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versadies · 3 years

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hi dan! how are you? congrats on 1k!! for the prompt event, can i request libra + kaeya + fluffy angst in which the reader realizes kaeya is their soulmate when he lies, on a very stressful day for both of them, about them never being a bother when they need a favor, so reader starts avoiding him bc they become unsure on how to act around him? either hc or drabble is fine. thank you so much! have a great day!

bothersome (hc scenario)

penpal: i'm doing fine (other than getting ready for school in a few weeks), hope this is to ur liking anon ! have a great day as well <<3

prompt: libra the scale, lie-tattoo soulmate au

pairing/s: kaeya x gn!reader

sypnosis: hc on how you avoiding kaeya after finding out he’s your soulmate.

includes: fluff/slight-angst, short fic, mentions of alcohol, reader overthinking, mentions of injuries

you need a drink. immediately.

when being assigned to a high class commission for the first time, you honestly thought things will go smoothly, even with reckless pallad tagging along.

but then the two of you came across to three ruin guards, causing you to be ditched by pallad and left you alone to deal with the three mechanics.

by the time you came back to mondstadt, you were filled with bandages covering your bruises and injuries littered all over your body, earning concerned stares from people as you pass by.

you could care less from the attention you received, all that was running through your mind is that you weren't able to complete a once-in-a-lifetime commission and missed your opportunity.

katheryne was more than happy to at least reward you for slaying the three ruin guards that was apparently a commission. despite getting paid by the end of the day, you were still disappointed.

as soon as you claimed your rewards from katheryne, you immediately took a visit to angel's share, hoping to find a certain man to chat with.

your eyes brightens when you spotted kaeya sitting on one of the stools in front of the counter.

"hey," you called, causing kaeya to look at you as he watches you sitting down beside him.

"rough day?" he asks with a teasing grin, gesturing your treated wounds. "how was it?"

you let out a sigh, quietly asking charles to give you your usual drink. "the commission? what can i say if i didn't do it at all?"

kaeya pats your shoulder reassuringly, taking a sip of his drink before putting it down. "care to entertain me with the details?" he asks.

"ruin guards." you said nonchalantly, thanking charles– who gave you your drink. "they all suddenly appeared and my partner ditched me."

he sighs dramatically in response. "what a coward."

you nodded in agreement. "indeed. what about you? got a rough day too?"

kaeya simply shrugs in response. "that's for you to not find out and for me to only know." he replied, swirling his drink around.

you stayed silent for a while, looking down at your glass with a blank look on your face.

now that you think about it, there was one certain commission with a generous reward that you could ask katheryne to let you do– not to mention the fact that with kaeya's help, you can definitely finish this commission in no time.

"say kaeya," you look at the calvary captain curiously, your eyes lands on his. "you don't mind if i ask you a favor, right?"

"are we going to bury or burn the body?" he asks jokingly.

he lets out a light laugh when he sees you rolling your eyes at his joke. "i'm merely jesting. you don't have to worry about being bothersome to me, you can always ask me for a favor."

you smile gratefully at your friend. "you have my thanks, kaeya."

as the both of you continue chatting the night away while enjoying your drink, you couldn't help but notice an itch in your covered arm, your hand constantly scratching on the bandage with irritation.

it wasn't until you removed the bandages the next day when you realized why it was itchy.

you were sure the words imprinted on your arm would haunt you for a while.

"you don't have to worry about being bothersome to me, you can always ask me for a favor."

you stared at the words on your arm for a while, unsure how to feel with your recent discovery. surely this was just a coincidence, right? but what if it wasn't–?

does this mean.. he finds you bothersome and annoying?

you frowned, your hands brushing against the tattoo whilst ignoring the pain from its touch. perhaps you should avoid him and not bother him unless necessary.

you let out a sigh, grabbing the new bandages you got from the cathedral and start wrapping it around your injuries, the thoughts about kaeya's true feelings about you never left your mind.

since then, you started avoiding areas where you know you'll encounter the man, whether it'd be angel's share, the knights of favonius headquarters, and even the entrance of mondstadt, deciding to go to the right entrance of the city and go to katheryne from there during the morning.

you were quite proud that you managed to get away from the calvary captain's sight, not minding the new change of routes and the hindrances you had to do in order to avoid kaeya like a plague.

this went on for a week. you no longer heard of the man and he the same. every time you see at least one glance of his familiar figure, you would immediately head to the opposite direction, ignoring him calling out your name should he notice your presence nearby. you're honestly grateful he didn't try to chase you.

even though you're okay with avoiding him, you couldn't stop your head from thinking about kaeya, wondering if he's now happy that you're no longer bothering him.

it didn't help that you've been debating with yourself on whether or not you should tell kaeya, a person who finds his own soulmate bothersome, that you're his soulmate.

deep down, you knew it was best to tell him, he deserves to know after all. besides, it's not like the world will end if you tell him, right?

you were simply walking around windwail highland– looking for certain items for a commission when you spotted him standing not too far away.

your breath hitches when you see him looking at you direction, spotting you right away. oh crap.

without another thought, you immediately turned away and started jogging to the opposite direction, praying to barbatos that kaeya isn't followin–

"my, i didn't know you'd be a slow runner." you felt your heart jump from kaeya's sudden voice, causing you to stop your tracks in surpirse when you see kaeya jogging alongside you and stopped as well.

he chuckles at your reaction, crossing his arms with a stilled-grin plastered on his face. "so now you're not running away from me anymore?"

you tried to walk away after those words, only for kaeya to suddenly grip your wrist and stop you from going anywhere.

"what do you want, kaeya?" you ask calmly, trying not to look at the man behind you as you stare at the direction ahead.

his grip on your wrist didn't falter. "care to tell me why you're suddenly avoiding me like i'm a plague? did i say something wrong?" he asks.

"it's not that."

you stayed silent, now unsure what to say. you knew that you'd expose yourself right away the moment you lie in front of his face.

you then sighed, looking down at the ground in defeat. it's now or never.

"am i... a bother to you, kaeya?" you questioned, scared of his response. will he lie again?

his grin faltered, taken back by surprise from your question. "what?"

you turn behind to look at kaeya, causing him to let go of your wrist. "i... i need you to be honest with me. am i a bother to you?"

you watched as kaeya stayed silent, looking at you with a serious look. "what made you think of such thing–?"

"remember when i asked you if you wouldn't mind me asking you a favor?" you asked, furrowing your eyebrows. "do you remember what you said to me during that night?"

before kaeya could say anything, you slowly raise your arm to his eye level and lifted up your sleeves, showing him the exact words that he remembered saying on that night.

his grin completely disappeared.

"when i saw this the day after that, i had so many things to think about. i thought i should be happy that you're my soulmate– but why did... why did it had to be because of this lie?"

"y/n i–"

"i avoided you because i thought you think of me as a hindrance to you and i didn't.. i didn't want to bother you and your duty as the calvary captain." you explained, your shoulders slumped. "but i kept thinking if i told you that i'm your soulmate, you would've been disappo–"

your eyes widens when you felt his arms wrapping around you out of nowhere.

"i'm not disappointed that you're my soulmate, y/n." he said, hugging you in comfort. "if anything, i'm... relieved."

you furrowed your eyebrows. "what about... what about the favor? why did you lie–"

"i lied because it was a stressful day for me as well," he clarified. "yes, i did find favors bothersome at that time, but i never find you bothersome, so i had no choice but to say i'm okay with your favors because it's from you."

you felt yourself slowly relaxed when you didn't feel any itchy feeling around your body, letting out a sigh in relief as you continue to let kaeya hug you to his content.

"so does this mean.. you want me as your soulmate?" you ask hesitantly.

he smiles genuinely for the first time, holding onto you tighter and nodded.

"yes."

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shotosprincess · 3 years

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♡ dating the bnha boys — hcs

｡･:*:･-: ✧ :,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･-: ✧ :,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

➪ shoto todoroki

pls you’ve prolly been terrified of him for a while prior bc of how ?? talented ?? the mf is ??

but mans prolly saved you at some point and there was this lingering stare you two shared before he left you at recovery girls’ office; were you reading too far into things ?

spoiler alert: you weren’t.

anYWAYS-

he’s the kind of boyfriend to tenderly brush your hair for you and attempt to learn how to tie and braid your hair up in cute ,, simple designs !!

he’d always be ready with little things you’re constantly forgetting; extra snacks,, water,, a fully charged portable charger ,, trust me when i say that man is pREPARED- after all ,, he needs to be ready with everything to take care of his little sweetheart ,, does he not ?

ONLY TWO POINTS IN AND IM ALREADY CRYING BC I LOVE HIM SM BYE BYE BYE

at some point he’d find you sitting on the roof by yourself late at night,, only to stay with you and let you fall asleep on his chest as he drapes a blanket over you and heats it up a lil with his quirk

OKAY YOU CANNOT TELL ME THAT THAT MAN WOULDNT HOLD THE DOOR OPEN FOR YOU AT ALL TIMES AND WOULD SOMETIMES EVEN GET LOWKEYHIGHKEY KINDA SAD WHEN YOU DONT LET HIM

prolly bc he just wants to prove to you that he can be useful

pls just let the man know he’s useful and important he never shows it directly but he needs the reassurance—

he’d give you a warm massage w his quirk whenever you’re in pain :”)

HIDES AND PROTECTS YOU FROM MINETA BC HE KNOWS DAMN WELL WHAT THAT LITTLE SHIT FANTASIZES ABOUT

loves heating//cooling things for you ,, like instant noodles or ice packs !!

surprises you w jewelry that have his initials on them !!

GIVES THE BEST CUDDLES I SWEAR

would hold an umbrella for u while you loop your arm into his as the two of you walk home through the light rain :”)

cries into your chest sometimes after youve fallen asleep bc it’s late nights like these when he reflects on just how lucky of a guy he is to have you— it’s hard for him to articulate it directly ,, but when he does fully open up to you ab it ,, you end up crying too .

WOULD 110% MAKE THE TWO OF YOU YOUR OWN PERSONAL LIL ICE RINK AND TEACH YOU HOW TO SKATE // DO FUN FIGURE SKATING DUOS WITH YOU

➪ katsuki bakugou

prolly got with you initially bc of a dare ( and he nEVER passes up a dare ) ,, but eventually those feelings started to become real and honestly ? it kinda scared the shit outta him . he didn’t know why ,, but for some reason he didnt actually want to leave .

OKAY LARA JEAN AND PETER MF KAVINSKY TYPE BEAT ( ˘ ³˘)♥︎ HIT US WITH THE FAKE RELATIONSHIP TO REAL RELATIONSHIP TROPE YESYESYES

teasingly-mean nicknames = his love language . enough said .

AGGRESSIVE !! KISSES !! ALL !! THE DAMN !! TIME !!

makes you wear his hoodie whenever you show even the sLIGHTEST hint at being cold

he just rly wants to see you in his clothes

he’s so clueless on how to do this whole boyfriend thing ,, but he’s definitely trying bc it’s for you :”)

watches and tries so desperately to copy all the cute couples in the movies you guys watch together

“ roses...do you want roses ? “ “ what ? “ “ the guy in the movie gave her roses...do you want roses too ? “

but at the end of the day you just appreciate him for who he is and that’s more than enough for you :”)

PLS DENKI AND KIRI ARE CONSTANTLY SHOCKED AT HOW MUCH HE’S TRYING FOR YOU

will take any and every opportunity to show off his strength and quirk to you <3

now we all know this man gets jealous hella easily ,, and its no different w relationships :”) he’d constantly make it a point to hold you extra close to him in public ,, show you off on social media and call you by a nickname//petname whenever possible just to reiterate to ppl the fact that you’re his and he’s yours

WOULD LET YOU SIT ON HIS LAP AND DO HIS EYELINER AT 2AM PURELY BC YOU GOT BORED

pls i could rly see myself doing that i wont lie

honestly sometimes he forgets himself and his temper gets a little out of hand ,, but the second he sees his feral reflection in your fearful eyes,, he pulls you to his chest and apologizes profusely :”))

➪ denki kaminari

MF PROLLY GOT WITH YOU BC OF A RIGGED GAME OF SPIN THE BOTTLE AT MINA’S PLACE I CANNOT SEE ANYTH HAPPENING OTHERWISE

one tiny kiss turned into two ,, which turned into three ,, and before you knew it ,, the both of you were spilling out the pent up feelings you had for one another all this time—

mina never shuts up ab it ,, she’s so proud of her matchmaking skills

when the power goes out during a storm ,, he holds onto you tight and plays w your hair as he uses his quirk to turn things back on ,,, “ shhh it’s ok,, i’m here “

will do anything and everything to make you smile <3

he has a lil album in his camera roll with all his favourite pictures of you ,, which is practically just all of them tbh ♡´･ᴗ･`♡

HE LOVES SHOWING YOU OFF IN THE MOST WHOLESOME WAY POSSIBLE !!

super energetic n bubbly but at the end of your dates he passes out right away in your arms

you make sure to wrap him up in blankets and give him an overload of kisses after he’s rly asleep though

will work embarrassingly hard to win you stuffed animals at the fair !! it doesn’t always work ,, but it’s cute nontheless <3

some of the staff and children at the fairs get pissed off but oh well ,,, what you do for love

pls he prolly makes you lil bento boxes for lunch every now and then ( ESPECIALLY DURING EXAM WEEK ) w tiny notes and designs taped on them

constantly calls you “ shawty “ lowkey un ironically and dice rolls in ur direction whenever he sees you ,,, you just end up laughing and playfully punching him

I JUST KNOW HE DOES THE F BOY LIP BITE FACE CONSTANTLY

ITS AN ADDICTION FOR HIM I SWEAR

SUPER CLINGY BUT IN THE CUTEST WAY AAAA

LIL STICKY NOTE LOVE LETTERS FROM HIM IN YOUR LOCKER EVERY !! MF !! DAY !!!

you both agreed that at home cozy netflix dates w microwave popcorn and fuzzy blankets >>> movie theatre dates

110% made a playlist for you at some point when he crushed on you from afar and shared it w you after you started dating

he made a collaborative playlist for yall AND multiple playlists of songs that remind him of you afterwards

pls i just kNOW this man’s love language is making playlists

theyre prolly all categorized by mood or smth too w the cutest covers ever pls

➪ ejirou kirishima

you initially met him bc he was hella upset and alone this one time and you were the only one to notice and be there for him bc he ran away from everyone else to hide the “ uNmanLy “ tears :”))

takes you w him on his lil gym visits ,, hypes you up with every little thing u accomplish !!

constantly teasing bakugou with how he’s able to pull you and how lucky he is to have you

bakugou gets hella annoyed most of the time and just blasts him away-

idk bro i just feel like kiri prolly calls you “ adorable “ alot i wont lie-

LOVES HAND HOLDING,, takes any opportunity to hold ur hand and trace lil casual patterns across your knuckles w his thumb

sometimes he’ll even draw lil hearts on your hand

play fighting but sometimes the two of you get too carried away and he actually loses half of the time-

LATE NIGHT GAME NIGHTS WITH HIM AND THE BAKUSQUAD,, he loves being on the team against you so he can get all competitive

OK HEAR ME OUT;;;; DANCE BATTLES W HIM AS YOUR PARTNER AGAINST RANDOM PPL AT PARTIES

mans gets hella insecure ab himself sometimes ,, so he loves doing lil things for you !! opening a can ,, pulling the blanket over you ,, zipping up your jacket <33

STOP WAIT THATS SO CUTE BYE I WANT THAT

lets you dye his hair—THATS HOW MUCH HE TRUSTS YOU BYE

pls yall prolly aggressively play wii sports and just dance against one another on a regular basis;; it’s literally your thing and you cannot tell me otherwise ahjdjfj

pls i just KNOW this man’s an overly passionate wii player

will wrap his arms around your waist and hug u from behind as you make breakfast

WOULD WEAR MATCHING EARRINGS W YOU IF ITS FOR YOU

slow dances in the living room at midnight w you !!

eventually as you spent more time together ,,, you were able to change his idea of “ manliness “ ,, and he was able to realize that manliness is not equivalent to stoicism and that expressing ur feelings is still totally manly and totally valid !! <33

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misterbitches · 3 years

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hi @yeedak thank you so m uch for replying with what you did. YAY ADHD!!!!! ur partner sounds like she rocks >:) as do u

i found it really illuminating and i agree with all of it. and god as much as i understand reticence when black people are interracially dating (it is so hard) i also hate it when people dictate it and also to a degree that it makes it extremely uncomfortable for the person themselves. to me it really is about a sense of control particularly if you are a woman. constantly trying to pick someone’s life partner for them instead of letting them find out if it’s a) something they want or even want to do b) something they can handle and c) their experience. it can purely cultural as well. my mom is a black american but my father is nigerian and that was basically a sin. however my father’s siblings? the women who had to marry extremely quickly and had to be with nigerian men or at the very least african? divorced. because they had to clamor for love for approval, pop out babies, and look what that got them. i totally understand you and your mother. and you’re right about all of it.

the idea of a man whore is so funny to me too because it’s not about sexual liberation it’s literally about them wanting to use people as disposable which is why sexual liberation for women as well can be confusing. but all of this isn’t so we can develop our own imaginations and find out our own inhibitions. like you said in all of it and i found this part very very interesting and true, “youth is for sex and no mention of asexuality.” when you get older you are not sexual, when you are a child you are unsure about it, but there’s a time in our lives where we shouldn’t waste it, where it’s only acceptable in that window, where it’s dictated. tangentially i think it’s very funny that the people we sleep with also become a point of pride. let’s say if he is a man (as a bisexual~**~ gorl) but he’s ugly, i should be ashamed, too?

so much boxing in and pushing and dictating. they really are here to spread a message. and i know things ar ehard. i can believe people ask you that but it’s still so.....weird? i remember saying something about my sexuality once and it’s not like i knew the people but then they started asking me questions and i honestly felt embarrassed and like an outsider. i dunno.

and your analogy of a mirror was perfect woaaaaaaah that’s what im gonna say now thank you so much credit to you. gENIUS!!! as real life changes, what we see changes. but media doesnt come first.

also totally agree about watching what people consume and not falling into those patterns. and when “bad” things are shown i do not understand why shows are so scared to show them as they are or not romanticize. a real issue to introduce when it comes to age gaps would be why it is frequent in the lgbtq+ community. that is a real thing because when you have to hide yourself of course you can be stuck in a state of arrested development and trying to re-establish times you may never have. that’s a geniuine fear and concern, it’s understandable even if i don’t particularly care for it, but it’s like for these writeres there’s no reason to look deeply or put that into their story. so why are they doing it? and what is the message here? uGH. and what ur mother said makes so much sense we are just constantly absorbing all these messages and culture absolutely aids to it and you’re right about the generations. and sometimes things stop and start but i genuinely think (and know) that for us to continue forward and not have the constant backwards taht means we have to push to get there and demand and that also means we have to make an effort to end the harm we then see on screen. rape culture dictates these shows. it relies on it. it is disgusting but rape culture is the norm, the norm is the oppression so we have to attack it otherwise it sticks and htat’s exactly why we see what we see.

and the unacceptability of gender fluidity is what keeps the genre SO INFLEXIBLE sincerely. it honestly just pulls so heavily from patriarchy and the roles in which we have to follow to uphold that structure.

it’s really just not enough to show us things any more wihtout taking it into consideration. and like ive mentioned there’s soooooooooo much media that has a lot to say that embeds itself. there’s this thing my friend linked me to on re-examining queerness in korean cinema (much like my dad’s country; patriarchal, more “conservative, anti lgbtq+, reliant on capital. africa is different because of the blackness component but the structures aided by colonialism absolutely remain and continue and that’s how we see such similarities. thse countries are more “overt” in this output but still you know. america. sucks) because we are trying to re-evaluate what it means to be heard and seen. the different ways and sort of the message that a lot of us as lgbtq+ can feel. you know, how we can get a feeling on if a person has our same experience, how we kind of have to learn to identify that. not sure if this makes sense...

your mom sounds really cool. and i’m fucking sorry. so many men do that. i live with both my parents but even then i see this power imbalance i can’t stand and you know i would have believed it was normal if i wasnt able to learn aand had to build up thinking skills. there was one day that it hit me that there are parts of my parents relationship i abhor, that are imbalanced, that make me find my father disgusting and make me ashamed of my mother. i don’t want that to happen to me or my potential children. if i have a male partner for life, which i am sure i will because offffffff heteronormativity and homophobia and being half black american half nigerian, he cannot recreate that. i am optimistic on what people can do without needing such grand structures or the support of the elite etc you know? that’s how we know there’s good work that exists and people we can find that arent with the status quou!!!

and who want a better world. we have to know we can rally that together. i think part of that is constant demanding of things to do better. there’s a rage against the machine song called settle for nothing and it’s about 0 compromise. there’s a famous quote i dont remember by who that’s basically like there’s an idea that there’s a limit to asking for dignity and what you deserve because when people realize they can live better lives they want to cultivate that more and more but that means a loss of control and a sharing of power from the top. nothing is ever enough if it can be better and we are allowed to demand it (or take it.) we deserve the world, we are being told that we’re asking fo rtoo much. are we? really?

i was thinking about the children thing as well bc...lmao i was so tightly contorlled as a child and it really messed me up but at the same time, like you, i honestly do not want my children watching drivel. like even with youtube. a friend of mine said that what she thinks she will do is try and hammer home how fantastical these things are, they do not reflect reality, and to get them to understand the spectacle. at the same time i’m like does a child really need to watch these dumb tiktok stars or jake paul? but then im like i really dont want to control them. but like what if ur kid asks u to go to some like fucking BL concert or some shit like what do you say to that?!??! I DONT WANNA SAY NO BUT AT THE SAME TIME UHHHHlmao but at the same time we have to give them tools to analyze and do the right things and follow their hearts

however,

as you know

LOL

tysm for responding, lovely talking to you and hearing your thoughts!!!

oh btw so u r from kashmar? that is very cool......VERY COOL

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trshmouth · 3 years

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@upshuring said: What's one habit or trait of each of the Loser's club (past or present, your pick) that really annoys him, and/or one he admires or envies? Maybe it's even one and the same?

oh this is so fun... ok letss... hold on. this will just be from a like... neutral lens without taking into account other people on here who write dynamics w/ me from different losers. i’m bad with habit related things, but we’ll touch on some general traits.

bill: i think that... richie, like much of the losers club, has a lot of respect and admiration for bill. especially when they’re just kids. this is pretty apparent in all medias, where richie will say something a bit too off-beat and then bill will give him one look and richie says something like ‘sorry bill. she’s missing’ which is a way he backs down to almost no one else. anyway.......i think that there is also truth in the fact that he hates it when bill drags them around on what richie perceives to be like... some big crusade that a) won’t bring back georgie and b) might get one of their friends killed. i often think of richie in the lancer trope, especially next to bill, and therefore i think they provide each other with good character foils. so anyway, richie hates when he perceives bill being blind to a situation’s ramifications. at the same time, he still really admires how much of a natural leader bill is and how brave he is without... really having to “try”, which is what richie is always doing a lot of. and anyway, richie has and will follow bill to the end of the stupid earth.

bev: richie thinks bev is simply the coolest. he admires her for being tough and funny, and probably envies both those things, as these are qualities that glow off her pretty genuinely. bev could have a big bruise up the side of her face and she might explain it off as no big thing. bev is always like, brave enough to do the right thing. and anyway, she tolerates a lot of his nonsense and has the sense of humour to play along with him sometimes, and he trusts her in a unique kind of way... like a lil nod of understanding between them. like she knows what he’s really saying under a joke. like if she knew a secret of his it was safe with her. in terms of what annoys him, i don’t think there is a substantial thing he’d point to. when he’s a kid he gets mildly snotty about her natural aptitude at like, all the cool stuff (me crying thinking abt when she showed him all the yo-yo tricks). but that quickly just turns into admiration as well, like if he thinks someone is cool without strings attached it’s bev.

eddie: okay well these two met and became elderly florida marrieds almost instantly, because they can both be so particular. richie is never not rolling his eyes at eddie’s neurotic ass, but also feels genuinely strongly over how eddie lets his mom convince him that all this shit is wrong with him. the eddie from the book and miniseries i feel is a lot more soft spoken as well, so in general i think richie’s biggest point of contention is that eddie perceives himself as fragile and sometimes weak, because that’s what people around him have said all his life. but richie knows he’s not, knows he can be brave and strong and keep up with everyone else, and that’s also what he admires about him. i also think that eddie is his favourite person to banter at. both general iterations of eddie can effectively clown on richie and he simply loves when someone is capable of shutting him down. eddie gets 40000 affectionatemean nicknames for a reason. richie vc: asshole (dreamy, in love)

mike: okay so mike and richie don’t get enough interactions in my opinion but also in my opinion, richie respects mike in a similar way he respects bill. hasn’t known him as long, but mike is genuinely... good in a way that richie simply cannot clown on. and cannot relate to, because richie considers himself very selfish. probably, he thinks that it was kinda weird for mike to stay in stupid derry and become like, history expert of stupid derry. he genuinely hates that mike thinks he and any of them have any responsibility toward stupid derry, and anyone living in it. but similarly with bill, it translates into why he admires mike... mike just has this hardworking sense of responsibility about him, people like mike because he’s kind and well spoken, and he doesn’t have to pretend about any of it. i think he has complicated feelings toward mike for a little bit after stan and eddie. for a while he struggles with the fact that mike would call them at all, and put everyone in danger like that. but he comes to understand why, and in the end he loves mike too, and can’t hold it against him.

ben: so we lightly bully ben because ben will let you do it, and richie is a bit of a goon sometimes as we know. however! richie i think really likes the way ben’s mind works, in terms of how ben sees information and creates from his mind (specifically how impressed he is with ben building the dam in the stream at the barrens.) he bitches about the clubhouse because he is , a bitch, but i think he’s genuinely very impressed and maybe a little jealous that ben can... think in such an organized way? richie is smart, but not in the same way ben is, so it interests him that ben can pull a blueprint out of his head like that. i think he mainly hassles ben for being too nice to people, letting them walk all over him. richie is like. no! at least pretend ur confident! stop letting people talk shit to u. stop letting me talk shit to u. you know? and it’s because he thinks ben genuinely has such a good heart and he doesn’t deserve to be walked on.

stan: stan the man the myth the legend. richie is also such a goon to stan sometimes, as a long time best friend and someone who is such a complete foil to his own persona. he hassles stan constantly for being so prim and neat and booooorrrinnnnnggg!!! but in truth, he has so much love for stan, who will always take responsibility, who sticks with them even when he’s the only sane one in the room, and even when he’s scared. there’s a time as adults, when stan obviously doesn’t show up with them, where he’s really mad at him. richie perceives that stan dipped out on them, or took the easy way out of their fight. and it’s really hard for him to deal with, until he finally can accept that stan did what he did, and in doing it thought he was doing right by the rest of the losers. and in the end that’s what stan was always trying to do. he admires the way stan thinks, perceives in a way that always seemed a lot older and wiser than any of them as kids. stan was someone who could be super pragmatic in any given situation. also one of the only people that can shut richie down effectively. he bullies stan because stan just tolerates him and isn’t even affected, but hey look. he loves stanley.

#ur such a legend for sending dev qs.... thanks for my life and letting me raaaamble #long post!#¦❥ ‛ IN MY HEAD I DO EVERYTHING RIGHT. / meta.#¦❥ ‛ NO GOOD FRIENDS. NO BAD FRIENDS. / losers.

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fuckingthefictional · 4 years

Text

Being Ada’s best friend and falling for Tommy would include.

Becoming friends with her after the boys go off to fight

Some much older lad was trying to flirt with her and Ada looked uncomfortable. So...

“Oi you stupid cunt! Can you fuck off before a bullet gets put into your head by yours truly?”

The man scarpered off after being confronted and publically humiliated

Ada recognises you from the first aid church hall thing

“Thanks for saving me back there”

“no problem us small heath girls have to stick together”

“You’re Y/N right?”

“The one and only, And you’re Ada Shelby”

The old bloke returned with some of his friends I guess not liking the idea of being humiliated by a girl

You just took the pistol from your thigh holster and aimed it at them

“Are you bloody deaf? I told you to leave, so off you fuck!”

They didn’t move so you shot the cap off of one of their heads

“I’m giving you 3 seconds you fucking bastards and not a second more.”

They fled of course

“Christ almighty i need a whiskey.”

“I know just the place.”

After that you became fast friends and became super close.

You both go to the Garrison more than you care to admit.

Ada being surprised at how well you can hold your liquor

The only time you were both pissed out of your minds was on your 18th birthday and you just ended up walking around the streets giggling and singing at the top of your lungs.

You both couldn’t look at a bottle of vodka without gagging slightly

You’re the first person who Ada properly opens up to

She talks to you about her family and boy issues she has because she feels like nobody takes her problems seriously or would be willing to listen to her

“I get so worried about my brothers. I feel like there’s a part of me missing without them here. I’m worried that they might be killed over in France.”

“They won’t.”

“Howd you know”

“Because anyone who shares blood with you, Ada Shelby, would: a) never willingly leave someone they love alone and: b) would never go down without a bloody good fight.”

You always knew what to say to make her feel better again.

You both felt like you were each other’s sisters that they never had growing up.

Like you have sleepovers all the time

“If you expect the unexpected then doesn’t that technically mean that the unexpected is expected?”

“Y/N it’s 4am go to sleep!”

One time you’d woken up a bit earlier than Ada had and you were looking at her thinking

“Damn I’m so lucky to have her as my best friend!¡”

Then she rolled over in her sleep and smacked you in the face

The first time you met Polly you nearly shit yourself

Ada has gone to the bathroom, leaving you alone at the kitchen table

“And just who might you be?”

Polly was stood at the entry way, stern, cold look on her faceface, hand by her hip ready to grab a weapon if necessary.

“I’m- um, I’m”

“Bloody hell aunt pol put the gun down, if you must know this is Y/N she saved my arse from getting raped by an old bloke.”

“Let her speak for herself Ada”

“I’m Y/N, I scared an old guy off after he tried to feel her up in a back alley.”

“ScArEd hiM ofF, you shot the cap off of his head and they bolted.”

“Why did you do that, did you think if you scared a man off then the Shelby’s owed you a favour?”

“Nope my life is just a mess and I instinctively take care of other because I don’t know how to take care of myself.”

Polly was a lot more happy to have you around after she found out about what you risked to help her niece.

It started becoming a regular occurance to have you over for dinner or a cup of tea everyday.

You just sort of walked into the Shelby house now.

“Hey- Jesus, stop screaming for fucks sake. We’ve ran out of whiskey!”

You’re an honourary Shelby girl™️

Like you would willingly help out around the house.

Whether that’s cooking breakfast, tidying Finns room, or doing the laundry.

Always being there for Ada and being her biggest support

“Y/N I’ve done something bad. Really bad.”

“Put the corpse in ice, I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

“WhaT nO?! WhY wOulD I HavE a CoRpsE?”

Obviously being close to Ada meant you got close to Finn and he became a younger brother figure.

He comes to you for advice when he’s too embarrassed to go to his aunt and sister.

This family dynamic yoooooo

You began to help the Shelby ladies to run the betting shop.

You did all the numbers and you could read and write.

You also started to teach Finn how to read.

“What does that say Finn?”

“hoo-agh”

“nO”

If you get that reference then ily

You’d get dating advice from Polly too.

“Remember as ladies it’s all about being A-B-C. Always-Be-Classy”

“And a little bit slutty!”

“Ada’s right be a little bit slutty too.”

You’d help Polly look after John’s children on Sundays when she went to church

They seriously love you. They call you Aunt Y/N/N and they look forward to seeing you every weekend.

When the boys come home from France they found the family dynamic had shifted

They obviously weren’t the same after the shit they went through.

But Ada, Polly and Finn we’re happier than they’d ever seen them be

They were having a family meeting around the kitchen table

And you walked into the house as you normally did. carrying groceries

And as you walked into the kitchen

“Who the fuck are you?”

The shelby lads are aiming their guns right at you, ready to blow your head off.

You just looked at Ada, rolling your eyes, “What is it with your family and trying to shoot me on site?”

“They like to shoot first and ask questions later.”

“Aye I can bloody see.”

You just walked around to the kitchen counter and plopped the bags of shopping down.

Polly casually gave you a glass of whiskey which you downed.

“I’m sorry but who the fuck is this random girl standing in the middle of our kitchen drinking our whiskey?”

“Y/N Y/L/N, pleasure to meet you- I assume your Arthur judging by the attitude you’re giving me.”

Polly and Ada full on snorted

“And you must be John, you look just like Katie. The kids have told be a lot about you.”

“All good things I should hope.”

“Shit there were meant to be good things?”

Polly and Ada crying with laughter

“Boys this Y/N, my best friend, the person who did all the numbers for the shop while you were away, John’s kids’ babysitter, Finn’s teacher and honourary Shelby girl.”

Tommy is just in awe even if he hides it

“Welcome to the family Miss Y/L/N”

“You can call me Y/N”

Sexual tension

“GEt a RoOm!”

“Shut it Arthur”

After a few weeks the boys got used to seeing you around the house more.

Whether it was you sat at the table with Finn giving him advice on his spelling.

Or cooking dinner for John’s little ones on a Sunday (which meant you usually had at least one child on your hip)

Or even just lounging on the sofa in a heap with Ada while you gossiped.

Your qualification in nursing often came handy when one of the Shelby men would turn up battered

“That fucking hurt”

“Aye- you should have thought about this before you got into a fistfight.”

Out of all the Shelby’s it was of course Tommy that took the longest to start a full conversation with you

When it happened it wasn’t under the best circumstances

You went to the pictures on a date with a guy you had fancied for ages and the guy in question was snogging someone else- leaving you in the rain for an hour

You banged on the Shelby’s door looking like an absolute mess.

And Tommy opened the door

He didn’t know what he was supposed to do

Ada was not there *cough* at Freddie’s *cough*

And the house was empty apart from Finn, John’s kids and Polly (who was putting the children to bed)

So you just pushed past Tommy who was stood in the doorway dumbfounded

At this point you were shivering from the cold rain and the tears had stopped.

“Now what’s got you knocking on our door this late ‘ey Y/N.”

“Date went wrong, fucker stood me up.”

You were downing whiskey.

Tommy as much as he didn’t want to admit it hated seeing you upset and he knew you deserved better

It took a while for you to notice that Tommy had draped a blanket around your shoulders and had lit the fire to try and get you warmed up

“Forget the fucker. He don’t deserve a gal like you.”

“Thanks Tommy.”

In the morning Polly came down the stairs to find you and Tommy curled up on the sofa together.

She lowkey rooted for yous to get together

Honestly you found yourself constantly covering for Ada saying she was staying at your house when actually she was with Freddie

Because ur a great friend

“has anyone seen our Ada today?”

“Aye she slept at mine last night and we were up most of the night so I let her sleep in.” Definitely not at Freddie’s

“Up all night, that sounds kin-OW”

“If you must know Johnny boy- we were chatting shit about people- mainly you.”

“Uncalled for.”

“Why there’s so much to talk about?”

You were always involved in covering for Ada

Because your cared about her happiness- which was heavily influenced by her love life.

But actually Ada and Polly paid close attention to your love life too with Tommy

When you Polly and Ada were sat in the kitchen having a catchup- they raised the question.

“When are you going to realise that my brother’s in love with you?”

*que tea being spat out* WHAT

Polly just rolled her eyes and smiled, “dear Y/N, its almost obvious that Thomas is falling for you.”

“What the fuck?”

I think you may have been in a constant state of shock after that.

“We broke Y/N.”

Like you couldn’t quite pinpoint when you started to fall for Tommy

But Tommy definitely remembered the time he knew he was in love with you

You were in the kitchen, with John’s youngest child on your hip- making dinner for all the kids.

While Finn was sat at the table trying to read out bits of a book you’d lended him.

Tommy was stood in the entryway watching as Finn struggled to pronounce some of the harder words and you’d just wander over and explain how to do it.

Like to Tommy family is the most important thing in his life.

You’re not blood related but you still gave up your spare time to look after John’s kids, teach Finn to read or even just comfort Ada after a fight with Freddie.

And Tommy admires you for that- you sacrificed a lot in order to care for his family.

So he’s just leant on the doorframe, cigarette between his lips, watching as you got everything ready for dinner.

And he just thought “she’s gonna be my wife and mother to my children someday”

#peaky blinder headcanon #peakyblinders #peaky blinder imagine #peaky blinders #tommy shelby #john shelby #arthur shelby #polly gray #ada shelby #finn shelby #shelby #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby x you #ada shelby x bestfriend!reader #cillian murphy #thomas shelby #thomas shelby x reader

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mychemicalaromanticism · 3 years

Text

things ive already established r on this post

besties this got so fucking long but heres a giant ramble about cherri

okay so. there are huge differences betwn cherri as a hyperviolent drac hunter and cherri as a friend of the four and cherri as the girls mentor. with the first one he was 17 and desperate to distance himself from his upbringing so he went all in on Being A Killjoy. he was always one of the first ppl to rush into a fight and he fought hard. he blew up his fuckin hand with that attitude. and all the while he was just racking up more unaddressed trauma and eventually he ran away from that, too. giving himself radiation poisoning was more appealing than facing his problems.

so as a teenager/young adult hes kind of constantly in a panicked state. hes scared the people from his past are going to find him and drag him back with them. so he lashes out and he runs away over and over again.

i said in another post that he has some past life shit goin on which usually would give him a connection to the witch that manifests early in life, but with all the stuff hes gone through he has been Preoccupied. he can become oblivious to almost anything that doesnt apply to whatever hes focused on. not in a hyperfocus way its likeeeeee. when u live on survival mode during prolonged periods of stress. hes immune to magic bullshit bc hes too tired and scared.

anyways around his mid-20s he finally has a little more stability (as much as the average person living in the zones can have, that is) and he finally notices that Weird Stuff happens around him. basically: out of my list of Powers People Connected To The Witch Have he has the prophetic dreams/enhanced intuition as well as a form of sensing ghosts where he can see auras and kind of like, echoes of past events in ppls lives. that look like auras. itz complicated and not of utmost importance so im leaving it at that.

anyways thats what makes him start writing poetry. just 4 funsies he'll describe his weird experiences and embellish them to make em pretty. just as a casual hobby n all that.

he would forget fun ghoul in between the times they ran into each other but its pretty easy to be reminded of who fun ghoul is. the most insane 10 year old cherri has ever met. cherri isnt a brother figure to ghoul. hes just. his friend that happens to be more than twice his age. its whatever lmao

to cherri, ghoul is kinda like a stray animal he keeps seeing. which is hilarious. ghoul actually goes and finds him to introduce him to jet when they start running together, and cherri meets party and kobra (spark and birdie at the time) when he drives the four of them to a party. because he has a truck hell yeah. so now instead of one stray animal he has, like, a feral cat colony that he drives around occasionally. i have no real-life human relationship equivalent to them because irl if some guy that is not related to any of you and isnt even a childhood or family friend and theyre hanging out with you? they are usually not a safe person lmao. but this is my fantasy land and im too stubborn to change anyones birth years even though ghoul being born in 2004 makes everything really hard to make not creepy.

so yeah hes a casual somewhat friend of the fab four. hed probably get more and more concerned as they got famous. the beginnings of any sort of protective feelings, awww :) that sets him up for becoming the girls mentor.

OH FUCK. THE GIRL..... i think if i was in my late 20s and i heard that the gang of 13-17 year olds had adopted a 5 year old kid i would go bananas. what the fuck. it is a LONG while before cherri meets her. but he has the strongest affection for ghoul (if you could even call it that) and ghoul absolutely adores the girl and swings her around under her arms like a cat to show her off to cherri and its very endearing and the girl is sweet and funny so its easy to be around her. and (unfortunately) she is somewhat used to interacting with weird easily agitated people so she kinda gives him space. cherri isnt quite the uncle figure the fandom usually makes him (i luv uncle cherri sm but he simply cannot exist in the universe ive created, f), but hes a little similar.

and then the four had to go and pretend to die. lol.

when the girl was kidnapped, fucking everyone who knew her was ready to storm the city then and there. like regardless of how little you knew her, if you had ever met her you would fucking die for her. she is pure childish charisma and shes precious. i love the girl. so cherris immediately on board with whatever plan the four make to get her back. ive already talked abt how it fucked up the girl tho; there was no way to tell her that the four werent actually dead, she sees the building collapse and she shuts down. and cherri has to fight against his instinct to leave the radio station and never come back when he sees an eight year old girl sitting dissociated on the couch. that fucks everyone up.

i just realized i havent talked about literally anyone else at the radio station. i think cherri started lingering around the station bc it was safe and sheltered while also not being a popular spot. there are less kids there (people pass through but its not a hangout spot). he was kind of just hanging around to get away from the heat and noise and dr d took notice. because that man can see ur soul and no one knows if thats literal or not. so theyd chat a few times a day and show pony was the one 2 get him out of his shell a little and also was the first one he mentioned his poetry hobby to. im making this all up right now as im writing bc i dont know anything about LITERALLY any of the ppl associated w the radio like im not even going 2 try with chimp n newsie i do not have the willpower to tackle all that. justttt. cherri pony n D become bros and live 2gether there.

back 2 the regular timeline. the rescue mission happens in 2019. the girl lives at the station until 2023. during that time she is very much depressed and withdrawn and is only happy when the four come to visit. none of the Adults know how to help her so they just keep her safe and cared for and hope she'll open up to them.

she does not. she takes the weird cat thats been hanging around and she runs away.

cherri does not see her for three years. shes still worse for wear in the mental health department and he can see all kinds of visions of what shes been through since the last time he saw her and he fucking hates the ultra vs bc they remind him of his past. he does not want her going down that path but its obvious that she isnt crazy abt the ultraviolence thing either so thats a relief.

they have a kind of tense relationship throughout the comics. he feels like he failed her and that spirals into feeling like he failed the four for not being a good adult to them and fun ghoul for not helping enough when his commune was bombed and all kinds of shit and that irrational thinking mixed with plain old, yknow, caring about the girl, is what makes him take a bullet (laser. whatever) for her.

i was trying to figure out the timing of each of their ghost experiences, but i want both of them to talk to the witch and im just gonna make it like dreams where a whole buncha stuff happens but irl its been like seconds. so its like barely a second while the girl has her Witch Convo and cherri FINALLY gets a straight answer, yes there is weird shit going on with him having powers. he doesnt have any story-significant past lives because im lazy, hes just an old soul. like really fuckin old. the amount of latent life experience and stuff his soul/energy/whatever has picked up along the way makes him VERY noticeable to gods n stuff. he fuckin lights up all the alarms like what the FUCK is that over there. she wasnt rly able to get to him or even properly notice him while he was a kid and a young adult so shes happy to finally see him again. he has a STRONG sense of familiarity with her. they know each other on a wild ass level that he cant really comprehend.

welp thats some more lore I'll have 2 think abt. anywayz

post canon is when he and val get to have the most awkward spiderman meme moment of realizing that they have the same trauma SOOOOO thatz fun lol /s sorry kings i thought it would be fun to give u something fucked up to bond over <3

not much changes in his personality. he has a better understanding of Weird Magic and delights in freaking out the ultra vs but for the most part he returns to his life at the radio station. i love him

THIS GOT SO CRAZY LONG I DID NOT MEAN 2 GO THROUGH EVERY PART OF HIS LIFE LIKE SOME WEIRD CHARACTER STUDY but here we are. this is basically a first draft like almost all of this is subject to change but u gotta start somewhere. so heres my start i love this guy. its probably obvious but i have not read ANY twitterverse killjoys stuff </3 maybe i will someday idk

#cat talks #lore #ok2rb but what a mess this post is

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steponmepinkjun · 3 years

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I NEVER FINISHED MY STORY OMG. ok so i left off at being too proud to tell my friend she was right and kpop fucked hard. the difference between u and me is that i’m too good of a liar. too good. i kept up the “i hate kpop it’s cringe” facade for ALMOST TWO WHOLE YEARS, I SHIT YOU NOT. why? bc my dumb ass, extra ass, dramatic ass self thought “ok if i’m gonna have to deal with the embarrassment of admitting i’m wrong, i better do it in such an extra ass way it’ll knock ur socks off so hard that YOULL be the one embarrassed not me.” the original plan was to learn the entire choreography to bts dope, bc it’s the song that she told me to listen to and inevitably the song that got me into them, but later switched to bts fire bc i saw too many of those “choreo matches w any song” videos, and then her birthday party came up. and here’s the real kicker. her birthday is April Motherfuckin Fools. so it would be So Perfect for me to reveal my kpopism as a birthday present And a april fools prank in one. so i was Set on the Reveal being on april 1st, but the day rolls around and god that choreo is so fucking hard and i am Not a dancer. never have been. so i abandon that and go ykno what… i’ll do it Next Year. BC MY BITCHASS WAS LIKE NO THE MOMENT IS TOO PERFECT TO DO IT ON A NORMAL ASS DAY ITS GONNA BE ON APRIL FOOLS ON HER GODDAMN BIRTHDAY OR NOT AT ALL. a year rolls by, i’ve told most of our friends except her and they’re all in on it, i’d made so many subtle kpop references to her without her realising they were fully intentional and had too many scares where she almost figured me out but i lied my way out of it, and i’d given up on showing off with choreography bc i couldn’t make that shit look good. i’m not a dancer. i am, however, a rapper, and a damn good one, so i inhaled the agust d mixtape and decided i’d just rap the eminem of kpop’s anthem at her face. in korean. and change the lyrics at the end (if u haven’t listened to agust d, the bridge repeats “i’m sorry” a lot) to “i’m sorry i kept this from u for so long” and “i’m sorry i actually ult got7 not bts” (this was like the april after skz debuted ok i was holding onto got7 for dear life knowing full well skz we’re going to convert me smh) and the best part? she never saw it coming. her official present was a cd with a bunch of kpop on it but she thought it was just a personalised mixtape for her so i told her to play the first song out loud and she knew the song Instantly. it has a long intro so she was like “i guess u did listen when i recommended u this song!! i knew you’d like it since u like rap so much!!” and then i started rapping and i shit u not. she started SCREAMING. like the initial reaction was her jaw dropping and then instinctively covering her mouth but when i kept going and she realised i wasn’t fucking around she just fucking screamed like a banshee. at the end during the sorry bit i threw off my jacket to reveal a got7 shirt on the inside and she fell off her chair and started rolling around on the floor. needless to say it was every bit as satisfying as i thought it’d be LMAOOOO afterwards her ass was like “I CANT BELIEVE U HID THIS FROM ME FOR OVER A YEAR” and when i tried to explain my ego couldn’t take the “i told u so” she was like “you know i wouldn’t have made fun of you for it right? i would just be glad you’re not hating on my boys anymore” so basically i’m a big dramatic fool and she was always too good for me.

don’t mind the weird spaces here my ipad is being all fucky wucky w me rn. damn sad to hear ur sideblog experience didn’t go so well, i’d have shown u the cool side of the fandom if i knew 😤😤 leading u thru the cursed halls of kpop stan tumblr like a sketchy tour guide that’s actually 3 small raccoons stacked on top of each other like a trench coat, like “over here we have the fanfic writers that honestly need to publish a book, over here we have the gif makers that are responsible for my entire camera roll, if we take a quick swerve past the death threat anons and the twt fanwar screenshots - mind ur feet bub the 14 year olds were tryna make a grab for ur ankles - ah here’s the holy grail of shitposts, you might be here for hours, to the right we have the weird aussie side of the fandom that projects our childhoods onto chanlix but also all the members as we decide what their life in australia would’ve been like, and down there is a secret trapdoor to the blogs w endless random headcanons that will make you laugh, cry or blush depending on if the author woke up and decided to choose violence today. enjoy your Stay!” but then again i’m not so active on tumblr anymore (ngl you’ve become the highlight of my tumblr experience these days, interaction wise,) so maybe all my Local Hotspots are inactive now. i know a bunch of them are, it’s sad. “i don’t fw stan twitter for the same reason i don’t hang out in meth dens” oop. guess i’m a meth addict. no but i get u i rly do, it’s a hellhole out there, but the fact that things get shared and spread a lot easier than on tumblr and how short most things have to be (therefor keeping up w my adhd attention span without having to resort to the mental torture that is tiktok, with the added bonus of not always needing headphones.) that i just. couldn’t leave if i tried. maybe i should try being active on tumblr again but it’s a dying site in comparison.

“their music doesn’t consistently hit for me as much as skz” i’m sorry we can’t be friends anymore. what. what. you don’t dramama ramama ramama hey? you don’t feel a little jealousyyyyyy, naega anin? you don’t shoot out, shoot out, shoot out, or aremdaeun love killa love killa? you can’t be your hero du du du du du du du du du dududu? u disappoint me. literally like everyone i know who likes skz music likes mx music like it’s a rite of Passage. they’re kindred spirits, monsta x music is like skz’s music’s cool but mildly heterosexual older brother. neither of them know what a bad song is it runs in the family. and both their music runs in my VEINS. whenever i describe my music taste they’re always the first two that come to mind, skz being my number 1 bc they are my best boys but mx bc of the Flavour. pls listen to the entire the code album then get back to me 😤🙌 ok but fr ur so right they are 7 of the finest men i ever seen (yes i say 7 bc i’m including wonho cause he deserved better and i’ll die on my ot7 bullshit.) like don’t get me started on them either LOL i LITERALLY downloaded that one insta video of changkyun working out his back n arm muscles w his tattoo showing bc i needed that shit saved for Science. they could do Anything w me like frfr. yes vixx is the bdsm contract group i’m telling ya they wildin. or at least they were. it’s been years since their last comeback idk what they’re doing anymore tbh. and yeah that makes sense, savouring the hyperfixation i feel it, but also i’m so attached to skz that i never let it die. like i hyperfixate on other things and other groups but i will Always go back to skz cause they’re my homeboys. hell, they’re my home. being a predebut stay i’ve spent more time w skz than most of my actual family members at this point. but that’s just me you do u boo xx just know that if ur anything like me ur never letting go once skz it’s been my longest lasting fixation cause they hit like Nothing Else Do. ik i’ve already said that but i cannot stress it enough. they’re really special. i’m gonna stop here before i get all sappy and emotional bc i really love those boys so fucking much and i don’t drop the L bomb often. SIDE NOTE I WOULD LIKE TO SEE UR LIST OF GROUPS RANKED BY THORSt. i need to judge ur Taste. and omg cat&dog is such a guilty pleasure song bc the lyrics make me cringe so much bc while pet play can be fun they be doing it in more of an “i’m an innocent soft dogboy uwu” kinda way that just Does Not Sit Right with me. it comes back to the objectifying of asians that asians themselves don’t help in industries like these and maybe i’m looking too far into it when rly it is just wholesome n cute or maybe they are into some pet play shit idk idc i will bop to the song regardless but i will not acknowledge the lyrics nope.

YOURE RIGHT THO SKZ’S OPENNESS IS IN FACT, A BIG DEAL, i’ll grab them for u if u want but i found these twt threads of skz supporting the lgbt community and i just felt a special kind of happiness man like sure the delusional part of me likes going “haha they’re gay” bc my brain likes to imagine them as my polycule of mlm boyfriends bc sometimes thats what gives me the serotonin to get me thru the day ok don’t judge but also bc it’s nice knowing that yes i’ll never know them personally, but at least i can support them knowing they’d respect my gender identity and my pronouns, they’d respect who i choose to love, and that’s already more than the general public can say so shit, it is special! it’s special that they don’t treat being cishet like the norm - they constantly remove gender from their songs and speech entirely, they don’t assume all stays are female anymore, we don’t talk abt the babygirls incident cause we got babystays in the end outta that ok, and it’s just. so refreshing and important to me bc i can’t get that anywhere else!! like my semi ults are the boyz and while i love them very much and there’s no way all 11 of them are straight i refuse, i do get just a little bit sad whenever they she/her their fandom by default and call them their girlfriends n shit even tho i do still identify as a girl, i’m also genderfluid/nonbinary/transmasc, and i have a very love/hate relationship w my womanhood and rarely use she/her pronouns, cause it’s like, do you not see me? see us? the ones who aren’t cishet women? i mean i know kevin does bc he congratulated a fan who came out as nb but it’s just not the same as the openness we get w skz. like how do i trust cishets i could be supporting them as a queer person when in reality they’d call me a slur. what would i know, behind the screen? so it’s so good that skz go the extra mile to make it a safe space for everyone. this is already long enough i will reply to the second half of that ask in another message… tomorrow cause it’s 1am and i’m tired gn -felix bi anon

I'mma have to start putting these under a readmore so that i don't absolutely make everything who is still following me for some reason go totally fucking insane 😂

NDJDHWJJAHFNAKBSJSBFBHHDBDNAJD YOU HAVE NO IDEA THE FACES I WAS MAKING READING THIS, I WAS FUCKING CACKLING AND GASPING EVERY OTHER SENTENCE SO HARD THAT I SCARED THE CATS NDJWHSHSB the fact that you went "oh you want me to get into kpop? Give me a hot minute, and I'll give you a whole ass private concert for free" biduehsjdbd biiiiiiiiiiitch you're a fucking ICON, I stg I could NEVER 😂 (and not just because I couldn't find a tune if you gave me a printed set of Google maps directions and that I embody the steriotype that white people can't dance, like my sister kept sensing me tiktoks of the whole "dance like a white girl" trend going lmfao look it's you and eventually I was like "sis please this trend has me feeling like being white is a disability and these mothafuckers are being ableist 😭 also I could NEVER be that on beat so yall ain't even doin it right 😭😭😭😭"). Tbh if I told one of my friends (lol what friends, i got jokes) to get into Skz and they showed up at my bday and performed the entirety of I Got It I would simply shower them in money and go "aight everyone else go home, you are no longer needed, you are being laid off, your position has been eliminated, we're downsizing, the company is moving up and you're moving out, you are not qualified for this role any longer, best of luck with future endeavors" 😊

I think part of the reason I can't deal w Twitter is the exact reason I refuse to leave tumblr, in that I've been on tumblr since 2006 and twt since 2008, and tumblr literally has not changed at all, not even a little, whereas going from the early days of twt where there were no corporate sponsorships or ads and you had to manually copy and paste someone's tweet and @ them to retweet it, to how it is now, like 90% ads and showing me shit from the timelines of people I don't even fuckin follow n whatnot, it's just not enjoyable. Idk how anyone finds anything on twt, it confuses and frustrates me because I am old and have not adapted well to technology changing 😂 But arguably, the skz fanbase doesn't want me on skztwt anyways so like it works for both of us lmfaooo. I am old and cringey, and also still think of twt as stream of consciousness whereas tumblr is your teenage bedroom where you can decorate the walls with anything that interests you. I do really love the nonsensical kpoptwt shitposts tho fhshsbdjjss like it is a very specific flavor of mental instability that I enjoy immensely 😂 OH and also I initially misread part of that and thought you were saying you actually irl do meth and I was like 😳 WHAT DO I SAY TO THAT. HOW DO I HANDLE THIS. Like how do I express like "I wasn't being judgy of people who use substances cause I've been there but I was just being insensitive 😳" And then went back and reread it and was like WHEW, IM JUST AN ILLITERATE FOOL 😂😂😂😂 ejeywhdhrhjwbfbdjshdhdhd I spent like an hour bwign like "IS THE REASON WE GET ALONG BECAUSE THEY'RE ON METH???? WHAT DO I DO WITH THIS INFORMATION??????" hrhehshe I am literally a fuckin idiot it's fine

It's not that I don't fw them, it's more like... Okay so like there is no situation in which I am going to skip a skz song if it comes on shuffle. You will not ever catch me NOT in the mood to listen to Sunshine, if God's Menu comes on we are THROWIN the meager amount of booty meat I got hither and thither, I could be in the happiest mood of my life but if Ex comes on I will stop to SOB. And I'm not like that with most music, so mx just falls into the category of "there is a time and place." Idk why but it just doesn't forcibly grab hold of my heart and ass the way skz always does. I really don't WANT my skz fixation to ever end, but I know that eventually it'll stop giving me dopamine bevause my brain is my worst fucking enemy 🙃 like my arcana fixation is to date the longest running hyperfixation I've ever had, going on almost three years, and I used to not be able to spend every single second of every day thinking about Asra, but now... I just feel nothing when I look at arcana stuff. As you can probz tell by the fact that I hardly post arcana anymore 😂 So I know that eventually all my happiness will end, it always does, I can never stay just as obsessed with something as I was for long. I CANT SHARE THE LIST BECAUSE I DONT *HAVE* TASTE YET 😭 I'm basically just compiling a list of any group someone tells me I should look into, ranked by how strong the kitty purred upon googling pics of them 😂 My mom read my ass to FILTH over txt lmfao she was like "they're not that adorable. Maybe your standard for adorableness has gone down with You Know Who still on hiatus 🤔" bfjwhdhd like MOMMAAAAA THE LIBRARY IS CLOSED 😂 she attacks me any time I even hint at stanning other groups, she is a skz purist and stans skz only, unofficial Momma Stay of All Stays keeping me in check lmfao.

I feel like skz really do follow thru on their promise that they're a safe space for stays, it's nice to see that they hold space for anyone and everyone in their fanbase and do it in a really simple and elegant way, I feel. Like they never make it seem like "okay here are the fans and here are the token weirdos that were only recognizing to make a buck off of them" the way a lot of artists make it feel like 😑 like they don't go out of their way to act like it's some revolutionary act to do the bare minimum of not shitting on certain parts of the fandom, if that makes sense. They feel very "yeah, of course we love all our stays, this is a welcoming space for literally anyone, that's how it should be, that should be normal," instead of like "Hi fans we love you 😊 and special shoutout to you ell gee bee tee folk, make sure to buy my rainbow merch after the show!!!" you know? Like, they're the friends who would never make you feel weird or different for some shit, the friends that take the attention off you if something they know ur sensitive about comes up, instead of weirdly snapping at whoever brought the unfomfy thing up which ruins the mood and makes you feel tiwce as bad, yk? They just give off this vibe that they, and the space they create with their music, is just a genuine and chill place to be and hang out and relax and bond. I feel like they'd be the friend group that is so goofy and sweet and silly and accepting and lovely and always makes you feel loved and excited to be alive 🥺 They are all good noodles 🥺🥺🥺

#felix-bi-anon #asksteppie

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bangtan-gal · 5 years

Text

Consequences

Hwang Hyunjin x Fem!reader fallen angel!au word count: 2.3k warnings: swearing, angst, fluff, mentions of past abuse, mentions of toxic relationships

Masterlists Other Angel AUS: Chan | Jisung |

Your neighborhood was constantly infested with crime and gangs. You were used to the gunshots at midnight, the constant screaming, and the car alarms going off. So that must’ve been why you were so calm when the bloody body appeared on your doorstep and didn’t call the police. The rules of the neighborhood were commonly known: keep your mouth shut and you won’t get hurt.

Blood splattered across the white tiles and stained your couch as you struggled to drag the body into your house. Part of you knew that you should’ve just left the boy outside to just rot, but you still had your heart. You just prayed that you could get him patched up and out before your boyfriend came back home.

Just as you knelt down beside him, washcloth and isopropyl alcohol in head, your phone started to ring. You stared at it, watching as your mom’s caller ID flashed wildly. You wanted to answer, your hands started to shake because of it, but you couldn’t find it in yourself. You were more scared of the consequences.

You started wiping the cuts and scratches on his face, staring at the pale skin that appeared beneath all the blood and dirt. As you continued on, silently bandaging up his arm and disinfecting the cut on his eyebrow and lip, he started to stir. A grumble escaped and he started to shift.

Then as fast as lightning, he sat up, hand wrapping around your wrist and eyes turning to you. His eyes were dark, but they seemed to be glowing green from the small slants of sunlight peering through the window. His dark brown hair was matted to his face from the sweat.

“Where am I?” He asked. He didn’t even seem phased from his current injuries. He should’ve been slightly light-headed, but he seemed completely fine.

It made no sense.

“Um… in my apartment?” You mumbled, pulling out of his tight grip. “You were passed out and all bloody on my doorstep.”

His mouth opened in an ‘O’ and then a sad sigh escaped him. He looked down at his fingers, flexing them. He brought his knees up to his chest and cleared his throat. Fear was burning in his eyes. You found yourself actually feeling bad for this one.

“I’m Hyunjin,” he hummed, holding out a hand. You shook it, staring at him, still in confusion.

“Y/N…” you trailed off, “do you know how you got here?” “Father banished me,” he stated simply, standing up. Then he groaned and fell back onto the couch, clutching his head. You pursed your lips.

“Your… father banished you?” You asked, voice growing quieter. Was he younger than he looked? Was it possible he was like you and living in an environment he didn’t belong in?” His eyes met yours and his expression softened and you could see some ancient sadness brimming in their depths.

“It’s hard to explain,” he muttered. His stomach rumbled and his gaze darted downwards. His hand worriedly patted his stomach.

“I’ll get you some food,” you sighed.

He frowned. “I’ve never had to eat before.”

You didn’t hear that last statement as you hurried into the kitchen. You made a bowl of cereal and brought it to him. Confusion was evident on his face as he stared at the bowl in his lap. Although he wasn’t a child, you treated him like one as you scooped up a spoonful and moved it towards his mouth. His eyes met yours as his lips wrapped around the spoon and he slowly swallowed. After that, he took the food from you and practically inhaled it.

As he did, you turned your attention to your phone Two text notifications sat on the lock screen and your stomach started to revolt. You let out a shaky breath and unlocked your phone, reading over the message.

DK: I won’t be back in town for a week

DK: And you know the rules baby, none of them should be broken

“You’d let someone treat you like that?” The question startled you. You snapped your phone off and dropped it in your lap. The boy stared over your shoulder, eyes focused on where your phone sat. It made no sense, but he looked angry. He took a slow breath and then leaned away from you.

“You shouldn’t intrude on others privacy like that,” you scolded, standing up. His gaze followed you.

“You’re no one’s pet, Y/N.”

You froze, fingers tightening around your phone. That was what you used to tell yourself every night before you went to bed until your hope was crushed under the toe of that horrible man’s shoe. Sometimes you swore that you heard someone whisper that in your ear in your darkest moments.

“Who exactly are you?” You asked. Hyunjin stood up and this time he didn’t collapse back onto the couch. He staggered towards you, clutching his stomach as he did so.

“Your guardian angel.”

Then he passed out again and smacked his head against the carpet.

⧪⧪⧬⧪⧪

When he came to again, it was dinner time and just like before, the boy was starving. You didn’t ask about whatever nonsense he had mumbled before his accident. You just fed him and yourself, the both of you silent as you ate. Hyunjin was like a vacuum the way he consumed food. One second it was there and the next it was sucked into the void that was him.

“And we always made fun of humans for eating excessively,” he groaned after he finished. This time you stared at him, your brain struggling to wrap itself around exactly what was happening.

“What?” Hyunjin’s gaze was sharp when it met yours.

“I told you didn’t I? I’m your guardian…” then he trailed off, eyes going down to stare at his hands. “Or at least I used to be.”

You stood up, clasping your hands together. Your body was visibly shaking and your teeth were working vigorously on your bottom lip. That wasn’t possible. It was logic, it was law. God didn’t exist. Angels didn’t exist and neither did demons.

But what ab—

“I’m going to bed, there’s an extra bedroom down the hall,” you said. Hyunjin opened his mouth to interrupt you, but your voice grew sharper. Then you hurried to your bedroom, changing into pajamas quickly and covering your mouth as you struggled to muffle your sobs.

Eventually you fell asleep and you weren’t sure what time it was when someone delicately knocked at your door. You roused from your sleep, watching as the door creaked open and Hyunjin stepped inside. The moon outlined his body as he approached the bed and knelt down beside you.

“I’m sorry if I scared you,” he apologized. You squinted into the dark, trying to see the supposed angel that sat just a foot away.

“It’s not the first time,” you replied softly. You weren’t any calmer, but you forced yourself to keep an outer composure. “Are you actually an angel?”

Hyunjin was silent but you could hear him moving. The bed dipped as he sat on the edge and his fingers traced along your arm. They were soft and delicate and his touch was sending shivers down your spine.

“I don’t know,” he whispered. There was no sense of worth in his voice. “I chose humans over my duties and now… I’m actually here.”

You reached for the lamp, blinking as light flooded your room. Hyunjin perched on the edge of your bed, chin resting on his knees. The green in his eyes had disappeared and his eyes were almost completely black. His mouth was set in a grim line and his eyes were focused on the window. There was a longing in his eyes; a longing that you’d seen hundreds of times in the mirror.

The want to escape.

“Ok,” you started slowly, “let’s say you are an angel. Why are you here? How’d you get all hurt? Can’t you just leave?”

Hyunjin stared at his hands and then shook his head.

“I was banished by my Father. I didn’t have a choice of coming here… and the fall from heaven is far. I-I fe…” His gaze moved to you. A million emotions seemed to swell on his face; sympathy, longing, sadness… and something that seemed almost loving. You sat up on your elbows, cheeks starting to flush.

“Why did you fall?” “You… I fell for you,” he murmured, “I saw all this abuse and I wanted to step in and I tried… but Father stopped me. I got mad, I screamed at him and tried to hurt him. It just made no sense: what’s the point of having guardian angels if we can’t even do anything to physically protect you?” He was crying. Hyunjin sniffled and wiped at his eyes, lips quivering. His whole body was shaking as he covered his face, trying to hide himself from you.

“Chan got away with it, he managed to save his… and then escaped Father’s wrath,” he sobbed, “I t-thought I could do and instead you’ve suffered so much because of my failures.”

You knew you should’ve comforted him; you wanted to. But you were just frozen as you stared at the boy in front of you. There’s no way this was real. Yet the look in his eyes screamed that it was and that he was actually hurt because of your misfortunes. He kept wiping the tears away only for his cries to become louder.

“I’ve failed you Y/N, I’m really sorry,” he gasped out. You fully sat up and shook your head. It didn’t matter how crazy this was. You saw someone trying to take the blame for something they couldn’t control.

“It’s not your fault, Hyunjin, you couldn’t have done anything about it,” you mumbled, “if that was your rules, you couldn’t break them.”

Hyunjin shook his head adamantly.

“But I could’ve.”

You glanced at the clock and saw that it was near two in the morning.

“Hyunjin, I’m worried, I really am… but if you’re human now you need sleep,” you sighed, “we should get some sleep and then we can talk about it in the morning?”

He wiped away another round of tears and nodded.

“C-can I stay in here?” He asked, not meeting your stare. You nodded, too tired to care as you rolled over and made space for him. Hyunjin slid in beside you and went still. You glanced over your shoulder at him, guilt tugging at your heart when you saw his tear-stained face. His eyes jumped to yours when your hand wrapped around his and squeezed.

“I promise nothing is your fault,” you murmured.

Hyunjin didn’t reply.

⧪⧪⧬⧪⧪

Morning came quickly and you taught Hyunjin how to make pancakes. He was almost like a little puppy the way he stood at your side, eyes wide as he watched everything you did. The two of you ate in silence and then he proposed the idea. So that was how you ended up in a car, cruising down the main street.

“How do you know where he is?” You asked nervously, eyes flitting around the area. You rarely left the apartment and it must’ve been so long that you turned into a hermit. Just the idea of leaving gave you anxiety and you were sure you were about to start crying any second.

“I mean… I lost my abilities, but I know what an angel aura feels like… and Chan’s was special,” he explained, “he came and talked to me the night he came to earth and told me where he was going if I ever wanted to see him.”

He stared out the window and then pointed to a building.

“There.”

You felt nervous as you parked and stepped out of the car. It was a library and it smelled of dust as you stepped inside. Hyunjin didn’t even stutter as he marched through the aisles of books and then stopped. You nearly bumped into him and then you looked around him. A blonde boy sat at a table, reading a book and sipping out of a mug. Something weird and powerful radiated from him and you could feel the belief start to set itself deeper into you.

Hyunjin had desperately wanted to see Chan and although you hadn’t been sure, you could hear the need in his voice. You wondered if seeing Chan would help him realize it wasn’t his fault. When you’d woke up in the morning, Hyunjin had been crying again. If Chan helped, you would take it.

“Channie!” Hyunjin whisper-shouted and started to walk towards the table. The blonde looked up, eyes momentarily sparking green and then he smiled when he saw Hyunjin. The sun was bouncing off his skin and he practically looked like he was glowing. Chan stood up and hugged Hyunjin. When he stepped back, his gaze skimming over Hyunjin, his smile stammered.

“Your powers are gone,” he said. His eyes sharply looked up to see you spying from the corner. His gaze darted back to Hyunjin. “What happened?” Hyunjin turned around and waved you over. Your body was vibrating as you made your way towards them, avoiding Chan’s inquisitive stare. You stood as close as you could to Hyunjin, unable to explain why you felt nervous around the other angel. His eyes burned into you, the green starting to grow deeper. Then it faded and he smiled sadly, looking at Hyunjin.

“You fell for a human,” Chan hummed.

Your mouth opened slightly and it hit you. The reason Hyunjin fell wasn’t because of his fire to protect you. He fell because of the intention behind it. You stared at him, watching as his eyes flickered and he glanced over at you. Sure, he fell from heaven for you, but first he fell in a different way.

He fell in love with you.

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ifandomalot · 4 years

Note

steve rogers realizing he's in love with y/n and he's suddenly nervous around her and honestly scared of loving someone again? i love ur writing!

Thank you so much!!!

It came out of no where, actually more like the deep, dark pits of hell itself. Love meant pain, speaking from experience, considering the only two people he ever loved were ripped from his grasp, of course when he found Bucky was alive, it was amazing, but sometimes all Steve remembers when he sees Buck’s face is how much it truly did break his heart, the tears cried for him, and is reminded that he can happen again. Steve was never one to get embarrassed, even before becoming a super-solider, he would take beatings on beating, never ashamed, just small.

Now his veins pumping with strength, spreading throughout his whole body making his muscles also show for it. He was a large man, at least 6′3, large broad shoulders packed with muscles that carved into the cream swells of his chest, to the hardness of his abs. Shiftless Steve was a true gift from god but somehow he seems even more embarrassed than ever, insecure than ever, especially with Y/N’s eyes peering across the training room.

“Looking good Steve.” It was playful with small smile that made his throat dry instantly. Redness flushing his body, he mentally cursed himself, blushing at the small comment as if he was a little girl.

This has been happening a lot lately, one small comment made his mind foggy only filling with thoughts of her. Even the fact that she was across the room made him nervous, he was scared of her. A certain beauty radiated off of her, she carries herself like no woman has ever done, independent, strong, brave but most of all scary.

A woman like her is too much for a man like Steve to handle, but somehow would break his own legs to make her happy, fall to his knees to give her what she wanted, and it scared him. From the moment he woke up from the ice, he promised himself that he will never love another person, in hopes of saving himself from another heart break. Even though it was too late, looking around the training room he loved each and individual person here, his new family, but with Y/N it was stronger.

Every single day, from every joke, ever word spoken, and every tear cried against his chest he fell more in love. Sure, he knew of his growing affections but never thought too much of it, she was a beautiful girl, and he lived with her, it was normal to feel something right?

What finally gave him the realization that it was more was only about a week ago, a mission that had gone wrong, everyone hurt, but more so than others Y/N was. When she walked into that rubble of a falling building, despite her injuries he thought that was the last time he’d ever see her. He called out for her, begging her to stop, clenching his side, to hurt to move himself but it was no use, he thought he lost her forever.

She looked beautiful, despite the blood the splattered her face, dripped down her chest, her suit ripped right above her chest, revealing the top of breast that heaved with every breath. Blood matted her hair and eye brows coloring them dark, the small boy no older than 5 years old tucked under her arm as the mother close by yells out as Y/N hands him over unharmed. In that very moment Steve knew he was fucked, his heart pounding against his chest, he couldn’t breath the pain was too much, but he didn’t want to take his eyes off the beauty in front of him.

“Cap?” Her sweet voice soothing his ringing ears as her hand rest against his chest. Steve fall to the ground as she pulls her face closer to his, “Can you hear me?” The last thing he saw before slipping into the dark place of his unconscious was those soft lips, the ones he wishes he could taste.

That was almost a whole week ago, and he hasn’t talked to her since. He would jump into enemy fire any day, battle giant aliens, but when it came to Y/N he was absolutely terrified.

He ignores her words, deciding that he was done training for the day. He grabs his shirt from the floor next to him, water cooling his dry mouth as he walked down the long hallway from the gym to the main lobby, not bothering to say good bye to anyone.

“Why are you avoiding me?” He was so in his head, constantly thinking that he didn’t hear the footsteps of the source of all his current problems. Her cheeks red from sparing with Bucky. Steve’s eyes nervously run over her face before dropping to the dips between her collar bones, wanting to skim finger tips against the pointy bones, he wants to know what the salty skin will taste like on his tongue.

“I’m not.” His voice betrays him, the small sports bra not helping the fact that he wanted to taste every part of her skin, a pair of tights that leave little to imagination to her bare feet, so small, toes painted in the cutest shade of pink he’s ever seen. “I’ve just been busy.”

“Are you mad at me or something?” The sadness in her voice makes his chest tighten. “I know you told me not to do in, but i heard her say her kid was in there. I wasn’t thinking.”

“No, no, that not it at all sweetheart.” She’s thankful for her cheeks already being red, because it would surly be noticable how his nicknames affect her. “You’re always so brave, I love that about you.”

Steve often has this problem, his mouth moves before he can even process was he’s saying. His cheeks are rosy red as he caught awkwardly, trying to avoid her gaze at all cost. “So you’re not mad at me?”

He shakes his head, “No.”

“Then why are you avoiding me?”

“I told you I’m not.”

“You’re not a very good liar Captain.” Steve sighs at her words, his heart pounding a million times a minute, stomach filled with butterflies as she moves closer. Steve steps backwards, not really sure what she’s doing until he’s trapped between the cold surface of the wall and the warmth of her body.

“I heard you talking to Bucky the other night.” Steve squeezes his eyes shut in embarrassment, the night that he confessed what was really doing on. “Do you really think I’m beautiful?”

His eyes open in surprise, seeing the small smile against her lips. It almost made him speechless, but she decided to continue speaking, “I didn’t stay long, I didn’t want to invade your privacy but I heard that. I mean unless you didn’t mean it, then I”m dumb a-”

“I think you’re very beautiful.” Sweaty palms rub against each other nervously. Y/N cheeks redden, completely this time. Steve swears he could die and be happy, she’s so close. The beautiful floral scent mixed with the slight saltiness of her skin, he wants to smell more.

Despite how nervous he was, he steps closer, nose softly nudging her shoulder, breathing in heavily. “Is that why you were avoiding me?”

Steve didn’t know what made him say those sacred words, maybe he was too distracted but the wonderful scent of her, or the fact that her body heat made his temperature rise and scramble his brain. “No, I think I love you and It scares me.”

#steve x reader #stever rogers imagine #chris evans imagine #chris evans

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jimjamthehorrorman · 4 years

Note

I was wondering if I could get a slasher match. Im a 5'3 woman. I'm very kind and I tend to be the mommy of the group. I'm very timid and keep to myself but sometimes I'm very spontaneous and do random things. My mind drifts alot due to mental illnesses so mostly I'll be in my head or muttering things under my breath. I also get very wrathful sometimes and will go phyco on you. Not in a yell and beat u up way. But a be really quite and plot ur death way. 😳😳😳(Sorry)

Of course dear! You get:

The Boy, Brahms Heelshire.

Greta this, Greta that, Greta doesn't mean shit once he's met you. An obvious "mom friend" is the perfect person for a man who never quite left the boy portion of his life behind. Trapped in his own home, watching his parents show off a doll, he's more than excited to see such a beauty show up at his door.

•Brahms tries his hardest not to frighten you, having watched your timid demeanor he fears scaring you away.

•He's seen you go from mild manner boring, sitting around and reading, maybe doodling in a notebook to yourself, to dancing around the house. He loves the random shift in tone you give the environment. When it's boring around, the house feels as dead as his parents probably wish he was. When you start acting spontaneously, it feels all too alive.

•He takes his time working up the courage to speak to you, much less just to show himself to you. He comes out one night, showing his hands and kneeling before you. You would have thought he was a statue had he not been breathing so shakily.

•He's very patient with you, trying his best to "be a good boy" and keep you from getting upset with him. He does anything you want to keep you around. He's terribly afraid of being abandoned, and he appreciates you being there more than you could ever know.

•He finds you all too enchanting. He no longer spends his time in hiding once you've come to like him. At night when he gets ready for bed, he all too easily jumps into his terribly short bed and looks to you for a goodnight kiss.

•When you treat him to a kiss, he let's it linger as long as you'll allow it. He longs for affection that he's missed out on, and you're the most perfect thing he's had his eyes on.

•One evening, on a stormy nasty night, you think someone is outside the house. Once he's looked around the house and given everything a once over, he assures you no one is outside. He gets a shower, changes into a very lovely set of pajamas and somehow he ends up sleeping beside you in your luxurious canopy bed.

•At first you're hesitant. You barely know this man, but he's curled up behind you with his arms around your waist. You can feel his sleeping heartbeat matching yours, and although you were afraid earlier, you're more than content now.

•When you wake up facing him, you find that in your sleep you turned around and buried your face into his chest. He's still asleep, but his mask is on the side table. He has such a handsome albeit hairy face under it.

•After that night things were strange for a bit, he would wear his mask every now and then and only come out every once in a while.

•Then came the snow. It began to get wickedly cold and he KNEW if he was going to tell you he loved you, it was time. He lit the fireplace while you were in the shower and shaved to a comfortable level in the other bathroom downstairs. When you were dressed and comfortable you found him sitting in his best clothes in the living room, dinner on the table and the fire crackling in the chimney.

•You were surprised when he came up to you and held your hands in his. He looked so handsome and also... nervous?

•"You're beautiful. Like nothing I've ever seen before... I think I'm in love with you." He said before his nervousness matched his words. The shakiness in his breath had become all too obvious to him and he sat back down on the couch, covering his face. Choosing to comfort him, you might lean in to kiss him.. And then you're in for it.

•soft kisses peppering your entire face, a gentle hand on your waist and the heat of his body warm you up so well it put the fire to shame! He pulls you into some blankets on the couch to cuddle. He nearly forgot about dinner until he hands you your dinnerplate and a carefully folded napkin shaped into a heart. He really went all out!

•"You could stay here,... I have plenty of money due to my parents and the house is beautiful... You could live here? You would never have to work again and I would take care of you." He holds you close to him that night, constantly peppering you with kisses until you doze off into the night.

•When you wake the next morning, he brings you dinner in bed. He smiles, setting the tray table above your waist. "Breakfast for the lady of the house?"

•If you agree to stay there, he takes care of everything. His previously selfish ways have turned to caring and pampering you. He keeps groceries in the house, takes you wherever you want and treats you like a queen. You've changed him as a person and he is no longer "The Boy" he is now "The Man of the House".

♡♡♡

Hope you enjoy!

#brahms heelshire #slasher x reader #slasher matchups #horror matchups

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derryhawkins · 5 years

Text

Puppy Love

summary: Right after she breaks up with her abusive boyfriend, Beverly house and dog sits for her two good friends while they’re gone for a month. During this time she has to take the dog to the vet because of a terrible limp, and there she meets the one and only Ben Hanscom – a sweetheart with a pure soul and kind eyes. Untrusting of men other than her three best friends, Beverly believes she’ll never find someone to trust and be with for the rest of her life. But as time goes on, and as she becomes friends with Ben, that belief gradually changes. word count: 5.7k warnings: mentions of abuse (i don’t go into detail); there’s also a bit where she has a panic attack but i don’t go into to much detail there either a/n: hello i meant to post this earlier but i got anxious and then i needed to focus on school bc of a paper and today tumblr is being a bitch, so. sorry lmao. hope you enjoy this tho!! ignore any typos and/or spelling mistakes

AO3 link

chapter one: bad limp

Beverly Marsh doesn’t trust men – most of them, at least. The only men she does trust are her good friends: Richie Tozier, Eddie Kaspbrak, and Mike Hanlon.

She and Richie had grown up across the street from one another, and he was the only kid who adamantly stuck by her side through the hells of elementary, middle, and high school in their small town of Derry, Maine. They were both the outcasts there from the get go. A kid who was too talkative for his own good, a boy who came out proudly bisexual in middle school, a teen who couldn’t sit still for the life of him; paired with a kid who had bruises on her body everyday, a girl who learned men looked at her wrong at too young of an age, a teen who got slut shamed for very untrue rumors. Then college came, and the two hauled ass to New York City to go to college, sharing a shitty one bedroom apartment and working hellish hours to scrape by. They didn’t go to the same university, though; Richie went to NYU for four years in drama and then went a different route of standup comedy while Beverly went to a smaller college to get a cosmetology degree.

Those years, they met Eddie Kaspbrak and Mike Hanlon. Eddie was at the same college Beverly went to on way to become a Science teacher, and they both worked at a crappy coffee place. They got along extremely well and after a while she introduced him to Richie, the two beginning their marriage-like bickering instantly. It was no surprise to Beverly when they got together in their second year of college. The feisty young man complemented their duo extremely well from the get-go, officially making them into an inseparable trio in no time. Then comes in Mike Hanlon, a sweet boy who grew up on a farm and who was on his way to become the best veterinarian known to man. ("I'm not gonna be the best one, guys, chill." - "Well, we think you will be.") He was Eddie’s room mate and about the time Eddie and Richie started dating was when Mike got pulled in, making their group an even four. Beverly had been hesitant at the time. Her father and every man back home made her wary of how men and boys would be towards her, her own boyfriend no help to that thought process at all, but Mike was quick to prove her wrong. He didn’t stare at her as if she were a piece of meat – hell, he still doesn’t, and neither do the other two (for obvious reasons) – and he’s never anything but gentle.

And then there’s Tom.

How she ended up with a nearly carbon copy of her father as a boyfriend during college is beyond her. He looked harmless back then, Bev remembers; he charmed her way into her life, making her believe everything was fine, but then slowly started manipulating different situations and raising his hand at her and verbally threatening her. She should’ve gotten out of it sooner but something kept her there with the asshole; something kept her from telling her friends, coming up with lame excuses as to why another bruise had formed on her wrist.

Fast forward some years. The even four graduated – Tom, too – and Richie beings to work his ass off to get gigs and all for his stand up comedy career that hopefully won't flop, and Eddie’s searching for assistant teaching jobs, and Beverly is working at really nice hair salon that pays well, and Mike is in Veterinary School. And she’s still with Tom; her friends are starting to catch on, if they hadn’t before. A few more years down the line, Richie gets a big break (okay not that big, but it's a break nonetheless), and somehow becomes extremely popular among the teens after his tweet about his cute but angry chihuahua like boyfriend. Eddie has been an assistant teacher for a couple years now and getting ready to become just a regular teacher; and Mike’s out of Veterinary School, and Bev’s opening up her own salon after a two year business program at a community college. She’s still dating Tom.

Until she’s not. At 26, Beverly has had enough. After nearly seven or eight years of something she grew up enough with because of her father, she gains the courage to finally stand up again to her another abusive man in her life. The other three finally knew the entire truth and with their help and pep talks and comforting words and hugs, Beverly stands up for herself. She dumps Tom. A fight ensues. She acquired a few new bruises and he expects her still in their shared apartment when he comes home from work. But when he’s gone, through tears and cries, she packs up everything. Literally everything. And then she’s getting in the crappy Honda she’s had since her first year in college with all of her belongings and driving to Richie’s and Eddie’s house just a little bit away. They aren't there, though. Richie is on a mini tour for a month and to because it was the summer and to celebrate the fact someone hired him as an actual teacher for the upcoming school year, Eddie tagged along.

Beverly doesn’t trust men, and the full reason why hits her like a train as she sits in her best friend’s and his boyfriend’s home, alone and honestly a bit scared. It makes her sad thinking over how much she loves and trusts three guys with her life, but two harmful men and the disgusting, predatory looks from other men out weighs her best friends’ good intentions. As she sits there, suitcases haphazardly pushed into the living room and body sore, she wonders if she should go to the doctor. It’s only a few bruises and a busted lip, though. Eddie, if he knew, would be fussing over her and dragging her out of the house in an instant to get her checked on from worry – the opposite of what his mother did constantly to him as a child.

The redhead chuckles at the thought of the Kaspbrak fretting over her, but then a few tears are leaving her eyes and suddenly she’s crying again, and wanting to call one of her boys, but she can’t. She doesn’t want to. Not yet, anyway. Richie’s having too much fun, Eddie’s enjoying his break, Mike is already working, having a good time while doing so. They didn’t need to worry over her while they’re living their lives to the fullest.

A bark interrupts her thought process and she blinks, confused for a split second until she remembers Sid. A black lab with too much energy for her own good, just a little over a year old. Richie and Eddie had gotten Sid when she was four months old. They almost didn’t get her all because they weren't sure how often they'd get to spend with the puppy. Both are home more often than they thought, though still both of their jobs restrain them from spending the amount of time they want with the puppy - less often than they first thought, though. Thankfully, both Mike and Bev are available more often than not, Bev the most. They help take care of Sid when the couple can’t, which honestly isn't that much, and the adorable dog has somehow formed into everyone’s pet over time with how often they're all at the Tozier-Kaspbrak house.

Bev wipes under her eyes and cheeks, wincing at her palm pushes into the bruise on her cheek too hard, and makes her way through the house to the back door. She peers outside to the fenced backyard and sees Sid near the back, tail up and ears perked; on high alert. The dog probably heard something she didn't like, or maybe saw a squirrel. Beverly opens the door after she unlocks it, and one hand rests on the door frame.

“Sid!” She shouts to get the dogs attention. “C’mere, girl!” Sid yaps and runs to Beverly instantly, and the woman’s laughing a bit as she crouches down, the dog attacking her with licks. Beverly pets the dog in return and moves to sit on her butt. “Hey, girl. You missed me, huh? I was just here yesterday, though, before your dads left. You miss them, too? Hm, I bet. I do. Yeah, I do, and they miss you, no doubt about it. C’mon, hey- oof, let me stand up, girl. Sid- Okay, thank you. Hey, can you sit? I’ll give you treat! Good girl, let me take a picture.”

Beverly snaps a picture of Sid, the black lab’s tongue hanging out the side of her mouth as she pants, floppy ears forward and dark eyes wide. She quickly sends the picture to Eddie, paired with a text of heart and dog emojis and ‘she misses u!’. She then ushers Sid inside, brows furrowing when she thinks she sees the dog limping, but it was hard to tell. She quickly finds the dog treats in the kitchen pantry, and feeds Sid one right as she gets a reply from her friend.

[from: coffee buddy 11:49 am MNFK SHES SO CUTESJDK I MISS HER TOO GIVE HER LOVE SOME LOVE FOR US]

[to: coffee buddy 11:50 am i'll be sure to give her all the love dw ur pretty lil head]

[from: dipshit 11:52 am SID!!!!!!! THE CUTEST!!!!!!!!!! THANK U FOR UR SERVICE BEV]

[to: dipshit 11:52 am mwah ur welcome rich x]

She smiles at their reactions. It's cute and something she's seen a thousand times throughout the year they've had Sid. One time, she had watched and listened to Richie gush over Sid sleeping with her head in Eddie's lap, his boyfriend drifting off to sleep as well. Unfortunately, that memory ends with Tom calling her and demanding her home for the night, cutting the friends' fun night together short.

Beverly finds herself frowning at the memory and doesn't bother to keep track of Sid as she wanders throughout the house. The young woman stays in the kitchen, her mood coming back down. She brushes stands of her long hair out of her face, her features scrunching up in disgust. She hates it long. Hates the way it gets the way and how she always has to do something with it, always having to get tangles out at the ends. Tom loves her long hair though, and after some persuasion back in college, Beverly grew it out again and kept it at the same mid-back length. Her stomach churns with the realization her father liked her hair long, too. It was the reason she chopped it all off in the first place. Self-hate settles in her, and she can feel the tears coming back as she leans against the counter when her phone starts ringing again. She jumps. The irrational part of her brain is telling her that the caller is Tom, that he somehow found out that she left home while at work, and he's coming over to drag her back. The other part - the rational part - knows that can't be it.

With shaky hands, she pulls her phone back out. Relief floods through her at seeing the familiar number of one of her clients. She sighs and presses the green dot on the screen before putting it on speaker. It was Audra Phillips, a wonderful woman around her age that started coming to Beverly's own salon the moment it opened, always complimenting Bev's work and saying how the redhead should be a renowned stylist for hair, makeup and clothes. "Hi, Audra," she greets, hoping her voice doesn't give off the fact that she had been close to crying.

"Beverly, hi!" Audra greets, happy. If she can tell something is up, she doesn't say anything. "I was just wondering if we're still on for one today? It's just- I'm busy these next couple days and there's a court case Friday, and I really don't want to look like shit. The split ends are bad. And it's my first one, y'know?"

"Of course, yeah," Beverly does her best to sound up beat. "I was actually just about to leave to get everything ready." It's a lie, but the other woman doesn't need to know that. Until Audra called, Beverly's mind had completely pushed away her one o'clock appointment, too engrossed into the early morning fight with Tom and her leaving without his knowledge.

"Wonderful! You are a life saver, Marsh, I fucking love you."

A genuine smile reaches her lips. "It's truly no problem, Audra. I'll see you at one."

They hang up, and Beverly goes to the bathroom after fishing her makeup bag from one of her suitcases. She stares at herself, taken back by the appearance. The bruise on her cheek is worse than she thought, and she had dried blood she didn't know about on her chin from the cut on her lip. Her striking blue eyes are bloodshot and rimmed red from crying on and off throughout the morning, and her bright red hair was a bird's nest. She is a complete and utter mess, and she has no idea how to make it seem like she isn't. But she does her best for the next ten minutes; she covers up the bruise with ease, and does her make up to where the only indication of her crying are the bloodshot eyes. She tames her hair to the best of her ability and just throws it into a ponytail. She keeps what she's already wearing on - a tee from Disney World that she got a some years back when she and her three friends were all free of school - with light skinny jeans and converse. Then, she puts Sid back outside in the backyard, grabs her keys, makes sure the doors are all locks and that the lights are off, and finally leaves.

+++

"-and I've always wanted to start a fashion line. Or do something with fashion, and make up too, which is why I started that- that...what's the word? Oh, well, that thing where people can make appointments for getting their makeup and hair done for dates, or prom, or whatever - oh, a bundle! The two in one. Gosh, I'm the owner and can't even fucking remember these things correctly," Beverly says, wincing as she remembers that she's talking to a customer. "Sorry for my language."

Audra chuckles from where she sits directly in front of Beverly, the woman behind her snipping away at her now wet hair. "You know I don't care about your language, Bev, keep on with it. And don't down talk yourself, sweetie, everyone forgets things."

They meet eyes in the mirror and share a smile. Audra has been at the salon for some time now. Beverly washed the other woman's hair before actually starting to cut it, per Audra's request. During that time they had conversed about a million and one things, leaving one conversation to go to another only to jump back to a topic that had long since been forgotten when one of them remembered something else. It was nice, Beverly had to admit. It was getting her mind off of that morning.

"Would you add fashion if you could? To the bundle - making a three in one deal."

Beverly's brows knit together as she thinks about it. Then, "Most likely. I think it would be hard to do, though. I don't think fashion is one of my strong suits, and... I dunno, the makeup deal probably won't last too much longer and I doubt the fashion thing would, either."

Audra snorts with a roll of her eyes. "You are one of the most talented women I know with all of this," she tells Beverly, hands moving under the cape. "I've never been disappointed once, and the make up you do for the prom and special events are fucking fantastic! Your fashion sense is off the charts when you dress up; hell, even when you dress down. You have the potential to do all three, Bev. What's holding you back?" The question is quieter, filled with so much care; and her other words are full of sincerity. It has Beverly faltering her movements.

She licks her lips. She knows what's holding her back. "Tom," she says simply as she quickly goes back to doing Audra's hair, and she hopes it doesn't sound as bitter and fearful as it felt. "He's always been supportive of this - of the hair salon - but he's always...apprehensive about the makeup. And then about the fashion, he's just so against it."

"What do men know?" Audra asks. "And what does Tom even do?"

"He works at some small business. A financial analysis."

"He's just jealous. Scared, maybe, of you turning out better than him. God, men are so...ugh."

"There are a few decent ones out there," Beverly says, thinking of her friends. A large smile tugs at her lips. "My best friends. Richie's annoying as all fuck, but he's genuinely caring when he wants to be. Usually to his boyfriend, and me. We grew up together, so we're basically siblings. Then there's Eddie - Richie's boyfriend. A damn firecracker. A bit crazy. A mother hen, at times. Oh, and Mike! He's probably the most genuine, nice guy I know. He's over six feet, and Rich calls him a gentle giant. I'd call him the perfect guy, but he loves pranks, and he and Rich get into a prank war three times a year and they drag Eddie and me into them too. They're not perfect - not by a long shot - but they're the most decent guys I know. I doubt there's any 'perfect guy'."

Audra's quiet for a moment. "I'm surprised you didn't put Tom in there."

Beverly's jaw clenches for a moment. "Why would I put my ex in a list of good men?" She says in a casual way and hopes that it doesn't cause dramatic reactions from those around her. It does. Her regulars and few employees know of her and Tom. It was clear no one likes him, and Bev knows that maybe they figured out something had been wrong about the relationship, but she always painted Tom as a good guy to others despite the bruises littering her skin and his harsh words towards her even in public. Audra's jaw drops and Beverly stops snipping the hair and moved her arms to her sides just in time as Audra turned around, and she sets the scissors on a flat surface. A gasp is heard across the building, and Bev turns her head to see her good friend and employee, Kay McCall, standing a few chairs away, getting ready for another customer.

"Did he dump you?" Audra asks, almost sounding hesitant to do so.

Beverly looked back at her, and then at Kay who is walking over at the speed of lightning. "I... Actually, I dumped him," she says slowly. "This morning." It almost feels wrong telling the girls first instead of her best friends first, but there's a sense of relief that comes with telling someone and Bev figures that the boys won't mind.

Kay squeals and pulls Beverly into a tight hug. "Oh, my god, I thought you'd never get rid of that ass!" She pauses and pulls away, keeping her hands on her friend's shoulders. A serious yet excited expression sits on her face. "I know it's no surprise I don't like him, okay, I'm sorry. I know you loved him too but, babe, that boy was a total whack job! He gave me the fucking creeps!"

Audra is nodding along. "I wanted to say something, but we're not that close, y'know? And I didn't wanna piss you off accidentally."

"I honestly thought you were gonna end up marrying him. It was, like, my worst fear the longest time," Kay admits. Her hands finally leave Beverly's shoulders.

"Mine too." Beverly takes in their looks, and she wants to take the words back but it's too late. She doesn't want to tell them what he's done, it's too early and too fresh to tell someone out right, so she doesn't. "I stopped loving him, is all," she lies. But, it's not really a lie. "I felt obligated to stay in the relationship, I guess. Probably a bit scared, too, because we've been together since the end of my second year of college. I finally just ripped off the band-aid this morning."

Audra smiles softly. "Long ones are the hardest to end."

Kay nods in agreement. "Yeah. Hey, I've got a pullout at my apartment if you need a place to stay. I know you two were living together."

Beverly shakes her head. "Thanks, but I'm good for now. Rich and Eddie are out of the city for a month, and I'm already visiting there to dog sit. Might as well house sit, too. I'll call if I decide to take you up on that offer, though."

They share a few more words - not much at all, though - and soon Beverly is back to Audra's hair, and Kay is walking up front where a new customer is stepping in. She licks lips, feeling how chapped they are, and her nose scrunches the slightest bit as her tongue went over the cut. She had forgotten about it, and at remembering it she is grateful that neither Audra nor Kay asked about it. She doesn't know what she would have come up with if they did.

+++

The rest of the day consisted of Beverly having a few more customers, going to the grocery store because she knows for a fact that Richie and Eddie have zero food at their house, walking around fearful, and finally getting to the Tozier-Kaspbrak residence with the sun completely gone because apparently shopping and driving takes a lot longer than she realizes. She keeps the doors locked and lets Sid roam around as she puts up the groceries - she was right, they had no food - and later feeds Sid, noticing that the limp she thought she saw that morning is, in fact, a limp and it looked the slightest bit worse. After dinner, and after letting Sid outside for a few minutes to use the bathroom, Beverly's phone starts to ring and ring, and ping continuously, messages and missed calls from Tom keeping the device occupied. She waits, but the messages and calls come in nearly every second. Every minute. She wants to call someone - Mike, Richie, Kay, Eddie, anyone but Tom - but she can't pick up the phone, because that means looking at her messages. She knows it's not going to happen, but that doesn't stop her from feeling as if even if she touched the phone Tom would find out where she is like some telepathic demon from Hell.

It's not until she's hearing her own wheezing when it dawns on her that she's having a panic attack over the stupid fucking calls and text messages, curling in on herself against one of the kitchen walls, cheeks wet and make up smudged because of her tears. She hasn't had one in years, not since her first year in college, which is a surprise in and of itself given who she's been dating. Her mind struggles to grasp at what to do - its been eight years - but once she remembers, Beverly does her best to do it. It takes time, much longer than she would like to admit, but she soon calms down. Her hands stop shaking, and her cheeks are starting to dry, and her phone is silent too. Sid is laying a few feet away, staring. Worried. Beverly sniffles. Shakily, she stands and the young dog moves her head up in a flash, eyes trained on Beverly as the young woman moves across the kitchen. Sid then quickly gets up and limps to where she's right beside Bev.

Her eyes squeeze shut as she unlocks her phone to avoid looking at the missed calls and unread texts, and it makes her want to throw up as she does it but she blocks Tom's number, erases the messages and makes the missed calls notifications go away.

Then, she's going to bed in the guest room, exhausted. Sid is at her feet in the bed when she's supposed to be in her bog bed and kennel, but Beverly doesn't care. Rich and Eddie don't have to know, anyway. She's too relaxed. She feels too safe with Sid there. So, she lets Sid stay there, eventually falling asleep.

+++

It's halfway through the morning when Beverly notices Sid is heavily favoring her right front leg as she plays without a care in the world in the backyard. It concerns her, worries her, so she calls the nearest vet and places an appointment at two - and coincidentally, it's the one Mike works at. She doesn't call her two best friends yet, not wanting to worry them in case nothing is wrong. She doesn't go into work. She doesn't want to, simply put, so she doesn't. She's the owner, anyway, and goes in whenever she pleases; the fact that she had no one specifically ask for her on that day was another reason Bev doesn't go in, and she knows the employees can handle themselves. She takes a nice, warm, long shower and brings Sid inside around noon. Then she has lunch, and as the time for Sid's appointment rolls closer, she changes into Nike shorts and the same t-shirt she wore the day before, uncaring of who saw her in it yesterday. She's still emotionally drained from the night before, so it surprises her that she didn't walk out in sweats and a hole-y shirt.

The drive to the vet is fine. Sid stays in the backseat, constantly moving into different positions and standing to look between the front seats, even though her front leg is probably hurting her. Upon reaching the vet clinic, the hope of seeing Mike rises, and she gets out with Sid quickly, locking her car, and then goes inside. It’s not long at all until she’s sitting in one of the back rooms waiting for someone to come in and check on Sid. Not too soon later, the door is opening and she’s hoping it’s Mike, but it’s not. She tries not to look too disappointed, though it wasn’t hard at all given as the guy who walks in is attractive.

She blinks, taking in the dirty blond hair and soft brown eyes; he’s tall, too – about Richie’s or Mike’s height – and at first Beverly, admittedly, tensed up. Here’s a guy who she doesn’t know and therefore doesn’t trust, and her first thought is that he’s going to say something her. To try and flirt. To seem as if he’s this perfect dude trying to win Bev over for a hookup. But then he’s giving her a warm smile before crouching down to Sid who’s jumping in excited at seeing a new person, and she suddenly feels bad for jumping to conclusions.

“Hey,” the guy laughs as Sid licks his face. “You’re a friendly one, aren’t you? Who’ve we got here today?” He’s then looking at Bev and standing up.

Beverly twists the leash in her hands. “That’s Sid. Um, she has a bad limp, and I just got worried.”

He nods and looks back down to the dog, who’s now laying on the floor at his feet, panting as she stares up at him. “Yeah, I noticed it when I walked in. It’s pretty significant. If you don’t mind, I’ll take her to weigh her out there. We’ll be right back.”

“Yeah, yeah. That’s fine, do what you gotta do,” she says. “I’ve never been to a vet before. Sid’s not mine, she’s my friend’s. I’m just dog sitting while he and his boyfriend are outta town. I figured I should bring her myself in case something is actually seriously wrong.”

He smiles as he slips the vet’s leash on Sid with ease, and unclasps the other off of her collar. “That's nice of you to do.”

“I'd do anything for my friends.” Beverly sets the leash in her lap, giving a tiny smile. “She pulls a lot, by the way. Just a warning,” she tells the man.

He nods. “It’s fine. Be back in a jiff,” he tells her and then he’s out of the room with Sid, the dog excitedly walking and pulling. Beverly chuckles and leans back in the chair, blue eyes looking at the framed picture on the wall. It’s an illustration of different types of dogs and their names and where they originally came from.

She’s about to stand up to get a better look when the guy and Sid come back in. He walks the dog to her and lets her reattach the leash before removing the vet’s leash. “How much does she weigh?” Bev asks, curious, frowning at how Sid is favoring her leg.

“Thirty pounds,” he says.

“That’s good, right?”

He nods. “Yes, it is. Female labs usually get up to between twenty-five and thirty-two.”

Bev smiles and pets Sid. “Well, you’re a healthy girl, huh? Other than your leg.” She looks up at the guy, and he’s already looking at her with an expression she can’t read. Its similar to the one Richie gives her once in a while when he’s in a particularly loving mood towards everyone; but there’s something about this guy’s expression that’s so different from it at the same time. There’s no lust, no want, no desire. Almost admiration, if she has to label it. It’s a look she’s not used to, to say the least, and she has to look away and back down to Sid. “So, are you going to check her out, or is there some big shot vet doc that has to come in?” She asks. “Dr. Doolittle, maybe?”

He seems to jolt back into reality at the question, and if Bev were to look up she would see his cheeks reddening. “Huh- oh, yeah. I’m just- just an intern here, trying to get my foot in the door before I finally become a veterinarian myself. No Dr. Doolittle, though.”

Beverly chuckles and looks up. “Shame. I’d pay some real money to have Dr. Doolittle here.”

He smiles, still blushing a little. “I’d pay to be Dr. Doolittle.” Then, “I’ll go get the ‘big shot vet doc’.” He uses air quotes as he uses the words Beverly had said moments before, chuckling lightly as she rolls her eyes with no malice behind the action.

“Alright. Oh- hey, uh,” she hesitates, “I’m Beverly Marsh, by the way. I should’ve introduced myself sooner. Sorry.”

He shakes his head. “Don’t worry about it. I’m Ben Hanscom. I’ll be right back with the doctor, Beverly.”

As he leaves, she can’t help but feel a bit embarrassed about just introducing herself like that so abruptly, but she pushes the feeling away. A few minutes later, the guy – Ben, and she can’t help but think how well the name suits him – walks in with the doctor. They check on Sid, have her walk around for a few seconds, and then the doctor is explaining that nothing seems wrong.

“There isn’t any swelling or cuts or broken bones, so it’s probably just a bad sprain. Nothing too bad, thankfully, but you’ll have to restrict how much she plays for it to get better. I’ll prescribe her some pain medication that you’ll give her once a day for seven days. If it’s not better by this day next week, I suggest bringing her back. It’ll most likely require surgery if that’s the case.”

Beverly nods along to the words and takes the information in, planning on calling Richie once she leaves to explain everything to him. After that, both the doctor and Ben are leaving again, Ben coming back five minutes later with a small, blue pill bottle.

“Give her one forth of these everyday, and it should help,” Ben tells her as he hands the bottle to her. “I hope she gets better. She’s such a sweetheart.”

Beverly stands and holds the pill bottle with one hand, and Sid’s leash with the other. “Me too. Thank you, by the way.”

He sheepishly smiles and shrugs. “I barely did a thing. It’s all the doctor.”

She chuckles. “Well, thank her too for me. Hey, do you know a Mike Hanlon?”

He nods quickly. “Yeah, he’s another intern for one of the other doctors here.”

“Is he here?”

“Yeah. But he’s helping with a surgery on a sick cat. Why?”

She shrugs. “He’s one of my friends. I was expecting to see him, is all.”

“Sorry to disappoint.”

Beverly frowns but then smiles, shaking her head as she gets ready to leave. “You’re not a disappointment, Ben. You seem like a cool guy, and it was nice meeting you.”

He’s then giving her another warm smile, and he’s blushing again. “Thanks. It was nice to meet you, too. And Sid, of course.”

Beverly then says a bye with a smile of her own and she walks out of the back room, and to the front. She pays, not minding having to, and walks out with her phone pressed to ear as she calls Richie, explaining what’s wrong and what’s happening with Sid as she drives home. She doesn’t mention the breakup or Ben just yet. She doesn’t want to think about either too much, and telling her best friend about both would require just that. So, she doesn’t. Richie doesn’t ask, either, because one: he avoids the topic of Tom as well because it just puts him in a pissy mood for the rest of the day and he can’t be in a pissy mood during a gig, and two: Beverly have no indication about the guy who helped out at the vet clinic being attractive in any way.

She sighs as she falls into the couch after giving Sid the correct amount of medicine, turning on the TV, pushing any thoughts about men out of her mind as she watches a rerun of an old 90s show.

#ben hanscom #beverly marsh #benverly #it #the losers club #my writing #*#pls don't let this flop

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sweetlyocs · 5 years

Text

sunshine

«part four» pairing: sam holland x reader / abusive ex! OC x reader words: 2k warnings: hospitals, abusive relationship, anxiety attack, blood and bruising a/n: the fourth paarttt! this has taken a little bit, but we are saving all of you from seeing the details, for now... please be cautious if you haven’t read the other chapters head over to the masterlist in my bio for them, or click here

You could feel your phone buzzing in your hand, the contact names constantly appearing on your screen were giving you a headache. You knew that they were worried, you knew that they were scared. They needed answers but you weren’t prepared to give them up yet, you could barely register what was going on yourself. Your mind was whirling and it felt like your entire world was imploding on itself. Sighing softly, you looked out the window of Tom and Harrison’s apartment as you pulled up your texts with Sam,

Sam: where r u? ur freaking me out sunshine, u never came back.. yn: I had to leave.. I couldn’t stay u know that. I’m battered and bruised and bleeding bear.. Sam: u need to go to the hospital.. mum’s taking pads home and I’m coming to get u. yn: sam I want to be alone please, just leave me be. Sam: no way in hell. U faced this entire situation on ur own and it almost killed u. im not letting u do this alone, not any more. yn: I’m at Toms..

You stood in the kitchen with the kettle boiling away as you tried to process all of what had happened.. what if Sam had been seriously hurt? What if Tom hadn’t been able to be pulled off Jace? Why didn’t you leave him.. hell you were still wearing your dress. It was a shame that it had been ruined, you hadn’t felt this beautiful in a while.

It took Sam all of twenty minutes to reach you, he more than certainly had broken a few laws driving there but seeing him burst through that door, hair wild and looking like the weight of the world fell off his shoulders was all it took to bring you back to tears.

“I’m sorry..” was all you were able to let out as you fell into his arms.

“Shh..shhh… it’s okay, your okay. I got you. I’m so sorry I couldn’t protect you, I’m sorry you had to go through all of this alone..”

Seeing you like this broke Sam’s heart, he loved you. He loved you more than words could explain. You were always there for him, you always encouraged him to be his own person, make his own mistakes. You picked him up when he fell and would be his number one fan every time he soared.

Pulling back he stared deep into your eyes, smiling he as he gave you a kiss on your temple.

“Let’s get you out of that dress and into some different clothes, I’ve got a pair of your old dance shorts and I brought you one of my sweaters. We need to get you to a hospital okay, I need to know that your okay… physically anyway.”

The drive to the hospital was silent, you could feel Sam glancing at you from time to time. You didn’t know what to think.. you had been stuck in this situation for so long that while you felt free, free from Jace, free from being stuck in a never ending cycle but there was still so much that could go wrong. What if they left you when they found out all the horrible things that had actually happened to you? What if you were broken forever? Damaged goods that no one would ever want? What if the best that you could do was someone like Jace, he was perfect in every way to a lot of people. Sure you had an ever evolving career but what if you were so badly injured in so many ways that you couldn’t keep going…

Pulling up to a park at the hospital was daunting,

“They’re going to ask a lot of questions sunshine”

“I know…”

“They’re probably going to want you to report it too”

“I know Sam..”

“Are you ready?”

“Not in the slightest actually. I think I’m fine with all this superficial pain and bruising, I’ll probably be able to cover it up soon enough with some makeup. It’s worked before…”

Sam let out a deep sigh, he didn’t want you to be this façade anymore. He wanted you to let down your guard, he wanted you to feel safe enough to feel vulnerable around him. Slowly but surely you both got out of the car and began walking towards the entrance, it was beginning to get pretty late and by first glance at the emergency ward, it was actually pretty empty.

“Can I help you at all?” The voice of the triage nurse made you take a steep breathe in, you could feel your hands beginning to shake as you felt the urge to make a beeline towards the exit. You couldn’t do this, who did you think you are? Surely if you walk away, no. Run, run away, you could catch up with Jace.. a bit of grovelling and him getting the initial anger out and you’d be fine. You were insane to think that you could just say that you were done and it would be that.

“Hi, I want my friend to get checked out, her boyfriend, I mean, her ex kinda lost it when she tried to break up with him and I just want to make sure she’s okay..”

Sam’s voice sounded like he was yelling, you turned to face him with the look of complete and utter disbelief on your face. Was he insane! He just outed you to a complete stranger, and he didn’t break a sweat. The nurse softly turned her eyes towards you and briefly looked over the injuries that she could see, as she began typing away on her computer you pinched Sam’s arm, hard. As he whipped his head to you, as the two of you began to have a very silent but thundering screaming match between your eyes and expressions. You questioning him as to what the hell he was thinking and him to you about why the bloody hell you pinched him that hard! You had acrylics for christs sake and it hurt.

The nurse clearing her throat broke you out of your silent argument,

“I’m going to get them to take you straight through, we have private assessment rooms and that’s where a nurse is fully going to assess you okay darling. Now would you prefer a female or male nurse?”

“Female please, only if it isn’t too much hassle”

She sent you a quick and kind smile as she typed a few more things,

“Just head over to that door there and I’ll let you in”

Nodding your head, you and Sam began silently shuffling towards the door, you could hear displeased voices of other patients waiting to be seen, the chatter of nurses and beeping of machines. As the door let out a buzz, unlocking itself you reached out for Sam’s hand. Gripping it tightly you turned your head,

“Don’t you dare leave me, please.”

“Trust me sunshine, I’m not going anywhere.”

Walking past the stations and patients lying in beds, you could feel yourself growing more and more anxious. It felt like every eye in the room turned to stare you down, at this stage Sam was probably losing all circulation to his hand but you couldn’t bring yourself to give a damn. You were scared, terrified even. What if the nurse didn’t believe you? What if they called the police and they told you that you were making it all up because Jace seemed like the perfect man. The perfect boyfriend. Why did this feel like the biggest mistake of your life…

Sam thanked the nurse as she left you two in the room, shutting the door to block out the rest of the ward, as she left she softly stated that the nurse would be with you soon and that she was off now, but to call out if you needed anything or felt worse for wear. You didn’t see her give Sam a soft motherly pat on his shoulder, or the eye watering smile that she sent in your direction as you lost yourself in your mind. You were too focused on not have a breakdown because of the weight of the situation.

“You need to sit down before you give yourself an anxiety attack or collapse from holding your breathe” Sam walked towards you as he willed his hands to stop shaking, you needed him to be strong. You needed him to be calm and collected so that if you lost your mind you had someone to pick up the pieces and help you put yourself back together. As you sat and waited on the bed, you looked at Sam. Really looked at him.

His body was tense, his eyes were hardened but when he looked at you all you could see was love and warmth. His hands would close in and out of fists and when he would close his eyes he would take deep and sometimes shaky breaths.

“Take a picture it lasts longer” Sam looked you at as the words left his lips and a smirk grew on his face. You let out a laugh and couldn’t stop yourself from smiling as you got a taste of the Sam you know. For the first time since you woke up you felt at complete and utter ease, it felt like you were normal, that you were you again. Just as you were going to reply the door opened,

“Hi yn, I’m Angela, your nurse. How you feeling?” She seemed nice, her voice was soft, but it still threw you. The question brought some uneasiness and weight back into the room. Here you were laughing and smiling when your throat was covered in a red and purple discolouration and your face had dried blood tracking down onto your neck.

“Fine. I’m fine…” You had never heard your voice so weak, it was easy to sense your fear. Sam came and sat on the bed with you, holding your hand as the nurse moved across the floor with all the supplies.

“So, what happened. I need to know exactly what went down for you to get all that bruising and blood, so I know how to treat it. Your safe here, it’s okay”

You held your eyes shut, willing yourself to disappear, praying that it would all just go away. Sam could feel you beginning to shake, your breathing was become uneven and flowing at a rapid pace. You were having a breakdown, you were terrified.

“yn if you don’t tell her she can’t help. She wants to help you sunshine…”

Sam was at a loss, he’d never seen you so terrified, how badly had Jace screwed you over?

“yn, look at me. Look at me honey.” Angela was standing in front of you now, her brow creasing and her movements slow, “you’re okay. I’m not going to hurt you, but I need to know what happened. You could be seriously hurt and you not saying anything could make it worse. I don’t have to know details, but we need to fix you up. This bruising is telling me that you’ve got a lot of swelling okay, and with it being at your throat there needs to be things that I check, things that I need to make sure aren’t damaged or at risk of causing more harm. And those cuts, the ones under all the blood, there’s a lot of bruising there too. I need to know what caused it so I can get an idea of how deep they are, how bad they are. I want you to get better so please, work with me here. I want to make sure that you’re going to be leaving here safe, I know the idea of the police and this being reported is scary for you but you getting better. You healing, that’s what’s important.. do you understand?”

Slowly you began opening your eyes, you were okay. Jace wasn’t here, but Sam was. You were safe with Sam. As you sat back and centred yourself, you realised.. you didn’t need to be afraid anymore, as long as you had someone who loved you, you would be okay.

“Okay”

if you want to be added to the taglist please send me an ask! taglist: @upsidedownspidey @dottirose @distressedhollandfield @allthedifferentfandoms @malecftw @barnacleb0i @mrslukehemmings00 @jackiehollanderr @babygirl-4986 @yo-sugg

#sam holland imagine #sam holland fic #sunshine fic #tom holland imagines #tom holland fic #sam holland #peter parker imagine #reader insert #sam holland x reader

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minchase-ingclouds · 5 years

Photo

𝕒𝕗𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝕪𝕠𝕦 ｌｅｆｔ, 𝕚 𝕔𝕒𝕞𝕖 𝕒𝕔𝕣𝕠𝕤𝕤 𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕤 𝒻𝒶𝓃𝓉𝒶𝓈𝓎

╰ ♡ ✧ ˖ chae hyungwon. 25 he/him. have you seen charles “chase” min? they used to be so +confident before their heart got broken. now they just seem to be very -timid. i think it had something to do with (tw: abuse) his sugar mama emotionally/physically abusing him, but who knows how accurate that is. i know, we should get them hair dye to help cheer them up! maybe then they’ll start acting like fairy floss and cherry blossoms blooming.

basics

name: charles min

nicknames: chase, whatever nicknames his sister gives him, rosir (his sTriPPEr NamE)

age: 25

pronouns: he/him

sexuality: heterosexual (he thinks) ((but is actually bisexual)) (((he’s confused ok)))

tldr

traumatic childhood backstory etc in the bio below so if ur here from dee’s intro on ciel then jump down there hey

anyway bc of the traumatic childhood backstory, chase and his little sister ciel moved out when he turned 18 and she was 14/15ish

long story short he became a stripper to support them

when he was about 20, he met tiffany, a rich business woman who frequented his strip club because she thought he was stunning and had seen him on a night out with the girls

she wasn’t that old, maybe 7 or 8 years older than him, and approached him one night asking for a private session where she then asked if she could take him out on a proper date

they dated for a while and she became his sugar mama, asking him for sexual favours but paying for pretty much everything, EVERYTHING he wanted and even offering to pay for things for his little sister too (she was stubborn and refused tho)

only a few months ago, tiffany had an STI scare and insisted it must be chase’s fault bc - you’re a stripper, you’re a whore, i bet you cheated on me - and when he told her that no, he’d been loyal, and if she had cheated on him and had this scare then he thought they could work through it and stay together, she continued to grow more agitated and (tw:abuse) started to throw things and hit him

when his little sister found him in their lavish penthouse (courtesy of tiffany, ofc) he was covered in bruises and cuts

together, they decided to move to palm springs to a shitty little apartment since chase was done with tiffany, wasn’t going to use her credit card ever again or even speak to her again and now we’re here, his arm’s just healed after being broken but his heart still hurts and he kinda misses tiffany - after all, they were together for four years

bio

born in new york, new york, chase was a curse to his father from pretty much the moment he was born; with his mother dying in childbirth, his father had a love/hate relationship with him, since he reminded him so much of the wife he so loved but was also the very reason she was gone

when he was 4 his father remarried a woman named stacy who was pregnant with a little girl ( @cielmins )

speaking of ciel! if you are here because you were redirected by dee (thanks for palming this bit off to me btw sweetheart) then buckle up kiddos, cus we’re about to go for a RIDE

stacy was never all that nice to him, mostly put up with him because she loved his father, gerald or some other basic dude name

of course, stacy absolutely ADORED ciel, since she was her actual daughter, but chase never resented ciel - in fact, quite the opposite, since he adored her even more than their parents did

yes, chase is literally the most doting big brother that could ever exist, would move mountains for his baby sister if she asked (she would never ask because she’d figure out how to move the mountain herself), but that doesn’t stop the pair from being literally The Worst™ to each other and general public nuisances of the meme variety

side note - although nobody ever told ciel that she and chase aren’t related and are just step-siblings, she has a big brain and figured it out eventually (chase couldn’t be prouder of his genius little sister, although the difference in their ethnicities was probably the biggest tip off)

home life was not so great - stacy was constantly feeling undermined by gerald’s first wife, knowing he would always love her just that little bit more, and the more insecure she felt, the more she’d take it out on chase, and the meaner she was to chase, the more distant gerald was towards her and to ciel. it was kind of a cycle.

just before chase’s 18th birthday, ciel pointed out that they could run away, just the two of them, and take care of each other like they always do. her big brain pointed out that as an 18 year old, he could be her legal guardian

so, at 14ish (maybe 15? idk how old ciel is tbh) and 18, the pair moved out

when it became apparent that they weren’t coming back, stacy and gerald said fuck it, got a divorce since they were really only together for the kids at that point anyway, and ciel and chase were pretty much independent from then on

he and ciel even adopted a kitty named mayonnaise britney spears min - but you can call her may for short

as two teenagers they uhhh weren’t so great in the funds department and chase took it upon himself to provide for them so that ciel could focus on her studies - sacrificing his own education, he put himself through odd jobs here and there until one day shortly after his 19th he was approached by someone who told him he’d be great at ‘twilight modelling’

turns out by ‘twilight modelling’ they meant hhhh stripping

well, one look at ciel’s immaculate report card and the pleased twinkle in her eyes when she started talking about scholarships and college and stuff, chase was absolutely fuckin gone and knew he’d do anything to keep that look on his baby sister’s face so - hoo boy, here we go, ya boi turned to stripping

it actually took him a while to let ciel know, he told her he was, well, twilight modelling because he didn’t want her to know, but when she did eventually find out about one and a half years later, she help him come up with his rad stripper name - Rosir, because it’s french for ‘pink sky’ which matches ciel’s name, but also ‘the colour you turn when you’re embarrassed’, which suits him

a year into stripping, he meets tiffanny, and yk, all that stuff in the tldr, she pays for all his loans, buys him all his fancy designer brands, gives him plenty of allowance (which ya boi saves cus he’s not an idiot), even buys him a car and opens up her penthouse for the two of them

of course, when shit hits the fan, he has to give up his fancy car and leave the penthouse with ciel, now the two of them live in a shitty little apartment in palm springs because he doesn’t want to blow al their savings and since his arm was kinda uhhhh broken after the ordeal, he’s only just been able to get back into stripping (since he stil isn’t qualified for anything)

(tw:emotional abuse) before he started dating tiffany, he was pretty sure he was bisexual. tiffany had him confused for years because she told him that liking it up the ass didn’t mean he was gay and he could enjoy bottoming for a woman without being bisexual; he was totally straight, she would insist, and he started to believe that and to this day he struggles with whether or not he’s straight or bisexual because he knows he finds men attractive, but he isn’t sure if he would date one --> this was a form of emotional abuse that went on for literal YEARS

(tw:emotional abuse) should i mention that tiffany was kinda lowkey the worst and also tried to convince him to stop being a stripper several times? things like “you don’t have to strip, you’re basically my personal prostitute baby” and “you don’t need an education, i’ll always be here to provide for you, you’re all mine baby boy” and when she’s mad uhhh “you’re my little whore, got it? no one else’s” so............. yh let’s just say ciel wasn’t a fan but chase, well, he was blinded by those hearts in his eyes

but don’t feel too bad for him! chase actually kinda likes stripping now, thinks it’s made him feel much more confident with himself and his body, having always felt maybe he was too gangly and thin and awkward, and he likes the feeling he gets when people can’t take their eyes off of him

despite the fact that he’s a stripper, he’s actually real sweet and innocent. has only had sex with tiffany, has never even kissed a guy and hasn’t even really kissed many other girls except for a few awkward dates he’s had here and there - most he’s done is private dances for paying customers

anddddddddd now that he’s been saving, and is finally free of tiffany and of his shit ass parents, with encouragement from ciel, ya boi has finally, finally started college

it’s a little scary since he’s older than most of the people in his classes, but he’s studying to become a kindegarten teacher and cannot wait for the day that he can hang up his lacy black garters and pick up a whiteboard marker

so, still stripping and working part-time as a waiter to pay the bills, chase is starting a new chapter of his life (signified by his brand new pink hair, courtesy of ciel), and whilst he doesn’t know what the future has in store for him, he’s ready to face it with a big smile and with his baby sister (aka his favourite person in the whole wide world) by his side

wanted connections

well hello beautiful people! if you’re still here, i must say, i’m rather impressed, so without further ado let’s get into this

ride or die best friend - chase only met this binch after moving to palm springs, but they happened to see him entering the strip club and figured out he worked there and, uhh, with persistence and a promise not to tell anyone, they became great friends and probably visit his shitty apartment to play with may and piss off ciel all the time

classmates - everyone needs a study buddy! if u got an ugli in college, throw em his way

gay awakening - now, chase isn’t necessarily going to date this person or even develop feelings, but as a beautiful man he’s going to turn chase’s sexuality upside down and cement his suspicions that yes, he is bisexual no matter what tiffany said (taken: moon jisoo)

honestly open to anything! hmu if you have any plots you’d like to chuck at him or any you’d like to fulfil <3

signing off for now,

yours faithfully

mich

#tsunamintro #bio

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defendtranswomen · 5 years

Link

I am too sick to write this article. The act of writing about my injuries is like performing an interpretative dance after breaking nearly every bone in my body. When I sit down to edit this doc, my head starts aching like a capsule full of some corrosive fluid has dissolved and is leaking its contents. The mental haze builds until it becomes difficult to see the text, to form a thesis, to connect parts. They drop onto the page in fragments. This is the difficulty of writing about brain damage.

The last time I was in the New Inquiry, several years ago, I was being interviewed. I was visibly sick. I was in an abusive “community” that had destroyed my health with regular, sustained emotional abuse and neglect. Sleep-deprived, unable to take care of myself, my body was tearing itself apart. I was suicidal from the abuse, and I had an infected jaw that needed treatment.

Years later, I’m talking to my therapist. I told her, when you have PTSD, everything you make is about PTSD. After a few minutes I slid down and curled up on the couch like the shed husk of a cicada. I go to therapy specifically because of the harassment and ostracism from within my field.

This is about disposability from a trans feminine perspective, through the lens of an artistic career. It’s about being human trash.

This is in defense of the hyper-marginalized among the marginalized, the Omelas kids, the marked for death, those who came looking for safety and found something worse than anything they’d experienced before.

For years, queer/trans/feminist scenes have been processing an influx of trans fems, often impoverished, disabled, and/or from traumatic backgrounds. These scenes have been abusing them, using them as free labor, and sexually exploiting them. The leaders of these scenes exert undue influence over tastemaking, jobs, finance, access to conferences, access to spaces. If someone resists, they are disappeared, in the mundane, boring, horrible way that many trans people are susceptible to, through a trapdoor that can be activated at any time. Housing, community, reputation—gone. No one mourns them, no one asks questions. Everyone agrees that they must have been crazy and problematic and that is why they were gone.

I was one of these people.

They controlled my housing and access to nearly every resource. I was sexually harassed, had my bathroom use monitored, my crumbling health ignored or used as a tool of control, was constantly yelled at, and was pressured to hurt other trans people and punished severely when I refused.

The cycle of trans kids being used up and then smeared is a systemic, institutionalized practice. It happens in the shelters, in the radical organizations, in the artistic scenes—everywhere they might have a chance of gaining a foothold. It’s like an abusive foster household that constantly kicks kids out then uses their tears and anger at being raped and abused to justify why they had to be kicked out—look at these problem kids. Look at these problematic kids.

Trans fems are especially vulnerable to abuse for the following reasons:

— A lot of us encounter concepts for the first time and have no idea what is “normal” or not.

— We have nowhere else to go. Abuse thrives on scarcity.

— No one cares what happens to us.

This foster cycle relies on amnesia. A lot of people who enter spaces for the first time don’t know those spaces’ history. They may not know that leaders regularly exploit and make sexual advances on new members, or that those members who resisted are no longer around. Spaces self-select for people who will play the game, until the empathic people have been drained out and the only ones who remain are those who have perfectly identified with the agendas and survival of the Space—the pyramid scheme of believers who bring capital and victims to those on top.

My first puberty was a nightmare—faced with the opportunity to make my second one a healthy, healing experience, I was instead abused and broken. The community practiced compulsory BDSM sexuality, which was deeply inappropriate considering it was one of the only visible spaces for trans people interested in making games. I didn’t need that coercion in my life; I needed safety and mentorship.

I spent those years of my early twenties not making connections or gaining valuable socialization that I had missed in my youth, but being exploited and brainwashed in nightmarish isolation. I was scared away from the “inclusive” coding spaces, the “inclusive” conferences and their orbiting alt events, and everything else that people like to pretend is available for trans fems.

Things escalated at the Allied Media Conference of 2013. Unfortunately I was traveling alone. People from the abusive community overheard me asking about safe-space resources in Oakland and became angry that I was seeking to escape their community. I was intimidated in person by someone who had a great deal of social power over me. I had a panic attack and went to the bathroom to dry heave and cry. Shortly afterward, threatening messages began bombarding my Twitter and my phone, and the community began to develop a coordinated political response to my desire to leave. People suddenly stopped talking to me, and I felt the icy net of isolation drawing tight.

This was the only time a conference responded appropriately. AMC apologized, notified their security team to check up on me, and encouraged me to submit a talk next year. I came back and ran a workshop (with two friends for security) and a small amount of healing was possible.

This reintegration was not made anywhere else. I was excluded from the vast majority of game spaces because of what happened to me. Of course, the multimedia nature of AMC meant it had the least stake in preserving the reputation of games and other things that matter more than people.

When I got back home, I was kicked out of my housing. I later learned that the community had been contacting my landlord for months prior to the actual eviction, as well as spreading rumors throughout my field. These seed rumors are a common tactic in those spaces, cultivating a brittle structure around people that can be shattered when necessary.

Living was my sole attempt at innocence.

ATTACK

One of my abusers was sent a list of the nominees for the upcoming games festival Indiecade. Unfortunately, I was on the list. I ended up winning an award, ostensibly to recognize my feminine labor in the areas of marginalized game design—years of creating access for other people, publicizing their games, giving technical support, not to mention the games I had designed myself. Instead of solidarity from other marginalized people in my field, I was attacked.

Anyone else getting that award would have been able to just … get that award. But people like me aren’t allowed to just have careers. Feminist culture saw fit to give a pass to every man and every cis woman who got that award, but when a trans fem from a disadvantaged background stepped up, she somehow happened to be the worst. The culture was fine with me as long as I was window-dressing, but daring to excel got me kneecapped.

They spread rumors that I was sending harassing messages to people, even as the messages streamed one-way toward me. They said I controlled a misogynistic mob and was using it to attack people. (I had never been more alone.) I was called a pedophile, a rapist, an abuser (the typical dog whistles used in feminist spaces to evoke the dangerous tranny stereotype invading ur bathrooms.) Even when the rumors were debunked, even with a history of co-habitating respectfully with partners and a history of being a respectful tenant, the damage was never repaired. The purpose was to keep firing until I was gone, until every possible bad thing had been said about me.

The reputation game was used to paint a vulnerable, isolated trans girl, too scared to leave her room most days, as having power which she did not have—power which my abusers, veterans of queer and artistic scenes with decades of institutional privilege, did have.

It happened without warning or recourse, without a single attempt at conciliation. Multiple times I had noticed tension building and had asked explicitly for mediation. Each time this was refused. When you’re exiling someone for petty political reasons, it works best when they can’t tell their own story. By privately vocalizing concerns that I was being abused, I became a public target—presenting a false chronology to observers.

Previously their ostracism had been silent, made simple by the fact that no one cared about what happened to trans fems who made games. The fact that my games had inadvertently made me visible meant that the attack had to be devastatingly public, my fake crimes commensurate to the amount of disgust required to repel me. This is the danger of the token system—it elevated me to a level of violent politics I was unprepared for.

Very few people want to defend a target of disposability. I was told by one person that she couldn’t risk losing her job, another that she didn’t want to become a target too.

I was threatened into not defending myself, gaslit into silence, told that people knew “things” about me that were never explained. When I asked how I could do accountability, when I said I would do whatever they wanted, they said that I was “incapable” of accountability, that my crime was unknown and my sentence was permanent. That is the point where the body starts to die.

My attackers were expert pathological liars who had been getting away with it for years—entire fictional realities playing out on their social-media accounts like soap opera. Escaping from abuse is the most certain way to become painted as an abuser, and being an abuser is the most sure way to be believed. You know how movies are realer than reality? How the sound effects and physics become so normalized to us that reality seems flat and fake? Talking about abuse is kind of like that. Abusers know what sounds “real.” They are like expert movie-effects artists. Victims are stuck with boring fake reality.

SOCIAL MEDIA AND HEALTH

Social media is significant to my story because for a long time it was my only outlet as a disabled individual barred from many physical spaces, and a way to express myself artistically when traditional outlets were closed to me. However, it came with its own set of problems.

When I told another trans person that I had been abused, I was told in response that my follower count on Twitter was higher than hers.

I tried talking to people about my poor health, how I needed to withdraw and have space. After unfollowing most people related to games, a subject which was quickly becoming a trigger, I was told that I was “manipulative” for unfollowing, and my following list on Twitter was scrutinized and brought up as evidence that I still followed certain games people and that I was doing this to hurt people.

I was pressured not to post about certain things I cared about (“crystals,” ”slime”) and not to use my favorite emoticons. I was pressured to join in social-media smearings of other trans people (which I frequently rebelled against, to my detriment) and to RT things I didn’t want to RT.

My twitter was incompatible with the rest of the network because I mainly posted poetry-style tweets that had no connection to anything else. I would be accused of subtweeting or encoding hidden messages into my tweets. People would associate random words in my tweets with some random thing going on in their life that I surely must be commenting on.

Social media became a scientific metric for my abusers, a set of numbers and behaviors to obsess over and divine hidden messages. The games network constantly abraded against my nonparticipation—my desire for a safe, therapeutic online space, not a competitive one.

Feminist practice of declaring privilege and marginalization became a way to collect information about victims: Look at someone’s profile bar for their elemental weaknesses. Being frank about my health problems was never an advantage for me in feminist spaces, only something to be used against me. I was an object, an invalid on a bed that could be infinitely manipulated and extruded through social media to fit the agendas of a thousand bored strangers.

The ethereal potential of the net had become rigidly hierarchized and numbered to the point where I could be managed and controlled as efficiently as if I were in 3-D space.

MOBBING

CALL-OUT CULTURE AS RITUAL DISPOSABILITY

Feminist/queer spaces are more willing to criticize people than abusive systems because they want to reserve the right to use those systems for their own purposes. At least attacking people can be politically viable, especially in a token system where you benefit directly by their absence, or where your status as a good feminist is dependent on constantly rooting out evil.

When the bounty system calls for the ears of evil people, well, most people have a fucking ear.

When I used to curate games, I was approached by people in that abusive community who pressured me not to cover a game by a trans woman. Their reasoning was blatant jealousy, disguised under the thin, nauseating film of pretext that covers nearly everything people say about trans people.

When I rejected their reasoning and covered the game, the targeting reticule of disposability turned toward me. What can we learn from this? Besides “lofty processes in queer/feminist spaces are nearly always about some embarrassingly petty shit,” it’s about the ritual nature of disposability, which has nothing to do with “deserving” it. Disposability has to happen on a regular basis, like forest fires keeping nature in balance.

So when people write all those apologist articles about call-out culture and other instruments of violence in feminism, I don’t think they understand that the people who most deserve those things can usually shrug off the effects, and the normalization of that violence inevitably trickles down and affects the weak. It is predictable as water. Criminal justice applies punishment under the conceit of blind justice, but we see the results: Prisons are flooded with the most vulnerable, and the rich can buy their way out of any problem. In activist communities, these processes follow a similar pragmatism.

Punishment is not something that happens to bad people. It happens to those who cannot stop it from happening. It is laundered pain, not a balancing of scales.

If a man does something fucked up, all he has to do is apologize, if that, for feminists to re-embrace him. If a trans fem talks about something fucked up that happened to her, she is told to leave and never come back.

MOBBING

A common punishment for infanticide in the Middle Ages was living burial. This was a feminine-coded punishment, often reserved for women, one that allowed execution without having to actually be there at the moment of death. This line of thought pervades feminine punishment to this day.

One of the most common tools of exclusion is through mobbing, which is rarely talked about because unlike rape, murder, etc, it’s not easy to pin it on a single person (or scapegoat). Mobbing is emotional abuse practiced by a group of people, usually peers, over a period of time, through methods such as gaslighting, rumor-mongering, and ostracism. It’s most documented in workplace or academic environments (i.e. key points of capitalist tension) but is thoroughly institutionalized into feminist, queer, and radical spaces as well. Here is why it is horrible:

1) It has an unusually strong power to damage the victim’s relationship to society, because it can’t be written off as an outlier, as some singular monster. It reveals a fundamental truth about people that makes it difficult to trust ever again. People become like aliens, like a pack of animals that can turn on you as soon as some mysterious pheromone shift marks you for death.

2) The insidious nature of emotional abuse: How do you fight ostracism and rumors? They leave no bruises, they just starve you.

3) Mobbing typically occurs in places where the victim is trapped by some need or obligation: work, school, circles of friends. This can prolong exposure to damaging extremes.

For these reasons, PTSD is an almost inevitable outcome of any protracted mobbing case.

In ideological spaces, this damage is exacerbated by the fact that the victims are often earnest people who take the ideals to heart and can’t understand why the culture is going contrary to its own messages. They appease, self-incriminate, blame themselves—anything to be a Good Person. They don’t want to fight. Fighting sickens them.

From a report by the Australian House of Representatives Education and Employment Committee: “90 percent of people being bullied make the comment: ‘I just want it to stop.’ They don’t want to go down a formal path, but just want the behaviour to stop.”

Those who participate, even unwittingly, feel compelled to invest in the narrative of victims as monsters in order to protect their self-conception as a good person—group violence creates group culpability. For their ego they trade the career, health, community (and sometimes life) of the victim.

MOBBING AS WITCH HUNTS

One lesson we can draw from the return of witch-hunting is that this form of persecution is no longer bound to a specific historic time. It has taken a life of its own, so that the same mechanisms can be applied to different societies whenever there are people in them that have to be ostracized and dehumanized. Witchcraft accusations, in fact, are the ultimate mechanism of alienation and estrangement as they turn the accused—still primarily women—into monstrous beings, dedicated to the destruction of their communities, therefore making them undeserving of any compassion and solidarity.

—Silvia Federici

The term witch hunt is thrown around a lot, but let’s look at what it really means. Witch hunts, as discussed by Silvia Federici, were responses to shifts in capital accumulation, as is slavery. To jury-rig the perpetually self-destructing machine of capitalism, huge amounts of violence are required to obtain captive labor (fem and non-white). The effect is to devalue our labor as much as possible, and to destroy the bonds between marginalized people.

You see this in games and tech spaces where the intense amounts of competition and capital accumulation, both physical and social, are a breeding ground for mobbing. But the popular two-sided discussion of mobbing as carried out in numerous clickbait articles ignores the fact that mobbing goes all the way down—even as white cis women struggle for safety, they participate in the exclusion of others, creating a hierarchy of labor and competition. Because mobbing is a form of capitalist violence, the popular discussion (conducted by those who are intricately entwined with the flow of capital) must omit the nuances of mobbing in favor of a narrative that is about replacing uncool regressive masculine consumerism with liberal feminist consumerism.

When the people who are scapegoated happen to be from the most disadvantaged backgrounds, the culture calls it coincidence, clutching our respectable counterparts to their chest like pearls, a talisman of tokens to ward away reality.

SEXUAL MENACE

I saw a queer black woman, struggling to survive by her art, falsely accused of rape by a white queer. The call-out post was extremely vague and loaded with strong words designed to elicit vigilante justice. Immediately, hundreds of other white queers jumped on the bandwagon. Many of them likely didn’t know either of the people involved.

Accusations of sexual menace are a key weapon used against marginalized people in feminist spaces, because it arouses people’s disgust like no other act—the threat of black skin on innocent white, of trans bone structures on ethereal cis skeletons. It’s as common for many of us as cat-calling or any other form of ubiquitous harassment that cis feminists talk about, except no one wants to talk about it. It’s a way for the dominant people in the group to take us aside and say, you are not welcome here, or do this thing you don’t want to do or I’ll ruin your life. But frequently it happens without any particular thesis, just as a general tool to keep us destabilized and vulnerable. Don’t forget who you really are in the unspoken hierarchy.

Mobbing uses these rumors to trade a vague suspicion for the actual reality of violence. It’s like turning the corner and watching someone on the street having their teeth kicked in by a mob who assures you that just before you appeared, this person had committed some mysterious act which justifies limitless brutality.

DAMAGE

PTSD AS DISPOSABILITY ALCHEMY

I was, in effect, beaten until I had brain damage, over a long period of time. Unlike some other survivors of trauma, I was unable to heal because I was never separated from the source of the danger. I was never given the chance to vent, to express myself, to tell my side of the story—but I had to keep working, harder than ever, while being constantly exposed to violence.

The pressure on me was not merely to survive but to display no signs of the incredible amounts of damage pouring into me daily. To never display the slightest hint of anger, to never cry, to not argue with people telling me horrible things. Every hint of damage was an excuse to further isolate and demonize me.

The cost of resisting disposability was PTSD. It was catching a lethal amount of negative energy with my body and becoming a poison-processing factory.

My job is wired to give me electric shocks. What do you do when your alternative is homelessness?

“The allostatic load is ‘the wear and tear on the body’ which grows over time when the individual is exposed to repeated or chronic stress.”

“Stress hormones such as epinephrine and cortisol in combination with other stress-mediating physiological agents such as increased myocardial workload, decreased smooth muscle tone in the gastrointestinal tract, and increased coagulation effects have protective and adaptive benefits in the short term, yet can accelerate pathophysiology when they are overproduced or mismanaged; this kind of stress can cause hypertension and lead to heart disease. Constant or even irregular exposure to these hormones can eventually induce illnesses and weaken the body’s immune system.”

To cover up the abuse and protect the “reputation” of the games industry, it was deemed worthwhile to lower my lifespan, weaken my immune system, and permanently damage my body.

Even if I drink multiple cups of water before bed I wake up with severe dehydration. An interesting side effect of being a trans fem on hormones is that spironolactone (an antiandrogen) is a diuretic, so the dehydrating effects of stress are added to the dehydration of my gender, tipping it over to agonizing extremes, the unspoken tax of pursuing both gender and a career. The amount of water in my body is political.

I wake up feeling burnt. Damaged. Corroded. I crawl up from an insane, nauseating, unreal pit and slowly come back to the world. I have constant headaches.

By the end of the day my neck and left arm are aching from nervous tics.

I forget things rapidly. Triggers leave me exhausted or panicking at inconvenient times, sometimes for days or weeks.

My hair fell out in handfuls. I still have a nervous tic of running my hands through my hair to pull out loose strands.

Having PTSD is like breaking a limb and never being able to rely on it as strongly. The sudden weakness of standing on it wrong, suddenly being unable to hold something, a fatigue and spasm of nerves.

It became difficult to diagnose other medical problems because of the all-consuming nature of the symptoms. It became difficult to talk about what happened to my body in general. When my hairdresser asked, the only way to explain the damage was by saying I had been in a car accident.

Attacks on marginalized artists go beyond merely denying them access to networks; they also damage a person’s faculties of expression.

For a long time, PTSD deprived me of the privilege of being a multitemporal being. The space of time I was able to safely think about shrunk to about a minute. Larger projects, the kind most tied to commercial value and to the media coverage apparatus, were difficult for me due to the traumatic potential of expanding my aperture of time.

The diversity-centric system expects more jobs to fix the problem, ignoring how long we’ve been damaged and made unfit for their jobs. They encourage the Strong Woman stereotype because it means taking the damage onto ourselves. We need more than jobs; we need social reintegration.

COMMUNICATION

INABILITY TO SHARE STIGMA

Traumatic events destroy the sustaining bonds between individual and community. Those who have survived learn that their sense of self, of worth, of humanity, depends upon feeling a connection to others. The solidarity of a group provides the strongest protection against terror and despair, and the strongest antidote to traumatic experience. Trauma isolates; the group re-creates a sense of belonging. Trauma shames and stigmatizes; the group bears witness and affirms. Trauma degrades the victim; the group exalts her. Trauma de-humanizes the victim; the group restores her humanity.

—Judith Herman, Trauma and Recovery

The worst thing is not having other survivors to commiserate with. I can think of people who went through similar situations and were defended, re-integrated. Their stories are paraded through feminist spaces, saturated through social media, and every time I’m exposed to them, I feel less safe, not more. This enhances my feelings of dehumanization: “Why was I not worth protecting in the exact same situation? I must not be human like them”.

I often have the overwhelming physical sensation of having a dead person in my life, someone as close as an identical twin. The sensation is of me being the only one still alive after a terrible accident, lingering like an unshriven thing. The inability to share stigma is even worse than the original act of violation. The greater part of a wound is its inability to heal.

INADMISSIBLE NARRATIVES OF ABUSE #1

The typical narrative of abuse on social media doesn’t include the problems of the most vulnerable, like how public verbal harassment may only be an ultimately minor part of a trans fem’s exile.

The most skilled abusers know that a good exile is done with pure silence, through the whisper network, by having the person wake up one day and have every second or third person she knows or who practices her profession block her and/or stop talking to her. No one tells her why. She has to painstakingly talk to every friend, every contact, every person she would normally have a cheerful conversation with. The electric shocks of knowing that every simple human interaction you have with a friend or stranger could turn into a nightmare of victim blaming or worse, a cold iciness where they pretend nothing is wrong. Imagine repeating that experience hundreds and hundreds of times, with no way to end it. After the noise, the long years of silence are what kill us.

The backchannels that should be used to protect people from abusers and rapists are instead used to protect abusers and rapists. Any usefulness these channels have is reserved for Real Women. No one warned me about any of the comically large number of predators in my professions. I was considered unrapeable, unabuseable, not worthy of protection. A trans fem can try to talk about her experiences of abuse for years and have no one listen, but the instant one of her abusers smears her, everyone is alert and awake.

One reason it took me so long to talk about my experiences was that I associated being able to speak against abuse with being an abuser. Because every abuser throughout my life was so good at being believed, I thought that being believed was the exclusive domain of abusers.

This is why my first months in therapy were spent convincing me that I wasn’t a sociopath, crazy, abusive, or any of the other terms I had been brainwashed with. Abusers don’t spend years disabled by those thoughts because they don’t care if they hurt other people.

INADMISSIBLE NARRATIVES OF ABUSE #2

And when verbal harassment does occur, it’s often cloaked in feminist language, making it impossible to fight.

If they call a woman a bitch, people comprehend that as misogyny. But they call trans fems things that are harder to respond to. Rapist, pedophile, male conditioning, etc. They call us things so bad that even denying them is destructive. Who wants to stand up in public and say they aren’t those things? Who has the privilege to not get called those things in the first place?

When I look at a cis woman these days, the first thing I think is, I bet no one ever casually called her a rapist.

TRASH ART

When it was really bad, I wrote: “Build the shittiest thing possible. Build out of trash because all i have is trash. Trash materials, trash bodies, trash brain syndrome. Build in the gaps between storms of chronic pain. Build inside the storms. Move a single inch and call it a victory. Mold my sexuality toward immobility. Lie here leaking water from my eyes like a statue covered in melting frost. Zero affect. Build like moss grows. Build like crystals harden. Give up. Make your art the merest displacement of molecules at your slightest quiver. Don’t build in spite of the body and fail on their terms, build with the body. Immaculate is boring and impossible. Health based aesthetic.”

Twine, trashzines made of wadded up torn paper because we don’t have the energy to do binding, street recordings done from our bed where we lie immobilized.

Laziness is not laziness, it is many things: avoiding encountering one’s own body, avoiding triggers, avoiding thinking about the future because it’s proven to be unbearable. Slashing the Gordian Knot isn’t a sign of strength; it’s a sign of exhaustion.

Although I’ve fashioned this reflection in a manner that some may find legible, it is not a fair representation of my sickness. Writing these paragraphs has taken constant doses of medicine, fevered breaks, a few existential timeouts, and a complete neglect of my other responsibilities. When I tried in true form to write – in my realest moments of sickness – all that emerged were endless ellipses and countless semi-coherent revelations.

—Alli Yates

With the trashzine, I tore up the pages because I didn’t have the time or energy to bind them. I put them in ziploc bags—trash binding. In this new form they were resistant to the elements and could go interesting places. I hid one in Oakland under a bridge, and posted coordinates online. Someone found it.

When read, they come out of the bag like my thoughts—fragmented, random, nonlinear. If dropped they become part of the trash.

SOCIAL DYNAMICS

COMMUNITY IS DISPOSABILITY

There are no activist communities, only the desire for communities, or the convenient fiction of communities. A community is a material web that binds people together, for better and for worse, in interdependence. If its members move away every couple years because the next place seems cooler, it is not a community. If it is easier to kick someone out than to go through a difficult series of conversations with them, it is not a community. Among the societies that had real communities, exile was the most extreme sanction possible, tantamount to killing them. On many levels, losing the community and all the relationships it involved was the same as dying. Let’s not kid ourselves: we don’t have communities.

—The Broken Teapot, Anonymous

People crave community so badly that it constitutes a kind of linguistic virus. Everything in this world apparently has a community attached to it, no matter how fragmented or varied the reality is. This feels like both wishful thinking in an extremely lonely world (trans fems often have a community-shaped wound a mile wide) and also the necessary lens to convert everything to profit. Queerness is a marketplace. Alt is a marketplace. Buy my feminist butt plugs.

The dream of an imaginary community that allows total identification with one’s role within it to an extent that rules out interiority or doubt, the fixity and clearness of an external image or cliche as opposed to ephemera of lived experience, a life as it looks from the outside.

—Stephen Murphy

These idealized communities require disposability to maintain the illusion—violence and ostracism against the black/brown/trans/trash bodies that serve as safety valves for the inevitable anxiety and disillusionment of those who wish “total identification”.

Feminism/queerness takes a vague disposability and makes it a specific one. The vague ambient hate that I felt my whole life became intensely focused—the difference between being soaked in noxious, irritating gasoline and having someone throw a match at you. Normal hate means someone and their friends being shitty toward you; radical hate places a moral dimension onto hate, requiring your exclusion from every possible space—a true social death.

CURATING QUEERNESS

An entire industry of curation has sprung up to rigidly and sometimes violently police the hierarchy of who is allowed to express themselves as a trans or queer person. The LGBT and queer spheres find it upon themselves to create compilations of the “best” art by trans people, to define what a trans story is and to omit the rest. Endless projects to curate, list, own, publish, control, but so few to offer support and mentorship.

The stories that reflect poorly on alt culture are buried in favor of utopianism that everyone aspires toward but where few live. People feed desperately on this aspiration, creating the ever more elaborate hollow structures of brittle chitin that comprise feminist/queer culture.

To find the things I wanted in queerness, I had to find those who had been exiled from it, those who the name had been torn from.

COMPLAINT AND PURITY

there is nothing “wrong” with a politics of complaint but there are several risks like developing a dependent relationship with “the enemy” politically neutralizing oneself by dumping all of one’s subversive energies into meaningless channels or reifying one’s powerlessness by identifying with it because it makes one virtuous complaint becomes a form of subcultural capital a way to morally purify oneself —Jackie Wang, the tumblrization of everyday life

Popular feminism encodes pain into its regular complaint/click cycle, keeping everyone on the rim of emotional survival. Constant attack, constant strength, constant purity.

Lacking true community, the energy spent is not restored. Those with more stability in their life can keep up the cycle of complaint, and those with lower amounts of energy are filtered out, creating culture that glorifies a “strength” not everyone can access.

There is immense pressure on trans people to engage in this form of complaint if they want access to spaces—but we, with our higher rates of homelessness, joblessness, lifelessness, lovelessness, are the most fragile. We are the glass fems of an already delicate genderscape.

Purification is meaningless because anyone can perform these rituals—an effigy burnt in digital. And their inflexibility provides a place where abuse can thrive—a set of rules which abusers can hold over their victims.

Deleuze wrote, “The problem is no longer getting people to express themselves, but providing little gaps of solitude and silence in which they might eventually find something to say. Repressive forces don’t stop people from expressing themselves, but rather, force them to express themselves. What a relief to have nothing to say, the right to say nothing, because only then is there a chance of framing the rare, or ever rarer, the thing that might be worth saying.”

ENDING

People talk about feminism and queerness the way you’d apologize for an abusive relationship.

This isn’t for the people who are benefiting from these spaces and have no reason to change. This is for the people who were exiled, the people essays aren’t supposed to be written for. This is to say, you didn’t deserve that. That even tens or hundreds or thousands of people can be wrong, and they often are, no matter how much our socially constructed brains take that as a message to lie down and die. That nothing is too bad, too ridiculous, too bizarre to be real when it comes to making marginalized people disappear.

Ideology is a sick fetish.

RESISTING DISPOSABILITY

— Let marginalized people be flawed. Let them fuck up like the Real Humans who get to fuck up all the time.

— Fight criminal-justice thinking. Disposability runs on the innocence/guilt binary, another category that applies dynamically to certain bodies and not others. The mob trials used to run trans people out of communities are inherently abusive, favor predators, and must be rejected as a process unequivocally. There is no kind of justice that resembles hundreds of people ganging up on one person, or tangible lifelong damage being inflicted on someone for failing the rituals of purification that have no connection to real life.

— Pay attention when people disappear. Like drowning, it’s frequently silent. They might be blackmailed, threatened, and/or in shock.

— Even if the victim doesn’t want to fight (which is deeply understandable—often moving on is the only response), private support is huge. This is the time to make sure the wound doesn’t become infected, that the PTSD they acquire is as minimized as possible. This is the difference between a broken leg healing to the point where they can run again, or walking with a limp for the rest of their life. They’ve just been victim-blamed by a huge number of people, and as a social organism, their body is telling them to die. They need social reintegration, messages of support, and space to heal.

— Be extremely critical about what people say about trans people, especially things said in vagueness. The rumor mill that keeps trans people out of spaces isn’t even so much about people believing what is said, it’s about people choosing the safest option—a staining that plays on the average person’s risk aversion.

— Ask yourself if the same thing would be happening if they were white/cis/able-bodied.

— “Radical inclusivity recognizes harm done in the name of God.” —Yvette Flunder

Marginalized spaces can’t form healthy community purely from rejection of the mainstream. There has to be an acknowledgment of how people have been hurt by feminist spaces and their models.

— A common enemy isn’t the same as loving each other.

— Don’t be part of spaces that place an ideal or “community leader” above people.

DREAM

On January 18, 2015, I woke up from a dream. It was early morning, still dark. I felt very sad that the dream wasn’t real. I wrote it down, like I’ve written down all my dreams for the last eight years.

“She was my abuser. She came to my house on the island. I begged her to stop what she had done, to clear my name. She would not. It had been two years of being abused like a child because of her. I turned to walk deeper into the house. I looked back. She had a knife. She stabbed me. It was the happiest dream of my life. Because finally an abuser had done something to me that people would pay attention to. When I woke up my entire spirit was crushed because I had not been stabbed. I felt the weight of all these years of abuse. I wished so badly I had been stabbed.

I pulled the knife out. I wrestled the knife away. I called my friend to come over and help me.

I walked along the beach of the island and saw for the first time how PTSD had numbed and corroded every perception I’d had since that August, this debilitating disease. I finally felt the brightness of the air in my lungs, the color of the sand and the waves. It was so beautiful. I just wanted to experience all the things that had been stolen from me.”

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