding sensual touches like lighting candles and putting on music.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

This one feels obvious, but he thinks about you when he jacks off. Thinks about your taste, your scent, all of the sounds you made during your last sexual escapade. He drools a little when he comes, specifically when he comes from masturbating. He’s so deep in the thoughts of you while he’s touching himself that he can’t be bothered to make sure he isn’t drooling.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

He loves having his hair played with/pulled. When he’s going down on you, he lives for having your fingers tangled in his hair and gently tugging while you buck up into him. He also loves to be praised (because who doesn’t?) (it would send his ego to the moon) and give praises as well, telling you how good you feel/how beautiful you look/how good you’re doing.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Somewhere where you’ll both be comfortable, like in bed or on the couch. But if it’s a quickie, he’d take you in the shower, over the kitchen counter, even the floor as long as you’re comfortable. He’d even take you over his work bench if it didn’t risk you two getting caught.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

He gets easily turned on, especially when he’s in love. He loves seeing you in lingerie, and of course that turns him on, but he gets really turned on when you wear his clothes. Your bare breasts against the inside of his jacket, your core on the inside of his boxers, he loves it all. He’d have a hard time keeping himself together the next time he wore something of his that you had on, picturing you in it instead.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

He’s turned off by anything non-consensual, he’d put his foot down at that. Even if it was something you wanted to try, he wouldn’t allow it. He’s into gentle biting and giving hickeys, but biting to the point of drawing blood is a no. Anything else that would cause either of you harm (something that would cause bruising that isn’t a hickey, leave welts, etc) is a no.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

He loves both giving and receiving, but he prefers giving. He’s in heaven with your thighs clenched around his head and the taste of you coating his mouth and tongue. His skills are next level. When he’s high, his skills somehow get even better, bringing you to orgasm faster than you could’ve imagined.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Sex with him is for sure soft and giggly. He’s a goofy bean, and that personality of his certainly transitions into the bedroom. If you asked for something a little more rough, he’d obliged, albeit hesitantly at first, until he sees how much you’re enjoying it. However, that wouldn’t be often, as he prefers to be soft and slow and take his time with you.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

He prefers to take his time with you and savor every second. He may have a high drive and be DTF a lot of the time, but it’s still special because it’s with you. When there’s not time & you’re both so fucking desperate and needy for each other that you can’t wait, a quickie will suffice, but he’ll be longing for more. And he’d make sure the next session after the quickie was extra special.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Yes yes and yes. He’s willing to try just about anything, and if he isn’t, he’ll let you know. He won’t shame you for any ideas you bring up or anything you might be embarrassed about wanting to experiment with. He’d be flattered that you felt safe enough with him to ask to experiment in different ways.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Depends on the type of sex. If he’s high, he’d only be able to go for one round, wanting to cuddle up and fall asleep shortly after (post-aftercare ofc, I can’t stress enough how much he loves that). If he’s had a stressful day and/or it’s been a while since you two have been intimate, he’d be able to go a few rounds, wanting to stay in the throughs of pleasure with you for as long as possible.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

He would certainly use toys on you if you asked. He prefers to do the work himself and get you off with just his touch, but he knows toys are friends, not competition. If you did the deed and he was too sleepy after to go another round but you wanted more, he’d lay there and watch you get yourself off with toys, watching your eyes roll back while he knows you’re thinking about him the whole time.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

He loves to tease you until you’re a squirming mess & can’t take it anymore, whining & begging him to do what you’re asking. If you express that you like to be teased, he’d be delighted and draw out the teasing for as long as he possibly could until neither of you could take it anymore.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Our little stoner is definitely vocal in bed. He makes a variety of sexy grunts, groans, and moans, all of which sound like music to your ears. When there’s privacy, he’s loud. He doesn’t hold back at all in expressing how good you’re making him feel. If you’re ever in a situation where you might get caught or others are within earshot, he can hold back the noises, though he’d struggle to hold back the closer he gets to coming.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

This may be a hot take, but he is not a whimpering mess of a sub. A switch? Sure, I can see that. A whimpering mess that’s begging you and calling you mommy? Absolutely not, and that’s a hill I’m willing to die on.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

He’s average-sized, maybe a little bigger than average. He’s an average-heigh guy, so it would make sense that his package reflects that. There’s a couple of veins that bulge when he’s got a boner, and they add to the pleasure you feel when he’s inside you. There’s also his scars. He loves when you give them attention, kicking and licking down them slowly as you position yourself to suck him off.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

He’s got a high sex drive, especially when he’s in love. After the first time, he can’t get enough of you. Your scent, your taste, your touch…he dreams of it.  He’s so in love with you, he’d get distracted at work thinking about all the things you did the night before. And the second you’re both home, he’d be pouncing on you, ready to devour you again and again.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

That depends. If it was sleepier sex while he was high, he’d pass pretty shortly after (post-aftercare of course, once you were both snuggled up under some blankets). Otherwise, he’d want to stay awake and enjoy some pillow talk with you, admiring how beautiful you are post-orgasm and savor the moment of you two wrapped up under the covers.

General taglist: @raddydaddydude @lovenormandixon @angeldemoncrowley @negansbestie @holdmytesseract

GIF made by me

© thevegandarkelf 2024. I do not consent for my work to be shared, translated, adapted, posted, or copied to this site or any platform without my explicit consent & evidence of said consent.

[rensaries]

𓍼 depollute me | jeno main masterlist

note :: i was inspired by "we'll never have sex" by leith ross to write this bc for some reason jeno reminds me so much of this song. everytime i listen to it or hear it i just think of jeno and think that it reflects how jeno would be as a partner! enjoy me being delusional and i hope you enjoy my first official writing :3 (including lyrics from the song bc i'm TIREDDD and i wrote a lot for my finals this week...)

word count :: 582

no matter how long you and jeno have been together, it always surprises you how much he appreciates you for being you. he appreciates your body, but not in the way that he only uses it to get off. he appreciates your face, but not just for the label of having a "hot girlfriend". he appreciates your personality, for making him feel so loved and comforted every time he breaths. when he kisses you it's with tenderness, not greed. when he runs his hands along your body it's in comfort, not lust.

"if i said you can never touch me, you'd come over and say i look lovely" your quiet voice vibrates against jeno's chest as the two of you are laying against each other, curled up in his bed.

"hmm?" he lifts his head up to look down at you, a perplexed expression painted on his face.

immediate embarrassment flows through you, regretting what you just blurted out. you realized how awkward of a thing that was to say and hoped that jeno genuinely didn't hear what you said. "oh... nothing, lay back down nono."

"no tell me what you said, i wanna know." he added a hint of sass to the end of his sentence, making it harder to just move on from your stupid remark.

"i was just talking to myself, it was stupid anyway."

jeno tilted his head and raised his eyebrow, knowing in his head he was thinking be serious. "tell me what you said or no cuddles for the rest of the night, and i take my hoodie back."

you sighed in defeat, knowing you couldn't lose all that just over a few words, "if i said you can never touch me, you'd come over and say i look lovely." once the words left your mouth you covered your face in embarrassment, you didn't even know what you meant by that but you just felt the urge to blurt it out to jeno.

"i don't know what that means but i'm assuming it's good." his gave you his signature "(.◜◡◝)" expression before he laid his head back down.

"i don't know why i said that honestly, it's kind of embarrassing,"

"no, not at all?"

"i was just thinking of everything you do for me, the way you treat me like i'm the most fragile thing ever. not just physically but in every way. everything you do for me is so careful and you never want me for only my body or only want me for sex, and just, like, if i told you you could never touch me again, you'd still say i look beautiful or lovely and be fine with never touching me again. like your love for me isn't only physical." your voice was quiet but jeno heard every word, listening intently. he would be lying if he said he didn't tear up a little at your words, he tries his best to show you love that's more than just physical and make you feel loved inside and out. and you were right, if you told him he could never touch you again he would be fine with that and would still always call you beautiful and lovely.

as if the two of you weren't close enough, he engulfed you in a suffocating hug, landing kisses on the top of your head. your muffled giggles vibrating against his chest. another heartwarming moment that makes you fall in love with your boyfriend all over again.

©️rensaries

[hephaestiions]

day 21 of @hprecfest — a fic rated M | previous recs

author rec! more importantly: tacky rec! evocative, poignant & mature (heh), @tackytigerfic's works are charmed slices of aching life. tacky has a gift for making a meal out of the mundane: their style is imbued with the hush of a glade, something quiet that burrows under your skin and expands there. writing about magic lends itself to the excitement of outlandish predicaments— fuck or die marriage bonds, werewolves, time travel— but i love how tacky takes these improbabilities as opportunities to explore the vulnerable and common humanity that fuels love, friendship, desire, grief. i'd take a chance on tacky's spin on every ship, every trope & every circumstance, purely because i'm convinced they'd take as good care of me as a reader as they do their brilliant, complicated, messy characters.

i chose tacky's M-rated works because i think they best demonstrate how narrative pleasure can, and often does, lie outside the graphic. for an action-oriented, fast-paced reader like me, fics that hold my attention through careful tension & hard-earned payoff are especially enthralling. everything tacky writes, regardless of rating, is glorious & an instant recommendation, but when i think of especially fascinating work with a rating that doesn't usually hold space in my preferences, it's these:

between the power lines (M, 3.2k)

For Harry Potter, all roads eventually lead to Draco Malfoy.

an elaboration & attestation to my personal maxim: to fall in or out of love with someone, take a trip with them. glory be that these two do, glory be that it's the former. this fic stretches and softens with every word, like resin in the sun.

the long fall (M, 3.6k)

It's supposed to be a simple house renovation, and maybe it's just the paint fumes, but Harry is feeling dizzy around Draco Malfoy. And what's the real meaning of family, anyway?

vignettes from a life & love that glow hotter with every change. every word exchanged carries the weight of so much history, care & consideration. the dynamic is sweet & achy, a take on new parenthood that leans entirely into the uncertainty & joy of changing realities.

last offices (M, 6.7k) (mcd)

It didn't seem fair that Malfoy was dead, and Harry was supposed to just keep on living without him.

i reread everything before reccing, but i couldn't bring myself to reread this one because of the sharp, acute devastation of it. pain, regret, grief, dialled up to the extreme and done shatteringly well. the non-linearity of this fic is especially cruel; the heartbreak is never allowed to settle. 100% recommended!

our little life (M, 7.2k)

Sometimes Harry dreams. Only they're not really dreams at all, and Malfoy is always in them. It's time travel, but not as we know it, and Harry just needs a good night's sleep.

entire lives woven into snippets of togetherness, the call of something distant yet inevitable. harry dreams of universes with draco, which is to say, harry dreams of universes where he's loved. also includes the absolutely stellar line: Harry wondered if there was any possible universe in which Malfoy wasn’t an absolute dick about his dad.

take the moon (M, 15k)

Harry Potter has always wanted a family of his own, and when a deadly blood curse forces him into a marriage bond with his best friend Draco Malfoy, it looks like he might just have found one. This isn't the story of the marriage. This is the story of two hurt and damaged men who learned how hard they could work for the sake of love.

two men who don't quite know how to allow what they want fully into their lives, a slow crunch of yearning, the even heat of a dynamic that holds itself away from the brink, brilliantly satisfying when they give into the fall.

in conclusion: a stellar author with a flair for the understated whose works call to be savoured. as always, if you love them (it's tacky, who doesn't?), let me know!

[tackykachowch]

Okay, here it goes. So, there's been this one thing that I was thinking about for quite a while. Almost a month, actually. Yes-yes, you guessed it, it's about s2 again. BUT!! With a twist. Let me show you what I mean

S2 introduced us to the (terrible) Vander's "apology" letter, a(n awful) flashback in The Last Drop, and the main element of our tonight's analysis - a (horrific) True Reason™️ for Vander and Silco's split up. In it we can see Silco throwing a molotov at enforcers and that led to F*licia dying. This enraged Vander and he tried to kill Silco. And what's wrong with that, you ask? Well, that was what I was asking myself as well. Because no matter how hard I thought about it I couldn't find a valid reason Why this feels wrong to me. So I went "Welp. Fine. Some things I just don't personally vibe with" but THEN. It Finally Hit Me. The thing that bothers me about this "reason" the most is the thematic dissonance.

Let's start from the very start (again). In season 1 ep2 Silco tells Deckard that "there's a monster inside all of us". See? This is a key phrase here. "There IS a monster inside all of us" meaning that no matter who you are, a hero or a villain or something in-between, there's ALREADY a living monster inside you. Let's take a look at a couple of examples. Vander let his monster out for a long time, hence why he became "The Hound of the Underground", but it didn't bother anyone since he was "the good guy" beating "the bad guys" up. Jinx showed her monster a little since she was young, and we can see it in how she was trying to make a working bomb with needles in it, but nobody paid attention to it since none of them worked. Deckard's monster was out and proud, but everyone was mocking him because he was weak. Mel let her monster take over her thoughts when she wanted to make Piltover her greatest creation no matter the price, even when the price was the lives of countless Zaunites. I think you get the picture. But why then Silco, the character who introduced us to this theme Himself, couldn't have one when he was young? What is the purpose of making him completely innocent? To make us sympathize with him more? Well, that's certainly a cheap trick, because people who wanted to emphasize with him already did so since season 1, and those who didn't probably won't do this even after the flashback. "Corrupted innocence" is not a bad trope, but like I showed with previous examples, it doesn't really mesh well with Arcane's world and other main characters. So, why not make it so Silco started to slowly let his monster come out to the surface, but Vander was so terrified of it that he decided to kill it no matter what it took? Because remember, the way Vander tried to kill Silco was EXTREMELY violent. It is very likely that he didn't want to take any chances with what he wanted to do.

Well that's all good and sound, you can say, but something isn't quite right here. Isn't the season 1 finale's title "The monster you created"? Why, you're completely right, my dear friend who is the other part of me I let to speak. But the thing is, these two themes coexist with each other, and moreover, they CAN'T exist without each other. There Is a monster inside all of us, ever since we're born really, but as we grow up and experience new things and meet new people more of these monsters can be created, or it can fuel the existing monster to become bigger and bigger (which still counts as creating tbf). Let's look back to the examples I provided earlier. Jinx was a little violent when she was a child, but then she experienced betrayal, grief, resentment etc, and they became her monsters as well, finally fusing into one in season 1's finale. Deckard's monster required only a little more power to become really terrifying. But there are a couple of characters who behaved themselves differently with their monsters. Because even tho there is a monster inside us, but like Victor said: "There's always a choice". You can love and nurture the monster, encourage it to become bigger and bigger, or you can try to ignore it, to seal it deep within yourself, until it finally bursts out, or you can accept it, live with it at peace and not let it influence you at the same time. That's precisely what Silco, Vander and Mel did, exactly in this order. And that's what makes the story all the richer and interesting, because characters deal with the same situation very differently.

So after all of this bunch of text I can finally and confidently say: s2's explanation for Vander and Silco's falling out is complete bullocks. Not only it cheapens the conflict between them itself, but also robs Silco and the story overall of their complexity and separates them from one of the main themes introduced in season 1. With that, dear audience, I bow out. Have a good night