#there's a difference between 'be careful of how you use this label' and 'I mean you can ignore me but using this label is p much bad lol'

[xxlovelynovaxx]

I'm also going to talk about this:

"Why do systems need special terms for normal experiences" sounds a lot like my mom saying "why do you need to label yourself" about my queer identity.

One, because it helps me understand myself. But more importantly, because my experiences ARE fundamentally altered (hehe) by my plurality. Some of us are fragments and NOT full people. Some of us are symptom holders, trauma holders, or otherwise dealing with stuff compartmentalized to that headmate because that's how many forms of plurality work.

No, most of us AREN'T persecutors OR protectors. Many of us can't be that. Some were unintentionally in that role before our plurality became apparent. Those people have stepped down and been able to heal because they are not in that role. Others explicitly consented to keeping or taking up that role. I'm gonna come back to this.

"Because we still see ourselves as not normal" - Do you think being abnormal is bad? Do you? Do you think the terms neurodivergent and neurotypical are bad because they imply a norm and a divergence from it? Do you think it's untrue that systems have unique experiences from singlets?

Because if so, that's big "a trans person talking about how their experience of gender is different than the corresponding cis gender because of their transness is transphobia". Real "transmascs who use the lesbian label are misgendering themselves" energy. Truly "using queer implies you're odd so you can't reclaim it". Absolute "everyone's on the spectrum" vibes. Real "I don't see color" bullshit.

I don't feel the need to be normal because I'm not an assimilationist, actually. Acceptance doesn't come of making everything normal, acceptance comes of teaching everyone to respect when something diverges from typical experiences.

Also actually, it's fairly common to use labels for people that only sometimes have aspects of a role. Have you ever heard of a career? What about moods? Is someone not a "cheerful" person if they are sad sometimes? Not funny if 10 percent of their jokes flop? Singlets absolutely take on labels that describe things they sometimes embody.

Part of the reason there's not a one to one singlet label is because singlets have the same "fronter" all the time. If a persecutor behaves in that role even thirty percent of the time, and fronts ten percent of the time that they do, others only see the system behaving that way THREE percent of the time. As opposed to the singlet, who would be seen behaving that way... thirty percent of the time. Wow! Math!

Us using a role to describe ourselves is not us dehumanizing ourselves any more than using it/its pronouns is. We are people, who are ALSO our roles. Role kinda... implies that it is neither the whole person nor permanent. Actors who play roles, roles in a company/project... none of those are describing the whole of a person. Imagine saying "you can't call yourself a video editor, you're more than that". -_-

When it is a choice, that we consent to... you call it a "recipe for disaster" and "a self-fulfilling prophecy". Do you think that we can't CHOOSE whether or not we want to fulfill that role, and when we want to? Do you think we'll just go "oh well we're a persecutor guess we have to be shitty to others/ourselves"?

While any of us can sometimes lash out when triggered, we specifically have an agreement that the persecutor most able and willing to handle a situation will do so with the permission of the host and other affected sysmates. There are times we need someone who isn't afraid to be an ass to people that are hurting us - while using their best judgment about it, of course.

This is also a term that has helped those who had unintentionally stepped into the role process their own trauma and triggers. We had a few people get triggered by our partner at separate points in time.

When they recognized that they were behaving as persecutors, that 1. their actions would affect everyone 2. that when not triggered they would feel bad about us and our loved ones being hurt by them and 3. that when we recognized certain system members fronting while upset we might be triggered and need to use our coping mechanisms... it made a huge positive difference for us. We were able to negotiate that we would let them protect us when it WAS needed if they would trust us to call them when it was.

So, as for an example:

Demonia. She picked the name. She is a demon. She enjoys hurting people - she is a sadist by nature. She gets that in two ways - 1. by consensual kink play and 2. by dishing it right back out to neo///nazis, te///rfs, abusers, and the like - within limits, because she understands that her actions affect everyone in the system, and there are lines that many of us won't cross. (Most of those lines are actually the same for her, but there's a few minor ones she otherwise wouldn't care about.)

She also, while still figuring out her identity, seems to like certain -dere anime tropes, video games, and media with angels/demons in it (for the most part, she says). She is relatively laid back otherwise and has a great sense of humor. She's often one to cheer me up when I'm feeling down and need a pick me up. If you think I see her as just a persecutor - that's HER label that she's takes pride in. She is proud that she has sharp teeth to defend us with when it's needed.

She also would be free to step down from the role at any time - an idea that currently is distasteful to her, but she does know that it's her choice and wouldn't have it any other way.

Lastly, the fact that it's largely used by DID/disordered systems IS relevant. While I'll never gatekeep terms based on origin or disordered status, these terms specifically speak to a phenomenon that is MORE common for us, BECAUSE OF our trauma. The dissociative barriers we have compartmentalize us to a more significant degree than in healthy multiplicity.

For us, this is especially true, as recognizing that one of us was acting in that role due to trauma or similar, was the exact reason they were able to start addressing those issues, heal, and become more than that. Saying "hey, you've been acting as a persecutor, is that a role you want?" has lowered the dissociative barriers that HAD boxed them into that role.

Trauma can cause headmates to form differently. It can cause them to inadvertently take on roles. That's a HUGE part of why the role labels are important! To recognize when the brain split a headmate in response to harm we faced - whether a caregiver, protector, persecutor, or otherwise - and examine if the role that was given to them at the time is now healthy or fulfilling for them. It's similar to examining whether coping skills formed in response to trauma serve us anymore - except, this is a whole ass PERSON the brain made as a "coping skill".

⚔️: I was one of those former persecutors. Things were... really hard before we realized that's what was going on. I was really hurting and... and it was no one's fault, but... it was because of me having been shoved to the front to protect us so often without any of us realizing. That's part of us being disordered, y'know? Until we knew we had DID, we simply didn't have the knowledge or toolset or anything to KNOW that that was happening. Our dissociative disorder assigned me that role, but I was the one who got to decide not to keep it as soon as we realized that it had.

I've heard "you don't need to label yourself and pigeonhole yourself into a box" from queerphobes and ableists. I've heard "it's not 'normal' to call yourself [label] based on [traits]" from all manner of bigots. Obsession wirh normalcy itself is assimilationism at best and borders on fascism at worst. And saying the labels a person CHOOSES for themselves are "not normal" when equating abnormality to badness is not just offensive, it's cruel.

It would be one thing to say: we've seen people sometimes label their headmates persecutors without their consent/use a reductive or incorrect definition of persecutor/pigeonhole their headmates into that role. This can be hurtful, so please be careful if you are going to use this term.

✅ Respects the autonomy of the system using the term, allows for different feelings and views on the word, draws attention to not using it just as a label for "bad" headmates and reminds people to respect the wishes of their headmates.

It's another thing to say "this is not normal/we don't need a label for this because it's an experience singlets don't have/acknowledging or choosing a role is dehumanizing and ignoring the rest of their personhood".

❌ Projects one's own feelings about the word's usage onto every system, ignores how trauma especially in disordered plurality often causes roles to form inadvertently and how recognizing that is a step towards healthy multiplicity for many, conflates being normal with being good and being abnormal with being bad, ignores that systems DO have unique experiences that singlets don't have by virtue of being multiple, also misunderstand the fundamental difference between a role and an identity.

You can be a role and a person.

I actually think "don't turn temporary descriptors into absolutes" is a very good standalone point. You can label yourself as a role even when not actively in that role, but don't force yourself to fill it all the time and don't force yourself to stay in that role if you don't want to/need not to.

I think that one part is good. I just think the rest is utter garbage.

#this is a very triggering subject for us #there's a difference between 'be careful of how you use this label' and 'I mean you can ignore me but using this label is p much bad lol' #the way you view the word is not universal

[baronfulmen]

I think it's really funny when bigots flat out say that they don't like using people's preferred pronouns or respecting sexual orientations other than straight because they "don't understand it".

Like. Yeah, I also do not understand it. But who the fuck cares?

Listen I have had multiple people try to explain to me the difference between bi and pan and none of them agreed with each other. I've heard people combine labels that, to my understanding, would be totally contradictory. I am a straight cisgender man that honestly doesn't have the faintest idea what people mean when they try to describe being genderfluid.

But how fucking weak-minded, cowardly, and hate filled would I need to be for me to make that anyone else's problem? Shit, I don't even make it MY problem because NOBODY CARES IF I GET IT. They're just asking me to be respectful, also known as the bare fucking minimum of social interactions.

I don't need to understand. It doesn't matter. Get to know people as individuals to the extent you need to for that specific relationship, and otherwise just call them whatever the fuck they want to be called and let them date whoever the fuck they want to date. There are so many things I don't understand in this world, can you imagine if I was out there trying to ban particle accelerators or, I don't know, magnets (ICP had a point, how DO those work)?

[caelesjjk]

𝕖𝕟𝕥𝕒𝕟𝕘𝕝𝕖𝕕 - 𝕛𝕛𝕜&𝕜𝕥𝕙

⟶ title: entangled ⟶pairing: spidey!jungkook x fem reader, venom!taehyung x fem reader ⟶au: marvel au ⟶ rating: 18+ ⟶ genre: romance, smut, love triangle ⟶ wc: 7.6k ⟶ warnings: Mnetions of blood and a wound, drinking, Jungkook calls you Data and Taehyung calls you Pigeon, infidelity-ish?? (you'll see), two smut scenes: oral (female and male receiving) mutiple orgasms, overstim, unprotected sex (thats a no, wrap it up) few different positions, making out, sweet kisses, nipple stuff ⟶ summary: Jeon Jungkook is Spider-Man.

He saved your life twice. But he’s also been your sweet lab partner in college for the past two years and now someone who is more than just a friend.

You care about him…maybe even love him. But something tells you that you aren’t quite sure what love even is. How could you when you have feelings for someone else as well?

Kim Taehyung is the handsome stranger you’ve seen around campus and somehow ended up dancing with at Club Onyx. You were upset that Jungkook had stood you up once again and Taehyung made you feel like you were on top of the world.

What you didn’t know that night, is the dark secret Taehyung is trying desperately to hide, but the closer the two of you get the more difficult that becomes.

⟶ authors note: hello darklings, its been such a long time. I apologize this took so long but it's finally here! I can't wait to see what everyone thinks of spidey!kook and venom!tae, they're truly my babies and I have loved writing them. This is only part one, I make no guarantees how quickly part two comes out, but I'll do my best I promise. I'm thinking probably four parts for this. enjoy! tell me all ur thots! Shoutout to M (@here2bbtstrash), Sav (@jeonjcngkook) and Kay (@tea4sykes) for looking this over and correcting my insanity and also assuring me that it's not terrible lol. Thank you all so much for your patience and help.

“So where is he?” your friend Penny says from across the table.

“He said he was coming.” You sigh, stirring your drink with the straw.

“He said that the last two times we were all supposed to study together.” Hoseok gives you a look that’s part sympathy and part annoyance.

“He’s working three part-time jobs. Not all of us have our parents paying for our apartments, Hobi.” You give him a playful glare and he returns it, followed by a poke of his tongue from between his lips.

Part of you wished you didn’t know Jungkook’s secret. That you could go back to the days where you were blissfully unaware of who he was. But back then, being stood up hurt even more because you didn’t know why.

Now you know. You know that Jungkook is Spider-Man. The infamous superhero  with powers he acquired from being bitten by a lab altered arachnid a few years ago.

He saved your life. Twice in fact. Both times it was because you were curious, too curious for your own good, and you had been suspecting something was going on with Jungkook. 

You followed him one night and watched in awe as he changed into his Spider-Man suit in an alleyway. And not just because he was Spider-Man, but because he was insanely gorgeous. You were hypnotized by the man who had been sitting next to you as your lab partner for most of the year. Who constantly hid his body beneath baggy clothes and bucket hats. 

You had always liked him a little more than you cared to admit. And after you found out the truth about him, your friendship grew into something more.

There weren’t any labels; you didn’t call each other boyfriend and girlfriend, much to your dismay. But Jungkook always told you that if the wrong person found out about the two of you, they could use you to get to him. And he needed to be able to focus on his whole saving the world gig, and not constantly worry about your safety. 

You understood. But that didn’t mean it didn’t sting a little.

You manage to study a bit longer with your friends before deciding you were far too distracted. You call Jungkook on your walk back to your apartment, but of course he doesn't  answer. 

So now you wait. And you worry.

No matter how hot the shower water is as it hits your back, it doesn’t stop the worry. You just want him to be safe, even if he pissed you off by not showing up again. 

You wrap yourself in your favorite silky robe and get comfortable on your bed with some of your homework you didn’t finish with your friends, slowly getting immersed in all of the calculations and formulas that you love so much. They were a great distraction.

Not sure how long you’ve been studying, you get up to stretch and make your way to your apartment balcony, opening the doors and stepping outside for a breath of fresh air. 

The city is always loud, but up here it isn’t so bad. The traffic sounds far away and the lights are just flickers across the skyline. You might even think it was beautiful if it wasn’t for the constant bad lurking around every corner. Or maybe you had just heard too many scary things from Jungkook.

Sighing when he pops into your head again, you turn around to head back inside only to come face to face with the superhero in question. Seeing him hanging there upside down from your doorway startles you just enough to send you stumbling backwards towards your balcony.

Before you can get too far, or even fully scream, Jungkook is shooting a web at your torso, pulling you back and into his arms as he flips down onto his feet. Your head swims from how quickly it happens.

“Data, look at me.” Jungkook’s voice is slightly muffled through his mask. “It’s just me.”

“You scared me.” You look up at him as he removes his mask and shakes out his hair, eyes finally meeting yours. 

“I’m sorry, I should’ve been…noisier.” Jungkook smiles and you almost forget that you’re angry with him. Almost.

“What are you doing here anyways?” You shove against his broad chest and feel his arm release your waist. He sighs, following you inside your apartment.

“I know you’re upset I missed the study session…” Jungkook starts to explain, but you twist back around to face him.

“If my friends hadn’t seen you around campus now and then, they would think I made you up, Jungkook. You never show. It makes me look pathetic.” You cross your arms over your chest and wait for the next excuse.

“You aren’t pathetic, Data. I’m just…” Jungkook winces when he reaches for you, a hand moving down to his ribs in pain. “Sorry, it’s healing, it's  just slow.”

“What’s healing? What happened to you?” You let the fight go for a moment, closing the space between the two of you and moving his hand out of the way.

Beneath his fingers is a large cut, bloody but half-hidden by his suit. It looks angry and inflamed. What could’ve made a cut like this?

“It’s nothing. I’ll heal up in a couple hours.” He pulls your hand away, blood stained on the tips of your fingers. 

“It won’t matter how quick you heal if it gets infected. Come in here.” Your hand wraps around his and you pull him into your small bathroom. You steady him against your vanity and move to grab your first aid kit from the cabinet above your toilet. “Take that off.” You gesture to his Spider-Man suit.

“Yes, ma’am.” Jungkook teases, gingerly working his top half out of the suit. He hisses through his teeth as he peels the suit away from his ribs and lets it hang at his hips.

You are not the universe's strongest soldier.

Your eyes drift over all the dips and curves of muscle. A perfectly sculpted chest and abs you could literally eat off of are right in front of you, scrambling every sense you have in your head. You need to focus. Stay focused on the task at hand and not his ridiculously toned body.

“You okay, Data?” he asks, humor in his voice. That horrid nickname he had given you in your first year as lab partners is feeling more endearing these days. You clear your throat.

“I’m fine. Why wouldn’t I be fine? Just tending to Spider-Man’s wounds in my extremely tiny bathroom.” You try to laugh but it doesn’t sound genuine.

You take out some bandages and gauze and get to work cleaning him up. But even as you tape down the gauze, you can visibly see the wound getting smaller. Super powers really are something else.

“Data.” Jungkook’s voice brings you back to reality. 

“What?” You sigh.

“Please come here.” His hands reach for your hips and you give in, letting him pull you until you’re flush against him, suddenly nose to nose. “That’s better.”

“I’m angry with you,” you whisper, heart pumping a bit faster in the close proximity.

“I know that you are. I’m really sorry…I swear I wanted to be there.” You look down to see him slip his gloves off and sit them on the countertop before his hands come up to cup your face.

“Then what happened? You need to tell me.” Your hands wrap around his wrists.

“There’s something out there, Data. A…monster that we can’t figure out. It’s strong…and fast. Nothing I’ve ever seen before.” His thumbs brush the corners of your mouth. 

“What does it want?” 

“It keeps breaking into the Lab across the River. It’s looking for something. No one at the lab is being very forthcoming with information.” His forehead presses to yours. “But Mr. Kim is working on that part.”

Kim Seokjin, more famously known as Ironman. He was a mentor and a good friend to Jungkook. He was helping Jungkook navigate the new world of being a superhero and also gave him a job to help him pay for school. 

“Hasn’t Mr. Kim told you to call him Jin over and over?” you tease, hands coming up to rest against his chest. Jungkook laughs quietly, pulling you closer.

“He has. Guess it just slipped out.” His hands move down to palm your ass.

“What exactly do you think you’re doing?” You raise an eyebrow in question of his actions.

“Just feels like I haven’t touched you in so long.” His warm mouth finds your throat and he presses kisses to the skin.

“Two days is a long time?” 

“It is when it comes to you. Thinking about how much I want you gets so distracting.” He nuzzles into the crook of your neck, making you giggle.

“So what I did for you two days ago wasn’t enough?” You let your hands slither down from his chest and over the planes of his stomach.

“Never enough.” His nose skims over your jaw until you’re back face to face and his lips are devouring yours. “I’d like to pay you back.” 

“How?” You moan when you’re cut off by his tongue sliding into your mouth.

“Let me show you?” Jungkook pulls away from the kiss, taking your hand and leading you out of the bathroom.

Thinking he means to lead you to your bed, you start to pull him towards it, but he seems to have other ideas, walking you back out onto the balcony. He releases your hand momentarily to slide his suit back up over his shoulders.

“What are you going to show me out here, Jungkook?” You start to feel suspicious.

“Do you trust me?” He jumps up onto your railing with ease, still holding your hand in his.

“Not if it involves you swinging me around off the side of buildings.” You start to pull back, but his other wrist shoots a web at your torso; using his inhuman strength, he pulls you up onto the railing into his arms.

“I would never let you fall. Never. Just close your eyes for a few minutes. I promise it’ll be worth it, Data.” He touches your cheek gently, and even though you want to throw up every time he does this, you close your eyes and wrap your arms as tightly as possible around his neck and your legs around his waist. “Ready?” He whispers in your ear, one strong arm wrapping around your back.

You don’t verbally answer, just nod once before burying your face into his neck.

And then the solid feeling of being on the ground disappears and the sickening feeling of free falling is very apparent. You try to breathe, squeezing yourself around Jungkook as you listen to the whooshing sound of his web shooters discharge as he swings you between the tallest buildings in the city.

“You’re doing amazing.” Jungkook kisses your cheek. “Just another minute.”

You keep your eyes clamped shut until the curiosity becomes too overwhelming, making you dare to peek just the slightest bit. You see the sun setting on the horizon, orange and purple hues slowly disappearing beneath the river. As long as you don’t think about how high up you are, it really is beautiful up here.

You soak in the feeling of Jungkook holding you so tightly because you never know when the next time may be. You hate to sound so dramatic in thinking that way, but it really is a guessing game sometimes . Your hands loosen and slide up into his hair, making him look down into your eyes and smile when he sees how fondly you’re looking back at him.

“Kiss me,” you whisper, even though there isn’t a single soul that could hear you up here.

Jungkook kisses the corner of your mouth and then the other before the softness of his lips has your eyes fluttering closed. This kiss is only gentle brushes of lips, noses grazing in the sweetest way you can imagine, all the while Jungkook is still effortlessly swinging you between buildings.

He shoots a web straight up into the air, letting it connect to the side of one of the tallest buildings, slowly pulling the two of you up until he’s reached the highest ledge, tapping your thighs so you know it’s safe to put your feet down. You kiss him once more before you open your eyes and look out at the nearly complete sunset…a thousand feet in the air.

“Why are we up here, Jungkook? You know the heights..” He kisses you again before you can finish the sentence.

“Can we try something?” He smiles, and it’s infuriating. You’re too weak for this spidey boy. You sigh with exasperation.

“I’m already very wary of saying yes.” You look away from the ledge towards the top of the building, taking note of all the intricate filigree and gargoyle statues.

“Let me make you feel good…up here.” His cheeks heat a little when he asks.

“Is this some kind of weird adrenaline thing? Why would you want that?” Your voice cracks and you sputter, disbelief heavy in your tone.

“I think it’ll be intense…feel so good.” His lips move down and his teeth nip at your jaw.

“It’s insane…” You melt into his touch and the way his mouth sucks at your neck.

“If you don’t like it, I’ll take you home. And I’ll get you naked in your bed instead.” He pulls your shirt over your head, fully knowing you’re about to give in.

“Bed sounds so good right now…”

“Please, Data…just try it.” He tosses your shirt to the side, cupping your breasts and kissing the tops of them.

“What do I have to do?” You feel too good to let the fear ruin the way he’s making you feel.

“Lie back on the ledge, with your arms above your head and your wrists crossed.” 

You let him lead you down onto the ledge, every nerve in your body hot and on edge. Jungkook makes sure that you’re settled before he stands back up straight, looking down at you while you slowly move your arms above your head the way he asked.

“You’re perfect, Data.” Jungkook stares at you a moment longer before he aims his web shooter and traps your wrists together against the concrete ledge beneath you.

Your chest heaves at the idea of being completely helpless. He’s taken away your control and your ability to touch him as you please. 

He makes quick work of the sleep pants you had been wearing, tossing them away to join the gargoyles on the rooftop. 

“Jungkook…” you whimper when he lowers himself between your legs and lies down on his stomach so he can be face to face with your heat.

“Relax, okay? I’m gonna make it up to you.” He kisses a path down your thigh, sucking gently and caressing with his tongue.

You arch your back from the ledge when he pushes your panties to the side and his mouth finally makes contact with your pussy. Just a sweet kiss at first, then a deep, swirling lick to your clit. You pull against the webbing trapping you in place, fingers begging to be in his hair.

If only the citizens of his precious city could see him right now. Face buried and tongue lapping just for you. All of it for you and not for them.

You can feel tears start to form in your eyes from the way your orgasm is already so close to crashing over you. Jungkook has spent quite a bit of time getting to know your body and memorizing the things he knows that you like.

“Come on my tongue, baby. I’ve got you.” Jungkook soothes before his mouth is back to devouring you.

One particularly harsh suck to your clit while his fingers finally join in on the fun is what sends you over the edge, clenching around his digits in spasms.

You’re lucky that no one could possibly hear you all the way up here. The moans and groans that you both make while Jungkook licks up every bit of your arousal are beyond obscene.

“Please get this web off of me,” you huff between breaths. Jungkook slowly raises his head and with a smile on his shiny face, reaches up and effortlessly rips the webbing from your wrists. 

You jolt upwards, wrapping your arms around his neck and digging your hands into his soft hair. Your mouths mold together automatically, your tongue tasting yourself from his lips.

“Did you like it?” Jungkook finally asks, pulling you into his lap.

“As long as I continue to pretend we aren’t thousands of feet in the air, I enjoyed it very much.” You both smile and you lean in to kiss the corner of his pierced lip. “You can’t always distract me with your extremely talented mouth though. I just…want you to try and be in my life.” You push some hair off of his forehead before he kisses your lips once more.

“It won’t always be this crazy, Data. I promise. I just want to make sure I help Jin as much as I can with this monster.” 

“I know.” You want to tell him that you wish you came first. That there’s always going to be another monster keeping you apart. But that’s the price you pay for loving a superhero. 

“Let me take you home?” He stands up, still holding you in his arms.

“Maybe let me put my pants back on first?” You laugh as he sets you down to retrieve your pants from a gargoyle statue. 

And then you’re back in his arms and swinging back to reality.

The sun is still warm even though fall is almost in full swing. Leaves are starting to change colors and slowly drop off the trees. You love the smell of them as they dance by you on the breeze.

Something you don’t love is the damn pigeons that have made their home in the nooks and crannies of all the old buildings on campus. They fly down from their nests and make nuisances of themselves with the students, trying to get pieces of food.

You’ve been continuously shooing them away as you attempt to do your homework. 

Sitting in the courtyard on top of a patchwork blanket, you’re lost in the numbers and formulas that keep you best distracted these days. So much so that you almost don’t see Jungkook before his head is in your lap and his smiling face is looking up at you, pigeons scattering about from his sudden movements.

“Good afternoon, Data,” he says cutely. You set down your notebook and pen, leaning down to kiss him.

“How nice to see you at school for once,” you tease, pulling his bottom lip gently between your teeth.

“Mm, things have been quiet for a couple of days. I got some sleep…and I missed you.” Jungkook wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you to lay down with him across the blanket.

“What are you doing?” You laugh and push against his chest.

“Making sure everyone sees me kissing you.” 

“Isn’t that dangerous?” You comb your nails through the hair at the nape of his neck. “If the wrong person sees?” 

Jungkook freezes for a moment, his eyes not meeting yours as his face scrunches in concentration. He abruptly sits up on his knees and you follow, looking around the courtyard.

“Something isn’t right.” Jungkook’s voice is low and quiet.

“What is it?” You continue to look around, seeing students walking to class or enjoying the sun in the courtyard like the two of you were.

Your eyes stop when you notice someone by the fountain taking photos with a professional type camera. His head of black messy hair is covered by a backwards black baseball hat. Long legs covered by snugly fit black jeans and his top half in a white button up, sleeves rolled halfway up in the most maddening way.

He must feel your eyes on him, because he’s suddenly looking right at you and you’re able to recognize who it is you’ve been drooling over. You feel embarrassment flood your face and body as you quickly look away, your heart racing in your chest.

Kim Taehyung. A photography student at your university. The best photography student if you remember correctly. You remember having a basic class with him your first year and he had seemed very nice. His smile was sweet, but the two of you didn’t talk to each other much at all. 

You did think he was absolutely stunning though, sometimes wishing you weren’t too shy to have spoken to him back then.

Your classes must have all been different after that, but you still see him around campus from time to time. Always taking pictures, but always alone. And last year he seemed to disappear altogether before reappearing when the new semester started.

When you get brave enough to look back up at him, you see he has his camera pointed at you, snapping pictures. You look away again so as not to alert Jungkook of what’s going on. Taehyung smiles when you look up out of the corner of your eye, before moving on to take pictures of something else. Why is your heart beating so fast?

“Everything okay?” Jungkook asks, making you jump.

“I should be asking you that,” you manage to croak out.

“That weird sense of something being off is happening… I should go.” He starts to stand up and you grab his hand.

“What about this weekend? You’re still coming out with us right?”

He bends down and captures your lips in a quick but sweet kiss. “I promise I won’t miss it.” He gently nudges your forehead with his, making you roll your eyes with a smile as you watch him jog across the courtyard.

“Was that Jungkook?” Hoseok asks, sitting down across from you on the blanket.

“Um…yeah. He had to get to class,” you lie. Again. “Hey Hobi?”

“Yeah?” He stops grabbing books from his bag and looks up at you.

“What do you know about Kim Taehyung?” You nod towards the man with the camera, still taking pictures of some angel statues on the far side of the courtyard.

“He’s supposedly the best photography major at this school. He’s also…strange.” Hobi pretends to get a chill.

“Strange? Strange how?” You’re interest even more peaked than before.

“I don’t know, ____. I just heard some shit about him talking to himself all the time, and sometimes he comes to class all beat up.” Hobi brushes it off like it’s no big deal.

You don’t pester him any further, instead watching Taehyung as he takes a seat on a bench and starts scrolling through the pictures he’s taken on his camera. 

Maybe people are making things up about him because he’s different. People don’t like different for some reason. But you…you tend to be pulled towards the different. Or it tends to find you when you least expect it.

Saturday night has come and almost gone, and you’re still waiting for Jungkook to show up at Club Onyx to meet up with you and your friends. You’ve been waiting for hours and downing drinks the longer you go unanswered.

You’ve called and texted him over and over with no answer and are finally ready to just give up. Hobi gives you that pitiful look as you slam your phone face down onto the table.

“Fuck this, I’m getting another drink.” You don’t say it to anyone in particular and you don’t wait for anyone to answer before slipping into the crowd towards the bar.

“Can I get a Long Island please?” you ask the bartender when she approaches. You slouch down onto a barstool and see a familiar face on the other side of the bar.

Taehyung. Sitting with a glass of whiskey in one hand and his phone in the other. The hat you usually see him wear is nowhere to be seen. Instead, his curly black hair has been somewhat styled over his forehead. He’s still wearing a white button up, but he’s left the top buttons undone this time, revealing the smooth skin of his chest.

“Here you go.” The bartender hands you your drink just in time for Taehyung to look up from his phone and see you already looking at him.

“Shit,” you whisper to yourself, taking your drink and making a break for the dance floor as quickly as you can. 

The song playing isn’t one that you know, but as you chug down your drink you start to care less and less about knowing the song and just let yourself go. You want to have a good time and not mope about Jungkook standing you up once again.

You let strangers grind against you as you move across the dance floor, arms raised above your head and your hips swaying to the beat of the song. You’re a little tipsy as you place your glass down on the nearest table, but not enough to not know what’s going on. 

A slower song starts to play with more of an r&b feeling. You watch as people start to pair off, the movements of their bodies making heat rush through you and settle on your cheeks and  neck. You start to turn back to find your friends when you feel an arm slide around your waist, making you jump from the suddenness of being touched.

“Easy there, Pigeon,” a voice as deep as the ocean and smoother than satin says against the shell of your ear.

You twist your neck almost too quickly, eyes landing on the face of Taehyung. Your breath nearly disappears completely seeing him this closely.

“What are you doing?” you ask, but you don’t try to move away from him. God, you should move away but you can’t.

“You need someone to dance with.” He smiles and says the words with a matter of fact tone.

“I should find my friends…” Your brain finally starts to catch up and you move from his hold.

“One dance, Pigeon. Would be a pity to waste such a good song.” 

“Why are you calling me Pigeon? I have a name.” You fold your arms over your chest.

“I know your name. But the pigeons at school seem to have really taken a liking to you, I couldn’t resist.” His boxy smile widens.

“You’re not being very convincing about this dance.” You try not to smile.

Taehyung puts his hand out asking silently one more time for you to dance with him. There’s that nagging feeling that you shouldn’t, but there’s a bigger part that says Jungkook isn’t your boyfriend, and he stood you up after he promised not to miss this night.

You take his hand.

Taehyung pulls his bottom lip between his teeth and gently pulls you towards him, spinning you around at the last second to press your back against his front. You gasp when you immediately feel him lean over you and press his face into your neck, his nose skimming your skin.

His big but delicate hands find your stomach, slithering down until they reach your hips, slightly bunching your dress in his fingers.

He gently moves his hips and grinds against your ass in the most tantalizing way, reminding you that you did in fact agree to dance. Taehyung groans quietly in your ear when the pace of your hips becomes quicker with more added pressure from your ass into his crotch.

You let yourself relax against him, head falling back against his shoulder and exposing more of your neck to him. His impatient mouth finds the juncture of your neck and shoulder and he kisses a soft line across your skin.

“Can’t believe your boyfriend would leave you all alone out here where the monsters can find you.” Taehyung's deep voice vibrates through your body and settles into your core.

“I don’t have a boyfriend…or monsters.” The words come out sounding breathless as he continues to press your body closer to his.

“We think you do.” His long tongue traces the shell of your ear. 

We? You let it go because your brain is too foggy with lust to wonder what that could even mean right now.

“I don’t,” you repeat, pushing thoughts of Jungkook away for just a night. Taehyung laughs quietly, pulling your lobe between his teeth as his hands move up your chest to cup your breasts.

You don’t even care who sees the way he’s touching you right now. You’re becoming so turned on that you know your panties have to be absolutely ruined at this point.

“Come home with me.” He spins you around to face him just as the song ends, your eyes fluttering open as he cups your face in his hands.

“That…I can’t.” Your eyes search his, hoping it will make you realize that you need to walk away. Instead, there’s something that tells you you’re safe, but that you’re also in for a world of trouble. You don’t know how you know, you just do.

“I’ll make you feel so good, Pigeon.” His mouth is almost on yours, lips just brushing as he whispers. This man is fucking undeniable.

“Okay,.” you cave. You just want to feel wanted. You want to matter more than a stranger on the street. You want Taehyung to make you forget how much it hurts when Jungkook lets you down over and over again.

“Good girl.” His warm mouth slots with yours as he kisses you feverishly. Like he’s been starving for years and your mouth is his only source of sustenance. It’s hot, fiery, and all-consuming.

Not even sure when his lips leave yours, you’re suddenly being pulled by your hand towards the club exit. Your brain clears and you look around for Hobi or any of your other friends but you don’t see them. And honestly, you hope that they don’t. You hope they didn’t see what happened on the dance floor and you hope they don’t see you leaving with someone who isn’t Jungkook. That would be far too messy to have to explain.

“Did you drive here?” You squeeze Taehyung’s hand and he pulls you closer to him.

“I did. I didn’t even finish my drink, I promise I’m safe to drive.” He eases your mind as the two of you push out of the door and turn towards the parking lot.

But your mind is only at ease for a mere minute before you realize that Taehyung is leading you towards what appears to be a very, very fast motorcycle. Everything on it is jet black and ridiculously sexy. You wish you weren’t absolutely terrified.

“I’m not getting on that.” You stop in your tracks.

“Why not?” Taehyung grabs the helmet off the back and offers it to you. “I’ll even give you the helmet.”

“I just…that looks dangerous.” 

“It is.”

“Glad you’re honest,” you half-laugh.

“The bike is dangerous, but I would never let anything happen to you, Pigeon.” Taehyung swings one of his long legs over the motorcycle, straddling it as he waits for you to make a decision.

“We hardly know each other, Taehyung.”

“That doesn’t mean I can’t keep you safe on my motorcycle, or that we have to know everything about each other to feel something.” He holds the helmet out again and you feel your mouth go dry at his words.

The danger aside, there is no going back if you get on that motorcycle with him. There is no way you would have an untainted conscience ever again. Every time you were with Jungkook from this day on, you would have to think about the fact that at this moment, you also wanted Kim Taehyung to fuck you.

That should terrify you more than it does.

You grab your phone and quickly open it to see no messages or missed calls from Jungkook. Your answer gets a little clearer as you reach out and take the helmet from his hand.

“Carefully,” Taehyung says, taking one of your hands and guiding you to straddle the motorcycle behind him. You settle the helmet onto your head, and Taehyung smiles widely when he looks over his shoulder to make sure you’re ready. 

When he starts the motorcycle, the vibrations from the engine immediately flood your body. Your arms instinctively wrap around his torso as tightly as possible, and you wait once again for the world to go past you far too quickly. The same way it always does when Jungkook is swinging you between buildings.

When he pulls out of the parking lot, he doesn’t go too fast like you thought he would. He takes his time weaving between the cars and taxis, making his way through the busy streets and closer to the docks. 

You don’t entirely hate the motorcycle ride. Nor do you hate the way Taehyung laces his fingers through yours and holds them against his chest, or the way he brings your knuckles to his lips to brush a kiss against each one while he steers with the other hand. You don’t hate the way he sometimes moves that hand down to tap your thigh to let you know he’s about to make a sharp turn. You wish you hated the motorcycle ride.

Taehyung presses a button on his phone and a door on one of the warehouses starts to lift up. He pulls through it, parking the bike once inside. Your legs feel like jello when you take his hand to try and stand up, stumbling a bit in his hold.

“Okay there, Pigeon?” Taehyung grasps the sides of the helmet and helps you take it off. He sits it on the back of the bike before coming back to help you straighten out your helmet hair.

“It wasn’t terrible.” You smile and so does he, fire moving through your veins the longer your eyes stay locked with his. You quickly clear your throat. “So, you live in a warehouse?”

“I used to live in the city. It was just too…busy. I needed space.” He takes your hand and leads you towards some metal stairs. But before he does, you notice several more motorcycles parked inside the open part of the warehouse. Who is Kim Taehyung?

At the top of the stairs, it opens into a large open loft area that has a surprising feeling of comfort to it. There’s a kitchenette off to the right with just the necessities: a fridge, small table, stove and microwave.

The left side of the room appears to be the bedroom. A big messy bed sits against a headboard with intricate black vines carved into the wood. Soft pillows are haphazardly lying in all directions, some on the floor with their feathers scattered across the room. Taehyung visibly stiffens when he sees you notice them.

“Sorry about those…I think I might have a raccoon stuck in here somewhere.” He laughs and moves to kick the busted pillows under his bed.

Strange. He’s a little strange.

“Do you need something to drink?” he asks.

“Should I be worried about being here, Taehyung?” 

“What? No. No, I promise you’re safe.” He crosses the room and comes to stand in front of you, concern evident on his perfect face.

“I just…I don’t do things like this. I’ve never even had a one night stand.” You card a hand through your hair and Taehyung tips your chin up to look at him.

“Why does it need to be just one night?” His face softens and his thumb brushes over your bottom lip.

“Taehyung…I don’t know what I’m doing.” It’s barely a whisper.

His head tilts slightly to the side before it spasms slightly, an uncomfortable look painting his face as he shakes his head and gets the spasm under control. 

“Stop it.” Taehyung grits between his clenched teeth, mostly to himself.

“Are…are you okay?” Your worry grows by the second.

“Sorry…I’m sorry.” He cups your face in his hands and kisses you sweetly, catching you off guard. “I’m sorry if I scared you,” he whispers against your lips.

“I’m not scared of you.” It isn’t a lie. You aren’t scared, but something is off. And you’re too stupid to leave. “Should I be scared?”

“Not of me.” He speaks as if someone else is in the room. 

His mouth finds yours again and lust takes the place of worry and concern. Taehyung easily grabs your thighs and lifts you off the ground as if you weigh nothing at all.

The next moments are a blur of clothing being stripped and bare skin coming in contact with hands and lips. Teeth scrape over nipples and long fingers drown themselves inside your dripping pussy. The warehouse echos with the sounds of your moans and his deep groans.

After your first thigh shaking orgasm, Taehyung sits on the edge of his bed and you kneel in front of him between his knees, taking his far too perfect cock into your mouth. You worship him with your tongue and make him come down your throat, his hands tightly gripping your hair.

Chills run through your sweaty body as he bends you over his bed and eases his cock inside you. Stars explode behind your eyelids while your fingers grip the bed sheets.

“He doesn’t fuck you enough, does he Pigeon? You’re so fucking tight.” Taehyung’s fingers dig harshly into your hips as he mercilessly pounds you from behind.

You can only moan in response, the coil in your stomach tightening and threatening to burst again. Tears slip from the corners of your eyes and stain the sheets you’re so desperately clinging to.

His fingers suddenly start to feel sharper, like they could pierce your skin at any moment, past the point of hurting in a good way.

“Stop,” Taehyung growls and the piercing feeling of his fingers starts to let up. If your brain wasn’t so fogged by your oncoming orgasm you may have questioned who the hell he was talking to.

“I’m so close,” you whine, feeling Taehyung press himself closer to you, one of his hands coming to the back of your head and pushing you deeper into the mattress. The new angle  makes you feel him so deeply that even your stomach clenches and the dam finally breaks; you’re falling off the edge of the most shattering orgasm you’ve ever experienced.

Taehyung’s hips stutter as you clench around him, making him moan deep in his chest. When you can no longer hold up your body, he grabs your shoulder and flips you onto your back, then immediately slides his cock back inside your overly sensitive pussy.

You’re so blissfully fucked that it takes you a moment to focus your eyesight on his face. Sweaty black curls sticking to his forehead as you lift your heavy arms and dig your fingers into his hair so you can pull his mouth down onto yours.

“I almost…I almost lost control. You feel so good.” His tongue swipes into your mouth as he angles himself to hit your g-spot with every hard thrust of his hips.

“Please come, Taehyung.” Your nails dig into his back and leave scratch marks across his skin.

“Never wanted anyone as much as I want you…fuck we want you so badly.” He buries his face into your neck as he thrusts once, twice more before you feel him spill inside of you. Hips bruisingly tight against yours as his cock twitches each time more cum fills you up.

“Holy shit.” You move your hands back to his hair and gently lift up to see his face. You swear when he looks at you that all the color has drained from his eyes. They’re solid white.

You gasp and blink once, seeing Taehyung’s pretty brown eyes looking back at you in less than a second.

“Wh-what was that?” You’re still panting.

“What was what, Pigeon?” He smiles and presses a kiss to your cheek before he slowly pulls out and walks to his bathroom, giving you a chance to ogle his perfect little ass and the muscles of his back.

“I just…thought I saw something,” you say when he returns to the bed with a cloth for you to clean up with. You really need to get more sleep if you’re starting to see things.

“Did I hurt you?” Taehyung’s face is suddenly a lot more serious when he reaches out to run his fingers over the apple of your cheek.

You remember the way his hands felt on your hips. How they could’ve been on the verge of piercing through your skin. At least, that’s what you thought when it was happening.

Looking down at your hips, there’s obvious red marks from fingertips, but also scratch marks that just don’t seem like they could’ve come from Taehyung’s short cut nails. What the hell?

“I um…I think I’m okay.” You pull the covers up over your hips a little, hoping he won’t see.

“You should sleep here. I can take you home in the morning, I’m just too sleepy right now.” He pouts his mouth a little and wraps his arms around you, pulling you into his side.

“Okay.” You’re admittedly too spent to call an Uber or argue with him about taking you home tonight. You just need to sleep. Sleep will fix everything. Tomorrow you will wake up and not feel like you’re losing your entire mind.

“…don’t ever fucking do that again…” You hear part of a conversation in your half asleep state. “I swear if you would have hurt her…”

Who the hell is Taehyung talking to in the middle of the night?

“She’s with the spider….liability.” A deep inhuman voice fills the empty air. Your eyes shoot open wide and every nerve is suddenly completely wired.

Are they…are they talking about Jungkook?

“She’s not. She said she’s not,” Taehyung’s voice answers, stress evident in his words.

“We should eat her now…” 

“No! You’ll have to kill me if you think you’re ever touching her. And we both know you can’t do that,” Taehyung yells.

You wrap the thin sheet around your naked body and slowly move towards the railing that overlooks the open part of the warehouse downstairs. You stay back far enough so not to alert anyone of your presence.

Looking down, you see Taehyung sitting at a table with his back towards you, wearing his black jeans slung low on his hips and nothing else. He runs a hand through his hair in frustration.

And that’s when it seems like the shadows around him start to move and your heart threatens to burst from your chest. Because not only do they move, but they have a face. A terrifying face that is seeping from the back of Taehyung’s neck and moving around him …as it talks.

“You’re weak for her,” the monster growls deeply, its huge teeth and unnaturally long tongue becoming more apparent as it moves into the light.

“We had a deal.” Taehyung seethes. “I’m literally the only person you haven’t killed when you bonded with them. You need me to get your symbiote friends home and I need you to take down that fucking lab.”

You can barely believe what you’re seeing or hearing. Is this the monster Jungkook was talking about? The one breaking into the lab across the river?

“Aren’t we friends?” The monster asks in a condescending way.

“Not if you hurt ____. She has no idea what she’s in the middle of and it should stay that way.” Taehyung holds his arms out straight and the monster starts to wrap its moving pitch black skin around him…its skin becoming his.

You’re so startled by the sight in front of you that you stumble back, knocking over an end table full of magazines and books. Fuck.

“Shit,” you hear Taehyung say before the monster has completely consumed him. What stands in his place is something you will never forget for the rest of your life.

The monster must be at least 8 feet tall, huge bulking muscles made of that inhuman black skin that constantly appears to be moving. Its  huge white eyes land right on you immediately, its  mouth and teeth pulling into a wicked smile as it jumps into the air and clears the railing in a single leap. You scream as the ground crunches beneath its feet when it lands in front of you.

The monster looms over you and all the breath in your lungs disappears.

“What…what are you?” you croak, fear freezing you in place.

“We…are Venom.”

taglist: @hanversace @chaelvrx @moonchild1 @rkivewritersblog @ungodlyjoon @ricecakeslove @jeonsweetpea @screamertannie @tearyjjeon @kookrecs @bintificreads @minisugakoobies

series masterlist | main masterlist | Part Two

#jungkook x reader #taehyung x reader #bts x reader #jungkook smut #taehyung smut #jungkook au #taehyung au #jungkook fic #bts fanfic #bts series #jeon jungkook #kim taehyung #bts smut #bts fic #bts fluff #bts au #marvel au #entangled talks

[marypaol]

Fake Hatred

Draco x Fem!Reader

Summary: Draco and Reader hate each other. Everybody knows it, even Draco’s friends. But they have suspicions and their gut feelings aren’t wrong.

Warnings: “Enemies” to lovers, bets, mentions of labeling someone “Princess” and “Prince”, one swear/bad word, jealous Pansy, little crying, anger, protectiveness from Draco.

Note: I honestly kinda hate it, but it was requested and/so I hope it’s satisfactory. :/

Written for: @amayaaaxx

Masterlist

Request Requirements

The voices were muffled, purposely speaking low to not be heard. Their meeting and conversation was hushed to the minimum volume, caution constantly running through their veins so they wouldn’t get caught.

“I bet ya; ten gallons.”

A scoff was heard. “Ten gallons? That’s it? Make it twenty.”

There was a moment of silence so we can only assume the other person shook or nodded their head.

“Come on! We’re talking about the Slytherin Prince and Princess-If I’m right on this I gotta get a better reward.”

Another scoff. “Fine. But I won’t have to worry about it since I know I’m right in this.”

Yet another moment of silence, meaning another head movement of their choice.

“Whatever you say, I know I’m right.”

“Eh? How ‘bout we make this really interesting?”

The person chuckled, and that’s when we can put names to the voices, since that particular chuckle was oh so recognizable. It was Crabbe and Blaise. And Crabbe was the one who laughed.

“What? You already got money involved I don’t know how it can get any better.”

Blaise didn’t verbally respond, so it gave the impression he made a facial expression; a smirk, if you will.

“How ‘bout we give him, ya know, a little push?”

Crabbe made a loud reaction and Blaise was quick to shush, yet another silent moment to tell us that they were looking left and right for any sign of someone being there.

Once they were giving the reassurance that there was no evident difference in the air, they continued.

“Be quiet, loud mouth. Make a sound that loud again and someone will for sure be right at the end of the corridor.”

Blaise was speaking through clenched teeth, voice barely leaving his mouth.

Crabbe let out a sound of annoyance. “Not my fault you picked the most echoey one out of all the school.”

There was a slapping sound then, like Blaise smacked Crabbe’s shoulder. (The slap was followed by a quiet whine of protest.)

“Whatever-anyway, what do ya think? Mm?”

Crabbe thought for a moment. “Nah; let’s drop signs to the princess.”

“Signs of what?”

“Do I really have to spell it out for ya? That he likes her, duh.”

After a moment Blaise made a clicking sound with his tongue as a sign of agreement. “Not bad, Crabbe. Not bad at all.”

The discussion went back and forth on a plan once one of the two plans was favored, but what they didn’t know was that the person Malfoy supposedly had an interest in was right behind the wall they were leaning on, knowing everything they said. She heard enough, leaving her hiding place with a soft smirk on her face.

“Where have you been?”

Although the voice held annoyance and frustration for Pansy’s eye, she heard concern and worry laced through it like a knitted clothing item.

Her heart softly fluttered at his concern but scoffed nonetheless.

“Like you care.” She snapped back instead.

Pansy rolled her eyes at the usual encounter between the two Slytherins.

“Gosh, won’t you two sort it out? Merlin’s sake.”

“Shut up Parkinson.” Malfoy barked and she instantly sank in her seat like she usually does when Draco orders her.

“Whatever,” Pansy muttered, trying to sound like Malfoy’s remark didn’t affect her. “I’m gonna go find the guys so they can study with us. I just know they won’t do it later on their own.”

Pansy left with a roll of her eyes, robes swooping behind her as she left the Common Room.

As soon as Pansy’s robes were out of sight, his pale fingers laced with the girl’s next to him under the table on his knee.

“Blaise? Crabbe?”

The sound of hushed talking was heard despite her call out to the student behind the door Pansy was, so she turned around the corner to find the two boys whispering among themselves. She crossed her arms in front of her chest.

“What are you two morons murmuring about?”

The two boys stopped talking immediately at the third voice, both heads snapping in her direction as if they just got caught with their hands in a cookie jar.

“Nothing.” Crabbe said, clearly lying.

Pansy again rolled her eyes for the millionth time that day.

“Whatever. We have to go study for Snape’s test- we have to get back before they kill each other.”

Pansy turned around to head back to the Common Room so she didn’t see the smirk they exchanged before they followed her.

“I see you guys have already started studying.”

The teasing tone used came from Crabbe, his lips turned into a smirk as well as Blaise’s when they saw what was in front of them.

Draco and the girl were holding hands on the table, but once they heard another presence the fingers separated at the speed of lightning.

Pansy’s face held an otherwise expression, her mouth agape and eyes sightly glazed with tears.

“What the absolute hell?” She barked, pointing at them with disgust written all over her face.

“Yeah, what she said.” Blaise joined in one the teasing, chuckling lightly at Pansy’s reaction.

“Since when did this become any of you guys’ business?” Draco snapped suddenly.

The two boys held up their hands on defense, but Pansy wasn’t having it.

“I could treat you better, Dray. Better than whatever that is.” She said, gesturing to the poor girl sitting at the table, her lips turned downward in a small frown at the other Slytherin’s words.

“Snap that stupid mouth shut, it never knows when to.” Draco ordered, gripping the girl’s hand again once he angrily packed their books together in their bags. He grabbed them in his hand, swooping them over his shoulder, eyes glaring upon them.

“Now, if you guys don’t mind, which I don’t care if you do, we’re gonna go study in some peace and quiet without all you three nagging about what you think is your business.”

He lead the girl out without another word, fingers laced together.

Pansy scoffed despite the tears in her eyes. She walked away quickly, hands coming up to her face when she did so.

“So much for the signs.” Crabbe said.

Blaise smacked his arm for the second time that day in response.

“Shut up, Crabbe.”

@hypnos-dreams

@youreyesareasprettyasstars

@girlunknownsblog

@buddhaslover14

@aestheticxnight

@payoncestarbuckslover

Since you guys liked the request post :)

#draco lucius malfoy #draco malfoy #draco malfoy imagine #draco malfoy x reader #draco x reader #hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry #imagines #stories #tom felton x reader #x reader #enemies to lovers #friends to lovers

[ffverr]

On the discourse (that somehow still exists) of why the X-Men are feared and hated but other genetically modified heroes like the Fantastic Four or some of the Avengers aren't :

I still see this argument online that some people, usually not X-Men fans, pull out in a sort of gotcha moment. To kind of stick it to Marvel for being unrealistic or to vouch for the fearing of other heroes in the marvel universe to tip the scales.

There are two points for the "why is *random x-men* oppressed and not *random marvel hero*" discourse that people are always intentionally missing.

One- A base of mutant fear and repression is the argument that "it could happen to your children too". It could happen to ANYONE, from birth, and there is nothing you can do about it. No being careful of scientific experiences can stop your close ones from becoming a mutant. (Kind of like people are okay with gay celebrities as long as they're doing their thing from afar but it's a threat when it comes to their children/Friends/family being gay)

They layed it on thick with this amazing advertisment back in the day: "do you know what your children are"??? I mean come on it's not rocket science

Fun fact, the kid labeled "mutie" here is actually Franklin Richards, son of Mister Fantastic and Invisible woman. He used to be a mutant and this goes to show how somehow johnny storm can be beloved but his super powered nephew doesn't get the same treatment.

Two- Spider-Man, the F4, the Avengers etc... All these heros who get some powers by some incident. They're supposed to be rare and few in between. The fear of mutants mainly comes from the fact that they started popping up in the MILLIONS. A mutant isn't necessarly seen as an honorable individual that acquires powers and realises they have the responsibility to use it for good. To humans, they're millions of people (or at least hundreds of thousands) that are, just by existing, threatening the status quo of humanity. They are changing the natural dominance of humans for good.

So of course humans love the F4 (usually). Because they're not scared to be replaced by them in their day to day life, however they are scared to be rendered obsolete by mutants. When humans look at the F4 they see brave selfless HUMAN heroes. They relate to them, they identify with them. They're a sweet family dedicated to the world's safety. In contrast, the mutants represent a world changing threat that truly shifts the balance. And that's not comfy at all no matter how cute or harmless the power is.

This difference can even cause very understandable tension in between the X-men and other super powered groups:

In short, the mutant moral panic comes from the fact that for exemple:

-humans are afraid to loose their jobs to super powered level talents.

-humans are scared from groups of super powered people that could threaten their safety.

-Governments are scared of these groups being the equivalent of entire armies concentrated in a single individual.

- They're scared that their children could turn into something unimaginable once they hit puberty

-And some just hate the idea of being manipulated by a random telepath on the street without ever knowing.

In contrast of Spider-Man, humans feel like nature is done with homo sapiens and THAT'S what brings hate and fear.

That's why everytime a mutant hate crime happens in the comics, it's always accompanied by some human saying "y'think you're better than us weirdo".

+ Contrary to the avengers, mutants also claim a culture, a shared history and common experiences between thousands. This binds them together in a way they doesn't necessarly make them identify with humans. And this is overall irritating and scary to humans.

Also, religious fear-mongering of mutants is rampant!!! It does a ton to set appart the mutants from the scientifically modified heros of the marvel universe.

In the end, one of the best comic to portray this whole thing is still God loves man Kills.

It depicts a villain, Striker, that gains popularity by spreading religious propaganda to justify mutant hate. In an emotional and shocking twist, we come to find that Striker has had a mutant son, that he killed with his own hand because he was a "monster".

You can understand how Captain America, with his super body, doesn't really evoke the same existential dread. Bigotry isn't rational, but also, a shit ton of things complicate the mutant's inclusion into society that doesn't necessarly parallel perfectly with real world struggles so that's also to take into consideration.

#the only part of truth i'll concede to this discourse is that yeah it's blurry how humans wouldn't assume #that any super powered person is a mutant #but this is i think a useless gripe that would just make mutants too present in other marvel books #xmen #marvel #comics #x men comics #scott summers #comic panels #jean grey #xmen 97 #the x allegory #mutant 101 #magneto #professor x #charles xavier #storm #kitty pryde

[steddieas-shegoes]

is that tax fraud?

for @corrodedcoffinfest warm-up round prompt ‘taxes’

rated t | 671 words | cw: language | tags: they’re just so stupid, and I love them, look Steve is here!

🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸

“What the hell do you mean you’ve never filed taxes?” Jeff asked Gareth as they sat around trying to write a song.

Keyword: trying.

Now it looked like they were gonna be figuring out how to keep Gareth out of fucking prison for tax fraud.

“I thought our band accountant handled it!” Gareth exclaimed.

“We don’t have a band accountant! The label just handles our money!” Jeff exclaimed back.

“Okay, let’s calm down.” Eddie, the voice of reason at this moment, held his hands up towards them. “Technically, Gareth only turned 18 two years ago. That’s only two years of back taxes. And if he’s honest, it’ll be fine! He probably didn’t even make enough the first year for them to care.”

“Well, I did get an inheritance from my grandpa who died,” Gareth said unhelpfully. “Does that count as income?”

Everyone stared at him in shock.

“This is a joke,” Freak said from his spot on the couch. “Has to be.”

“Oh my god, our drummer is actively committing tax fraud,” Jeff put his head in his hands.

“Guys, it’s fine! I’ll just file it all this year,” Gareth assured them.

“We should call someone. Right? Someone should be told about this,” Eddie started pacing the floor, wearing a trail into the shag carpet.

Who even put shag carpet in here? Shag was terrible.

The door swung open and Steve walked in holding three large pizzas and a grocery bag full of sodas.

“They didn’t have any Mountain Dew, but that’s probably for the best. You guys have a conference call in an hour so eat up,” he said as he started setting everything on the coffee table. He looked around when he realized it was way too quiet. “Everything okay?”

“Stevie. I fear our drummer may be going to prison.”

Steve paled. “What? Why?”

“He forgot to tell the government he has money. For two years.”

“He what?” Steve looked at Gareth to explain.

“I didn’t know I was supposed to file my own taxes! I thought we had a guy!”

Steve looked between all of them. He looked at Gareth.

“You do have a guy. The label provides a guy. I think his name is Sam? Maybe Shane.” Steve shook his head. “Either way. You have a tax guy. He filed for all of you last year.”

You could hear a pin drop in the silence.

“What do you mean? We all filed for ourselves last year. Except Gareth, apparently,” Jeff was frowning at the floor.

“Uh, well, you may have given double the money, then,” Steve laughed, though this wasn’t exactly funny.

“So let me get this straight: the label provided a guy to do our taxes without telling us. We all file our own taxes after this guy already did. No one caught it. Gareth’s the only one who hasn’t double paid into the fucking government?” Eddie asked, face red with shame or anger, it was hard to say which.

“Yeah, appears so.”

“Fuck you guys. Had me worried I was going to prison and I’m the only one who’s done shit right!” Gareth laughed. He reached for a slice of pizza and sat back in his chair, smug smile on his face. “Feels good to have my taxes paid.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Freak rolled his eyes. “So how do we get money back if we double filed?”

“Not sure we can,” Jeff sighed. “Probably isn’t worth figuring it out anyway. It’s not like we were rolling in for last year’s taxes.”

“But this year…” Eddie started.

They all looked at each other and nodded.

Yeah. This year would be different. They’d skyrocketed after the release of their first album and their first tour. Money was…pretty fucking great.

“So…pizza?” Steve asked.

They all nodded and started grabbing for their food.

“If you guys want, I’m sure Nancy can try to find a way to get money back. She’s good at that stuff,” Steve suggested.

“Nah, she’d call us idiots.”

“Well, if the shoe fits.”

“Hey!”

#corroded coffin #eddie munson #gareth emerson #jeff #freak #steve harrington #corrodedcoffinfest #drabble

[steddie-island]

Mutually Beneficial

After seeing this art by @2jihiir0, inspiration struck and I wrote a thing. This isn't what I usually write, I hope I did your art justice and that you like it as much as Steve likes Eddie being a little mean. 😅 Words: 1,237 | Rating: E | Tags: Age gap (Older Eddie Munson, Younger Steve Harrington), Mean dom Eddie, Choking, Possessive Eddie Munson, Top Eddie Munson, Bottom Steve Harrington See ao3 for full list of tags

“Oh my god –”

It had started innocently enough, with Steve getting kicked out as soon as he’d graduated and with Eddie Munson, town outcast, advertising a room for rent and a kid who needed a sitter. Moving in would be mutually beneficial. 

"Eddie, please–”

The trailer was different from what Steve was used to. The water heater was always on the fritz, it leaked when it rained, and sometimes it smelled like weed and whiskey, but the rent was cheap, his bed was comfortable, and Eddie’s kid was an angel. The sweetest little girl with big brown eyes and a head full of curls that matched her daddy’s. Steve loved her, loved watching Eddie with her and seeing how his whole demeanor changed when she was awake. He was a Doberman and she was the person he would cut the world down at the knees for. He looked at her so fucking tenderly. 

Sometimes Steve caught Eddie looking at him like that, all soft and tender. When he was feeding Rhiannon, or when Eddie would come back from a business deal (Steve wasn’t stupid, he had his suspicions about what went on but he wouldn’t ask. He just knew Eddie left with an empty wallet and returned with a big wad of cash) to find the two of them reading on the couch together. 

Eddie’s eyes didn’t stay soft like that when it was just the two of them. When they were alone his gaze would go almost sharklike as he sat back against the couch and watched every move Steve made.

Steve would catch him, would flush hot from head to toe. And maybe someone else would’ve seen it as a red flag, as a caution sign, but Steve had never been very good at listening to the warning labels.

It came to a head one night while Steve was cleaning up the kitchen after Rhiannon had been put to bed. He didn’t have to catch Eddie to know those dark eyes were on him, he could feel it like a physical pressure between his shoulder blades. And then it wasn’t just those eyes he could feel. It was big hands on his slim hips, Eddie’s chest against his back.

“You’re a pretty thing when you get all pink and shy,” Eddie had murmured. He smelled like the whiskey he’d been sipping since before dinner. “I keep wondering how far down your blush goes…” 

Steve’s knees had nearly given out as Eddie’s fingers slipped under his t-shirt, then down beneath the waistband of his pajama bottoms. “I got a feeling it goes all… the way… down.” His hand, so rough and big and hot , wrapped around Steve’s dick, made him whimper with how tight his grip was.

A kiss was pressed to his throat while Eddie’s thumbnail caught at his slit, making his hips jerk. 

“Pretty thing, why don’t you let me find out for myself, hmm? You take care of me… and I’ll take care of you.” As if to prove his point, Eddie had hit his knees. He’d bent Steve over the counter, had licked him long and deep and made him come twice with his mouth and his fingers, all before Eddie’s dick was ever inside of him.

Really, how was Steve supposed to argue with that?

“Use your words, sweet boy,” Eddie murmured. He was sitting with his arms spread across the back of the couch. His pants were open, his tanktop rucked up to show off the tattoos over his stomach.

And Steve was fucking himself down onto that thick cock. 

“Please– oh god, please –”

“You said that already. Please what, baby?” Eddie threaded his fingers into Steve’s hair, tugged in a way that made Steve whimper and his dick twitch against his belly. “I told you we have to make it quick. Can’t make it quick if you don’t use your words and ask for what you need, huh?”

Steve bit down another sound as he tried to lean forward, to get his mouth on Eddie’s. “Touch me,” he begged. Just having Eddie inside of him wasn’t enough. It wasn’t enough and Eddie knew that. “Don’t be mean–” “Angel, we both know you like it when I’m a little mean.” Eddie’s hand slipped down to Steve’s shoulder blade, to one of the deep bruises he’d left as he’d pounded Steve into the mattress the night before. “Don’t you?” “Ed–” Steve gasped as Eddie’s hand dropped down from his back and between his asscheeks. He was loose, open, had already taken Eddie twice that morning, too, and had the mess left in his underwear as proof. It was so easy for Eddie to shift just a little and have a finger sliding in right alongside his cock. “That what you wanted, pretty thing?” Eddie snapped his hips up once and Steve had to catch himself against Eddie’s chest. “God, look at you. So fucking greedy. So desperate for it, aren’t you?”

“Yes–” Steve was sobbing. He felt rattled, exposed, stretched so fucking wide in a way that only Eddie had ever done to him. “Please– more–” Eddie’s other hand was on his throat then, squeezing until Steve could barely get a sound out, until his eyes were rolling into the back of his head from how goddamn overwhelming this was. “I told you to be quiet, didn’t I?” Teeth dragged over Steve’s jaw, down below his ear. “It’s like you want the whole world to hear what I’m doin’ to you, like you want them to know how much you like being a slut for me, huh? How much you like being mine ?” Steve could only nod and rock that much harder. Too much, too fucking much and yet not enough to push him over the edge– Eddie slipped a second finger inside and drove up hard again, again, steady thrusts that hit his prostate and had sparks going off in Steve’s brain. He could only sit there and take it, take everything this beautiful monster of a man wanted to give him and then some.

“Are you gonna be quiet if I let go?” Eddie asked. “Are you gonna be my good boy?” Steve nodded. Eddie’s fingers loosened. And with a stifled, broken cry, Steve arched his back as his orgasm rushed through him so hard it almost fucking hurt. Eddie’s fingers were out of his body, a hand was in his hair to guide his face into Eddie’s neck. He smelled like sweat and whiskey, and being pressed there muffled the noises Steve made as Eddie fucked into him roughly again. 

Eddie barely made a sound as he spilled into Steve’s body for the third time. 

They sat there, letting sweat and tears and come dry on their skin, until Steve had stopped shaking and could formulate a full sentence. Eddie would kiss him, tell him how sweet he was before he found Steve’s underwear and track shorts where they’d been thrown aside. When Steve’s legs regained feeling he would get his clothes on. 

Eddie would tuck his cock away. 

And before Steve was allowed to settle back down with his legs in Eddie’s lap, two more tally marks would have to be added to their ongoing count. One, in pencil, to the wallpaper behind the couch. And one in permanent marker to the inside of Steve’s thigh.

A brand for the two of them– for Eddie – to see. 

#Steddie fic #Steddie ficlet #Steddie #Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson #kintsugi_kid ao3

[tarjapearce]

Bad Teachings (Pt. 4)

WARNINGS: Nerd talk, Miguel into Work Mode, Relationship Building, Slow Burn, mild fluff, awkward meetings, british slang, mutual help.

Summary: A little peek into Miguel's daily life. Returning favors, rocky starts.

Pt. 5

Hope you like <3

Pairings: Miguel x Fem!Reader

The alarm beeped, and you rose from bed. You'd usually sleep in late and just chill the evening away if you had the free time for it, if not, you'd work ahead to declutter your to-do list. Something that adult life had taught you was to make the most out of your time and keep a balance between resting and work life.

You washed your teeth and showered, adding a mental note to buy more shampoo and conditioner later. Fifteen minutes after you came out, and did a brief skin care routine to finally get ready. You changed into some baby blue high waisted jeans, a white tank top and cardigan along some white espadrilles. You packed in some work tools such as your laptop, an usb docking station and your usb's.

Need you at 9-

Miguel had texted you around 10 pm, and now you were on your way to his home.

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

You knocked on the door and held the two cup holders tightly as your working bag hung on your shoulder. The heavy yet familiar steps approached and soon, the door was open, revealing a sleepy looking Miguel, black sweatpants and robe on. A smear of toothpaste foam on his chin. Baggy eyes are a bit more prominent.

"Coffee?" you smiled sympathetically as he let you in. You then offered a napkin

"Clean your chin." He did with a grunt and took a sip of the coffee.

"Didn't know how you liked it, so I just got it plain with two pieces of sugar."

"It's good, thanks." He mumbled and rubbed his face, tiredly.

Now that your hormones were under control, you actually paid attention to your surroundings, the floor was covered in marble-like textured tiles, and the walls were painted in a soft cream. The overall layout displayed before you.

You were standing in a soft rug, to remove all dirt from outside, to your right there was a small hall and a door at the bottom, the broom peeking out made you guess that it was the cleaning supplies storage, if you walked straight, you'd find the dining table and behind it, the kitchen, a small breakfast island separating the spaces.

Oddly enough the chairs underneath looked as if they hadn't been used in a while, they looked almost brand new except for one that had child-like doodles on it, in different colors. If you walked to the right of the dining table, you'd find the living room.

An L shaped couch along a dark wooden coffee table, a tv set with some shelves full of books and few portraits on each side of it. There was a wall dividing the livingroom and the bedrooms, as another one limited the kitchen, creating another hall between.

The windows in the dining room  and his bedroom were made out of thick glass, letting enough natural light to illuminate the spaces. However they were both covered by curtains. Miguel rubbed his eyes as he guided you to your work station. meaning, the dining room. Paper files spreaded all over the glass table.

"You'll work with these. Easy task. Each file is labeled with a letter, the main information is tagged in capital letters, the sub files, or the one related to the main file, are tagged in lowercase letters and a number, it dictates the page." He pointed to the bottom corner of the pages

"But, the lazy ass people I work with just gave me this bundle of papers." He sighed and put on his lenses once more.

"Once you are done organizing, hand them over to me. I need to revise which ones are outdated."

"Wait, so you're working with obsolete information?"

"No, with projects that should have been revised a week ago but were never revised due them being incomplete. Tal Vez una junta y un memo hacen que estos pendejos trabajen bien." He grumbled the last part more to himself than anyone else.

You didn't want to add to his stress, so you picked up the loose paper sheets in the file. He gulped the last remains of caffeine in his cup as you sipped yours.

"Excuse me." You put your work bag on a chair and soon began to follow instructions.  

"If you're stuck in something, tell me. I'll be in the living room. " Your paper cup was taken from your hands and he sipped it, then walked back to the living room with a tiny smirk. You were about to protest, but seeing coffee had gotten him a bit more alive, your lips remained shut.

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

The only sounds in the room were either you flipping and organizing pages or him typing away on the keyboard. A bird chirping somewhere occasionally, or some faint music from a neighbor.  You had glanced his way a couple of times, only to find him buried in his work, his figure was something impossible to miss. His lower lip jutted as his brow furrowed as he looked at the screen.

You on the other hand had organized one complete file, it was a short one. And from what you could read, it was about recreating a Japanese pink strawberry in some labs to see if it was feasible enough to start commercializing them. Miguel had done the whole research by himself.

"Y'know? I apologize for giving your intelligence little credit."

He looked at you with a quirked eyebrow

"Did you just call me stupid?"

"W-What? No! No. I didn't mean it like that. Like, I knew you were smart, but, this is a whole new level of smart."

He just chuckled and continued his work.

"Seems you're easy to impress."

"No, it means I just need to increase my standards. And I don't even ask for much really."

He stretched and yawned before taking some papers.

"And what are those?"

You stared at him, a bit taken aback that he would actually ask such trivialities.

"Well... I like a man that knows what he wants. Honest, loyal, not a clown but neither a stuck up guy, someone smart that can teach me stuff, in the same way that is willing to learn about new experiences. Sure of himself, someone I can trust and vice versa, good at communication and someone that has gotten over his ex. Or at least do not repeat patterns that they used to do with their ex."

He huffed at the last bit in mirth.

"Good luck with the last one."

"Yeah, That's why I don't head first into it. And the one that kind of met those requirements had to leave to another country" you shrugged and started on the second file.

"But yeah, anyway. I'm impressed that you alone lead these sorts of investigations. Not a good team player?" you smirked and he shook his head.

"Not really. "

"Oh... Well, sometimes it is more about the people you work with than the job itself, I guess."

He stared at you, eyes full of quiet wonder, but the beeping of his phone interrupted his train of thoughts.

"Hold on, gotta pick up"

You nodded and continued your work. He disappeared into his bedroom.

The second file was about rectifying the propension of field corn in getting infected by fungus. And the third one was about creating a substance or reactive that could reveal any anomalies in pregnant animals raised in captivity to preserve the species. The more you read about said files the more your admiration grew. And so the need to make things right.

"Feeling  hungry?" He spoke from the hall, the clock had ticked 12 midday. You both were so engrossed in your respective works that you forgot about time.

"Uh, a little."

You kept organizing files and separating the projects, reading and learning about them on the go.  

"What do you wanna eat?"

"You're ordering or cooking?"

"Ordering."

"Uh, a poke bowl sounds nice."

"A what?" He scrunched his nose and you giggled.

"It's a hawaiian dish made out of raw marinated fish and veggies or rice. Quite nutritious and delicious."

"Sounds nice, except for the raw fish."

"Haha, don't worry, there is a place that sells them with other cooked protein. I highly recommend the salmon glazed one. My treat"

"No. You got me coffee in the morning. We're even."

"Alright. Lemme get you the place´s number."

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

"So... how do you eat this?" You grabbed the chopsticks and grabbed a piece of glazed salmon.

"Just like that. Give it a try. " you smiled as your hand passed his packed chopsticks. He stared at them for a second and sighed.

"Please?

"If you just wanna laugh at me, say it"

You couldn't help but chuckle and shake your head.

"Pfft. It took me a while to get used to them too. But yeah, this will be funny."

"Sólo porque me lo pides de por favor..."

You always gave him a confused look whenever he spoke in what you could guess whas his mother language. He ripped the small package open and separated the sticks.

"Now, put the lower stick between your thumb and index finger, like tha- , No, no. Yes! Like that! And the other one must be held by the thumb and the middle finger"

There were two main emotions going through his face, frustration and determination. It turned into complete frustration when the small piece of protein fell off his chopsticks.

"It's fine if you don't get it at the first one. Takes a bit of practice." You handed him a plastic fork and smiled, he took it with a light scowl as you kept eating with the chopsticks.

"Besides, once you master them you can eat anything with it. Even snacks so your fingers don't get all... sticky."

"I'm staying with forks and knives, thanks."

You both couldn't help but chuckle.

"What has been the most difficult project to you, so far?"

"The ADA reactive in animals."

"Anomaly Detector Algorithm, right?" The corner of his lips curved slightly upwards at your response.

"Glad to see you're doing your homework, guapa."

"Your work is interesting. By the way, the Corn Field Fungus one is incomplete. Couldn't find the other pages"

He shrugged and finished eating.

"Not my fault. They are not doing their job properly, so of course it was incomplete."

"Sounds... stressing. Your job I mean."

"It is when incompetent people are in charge of things they shouldn't be. But when people know what they are doing, it's different."

"So, basically your job is modifying DNA from things to make things better or create alternative solutions if things don't get better?"

"Simple as that" He nodded, "We gotta check those files before creating the digital copy"

He stood and you quickly finished up your meal, smearing some sauce on your chin, you were about to retrieve the empty plastic bowl to put it in the trash when he cupped your face with a single hand and pulled it gently towards him. He used a napkin to clean the smear and nodded.

"That's better. Get to work" He went back to his work spot and so did you, after cleaning the table. Cheeks flushing.

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

"I'll send you the first transcribed file, so you can check it out as I'm finishing the third one."

"Sure."

He stretched once more to then give the last sip from another mug of coffee. The man lived on caffeine, or he was beyond exhausted and coffee kept him up. You had your work tools out. The noises of your typing mixed with his, almost as fast as he was.

"Want more coffee?" You offered as his eyes drooped.

"Not really. Can't surpass my fifth one."

"Then you should rest your eyes a bit. Take a break of five."

"We're almost done."

"That's precisely why you need five minutes off. Is the light bothering you?"

"A little"

 He rubbed his eyes as he pinched his nose bridge. Gruff voice coming as a rough whisper as you turned the unnecessary lights off, leaving the living room's on only. Then you soaked a clean handkerchief with cold water and returned to his side.

"Here." you offered the cold and wet piece of cloth with a small smile. "Close your eyes and put it on."

He didn't seem convinced that it would do anything, but your willingness to alleviate his distress made him take the cloth and put it on his eyes. He exhaled at the coolness the item provided.

You sat next to him and continued your job, as quietly as you possibly could. Even after the five minutes passed, you didn't move him. He was exhausted. The living room was lit enough to give you a small glimpse of what the shelves had.

Books on Genetics, probably from college, maths, engineering, some spanish titles you quite didn't understand. What threw you off guard was some children's book and stories in one space of the shelf.

Titles like "El Principito", "Cuentos Por Teléfono" "A Bear Called Paddington '' among others with colorful pictures of dinosaurs, soccer balls and some tattered coloring books.

Your eyes squinted as they settled for a portrait, It was a little girl, Black hair as Miguel's combed in a high ponytail as a red headband adorned her front section of the head, keeping the smaller and wild hairs under control. Her smile was cheerful as she held a golden trophy with a soccer player motif on top.

The words "Mi Sol" written in the left corner. The only picture of her in the portraits Miguel jerked awake and your eyes were casted back to the screen.

"Feel better?" He just nodded and exhaled.

"Here's the other two files" You mumbled and passed the usb to him, his large hand covering yours for a second. You waited as his eyes dragged across his screen.

Eyes going from squinting, frowning to widen gently. He gave you a rusty smile.

"Good job."  

"Thanks. Glad to help." your smile was genuine, almost smug. You exhaled, relieved. Clock ticking 7 pm.

"Is there anything else you need help with?"

" All done.Thanks."

"Alright, I shall get going then. It's getting late"

"Then, Stay." You looked at him with a pout.

"As much as I'd like to, you are exhausted, slept on the couch for more than five minutes, you need sleep."

It was his turn to give you a smug smile and you rolled your eyes.

"And stop drinking that much caffeine. You'll get a heart attack."

"A myth, by the way. Five cups is fine"

"If you say so"

Smiling, you put your tools back in your work bag and went for the door, he followed you.

"Thanks for the help"

"Anytime." You nodded.

He just stood on the doorframe, watching you as your nerves rioted inside you, was he expecting a hug? a kiss goodbye? You didn't know.

"Uh, Bye then. Don't forget to sleep" You ended up waving, unsure of giving a more intimate farewell. He seemed amused at your choice.

"Pasa linda noche, muñeca" You heard him mutter before the elevator's door closed.

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

Your elevator's door slid open, revealing the ever long hallway, work bag slinging on your left shoulder as your keys tinkered upon grabbing them. You tried to open the door but to your little surprise the door wouldn't budge. You groaned in annoyance as you pushed, to no avail. All happiness from a good deed done, drained away.

"Fuck." You heaved as you tried once more and failed. Taking your phone out, you recorded a small video for evidence, to send it to the landlord.

No matter how much you pushed the door, or turned the key, the door was stuck. You couldn't help but kick it, but regretted it instantly. Shoes too soft against a sturdy metal door.

"Fuck!" you whined, both in pain and exasperated.

"Seems ya could use some help"

British deep voice from behind you

"Be my guest. This thing wouldn't budge."

"Been having troubles with it too?"

"I already sent the evidence to Mr. Cufton. Hopefully he will fix the damn thing for real this time."

"I'm sure the bloke will be buzzin' when he sees it"

Hobbie stepped closer and took the keys. He turned them around a couple of times and pushed against the door with all his might.

"Goddamn..." Your eyes widened as he opened the door for you, he seemed unfazed, almost used to it.

"Thanks, Hobie."

"No problem." He stepped out of your apartment with his hands stuck in the pockets of his jacket.

"Have a good night." He nodded your way with a lax smile, you closed the door and opened it a couple of times to make sure it would work in the morning.  

You prepared the food for the week, your clothes and a small presentation that was sent to you to be corrected last minute.

And soon went to sleep.

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

You were having a bad day as it is, the door was jammed again and made you get one hour late since Mr. Cufton barely replied your way, and had another neighbor help you out. Traffic was insane, and when you got to your office, ready to start your day, the usb storage box wasn't in your tote bag.

Panic surged through you as your hands frantically searched for the small plastic box. You not only had a couple of months worth of work in them, but also some other coworker projects that would be presented in a couple of days.

It didn't help that the newest client was bitching about the little flow of movement her new beauty products' line was receiving. The responsibility falls directly on your both superiors and you.

Then, your superiors reprimanding you for not having the usb on hand to show the manager the newest projects to be soon developed in the firm and Mr. Cufton announced the door wouldn't be replaced until next week. As soon as 5 pm ticked in, you bolted out the place.

You couldn't help but cry out of frustration, however a ding on your phone prevented you from weeping in the parking lot.

I believe this is yours?-

He had sent the image of the usb box you had looked up. In all your haste, you had barely thought of it staying behind at Miguel's.

Forgot to mention this in the morning-.

Of course he would. He was super busy. You couldn't help but actually cry, relieved that at least one of your problems, one of the biggest problems was solved.

-You literally just saved my ass from being fired... Thank you so much. I'll pick it up at your place. Is that ok?

Give me your location, I'm not home yet.-

                                Stuck in traffic.-

-Neither do I, but I'll be there in 15 minutes.

You shared your home location, and drove home. Traffic only held you back for five minutes. You parked the car in the usual numbered spot assigned with your apartment number. Then took the elevator, work tote bag in hand, face still red from your previous crying, and finally you managed to get home and let Miguel know you were already there and your apartment number.

You knew you had to open the door to at least put your things away, and make yourself look less beaten up by life. Sadly there was no Hobie or the other friendly neighbor to help you out. The only times you saw Hobie was around seven or eight pm, and there was no sign of the other guy. You prepared mentally to struggle against an inanimate object.

First time was worthless, the second time was even worse. You had only slammed your body against it, earning another pain in your tender shoulder's muscles. Just when you were going to try a third time, Miguel called you from the hallway. You were on the verge of tears again, your face flushed like a tomato.

"You ok?"

You shook your head as you tried your best to keep the tears inside.

"Shitty day but, you saved my ass, again."

"What's wrong with the door?"

"It's stuck and the landlord will replace it until next week. Got an hour late at job because I got trapped inside" your voice was the first thing in breaking.

Miguel stared at you for a moment and then put his things down on the floor with a sigh. He rolled up his sleeves and grabbed your keys that felt tiny on his large hands. He could feel the weight of the door against the doorframe, knowing that if he was too rough, the whole door would cave in and make the problem worse.

He just stared at it's structure for some minutes, evaluating what could be wrong with it.

The elevator dinged open, revealing Hobie with a bag of groceries. He entered his apartment to drop the bags and then came your way. Eyeing the situation from afar.

"You gotta push against it, mate" He wore ripped jeans, his red boots, a sleeveless and irregular neck shaped shirt and studded bracelets.

Miguel acknowledged him with a glance before focusing on the door again.

"That's probably what messed up the hinges last night."

Hobie's eyebrow quirked as he deadpanned.

"If I push the door open, the whole thing will cave in and it'll make everything worse" Miguel spoke as he gently took the doorknob and pulled back, the door creaked but it didn't cave in, but it fell back on the floor with a metallic thud.

Miguel looked at the back of the door and grunted.

"That's the problem. Hinges are rusted, and the screws are loose."

"Hobie? Could I borrow your tools for a second?"

"Haven't unpacked them yet, birdie"

If there was a staring contest, you were sure it was a tie. Miguel's ever present frown deepened slightly as Hobie gave him a complete poker face. Tension in the air, you saw your other friendly neighbor coming through the elevator with his dog.

"It's okay, I'll ask him." You smiled nervously at him and approached your neighbor to ask him for some tools.

Hobie huffed with a slight smirk at Miguel

"Good luck with that dead naff door, mate. Imma leg out."

He turned around and left, giving a quiet smile your way.

"Charming" he mumbled once he was out of hearing

"Told you to be nice. He helped me out last night." you gave the screwdrivers to him, "Need any help?"

"I'm good. Yo me encargo"

"Yeah, Y'know I might start learning spanish cause... I don't understand what you're saying sometimes"

He smiled mischievously as he effortlessly held the door and began screwing it back to its place.

"What's the fun in that then?"

"I mean, for all I know you could be making fun of me or worse" you spoke as you picked up his belongings and yours to take them inside.

" Or worse? Hm... probably"

"You're mean. But I'm grateful you're helping me out. Again."

"At this point I'll start keeping tabs."

"Ouch."

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

Miguel fixed your door, but explained to you it was a temporary solution, lucky you'd know how to fix it in case another incident happened.

"Here" you gave him a glass of water as he looked around, taking in your surroundings. He then gave you the storage box.

"What happened today?" he drank from the glass

"Oh... uh, I told you shitty day. Got trapped here, got an hour late at work, the client was pissed she wasn't getting the numbers right of her products, blamed my boss and me," you sighed, annoyed

"Then the manager scolded me for not having the data on hand, cause it's in one of these little things, then the landlord told me my door is getting replaced next week, traffic and the door. But now, at least three of those issues are solved."

You slumped on the couch. exhausted

"Sorry for always dragging you to help me around"

"You apologize too much. "

You were about to open your mouth to apologize but remained shut. His frown decreased a bit and his face relaxed.

"Gotta go"

"Sure, Thanks for the help. I really appreciate it."

"De nada, hermosa"

"Might call you one day to help me out with some furniture that needs to be assembled"

He deadpanned and you giggled.

"Of course I am joking. I know you are really busy."

He picked up his things and you went to the door with him.

"Might do some time for that"

"Really? I might prepare something to eat then. Or maybe you could show me some cooking skills"

"I'll think about it"

You nodded with a bashful smile.

"Thanks, Miguel."

"See you"

You closed the door, it didn't lock you up this time.

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

Tal Vez una junta y un memo hacen que estos pendejos trabajen bien.- Maybe a meeting and a memo will make these fuckers to work properly

Sólo porque me lo pides de por favor.. - Only cause you're asking nicely

El Principito - The Little Prince

"Cuentos Por Teléfono- Telephone Tales (Highly recommended btw <3 By Gianni Rodari)

Mi Sol - My Sun

Pasa linda noche, muñeca- Have a nice night, doll

Yo me encargo - I've got this

De nada, hermosa - You're welcome, beautiful

Taglist ❤️

@vyxvi

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

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara x reader #atsv miguel #female reader #miguel o'hara fanfiction #miguel o'hara fluff #miguel ohara x you #miguel o’hara fanfiction #miguel spiderman #miguel x reader #miguel spiderverse #miguel x you #slow burn #Rocky start with Hobie

[bluecollarmcandtf]

Ask me Anything...

Today seems just like any other boring day, slaving away in the office, but something different is about to happen. The steady hum of fluorescent lights is broken by the squeaky sound of wheels rolling up behind you. Someone is visiting your cubicle...

"Dude, you ok?" you ask, startled by the sorry state of your coworker.

His name is John. He started working here a month before you did, but he's always labeled you as "the new guy." He's really annoying about it, but you've never complained. It's hard to get mad when you've got a crush on him. It just sucks that he's straight and always teasing you in front of the boss

"Seriously, John," you wave a hand in front of his unresponsive face, "Are you alive? You're drooling all over your shirt!"

His blank expression is unsettling, but seeing him slumped over in his seat like a lifeless sex doll is turning you on. You can't help but stare at the parted lips or the limp body. With a shudder of excitement, you notice the outline of his thick package as his slacks ride up his waist.

His prolonged silence is making you more nervous, "John? I'm starting to get worried..."

Suddenly his head jerks up! His glassy eyes stare blankly in your direction as his lips mechanically form the words, "Do not worry about this man's health. Your colleague will be returned to normal with no memory of this."

His robotic response only puts you more on edge, "John, why are you talking in the third-person?"

Before you get an answer, the man springs out of his chair and drops to the floor, sitting on his knees in front of you without a thought in his head. This can't be the John you know!

Everything about this feels unnatural and wrong. His words sound rehearsed, like they're coming from a machine in his throat. His movements are limp and uncoordinated, like they're being pulled by invisible strings. Someone has taken over your coworker!

"This body is being used as a messenger," he explains from his knees, "He is being used to announce that the Bluecollarmcandtf is now open for Asks. For a short time, you can use the Ask feature to request a story..."

"What!" you gasp and glance around the office nervously. You can't believe that a silly blog you follow has somehow taken over your hot coworker! What if your boss comes out and sees John on his knees in front of you? How is this even possible?

"...you can ask for anything, and Bluecollarmcandtf will bring your fantasy to life. Maybe you want someone in your life transformed. Maybe you want them controlled. Maybe you want them humiliated. Bluecollarmcandtf will take care of it for you as long as you follow him..."

Your mind is racing, and you can barely grasp what John is telling you. Mostly, you're just worried someone is going to catch sight of your coworker kneeling in front of you!

"Ok, thanks for letting me know," you grit your teeth anxiously, "Please put John back to normal now."

"...John won't go back to normal just yet," John answers numbly, "Give him commands to obey. His body is yours to boss around for the next twenty-four hours..."

"Boss John around?" you gasp, wondering what to make him do.

"You have ten seconds to give John a command. If you don't, he's going to start braying like a donkey at the top of his lungs. 10. 9. 8. 7. 6..."

"Ok! Just shut up and kiss my feet!" you blurt it out a little louder than you mean to, but at least John won't start drawing any more attention to you by acting like an animal.

John stops his countdown and lowers his face to the floor, planting a kiss on each of your fancy loafers. The funny thing is that he doesn't stop. I suppose you weren't specific enough with your command because he just keeps mindlessly switching between each shoe, making out with them like it's the most normal thing in the world.

Your mind is racing with what to do next. Already, ideas of how to humiliate him and use him are swimming through your head, but remember what he told you. Asks are open!

Don't be afraid to request taking someone else under your control. Maybe Bluecollarmcandtf could do something about that boss of yours? You'll obviously have to be careful about what you ask. Fantasies can always be misinterpreted...

[darkcircles4lyfe]

Behind the locked door

In honor of Izuku’s mask disintegrating into rubble, I think it’s finally time for me to really dig deep into his character. I’ve been keeping this one in my back pocket for a while. Amid all the talk about Izuku’s fading narration, the “control your heart” subplot, I’ve been trying to find the words to articulate how I know exactly where this is going, at least on a certain level. Most recently, I read this meta from pika who brings up how the word “control” alone can be misconstrued (by us). And then I thought about how a while back I made a similar point, although I said Izuku was the one who got it wrong. At that time, I was holding back a huge piece of evidence because it was external to the story and I wasn’t sure it would be received well. As a result, my argument fell a little flat. Well, now—after 411, right before leaks for 412—it might be my last chance to play this card.

So about that external evidence. I struggle to bring it up because it’s gonna sound an awful lot like I’m projecting onto Izuku if I don’t do it justice. But… I look at the way his storyline has been going lately and I see a pattern emerging that I’m very familiar with. Fortunately, I don’t have to dump a bunch of personal junk on you in order to illustrate this pattern, because a certain personality typing system already has it all figured out: the Enneagram.

Now, hang on. I’m not one to put people in boxes. My trans ass? I managed to get a different result every time I retook the P0ttermore quiz. MBTI, zodiacs—not my thing. But the Enneagram comes the closest I’ve ever seen to covering all the bases and revealing actually meaningful insight, at least for myself. On top of that, I find it extremely useful for fleshing out fictional characters, hence this post will be taking advantage of that.

For those who aren’t familiar with it, here’s a quick overview: The Enneagram consists of 9 individual personality types, each arranged carefully in a sequential, circular manner. They are also simply named 1 through 9. While this might seem kinda basic, there is actually a surprising amount of nuance and fluidity involved. Typing is done largely through personal introspection (you don’t really have to take a test). Adjacent numbers share some core themes with each other, and according to a web of arrows between them, one type can take on either positive or negative traits associated with other types depending on how emotionally ‘healthy’ they are, causing a lengthy spectrum of different ways each type can manifest. That part gets kinda complicated to explain here, so for more info, the Enneagram Institute website is a decent place to start. I also highly recommend the Enneagram album by Sleeping At Last (and if you really want to dedicate some time, the accompanying podcast) to really get inside the heads of the types on a deeper level.

My interest in applying the Enneagram to Izuku comes from observing how differently one can interpret his character based on whether you read him as a 2 or a 9. And even though no one uses this language to talk about him, the distinction accounts for a bunch of different rifts in the fandom: whether you appreciate bkdk’s relationship, whether you can acknowledge Izuku’s flaws and weaknesses, the severity of his vigilante/rogue phase, and most importantly the gravity of his concealed heart, his rage, and what it all means—what he needs in order to grow and triumph.

Discussion of Enneagram types in the fandom is pretty scarce, but where it exists, I have only seen him labeled as a 2. Type 9 and type 2 can be similar at a glance in a lot of ways (actually, 9s can be mistaken for any type because they are like all of them combined). It’s easy to see Izuku as a 2 because he is the helping hero archetype. He puts others’ needs above his own and he is always ready and eager to help. If you listen to Sleeping At Last’s song for 2, you’ll notice that it’s all about care and noble sacrifice with the underlying theme of neglecting or even harming oneself: “I just want to build you up, until your good as new, and maybe one day I will get around to fixing myself too.” Sounds pretty obvious, right? Well, here’s the thing. You really get to know what your type is by how it hits you where it hurts, so I like to focus on each type’s basic fear and basic desire, first and foremost, as a tell. A 2′s basic fear is of being worthless and unloved. Consequently, their most basic desire is to be loved. And 2s have been taught through their negative experiences that love is conditional, something they have to earn from others. They need to be needed. So let’s say you think Izuku is a 2. This means you consider his heroic, self-sacrificing tendencies to be a result of his growing up quirkless and being told he is worthless and powerless because of it. Through this lens, he is trying to prove himself to the world by being useful. Along these lines, you may also assume he is trying to prove himself to Katsuki. Taking this train of thought even further, you may interpret Izuku’s relationship with Katsuki as an obsession of his, where he is either blind to Katsuki’s more negative traits in favor of gaining his love and praise, or else bitterly determined to prove him wrong. This is how a 2 might behave in an unhealthy relationship with an 8, which, yes, I do think Katsuki is an 8. That’s a tangent for another time, though.

But does Izuku ever “need to be needed?” It’s worth noting that while 2s’ search for validation might seem insincere, it is actually motivated by a deep, heartbreaking insecurity. They think they don’t even deserve love unless they are useful to someone, so they do everything they can to be worthy. Does Izuku show signs of this motivation?

If I stop to think about it, I can’t exactly see this in Izuku’s character. Yeah, his dream is to be a hero, and in his childhood, he was denied that dream. However I think we need to take a step back from that for a second if we want to dig deep. I mean, a lot of the other characters also behave heroically, act selflessly, and strive to help. Does that mean all of them are 2s as well? Of course not. So let’s instead turn to observe how Izuku acts with his loved ones, friends, and peers in other/adjacent contexts:

Inko: He is committed to protecting his mother from fearing for his safety. He wants to be good enough to not cause her to worry, rather than good enough to make her proud or make her love him. Idk about his father but at this point I think it’s safe to assume he is deeply unimportant.

All Might: I would describe their relationship as one of mutual responsibility. Izuku feels a responsibility to uphold All Might’s legacy, All Might feels a responsibility to teach him well. Because of this mutuality, I don’t think it quite makes sense to say Izuku deliberately seeks approval for its own sake. You know what I mean? They may be a mentor and a pupil but in practice they are almost more like co-conspirators. They don’t really have a power dynamic going on.

Shouto, Tenya, other friends: Izuku seems to take an interest in what makes his friends tick, and he sets himself aside in order to both analytically and intuitively determine what’s wrong and how to solve it. Examples include his fight against Shouto in the sports festival, and his stubborn concern for Tenya’s reaction to his brother’s forced retirement. He will put himself in the line of fire specifically when confronted with another person’s inner demons. This is not a labor that is asked of professional heroes, it’s just who Izuku is. You can also extend this observation to how he sees through Tomura to Tenko, but I’ll get to that later. Basically, while 2s seek to help in all kinds of ways, a 9’s strategy is always centered on the realm of the mind.

Kota: Adjacent to the paragraph above, before Izuku literally gets into a position where he needs to save Kota, he becomes interested in the boy’s point of view out of genuine curiosity. He doesn’t go “oh no, this kid doesn’t like heroes, I better get him to like heroes.” Instead he seeks out information as to why he thinks that way, and patiently listens. He’s sorry about what happened to Kota, and he understands. Twice (ch 71 and 72), he recognizes the fact that everyone has their own point of view on quirks, and he can’t really do anything about that.

Mirio: This might be one of the most telling examples. Mirio is the platonic ideal of an All Might successor. He’s “perfect.” He even looks the part. While this initially makes Izuku uncomfortable, he doesn’t become insecure and defensive over it. On the contrary, he easily comes to the conclusion that actually, Mirio should have One for All. Just like that (ch 172). If Mirio hadn’t dismissed the “hypothetical,” he probably would have gone through with giving it to him. That’s not how a 2 would respond. A 2 would double down and aim to be better than Mirio by trying to establish some relationship of need, fueled by the insecurity. Their shared subplot with Eri would have looked pretty different, I think.

Katsuki: I’ve mentioned before that I believe their rivalry only exists because Katsuki put it there. First of all, we can see that after the sludge villain incident, Izuku weirdly takes Katsuki’s dismissal of Izuku’s help as practical advice. Like, “oh yeah, I guess what I did was pretty stupid and dangerous, and I’m not cut out for this hero stuff. Now I can move on and find a realistic career.” Hello?? He accepted that so easily. So Izuku clearly isn’t motivated by a desire to prove himself to Katsuki. Even when he proclaims he’s going to surpass him, it’s like he’s happily mimicking Katsuki, not reacting based on insecurity or pride. Izuku is content to meet Katsuki wherever he is, and he’s satisfied with whatever kind of relationship they are able to have, including a rivalry, so he isn’t vying for his affection either. We can observe this when he gives up the role of reaching out a hand to save Katsuki to Kirishima, and also when he thinks about how “blessed” he is to even have a normal conversation with Katsuki. He doesn’t push things. It’s also stated in Deku vs. Kacchan 2 that Izuku doesn’t excuse or overlook Katsuki’s “bad side” but still admires him for his other traits. This is not at all characteristic of a toxic 2x8 relationship.

When 2s are at their very worst or pushed into unhealthy situations, they tend to become more needy and self-centered, even downright manipulative. But at Izuku’s worst, when he went rogue, he pushed everyone away to avoid being a burden. When the refugees at UA tried to prevent him from returning, he was like, “you’re right” and would have turned back immediately if not for his friends, loved ones, and other people who care about him telling him it was all okay. Meanwhile, Katsuki, in true 8 fashion, was pissed off at being rejected and having to deal with Izuku’s stubborn and evasive side (oh yeah, have I mentioned 9s are actually stubborn as hell?), but he made sure to establish that they are (he is) here to step in when Izuku can’t handle things by himself. Katsuki even opened up and admitted to his own weaknesses to show why mutual support is so important. Tbh, a lot of the above can be construed as just super healthy type 2 behavior, but not this. The way Izuku acts at his lowest, and his dynamic with Katsuki? Totally different. Dead giveaway for a 9.

Let’s get into the type 9 itself in more detail to show how it applies to Izuku more deeply—seriously, it’s beat for beat. One of the key differences is, while 2s seek validation, 9s are actually resigned to the belief that they aren’t important. Similar to 2s, a 9′s basic fear is of separation, but their basic desire is actually just peace or harmony rather than love. Notice how these motivations are just like a 2’s, except they have the “self” part taken out. With that in mind, they “achieve” their basic desire through selflessness in and of itself, without the need for recognition. That’s not to say that 9s are better than 2s. In fact, a 9 can be worse, in a way. If unhealthy, they will seek peace at almost any cost to themselves. In other words, they can be more self-destructive while still under the impression that they are doing just fine. “Peace” may refer to the expression of empathy, fulfilling the needs of others, sheltering someone, or mediating a fight—but also to repressing their own opinions and needs, not “rocking the boat,” ignoring negative emotions, or becoming a vessel for someone else to vent to.

What about inner peace? 9s value serenity, and thus they have a complicated relationship with the most tumultuous of emotions: anger. On the surface, 9s look like the type that is extremely slow to anger and highly tolerant. However, as much as they would like to believe this about themselves too, deep down, 9s are afraid of what might happen if they lose control. My phrase for it is this: I feel like a bottled tornado. Personally, I also think of anger as a basic desire to make others feel your pain—not necessarily sadistically, but in an effort to be known, to be understood. The difficult thing to grasp, especially for a 9, is that this is NOT inherently a bad thing. It isn’t wrong to seek sympathy. On the contrary, it is harmful to tell yourself that getting angry is wrong, because it’s like telling yourself that your pain is wrong, your pain doesn’t matter.

The problem is it doesn’t stop there. A 9, in shutting down their anger, ends up with such a low opinion of their own heart, their other emotions dull along with it. They cry less, laugh less, love less. It’s often said that they “fall asleep” to themselves. It all starts with anger. It’s interesting to note how different this whole mindset is from toxic masculinity—where men only feel allowed/able to express emotions through anger. This is sorta like the opposite. Anger becomes the dam rather than the river. For Izuku, I want us to consider that his suppression of anger carries with it the implication that he is hiding other things, too. It’s a given. There’s a whole sea of feelings out there, and we can only see the waves hitting the shore. This brings me to the whole “control your heart” thing. I do think it is worth mentioning that Banjou didn’t just tell Izuku to exercise control. He also told him that his anger could be useful if it is harnessed. With this added context, “control” here means “to master.” And Izuku seemed to grasp this concept… sorta. I think that if Izuku is like a 9, we can assume he has trouble understanding how anger could be a worthy source of strength. His emotions in relation to Katsuki feel more like a weakness to him, a character flaw in a hero, who is supposed to be detached and selfless. But he’s trying to understand, even though he’s afraid of it. He essentially applied the same strategy he used for mastering OFA itself: incremental strength training. Which, okay. Take a moment to absorb how odd that is, in relation to emotions, specifically. Does one learn to cry incrementally? Does one learn to use anger by bottling a fucking tornado?? Like, what, you think you’re gonna be able to let out juuust the right amount of air to avoid an explosion??? No, man… if you want to be the master of your emotions you have to be willing to sit with them. Confront them. Listen to them. Take them in completely and accept them as a part of yourself.

For someone like Izuku, though, it is very difficult to imagine how this is even possible. Tomura, as with every villain, can be used to reflect his hero counterpart’s greatest fear about himself. Tomura literally touches everyone and everything with his rage, and as a physical manifestation of that desire to pass his own pain onto others, destruction radiates from his fingertips. Thus, losing control in this manner must be Izuku’s worst nightmare, as if he would be completely unable to stop the collateral damage like an infinite line of dominoes. But his anger is not something he can overcome, as such.

An overarching theme in this heroes vs. villains conflict is that the villains are not merely obstacles to be overcome. Just think back to Himiko’s bitter rejection of the heroic sense of superiority. She demanded not to be pitied, condescended to, or lied to. Likewise, the answer cannot be that Izuku needs to restrain himself where Tomura doesn’t. What purpose would it serve to show that Izuku is better than him? Certainly not saving Tomura. If this was a battle against AFO, it might have been a different story. In that case, Izuku would have to overcome his emotional manipulation tactics. Tomura, on the other hand, is not so strategic. With his strangely childlike tendencies, he must relish making Izuku mad because it brings them closer to the same wavelength. It’s his own twisted way or seeking sympathy, or at least, the closest thing to sympathy he can get anymore, because he believes he is beyond saving. With that in mind, Izuku isn’t going to get anywhere unless he rises to meet him. Izuku has to match Tomura’s hatred with equally strong emotions of his own, whatever they may be, or else face the loss of OFA (as established in 305). This is not an easy thing to ask of a 9, once they have started to pull the blood from their extremities, become cold and numb. Bringing back circulation is painful and makes the skin crawl.

In case you’re worried about the focus on anger here, I want to reiterate that concealed anger in a 9 is just one sign of so much more. Back when everyone started fretting about Izuku’s habit of self-sacrifice, which would have been the only thing we need to worry about if he were a 2, I was freaking out because Izuku was also starting to look like a person who has too many secrets. You don’t even have to acknowledge the possibility that he lied about what triggered blackwhip. It’s written all over his face all the time these days. It’s especially noticeable when you contrast him with Katsuki after all his own growth. Katsuki confides in people. He acknowledges his weaknesses. He enjoys being himself. He asserts his place. He thinks about Izuku all the damn time and now he even lets himself be soft about it. All this warmth while Izuku is distant, muted, and blank. I know all too well what this state of mind is like. Man, I hate secrets. You get to the point where you don’t know how to talk about even the simplest most inconsequential shit. And the bigger things? They’re like a growing snowball of words in your throat that cannot possibly fit out of your mouth. The “easiest” way to cope is to simply fade into the rhythm of life. Go with the flow.

Since 9s have a natural curiosity about the interiority of other people, they may choose to focus on that in order to divert their own attention away from themselves. Taken to the extreme, they will lose track of their sense of self. Like I said, you can see Izuku doing this as he fights, analyzing the psyche of his opponent, and his match against Shouto in the sports festival was a fantastic early example. They became friends because of how observant Izuku is. His emotional intelligence and intuition are very strong, but gradually, as he has taken on greater responsibilities and experienced more trauma, he has gotten worse at applying these skills to himself. You know, we go on and on about how his narration has been reduced to nearly nothing, and it’s not just an absence of introspection, it’s an absence of self. It creates a lack of ownership over the narrative—what should be his narrative.

Right now, he’s focusing on trying to see Tomura as a person, figuring him out. I think it would be really satisfyingly ironic if in the process, he ends up uncovering insights about himself instead. It’s about time we learn what Izuku’s secrets are. I don’t actually think that Izuku mastering anger will constitute the emotion that is strong enough to keep Tomura from taking OFA. Moreover, he can’t expect to reach Tomura’s core, Tenko, unless he exposes his own. Rather, anger is the conduit for Izuku to unlock something else. Think of the way he described how Katsuki is his image of victory. The feeling manifests when he asserts a stronger sense of self (the urge to win) and he becomes more free with his words. I have no doubt that Tomura has the power to make unfiltered honesty spill out of him. He knows how to bring out his selfish needs, his pain, his pressure points, his fears, his insecurities. Hell, maybe Mt. Fuji erupting is a metaphor. I want to see Izuku explode while Tomura watches with mad glee. But then I want Izuku to Realize Things such that it finally sets him free. Then, instead of Tomura witnessing yet another person he touches fall apart, he gets to see someone become whole.

"I let the scale tip, feel all of it. It's uncomfortable but right. And we were born to try to see each other through. To know and love ourselves and others well is the most difficult and meaningful work we'll ever do." --Sleeping At Last, 'Nine'

#you are very much welcome to send me asks about this and the enneagram etc because it's very fun to talk about! #bnha meta #bnha manga #bnha 411 #bnha 412 #mha #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #character analysis #midoriya izuku #shigaraki tomura #bakudeku #bkdk #dekubaku #dkbk #lin speaks

[carnivore-voyeur]

CW - Unmasked Ghoul Discussion Re: Use of Fandom Names vs. Nicknames & Maintaining Respect for Privacy

I’ve seen an uptick in people using the name “Sodo” in fanworks that are clearly based on the fictional Ghost / Ghouls universe. This is just a polite reminder that “Sodo” is Per Eriksson’s personal nickname that has nothing to do with Ghost. If we want to respect boundaries, it’s best to refer to the ghoul he plays with another name.

I know part of the problem is a result of Dewdrop and Sodo being conflated in fandom to the point that on AO3, content involving the fictional ghoul he plays has been labeled as Dewdrop | Sodo. That doesn’t mean that fans should use Sodo as a stand-in for Dewdrop, the fictional ghoul you are creating fanworks about.

I may use the term “Sodo Ghoul” in the tags whenever I’m referring to Per Eriksson performing as a Ghoul, but the fictional persona that was created by fans for the “character” he is playing on stage is “Dewdrop.” Of course, you can call that “character” something else if you like, but again… “Sodo” is not a fictional person. Sodo is Per Eriksson. Per Eriksson plays lead guitar for Ghost.

If you hear Papa Emeritus IV calling out “Sodo” on stage, it’s because he can technically call him that without revealing his identity as it’s a nickname. It’s not because “Sodo” is the name of the ghoul. I’m clearing this up, too, because there are people who comment on Ghost content with the belief that Sodo was a fan given name that they adopted for the Ghoul and/or they don’t know what Sodo means.

e.g.

As you can see by the dates, the misinformation regarding his nickname persists to this day.

There was a rumor started by fans that was never validated that Per Eriksson read a fanfic about his Ghoul persona and expressed that he hated the nickname “Dewdrop.” This is utter nonsense. First of all, please keep fanworks in fandom spaces. Don’t share them with the band. Second, Per Eriksson doesn’t spend much time on the internet let alone fandom spaces. So, that’s just bull.

If you don’t want to call the fan-named ghoul, Dewdrop. You can pick another name. It’s all fictional. There are no rules. Rules and boundaries come in when we’re dealing with real people. Per Eriksson has on more than one occasion talked about how uncomfortable he is with people finding out private information about him.

Here’s an excerpt of an interview you can find here discussing his feelings on privacy for context:

This was from 2012, so you can imagine how he feels about it now. You can probably understand why he doesn’t post often or only puts his content up for a limited amount of time. You can probably understand why he snapped at fans digging into his personal life a few years back, deleting everything he ever posted online. We’re not entitled to know everything about him.

Using his personal nickname for fictional content is blurring the lines between the fictional and Per Eriksson’s personal life. There are aspects of the “character” he plays on stage that can be inspired by him, but there are other things about him that are very personal or they’re unique to him. Maybe he cares. Maybe he doesn’t. I can’t speak for him, but I do think it’s important to draw a line.

I’m not trying to lecture or shame anyone specifically. I just want to remind everyone that Dewdrop is fictional, but Sodo is not. Dewdrop may be portrayed by Per Eriksson, but Sodo is Per Eriksson. Using his personal nickname for fanworks would be just the same as calling Swiss Ghoul, Jutty, which is Justin Taylor’s personal nickname. If that’s obviously crossing a line to you, then it shouldn’t be any different when it comes to using Sodo and Dewdrop interchangeably in fanworks.

#the band ghost #dewdrop ghoul #sodo ghoul #per eriksson #per sodo eriksson #unmasked ghouls #unmasked ghoul #text post

[rouge-the-bat]

i really do wonder what ppl who tout the "non-men loving non-men" definition of lesbian think about multigender people. do they EVER consider us? even a tiny bit? bc it certainly doesnt feel like it. it feels like any one of these situations:

they already dont think being multigender is a thing, and say shit like "you can only be a man, a woman, or nonbinary, not all of the above."

they quite literally dont think about how multigender people would work in relation to sexuality. they may claim to support us, but they dont pay attention to or care about the fact our gender identity ISNT just an isolated thing that has no affect or connection to anything else about us.

they look at my gender (genderfluid between woman, man, and many forms of nonbinary, more oftentimes a mix), and say oh well youre PARTIALLY a man in some way so that means you cant be a lesbian! so, basically my man-ness just "taints" me and negates the fact that im also a woman and nonbinary? what about the days where my genderfluidity contains no bit of man at all? can i only be a lesbian SOMETIMES?

they yell about non-men all they want, but see my gender and go, "oh not YOU though :) i mean people who are ONLY a man!" and not realize how that is 1. them not saying at all what they mean in their definition if still SOME men are okay and 2. extremely comes across as misgendering and that they dont see me as Actually a man if im not mono-gendered, regardless of their intention. if you are going to categorize people as "men or non-men" and try to fit me in only one or the other, you are misgendering me no matter what. non-men is not the same thing as non-mono-gendered-men.

and all of this also makes me wonder: what would these people think if they saw me in person, holding hands with my girlfriend?

for context: transmeds would 100% consider me a faker not only bc im genderfluid, use any pronouns (esp neos), and am without dysphoria (for gender anyways), but because theyd think im just cis. im afab with no hormone changes or surgery, nor do i want any (my ideal genitals being a dick or barbie-doll-smooth aside, since i dont care enough to do surgery about it, and any of my other gender ideals would require shapeshifting), i like my big boobs, AND im femme. my fat even adds to my curves. most people would probably read me as only a girl and not think twice about it, esp if im dressing up as femme as i like being at the time.

so, if these people shouting "non-men loving non-men" at those like me all the time ended up seeing me irl, what would they think? would they see im extremely femme and read as a girl while holding hands with my girlfriend (who isnt femme but still is easily read as a girl) and think oh yeah, thats a lesbian right there? because a huge part of me says that they absolutely would have no issue with it

who knows if anyone who swears up and down by the "non-men loving non-men" definition will actually read this, but i REALLY wish more people would actually hear out multigender folks and see how definitions like this are incompatible with us. think about how our identity doesnt exist in a vacuum. realize that plenty of us ARE lesbians no matter what anyone else says, and we do not abide to your """inclusive""" definition that actually doesnt consider our existence at all.

or at least realize identity labels dont have a one-size-fits-all definition in the vastness of queer experiences, that people are going to have definitions for things that are different from yours, and you dont hold the One True Right Definition. realize that definitions are not rules that are placed upon words, theyre explanations for how these words are being used across the world, through time, and vary from person, place, and time. definitions are fluid, not static, and many words have multiple definitions.

#lesbian #multigender #genderfluid #lesboy #genderfluid lesbian #multigender lesbian

[tournament-announcer]

Hey ik this is not tournament related, but in case you didn't know and want to spread the word, Tumblr is selling everybody's data to AI companies.

Here is the staff post about it https://www.tumblr.com/loki-valeska/743539907313778688

And a post with more information and how to opt out https://www.tumblr.com/khaleesi/743504350780014592/

Hi thanks for the information and sorry for my late reply. I was a bit low on spoons this week and I wanted to form thoughts about this.

Because the thing is, I am doing a PhD at an AI department in real-life. Not in generative AI, in fact I’m partly doing this because I distrust how organisations are currently using AI. But so this is my field of expertise and I wanted to share some insights.

First of all yes do try to opt out. We have no guarantee how useful that’s going to be, but they don’t need to be given your data that easily.

Secondly, I am just so confused as to why? Why would you want to use tumblr posts to train your model? Everyone in the field surely knows about the garbage in, garbage out rule? AI models that need to be trained on data are doing nothing more than making statistical predictions based on the data they’ve seen. Garbage in, garbage out therefore refers to the fact that if your data is shit, your results will also be shit. And like not to be mean but a LOT of tumblr posts are not something I would want to see from a large language model.

Thirdly I’ve seen multiple posts encouraging people to use nightshade and glaze on their art but also posts wondering what exactly it is these programs do to your art. The thing is, generative ai models are kinda stupid, they just learn to associate certain patterns in pictures with certain words. However these patterns are typically not patterns we’d want them to pick up on. An example would be a model that you want to differentiate between pictures of birds and dogs, but instead of learning to look for say wings, it learns that pictures of birds usually have a blue sky as background and so a picture of a bird in the grass will be labelled as ‘dog’.

So what glaze and nightshade are more or less doing is exploiting this stupidness by changing a few pixels in your art that will give it a very different label when an AI looks at it. I can look up papers for people who want to know the details, but this is the essence of it.

To see how much influence this might have on your art, see this meme I made a few years ago based on the paper ”Intriguing properties of neural networks”, Figure 5 by Szegedy et al. (2013)

Finally, staff said in that post that they gave us the option to opt out because of the maybe upcoming AI act in Europe. I was under the impression that they should give us this opportunity because of the GDPR and that the AI act is supposed to be more about the use of AI and less about the creation and data aspect but nevertheless this shows that the EU has a real ability to influence these kinds of things and the European Parliament elections are coming up this year, so please go vote and also read up on what the parties are saying about AI and other technologies beforehand (next to everything else you care about) (also relevant for other elections of course but the EU has a good track record on this topic).

Anyway sorry for the long talk, but as I said this is my area and so I felt the need to clarify some things. Feel free to send me more asks if you want to know something specific!

#misc #ai #tumblr #oh yeah nigthwish and glaze are very heavy on your computer so do take that into account #nightshade*

[that-ari-blogger]

The Coven System

There is something fascinating about the Coven System as a story mechanic. Specifically, this post will talk about how they are introduced in Covention. There's some nuance here.

Let me explain.

SPOILERS AHEAD

First up, let's establish some themes. The owl house is about freedom of expression. This should be pretty obvious. This episode goes out of its way to explicitly state this pretty early on, so you have that in the back of your mind.

"I get it Eda. Covens bad, individualism good. But I'm still figuring this world out. So, I'm going to go in there and make up my own mind."

There's a pervading attitude in specifically media analysis of "I'm going to throw a collection of big words at you to show how I am right" and the people that say this could be right, but they don't dwell on why. Knowing what something is called doesn't really do anything in something like this and reducing things to "Good" and "Bad" without explaining what that means is unhelpful.

To be clear, I'm not disagreeing with Eda here, the coven system is bad. And I'm not against big words (Half of my personality is an obnoxiously obscure vocabulary). But good and bad have no inherent, quantifiable definition. You have to define the parameters you are using. That's what this episode as a whole does. It explains, and it demonstrates.

Enough waffle. What are the covens?

Put simply, they are boxes to exist in. You align yourself with one idea and have to embody that idea for the rest of your life. It's restrictive, but that's not the selling point. The selling point is:

"Acceptance? Comradery? A sense of belonging? Covens sound incredible." "Watch closely, Luz."

The coven system works on social rules. You want acceptance? You need to conform. And even the existence of the Tiniest Cat Coven backs this up. The Boiling isles don't care how you conform, they just care that you can be easily defined. Hence why they add labels to everything, including those outside of the covens. Eda is a "wild witch". Lus is "the human".

The sigil system is a pretty decent metaphor for this, in order to be accepted, you have to lose some of your magic, some of what makes you you.

But there is one exception to this rule. The Emperor's coven. The best of the best can keep all of their magic. If you are good enough, you can keep some of your identity. But in exchange, you must wear a mask, disguise your face. It's conditional acceptance, and it's not acceptance of you, its acceptance of your abilities. Even Lilith is introduced wearing a mask.

Now, one thing that struck me during this episode was how it makes a concerted effort to show how similar the Emperor's coven and the wild witches are. That way their differences are shown more dramatically. These begin superficial. Both can cast all kinds of magic, both have a Clawthorn as their leader, both back a child in what could probably be a life-or-death event. But then the similarities become more underlying. Both are impulsive and cheat their way to victory.

I said impulsive there, and I meant it. But you might be confused. Lilith doesn't strike most people as impulsive. But that is an act, a mask, you might say. She makes a concerted effort to be the holier than thou character, but it literally only takes a handful of rhymes to get her to act how Eda wants her to act. And remember the beginning of the episode? How does Luz convince Eda to let her go to the covention? With flowery language. There are some parallels here that are starting to get obnoxious.

So, what point am I getting at here? What are the differences between the wild witches and the Emperor's coven? The coven would lead you to believe that they are the only place where you can be accepted. But the wild witches provide that for each other, and they don't have to earn it. The answer, when you look closer, is freedom. In the Emperor's Coven, you are not free to be yourself, you give up your individuality, and your autonomy, which in my opinion, are not the kinds of things you want to relinquish.

Ok, I need to talk about this scene, because it's really cool. The key word here is acceptance. The reason Luz starts to break down Amity's walls is because she is kind. She doesn't call Amity to change her ways in some big monologue, she is just nice to her, and accepting. And that acceptance comes from a place Amity wasn't expecting it to. Amity has been raised to think that acceptance came from skill, that if you were good enough, people would be kind to you. That's why she's so hell bent on joining the Emperor's Coven. And yet here is Luz, after Amity had cheated, showing her dignity and respect.

Luz doesn't begin antagonistic towards the Covens, but the rivalry begins here. Luz is the opposite of the emperor, and by extension, the antithesis of the covens themselves.

Previous - Next

#rants #literary analysis #literature analysis #what's so special about...? #the owl house #toh amity #toh #toh luz #luz noceda #owl house #the owl lady

[cthulhusstepmom]

It's dark in the cellar, has been since they were tossed down here however many days ago. Hard to tell time without regular meals. Completely windowless, there's no place to spend his usual half hour basking under the sun. It had been a matter of hours before his coldblooded body had started to slow in the cool subterranean temperatures. He'd tried to keep it to himself, deal with it quietly, but there's no way to hide it from Gid, steadfast loyal Gid. Kremy had found his sluggish form gathered unceremoniously close to the living furnace that is his right hand man.

The heat may have stabilized his body temperature but it would do nothing to improve his mood(well maybe just a little bit it's hard to be too miserable when you're so nice and warm no matter the dire circumstances). Gideon took care of light well enough too, illuminating a circle around them with dancing warm firelight, though that was extinguished as soon as Kremy saw it start to waver and flicker, can't allow his partner in crime to burn himself out now can he? And so they sit in an almost peaceful silence, have done for who knows how long.

"Y'know it's not the worst bind we've gotten ourselves into. The gang will be along soon enough to bust down the door." Gid pauses in thought. "Probably not Twigsy. Or Frosty. Or Gricko unless he's a beasty. Probably down to Torbek to do the door busting come to think of it."

Kremy grunts noncommittally.

"Ah don't be like that, can't be worse than the time we had to climb out of the window of that inn."

"The snake oil heist on the western bank?"

"Nah the one with the innkeepers daughter, Felicity? Franny?"

He remembers that particular scrap well, if only because of the god awful wig.

"Felicia. How that veil covered my snout I will never rightly know."

Gideon snorts.

"Oh yeah. Sure would've been nice to know Gricko was an ordained minister before hand but it's not the first time we've been married."

Kremy hums. "Can't say it's the worst contract I've signed."

The warm body next to him rolls with deep, hearty laughter. The room goes silent for another spell before Kremy sighs.

"I dunno Gid, you ever get the feeling that we've taken it too far? Finally poked the bear that's gonna rip our throats out?"

"Nah man, I know you'll get us out of anything 'fore it gets too serious. Even if we end up knee deep in Fae tomfoolery. And I'll punch any bear that tries to bite us square in the body till it dies, no problemo." He pauses. "I trust you Kremy Lecroux."

That knocks the speech right off of his tongue.

Trust.

On a conceptual level he got that there was some form of reliance between the two of them, and sure some trust if you had to put a non-ironic label on it. He knows that Gideon cares for him, has stated it on many occasions in many different ways. And if you had to be so crass as to put it into words, of course he cares for Gid too, wouldn't have bothered keeping him around this long if he hadn't(lord knows the food bill would be enough to sway his opinion if he wasn't entirely too attached by now).

But trust?

Trusting Kremy Lecroux is a bad idea on any number of levels. He's a cheat by profession and a liar by lifestyle. Hell he's sold the souls of those around him in exchange for power more than once. There's nothing worth trusting in him, he's a coldblooded criminal and he's never gonna change, not for anybody. And here Gid is announcing it with his full chest. It's one of those things that's so endearing about him, he never holds back; Gideon Coal has never made a promise he doesn't fully mean. But since he's a man of contracts and business dealings he at least wants to give him a fair shot, a head start, a warning to keep that fiery heart close.

"You sure about that Gid? Those kinds of words have a power to em you know that."

"100% man, I'll follow you to the end of the world."

Kremy struggles to get air into his lungs, it takes a minute, two. When he finally gets enough to speak, it's frustrated and tinged with melancholy.

"Well I'll gladly let you do just that, if we ever get out of this fucking place."

"Hey." Kremy offers no response. "C'mon man don't be that way, the crew are all out there figuring their way in as we speak, fact I can smell the Torbek already."

He says nothing.

"I know what'll cheer you up."

A large, warm hand cups the bottom of his snout, gently directing his face up and to the side. Before he can think to protest, his eyes are drawn to the sudden lick of flame dancing on the tip of Gideon's finger. Not unlike when he lights cigarettes for him, except now he's pressing the pad of the digit to a small twig from the rocky floor until it smolders dully. Blowing on it, Gideon brings the small stick towards his face. It's warm but not uncomfortably so (he'd never had a doubt in his mind that Gid would hurt him). Carefully, precisely, with hands steady from working on the delicate innards of machines he can't begin to comprehend, Gideon draws the ashen tip of the stick across his upper lip in two swooping lines.

"There you already look more like yourself!" He proclaims proudly.

And god if he can't help the smile that breaks across his face.

"You're a crazy son of a bitch Gideon Coal, you know that?"

"Been told once or twice." he chuckles.

#“Gid when we walk outta here I need you to go first.” “Why?” “Cause you're my light at the end of the tunnel. Always will be.” #Once Upon a Witchlight amiright? #god im obsessed its bad #theres not NEARLY enough fan content for this and it is is a CRIME #to any of my followers or mutuals: if you like banter if you like funnies if you like gay subtext if you like found family #i am BEGGING you to check out once upon a witchlight and gush with me #its done by Legends of Avantris on youtube and twitch #moustache moment in ep.26 my beloved #once upon a witchlight #kremy lecroux #gideon coal #coalecroux #legends of avantris

[heretherebedork]

So Yoh falls in love at first sight with Segasaki, gets mocked by his friends for being a loner and sent on errands and then rescued from that by Segasaki but also how their communication has always been Segasaki pushing Yoh until he gets an answer and Yoh hesitating to communicate anything because he's always been mocked and teased and has no confidence in himself.

No wonder Yoh doesn't trust or believe in anything that's happening with them. He still sees Segasaki as someone so far out of his reach and range that he cannot handle it at all.

Yoh's insecurities are never ending and his fear of losing Segaski breaks my heart but we can also see how little Yoh trusts his actions.

Yoh literally cannot come up with any words that describe Segaski's feelings. None. He sits and he stares and he cannot come up with anything because to him Segaski feels nothing and so he has to label or words for what he might be feeling.

And Segaski communicates his feelings in so many actions and in so many choices but never directly and so Yoh can always find a way to deny that those feelings are real, again and again, that Segaski could not feel anything for him.

Because it's safer to imagine he feels nothing, it's safer to protect himself from pain and unrequited love by pretending that this is all one-sided, by holding onto his constant discomfort and denial because it simply cannot be true otherwise.

And this is a different insecurity. This is what Yoh and Segaski's struggles to communicate have become. They've turned into an argument that isn't an argument and hurt feelings and broken hearts on both sides. On two people both speaking at a crossroads and unable to ask for clarification or to speak clearly because they're both afraid of what they might hear.

Yoh doesn't dare ask Segaski for details about who he's talking about because he cannot actually imagine that he would be jealous of his friend's husband teasing him (Yoh was smiling so big and wide with him, so silly and having so much fun, no wonder Segaski was jealous) but Segasaki might ask for an explanation but would also take those at face value after all the struggles they've had.

Because Segasaki says 'I won't accept it' and Yoh thinks it's about him drawing yaoi manga while Segasaki is talking about him being playful with his friend and so when Yoh explains the appeal of the fictional version of Segasaki.... well, you get pain.

This time, you get to watch Segasaki's heart break as he listens to Yoh because he has been trying so hard to do that for him, to be better than the person who made Yoh drink and cry. But Yoh just told him (he thinks) that he isn't doing that. That he has not shown him any more sincerity or kindness, that his efforts to take better care of Yoh have amounted to nothing.

While Yoh just means that he's making the fictional Segaski softer.

Yoh cannot imagine Segasaki being jealous over him. He cannot believe that might happen and so it never occurs to him that Segasaki might think he was cheating or with someone else. He simply cannot believe or imagine that the perfect, handsome, beautiful and (in his opinion) haughty Segasaki would truly be upset over something he did.

Ugh. My heart. These boys are so in love it's painful but they're just struggling so much to put anything into words, to speak to each other without the other person finding a way to misinterpret what they're saying.

And then we get more of the past and we can see how Segasaki fell in love and how Yoh used to be braver, how they came together and how that love that is so evident between them is also so, so insecure. Yoh stepped in and pulled Segasaki away and comforted him.

Something happened between university and coming back together as adults that broke this connection that they've never recovered from and neither of them knows that they never recovered.

(Yoh is so, so deeply insecure and I don't think Segasaki understands that level of insecurity and has never faced someone so desperate to deny that he is loved.)

#my personal weatherman #segasaki x yoh #taikan yoho #yoh x segasaki #bl drama #bl series #asianlgbtqdramas #asian lgbtq dramas #jdrama #japanese drama #japanese bl #jbl #japanese bl series #japanese bl drama #japanese series #bl jdrama #jdrama bl