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dolphin-diaries · 3 days ago

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Detrans/Uncis (Part 2)

Originally published on Dolphin Diaries.

My first steps on a detransition journey were underscored by a peculiar mantra: “but I’m not detransitioning though.” I don’t feel like a man, so I’m not a trans man, but I’m still taking hormones, so I’m not detransitioning. I’m getting laser, but I’m not doing anything to my voice—hold on, actually I am. I’m lowering my dose of testosterone, actually, but I’m still taking it, and it’s not like I’m a woman. Only I want to be gendered by strangers as a woman, but that’s different. Actually I’d hate to have any further changes from T, so I’m not taking it at all—but I’m still not detransitioning though. Actually, could you speak of me as she? And her, too? No detrans though.

At a certain point it started to approach total absurdity. My friends and loved ones, well-versed in the queer gender soup, said nothing of it, but I am myself strongly averse to repression, denial, and self-deceit. So I was the first to say I was wrong. The first to say, “I am, though.” And at no point, from the beginning to the end of my epistemic conga, have I encountered any meaningful pushback from my close circles. No implications of betrayal, no cold shoulders, no silence when I walk in the room.

So why the mantra, then? Why was I so averse to the idea?

A large part of that was the politicisation of detransition; how indelibly it is associated with the Right—I said as much in my first essay. On a personal level, though, it was trivial to realise I wasn’t doing a grift. I was confident I hadn’t been brainwashed into anything. I’ve never had any meaningful contact or affiliation with any sort of gender-conservative person or movement.

And I did encounter pro-trans detransitioners. Some of them sniped back at the right-wing ones, some merely told their stories independently. Regardless, they—just like me—did not receive great or meaningful pushback from their trans friends, nor even strangers. They weren’t always understood or necessarily celebrated, but they were taken at their word, believed, and more or less respected as much as any gender deviant. Before I had any thoughts to detransition myself, I had seen detrans people beyond the pale of the rhetoric multiple times, and…

And I hated them. They made my skin crawl. I was never rude or condescending, and as those encounters were online-only, it was trivial to maintain respect and civility. I also realised I had no real cause to hate them. They’d done nothing wrong, nothing wrong at all. It was easy enough to say that in principle, when they talked in the abstract, but when they spoke of their bodies, their lives, the flesh and blood of it all, I felt such visceral revulsion as I might’ve never felt before.

Or have I? Have I known this already, this knee-jerk lip curl, this morbid disgust with another’s aberrant sex? This idea in my mind, spreading like cancer, that these people were wrong? That they’ve violated something inviolable? And how civility and compassion chiselled this violent core into arrogant pity towards an untouchable other?

No, I have known this. And not such a long time ago.

The Body Horror

When I first came out as trans to my university class—cis-majority if not totality, naturally—the perverse fascination with my body was hard to escape. They were mostly polite, of course. My university was very ‘decadent Westian’ (pardon the quasi-inside joke). We were hip with it. Nevertheless—

“It’s okay for you, of course, but if my future children—”

“You mean to say you date women? How do you—”

“You mean to say you date men??”

“I wasn’t looking at you like that in the bathroom—I mean—uh—”

You don’t need to say it outright. Sometimes you don’t need to say a thing at all. I see it. I know.

That’s to say nothing of the doctors’ dehumanising dissection and the conservatives flashing the least flattering post-operative pictures like they’re gore. As a transsexual, you don’t even need dysphoria; you will be informed of your physical monstrosity in great detail and in every possible manner, from the subtlest glance to the bloody megaphone.

You learn to see transsexual bodies this way very young and not voluntarily, but I was not just any random person. I transitioned aeons ago, and I did not find the flesh of my fellow transsexuals a subject of psychosexual fascination anymore. We were just people. I’d learned that.

I thought I did, anyway.

That’s the thing about the biases that systemic oppression seeds and wields. They are, in my experience, nothing less than psychosocial cancers. Leave one cell alive, and they will surely regrow. Maybe into a new shape, maybe into something old, but they will never die left alone.

Although I’d mentally graduated to gender abolition and genderfuckery-as-political-stance, to activism, to gender constructivism and to queering everything, especially feminism, I’d first come to see transsexuality through the lens of the DSM. Not my fault or anything—that’s what was available to me. Transsexual transition, then, was first presented to me as a linear transformation, a path from A to B, at the end of which laid gender nirvana. Or, like, happiness and fulfilment, I suppose. White-people Buddhism was fashionable at that time, so please excuse my French.

So genderfuckery was all well and good, but you know, done respectably. For me, that was performing picture-perfect transsexuality, just a little spiced-up. So long as I still appeared cis. Anything that marked me as ‘clocky’ was unseemly; although I no longer needed to see any doctors about it, I’d been trained to sniff out such features and weed them out for the sake of gaining medical access. But that’s not the only way ‘respectable gender’ is ensured in queer circles. I’ve also observed it to be an absence of transsexuality. That is, gender is to be fucked with in words and pronouns and haircuts and porn—but to transition about it would be kind of gauche, don’t you think? A little gender-conformist?

Different outcome, but for the purposes of this discussion, same principle: it is disgust with transition. Visible transition, obvious transition; transition at all. My case was not altogether different from ideological non-transitioners; it was just modified to accommodate for some alteration of sex.

After nearly a decade of virilising HRT, my detransition wasn’t simply a matter of changing my name and putting on lipstick. That would just make strangers say ‘yas gurl.’ No, if I wanted to live as a woman beyond my immediate social circle, I needed to make more invasive changes. More than that, I wanted those changes. I didn’t merely wish to say I’m a woman—I wanted to look in the mirror and believe it.

The first truth a detransitioner learns is this: to detransition, you must transition again.

Again?!

Oh, it’s not the same as your first time ‘round, sure. Not just because of the difference in desired sex; if you’ve never had your gonads removed and have no prior issues with hormone production, you can simply cease to take HRT and stop depending on the vagaries of medical supplies. Doctors will, generally, be a little more understanding of your desire to change sex. Often, from their perspective, you’re not changing it; you’re fixing it. So if you were allowed to take the so-called ‘cross-sex’ hormones, you’ll probably be allowed the ‘same-sex’ ones. Conversely, because no such thing as a ‘detransition procedure’ usually exists, it’s a dice roll if any surgery will be covered by the state, your insurance, or anything. Yes, you’re ‘fixing’ your sex—but the fact you’ve ‘damaged’ it at all renders you a bit of an unreliable witness to your own mind. A little bit crazy, you could say. Isn’t it all quite literally your own fault?

However, the day-to-day mundanities of detransition would be highly recognisable to any trans person. Indeed, I got all the ideas on how to relieve my gender dysphoria from my transfem friends. I learned of laser hair removal from them, and they advised me on voice training. Some of the professionals that serviced me had no idea I was detrans—how would they? Kind of an odd thing to randomly bring up while getting your beard fried.

‘Detrans woman’ is not a legible social category (nor any other kind of detrans person). People know what these words mean—at least, if they’re up on the latest gender lingo—but they don’t truly know what that looks like. Maybe they imagine a particular grifter when you say ‘detrans,’ maybe it’s just a void—but it’s never you. No one will ever assume that’s what you are.

So how does a detrans woman move through the world? She passes, of course. She is either assumed to be a cis woman, having worked to file off any signs of testosterone’s magic touch, or she stands out with those features. If she transitioned after adolescence, she might have a leg up on passing, but should a stranger’s transvestigation radar starts beeping, they will surely scan her for other hints. Sometimes they’ll find what was never there, and sometimes they’ll decree a feature that occurs in all women, cis and trans, a sure sign of inborn manhood. I’ve always had a visible Adam’s apple, for instance, but it didn’t use to be proof I was born a man. Now, though, take that and a bad voice day, and I don’t have a leg to stand on.

And if someone decides I don’t belong in a women’s bathroom, do you think it’ll help if I cry I was born to piss here?

Here’s the second truth a detransitioners learns: it doesn’t matter how many times you transition, to what end or for what reason. If you do it at all, you will never be cis again. It’s the real red pill—the one the Wachowski sisters intended, not what the chuds on the internet made of it. Your body, your social and legal history, your continuity of self—it is different now. Not the way it’s supposed to be. Changing sex at all was never meant to be.

Regime and Treachery

Um-actuallying people who think I’m a trans woman will not help me under most circumstances. It won’t help with a strange man in an alley, and it won’t help with an employer that discovers my last manager knew me under a male name. In one case nothing but a good run will help, and in the other—come on now, they won’t think any better of me.

It will not make me cis, and it doesn’t help—under most circumstances.

Detrans women aren’t the only ones which may be assumed for trans women. Cis women that never touched a drop of testosterone get transvestigated too—not nearly as frequently, but it happens all the same, and regularly. The case of Imane Khelif is one that probably jumps to mind first these days, but she is perhaps in the minority of women that never responded to such accusations by loudly proclaiming she is completely and utterly unlike those filthy transsexuals—she is a real woman!

Detrans women have the whole transsexuality thing in common with trans women, of course. But they aren’t quite the only ones—intersex women that were assigned female at birth are also often assumed to be transsexual. They are also subject to severe medical violence and neglect. Some require exogenous hormones to stay healthy. Some wish to take ownership of their body via voluntary sex alteration, for a change. It is rather transsexual-like, all in all.

But yet you will not search long to find similar underbus-throwing. The AFAB intersex woman is not like that trans woman—she deserves gender-affirmative treatment. She’s a real woman. The birth certificate said so.

And so too the detrans woman, despite all her history, despite the indelible mark of transsexuality, looks at the dangling carrot of Real Womanhood—and like a dog, jumps.

She will never be allowed the full extent of it. It is irreversible damage, after all. That’s important. The detrans woman that betrays her sisters—her class, even—must forever cry about the wounds transition left on her, must never heal from them. And trust me, the cis aren’t nice about it behind her back. The detrans woman is promised a shred of cis-ness, of real-ness—but only so long as she divorces herself from all things transsexual. Loudly, repeatedly. The moment she stops, she will be reminded: she too is transsexual. She has seen sex/gender for what it is; her body is evidence. She has eaten of the tree of knowledge. It’s only at the regime’s great mercy that she can peek into Eden—but god forbid, never enter.

Because what would happen if the ‘damage’ wasn’t irreversible? If society allowed the detrans woman to be a woman wholly and totally—its woman, real woman? Why, it would mean sex can be changed without repercussion. It would mean you could leave gender.

It wouldn’t quite mean that trans women are women and trans men are men—it would only allow that your birth sex can be ‘returned to.’ But if even that much was permitted, it would make transition no longer a threat. You could do it and come back just fine, see? What’s there to fear? Why not just try it? And if you can just try it, just leave and come back as you please—how can you force people to obey gender?

It would mean I could opt out of womanhood any time. Of the mandate of reproduction, of subordination, of sexual and domestic servitude—of the constant fight to break free of those things. I could opt out even if I didn’t like being a man. I’d always have one foot back in the door, if I pleased. And that’s the thing about the patriarchy: women must never be allowed to leave. Or to desist, or to fail. For that they must be punished. Want fewer lashes? Kick the weaker bitch out the door.

Cis-ness is a regime. A status quo. To define it merely by the relationship to birth-assigned sex is erroneous—intersexness reveals this, but if you’re the kind of person who thinks the intersex are some sort of rare and bizarre exception (they’re not), perisex detransitioners must surely hammer the nail home. To be cis is not merely to self-identify as the sex on your birth certificate; who’s even looking at those? It is to live in accordance with your biological destiny, and every social law that entails. This destiny is assigned at birth, yes, but it does not end there: it follows you all the way.

Cis-ness is not an identity—it is a reward for doing as you’re told.

The Freedom of Sex

It is obvious, then, why detrans medical care is a pain to get even though you’re complying with your birth sex assignment. That is the true engineer of detrans misery, of dysphoria and resentment. To come to dislike the features you’ve acquired during transition is one thing—but to be prevented from changing them? To be looked at like a lunatic? To not know what to do, because information about de/transition and how it works is so understudied and obscured?

If transition was easy, known, free—more people would detransition, certainly. But that wouldn’t mean much. Because they’d be people like anyone else. Their bodies—transsexual bodies—would be just the same, just as worthy. They would be real.

The implications are even greater than that. Freedom of sex, as Andrea Long Chu puts it, means a freedom to change anything about your sex, in any way, for any reason, without restriction. Not the A->B path I was first taught under the illusion of two wholly distinct, non-intersecting sexes—rather, the tweaking of individual aspects. It is to really examine how sex works and take it apart on your person. It is what some trans people already do, with microdosing and what you might call small acts of detransition. If you don’t like the beard after T, why not zap it off? If you want to be on oestrogen but don’t like the breasts—double mastectomy works just the same regardless of initial sex. The idea of customisable, ‘nonbinary’ transition is one that’s gained prominence in recent years, even as attacks on all transition have exponentially increased.

Linear transition was written in an attempt to enforce a kind of gender austerity. Only those that really need it can get it, and so there must be competition, a hierarchy of haves and have-nots. There must be doctors that will prescribe you wrong dosages based on irrelevant research and leave you to wonder why you feel so off. You must not pick and choose the changes you want, because your sex is not for you to decide—it is to be granted to you, justified via a constant defense of self-identification. For the crime of violating sex/gender, your autonomy is branded as harebrained desire until proven otherwise. You’re not allowed to simply want something; you have to need it, hence the attempts to naturalise and essentialise transsexuality—you have to be real, you have to be born with it.

Above all you must be kept in the dark and hurting, so that any time someone suggests anything as ‘frivolous’ as the freedom to have their body as they wish, you snipe back: Shut up, vapid idiot! You’re going to hurt yourself in your stupidity! I’m not like you—I’m the one who’s really hurting!

To look at de/transition from the perspective of liberation is to ask: why? What’s the austerity for? We have the hormones, the surgeries, almost all the treatments we want, and the science isn’t calling it quits tomorrow last I checked. What horrible thing are we preventing by stopping people from doing to their sex whatsoever they wish? Are we running out of gender juice?

But of course, I already told you why. A smarter woman than me has also written extensively why. It is because sex and gender come with a fine print, a set of prescripts, which must be enforced. Irreversible damage to fertile wombs must not be allowed. The pedestal of Man must not be tarnished.

Freedom of sex, then, is the patriarchy’s anathema.

Detransition is part of freedom of sex. To accept acts of detransition as neutral is to allow that changes wrought by transition—just like naturally developed sexual characteristics—can be changed at will. Even disliked. To be free is to embrace the possibility of discontent, too; to allow oneself to do something you may regret later, and to be free to go back. To accept that nothing is final. Finality is one of the ways transition is made more difficult than it needs to be: you must be sure, must be happy with what you get—or else, it is argued, you never had a real need for it anyway.

That is plainly not true. I know that from my own example.

Transition served me well way back when. I do not know of an extant, realistic alternative that could’ve helped me as effectively. I was happy with my transition for years, and suicidally discontent before then. So who cares if transitioning proved in the end an imperfect permanent solution for me? Why must transition be held to perfection and permanence before it is allowed? It worked and it saved my life—who are you to tell me I shouldn’t have done it? And who are you to hold me hostage to it?

What if, even now, I enjoy that I’ve been constructed rather than simply born?

Not So Fast

Now that’s a nice thought, isn’t it? I can feel the gender nirvana coming on already.

Unfortunately, it can’t be that simple. To dream of a world you want, you must first contend with the world you already live in.

There’s a particular aspect that’s been largely absent from my essays so far: forced detransition and conversion therapy. In part, that’s because I argue from the perspective of a willing detransitioner with no shadow of a right-wing past or influence; a viewpoint which is lacking in the public conscience. Plenty of trans writers and thinkers already staunchly argue against forced detransition. They omit the detrans by virtue of either irrelevance or ignorance or both. When voluntary detransition is mentioned, people tend to merely point out there’s not that many of us. In actuality there’s very little statistical research to give definitive numbers, but it’s certainly true we are the minority of transitioners, and the absence of statistical evidence only further confirms: the Right are pulling numbers out of thin air.

Except, saying that is missing the point. The Right never cared about numbers. Or facts. Or logic. Their argument is that willing detransition ought to be the nail in the coffin for transition. If you retort that, um actually, there’s only half as many willing detransitioners, you still concede we exist and are a contradiction to you. That is enough to prove the Right’s point. I, therefore, wish to argue we are not a contradiction to trans rights or existence, but in fact on a continuum with both. That by virtue of our needs and lived realities, we are trans. Differently trans, but trans nonetheless. Some (trans and detrans) may not enjoy that assertion for a number of reasons, but the empirical fact is that we are irrevocably cast out of cis-ness, and we are in need of support structures that are near-identical to those of trans people. If by every function we are trans, then it’s under that name that we should be understood, because it is the only thing that makes sense and yields results.

But.

Detransition is not a neutral act in practice, even if it has the potential to be. Just like transition isn’t. Both are politicised, and the nature of detransition’s politicisation diverges from that of transition quite sharply.

In the current political climate, as trans people are being denied medical care and the anti-trans rhetoric pollutes every information space, this cannot be avoided or denied. Transition is reviled, and detransition is said to be the cure and is wielded as a punishment. Detransition-as-sex-freedom cannot be understood without also grappling with the other two kinds of detransition I distinguish based on motive and emergent needs: forced and coerced.

Forced detransition is the simplest to define. It is detransition that occurs when circumstances necessitate it as the only possible course of action, or it is altogether done unto the transitioner without any pretense of choice. The starkest example is, say, the new law in Florida which forcibly detransitions the incarcerated. But it needn’t be so wholly dystopian to qualify as ‘forced.’ Detransitions due to family or peer pressure, poverty, lack of access, or social isolation are all forced in nature, even if in the most technical sense you made the ‘choice’ to undergo it. If you wish you were still transitioning, it is forced.

Coerced detransition is a grayer area. It is motivated by an individual’s choice—not a lack of one or a pseudo-choice, as above—under circumstances in which transition is possible, but highly discouraged. You will naturally recognise conversion therapy as an extreme example, but it needn’t be so blatant. Often it isn’t.

Say, for instance, your closest circle of friends regards transition as a frivolous neoliberal excess. Or, let’s say, your cis boyfriend is perfectly happy you’re a man now, he swears, but—well, he’s not gay, you know? Just for you. It’s different with you. Except he still treats you the same way he did before your transition—but that’s a good thing, right? Good thing he still wants you at all? He would probably prefer a girlfriend, and he’s never dated men—actually, is this whole thing really that important to you? Aren’t you rushing into things? Do you really know what you want? You don’t mind if he slips up on pronouns when you’re not in the room, do you?

Or maybe your general practitioner keeps insisting any time anything is wrong with you, that it’s the hormones’ fault. The classic ‘trans broken arm’ syndrome. And when something actually might be wrong with the hormones, the solution is always to just stop HRT altogether. And the surgeries—they’re just so dangerous; look at how horrifying post-op pictures are! It’s just biology, just facts, which don’t care about your feelings (but remember: it’s only a fact if it makes you feel worse.)

In other words, the decision to go through coerced detransition is made in a state of reduced agency, often caused by social pressure and/or misinformation about transition. Nothing is explicitly preventing you from doing as you will to your sex—and so it is precisely your will which must be subverted and undermined.

Notice that I make no claim whether detransition is right or wrong for the person in question. Perhaps they would’ve arrived at this decision another way, perhaps not. The point is, they are led to believe detransition is simply more sensible, healthier, better. It is the superior choice—so of course, they make it. In the end, coerced detransition is not truly dissimilar from the forced kind. What merits it separate consideration is that it’s designed to make you relinquish your own judgement, and your very own sense of self. Under such conditions, even if you would’ve ultimately detransitioned regardless, your relationship to your sex/gender is made maladaptive, and your independence as an individual is maliciously compromised.

The needs of coercively and forcibly detransitioned people are closely aligned. The forcibly detransitioned, naturally, require that the circumstance which necessitated their detransition is removed, and that their retransition is facilitated and supported. The coercively detransitioned may or may not require the same thing—some detrans people do, in fact, discover they genuinely desire detransition in less-than-ideal circumstances—but what they certainly need is a pathway to recovery from conversion. They are to be given their agency back, as well as access to accurate information about transition and transitioners, so that they are free to make the choice to retransition or to keep detransitioning as they see fit.

Both cases run counter to detransition-as-sex-freedom, to voluntary detransition—which is to say, a choice made due to a shift in self-perception, under circumstances in which continued transition is unhindered. The needs of a voluntary detransitioner are also starkly different, and most resemble that of a transitioner. A voluntary detransitioner requires a facilitated pathway to sex modification and gender recognition, from hormones to surgeries to legal procedure. It is the same thing for which trans people fight; it need only be recognised that voluntary detransitioners are part of that fight.

Grouping voluntary and involuntary detransitioners under the same umbrella makes little sense. We may superficially share some experiences, but such an equation falls apart from the perspective of rights and needs; it obfuscates motive, absolves abusers and systemic injustice, and it smooths over radical differences in our stories and perspectives. It draws a false equivalence that either condemns voluntary detransition or celebrates forced and coerced detransition, thus making it impossible to either embrace or reject detransition in good conscience. Thus no progress can be made.

In other words, conflation of voluntary and involuntary detransition only works from the cis perspective—from the perspective of the regime, which observes its deviants and wishes them gone, and rejects understanding them on principle. From either the trans or the detrans perspective, it is nonsense.

Except…

How do you know, though? How do you know? How do you know, when everything from your very cradle is telling you trans people are aberrant for existing, and when trans life is so hard? The coercively detransitioned wholeheartedly claim total autonomy; they are not really lying; from a strictly liberal-minded perspective, they are not wrong. How exactly can continued transition be ‘unhindered’ when society is engineered to always make it difficult?

How do you really know it’s your choice and your choice alone?

We all realise the answer: you don’t. You can’t. Not with complete certainty. There’s no such thing as a pure, unadulterated, individual choice, and there’s very rarely such a thing as an unhindered transition.

We live in a world that reviles transsexuality, that denies and despises the mutability of sex and stamps out any proof that gender is smoke and mirrors. The regime of cisheterosexism seeps through every layer of society and through every aspect of life. Purely voluntary detransition is, in the strictest sense, impossible. Sex/gender is a regime, and no act under it is free; all are forced to exist and be legible within its framework, or else be totally exiled. To exist socially is to exist under sex/gender.

This is not whatsoever unique to detransition. Or detrans people, or trans people. Cis women, for instance, must grapple with what it means to be a woman when Woman is defined as subordinate to Man—even as most do not transition about it. So, too, do men grapple with what their gender means when Manhood is defined and enforced via violence towards women, other men, and the gender-deviant. Even the cissexual must contend with the demands placed on their bodies—almost all transsexual treatments originate in cissexual healthcare. There is no exit from this struggle, because patriarchal sex/gender is constructed to be all-encompassing and mutually exclusive. Woman is everything Man isn’t, and vice versa; never the twain shall meet, and no stone will they leave unturned. No matter what you do, it will be sexed, it will be gendered, and though the conclusion will shift from occasion to occasion, in any particular instance it will allow for no ambiguity. Even when someone yells at you on the street, “Are you a chick or a dude?!”—that is not ‘ambiguity.’ It’s just a longer version of a slur.

Similarly, this is not the first (nor the last) time when sex/gender alteration has been contorted and weaponised against transsexuality—that is, sex-mutability’s most blatant, most acute manifestation. The Cass Review has notably cited the existence of non-transitioning nonbinary individuals as ‘proof’ transition must be curtailed:

“Secondly, medication is binary, but the fastest growing group identifying under the trans umbrella is non-binary, and we know even less about the outcomes for this group. Some of you will also become more fluid in your gender identity as you grow older. We do not know the ‘sweet spot’ when someone becomes settled in their sense of self, nor which people are most likely to benefit from medical transition. When making life-changing decisions, what is the correct balance between keeping options as flexible and open as possible as you move into adulthood, and responding to how you feel right now?”

Doubtless, the Gender Criticals wish the nonbinary non-transitioner to be as non-existent as their more deviant sibling. But while a greater deviant still exists, those that happen to be more acceptable, more assimilate-able, are called upon to do the one thing they’re good for:

Kick the weaker bitch out.

Such too is the final fate of detransitioners under the patriarchal regime. They are to be the knife in the back of their siblings, and when those are gone, they will find their own backs perforated.

So far I have provided eloquent arguments towards clear and singular conclusions—at least, I hope you’ve found me eloquent and clear. Today, on this matter, I offer no such thing. I have nothing to offer but this: so long as transition is reviled, so long as the transsexual are persecuted in any manner at all, there is no freedom of sex and there is no neutrality. Insofar as this pertains to detransition: so long as the transsexual are persecuted, hated, and forced into obscurity, we are likewise bound to their persecution, hatred, and abandonment. So long as that holds, voluntary detransition can never be free.

What Now?

I know. I’m a killjoy. It’s a fate all serious anarchists and college dropouts must contend with: if we’re really sincere about what we think, the mood will be thoroughly murdered.

The fight is clear. The fight is needed. And, the fight is hard. But there is life to be lived in the meanwhile, and it’s worth living even if we don’t see a victory during our time. Total certainty may be impossible and foolish to seek—but you have to make choices anyway. Doing nothing is merely choosing passivity and inertia; you face the consequences either way.

So I ask again: how do you know?

If you’re someone contemplating detransition, here’s the second best thing I can offer: have the courage, the self-insight, and the compassion to face yourself and be honest. Have the intelligence and the disobedience to measure what you’ve been told about transition and transsexuality against the things you have seen and experienced. Have the audacity to be wrong, to make mistakes as many times as you need. Have the pride to ask for better things than you are offered. Have the humility to not think yourself exceptional. Above all, never relinquish the responsibility over your life and your choices to anyone or anything else. No, no one else knows any better. No, there is no easier way.

The first best thing I can offer—to anyone, detrans or not—is to tell you how I knew. In the end I speak from my own experiences, and so it’s only fitting that the message I broadcast is incomplete without a degree of testimony.

Oh, it is to my chagrin, believe me—well, kind of. For all that I love attention and getting told I write oh so powerfully well, a part of me also detests personality pieces. I’m just one woman; I don’t mean much; I shouldn’t mean much. But you must’ve wondered, right? Especially if you don’t recognise yourself in me. I’ve spoken briefly about aspects of my de/transition, and let’s say you took all that for granted, but you must’ve wondered: how did I get here in the first place? How did it feel? How does it feel? Really, truly, how? And why?

I don’t like personality pieces because I think they mine for compassion. That can be a catalyst for a great many things, but just as often I’ve had people treat me with total nicety and then vote for a politician that would kill me, or exile a child that used to be me. Compassion is common, human, and incredibly cheap.

It is also required for kinship. For comparison, for legibility. And one of the issues that plagues detransitioners is illegibility. Silence. A lack of reference by which to see yourself. Community is best known by example.

So an example I shall provide. Next time.

Recommended Reading

On the freedom of sex: Andrea Long Chu, The Right To Change Sex.

On the nature of sex/gender hierarchy within the patriarchy: Talia Bhatt, Understanding Transmisogyny, Part 1.

On the mechanisms of gender-conservatism among women: Andrea Dworkin, Right-Wing Women.

#transfeminism #detrans #detransition #material feminism #sex is a social construct

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wonbriiize · 1 year ago

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riize as boyfriends pt. 1

pt 2. is here

✧₊⁺ shotaro

the type of boyfriend who would wake you up with kisses

he yearns for a deep & meaningful relationship

would make you film cute dance tiktoks with him ˃̵ᴗ˂̵

he would notice when you’re feeling sad and would do his best to make you feel better

like, he would buy your favorite flowers and surprise you with them

or he would call you over to his place and surprise you with your favorite movie & snacks

it’s important to him for you guys to talk about your feelings, desires, goals etc. openly

if conflict happens, he’d rather sit down and talk it out because he goes crazy thinking about you guys being on bad terms

he is so so so supportive !! whatever you want to do, he will stand behind you, he will always have your back no matter what ♡ ̆̈

shotaro is usually very happy but when he sees that you‘re having a bad day, his mood goes down too. like, you hate the world right now? good, so does he !! you want to cry a river? well, he will cry along with you !!

✧₊⁺ eunseok

would pull up behind you and put his arm around your waist to hold you close to him

especially in social gatherings, it’s his sign to show everyone that you’re only his

he stares at you for the longest time and when you ask what’s up he just straight up says ‘i love you’ with the most serious tone ever

it makes him smile when you get shy after he does this, he just loves watching your reaction to it

the type of boyfriend who would have a pic of you in his wallet

when people would ask him ‘who‘s this’, he would softly smile and say ‘my favorite person’

likes to try out new things on your dates

for example going to places you’ve never been to, or doing fun activities that both of you haven’t tried yet

loves teasing you, in every way possible

would sneak up next to you in bed and watch you sleep with admiring eyes because he loves how peaceful you appear (*◡*♡)

✧₊⁺ sungchan

the type of boyfriend who would wake you up in the morning to go out for a walk

would make you breakfast as well

like when you’re on your period, he’d want you to rest in your bed and bring the breakfast to you (づ๑•ᴗ•๑)づ♡

honestly, he’s the type to ask ‘where’s my hug at?’

when you’d hug him, he’d wrap his arms around you so tightly that you fear he’s going to break your bones

he‘d rest his chin on your head and tease you with pushing it down

you like to scare him so sometimes when he does that, you act like he actually hurt you

he would get so concerned, step back and look at you with the most beautiful and apologetic eyes you’d ever seen

sungchan would keep saying sorry even when you tell him you were just joking, because if he’d actually hurt you, he‘d never be able to forgive himself

you‘d have to kiss him to silence him and assure him that everything is fine, and after the kiss, sungchan would have the biggest smile on his face, his eyes looking down at you with the most loving gaze ♡ ´･ᴗ･ `♡

✧₊⁺ wonbin

sends you good morning and good night messages

if he‘s out shopping and sees something that he thinks you’d like or it reminds him of you, he’d buy it right away

he‘s such a scaredy cat but he’d act so tough to look cool in front of you

like, if you guys would go to a horror escape room, he would secretly be shitting his pants everytime your attention wouldn’t be on him

but the second your eyes wander back to him, he’d act like this is the most easiest thing ever

when something creepy would happen in the escape room, he’d try to put all his fear aside and protect you

but you’re a bit better with horror stuff than him, so he actually ends up being the one who needs protection, like he’d hide behind you

also, for your birthday, he’d sing your favorite song for you while playing the guitar

everytime you wouldn’t be looking at him, he would be staring at you, telling himself how lucky he is that he gets to be with you ˃̶̤⌄˂̶̤

when the two of you watch a movie together, he enjoys resting his head on your shoulder and fiddling with your shirt as well as kissing you unexpectedly •ᴗ•♡

#riize #riize imagines #riize fics #kpop #riize drabbles #riize x reader #riize wonbin #riize scenarios #riize fluff #riize sungchan #riize shotaro #riize eunseok #wonbin x reader #shotaro x reader #sungchan x reader #eunseok x reader #x reader #riize headcanons

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haveihitanerve · 5 months ago

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Steph and Bruce things-

Bruce once said- “when I die I want you to be the one who lowers me into the grave so you can let me down one last time” and dick gaped at him in horror, jason exploded into laughter, and steph glared at him before giving him a high five

Steph ends every argument with him with “i won this argument” even if she- especially if she very clearly did not

When she gets injured Bruce forces her to stay at the manor. Its the only time he is permitted to actually parent her because she is injured and needs to recover, but thats not to say she doesn't break into the cave and annoy him during work and force him to take her with him everywhere

Steph has all the codes and keys for everything in Wayne Manor/Batcave, but still breaks in everytime she comes over. It drives Bruce insane

When bruce gets injured shes one of the kids who sits at his side the whole time, especially if its because of her or its a big injury(dick is usually the other one)

When he gets sick she forces him to sit on the couch with her all day and folds him into a burrito blanket and eat junk food and slightly burnt soup with bread and watch trashy tv

When she gets sick bruce wraps her in a blanket burrito that she actually cannot escape from and takes her everywhere with him, just carting around his technically not daughter who is forced to be there and take the medicine he gives her and food and everything because shes wrapped in a straight jacket blanket

He picks her up from school and will have the most embarrassing songs ever playing, or will call out something awful like “is that the boy you have a shrine of in your room?”

Will lecture her in front of her friends

Steph changes all his contacts frequently so he always has to spend some time deciphering who it is based on what she called them, or he just starts every conversation with “who is this?”

She once forced him to come to a concert with her and buy matching t-shirts and merch and whenever shes feeling down he wears the shirt as like.. Solidarity and it makes her feel better

Every year for her birthday or christmas or something he sends her a bat symbol, either in purple or black or some other color and every year on his birthday she actually wears it for one day and lets him “claim” her as a bat

She was the first one to visit the League and gave everyone whiplash and made Batman actually break composure

Bruce will actively go on the patrol route she goes on and throw water or like snacks at her while screaming “Hydrate or diedrate!!!” and it is common to see a screaming Spoiler sprint away from Batman across rooftops

They have a snowball fight every year and she recruits every batkid to help

When shes on her period bruce “grounds her” from patrol and forces her to accept his mother henning just once a month. Steph doesn't actually mind.

Steph gives him actually useful dating advice

Since shes not actually his daughter she lacks the baggage of being his child and tells him when hes messed up and he and Babs have like meetings with him to explain what hes done wrong with his kids and how to fix it/be better. Dick is also sometimes involved in these meetings when he is not the offended party

thats all i could think of rn but please feel free to add more 💗

#steph and bruce #can you tell i love them #stephanie brown #bruce wayne #bruce and steph #batfam #batman #spoiler #batman and robin #besties #hes her technical dad #and shes his technical mom #its complicated and yet so simple #it works for them #they have such a messy complicated sweet relationship i love them so much

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melorambles · 27 days ago

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hei xiazi and zhang rishan headcanons I will never be talked out of:

they met back in the day when rishan was fo ye's fu guan, definitely committed a whole bunch of arson and murder they narrowly escaped being arrested for, and a whole bunch of other stuff fo ye had to pay bail for

fo ye spent the rest of his life carefully monitoring hei xiazi's whereabouts to make sure he and rishan were never in the same city unsupervised. sometimes he hired hei xiazi for BS he made up on the spot because it was cheaper than paying for the property damage

fo ye was also a little jealous they didn't invite him to the Shenanigans, but he's too Official and Responsible to do those sorts of things anymore and he does pout about that on er ye's couch.

when Rishan takes on fo ye's mantle, he keeps xiazi on speed dial to mess with people who annoy him. Just, straight up says 'here's a bunch of money, do whatever you want so long as I don't have to hear from them for the next month'

Rishan unknowingly mirrors fo ye's frustration with having to keep up appearances and not being allowed to be the agent of chaos he was born to be. xiazi is aware of this and sometimes 'kidnaps' him on vacations where they go burn down a wang family warehouse or training facility or the summer home of some corrupt government official.

they've never been caught, but poorly drawn police sketches have ended up on wanted lists rishan has had to make arrangements to have deleted

xiazi is also one of the few people who understands the Immortality Depression, who would also - probably - give fair warning before trying to shank rishan (and vice versa). rishan and xiazi have definitely fucked about it, but even the suggestion they ever dated would be met with some sort of reaction on a scale of confusion to horror (also the ghost of fo ye starts screaming from the afterlife)

rishan has definitely made green pepper fried rice for xiazi and it's their go-to currency, other than favors and flammable materials.

#dmbj #zhang rishan #zhang fu guan #hei yanjing #hei xiazi #two characters with immortality #and very different levels of connection and community #and very different surface emotions #but at their core are both chaos gremlins

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freemansgirl · 2 years ago

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dating amber sfw and nsfw headcanons

SFW

* very sweet, she loves you so much

* contact name in her phone for you is “my final girl”, your name, or “baby” with the 🖤👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩 emojis

* can be clingy and overprotective (even too overprotective at times) especially when the ghostface killings happened

* loves to show you off, she is hers and you are hers, the whole school knows it

* petnames for you are “princess”, “baby”, “babe” “honey”, “sweetheart”, “love” and “darling”, she doesn’t really call you by your name that much but if she does that mean shes either mad or something serious

* very huge on pda, she loves to leave her hands on your waist, hips, thighs, hands, etc. shes very touchy and always has her hands on you somewhere. she likes to have you sit on her lap sometimes and loves to have you cuddle against her

*when people usually hit on you, she will come up from behind and grab you while giving the person in question a glare that screams “back off” or she’ll usually just tell them off herself, “she’s with me.”

or she’ll just play dumb and act like she doesn’t know what is happening, while walking up to press a kiss on your cheek, “oh who’s this?”

*you guys have definitely snuck off from class to have intense make out sessions, the main places you guys go to being the girl’s bathroom and/or the janitor’s closet

*if you’re ever stressed with school, she usually tries to get you coffee to energize and also gives you lots of words of encouragement “you’re more than just your grades, i believe you are smart with or without academic validation.” she also will help you study for anything

* big on compliments in the relationship especially when she sees you dressing up for her

* speaking of cuddles, she’s a huge cuddler, she prefers to be the big spoon majority of the time but can be the little spoon if you ask her to be

* lots of hangout session usually consist of you at her place crashing the night and watching stab a lot. if not stab then any type of horror movie/tv show, drama show, or true crime does the trick! if not watching things, then you guys may play horror games together or you watch her play some (especially dead by daylight).

*watching horror movies together, if you ever get scared or jumpy, she loves to grab you tightly to her and rub your shoulders in a soothing way to calm you down. “hey baby, it’s okay, i’m here… it’s just a movie, you’re safe with me.”

*also comforts you if you ever have nightmares about ghostface or as you watch the news about another ghostface murder has happened

* when crashing at her house (or just in general), she lets you wear her clothes such as an oversize t-shirt of hers, jacket, a hoodie, just any type of her clothing that she has. if it’s raining or cold, i feel like she’d be the type of girlfriend that’d let you’d give you her jacket to make sure you’re not wet or cold.

* LOVESSSS spoiling you! you want a new shirt? she’ll get it. jewerly? already on it. something related to one of your interests or hobbies? yes. likes to get you flowers too, bonus if its your fave. she’s the type of girlfriend that pays close detail to things you like, she knows how to surprise you. she’s very good on details and attentive, just like you are to her about her favorite things.

* as a couple, she may like to do cute things together as painting each others nails or she may let you do her makeup (if you like makeup)

* matching bracelets or lockets is a must

* date nights consist of a simple restaurant date, shopping dates, movie night dates (whether it’s at her place or the theater) haunted house, amusement parks (you’ve gotten her a ghostface plushie before once), escape rooms, walks around the park esp at night bc it’s romantic (pre-ghostface killings)

*as the ghostface killings happen, you guys have your locations shared so you always know where each other are at. sometimes, she will follow you around as ghostface to make sure you get home safely from the bus stop or just anywhere in general really.

*definitely kills for you

*she tries to keep you out of the killings (and richie) from getting involved. when it came to wes’s party, she didn’t want you to go so she hid your keys to your car so you couldn’t drive there.

*definitely has argued with richie a few times about keeping you out of their plans so you don’t get hurt.

NSFW

* so first things first, shes definitely a boobs girl. like dont get her wrong, she loves all of you from the top to bottom of your body, but she gives special attention to your boobs. she doesn’t care if they’re small, big, or medium, she just loves your boobs. enjoys fondling them, sucking/licking them, etc. when you guys cuddle and she’s the little spoon, you let her lay on your boobs and she loves it. if you’re wearing a top that really shows off your bust, she might catch herself staring and checking you out🤭

*turned on by weight gain, she thinks its so sexy if she saw you gain weight in your ass, tummy, thighs, boobs, wherever! so if you ever feel insecure abt your body, ambs wouldn’t care, she loves you for you!

*loves seeing you in lingerie, it gets her in the mood so QUICKKK

* shes a switch but leans to tops and is definitely the dominant one in the relationship (top or bottom), it makes her feel like shes in control

* can be rough or very sweet but mainly rough

* has a high sex drive, she carries her strap on her all the time. in terms of g!p, she definitely can’t help but get hard when she’s around you majority of the time

* favorite positions: honestly she doesn’t care about positions, as long as she’s fucking you is what matters but she mainly likes one where she can see your face. missionary (loves to see your face and the facial expressions you give as you guys get down) and cowgirl (she loves seeing you ride her and enjoys the view of seeing your boobs bounce up and down as you ride her strap or (dick if we’re going down the g!p! route). she likes to have her hands on your hips and roughly move up and down your body. sometimes she wont touch you, and let you fuck on her as she gets to watch with a smirk.) standing missionary against the wall is another fave of hers too (she loves having your legs wrapped around her hips and giving u support with her arms)

* kinks: somnophilia, spanking, dacryphillia (gets turned on seeing you cry during her pleasuring you), roleplay (especially when you get to pretend you’re a “helpless victim” and she is portraying as ghostface chasing you down), knife kink (i mean would she really be ghostface if she didn’t hold a knife against your throat as she fucks you?), choking, loves pulling your hair, phone sex, mirror sex, praise kinks (use of “good girl” is heavily used), degrading kink (likes to call you names especially whore, that’s her favorite), daddy kink, public sex to an extent, tying kink (likes to tie your wrists up as she has sex with you occasionally), leash (i can see her putting one on reader's neck and pulling on it as she fucks)

*now about the daddy kink thing, when having sex with her she doesn’t care if you call her by her full name or whatever in sex when shes normally herself, BUT when shes mad or jealous, she prefers be called daddy, nothing else but that.

*about the video games thing, she loves seeing you ride her or suck her dick off when she plays them. she’ll return the favor when you play video games by eating you out or fingering you🫣

* enjoys facesitting (loves hearing your cute moans all for her while you ride her face, also vice versa she likes to ride yours too)

*uses sex toys while she fucks you sometimes (yes sometimes because amber wants you to feel good from her AND only her, and not the sex toy)

* dirty talker

* enjoys hate sex a lotttt, you guys just got into it and how will you repay her? fucking. the angrier she is, the better.

*has definitely taken sex toys in public when shes with you. she’ll take a remote and switch between low or high settings to just humiliate you if shes in playful or bad mood

* her strap on is DEFINITELY BLACKKK or purple lol

* loves to leave hickies and bite marks all over your body

*likes to mock your moans after sex if shes in playful mood

* fingers you with or without the ghostface gloves

*huge on sexting (mainly at school) esp if she wants to get you so flustered and embarrassed. the more flustered you are, the more she’ll tease you

*speaking of teasing, she loves to tease you too!

#debut post WHOOP WHOOP🥳#amber freeman #amber freeman x reader #scream 5 #mikey madison

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tyranitarkisser · 7 months ago

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Your name is RUDY STRIDER. It just so happens that today, Friday, October the 13th is your 13th birthday, a date befitting of the SLASHER AND HORROR MOVIE OFFICIONADO you are. You are obsessed with old SLASHERS that made use of the superior filmmaking techniques of PRACTICAL EFFECTS. Movies these days with their crappy CGI blood and guts are totally unimmersive and soulless in your opinion - you love getting your hands sticky with fake blood and tinkering with freaky-looking PUPPETS and DOLLS more than anything. You enjoy making EXTREMELY GORY THRILLER HOME MOVIES in your BACKYARD with your friends and are known as a CHILD PRODIGY at playing the PIANO since the age of 6. You just couldn't be bothered to care about making normal music for normal people to actually listen to, so instead you've ventured into the realm of NICHE AVANT-GARDE HYPERPOP MUSIC. Outside of your creative endeavors, you are a huge fan of ANIMALS OF THE CREEPY-CRAWLY VARIETY. The more terrifying the better, you always say. You have a sprawling collection of DEAD INSECTS AND ARACHNIDS adorning the walls of your room which is enough to keep most people out, luckily for you. You are also fond of PUZZLES, ESCAPE GAMES, WESTERN MOVIE AESTHETICS, and CRYPTOGRAPHY. You are known by most, if not all who know you, to be MORE THAN A LITTLE DIFFICULT thanks in no small part to your parents for spoiling you rotten. You are antagonistic toward them despite how much they unconditionally love and support you, and deep down you do reciprocate that love, its just that they're such LOSERS sometimes its actually embarassing. Your MOM is a TOTAL CORNBALL IN EVERY SENSE OF THE WORD and your DAD's overreliance on IRONY just PISSES YOU OFF. You are incredibly gifted, creatively and academically, but your rebellious nature and quick to bore personality prevents you from ever being able to to fully apply yourself. You'll never have the opportunity to play SBURB but if you did, you would be a PROSPIT DREAMER and a PAGE OF RAGE. Your online handle is cronen.bug and you type with perfect syntax and grammar with the occasional devious emoticon ;^]

#homestuck #junedave #homestuck fankid

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thus-spoke-lo · 1 year ago

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A Hayride for a Hayride // slimeball Taxi Driver!Zoro x afab!reader // NSFW/18+ Written for @bastardblvd's House of Slimy Horrors Collab

Synopsis: Your date to the Grimetown Halloween festival cancelled on you last-minute, leaving you with nothing to do. Luckily, a certain moss-haired taxi driver lifeguard hayride operator offers you a free ride to get your mind off things, and you're soon in for the ride of your life. CW: slimeball au; afab!reader; no pronouns used for reader; mild action violence; vaginal fingering; unprotected vaginal intercourse; mild degradation WC: 5.4k // Fictober Masterlist

The sun descends in the evening sky over Grimetown, glowing through the permanent haze that hangs over the city and painting the landscape in tangerines and golds. You make your way around the festival grounds, sipping at something that tastes close enough to apple cider—you know better than to ask too many questions about the contents of beverages around here. The autumn leaves crunch under your boots as you traipse around, stopping to watch a fistfight that appears to be the result of a rigged pumpkin pie-eating contest—you’re rooting for the guy in the McDonald’s uniform.

The smell of all things greasy and sweet lures you towards the food stalls, and you almost consider trying the rat on a stick (rat isn’t in quotation marks but it’s gotta be a joke…they wouldn’t, would they?) when a noodly blonde man with a curly eyebrow poking out from his mop of blonde hair leans over the counter of the Flapjack Shack’s stall and begins to explain the complicated history of the humble omelet to you in between thinly-veiled innuendos. You nod and smile and wait for another customer to walk by in order to make your escape, plunking down at the edge of a fountain in the middle of the square, thick, white, foamy substance sloppily bubbling away inside. You would think they would have dyed the goopy substance green or something given the occasion, and you run a finger through the viscous liquid, wondering why the texture feels awfully familiar.

A sudden buzzing in your pocket pulls you away from thinking too hard about what you just dipped your hand into, but a quick glance at the message preview sends your fluttering heart right into a meat grinder.

[Soggy Man]: I’m still stuck at work, I’m so sorry. I don’t think I’ll make it tonight.

[You]: Yuuta noooo ☹ how come you’re stuck? Aren’t you closed?

[Soggy Man]: last minute customer came by for an inspection

“An inspection?” you mutter, narrowing your eyes as though he’d feel your questioning glance through the screen.

[You]: I thought you only did those in the morning

[Soggy Man]: well you know how it is, sometimes I have to make exceptions

You wonder if this is the type of exception that all DMV employees were inclined to give, or if it’s more like the exception he made to waive your registration renewal fee when you offered to blow him behind the counter after hours. Either way, this isn’t exactly the best way to start off your attempt at a real first date, not after weeks of back and forth, navigating your ever-changing shifts at the coffee shop, and his abrupt late-night work hours.

[You]: No worries! I understand!

[Soggy Man]: I’m sorry cutie, hope you have fun without me

[You]: it’s ok! I know how to entertain myself.

[You]: we’ll try again some other time!

“Well, shit.” You shove your phone back into your pocket with a sigh that turns into a groan that turns into a momentary existential crisis—this was the seventh first date you’d tried to set up recently, and the sixth first date where you got ghosted before ever getting to try to disappoint them in person. Not waiting to see if Yuuta has anything else to add, you wander off, glancing around the packed festival in search of something—anything—to occupy your unexpected free time.

As you pass the shoddily assembled Ferris wheel, watching it shimmy with every rotation, threatening to come unbolted and roll away at any moment, a light fog starts to accumulate at your feet. It stinks, and not like how you remember fog machines to smell from your glory days as a stagehand at the Grimetown Community Theater; no, this is thick, and pungent, and a little nauseating. You walk deeper into the foul-smelling haze, and glance down to see the cause—a stubbed-out cigar rolls towards your feet, a few stray embers spraying out across the dirt.

“You alright, honey?” a low voice rumbles from just beyond the dissipating vapors. “You look like something’s wrong.”

You cough and sputter, waving your hand in front of you to clear the remaining cloud of smoke and see a man with green hair and a tanned complexion standing with his back against a wooden wagon, his extraordinarily muscled arms crossed over his broad chest, a thin white t-shirt straining to contain his brawny form. Three gold earring jingle softly as he cocks his head to examine you with his one good eye, and you wonder if the scar over his other eye is real or fabricated for the occasion.

“I’m fine, thanks,” you fib, stuffing your hands in your pockets as you stroll towards him. The last thing you want right now is some burly stranger trying to play therapist when what would actually solve your problems is guzzling pumpkin-spice flavored alcohol and stuffing your face with candy apples, then passing out in that weird gloopy fountain ‘til sunrise.

“Come on now.” He raises an eyebrow and gives you a pitying grin. “You sure you’re okay?”

You kick at the ground with the toe of your boot and huff a sigh. “Fine. I, uh—I got stood up.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. Dude texted me after I already got here saying he couldn’t come, and I don’t want to waste my ticket, so now I’m just kinda in limbo and not really sure what to do.”

“Pretty thing like you gettin’ stood up on a nice night like this?” He gestured towards the darkened sky, the moon covered in a dense mess of clouds, silver beams poking through and illuminating the space between you. “It’s a damned shame.”

“Tell me about it,” you chuckle in agreement.

“You know,” he says, running his tongue over his lower lip, “I’m technically supposed to wait until there’s a big group before I head out, but—I could give you a ride. A private one.”

“A private ride, huh?” You inhale sharply through your teeth and your eyes flit over his muscled form. A private ride with some grimy eye candy doesn’t sound like a bad way to recover from a hefty blow to your ego. “How much is it?”

“It’s free. Comes with your ticket.”

“You know what? Sure, why the hell not?”

“That’s what I hoped you’d say,” he grins, giving an exaggerated wink. “Don’t you worry—I’ll make you forget all about that loser.”

You head towards the back of the wagon, expecting there to be a step to hoist yourself inside, when a strong hand grabs your wrist and tugs you back.

“Where do you think you’re going?” he asks as you stumble backward into him, your back pressing against his firm chest, sending a little spark down your spine.

“I—I was getting in the cart.”

“Oh, now that’s just for regular, everyday hayrides.” He grasps your hand and leads you towards the front of the cart, gesturing towards the bench that sits just behind the horses; he places his warm hands on your shoulders and gives them a gentle squeeze. “Private tours get the best seat in the house.”

You climb aboard and he follows, letting out a quiet, satisfied-sounding groan as he settles in beside you, scooting closer until his warm body presses right against yours. The bench is more than long enough to afford you both some personal space, but it seems the private tour also comes with the bonus of physical affection and suggestive flirtation—not that you’re complaining. The hayride operator reaches over and pats your thigh. “Alright. Where to?”

“Uh, I don’t know.” You shrug and gesture vaguely in front of you. “Where do you normally take this thing?”

“Oh yeah.” He furrows his brow. “Sorry, I’m just used to my day job.”

“What do you do for your day job?”

“Lifeguard.”

“Wait, wh—” Your inquiry is cut short as the horses take off, jostling you and pitching you forward, then back. As you try to right yourself, something shiny catches your eye; you glance over and see three sheathed swords nestled in the hay just behind you.

“Say, hayride guy,” you ask, reaching over to poke at them, “what are these for?”

He grunts and brushes your hand away without looking over. “Protection.”

“Protection from what?”

“Don’t worry about it.”

Ah, he must be doing a bit—they’re props. You smirk, settling back onto your seat, leaning your head against his sturdy shoulder as you listen to the steady clip-clop of the horses and the rhythmic squeak of the wagon’s wheels, the only sounds in the depths of the darkened forest. The festival is low-budget, to say the least, but they cared enough about attention to detail to have the hayride operator carrying swords; you start to wonder if this is supposed to be a haunted hayride, and perhaps your beefy driver will be showing off his faux-sword skills before the end, fighting off a zombie horde or two.

You sigh as you press your cheek against his bicep and try to ignore the troublesome feeling inside you—that maybe Yuuta was trying to get a hold of you, that you should have just waited longer to see if his late-night inspection was over quickly enough he could join you. The phone in your pocket has been silent for some time now, and you carefully pull it out, just to check; no signal at all, and no texts, only a notification about your rent being overdue again.

“Hey. Don’t let him get you down, sweet cheeks.” He covers the screen of your phone and pushes it down into your lap, leaving his hand there for a moment, precariously close to the apex of your thighs. His touch is warm, radiating a kind of animalistic heat—one that feels a little too raw, and little too dangerous. He smirks, making some clicking noise at the horses as you wind your way through the deepening woods. “You know, I think you could do better than him, anyway.”

I bet you do, you grin to yourself as your limbs flood with heat and your stomach twists in knots, chewing on your lower lip at the way his muscles flex with every flick of the reigns. You feel a fire lighting at the base of your spine the longer you stare at him, the longer your body seems to melt into his as you snuggle closer along the trail—perhaps you’ll have to pay him a visit after the festival closes and see if he offers any after-hour tours. He certainly seems amenable to the idea, and it had been a while since the last time you’d been bent over a piece of farm equipment and railed in a spooky, secluded wood after all. You start to wonder if he’s all bluster, or if he’s adept at putting his big hands and his smart mouth to good use.

The fog of lust in your head starts to clear a little and you glance around, not recognizing the trees and landscape in front of you, the horses trotting over a layer of decaying leaves instead of the paved path that had been stretching out ahead of you. No, the woods directly behind the festival grounds aren’t this dense, the branches don’t hang this low, the air is never this still. You sit up, a sense of dread creeping up into your throat, and tap the driver on his forearm with a shaking hand.

“Hey, uh, hayride guy?”

“It’s Zoro,” he grouses.

“Right. Zoro.” You swallow hard, an icy shiver running down your spine as a cold wind whips through the trees. “So…where are we, anyway?”

“Tch, we’re on the trail,” Zoro scoffs as he glances around. He suddenly sits up straight, his mouth opening and closing, only faint sounds of confusion coming out. “Or, uh…we were.”

“What do you mean ‘we were’? Don’t the horses know where to go?”

“They don’t have built-in GPS, they just go straight until I tell ‘em to not go straight.”

“So where the hell are we, then?” The skin on your arms prickles underneath your thick sweater and acid roils in your belly, that sense of dread that sits in your throat threatening to push its way out.

“Well, we’re in the woods.”

“I know that!”

“Don’t worry your pretty head about it, okay?” It feels like he’s reassuring himself just as much as he’s trying to calm your frayed nerves, as if the machinations in his mind are just starting to turn, to decide where you go from here. Zoro stretches and wraps his arm around your shoulder, pulling you into him; he smells like stale cigars and sweat and too much cheap body spray and it’s the most intoxicating thing you’ve inhaled all night. “Look, I can get us out of this. They don’t call me the world’s strongest hayride operator for nothin’.”

You slowly look up at him. “Is that—is that a thing? Do people actually call you that?”

“Ha! Exactly.”

A scream abruptly fills the air, cutting through the eerie quiet, followed by another, then another—the strangled cries for help of someone, or something, in distress. Zoro pulls you in closer, his fingers digging into your shoulder as you bury your face against his chest. It’s just part of the show, you tell yourself, choking on a shuddering breath. It’s just part of the show, and some dude in a shitty costume is gonna run out of the woods any minute and try to scare me. After a few agonizing moments, the bloodcurdling shrieks finally die down, the pained noises reducing to pathetic whimpers and then…silence.

“You know, you’re pretty cute when you’re scared.”

Before you can say something equally flirtatious back, the horses come to a sudden halt; they whinny and stomp in place, clearly disturbed by something that only they can sense.

“Zoro…what’s going on?” It’s just part of the show, it’s just part of the show…

“I dunno,” he says, making soft noises at the horses to soothe them, his hand moving down and settling on your thigh protectively. “Something’s got them all riled up.”

The quality of the performance is good, you force yourself to think as he squints into the near-darkness, but his delivery could be more authentic. You join him in his scan of your surroundings, searching the foggy woods for whatever had frightened the horses, their heads bobbing and nostrils flaring at something in the distance. Leaves crunch and branches crack as something approaches, its pace slow and hesitant, a low growling emanating from the darkness—the sound effects are impressive, and you try to find the hidden speakers within the foggy haze.

“Zoro,” you mumble quietly, as you wrap your arm around his waist and cling to him, “I think there’s something up there.”

“Where?” He leans forward, peering into the shadowy distance.

“Right—right there.” You gasp as you see the source of the noise ambling out of the woods. “Oh my god, it’s a dog—it looks like it’s hurt!”

Without another thought, you hop down from the cart and carefully approach the dog, who slinks closer to you, eyeing you cautiously with each step. The moonlight peers through the clouds and illuminates the creature, its dark grey fur stained with blood, bits of viscera clinging to the matted hair around its face.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Zoro shouts from the cart. “Get back here and stay on the wagon.”

“What? It’s fine, it’s all part of the show isn’t it?” Surely this was just someone’s pet, doused in red corn syrup and set loose as part of the haunted hayride.

“What show? This is just a hayride.”

“Sure, I got you.” You wink and snap finger-guns at him confidently, and turn your attention back to the injured pup. “Here doggie! C’mere sweetie, let me—oh my god.”

Your mouth drops open and a gasp pushes its way out of your lungs—the dog, you realize, is no dog at all.

The creature that stalks out of the woods appears to be a wolf, its eyes burning bright like smelted gold, teeth bared and lips curled back into a snarl, its fangs dripping with strings of blood-reddened saliva. You freeze in place, arms outstretched, hoping your vaguely threatening posture is enough to keep the wolf at bay as your heart hammers in your ribcage and your breathing comes in fits and starts. It senses something in you—fear, hesitation, weakness—and approaches slowly, one carefully placed paw at a time, sniffing the air and growling more desperately with every whiff of you that it catches.

“Get back.”

A strong hand on your shoulder jerks you back and shoves you towards the wagon. Zoro now stands in front of you—his shirt is gone, revealing a smooth expanse of streamlined muscle and sinew rippling under bronzed skin, a black bandana is tied around his head, and he wields his three swords, one in each hand, and the third held between his teeth. He widens his stance and maintains his position as the wolf approaches more boldly now, barking and growling, steam from its warm breath rising into the air. The creature leaps at him and he quickly crosses the two swords in front of him to block its attack, the metal shaking as he grunts and shoves the wolf back.

“Three-Sword-Style,” Zoro shouts, the words muffled by the sword still clenched between his teeth, “Grime Tornado!”

A strong gust of air suddenly swirls in front of him and disburses with great force, pushing the wolf backward as it struggles to stay standing until it’s shoved to the edge of the woods. The air settles, and the wolf pauses for a moment, teeth still glimmering in the moonlight, eyes glowing like embers, before it runs off into the trees again, its howls lingering in the still air. Zoro lowers his arms, letting the tips of his blades point towards the ground as he walks towards you, his broad chest heaving with every panting breath.

“I told you to stay in the damned wagon,” he mumbles through the sword still tucked between his clenched teeth. He walks over to the cart and carefully sheaths the three swords again, giving them a reassuring pat before turning to glare at you. “What the hell were you thinking?”

“It—it was all part of the show, right?” Your hands tremble, the wolf’s glowing eyes still appearing behind your eyelids with every blink; the way they pierced you was unnerving, almost as if there was something human about them.

And the blood. The blood looked so—so real.

“I still don’t know what you’re talking about,” he grunts as he walks over to you, scooping you up with startling ease and carrying you back to the wagon. He plops you down in the back like a sack of rice, your backside landing in a soft pile of hay, and he glowers at you. “Don’t get back out again. Not for anything. Understand?”

You nod, and the desire to jump into his burly arms again courses through you. As frightened as you are, the sight of him, shirtless and flexing, moving with a grace and speed you hadn’t expected from him, has a stranglehold on you—if he’d asked to bend you over right then and there, you would have gladly thanked him for his hard work and offered him payment in the form of whatever part of your body he most preferred.

“Thanks for saving me, Zoro.”

He grunts in response and jostles the reigns, the horses taking their cue and trotting off into the depths of the woods again. You pull your knees up to your chest and lean against a hay bale, your eyes focused on Zoro the whole time; he glances back now and again, quick looks of concern at first, then of something else, something that feels far less virtuous.

The horses seem to find their way back onto the path with some degree of ease, and before long, you can see the festival off in the distance, smell the greasy mystery meats-on-sticks, hear the noise that passes for music as some local band plays royalty-free Halloween music.

The wagon comes to an abrupt halt, the festival almost within reach—you can almost touch the goopy fountain again. Zoro heaves his arm over the divider that separates the two of you, leaning his bare torso towards you. “Listen. We need to talk.”

“Look, Zoro, let me be the first to say—I think the ride was spectacular,” you start to ramble, your hands gesturing wildly as you speak. “And I promise I won’t say anything to anyone about the—well, whatever the fuck happened back there. Or the, uh—the flirting. Not that I minded! I mean, I don’t know if it’s the most professional way of giving private rides, but it was, you know…appreciated. If you need me to fill out a survey about your services, I can certainly—”

“You talk too damned much, calm down.” He places a thick finger over your lips to shush you, leaning in until his face is just inches from yours. “Now listen to me very carefully, honey—you owe me.”

Your breath quickens, your chest rising and falling rapidly, and an aching heat that you had been trying to ignore begins to grow in your core. “For—for what? You said the hayride was free.”

“It is.” He licks his lips and raises a wide hand to your face, cupping your chin. “But the saving your life part is extra.”

“I—I’m sorry, I don’t have any money to give you,” you stammer, your voice a husky whisper. Your gaze flits over his face, noticing a certain predatory glint in his eye, a hunger lingering on the upturned corners of his lips. “I left my wallet at home.”

“Oh sweetheart,” he coos, stroking your cheek with the rough pad of his thumb, “I don’t want your money.”

“What do you want then?”

“Same thing you do.”

You bite your lip shyly, looking up at him through half-lidded eyes in your best approximation of an innocent glance. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Tch. I’ve seen the way you’ve been looking at me since you found me. The way you wrapped your arms around me when you were scared—and even when you weren’t.” He climbs over the wooden divide and into the wagon with you, kneeling in front of you and placing his hands on your thighs. “You’re really gonna try to play the coy thing? Because it’s not workin’ for you.”

“No?” He’s big—so big—and his body almost engulfs you as he leans in and grips the edge of the cart behind you, his massive arms caging you in on either side, his broad chest almost pressed to yours.

“Nah. See, I what I think is,” he murmurs into your ear, warm breath spreading across your chilled skin, “that you want the big, strong guy who saved your life to make you forget all about that little shit that stood you up.”

Without another thought—your mind drained of all rational notions, left only with fleeting images of how he’d look on top of you, behind you, underneath you—you lean up and kiss him impulsively, your lips crashing against his hard and fast, trying to satisfy a need that had been growing all night. He inhales sharply at the sudden kiss, then places one hand at the back of your head to hold you in place as he claims your mouth, parting your lips with his tongue before plunging it into your mouth and entwining it with yours. His free hand roams up the hem of your sweater, groping at your breasts, tugging at the fabric of your bra until his thumb finds your hardened nipple. He makes firm circles over it and your back arches as warm, gentle waves of pleasure move through you, and he groans at the way you writhe under his touch.

“Bet you wanna get fucked, don’t you?” he growls against your lips, his grip on the nape of your neck tightening. He lets out a low chuckle as you nod and whimper, your hands moving down his bare torso towards the waistband of his pants, palm brushing against the sizeable bulge that strains against the fabric. “Mm, somebody’s needy. Lay down for me, then—let’s settle up what you owe.”

You obediently recline in the hay and kick your boots off, stripping yourself of your jeans with a frantic urgency; Zoro moves down between your legs, nudging them apart to kneel between them. He drags two fingers up your clothed slit, his fingertips catching on dampened cotton, and a satisfied hum vibrates in his chest as he finally takes in the extent of your arousal.

“This for me?” he purrs, pressing down against your clit, rubbing you through your panties until your legs tremble and your hands grasp at flimsy pieces of straw.

“D-don’t flatter yourself.”

“You sure? I don’t see anyone else around here to make your pussy this wet.” He grabs the waistband of your panties and pulls them down over your hips, stripping you of them and tossing them behind him. He quickly undoes his trousers and slides them down his lean hips, his cock springing forth from the confines of his pants. Your jaw goes slack at the sight of it—thick and veiny, sitting heavy in his palm as he slowly strokes himself for you, the head growing redder and more swollen with every vulgar caress.

“Think you can handle it?” He lets a wad of saliva drip from his lips and onto his cock, spreading it over his impressive length until it glistens in the moonlight.

“Think so,” you whimper back, spreading your thighs a little wider to accommodate him as he moves on top of you, aligning his hips with yours. Zoro wastes no time in collecting his payment for his earlier heroics and slowly pushes into you, stretching you with every agonizing inch that slides inside; little sparks of pleasure ignite in your limbs, and that deep ache in your core grows with every bit of his fat cock that he bullies inside you.

“There you go,” he growls as he finally fills you completely and his pelvis presses against yours. “Took it all like a good little whore.”

You wrap your arms around his neck and nip and kiss at his jaw. “Not a whore.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, honey,” he coos condescendingly, his hips rocking just enough to give you a few tentative, shallow thrusts. “Would you prefer ‘slut’ instead?”

“I’d prefer you sh—” Your words are quickly cut off by the gasp that shoves its way out of your lungs as he pulls out and plunges inside again, knocking against something inside you that makes your eyes go bleary and your fingers tingle.

Zoro’s thrusts are quick and feral, the kind that make you pulse and press your thighs into his hips, the kind that make your hands grasp for anything within reach—his bulging biceps, his mossy hair, a handful of hay underneath you—anything to ground yourself as he fills you again and again until all he is all there is. He drives into you over and over, and you lift your hips upward to meet his, deepening every plunge until you’re bucking and arching and colliding in a seamless rhythm.

“Touch yourself for me,” Zoro grunts as he slows his movements to angle his hips, and his cockhead drags against that sweet spot inside of you. “I bet you look so fucking good when you cum, pretty little slut.”

Your eyes flutter shut as you reach down and move your fingers over your clit, already swollen and pulsing with need. A moan of pleasure claws its way out of you and you writhe and thrash under him while he watches closely, his gaze focused on your face, his jaw hanging open the more your expression twists and contorts in pleasure. That tension in your belly winds tighter and tighter with every plunge of his length inside you and every swift movement of your fingers over your sensitive bud, until your body is trembling and your muscles are seizing and you mumble something unintelligible about being close, so close, so very, very close.

“That’s it,” Zoro rasps, his cock throbbing inside you as you start to tighten around him, “now cum on this big cock for me.”

A profound heat spreads throughout your lower half as you tense and release in waves of shaking spasms; you wail his name, not caring who or what that may lurk in the forest hears you, as your cunt pulls him further in. Zoro moans quietly and fucks into you with messy, erratic thrusts, hitting you so deep that it almost hurts, bordering on that delicious line between pain and pleasure. His breaths are shallow and fast, his teeth clenched, his body beginning to shake as your fluttering cunt urges him towards his climax.

“Fuck, sweetheart—you feel so damned good, gonna make me cum for you.” A long, low groan carries in the air as he quickly pulls out of you and jerks himself off, his hips tensing and shuddering as his aching cock throbs, coating your stomach with his thick, white spend. He bucks into his fist, milking every last bit of cum from his pulsating length, and collapses next to you, heaving a satisfied moan in between deep, panting breaths.

As you begin to reassemble yourself and pull hay out of random crevices, you feel a vibration against your foot—your phone is buzzing in the pocket of your discarded jeans.

[Soggy Man]: Hey I made it! did you still want to meet up?

“Aw, shit.” You glance over at Zoro, busy catching his breath, his chest rising and falling as his hands settle on his stomach. His toned body glistens with sweat in the moonlight, his half-hard cock laying against his thick thigh, leaking onto his bronzed skin; if it weren’t for the fact he was technically on the clock and you were technically now on a date, you would gladly spend the rest of your night right here, just outside the noise and the lights and the people, indulging in a little more holiday hedonism.

[You]: in a little while. I’m on a hayride right now

[Soggy Man]: that sounds fun! we should go together when you get back

“Hey, uh…can I ask you something?” You sit up and fumble for your jeans again, pulling your wallet out of a back pocket. “How much would you want to, um—to keep quiet about what just happened?”

“Hm.” He puts his hands behind his head and stares up at the night sky, considering his options for a moment. “Give me a taste of that slutty little pussy of yours and we’ve got a deal.”

“I suppose I can’t say no to that,” you whisper under your breath, your cunt fluttering at the thought of him between your legs again.

“Hey…what’s this?” Zoro rolls over and snatches the wallet out of your hand, using it to point at you accusatorily. “I thought you said you left this at home.”

“What? Wow, that’s so weird, why would I say that…”

“Careful now. Lies are gonna cost you extra.”

He moves down between your shaking legs, shoving them apart and grunting something lewd about how good you look the way your slick spreads out across your thighs. He lays down on his stomach, hooking his thick arms under your legs, and lets out a satisfied groan as he nips at the inside of your thigh, lowering his head down to give your slit an exploratory lick.

“Extra?” A low moan tumbles out of you as his wide tongue licks a thick stripe up your cunt, then plunges it inside you, shallowly fucking you with it. “Then how about, after you’re done down there, I ride you—then you give me a ride back?

“A ride for a ride, huh?” Zoro murmurs against your skin, stopping his movements for a moment to glance up at you. He smiles, high on the fucked-out expression etched into your features, before flicking his tongue over your aching clit, groaning as you softly rock your hips into his face. “Man, I fuckin’ love this job.”

#lo writes #fictober 2023 #roronoa zoro x reader #zoro x reader #zoro smut #slimeball au

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boyincel · 7 months ago

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DATE WITH DEATH

hi :3 I wanted to finally publicly share somewhere a little passion project of mine!

date with death is a fictional slasher franchise invented by me! I’ve never really considered it to be an oc universe, more like movies that existed in an alternate universe, so it is meant to be as period accurate/realistic as possible. it has a tiny fandom of my friends but is always open to more members :) under the cut I’ll talk more about it and my plans. I will be talking about it like it exists so mild warning for unreality if that kind of thing bothers you

If you have any questions PLEASE ask away

date with death has three films, date with death (1995), date with death 2: summer break (1997), date with death 3: school reunion (2005).

the films revolve around a masked killer with no name, but sometimes referred to as john doe or nicknamed masky, as he wears a prom suit and a white bird/plague masquerade mask. in the films, masky stalks and picks off various popular teenagers in cliques in a twisted display of love

date with death: in the days leading up to prom in a small town, teenagers in a popular clique are getting mysteriously picked off, their bodies displayed in strange and grotesque ways. as the teens fight amongst themselves, revealing petty rivalries and secrets, can they come to their senses in time to make it to prom, or will the killer find his perfect prom date?

date with death: summer break: gracie returns to her old town to take care of her ill mother over summer break, and with the killer dead there should be no threat, right? when more murders begin, gracie tries to leave, but finds herself stranded. will she be able to face her past at the biggest party the teens of the town have to offer, or will her killer return to take her as his prom queen?

date with death: school reunion: past memories bring gracie back to her highschool for the ten year school reunion. despite living a peaceful life now, her old friends missing at the event stir up former fears, and that night she goes to dig up the killer’s grave just to make sure. to her horror, it’s empty. the killer is back, and he’s picking off all the popular, bitchy, self absorbed no-longer-teens he missed the first time around. will gracie finally escape the killer from her past, or will it be til death that they part?

some other stuff!!!

the DWD franchise also has a graphic novel based around april fools and one based around valentines day. i have various trivia about the behind the scenes of the films and also about the fandom surrounding the movies. I have details about all the characters in the first movie and the actors that play them, and some details about the songs in the film (more notably, I think we’re alone now by Tiffany plays in an iconic scene in the first film)

future plans!

I really want to write up actual full film scripts off the films and potentially novel adaptations since the full plots exist only in my brain right now! I wanna draw thumbnails of shots I have in my brain and I have a film nerd boyfriend who wants to help me with some photography and short segments of filming! I doubt I’ll ever create it fully in the way that it is in my head but it’s an ongoing dream of mine :)

I’ll elaborate more on this if asked!! I may post random stuff on this blog like it exists so uhhh yeah! feel free to join the date with death fandom!!!!!

#yapping.txt #date with death #date with death 1995 #slashers #slasher movie #slasher movies #slasher franchise

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yunarim · 1 year ago

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╰┈➤ summary : you and your reliable partner grim are the most famous interdimensional travelers under the Official Isekai Association. you're used to traveling into psychological thrillers and horrors. however, this time something goes wrong, and you suddenly turn into the protagonist of… an otome game?!

— characters : jade leech, leona kingscholar | kalim al-asim, azul ashengrotto | lilia vanrouge, idia shroud

⌞tags⌝ : gn reader, fluff at times, occasional angst (more angst for kalim's & azul's parts actually), typical manhwas tropes, mention of a typical isekai manhwa death by truck hit... yeah, you go from the first route to the last (from jade to idia), hence the parts are connected

— w.c. : 6.4k+

⌞notes⌝ : continuing with the second part of the series ~

“Based on your expression, is the walkthrough going smoothly?”

Grim asked, jumping on the bed you were laying at, and placed his head on your stomach, chewing something smelling like fish, and you hated the fact you were still not recovered after being pointed out what you smell like by Leona.

“I mean, I can’t see the progress, given you’re the protagonist for this genre,” Grim noticed. “How many are left tho?”

So that's how it looked from someone else’s perspective. Just routes to finish, game characters, literary images, not people who could feel, have their own personalities, and… Feel something for you. You have never thought about otome games before, they were out of your qualification, and now you were sure enough that once you escape this world, you’ll ask your boss to never transmigrate you to otome genre ever again.

Funny enough, you’re used to dating. Sometimes counterfeiting feelings was a key to the true ending, so you just had to do that at times, but you never actually felt something yourself. And surely you didn't feel loved.

“Four,” you answered after a short pause, closing your eyes.

“Make sure to do your job well, henchman,” Grim yawned. “I’ll help you with my magic!”

“Yes…” You replied vaguely, appreciating that thanks to Grim you were given an opportunity to even stay here in NRC, considering you possessed no magic. “I’ll try my best…”

Even if you wanted to leave as soon as you could, having no desire to leave these people all alone after you suddenly crashed into their lives.

You couldn’t find a proper way to name all the boys routes of whom you needed to… finish. Targets? Characters? Lovers? No, that wasn’t it.

In any case, you checked Kalim Al-Asim’s profile before heading to school. A bright, cheerful person radiating nothing but happiness and joy, a complete opposite of your gloomy and indifferent self. You presumed he would be easy to approach, given how easy-going he seemed, but his social status made you question the ease of the walkthrough.

A son of a wealthy merchant, close to royalty again. Fine, you wondered if going through Leona’s route made you stronger and more experienced.

After a half of the day passed you’ve realized you couldn’t find Kalim that easily as you first thought you would. Probably he was being more secure than Leona, and you tried your best investigating where he could be. Most obviously somewhere in his dormitory, Scarabia, but you preferred not to enter the dormitories itselves, ‘playing’ on neutral waters. The transmigrator currency was still the same, because you were paid only after completing the whole story, so you ran out of money to buy the info about Kalim’s location.

After the classes you also realized you haven’t had enough sleep because of memories made with Leona haunting you at night, and you most probably needed to brew some coffee, which caused you to remember Jade and frown.

No, it’s not the right time to think about them, you thought, entering the school’s kitchen and stumbling upon someone, your forehead hitting someone else’s.

“Oh, I’m very sorry, I didn’t notice… Huh?”

You raised your head, pressing a hand to your forehead, and gasped when you realized it was none other than Kalim Al-Asim, who was mirroring your actions and massaging his head with his hand.

“Oh, isn’t it Yuu! Nice to meet you! I’m Kalim Al-Asim, but you can call me Kalim!”

You were spellbound to say something at the moment, appreciating his wonderful appearance and drowning in the melted gold of his eyes.

“Nice to meet you too— Eh?”

Before you wanted to continue, a pink glow above his head made you jolt.

The heart icon was already filled up to half of it.

Your eyes widened. You’ve only met him! And you were sure that you hadn't met him earlier in previous walkthroughs, so how?..

“Oh, did I hit you too hard?! Oh no, what to do… Jamil, we should call a doctor!!”

Kalim’s face radiating genuine worry appeared too close to yours, and you realized that you fell silent extremely suddenly. You shook your head, replying with a confused smile.

“I’m alright, just lost in thoughts. How are you, though? I hit you too…”

“I’m okay!” He giggled at you, and his contagious laugh flowed to you, causing you to chuckle softly. “But still, we need to make sure you’re fine. Jamil, we should—”

“Yuu-san doesn’t seem to be in danger. Quit exaggerating.”

Ah, right. Jamil Viper, a person in Kalim’s profile mentioned as his personal ‘servant’.

His figure appeared behind Kalim’s back and approached you. Jamil somehow reminded you of yourself with how composed and calm he looked, observing if everything was right with your forehead. You outstretched your hand to Jamil, regaining composure.

“Nice to meet you, I’m Yuu,” you said, receiving a silent nod.

“Jamil Viper,” he replied when you two shared a handshake, but a sudden Kalim’s complaint cut your strict-seeming atmosphere.

“I want to shake your hand too, Yuu!!”

“Okay, no problem?..”

You watched through him, focusing on the heart icon filled up to the half, and deepened into your thoughts.

Apparently the icon was filled thrice, and all three times symbolized three significant events happening throughout the routes. But given you two just met… Wasn’t the system making mistakes?

“Did you want to use the kitchen? You can join us! We’re preparing dishes for the party held in Scarabia. Right, join us at the party, too!!”

“You surely are enthusiastic, Kalim,” you smiled at him.

“Stop inviting everyone without thinking twice,” Jamil sighed. “Not to be rude to you, Yuu-san.”

“It’s alright, I understand. Thank you for your offer, but it’s just what Viper said. I’ll make sure to join you one day, but I’ve got plans today.”

You actually hadn’t any other plans than getting Kalim to know better, and the party was an excellent opportunity, but at the same time you didn’t want to get too deep to the point you would miss him dearly after finishing his route too. It was getting hard for you to just have friendly chats with them, then growing closer to the point you couldn’t just leave them anymore.

You wanted to play it safe with Kalim, although suspecting you would fail miserably.

“Okay! Then come tomorrow. Or the day after, we’re going to have parties every day during this week~”

“Haha, that’s very generous of you,” you giggled. “Maybe I can help you with cooking today?”

“No need, I—” Jamil started talking, but Kalim’s bright shine overlapped Jamil’s words.

“It’s a brilliant idea, Jamil works so hard, it must be really tough! Right, I’ll help too!”

“You… you stay still,” Jamil sighed with a heaviness and annoyance, then looked at you. “Yuu-san is enough. Just watch.”

“Fi~ne!”

You asked Jamil where you could find an apron, and he suddenly appeared in front of you, pulling the piece of clothing over you and tying strings behind your back.

“Oh, thank you,” you almost whispered, not expecting Jamil to be so close to you, and glanced over to catch Kalim’s sudden gaze you couldn’t decipher, but a familiar glimpse of overjoy fled from his deep eyes for a mere second, and a bitter smile grew on his face.

“Ah, I know!!” He suddenly jumped from the chair he was sitting on. “Yuu, you’re living in Ramshackle, right?!”

“Why do I feel like he’s going to suggest something crazy,” Jamil mumbled, but Kalim ignored him.

“Yes, I am,” you nodded.

“You’ll be free at 10 o’clock in the evening?”

You blinked absentmindedly.

“I guess so. Why?”

“Then just be at home at the time! You’ll see~”

“Alright?..”

You heard Jamil sighing again and decided to let it be, grabbing vegetables you needed to chop, and continued your work, accompanied by Kalim’s soft cheerful singing.

You expected anything but a magic carpet ride at 10 o’clock in the evening.

“Ready, Yuu?”

“No, I’m noooooot!!—”

And with that you flew straight into the night sky followed by Kalim’s happy noises.

Actually, you thought that after dying for the very first time and then transmigrating from one world into another, make that cyclical, you would fear nothing, but suddenly soaring into the sky wasn’t included in your plans.

But after seeing the canvas of the island and the sheet of the forest, framed by the endless sea from a bird's eye view, you were so enchanted that thoughts left your head, leaving only admiration.

“It’s beautiful, right?” Kalim said, looking at you and knowing you’re not noticing.

“It is…” You whispered, remembering the same sky when you were enjoying fireworks with Jade, and shook your head. “Thank you for showing it to me!”

“He-he~ You couldn’t come to the party, so this is my apology for hitting you earlier.”

“As I’ve mentioned, it’s my fault too. I hit you too…”

“Aw come on Yuu, it’s okay. You even helped Jamil with food preparations.”

“Ah, yes,” you nodded. “He’s a wonderful cook, I wasn’t expecting!”

Corners of Kalim’s lips went slightly down, but he returned to his usual happy look when you turned to him.

“Right?? He’s incredible! There’s nothing he can’t do!”

“You surely like him, right?” You smiled at him cheerfully. “You seem to be very fond of him.”

“Don’t you think so too? You’ll realize how cool he is when you grow closer to him. Do you need any help? I’ve noticed your chemistry today~”

Your smile dropped, brows knitting together. Why would he say that?..

“I don’t think so?.. Is there any particular reason for me to get closer to Viper? Not to be offensive, of course.”

“Eh?” Kalim was obviously startled. “You don’t want to? But Jamil’s wonderful person and—”

“Kalim,” you stopped him. “I don’t quite get it at all and no, I have no intention of getting closer to Jamil. I mean, sure, I don’t know what can happen in the future, but as for the present, am I not being with you right now?”

Kalim gasped, gazing at you in surprise.

“I see he’s an important person to you, but we’re enjoying the evening together right now. Let’s talk about you instead, what do you think?”

“Oh,” he said. “You’re… what an interesting person you are, Yuu!”

“Y-yes? Me?..”

“Yeah! What do you want to know about me then?”

“Let’s see…” You hummed, returning your eyes to the sky. “Hm… suddenly I can’t think of anything.”

“People often ask if my family hires someone for a job, or does a certain facility belong to my family, or something like that… Would you like to ask something along those lines?”

“Kalim, wait, I think you’re misinterpreting my intentions,” you turned to him again, gently placing your hand above his. “I’m not going to be an employee under your family’s business. Why would you even think about it? I wanted to be friends in the first place.”

“Ah, friends!! Aren’t we friends already though?” He blinked at you. “Oh, wait, no, I should give you something!! Do you prefer gold or silver? Or maybe jewelry?”

“Kalim!!” You raised your voice, feeling a little overwhelmed. “I don’t need any of those. I was about to ask if you’re okay, it’s getting chilly…”

“Eh?”

“What?”

“Oh,” he laughed, his cheeks growing red out of shame. “Sorry, Yuu. It was just a precaution.”

“I don’t think I follow?”

“No, don’t worry. You’re an interesting person, indeed…”

You sighed, letting yourself lay down on the carpet and exhale the freshness of the night chilly air, and stare at the stars.

“I don’t know you well. It’s literally the first day we know each other,” you started. “I don’t know your circumstances and what you meant by saying it was a precaution, but… it’s alright if you don’t trust me. But I can assure you that it’s okay, I don’t mind, considering I’m an alien from another dimension, it is only natural to question my intentions. And yet I want you to know that I just want to enjoy this evening to its maximum, and your company is very pleasant to me. We can even sit still and remain silent, somehow I think you’re a safe person to stay alone with. It’s cozy. Ah, sorry, I think I went overboard… Kalim?”

You shifted your gaze to him, meeting his widened eyes and parted lips, and then you blushed, realizing you really did go overboard, saying all your thoughts so easily, but you really couldn’t help yourself.

Kalim suddenly burst into laughter, flopping down on the carpet with you and continuing giggling softly to the point that tears started accumulating in the corners of his eyes.

“Are you alright? I said something stupid, sorry…”

“You’re not just an interesting person, Yuu,” he smiled, turning his head to you, giving you a realization he was extremely close to your face. “You’re wonderful.”

“I thought Viper was,” you chuckled, smiling at him and seeing him closing his eyes.

“Jamil is wonderful, that’s true. And you’re also wonderful. But you’re…”

He fell silent, leaving you without an explanation.

“No, it’s nothing. You’re truly something. Thank you for saying all that to me, Yuu.”

“Remember, Kalim,” your hand acted on itself, grabbing his and interviewing fingers with his. “You’re wonderful, too. Appreciate yourself.”

And with a bright smile you showed to him, you also noticed the heart was filled to the max. You opened your eyes at once, jolting and causing Kalim to question what happened.

No… no, you couldn’t leave him just yet!! Not like that, not after you haven’t figured out an indescribable sadness in his eyes!!

“K-Kalim…” You mumbled, your fingers trembling slightly. “You’re still here…”

“Hm?” He tilted his head. “Of course I am, silly! Where else could I be?”

“You’re right…” You exhaled sharply, drawing him closer to you and enveloping in a tight hug. “Yes, you’re here. I’m glad.”

“Yuu?..”

His whole body was warm, and no bright light filled up the place, reassuring you that right at the moment everything was alright.

Two weeks passed since you two went on a magic carpet ride, and surprisingly you two really did talk, ate together during breaks, the time seemed to stop its flow. The heart icon above Kalim’s head was glowing with soft pink, filled to the top, and you couldn’t comprehend all that was happening. Your own heart and feelings resembled a ticking bomb ready to blow with all anticipation you’ve carried.

Did he really feel something for you? But it was impossible to crush down the whole transmigrator system, you knew it was programmed just perfectly and flawlessly, never making any mistakes in its calculations. You’ve requested a percentage of Kalim’s indicators, which you never did here before since the procedure took a lot of time to analyze everything. And today it finally arrived, shocking you even more than you thought it would.

His so-called love meter was filled up to 100%, meaning he definitely fell for you, however…Why hasn’t his route finished yet?

Suddenly a familiar tall figure appeared in the entrance, and you recognized Jade glancing your way curiously.

Shit, you thought, clenching your shirt.

“Yuu? You okay?” Kalim asked you, his head on your shoulder.

You were sitting under the tree in the school yard, Jamil sitting at your left and doing homework.

“Yeah, sorry I startled your sleep.”

“Nope, I wasn’t sleeping actually. Oh, isn’t it Jade over there? Hey, Jade!”

You wanted to tell Kalim not to ask Jade to come closer, but you actually had no right to do that, and nodded politely to Leech, escaping his focused look.

“Good afternoon, Kalim-san, Jamil-san. Yuu-san,” he greeted everyone, not letting his eyes shift from you. “How interesting to see you three together. I presumed Yuu-san… No, forgive me.”

“Yuu is really fun to be with, don’t you agree?” Kalim cheerfully smiled at Jade. “Right, would you love to join us? We’re having a picnic.”

“Would be wonderf—”

“Ah,” you suddenly mumbled, attracting Jade and Kalim’s attention. “Sorry, I think I should get going soon. You three may continue, though, I’m sorry…”

“Eh?” Kalim looked at you. “I thought you wanted to become friends with Jade?..”

“... Apparently Yuu-san is feeling uncomfortable in my presence,” Jade smiled slyly. “It is quite alright. I’ll get going then.”

“Ah, no, I… And he’s gone.” You whispered to yourself.

Right. It wasn’t his route. Anymore.

And before Kalim managed to ask you if you actually wanted to befriend Jade and that he could help, you all saw Leona approaching you with a strange look on his face.

This day will be the death of you, really.

“Hello, Leona—”

“Herbivore,” Leona interrupted Kalim’s cheerful greeting. “Care to explain what the hell?”

“What do you mean, Leo… Kingscholar,” you carried a habit of calling your current ‘love interests’ by their name, and since Leona’s heart already disappeared, you shook your head.

“You smell like me. And to remind you, we’ve interacted only once when you stepped on my tail.”

Kalim’s smile dropped, and his usually bright and warm features turned into worried and sad, which wasn’t left unnoticed by Jamil, who apparently had enough.

“I… I have no idea…”

“Senpai,” Jamil suddenly said, grabbing Leona’s hand. “Let me explain.”

“Hah?” Leona asked, annoyed. “The hell?”

“Just. Let me. Explain. Okay?”

Jamil looked at you with an expression saying ‘talk to Kalim immediately or I’ll punch you’, to which you gulped and nodded, thanking him silently.

“You’re so popular, Yuu!” Kalim said when Jamil forcefully dragged Leona out. “Everyone wants to get closer to you! Still don’t want me to help you with Jamil? His eyes were so dreamy when he looked at you just now!”

His eyes most definitely weren’t dreamy at all, though…

“Kalim,” you turned to him, taking his hands in yours and looking at him with all the seriousness you’ve got. “Stop misinterpreting my feelings. Please?”

“What do you mean?..”

“Be a little more selfish!” You pushed. “And please don’t decide for me or for Jamil or for anyone else. If I wanted to befriend Jamil, or Jade, or Leona, or—agh it doesn’t matter who exactly!—believe me, I would do that already. And yet I’m trying to spend more time with you. Did you question why?”

Because I need to finish your route and get on another one… Or so you thought, but that wasn’t the case anymore.

You wanted to understand Kalim, to let him feel love and happiness, and as for you… It was enough if he could be happy, even if you couldn’t bring yourself to fall in love with anyone in this school.

It was painful, but you couldn’t deny it anymore — all of them, Jade, Leona, and Kalim — they became dear and important people in your life, who changed it for the better.

You couldn’t remember when was the last time you smiled genuinely, transmigrating into horrors and thrillers, and here you were, smiling at Kalim and embracing him with a sincerity you never thought you possessed.

“You always wish for other people’s happiness, restraining yourself and not enjoying the time you spend to its fullest. But Kalim, at least when you’re with me, don’t think about anyone. Think about yourself and… Let your own heart decide.”

“My heart…” He whispered, lowering his gaze, and you welcomed him in a soft embrace, drawing him to your chest. “Alright. Yuu!”

A familiar bright light you’ve been growing to hate each time appeared once again, and you worriedly glanced at Kalim, who was smiling.

“I fell in love with you at first sight, Yuu. Thank you for not betraying my trust and teaching me important things. This is my gratitude.”

He pressed his lips to your forehead, and the last thing you saw was an image of his rosy cheeks and the most bright and genuine smile you’ve ever seen in your life.

“Thank you, too, Kalim.”

And the hell to the system transporting you to your room in Ramshackle again, labeling Kalim’s route as ‘COMPLETED’.

“Y’know, sometimes it scares me when you finish another route.”

Waking up next to Grim after completing a walkthrough became a tradition you already wished to be let burn in ashes.

“What do you mean?” You ask emotionlessly.

Now that you think about it, you didn’t want to even find out who Azul Ashengrotto was. You possessed no desire, letting your inner child arise, and wishing for everything to begone. You were at the point of no return, and it was already driving you crazy. You certainly weren’t the type to abandon your duties and responsibilities, you've been chosen as an employee of the month more than once, your colleagues often staring at you in surprise at how you managed to save your psyche unscathed after surviving the most horrid things people could witness.

And now you were closing your eyes, swallowing the urge to cry your eyes out and let you out of this circle of repeating routes. You didn’t want to love or be loved, you wanted to do your job. For what reason though? You never questioned, appreciating the chance to live endlessly after dying, wandering around the worlds with aeons passing through.

You considered people here your responsibility, too. Normally you were okay with leaving the characters of the finished stories behind, justice being jubilated, and you coming back to the office and letting bosses choose another story for you to enter.

“I mean,” Grim said, crawling to your stomach. “It’s kinda terrifying to see how we remember ‘em, meet ‘em and casually chat, but they don’t even know what happened.”

“You’re right…” He really was. “Though I think they have some feelings left after I… after completing.”

“Fugnya?”

“Leona seems to have my scent lingering on him, Jade also looks like he remembers something. I think Kalim wouldn’t be too much different.”

“Isn’t it even worse than if they didn't remember you at all?”

It was worse, and Grim was right, hitting you right to the core. It was a living nightmare, knowing they possessed a feeling of you experiencing something together, and you were still here, they could ask you, see you, feel you at some point.

But what will they do when you leave?

“... I don’t want to get closer to Ashengrotto.”

“He’s your next target, right?” Grim asked. “But you need to.”

“I know,” you inhaled soundly with a heaviness in your chest. “So I came up with another plan.”

“What kind of? By the way, I don’t know about you, but as for me, I’d hurry up and finish ‘em all already.”

“Just to remind you, they’re not objects I could simply manipulate for my own purposes.”

“And you’re not an object yourself to excruciate yourself like that.”

You swallowed an objection, knowing Grim was surprisingly right.

“As for the plan,” you shrugged the previous topic off. “You’ll see. I hope at least I will entertain Ashengrotto.”

You definitely had no intention of getting closer to Azul. From the very beginning after reading his profile and seeing 90% of the difficulty level to the point you weren’t sure if you’re capable enough to finish it yourself.

You’ve created a scheme fitting Azul’s demeanor and attitude, however weren’t sure if it’s going to work, considering you actually wanted to make the system crash down and send you back to the office during the maintenance to never ever remembering everything again.

Feelings were hard to possess. It wasn’t love, but it was you receiving it. You were sure they all loved you differently — out of interest, of accepting, of admiration. You, on the other hand, couldn’t name your feelings accurately, but you knew that emotions were scary, unknown and addictingly enchanting.

Which is why you’ve entered Ashengrotto’s office with a feigned smile and a confidence you always seemed to demonstrate in other stories you’ve transmigrated into. Maybe a change of tactics would do?

“Ah, Yuu-san. Welcome to the Mostro Lounge.”

It, of course, was Jade who met you. You knew every corner of the Lounge after spending some time here with Leech, and now, receiving his unwaveringly polite smile, you answered with the same expression, greeting him cheerfully.

“Good afternoon, Leech.”

“How formal,” Jade noticed, but you tried to remain indifferent. “Alright, Yuu-san. How can I help you?”

“I’ve requested a meeting with Ashengrotto.”

And you had no intention of calling Azul by his name in his own route.

It was controversial. You needed to gain his love and win his trust, but at the same time you weren’t sure for 100%, wanting to escape and let this be as it is.

“Oh, indeed. Please follow me.”

His wide shoulders and arms that strongly held you when you almost fell off the cliff. The scent of the sea waves surrounding his figure and the way he glanced at you, thinking about something unbeknown to you. Argh, seriously, you wanted to turn back time and enjoy that night with a firework show once again.

“We’ve arrived,” he said. “Azul is informed you would come, so please come in.”

“Thank you.”

“My pleasure, Yuu-san. Be sure to come again for a cup of coffee.”

You clenched your teeth and nodded, knocking twice and entering after hearing ‘Come in’.

“Good afternoon, Ashengrotto.”

“Welcome, Yuu-san.”

The fragrance of sea waves was even stronger than the one Jade radiated, conjoining with something salty and sweet at the same time. You made your way to the sofa and placed yourself there after Azul nodded, the sea blue of his eyes making you forget all the words you’ve prepared for a moment.

“I heard you have a request to make, am I being correct?”

“Very much so,” you grinned at him.

“Well then, you seem quite determined. I believe you are already informed that everything comes with a price.”

“Sure do,” you nodded. “My request may seem unusual, but I hope you guarantee to grant anything I desire?”

“How persistent you are, Yuu-san,” Azul chuckled. “But worry not, here in Mostro Lounge I can fulfill every wish you make. For a certain fee, of course.”

“Marvelous,” you clapped your hands and stood up, stretching out your hand for a handshake, causing Azul to look at you, questioning your actions. “Well then, hear my wish.”

“I’m listening.”

“Please fall in love with me.”

Azul’s glasses slipped off the bridge of his nose, his eyes widened in shock, and he glanced at you, feeling his cheeks growing hot.

“W-what— Excuse my sudden startle, Yuu-san. Your request is just… quite an unusual one.”

“You said you guarantee everything.”

“I’m not taking my words back, I really do guarantee you that, but… why would you do that?”

“Let’s see…” You hummed theatrically, drawing an outstretched hand to your chin and imitating a frown. “First, you’re handsome. Totally my type.”

“W-what are you saying?!”

“I solemnly swear that I’m telling the truth and truth only!”

“Y-Yuu-san, wait for a moment, would you…”

“Second, I want to experience love. And since you’re the one fulfilling the wishes here, isn’t it quite obvious I came to you?”

“Yuu-san… I believe you’re mature enough to realize that love isn’t something that can be imitated so easily, right?”

“This is why I’m asking you, Ashengrotto,” you suddenly bent over, meeting his flushed cheeks and giggling.

Ah, this is bad. He was actually cute.

“I know you won’t take it easy. Please date me with all the seriousness you’ve got and fall in love with me genuinely.”

“Yuu-san…”

A heart-shaped icon above his head filled with a small amount of a pink liquid, and you bit your lip.

It was awful. You didn’t want him to fall in love with you, genuinely or not, you wanted to be free and him to be happy, not knowing you at all. Anything but destroying him after you leave.

“I promise to do my best too!” You smiled at him.

But you couldn’t promise to make him happy afterwards.

“Your offer is surely an interesting one,” he averted his gaze, not being able to meet yours, eager and all bubble-like, following his, flustered. “But what can you offer for the fulfilling?”

“Ah, that.”

The system’s databases were sure something else. The information provided by them made your work easier, even if you had to spend all the currency you possessed, now having nothing. You switched roles with Grim, him being the one who became a ‘family breadwinner’ for a time being.

“I’ll tell you my biggest secret no one in this school knows. No one in the entire dimension knows.”

“Huh?” Ashengrotto said. “What a flattering offer. Why should I trust you?”

“If you will fulfill my wish, you’ll be able to manipulate me, destroy me, make the whole world desire your knowledge and power, because I myself possess the knowledge every person would love to acquire.”

“You’re saying insanely nonsensical things, Yuu-san. But alright, prove it to me.”

“Great,” you clapped your hands. “I know there’s a photo of you and your classmates in the Atlantica Memorial Museum.”

Azul jolted at your statement, staring at your stoic expression.

“How did you…”

“Also,” you continued, getting closer to him and smiling slyly. “I know about the scheme you’ve planned to appropriate Ramshackle and all the things you’ve prepared for upcoming exams.”

“Yuu-san,” he frowned at you, standing up. “You’re walking on thin ice.”

“You wanted me to prove my powers, right? I did just so and I’m guaranteeing you’ll receive all of my power once you… fall in love with me.”

You lowered your gaze, and Azul wondered why would it even change so drastically, going from cheeky and sly to filled with sadness he couldn’t describe.

“... Alright,” he sighed, closing his eyes and fixing his glasses. “Let us sign a contract.”

“Oya thank you~” You giggled, grabbing a pen on the table, ready to sign. “I know feelings are hard to acquire, but please fall in love quickly, okay?~”

“We’ll see. Don’t forget you need to tell me everything once it’s over.”

“I won’t! He-he.”

You’re the one who’s going to forget.

“Uhm, Yuu-san…”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t you find this position quite, uhm…”

“Hm?”

“No, nothing…”

You giggled with a soft exhale into the crook of Ashengrotto’s neck, thinking about how to escape the predicament you both happened to be trapped in.

You met him after his classes were over, waiting for him to come out from the auditorium, but only had he stepped out, he grabbed your hand and walked you away, accompanied by his classmates noises, hearing something among ‘Woah Azul’s dating someone???’ lines.

And then you realized he never intended to reveal your relationship status, and if the first two weeks went quite okay with you going on fake dates, no one managed to spot you. Or so Azul thought, but you knew Jade also figured out what kind of request you make, glancing over and smiling with an emotion you couldn’t understand.

So today he accidentally led you two into an extremely small staff room of the Mostro Lounge where mops were stored, escaping other workers’ stares. And it wouldn’t be a problem if Azul didn’t hear Floyd approaching you two.

So now you found yourself ‘trapped’ in here, your bodies being tangled, which seemed funny to you, while Azul was going crazy, his cheeks glowing crimson in a dim light radiating from one small lamp in the room.

“Ouch, Yuu-san, be careful.”

“The same goes to you!”

His hands on your back made you bite your lower lip when Azul tried fixing his position, but to no avail. You had no other choice but to be pressed to his chest, head empty of thoughts and common sense.

“Argh, Ashengrotto, you seriously!—”

“Shh!! Floyd’s coming.”

He managed to press a finger to your lips, and you remembered why you found otome games strange in the first place. All those silly situations like this were so stupid and unrealistic when you were recovering after experiencing literal hell in thrillers, but now? Now you were melting under his careful movements and focused eyes fixated on the gap in the door, fishing out Floyd.

You fell silent, averting your gaze, and felt Azul’s slow breath. Your legs went numb, and when you wanted to change your pose just slightly, you felt Azul’s grip on you tightening, and blushed.

“Uhm, Ashen—”

“Yuu— Ugh, can’t you just—”

“Aha~ Did I just hear Koebi-chan?~”

You tensed, clenching Azul’s necktie and panicking just slightly when you heard Floyd’s voice.

“Where are you two?~”

“Ashengrotto, I think we should—”

“Yuu-san, just shut up already!!”

“But I might fall just—”

He turned to you with the brightest color of red on his cheeks, grabbing your chin and drawing your face to his, shutting you up with a kiss.

You could have sworn you saw Jade’s intense stare for a mere second, and then also him talking to Floyd.

“Floyd, here you are. Azul told me we’re needed in the kitchen.”

“Eh? But I don’t wanna~”

“Let’s go.”

“But Ja~ade!”

You two parted with a soft sound of Azul’s nervous breath, and he shifted his gaze immediately after you stared at him blankly.

“A-Ashengrotto…”

“You’re hopeless, Yuu-san…”

“Sorry… O-oh…”

You noticed how pink liquid filled the heart to the half and inhaled sharply, grabbing Azul’s hand when he was going to open the door.

“W-what?”

“Uhm, nothing… sorry again.”

The kiss made you lose your mind for a moment or two. You needed Azul to fall in love with you as soon as possible before you fell for him yourself.

“Ashengrotto.”

“Yes, Yuu-san?”

“Go take a rest. It’s painful to see you working so hard. I haven’t seen you sleeping for two days.”

Azul sighed, fixing his glasses, and continued writing something.

“Of course, you don’t see me sleeping, because I do that in Octavinelle.”

“I highly doubt that…”

You fell silent, sorting out the contracts he made, and stumbled upon a request similar to yours, gasping.

“What’s the matter?”

“Someone asked you to date them,” you frowned. “But you declined.”

“Of course I did.”

“But why? Didn’t you say you fulfill any wish?”

“Yuu-san.”

He stopped writing, sanding up and getting on one knee before you, causing you to blush a little.

“Because right at the moment I’m dating you… no, not just that,” he took your hand in his. “I’m falling in love with you, Yuu-san.”

You bit your lip, lowering your gaze and knitting brows together. It ached so excruciatingly right in your chest, you hated every moment of everything happening just as much you loved it. You…

“I have a question,” you said. “Have you not still fallen in love with me?”

“One more word, and I’ll start hating you instead, but…”

He placed his head on your knees, making you flustered.

“A-Ashengrotto?!”

“Yuu-san, first of all… There’s two things restraining me from loving you with all my heart.”

“Oh, I’m… All ears.”

“First,” he looked at you, pouting with a cute pinkish hue on his cheeks and ears. “Have you ever dated someone before?”

“O-oh?” You found yourself startled. “To be honest, yes, I have. Why?”

“Did you call them by their surname, too?”

“No,” you answered immediately.

“Then why do you call me by my last name?”

There was a reasoning behind that, but you couldn't even clearly judge yourself for your stupid decisions, so you remained silent, receiving his sigh as an answer.

“Fine. The second question possesses more importance anyway. Why don’t you allow yourself to love and be loved?”

You jolted, escaping his serious look, and not daring to give him an answer. You begged for the heart to fill up this instant, but Azul’s stoic gaze remained strict.

“The answer is related to the secret I’m going to reveal when you finally fall in love.”

“And what if I tell you I already did?”

You smiled bitterly at him, interweaving your fingers with his.

“You didn’t,” you laughed. “I know you didn’t. And you know it too.”

“Is it related to that knowledge of yours?”

“Correct,” you nodded. “I know how you feel.”

“It might be funny hearing from me, but Yuu-san. You can never know what one feels, even if in reality you had the magic helping you reveal people’s feelings all this time, or anything else — you can’t. Otherwise you wouldn’t say I don’t love you yet.”

You fell silent again. But the system couldn’t lie, the liquid of the heart was still on its half, so was he lying to you at this point? He wasn’t. You knew that too.

Will you believe the system or him, Azul Ashengrotto, his cold hands holding yours, cold too?

It was insane. It was an absolutely absurd, stupid mess you hated with all your heart. The support and consideration of your own feelings Azul demonstrated to you made you go crazy with a warmth blossoming in your chest.

“Azul…”

“Huh.”

He raised his head, meeting your surprised expression, being quite astonished himself, and smiled at you, clenching a piece of shirt in his fist.

“You really… What a controversial figure you are, Yuu.”

“Hey, I… Wait. No, no, Azul, wait!!”

“What’s with you?”

Bright light flowing around you made you burst into tears at once, throwing yourself into his embrace and crying hopelessly, him not realizing what was happening.

“I,” you sucked in the air, cupping his cheeks and smiling at him. “I came from another dimension and I’ve got two more people’s stories to finish. Y-you, you were my fourth story in this mess, and… Argh, no, please, give me one more minute, I’m begging!!”

“Yuu?!”

You felt how the light was tying up your limbs, and despite your miserable attempts at escaping, it ached. It was not your body aching, but your very heart.

“Please forget about me. Don’t carry my secret, the next time we meet pretend you never felt anything for me. Forget me and.. Thank you, Azul.”

“Yuu!” He cried out, grabbing your hand for a brief moment before you almost dissolved in the air. “Thank you. Thank you for showing me love and letting me fall for you…”

Opening your eyes in the room in Ramshackle you shared with Grim, you’ve decided that you would rather suffer yourself than letting others experience that pain with you.

Lilia Vanrouge and Idia Shroud are going to be different, you thought, seeing 100% difficulty level under Lilia’s icon in the system, trying to ignore the ‘COMPLETED’ line under Azul’s image, but sweet and salty scent of sea waves made you chuckle nervously and swallow your despair all at once.

— tag-list : @coffee-or-hot-cocoa @red-viewe @68thsposts

#twst #twisted wonderland #twst x reader #jade x reader #leona x reader #kalim x reader #azul x reader #lilia x reader #idia x reader

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melkyt · 5 months ago

Text

Oil Rig Doctor Law with Luffy as an eldritch creature somebody unleashed through a ritual on this poor unsuspecting boi xd

Alot of horror-games like this have vibes of the non-human eldritch being pick one guy and be like

'I like that one, I am going to put it through unimaginable horrors but in like a flirty way, and at the end we're gonna kiss'

So yeah Law, those weird eyes and hands reaching out as you're running about terrified trying to survive are just flirting, when he breaks down crying and screaming at the top of the oil rig as he realises that there is no way out. Despreate, scared.

Luffy feels a little bad and shows up in the approximation of the human form, still some uncanny valley to him, picks Law up and carries him to the beach.

Law passes out and doesn't remember how he escaped, just remembers it felt warm

This would be the second game/book, where this once respected doctor goes off the deepend as far as his friends and colleagues are concerned as he looks for the creature.

Taking a boat out to sea or some uninhabited island that worshiped Luffy/Nika, and slowly uncovers the truth.

Luffy at this point has been watching and probably on his crew. Nobody knows who he or where he came from so they assume Law hired him, and the kid is fun and excitable but kinda gives the seasoned sailors and professionals the creeps but they know enough that anything that creeps you out on the ocean needs to be respected or risk death.

Luffy laughing the entire time he watches Law fumble with trying to find out his lore, and sometimes just being thinking so much about the mortal, his power effects Law with weird hallucinations that feel like thoae intricate hidden object and puzzle games point and click horror gamez love xd

Law is kinda having alot of fun even if he is just a little unnerved everythingnis happening and questions if he is loosing his mind

Eventually the two of them meet in the depths of the mansion/world that Nika Luf's power creates. And it just tells him thats its a bored god and its not that deep, and that it likes him.

It could ask normally, like 'lets date for your short human life' but thats not its vibe

Luffy Nika leaning in, brushing his fingers over Law's jaw, so small and fragile. He could break the human with ease.

Its not words, its more a feeling that Law translates to 'Do you wish to feed my insatiable desires in eternity'

Law nods, he didnt come this far to back up from making out with a concept beyond his understanding.

They kiss

Luffy is just 'score, tottally knew this would work on the rig'

Law blinks and hss to come to terms that his love language is actually terrifying, and it will be something to get used to. And he will now that he is not losing his mind xd.

Others going to his office might not share the same chill attitude about the eyes staring from the ceiling or the walls that move sometimes. Nor the doctor's boyfriend whose eyes are a little to wide, and teeth a little to sharp.

#lulaw #lawlu #lulawlu

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chvoswxtch · 2 years ago

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Hi! I have a request for Matt Murdock

Matt is dating a Black Widow but she occasionally suffers from nightmares about her past, and doesn’t sleep for a long period of time and he sometimes stays up with her and talks to her about the Red Room.

hi nonnie! thank you so much for the request! i'm not sure if you're the same person that requested a few other matt x black widow reader prompts, but if you are, you literally live rent free in my head because it's an idea i've thought about for awhile now, so thank you & I hope this is what you were looking for!

warning: some cursing, and very brief mentions of abuse in relation to the red room. I gave this a kinda fluffy ending because everyone deserves some comfort after a nightmare. ❤️ word count: 1.5k

the red room.

Raindrops cascaded lazily down the glass after pelting the window pane, like they were a part of some fervent race none of them cared to win. Thunder cracked loudly across the sky, the sound ricocheting through the clouds like a dead tree being snapped in half in a quiet forest. If it wasn’t for the calamitous thunder accompanying the cadent storm outside, Matt wouldn’t have noticed that you weren’t in bed.

Another round of thunder dragged him out of a deep sleep, and it was only as he turned over to seek out your body that he noticed your side of the bed had gone somewhat cold. Matt suddenly shot up, focusing his senses on trying to find you and decipher what state you were in. The living room was still and quiet as you sat perched on the window sill, but inside of you another storm was brewing.

Your breaths were somewhat ragged as you attempted to keep them under control, eyes following the trails of raindrops to give your mind something else to focus on. Your heart thundered in your rib cage at an anxious irregular pace, and Matt could smell the cortisol raging in your bloodstream. He kept his footsteps quiet as he approached you slowly, not wanting to add to the fear and uncertainty that was radiating off of you. He kept his voice barely above a whisper as he stood a few feet away, preparing to give you space if you needed it.

“What was it tonight?”

You jumped so slightly at the intrusion of his voice, even he almost missed it. Matt’s fingers twitched at his sides as he studied you, waiting for some kind of signal that he could approach. A shaky inhale through your nose had his chest constricting along with the detachment in your voice.

“The Red Room.”

Matt closed his eyes for a moment as his fists balled up tightly at his sides. You hadn’t gone into too much detail about what you’d endured during your time in the Red Room, but based off of the snippets you were vulnerable enough to share and the way your body reacted as you divulged them, he didn’t have to use his imagination. He’d heard plenty of horror stories from other former black widows that had escaped, and if your story was anything like theirs, he understood fully why you never wanted to speak of it.

Although he knew his own childhood and upbringing hadn’t been exactly easy, he couldn’t even fathom the degrees of abuse and manipulation you had experienced. The first night that you spent together when you’d had a nightmare, Matt was more terrified than he had ever been in his entire life. He had a brief idea of your past, but he didn’t know just how much it affected you until that night. It had taken him several hours to calm you down, and he had never felt so helpless.

The hardest part was never knowing when the nightmares were going to hit, or what they would do to you. Some nights you woke up sobbing uncontrollably, gripping onto his body like he would vanish into thin air if you even slightly loosened your hold. Other nights you awoke with a start, silently slipping into the living room, refusing to speak to him or let him touch you. The worst nights were when you woke up screaming. Matt would have to pin you down to the mattress until you awoke fully, repeating over and over that you were safe; that you were home. He hated those nights.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“Sometimes it doesn’t feel real.”

You were talking to him. This was a good sign. He approached you slowly and carefully like you were a wounded animal trapped in a corner. He placed his hand next to yours on the window sill so that you could feel his warmth and presence, leaving the option to take it completely up to you.

“How so?”

“The memories. Sometimes they feel like…like they belong to someone else, and I just have them in my head.”

Matt stayed quiet as he waited for you to continue. He felt a slight sense of relief noting that your breathing had finally started to even out.

“I know they’re mine. I can feel the reason behind every scar. I know exactly what memory they’re tied to. Sometimes…if I close my eyes…it’s like I’m still there. Like this has all been some…twisted dream I made up, and I’m finally awake.”

“It’s not a dream.”

Matt spoke more firmly this time so you couldn’t mistake the sincerity in his voice. His chest ached when he felt the lump forming in your throat, his entire face falling as he tasted the salt from your silent tears. He gently turned your body to face him, slotting himself between your thighs, and delicately brought your hand up to place your palm against his chest over his heart.

“This is real. You being here, with me, is real. Feel my heart. I want you to try and match your rhythm with mine, like we practiced. Can you do that for me, sweetheart?”

Your shaky fingers gripped tightly onto Matt’s bicep as you dug your blunt nails into his chest, closing your eyes to try to focus on the strong rhythm thumping against your palm. You leaned forward to rest your head on Matt’s sternum, melting further into his touch as he cradled the back of your head and held your wrist.

“There you go. That’s perfect. You’re doing so well, my love. I’m so proud of you.”

“I can still see their faces…”

Matt could feel tears building up behind his own eyelids at how small and broken your voice sounded. He let out a shaky exhale, hugging you even tighter to his chest.

“Listen to me. That wasn’t your fault. That was not you. That is not who you are. I know that. I trust that. You can’t blame yourself for things that were out of your control.”

Guilt was an emotion Matthew Murdock knew all too well. He knew how heavy it could weigh on someone’s chest to the point where it made it difficult to breathe. He knew the agony of making a remorseful decision or an inadequate effort. He felt hypocritical telling you something that even he had a hard time believing and practicing himself. But he had always had the luxury that you never did; a choice.

Questions of morality and faith guided his feelings of guilt, not an absence of autonomy.

“If you truly were the darkness they tried to create, you wouldn’t feel an ounce of remorse. You wouldn’t have dedicated your life to helping people the second you were able to make a decision for yourself. You are a light, my love, and you bring that light to everyone you meet and help. You put the goddamn sun to shame.”

“So…if people stare at me too long, they go blind?”

“What do you think happened to me?”

A breathless laugh cut through your tears and Matt found himself letting out a deep sigh of relief, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear as you tipped your head back to look up at him.

“Uh…you said you had an accident as a kid?”

“I’m full of shit. I saw you smile for the first time and next thing I knew, I was blind. I just, you know, made up that story so you wouldn’t feel guilty.”

You were trying your hardest to contain your giggles as you shook your head, and Matt couldn’t help but grin victoriously.

“Oh, okay. So you decided to make me feel guilty when I’m already feeling guilty?”

“Guilt cancels out guilt. Isn’t that how math works?”

“It’s a good thing you’re such a pretty lawyer.”

“In my defense, I only took about 2 semesters of math.”

“Mm, it shows.”

As the storm calmed into a light rain outside, Matt could feel the sky opening up in your chest. There wasn’t a lingering trace of fear in your veins, and your heart had steadied to a relaxed rhythm that matched his. Matt sent a silent prayer up to his God that he was able to bring you back easily tonight.

He wrapped his arm around your waist as he held you protectively against his chest, cradling your face gently in one of his hands.

“Hey, everything is okay. You’re home. You’re safe. I would never let anything happen to you, you know that right?”

“I know, Matty.”

You gave his bicep a gentle squeeze, something you did to reassure him you were back in a good headspace, as you leaned into his touch for comfort. Matt lightly traced the pad of his thumb along your cheekbone, leaning in to press your foreheads together.

“No one is ever going to hurt you again.”

A tiny proud smile tugged at the corner of your mouth as you chased Matt’s lips for a soft kiss, whispering against his mouth.

“Not unless they wanna meet the Devil.”

A crooked smirk lifted at the corner of Matt’s lips as he bumped his nose against yours.

“Not even God could help them if they did.”

#matt murdock #matt murdock x you #matt murdock x y/n #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x fem!reader #matt murdock x female reader #matt murdock x f!reader #matt murdock x black widow!reader #matt murdock fic #matt murdock request #daredevil #daredevil fic #daredevil request

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my-rose-tinted-glasses · 1 year ago

Text

Friday Ramblings

I don't normally do this but I have a couple of thoughts going on in my head regarding the last couple of days week in BL that I just wanted to collect them all instead of just doing it in tags.

Shadow

I'm pissed. I am a big fan of anything horror or supernatural themed stuff so I was really looking forward to this. (Don't even get me started of how disappointed I am at the disappearance of the other horror themed show I could be watching) And the first part did not disappoint. It was a strong first half, good set up of the different story lines and all the players and I was really excited about it. There was such good meta written about the show, and it turned out to be superior to what the show eventually gave us. (@wen-kexing-apologist specially gave us such excellent meta on this show that I wish they were in charge of the second half of this show) I agree with @lurkingshan about everything they said here. Something which I thought was interesting was that I think in this second half the show purposefully made the fake arm really obvious. I don't know if it wanted us to know before Dan but I also don't think it was an accident. But I'm also not gonna theorize about the reasons because I really don't care that much. The "BL" bait was just another thing that pissed me off. I'm not upset it's not BL, I'm upset because it was sold as such and no one will convince me otherwise. For a couple of episodes, at least, the show wanted us to think that Dan was falling for Nai. The prom moment was just fucking ridiculous. The parallels with October 6 could've been really interesting if there wasn't so much going on that it kinda took the weight of it away. One of the questions I like to ask myself when watching any media is - what is it trying to tell? Sometimes nothing and that's fine. It's pure escapism and there's absolutely nothing wrong with that. It can still be excellent. And sometimes it tries to say too much that it ends up not having a cohesive message and it all falls flat. Religion, communism, family trauma, homophobia, mental health, infidelity, teacher-student relationship, pregnancy, murder, police brutality, friendship, bullying, the oh so many supernatural elements, I could go on. You get the picture. So in conclusion, I am not happy.

VIP Only

It's cute. I like both of them enough and it's a good mellow way to start the friday madness.

Last Twilight

This show is surprising me so much. In the best ways. As I said before this pair didn't do much for me in the past but I've surrendered completely, specially to Jimmy. He was so good in this episode that I felt obligated to gif it just so I could keep watching his expressions.

That whole final scene just floored me. His eyes just carried that moment and that whole scene so well that by the end a lonely sunflower brought tears to my eyes. ( and I do not cry easy). After all the cute dates, this scene was a gut punch.

I'm just really stuck on this show, and it holds my attention all through the episode.

My Dear Gangster Oppa

This episode was silly, I couldn't care less about the gangster side of the story at the moment, I'd rather spend more time with the gamer friend group. Wahl got a bit of a redemption but I still don't like him. I liked that Guy stood his ground with Wahl and Tew, but hated the stalker behaviour. If you wanna go dude, just leave!

Sahara Sensei to Toki-kun

Japan my beloved. They just keep giving me all I need. Toki is giving me some Aoki vibes and I could not be happier. And Toki now has got two friends in his corner and I'm so happy. This one and Kinou Nani Tabeta are currently my main sources of joy and my heart is full.

Pit Babe I'd like to thank @pharawee for giving us the novel commentary because it makes it a bit less confusing while I watch this. I have no clue about omegaverse so a part of me is confused, sometimes bored, another part of me is just waiting for Jeff and Alan to be a thing and all of me is happy that Pavel is on my screen weekly.

Twins

This show is dragging and I'm officially bored. I don't mind a slow burn if the rest of the show can hold it together. But the team animosity is just tiring and annoying at this point, the side couples are not engaging ( a bj in the shower does not a side couple make) and for a show named Twins, I would like to see more of them.

Middleman's Love

I'm 99% here for the sides. They are cute, they give me some Ram/King vibes and I wanna see more of them. I was super happy to see Ngern again and the family dinner was a good moment. I don't have the patience for this sort of misunderstanding anymore so that ending annoyed the hell out of me.

(I'm watching For Him too but I have nothing nice to say, so I'll say nothing at all. And yes I know I just did that with Shadow but I was never that invested in this one)

Really looking forward to Kinou Nani Tabeta tomorrow morning and The Sign in the afternoon.

I wish all a great weekend and thanks for reading💜

(because I needed a good cry)

#rose rambles #last twilight #shadow the series #twins the series #bl series #thai bl #pit babe #sahara sensei to toki kun #my dear gangster oppa #middleman's love

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clanwarrior-tumbly · 2 years ago

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can i request jealous mark (tmc) and a highly oblivious reader oneshot? he’s showing signs he jealous badly and y/n doesn’t seem to notice

Ngl I was heavily debating on whether to have Cesar be human/alive or his alternate, but....I don't see much of human ces so I went with that!

..........

Mark wasn't the most extroverted person, and certainly not experienced in dating whatsoever.

It took him ages to work up the ability to ask you out on a date...and even longer for you to realize he didn't mean that as "a friend". You genuinely thought he wanted to hangout like you did every other day.

But thanks to Cesar's intervention, that confusion was quickly cleared up before the end of the night, sparing you both from feelings of rejection and awkwardness.

Only then you realized "oh shit, we were actually on a date" and reassured him that you genuinely liked him back, offering to take him out next time to make up for your oblivious behavior.

He was a forgiving guy, so he accepted it, and from there on the relationship grew.

Of course, he sometimes struggled to express his emotions. At the end of the day, he still felt like that loner kid who always clung to his notebooks and the cross necklace he never left home without..unsure of what he should be doing now that he had a partner. He'd worry about whether he was doing the right things, so he'd often turn to Cesar for further advice.

You usually initiated most the romantic gestures, which he'd sometimes try to mimic. For instance, you'd write positive messages and his favorite psalms on sticky notes to leave in his locker; and the next day, he left notes in yours.

It was sweet, and you reassured him you appreciated them.

On the weekends, Cesar continued hanging out with you both, often tagging along as a wingman for dates. Obviously you weren't going to keep the two from being best friends, so you didn't mind it at all as long as he didn't feel like a third wheel.

However as time went on, Mark slowly began to notice that the man who helped him confess to you...

Was also the same guy he started becoming jealous of.

He could see how often Cesar's jokes made you laugh, or when his friendly teasing caused you to playfully slap his shoulder, unable to hide the grin on your face.

And for some reason..it stung.

Sure, he was one of the popular kids, the most charismatic, the guy everybody in school wanted to be friends with. This was how he always acted around him and you.

But to Mark, it felt like a thorn was permanently stuck in his side, wishing he was the one who made you laugh and joke around the most.

It was easy for Cesar, yet difficult for him somehow.

Some nights, he'd lie awake wondering what he could do differently...or if you're better off dating him instead.

Of course he wasn't going to tell you this and tried pushing down those envious feelings, thinking they'll go away in their own.

Yet it only got worse after the Alternates became more of a prevalent threat.

Stricter curfews were set in place throughout several counties, and more people were urged to stay inside their homes and keep their television usage down to a minimum.

This meant that you, Mark, and Cesar spent a lot more time together, staying at each other's homes and never leaving a single person alone for too long. If you absolutely had to go out, it'll be as a group.

For tonight, though, you were all spending it at Mark's place, trying to find ways to pass the time.

Cesar, being not too concerned about the Alternates, suggested watching a horror movie, popping the VHS into the cassette player while you got some popcorn before joining him on the sofa. You liked the idea and believed it to be a good escape from reality.

Mark, on the other hand, thought you two lost your minds.

"Did you guys just..forget that entire broadcast?" He bluntly asked when you invited him over. "We shouldn't even be having the TV on..let alone a scary movie. Turn it off."

"Mark, relax. It's fine." Cesar waved his hand, brushing off his friend's concerns. "It's a cheesy monster movie. Nothing's gonna crawl out of the TV and get us."

The brunette just frowned back at him, not liking how close he was to you yet being unable to do anything about it. "You don't know that."

"Just c'mon over here, dude." He sighed, noticing that your gaze was fixated on the screen, watching the monster stalk its first victim. "Who else is gonna protect [y/n] when the scariest part-?"

As if on cue, the shrill scream of the victim and the monster's horrific roars startled you. It made you jump and instinctively cling to the closest person.

Who happened to be Cesar.

Moments later, you realized your mistake and immediately shuffled away, bashful as he laughed at your reaction. "S-Sorry. That just..really got me. I didn't expect that!"

"It's all good. Now Mark, you can-"

However, when you both looked at Mark, you could see he was fuming, as though on the verge of screaming in rage. But then he closed his eyes and took several deep breaths, before mumbling something under his breath.

"What's up, hun?" You tilted your head, wondering what was wrong.

"I said I'm going to bed. You and Torres can do whatever the hell you want. I'm done trying."

"Wait, we can find another movie!" You tried calling out to him, but your words fell on deaf ears as he stormed out of the living room, disappearing down the corridor.

Seconds later you heard the door slam shut, and Cesar became tense, feeling his heart drop.

He was only trying to help Mark become a more confident boyfriend, but it seems he just made things ten times worse. He never called him by his last name unless he was extremely pissed off.

Maybe he went too far.

"You should go talk to him.."

"About what?" You looked at him, confused. "Is he mad we didn't listen to the broadcast?"

"...I feel like it's more than that."

Although your friend sounded quite vague, you decided to take his advice and leave for Mark's bedroom, telling him that he can keep the movie going.

After you reached your boyfriend's door, you knocked a few times, stepping back as it swung open and revealed an angry-looking Mark. But upon seeing you, his gaze softened. "Why aren't you with Cesar?"

"I was worried about you." You pointed out.

"...really? I'm surprised." He averted his eyes, swallowing the lump in his throat.

"Can we just talk? I wanna know what I did wrong."

He was silent for a moment, forgetting that you were very dense and didn't see the obvious signs.

But he invited you inside, and after shutting the door you sat down on the bed together. Mark was still quiet as he tried to figure out what to say, wringing his hands together in an anxious manner.

You, on the other hand, decided to list out everything that could've possibly upset him this much. No matter what, you're not leaving until you wrestle the truth out of him.

"If..it's about us not listening to the broadcast-"

"No..no..it's..not that. I want us to stay safe but..that's not why I left. It's a stupid reason, now that I think about it..." He rubbed the back of his neck.

"Did it...have anything to do with Cesar?"

Finally, you hit the nail on the head.

Thank god.

Mark was eventually able to admit how much he disliked the closeness you two shared even though it was Cesar who pushed him to ask you out. It was hard for him not to sound like a possessive asshole, but he felt like that's the impression he was getting when he saw your frown.

Great. Now you're probably gonna argue with him about much he was overreacting and how he didn't need to storm off like a child.

But instead, you hugged him..much to his shock.

"I'm so, so sorry, hun. I..I never even noticed until now." You pulled away and looked at him, feeling guilty that you never realized this. "But you know I'll always choose you over him, right? I'm sure he didn't mean to act that way."

"I know, I know. It's how he is." He sighed, his shoulders slightly relaxing. "I just...I wish I could be as confident as him. I hate being so uptight and paranoid all the time...and when I see him making the better jokes and moves, I.....l-like I said, it's stupid-"

"It's not stupid. I promise." You took one of his hands into yours, squeezing it gently. "I'll admit, it's kinda cute seeing you get jealous. I never thought you had that in you."

A blush formed on his face. "....m-me neither. So..are you sure that-?"

"Mark. I love you, and you alone. Cesar's a funny guy, but you're protective, polite, and honest. And I admire that. You don't have to be like him or anybody else, okay?" Smiling, you kissed him on the cheek. "We can go watch something else if you want, or if you wanna stay here."

"No, I'll..go watch that movie with you. But I'm gonna be the one protecting you from now on." He huffed, gaining some newfound confidence.

You just chuckled softly, taking his hands and pulling him up to his feet.

"Now that's the Mark I know and love."

#clanask #anonymous #mandela catalogue x reader #the mandela catalogue x reader #tmc x reader #mark heathcliff x reader #mark heathcliff #cesar torres

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