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jinkicake · 1 year

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~ ♡ Dear Lover ♡ ~

a tiny peek into your relationship

(( Day #3 )) Diluc, Kaeya, Tighnari, Xiao x Reader

A/N: all i know abt this is that when i wrote it i desperately wanted fluff.... as you all know im not good at writing it but here is my attempt.... i love love love these four T T why am i soooo obsessed w fluff rn i dont knowwwww

WC - 2,839

~~~

. . .

Diluc R. treasures his intimate time with you.

The man has always enjoyed a quiet atmosphere, it brings him comfort that is akin to a warm blanket. Whenever he is in your presence, basking in the hushed ambiance of the winery, he feels the most at peace.

For a second, Diluc lets his eyes leave the book in one of his hands in search of something more intriguing. His hard eyes stare at you while his fingers continue their light strokes against your calf, your legs currently draped over his lap. You’re reading your own book and biting on the inside of your cheek at whatever is happening within the novel. Diluc can’t tear his eyes away.

There’s something about the way the afternoon sun is hitting your face and painting your body with a gorgeous golden hue, one so bright that Diluc thinks he needs to soon look away. He can’t, he’s always been selfish with you. His eyes find the subtle rise and fall of your chest and watch as you quietly breathe in and out, he’s certain he’s addicted to you.

“How much longer are you going to stare at me?” Your lips quirked up as you continue to stare at your novel, you don’t even have to look at Diluc to tell that he is staring. Almost instantly, his eyes dart to a random spot in the room as if that will erase his piercing gaze. “You’re distracting me, my love,”

Diluc’s breath almost hitches in his throat, he knows how much you despise being interrupted while reading. He almost starts to feel ashamed but then you close your book shut.

“Good thing I need a distraction, I’m bored with this, it’s a shame.” You face him with a pout, a deep expression that Diluc just wants to kiss off and his fingers twitch at the opportunity to touch you. All he can do is wordlessly watch as you get up and shuffle your position on the couch. Now, your head is in his lap as you play with the ends of his long hair.

Diluc’s book from earlier is now long gone.

“(Y/N),” Diluc murmurs quietly as his gloved hand traces your jaw, his thumb rubbing your chin lightly. There’s something that shifts in his features, almost darkening, as you tilt your head back with a smile. Your throat, bare for him, has always been something of a weak spot for Diluc.

He ignores the teasing glint in your eyes in favor of tracing one finger down the front of your neck. Before he knows it, his entire hand rests across the span of skin, his thumb now on one side of your throat with his other fingers resting on the opposite side.

“How was work today?” You hum and Diluc starts to find it incredibly difficult to focus, he doesn’t understand how on earth you are managing to keep a decent conversation with him right now while his restraint is slipping through his fingers.

“Work,” Diluc repeats, his low voice dragging the mumble out as he starts to gently squeeze his gloved hand around your throat.

“You know, the thing that you do every day? What did you do today?” Your teasing is getting the better of him, not that he would ever admit to it.

“What did I do today?” His words trail off as he lowers his face. Before he can stop himself, his lips find a home against your own without a second thought.

. . .

No matter who he talks to, Kaeya A. always saves his gossip for you.

“That’s why Hertha left him.”

The time that you spend gossiping with Kaeya is time well spent, time that you deeply cherish. You can’t help but hang on to his every word, practically in his lap as you eat out of the palm of his hand. It’s a simple exchange really, priceless gossip for some sweet company. This time around, it’s Kaeya’s revelation that makes your jaw drop, and, despite his sultry voice, the rumors he shares are all you can focus on.

“You’re kidding,” Gasps leave your lips as he continues to spill exactly what he knows and who told him.

If only everyone loved hearing petty rumors and took them as if they came from the morning newspaper. Sadly, it can’t be the same for everyone.

Diluc feels his eye twitch at the two familiar voices, hushed whispers that stand out amongst his crowded bar. He doesn’t even have to look over to see you and Kaeya with your bodies pressed incredibly close to one another. You’re nearly seating in his lap. The owner makes an exception, of course, because he’d do anything for his family. Family being you, not Kaeya. Diluc tries his best to stay on your good side, he’d hate for his brother’s partner to hate him.

“Well, I heard from Donna that Hertha was the one who cheated-”

But if Diluc has to listen to the two of you gossip any longer, he might just rip his fiery hair out. Day in and day out, almost every night the two of you come here and talk for hours until he has to kick you both out.

“Aren’t you a little busy bee? Did you find this out before coming here?” Kaeya softly coos into your ear, grinning at the embarrassed flush washing over you as you lean into his side. You place your chin in your hand as you lean over the bar, trying to wave down either Charles or Diluc for another drink.

“If you want to hear my next story, you’re going to have to finish that,” You point at Kaeya’s drink, almost as if you’re offended by its presence. Your husband is pacing himself too much for your liking and you don’t want to be the only one off your ass.

Diluc notices Kaeya’s full glass too as he slowly pours you another, the owner isn’t a fool. He knows his brother better than anyone and knows that Kaeya is a gentleman through and through. You don’t often drink heavily when you spend time with either of them but, when you do, Kaeya is sure to keep his drinks lighter than usual. It is a show of affection that warms the redhead’s heart, not that he would ever admit it. Especially not to you and your loud mouth.

You look so far gone that Diluc immediately scratches the idea of giving you another round.

“Diluccc,” Your whine makes the older man sigh as he pulls back the wine bottle from your grasp. Despite your efforts to reach over and grab the liquid gold, you fail because of a certain someone. Someone with strong hands who tightly grip your waist to keep you from falling over and despite their cold touch, you start to feel incredibly hot. “Kaeya!” You’re drunk as shit.

“You’re cut off.” Diluc takes away both glasses of alcohol before moving on to another pair that is sitting at his bar. He ignores you despite all your cries.

“No, but Diluc, you have to listen to this!”

. . .

Tighnari is an early riser and thoroughly enjoys getting you up in the mornings.

This habit of his is not by choice but, is instead something that he can’t avoid. Every morning he wakes up just before the sun rises and stares at his ceiling before any existential dread kicks in. Even when he doesn’t need to be awake for patrol or for anything of importance, the man cannot sleep.

Every morning, Tighnari gets a few seconds of peace before his entire body starts to ache. When his heart starts to feel a little too heavy, he simply rolls onto his side and looks at you.

You’re always buried under the blanket, tugging on the material that is laid neatly across his lap. Each morning your face is pushed up against the many pillows you have so generously decorated his bed with and, Tighnari’s favorite aspect of your sleeping form, there’s always a little bit of drool spilling past the corner of your lips.

He lifts his bare hand to wipe away at your mouth, gently thumbing over the spot before catching it with his thumb. It’s cute how your nose twitches at the slightest touch, Tighnari almost coos. Once he finishes staring at you and tracing your features until his heart is content, the forest watcher will force himself to get up.

His morning routine is very simple, get clean and ready for the day. Since Tighnari is the earlier riser of the two of you, he always does the favor of making breakfast. When he has the time, he’ll force you to eat a ka’ak or two before handing you your coffee. He’s not a fan of the smell but, he’ll do anything to see the excitement in your eyes upon the sight of your favorite mug in his hand.

Tighnari doesn’t shy away from the fact that he adores you. Why would he?

Almost like a ritual, Tighnari fills up your cup with hot water, mixing in the coffee powder, before sprinkling in a natural enhancer. It makes the drink sweeter and easier to drink in his opinion.

But sometimes, the sweetness gives him a toothache. He simply prefers not to drink it at all but that never stops him from bringing it back to your shared bed.

With a light hand, he places the mug on your side table before sitting on the edge of the bed. Tighnari places his touch against your lower back before softly pressing his fingers into your skin. It wakes you up just enough that you start to squirm but, you are not fully awake yet. The smell of the coffee will inevitably wake you up, it always does.

“(Y/N),” Tighnari and his soft voice call out to you like a light in a pitch-dark space. You instantly shift out of your slumber. “wake up.”

You swat at him with a groan and refuse to open your eyes. Every morning, it’s a battle with you.

“Wake up.” Tighnari tries again and this time, it is firmer. You blink the sleep out of your eyes and force yourself to sit up in one go. Almost instantly, your facial expression morphs into one of a frown and Tighnari matches your glare. He’s not going to let you get off easy. “Come on,”

He gently tugs on your wrist and tries to help you up, to shake any lingering effects of sleep that still have a hold over you. You ultimately ignore him and choose to instead place a gentle kiss on his shoulder.

Oh, how Tighnari loves his mornings with you.

. . .

Xiao cherishes his shared evenings outdoors with you. For as long as he has known you, the yaksha has enjoyed being by your side and always finds comfort in your presence.

Today, the karmic debt that looms over him like an angry cloud doesn’t feel as demanding because of you. Sometimes when you touch him, it’s as if the pressure is gone and Xiao can finally breathe. But then, he has to protect Liyue all over again.

And he’ll continue to give his life to it in order to keep you and the various others in his area safe.

So incredibly safe that you can walk around at night with no worries, you’ve always admired the stars.

“Are you ready?” You’re holding your hand out to him, a loose jacket hanging around your shoulders due to the night breeze. Xiao blinks and hesitantly places his hand in your own before you proceed to drag him around Dihua marsh. “Isn’t it nice out?”

In his thin attire, Xiao wordlessly nods. The weather never matters much to him, he doesn’t feel too cold or too hot but, sometimes he gets uncomfortable.

Right now, the air is perfect. The yaksha can admit it to himself and he almost closes his eyes to focus on the feeling. Whisps of wind fly past his ears and the feeling is too freeing, the burden on his shoulders feels lighter because of it.

Under the delicate touch of your hand, the duty almost feels nonexistent.

“What do you think?”

Xiao almost forgets that you had been talking. You were explaining some situation about your coworker, how you think that she has a secret partner and refuses to tell you. Regardless of whether or not he was listening, Xiao has no idea what to say.

“Think?” He repeats and you can’t help the way that you start to laugh. You squeeze his hand (and by association, the strings of his heart) as you almost start to double over due to your laughter. Maybe it’s the clueless look on his face or the slight furrow of his brows that has you so amused.

“You’re cute,” You gently wrap your arms around his bicep and press the muscle against your chest, both of your hands wrap around his own as you cuddle into his side. The new display of affection is nothing new, you always touch Xiao openly like this but, that doesn’t mean the yaksha is entirely used to it. Xiao nearly trips over his own two feet when he feels your cheek press into his arm. “well, do you think Yuhua has a boyfriend? You always know everything,”

Xiao bites on his own tongue to stop himself from admitting that he does not, in fact, know everything. Far from it but, he hates to let you down. In truth, he hasn’t been paying attention to the waitress closely. He has no idea what’s going on with her or her love life.

“I’m not sure.” Slowly, he answers you as if he is gauging your reaction. To his surprise, you inevitably sigh before bringing your eyes up to the night sky.

“That’s okay,” You comment and Xiao wants to ask if you really mean it. “I’ll let you know as soon as I find out. It will be soon!” He’s sure of it, with your determination, nothing stands in your way. The longer he stares at you and your soft features, the more Xiao feels something inside of him stir.

Under the bright light of the moon high in the sky, Xiao finds himself squeezing your hand back.

. . .

2023/02/05 ♡

#diluc ragnvindr x reader #kaeya alberich x reader #tighnari x reader #xiao x reader #diluc x reader #kaeya x reader #tighnari x y/n #xiao x you #genshin x you #genshin x reader #genshin x y/n

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bright-and-burning · 6 months

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Twenty Questions for Fic Writers

thank you @glasscushion this was really fun!

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

two under various pseuds rn and 1? or 2? orphaned fics from years ago

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

19.6k!! not much but i’m proud of it <3

3. What fandoms do you write for?

hopefully f1 skdjskjd. ive got a ted lasso wip i reeeeally want to finish someday. and a newsies historically accurate magnum opus that may never see the light but that’s fine

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

i only have two non-orphaned fics published rn so:

five times colin cooks for his team (and one time his team cooks for him)

cute lil 5+1 ted lasso fic !! mildly colin/isaac but mostly colin & co being besties. written before season 3 came out

a look never hurt this much

tiny meat gang soulmates au (i refuse to be ashamed abt this). noel/cody lol

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

oh absolutely yes!! i treat comments like dms honestly i love giving a directors commentary type whatever in the comments

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

an orphaned fic in a to-remain unnamed fandom. unrequited love very very angsty stuff but more than a bit silly looking back on it (i was like 14 and really going through it). i tend to write very domestic-y stuff so not much i write has any lasting angst in it!

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

probably my tiny meat gang soulmates au mentioned above i won’t lie 😭 i haven’t read back through it since i wrote it so if it’s bad don’t blame me

8. Do you get hate on fics?

i’ve never gotten hate on fics thank god i would die

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

i’m trying to figure out how to write it lol (ask me about curly girl method lando and blowjobs). unfortunately (fortunately?) my draw to silly domestic stuff shines through so it’s not like molten hot smut, it’s kinda silly sex, i won’t lie

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?

ive never published one bc i am occasionally a coward but i have many many notes on them/half written stuff. i like a lot of things and i like mashing those things together like barbie dolls! i think the craziest one i ever conceived of was newsies x music man tbh.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

who knows. as far as i know no

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

nope!

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

no but i would LOVE to omg i feel like there’s so much potential to balance out my weaknesses with other people’s

14. What’s your all-time favourite ship?

i am a multi shipper girlie i can be convinced of the appeal of ANYTHING. in terms of f1. lando/oscar maybe tho. won’t lie pierre/esteban kinda hitting…

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

hm i have some very grandiose far-reaching plots floating around rn (runners au and apartment/roommates au) that will be written and “completed,” but probably won’t ever fully get expanded to the point i’ve thought about them, if that makes sense

16. What are your writing strengths?

oh i like to think i’m very good at writing like. domestic intimacy/intimate friendships. feeling like home. comfort, and food! ppl tend to describe my writing as cozy and lived in, and i think that’s what i’m good at! (someone once said reading my fic was like eating comfort food and i literally cried)

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

transitioning!! time passing!! i’m so bad at that! also smut as i’ve discovered lol. i tend to stay away from genres i feel like im bad at writing so that’s less of an issue (hence why i haven’t really written any real angst). writing on my own w no feedback is Hard i would die for someone to look over my stuff

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

if it’s like a random line/couple of lines in a different language then usually i’ll put it in english but in italics. if the entire fic is between people who would all be speaking the same (non english) language then i don’t bother. i don’t translate to that language tho bc i don’t trust translation sites and im VERY rusty on my languages (you will not get french or mandarin in a fic from me i would die of fear). throwing in random words in other languages also makes me cringe in my own writing for some reason? but it doesn’t bother me in others’ writing lol

19. First fandom you wrote for?

if we mean published fic, for either 5 seconds of summer (cringes) or the maze runner, i can’t remember. if we mean wrote in general, definitely harry potter when i was like 9 in a little notebook that i sincerely hope has been burned since then.

20. Favourite fic you’ve written?

probably the ted lasso fic! i love writing food, and comfort, and that’s like entirety of the fic, so. if i get runners au off the ground any time soon i would bet money on that becoming my fave tho

pretty much every single one of my mutuals has been tagged in this already so. if you see this and you wanna do it do it like i’ve tagged you!!!

#ask meme

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i-have-bees-in-my-brain · 1 year

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Personal rant or some shit bc i just wanna get this out rn. yeeeee this will be long

So today i had a vit of a stressful day with uni n all bc ive been sick and admittedly lazy over the last week up til like tuesday and i had to turn in an Interpretation/essay tonight and prepare a group presentation for tmr (saturday seminars should b illegal but ok i literally chose this). N e way so ive been procrastinating like hell up until this morning so i didnt rly eat before showing up to seminar at 12am and afterwards i had to check with my one remaining presentation groupmember and finish the interpretation and tgen i had swordfighting class at 5. I didnt Really gave time for it but its fun and im very behind bc i misses several lessons already and am generally. Not good at it lol. n e way i turn up to swords and we peactice some routines ig and heres where the peoblem rly starts. Basically i am a huge crybaby, always have been (im older than firestar btw for context), esp when i feel criticized or yknow. Make mistakes or anything and since i was a sports h8er with 2 left feet n hands all my life n cried often during school pe bc i kept messing up n git embarrassed, it was an important step for me to sign up for this uni extracurricular swords class bc. Doing sth sporty in front of others tgat. Isnt very easy and i gotta learn from scratch is a bit out of my comfort zone. But normally its all v fun, im not good/easily the worst in class but thats ok i learn and move my body and talk to ppl! Proud of myself! Well today not so kuch, i noticed i was getting tense bc of not understanding how to do a movement and everyone (3 experienced fighters bc the main teacher was sick plus 2 other beginners that r learning faster than me) lookimg at me and trying to give helpful pointers and me still doing it wrong... H8 dis feeling bc i kinda freeze up instead of being able to take the tips n try again. Its hard for me to translate input like verbal instructions and demonstsations into my own movements as is. In this state i cant do anything properly and i feel the cryings abt to start while wanting nothing more than to MOVE ON NORMALLY. Well my eye started to get itxhy n teary so i excused myself to "take care of my contacts" (lie) (why am i even so ashamed that i feel i have to lie/make up excuses?? Bro???? That just made the situation Actually cringe?????? Im normally not an ashamed person and cryings just a state/expression but idk) so it was better for a bit until it wasnt. Then i full on cried in class while 2 ppl were actively showing me things/helping me do em right n everyone else kimda watched, kimda practiced. They did ask if i was ok and i said yes like a liar. So at the end of class i normally take the bus home with one of the other new guys but i today just didnt feel able to keep talking to him. So he also asked if i was ok/why i cried and i said i just do that under stress and why i am stressed (uni) so that was also a bit of a lie but only kinda. I said i was gonna go to the livrary instead (another lie, was gonna call my bf to calm me down abit n then take the next bus) so i did tgat n it kinda worked and this genius asked if i had eaten. Bruhhh of fuckin course im sensitive ive only had 3 baked goods all day and hadnt even noticed!!!!!! So then it all made sense, mans gotta get some freakin noursishment to keep their composure in swords class! So i went to another bus stop than normally bc i needed sth from the store and bruh the guy i normally take a DIFFERENT bus with is there (awkwardly votta tell hik i changed my mimd abt the library) and we talk a bit (i feel like i talk to him wayy too much in comparison to him, like we dont know each other that well at all, idek his real name and yknow. If he actually enjoys talking to me) and yea

So now everyone in the 14th century peasant larp class knows my terrible terrible secret:))):)

#the bees in my brain are sad #thats my tag for sad diary entries now i think

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kumzume · 4 years

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control ft. tsukishima kei

wc. 1.5k words (and it’s still ass??? a crime)

warnings. SMUT, bad writing lmao, blowjob, whiny kei, (male) masturbation, caught(??) masturbating if you squint, also abrupt ending, way too much exposition, not enough hornknee

an. writing this was like pulling teeth and it is BAD 😀 i am having a writing crisis & this is just the nail in the coffin LMAO anyways this is for @bokuhub (we talked abt it on my main blog but im so sorry ajdhks maybe i’ll write something better later <3)

kei hates feeling out of control.

it’s the reason he’s kept the same circle of friends for the past 5 years, same reason he hasn’t changed his favorite dessert order for even longer than that, and the same reason he is terrified to let you breach the wall between friends and more.

it isn’t that he doesn’t trust you—he does, with his life—but you make him feel things he’s never felt before. kei has had crushes before and he knows that this isn’t that. never in his life has he been so willing to try new things, to meet new people, to give up the control he so desperately needs and it scares him.

he’s scared to become vulnerable and open himself up to rejection or even worse, the loss of your friendship.

so, he ignores it. he pushes down his feelings of almost-but-not-fully-love for you in favor of being close to you.

the closeness, unfortunately, is also a major problem.

growing up, kei had very few friends and even fewer romantic prospects due to his callous attitude and piercing words. he’s only been kissed twice and both of those were with yamaguchi (they were thoroughly unenjoyable kisses, the both of them being 13 and never having kissed anyone else before) but he isn’t exactly ashamed of his status as an unexperienced adult virgin. it just doesn’t help his attraction to you in the slightest.

he realized early on in your “relationship” that you are very affectionate. tight hugs, forehead kisses, holding hands, and cuddling on the couch while watching movies were all normal things for you to initiate with kei on any given day. and on any given day, he would dart out of your hold with a blush on his face and a half assed excuse with a large hand covering his crotch.

he didn’t mean to get hard. it’s just, you were you, gorgeous, kind, and funny and when your soft, small hand (oh god, your hand is so much smaller than his; he wonders how it would look wrapped around his cock) finds its way in his, it’s like his body doesn’t know how to respond so it sends copious amounts of blood to his head and to his crotch.

it’s embarrassing and uncomfortable but you never seem to mind, giggling behind your hand as he darts off to fuck his fist in your bathroom for the third time this week.

this happens to be one of those times, all these thoughts clouding his mind as he stands hunched over your toilet, thrusting into the tight ring of his hand like his life depends on it. all you had done was laugh and he felt himself thicken in his boxers.

kei shakes his head, his blond strands sticking to the sweat on his forehead as he chases his high in the comfort of his hands. kei hates thinking of the way you affect him so easily, his touch-starved body craving you like an animal craves water. but he just can’t help it. thinking of you standing outside the bathroom, listening to his self pleasure and touching yourself or even better, waiting to burst in and look down on him in disgust. it’s that thought that pushes him over the edge, his whole body tensing as he paints rope after rope of cum on the porcelain seat.

kei quickly flushes the evidence of his crime down the toilet before going to wash his hands in your sink. he can hardly look at himself in the mirror, the guilt eating up his spine. is he really that desperate that he can’t hold off masturbating until he goes home? yes. the answer is yes.

he sighs and leaves the bathroom only to run right into you just outside the door. his heart rate picks up in his chest as you look him over with a sweet smile on your face, your eyes lingering on his flushed cheeks.

did you know what he had done? were you going to curse at him? kick him out? or—

“cmon kei, you were in there for forever! we need to study, stupid.” he releases the breath he didn’t know he was holding as he follows you into your bedroom, watching as you plop down on your bed and lie down on your back. your shirt rides up on your torso, giving tsukishima a good view of your soft skin and fuck, he feels himself getting hard again.

luckily, you don’t seem to notice his reaction, your eyes trained on your ceiling as a contemplative look crosses your face. “i heard you, yknow,” you say, your tone light but kei can hear an undercurrent of accusation in your words. he freezes, his golden eyes darting towards to door, calculating how much time it would take for him to bolt out the door and into his car to never see you again and—

“i didn’t mind it. your moans are pretty,” you continue, your eyes finally resting on the man in question who looks about ready to sink into the floor.

oh. oh.

kei can hardly think, let alone speak as you rise off your bed and make your way towards him, your eyes holding a glint of something he’s never seen from you before. it only takes a few strides before you’re right in front of him, gazing up into his frames through your lashes as though you’re the embarrassed one.

one of your (small) hands makes its way to hold his face and he feels like he might die, his heart is beating so fast. you give him a small sweet smile that is in direct contrast to your other hand trailing down his body to rest on his belt buckle.

if kei wasn’t hard before, he definitely is now.

you don’t move your hand from its place on his pants as your eyes focus on his bright pink face and plush bottom lip worrying in between his straight white teeth. he looks terrified and you find it in yourself to feel a little bit bad about what you’re about to do.

“kei honey?” all you get in response is a high whimper from the back of his throat and judging by the way his eyes widen and his cheeks burn even brighter, you figure that reaction wasn’t quite anticipated. you can’t help the grin that spreads across your face as your thumb reaches to pull his lip from in between his teeth, the appendage stroking over the soft, bitten skin there.

you don’t consider yourself easily surprised but when kei pulls your thumb into your mouth, sucking on it while gently laving his tongue around it, you feel your knees weaken as a wave of slick paints your underwear. “oh baby... you want me to ruin you, don’t you?”

oh fuck.

kei did want that, more than you could ever know but due to the finger in his mouth and his pounding heart, he found himself unable to answer with anything but a nearly imperceptible nod. thankfully, you saw it and are more than willing to give him what he wants.

carefully, you lead him to your bed, the hand on his belt tugging him until he’s lying back on your covers, gazing at you as though you’re the only person in the world. you feel your heart clench a little at the implications in his eyes but you quickly ignore it to focus on unbuckling his belt.

he’s hard and leaking through his boxers when you finally remove his pants, a quivering sigh leaving his mouth at the cold air hitting the dampness above his tip. when you manage to tear your eyes away from his big (holy shit, was he always that big??) cock and onto his face, the look he gives you has your clit throbbing.

“yn,” kei whines, high and breathy. “p-please touch me- ah, ah, fuck!” his words (and thoughts) are entirely cut off by the sensation of your warm, wet mouth engulfing his dick. he’s so big, you can only take him halfway but what you can’t take down your throat, you pump with your hand.

a litany of curses and moans slip from his lips as you pull up off of him to suck on the sensitive head before taking him all the way back to the hilt. one of his hands jerks to your head to grab a hold of your hair. “holy shit, i-i think i’m going to—yn-“

with only that as a warning, thick cum spills into your mouth, so much that you nearly choke before pulling off of him and stroking him through his orgasm. it takes him a moment to stop cumming, his chest heaving with the intensity of his high.

once you’re sure he’s done, you crawl up the bed until you’re lying next to kei, one of your hands finding it’s way into his hair. his eyes flutter shut at the gesture while he leans into your touch, not realizing how exhausted he is.

with a kiss to the forehead, kei falls asleep, entirely out of control and entirely in love.

#LMAO THERE ARE TWO (2) PARAGRAPHS OF ACTUAL SMUT IN THIS WHOLE THING #i would like to die ? pls and thank? 😀✨#this is embarassinggggg #but i needed to get something out on this acc lmao #wtv 🙃😗✌️#kei <3 #😽.writing #tsukishima kei #tsukishima x reader #tsukishima smut #tsukishima x you #tsukishima x y/n

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angeltrapz · 3 years

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saw ur post 4 saw asks n im here to deliver!! (also fully gonna answer the one u sent me i just had a busy night 💚) — hmmm would personally love to hear more abt the Matthews-Faulkner-Stanheight-Blank family dynamic? esp maybe Daniel + Art, but rlly just anything u wanna talk abt there! maybe if they have any sorta family traditions, what holidays look like for them, that sorta deal

shfajs tysm!!!! (also tht's totally okay, take yr time!!!)

also oooo I love this question okay. so like u mentioned this when I asked abt what Eric n Daniel's relationship would b like post-trap, but I think it's very very good fr Daniel 2 like. see tht Eric has ppl who love him n who don't mind helping him when he needs it n who are THERE fr him bc again, like you've mentioned, seeing a parent so utterly shattered th way Eric was after his trap is incredibly difficult, esp for a kid (though Daniel is like. at least seventeen? still). knowing tht his dad has a good support system n is surrounded by ppl tht care abt him helps put him at ease bc he knows he can trust Adam n Art. he knows they'll keep Eric safe n tht they'll help him to heal, tht they love him n want 2 see him do well n get better. plus, Daniel knows tht if he needs to talk 2 some1 abt how difficult seeing his dad like tht is, he knows both Adam n Art r there fr him and tht helps a lot. of course, he also has Rigg + maybe Hoffman (until th whole. u know.), but they don't live w Eric. they don't see him every day th way Art n Adam do. that's not 2 say they don't know Eric is struggling, but there is a difference btwn them n Eric's boyfriends. basically, Daniel is very much grateful fr Art + Adam.

I feel like Art wld be VERY good at lending an ear fr when Daniel needs 2 talk. whether that be abt their trap + tht whole experience, Eric's trap n the consequences/rough aftermath, just plain venting, etc.; Art is there 2 listen to them + offer a solution if they want one. most times I think Daniel just wants to b listened to, esp when it comes to what they went thru in the Nerve Gas House - tht's smth they don't feel comfortable discussing w Eric right away fr obvious reasons, but therapy can only do so much. I think th two of them have more in common than they might realize at first, bc hey, Art Killed A Man Because Trevor Was Going To Kill Him If He Didn't, and Daniel Killed A Man Because Xavier Would Have Killed Both Them And Amanda If They Didn't. I feel like Art is like. very reserved abt th details of his first trap + how they affected him (and th second one tbh; it's not smth he vocalizes often at all), but fr Daniel he wld gladly talk abt it if it meant Daniel didn't feel alone. if it meant it could help them, reassure them that hey, it wasn't yr fault, u did what u had to, n I know tht can be hard 2 believe right now n that's okay. u need to process things at yr own pace.

and so Art tells them abt the Mausoleum, bares a part of himself he keeps locked away where he doesn't often give it much thought/actively ignores it. n I think tht's healing fr him too, maybe. there's solace in tht shared experience, as horrible as it was in th moment. 2 know there's someone out there who has even th faintest inkling of what u went thru + what u had to do to survive. of course Daniel relates 2 Adam fr this reason too, but like. Art will use his Lawyer Voice n make sure Daniel understands tht what they did doesn't make them a bad person or confirm tht Jigsaw Was Right And They Deserved It. n tht's rly important fr Daniel 2 hear, esp early on. it's honestly one of th first times Art is truly honest abt his feelings on th matter + the Mausoleum, n it's just. a step tht much closer to healing for both of them.

family traditions!!! they do have a few! in the summer, every sunday they have Daniel w them, Eric Art n Adam go out fr ice cream, even if they get it at the drive thru n eat it in th car bc none of them want 2 be around all th people/sit outside in th muggy weather. it's a good way to get them all out of th house fr a little while, something enjoyable tht doesn't require too much energy or even interaction. it's just smth nice they can do where they're all together n chilling n just enjoying each other's company!

this is mostly a Daniel one but every year around April Fools he just. puts fucking googly eyes on everything. n every time some1 discovers some, it doesn't matter where in th house he is, u can hear him cackle abt it. Adam thinks it's an absolute delight n has assisted on multiple occasions. tht's abt as far as pranks go fr them, bc none of them like surprises like that, but god is it ever hilarious 2 hear Eric frm the kitchen while Art Adam n Daniel r in the living room when he says "I found another one!" while he's looking fr smth in the fridge kjdkfsf.

holidays!! every Christmas they all sit down in th living room n watch a couple of movies w the blankets spread out on th floor w snacks n hot chocolate. the first Christmas following his trap, Eric was sat on th couch between Adam n Art while Daniel chose to sprawl out on th floor, n he just looked around at his boyfriends n his son n the fake pine tree they had all decorated together n he like. needs to take a moment bc this is it. this is all he cld ever want out of life right here. this is a level of peace Eric never knew he wld ever be able to reach after what he went thru fr those six months. n he just sort of presses his face into Art's shoulder n breathes thru it. he doesn't even have to say anything fr Adam n Art to know what he's thinking bc Adam's hand is on his arm n Art's resting his cheek against th top of his head, n he might cry a little, but he's happy. surrounded by th ppl he loves n who love him, love him enough to keep the lights down low n the volume on th television soft, to use subtitles so he doesn't get overwhelmed, Eric realizes he has a home n it's just. oof.

fr Valentine's Day, this one was actually Adam's idea initially: wht they do is take sticky notes n write little affirmations on thm fr each other, n stick thm in places where they'll see it. sometimes Daniel joins in on this one, but usually it's an Art Eric Adam thing. so like it'll be little things, like a note frm Adam telling Eric how proud he is of him, or one from Art letting Adam know he couldn't have had a better best friend, or th one from Eric that thanks th both of thm fr helping him w his rashes + helping him 2 accept tht part of him n start to see it as nothing to be ashamed of. it starts on th first day of February and ends on Valentine's Day itself, n sometimes they get those packs of cards u get fr kids just to write goofy shit on thm to pass back n forth n make each other laugh. they also get th discounted candy!! (Adam steals all th twix bars tho. tht's okay bc Eric likes snickers anyway n Art is fond of reese's peanut butter cups. they share th sweet tarts + conversation hearts!)

Halloween is when they get a big bowl of candy 2 leave on th porch fr the kids who're trick-or-treating while th three of them stay inside (+Daniel sometimes!) n watch some classics, like their Christmas tradition. they Also add in some bad movies 2 mix it up a lil bit bc sometimes u just need a laugh. I am like in Lov w the idea u had abt Eric n Adam sometimes building cozy pillow forts, so they do tht n the three of them just vibe in there n lay together n look n talk. n like it's So Much Fun 2 have ppl to like. discuss movies w while yr watching them! esp when they're ppl who won't be annoyed w u when u wanna share a thought! like Eric n Adam will get into this deep discussion abt horror movie decisions n Art will just lay there n listen bc he loves them so much n loves hearing them get amped up abt things. he'll offer his own two cents if asked too! mostly he listens, but he can definitely contribute.

inevitably at some point, someone's hand ends up in Eric's hair n he's just. asleep not too long after that. usually on someone's shoulder or against their chest, n depending on who's still awake, they either try 2 move to th bedroom or they just sleep in th living room (i.e.: Art will try to convince Eric n Adam to come to bed properly, whereas Adam will just b like "fuck it" n pass out right there. has this led 2 them waking up sore b4? absolutely. but it's like. "we r adults who live w our decisions n this one happened 2 be sleeping on th floor" so.

n then a minor one is on their birthdays, some1 (usually Art, to be completely honest w u) will cook tht person their favourite comfort food fr dinner n they all help make cake/cupcakes/cookies/something dessert-related of their choice. so like Art rly likes brownies, Adam is fond of strawberry jello poke cake, n Eric can make some RLY good carrot cake cupcakes w homemade frosting too. it's just smth fr them to do together + like! it's celebrating! they've all been thru so much hell but they're still here! n that's rly th focus for the three of them. sometimes they have ppl over too - like Rigg, Gibson, Brit, Mallick, Lawrence, William (all of them best-case, obv); it's nice 2 have a lil party sometimes! after what they've endured they've kind of earned it I think!

thank u sm!!! this was so fun 2 think abt fjdkjsk

(lil random hc: when Daniel was little, Eric used 2 write letters to him frm Santa. eventually Daniel got "too old for that," but honestly? they cherish tht memory. I wanted 2 include it bc it makes me kjehfje!!!)

#thank u so much I love getting asks frm u!!!!!!#mutual support hours <3 #saw #eric #adam #art #daniel #others r mentioned #listen. a family can be u yr dad n his two boyfriends n yr all traumatized but yr coping together.#it pulls u together instead of tearing u apart.#which is a concept I desperately wish we could've seen more!! it's what they all deserved damn it!!#long post #asks #gnna go thru n tag these w that so I can like. maybe make a masterpost l8r?#if any1 is interested in tht!

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apenapaperandadoofus · 4 years

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can i ask for RFA + v & saeran with an MC with lowkey toxic parent(s)? not physically abused but like gets discouraged abt things that make her happy, gaslighted, criticized abt her interests, suddenly gets lovebombed then repeated cycle this might be too specific oOp-

Thanks for the request, and it's fine!

RFA + V and Saeran with and MC who has toxic parents:

Zen:

You didn't want Zem to meet your parents

You knew they would disapprove of him before they even met him

Zen knew a bit about your problems with them

They never approved of anything you did

That reminded him a bit of his childhood when his parents never supported him or his dreams

He was always there to comfort you

If you like something he'll tell you to go for it

He wants you to be happy

¨Y/N, just remember that I will always be here for you, and I will support you no matter what¨

Yoosung:

One day you were talking on the phone with your parents

They were nagging about your grades

You were silently crying while they yelled at you

Yoosung felt so heartbroken to see you like that

To see that your parents didn't support you

So he will take the phone from you

And hang up

Then he'll hug you

And help you dry your tears

He will whisper words of encouragement

After you will cuddle on the couch

If he ever sees your parents he is going to make sure to give them a piece of his mind.

Jaehee:

Jaehee found you in the kitchen, crying

You had recently told your parents about your work at the cafe

Jaehee had convinced you to finally tell them since they were forcing you to do something you didn't like

And so you did

They were not happy

They yelled at you

Telling you that this was not what you really wanted to do

That they didn't waste all those years and money so you could go and own a dumb little shop

Jaehee was pretty good at keeping her composure

But this time she felt too angry

She directly went to your parent's house to talk to them

I mean, it was your life

Your parents didn't really change their mind

But you felt happy that she stood up for you

Later she baked you some sweets and both of you watched Zen´s musicals to cheer you up

Jumin:

You'd invited your parents to the RFA party

You wanted them to meet your fiancee and friends

So you worked so hard to make this party perfect

Jumin admired how much thought you put into it

It was clear that you wanted to impress them, so he also did his part and helped you along the way

Finally, the day of the party came, and he was shocked you were so nervous

He waited for them with you, trying his best to calm you down

Then, a man and woman entered, scanning the place up and down

Jumin accompanied you to greet them, but before he could even muster a hello

Your mother scoffed and glared at you

¨Y/N, so this is what you do now?¨

¨This is a waste of time. Your mother and I didn't waste all that time and money for you to be a party planner. This tomfoolery stops right now.¨

Jumin was shocked

These were your parents?

He saw you were about to cry and he cleared his throat, a cold look taking over his face

¨Excuse me, but I think Y/N did an amazing job. She has accomplished so many things in such a short amount of time, you two should be proud to have a wonderful daughter like this. Please, if you're just going to complain I´d suggest you leave.¨

Your parents were so mad

Especially when you didn't say anything to defend them.

Jumin made his bodyguards escort them out and after made a toast to one of the most beautiful and amazing woman he had ever met

Saeyoung:

Your mother had come over to visit you

Saeyoung was busy that afternoon, so he didn't come home until later

When he opened the door he heard screaming

So he quickly went over to the living room, where you and your mother were arguing about your job

¨YOU ARE SUCH AN UNGRATEFUL BRAT! I WISH I WISH I´D NEVER HAD YOU¨

You and Saeyoung stared at your mom in shock

Then he walked over to her

You had never seen him so mad before

He asked you to leave for a second

You hesitantly complied

You heard Saeyoung talking to your mother, telling her that that's no way to talk to her child. That it was your life, and you could choose what you wanted to do with it.

¨You should be ashamed. Its people like you that shouldn't be parents.¨

Your mother stayed silent, quietly apologized to you and then left your home

Saeyoung kissed you and told you that you were doing such an amazing job

You were eating at a fancy restaurant with your parents

It was going well until you told them that you had recently started painting

V didn't miss the looks of disapproval in your parent's face

¨Surely you don't mean that darling. You don't even know how to paint and you never really liked it

Which wasn't true

You had wanted to be a painter ever since you were little

Your parents just didn't like it

V was the one who convinced you to also start painting

And you were both going to release a collection soon

V tried to reason with your parents, telling them that it made you happy

But they just ignored him

They wanted you to do something else, to have a ´real´ job

As the arguing got more intense V stood up and grabbed your hand

¨Im afraid were going to have to go now, but before we leave please allow me to say something. Your daughter has found something she's very passionate about, and I don't think it's your decision to choose what she does or doesn't do, at least give her a chance´

Later V took you to a cute little cafe to try and cheer you up

Saeran:

Your parents were horrible

He hated how they got your hopes up just to crush them and throw them in the trash afterward

One day you were fighting with them on the phone

And he heard you sob

So he soothed you by petting your head

then he took the phone from you

He talked to your parents, telling them that they should be ashamed.

That it was their job to help you along the way, to give you advice

He didn't want you to feel the same way his mother had made him feel.

He will always check how they're treating you

If they ever make you feel that way again he will make sure they regret it

If you have a fight with them he will bring you flowers and take you on a walk to make you feel better

He will always be cheering for you, and will help you no matter what.

#mystic messenger #zen mys me #saeyoung choi #saeran choi #jumin han #mysme jaehee #jihyun mysme #yoosung kim

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lookwhatilost · 5 years

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i. i must’ve passed out unintentionally at some point. im not happy abt it. I didn’t take my makeup off yet. my teeth aren’t brushed. I do this a lot and I worry abt how damaged they must be getting, jst bc I’m stupid and drink too much. I dnt think I drink that much, I mean maybe in general, but not last night. I had, what? the flights at area two, the spiked seltzer and Moscow mule at cityside, the two beers when I got back to the apartment—wait, no, that actually is kind of a lot. im not sure when I got so desensitized. I check the clock—2AM—so i actually haven’t been knocked out for as long as I thought. two hours, probably. it could be worse. the cat is still awake and still being credulous with me. he’s warming up to me again, but it’s a little disheartening to redo this dance with him each time I see him. remember me, dammit. i remember you. I dnt think I’m being entirely fair to him, though. he’s a cat. i can’t rly apply my human understanding of anything to his behavior. either way, he’s waiting outside the bathroom for me when I go in to attend to my teeth and makeup. he follows me. he falls asleep next to me. i feel a little bit validated. part of me thinks being the kind of person that animals like effortlessly is the mark of some inherent goodness, but I know it’s illogical and this took effort. i want to jst believe there’s goodness here, and in my absence of any real examples, I’ll assign depth to something like this. sometimes it’s all you can do.

ii. the sun doesn’t have any business being up at five-something, but it is, and I dnt think there are shades in this room. well, I’m not sure, maybe there are, but I didn’t have the foresight to look for them or close them. llewyn has moved, he’s in his actual bed now, but he seems to have taken notice of the fact that I’m awake. I try to rest my eyes a little bit. i know i won’t be able to sleep with the sun in my eyes, but it’s restful anyway. I have a long day ahead of me and i want to ease into the morning. i think i drifted back off but I can’t tell. llewyn has moved again. it seems like he wants to cuddle now. impeccable timing, as always. ive heard ian’s alarm go off a few times in the other room but they’ve still not come out of it. i have to leave soon. i wanna actually physically say goodbye but I’m worried they’re avoiding me. the last time we had a goodbye moment, i kissed them on the cheek and that probably made them rly uncomfortable. I’m not even sure why I did that. i think they’re the only person im comfortable showing any kind of affection towards but that doesn’t make that action any less weird. especially given... i dnt want to think abt that shit anymore, actually. i can’t without feeling ashamed and very, very stupid. it’s not like that anymore, but i wonder how much has to happen and how much time has to elapse for something like that to not actually matter anymore. i wonder if it ever won’t. it’s probably not personal. not everything that affects me is abt me, sheesh.

iii. the iced coffee at cumberland farms tastes the same as the iced coffee everywhere else, but i can’t get it here often, and it’s very inexpensive. it can’t help but occur to me that 24 ounces of coffee is 7 calories, and the calorie counts are printed on the packages of the food I got—250 for the sandwich, 150 for the hash browns. i marinade on the thought for a little bit before deciding what to do with it. I eat my food and drink the coffee and try not to remember. I do anyway. I’m trying to think of different numbers. this is a pretty substantial takeaway breakfast for $3 and change. better than what i probably could have got at mcdonalds. the sandwich is kind of soggy but it’s not bad. the hash browns are better.

iv. five hours in the car fly by my nose and im back home, kind of. i think I’m still trying to figure out what “home” means. this place is familiar. it’s where i live. my roommate’s dirty dishes from yesterday morning are still in the sink. mail that the cat knocked off the counter on my way out is still sitting on the floor. 24 hours have passed since I was last here, but it looks like nothing has been touched. I may as well have just stepped out for a cigarette.

v. very rarely does anything change in a days time, but when enough of them pass, everything is suddenly different. i slept on this couch more times than I could count before i was even on the lease, like I’d known I’d someday live here and wanted to warm myself up to it. and I’ve lived here for a while now, going on 8 months to be exact, but it simultaneously feels much longer than that, and as though it hasn’t actually been that long. a lot has happened in that time, but mainly to evan. ive witnessed many things that he’s done but have branched out very little myself. i transferred at my job abt a year ago but im still doing the same work I’ve been doing since i was 19. i still have the same friends but i see increasingly less of them. i get into the same car and travel the same roads that take me the same places. i still drink jst as much.

vi. my body has changed a lot, but the things I’ve always hated abt it are still there and the changes have jst given me more to resent. i look in the mirror when I get out of the shower and it’s all the same. the face with the perpetually stupid, bovine look plastered on it, the same masculine jaw, broad shoulders, breasts that are too far apart, more noticeably so since they’ve gotten smaller, the laparoscopy scar on my navel, the clusters of freckles that are jst pigmented enough to make my skin look blotchy, the perpetually inflamed hair follicles on my thighs, the knobby knees, always covered in bruises, the leg that’s slightly shorter than the other. the counter in the bathroom is high enough that I can’t see my labia but I know they’re there. I want to go a day without debating whether to cut them off with the sharpest knife I can find. it’s not today. the weight loss did little to make me feel better abt the way it all looks—the size of my jaw and shoulders is more apparent now that they are less hidden, my eyes bug out, it’s hard to contort so that my ribs aren’t visible somewhere, my hipbones poke through my clothing. I dnt think I’ve ever looked so bad in my life. Im going to cover up.

vii. I look at the date on my phone and saw that it was the 24th and for some reason identified that this was the last time I’d see that number on a calendar before I turned 24 myself. It doesn’t seem to make sense that I’m that old now. I know it’s not old, too, but it doesn’t seem like that should be me. I still think I behave like a child in a lot of respects, and the thought conjures a memory of my old therapist insulting me, saying that I had the mental tendencies of a child in grammar school. when she told me this initially, I replied to her sarcastically: “well, shit. maybe I should see a therapist abt that” and she told me not to come back to her practice. I cried on the way home despite how cognizant I was of the absurdity of the situation. “grammar school”—who even calls it that? it stuck with me nonetheless. it’s hard to have a therapist fire you, even with the knowledge that the therapist in question was not very good, without wondering if you’re a basket case, if help will always be lost on you.

viii. my job isn’t the worst but the labor feels pointless and it rly intensifies my feelings that I’m fighting never ending monotony to wring out very little in the way of satisfaction. i think you rly have to love this job to do it as a career, or maybe you need to have a specific personality type that makes it easier to engage w. im not very good at socializing and i think im getting too old to keep making excuses for myself abt that. meg and ash are always nagging me to sell more but i dnt feel comfortable enough to make small talk w these people, let alone sell them stuff. i feel like i sound so stupid when I speak aloud. i use a lot of fillers in my speech and it’s rly hard to talk abt hair without sounding like a bullshitter. something is very insincere abt the language that’s involved. i know i know what im talking abt but I dnt know how to sound like i know what I’m talking abt, and it’s hard bc the latter is a lot more important.

ix. I can’t tell if people sincerely aren’t making sense today or if im foggy bc i kept waking up and going back to sleep. this guy keeps saying that the last woman who cut his hair used a 5 on the sides and a 9 on the top but she cut it all w scissors. that definitely doesn’t make sense. i dnt think they even make a 9. why would she be using clipper settings to describe a scissor cut? the top here is at least 3 times as long as the sides and back are. im not going—oh my god, i can’t deal w kids who scream during their haircuts—insane, right? stuff like this makes me rly doubt myself, too, like there are bigger gaps in my knowledge than—wow he rly jst is not tiring himself out w this screaming, huh—i feel there are. what if this actually is a coherent way to describe a haircut? maybe he rly is jst stupid, but I also think that when you write people off as “stupid” all the time, it reflects—god, why is his baby sister screaming now too? nothing is even fucking happening to her—worse on you than it does on them. it’s always the biggest idiots who are so self-satisfied to think that. but im not self-satisfied at all, im very insecure and it’s constantly apparent, but everyone is insecure abt a lot, and that doesn’t doesn’t equal intelligence. I wish I had a sounding board. and i rly wish that kid in Niya’s chair would stop crying.

x. everyone in the salon today seems like they’re in a bit of a weird mood, it’s not jst me for once. the phone is annoying me a lot more than usual today. i feel like it’s ringing every 20 minutes. niya is always very avoidant when it comes to taking haircuts, but meg is lagging today which is unusual. it was busy, too, but i keep getting shafted where tips are concerned. most of my regulars who were due to come in around this time came earlier this week, and usually they’re the ones who tip me the best. the radio station that’s on is very weird too, distractingly so—it’s gone from bowie, to panic at the disco, to nirvana, the police, florence and the machine, neil young, lord huron, rhcp, crowded house. it’s not intolerable, but i can’t seem to follow any sort of genre or time period theme and im paying more attention to figuring this out than i am what im supposed to be doing. it’s that point in the night where people generally stop coming in and I know I haven’t made very much. I’ve counted... $24. weird. are they playing “brick”? that’s a throwback.

xi. i remember my ex being rly into mystics despite not understanding them very well. i forget what he was doing w my natal chart, but he told me once that 24 would be a rly significant year for me. i asked him why and he said that’s all he could figure, there was nothing in the way of further details that he provided. i know I said something back to him abt hoping that id be married by 24—so stupid. granted, i would have been 18 or so at the time and 24 seemed very distant at the time. but that was 6 years at the time, now it’s less than 3 weeks. ive changed a lot, mentally at least, but my circumstances haven’t rly. maybe on superficial levels. yeah, i support myself financially and i have a job in a field i could realistically work in for the rest of my life if I wanted to do that. but im still jst as unsure abt what I want and what’s going to happen to me. i feel like I’m more “sought after” in a few ways, but my phone is jst as dry as it’s always been. i was hoping the move would have been good for me but im very scared abt doing it alone. and i might still do it, i jst dnt know what the timeline is going to look like and there’s no promise of me turning over a new leaf for real and finding my inspiration jst bc my scenery has changed. every time ive moved when I was younger, it jst dug me deeper into loneliness. but i was a child and it wasn’t my choice. but there’s no way for me to rationalize asking my actual lived experiences. maybe that’s the big thing that’ll happen to me at 24? or maybe instead of getting married, I’ll break a marriage up. i know that’s not going to get that far, you know, w kenny. i probably shouldn’t joke abt it, though.

xii. it looks like Evan is home from friday’s already and i rly dnt want to be around him right now. im still feeling rly hurt abt him pulling the plug on the massachusetts move without making any effort at all to sort his finances out or secure some additional income that wasn’t the precarious extra dollars he’s been getting from porn. he keeps sinking all of his money into bar tabs and impulse purchases and takeaway food. and his cars. i wish he would jst be honest w himself abt the cars already. he needs to sell the honda and be done w it before he has to replace the engine and drop another two grand on repairs. i dnt know why he never listens to me. im rly growing to dislike him, but we’re in this together whether i like it or not, and im not going to lead him astray when his financial problems are dragging me down w him. i think i am going to be a hypocrite and go out alone tonight. kenny’s bar is doing that bottle opening thing tonight, right? but i dnt rly want to be around kenny right now. but he might not be there. but i also get a weird satisfaction from being around him I’ll bet it’s going to be a madhouse there, too, and i rly hate crowded bars. but it’s something to do. maybe i will get lucky and someone will talk to me and we’ll have a decent conversation and I’ll never see them again after. why is that my ideal?

xiii. god, running out the last hour on the clock is always hell. no one ever seems to come in, so it feels like a huge waste of time, but when people do come in, i get very irritated. so I’m not sure what i actually want from my time here. i think im jst too fixated on how being stuck here until close almost every night is hurting my ability to expand myself socially. but what would i even be doing if i wasn’t here? i think i would jst be finding a way to waste time. id be sinking hours into doing nothing like I do all the time. i have a lot of time on my hands, in the grand scheme of things. i have literally no idea where it all goes. i drink a lot of it away bc i am generally too uninspired to participate in my hobbies, and i think that feeds the darkness bc they make me very happy. at least w cooking, yknow, i have to eat. i have an organic need to engage w that one. all else has been falling through the cracks, though. i dnt think ive picked my bass up in 3 weeks.

xiv. Kenny’s bar looks like it’s absolutely mobbed and I’d be upset if I went all the way out there only for me not to be able to sit down anywhere. it looks like Evan went back out. that works. i have beer at home. I’d be smarter to save the money anyway. i want to support kenny and the rest of the guys, even though I dnt have a lot of nice things to say abt him. his brewery is cool. it’s cool to have something with so much potential come out of your home town, even if i dnt entirely identify w that place as being my home town. but it’s better than saying that im from alabama, even though i feel like my childhood is more tethered to mobile. i think people would make weird assumptions abt me if I said that. people are rly unfair to what the south is actually like. i dnt know. but their growth has been nice to watch. seeing something you’ve supported since the beginning grow to the degree it has makes you feel pride even if it has nothing to do with you personally. and ive had so many good moments there, w ian, w my family, in general. i met justin there and im happy abt that, even though i dnt know what’s going on w justin. i dnt think justin knows what’s going on w justin.

xv. looking at my shelf of ian souvenirs is making me miss ian, even though we were jst together, even though we’re seeing one another again in 2 weeks. I wish I could engage w them in a more stable way. seeing them reminds me of being a teenager and breaking into the apartment i used to live in on governor’s island. and since the base went out of commission not long after we moved, i was the last person to live in that apartment. i went back into my first bedroom and the evidence that it used to belong to me was still apparent, but the floorboards had been warped and the wallpaper was very faded out. i felt weird being back, nostalgia and warmth pitted against the instinct that i wasn’t supposed to be there. i wasn’t supposed to see it—a rosy memory colliding w irrefutable proof of the passage of time. ive been very unfair to them, ian, in so many respects but it’s all very mixed and complicated. i look at this person, and i see so many years worth of history, but the familiar messy gold hair is framing a slightly different, slightly fuller face. they talk abt people i dnt know very well, stories set in a city ive spent very little time in. it’s disorienting. i feel like when im here alone, im always confronting their ghost, in places we used to go together, in things we used to talk abt doing but never did—a final hike on a trail that closed before we got the chance to go together, their name scratched in the wall of a dive bar, things they’d always point out on the side of the road, small pieces of their essence scattered across a place they are no longer a part of. i wonder what I did to deserve any preservation, too. i see this person who I truly am proud of, who i rly do think is going places, and that respect gets interpreted into feelings of inadequacy. that there’s no way someone like this can look at me and see anything other than an unstable failure. i dnt think any other person knows me more fully, for better or for worse. worse is dominant. i know it is. my intuition is always screaming at me that they hate me, that they left bc they wanted to get away from me. literally none of that makes sense. i know they dnt lie to spare my feelings, but i feel like they almost have to be. i wonder why i can’t trust that im cared for. i wonder why I can’t have an evaluation of another person that i dnt immediately relate back to myself.

xvi. it took two beers for me to realize that I haven’t eaten anything since i was in boston. i need to stop doing this shit, but im still getting my calories if im drinking them, right? i feel like it doesn’t make sense for recovery to be as difficult as it is, but my emotions have always interfered w my hunger cues, and my body is so accustomed to constantly being hungry that it’s not something i even notice that much anymore. I’ve been getting weird pins and needles feelings in what I’m assuming are my intestines as I’ve upped my intake and I’m afraid of them rupturing and me bleeding out internally when I’m home alone. such a pathetic way to die—having your own blood and bile and shit poison you. I doubt I’m on my deathbed, i think my system is jst on the slow path to returning to normal, but i wasn’t expecting physical symptoms aside from weight gain, which on its own, i could live w. my ednos was never as restrictive as it was until somewhat recently. my problem was generally concerned w binge eating and compensatory behavior, usually fasting or short periods of restriction or exercise. all punishment based. i can’t help but find it ridiculous that i ended up w an eating disorder despite never caring abt my weight. even when I was a high school freshman and overweight, i didn’t care. i think it’s because i dnt outwardly self harm anymore, and that self-destructive need has translated into other conduits. the scars this leaves are much more socially acceptable than what I was left w when I was younger and carved “dumb whore” into my thigh. i can’t believe i did something so stupid. im glad that finally isn’t visible anymore. i can’t believe that i’m almost 24 and still, to some extent, do shit like that.

xvii. i still have that vacation time that I took to look at apartments in massachusetts, and since that isn’t going to happen, i want to take a poorly planned solo vacation. i looked at places to stay in DC, in chicago, in nashville, but i left discouraged. nashville is too far, Chicago is too expensive, DC seems too dangerous. i think my perpetual anxiety prevents me from taking full advantage of my freedom. and I can be free. 24 hours ago, I was in Boston and I didn’t have to tell anyone I was doing that. I’ve navigated a strange place on my own. I lived to tell the tale, but I also wonder what the point is of stuff like this if I have no one to share it w. No one to reminisce w. it feels like a waste of money. almost nothing feels worth what I spend on it––time, money, calories, stop thinking abt calories.

xviii. i open another beer, basically on an empty stomach. i need to stop drinking like this, it’s not even negotiable anymore. i know this is a problem. i need to stop. i dnt know if I want to stop. i want to drown in bliss but I feel none. alcohol amplifies everything I feel, and when I’m feeling good, it’s generally very good, but when it’s bad, it gets very bad. i feel weird now so it’s amplifying the negatives. they do not need that. no, i dnt need that. i know this is an addiction. im scared, but not scared enough to do anything abt it.

xix. i still have Rebecca on social media despite everything. she’s moved, she’s no longer in my proximity, but i still have her on things even though I have no motivation to keep any sort of peace with her. I remember when things happened, when i was too drunk to stand up and she insisted on forcing herself on me anyway, after the fact she kept saying all this stuff to me abt how she wanted me to be her girlfriend and i jst sort of laid there and said nothing. i had nothing to say. i wasn’t processing what’s happened, i jst kept thinking “this is bad. that was bad” to myself. and then she never rly follows up, a small acknowledgment of culpability, maybe, but she’s moved in w some boyfriend now. it’s weird that people can do awful things to you and move on like nothing happened, and you have those moments stuck in your head, keeping you stunted, keeping you away from living uncorrupted, uninhibited, the way you should engage w it. i think of how demoralizing it is to have your perception shattered by a 30-something woman who still laughs at nyan cat shit. i think of how most discussions of sexual assault in the mainstream act as though only men are capable of it, as though it’s only ever happening in heterosexual contexts. i think of how everyone who bullied me in high school probably does not even remember it. i think it’s absurd to compare the two things but I dnt laugh.

xx. i want to talk to Justin but i have nothing to say. i dnt know what I should talk to him abt. i dnt know how you’re supposed to do this stuff. im comforted by the fact that, since he was w someone for 10 years, he’s rly out of the dating loop, and he have no idea what he’s doing either. but it’s a red flag, you know. I think we’re jst friendly. and I’m okay w that, I need friends. i want friends. i never see fati anymore these days. things w evan are polluted. ian is very far away. it occurred to me that i know very little abt him, aside from us getting along, but do we actually? how would I know? it’s not uncommon to have good conversations, for most people. but he knows more abt me than I do abt him. i dnt think i could name a single one of his interests if prompted. he probably couldn’t name one of mine that isn’t “drinking”. I’m not sure if I’m willfully ignorant of reality or if im jst assigning negativity to something without a lot of basis. i wonder why im incapable of living in the moment and not thinking too deeply abt what happens to me. i figured out what I’m doing w all the time on my hands.

xxi. everyone has been telling me lately that i should try to monetize my cooking and I dnt know if I believe them. i can’t imagine I’m as good at it as people say. i dnt trust it. im not even sure if it’s a passion, rly, i think my eating disorder has corrupted my relationship w food and i have to push harder to be interested in it normally, and this is how i cope. i might jst be on a kick. and if it actually is a passion, do i want to ruin it by making it into a living? i didn’t feel one way or the other abt hair when I went into it. it was a neutral activity. to grow to hate it is not a loss. i only care abt being good at it bc directly dealing w people makes my failures feel very personal when they happen. i know good food is something you can’t fake. i made ian spring rolls yesterday and they insisted I not watch them eat. i respected the request, but i needed to see the look on their face. I’m annoyed I didn’t. everything was eaten, I know they wouldn’t have done that if they hated them. but I only have my family to go off otherwise, and they would definitely lie to me. so i dnt know. i feel like support is untrustworthy. i know the people who won’t be honest w me, i dnt entirely trust praise from the people who I know who aren’t shy to say “it’s not my thing, I’m not crazy abt it”. i dnt know why i can’t accept that I’m good at anything.

xxii. there’s no reason for my scale to be out when i’m “trying” to “recover” but i will not put it away. i step on it anyway, and it looks like i’m 103lbs, fully clothed, stomach full of beer. i know it’s bad, but i get a weird amount of gratification from seeing it. it’s very hard to maintain a weight that low, so it feels like an accomplishment, even though it isn’t one. it’s been months since i had a period, and that adds to the sense of satisfaction. but it’s not good. obviously. it’s really getting in the way of me wanting to work out and actually improve my body. i’m fatigued. i’m foggy. i know the fact that i’m depriving myself is partially responsible for my terrible mood. i know i already had a heart problem, why on earth would i make that worse for myself? i’ve been having a few normal eating days, so i still won’t admit to myself that i’ve relapsed. i had a lava cake 5 days ago! there’s a quarter stick of butter in that! and an ounce of chocolate! i didn’t care, so obviously i’m doing something right. i know i’m not, entirely, but i’m staying positive. either that, or i’m extremely in denial. there’s still chocolate in the cabinet. no, of course i am not going to eat it.

xxiii. meg scheduled 6 people on tomorrow, so it looks like i’m not going to make any goddamn money again. my aunt is coming in, so i’ll get a little more from her, but the cash i take home there is so very inconsistent. i feel like the more money i save, the more i worry abt it, like i should have more by now. like i’m going to struggle forever. the stuff i’m buying now won’t matter in a few days, but that anxiety is always going to be over my head. i need a career change. i know that. i keep forgetting that pete gave me money for college, so my “i dnt want to be in debt” excuse is a lie. i keep telling people i’m considering going to college again but i know i never will bc i haven’t actually gotten any better at managing my time and being disciplined. i think i’m better at pretending i am, but i’m not. even if i seriously wanted to, i wouldn’t be motivated enough to actually take the steps required to re-enroll. it’s all too overwhelming. i feel like that feeling alone is a sign i’d fail.

xxiv. I’ve been saying this thing to myself a lot lately to self-soothe: “god’s in his heaven” and i dnt rly know what I mean by that. i dnt know if i believe in stuff like that, I dnt have any reason to believe that there’s any kind of order or force that presides over anything. is that what I’m talking abt? we’re all preoccupied w our own things, attending to our own futures, making our own peace to the best of our abilities? maybe? am i saying that we’ve all been abandoned, ignored? then why do I find it comforting? i dnt think my inner monologue makes a lot of sense, but i only ever talk to myself these days. maybe I’m talking abt myself in an idealized way, but I look back on the past 24 hours and see my good mood i woke up w descend, the 900 calories I’ve consumed today, the $24 I’ve made, the singular text thread I have w ian, the nothing I’ve done in the handful of hours I’ve been home, the three empty beer cans. i know i’m constantly in my own head, constantly picking myself apart, picking everything else apart. it accomplishes nothing. it’s useless self-flagellation. i’m constantly raking myself over the coals for shit that doesn’t matter, constantly agonizing over situations that aren’t actually that deep. i think that’s a way in which i lie to myself. i spend all day beating myself up over the inconsequential while never giving due attention to my actual flaws. even if i was, saying that i’m useless and stupid all the time still does nothing. it’s abt meaningful action, and i’m so bad at that, and i’m doing this exact thing again. i think i do it so i have something to point to, to say “i’m working on myself” when i’m jst being mean and self-righteous abt it. where has it gotten me? what do i want from it? do i think i can bully myself into change? do i rly think it will make me do anything other than resign to complacency? 24 hours, and a lot has happened, but i’ve still gotten nothing done. another will pass, and nothing will change. then enough days will pass, and i’ll notice everything is different, and i’ll still feel jst as stuck. i will be meaner to myself abt it. and that’s what i’ll do. over and over, until the end of time. Evan jst got home. he said something abt how sad i looked. he asked me what was wrong. i wish i had the guts to say any of it to anyone’s face, let alone his. it’s fine, it’s fine, i tell him, God’s in his heaven. whatever it is i actually mean by that.

#blog #literally do not feel obligated to read this. It is very VERY long #like my complete stream of consciousness from the past day #the stupid piece of shit bojack episode super extended directors cut #an essay in which i talk abt literally everything thats eating me and provide no solutions #the most disgustingly honest ive ever been on main #god's in his heaven

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spellcastersjudgement · 6 years

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okay i’m literally obsessed i need more faithshipping !!! literally any of the numbers i just neeeeeed it

okay the froot has finished her other fanfics so she finally has the time to devote to this ask bc i have a lot of feelings abt these two and i need proper time to fully dump my feelings ™

since this is a Dealers Choice ask i hope yall know im gonna pick the one that allows me to dump the most headcanons on yall

i know ive already done this one before for the tutor ask but!! i love this idea and im not ashamed to do it again lmao

#30: a kiss as comfort

Yusei was not used to Akiza waking up before him, but there was a first time for everything.

His alarm had awoken him, making him groan and roll over, feeling on the top to hit the snooze button, rolling back over, left arm searching for Akiza, wanting to bring her back against his chest and bury his face in her hair. When his arm found only an empty bed, his eyes opened a crack, looking around the dim room for her. Empty. She must’ve gone to the kitchen, which was a huge disappointment–he had another few minutes before he had to actually get up and put his work uniform on, and he would much rather spend it cuddling with his girlfriend than laying in bed alone.

He should go down and see her, maybe spend a few minutes on the couch together before he had to leave. Pushing himself up and rubbing the sleepiness out of his eyes, the cold air of the room made him shiver, another incentive to find Akiza, warm up.

Turning off his alarm so it wouldn’t shake the apartment, he left the bedroom. The smell of coffee greeted him, his eyes adjusting to the lights of the kitchen. His girlfriend was standing in the kitchen, staring out the window with her coffee in her hands, fully dressed and made up, her bangs braided in a crown around her head.

That was strange. Akiza usually rolled out of bed in her nightgown. She must’ve been up a while, extricated herself from Yusei’s hold without waking him, a feat considering that he was a light sleeper.

“Good morning, handsome,” she looked over her shoulder as he approached, lifting the steaming cup to her lips.

“Morning,” he slid his arms around her waist, her knit cardigan warm against his bare chest and arms.

The scene outside wasn’t terribly interesting, but Akiza was staring at the grey, cloudy buildings with such intensity Yusei wondered if he was missing something. She was tense, he could feel that from where his head rested on her shoulder, the way she was audibly swallowing, her breathing faster than normal. When he’d come in last night she’d still been awake, hunched over her laptop with her reading glasses holding her bangs back, chewing on her nails. Yusei didn’t look to see what she was doing, had only shut the computer and picked her up, teasing her for turning into a night owl like him.

Something was bothering her, he could tell. “Missed you when I woke up, Kiki,”

A soft laugh, a sip of coffee. “I can tell you’re not awake,”

“Haven’t had my coffee,” he laid his hand over hers, bringing her cup to his mouth and taking a sip. She liked her coffee less sweet than he did, tipping only a bit of creamer into it.

“You only call me Kiki when you’re half asleep,”

“Hm, maybe I’ll have to call you that more so I won’t be so easy to read,” Yusei said.

“I’ll have to get a nickname for you,” she said.

“You call me handsome,”

“That’s not a nickname, that’s an adjective,” she turned around. He loosened his hold to let her. “Even if it is true, it doesn’t count,”

The cup between them radiated heat onto Yusei’s skin, not as warm as when Akiza had been pressed against him, but at least this way it was easier to steal the cup from her hands and drink from it. She rolled her eyes and laughed, told him to get his own cup, there was plenty left in the pot, and from the multiple coffee filters he could see in the trash can, it wasn’t the first of the morning.

“Been awake a while?” he asked.

She shrugged, eyes not meeting his, staring over his shoulder, anon-answer that only affirmed his feelings that something was bothering her. Nails drummed against the cup for a moment, soon back in her mouth, a habit that Carly often ragged on her about, forcibly removing her hand. Yusei closed his hand around her wrist, ignoring her annoyed glance as he kissed the back of her hand.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. I’m just tired,”

“You wouldn’t be so tired if you didn’t get up so early,” he teased.

“I couldn’t sleep,” she sighed, finally meeting his eyes. Beneath the makeup he could see a tinge of purple, her normally bright eyes red and dull. Lack of sleep was an understatement if he’d ever heard one. “Got up, got some work done,”

“How long was that?”

“Yusei,” she muttered, moving out of his embrace to top off her coffee. “It doesn’t matter. Don’t you have work to go to?”

“They can manage without me for a few minutes, Kiki,” he leaned against the counter, watching her move to the fridge. “Unless you want me to leave,”

“No, Yusei–I’m sorry,” her shoulders fell. “You don’t–don’t go,”

He watched as she stood on her tiptoes, reaching into the cabinet to retrieve a second cup. Normally he’d reach over her back and tease her about being short, but this didn’t seem like the time. Yusei Fudo would never list one of his strengths as “bedside manner,” but seeing Akiza so worked up–well her quiet, unassuming way of being upset that had developed in recent years. He’d seen her cry, scream, but that was different, over her childhood, and it seemed that after that had passed she had decided to suppress, compartmentalize. He had no interest in forcing the floodgates open, knew she wouldn’t appreciate that, but–but it was eating at him to not say anything.

Akiza was in front of him, handing him coffee. “Time for you to wake up,”

“Thank you,”

She leaned against the counter next to him, laying her head on his shoulder, tracing the rim of the cup with her finger. Her hair was soft against his bare skin, tickling the slightest bit as she moved, her breath blowing across his chest. He looked down, wishing her hair was down so he could run his fingers through it but settling for an arm around her shoulders.

“‘kiza,” he laid his cheek on her head. “What’s going on?”

A sigh, a shake of her head, tickling his cheek. “It’s really nothing,”

“C’mon, you can tell me,” he tightened his hold on her, running his hand up and down her upper arm, anything to make her feel comfortable enough to open up.

“Don’t wanna bother you,”

“You won’t be,” he insisted, putting the coffee she’d made down on the counter, grasping both of her shoulders. She looked up at him through her lashes, lip between her teeth, anxiety radiating off of her. “Something at school?”

“No–yes, I mean,” she sighed, making the motion for pushing her bangs behind her ears out of habit–adorable, especially the blush afterwards when she realized she had nothing to brush back. “There’s, there’s this–I have a class today,”

“It’s,” he waited for his brain cells to produce the day of the week. “It’s Wednesday, you’ve got three today,”

“I forgot you memorize my schedule,” a laugh, a genuine one, a bit of a smile. “I think it’s cute,”

“Don’t you change the subject,” he felt a smile coming on to his own face. “Which one is it?”

“Postcolonial lit,” she said.

“Should I pretend I know what that is?”

“I’ll read it to you sometime,” she offered. “I think you’d enjoy it,”

Yusei would have to take her up on that later. Listening to Akiza’s voice, the way she change her voices for the different characters, the way she’d stop in the middle of the sentence–it was the closest thing he’d come to a religious experience, and it’d been a while since he’d listened to her read. But right now he could tell she was deflecting. “You got a paper due today? Didn’t read?”

“Me? Not read?” she gasped. “Of course I read. I’m not going into debt for nothing,”

“Then what is it, Kiki?” he asked.

“You’re just calling me that to butter me up,”

“Is it working?”

She looked thoughtful for a moment. “Yeah, it is.” She sighed, looking down at her coffee before looking back up to him. “I have a presentation today,”

“Is that what you were working on last night?”

“Yeah, I’d been working on it from the time I left the shop last night to the time you got home,” she said. “I’ve been over it what feels like a million times. It’s perfect, I know it, just–Yusei, don’t worry about it,”

“You get up early to work on it again?”

She looked exasperated at his perseverance. “Couldn’t sleep. I didn’t want to wake you so I got up–about four,”

It was now 7:30. Yusei had slept like a rock, curled himself around her and hadn’t even bothered to notice if she was feeling anxious. Certainly he should’ve seen it–

“Stop that,” Akiza said. “I didn’t want you to worry. I can see you beating yourself up,”

“I just came home, didn’t even ask you what you were doing,” Yusei said. “I just took you away from your computer–”

“You were tired,” she interrupted. “Don’t worry about it,”

They were silent again, staring at each other.

“Why are you so worried about it Akiza?” Yusei asked after a moment.

“Professor’s uptight and this is work a third of my grade,” she said.

Yusei could see why she’d lose sleep over that.

“Over a third, actually. Thirty-five percent. I was complaining to Carly about professors that are lazy and don’t want to grade more than a few assignments, but that doesn’t get the work done,” she huffed.

Her cup joined his on the counter, and soon her cheek was pressed against his sternum, her arms wrapping around his waist. “Yusei,”

“Yeah, ‘kiza?”

“I’m terrified it’s not enough,”

His hands slid down her cardigan. What could he say? What could he say to convince her she would be fantastic, that the work she’d put in would pay off, that it’d be all worth it in the end? As Akiza whimpered out his name through the beginnings of tears, his heart wrenched–it’d been so very long since he’d had to hear her cry–and suddenly saying something didn’t seem like enough.

In a moment he’d feel bad for disturbing the perfectly pinned crown braid, but presently he didn’t care, the only thing that mattered was tilting her head back, pressing a kiss to her lips. A noise of surprise came from her, he could feel her jump at the ferocity at which his lips moved, accidentally scraping her bottom lip with his teeth, running his tongue over the spot as an apology. Slowly, slowly she relaxed, her palms laying flat on his back, fingers digging in as she reciprocated, standing on her tiptoes to press back against him.

Yusei was never good with words, wouldn’t pretend to be, but he hoped that she could feel it: his love, his belief in her, not just in school but for the future, that he would be there to comfort her, that she could tell him anything, that she didn’t need to worry about bothering him. Maybe one day he’d be eloquent enough to say this to her, but this would have to do for now.

She dropped back on to her heels, opening her eyes, the slightest smudge of mascara on the corner of her eye. He wiped it away, accidentally poking her in the eye, apologizing as she giggled at his clumsiness.

“Should I come watch you?” he asked.

“You want to leave cars for books?” she giggled, wiping her nose with the back of her hand.

“Gonna cheer you on,” he said.

Akiza smiled, her eyes shining with the remnants of unshed tears. “In that case, help me practice. Put on some clothes, handsome, we’re going to school,”

#2andahalfpotatoes #faithshipping #ygo5ds #theyre so awkward i love them #god the two of them dancing around each other just??/ im melting #graphic depictions of akiza and yusei cuddling???#yusei picking her up?? amazing #god i have so much abt them to say i love them #let them be stupid in love

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aitian · 3 years

Text

12:56am

1/21/21

this is abt who im from. this question was posed recently by prof aj in the zora class. previously i had been asked this in the laundromat project workshop. i guess it is a popular activist activity. idk i think it is just ok. fucking sucks. or, the answers that feel acceptable suck. it's abt who do u love, who do u feel accountable to.. not who has been around or who has created hurt.

rly anxious this week with school. prof tadiar was rly an asshole academic in that first discussion & made me feel so upset. i hate that i have to weather these storms alone. that's a problem. why cant i have support in the ways i feel & think, & my frustrations & struggles with continuing to live? feel a lot of resentment toward friends at arms length, my choices that lead me to dead ends, the toxic ecologies i have always been navigating & trying to find a shred of hope in. mom is still my best friend, & i want her to be. just wish my pod were not so upsettingly small. days feel like nothing again & again, maybe incarcerated folks know the feeling of wasting away, like time doesn't matter at all bc my seconds r impossible & trapped from shifting my futures.

on the subject-

i hate who im from. its shitty. idk much abt my family, need to read hartmans lose ur mother. realized im only comforted by the presence of black girls in my classes & also a little anxious abt their politics too. like they r the only other ppl who might try to keep me safe but we also all go to this shit school & there r a set of beliefs tied to our paths to get here. also always fighting taking advantage, just both being here, realizing i need & other ppl need things that just align & that doesn't have to mean any more than a piece of my gratitude. but yea just scared of white folks, more recently just wanna fight, idk im ready to win battles & get punished for failing to do shitty stupid things. stop feeling embarrassed or shameful. no don't stop. but know that those feelings just mean getting punished, not doing wrong. & stab those motherfuckers back. the complex part of who im from is this little family, nuclear immigrant family, a house & some walls, toxic toys & racist books & video games & so many soft things, fabrics, textures, smells.. the world for so long that is not bigger than this is smth i felt love for. love not in the way that is full of intended meaning & adopted rituals. but possibly rituals & rehearsals that r really mine. things we felt ashamed of & were shamed for when we left. i always felt that outside the home was just a world of troubles. things that corrupt us, make us feel hurt & feral, things that eat away mercilessly & make us less possible in our precious moments.

that home is still here! its here. im in it. why do i still feel so impossible? is it messed up to think that we have all been outside too much? i don't think any of our faults r our faults. i don't wanna go to school. mom & dad r getting old. that one is so so scary. fuck. i don't want to grow up. i don't. im so sorry that i feel this way. sorry to the kid i should have loved more, & the kid im struggling to love today. im so sorry. still. i don't have regrets bc they r stupid, but i do wish things were different. hope they can become different. not in the ways that ppl r so good at finding solutions to their problems. the problems feel bad, & they should feel bad. they should definitely not feel easy or pleasurable. i want to feel more possible. i want to be less alone. those two things r intensely related, & im not sure how to move toward those futures. isn't that messed up? who r my mothers? who am i from?

fuckign sucks.

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possibilistfanfiction · 7 years

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hey jude!!! just read ur last anon abt being nb and wondered if u could talk abt ur own gender experience?

well basically i didnt grow up in a very open household, like rly Zero discussion of gender, so i know i Experienced gender entirely but i played almost exclusively with the boys in my class until probably grade 6 or 7, & at puberty, even tho i was a better athlete than most boys in my class still, i started hanging out with girls more, at recess, etc. i was always into androgyny, even if i had no idea (& i didn’t) what that was—i liked some femme things, absolutely, but i wanted nothing to do w skirts or pretty shoes. i wanted to be in adidas running sneakers 24/7 if i could help it, & i wore a uniform to school w the option of a skirt/pants, & im p sure i always wore pants. at the time this, to me, seemed more functional, & it was, but it was also, as i can understand now, something that made me feel Less like a girl, although not at all like a boy.

when i was older, 12, 13, 14, my parents wanted me to dress nicer, & i was v much into like american eagle shit, although by mid hs i was into some vintage stuff. one rly big odd style influence for me was mia wasikowksa in this weird movie called restless bc it was this v soft femme androgyny & i think for me this kind of gender expression became very important to see & understand. it wasn’t that she didn’t look like a girl, or that she wasn’t a girl, but she also sometimes looked like a boy, or wore boys clothes, but she wasn’t butch. idk this movie sent me for a loop honestly lol.

& obviously my understanding of gender expression didn’t correlate (& doesn’t correlate!) w so many gender identities, & “passing” is extremely harmful as a notion, etc. but when i was younger my understanding of gender & sexuality was very limited & began to expand when i saw very femme but still andro ppl, even tho i couldn’t articulate it at the time.

when i was a teenager i knew i didnt want to rly have a single thing to do w any boy, which made me sure i was a lesbian bc thats the only narrative i’d rly known abt queerness, or queer women, or even queer ppl who presented as femme. there werent any out lesbians at my school (no fucking way), & the only out queer kid at all was a white gay guy a year older than me, who was popular in the way white gay boys can be popular in high school. but i read voraciously, was fascinated by the crossdressing in shakespeare (paris in the merchant of venice was a particular fixation of mine?) & anyway. i knew i was queer, i knew i liked girls, & i knew i was outrageously uncomfortable w my body, particularly my breasts. for a long time i thought this was because i was ashamed of my sexuality, when i came to sort of understand that, but ofc now i know abt dysmorphia & dysphoria, so yknow. knowledge.

when i went to college i came out big time, & it became very important to me to both be queer & look sort of queer but not queer enough to be Queer—i wanted ppl to be like ‘maybe into girls, but maybe straight.’ as im sure many of us know, this was a lot of internalized shame abt a lot of things, so that sucks. however, i cut my hair which was like the first comfortable thing i had done for my appearance in a v long time, & also smth which my parents hated & i did anyway. i wore a Lot of rly femme stuff bc they hated it tho? so this was all v confusing for me bc my parents are v homophobic, & here i was in college starting to read queer theory & gender theory & falling in love w like. the most beautiful, brilliant girl, & also spiraling into a mixed episode after i got diagnosed w bipolar I, which sort of put everything else on the backburner for a year.

eventually tho i sorted that out (as much as u can sort smth like that out) & i started to rly pay attention to androgyny. i went to europe & i think theres a whole bunch of nuances to fashion that exist there that certainly arent here, & i spent a winter in warsaw so there were aspects to fashion & expression there that were entirely abt functionality, which i was v attracted to. in college, as well, & especially after college, gender became smth i was v much invested in bc i was (& absolutely am) a feminist, so my place in the canon & zeitgeist was one as a queer female writer. it was so so central to who i was, & what i was writing abt. every single thing i wrote in college was in some way a balm, some sort of piece abt myself, learning abt trauma & the body. sorting through a lot of hurt. i could write a theory piece abt elizabeth bishop & reading it back now i know it was also abt me, that kinda stuff.

when i went to toronto i rly rly started being invested in looking critically at gender & my experience of it bc being read as a woman was smth that was grating on me, even tho i had identified as woman for so long, & had no desire at all to transition. i know 100% i am not a trans man, so that was confusing for a long time because i sort of knew there was a space between but it was very hard to conceptualize. eventually i sort of came to understand gender is a color wheel where cis boys are blue & cis women are pink & then theres literally a ton of other colors out there, so yknow. lots of different experiences of gender. some days i feel much more strongly like i identify w women (in mostly political situations, it matters to me to be read as “female” sometimes bc rights for ppl w vaginas AND trans women are FUCKED UP in so many places). some days i hate the idea of identifying as a woman. i also never want to identify as a man. so when i was in toronto i rly started to know a LOT of queer ppl w so many different expressions of gender. & we were all young & lovely & open & fucked up & we would get fucked up but we would also go read together in the park & wander around alleys in the snow & like. there’s a Muchness to toronto that i experienced that helped me, personally, understand these intersections between my own sexuality & gender & expression as much more than just a gay woman who isn’t butch & isn’t femme. i was rly lucky to become part of a community that identified as Queer, & so i became v much understanding of these different aspects of my own identity that fell outside of binary—my sexuality, my gender. Queerness is a vital & profound thing to me & i was rly able (& so fortunate) to have a close friend group of mostly queer ppl & then a few of the actual literally most incredible allies i’ve ever known & will ever know.

so then from there i just rly kinda thought abt things & like i got a binder & stuff in TO but rly started to evaluate my dysmorphia & dysphoria (i had struggled really badly w an eating disorder in/post college) & was able to sort out that so much of it had to do w feeling uncomfortable in the way my body was read in the world. & that will always happen bc i LOVE makeup & i have a “feminine” voice & sometimes i love skirts & i shave my legs bc i like how it feels sometimes & i dont ever want to go on T—none of these things make anyone ANY gender, but ofc theyre coded as “female.” but i’m learning to just yknow educate where i can & take a lot of solace in the community of ppl i have fostered who support & understand my Being. i’ve also allowed myself to be invested in aesthetics & fashion & how much a role that plays bc like. yah fuck Yah i look cool shit bc my friends love it & absolutely i wanna wear the same vans maia mitchell has & i want a melodrama hoodie & i LOVE local toronto designers & their angsty patches abt sad songs & whiskey but i love fashion born out of histories that is connected to smth i can understand, like queer punk movements, or smth my friends & i share, like blundstones (which are gender neutral, which is cool). i’m fascinated in how ppl express their Selves, & we are so unfortunately Finite in our bodies in the sense that that’s rly how the world, in our day to day interactions, processes who & what we are. so i invest in the care of mine by trying to listen to it, trying to make it comfortable—& clothing is a huge thing that can do that. also its fun so anyone who thinks loving (ethical, cool) fashion is vain can eat my ass

anyway lmao now i have a p decent sense, atm at least, of what makes my body its most comfortable (even if that is v far from Comfortable at times). i love my tattoos, & i basically never rly want long hair again i’m p sure, & i love makeup, & if i could wear vans or blundstones every day for the entirety of my life at this point that would be incredible. those are easy things, & i try to allow my body, in its cultural place, to have access to them as much as possible, which is so important to me in a sense of having access to a physical space that matches my mental space of gender identity. politically sometimes i feel v v much a “woman” in terms of my lived experience, & i allow that of myself as well. sometimes when i write it’s important to me that my poetry be read as a queer person but also someone who is culturally coded as a woman, bc those are still always central concerns of my work—the trauma, the power there. but day to day i’m mostly happy spending my time obsessing over other things, like what to call this new genre of music halsey & lorde are making, or why my dog stevie is a Fanatic when it comes to ice cubes. ive come to enough terms w my gender, & my sexuality—& the expression thereof—that unless someone is talking abt gender, or someone asks me a question, it’s not smth that is constantly on my mind, which is. Nice. its so nice lol.

also i would like to point out that i know my experience being non binary is rly rly white & western in so many ways & i get that. my cultural experience of non binary gender is also v much this like. ive felt frustrated before but never in my life have i felt scared to be non-binary while i was like out & abt in the world, bc i still pass as a cis white woman literally everywhere all the time (which has its pros & cons but like, still, a lot of privilege). so i do try to keep all of that in mind as well when i try to center myself & all that jazz

& who tf knows where all of that will take me. i feel like, bc ive learned to listen to my body & my brain so much better than i did when i was younger—even when they might hate themselves—i am so much better at filling up a space in the world that occupies smth healthy. which is not smth i take lightly, & i’m also so open to changes, as long as they feel good & beneficial & true. which is sort of new for me. who knows man ur mid twenties are a wild ride

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