#they're in life-threatening danger

[haventacluewhatimdoing]

The Doctor playing the Skye Boat song while sitting next to Jamie???

[asvidema]

got to the maleshov rescue in my second playthrough. here's some moments

[lloydfrontera]

god they're so cute i hate them already

i do have to say the way this scene plays out in the novel is completely different because damian outright admits that he let rakiel fall in front of everyone. just like that. it was good publicity and also he knew rakiel wouldn't get hurt by it. he's very shameless about it lmao

“But why didn’t you catch me when I fell?” “I didn’t get there in time.” “Really?” “Yes. You fell down so suddenly.” “Right. I don’t think so.” “Is that so?” “Uh-huh. You seemed quite calm for someone who couldn’t catch me.” “... Have I been caught?” “Uh-huh. Why didn’t you catch me?” “Because I saw it as an opportunity for more dramatic publicity.” Damian responded shamelessly. Thanks to this, the levity disappeared. “… What?” “It’s just like I said. Also, the posture and angle at which he fell was quite stable. Your Majesty’s buttocks are rather plump. I decided you wouldn’t hurt anything.” “…” “Are you hurt somewhere?” “Uh-huh” “Where were you hurt?” “My heart.” "..."

like. look at this little shit i love him so much ajskhdkja

[ronanlynchbf]

"all this foreshadowing abt declan dying and then he didn't even die" well personally i think declan got murdered dead by mstief in greywaren so. actually 2 me he did die. Badly.

[intersexgoose]

ASAB is so often used to neglect chronically ill people seeking a diagnosis. it hurts intersex and perisex people alike.

we need to get rid of the sex binary for so many reasons and disabled liberation is one of them.

lupus is a disorder with a ratio of 9:1 people who were AFAB to people who were AMAB. it is a disorder that is wildly dominated by people who were AFAB.

doctors often treat lupus as a "women's disease" and when they're not treating it as a "women's disease" they're treating it as an "AFAB disease." there is no room in the system for intersex people (no statistics on our prevalence in the lupus population) and no room for people who were AMAB (despite them being 10% of people with lupus) the biology of trans people, particularly those who have medically transitioned, is of course not taken into account.

this leads to neglect of people who were AMAB, intersex people, and trans people (particularly transfeminine but not exclusively) who have a dangerous, often life threatening autoimmune disease. doctors don't bother looking because "how could you have it? you don't fit this narrow presentation of lupus that I created in my head." people have died from this. lupus kills, especially when left untreated.

abolishing the sex binary would largely fix this problem.

the reason so many people who were AFAB have lupus is because of estradiol. (read more about why here) estradiol is a major determining factor in who develops lupus and who doesn't. it's the theorized reason for the sex disparity. .... but people who were AFAB aren't the only people with estrogen-dominant endocrine systems, and not all people who were AFAB have estrogen-dominant endocrine systems. you can develop lupus with a testosterone-dominant endocrine system but it is far less common.

so why do doctors look at ASAB instead of that actual cause, estradiol? (rhetorical question but the answer is transphobia and intersexism)

sex abolition says that in replacement of overarching categories of sex we instead identify individual traits. lupus is one example of thousands where focusing on a specific trait rather than a sex would actually be more helpful in narrowing down diagnoses.

intersex and trans people will continue to have their diagnoses missed until we abolish the sex binary and replace it with something more useful. there is no disabled liberation without intersex liberation.

[genderqueerdykes]

if you genuinely believe that trans men and cis men are enemies and need to be pitted against each other: you drank the terf juice.

if you believe that pre transition or never transition transfems "look too threatening" or "too cishet" or "unsafe for other queers to be around": you drank the terf juice.

if you misgender butch trans women and multigender transfem lesbians and remove them from lesbian spaces: you drank the terf juice.

if you police transfems and call them "loud," "aggressive," "mean," or "rude," just because they have deep voices or high testosterone bodies: you drank the terf juice.

if you genuinely believe that all men and mascs need to be barred from entry into non binary, lesbian, and other queer spaces: you drank the terf juice.

if you genuinely believe all cishet men are inherently queerphobic, evil, and dangerous to be around: you drank the terf juice.

if you genuinely believe trans and cis men are inherently violent and dangerous because they're men: you drank the terf juice.

if you genuinely believe that cis-passing trans men aren't queer and/or don't belong in queer spaces because they look and sound "too cis" or 'threatening': you drank the terf juice.

if you genuinely believe that anyone who is AMAB and/or has a penis is inherently violent: you drank the terf juice.

if you genuinely believe it's okay to profile strangers to assume they're cis or het (or ANYTHING): you drank the terf juice.

literally ALL of these things are terf ideologies and actions. in order to accept ourselves and be accepted, we must accept that just like how our identities are not inherently violent- neither are cis and het folks'.

blaming cis mens' gender instead of their actions and behaviors for their dangerous and queerphobic actions removes the responsibility from the individual man. that was one man who did something wrong.

hold that individual person accountable for their actions and leave their gender and/or birth sex out of it- they're irrelevant to the situation.

making trans women, intersex trans women, transfems, nonbinary people, genderqueer people, etc. uncomfortable by policing how they look and sound is not the way to go. policing transfems and preventing them from queer spaces is not the way to go. policing trans men and mascs and preventing them from entering spaces they belong in is not the way to go.

excluding queer men and mascs from the communities they rightfully belong in isn't helping anyone. cis gay men need community. cis asexual men need community. cis aromantic men need community. cis polyamorous men need community. genderqueer, non binary, and gnc cis men need community. cis bisexual/mspec men need community. trans women who are also men need community. trans men need community. intersex men need community. the list goes on.

community means working together, not fragmenting ourselves off into the tiniest micro pockets imaginable for the sake of "Safety". running afraid from every. single. man and masc you encounter will not keep you safe- femmes and women are capable of abuse. we cannot fall into this "woman good man bad" trap. being afraid of a group of people wholesale doesn't help you heal from whatever trauma you have. it's going to keep you scared for the rest of your life. it's best to move on and stop judging strangers for features they can't help or didn't ask for.

[tojigasm]

I'm imagining how Logan letting you see his claws up close for the first time would go and like not to be too tmi, but I do think Logan's claw slits would be soooo sensitive.

I could imagine him not really holding hands with you or letting you get too close to his hands in general until the two of you have progressed past something superficial.

The first time he lets you even get near his hands is when the two of you are lying in his bed. Your back pressed to his chest and his chin resting atop your head.

You've got one of his hands held by both of yours, running your fingers over his blue veins and tracing the divets and scars of his skin.

"How'd you get this one?" You ask, running your thumb over the rough line of skin, tilting your head up against his chin some.

His other hand momentarily stops its path where he'd been smoothing it down the soft of your arm.

"Think I was cutting up an apple," he jokes.

The two of you burst into a fit of giggles and he presses a kiss to the side of your temple, moving to speak before he's suddenly caught off with a moan so low you almost weren't sure what it was at first.

Logan doesn't even seem as though he's noticed as his brows remain furrowed and his body relaxed beneath you.

"What was that?" You turn to him, brows arched. You know he can already read the scheming expression written over your features.

Wordlessly, he pops his neck as he moves his hand upwards towards your face, pulling your hands along with it.

Balling his hand into a fist, he turns his knuckles towards you.

Your eyes catch on three small slits between each of his digits, only about half and inch or so long.

Cautiously, you run the tip of your finger down the length of one, earning a shiver from the man beneath you.

"Does it hurt?" You say quietly, nearly a whisper. Almost as if speaking too loud would startle the riveting atmosphere of the room.

You feel him shake his head 'no' behind you before he says gently, "feels good."

You give a slow nod at that, eyes glued to his knuckles.

"Can I touch them again?" You ask after a quiet moment passes.

Logan hums from behind you, "Go ahead."

You're careful in the amount of pressure you apply as you gently stroke the tips of your finger down each slit, relishing in the soft hums earned by the man behind you.

You can feel Logan's eyes watching you – as if equally enthralled with your newfound fascination of his mutation.

He lets you enjoy the delicate nature of it. A man so brutally threatening and deemed almost wild for the majority of his life subdued by something so seemingly trivial about the very thing that labeled him dangerous in the first place.

It's sweet to him.

"D'like it?" Your voice pulls him from his haze.

He seems to mull over his response, unfurling his hand to flex all five fingers in a spread palm.

"S'okay," he offers before unsheathing his claws, letting you look them over.

The lights from his room add a sparkle to their sharp tips, and for a moment, he finds his loathed despotion for them to be almost futile.

"They're pretty." You comment, meeting his hazel eyes in the metallic reflection of them.

He scoffs, "That's just cus' you're lookin' at yourself in 'em."

You feel him reach towards his beer on the nightstand. "I mean it." You click your tongue.

It's a sensitive topic for him, you know that.

Logan takes a swig of his beer, taking another look at his claws. He turns his hand back and forth before retracting them with a 'Shing!'

"Well, in that case," he flicks your temple with a chuckle, "Thank you."

"Can I see them again?" You pull his hand back into your own.

With a sigh, Logan unsheathes his claws for you again.

He takes another swig of his beer, mumbling "Brat."

[ooooo-mcyt]

Might be a weird compliment but I think part of why Cleo and Scott are such an effective team in the life series is because they're both really really good at bluffing.

Cleo is very outright with the fact that she doesn't consider herself very strong at pvp, even compared to other members of the server. But people are still very consistently scared of them. Why? Well, I think a lot of it is that Cleo acts like someone who is really good at pvp. They're often very threatening, very overtly aggressive, as a preventative measure, just to make sure they're never seen as an easy target. Cleo tells everyone that she can and will ruin them at the first slight against her, and frankly, people aren't interested in testing that. Even if Cleo doesn't actually consider themself to be the strongest fighter, it matters more how they're perceived by other people. Fire- which Cleo is very famous for using as an easy punishment for any wrongdoing against her- is also a very good threat display. Usually minecraft fire is, honestly, not that hard to deal with, and the damage is usually superficial (unless you're joel and just kinda stand in the fire until you die), but the thing about fire is that it's big and dramatic. Surround yourself in flames twice your size and make sure you don't flinch when they point their weapons at you and people will be scared of you without you having to fight, because you look like more effort than you're worth.

Scott isn't overtly threatening in the same way most of the time, but he achieves a very similar effect with his ability to keep consistently calm and collected. I've watched multiple scenes where people come to kill Scott just to literally panic and backtrack as soon as he acknowledges with calm amusement or irritation instead of seeming threatened (i also think this is how mumbo got him in wild life- scott is literally so used to startling people with a mostly calm acknowledgment of their murder attempts that he genuinely didn't expect mumbo to actually still activate his trap, even when scott was standing on it). I've watched multiple scenes where Scott is objectively outmatched or even outnumbered in a fight just for the others involved to falter or outright retreat because Scott wasn't acting like someone in any danger, because even if he's on four hunger and one heart, he often still talks like he isn't scared. If you he just smile or roll your eyes and don't flinch back from them, people will eventually get really confused, wary, or tired, and will, again, decide you are more effort than you're worth.

It's honestly a testament to their intelligence, social and situational awareness, and emotional control, that both Cleo and Scott are so good at bluffing (albeit with slightly different forms of it). I don't know how to wrap up this post, they're just really good at this competition, thanks for coming to my ted talk.

[jedi-starbird]

Alpha-17 and Obi-Wan being friends (derogatory) on 17's part and friends (threatening) on Obi-Wan's part is such an underrated dynamic

They could be so funny and terrifying, like Obi-Wan went through a soul shredding experience with Alpha-17 as his only company. They're friends because what else are you gonna be after you witness each other at absolute rock bottom from torture.

It's like 'dog put in cage of cheetah who's threatening to go crazy', except the dog is a grizzly bear and also threatening to go crazy.

Emotional support trooper except the trooper in question has never done any sort of supporting in his life and is actively an emotional distress trooper to a great number of the CC batch.

I want them texting everyday, I want Obi-Wan mailing handmade BFF bracelets to Alpha and Alpha sending pics back of him flipping off the camera but still wearing them, I want Alpha using Obi-Wan to keep track of and occasionally terrorize his cadets, I want 17 ending problems in the GAR (like Krell) before they begin because Obi-Wan has him shipped out on a personal transport at the first opportunity, decked out with slug-throwers Obi-Wan got him for his decant-day.

Natborn officers think this is all just an odd indulgence of General Kenobi, the Vode, however, correctly identify it as a goddamn threat and their danger assessment of Obi-Wan ticks up significantly.

When Alpha arrives on Kamino, Shaak Ti presses a shiny new comm into his hand. It has the Jedi Order symbol painted onto it alongside a smiley face sticker, and it pings immediately with a new message: Hello! I hope you're settling in well!

Alpha stares at the message, stares at the singular contact named 'OWK' and then stares Shaak Ti in the eye as he pitches the comm straight into the ocean. Shaak Ti's serene smile only grows larger as she calmly reaches into her robes and pulls out an identical comm, only this one has a frowny face sticker, and presses it into his hand. It lights up: I'm afraid we've bonded, Alpha :). Alpha shuts it off and pockets it with resignation.

Cody arrives on Alpha-17's personal recommendation.

A-17: He's the most difficult little bastard I have. You're perfect for each other. OWK: Thank you, he's very handsome :3 A-17: No. Stop.

The first thing he asks once he gets comfortable is who his general is texting so much that has him swinging his legs and twirling his hair. Cody assumes it's Anakin, given they seem joint at the hip anyway, but little does he know Obi-Wan's ability to consistently have the Weirdest Relationships Ever.

"Oh, it's Alpha-17, I understand you're familiar with each other?" Hmm. OK. Cody.exe is experiencing a processing error, please hold. He exits the room instead of answering. The next day he peeks over the General's shoulder when he's texting and sees walls of rambling messages from Obi-Wan. Alpha-17 replies every hour with a single text: Lose this number. Obi-Wan giggles. "He's so funny." he says.

When Obi-Wan meets the rest of the CC batch, Cody makes sure to stand perfectly angled so that he can record the reactions when his general cuts off their introductions with "Oh, no need, Alpha-17's told me all about you." It's always immediate FEAR.JPG followed by a slow spiral of What The Fuck.

What do you mean by that General. What does that mean Cody. What do you mean they text. No. Cody. What the fuck is happening, Cody. Alpha-17 doesn't have friends he has enemies and enemies he tolerates enough not to shoot on sight.

OWK: Wolffe reached for his vambrace? when I mentioned you A-17: That's where he keeps his spare knife. OWK: Hm that does explain the way he eyed me up, ambitious. A-17: Clearly not enough, he should have followed through. I taught them better.

[royalarchivist]

Phil: I still stand by, if I get a snail, I'm gonna fail RP and log out.

Sneeg: I don't think they're gonna give you one just like, unsolicited. Especially 'cuz you've threatened to not play? 🙄

Phil: [Cracks up] I've played these games before! I've done it before, man! I genuinely probably need therapy, but I'm just putting it off! [Laughs]

Sneeg: How do you explain to a therapist that you're attached to an Egg from Minecraft though? 🤨

Phil: Ok, so there's this server, right? And it's ran by my friend, and– It's– brings in people from various different cultures and languages, and then– and then he decided: "Oh, you know what would be really cool to keep people playing? And invested? What if we give them a fcking EGG?"

Phil's Chayanne and Lullah emotes were made by @strawbekka.

[ Full Transcript ↓ ]

—

Phil: I still stand by, if I get a snail, I'm gonna fail RP and log out.

Sneeg: I don't think they're gonna give you one–

Phil: Good

Sneeg: –just like, unsolicited. Especially 'cuz you've threatened to not play? 🙄 Um...

Phil: [Cracks up]

Sneeg: I don't think they're... I don't think they're gonna gamble on that.

Phil: I'm not doin' this NPC, like– actor– like, thing on server again! I've played these games before!

Sneeg: [Laughs]

Phil: I've played these g– I've done it before, man! I genuinely probably need therapy, but I'm just putting it off! [Laughs] For- for fckin'–

Sneeg: How do you explain to a therapist that you're attached to an Egg from Minecraft though?

Phil: Ok, so there's this server, right? And it's ran by my friend, and– it's–

Sneeg: [Overlapping with Phil] There's this server– and then there was an Egg, with a glock. [Laughs]

Phil: –Brings in people from various different cultures and languages, and then– and then he decided: "Oh, you know what would be really cool to keep people playing? And invested? What if we give them a fcking EGG?"

Sneeg: Attachment. [Laughs] Attachment to something!

Phil: "What if we give them an Egg that- that has wants and needs? And you need to look after it."

Sneeg: And a personality!

Phil: Yeah, "And a personality, and- [stammers] and quirks and- and–"

Sneeg: [Overlapping with Phil] And its life's in danger, people– things were trying to kill it.

Phil: Yeah. And things keep trying to kill it, and you have to save it, you are its– you are its only s– hope.

Sneeg: If it dies, it's your fault. It's your fault! Your fault. [Laughs]

Phil: [In unison with Sneeg] Your fault! Your entire audience of thousands of people will be PISSED if you don't care! If you don't care, you are a MONSTER!

Sneeg: [Overlapping with Phil] And they're so valid, they're so valid 'cuz it's true.

Phil: [Laugh] Imagine joining my stream, and I'm just like reading a bedtime story to a little Egg.

Sneeg: [Cracks up]

Phil: Like– [Laughs] Like, what a CRAZY way to come back!

Sneeg: "Oh, my favorite vanilla Minecraft streamer Philza Minecraft's on– playing Minecraft today, let's see what he's doing!" [Voice cracks as he tries not to laugh]

Phil: Yeah, "What's- what's Kusump?" [QSMP]

Sneeg: –and you're like: [Leaning into his mic] "Humpty Dumpty." [Laughs]

Phil: "What's Kusump? What's this? Why's he got an Egg, and why is it just holding up a sign that just says 'Food'?"

[solxamber]

Love Bites - Floyd Leech x reader

You like him quite a bit, you really do but you're really questioning your decisions after some time spent with him ends up sending you to the ER

Crossposted from my ao3!

Floyd’s sharp-toothed grin stretches wider as you glare down at him, every ounce of annoyance in your body evident as you clutch the bandaged area on your arm. The bruises beneath your sleeve throb dully, and the memory of him sinking his teeth into your skin is still fresh in your mind.

“Are you actually mad at me, Shrimpy?” Floyd's voice is teasing, as though the whole thing is a game to him. He lounges lazily in front of you, as if your anger is nothing more than another source of amusement. “They're just little love bites.”

Your mouth opens, incredulous, but no words come out at first. Instead, you just hold up your arm—complete with the stitches and bruises that have formed there. You watch as Floyd’s mismatched eyes follow the movement, his head tilting slightly as he appraises your injuries like they’re no big deal.

“Little love bites?” you echo, finally managing to find your voice. “Floyd, I have stitches. Actual, real-life stitches.”

Floyd shrugs, still unbothered. “It’s just a few marks,” he says with a lopsided grin, sharp teeth gleaming. “You’re tough, right, Shrimpy? Bet you’re already healing.”

The nonchalance in his tone only fuels your frustration, and you can’t help but huff, crossing your arms over your chest as you glare down at him. It’s always like this with Floyd—he never quite takes anything seriously unless it piques his interest. And apparently, the sight of you with bruises and stitches wasn’t nearly enough to catch his attention.

“Floyd,” you say with as much patience as you can muster, “I’m seriously hurt. You can’t just—”

“Can’t just what?” He cuts in, suddenly standing to his full height. The lazy grin has vanished, replaced with an intensity that sends a shiver down your spine. His mood has shifted in an instant, his presence growing more imposing as he looms over you, eyes narrowing with a hint of danger. “What’s the big deal? You’re my Shrimpy, aren’t you? I can play with you if I want.”

You take a step back, heart racing as his tone changes from playful to something much darker. This is the part of Floyd that everyone warned you about—the sudden switch from laid-back to terrifying. He doesn’t mean to be threatening, not really, but it’s in his nature. And right now, the look in his eyes makes it clear that he doesn’t quite understand why you’re so upset.

He steps closer, tilting his head curiously as if waiting for you to explain yourself. You’re tempted to turn away, but instead, you hold your ground, even as your pulse quickens under his sharp gaze.

“Floyd, I don’t mind you being playful,” you say carefully, keeping your voice as calm as possible. “But there’s a line. This—” you motion to your arm again “—crossed that line.”

For a moment, there’s silence. Floyd’s eyes flicker down to your arm, and something unreadable flashes across his face. His expression softens, just a little, and he sighs deeply before his grin returns, though this time it’s less wild and more subdued.

“Aw, Shrimpy,” he murmurs, stepping back slightly and slouching as if the energy has drained out of him. “You’re so sensitive sometimes. But I get it, I get it. I went too far this time, huh?”

You blink, surprised by the sudden shift in his tone again. He looks at you with a mixture of mild amusement and something almost like regret, though it’s hard to tell with Floyd. His moods are as unpredictable as the sea, and sometimes you can’t be sure if he’s genuinely sorry or just pretending.

Still, you can tell he’s trying. In his own weird, Floyd way, he’s making an effort to understand your feelings—even if he doesn’t fully get it.

“Yeah,” you admit, your voice softening as the tension starts to ease. “You did go too far. I know you like to mess around, but… I’m not a punching bag, Floyd.”

He laughs at that, a light sound that seems to fill the room. “Nah, you’re not a punching bag, Shrimpy. You’re tougher than that. I was just having some fun, but I guess I didn’t realize how squishy humans can be.”

The word “squishy” makes you cringe, but you let it slide. At least he’s acknowledging the situation, even if it’s in his unusual, Floyd way.

Floyd moves closer again, but this time his touch is gentle. He reaches out, fingers brushing over the bandaged area with surprising care. His expression is hard to read, but the teasing smirk has been replaced by something quieter, almost contemplative.

“Does it hurt a lot?” he asks suddenly, his voice uncharacteristically soft.

“A little,” you admit, watching him carefully as his fingers linger near the bruise. “But it’ll heal.”

Floyd hums in acknowledgment, his eyes trained on the wound as if it fascinates him. “You’re pretty tough, Shrimpy. I like that about you.”

You roll your eyes, but there’s a small smile tugging at your lips despite yourself. “Glad to know I’ve earned your approval.”

He grins, sharper now but still playful. “You always have it, Shrimpy. Just don’t go getting too mad at me, okay? I’ll be good next time. Maybe.”

You can’t help but laugh at that—because with Floyd, “next time” will probably end up just like this. But somehow, you don’t mind as much. Floyd’s chaotic nature is part of who he is, and while it can be exhausting, there’s a strange charm to it too. He keeps you on your toes, always guessing, always wondering what mood he’ll be in next.

And right now, as he watches you with a softer gaze than usual, you realize that maybe—just maybe—he’s trying harder than he lets on.

“Just… maybe go easy on the love bites from now on,” you say with a chuckle, nudging him lightly. “I’m running out of bandages.”

Floyd’s grin returns in full force, his eyes gleaming with mischief once again. “No promises, Shrimpy. But I’ll try to keep you in one piece.”

He winks, and despite yourself, you can’t help but feel your heart skip a beat. Floyd may be unpredictable and moody, but there’s something undeniably magnetic about him—and even when he’s frustrating, you find it hard to stay mad for long.

With a final playful nip at your shoulder (thankfully not hard enough to leave any more bruises), Floyd leans back, stretching lazily. “Alright, alright, I’ll be good for now. But next time, Shrimpy, you better watch out.”

You roll your eyes again, but there’s a warmth in your chest that wasn’t there before. Despite everything, Floyd has a way of making you feel special—even if his methods are a little… unconventional.

And as he lounges beside you, his mood now seemingly light and carefree once more, you can’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, you wouldn’t have it any other way.

Masterlist

[chansdoll]

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ현진ㅤㅤ♡ㅤㅤnot just friendsㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

★ pairing。nonidol!hyunjin x afab!reader ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎g. ╰・  angst , smut‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎cw。 unprotected sex , oral (f. receiving) , they're in love your honor wc�� 4.3k

lana's note!  ᰍᩚ this is kinda like a friends to lovers type thing except it starts late in the situationship phase, idk what this is tbh, i got bored and thought of it

♡ masterlist

it was a typical friday night, the kind of party everyone in your class had been buzzing about for days. a packed house, music pulsing through the walls, the air thick with alcohol and the sharp bite of too many cheap colognes. you were there, perched on the worn-out couch in the sunroom with your friends, half-listening as they gushed over the guys at the party. the room was dimly lit, the only glow coming from a few tangled strings of fairy lights that flickered unevenly, casting soft shadows across the walls.

you wanted to be here—at least, that’s what you told yourself. you liked the distraction, the way alcohol dulled the edges of emotions you refused to acknowledge. lately, those emotions had been clawing at your chest, threatening to spill over, and drinking was the only thing that kept them at bay. you weren’t about to let yourself feel, not when feeling meant risking getting hurt again.

then, as if on cue, he walked in.

hyunjin.

your heart lurched the second your eyes landed on him, a cruel reminder of something you wanted but could never have. he strolled in effortlessly, his presence commanding attention without even trying, flanked by felix and changbin. his dark eyes swept over the room, taking in the scene, and then—inevitably—they found you.

you didn’t think. you just acted. without hesitation, you tipped your glass back, downing the rest of your drink in one go. the burn of the alcohol was nothing compared to the ache in your chest, the one that only seemed to grow stronger every time he was near. you needed more. more to drink, more distance, more anything to push away the emotions threatening to surface.

hyunjin noticed. of course, he did.

he didn’t say anything right away, but you felt his eyes on you—watching, assessing. he always had this way of looking at you, like he was trying to solve a puzzle only he could see. he could tell something was wrong, that you were struggling, but he didn’t know why.

and you weren’t about to let him find out.

for years, you and hyunjin had been inseparable. what started as a simple friendship—born from long nights studying together, laughing over inside jokes, and supporting each other through the highs and lows of life—evolved into something deeper, something unspoken. he was your safe place, and you were his. but neither of you ever crossed that line, both too scared to risk what you had.

then, everything changed.

a few months ago, you went through a painful breakup, one that left you reeling. you had trusted, loved, and given your heart away—only to have it shattered. the pain made you wary, hesitant to let anyone get too close again. and hyunjin, ever the patient friend, had been there for you through it all. he never pushed, never asked for more than you could give. he just stayed.

but one night, after too many drinks and too many lingering stares, you found yourself in his arms in a way you never had before. it wasn’t just a moment of weakness—it was comfort, desperation, need. what was supposed to be a one-time thing became something neither of you could walk away from. it started with stolen kisses behind closed doors, tangled sheets, and hushed promises of this doesn’t mean anything. but as the weeks passed, something shifted.

the sex turned softer, more intimate. he would press lingering kisses to your temple, trace gentle patterns on your skin afterward. you would wake up in his bed, wrapped in his warmth, and pretend you didn’t crave staying longer. it was dangerous—because the more time you spent wrapped up in hyunjin, the harder it became to deny what was happening between you.

but you had to deny it.

because falling for him meant opening yourself up again. and after what you had been through, you weren’t sure you could survive that kind of heartbreak twice.

so you pushed him away. again. and again.

but hyunjin wasn’t stupid. he saw through every excuse, every attempt to put distance between you. he knew you felt it too—knew you were running from something real. and no matter how hard you tried to convince yourself otherwise, you couldn’t ignore the way your heart ached every time you saw him.

and now, as your eyes met his, from across the kitchen, the ache in your chest grew. 

it didn’t take long for you to get tipsy enough to crave hyunjin’s touch—his warmth, his presence—and he welcomed you with open arms. before you knew it, you were stumbling into a bedroom upstairs, hands everywhere, lips colliding in desperate, messy kisses.

his fingers dug into your waist, pulling you closer, and you clutched at his shirt, tugging at the fabric until it bunched against his ribs. he broke the kiss just long enough to yank it over his head, tossing it aside before his mouth crashed back to yours—hot and needy.

“you look so good tonight,” he muttered, voice low and breathless against your lips. his hands slid down to your hips, guiding you back until your legs hit the edge of the bed.

you barely remembered falling onto the mattress—all you remembered was the way hyunjin followed, crawling over you with that same hunger burning in his eyes. his lips moved down your neck, biting and kissing and tasting while your fingers tangled in his hair, urging him closer.

everything blurred—clothes tugged and tossed aside, warm skin pressed against yours. your breaths mingled in the charged air, messy and uneven.

he kissed down your body, his mouth hot and teasing as he moved lower. you gasped when his lips ghosted over your inner thigh, and then you moaned outright when he pressed a lingering kiss to your mound.

“hyun—” you whined, but your words melted into a sharp gasp when his tongue met your clit. he licked you like he was savoring you, dragging his tongue in slow, deliberate circles before closing his lips around your most sensitive spot. a deep groan rumbled from his chest, vibrating against you. he was lost in it—lost in you—his hands gripping your thighs tightly to keep you from squirming away.

“fuck—oh my god,” you gasped, clutching at the sheets as the pressure in your core built rapidly. his fingers flexed harder against your skin, his nails digging into your flesh, and your body tensed.

“i’m—shit, i’m cumming,” you cried out, your body shaking violently as the pleasure crashed over you.

he didn’t stop—not right away. he kept licking, sucking, savoring every bit of you until the overstimulation forced you to gently push his head away. even then, he lingered, leaving a messy kiss against your soaked folds before rising to his feet.

his cock was heavy in his boxers, the outline thick and prominent as he hurriedly shoved the fabric down. he crawled over you again, kissing you roughly—hungry, like he needed this, needed you.

“you’re driving me insane,” he rasped against your lips, his hand fumbling to spread your thighs wider. his cock bobbed against your slick entrance, and you reached down, guiding him inside you.

he pushed in slowly, groaning low in his throat as you stretched around him. the feeling was overwhelming—the heat, the weight of him pressed so perfectly against you.

it started fast and frantic—hips grinding together in messy desperation. you clung to him, his skin warm and slick beneath your fingertips, both of you chasing something primal and raw. but somewhere in the haze of it all, something shifted.

his kisses deepened, slowing to something softer, something felt. his fingers laced with yours, pinning your hand beside your head as he rocked into you, deep and deliberate. his forehead pressed against yours, his breath warm and shaky against your lips.

“fuck,” he groaned, voice strained like he was holding himself back. his free hand trailed along your waist, down to your thigh, where his fingers dug in just enough to ground you.

it was too much—his body against yours, the way he filled you so perfectly. the way he whispered your name, soft and reverent, like you were something precious.

your heart raced, your breath hitched, and before you could stop it, the pressure in your core unraveled once more. it rushed through you fast and hard, making your body arch beneath him.

“f-fuck,” you choked out, and then—without thinking, without meaning to—you said it.

“i love you.”

the words tumbled from your lips right as you reached your peak, your body trembling beneath him as waves of pleasure rolled through you.

hyunjin stilled for half a second, his hips stuttering before he fully realized what you had said. his breath hitched—and somehow, those three words undid him.

“shit—” his voice broke as he pushed all the way inside you, burying himself deep as his own orgasm tore through him. a string of groans left his lips, shaky and breathless, as he filled you with his release.

you barely registered the warmth spreading inside you—you were too lost in your own head, panic settling in like ice beneath your skin. you clung to him, your breath unsteady, trying to ignore the weight of what had just slipped out.

you couldn’t take it back.

and somehow, that terrified you more than anything.

the air felt heavier now, thick with something you couldn’t name. neither of you spoke as you pulled your clothes back on—hyunjin grabbing his shirt from the floor while you reached for your dress, still crumpled on the edge of the bed.

he moved slower than usual, his eyes flicking toward you every few seconds like he was trying to find the right words. you knew what was coming—you could feel it.

“you meant it, didn’t you?” his voice was soft but certain.

you froze for a beat, fingers faltering at the zipper of your dress. “what?”

“you know what,” he said, stepping closer. “what you said before.”

you swallowed hard, refusing to meet his gaze. “i don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“you do,” he insisted, his voice firm now.

“i don’t.” you turned to face him, zipping your dress the rest of the way with a sharp tug. “i was tipsy. we were... caught up in the moment. i don’t even remember half of what i said.”

it wasn’t true—you remembered everything. the way his body felt against yours, the warmth of his breath, the way the words had just spilled out before you could stop them. but admitting that? no chance.

hyunjin scoffed softly, raking a hand through his hair. “sure,” he muttered, his tone dry. “whatever you say.”

“yeah,” you snapped, grabbing your purse from the nightstand. “whatever i say.”

you knew you were being cold, but you couldn’t stop yourself. it was easier to shut him out than to face what had just happened. because if you did—if you let yourself feel it—you knew you’d fall too hard. and after everything you’d been through, that was a risk you couldn’t take.

“are you coming?” you asked, barely sparing him a glance before heading for the door.

hyunjin didn’t answer right away. but when you reached the hallway, you heard his footsteps behind you, following you back to the party like nothing had happened.

only it had. and you knew there was no running from it for long.

the next day, hyunjin sent you a text:

hey. wanna grab coffee?

you stared at the message for a long time, your thumb hovering over the keyboard. you typed out a few responses—sure, i can’t, i’m sorry—but you deleted them all. nothing felt right.

you felt awful. awful for how you snapped at him, awful for pretending like nothing had happened, and even worse for how scared you were. scared of opening up, scared of hurting him, scared of getting hurt yourself. you couldn’t risk that. not again.

so, for the first time since you and hyunjin had been friends, you turned off your read receipts.

and of course, he noticed.

hyunjin lay on his dorm bed, phone in hand, staring at the screen like he could will a reply out of you. his text still sat unread, no confirmation that you’d seen it. he knew you were acting cold—he wasn’t stupid. ever since that night, you’d been distant, avoiding eye contact, cutting conversations short, disappearing whenever he walked into a room.

he knew you were dealing with things—your breakup had left you guarded, pulling away from everyone who tried to get close. but he thought he was different. he thought he was helping.

the next evening, he found himself wandering to one of the campus cafés—somewhere you both used to go all the time. it was crowded, filled with clusters of students cramming for exams or killing time between classes.

and that’s when he saw you.

you were tucked into the corner by the window, sitting across from some guy hyunjin didn’t recognize. he looked your age, maybe a little older, with an easy smile that made hyunjin’s stomach churn.

he watched from a distance, eyes narrowing as the guy leaned closer, whispering something that made you laugh—actually laugh. the sound made hyunjin’s chest tighten.

his mind raced. maybe this was nothing—just some classmate, someone you bumped into. but the way you smiled... the way you twirled your straw between your fingers, leaning in just a little closer... it felt different.

he told himself it wasn’t a big deal, that you were allowed to spend time with whoever you wanted.

but deep down, it felt like he was losing you.

hyunjin was standing near the counter, waiting for his order. he was dressed casually—sweatpants and a hoodie—but he still managed to stand out.

your heart dropped.

for a second, you just stared. he looked tired, his face drawn in a way that made guilt gnaw at your insides. his phone was in his hand, his thumb flicking over the screen like he was checking for something—checking for you.

when he finally looked up, your eyes locked.

your breath hitched.

his gaze hardened, just slightly, his face unreadable. you knew that look—it was the one he gave when he was hurt but refused to show it.

the guy across from you kept talking, laughing at his own joke, but you couldn’t hear a word of it. hyunjin’s eyes flicked from you to the guy sitting at your table, and something in his expression shifted—a flicker of something you couldn’t quite place.

you dropped your gaze, suddenly unable to hold it. your fingers curled around your drink, knuckles going white from how tightly you gripped it.

“you okay?” the guy asked, finally noticing your sudden silence.

“yeah,” you lied, forcing a smile that felt thin and strained. “i’m fine.”

the soft glow of the moonlight slipped through the blinds, casting faint shadows across the room. you stared up at the ceiling, feeling the weight of the night pressing against your chest. the silence was suffocating, and yet your thoughts wouldn’t let you escape.

tossing onto your side, you tugged the blanket tighter around yourself, the heat from your body offering no comfort. your mind refused to quiet. you couldn’t stop thinking about him — about hyunjin.

it wasn’t supposed to be this way. you weren’t supposed to feel so lost. so fucking confused. you had been fine before, or at least, you thought you were. you hadn’t expected to fall into something like this with him.

you let out a shaky breath, your heart pounding beneath your ribs. you were afraid — of what, exactly, you weren’t even sure. afraid of letting him in, afraid of loving him, afraid of not being good enough to keep him. every time you let yourself get close to him, the fear crept in, and now it had spiraled into this mess of misunderstandings and regrets.

you squeezed your eyes shut, trying to shut out the thoughts, but they only grew louder. you had pushed him away. you had hurt him, and now... now you were ruining everything. your friendship with hyunjin, the one thing that had been consistent in your life, was slipping through your fingers. you were scared. so scared of what he might mean to you, what you might mean to him.

the tears came unbidden, hot and fast. you rolled onto your back, unable to control the sobs that wracked your chest. you thought of all the things you should have said to him, of how he looked at you that night, how his warmth had felt like the one thing that made you feel whole.

but you pushed him away. you always pushed people away.

you reached for your phone, desperate for a distraction. maybe scrolling through your gallery would give you something to focus on, anything to get you out of your head.

your thumb swiped through the photos — random things at first. selfies from random nights out, pictures of your friends, screenshots of texts that no longer seemed relevant. then you saw them. the ones with hyunjin.

you paused, your thumb frozen over the screen. your breath caught in your throat as your eyes traced the photos. the first one was a silly selfie the two of you had taken during one of those late-night study sessions. he had made a face, pulling a stupid expression, and you had laughed so hard you almost cried. the memory of his laughter filled your chest, and you let out a shaky sigh.

then there was the one from that night at his place. you remembered it so clearly — your faces so close, your smiles so real. he had kissed you right after that photo, and you had felt a rush of something deep in your chest, something that made your stomach flutter. you had felt seen, wanted.

but you weren’t ready for that.

another swipe.

this time, a picture of the two of you on the couch after a party. your bodies were close, his arm draped over your shoulders. you were looking at each other, and in that look, you saw something more than just friendship. it scared you, that look. you couldn’t handle it. you couldn’t handle him. you had to keep your distance, even if it meant hurting him.

you scrolled further, and the next picture stopped your heart. it was taken the last time the two of you had been alone together. the photo was intimate, suggestive — you both had been fooling around, your faces flushed with desire. it wasn’t a moment of passion, not like you had imagined when you thought about what you two might become. it was a mess of emotions, blurred lines, and you had let it happen. you had let him in, even when you told yourself you never would.

you should have stopped it.

you should have never let yourself fall into this.

you closed your eyes, and suddenly, the weight of everything hit you all at once. your chest tightened, your breathing shallow as you clutched the phone to your chest. you ruined it. you ruined everything.

you were never enough. you were never going to be enough.

the tears started again, harder this time, as the realization crushed you. you had pushed him away, scared of your own feelings, and now you were paying the price. you had been so selfish, so afraid of letting yourself want him.

and now you had lost him.

the quiet of your dorm room seemed to mock you as you sat there, body shaking with sobs. you had pushed him to the point where he probably wouldn’t even look at you the same way anymore. you had destroyed the one thing that had meant something to you, and no matter how much you wanted to fix it, you couldn’t.

you ruined it.

you ruined him.

the bass thumped through the walls of the campus bar, the low vibrations buzzing against your chest. your friends’ laughter rang out beside you, but you barely heard it — your mind had been clouded all night. the drink in your hand had grown warm, condensation pooling under your fingertips.

you were trying — really trying — to forget. to drown out the memories of hyunjin’s touch, his voice, the way he looked at you before you pushed him away. but no amount of alcohol could drown out what was festering inside you.

and then you saw him.

hyunjin was at the far end of the bar, his elbow braced against the counter, swirling his drink in his hand. his hair was damp — maybe from the rain outside, maybe from sweat — but he still looked too good. his jaw was tight, his eyes focused on nothing in particular. he looked... off.

your stomach flipped. he hadn’t seen you yet, but you knew it was only a matter of time.

"i need some air," you muttered to your friends, barely registering their response as you grabbed your bag and moved quickly toward the exit.

but you weren’t fast enough.

"y/n?"

his voice cut through the noise like a knife.

panic shot through you, your heart racing. you didn’t turn around — couldn’t. you shoved through the crowd, weaving between bodies until you finally stumbled out the front door and into the cold night.

rain poured from the sky, cold droplets clinging to your skin as you rushed down the sidewalk. your breath hitched, your chest tightening. you just needed to get away — far enough that the guilt would stop clawing at you, far enough that hyunjin wouldn’t follow.

but he did.

"y/n!"

his voice rang out behind you, sharp and angry. you heard the fast steps of his shoes slapping against wet pavement.

"stop!"

you didn’t stop — you couldn’t. your pulse thundered in your ears, but suddenly his hand grabbed your arm, jerking you back.

"what the hell is your problem?" his voice was tight, breathless, but unmistakably angry. his hair clung to his forehead, strands dripping with rain. "are you just gonna keep running from me forever?"

"hyunjin, let go," you said weakly, but your voice wavered.

"no." his grip didn’t tighten, but he didn’t let go. "you’ve been avoiding me for days. i texted you, i called you — hell, i’ve been waiting for you to just say something. but instead, i see you here — acting like none of it ever happened. like i don’t even fucking exist."

"i can’t do this," you whispered, voice barely audible over the rain. you pulled your arm from his grasp, wrapping your arms around yourself like it could hold you together. "i just... i can’t."

"why?" his voice cracked. "why are you doing this? did i... did i do something wrong?"

you shook your head, swallowing hard. "no. no, it’s not you, i just..." you trailed off, words dying on your tongue.

"then what is it?" hyunjin’s voice rose again, frustration bubbling to the surface. "i know you feel something for me. don’t tell me you don’t — you wouldn’t have said what you said if you didn’t."

your stomach twisted painfully. "i don’t know what you’re talking about."

"bullshit," he snapped. "we are not just friends. we are not just friends, and you fucking know it."

the words hit you like a punch to the chest. your breath faltered, and you took a shaky step back, your shoes splashing in a shallow puddle.

"i didn’t mean to—"

"yes, you did!" his voice broke this time — less sharp, more desperate. "you said you loved me. i heard you. and i know you meant it. so why are you running from me like i’m some kind of mistake?"

your throat tightened painfully. tears blurred your vision, mixing with the rain streaking down your face.

"because i’m scared!" the words burst out of you before you could stop them. your voice cracked, your chest heaving. "i’m scared of getting hurt, i’m scared of losing you — and i’m scared i’ll ruin everything because that’s what i do."

"you’re not going to lose me," he said quietly. his voice was softer now, gentler — but there was still a tremor in it. "i just... i don’t understand why you won’t let me in. why do you think you have to do this alone?"

"because i’ll hurt you!" you choked out. "i’ll mess this up, hyunjin. you deserve someone better — someone who isn’t so... so broken."

"don’t do that." his voice was firm, but not angry — raw, almost pleading. "don’t tell me what i deserve. i know what i want."

he stepped closer, his fingers brushing your wrist again, more tentative this time — like he wasn’t sure you’d let him.

"i want you."

a sob tore from your throat, and before you could stop yourself, you were stepping forward, crashing into him. your hands fisted into the soaked fabric of his jacket, clinging to him like he was the only thing keeping you from falling apart.

his arms wrapped around you instantly, pulling you in tight — like he’d been waiting for you to do this. you didn’t know who kissed who first — all you knew was that his lips were on yours, hard and desperate. the kiss was messy, rain-slicked and breathless, but neither of you seemed to care.

"i’m sorry," you whispered against his mouth, the words spilling out between kisses. "i’m so sorry."

"don’t be," he murmured back, his fingers curling at the nape of your neck, holding you closer. "just... please don’t push me away anymore."

for a moment, you stayed like that — tangled in each other’s arms, the rain washing over you both. whatever tension had been hanging in the air seemed to crack and fall away, replaced by something heavier yet somehow lighter at the same time. and as hyunjin pressed one more lingering kiss to your forehead, you realized something — maybe you’d been wrong. 

maybe love wasn’t about avoiding pain; maybe it was about trusting someone enough to hold your heart, even when you were scared they might break it.

taglist: @ritsmith @bluesungology @jeonginsleftcheek @babigriin @tirena1 @geni-627 @bbokvhs @wavetohannie

[acid-ixx]

lovefool by the cardigans

— series concept ft. soft yandere dc! x bimbo/himbo reader

soft yandere! dc characters x himbo/bimbo/careless reader... who's just a bundle of joy to be with... where all the villains have an agreement to never mess with you, hell even kidnap you occasionally from the arms of the heroes just to hear you rant endlessly about your 'mundane' life as if you weren't just abducted... where the heroes would quite frankly sometimes have to put you in some sort of human leash because you wouldn't literally panic if there's a gun pointed against you...

the urge to make a shitpost/romcom series just because i listened to lovefool by the cardigans... no idea of platonic/romantic but i'm just moving on with the flow... a bit more on the romantic side ig...

i'm going feral at the thought of a wild goose chase with you, because one second you're bundled up in the arms of the justice league, each one of them scheduled to strictly watch over you, another is stationed near the door as they'd be the one to get you anything you want or need— then suddenly you're at a villain's lair that houses all the bad guys and then oops! you accidentally inhaled the scarecrow's fear gas but you're not reacting?! is your mind filled with air...? all your response was a quirk of your eyebrows and a question that's just "is there any signal here? the league told me to call me if i'm in any trouble...?" which then you would quickly take back and instead would smile at them like some goons didn't just threaten you with a knife to your neck just because you screamed, calling the scarecrow's mask a sack of moving, possessed potatoes.

originally, most villains would whisk you away from the arms of your vigilante babysitters but then they discover you're just a bundle of joy who laughs at the shittiest joke anyone could make, who snorts at their 'funny' antics and words, who grins when they take pictures of you to use as bait that you're being held hostage. it kind of goes to the point that their original plans all go to waste and they decide to just, take you all for themselves. they don't even know how you were able to survive being thrown around carelessly by the shoulders of big, muscular men, but they're more jealous at the image of you giggling and running your hands through muscles arms and toned abs; so they took it in themself to be the ones to guide you through your now makeshift room, hoping you would fawn over them with those cute stars in your eyes...

and if you were taken back into the arms of the vigilantes? oh god, the heroes can't even scold you because you'd be already hugging the next person in the room, babbling endlessly about your adventures with the villains and ignoring their seething envy with just how much you brag about how some are "too hot to be evil! i think i can change them!" because why are you talking about some randoms who just kidnapped you for their own gain when you have them right there? no way are you now getting out of their sights, them trying so hard to even distract you from going outside because "it's just too dangerous to be out there, boo! you're safe with us."

and you just nod your head with that toothy grin of your! are you seriously unaware of how much the richest of the rich are willing to pay for just an hour of your already shining presence? hell, you're just too... out of it, to the point you'll be the one who discovers their secret identities just by accidentally noticing details that nobody with functioning thoughts would even think about.

"batman! you must be bruce wayne, right?" you randomly approach him one day, with a foot tapping the floor impatiently. you stare at him like you had made a scientific discovery.

"... how do you know...?"

"'cause you're both hot and rich and whenever i get a feel of mr. wayne's abs, they're the same size as yours—!" and you continue to guess his children's identities all correctly with a quip of how hot they are or how you wish one you were fit and toned enough to have honkers as big as them...

... that night, you're spending it in the batcave with bruce and his children trying their damn best to brainwash you into keeping their identities a secret, to which you reply with a nod and an airheaded smile. but then the moment they remove you from the straps constricting you in a comfy bed, you'll be running off to alfred, ranting about how you can't believe that you guessed their personas right and if he knew it all along too...

huh, guess that's what makes you all the more charming.

a/n: please do comment or send in asks if you're interested in this as much as i am... i wrote this in quick succession and altho i am planning to make this series a shitpost one or a lighthearted romcom one, i rlly want to amp the yandere-ness hehe. it was fun writing this albeit it being written in about 10 minutes or less. ignore the header ill change it soon 🫦

[blackpilljesus]

I saw this from the female separatism subreddit & the responses are some of the biggest reasons for separatism et al (or extinction if I'm being candid here). Moids cant be reformed they are fully aware of the hell they force women to live in. MaIe achievement & happiness is rooted in female exploitation & life. Their glory days are based on our horrific days. No amount of love, kindness or facts will change maIes and we cannot happily or even neutrally coexist with them.

Main points across answers:

Many want to experiment but not permanently be women

They dont want to be in constant danger or lose their autonomy at the hands of maIes for merely existing

They dont want to deal with childbirth (& periods)

They dont want to have to share spaces with species much stronger than them with ulterior motives

It makes me go crazy seeing people give moids benefit of doubt for their evil like "maIes just dont understand", "we need to teach maIes", or claiming that maIe violence is a result of maIes struggling with (expressing) their feelings. I get that women love maIes and it can be hard to imagine that people can intentionally be so evil but it is what it is. MaIes have no problems expressing themselves, abusing women is what maIes choose to do because they enjoy & benefit from it - that is their expression.

MaIes see the same news of women being abused, raped, and killed like we do except rather than be disheartened or alarmed they're either apathetic or satisfied. It isn't aliens that's committing GBV it's maIes & maIes have no problem reminding women of this when women anger them (such as rape threats & threatening women they'll end up on the news/true crime). The victim blaming, denial, and derailment of misogyny is part of the game to keep the system alive, they know the events occured & are a systemic occurence they just dont care. Hell not only do they not care, they rejoice in it or get off on it.

MaIes set up environments that work in their favour which simultaneously ensures that women will lose. They know women are set up to live in damn near impossible conditions for us. It's normalised for women to defenselessly share personal & private spaces with beings much more stronger than them with ulterior motives for us, it's trap. It's interesting how these moids aren't saying that they'll just cover up and *poof* harrassment gone, or they'll just pick a nice guy & they'll be okay. MaIes know the net negative they are towards women.

MaIes know that childbirth is a painful process & what do they do? Demand it happens and make it even MORE painful for women. MaIes that impregnate women do not love or care for them. Pregnancy itself is dangerous & sometimes lethal, often comes with a range of health issues, to cause someone to be in that condition especially in a environment where abortions are illegal is reckless & unloving. Now imagine how sinister & full of hatred one has to be to impregnate someone and abuse them on top of that. Many women risk their health & lives to reproduce with a Y and they get abused by said Y instead of being taken care of. Deranged.

Realising that maIes are aware of the evil they inflict is one of the things that radicalised me. It isn't a miscommunication or ignorance issue, their violence is intended. They want control. The cruelty is the point. Instead of wasting time & energy trying to change maIes or hope that they "understand" one day, focus on yourself & other women (who prioritise women). Moids aren't oblivious to female pain they enjoy it. A lot of women treat maIe evil like it's a mistake on maIes part but it's calculated terrorism. I know that this will go over many womens heads as they refuse to hold strong negative sentiments about moids as a collective so if you're not a woman like that, take this post as a sanity check. You aren't crazy, it isn't all in your head.

[pearlymel]

The last time when...

Synopsis : you're an assassin. Your next mission? Get rid of your husband.

Warnings : Sylus × gn! reader, angst angst, death, miscommunication, blood, 1.6k wc.

Notes : if this broke your heart a lil bit, then i will make an apology letter by making a part 2 where they're all a happy family and alive 😓

When was the last time you looked at your husband and thought; how crazy must you have been to be with this as equally crazy man?

Or when was the last time he looked at you and thought; how lucky he was that you were able to tolerate him, to marry him, even.

He knew. And you thought you were able to hide your true occupation just well.

He seemed calm right in front of you while your hands were shaking.

He.. was the target?

Let's take this back to yesterday.

You were pushing your motorbike to its limits as you tore down the dark, winding roads, the sound of gunfire ringing out behind you. Bullets whizzed past you, narrowly missing their mark as you expertly maneuvered the motorcycle to avoid getting hit.

Your heart pounded in your chest as adrenaline rushed through your veins. You could hear the shouts and curses of your pursuers, their voices full of anger and frustration.

Despite the danger and the high-speed chase, you manage to keep your composure and reach for the gun holstered at your waist. With a quick and practiced motion, you whip it out and aim it behind you, training it on your pursuers.

Bullets continue to fly in your direction, but you return fire, hoping to buy yourself some time and discourage them from closing in on you.

You safely escaped, for now.

You were either going to get killed by them or by Sylus if he finds out you put yourself recklessly into danger.

Let alone burrowing his motorbike for this mission.

Stupid organisation, you mutter to yourself as you kick your boots off, the snowy weather certainly wasn't helping with your thoughts either.

You had hoped to leave your old life behind, especially after marrying Sylus. But that was a year ago, and the phone call from your old organization has shattered that illusion of peace. These assholes.

They had one more job for you, a job they think no one can ever successed in, unless it was you.

They didn't even tell you who your target is. Just simply send in you the location instead.

As you push open the door to your shared bedroom, your heart sinks when you see that Sylus is still awake. His eyes are fixed on you, and judging by the expression on his face, he is far from pleased.

His arms are crossed in front of his chest, a stern frown creasing his forehead as he regards you silently, waiting for an explanation.

“i was visiting a friend,” you explain, your grip of steel around the doorknob.

Sylus doesn't seem convinced by your flimsy story. He continues to stare at you, "Visiting a friend," he repeats, sarcastically.

“Mephisto says otherwise.”

That damned crow.

“I'd like it if you stopped stalking me.” You say bitterly. And it's true, his eyes seem to be everywhere, anywhere.

That's why you made sure to quit being an assassin before getting together with him. You wanted a happy, peaceful life as well.

“You're saying it like I'm some sort of creep or stranger.” he drawled, stepping closer to look down at you, and his crimson eyes seem to shine brighter in the dark as he lifts your chin up.

“I'm your husband, i have the right to know why my partner is late.” he squinted his eyes at you before letting go off your chin to turn away.

“Get some rest.” Sylus retreated back to bed. You both didn't speak a word that night, both of your backs facing the other, and you think the weather might have become colder.

—

They have threatened to hurt the people you love most if you don't do this one last mission.

You still feel upset that you didn't clear things up with Sylus last night, you hate fighting with him, but if it has to come down to this, then you'd rather protect him.

You made sure no one would follow you this time, not even Mephisto.

Let's say you did some adjustments on him.

Sorry lil guy.

It's probably not clever to leave your trail of footsteps behind on this particularly heavy snowy day, but they said your target would be here. Right at this time. And this place.

What an odd feeling.

Your body goes taut as you suddenly hear the sound of snow being crushed underfoot. It's a familiar sound that immediately puts you on alert. In a flash, you turn around, your gun gripped tightly and ready to fire.

Sylus.

Your heart leaps into your throat as you recognize the figure emerging from the falling snow.

Shock flood through you, your body instinctively relaxing a fraction as you lower your gun, "Sylus," you exhale breathlessly, the tension in your muscles melting away momentarily.

He observed you with a gaze that felt like it cut deep into your very core. There was no anger in his eyes, no hatred, no rage. Just a quiet resignation. “It's strange,” he says, his voice low, “fate bringing us here like this.”

He wasn't armed. He most likely knew.

Wait, he's.. the target?

He noticed your reaction, but there was no flicker of fear in his eyes. Despite your step back, he continued his approach, slowly and deliberately. His eyes never left you, yet there was not a threat in them, just...resignation...understanding?

Sylus was close, close enough that you could feel the heat radiating from his body, so warm in the cold, he reached out and gently brushed the hair that had plastered itself to your face, to reveal your expression of fear.

“step… back.”

“and why should i do that?”

“I'll shoot,” the words slip from your tongue quicker than you could stop yourself from saying it.

He simply lifted one eyebrow at the sight of the gun now pointed at his chest, unperturbed. “Is that how you greet your husband dearest?” he asks, the faintest hint of a smile at the corner of his mouth with his head tilted slightly to the side.

He was so infuriatingly calm, like there was nothing to worry about.

His smile only widened, and he lifted his hand to rest it on the gun, his fingers gently tracing the barrel, bringing it closer to him, and you gasp, “but don’t you know how much I love getting under your skin, sweetie?”

“Don't—!” you drawed your hand back when his fingertips played dangerously near the trigger, sending your heart to almost stop. You step back again.

He knew you wouldn’t shoot.

“What the hell are you doing?” he said, his voice dropping the smooth façade once you aim the gun at yourself.

“Put that down, now.” he stepped closer to you, your warnings going through deaf ears before he became impatient, resolving this by using his evol, the energy manipulation red and black strands wrapping around your hand and taking the weapon away from your hold to throw it to the side.

Well, you were certainly no match for him.

“I can explain.” You sounded defeated, a fool. You knew you were going to face the consequences if you don't do something now. “I'm really sorry.”

“do that when we get home—”

Sylusd didn't get to finish what he was about to say, and he didn't freeze either when he heard the familiar sounds of gunshots going off.

Gunshots. Aimed directly at you.

He had no time to look around at the source of danger, everything felt like it wad going in slow motion when be was reaching his arm, his body out to protect you and shield you.

Only to find you on your knees in a blink of an eye, your body limp and falling into the pile of snow.

Sylus shouted your name in fear as he knelt beside you, gathering you gently in his arms, his voice a strangled gasp. He held you close, his eyes wild while his hands palpated your body, searching for the wound.

Two gunshots. Shot right through your chest and stomach.

No, no, no.

Sylus has never felt more scared than he was right now, with your crimson blood seeping quickly, melting down with the snow, even when he was taking off his coat and shirt, all to apply pressure on your wound.

He clutched you, his hands trembling, “stay with me," he pleaded, his voice hoarse. "Please, please stay with me.” His mind raced, frantically thinking of what to do, of why the blood wouldn't stop running down, your eyes so tired and almost dull, oh how he felt so helpless right now.

He clenched his jaw, the unfamiliar tears starting to gather around his eyes.

“You’re not quitting on me,” he muttered, the anger in him rising. “You don’t get to quit on me, damn it. You’re not dying on me. Not today, not anytime soon.”

“So—sorry..”

Your last breath. Sylus’ world came shattering down as your eyes lost their light and your body went still in his arms. There was no breath left, no pulse, just deafening silence and the harsh wind.

Your last words were an apology. Not an ‘i love you’ nor ‘take care’.

He refused to believe it. He refused to accept that you were gone, that your lips would never say his name again, that your hands would never touch his skin again.

”Don’t leave me.”

…

“please?”

…

“Are you really.. going to leave me to be alone again? ”

Sylus only remembers seeing red and white that day. The prettiest angel resting in his arms with their precious blood mixed with the cold embrace of the snow.

[ms-demeanor]

are there really chiropractors out there right now who are claiming they can treat all that stuff?? im really actually asking because ive never seen anything like that at all, but obviously i might just be really lucky. i constantly see people saying chiropractors claim they can treat everything, and its just baffling to me. my chiropractor is pretty young (so maybe she just doesnt have the same attitude as older ones?) and went to med school for physical therapy before becoming a chiropractor, and shes the only doctor out of the dozens ive seen who already knew what hyper-mobile ehlers-danlos syndrome is before meeting me. shes never once said anything about treating anything at all beyond the issues in my back from my muscles going whack, and has actually suggested i see a physical therapist (and referred me to one) to strengthen my back so i dont have to see her very often. i assumed that was the normal experience with chiropractors, but did i just luck out? are the majority of chiropractors really insane and claiming they can cure diabetes and stuff?? thats so crazy to think about...

Just to clarify: your chiropractor is not a doctor. Having a doctorate in physical therapy does not make one an MD, having a DC degree does not make one an MD. People who become physical therapists go to school for physical therapy, but that wouldn't really be called medical school any more than getting a degree in nutrition would be called medical school.

I want to be very firm here because you're using the words "medical school" and "doctor" and that indicates to me that she IS claiming to be more than what she actually is, which is a chiropractor and possibly a physical therapist, both of which have requirements that pale in comparison to the training that MDs (or even nurse practitioners or physician's assistants) go through. But chiropractors really like to let people believe that they're doctors. They're not. They're chiropractors.

It's a very good thing that your chiropractor has told you to seek other care for your back pain; neck and spinal adjustments are potentially life threatening to people who don't have connective tissue disorders and are *extremely* dangerous and an even greater risk for people who DO have hypermobility issues (check out what @thebibliosphere has to say about chiropractic and EDS). A licensed physical therapist will be able to do much, much more for you than a chiropractor, and is a MUCH safer choice.

Now, all of that being said:

Yeah it's super common for chiropractors to claim they can treat all kinds of nonsense and when they're doing so it is probably technically illegal and if they actually treat stuff it's probably technically practicing medicine without a license and can be really fucking dangerous if it convinces people to forgo evidence-based treatment.

Here's a chiropractor in LA claiming to treat a laundry list of ailments:

Here's one also in LA county whose yelp photo is of her doing spinal manipulation on a baby (Literally never ever let a chiropractor treat your child it can no-shit kill them) and offering prenatal and perinatal care

Here's a guy in North Hollywood claiming to treat asthma and allergies with chiropractic:

It's not the majority of chiropractors, but it's more than you'd want.