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luveline · 2 days

Note

Craving a postprison!Spencer x stripper!reader fic, please ma’am.

Maybe she gets a daytime job at a coffee shop or a bookstore - to “supplement her income”/ not have to dance as often (not that she’s ashamed!!) and Spencer is just so proud of her for trying and can’t quit kissing her and praising her because I know in other fics you’ve mentioned she didn’t think anyone would hire her because of her profession/self esteem, plus after prison she didn’t want to dance because she wanted to be with Spencer. 🥺

Or really just anything with a proud Spencer x stripper!reader doing anything.

Your work is fantastic and I’m in love with everything you do!! 💕 thank you and it’s totally okay if you think this request is lame or don’t wanna write it!

thank you angel! —you find a new job while making decisions about your old one after Spencer returns from prison, and Spencer would praise you for breathing, so he’s extremely proud. fem, 1.8k

Statistics differ, but estimates suggest that there are around twenty thousand strippers in Las Vegas. With a population of seven hundred thousand people (estimated up), that means that one in thirty five people living in Las Vegas dances for a living.

It’s more than you’d think. Spencer knew of plenty of women who worked as strippers, exotic dancers, or private entertainers when he was still living at home. And while the numbers are much smaller in Washington DC where he lives now, it’s far from zero. More surprising for the average person to be one, perhaps, but not for Spencer.

It used to make him blush like a steam train, sure, but it never did any of the things you were scared of. He’s never looked down on you for it, never been jealous (well, never acted like a jerk because of it), never positioned it as anything other than work. His only complaints are in your concern. You don’t like the club, most of the time. You feel unsafe often. The risk of femicide is yards higher for you as a sex worker than it would be otherwise, but who is Spencer to talk about danger? He still has stitches in his leg.

Your job used to feel more urgent, a red flashing light above your head, because you’d come around with bruises or cut knees, tear stained cheeks, and you couldn’t make ends meet for all your efforts, but things have changed. You’re reluctant to depend on him, but you’ll accept the help when you need it. Nothing keeps you there if you don’t want to be there, and when you do you’re a marvel. You are beautiful, in Spencer’s eyes. Your dancing when you’re having a good night is one of the prettiest things he’s ever seen —more than pretty, sometimes. A hot coal in his stomach.

But the fact of the matter is that Spencer’s home, and you don’t want to dance. You haven’t been to the club for weeks as far as he’s aware, and he’d consider himself well informed. You spent all your savings and started spending his instead and he couldn’t care less, what’s his is yours, whatever keeps you aloft while you make whatever decision it is you’re working toward. Not that it presented itself that way.

I’ll have to go back.

Spencer on his back, you sitting with your head turned from the TV and toward him, your hand on his hip, just resting. Where?

To work. I have enough money for the next two weeks, and then I’m all out.

Spencer wouldn’t do something as unkind as rolling his eyes, but the point of you moving in was to cement that he’d look after you no matter what. He’d turned his head to you on his pillow and reached for your elbow. You’re still resting.

You’ve been home for two months, Spencer. I’ve rested enough. I… I only managed this long because you haven’t asked me for anything and that’s not fair, we both live here.

I earn more than you, so I pay more, he’d said, confused. It’s not as though it hurt him to continue paying for an apartment he’s been living in for years.

I won’t be your leech.

You’re not my leech, don’t say that.

I can’t just not have money.

Well… he’d said. He’d never discussed it with you so openly before, always stopped at the first suggestion, but there’s a first time for everything. You know you can have whatever you want from me. Anything you want, you don’t have to ask.

Spencer… you’re my boyfriend.

Exactly.

No, you’re my boyfriend. You don’t have to keep me. I don’t want that.

He understood the ‘want’ most heavily. What do you want, angel? he’d asked, dragging your hand up his naked chest to rest over his diaphragm, your arm moving up and down in time with his breathing.

You’d seemed stricken, but not upset. Like the question surprised you in having no answer. Not sure… you’d said eventually. Mostly you.

A week passed, two. A third and you’d asked him to borrow money, just for a little while, and with the vehement promise you’d pay him back.

He’s not expecting it. So soon, either. But here you are standing in front of him with a beaming smile and little book in your hands, unzipping one of the book's inner pockets to count out the money you’d ’borrowed’. “Here you go, my angel, there’s everything.”

Spencer just looks at it. “What is it?”

“The money I owe you.”

He presses his hands to his stomach to stop you from forcing the notes into them. “You don’t owe me anything.”

“No, seriously, please take it.”

He shakes his head. “Seriously. I don’t want anything from you, I love you. That money was for you to do what you wanted, or needed. It was yours as soon as I gave it to you.”

You try regardless to put it in his hands. Your hair was done freshly a week ago, your nails manicured but unpainted, your face adorned with some new makeup he’d seen on his (your) vanity a few days ago. It honestly hadn’t crossed his mind why you’d suddenly given yourself a refresh, and he had no suspicions. You would’ve told him if you went to the club, even just via text, because it’s important he knows you’ve had access to your phone or that you’re coming home. (Plus, he’d notice you leaving at night. You’ve spent the last few evenings laying across his lap.)

“Where did you get this?” he asks, smiling softly, wondering if he’s come to the right conclusion.

You drop the money on his thigh and take a couple of steps back.

“I,” you say, holding your little book to your stomach, “got a job as a barista. They gave me my first paycheck today, a direct deposit. So I took out what I owe you and the rest of it is in here.”

“You what?” he asks.

“I’m working at the coffeehouse by the library,” you say, nodding, parts proud of yourself and parts shy.

“For how long? Why didn’t you tell me?”

You bite your lip. “Just this week. And honestly, I didn’t want you to know if I couldn’t do it.”

Spencer stands up but doesn’t cross the room to you. He could reach out and catch your hand. “How could you work somewhere new all week without me noticing?”

“You weren’t here on Monday, Tuesday, or Wednesday morning, and they gave me Thursday off, so I just told you a very small lie this morning about going to the store. I knew you’d get distracted by your Persian poetry again.”

He did get distracted, very much so. You’ve been and worked a whole shift without his worrying, which is a bit awful in itself (he really does love you, and he’d like to know where you are), but is also, frankly, a great thing. You should be able to work without worry. You should do anything you want to do.

Still, a whole week at a brand new job without any support, and to stand there with your paycheck as unmistakable waves of satisfaction melt off of you unkissed is insanity. Spencer’s laughing as he ushers you into his arms, as he hugs your shoulders tightly, “Oh my god!” he says, “Wow, congratulations!” He pulls back just a touch to see your face. “Please don’t lie to me about where you’re going, that’s so dangerous. I love you!”

He takes your face into both hands with your arms hanging loosely behind his back and begins a reckoning of kisses. The slope of your cheek, the skin between your nose and lips, Spencer couldn’t care less where the kisses land, he just wants them all over you. You laugh softly as he goes, almost stickily, a sound that comes deep from your chest. “I’m so proud of you,” he says, pressing a quick, mildly rougher kiss to the corner of your mouth.

“I might still strip,” you say.

“Whatever you want,” he says, squeezing your face between his palms. “What’s it like? Do you like it? Is it hard?” He kisses you again. “I wish you’d told me,” he says against your lips.

You’re quieter than he expected, and warm. He pulls away more sternly to see what’s gone wrong. He could’ve asked the wrong questions. Maybe he’s embarrassed you.

“I just wanted to make sure I could do it. I didn’t want to fail and… and have you know. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be, I get it.” God knows he’s failed a hundred times for you to see it. He wishes he would have hidden a lot of that from you, spared you some heartache, but he also knows how lucky he is to have you near. “That’s what we’re supposed to do, right? We should be together when stuff goes wrong.” He beams. “But it didn’t go wrong.”

“I think I’m pretty good at it.”

“Yeah?”

You hold his wrist. “And I get tips, did you know that? Not as many as before,” —you laugh to yourself loudly— “but still. It’s really cool. They pay me even if nobody wants coffee, and when people want coffee I get extra.”

Spencer kisses the corner of your eye. He kisses up to your eyebrow and down again, all over your cheek before turning your face to the other side to kiss circles into the other. “I,” —kiss— “can’t,” —kiss— “believe it.” Kiss. “Actually, I can, but I still can’t.”

“It’s just a part time job.”

“That you didn’t think you could do,” he says. “But you can do anything, I knew you could. I’m amazed by you.”

He grins and throws his arms over your shoulders.

You squeeze him right back, the two of you swaying, almost falling over. He can feel how proud you are of yourself. You deserve to feel this way no matter what.

“I like dancing,” you say, “I do, I just wish I could do it in a different… world? Is that stupid?”

“No. You’re never stupid.” He smiles as your hand weaves into his hair, fingertips scratching along his scalp, his curls caught between your fingers.

“Do you think you could come on Monday? I can make you a cup of coffee. It’s not as hard as it looks.”

“Please, I’d love for you to make me a cup of coffee.” His smile presses to your shoulder, where he breathes you in briefly, before remembering something very important. “Hey, do you wear an apron?”

“Of course I do.”

Oh my god, he thinks. There are more than half a million baristas in the United States, and Spencer will bet his monthly paycheck that you’re the cutest one to ever exist. You look cute right now in your jeans and your button up shirt, but put an apron on top of that? To see you standing behind a bar mixing drinks and pouring latte art? Monday can’t come quick enough.

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction

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patscorner · 2 days

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date with paige. 😛

I gotchu!

End Game

Summary: Paige takes you on a date for your two year anniversary.

wc: 1,971

Contains: fluff, suggestive if you squint

kinda lost it towards the end, but I hope you like it

______________________________

“Can I open my eyes now?” You ask for the 100th time, and for the 100th time, Paige responded the same: “No.”

“Aw, come on! You’re killing me!” You sigh comically loud. Paige laughs and shakes her head. “Baby, that ruins the surprise. Tha-”

You cut her off with a whine. “I hate surprises.” You and Paige both know you were just being dramatic, and that you were just excited.

Paige was your third relationship and your first girlfriend, and today is your second anniversary, so it was a big day for the both of you. All your other relationships ended with him cheating on you, which led to you having an abundant amount of trust issues. So it’s safe to say learning to trust Paige at the beginning of your relationship was one of the many pebbles you had to shake out of your shoe.

Paige never gave you a reason to not trust her. Never. You knew her passwords to everything, as well as most of her contacts. She was impossibly patient with you, from when you’d yell at her because you were too in your head, to when you’d give her the silent treatment when she pissed you off.

It’s not like Paige was perfect, she had her fair share of flaws. For example, at the start of your relationship, she was extremely jealous. If you guys were out, if you were even looking in another person’s direction, she’d shut down. Since she was in the eye of the public at all times, she’d hold onto that anger until you guys were in a more private setting. This led to screaming matches and honestly, it wasn’t looking the best for you guys.

But after exhausting nights, painfully long conversations, and you two learning how to love each other, you made it work. Paige began to trust that you could stand up for yourself, and you began to trust that she was just head over heels for you as you were for her.

Which is how you got here, to your second year with the love of your life.

“Just a couple more minutes, ma, we’re almost there.” Her hand squeezed your thigh in reassurance. You shake your head and put your hand over hers.

“This better be worth it, Bueckers.”

“Isn’t it always?” She spoke softly, and you can hear the smile on her face.

After what felt like forever (it was 15 minutes), you feel your girlfriend’s hand leave your thigh, and the car jerk into the parking position. “We’re here.” She said, taking the key out of the ignition.

“Can I open my eyes now?” you reply excitedly.

“Yes, you can open your eyes now.” Paige chuckles at your antics as you open your eyes.

You look around, processing your surroundings momentarily, before recognizing it as the local beach. You turn to your girlfriend who’s already looking at you, eyes sparkling with what someone can only describe as undying love. “What’re we doing here?”

She smiles brightly. “Now that’s another surprise.” You groan loudly as Paige chuckles and makes her way to open the door for you.

You walk hand in hand with Paige down to the shoreline of the beach. It was moments like these that you both cherished, the quiet moments, with just the two of you. The moments the world goes silent, and the only thing you have your attention on is the love of your life.

After walking for about 5 minutes, you two come across a blanket, strategically placed on the sand with all a bunch of treats and delights neatly organized. “Huh, I wonder what that’s doing there.” Paige spoke with fake surprise, and you caught the hint.

“You’re so stupid.” You say jokingly, looking at her, as she squeezes your hand. “I know, but you love it.” She smiles like a kid in a candy shop. You laugh and pull her into a passionate kiss.

She sighs as your lips interlock, pulling you in by your waist. You smile into the kiss, before pulling away. “C’mon, let’s eat.”

“I just was.” She groaned as you pulled her onto the blanket, sitting criss-crossed as Paige lay on her side, propped up on her elbow.

“You’re such a teenager.” You say before Paige began opening the food.

By the time you guys had finished eating, the sky had been painted a beautiful mix of pink and orange. It’s been about 10 minutes since one of you spoke, which was okay. The silence was comfortable as you both were just enjoying each others company, looking at the beautiful movie-like sunset. At this point, you were laying in her lap, her arms over your shoulders.

The darker it got, the colder it got, and you both decided to go back to the car. On the way back, Paige revealed she had another surprise, but this time, she didn’t make you cover your eyes to see it. You shuffled into the car, but not before you heard Paige rant about all the sand you had stuck to your body.

You both piled into the car, and Paige pulled off, leaving the beach and the first part of your date behind. You held Paige’s hand the entire time, as her playlist played in the background of your conversations.

It’s dark by the time you get there, but that doesn’t stop you from recognizing where you were. You gasp as the realization comes over you.

“No fucking way.” You look at Paige, then back outside the window.

“You said you’d never been to a carnival, I thought I’d be the first one to take you.” she shrugged as if it was no big deal.

And to some, it might not seem like it, but to you, this meant more than anything. When you were younger, your dad had promised to take you to the carnival for your 14th birthday. But when you turned 13, your dad got really sick, and you never got the chance to go. You held onto the desire to go but never had the time, especially as you got older.

You look at Paige as tears roll down your face. You’ve never felt luckier to have her. “Oh, baby, no, don’t cry.” Her head glances at the road every once in a while, but her attention is on you. Her hands have left yours and have migrated to your thigh.

You laugh and wipe your tears. “I love you so much. Thank you.” You say through your sobs.

Paige swiftly parks the car, gets out, and opens your door. She cups your face, wiping your tears as you unbuckle your seatbelt. You fall into her arms, and she makes sure you don’t hit your head as she lifts you to stand. “Shhh, I love you, too, baby.” She finally answers as you're both standing.

She holds you as you cry, her arms around your waist, your wrapped around her neck, pulling her face to the crook of your neck. After a couple of minutes, you pull away, and lean in for a short, sweet, kiss.

“Are you done?” Paige whispered as she pulled away. You giggle as you nod, unwrapping your arms to wipe your face. Paige looks down at her shirt, groaning when she sees the big tear stain you’d left.

“Wha- Oh. Sorry, love.” You smile apologetically, before bending down and grabbing your purse. As your half in the car, you feel Paige’s hands on your waist, followed by her hips on yours. You turn around quickly, smacking her chest as she bursts out in loud laughter.

“You’re an idiot.” You roll your eyes, before grabbing her hand and dragging her to the carnival grounds.

The night was one of the best you’d had in a while. You walked around for a while before deciding to get on a couple roller coasters, and Paige claimed she didn’t scream once (the jury is still out on that one).

After that, Paige insisted on winning you a stuffed toy at one of the carnival games. Of course, she chose basketball and easily won you a giant stuffed teddy bear. Then she paid for ice cream as you guys decided to go on one last hurrah.

The Ferris Wheel.

You were not excited. Heights were not your things, so it took a little convincing on Paige’s end. But you’ve never once been able to say no to this girl, so that’s why you were now holding onto her bicep for dear life.

Your anxiety peaked as you started moving, and Paige held your thigh to stop you from shaking the passenger cars. “Baby, it’s fine. Look how pretty it is.” she says.

You shake your head, and bury your face deeper into her arm. “Please, it’s so pretty.” You sigh as you reluctantly look around. You feel your stomach drop, but as you take in all the colors, that’s quickly forgotten.

You can’t believe this is what you’ve been missing out on. The view is astonishing, all the colors from the food stands and rides lighting up the night sky. You smile as you see all the people littered around the carnival grounds, minding their business. You detach yourself from Paige’s arm, as you sit up to get a better look around.

“It’s peaceful, right?” Paige asks rhetorically. You hum and nod, before turning to her. “It is.”

Paige smiles softly, before reaching into her pocket and pulling out a little velvet box. You watch her curiously as she fumbles with the box nervously.

“What’s that, P?” You ask to give her the push she needed. She looked at you before looking back at the box. You’ve never seen her so nervous, but it was kinda cute, that after all this time, you still have that effect on her.

“I’ve been meaning to give this to you for a while. I-I’ve never been happier in my entire life. A-and I know we’re far too young to get married, but I never want to live life without you.” She tears up as she opens the box, shifting her body towards you.

“Fuck. I’m so in love with you, and I never want to know what it’s like to not be. I know we’ve been through shit, but I wouldn’t trade it for the world. I promise I’ll do whatever it takes to keep you here. I promise that one day, I’ll be able to do this in front of our friends and family. If you let me, I promise to love you forever.” Both of you are in tears now, and you can see her hands shake as she awaits your answer.

You wipe her tears and giggle. “I can’t wait to marry you.” You say through your own tears. Paige lets out a sigh of relief before attaching her lips to yours. You both laugh into the kiss. It looked like a scene out of a movie, as you both reached the peak of the Ferris Wheel, before it stops at the top.

You pull away and giggle as Paige’s shaky hands put the promise ring on your finger. “Fuck, I’ve never been more scared in my entire fucking life.” she mutters when she finally slides the ring on.

You raise your eyebrows. “Not even when KK put that big, fake spider on your bed?”

“No spider should be that fucking big, ever.”

You laugh as you interlock your hand with hers, squeezing it lovingly. The giggles die down, leaving you both in a comforting silence.

“I love you so much, P.”

“I love you so much more.”

Not once in your relationship did you question whether you two were meant to be. And it seems neither did she.

Little did you know that to her, you had always been her end game.

______________________________

taglist: @bueckerslover @wintersstan @lilia22hicks @fake-intelligences @girlokwhatever

#paige bueckers fic #paige bueckers x reader #paige bueckers #paige buckets #paige bueckers x oc #paige x reader #uconn wbb #uconn huskies #uconn #uconn women’s basketball #ncaa wbb #wcbb x reader #wcbb

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tyran-the-tyranical · 2 days

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I keep seeing people bringing up Raphael’s line about Mol and are coming out with (in my opinion) a little bit of extreme takes.

“What a lovely specimen she is a blushing Apple begging to be plucked”

Firstly, this is just gross and predatory behaviour regarding Mol, just not in the way people are claiming.

He calls her a blushing apple and what he means by this is that she stands out - he sees potential in her and he’s planning on plucking that and exploiting it to his own whims. Of course blushing seems to have its own connotations but in relation to the apple analogy it makes sense. The sentence in itself is very disgusting and gross, but not because it gives of “pedo” vibes, it’s because he’s being predatory but not in any sexual way, there’s nothing sexual about it, literally nothing.

It’s gross because that’s what devils do, they prey on the weak, sick, elderly and children, the most vulnerable in a society because they’re easy prey (in their minds, etc) he’s also may be planning on grooming her presumably into a future position that would serve him later on (like what Korilla does now), yet might I add there’s nothing sexual about it.

People also bring up Gortash as an example but theres also nothing to add with that either. Gortash was abused by Nubaldin (who is an employee of Raphael’s), who says it himself that he would beat Gortash until he was sobbing, there is no mention of Raphael partaking in this let alone any other sorts of abuse (tho he’s not innocent here either, negligent in the very least)

Also, when looking at Gortash’s design it’s clear he holds some sort of admiration for Raphael, he copies his outfit somewhat with the devil’s accessories and such, which would be strange if any abuse by Raphael happened.

Raphael is a devil and if we even look at his father, who in canon, takes good aligned children/babies and eats then perhaps the leap to something just as sinister isn’t too crazy to come to. Yet, at the same time there is no evidence of this whatsoever other than vibes which is a weak argument in the first place.

His line about Mol is purposely made to be uncomfortable and weird, Karlach even comments on it being such.

“please let me smack this creep”

The line is supposed to show how predatory and deplorable he is, but where I think people are getting confused is that they think him being predatory automatically means he is a pedo, which just isn’t the case. No where else in the game is it stated he has an affinity for specifically children and especially not in that way.

Karlach I think even says more about it after the conversation on how she sees mol going down the same route she did, as in someone taking advantage of their naïveté but not sexually, just that they’re going to use them to their own ends and fuck them over in the long run, I think if Karlach thought he was being sexual about it she would’ve been a bit more pissed or comment about it at the very least (more than just calling him a creep lol)

Like I know I might be crazy for this comparison but this feels like when ppl were saying William Afton is a pedo, on the basis of him being (literally) predatory around kids and vibes - you can be predatory and not a pedo, the two aren’t synonymous.

I also think it’s kinda disingenuous to push away criticism by saying you’re only defending Raphael bc ur attracted to him etc, I can like his character and still think he’s a shitty disgusting person, as well as having critical thoughts on that matter, especially since I love my girl hope (justice for hope fr) and I will most likely always kill Raphael in my playthroughs too since he’s such a lil freak anyway.

I really think it’s just a total lack of media literacy, just because these characters are preying on kids weaknesses/vulnerabilities (luring them into selling their souls or grooming them to work for you in the future) does not equate to them being pedophiles. Is it gross and deplorable behaviour? YES, that was the point, but does that mean they’re pedophiles? NO.

The line is gross, it’s supposed to be, and I understand if someone’s first thought might be is he a yknow, but to stick with that and to boldly claim he’s something that there isn’t any evidence for is wild to me. Call him a predator, a groomer, murderer, a literal devil, all things he literally is lol.

Look maybe I’m crazy, maybe I’m being wild, I’m not trying to defend him, he’s disgusting and literally evil lol, yet I still think it’s a misjudgement of his character, since there’s other evil characters in game but that doesn’t mean you can just add every evil thing a person can be into them, like minthara, even Gortash, orin or ketheric or whatever, they have their limits, (tho orin is probably the one with the fewest limitations lol) but if you’re going to call anyone a pedo have it be Mizora, least she grooms Wyll and follows through with disgusting touching (everytime she’s licking him in the promotion, EW, tho that’s not in game so debatable)

I get that with such a clearly and obviously disgusting line that that might be the conclusion people will automatically come to but at the same time I just ask that you do some more thinking on the matter, like sure he’s just a lil pixel dude but at the same time it’s a bit worrying to see how quick people will confidently jump and claim he’s a pedophile.

Anyway, media literacy is dead and we’ve killed it.

#bg3 raphael #raphael bg3 #baldurs gate raphael #baldurs gate 3 raphael #baldur's gate raphael #raphael the cambion #bg3 mol

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thecuriousquest · 11 hours

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My Little Flower

Yandere!Hitoshi Shinso x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Heavy yandere themes, rape (reader doesn’t know), hypno kink, tit groping, tit sucking, nibbling, hickeys, oral sex (female receiving), vaginal sex, vaginal fingering, degradation, bimbofication, Reader is kind and a little bit dumb, male dominant behavior, virginity loss (both), violence (shoving), cervix-pusher, tummy bulge, 18+ characters (seniors in high school)

Note: I don’t know about you, but I didn’t bleed when I lost my virginity, so Reader doesn’t either just to make things less complicated. ALSO, someone bought me a coffee, so this is on my second account as well. You can read it here and on @sluts-assembled.

Synopsis: Your best friend of four years, Hitoshi, finds your dumbass out in a rainstorm. He escorts you to your room, and you only make his mood worse from there.

Word Count: 3K

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The rain wouldn’t stop pouring down like a waterfall, the drops relentlessly tap, tap, tapping against the window. It seems like the dreadful weather will go on forever at this rate. Not that Hitoshi really minds, although he would much rather be lazing away in a sun puddle. Instead, he is brought back to reality as the lightening in the sky catches his ever-so-distant attention. His pupils rolling upwards, watching as the gray canvas of midday bright up with electric cobalt and lavender.

What catches his attention even more is a peculiar little figure off in the distance, bending down by a flower bed just short of a few meters from the school. Ah, he’d know that body anywhere. Could pick that ass out of a crowd of a hundred people. It’s you, his lovely little flower.

Wait…you?! What the hell are you doing out in a fucking storm?!

Currently alone in the general studies homeroom, Hitoshi rushes out of the classroom, shrugging on his rain jacket and grabbing an umbrella on the way out. He makes his way down the levels of the school, rounding hallways quickly, not at all in his usual slow fashion. No, he needs to get to you before something goes wrong.

Your quirk was what allowed you to enter the hero course with such ease. Plant and flower manipulation. Hero name: Sakura. Hitoshi both admired you and was envious of you. Jealousy spiked him when he first learned about your abilities. Creating thick vines from your palms and binding villains, using plant poisons to disorient your opponents, sending flower petals their way to distract them, capturing them in gigantic Venus flytraps, even using an aloe vera plant cradle for healing purposes. Your quirk is extremely versatile, and as green with envy as he was, he only loved you even more. That’s why, when your dumbass does stupid shit like standing in the rain during a torrential downpour, it frustrates him to no end.

Suddenly, you no longer feel raindrops splashing against the hood of your slick coat. Upon straightening up and spinning away from the bed of flowers, your mind adjusts to the situation, and you take a deep breath and smile.

“Hitoshi, what are you doing out here?”

He doesn’t answer you right away, simply taking in the way your fitted yellow raincoat clings to your curves. The only skin exposed is between the hem of your jacket, which stops exactly at the length of your school skirt, and the top of your thigh high socks. He likes the looks of those socks molding to the shape of your legs even more than on a sunny day as they are soaked through and through.

“What the hell are you doing out here? Didn’t you realize that it’s raining? You could catch a cold or something standing out here like this,” Hitoshi scolds none too gently.

“Well, I wanted to see how the flowers were holding up in the rain. I was just trying to protect them.”

You’re so cute that Hitoshi could vomit. This is exactly what he means when he thinks about a kind person. You’re so selfless, too selfless. Willing to get sick if it means protecting something that isn’t even worth all that much. Flowers can always bloom again, but you aren’t ever that concerned about yourself, and it makes his palm itch to smack some sense into you.

“You wanted to see the flowers, so you risked your health? Really? I can’t believe you. Come on, we’re going back to your dorm. I’ll take you there. Can’t risk your dumbass getting distracted along the way.” Hitoshi reaches out for your arm, taking hold of your tricep and leading you towards the Class 1A dormitories.

“Oh, Hitoshi, you really don’t have to do that, but thank you. I appreciate you keeping me company. Hey, we should get some food after this. A cold day like this one calls for some ramen to warm us up.”

Hitoshi huffs in annoyance as he drags you through the rain, keeping the umbrella more so over you than him.

“Hey, Hitoshi, you’re not covering yourself with the umbrella. You don’t have to hold it over me. I have a hood. You should protect yourself-“

The lilac-haired teen interrupts you smoothly, his tone calm yet dominant, “It’s no problem. Be quiet.”

Hitoshi remains beside you, even escorting you all the way back to your room. Releasing a heavily pent-up sigh, he follows you through the door, where you both shed your raincoats and hang them on the back of your desk chair. As he places his closed umbrella next to your desk, you still don’t seem to notice the frown and furrowed eyebrows of his irked expression.

Walking over to your closet, you select a pair of jeans and a large t-shirt to get comfortable. Then, you realize that Hitoshi is still in the room. You look at him over your shoulder with a slight blush and full smile.

“Hey, Hitoshi, can you turn around? I want to get out of my uniform.”

It honestly baffles him. Why wouldn’t you order him to stand outside while you change? Do you feel so comfortable around him that you’d change in the same room as long as he’s not looking? You must not see anything wrong with the situation. Would you let anyone else stay in the room with you while you change? Have you done this sort of thing before? Hitoshi’s mind is suddenly plagued with your impropriety.

He reaches out and grabs your wrist firmly, locking eyes with yours. His mood has shifted, taking a turn for the worse just as the lightning cracks in the sky.

“Hitoshi?” You ask with your brows pulled together, confused as to why he has a firm grip on your limb.

“You just let anyone stay in here while you’re naked?”

And oh, he can’t stand it. He doesn’t know what he’ll do if you answer with an affirmative.

“What? N-no, I don’t. You’re the first guy who has been in my room. My girlfriends don’t look at me in that way since we’re girls-“

“Oh, so you’ll just slut yourself out for anyone, guy or girl?”

“WHAT?!” You can’t help but exclaim as Hitoshi’s words grow harsher just as his hold on your wrist grows tighter. “No, no, Hitoshi, you’re not listening to me. I said-“

“I heard you. You know, I always knew you were a dumbass, but I didn’t realize you were this fucking stupid.”

His words hit your heart so sharply, like the bark of a dog. It causes you to wince, causes you to freeze up, makes you feel like you can’t even breathe as the purple of his eyes go darker.

“Hitoshi…”

You don’t hit the bed when he shoves you. Instead, he shamelessly pushes you onto the floor of your dorm room. You cry out when you land on your ass, crashing on your back. Hitoshi stands above you, towering like a tall pillar.

“Hitoshi, what are you doing?” Tears well up in your eyes, unused to this treatment from the boy who has always been so relaxed and well-mannered around you.

“Tell me something. Do you like being such a filthy whore?”

“I…” Something about you begins to fade, a part of your mind going blank like a sheet of paper with nothing on it. No words to make out, no illustrations to focus on. There’s just nothing.

With you in this state, you make it all too easy for Hitoshi to control, to manipulate like a little puppet. His cute doll that he can force to do whatever he wants.

Kneeling next to you, he undoes the buttons of your school shirt one by one, dragging his index finger down the center to the very last button. Your shirt falls open, revealing the baby blue color of your bra that the eighteen-year-old can’t seem to get enough of. He has never seen your cleavage before as it has always been hidden behind button up uniforms and sweaters. Hitoshi can’t help it as he finds himself licking his lips. He licks them as he tugs your bra down, your tits bouncing free of the blue cage.

Hitoshi can feel his cock throbbing in his pants as he palms himself. It strains against his trousers, creating a thick bulge. He humps slightly into his hand, releasing a suppressed groan. He needs you, needs to feel you, all of you, every inch. Every single fucking inch of you. He takes the liberty of leaning down, his lips working around the supple shape of your nipple. It’s been his dream to be in a position like this with you, only you, for as long as he can remember since the day he laid his lilac orbs on you four years ago.

His other hand reaches out to your free breast as he continues to suck on the left one. His tongue swirling around it as if it’s a delicious fruit just waiting to be eaten. How he just wants a taste so badly. His cock pulsating from the palpable lust.

Only, you lay there unconscious about what he’s doing, completely in the dark as your blank eyes remain unblinking. It’s as if you’re trapped in a place where time doesn’t exist, but Hitoshi has all the time in the world to play with you.

He squeezes your tit with his hand, harshly groping you, needing to get a good grip on what belongs to him. Everything about you, he needs right now. As he lightly takes the bud of your breast between his teeth, he bites gently, deliberately. His hand travels from your chest downwards. Fingers dragging past your ribs and abdomen, finding the treasure hidden between your legs. Your body involuntarily twitches, and for a moment, he thinks you’re going to snap out of the effects of his quirk, but Hitoshi has gotten stronger. He keeps his concentration, and you remain in the dark as he draws your clit between his thumb and index fingers, pinching hard enough to create the soaked pussy he wants.

Hitoshi can’t help but rub the crotch of his pants against your thigh as he leaves bite marks and hickeys all along your neck, all the while rubbing your pussy, gathering the juices on his fingers. It’s like a deranged need to get you as slick as he can before taking you for himself, all for himself. And when he pulls his hand away from the apex of your thighs, he sniffs the creamy substance on his fingers, and his eyes roll back. He shivers slightly from the pheromones; from the utterly erotic scent your core produces. It’s the milk of life he never knew he needed until this moment.

His tongue, ever so hesitantly, finds its way to the tips of his fingers. With a swift lick to the pads, he becomes a feral animal. His face dives between your legs, leaving behind all notions of your nipples and neck, leaving everything behind in the wake of his sexual desires. His nose bumps against your tiny bundle of nerves as his lips suckle on the nectar of your flower. Because that’s what it is to him in this moment, because that’s what you’ve always been to him from the very start: a beautiful and vulnerable flower.

You’re so innocently delicious and sweet, craving for you to sit on his face, but he can’t risk moving you too much and having you wake up. No, he needs to keep you as docile as he can until the very end.

Hitoshi groans, fucking into his palm through his trousers as he continues to eat you out. He’s torn between coming in his pants just so he can keep tasting you and completely taking you for himself.

With a low growl of frustration, he shucks his pants and boxers down, removing his clothes until every muscle is exposed. His toned body presses against yours, teeth tugging on the sensitive flesh of your throat as he rids you of your panties, throwing them to the side once they are completely off. He plants your thigh between his knees as he hovers over you, pinning the pit of your right knee against his hip. His breath ghosts against the shell of your ear as the mushroom tip of his pink cock dips into your folds. Hitoshi closes his eyes, relishing in the luxury of your slippery cavern, each way he thrusts, your walls are just so tight on his sword, gripping like a fitted sheathe. Your virgin tight pussy feels like everything he could ever hope for, not at all knowing what it would feel like until this very moment.

“You’re such a damn idiot. A stupid little moron. The only thing you have going for you is your looks. How did a damn airhead make it into the hero course?” His voice is raspy, shaky, almost coming out in a hoarse whisper.

He thrusts into you, plowing deeper and deeper as he adjusts his grip on your knee, keeping you pinned closely to him in order to push your cervix. A guttural, lewd, and primitive moan escapes past his lips as he feels this new spot in the home of your womb. He glances down, sweat beading his forehead, and he smirks. He can see the bulge his twitchy cock makes in your belly, and every time he pulls back only to push in again, he sees it move under your skin.

Hitoshi tugs on your earlobe with his blunt teeth, laughing condescendingly at you in this state. “Fuck, it’s all the more reason to love you. Someone’s got to look out for you, protect you. You’re so goddamn lucky you have me on your side.”

He buries himself into you, his purple hair brushing against your H/C locks, hips pulsating as he manages to pull you even closer to him. Tired of holding your knee against the bone of his hip, he moves the pit of your knee over his shoulder, doing the same with the leg trapped between him on the floor. He moves your thigh into his hand, gently shifting you so that both legs are over his muscular shoulders. Hitoshi feels you, curled at the abdomen, taking his full cock from tip to base. He can’t help it as his hands travel underneath you, groping the hills of your ass, digging his fingers so deep into your flesh that there will likely be bruises when he’s done.

Numb to the world entirely, you are devoid of all thoughts, not a single one crossing that pretty, empty head of yours. You never thought the darkness could be so soothing, but you’ve never felt more at peace. Blanketed by a feeling of oblivion, you are completely unaware of the storm raging beyond the windowpane. A euphoric sensation cradles you in a dreamy haze as you remain in this tiny sanctuary. No, you do not wish to escape the safety of this wonderful cocoon in your mind.

The purplenet feels his cock twitch once, twice, and he immediately pulls out, knowing exactly what is about to happen. He watches as white, pearlescent ropes catch on your thighs. He sighs in relief, knowing that he caught himself before a bad situation unfolded. In the aftermath of it all, Hitoshi finds himself trying to clean everything up quickly. Toweling down your thighs, putting your panties back on, repositioning your bra, and buttoning up your shirt just the way it was when this whole ordeal began. He gets dressed back into his clothes. When he's all finished, he gently wakes you from the effects of his quirk.

“Hey, Y/N, you…passed out,” Hitoshi lies, feeling a sense of shame but unable to share the truth.

You blink up at him as he kneels over you. The last thing you remember was being pushed, nothing else.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry I let my anger go like that. I promise, it won’t happen again.” He’s sincere, grabbing your hand in a desperate manner to make you know his regret for being violent. “I just needed to make you understand how dangerous what you did was. What if someone tried to take advantage of you because you let them stay in the same room while dressing? So many bad things can happen. You need to think.”

Feeling your cheeks flush, you nod your head in understanding. “Yeah, we all get mad sometimes. I…can’t say I’ve never gotten that angry before. You were really just trying to protect me?”

God, you’re so stupid. Such a gullible little flower.

“Yeah, I just needed you to see what you did was wrong. You must have hit your head and passed out when I pushed you. I’m sorry. It will never happen again. I swear.”

His words are as sweet as honey. How could you not believe your long-time friend? He’s always so well-mannered, it must have just been a one-time thing.

“Okay…I forgive you, Hitoshi.”

He smiles, his lips curling up as he wraps his arms around you, burying his nose in the crook of your neck. “Want to go get that ramen you were talking about earlier?”

“Yeah! That sounds great. Let’s go! I think I’ll just wear my uniform. It doesn’t exactly feel fair, you know, me being in casual clothes while you’re still wearing your school uniform.”

“Do what you want, Y/N,” he responds gently as he slips his hands in his pockets.

“Also, I’m really sorry, Hitoshi. I don’t want you to think I do that with people. I just trust you, you know?”

“Nothing to apologize for. Here, let’s get your raincoat on.”

Hitoshi pulls you up from the ground and grabs your yellow jacket off the desk chair, helping you put it on. As you stand in front of him, you catch a glimpse of the marks on your neck in the mirror, completely puzzled because you don’t know how those appeared. You also begin to feel a bit of an aching throb in your pussy, but you become easily distracted when Hitoshi turns you towards him and wraps a scarf around your neck.

“I don’t want you getting cold,” he explains in his usual lazy drawl.

You can’t help but smile. What would you do without Hitoshi looking after you?

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presidentbungus · 2 days

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unedited sneak peek at the beginning of a spycentric smissmas fic :) team reunion at scout's. i am looking for a beta for this bad boy so hit me up if you have any interest.enjoy

It’s a potent relief when, finally, he knocks on the door and Scout appears behind it, in a hot pink apron covered in a pale approximation of buttercream. It’s less relieving when he’s practically tackled with an embrace that does an excellent job of spreading a pale approximation of buttercream all over the front of a brand new, extremely expensive trenchcoat, but maybe that’s what he deserves for wearing it here.

Scout pulls back and sets a hand on both of his shoulders—which are, notably, still covered in useless bandage, a habit he has apparently never broken—and says, in a voice just as awful as Spy remembers: “Holy shit man I didn’t even think you’d come.”

He could turn around and leave, right now, and change his contact information and vanish into the sea. It takes a substantial amount of effort to keep himself from smiling. “… Good. Thank you for… telling me.”

Scout’s eyes move down, presumably to the frosting all over Spy’s front and he says something along the lines of “Oh crap sorry sorry sorry” and hands start ineffectively scrubbing at his chest. Spy looks over his shoulders into a hallway much longer than the one he was expecting, into a kitchen filled with screeching children and adults already starting on their drinking for the day.

Dreadfully familiar faces circle the island.

Dell stands leaning over the granite, wrapped in an apron and pounding some heinous mixture into submission with a whisk in a mixing-bowl. He’s grown a beard, since Spy last saw him—unkempt, but it certainly suits him. And that hideous hard-hat is nowhere to be seen, but he’s still wearing those awful goggles and it takes Spy a moment to notice those lenses are glaring right at him.

His stomach sinks. Spy turns his attention back towards Scout, slapping his hands away and hissing. “Jeremy—Jeremy, you’re making it worse.”

“I’m—jeez, I’ll get some water or something, okay?”

“It’s fine.” Dell is still looking over—he can feel it, and he won’t dignify it with any more eye contact than strictly needed. Scout is still suggesting solutions and none of them make remotely any sense. “Jeremy, it’s fine. I’ll have it dry-cleaned.” And this still doesn’t stop him, so he asks over him: “Are you going to invite me inside or are you going to spend the entire day smearing buttercream on my coat?”

“Oh. Oh!” He finally gets the idea and moves aside, awkwardly sweeping his hand into the house. “Uh, welcome in, uh, mi casa is you casa, or whatever, should I… take your coat or something?”

He steps inside (it smells like gingerbread) and closes the door behind him when it becomes clear Scout is too distracted to remember to do so. “I assure you I will manage.”

“Okay. By the way you can just call me Scout. If you want.”

And then he continues to stand there and watch Spy start to unbutton his coat like a mud-covered dog begging for food on the side of the road.

“Scout. I appreciate your hospitality, but I can take it from here.”

“Okay.” He doesn’t budge.

“Go away.”

“You sure?”

“Yes.”

Finally, finally, this leads him to scamper back into the commotion of the kitchen.

Spy breathes a sigh of relief, pulling his coat the rest of the way off and looking for a place to store it. There’s a coat rack by the door (which he faintly recognizes as the same one he used decades ago) with what looks like every jacket of every single person currently inside the house piled on top of it—he wrinkles his nose.

He folds his coat into a square and tucks it under his shoulder. Perhaps he’ll hold onto it, for now.

The foyer is large—much larger than what could barely be called a mudroom in the old house, essentially a closet so packed with jackets and shoes and scarves you’d have to pick through it like a minefield, no matter how much Charlotte desperately tried to make them keep it clean. The room is relatively enclosed, though connected to several different spiraling hallways, and the walls are navy-blue, turning cream in the corridors that branch out, and much of the furniture is entirely too new and ornate for Spy’s tastes—largely unused plush leather armchairs, grand mahogany trophy-cases contrasting with the junk they’re filled with, paintings in pristine frames of ships and landscapes and women that must’ve come with the house. It’s almost uncanny, mixed with scraps of furniture and decor he recognizes, basic, well-worn, falling apart.

The interior of the house certainly matches the exterior; expensive-looking without cohesion, presumably fancy to someone who’s never had money before. It’s obvious where Scout’s paychecks were going; he must’ve bought the first and most expensive pseudo-mansion he saw.

Spy knows he’ll have to go properly into the house eventually, but the idea of all those sets of eyes on him at the same time—and one pair in particular, scrutinizing, unimaginable—makes his skin crawl. His hands are buzzing; they’ve been buzzing since before he got to the house. Bare, exposed to the air—he willed himself to go without his gloves, to prove something to himself—to brace for being seen again, that he could bear to be seen again, perhaps—it’s all he can think about, every nerve receptor in his fingertips grazing every stitch of fabric on his coat, intermingling, screaming static into his spine, buzzing all the way back down to the tip of his nose…

Something taps his shoulder—a shockwave through his nervous system—he jerks forward, yelping, and turns around, and it’s Dell, it’s Dell, it’s Dell.

“You alright, friend?”

Spy’s hand darts into a vest pocket and pulls out a set of black leather gloves and slips them on, and relief floods his system. His tongue suddenly stops swelling in his mouth. Smoothly: “Yes, of course.”

Dell smiles apologetically, raising his hands—ungloved, yet his prosthetic hand is nowhere to be seen, both arms perfectly intact and pristine. Curious. “Sorry for startlin’ ya, uh—I know you, uh, don’t… I just kept sayin’ your name and it seemed like you were somewhere else.“

“It’s alright. I was… thinking.” He carefully copies the apprehensive-yet-hopeful expression on Dell’s face, brushing a hand through his hair—still feeling naked, but thankful for the sunglasses. This is manageable.

“… Must be a lot to be here again, huh.”

Spy has braced himself for that question every day for weeks and it still makes him seethe. He smoothly brushes over it. “In a way, yes.” Half-turning away, sheepishly: “Have I… missed anything, yet?”

He laughs. “Nah, nothin’ you’d be real interested in. ‘Less you’ve become a master chef since last time we talked?”

“… I can’t say I have.”

And then there’s nothing else to say, is there.

“Um.” Dell smiles, looks at the ground, and clears his throat. “Well it’s nice to see you again, slim. Been a minute, hasn’t it?”

The surreality of looking at him keeps hitting him over, and over, and over again. He holds out a hand. “Pleased.”

Dell shakes on it. It’s strange to be touching him again. “You’re, uh… lot taller than I remember.”

And he seems to have shrunk, though he doesn’t vocalize this. “I see you’re capable of growing hair.”

“Oh, yeah.” Dell awkwardly passes fingers through his beard, the close-shaved crop of grain on the top of his head. “I thought it’d be… wintery. And all.”

“It suits you.”

“… Thanks.” He blushes, and it’s almost nostalgic, that alone. He always blushed at everything. It emboldened Spy, made him hopeful about the way things would turn out, even if they ended up like they did.

He frowns.

Dell clears his throat again. “Now, I know you’re… takin’ your time and all, but why don’tchya join us out there? Ya don’t have to help out,” he mumbles, “but there’s a lotta folks who’d like to see you again.”

“I doubt that.”

He frowns, deeper. Awful thing to say.

And he braces himself for something—Dell’s lip peels up and he prepares for the same scolding he always gets, but it never comes.

Dell moves to set a hand on Spy’s shoulder, thinks better of it and pulls it back to himself, and sighs, and somehow that’s worse. “Come with me or don’t. ‘S your decision.”

Spy’s not remotely sure how to respond to that, and he’s sure it’s embarrassingly obvious.

“Look. I appreciate you for coming, but I told myself I wasn’t gonna bend over backwards try’na… teach you somethin’, or… whatever I usually do,” he says, quietly. “I get this is tough for you. I do. And don’t give me that no you don’t look—I’ve spent every other night the past two or three weeks hearing all about how tough this is for you. But I keep tellin’ you, and I hope you know, that this—being here—this is what’s gonna help you.”

“I know,” he lies.

Dell crosses his arms, clearly unimpressed. Spy shrinks further into his coat. “Look, I’m going back to the kitchen,” he mumbles, matter-of-factly. “I told everybody not to come talk to you unless you talked first, so you can take your sweet time out here.” “You shouldn’t have done that.” “I don’t think so either, but what are you gonna do.” There’s a long, long moment where it seems like he’s going to leave it at that, but the look on his face softens—and finally the hand reaches his shoulder, and Dell says: “I really do appreciate you for coming. I hope you know that.”

A tempting you’re welcome dies on Spy’s lips. “... Of course.” And then he tacks on with a smile that probably looks as fake as it feels, the space between his ears at a slow-rolling boil: “Merry Smissmas.”

He laughs through his nose, something genuine, and through mechanisms Spy can’t quite discern the half-smile he offers instantly dissolves every bit of tension between them. “Merry Smissmas, Marce.”

Dell’s hand takes a little bit too long to come away after that, and Spy’s certain they both feel it; then he’s quickly gone, and Spy mourns the moment alone to a degree that frightens him.

#bungus snippets #tf2 #tf2 engineer #tf2 spy #engiespy

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designernishiki · 10 months

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it’s kinda funny to me how that dumb scene in kiwami 1 of majima getting shot and left for dead in the harbor was basically just added as a half-assed way to explain majima not being around for a bit of the plot, but they accidentally(?) just made it seem like start of a chain reaction where majima ended up feeling slighted and heartbroken after being abandoned like that and then lashed out about it via smashing a big truck into the building kiryu was in. and yeah that isn’t inherently a romantic thing as-is but then they go and add the part where majima grabs a hostess and performatively hits on her as in-kiryu’s-face as possible, she says she’s already in love with someone, and majima lets her go immediately, no questions asked, making a big fucking point of it just to say see THAT kiryu? I appreciate when people are HONEST about their FEELINGS. people who won’t just BACKSTAB someone who CARES about them to save themselves. is that so crazy kiryu?? huh??? anyway make it up to me get down here and fight me right fucking now

#I think on another level he was sorta saying like ‘hey kiryu. you’re making it extremely clear that you don’t trust me and my intentions #and I’ve been trying to show you- over and over again- that I’d do just about anything for you and your safety #but I can’t just let my mask fall off in front of everyone- I need to keep up the unpredictable morally grey wildcard act for both my sake #AND yours. because disguising my helping you as crazy random violent outbursts and weird stalker behavior #is the only way I CAN help you. do you think it would go over well with shimano or literally anyone else if I was outright helping you out #of the kindness of my heart and fondness for you? stop being so fucking dense and look past the crazy wacky nonsense for a second and #maybe you’ll realize that all I do at the end of the day- really- is help you and put my own life and reputation on the line for you.#I am an honest guy when it comes to my real values and when I told you I wouldn’t let anyone kill you unelss it was myself- I meant it.#I’ve taken a knife and a bullet for you now. can you REALLY not see through the act yet? am I REALLY that unpredictable when you think about #it?’#that was a longer explanation than i intended but. it was difficult to put into words #I basically feel like it could be read as him implying kiryu shouldn’t backstab the people who put themselves on the line to help him #and/or pointing out that he’s never actually done kiryu dirty and has stuck to his word protecting him in the ways he can #trying to say yeah all this is a crazy act and all but when it comes down to it you Can trust me #it really makes sense when you think about it that he’d have to help kiryu/show affection towards kiryu in unpredictable convoluted ways #at that point in time because. I mean. there’s a reason he was the only person who showed up to welcome kiryu when he got out of prison #and that’s because A) he sticks to his word and his loyalty to people he cares about and B) no one else had the balls or the batshit insane #mask to wear to ward off anyone asking real questions like majima did. because ANYONE associating themselves with the supposed #patriarch-killer was a HUGE NO-NO at the time. someone important showing up for kiryu and welcoming him back outright could’ve caused #all-out warfare probably. except majima. because majima was dedicated and smart enough to use his widely-feared wildcard persona #(that everyone tended to view as incapable of having any Real agenda to worry about) to his And kiryu’s advantage #does that make sense??? I feel like it makes a lot of sense if you get it to click in your head #kazumaji #majima #kiryu #yakuza #kiwami 1 #yk1 #rambling

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jasontoddenthusiastt · 7 months

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Imo Jason is “irredeemable” by default because I don’t see what he needs redemption from.

#I don’t know if I’ve mentioned this before but joining this fandom made me fucking hate the word ‘redemption’#no person I’ve seen who is in love with the concept knows the who what where when why or how it should work in a story #apparently it isn’t just themes and tropes anymore people don’t understand the proper use of the word ‘villain’#kelseethe #also hilarious: Jason should recieve sensitivity training HR style from Bruce ‘I’m the government and children are my cronies’ wayne #if Jasons headstrong/‘answers to no one’ attitude towards vigilantism is what makes people think he's villainous #I hate to be a broken record but the baddie you’re describing is Bruce #nobody thinks he’s a villain for only trusting in his own methods/self and repeatedly isolating himself #and on top of that gaslighting and hurting people around him in attempts to do what HE **thinks** is the right thing #you people always thought *him* heroic not problematic for all these traits #the only difference is Jason isn’t psychologically abusive & controlling #yet he’s still the bad guy just cause he liberally kills folks in the crime business.#l'd argue goth ham war is the b*tman story to remind you of everything that makes Bruce authentically himself #Idk how to tell you that Bruce mentally compromising/crippling his son in a twisted attempt to ‘save him from himself’#is perfectly in line with slitting the same son’s throat because he couldn’t stand to see him avenge his own killer #and yk what a redemption arc could be interesting for someone like Bruce #because he rarely questions or doubts his choices esp wrt Jason. no matter how morally dubious they may be #I think it would be quite fun to witness his extremely restricted worldview be challenged/shattered he deserves that humbling experience

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stardust-falling · 5 months

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Damn I wish people would just tag x reader posts properly like… I *really* don’t like scrolling a tag and coming across something in second person referring to AFAB body parts… way to trigger massive dysphoria

#also just in general I dislike X reader I wish there was a consistent tag everyone used for everything!!!#and just blocking ‘X reader’ doesn’t work for mobile since it doesn’t do partial tags!!!#ugh #zhuixing complaints #like if you’re into it then you do you but it personally makes me extremely uncomfortable #I just wanted to look at art of tigh.nari :<#luckily this rarely happens in danmei fandoms but the minute I step outside that circle. sigh.

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faggylittleleatherboy · 9 days

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It’s so stupid how adults will go around doing the equivalent of “blue is for boys and pink is for girls” on a global scale (both on queer and straight groups)

#about how people think they’re being so progressive by making one of the characters in a mlm couple feminine #and saying it’s bc he fucks with gender #usually calling them gender fluid #where’s the fluidity tho huh #as a genderfluid person myself I’m not always “fem” presenting #you’re not trying to make him genderfluid you’re trying to reinforce gender roles #also bc #like most non binary people #I think #the concept of something being feminine or masculine is so ??? to me #and then people will try to fight it by saying no actually he is a man so he does man things #as if this is also not a gender role???#why do you try to fight one extreme with another extreme????#“he fucks with gender so as a amab person he’ll dress like a teen hyper fem girl all the time bc this is what being genderfluid means”#“no 😡 he is a boy a boy boy boy he will never do anything that resembles femininity because those are for GIRLS”#excuse me what the fuck #I’m so tired of this bullshit #maybe this doesn’t make any sense and my brain is just incapable of understanding this bc I don’t feel it #what I feel is don’t be such a pussy about everything the concept of masc and fem is dumb get over it

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tarantula-hawk-wasp · 4 months

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Sometimes i decide not to post vent posts bc if someone says something nice or appeasing in response to it I’m going to snap and become evil

#my problem is that all of my insecurities are so thoroughly thought out you need a presentation with empirical evidence for me to even #consider believing you AND if I feel like you think that I was asking for a platitude or compliment or whatever then I CANNOT process it as #sincere bc then you’re just being nice because you’re a good person and my friend not bc it’s correct or like real #I don’t think love has to be earned but my brain thinks praise does #like love is unconditional but like I’m constantly weighing my own merits so praise needs to be for tangible reasons #also if you try to say anything nice to me right now it’s not gonna go well I’m in a terrible mood #this is like…. tbh art is like the fastest way for me to make something that then if people like it makes me feel good like art is such a #crux of my mental health like I don’t get much academic validation and like it’s not parental issues my parents are nice to me #I think it’s really a ME thing of me being very contemplative and critiquing in a thorough way #also all of my criticisms of myself are for things I actively knew better but didn’t do or like very rational things #it’s not oh my friends secretly hate me it’s that oh maybe my peers think I talk too much about things that aren’t always on topic in semina #seminar classes and yknow that’s probably true #or that oh I had a sloppy presentation for teaching and I’m always behind on grading which is true #but the extreme thing is how much I hate myself for that BUT it’s bc of the executive dysfunction that I am constantly mad at myself

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nightingalesighs · 6 months

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What really pisses me off when people are like. No child should be friends with an adult; it’s (insert word/phrase that has been misused so much it’s kinda ceased to have meaning to me anymore) is… My older friends? Even though I’m 28 and yknow. An Adult. Have literally saved my life. Like not only do they have more knowledge about how things work (like Medicaid and food stamps and student loans and resumes and and and all the other shit nobody bothers to teach you and can be hella confusing/nearly inaccessible unless you Know but is hella important/can really fuck up your life if you’re not careful) and like…more experience so when they tell you “it’s gonna be hard, but you can handle it” or “I know it looks scary, but it’s not that bad and I promise you’ll get through it” or “it doesn’t matter if don’t graduate college, look at me. I didn’t. I’ve got a stable, well paying job. It’s not impossible to be comfortable without a college degree. And look at (other friend who is sitting right next to them), they worked their ass off for a double degree and currently not using it! You’ll be okay, you’ll figure it out.” your brain can actually believe them cuz yknow. They’ve been where you are. They have that life experience. And they’re not gonna lie to you because they love you and respect you too much to do that.

Like I don’t want to make it sound like friendship is a commodity, but older friends and intergenerational friendships can be so extremely valuable, especially to vulnerable younger people in abusive households. And I don’t even mean like in that they can offer you a place to crash cuz not every friend is gonna be able to do that and that’s OKAY. But maybe they can still help you in other ways. Even if it’s “just” holding your hand and validating your fears while you cry your eyes out but reassuring you that they believe in your ability to work through it. They believe in *you*. (And yes, I REALLY appreciate the same sentiment from friends my age and it’s also extremely helpful and I love them so very much. But it just sorta hits in a different way coming from an older friend. Not in a way that’s better or worse. Just different.)

Also something something seeing that you have a future when you can’t see past the next year or six months is just. So fucking reassuring.

Also. Older friends are just plain fun. I love my older friends and my life would be so much poorer without them. So yknow. Fuck people that condemn intergenerational friendships.

Also also something something something ‘fuck you for making me feel terrible/paranoid about wanting to offer my own experience to those younger than me. To help them in any way I can. As another fantastic and dearly beloved friend says. “If you start sounding like my mental illness, YOU are the problem and maybe need to re-evaluate some things.”’

#ignore me #im just all up in my feels about that time my friend twisted around from the passenger seat of the car to hold my hand and comfort me while #I was crying and terrified about the upcoming semester. that said it IS actually not good that you’re having panic attacks and chest pains #just thinking about going back. and was so kind and understanding and calm and she listened and held my hand. or the other friend who grew #up with little financial security. worked two jobs to pay her college tuition because her parents just didn’t have the means to help her.#and now she’s married to a surgeon and EXTREMELY financially secure and because of her own experience she is just soooo. im gonna pay for #your dinner because I can and it won’t affect me or stress me at all and I want you to save your money. and if you need money for some #reason just let me know and we’ll figure it out because I have the means to help in this way and I’m gonna do it dammit and if you need to #or the friend that sincerely told me to call her if I needed someone to talk to. even if it’s the ass crack of dawn or 3 in the morning.#or my friend (my Person) who when I asked if it was okay to tell my cousin her address while visiting her so my cousin could pick me for #dinner. said ‘of course you can. this is your home too’ (home as in your safe here and home as in you are loved here and home as in you will #always be welcome here.)#like…just. intergenerational friendships guys #they are literally lifesaving #don’t deny young people these friendships #but as someone who has also been the Older Friend #don’t make them feel bad for just loving and caring about another human being #that’s what we do. that’s what humanity is #i scream into the void #personal

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