#tw: gender industry

[lifeonkylesfarm]

tw beauty standards, eating disorders

genuinely, the makeup, beauty, and cosmetic surgery industries are all so fucking toxic, and they'll do anything to stay in business

whether it's "you need this makeup to look beautiful" "you need this surgery to look beautiful" "wear makeup but do it for you queen" "get cosmetic surgery to empower yourself and be your best self girl!"

it doesn't matter

either way, they're convincing us that 1. we need or should change ourselves and our bodies, 2. that we are not okay as we are; we are not enough as we are, and 3. beauty is important, beauty is value. they have to convince us of these things so that they can stay in business. but in the process, they are a major contributing force to eating disorders and the chronically low, everlastingly horrific self-esteem of women.

in feminist circles, we talk a decent amount about makeup/cosmetics, but we rarely talk about cosmetic surgery and how harmful it is.

I feel like whenever I see talk about cosmetic surgery it's basically just "is Kim Kardashian's ass fake or real?" that talk alone is harmful. women are shamed for their bodies but then shamed for getting surgery to make them what society says they should be.

but also just,,, the way that I have seen people genuinely try to present cosmetic surgery as empowering. this is not plastic surgery, it's not reconstructive, it's not the surgeries trans people get or the surgeries people get after having breast cancer. this is the pressure to totally alter your body, literally just for men. they won't frame it like it's for men. they'll never frame it like that. it's always "feel comfortable in your body!" but the reason women don't feel comfortable in their bodies is beauty standards, beauty standards that are built into PATRIARCHY (i.e. for MEN, for male consumption)

women are taught to pick apart their bodies into alterable pieces, parts to improve, rather than a cohesive vessel that is the form we take in life.

[flaming-archery]

my heart goes out to all the young girls & women who are being lead to believe that s*xualizing themselves is "empowering" or "liberating". You don't have to appeal to men to be confident. You don't need to dress revealing to be desirable. Your worth is not dependent on what a man thinks of you.

And if you just got free or are trying to get free from the traps of the s*x industry, then remember you are not "used". You are not "worthless". You are not a "sl*t". Those are lies made to silence you, to make you feel ashamed for what you've faced. Your story deserves to be heard.

You are not alone in this. We are here for you.

[writerblue275]

Heya! Love your writings. I feel like I'm going insane whenever I read your HCs I just- Aaah! I'm getting sidetracked. Can I see your personal take on how HEARTSTEEL boys would take compliments? Imagining Kayn trying to play it off but then the second he gets alone he's jumping around and- Getting side tracked again. Sorry. LOL

Hiya there Anonnie! I’m so glad you’re enjoying my stuff!! I hope insanity in this case is a positive lmao. Happy to drag some of you along with me in my brain rot! 🤣 But you ABSOLUTELY can have my personal take on this. I LOVE this idea! Thank you for requesting it! 💙

How Heartsteel Handles Compliments

Inspiration: Requested

Genre: Headcanons

Type: FLUFFFF

Gender: Gender Neutral Reader!

TW: Swearing. Slight discussion of HS Ez and HS Kayn past which includes low self-esteem.

Extra: So obviously below I’m going to go more in depth for each member, but as a generalization, I think Aphelios and Yone would react similarly, K’Sante and Sett would react similarly, and then (double trouble) Ezreal and Kayn would react similarly when it comes to getting compliments.

Aphelios

Aphelios is interesting for this. I think in general his reactions to compliments depends on a couple factors. 1. Who is complimenting him? 2. What is the compliment about? (Either him personally/his personality or his work, his outfit, etc.)

If the compliment is from someone else (besides you or Heartsteel) about his work, he’ll give a soft smile and say/sign “thank you” to the person. He really puts a lot of love into his music so if people recognize that, then that makes him happy for sure! If the compliment comes from someone else but it’s about him specifically, he’d be shy about it.

Now with the other Heartsteel members and Alune, he knows them. Phel is comfortable with them. So compliments from them don’t phase him too much. He’ll thank them quickly. But even though he knows you and is comfortable with you (I mean you’re his significant other), you’re unique.

Compliments from you are a different story. He really loves it when you compliment him. When you compliment something personal about him? It makes him so happy he nearly short circuits. And it might sound a bit weird but with you he doesn’t express his appreciation verbally.

You will notice his actions express his appreciation instead. Like Aphelios will hold your hand more frequently. Or you notice his cuddles/hugs get a little tighter, his kisses more passionate. That sort of thing. A special sort of non-verbal appreciation and affection for the special person in his life.

Ezreal

Ohhhhhh my goodness. Ezreal needs compliments like someone needs water to survive a desert. Critically. Words of affirmation is his receiving love language, after all.

Not to mention his rougher history in the music industry. When his album got panned, it really shattered his confidence, especially since he was younger. So while he seems like he’s very confident and such, really a lot of that is a mask over some very deep-seeded insecurities. In reality, he puts a lot of value on compliments and how he’s perceived by other people.

Ezreal would d respond to other people’s compliments with that lovely cheeky grin he has. I think he’d want to play it off like “You like my outfit? Thanks! I gotta put my best foot forward for my fans, you know? It’s what they deserve!” It’s hard to describe what exactly that energy is. Self assured might be the best way to put it. (But you know the truth.)

And I think that’s also what energy he’d use early on in your relationship. He wants to seem cool for you. But I don’t think it would take too long for you to see the real him. Once he opens up and shows you that insecurity and vulnerability he’s hiding deep down, that’s when you know you’ve really earned his trust.

So at that point, please give Ez all the compliments you want to at all times. He loves it. He’ll be even more affectionate with you as thanks and will always be happy to compliment you in return. And while he eventually gets a little more used to compliments from the public, I don’t think he’ll ever get used receiving compliments from you. They help him more than you’ll ever know.

Kayn

(A/N: Anon I really like and agree with the direction you headed in your request, though I think there’s some added nuance to it which I will talk about below!)

With the general public/your relationship early on Kayn would play things cool until he’s alone. He has an image to maintain damnit. He’s the “rebel” remember?

But with you? As things progress and your relationship becomes more established, you see a remarkable shift in Kayn when it comes to how he accepts praise/compliments. At least with you/in private.

Part of the reason he brushed off compliments early on was due to inner insecurities after being kicked out of his old group. Not to mention people who were just shmoozing up to him to use him/his fame (fucking social climbers). But as he realizes you’re sincere when you compliment him, you love Shieda Kayn and not just Kayn the rockstar, and you’re not going anywhere, well it’s like a switch is flipped!

Now he needs/wants compliments from you like he needs air to breathe. And he’s far more open about accepting them. He’ll even ask you to elaborate on what you mean. 😂 “I mean I know I’m sexy, baby, but why specifically do you think I’m sexy?” And when you do compliment him, those are the moments when his giving love language of physical touch manifests itself to show his appreciation (use your imaginations).

His receiving love language is words of affirmation. So give him all the compliments you desire. He’ll accept them all! (He still tries to play things cool when he’s in public though, that’s just how it be.)

K’Sante

The fucking epitome of self-confidence like my god. K’Sante knows he’s HIM. (As he should because he absolutely is!) His self-confidence is a goal all of us should attempt to go for. (Literally like wow king go the fuck off I fully support this.)

K’Sante is definitely one of the members who will play it off the easiest. Not in a way where he makes it seem like it’s unappreciated, no no no, definitely not. But rather compliments don’t really fluster him or phase him that much compared to some of the others.

That being said, he still enjoys getting complimented by other people (deep down, don’t we all?), and he’ll thank them. He might be self-confident but he wasn’t raised to be a jerk. He appreciates the kindness of others! He might even respond in kind with a compliment for whoever he’s talking to! Or if it’s you then he’ll have like ten compliments ready to fire back at you off the top of his head.

The one area of his life where compliments really fluster K’Sante have to do with his designs. He puts a lot of effort into each piece he designs and creates, so for someone to notice and compliment that effort is something he very much appreciates. When he is flustered, you’ll notice he has to take a second to gather his thoughts and the right words.

Obviously your opinion means more to him than the opinion of others, so when you do compliment him, watch his smile get wider, watch his posture get a little taller, and watch as his energy gets even brighter and more infectious for those around him.

Sett

Similar to K’Sante, Sett knows he’s HIM. He’s called “The Boss” after all. That’s certainly not a nickname given to just anyone. Whether in the studio or in the ring, Sett knows he’s the man and 98% of the time he doesn’t care about anyone else’s opinion or approval.

So because of that, again he’s one of the ones who will play off most compliments fairly easily. He’s not super flustered by them, though he appreciates them. And because Ma is the best and raised him with fucking manners, he of course, will always thank the person who complimented him for their kind words.

But now it’s time to focus on the 2% of the time he does care. I’m sure this comes as no shock, but there are only two people’s opinions he reeeeeally cares about. Yours and Ma’s. The two most important people in his life. When the two of you compliment him on something, this giant, confident, usually composed man actually gets a little flustered! Especially when those compliments come from you.

Sett really doesn’t seem like a blusher when it comes to other people, but when you compliment him on something innocent, his cheeks immediately turn just the sweetest bit pink as he gets the happiest grin on his face. (His reaction is definitely different when your compliments are regarding more…private matters, but I’m not going to focus on that rn.)

And his EARS. His ears are the biggest telltale sign he’s flustered. His ears happily flick back and forth, which is admittedly really cute. It’s just very sweet honestly, seeing how much your opinion means to “The Boss!” (He just has such a soft spot for you and I love it.)

Yone

Yone would be in a similar boat to Aphelios. Again it depends on who is complimenting him, what they’re complimenting him about, and the setting he’s being complimented in.

Now Yone is extremely talented at what he does. (We all know this.) And he knows he’s talented. Of course he doesn’t let that make him too arrogant or anything. Any compliments he receives on his music, he genuinely appreciates and will he show/express that sincere appreciation to whoever is giving him the compliment. Making music takes a lot of effort and to become respected like him is only a dream for so many other artists. That’s something he realizes and he is extremely grateful for the fans and everyone else who helped him get to where he is.

Personal compliments he’s just a lot more reserved about, especially ones having to do with his appearance. Like he knows he’s considered attractive, but honestly the only opinion he cares about regarding his appearance is yours. Anyone else he’ll give a soft smile and a “thank you.” But he wouldn’t blush or anything crazy.

But with YOU???? Any compliment you give him makes his entire day, week, month, etc. And when you compliment him on his appearance (because let’s be real how could you not??? That man is so FUCKING FINE) he actually feels pride about how he looks. (AS HE SHOULD.)

Compliments from you make that stoic exterior crack. Yone actually blushes a bit. And your compliments make him smile wider and bring a spring to his step. Compliments from you are what get Yone teased by the other Heartsteel members for reacting just a little bit like a happy puppy at times. (They’re in awe of you for having that power.) That’s your influence over him, honestly, and that’s how much he values your opinion.

Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoyed! Thank you so much for requesting, Anon! I hope I did your request justice! This was so cute and fun to write! Lmao the way I’d be complimenting them all the time because they deserve it. 💙

[hufflepuffsandghosts]

Fic swap? 👀 - ur bestie Zero 🖤

Plot: PH!Bakugo and Y/N (AFAB)  get captured and thrown together in a dark cell. Whoever put them together wants them to do..things. They both refuse. But their captor is determined, putting hormones in the air to urge them on. How long can they last? 

A/N: Hello friend! This is a FicSwap for my lovely bestie! I tried to keep it as gender-neutral as possible for you bby. But please keep in mind that the reader has female anatomy. I really hope you like this as you know i am NOT the type to write smut ahh <3 ily

TW: Non-Con/Dub-Con, Use of drugs. Slight exhibitionism if you squint. Swearing. Unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it kiddos!), Breeding NO MINORS ALLOWED TO INTERACT

The night was dark and eerie, with an air of tension surrounding Bakugo, aka Dynamight, Japan's #2 hero, and Y/N, aka H/N. Bakugo’s explosive quirk and Y/n’s strategic abilities complemented each other perfectly. The villain in question has been known to kidnap and kill couples. 

As the night settles in, the moon’s faint glow casts shadows on the abandoned industrial complex where the villain has set up his hideout. The air was tense, and each breath felt electric as the pair prepped to confront the dangerous kidnapper. The villain emerged from the shadows, his sinister laughter echoing through the desolate space. He was a towering figure, clad in all black as the moonlight glinted off a wickedly sharp blade he wielded. 

The battle began with a ferocious exchange of blows from both parties at play. Bakugo charged forward, using his explosions to close the distance between him and the villain. Y/N, always one step ahead, flanked the enemy with precision. Using their wits and agility to dodge the villain’s attack. 

Bakugo and Y/N always moved with almost telepathic coordination during their joint missions. They knew and anticipated each other’s moves, covering for one another effortlessly. Their effectiveness as a team always caught the attention of their peers and superiors, leading to more frequent assignments together. During this particular mission fraught with danger, the pair were hesitant to acknowledge their evergrowing feelings for one another. It wasn't until a split-second decision on Bakugo's part, stepping in as a shield for Y/n from a deadly attack that put them in this predicament and was captured by the villain and his team

In a dimly lit, desolate underground cell, Bakugo and Y/N found themselves shackled together. They were both heroes, each possessing unique abilities and strong wills to help. But now, stripped of their powers and freedom, they faced an unimaginable challenge. Their captor, a sinister figure hiding in the shadows, had a twisted plan for them. 

Bakugo’s fiery temper ignited immediately as he attempted to break free from the chains that bound him to Y/N. “Let me GO, damn it! We’ll tear this place apart!” he snarled, his red eyes blazing with fury. 

Y/n on the other hand, remained surprisingly calm, trying to reason with their captor. “There’s no need for this. We won’t give in to your sick demands,” they declared, their voice steady despite the fear bubbling beneath the surface. Their captor’s voice echoed through the chamber, chilling them both to the bond. “Oh, but you will my little bunnies. I’ve laced the air with hormones designed to incite desire, and unless you want to be permanently trapped together, you both will have to cooperate.” 

Bakugo growled in frustration, not wanting to give their captor the satisfaction of seeing them weaken, “Like hell we will! I’m not falling for your tricks!” Y/n on the other hand, felt a sudden warmth spreading through the air, affecting their thoughts and emotions, it became increasingly difficult to ignore the proximity of Bakugo, the scent of his sweat, and the intensity of his gaze. 

As time passed, their willpower began to waver. Their captor kept the pressure on, taunting them with veiled threats and vague incentives that played on their deepest desires. “Come on Katsuki, don't you wanna feel how good Y/N feels? I know for a fact that she’s absolutely dripping right now.” Whispered the villain. 

Bakugo grunts, and shifts a little, he can see how slowly Y/n is becoming more and more desperate, moaning a bit here and there and shifting her legs to gain some sort of release for themselves. “F-Fuck Bakugo, please. I don't know how much longer I can take it.” Y/n Groaned. “It’s the hormones talking Y/N, dont let them win.” Bakugo huffed. 

“Tsk, tsk,” The villain said. “They’re practically asking to be used at this point Katsuki, how on earth can you deny them the pleasure.” 

“Shit” Bakugo thought. This was not good for the both of them, but all he could imagine is Y/N whimpering underneath him as he- 

No

Stop

Don’t give in. 

Is what he kept on telling himself before he realized that he was over the top of Y/n, both of his hands freed and placed lightly on their skin-tight hero costume, playing gently with their breasts. Y/n purred softly, grinding on his thigh at the slight touches. “Please Katsuki-” Y/N spoke softly, before being immediately interrupted by a forceful kiss from their partner in crime. “Shh baby, let me take care of you properly” Katsuki growled, placing kissing and nips along Y/N's neck.

  Feeling the heat rise between the both of them. Katsuki gets off slightly, admiring the work of light bruises along their neck. Bakugo rips the bottom half of Y/n’s costume, revealing their wet pussy. He chuckles “Wow, what a little slut you are, getting off just at my leg alone. Tell me, what do you want.” 

Y/N huffs and doesn't say anything. 

Smack. A sting to their ass before he repeats. “Tell me, what, you want.”  

Smack

Y/N whimpers “Make me cum please Kat, please.” before gasping for air as Bakugo uses his thick, rough fingers to make quick work of spreading their legs the rest of the way, and his tongue is suddenly everywhere. Eating them out like his life depended on it. Lapping everything up like it was the last thing he was ever going to drink. 

Y/n writhed underneath him, grabbing and pulling at the blonde’s hair. He sucks on your clit and rubs his cock against the hard mattress when you moan. Tongue sliding between your folds like he’s been starving for you. Bakugo then moves his face so it’s closer to your neck, so his lips are beside your ear and he can say things just as breathily as you. and places bites and hickeys along their breasts while inserting two fingers. “fuck Y/N,” he moaned. “You’re already so tight for me and I haven't even done anything yet.” Y/n nods, chatting out agreements “Just fucking get it over with already Bakugo-” 

He reaches up and places two fingers into their mouth, while you suck and gasp as he removes his pants, showing his cock covered with his own pre-cum, slowly teasing Y/N’s wet folds. He removes his fingers and smirks, slamming his dick inside. Y/n jolts suddenly, toes curling at the sheer size and thickness of Bakugo’s cock. 

“You’re being so obedient for me Y/n, you’re so good for me..” He purrs, slamming into you over and over again. Losing a bit more sanity and more as Y/n gets tighter and tighter around him. “Fuck, that's it, baby, let me hear you.” He says, grabbing Y/N’s hair and pulling the both of them as close as possible. Slamming into Y/n's G-spot as they moaned and were almost screaming with pleasure. It makes both of their heads a little foggy. 

“Shit- fuck- Y/N I'm gonna-” Katsuki moans, pushing in as hard as he can, hitting the cervix before cumming. “M-me too-” Y/n moans. Slow and controlled, lifting up a bit to kiss them deep and make you feel every little bit of him. He allows himself to fuck the cum into you, reveling in the quiet gasps you make. Both are so sensitive, but it feels so good. 

“You’re mine now, Y/n,” He huffs, before kissing Y/n’s lips, and then to their forehead. Y/N smiles, “I would love that but now, let's figure out how to get the hell out of here.”

All content © hufflepuffsandghosts 2023. Do not repost, modify, or claim my work as your own.

[petalpathic]

"And one day, your name didn't make me smile anymore."

You are a star. A sensation. Everybody loves you.

And get this;

You're cast in a hit tv-show called "Encore", it's a sweet small-town story about a group of kids unlikely to hang out, finding each other one day in an oddly specific circumstance, where they find out how alike they really are.

Cliche? Probably. But, the people you met on set changed your life.

You're a lot like your on-screen character in that way.

Anyways, you're big and it's crazy, unlike anything you could ever imagine. Cameras, interviews, fans, autographs, blah blah blah.

And then,

you die.

FEATURES

-come back to life

-say hello (and bye, then hello again) to Hollywood

-5 potential suitors mmmm....(two female, two male, one secret)

-watch as everyone you've loved loses themselves in grief

-play as female, male, or nb

-maybe try not to die again okay? for all our sakes?

This game is just supposed to be fun! This is my first IF, and while I can be serious, I'd like this to be a fun little project to escape to (for you and for me).

But... this is also Hollywood we're talking about...so there might be some heavy topics unsuitable for some readers.

TW for: mentions and uses and abusing of substances (drugs), sexual harrassment of a major character, optional sexual content (not extremely explicit, it'll probably be pretty vague), implied death of a major character (besides MC), and maybe more.

That list (as well as this intro page) will be updated as I write and flesh out some character bgs.

MAIN ROs

Vanessa "Nessa" Villanueva | F | SHE/HER

The "It Girl". She was cold when you met her but she’s even colder and emotionally unavailable than ever.

romance-able by all genders

Kate Santos | F | SHE/HER

She is awkward, but not shy. Her dark and sarcastic humor get her in some trouble with the more conservative of people.

romance-able by all genders

Kyle "Ky" Taylor-Hara | M | HE/HIM

The model and heartthrob, Ky Taylor-Hara. He came into the cast with the last season and you’ve known him to be soft-spoken and quiet.

romance-able by all genders

Austin Arison | M | HE/HIM

Austin was a child actor and has been in the industry for as long as he can remember. Being in "Encore" was the only time he felt like he actually wanted to act.

romance-able by all genders

LINKS

DEMO TBA | PINTEREST | RO APPEARANCES |

Asks are always welcome and encouraged!! Please ask about my silly little game <3

[dustbunnylair]

Shubble/Shelby's Situation: People Defending The Abuser and Shaming The Victim (!TW: Mentions of abuse/abusive relationship!)

7 months ago, on February 21st, 2024, a Twitch streamer with around 468K followers spoke out about being abused by another Twitch streamer and artist, who is now her ex on a stream titled, “Talking About Something More Serious”. The Twitch streamer who spoke out goes by Shubble or Shelby, she described the at the time unnamed Twitch streamer as (mainly) British, popular, and also in the music industry, fans quickly connected the dots to the popular Twitch streamer and lead singer in the band, Lovejoy, Wilbur Soot. 

I won’t go into full detail about what Shubble said, as I would prefer for people to listen to her say it, rather than someone else. But, the main things were that Wilbur did not follow a safe word that they set in place, and would bite her to the point of her screaming out in pain. He was also slobbish and dirty in his living situation. Unfortunately, Shubble has not provided any proof of bruises, markings, etc. but that doesn’t mean she’s lying, not every abuse victim documents their injuries, and honestly in my opinion, maybe she’s uncomfortable with sharing those injuries, those injuries are really none of our business to see.

A few days later, Wilbur Soot, made a response, which if you would like to read it you can find it here, I’ll sum it up to what I had processed within the response:

First off, he says it’s a response rather than an apology. Second, he didn’t even mention Shubble’s name, he only referred to her as “ex-girlfriend” or “this person” he never said her name. I want that to be emphasized because that’s quite common in abusers, they literally will not say their victim’s name(s) as a form of dissociation or just not taking accountability.

Many people including famous people such as Ranboo, Tommyinnit, Sneegsnag, Lil Tay, Billzo, Aimsey, Dream even, to fully call out Wilbur, as they should. Let’s also emphasize how absolutely batshit insane it is that Lil Tay and Billzo said shit about him, Lil Tay does not know this man and Billzo is literally never active on social media, no hate to them though obviously, shoutout to them for calling him out. Dream responding to Wilbur is so diabolical, you know an apology/response sucked ass when DREAM of all people responds to you and REWRITES the response. 

I have found many people on social media, more specifically TikTok and Pinterest, borderline defending Wilbur Soot. From getting mad at Shubble for telling her viewers to stream her stream instead of Wilbur's newest song, which yeah is a bit immature coming from a 30 y/o woman, but remember this is literally her abuser and she’s probably just joking around and coping. Not to mention the person who “called out” Shubble for not being able to “move on” can’t move on from Shubble nor Wilbur themselves.

Hypocrite alert…Honestly, Wilbur defenders are either stuck in 2019-2021 or are just insanely parasocial. Wilbur does not know you, you do not know him, he is a content creator and singer. I *was* a Wilbur fan before “Your New Boyfriend” came out, and look, I’ve moved on from him, 5 years of my life went to waste but at least I’m not supporting an abuser. It’s so funny seeing Wilbur dick riders getting mad at people for calling him niblur soot or saying he has rabies and needs a muzzle. 

It’s always “always believe the victim” until the abuser is someone you like or is conventionally attractive. I’ve seen multiple people ask why Shubble hasn’t sued Wilbur but has sued a car company. It’s so obvious that these people do not know shit about abusive relationships. Almost like if you were to take it to court and sue him, it wouldn’t change anything for Shubble other than some money or some shit, it doesn’t change the fact that she has trauma from the abuse, and it certainly isn’t gonna make him take accountability. Plus abuse in women or literally any gender, is invalidated most of the time.

People say that Wilbur is getting therapy just from his word. But me and other people are clearly seeing he isn’t showing change whatsoever, in fact, he literally looks like he’s on drugs, like coke. I remember someone made a TikTok talking about how skinny Wilbur looks and saying he’s probably starving himself. He’s 6’5 and has always been fucking lanky, and starving yourself isn’t the only thing that makes you lose weight, it’s also drugs!

I’m honestly just so sick and tired of seeing people say “Shubble admitted to lying” and then when you ask for proof of that they don’t respond, because she’s never admitted to that. Even other creators, not just Shubble, have come out and said Wilbur’s abusive behavior, like Tommyinnit. I mean, James Marriott hasn’t spoken out about this, and he doesn’t have to, that’s not something that’s required from him, but in one of James Marriott’s videos from 3 years ago, he and Wilbur did like this drunk video and it was called “If We Laugh, The Video Ends…(ft. Wilbur Soot)”, but throughout the video Wilbur just sometimes gets violent, and it doesn’t seem like a bit because most of the time James reacts genuinely concerned.

And before anyone uses the “Oh but he was drunk” excuse, I don’t want to hear it, the more drunk you are, the more of the real you comes out, he was drunk as fuck and his real self was coming out. 

Yeah, honestly that’s all I have to say about this topic for right now. Don’t go harass Wilbur or any Wilbur supporters, just try to educate them or block them, both are valid. If I have more to add I’ll make a follow-up post. But yeah, always believe the victim, don’t defend abusers. Keep yourself safe.

[penrose-quinn]

Lost Generation

A breeze whistled between your footsteps, ambling in a slow, thoughtless pace that had him thinking both of you had all the time in the world, even if the road ahead was just another meandering path to a farewell. “You'd stay in Black Dragons for a long time, right?”

pairings: benkei | keizo arashi/reader ❁ background (oblivious) shinichiro sano/reader 

content tags: companion piece prequel to green light and spin-off to couldn't tell. first gen black dragons ultraviolence era. gender neutral reader. summer coming-of-age ft. gangs. lots of bromance and bickering. mostly friendship. growing up together and growing apart. beach trip. preemptive grief.  tw: violence (and glorification of violence), shady gang behavior, underage drinking and smoking, and minors getting tattoos. there's a weird age gap scene with college-aged women showing interest in someone younger, nothing sexual happens but still. everyone is 17-18 here.

a/n: like my waka fic, this is mostly platonic!first gen black dragons x reader but more benkei and bromance and beaches. also no one man-crushes harder than benkei lol. btw it's not necessary to read my other installments for this and lots of flashbacks interspersed in the plot!

couldn't tell ❁ green light ❁ read on ao3

From the highway to Chiba, it’s like all of you parted the sea on your motorcycles.

Benkei smelled salt everywhere. There was no end to the ocean that surrounded the road ahead, the industrial plants no more but distant daydreams back in Kawasaki, and then he realized he hadn’t been exposed to open water like this, swore to have never ridden a ferry in his life. 

His heart was too landlocked in the city to care, but this was all Shin’s idea.

Said he wanted to go to a real beach, all white sand shores, shaved ice, and hot babes.  

The journey was still more than an hour-long drive, and Benkei would love nothing more than to throw himself underwater right now. Takeomi wouldn’t stop ranting about the heat and truck traffic. Ignoring his tirade, Wakasa was tanner for baking under the sun. You’re almost caught speeding for badly needing a restroom break, which Shinichiro had to prevent along the way to Umihotaru.

The pitstop was short but unhurried. Takeomi was still at the register while Benkei and Shinichiro soaked up the frosty air of beverage coolers until the store manager told them off. Chewing gum, Wakasa waited with you outside the convenience store. Your gaze was elsewhere, drifting in the waves, and the trance went on upon arriving at Onjuku Beach, crowded in the summertime. 

Benkei never got to know what was on your mind, riveted by a statue of two camel riders from a distance.

A water bottle was tapped on his arm, and after he exchanged his thanks, you asked him, “where do you think they’re going?”

“Who knows? The sea maybe,” he replied, uncapping the bottle for a drink and dumping the rest on his face, dribbling cold water all over his collar. 

“There are showers here, you know.” Your lips quirked up amusedly, and then you pointed at the shoreline crested over with blue, radiant waves. “Or you can go over there.”

“Got excited.” Benkei grinned, finally shrugging off his open shirt and balling it up to wipe himself. The tattoos on his chest and arms flexed from the motion and it caught the curious eye of a child, building sandcastles. She wasn't old enough to turn them into a wall yet. “Aren’t you gonna swim too?”

“Maybe later. No one’s guarding our stuff,” you said, jerking your head at the beach blanket pile-dumped with bags, a haphazard mess. There's a sweaty t-shirt, a tube squirting a bit of sunscreen on the cloth, and some mixed garbage of snack wrappers and half-empty bottled drinks shoved inside a plastic bag.

Benkei cringed, about to comment, until he got a good look at you. Traded for your glasses was a pair of shades from the bargain bin, making you look like a poser, though with the way you quietly huddled and sat on the blanket, arms tucked to your chest, the obnoxious air dispelled. He joined you, ducking under the umbrella; yellow and blue pinstripes, like the ones rented by couples entwined under the shade. You scooted over to give him more room, your elbows brushing each other. 

“Where are the others anyway?” 

“Waka went somewhere, I don't know. Shin dragged Takeomi to, well,” a long, expectant sigh, “girls.”

You snorted. “It is a beach. Sure they’re trying to get their dicks wet too.”

Benkei laughed. You never withheld yourself for those two. Perhaps it came from knowing them since childhood. 

“Hey, what are the odds? Maybe our weak king might have a chance this time.”

“Or come here crying, same old.” You already sound done though there's a sort of rough affection grating through your words, “Shin's a baby like that.”

“A baby?” Some crybaby who had Tokyo in the palm of his hand. Someone who Benkei had sworn to follow for the rest of his life.

“Yup. So how well do you take rejections?”

“Pretty bad. I’ll cry too if I had to lose someone that way. You?” 

You mulled over it for a bit. “I don't know. I haven't confessed to anyone before.”

“Me neither.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Probably would’ve scared ‘em off before I could try.”

“You don't know that yet,” you refuted. “But I think you’ll fall for someone who's brave enough to let you try.”

His lips curled up at that. His vice-captain told him something similar after gaining the love of his now girlfriend, lucky bastard. “You know me that well?”

“Sure I do,” you said cheekily before tilting your head on one side, humming in thought. “At least I know it’d hurt a lot to lose someone like that . . .” 

Benkei was unable to add more because it's just as you put it. He didn't mind listening to you most of the time. There's something revealing about your input that he hadn't taken into consideration himself.

Wakasa would've labeled him a blockhead unlike Takeomi who'd been wise enough to not slip aloud that Benkei wasn't the smartest in their group. It's not the reason why he’d been expelled from his first middle school and he didn't see it as a point of shame if he could smite some sense into anyone who thought otherwise. 

Benkei just fancied himself a big picture kind of guy, preferring to focus on the broader strokes of something, but maybe that's why he valued your tangents. He wondered if wearing fake glasses helped with your attention to detail, even though he couldn't take you seriously in them. 

You pushed up your shades and he sighed. Or in any tacky eyewear you own, really.

“You should talk to some girls,” you prompted suddenly, making him let out a huff, c’mon man, and you shrugged. “Or go surfing then. It's better than cooping yourself here with me.”

“Now you sound like you want me to go away.”

“Never. Just meant you should enjoy the beach while you can.”

“I enjoy being with you.” 

A meek, baffled pause. He’d always caught you off guard with big statements like that, wondering if people say that enough to you other than Shinichiro. 

You recovered with a simper. “Me too,” still awkward after reciprocating, you changed the subject, “it’d be so nice to swim . . .”

In an attempt to cool off, you're tugging the collar of your t-shirt to fan yourself but it's futile when sweat had already curled on the hairs from the nape of your neck. You hadn't changed into any swimwear yet, and then a more intrusive thought caught up to him. 

“Yeah, we should go together.”

“Sure . . .” this time, you removed the stupid shades, your eyes sincere as they met his. “But just so you know, I won't be mad at you if you went ahead of me.” 

Blinking, Benkei felt a bit misled by that, and before he could insist on waiting for you, you beat him to it. 

“I’ll definitely follow after you till someone takes my place,” you reassured him, gazing back at the sea. “One of us has to stay behind.”

True to your word, you did catch up to him. Wakasa tailed after you from the shore, calf-deep into water.

"What are the two of you doing?" asked Benkei, wading towards you. The sun prickled his damp neck.

"Jellyfish hunting," you stated. "Waka agreed that if he gets stung by one, I get to piss on him. Or the other way around, whoever gets stung first."

When Benkei gawked at you, you offered with a straight face, "wanna join in too?" 

Bemused and wide-eyed, Benkei turned his gaze to Wakasa. 

"So you're that kind of guy." 

"What's that supposed to mean?" 

Wakasa wasn't really into the kinky stuff. Though for all his standoffishness, he was a lot smoother than what Benkei gave him credit for persuading you to come out here when the bastard had been better at ignoring a person as if they never existed. Or destroying them. 

It's more amusing to see him sweat for something – someone adamant as you – which granted Benkei so many chances to sneak in not-so-subtle jabs at him in moments like this. Moments where everyone's dumb and careless and in love with their youth. 

"I think I saw—fuck!" 

You slipped, about to fall into water, until Benkei grasped the back of your collar and Wakasa caught you by the wrist. All of your shorts were wet from the splashing. 

Your shades fell in an awkward drop and you craned your head up at them with a grateful grin, murmuring, “uh, just seaweed . . .”

This didn't deter you in your search. In fact, it made you more motivated. Benkei didn't tell you that there weren't any jellyfish in Onjuku Beach, so did Wakasa. They agreed that your efforts were sort of endearing. 

Benkei asked Wakasa if he'd let you piss on him. He didn't answer for awhile until he settled for a shrug.

Sparing him a retort, Benkei didn't repress a chuckle.

Benkei met you when he hurtled himself headfirst into a fight that wasn't his. 

It was yours. Though it just didn't sit well with him that those Kodo Rengo pricks had the gall to step into their territory so the enemy of my enemy was my friend and he went along with that logic when he abruptly joined in with the impact of a boulder. 

You didn't seem like you were a part of any gang at all. Just a random middle schooler but a target regardless. Not an easy one, that's for sure. You fought like you'd been at it for years, all blood and grit. 

You were strong and Ragnarok happened to be in search of that kind of strength so he figured he should recruit you first before someone else did. 

The thing was you weren't just a target when you earned quite a reputation, tied to your older brother who was the leader of a gang that ruled Kanto with an iron-fist from some glorious past. His seniors never shut up about it, him and them being a part of something that used to make them invincible.

Someone who you despised and even with the proposition of taking him down after he’s released from his jail sentence, you'd still decline his offer, not giving it much thought. "I'm sort of helping out my friend. Said something about making a gang."

“Ah, so you're already in his gang . . .”

“No, he just always gets into a lot of trouble! If I’m not there, who’s gonna protect him?”

“Protect, huh.”

But that meant he'd have to fight you too one of these days. You didn't tense over his reply, neither a threat nor an insult. 

Behind those glasses, there's an edge to your eyes. Your brother's eyes, but they weren't cold and wretched.

Benkei couldn’t recall the last time anyone had insistently called him Arashi-san or had bought him a steamed meat bun out of politeness, even though he’d known for years that polite people would rather not hold his gaze, passing over him in an attempt to shun what didn’t fit in the mold of what defined their monotonous, undisturbed lives.

Regardless, he’s not one to refuse free food and taking another bite of his meat bun, he looked at you closely. 

You were terrifying but you seemed sort of nice. In an uptight way. 

So Benkei suggested that you and your friend should just join his gang and you blinked at him before wheezing out a short, honest laugh, claiming that he had already set out his dream. 

Learning he never equaled you in a fight, it only registered to Benkei that he's a weak guy because strength dictated everything in this brutal side of life. Strength like yours and his. When Benkei asked how he was going to lead a gang, you stood against the brilliant glare of the evening and he thought he saw a glimpse of it. 

You smoldered in those colors, one he likened to glory. There was promise in your words. 

"You'll see," you said, staring back at him from your shoulder with a smile. "You probably haven't met anyone like him."

The red sun fell on the name from your lips.

Sano Shinichiro.

There’s no history behind his name like yours and it intrigued him so much that he agreed to meet him so that he could beat him up in a fair fistfight, bringing up that whoever's the victor would have you in his gang. 

Benkei didn’t lose but the favor went to Shinichiro just because he was the most interesting guy he'd ever met. 

He had never met a man who won from his losses. How could one be so triumphant and pathetic at the same time, Benkei didn't know. Though he understood what you meant when you stood by him. 

Shinichiro held the things closest to him sacredly and once he called you his friend, he wouldn’t give you up for anything. Benkei didn’t complicate himself to define what kind of relationship you had. All he had to know was how he fought for you against him, against rival gangs, and even against your brother. 

Everyone held him in reverence for being a pillar of the delinquent world. Except for you.

Your gaze for him was more familiar, softer, though unlike Takeomi, you disagreed with him in too many instances about his reckless lifestyle and the proposal as one of his captains. Shinichiro would come back to you a second time, third, fourth, perhaps more as to measure the desire to have you join them officially. They were convinced he'd be on his knees if this went on though he held up strong in a battle of fortitude. 

Both of you, however, just happened to have the thickest skulls when you butt heads over each other's stubbornness.

"Of course, you're going to be a part of the Black Dragons. Hell, you're even a founding member!"

"You already got what you want! I don't see why you still have to drag me in your gang too."

"I thought we'd do this together? Why not go all the way when you could be my—"

"Should we break them up?"

Wakasa was the one who suggested it after mentioning that you looked like you're about to duke it out. Sensing the escalating tension too, Benkei was about to step in until Takeomi shook his head, cigarette in his hand.

He assured them that you wouldn't hit him for something like that. Another drag of smoke and a sigh. 

"Just give 'em time."

Everyone split on a big bowl of mango shaved ice. 

Two of you were against red beans mixed in at the suggestion of matcha flavor. It wasn't as fun when the syrup couldn't stain your tongues, but it was refreshingly cold and milky sweet when swimming had failed you under the afternoon scorch of 2 p.m.

Prioritizing dessert didn't ruin your appetites for chatter over lunch: comparing sunburns, college girls in bikinis that were way out of everyone's league, and then a callout about Takeomi having his hair tied back into a bun because it actually drew attention. The scar gave him an edge and inflated his vanity. Some more waffling about what women were into, even though no one probably knew what they're talking about. 

You found it weird because they're older than the rest of you and Takeomi brought up that you weren't when you had that dragon tattoo. 

“It's not for showing off to have a hookup.”

“Then what’s the tattoo about anyway?” asked Wakasa and his sudden interest had you flustered.

“Yeah, tell us about that.” Benkei smirked with him, cornering you into a hot seat.

“Bet you cried like a pussy when you had it,” retorted Takeomi.

“Bet you are a pussy when you don’t even have one.”

“Hey, you little—"

“Anyway,” Shinichiro cut in, clearing his throat. He plucked a piece of karaage dipped in mayo from your plate because he's the last one waiting for his food and it’d already been thirty minutes. He was nibbling on Benkei’s fries awhile ago. All of you agreed to feed him out of pity. “Why do you have one?”

“You already know!” you hollered, bumping your fist on the table from the betrayal.

“Huh? Don’t remember,” he feigned obliviousness. “I wasn’t with you when you had it done.”

“You’re still sulking about that?”

“Whatever. C’mon, just tell us—” 

“Number 105!”

“Finally.” Shinichiro stood up, taking his stub with him before shooting back at everyone, “you better not start anything without me!”

He headed to the popular food stall that had the longest line in the area. Probably was the reason why he was in the mood for grilled eel.

“So how long did you have it?” went on Wakasa, casually chewing on a yakitori stick like a toothpick.

“Hm, it’s been four weeks, I think? It isn’t that sensitive anymore.”

“That’s fine. It’s the same for me when I had mine the first time,” Benkei chimed in.

“It's a hassle to cover up in school, though.” 

“Aren’t you committing yourself more to the gang?” 

Takeomi interrupted, scrutinizing you under his hard stare. You returned it with an unblinking one.

“Nah, I’m just attached.” You shrugged before leaning back on your palms, smiling a little. “Figured it was kinda obvious.”

On the day Benkei brought you to the tattoo parlor, he thought the dragon was botched when it's facing the wrong direction. 

He’d been more indignant about it than you were, not even realizing his voice raised in complaint, until you touched his wrist and censured him for being too loud, apologizing to the frightened artist for the trouble and paying for his service.

He was a new hire, a nervous wreck of face piercings, from somewhere. The tattooing business was still the underground kind and getting hold of an artist often came through word of mouth, shunned for the craft as much as the one whose skin had been inked. It always ran deeper for Benkei. He was ten when he first had his on the cusp of his shoulder until they proudly bloomed all over his chest, surviving his adolescence. 

Even behind the saran wrap, the detailed blackwork on the tattoo was impressive, curving around your right calf like a painting. Still . . .

"It's fine. You're looking at me like I'm kinda lame now."

"You're not." Then he gestured his hand at the fallen dragon. You told him before that he articulated his emotions more with his body. Everything around him became askew for it. Passersby twist around a different route from his direction. "Just—it just looks off, you know? Dragons should be flying up and all."

You scoffed. "So you're upset about some bit of symbolism? Yeah, Inoe-san got it wrong but you didn’t have to be an asshole because—"

"I'm upset that you regret this and you can't take it back anymore," he admitted, head hanging low. "And I brought you there . . ."

"I don't want to take it back,” you said, unrepentant of how adults would appraise you for once: a kid with a tattoo, a kid heading nowhere good in life. 

There's a war in your eyes. He’s more ashamed of himself for doubting you than letting you down. 

Benkei was damn sure there wasn’t an inflatable he hadn’t stepped on or an umbrella he left untipped. 

They were scattered everywhere but the beach stretched wide enough for a stroll to not feel so cramped. He’s just avoiding the sunbathers and families who were spread all over the area, waiting to watch the fireworks display tonight.

Because of that, he joined in with you and Takeomi, retreating somewhere in the parking lot. 

Benkei didn’t often see you two alone, much less without Shinichiro defusing an argument, though he found a rare solidarity between you smoking together. You were nodding. Takeomi's arms were crossed after sharing a few words with you, stopping short when Benkei stepped in after coming back from the restroom.

He asked if he disrupted something and Takeomi answered that he wasn't, stomping his cigarette with his shoe. You followed after him when your eyes narrowed at the strangers emerging before you in serpent-emblemed uniforms, some gang from Kansai judging from the accents. Jormungandr.

You seemed more annoyed than anxious about getting jumped. Takeomi didn't mind an introduction through a bloodbath because it’d been a long while since anyone challenged Black Dragons and Benkei had already charged forward for the brawl.

It ended with you.

Jormungandr’s leader met his defeat with a kick so high the last thing he saw was the dragon soaring up.

Your sandal flew off, landing on the heap of mangled bodies that had been dealt by Benkei. His knuckles still smarted for being outnumbered. Takeomi was just as scuffed-up. With his hair down and disheveled, it made his face more severe after pressing a warning on the leader’s hand with his newly lit cigarette. 

Don't mess with us again, trash. The extra measure was for insurance, but there's a cruel streak to his apathy for letting skin burn. Benkei had seen him done worse. You didn't speak against it after overhearing a threat on Shinichiro's life.

Sensing another presence lurking near you, you swung your leg up and Wakasa reacted fast enough to sidestep away, a hairbreadth close. 

Sadly, your foot missed his face.

He whistled. “Nice reflexes.”

“Shit, I could’ve gotten you! Stop coming up behind me like that!”

“No.”

“You three were taking so long. Figured we should check up on ya,” said Shinichiro, strolling towards them amidst the battle; fallen adversaries on his feet. He acknowledged Benkei and Takeomi with a nod, and then picked up your sandal when he approached you. “We should've come sooner, though.”

“You would’ve missed out the action anyway.” The insult wasn't without a light, teasing note, and Shinichiro didn't take it personally, letting you snatch the sandal from him. “We handled it pretty well by ourselves, don't you think?”

“Brutally,” he sighed, unable to hide that disarming grin slowly peeling up his mouth. “You look like hell. Let's get you all patched up—” 

A sudden, fluttering burst of light from the distance.

Shocked, all of you looked up at the sky.

“The fireworks . . .”

“Oh wow, it's starting now.”

“It’s still going on. Let’s make a run for it!”

It hadn't been long since Benkei told you about Ragnarok and you taught him what nostalgia actually meant. 

Natsukashii. The end of summer, he believed, sweltering with memories under his childhood sun in Oizumi, until you scrawled the characters on the back of a gym flier and kindly corrected him, oh, it's natsuku, not natsu. As in to become, you know, attached.  

懐かしい

Your ballpoint pen lingered on the heart radical, lacking the character of a season. 

Benkei wasn't chagrined about it; he's enlightened. 

The end of summer, you repeated, finding it more fitting, and pondered on how summers had to die like sunsets as you scraped the horizon with fingers in the color of twilight. 

Then he asked how much you were well-versed in Norse mythology.

You shrugged. "I'm more familiar with apocalypses. Why'd you name your gang after something like that?" 

“It’s inspiring,” said Benkei, omitting the part that he wasn't a founding member and the true meaning of its relevance might've been lost to him when Ragnarok sounded more like a gang that was meant to bring destruction to the gods from an older generation. “The kind that could define our era.”

“You guys are so obsessed with that,” you pointed out, but not to mock him. It’s just a measured observation. “Shin never shuts up about it. Takeomi goads him on because it's getting in his head too. Even Waka wants to be a part of it and you . . .”

“You don't want it too?”

“I just don't get it,” you blurted. “What's an era all about anyway?”

“You could say it’s how we want to be remembered,” he said it with his chest. It's how we want to show people how we fought and lived.

Benkei didn’t understand why you wanted to be invisible. Or keep up with all these social pretences to be accepted.

When he asked you why you wore fake glasses, you didn't give him a reason. You just shot back why he had his eyebrows shaved instead. He found the exchange amusing, concluding that nobody probably had the balls to ask both of you about it. 

He couldn't help but smirk how you got a bit defensive from his observation as if you had never stood out around them. 

You're the only person he’s ever known to be conflicted over the dichotomy of your life. He’d seen you enjoy listening to the rap mixtapes of his bootleg CDs, stress over college applications more than fights, denounce delinquency and yet.  

It took him a long while to figure out why you looked so out of place in the gang but it still felt as if you belonged there. The otherness spoke to him, really. Guys like him just couldn't seem to find their place in anything after falling through the cracks and it hadn't always been as grandiose as it was until Shinichiro granted them a reason.

Not a lot of them gave a crap about being honorable but they sure did when it felt good to be a part of something greater than themselves. 

It's the stuff of legends, our era.

Takeomi said it with pride and Benkei couldn't have worded it better himself. He glanced back at you, no longer giving in to chase when you let them go on without you, a fond, distant smile on your lips.

Wakasa sprinted ahead of them. Shinichiro still had a slight limp from getting it broken months ago so he fell behind until Takeomi turned to him and offered him his back, waving at him to get on and make it quick.

Despite them joining forces, Takeomi wasn't all that strong or fast for both of them and no one could ever beat Wakasa in a footrace, but they ran, howling out wild laughter as if they won anyway. 

Benkei slowed down to your pace, walking with you. “So attached, eh?” 

You blinked at him before letting out a chuckle. “Well, yeah.” You stretched out your tattooed leg a bit. “I took it quite literally too . . .”

He was distracted by the startlingly tender expression on your face, your lashes lowered, longer, until he snapped out of it and nodded. 

“Benkei.” 

“What?”

“Would you hate me if I told you that I'll quit the gang?”

“No—” The word slipped, and there was something about the urgency that felt like a tug, a step forward. Calmer, this time, “no, not at all.”

You registered his answer for a minute, too quiet next to him. He realized he should back away a bit, collecting himself to offer the reassurance you probably needed to hear more than he did. 

“Hey. Whatever decision you're going with, just know we're all rootin' for ya.” He gave your shoulder a pat and felt himself unwind a breath the moment you untensed from his hand. “You probably have your reasons. Good, I hope?”

It took so much from him to not demand why but you're smiling at him again. Maybe a little sad, a little scared, but it's still your smile, something regained. He’d hate for it to go away.

“Yeah, thanks. That means a lot to me,” and then hesitant, you opened up more, “think Shin will hate me?” 

“Idiot, he won't,” Benkei replied. “His heart's too big for him and he cries like a baby for it. You think that's the kind of guy that'll hate anyone?” 

“No.”

“There you go.”

“But it's just that I haven't told him yet. I haven't told anyone, just you,” you confessed, wistfully glancing down at your tattoo. 

“You know, I was actually terrified when we went to the tattoo parlor. Like what if something goes wrong? There's always something. I couldn't go by myself. Yeah, the tattoo didn't turn out perfect but I like it. I'm glad you were with me when I had it. Then Shin made this stupid tantrum over why I didn't bring him along, but he got over it when he was all giddy and excited over the tattoo. Cheered me up a lot when stuff at home was . . . ” a short breath sucked through your teeth. “Seeing him like that matters so much. I want him to always be like that . . .” 

A breeze whistled between your footsteps, ambling in a slow, thoughtless pace that had him thinking both of you had all the time in the world, even if the road ahead was just another meandering path to a farewell.

“You'd stay in Black Dragons for a long time, right?” 

“Yeah, it's my everything now.” Benkei stared at the dragon on your skin, and then back at you. “And even if you leave, you're still a part of it.” 

You huffed at that and looked onward longingly. "Jeez, you sound like him."

“He isn't wrong about that,” he said, following after your gaze where everyone was, waiting and waving and yelling at the two of you to hurry up; behind them, the fireworks sprung like a flurry of stars in the midsummer night. 

It's a moment he felt in his chest too. 

Guess we're all just attached.

Unfortunately, the fireworks ended too soon.

All of your stuff was left untouched while the people were already packing up and departing from the beach. 

They ignored your wounds. More plasters were bought from a cornershop nearby when your first-aid kit wouldn't suffice. Some schmucks brought bats and brass knuckles though there wasn't any serious damage on your end, even less serious on boasting each of your body counts. Whoever ratted out your location was still an unresolved issue, but your vacation wasn't totally ruined. 

Shinichiro was into the idea of heading to Choshi after learning it's Wakasa's hometown. There were grunts of protest though his whim was met with little to no resistance after the downturn of events and something about the spontaneity was exciting. 

Whatever heart to heart they had, Benkei couldn't fault Wakasa for giving in to Shin’s persuasion as much as he did when he agreed to merge their gangs a lifetime ago. Embark on something new together in a last minute excursion, not knowing what to discover in your destination. 

Your motorcycles were left in the parking lot to stay overnight. There were few passengers on board and three of you were already snoozing away after switching to a new train at Naruto Station. The landscape shifted behind the window; a nocturnal outline of bedtowns and cabbage fields. Wakasa's face was neutral all throughout.

Benkei broke the silence.

“I didn't know you grew up here.”

“Once,” Wakasa shrugged, looking less like a mystery. “Didn’t feel like something I should bring up anyway.”

Wakasa regarded Chiba like it's foreign land and there's no place for him here. Benkei couldn't imagine him coming home to parents – anyone. 

With their paths colliding the way they did, he had always assumed they were orphaned in Tokyo, meant to split it together or conquer more for themselves. It didn't matter which with all the devastation they had caused, leaving a red trail of history in their wake, and sometimes that's enough proof of their existence than a birth certificate. 

Wakasa never asked Benkei about his past. There's more of it branded in their mutual blows and bruises. Benkei knew the brunt of his kicks, his temper. His tendency to be a loyal asshole. How he had the worst sweet tooth ever because, of course, all of you came on this long journey just for him to lead you in a dango shop. The room inside was shabby but cozy in a lived-in sort of way; the menu unvaried. 

The old lady who owned the place gladly obliged, fanning fresh skewers on the grill, after Wakasa approached her with your orders.

Look at you, being a good grandson, Shinichiro joked about their overfamiliar interaction, and Wakasa quipped back that yeah, he's sure to rebel and get an earful like him with his elders. 

Curious, you asked Wakasa if he'd been here before. He was chewing his dango thoughtfully when he offered each of you a stick, glazed in sweet soy sauce, and told you he hadn't with no sense of nostalgia. Just craving for some. 

Inubosaki had coarser sand, a harsh, rocky coastline. A white lighthouse stood atop the cliffside, reminiscent of a twelve-pointed beacon that once ruled East Kanto. 

The inspiration didn’t go unnoticed. The old monument had been relegated into a tourist attraction but it still glowed in the dark. 

It’d been the one thing that seemed awake after passing a row of shops on your way here; most closed for the night, others for good. There were places in town that looked rundown, abandoned, similar to the ones in Tokyo. Black spots of a failing economy. 

Takeomi was the most informed about how the country was in deep shit under debt deflation. He asked Wakasa for spare change and the Sanrio-themed gachapon machine almost ate his 150 yen coins until he cranked it up again, coughing up a keychain souvenir. Benkei guessed it's for his sister. It's your second time napping, sitting next to him in the waiting shed with your head on his arm.

Shinichiro didn't wake you after catching sight of the bruise on your jaw, exposed by the dull lamplight, as if realizing how he could have missed that, among other things.

Benkei sighed. There's a heaviness hunkering down his shoulders. A part of him wondered if he told Shin now, could he convince you to change your mind?

“You uncomfortable there?” asked Shinichiro.

“Nah, I’m good.” Benkei replied, as your warmth curled on his side. Sleep made you clingy.

He wasn't the only one terrible at subtlety. Shinichiro perched on the space next to you when he couldn't steal you for himself this time. He’s got it all wrong, though.

Benkei didn't like sitting on what they would still lose.

The train station wouldn't be open until a few more hours.

Shinichiro’s cheap hair gel failed his pompadour, flattening his hair over his ears, as he leaned on his fist, dazed, with something unspeakably raw to him.

Deep down, he must know there's a future in his dream but humble as always, he’d deny this and nod off to you for having the superpower to carry and crush it. He had unshakeable faith in the way you wielded the future. It wouldn't change how he still saw you everyday. It's probably what gave you that ability in the first place. 

Benkei had this urge to wake you and tell you that you’d be okay, but suppressed it once Shinichiro spoke up, a note somber. 

“I don't want to go back yet.”

“Why?”

“This is a nice change of scenery,” which was bullshit because his boredom was painfully obvious. 

“Sure, the ocean again.”

“Okay, okay, I didn't think things out before wandering here,” he admitted, huffing an amused exhale under his breath. "But maybe I just wanted to escape and drag you all with me somewhere faraway.”

“You runnin' away from something?”

“Not really,” he murmured, stalling for another minute to brood over it. “We’ll get busier soon. It sucks. Does that count?”

“Things’ll just go back to normal,” Benkei said without withholding his sympathy. “The beach was fun, though.”

Shinichiro agreed, meandering on bringing his siblings along someday because he rarely spent his summer without them. He got away a lot more with you guys, gulping down cheap beer wherever, getting all this sand in his underwear. There was still other stuff you hadn't tried yet, if only you had more time.

“There's just this sinking feeling like something’s gonna catch up to me, don't know what it is, when, but—” his gaze landed at you, him, a flit of a smile on his lips, before staring at those endless waves, as if all of you had finally reached the end of the world. 

The sunrise bled through the horizon, and Shinichiro watched listlessly. "Whatever happens, I want to be here for awhile."

In the early hours of the morning, his bike swept past 80 km/h on the road; not a lot of cars and cyclists, busybodies.

The motions didn't stop until everyone had to pull over at a gas station nearby a remote industrial area in Ichihara. Factories still gave off strange smells no one could recognize, but Benkei had already revved up his engine to flee. It didn't matter anymore in another city.

The world woke up a bit after a mile while all of you were dragging yourselves through the travel tolls of yesterday. One moment it's a blame game, and then it snapped into a "screw this" and "this is stupid" next to a punched vending machine because you were incapable of deciding where to eat in a testy mood.

A common trait, despite having uniquely different, unbearable personalities. Aside from the energy drinks, Benkei's gut felt queasy from the mean, collective silence until you reached the last stretch of Tokyo Bay Aqua-Line. It's a miracle how everyone could stand each other, sometimes.

But you're still driving together to the path, the multiple crossings crowded by people from all walks of life, striving to make theirs a little fuller. The urban streets blurred after each turn. Somehow riding back to Tokyo almost didn't feel real. The day wasn't over yet but it felt as if he's missing something before it's gone.

Benkei didn't know how to explain it, eyes on you marveling at a wall graffiti of profanities from an unfinished construction site. Shinichiro was repeating what he was saying but it's left unheard, lost to the shrill of the track signal. The sun hung high and hot while all of you waited for the train behind the railway gate.

There's a faster route to Shibuya, but none of you took the expressway. The road back home was long and unwinding. 

a/n: title is inspired from the same namesake, referring to a whole generation of japanese youth who were gravely affected by japan's lost decade in the 1990s to early 2000s. first gen bd is in that group but ironically, they were at the top of the delinquent world at the time until their eventual disbandment.

[juliakristeva]

ed tw and discussions of weight/weight loss

i have recently been thinking about beginning to take my recovery more seriously: to be fully honest, i am approaching thirty, the cycles i go through are starting to take a really serious toll on my body as i lose my resiliency, but its kind of insane because the world around us literally engages in this constant sadistic abuse of women with eating disorders, lol. i know exactly why i have an eating disorder. i can date exactly when it started. but every time i have sought help for it professionals, the industry of fixing eating disorders, is more interested in getting me to eat, or getting me to a healthy weight (whether that is losing or gaining weight), getting me to be a functional participant in the very culture that is perpetuating my problem in the first place, than they are in inquiring why i starve myself. people, and especially people on tumblr, really do not like to have these conversations, but patriarchy is a system that makes your body reducible to labour value. your body is a marketplace. especially if you have a uterus, or you perform your gender in a way that traditionally approximates having a uterus. womanhood, with everything that it entails- from childbirth to sex to being thin to how we dress- is effectively a labour marketplace that we are forced to participate in on top of other forms of labour, like having a job or keeping a roof over your head. unfortunately the systems put in place to help people recover from eating disorders, and to treat mental health disorders too, participate readily in that marketplace in the sense that they are more interested in creating functional, viable workers and exploitable resources (worker suggests you are still seen as a person, a resource is just a thing to be used, which women's bodies are regardless of agab) than they are in healing people. they want bodies that are commodifiable in the marketplace, that work right and look right, not actualized people.

[gncstar]

Just finished a documentary about misogyny in gaming for my sociology class. It really hit all the bases they could in an hour bringing up gendered socialization, flawed character design, lack of women in the video game industry, and harassment. I play a lot of video games but I rarely interact with the fan spaces so it re-opened my eyes to a lot of the issues. The documentary was called GTFO: Get the Fuck Out. TW for harassment because they literally show a case of it from an advertised gaming stream. You know the documentary is good when it’s review bombed on every movie rating website from offended males.

[bp-zb1fics]

Hey!!! I love your writing so much,, especially your jay fic ;; I saw that you loved canon fics and omg literally SAME,, so i was like lemme request a lil something lolol

Jay smut, reader is his makeup artist during the over me “era” and you can free style the rest <333

😺 anon

Tonight I’ll take you away

pairing: jay x reader

pronouns: none used

genre: canon, suggestive themes, smut

wc: 1940

summary: you proposition the cute trainee that’s been making eyes at you while you’re working

Check my pinned for more fics~

MINORS DO NOT READ PLEASE!!!!

tw/tags: flirting, staring, realities of the idol industry, makeup, plastic surgery mention (not referring to jay), assumptions made about the industry, covertly arranged hook up, jay kinda subby, bondage, mention of pre negotiation/boundary setting, teasing, kissing, making out, nipple play, oral sex (both receiving), non explicit and explicit descriptions, riding, orgasms, reader bottoms but gender isn't specified, reader is implied to be older than jay but you can imagine it however you want

a/n tysm for loving my writing, 😺 anon! Hope you like this, it took quite awhile but I finally got to writing it~ thinking of turning this into a whole over me 🥵 series but while thoughts are being had, y'all can check out the leejeong part if you haven't!

“잘생겼어요?” [Jalsaenggyoso]

You pause, just for a second, hiding that brief moment of confusion by dipping your brush back into the eyeshadow palette.

“You mean 잘생겼나요?“ [Jalsaenggyonayo]

Even under his foundation, his cheeks flush. You’re unfazed, having worked with a fair amount of foreign idols, you’ve received your share of flirtatious comments and sometimes even straight up propositions both in shaky Korean and poor English, up until they realise you’re perfectly capable of understanding both.

Tapping off the excess, you motion for him to close his eyes, holding his chin to steady him and swiping lightly over his lids. And because you rather avoid another misunderstanding, you continue to talk in English.

“Keep your eyes closed for me, please.”

You instruct him as you blend it in with a darker shadow at the outer corner of his lash line. He’s a good looking kid. In this industry, they all are, honestly, they have to be. You can only do so much contouring to sharpen their jawlines and slim their faces and define their nose. Some of them are so naturally attractive that you wonder how they have such good genes and others? Well, there’s nothing the knife and needle can’t take care of.

“And open.”

He does and you can’t help but notice how striking he looks. It does help that he has a natural double eyelid, saving you the effort of going in with the tape, the subtle liner popping out immediately. You make a few small adjustments, ignoring how his breath goes shaky every time you use your hands to angle his face.

He is, by no means, the subtle type. But he’s also a trainee, a Western-raised one to boot. They tend to be…a lot more expressive by nature, unabashed staring, the more established idols even going as far as making open advances, confidence given by signed NDAs and the knowledge that whatever footage of this will be deleted. While he doesn’t have that confidence, his face speaks volumes, wanting eyes, the ends of his mouth quivering upwards as you lean in to brush tint over his lips, even the little Korean he messed up earlier.

“You really shouldn’t stare like that when there are cameras.”

You murmur, glad that they haven’t been able to clip a mic to his shirt yet. There are only two cameras in the partitioned off waiting room, one mounted on a tripod meant to record the whole room although you know from experience that it won’t pick up audio and both of you weren’t in any kind of suspicious position either. Besides, they hardly used the footage from there, the behind the scenes most likely taking clips from the handheld camera that the other trainees sitting on the couch were talking at.

So honestly, neither of the cameras would catch him but you figured that anyone planning to be an idol might as well be a little more cautious. 

“Sorry,” he immediately ducks his head, sheepish with a little embarrassment now evident on his face. Definitely a lot more expressive.

It tones down but he seriously won’t stop stealing glances at you. Even when he’s called over to film or you retouch the makeup of the other trainees, your eyes end up meeting whenever you look his way. When they’re called to stand-by backstage, mic packs are taped on with you and the rest of the makeup and styling team making last minute adjustments. Maybe, it’s a lapse of judgement but you reach up and tug the black choker askew on his neck back into place.

Maybe only you two hear the sharp inhale he makes when you do that. 

“Need to get into the mood of your song, you know.”

You quip under your breath as you retouch some parts of his face, no need for any extra blush, at least. 

“Ah, yes.”

He offers you a smile in return. Cute.

You’re part of the staff that accompany them to the studio for retouches. All of them stand still as you fix up smudges or spots that’ve been sweated away. But it’s only Jay who really looks at you with a little something as he parts his lips to let your brush fix up the gradient, making sure they look soft and plush and camera ready.

“Good luck, fighting!”

It’s not that suspicious with all the other staff cheering them on but he lights up right away. It’s too cute.

And then they do the dry run and in the place of that shy, soft-spoken, smiling kid is this sensual man with sultry vocals that does things to you. It’s a blur, the song wrapping up way too fast and leaving you a little breathless and slightly warm under the collar.

They come backstage and maybe you bustle up to Jay too quickly but in fairness, the rehearsal has his bangs sticking to his forehead, foundation a little smudged and you definitely need to do retouches.

“Did I do well?”

He asks you, all quiet again. There’s no trace of the man onstage in his bright eyes as he smiles at you. When you tell him he did, somehow he manages to look even happier. You watch him greet the fans with those eyes before completely flipping the switch, vocals coming on even stronger, giving them flirty little smiles as rose petals decorate the stage.

And that’s when you decide, well, why not? He was cute and he seemed to think you were too. You’d suck his dick…if he wanted you too.

__________________________________________

After the M Countdown filming and a fan meeting that had you on the side for more touch ups, you found out that he, in fact, wanted you too.

It isn’t too difficult, you being in the industry long enough to go about making arrangements discretely and without too much fuss. NDAs aside, it does help that while he is on a highly-publicised survival show, he still is considered a trainee which makes it easier to slip under the radar. There’s a little pre-negotiation, setting boundaries, getting consent but it goes over smoothly.

Which is why he’s here, actually trying to avoid your gaze, the red ribbon stage props binding his wrists to the bed posts, his pants somewhere on the floor. It’s a very pretty sight, you think to yourself as you watch him squirm, his arousal out in the open, cheeks flushed. It’s fun when they’re needy. It’s even better knowing that a hundred people can scream their name but your name will be the only one they’ll say tonight.

Jay says your name in a way that’s reminiscent of how he sang earlier. Melodic, almost breathless, just a little needy. You’re settled between his legs, running a hand over his thigh, enjoying the way he trembles slightly when you ghost at where he wants it. He’s all shy and stuttery again but his body is as expressive as before.

He surges forward as you lean in, meeting your lips with his. He’s not a bad kisser. You aren’t surprised, assuming that growing up in the West and not starting training as a child like some of the inexperienced ones you hear about must have had something to do with that. He’s still shy but there’s a sense of self-assurance in the way he mouths softly at your bottom lip. Parting his lips to let you slip your tongue in, exploring the spots that get his hips to jump, his wrists to strain against their bindings.

The sounds he makes are like music as you scrape your teeth over his neck, careful not to leave any bruises. You lap at abused skin and he starts getting noisy. That’s fine. No one would hear and even if someone does, they know it’s none of their business. Fingertips graze his nipples and you watch him twitch, leaking onto the sheets. You can’t help but ask.

“Good?”

“Please. Can you-”

“Can I…?”

“Can you do that again, please?”

And because he asked so nicely, you use your mouth, flicking your tongue out. He’s gasping, bucking his hips, trying to get some friction where he’s aching. You could toy with him all night but you won’t do that. Not tonight, at least. You press kisses lower and lower, his breath getting shallower nearly halting as you pause between his legs and look up at him.

“Will you stay still for me?”

It’s taking awhile to register but once it does, he nods. Well, you can’t have that.

“Words please.”

He looks so stricken, it’s almost adorable. But it’s barely a second of hesitation before he answers.

“Yes, yes- ah!”

You take him fully into your mouth, as much as you can. He’s heavy against your tongue as you hollow your cheeks for more suction, bobbing your head a few times. You look up and his head is thrown up against the headboard, eyes closed, lip tint smeared on his parted lips, sharp breaths escaping. You run your tongue along the veins on the underside of his dick and the sounds he lets out are obscene.

Impressively enough, he manages to keep his hips steady, letting you go at your own pace. But you know you’re good. You’ve been told that you’re good. Waiting till he relaxes, basking the pleasure of your tongue running over him, suckling softly, even moving to leave a mark or two on his thighs. Then, without warning, you’re descending, taking him almost fully in your mouth, breathing steadily through your nose.

You’re pretty sure the whole floor heard him just now, his hips jerking up traitorously. You pull off and the whine that comes next is delicious. He’s wrecked, bangs stuck to his forehead in an erotic echo of earlier, eyes dark and pleading, fists clenching uselessly.

“I thought you’d stay still for me?”

What comes out of his mouth next is almost unintelligible, a mess of Korean and English, all you know is that he’s begging. You shush him, your clothes joining his on the floor. You’ve got him hypnotised as you sink your fingers between your own legs, the wet squelch betraying how eager you are. He slides in, nice and easy and you take a moment to relish in the fullness that this angle offers, straddling him fully.

Your hands press his hips downward, keeping them still this time until you’re ready to feel him deeper. It’s a lost cause once you let go, he moves, as much as he can with his hands still restrained and unable to provide leverage. You let him tire himself out before you take your own pleasure, rolling your hips and enjoying the way he sounds when you do. He doesn’t ask you to untie him so you ride him until he’s about to tip over the edge, it’s not hard to tell with someone as expressive as him, the brink of an orgasm is written all over his face.

Maybe you’re a little sex drunk but the sound he makes when you push him past release should be recorded and made into a song. But for now, you’re the only listener. Chest heaving, you free his wrists and before you know it, it’s his face buried between your legs, helping you reach your own release.

“Is it okay if we stay tonight?” He asks after you’ve cleaned up, lying on the bed, limbs tangled together. He’s very tactile, you've found out.

You consider the consequences before shrugging, quite enjoying the way he presses soft kisses against your shoulders, singing softly to the song that’s playing quietly in the background.

“If you want to.” He does.

[m4yday-m4yday]

𝖂𝖊𝖑𝖈𝖔𝖒𝖊 𝖙𝖔 𝖒𝖞 𝖇𝖑𝖔𝖌!

(tw: flashing at the bottom i put blinkies there)

Call me Eros or Mayday (Anthony Sparrow irl but I prefer fun cool weird names online)

My otherkin sideblog is @that-dog-is-so-gender

he/it/e(/she but only used by my bf cus I'm testing it out)

Agender and pangender transmasculine (Ik it's contradictory but I can do whatever I want with my gender forever)

Bi and aspec (grayromantic, graysexual, arospike)

Probably autistic (getting tested soon! idk how i feel about it) so like be patient cus I don't read tones well lmfao I get so nervous

Theater kid. I bet u can tell, I've been told I'm dramatic

I post my art very inconsistently, but if you wanna see it, it can all be found under the tag #artists on tumblr (no guarantee it'll be good lol especially as you find the older shit)

My original posts are under the tag #eros says shit

Minor (15) 18+ blogs don't follow

'MURICAN 🦅🦅

DM's are open to mutuals only

DM me if you want, I love talking to ppl, but if you're an adult I'm going to keep conversation to a minimum to ensure my safety (some of my moots are adults and they're cool af so this isn't cus I don't like you I js have a fear of being groomed so)

I am not in a place where I can donate anything, I am a minor

I'm bilingual and know English and Spanish but English is my first language (I've been going to bilingual schools since I was like 6) so that's fun

DNI if you're younger than 13

DNI homophobes, transphobes, aphobes, terfs, racists, sexists, MAPS (pedophiles. yall cant hide behind an acronym), transracial ppl idk, etc. Bigoted assholes can kindly fuck off, thank you ;)

I support furries and otherkins and therians and all that jazz so if you don't like that ig just deal with it? Touch grass? Doesn't rly matter if you see ppl on the internet just being themselves it's not a personal attack. I also support self-diagnosis if you do research and all that and are being serious about it cus the medical industry is FUCKED and doesn't take people seriously based on dumb stereotypes

I block freely and if I don't like your vibe I'm gonna do that

All the extra stuff is under the keep reading thing bc it's long and painful to read. If you don't wanna read it some of the fandoms I'm in are specified in the tags <2

𝕬𝖑𝖑 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖘𝖍𝖎𝖙 𝕴 𝖑𝖎𝖐𝖊:

𝕾𝖙𝖚𝖋𝖋 𝕴 𝖜𝖆𝖙𝖈𝖍 - Helluva Boss - Brandon Rogers - DEADPOOL MOVIES!!!!!! AGHJAKJHGFCDFGHJ - X-Men '97 - The New Mutants (the movie sucked but it has a special place in my heart, ok? I love Rahne Sinclair) - Supernatural (I'm on season 10 rn) - Good Omens - Dead Boy Detectives

𝕸𝖚𝖘𝖎𝖈𝖆𝖑𝖘 𝕴 𝖑𝖎𝖐𝖊 - Sweeney Todd: The Demon Barber of Fleet Street (2007) - RHPS - Cabaret (1998) - Falsettos - West Side Story - Beetlejuice - Addams Family - Frankenstein - Prolly more I forgot to list but those are my faves

𝕸𝖚𝖘𝖎𝖈 𝕴 𝖑𝖎𝖐𝖊 (𝖓𝖔𝖙 𝖎𝖓𝖈𝖑𝖚𝖉𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖒𝖚𝖘𝖎𝖈𝖆𝖑𝖘) - Remo Drive - Mitski - Fall Out Boy - NOAHFINNCE - MCR - boygenius - IDKHBTFM - Jack Stauber - The Amazing Devil - Queen - Billy Joel - Green Day - Tom Petty - Bikini Kill - Rabbitology - The Crane Wives

𝕳𝖔𝖇𝖇𝖎𝖊𝖘 𝖎𝖌 - Sewing - Drawing - Making kandi (although my bf does it better he's the bead master he taught me his ways and I am but a lowly bead wench compared to his bead mastery) - I write a little bit of poetry and I'm proud of it but I don't show people it often and it's shitty but oh well - Sobbing into my pillow over the full moon episode - Makeup - Fashion design - Idk being a furry? Drawing them? Wearing my dino mask is fun I like to bite things with it it's very nice - IDK WHERE ELSE TO PUT IT BUT I LIKE FRANKENSTEIN

𝕮𝖍𝖆𝖗𝖆𝖈𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖘 𝕴 𝖐𝖎𝖓 (not in a fictionkin way but I do support y'all) - Crowley (Good Omens) - Stolas (Helluva Boss) - Blitz (Helluva Boss) - Dean Winchester (Supernatural) - Castiel (Supernatura) - Deadpool (All media. He's my babygirl) - Party Poison

I'm like always adding to this lol

[doctordragon]

TW: institutionalization, assault, transandrophobia, drugging mention

When I was institutionalized, I was violently thrown to the ground and held down by a grown man (I was a minor at the time) because I didn't want to stand in the 'right gendered line' (the facility had 'mixed genders' but they separated boys and girls in different parts of the same room. Couldn't sit on the same couch, or stand in the same line). Afterwards I was cornered and threatened with another violent assault and drugging if I didn't 'behave' (I was never been violent or aggressive the entire time, I just didn't want to stand in the line of my agab, and was even willing to compromise and stand and sit on my own but they weren't willing to compromise with me) by the man who assaulted me.

The kicker? I'm "tme", the staff knew I was afab (and deadnamed and misgendered the whole time too), I'd not even started hormones so I looked at most like a tomboy. But of course I could never understand how evil mental health facilities could be (never mind the long history of punishing and institutionalizing gender non-conformity in afab people, the trans community supports erasure apparently)

Afterwards they told me it was to protect me. Violently assaulting me to "protect" me, that's something distinct about transandrophobia. Had I been transfem, I think it still would have happened, but then they'd try to justify it by saying they're just trying to protect the girls from me. Because transfems are seen as a danger, and transmascs are seen as stupid girls putting themselves in danger (and of course it's okay to hurt them because 'that's what they signed up for', sigh)

My sincerest apologies if this ended up more like a traumadump than an addition which is what it's intended to be. Just know you are not alone.

That's beyond horrific and I'm sorry something awful like that happened to you. Transandrophobia in the healthcare industry is a rampant issue. I have a lot of transmasc friends and pretty much all of them have experienced some sort of medical gatekeeping or violence based on their gender. A lot of it is to "protect" us as well, like T being a controlled substance to protect poor lost women from themselves. As I type this out, I'm almost on my fourth year uninsured without a PCP and unable to get the top surgery I need because my state has a PCP shortage and I'm struggling to find one that will do trans healthcare. I can't get the healthcare I need (stuff that is unrelated to my transness) because I am transgender.

People who use "TME/TMA" repeatedly demonstrate that they don't understand the difficulty of simply existing in the modern world as a trans man. They don't understand that while trans women face their own unique oppression, trans men do as well. We should be focusing on the similarities of our issues, because I always end up relating heavily to my sisters far more than finding I can't understand.

Thank you for sharing. It means a lot to hear your similar experiences and know I'm not alone in my trauma.

[brckenrcad]

maia mitchell, twenty-eight, she/her ⟡ — is that CORALINE SHEPHERD i just saw walking around kilmer’s cove? i heard they’re a RESIDENT who’s been here for 28 YEARS. it slipped my mind, since they just tend to hang out at THE TOWN. at face value, they’re said to be CAPTIVATING and INTUITIVE, but i don’t know… some people have said they can be quite OBSESSIVE and HESITANT. just don’t get on their bad side, i guess! don’t tell them i told you this, but i’ve heard they DO believe in all the ghost stories around town. who knows what the future holds for them!

character information

name: Coraline Shepherd

gender & pronouns: cis woman & she/her

sexuality: Pansexual

age: 28

birthday: July 10, 1996

place of birth: Kilmer's Cove, Rhode Island

occupation: Baker

time since arriving in Kimer's Cove:: Since July 1996

aesthetics: Flour all over dark colored clothes, Popping gum, Tequila shots, and Uncontrollable Croc collections

pets: Corgi named Rocky

appearance:

faceclaim:  Maia Mitchell

height:  5'6"

build:  Petite

eyes:  Brown

hair:  Brown with blonde highlights

piercings:  Left nostril, Belly button, Industrial & Ear lobes

tattoos:  Cherry pie slice on wrist

personality:

traits:  Creative, Rational, Insubordinate, Overthinker

labels / tropes:  The Rebel

mental health:  Been worse, been better

physical health:  Healthy as a horse

likes:  Staying busy, Smell of rain hitting concrete, Organization, Blankets

dislikes:  People who don't pay attention to their animals, Beer, Marvel movies

fears:  Snakes, Spiders.

phobias:  Dying

hobbies:  Reading, trying new recipe's, listening to music, dancing

skills:  Can do a pirouette

pet peeves:  People who drive slow in the left lane, People who are rude to workers, loud chewers

biography:  tw; family death, tw; depression, tw; eating disorder

Coraline was a bright girl from the second that she could speak which was early for many children. Her parents knew that she was going to be great in the medical field like the rest of their family was. She thought she wanted to do that for quite some time, but as she grew up she was interested in the art of ballet. She was dancing from a young age and it seemed like she was really going places with it.

Her parents were supportive and there for every recital that she had, but her biggest supporter was her grandmother. Not only did she support Coraline in the dance studio, but they were always hanging out since when her parents both got called in for emergency surgeries, they would be shipped off to their grandmothers. While her siblings would spend their times playing video games and sleeping, she was in the kitchen with her grandma.

As Coraline got older, she was being eyed up by multiple dance school's but the one she had her heart on was Juliard. She auditioned and she got in, but of course her grandmother was there to see it all for her. After graduating college, she knew that it was time to get serious about her career and she was ready to go audition for her first show on Broadway. Coraline didn't have her heart completely set on it because she knew there were multiple people there who had more experience than she had.

What Coraline wasn't expecting was that her grandmother was coming from Rhode Island to see her audition and to take her out to celebrate after but as she was nearing the studio there was a fatal accident and it took her life. Coraline didn't find out until she had finished her audition but she knew during the whole thing that something was weird and she felt like something bad happened which caused her to fall during her audition. Her phone was blowing up as she was nearing the train but then she heard the news and her heart fell into pieces. Her favorite person in the world was injured and it was her fault.

Coraline was able to get to the hospital quick enough to be able to say goodbye to her but that's all she was able to say. Coraline fell into a deep hole of depression which caused her to stop eating and to stop associating herself with the world. She was the most sad out of her family because not only was it her grandmother, but it was her best friend in the whole world. Coraline barely even left the house for month's before she finally starting talking to someone and she started to get her life back together.

Deciding to give up on the dancing dream, she figured she was going to honor her grandmother the best that she could and she decided to take up baking full time. She even went to college part time to take some professional baking classes while at home and now she has become one of the best pastry bakers in Kimer's Cove.

[only-red-lights]

Child actor/model kar headcanons

Cw/tw || ED’s, sexualisation and implied Sa/Cocsa

* Usually very dressed up for going out, far too dressed up for a 14yr old.

* Has different coloured eyeliner everyday

* Hates fans touching them but a little praise and they’d let someone do absolutely anything to them

* Absolutely craves attention/praise. Would and do go through negative ways to get it.

* Dates ALOT, usually ends up with very toxic relationships though

* Prefers getting dark roles, it doesn’t happen a lot.

* Struggling with gender A lot. A lot of their roles were feminine and now they feel awkward about wanting to change that.

* Very picky eater with low appetite, got told to died a lot growing up.

* Definitely once called a female director “mum/mom”

* mixed feelings of older men spotting them. They’ve been told it’s dangerous but again praise and they melt

* Has had a lot of run ins with “Creeps” and I won’t go into any more detail with that.

* been acting/modelling since they were 3

* They are very good at covering stuff(bruises, hickeys etc.) with makeup or accessories like chokers or arm bands.

* Was only warned about older men so can’t see the issue when people their age do creepy stuff to them

* got weirdly sexualized even though they’ve mainly had innocent roles and doesn’t understand why

(Also note. Absolutely none of this is to romanticise or glorify any of these topics. A lot of these are directly based from me and how I cope but adapted to fit the media industry narrative)

[phantasmiac]

in which you agree to wait for pro hero!bakugou, and time is a fickle thing

cw/tw: angst ig. hurt no comfort question mark? but there is a little closure in the tags, as a treat. miscommunication. bakugou has worms for brains. alcohol mention. not proofread. gender neutral reader.

wc: 1.8k

i think if bakugou fell in love with you during high school, and the cat was out of the bag, he might ask you to wait for him. to wait until he achieves his goal of becoming number one, because 1. he thinks he won’t be able to focus on a relationship and his goal at once and 2. he wants you to have him at his best. and you agree, albeit warily, because you’re just that stupidly in love with him. and maybe it isn’t the brightest idea to remain best friends while knowingly pining so pathetically after one another. it’s hard having him so close yet so out of reach. spending your shared days off lounging around on your couch together with the unspoken rule of not touching one another (though the brushing of limbs that leaves firecrackers setting off in both of your stomachs is basically inevitable at this point). going out to eat, going on hikes, being attached at the hip on small trips with friends. sometimes it feels like you might explode. your friends fear the impending doom of the tension suddenly snapping and ending with the two of you ripping each other's clothes off in front of everyone. but it’s worth it, you tell yourself, and it’s better than not having him at all.

four years have passed since your promise and you’re still waiting, patient as ever. but now, katsuki’s goal is so close you can almost feel his lips on yours. he’s steadily but surely moving up the ranks, and countless websites and blogs have already submitted their predictions for this years upcoming billboard chart results. things are looking up, and yet you can’t help but feel that katsuki’s recently been pulling away from you. you try your best to subdue your growing insecurities and be reasonable, but as the weeks go by and the thread tying you together continues to tear apart, the conclusion you’ve been avoiding beams at you: maybe katsuki’s done waiting for you. and maybe it’s finally time you listen to your friends warnings and start moving on, especially now when his lack of a presence in your life might make things easier.

you try, quietly. you’re sure if kirishima got a hold of such information he’d fax it right on over to katsuki, an idea that mortifies you. there’s a new sidekick at the office who you’ve been getting along with recently. the prospect of a romance with him has never come to mind, not when it’s been occupied by thoughts of katsuki and katsuki only, but you think it’s a good place to start. a few dates happen but the spark just isn’t there; you haven’t found your rebound, but you’ve found a close friend and confidant. being part of the hero industry means you’re bound to bump into your former classmates on a regular basis, katsuki included; even if it does feel like he’s been actively avoiding you. you know it’s immature, but you make it a point to always sit next to said confidant and laugh a little more than usual at meetings where katsuki is present, hoping his possessiveness will kick in and ignite the fire that’s been dwindling. you figure you only have yourself to blame for the bitterness that consumes you when nothing changes.

despite your minimal best efforts, you’re still hopelessly in love with katsuki by the time you’re physically sat at the billboard chart event, anxiously waiting for the top ten to be announced. feelings and promises aside, you’re still rooting for his success just as much as you were when you were two silly teenagers in the middle of a friendly rivalry (whatever “friendly” had meant to an arrogant, brutish teenage katsuki), before your heart had declared itself irrevocably his.

and although you’d like to think that all your classmates have matured since then, the matter of the fact is that some people will always have a little more room to grow; which is exactly why katsuki has still retained some of his juvenile stupidity, and why a vein is practically bulging out of his forehead at the sight of you chatting away with that stupid motherfucker from your agency among the sea of heroes. sure he’s been purposely distancing himself from you, and sure he chose not to do anything about his feelings — flaming red with rage and emerald green with envy — all those other times the two of you were practically crawled up each others asses right in front of him, but why the fuck isn’t your attention directed at him today? you promised. there’s a little voice in the back of his head that sounds suspiciously similar to a certain redhead, and it’s berating him for acting like a hypocrite. in response to said voice katsuki grumbles that he’s not a hypocrite because he didn’t break his promise; he never stopped waiting. he just got scared. scared that after all these years he still wasn’t half the man you deserved; that you’d waited for him in vain. and what better way to avoid an inevitable heartache than to push you away? what better ending for you than someone you deserved?

you don’t think there’s any gift katsuki could receive that could outdo his big win that night, but you still walk towards him at the after party, wrapped box in hand. he’s standing at the open bar (courtesy of the HPSC), elbows propped behind him as he revels in praise and congratulations from his former classmates and colleagues. kyoka and denki spot you first. their knowing gazes make your face warm up from shyness and embarrassment alike —the embarrassment stemming from the fact that tonight was unlikely to end with the moment they’d been rooting for for years. katsuki’s head turns to you last, and you note that his face is slightly flushed. it’s a sign that he’s had a few too many drinks, a sight last seen about two year ago when mina and sero had challenged him to a drinking contest (never again, he’d told you the morning after). you politely ask to pull him away to a secluded balcony, ignoring the low whistle that follows.

the night air is bitterly cold, which you accredit for the darker shade of pink that has covered katsuki’s face, illuminated by the lights of neighboring skyscrapers. had it not been for the last four months of radio silence from the now number one hero, your heart might have been pounding faster. it’s steadiness is further set by his gaze, which meets everything but yours. tonight may not be the night, but it’s still his.

“you’re probably tired of hearing this; or maybe not, actually,” you chuckle. “but congratulations, tsuki.”

the nickname makes him perk up enough to look at you. he wants to tell you that it is getting tiring, but he wouldn’t mind hearing it a couple hundred more times from you. instead, he lets you continue, hoping for a set of more significant words.

instead, you pull the box from behind your back, wrapped in holographic orange wrapping paper. a deliberate choice, considering you’d been telling him how ugly of a color orange was since your school days (you make it work, you’d told him once). you hold the box out for him to take.

“i know it’s not much, and i knew you’d hate the idea but i still wanted to get you something. i’m really proud of you tsuki.”

he holds the gift in his hands, flipping the dimensions around like something might appear. giving you a chance to say more. you don’t.

“is that all?”

your head cocks to the side. “i guess so?” you’re unsure of what he means. katsuki’s always hated receiving gifts, so you doubt he’s suddenly greedy for a second something you might be holding behind your back.

a ridiculous thought smacks him right across the head, the product of disappointment, insecurity, and the alcohol coursing through his system. the image of you and that fuckface he doesn’t even know the name of is attached. the bit of rationality left in him allows him to bite his tongue. “i don’t want it,” he declares, arm extended to return the box.

“stop that. take it,” you swat his hand away. he allows it drop to the ground. a mistake, you assume. you’re quick to pick it up and shove it back towards him.

“i said i don’t fucking want it,” he reiterates, hands shoved in his pockets as he walks towards the balcony door. “don’t want your fucking pity gift,” he mutters, low enough for you not to hear.

your initial shock is quickly taken over by anger. katsuki feels his arm being yanked before he’s nose to nose with your tear stained face. “you’re an asshole, you know that? if you don’t want me in your life any more, grow a pair and say so. you’d do that if you had even an ounce of respect left for me, instead of stringing me along and making me look like a complete fucking idiot.” the shake in your breath is followed by the slump of your shoulders. your vision is too blurred by tears to see how katsuki’s gaze has softened. “what did you get out of wasting my time?”

he feels the box being forced back into his hand. this time, he grabs it with a firm grip as you reach for the door handle behind him.

katsuki feigns ignorance when asked about your sudden leave by your mutual friends. says you probably left with that little friend of yours. mina isn’t subtle at all when she points out that your “little friend” is still at the party, and calls him over to further inquire about your whereabouts; he says he doesn’t know either. he then turns to katsuki, congratulates him and tells him about all the good things he’s heard about him from you. suddenly he feels like throwing up.

at home, katsuki finally tears open the wrapping paper. the envelope that falls out captures his attention first. the letter inside is four pages long everything he’d expect from you, unbelievably cheesy yet still able to make his eyes all glassy. three pages filled with descriptions of shared past memories and all the reasons you think deserves everything good that comes his way. and the fourth page. this isn’t meant to be a love letter, but if i never tell you how i feel I think i’ll suffocate. you can just blast this page to pieces if you want to.

inside the box is a watch. all alone, in the solace of his living room, on his first night as the number one hero, katsuki lets out a bitter chuckle.

[sweetnxthngs]

[ may calamawy, non-binary, they/she] — whoa!  IMAAN EL-SALEM  just stole my cab! not cool, but maybe they needed it more. they have lived in the city for TEN YEARS, working as a/an OWNER OF BROWNSTONE BOOKS  that can’t be easy, especially at only 38 YEARS OLD. some people say they can be a little bit SHY and FANCIFUL , but i know them to be WARMHEARTED and ARTICULATE. whatever. i guess i’ll catch the next cab. hope they like the ride back to QUEENS! —character parallels: rory gilmore, monica gellar, lexie grey.

wanted connections • pinterest

BASICS

FULL NAME: Imaan El-Salem

NICKNAME(S): none, doesn't love nicknames.

AGE: 38

DATE OF BIRTH: February 14th, 1986

CURRENT LOCATION: Queens, New York City.

PLACE OF BIRTH: Bahrain

ETHNICITY: Egyptian, Palestinian.

GENDER: Non-binary

PRONOUNS: they/she

SEXUAL ORIENTATION: bisexual

RELIGION: Raised Muslim, does not follow organized religion perfectly by any means, but does believe in God and has faith.

LANGUAGES: arabic, english.

OCCUPATION:  owner of brownstone books.

FACECLAIM: May Calamawy

PHYSICAL TRAITS

HEIGHT: 5’7

WEIGHT: 115 lbs

HAIR COLOR: Brown

EYE COLOR: Brown

PIERCINGS: one lobe piercing in each ear, and an industrial piercing in the right ear.

TATTOOS:  here

SCARS|MARKS: freckles across her nose and cheeks,

SIGNATURE SCENT: Maison Margiela Replica Springtime in the Park.

PHOBIAS AND DISEASES

MENTAL ILLNESSES:  social anxiety.

PHYSICAL ILLNESSES:

PHOBIAS: 

RELATIONSHIPS

MOTHER:  Nashwa El-Salem ( Badawi) (deceased)

FATHER:  Omar El-Salem

CHILDREN: none

SIBLINGS: Laila El-Salem (younger half-sister)

RELATIONSHIPS:  coming soon

 PETS:  a black cat lovingly named sush, short for sushi.

PERSONALITY

ZODIAC SIGN:  Aquarius.

MORAL ALIGNMENT: Neutral Good.

FAVORITE FOODS: sushi, watermelon, mint and feta salad, garlic noodles with chili crunch, mutabal, french fries drenched in ketchup and mayo, shakshouka.

FAVORITE COLOR: lavender and pink

LIKES: the smell of the air just after it rains, and the color of the sky and it's orange-pink hue then, too, when svu or criminal minds marathons are on, the feeling of having a crush. romance books.

DISLIKES: anything above 70 degrees Fahrenheit, washing the dishes by hand,

HOBBIES:  as of recently, ballet classes just to get some movement in and they like the fluidness of it, reading fanfiction when they should be working, baking their feelings away, and self-defense classes.

BIOGRAPHY

tw death, tw religion, tw childbirth.

PAST.

BAHRAIN, February 1986.

It's February, but it's the Middle East in the 80s, so the weather is likened to the decade. Nashwa is in a hospital and still, sweating profusely. She's unsure if it's the weather or the pressures of childbirth. She is freshly married, and this is her first baby, when a screaming little girl comes out, Imaan, is placed into her arms she cries along with her. She barely gets to hold her though before the beeping of a machine rings in her ears and before she can even meet her daughter, to know her, Nashwa El-Salem is pronounced dead, complications in birth.

Omar, her father, has no idea what to do with a newborn daughter, and with his job, he doesn't really have the time to raise her alone, that's when originally, her jadda stepped in, helping raise the young child until she was of school age, and then, there was pressure for her father to remarry, to find someone to run the home while he worked. By the time young Imaan is seven, Omar is remarried, and expecting another child.

Their stepmother isn't from here, the States, actually, here as an expat, working for the embassy, and their little sister Laila looks more like her than their father. Imaan is barely eight but she knows that things have shifted.

They go back and forth from Bahrain to Washington often enough, two homes, and to Imaan, it feels like two families. Her father and herself, and then him and his wife and Laila. There is a passing comment about how she can't let go of a mother she never knew, and as Imaan gets older, they know that's true.

by the time Imaan is seventeen, laila is 10, and they are fully moved to Washington, leaving Bahrain, and everything Imaan has ever really known behind. They finish their last year of school in the States, and it is so different Imaan feels out of place, and alone. She tries to fit in, and tries to be the perfect daughter at the same time, but those two don't align. Raised strict Muslim, Imaan is used to a set of rules, and the western high school system is mostly not set up for them, especially in 2005. Her connection to her home and her faith gets lost somewhere along the way, more fights with her father about his expectations, about his wife and his other daughter, about how she will never be good enough. He calls her disrespectful and a disappointment, and she tells him she applied for college in Scotland far away from him, and the look on his face tells her she's gone too far, but the plans have already been set in motion.

The University of Edinburgh is a dream and an awakening. Imaan is still shy, an introvert one would say, but also more willing to explore who they are. Kissing a girl for the first time is like a rebirth, trying cigarettes, alcohol, and even drugs feel like things that make her stray from the staunch religious upbringing she had, and yet, the lack of restraints feels good.

By the time she graduates with a degree in English, she knows she is different, and she's not sure how much her family will like that.

She moves back home for a while and works in a library as an assistant, and the freedom college abroad brought her dwindles, it's back to dad's rules. her sister is just sixteen, and while they were never close, their relationship is not bad, but Imaan finds there isn't much they have in common. Her sister likes concerts, has a large circle of friends, and spends her time trying new makeup techniques, and that's all fine, except Imaan can't relate to it, as someone who finds their enjoyment in reading the newest romance boo release, or

She moves around a bit after two years at home, does two years in California, and two more in Chicago before moving with their roommate to New York. It's closer to home but totally different all the same, and it actually feels right. Unlike all the other cities. They get a job in a bookstore and share a two-bedroom with their roommate in Queens and life is okay, though not perfect.

PRESENT

Imaan brought Brownstone Books off the owner, who they worked for 8 years before she decided it was time to retire, and with a very small loan and the kindness of someone who took them in, they owned the place. It felt daunting, but the bookstore's popularity helped make the transition easier.

In those ten years since moving to New York, Imaan found that what was missing in her life was some sort of faith, and found a way to embrace spirituality and their sense of self, a sometimes uneven, but more comfortable balance. They got cat and name it sush, and they still live in a two-bedroom, though their roommate moved out recently to live with her boyfriend, so they're on the hunt. They love to bake, spending the time not in the bookstore either doing that or reading (books, or fanfiction, thank you). They don't see their family often, though her sister is 31 now, and has visited a few times.

wanted connections found here.