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stairs-feooff · 1 year

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An Open Letter to White Emo Kids

When I was thirteen years old, I googled ‘how to be emo.’ The music, the aesthetics, the darkness of it all captivated me. There was transgression there, with boys in makeup and girls who weren’t ashamed to be bisexual. The online emo community on google plus (anyone else remember google plus? Just me?) took me in with open arms. I was allowed to be depressed, I didn’t have to hide my burgeoning sexuality or the starts of my struggle with depression, something I now know was caused by intense amounts of dysphoria and life in an abusive and queerphobic household.

Only, there was one problem. I wasn’t white.

Certainly, nobody would say they had an issue with me being Latino to my face. Most people in the scene genuinely believed they were not racist. After all, they loved Latino people, they thought the guys in Pierce the Veil were so hot. They appreciated the culture too, sombreros and maracas were the full extent of Mexican culture, right?

But to be emo, you had to be pale. I remember Onision saying that Black people couldn’t pull off emo, and while everyone I knew talked about how horrible he was for saying that, they all secretly believed it. The emo kids I knew stayed out of the sun, they wore long sleeves to stay whiter and some on the more goth side carried around parasols. It was just part of the gothic, to stay white and dead looking. I hid myself from the sun, my skin tanned quickly and well, we couldn’t have that.

Every guide on emo aesthetics emphasized stick straight hair. Every emo kid I knew reinforced that idea. I begged my mom for a relaxer, she refused. It was alright, I figured out how to damage my hair well enough on my own. Pete Wentz kept his hair straight, spent his time with a flat iron to press down the curls that made him inpalatable to white suburban teenagers. I could too. The burns, the split ends, the fact that my hair didn’t start to return to its natural texture until I cut several inches off this year, that was the sacrifice kids like me needed to take to come into the scene. If not, you would be made fun of. You’d be compared to Ray Toro, everyone’s favorite ‘princess fro fro.’ He was Puerto Rican, just like me. No one talked about that, beyond whispering it around like a dirty secret. No one acknowledged his pride in his country, mirrored by my own pride instilled in me from my mother. Every piece of him, every feature identifiable as nonwhite was sneered at. His hair, his nose, his lips, the white kids said he was the ugly one because of them. I was too, I suppose.

That was back in 2014. I remember it vividly, still.

Turn back the clock to the early 1980s. Dischord records has just signed seminal emo group, Rites of Spring. There is change in the humid Washington DC Summer air. A new genre would be born from it, branching from the existing hardcore movement. To say Dischord records created emo would be no exaggeration. Without them, the music all of us in the scene know and love would be nonexistent. Dischord was seminal in the scene, Dischord was also founded by Ian MacKeye, vocalist for Minor Threat and later, Fugazi.

Minor Threat is not emo in the tradional sense. Musically, it’s similar to punk and hardcore groups of the time, lacking the distinct musical flourishes of MacKeye’s later emo group, Fugazi. Still, Minor Threat helped shape the hardcore scene emo was born from and created the record label that signed Rites of Spring, the first emo band. Fugazi is legendary in first and second wave emo circles, influencing bands like Thursday. MacKeye’s stamp on emo is inescapable, even in the third wave. MacKeye also penned the song: Guilty of Being White.

Guilty of Being White is a minute of MacKeye complaining about systemic racism - or rather, being blamed for systemic racism. He’s sorry for being white, he’s so so sorry, don’t you feel sorry for him, a white man in the 1980s? Isn’t it horrible that white people are blamed for systemic inequality? Isn’t it horrible that he actually has to put work into allyship with people of color?

MacKeye says he never meant for the song to seem racist. Surely, the fact that it’s become a favorite of white power groups is a coincidence.

All that is to say, racism was baked into emo from the very beginning. The label that created the genre was founded by white men with very clear issues with racism, even if they did not see it that way. Pete Wentz flat ironing his Black hair and Tyler Joseph refusing to say he’s influenced by rap aren’t bugs unique to the third wave. Instead, they’re features of the genre.

Now, I’m not writing this to ‘cancel’ emo. I love emo dearly, I still consider myself emo. It, in every wave, is my favorite genre of music. Rites of Spring, Jawbreaker, My Chemical Romance, these bands have shaped my life like no other. Through emo I have met some of my best friends, white and nonwhite alike. Emo allowed me to express my gender and sexuality freely. Emo changed my life for the better, and it continues to do so. No, I am not writing this to cancel emo, whatever that means. Instead, it is because I love the genre so much that I feel the need to point out its flaws, its shielding and harboring of racism since Dischord herself began.

They say you should end essays like this with a call to action. Personally, I don’t know what I can say that hasn’t been reiterated a thousand times. Really, what am I supposed to say here? Stop being racist? I, like so many other people of color both in and out of the scene are tired of telling white people to do just that over and over. We are tired of seeing white people stop saying what isn’t acceptable anymore, not due to any sort of active unpacking of white supremacy on their part but simply out of a wish to not be ostracized. I am tired of going to emo spaces outside my friend groups and explaining to white thirty year olds what racism is, over and over and over again ad infinitum. I am tired of seeing white people try and take the lead on discussions of racism, whether it is to rapidly assert ‘im not racist but-‘ or to be on the opposite extreme, to jump the gun and form a dog-eat-dog circus, where the end goal is not to actually form a safe place for people of color but to prove how not racist they are. I am tired of watching white people jump on whatever they can to demonize people of color in the scene. I am tired of watching nuanced conversations about racism and complicitness in racism be overshadowed by people upset their pet white man isn’t going to kiss their other pet white man anymore. I am tired of watching children be called slurs.

Perhaps my frustration is coming loose. It’s hard to be in the middle of all this and not be frustrated. At this point, I am disillusioned. These conversations are seemingly brought up every month, and yet, there is no systemic change. All I can say is I hope that one day, emo becomes actively hostile to racism and racists. Perhaps being aware that racism has been integral to the scene since the beginning is a good place to start.

#*swings bat at hornets nest*

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baby-yongbok · 7 months

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I loved your handjob fic with bang chan, I thought it was really sweet.

So can I pls request their first time together where reader is all shy and sweet?

I'd love it if there was hand- holding and just adorable words of praise ❤️❤️

I did it! I hope that this is okay! Thanks for your request <3

First Time - Boyfriend!Bang Chan x Fem!Reader - Imagine

Word Count: 2,886

Genre: Smut, The fluffy kind

Warnings under the cut

This piece is kinda like a part two to Free Time. You don't have to read the first one to enjoy this one but it'll be cool if you do <3

✨Masterlist✨

Warnings: Cursing, that should be all of the warnings? So Sorry if I missed any! This is a pretty fluffy piece!

Reader is Called: Baby, Babygirl, Princess

Chan is called: Babe

You knew that the time would come eventually, you just didn’t know when. You and Chan had agreed to take it slow when you first met, you wanted to get to know each other and see how your feelings developed before you got too physical. It’s been 8 months since the two of you started seeing each other and two months since the two of you upgraded from making out and dry humping to handjobs and fingering.

Each time that the two of you were intimate you could feel the longing radiating off of each other. You were damn near desperate to feel the weight of him in your mouth or even experience the bliss of him stretching you. Chan would mention his desire to taste you every now and then, he claimed that licking your arousal off of his fingers just wasn’t enough for him. You both wanted more, you just didn’t know when it would happen. You both decided to leave it up to the universe.

Today wasn’t supposed to be a day off for Chan, it was actually supposed to be tomorrow but there was a mix up with the venue schedule where the boys had a photo shoot scheduled and they were granted time off while it was all figured out. Of course Chan couldn’t complain, who would get upset about an extra day off? You had also gotten the day off due to your job's entire system crashing last night and never going back online. Coincidence?

Despite having the time off you and Chan both still took some time out of the day to work. You spent most of the day in your respective corners typing and editing to your heart's content until you both got hungry. The two of you decided to order out and spend some time together. That’s how you ended up here, watching a movie in your bedroom at 6:13pm. The deep orange of the sunset is shining through your blinds and illuminating the dark space around you. It looked magical and Chan definitely noticed it. He hasn’t even looked at the screen for the past four minutes. He’s too busy admiring the way that the deep orange compliments your skin, and how it brings out the color in your hair so flawlessly. You looked like a celestial being and he couldn’t help but to be drawn into you. He hated that your eyes were still trained on the screen, he wanted you to look at him. He needed you to.

“Baby.” He called to you in a whisper and you replied with a hum, eyes still fixed on the screen. This wasn’t good enough, he needed your full attention. He moves his hand and brings it up to your chin, his pointer finger resting on the underside of your chin and turning your head towards him. He tilted it up a bit so that your eyes would catch his, what he didn’t expect was for the sunlight to illuminate your gaze. Your brown orbs turned to gold right in front of him and his entire body caught on fire at the sight of it. It wasn’t some plain old lust that he was feeling, no, it was an intense longing. A desire to become a part of you and turn your body into gold too.

“Chan?” You blinked up at him, your doe eyes boring into his.

“I want you.” The words left his lips in a whisper, the soft music from your movie adding to the moment. “Is that okay?”

“You want to…” Your sentence trails off as you catch Chan pulling his bottom lip between his teeth. You feel a shiver run down your spine as lust starts to pool in your core. You’ve been more than ready to go all the way with Chan, you were just nervous, you wanted everything to be perfect. But, looking into his eyes right now you can’t imagine a moment more perfect than this.

“Yes, that’s okay.” You whisper back to him as you lean into him.

“Thank god.” Chan closes the distance between the two of you, his soft lips crashing against yours and pulling you into a deep passionate kiss. You sigh into him, moving your body to press against his. His hand sneaks up under your shirt to grip your hip, pulling you closer to him.

You shift your position, straddling him without breaking the kiss. Your hands lace through his soft curls as your lips move in tandem. He lifts his hand higher, raking his nails softly against your skin and leaving Goosebumps in their wake. He breaks the kiss and starts breathlessly kissing down your jaw and neck. He sucked at the sensitive skin, definitely leaving marks behind.

"Chan I wanna taste you." He groans against your skin, your words making his cock twitch against your core.

"I don't think I'll last very long if you do." He plants one more kiss on your neck before pulling away, you climb down his body, keeping eye contact with him the entire time. His bottom lip is back between his teeth as he watches you carefully.

"Let's just feel it, okay? Don't worry about lasting." He nods his head as he lifts his hips, allowing you to peel his sweat pants and boxers down his legs. His hard cock spring up, slapping against his clothed stomach. You marvel at his pink tip, the prominent vein on the underside of his dick making your mouth water. You'll finally get to feel it against your tongue, you press your thighs together in anticipation before looking back up at Chan.

"Ready?"

"Yes, please, I need you." You smile up at him, leaning forward on your knees and licking up the underside of his dick. You both moan at the sensation, his soft skin glides perfectly against your wet tongue.

Chan tilts his head back to rest on the headboard, a deep exhale falling from his parted lips. You lick up his shaft again, sucking his tip into your mouth and bobbing your head. You take more of him inch by inch as you move against him. The weight of him in your mouth and filling your throat makes your clit throb with need. This was more than worth the wait.

"Oh, baby you're so perfect." Chan whispers, lifting his head to look at you. Your watery eyes meet his as you take him farther down your throat. His praise makes you want to make him feel even better.

Chan reaches down towards your hand that's resting on his thigh, covering it with his own and stroking his fingers over the back of your hand.

"Just like that, you're making me feel so fucking good." You hum in response and Chan's brows pinch together at the sensation. "I love how deep you're taking me. Fuck, babygirl."

You take that as a prompt to take him deeper, a tear rolls down your cheek and you nearly choke around him but the deep groan that leaves him makes it worth it.

"Oh, baby" You lift up, a string of spit connecting you to his throbbing length. A breathy chuckle leaves your lips and Chan smiles at you.

"You taste so good, you're so big in my mouth." Chan's cock jumps and you chuckle in response. Just as you're about to go back down on him he sits up a bit, stopping you before you can take him in your mouth completely.

"I don't want to cum yet and I won't last another second with that pretty mouth on me." You sit up on your knees smiling at him. "It's my turn now."

With a wide playful grin Chan grabs your wrists, pulling you forward and swiftly switching spots with you. He holds your waist, pulling you flat onto your back. You both laugh as he situates you, brushing his fingertips over the sensitive skin of your inner thigh and the back of your knees. Your laughs quickly turn into gaspy moans as the sensations cause shivers to rush over you. Your nipples harden as your anticipation builds.

"I've been waiting to taste you for so long, princess." He tugs at your shorts, nearly ripping them off of you like a kid opening gifts on Christmas. You giggle at his hasty behavior.

"Oh really? I couldn't tell." Chan rolls his eyes playfully but his expression quickly changes to one of lust when his eyes land on your naked core. The evening light makes your skin glow and your arousal glistens in its presence.

"Ready, baby?"

"So ready, love." He smiles against your inner thigh as he kisses his way up to your heat. He licks up the sensitive flesh, moaning at the feel of you against his tongue. His eyes flutter shut as he savors the taste of you.

Your breath catches in your throat as he licks up your pussy again, circling his tongue around your clit before going back down to your entrance. A deep moan erupts from your throat, your eyes squeeze shut and your back slightly arched off of the mattress. He's only just started but he feels like heaven against you. He always told you that he believes he's pretty good at eating pussy but you didn't know that it would feel like this.

"Oh my god." One of your hands reach down to tangle in his hair just as one of his reach up to intertwine with your free one. You hold his hand, squeezing a bit as the pleasure builds.

He sucks your clit into his mouth, flicking the sensitive bud with his tongue and moaning against you sending delicious vibrations through you.

"Oh, yes, please don't stop. You're so good baby, you're perfect." He trails his tongue down to your entrance, slipping it inside and fucking you with it. A loud whine escapes you as you circle your hips against his face, covering his chin and cheeks in your arousal.

"Will you suck my clit please, and put two fingers inside."

"Of course, princess." He does as you asked, latching onto your clit again and bringing his free hand over to your entrance. He teases you a bit before pushing his middle and pointer finger inside. He fills you up to the second knuckle, curling his fingers to hit your sweet spot.

"Oh fuck Chan, Yes just like that." He shakes his head against you, giving you a new sensation against your clit. You squeeze his hand, trying your best to reassure him that you're feeling good but with the way you're reacting you're pretty sure he can tell.

He swirls his tongue around your clit one more time and you barely have a second to warn him before you're coming undone. Your walls clench around his fingers as they try to move inside of you. Your back arches off of the mattress and your eyes squeeze shut as you moan his name with a string of curses. He pulls away from your clit, fingering you through your high just how you like it.

"That's right, cum for me, babygirl. You sound so pretty, taste so good." Chan kisses the inside of your shaking thigh until you come down from the intense pleasure. He pulls his fingers out of you. Sucking your arousal off and moaning at the taste.

"You are everything that I dreamed you would be and more." You smile at his words, eyes still closed as you try to regulate your breathing.

"Wait until you feel me."

"Oh fuck, I can't wait to feel you." Chan climbs up your body, lifting your shirt along the way so that he could pull it off once he got to the top. Once your shirt is off he pulls his off, leaving you both naked in front of each other. For each other.

"I know exactly what position I want, baby. Trust me?" You open your eyes, finding Chan's excited ones and nod. You'd trust him with your life so something as small as a sex position is more than doable. "Turn on your side, okay? Face the window."

You do as he asked, turning on your side and jumping a bit as your thighs close. The pressure on your sensitive bud sends chills up your spine. Chan lays behind you on his side. He snakes one arm under your side, pulling your back against his chest and holding you tight. His other hand grips his cock, positioning it at your entrance. He looks down at you, beautiful doe eyes shining like gold in the deep orange sun. His heart skips a beat. You look so beautiful, you sound even better and at this moment he can't believe how lucky he is to be with you. To have access to you in such a vulnerable way. He leans down, peppering kisses on your cheek, making you giggle.

"Can I tell you something, baby?" Chan whispers against your cheek and you nod, turning your head to meet his eyes. Suddenly he pushes in, sinking into your dripping heat slowly. Your mouth opens in a silent scream and your eyes widen as they stare into his. He wants to close his eyes but he doesn't dare break eye contact, a deep groan leaves his lips as he leans down to kiss you deeply. He pulls away once he bottoms out and his eyes meet yours again.

"I love you so much." He whispers as he pulls his hips back, thrusting into you slowly and passionately. His arms wrap around you. Hugging you into his chest as he moves in and out of you at a steady pace. Only speeding up a bit once he's adjusted to your tight walls.

"I love you too, so so much, Chan." Your words leave your mouth in a moan. Your head rests against his shoulder and his rests in the crook of your neck, leaving light kisses in between moans and groans.

"I feel so good when I'm with you" Chan whispers into your ear, kissing the lobe softly. You moan at his words, you can feel the knot in your stomach pulling tighter and tighter. Suddenly he speeds up a bit, circling his hips into you and fucking you deeper.

"Oh my god, you feel so good. You're so big." Chan groans and you can feel his cock twitch inside of you. He bucks his hips into you, reaching impossibility deep as he sucks on the sensitive skin of your neck. Usually it takes more, it always has. You've always needed to touch your clit to cum, but Chan has proven that to be false.

You feel yourself slip into a pool of pleasure as you start to come undone. You choke on your words as you try to warn him but the fluttering of your walls tells him everything that he needs to know. He grunts, squeezing his eyes shut as his own release creeps up on him.

"Oh fuck, where can I cum. I'm so close." You blink your eyes open slowly, your body still shaking lightly as he stretches you open.

"Inside, please, wanna feel you."

"Oh my god." Chan tilts his head back as his rhythm falters. You already felt like heaven and now you were telling him that he could finish inside of you? It's the literal icing on a perfect cake for him.

"I'm gonna - oh fuck." He thrusts into you slow and deep as ropes of sticky cum fill your dripping cunt. You both moan at the sensation, seeing stars and floating through space together as you step out of your cloud of bliss. You squeeze his hand that is holding onto you, tight and secure.

"Baby?" You call him and he hums, eyes still shut and his chest rises and falls quickly against your back. "Come back to me."

You both giggle a bit and he slowly opens his eyes. "Oh my gosh."

He looks down at you, meeting your bright eyes and smiling.

"Hey." He chuckles, pecking your nose lightly.

"Hey." You chuckle back cuddling into his chest.

"I should, uh, pull out." You shake your head, clenching around him and pulling a groan from him. He's still hard by some miracle and it feels so good to finally feel him complete you.

"Let's just stay like this for a second, yeah?" Chan stares down at you with bright eyes filled with love, he nods, settling into the mattress and laying down behind you. His fingers run over your stomach slowly as if he were strumming a guitar. The soft touch makes you feel safe and grounded.

"Sure, baby." He exhales against you softly, kissing your shoulder "Was it everything you expected?"

"So much more than I expected, so perfect. You're so perfect." Chan smiles against your skin, leaving another soft kiss.

"It's you that's perfect." You both lie there in silence as the sun finally sets and the soft darkness swallows you both. You hear soft music playing and you both look up towards the end of your bed at the credits for the movie you were watching.

"I wonder if that was a good movie." You ask with a laugh and Chan shrugs pulling you closer.

"Even if it was, this movie was so much better."

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janaispunk · 2 months

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end game

series masterlist • this is part VII

pairing: Dave York x f!reader

word count: ~3.8k

summary: Heartbreak, an explanation and an epilogue.

warnings/tags: explicit smut (-> 18+ only!), angst, feelings, heartbreak, depression, mention of weight loss, fluff, able-bodied reader, reader has hair, dom!Dave, sub!reader, sir kink, degradation kink, fingering, unprotected p in v (it's never stated in the fic but i headcanon that reader is on birth control), basically free use kink, rough sex, dirty talk, spanking, spit kink, praise kink, Dave is a menace, praise kink, idiots in love, please let me know if i missed anything!

a/n: the biggest thank you to @joelscurls for letting me scream about this again and againnnnn, and reading over my drafts countless times, you’re the best, jess! <3

thank you to @daddy-dins-girl for talking plot holes with me and motivating me to write <3

thank you to everyone who has read and loved this series, i have received sooooo many kind words, feedback and just so much love. i started writing this as a pwp oneshot and the fact that it has turned into my first series ever and one that i had soooo much fun with is wild. i’m incredibly emotional about saying goodbye to my babies, maybe i’ll revisit them when i need to write some kinky shit out of my system haha. i hope that you like the ending that i’ve built for them.

a few words about the plot: i actually have zero clue how the hitman business works (shocker, i know), so some parts of this are purposefully vague in a way that i hope is believable and somewhat realistic. just roll with it, thanks :D

dividers as always by @saradika-graphics 🫶🏻

find my full masterlist here & follow @janaispunknotifs for fic updates.

The first week you don’t hear from Dave, you’re confused, but not necessarily worried yet. There have been weeks of silence in the past, though you’ll admit that you had thought that things might be… different now.

Your texts to him stay on delivered, never switching to read. Which has also happened before, especially when he was away on business, but still… The thought that he has gone back to his normal life without sparing as much as a glance back at your time together is nagging at you.

You can still feel his hands on your skin, can still hear him whisper in your ear how beautiful you look, how perfect you are for him. It’s hard to come to terms with the thought that it wasn’t real, that his words and actions didn’t hold the same weight for him that they did for you. Reality has finally caught up to you and it hurts.

When two weeks blend into three weeks and you’ve still heard nothing, you start getting worried. He had said his line of work was dangerous, after all.

Your conversation, still so close and yet a lifetime ago, echoes in your mind. 'Nothing's gonna happen,’ you had said. ‘Not to the girls, not to me. And not to you.’ And not to you. ‘You don’t know that, sweetheart,’ his voice rings through your head. Sweetheart. The word tastes bitter on your tongue and wraps itself around your chest until you feel like you’re choking with it, like you can’t draw breath into your lungs anymore.

Sweetheart.

You don’t know that.

Sweetheart.

You start looking him up online, to find anything that might at least tell you that he’s okay. You don’t want to believe that he would be cruel enough to ghost you, but you barely dare to consider the alternative. You find nothing, no mention of his name, like he doesn’t even exist.

Your calls stay unanswered, your messages stay unread. You find yourself subconsciously checking your texts and your emails countless times a day, catch yourself staring out of your window in the blind hope that he might appear outside. He wouldn’t just leave you like this, would he? Would he?

Days blur into weeks and eventually into months. You’re painfully aware that it’s not healthy, this kind of heartbreak, especially not over a relationship that never even meant anything. If only your heart would understand that.

It was never serious enough that you told any of your friends about it, never wanted to be labeled as the girl that sleeps with married men, never wanted to admit your feelings to someone else when you could barely admit them to yourself. Regardless, even without knowing what exactly was going on, your friends had tried to be there for you, to convince you to go out with them, to cheer you up, but you had turned them down often enough that on this Friday night, your phone stays silent.

It’s better this way. All you want to do is rot away on your couch, staring at the TV with unseeing eyes until it’s an acceptable time to go to bed. Maybe it won’t take you hours of lying in the dark to fall asleep tonight. Maybe it won’t remind you of a different kind of darkness in a different room, a room where the sound of waves against the shore and the deep breaths beside you lulled you to sleep.

You need to get yourself together, your inner voice whispers. Next week, you think. Or the one after that.

A knock on your door shakes you out of your thoughts and you pad over, expecting to be met with the Chinese takeout that you had ordered in hopes of fueling your appetite at least a bit with the prospect of comfort food. Absentmindedly, you note the surprisingly short delivery time. You barely look up as you swing the door open, busy fiddling with your purse to extract a few dollar bills.

After finally managing to pull them out, you face the doorway. A greeting dies in your throat.

Familiar deep brown eyes burn into yours, framed by the face that you wish you’d forget but can’t. The short brown hair, the clean shaven jawline that you can still feel underneath your fingertips, the memory all too fresh in your mind. He looks tired, you think, and instantly scold yourself for knowing him well enough to even notice.

The seconds tick by as you motionlessly stare at him, blinking slowly, your mind running a mile a minute. Why is he here? He can’t be here. Are you making this up? If so, things are far worse than you had thought.

He clears his throat, shifting his weight uncomfortably. It’s probably the least sure of himself that you’ve ever seen him.

“Hey,” he murmurs, his hand twitching like he almost reached out to you but changed his mind. “Can I- can I come in?”

You regard him for a moment longer. The sound of his voice makes him appear more real, and the fog in your head slowly clears. He’s alive. He’s here. In front of your door. Alive and well. Your emotions boil up inside of you.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?! You think you can just show up here after months and ask if you can come in? I thought you were… I thought…”

Your voice betrays you, breaking at the sharp sting of pain in your chest that you’ve fruitlessly tried to suppress and the feeling of your throat closing up. Tears spill over and you furiously wipe at your cheeks, determined to keep some semblance of dignity.

“I know,” Dave breathes, defeatedly. “I’m so sorry. Please let me explain.” His hand reaches towards you again. You shy away from his touch and an expression of hurt ripples across his face. “Please, sweetheart.”

“Don’t call me that.”

Your voice only trembles a little as you snap at him. After another look at his face, you eventually step aside and jerk your head towards your living area. You briefly think about how messy the place is, for how many weeks you didn’t have it in yourself to clean up. You can’t bring yourself to care. Seeing him walk through your flat again after being so painfully aware of his absence leaves you almost dizzy. You take the opposite ends of your couch, both of your bodies stiff, careful not to touch one another.

“Okay,” you sigh. “Explain.”

So he explains. How he received a call, barely thirty minutes after he stepped into his house, with a mission that was too perfect of an opportunity to pass it up. There had been no time to let you know, the risk too high to use his personal phone once he started working.

He goes back to the persona that took up half of his life for so long, the identity that is no more, the man that fell down a watchtower and was washed away by the sea. Body never found. At least that’s what everyone who knew this man thinks. Everyone who knew him, but not Dave York.

He’s been thorough with it, with the most important mission he’s ever done. There are no loose ends, no one who could trace things back to the real him.

It took longer than he had anticipated and he kept laying low afterwards, until he could be absolutely sure that no one would be looking for him anymore.

He doesn’t think that he’ll ever get rid of the worry, ever stop looking over his shoulder, but rationally, he knows that he did it. He got out.

Then he had talked to Carol, let her know that he wants a divorce. It had been- easy, almost. She didn’t cry, didn’t scream at him, just nodded like she had known this day would come for a long time. He thinks that she almost seemed relieved, in a way.

Your eyes had been glued to his face since he started speaking. Tears are silently running down your cheeks.

“I know that I should have found a way to contact you. I didn’t-” He sighs, running a hand over his face. “I didn’t know what to do. I was so worried that someone would find out about you. I never wanted to hurt you, you have to believe that.” He knows that he looks a mess, that his desperation to make you understand is written all over his features.

Every day that he didn’t call you, he knew that he was hurting you. He tried justifying it with himself, that having you think he left you was better than risking somebody coming after you. It never gave him much comfort.

It’s even worse, now that he sees the damage he had done. You have lost weight, deep circles have formed under your eyes and you move like you’re barely holding yourself together. He saw the panic on your face when he tried reaching for you at the door. No matter what he had done to you in the past, you always sought out the safety of his touch afterwards. Until now.

“Please believe me,” he whispers.

You study his face for what feels like a lifetime. Tears are glistening on your lashes. You look so tired, so defeated that it makes his heart ache.

“You’ve done it?” you finally ask. Your voice is a quiet thing, barely bridging the distance between the two of you. A flicker of hope rings with it. “You’re safe now?”

He nods silently, fighting the urge to gather you in his arms, to promise you that he’ll always be there from now on. A small smile curves your lips upward as you mirror his nod, like you’re trying to let this new reality sink in.

“That’s good,” you murmur.

You lean forward, your fingers tentatively closing around his fist that’s clenched tightly against his thigh.

Hope flickers inside his chest. He can taste the three words that he’s been wanting to say to you for far too long on the tip of his tongue. He’s not going to, not right now, not today. But someday soon, he thinks that he might.

Two years later

“Bye girls, say hi to your mom and Matt from me,” you smile, embracing each of them in a tight hug before they dash out of the door, a jumble of giggles and excited chatter. Dave trails behind them with a grin on his face, pecking your lips and calling out for them to slow down.

Your heart is full, overflowing with love for this family that, against all odds, has become yours. You watch Dave usher his daughters into the car and push the doors closed behind them, the smile still on your lips. As you walk back into the house, your eyes linger on the thin silver band adorning your ring finger.

It’s still new, still an unexpected sight when you catch it on the edge of your periphery. It’s the tangible proof of you being the happiest you’ve ever been.

Things had been rough at first, after Dave came back to you. You understood why he handled the situation the way he did, but it took you a long time to trust that he wouldn’t disappear again. To believe that he left his old life behind, that he chose you. But he did.

You busy yourself with cleaning up the inevitable chaos that having the girls over for Dave’s days with them always creates. It’s not the life that you would have expected yourself to have a few years ago, but right now, it feels like you’re exactly where you’re supposed to be.

A few minutes later, your phone pings with a message from Dave.

Be back in 15. I expect you naked and on your knees waiting by the door.

You bite your lip, heat building inside you with rapid speed. Your phone pings again.

Don’t disappoint me.

Fuck. Wetness is already gathering between your legs as you jump into action.

The car door slamming shut has never sounded so good before. You’re listening intently, catching Dave’s heavy footsteps on the stairs and the jingle of his keys before the door opens beside where you’re kneeling.

You look up at him from your place on the floor, watching the mix of smugness and adoration on his face as he takes in your position. A shudder runs through you and your nipples harden under his demanding gaze. He steps closer, caressing your cheek.

“Such a good girl… my obedient little wife, aren’t you?”

“Yes, sir,” you whimper, the coherent thoughts slowly draining from your brain and craving more of his touch, more of him.

He smiles down at you, his eyes glinting predatorily. You’ve come to know this shift into the darkness since you first met, but it’s more playful these days, not laced with the urgency that possessed him back then. Still, he gets intense, especially after having the girls over forces you to keep things rather tame during those days.

“Show me your ass, face on the ground, come on,” he demands coldly.

You obey without question, turning around and bending forward, pressing your upper body down to the floor and presenting your backside to him. He lands a couple of slaps on your cheeks and you flinch, moaning out softly. Your pussy already feels slick with arousal.

“What do you say?” he asks, rubbing his hand over the heated skin.

“Thank you, sir,” you whisper.

Another slap hits you. “Do you know what you did to deserve this?”

You wrack your brain for a few moments, but come up blank.

“I- no, sir.” Your voice is small and breathy, your body bracing for the impact of his hand again.

He chuckles. “Nothing. I just felt like it.” Another slap. “And you’re mine to do as I please, isn’t that right?” Your thighs are trembling. You’re so wet that it feels like you’re dripping onto the floor.

“Yes, sir. Thank you.”

“You know what’s the most fucked up about this?” He crouches down beside your face and strokes your cheek softly, smiling down at you. “How much you whore like it.”

He straightens up and heads for the stairs. “Bedroom, come on.”

You don’t even try standing up, knowing that he won’t let you, and crawl behind him, which earns you another chuckle and a “good girl”.

The image of your naked form on your knees behind Dave who hasn’t removed a stitch of clothing sends another bolt of arousal through you. You’re desperate for him to touch you.

He roughly lifts you up and manhandles you onto the bed until you’re spread out underneath him.

“So…” He grabs your wrists and holds them over your head, pressing them into the mattress. “These stay right here, you hear me? Don’t move, or do I have to restrain you?”

You pout at the prospect of not being allowed to put your hands on him, but obediently hold them in place when he eases his grip on you. “I’ll be good, I promise.”

He grins down at you. “I know you will. Got my girl well trained, haven’t I?”

His words make your pussy clench around nothing and your “yes, sir” comes out in a whimper.

He leans in closer, spreading your thighs wider with his body and you force yourself not to buck your hips up against him. The craving for any part of him to touch you, for any kind of friction, is overwhelming.

“Please, sir,” you whisper. Your pleading eyes hold his cold gaze as he’s leaning over you.

“Patience,” he growls. “Open your mouth.” A disapproving click of his tongue. “Wider.”

You part your lips as widely as you can, sticking your tongue out and trying not to squirm against the sheets. He remains motionless for a few seconds, taking in your desperate state with a cruel smirk on his face.

“Fuck,” he murmurs, more to himself than to you. Then he tips his head forward and spits into your waiting mouth. The filthy feeling of his saliva coating your tongue and filling your mouth almost drives you insane with want and you groan, shifting against his thick thighs between yours, but to no avail. You wait for his next command, your mouth still wide open, not daring to swallow before he tells you to.

But no command comes. Instead, he reaches up to press two fingers down on your tongue, dipping into your mouth and smearing your combined spit over your face. The silver band on his ring finger is cool against your skin and you shudder, loving the reminder that he’s really, entirely yours.

Your body feels like it’s burning up, your hands are twitching and you’re desperate to move them, to touch him, to do something, but you hold yourself still until he finally tells you to, “swallow, baby.”

He smiles and finds your lips for a surprisingly soft kiss, cupping your face in his hands. “You’re being so good,” he tells you gently. “Are you having fun?”

“Yes,” you smile, chasing his lips when he pulls back, but he tuts at you and you fall back against the bed, huffing out a breath. “Just… please.”

“Patience,” he reminds you, the softness gone as quick as it came. “Don’t make me tell you again.”

You bite your lip, but stay put while he stands up to finally start removing his clothes. He’s agonizingly slow with it, holding your hungry gaze while he unbuttons his shirt in unhurried movements that make you want to tear the clothes off his body yourself.

You drink him in, first the sight of his broad chest and his strong shoulders, then his muscular legs, and finally, making your mouth water and your pussy burn with desire, his cock.

As much as he keeps taunting you, you know him well enough by now to be able to tell that he’s just as desperate for you as you are for him, even when he’s trying to conceal it. He returns to you, sitting back on his haunches and drinking you in, until after what feels like hours, he finally reaches out and swirls his fingers through the wetness between your legs. It’s a barely there touch, but you’re so painfully turned on and sensitive that you let out a gasp.

“So fucking wet,” he marvels and applies the slightest bit of pressure to your clit. It’s enough to make you see stars and you’re sure that he could make you come just from this. But, of course he won’t. He laughs at your reaction and retracts his hand to lean forward instead until he’s on top of you again, your legs spread wide to accommodate him and his cock slides through your folds.

He lowers his head to nip and suck at the skin under your jaw, one hand toying with your breasts and your hardened nipples. Your whole body is buzzing, he’s so close and it’s so much, but it’s not enough, not enough, not enough.

“What do you want, baby?” he asks, peppering your skin with kisses and rocking his hips in small movements that make his cock nudge at your clit over and over.

“F-fuck me, please, I’ll do anything,” you beg, your body still obediently stretched out underneath him with your arms above your head. He nods wordlessly and reaches down to position himself at your soaking entrance.

“Be as loud as you want,” he growls against your neck. “I missed making you scream.”

He bites at your skin at the same time as his thrust into you punches the air from your lungs. You scream, just like he asked, as he hammers into you, his lips still attached to your neck, sucking and biting at the delicate skin. The sensation of finally being filled by him, of feeling the stinging stretch of the way he forcefully pounds into you is like heaven. You think that you’re talking, crying out a mix of his name and sir and please over and over.

You’re flying towards your climax and judging from his groans, he can already feel you tighten around him.

“Go ahead,” he groans, before you’ve even strung the words to ask for permission together in your mind. “Come for me, sweetheart.”

He pinches your nipple just once and the additional sensation is enough to send you flying, your pussy clenching around his cock and drenching him in your arousal as you scream out his name. It’s pure bliss, and you never want to come down.

“That’s it,” he growls, not slowing his movements, fucking you through the aftershocks until you’re a whining mess beneath him, “that’s my perfect girl, fuck-”

You force your eyes open to smile up at him, taking in the wrecked expression on his face, relishing in the knowledge that you’re the one to make him look like this. You just really wish you could touch him.

“P-please, can I-” you’re breathless, barely able to speak, and jerk your head towards your hands above you.

“Yeah,” he rasps, his thrusts somehow growing even more forceful, “do whatever you want, baby.”

Your hands fly towards his body, touching every inch of his skin that you can reach, nails digging into his back and fingers grasping at his hair, pulling him closer, closer, until he’s everywhere, all you can see, all you can taste, all you can feel.

“Fuck!” he swears, grabbing your shoulders and holding you in place as he’s pounding into you, “give me another one, touch yourself, come on-”

His thrusts are becoming erratic and you know that he’s close to his own climax. It only takes a few swipes of your fingers over your clit until you’re coming again, soaring through the heights of your pleasure, your whole body trembling with your release. Dave’s hips stutter and he comes with a shout, pulsing inside of your fluttering pussy until finally, you both still.

He drops his sweat-slicked forehead against your chest, peppering your skin with kisses and engulfing you in the warmth of his arms. After cleaning you up, he moves your bodies until you’re tucked against his side, one arm thrown across his chest while he holds you close.

You’ll never get tired of the feeling of his naked body against yours, of the way he feels like he was made for you. By now, you can admit that he had always felt like this.

“I love you,” he says, lips moving against your hair.

You press your face deeper into his neck. “I love you.”

It’s easy, now. Words that you say every day.

…and i love YOU, thank you for reading! 🤍 if you liked this, a reblog or a comment would absolutely make my day.

#janas fics #the dress series #dave york #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fandom #pedrostories #pedro pascal fanfiction #dave york fanfiction #dave york smut #dave york x reader #dave york x you #dave york x female reader #dave york x f!reader

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lord-yabadoo-rules-all · 8 months

Text

Hello hello everyone!! Long time no see :) I've had this frans in my head for YEARS...I started the character design sheet last year (or was it two years ago?) but recently decided to get off my ass and finish it! So here's a product of hard, August work!

I'm kinda sad to see so many of my frans peers gone, but I hope they're doing well! While I probably won't be some huge online presence going forwards, I'm still excited to support the new gen while I can!

ANYWAYS!! This is my interpretation of HT frans! (og creator @/horrortalecomic) that takes place around a decade after Frisk's escape from the underground. Their life kinda goes downhill fast though, as the combined survivor's guilt, insane trauma after battling the horror known as Omega Flowey, and the sheer lack of a support system just kinda destroys them in that period of time. I won't dwell too much on that time period, though! After moving away from the og Mt. Ebbot city, Frisk gets their fresh start, regularly going to therapy, taking their PTSD meds, managing a pretty popular bookshop downtown, and living with their super supportive roomates!

...And then the monsters are freed, which does throw Frisk into a whirlwind, but after a year or two they feel pretty safe. No monsters seemed to have moved to their city (especially since the monster population is significantly smaller than it was before), so everything would be okay. Until that fateful day...

here they are! fyi frisk's skin, eye and hair colour (except for the blonde streaks) apply to all my frisks now!

I'll add some info here i couldn't fit in the tags! -> They have a fun coworker dynamic where Frisk does NOT know he doesn't remember them so they're constantly walking on eggshells around him.

-> Frisk: Oh god he's after me he followed me for revenge but I deserve it oh god he's so mad at me

-> Sans: wow my manager is so kind and pretty and fun :)

-> Also sans is going to therapy, specifically to treat his memory problems,, so we don't know how long his positive view of Frisk will last...

#undertale #frans #frisk x sans #horrortale #my art #undertale au #HTyabadoo #sans #frisk #also yeah all of my frisk's are enby #they don't care much ab pronouns tho!#also they are all thai now <3 #i wanted to give frisk good style but they're kinda adam sandler core :( sorry guys #dw they can still dress up nice dw!#also YES they have a skeleton tattoo on their right hand #they also constantly wear the locket they got from the underground under their shirt #also because this is MY horrortale AU i decree that Omega Flowey found a way to bring back Asgore's soul with his super cool powers #And Frisk used his soul (as well as the other human souls i suppose) to cross the barrier #weird side effect! now frisk has kind of a part of asgore in their soul #and can kinda see him sometimes #he's kinda their dad atp #will elaborate further maybe #sans is just kinda sans but he's a bit more quiet #still likes to make jokes #but he's a bit overwhelmed with living on the surface #so he's not like murderous #nor is he extremely sad #he's just pretty tired #also he hides his cracked skull with hats #while he's trying to find some sciency job and figuring out qualifications he applies to this bookstore

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claymorexpunisher · 7 days

Text

I'll Shut You Up (18 + Fic) (Ch. 1/?)

Pairing(s): Rhea Ripley/Fem. Reader

Disclaimer: This is NSFW. If that's not your thing, keep scrolling. I try to tag my work appropriately and if you still choose to click and read, do so at your own discretion. Also, this particular fic is pretty much dubious consent. ALWAYS make sure to discuss everything prior to engaging in ANY kinks… Thank you for the love always and I hope you enjoy!

Summary: It’s pretty well known that Rhea and Fem. Reader can’t stand one another. Reader thinks Rhea’s way cockier than she should be and Rhea thinks as highly about Reader as much as she thinks about the dirt at the bottom of her boot. Well… so they say, at least. A packed hotel mishap forces them to bunk together, and Rhea presses her luck by running her mouth.

Fic Tag(s): 18+, enemies to hatefucking, forced proximity, overbooked hotel, WM weekend, Bottom Sub!Rhea, Dom Top!Reader, bratty!Rhea, a little bit of oral (Rhea receiving) anal play/penetration, size difference, strap-on, nipple play, hair-pulling, spit for lube (I KNOWWW IM SORRY), begging, spanking, biting, slapping, choking.)

Chapter Word Count: 584

“Is it my card or are there no more rooms left?” I asked the lady at the front desk who already seemed just as stressed and exhausted as I was.

“I’m so sorry, ma’am.” She apologized as she nodded. “But it seems that there was a bit of a mishap when your reservation was made. Due to the wrestling events taking place over the weekend, we’re completely booked. And because of that it seems that your room was accidentally double booked through an error in our system. I’m so sorry, ma'am.” She said.

A deep frown creased her brow before she smiled, and she offered me a discount voucher for my room and for anything that I wanted from room service.

I kindly rejected the offer but asked, “Am I at least rooming with another wrestler?”

When she confirmed that I was, I breathed a little bit in relief as we wrapped things up and I received my room key- I was on the 3rd floor.

I wasn’t besties with the entire locker room, but least I wouldn’t be stuck with a complete stranger.

Although, there were definitely some people in the locker room that I would always avoid like the plague if I could help it.

Rhea Ripley was number one on that list…

We never could stand each other for reasons unbeknownst to the rest of the locker room.

Where I was avoidant, Rhea was insufferable, always making it a point to take jabs at me whenever she could, be it online or face-to-face.

Made me feel like I was an insignificant little bug that she could squash in .2 seconds.

She acted like she was hot shit, and she knew it.

Which physically, that may be true.

But she quickly learned that I didn’t take well to attempts at intimidation.

But lately, she’d switched gears and began flirting with me, heavily, and then we’d be back to insulting each other.

She claimed it was just for shits and giggles and because she enjoyed how “flustered” it would get me, which… ew.

It only got me “flustered” because they were cheap insults- mostly about my small height and the sexual inexperience she assumed I had.

I told myself that she was as tolerable as a canker sore- even though I could admit that on a certain level, our back and forth excited me.

…. And actually, sometimes, in the deep, dark recesses of my filthy mind, I didn’t know if I wanted to slap her or… or if I wanted to slap her and then teach her a very valuable lesson.

Bend her over.

Dominate her.

Make her ass glow red with my handprints etched onto them like the tattoos on her body and her blue eyes as glassy as a porcelain doll’s…

And that just made me despise her even more.

How dare she awaken any kind of desire in me when she was such a raging brat?

Then again, I could that admit brats could be really fucking fun.

But she… she got under my skin in ways I wasn’t prepared for.

“Just please don’t let it be Rhea fucking Rip-…” I mumbled to myself as I slid the keycard into the door as soon as I found my room.

My words trailed off and I let out a “Absolutely fucking not.” as soon as I walked further into the room, and I laid my eyes on the smirking-and almost naked- figure lounging in the king-sized bed in front of me...

Next Chapter

@theworldofotps @alyyaanna @southerngirl41 @harmshake @mzv11 @letsgivethisonemoreshot @theundertakeriscoming @slutfortheeclaymore @auraravenora77 @niknakattack @moonwolfdemonprincess21 @babiidee28 @thesamoanqueen @omegasshyghuleh6661ghosts @xndalynch @84reedsy @romanstheory @kianaleani @elefrog25-blog @motherknuckers @phantasmacabre @lxndonorris @girlnred @yo-yo89 @smile1318 @sassginaswanmills @exhaustedclown @aritannahrocks1300 @superlove167 @ayeeitsali @queencherryberry @truefant4sy @codyswhitebelt @blackmeetsworld @salirophiliac @kayfabebabe @rhea-the-eradicator @souleatermia @bittersweetastoria @domripley @wrestlingprincess80 @myluvrrhea @wandering-fox

#rhea ripley #rhea ripley x reader #rhea ripley x fem reader #wwe fic #wwe smut #wwe fan fiction #rhea ripley smut #rhea ripley fan fiction #\

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chimivx · 11 months

Text

public occurrences. // myg.

pairing: Idol!Yoongi x Female!Reader

summary: It's been almost a year since Vegas. As one would expect, life hasn't gotten any easier. If anything it's gotten even more chaotic. The world knows who you are now... There aren't anymore secrets to hide.

words: 6k

warnings: SLIGHT SPOILERS IN THE WARNINGS. use of cuss words, they talk of anxiety, some mental health situations, talks about a miscarriage, talks about Jin and other members leaving. other than that- not much else. If I missed anything PLEASE let me know.

a/n: CAN'T BELIEVE ANOTHER VEGAS IS HERE. Enjoy my loves. Thank you for all the love and support always. <3 It's just a short little drabble of one specific moment of time, but I thought it was pretty important.

~ the end of february 2023 ~

A dull pain begins to erupt where you’ve had your jaw clenched for the last twenty minutes. A soreness in your jaw you’re not quite sure will ever be able to go away. For the past few months it’s found itself in this compromised position.

Your entire body is made of steel, your joints creaking as you attempt to pull yourself together amidst the panic ensuing within your nervous system. Limbs heavy to the point you aren’t sure whether or not you’ll be able to exit the vehicle.

Breathe in, breathe out. The words repeat.

Breath in, breathe out. It made you want to sing Hobi’s song. Inhale, inhale, exhale, exhaaale. But there was no time for fun. Not when you were about to walk outside in front of cameras for the first time in eight years.

The morning was spent in a blur, the attempts to perfect your hair and makeup happening at an hour too early, much like how you rolled out of bed. An hour too early. You were awake before your daughter even had the chance to stir.

Anxiety had been simmering beneath your skin for weeks. You could barely eat, the nausea would rip through you violently. Again, for the past few months that’s how life has been, nausea, anxiety, melancholy thoughts and dreams, however this event seemed to be adding twice as much. These past few days you’ve probably accumulated a total of nine hours of sleep. You had more shuteye the week after your daughter's birth.

There seemed to be a butterfly effect from the events in Vegas. The incident that caused countless meetings and endless discussions because the company just couldn’t handle anymore media control or protection. You should never have trusted that girl.

BigHit took their time, the company drug out the announcement as long as they could so it would surpass Jin’s deployment and your goddamn wedding. Now, with it being the end of February, Yoongi’s been traveling absolutely everywhere for basketball games, photoshoots, and he’s announced a tour… It was about to happen. For the very first time in eight years you were officially about to be on camera, branded by flashes, posted online permanently, forever going to be seen and known as Min Yoongi’s wife.

Next to you, Yoongi grips your knee tight, in hopes to settle your worries. Glancing down to his knobby hand you sigh and suck in a deep breath.

“We’ll be fine,” he said softly. Meeting his comforting gaze, you attempt to smile, one that makes him laugh. “I promise. Remember everything we talked about?”

You do. Of course you do. It’s been playing on repeat for one hundred and sixty eight hours.

That’s how many hours are in a week. You had to google that.

When this entire plan was set in place you requested a play by play, a step by step tutorial- a rehearsal even! You were walking out into the public eye with your child for the first time. People knew who you were now.

There were going to be cameras, and fans, and paparazzi, and loud noises, and people rushing you, and standards to follow. It was all too much, it all seemed to be entirely too much. You were going to have a toddler on your hip, one who could barely stand to be in a room full of people her father worked with let alone god knows how many strangers at an airport.

“What happens first?” Yoongi asked, reaching for one of your hands to tangle his fingers with yours. He could feel your panic. “Tell me the first thing we’re going to do.”

Gulping, you respond, “Park.” Looking up at his short hair that you’re livid with- his long hair was dreamy, and sexy, and you could pull it- you receive another laugh. He hadn’t expected you to be so literal.

“Good, we’ll park,” he praised. “And then what?” Tipping his chin down his eyes widened a bit, becoming all the more endearing.

“Then, Branson and his team get out,” you said, feeling a bit better looking into his eyes. Yoongi gives you a soft smile, dragging his thumb over the back of your hand.

“Has Branson ever let you down?”

“Never,” you whispered. Almost nine incident free years with the man, after Yoongi, you depended on.

Your husband leans in to press a kiss to your forehead. “Exactly,” he said. “What happens next?”

Going through the last three simple steps, everything seemed ready to go to plan. Once Branson was ready, you were going to take your daughter out of her carseat, exit the car, and follow the men inside. You would be the one to carry your daughter, just in case. People were unpredictable in these situations, and Yoongi agreed that if something were to happen to him here, you should be the one to carry her inside. As much as that little comment terrified you to hear him say, he was right.

Simple as pie. You hoped.

In a perfect world that’s how it would happen, and you want nothing more than for this to go smoothly.

People knew your name. Everyone has found out that it’s been years. The company was prepared for mass destruction, and so were you and Yoongi. A first public appearance, this is where it would all go to shit. There isn’t much chaos people can fully ensue over the internet.

As for your friends, the two of you personally asked them to stay out of it and at the drop of a hat they agreed. The five boys and Sunny shook on it. No one would say a word publicly, no one would do any interviews, no tweets, no Instagram posts, no stories pushed, no Weverse comments. Silence. Radio silence.

Jin has most definitely heard what has happened, and the next time you and Yoongi get to see him, there will be tea to spill. Your heart aches whenever you think about him, especially for Yoongi. He’s had to go through this madness and so much more without his best friend.

The week after he left was complete and utter hell for your family. And not just because of Jin.

Pushing aside all thoughts of having to redo the motions with Hobi very soon, you come to realize that steps one and two of the plan have already commenced.

The black SUV was parked in front of the airport, and Branson and his team were setting themselves up. Through the dark tinted windows there are crowds upon crowds of people, masses of them so large one would think the entire band was here. It reminded you of a concert, they were all waiting in groups with their phones out, pointing them at the vehicles that you and your team were in.

Slapping your hand on top of Yoongi's, you grip it tight, digging your nails into his palm. He places his other right on top of yours.

“I can’t do it,” you mumbled, whipping your head to shoot him a terrified look.

Yoongi smiles, though your fear threatens to crack him. If this wasn’t ordered by the company he’d whisk you away to safety, getting inside the airport without a soul knowing. He’s broken these rules before, going against what his company wants for your sake, it’s been eight years of you coming first, you topping all things that have to do with his job.

Now that the gig was up, now that people knew who you were and knew that it’s been forever, he feels as though he owes it to his fans to do a three minute appearance. As much as he was deeply in love with you, he loved his fans almost as much. He wanted to show you off, he wanted the world to see who’s been keeping him sane all this time, who’s been the source of his happiness for years.

“Yanno, the last time you told me that you seemed to handle everything just fine,” he said, glancing at your sleeping daughter beside you. Blowing a gust of air through your lips, you roll your eyes.

“I didn’t have to do any work, D, they cut her out of me,” you grilled back, narrowing your eyes. “I can’t-” your words are cut off by a sudden short breath. “I feel like I can’t breathe,” escapes you in a whisper.

Branson taps his fist on the window a couple of times gently, signaling that he was ready for the three of you to come out. The murmurs from the crowds can be heard, leaking through the cracks in the doors, swarming around you constricting your chest.

Yoongi slips an arm around your back, holding you against him tight. Burying your face into his chest, he rests his chin on top of your head and takes a deep breath. You can feel his beating heart steady between his lungs. This was just another day for him. He’s had ten years to grow used to this.

“I was afraid this was going to happen,” he said softly. Peeking up at him, you frown.

“What?” you question, lowering your brows. He nods a couple of times, giving you a small smile.

“I was afraid this was going to happen, because I knew this was going to happen,” he said.

“Me freaking out, right?” you sighed, your tone completely breathless. A soft hum leaves his chest as he ponders what you’ve said, then he shakes his head. “What?” you question again with more vigor.

“Well,” he huffs a gentle laugh, “I figured something along the lines of that would happen, but only ‘cause of her,” he nods to your daughter, “Not because you’re scared of going out there. You’re only worried for her. If it were seven years ago you think you’d feel this way?”

Shaking your head to answer him, the electricity coursing through your veins seems to subside.

“Exactly,” he smirked. “Before her you were dancing in the streets before my shows, you were talking to people, my fans! You were prancing around stadiums and concerts like it was nothing.”

“I loved doing that,” you smiled.

“Fuck yeah, you loved doing that,” he said, giving you the smallest shake. “And, you know what? It’s not just you going out there as my wife, right? They know what you’ve done for us, they know what you’ve made for us.”

Your smile starts to grow. He was right. The fans, the people, they loved your work. The music videos, the art, the TinyTan, the creative concepts, the photoshoots, all of it. They finally knew that it was you. The ghost creator had been unveiled.

“You probably have fans of your own,” Yoongi said matter of factly. “I guarantee you all these people are here for you, not me.” Frowning humorously, you make him laugh.

“Doubt that,” you said flatly.

“Alright, half and half,” he winked, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “We can do this, you can do this. We’re doing it together, like we do everything. We’ll get through this together. We always do. Just think, next time we see Jin we have to tell him all about this, he’ll never believe it.”

Averting your eyes from his, your mind is suffocated by the many, many things you’re going to have to tell Jin when you’re with him again, which you’re hoping is soon. So much has happened, so much has changed, and it’d only been about three months.

“Yeah,” you whispered, flickering your eyes up to Yoongi who’s flashing you a curious look. “He probably still thinks I’m pregnant.”

A flash of discomfort wrecks his expression for all of two seconds as he glances away from you with a breath. Swallowing hard, he relaxes his face and looks back at you, his lips pressed together tight.

“He, uh,” he began in a whisper, “He... knows.” Before you have a chance to say anything, the subtle shock on your face telling him plenty, he cuts you off. “I’m sorry, baby. I had to tell him, it’s Jin, that’s my best friend, he’s the only one I could even say the words to.”

Sitting up a bit, you reach a hand up to cup his cheek, dragging your thumb over his smooth skin. “D, it’s okay,” you reassured him, bobbing your head. His lips form a pout, one that gets you to giggle. “I promise, it’s okay.”

There’s a moment of quiet between the two of you, feelings swirling around the empty air as you both choose what to do or say next. Yoongi leans into you, kissing your forehead once more before placing his own there.

“You’re so incredible,” he said, watching you flutter your eyes shut. “The strongest woman I know, the most talented woman I know. On top of having such a beautiful, creative mind, you’re a fucking fantastic mother.” Yoongi pauses, taking a deep breath, as do you. “He was lucky to have you for as long as he did.”

A lump lodges in your throat. Scrunching your face, you shake your head, rubbing your forehead to his.

“Don’t make me cry,” you said, voice wavering with uncertainty.

“Cry?” a tiny voice speaks up from your right, a yawn of the same intensity coming out of her straight after. Popping your eyes open you share a small smile with your husband, and just as you’re about to turn to your little one, Yoongi slips a hand beneath your chin, holding you in place.

“Hey,” his voice is soothing. “I love you.” Your heart flutters.

“I love you, too,” you whispered, accepting the quick kiss he gives you.

Turning to the carseat that has secured a permanent spot in this car, you smile at your daughter who has her head turned toward you and her father. Her sleepy eyes entice a happy hum from you.

“You were supposed to sleep through this,” you said sarcastically sweet. Yoongi chuckles, unbuckling from his seat. The clang of the metal on the door makes your heart skip a beat.

“No,” your daughter said. “No sleep. All done.” Her voice is tiny, and slightly broken, and not hitting all of the right sounds, but her speech has only been improving. The two of you speak to her like she’s a human being, saving the baby voices for when she’s feeling silly, which can attest to her strong vocabulary and understanding of conversation.

You’re beginning to think she is a genius like her father.

“Mama, up,” she cooed, reaching out her arms that were finally starting to get a little chubby. Her cheeks had caught up to her as well, they were finally perfectly pinchable.

Freeing her from the car seats restraints, your daughter aids you in her escape, launching herself forward and up into your arms with a shout.

“Oh!” she giggles once her arms are around your neck and her face is buried in your hair.

“Oh!” you and Yoongi copy her, to which she responds with another shout.

Her attentive eyes point out the window when she sits herself up, tapping on your shoulder a couple of times with her palm. Lifting a hand, she tries to point at the crowds of people.

“Where?” she asked curiously, looking to either of her parents for an answer. Her voice turned you into a complete puddle, the sound coming out as ‘Wheh?’, the middle syllable is even more pronounced when she questions the two of you again.

Yoongi brings a hand to her forehead, brushing away a few dark hairs that fell into her eyes. The girl hated bows, you stopped trying.

“We’re at the airport,” he told her, and she listened with all of her might. “We’re going on a plane, isn’t that fun? You like flying.” Her eyes blink a few times, taking her time to process the words.

Sighing aloud, dramatically of course, she glances out the window and mumbles a jumble of sounds. Following her gaze, you gulp.

Eager eyes of bystanders attempted to shatter the glass of the tinted windows.

“Mama,” your daughter said, looking at you. “Go, Mama,” she bounced once. “Go,” she bounced twice. You knew the moment you stepped out into the noise and the flashing lights that she would have a meltdown, but you admired her desire to get out of the car. Yoongi was right, she loved flying, it was her second favorite thing right now. Securely at number one was Jungkook, for a year and seven months. That spot was unattainable for anyone else.

“Shall we?” Yoongi offered, watching you fiercely, letting you take the lead. He waited patiently for your answer, heaving a sigh of relief when you finally gave him a tentative nod of your head.

“Dada, go,” your daughter babbled. “Mama, go. Dada, go. Mama, go.”

Sharing a laugh with Yoongi, you take a long deep breath and tighten your grip around her back, holding her in front of your chest. Smiling at you, your baby touched a hand to your cheek.

“I love you,” you whispered to her. She leans her head toward you and puts her nose on yours.

“Ah-luh-oo,” she tried her best to repeat. Stealing a kiss from her, you let Yoongi press a thousand to her cheek to make her giggle, and then it’s time.

Everything seems to move in slow motion, your vision tunneling as your husband opens the car door. Pulling a mask over his face, he sends you a reassuring wink before he rounds the vehicle.

Screams erupt from every corner of the space, and shouting from the team can already be heard. Strict shouting, like things were getting crazy already. Your daughter’s eyes are wide as she looks out the windows and up at you. Her curiosity has been swapped for a little bit of fear.

You couldn’t let her see you panic.

Sliding off of the leather seat and onto the concrete of the airport lot, you pull a mask over your own face and instantly slip a hand to the back of your baby's head. Her legs were wrapped around your torso, and the moment you stepped outside her arms clung around your neck for safety. You already had a suspicion that you weren’t going to have to actively try to hide her face, she would want to do that herself.

Your bags were already taken care of, there wasn’t anything else you needed to grab from the car other than your child and yourself. Everything else would be taken care of for you.

With another deep, dramatic breath, you hold your daughter close, allowing her to bury her face into your neck, and you circle the car like Yoongi had. Upon rounding the back, cameras that were already flashing began to flash faster, quicker. Wide eyed and stunned by the greeting of screams, you barely have time to process anything before Branson grabs your arm.

It’s a gentle tug, one to help keep you on track. He pulls you close to him, staying one step ahead of you as you wait for a couple of seconds in front of the car. Glancing amongst the crowd, it’s mainly full of paparazzi and probably some journalists. Behind the tall men and their cameras you can see the fans, the ones holding up their phones and jumping up and down trying to catch a glimpse at the commotion.

Airport security guards held some people back, though no one seemed to be trying to push through excessively, which was your main fear.

“Another minute here,” Branson said to you, leaning into your ear. “They need photos, then we go.” Nodding, you peek down at your girl who was content clinging to her mother and hiding from the chaos. A sound of admiration rips through the crowd as you stroke her back, one that surprises you.

Up ahead, close to the doors, Yoongi was walking backward slowly, watching you. His fans twisted their heads side to side, from him, to you, and back again. To spice things up a bit, he gives you a wave, and everyone goes nuts.

You can’t help but laugh at him, eyes crinkling at the sides. For some reason you had thought he’d treat you differently when you were outside, but aside from following the rules, he was still your husband. He points to the baby on your chest and questions you with a thumbs up. Another giant ‘Awh!’ rolls through the chattering crowd.

Sending a thumbs up back, the fans laugh, and cheer. Then, your heart plummets to your stomach.

From somewhere within the crowd your name is shouted. And then again. Before you knew it, the entire crowd wanted your attention. Overwhelmed, feeling utterly insane, your eyes well up with tears. You're unable to make out anything else they’re saying though, there were too many people talking at once, and to you, that was a good thing.

God forbid anybody had anything bad to say. You’ve heard it before, but you don’t need to live it in real time.

“Holy shit,” you mumbled. Branson leans into you again, questioning what you’ve said. Turning to him, you smile and repeat, “Holy shit!”

“You’re okay?” he asked, gently putting a hand over your shoulder blade.

“I- I think so?” you said to him, raising your voice over the crowd that was only getting louder. Glancing down to your daughter who’s little fists were attempting to rip holes in your sweater, you send a look to Yoongi, and he stops walking all together. Bundled up in the safety of her mothers arms wasn’t enough for the baby, she needed to be out of this situation immediately. “Branson we have to go.”

“I don’t have the signal yet, we need Yoongi inside before we move forward,” he said. Frowning, you knew the man was just doing his job, but a cry from your daughter flipped a switch within you.

“We need to go,” you insisted, shooting him a glare. Cradling the back of her head, you press your masked lips to her hair and take a deep breath, hoping she’d feel as much of your love as possible.

“Go! Get him inside,” Branson spoke into the tiny walkie he carried on his chest, gesturing toward the door with persistence.

The crowd, now roaring, and growing larger, began to push. The barriers that were blocked by guards were spilling over the edge.

Branson placed a hand to the top of your shoulder and held onto you tight. Grabbing the little speaker, he spoke clearer. “We need to move forward, and we cannot do that if you cannot get him indoors.”

Up ahead your husband was watching you with a heated gaze. His attention didn’t deter from you once. His heart twisted when you cradled your daughter, when he saw Branson begin to get defensive. The hand that was placed protectively on your shoulder could make him scream, and the team behind him, calling after him to get him to step inside the airport made his thoughts fuzzy.

What the hell was he doing? Why would he ever allow the two of you, the most important people in his life, why would he allow you to do it alone? This was the very first time you’ve done this, and he’s realized now that he’s made the biggest mistake.

Forgetting everything he was told, everything he’s learned, Yoongi bounds toward you, using the fast paced walk that his fans clown him for. They absolutely lose their minds, the people around you.

Wide eyed and shocked, you’d never think he’d break the rules on this one, you sigh in relief when he reaches your side. An arm wraps around your shoulder, Yoongi closing you in front of his chest.

“What are you doing?” you asked, giving your head a small shake.

Your husband smiles, reaching up to pull his mask off of his face, removing yours as well.

“Not letting you do it alone,” he said to you, leaning in to press a kiss to your lips. As you could’ve guessed, the collective lost their minds.

“You’re gonna get in trouble,” you smiled up at him, laughing as he dramatically rolled his eyes.

“You two are always worth it,” he said. “Now, c’mon,” he stepped aside to hold you behind your back, keeping you tucked beneath his arm. Using his other hand he rubbed the baby’s back and gave her cheek a quick kiss, happy to find that once he joined you two she had calmed down. “Let’s go see Kookie.”

Her head shot right up with enormous dark eyes full of stars. “Koo-hee?!”

“Koo-hee!” Both you and Yoongi copy her tiny voice, making her giggle with the silly smiles you flash at her.

The world around you seemed to melt away the second you were in your husband's arms, like all of a sudden you had the strength to handle anything the world would have thrown at you. His grip around your body as he walked with you into the airport was enough to silence the crowd, and power your legs to get through the doors without an incident.

A mere twenty minutes later, the three of you were seated on the plane, your daughter snoozing soundly on her fathers chest while you scrolled through your phone, curious to see what the internet has had to say of your appearance already. Resting his head on your shoulder, Yoongi followed along, making a sweet comment at every single photo of you.

“Oh, that one is the best,” he said quietly, your Twitter scroll stopping on a picture of the three of you before you walked off. The big, genuine, happy smiles you and Yoongi wore were priceless as you grinned at your baby girl, one whose face didn’t make it into any photos- thank the good Lord that somebody believes in. “You should post that one.”

Giving him a sideways glance, you huff a gentle laugh. “To my Instagram? It’s just gone public, you want me to blow it up even more?”

Yoongi tips his chin up, flashing you pouty puppy dog eyes. “I just want them all to know you’re mine. Both of you. I want everyone to know I’m yours, and I always have been.” You gave his forehead a kiss.

“Okay,” you nodded, “I’ll post it. Her face isn’t in any of these, so I can post as many as I want.”

Settling comfortably on your shoulder once again, Yoongi gave you caption advice for the post- an emoji that seemingly had nothing to do with the photo… But, you used it anyway. The angel emoji, with a halo and little wings.

“That one’s perfect,” he whispered, tapping on it for you.

“If you say so,” you smiled. Yoongi sat up a bit, carefully to not disturb his sleeping daughter. “You always pick the random ones.”

“Every single one I use means something,” Yoongi gazed at you fiercely. “That little guy,” he pointed to the angel, “That makes four of us.”

Your lips parted in surprise, unsure of what to say. That week in December devastated you both. Your stomach flips while you watch him study your face. The whirlwind life you live hasn’t given either of you proper time to process, or grieve.

“Baby,” he whispered, closing the space between you to touch his forehead to yours. “You don’t have to post it if you don’t want to.”

Sucking in a deep breath, your eyes welling with tears, you furrow your brows. “What did I do wrong,” escaped you in an exasperated gust of air. Yoongi shifted, wrapping an arm around your back.

“No,” he said, putting on his strong facade. “We don’t do that, we’ve talked about this. You know there wasn’t anything you did wrong. There wasn’t anything I did wrong. You heard the doctor say it, baby, multiple times. You gave him the perfect home, you’re healthy.” Yoongi paused to gauge where you were, praying that you were listening to him.

You respond after a few seconds, bobbing your head. Taking a deep breath, Yoongi swallows down the lump in his throat.

“It just wasn’t his time,” he whispered. “He wasn’t ready.”

“Yeah,” you whispered fast. Yoongi’s thumb found your cheek, wiping away the tears that had fallen.

“And, you remember the last time we were there, they said we could try again whenever we were ready,” he said. The end of last month you had a check-up with your doctor, just to make sure things were back to normal, and that your body was holding up alright. Your second pregnancy was a surprise, much like the first, you and Yoongi haven’t seemed to learn your lesson. However, losing your son before you had even gotten the chance to hold him in your arms put a lot of things into perspective for the two of you.

There were routine check-ups, you were eating better- both of you! This second child was something that you and your husband both wanted, and though each of your emotions have been through the wringer… You would be willing to try again when you felt like you could handle it.

“I want to,” you whispered. Yoongi smiled, but you could see his own worries within it. “I know, I feel the same way.”

“Together,” he cuts off the nervousness quickly. “We’ll do it together.”

“Uh, we kinda have to,” you giggled, making him laugh.

“I can’t wait,” he sing-songed through clenched teeth with a grin, stealing a kiss from you. Yoongi backs away from you to check on your sleeping daughter who hasn’t made a peep. He was surprised she had let her eyes shut while she was beside the window, normally she’d be gazing out at the clouds passing by.

Picking your phone up off of your lap, you smile at the angel emoji and click post, letting the notifications flood in like wildfire. This was all brand new. You were allowed to make your Instagram public about a week ago, and since then you’ve reached four million followers, while you used to have forty-six. Silencing the notifications from the app, every photo you’ve ever posted amassed an incredible amount of likes. Your feed was a feast, and the public was hungry.

Four million followers and counting. The number was only going to get bigger.

Watching the photo gain twenty thousand likes whenever you refreshed the page, you nudged Yoongi’s shoulder to show him what was happening, and when he turned his head to look, an unknown number you’ve never seen before popped onto your screen, calling you.

“What the…” you mumbled, narrowing your eyes.

Yoongi snatched the phone from your hand and quickly snapped a photo of the screen with his own, then he silenced yours and went into it, blocking the number who tried to reach you. He called Branson over and showed him the photo, letting the head of security take his phone with him.

“Trace this, or, do something. Tell me who's number this is,” his voice is stern, on alert.

“I’m sure it’s nothing,” you said, laying your head down on his shoulder. “People get scam calls all the time.”

“Not us,” he said, tone flat.

Not even ten minutes passed before Branson came back, kneeling on the row of chairs in front of your family. He placed his elbows on the head rests and took a deep breath, darting his eyes back and forth from Yoongi to yours.

“Well?” Yoongi asked. Branson handed him his phone and frowned.

“Uh,” he stumbled over a few words, unsure of how to say what he needed to say. “We, um… The phone number belongs to your mother.” His voice is hushed, quiet, like he was afraid to tell you, when in actuality he was afraid to tell Yoongi. Touchy subject. Especially now.

There had been a restraining order set in place since the day after your daughter's first birthday. Yoongi held the meetings and took care of everything, all you had to do was sign.

Neither one of your parents were allowed to contact you, speak to you or your daughter, or try to see you in person. They were not allowed to mail anything to you, send anyone to see you in place of themselves, nor were they allowed to be in touch with anyone close to you. Sunny included. You had to make a list.

Expecting him to jump out of his seat, you stretch a hand over his lap and grab his other hand, the one on your daughter's back. Sitting up, you turn toward him ever so slightly to catch a glimpse of his expression. It had not faltered. He was stone faced, and you were sick to your stomach.

“Sue her,” he said. Turning to you, he sighed. “We’re changing your number again.”

“D, come on, it’s not like-”

“I don’t care,” he said, peering down to admire his daughter. “She clearly hasn’t gotten the message that you don’t want anything to do with her.” He pointed his focus back to Branson. “Fight it. Do what you can.”

“Got it,” the guard said, and whisked himself away.

It’s quiet for a moment before Yoongi said, “Why are you defending her?”

“I’m not defending her,” you said, and he raised a brow, giving you a funny look. “It’s just… Super annoying to give everyone a new phone number for the third time.” Both your lips turn up into a smile. “Sue the bitch, I don’t care, D.” Yoongi laughs. “Just don’t make me change my number again, I beg of you.”

“Alright,” he said. “No new number. BUT!” His raised volume made your daughter stir. “One more thing happens, you’re changing it.” The little one lifted her head, blinking a few times before she grinned at her father.

“Fine,” you whispered, not that he was paying attention anymore anyway. Your daughter took his full focus, and all of his kisses.

It seemed silly to just now realize that today was something of a confirmation of the last eight years. Living your life, being a secret to millions of others, while you and the people you cared most about knew, was nice, and secure, and peaceful. But, now… Now that everyone knew, the peace grew. It swallowed you whole, engulfing you and your family with stability and ease.

No more accidental reveals. No more false stories. No more rumors the company had to shut down. No more hiding.

You were absolutely free, and for now, that was everything.

thank you for reading, I hope you’ve enjoyed this piece!

feedback is always greatly appreciated & helps artists immensely. we also all love messages & the audience’s input, opinions, and ideas.

leave me some here! <3

support my art here! <3

vegas tags <3 (i realize on the last post i missed some of you, i'm so sorry.) <3

@jewelrnicorn @yoongisducky @all-american-fangirl @funkylittlebisexuall @ahewlett @damn-u-min-yoongi @my-dark-happy-place

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dreikit-23 · 9 months

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There is a Rampant and Vicious Cycle in the Online Left That Needs to Be Addressed

Every leftist needs to understand that not every proclaimed leftist is a safe person or one that is acting in good faith. Many people in this sphere --even if they are minorities themselves-- are Abusers. Let me be clear: they are Abusers REGARDLESS of --NOT because of-- them being a minority. Despite this, many of them have weaponized their standing as a minority in order to get away with their behavior and achieve what they see as some form of power and control over others. Let me be clear. I am referring to those that:

Manipulate and lie about pressing situations (especially when it's to harm another person or demographic)

Excessively use idpol to either elevate themselves to holier than thou levels ("listen to ___ people but only when it's something I agree with, which just so happens to devolve from constructive change to making others grovel and plead forgiveness endlessly before me") or belittle others (ie their skin color, gender, queerness, disability, neurodivergence, religion, age, etc.) in order to discount their point or not treat them as equal human beings; yes, even if their skin tone is white or if they are men, abuse does not have to be backed up by systemic issues in order to be abusive or at the very least harmful (sidenote: this does not apply to people talking about their experiences as a minority that is otherwise not experienced or understood by others, the issue I'm pointing out is when it's twisted to cover everything not directly tied to their identity and proclaim themselves as the only ones allowed to be the voice of reason, therefore shutting up everyone else and to avoid any constructive criticism or discussion)

Act on rage and at times even trauma to bring forth harmful ideals (ex: truly hating every person of a demographic, wishing for a genocide, making actual death or rape threats towards someone or a group, conversion, etc)(sidenote: I'm not discounting those that have trauma and even have harmful thoughts, just please seek help and understand that it is not healthy nor sustainable to paint or alter reality to be in line with what trauma makes you believe)

Actively try to get others they don't agree with to either permanently leave the internet or commit suicide and even celebrate when either happens

Excessively test others on their "purity" on unachievable standards to the detriment of everyone and Leftism as a whole (purity culture is fueled by christian culture in order to disguise doomerism, accepting defeat when change is not possible, of which is the very thing that will kill leftism)

Infight over weird made up issues (remember how divide and conquer is a war strategy? To split hairs and discount others for non-issues is to do the work of conservatives and nazis for them)

Shut down people or discussions over minor slights such as using an incorrect word/phrasing or any numerous perceived mistakes (example I've seen here: berating a person with schizophrenia (or a trans person or any other minority) for using a derogatory term for themselves when they're talking about how everyone else is speaking over them and not listening), ignoring the hypocrisy or not taking into account any number of mundane causes such as non-native english speakers, generational gaps, being in the process of learning (either recovering from harmful beliefs or simple ignorance), using those terms to prove a point (such as that example I mentioned above), neurodivergence, etc.

Not letting others talk about their experiences of oppression when those experiences don't match theirs, instead opting to call those people bigoted for contrived reasons

A rejection of nuance, intersectionalism, and even reality to better suit their goals (ex: claiming that every trans man benefits from the patriarchy and can never experience misogyny)

Misuse of therapy speak and terminology in order to water down those terms and render them near meaningless so they can weaponize them under the pretense of their original use (ex: gaslighting), or to cut off any need to connect or sympathize with other human beings and instead speak to them like a PR message (refer to this video by Zena and Poppy for reference)

They never speak on true leftist/progressive ideals or positive change, they only engage in destructive discourse or any behavior listed above

Making baseless dangerous accusations towards someone they don't like. Before you go harr harr you're doing that, I'm not calling out any specific person and am merely listing dangerous behaviors I've seen people here act out. What I am referring to are when someone casually calls someone specific a predator (or whatever else) with absolutely zero proof and expecting everyone to believe them no questions asked. This has been shown to ruin people's lives

Any other similar behaviors not included in this list (as well as classic logical fallacies), but what I've mentioned above should paint you a good picture

Every example I've pointed out were REAL EVENTS I've seen from people that proclaim themselves as leftists or even just progressive, and sometimes are even minorities themselves (some even infight against their own communities using the behaviors listed above, often out of internalized bigotry)(an example of a real event that happened here recently were when several people were making rape threats towards a trans man by the username of @a-faggot-with-opinions). To be blunt, I'm pointing out exclusionism in practically every form, asexual discourse, transandrophobia, TERFs/radfems, TEHMs, tankies, "cornbreadtube", nationalists and ethnonationalists, and all else I don't have the terminology for For many of the people that fall under that bullet list I would hesitate to even refer to them as leftist or progressive, as they never seem to actually show they act on it or even believe in it, only making an appearance in those communities for their own destructive personal gain; hell, often times they have ideals that directly go against what those communities stand for! Examples include TERFs with white supremacist beliefs, transandrophobes that are misogynistic, ethnonationalists that are antisemitic, puritans that are ableist, the list goes on forever. Once you know what to look for, you can see the hidden or overt bigotry behind their false "progressive" statements

No one is infallible No one is better than everyone else You are not immune to propaganda No one is immune from behaving abusively

These people are dangerous, whether they actually qualify as abusers --as I've been referring to them as such for brevity and impact-- or are people that are engaging in hurtful or fully abusive behavior (use this paragraph as a disclaimer, I of course can't know if someone is an abuser in real life unless there is documented evidence of such). Regardless, they are hurting the left and are letting the right win

If you see any of these behaviors either 1) take caution if you're unsure, 2) block them, or 3) if you have the fortitude, call them out. Either way, use your best judgement and think for yourself (or discuss with good faith leftists if you're uncertain). And remember, often times (albeit not always) they are actually fully aware of their disgusting behavior and are choosing to act maliciously, not ignorantly.

Stay safe, log off, do what you can to support your local community and leftism as a whole, don't let these people distract from the real issues at hand. Have empathy, if you don't have empathy then act in compassion, if you don't or refuse to do either please do not engage in politics. Misanthropy has no place in matters concerning humanity.

And remember: we have to stand together in unity so we can create a better future for all

#politics #leftism #online left #discourse #tw abuse #tw rape mention #tw genocide mention #tw bigotry #racism #transphobia #transandrophobia #purity culture #vent #this goes for several issues I haven't mentioned whether due to a lack of proper wordage or expertise due to not being part of those groups #I'm a non-native english speaker who is autistic be aware of that if I do misphrase something #Poppy and Zena: Wholesome Degenerates is an excellent youtube channel please check them out #if anyone argues here in bad faith feel free to use this post as a free block list #had so much to say but now I can get back to shitposting les go

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elonomhblog · 25 days

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the effect of what (and how) you eat

okay, this is a big topic. and so this is a long post. i'm going to be going over the effect of what you eat and why it's important to think about what foods you are consuming. don't worry! i do my research-- at the end of the post will be a few resources, and i'll show where i've gotten my information.

lots of dietary advice is available over the internet, but often the people absorbing the information do not understand the why. knowing where your information is coming from,, and not believing everything you read online is key to actually maintaining a good, healthy diet.

before you read: TRIGGER WARNING THERE IS MENTION OF EATING DISORDERS,,

let's start with this: like everything in this age, food is a double-edged sword. overconsumption and underconsumption can both kill you. what you eat; how you eat--it can help or hinder whatever your goals may be.

here's the effect/s: the connection between diet and mental health is profound. while we’ve long understood that diet plays a crucial role in overall health, emerging research in the field of nutritional psychiatry sheds light on how what we eat directly impacts our emotional well-being and mental state.

the brain-gut connection: the gut is closely linked to the brain. trillions of living microbes in our gut have essential functions, including synthesizing neurotransmitters. these neurotransmitters send chemical messages to the brain, regulating sleep, pain, appetite, mood, and emotions.

to improve your gut health, here's what you can do:

by eating a varied diet that includes fruits, vegetables, whole grains, nuts and seeds, essential nutrients are provided which feeds the beneficial bacteria in the gut. high fibre foods promote gut health by supporting good bacteria.

fermented foods, such as yogurt, kefir, sauerkraut, kimchi, and miso are rich in probiotics—live beneficial bacteria that boost gut health. kombucha (a fermented tea) is another option.

avoiding reducing processed foods can reduce the diversity of good bacteria in your gut. when i say processed foods, i'm referring to ultra-processed foods, for example, fried foods and frozen meals. they may be easy and cheap, but they include preservatives, artificial colouring, chemical flavouring and texturing agents. all of which our bodies are not made to consume. it's ignorant to tell you to avoid processed foods at all costs. that's not realistic, and a horrible mindset. instead, you should manage your intake. enjoy treats every now and then and don't punish yourself for it.

hydration is key to a healthy gut. water supports digestion and nutrient absorption.

stress management, eating well and exercise can also help your gut microbiome's health.

by having a healthy gut microbiome, you are helping your body to have lower chronic inflammation, have regular bowel movements and more effectively absorb nutrients. therefore, you will have a stronger immune system, have clearer skin and support your digestion and metabolism.

why eating protein matters: proteins are made of amino acids, which serve as the fundamental building blocks for various structures in our bodies. these amino acids are essential for forming enzymes, hormones, tissues, and DNA. protein is vital in maintaining and building muscle mass. when activities like strength training and physical exercise are engaged in, protein helps build and repair the muscles.

hemoglobin, a protein in our red blood cells, transports oxygen from our lungs to other tissues. without adequate protein, oxygen delivery would be compromised. antibodies, which defend against infections, are made of proteins. a well-functioning immune system relies on sufficient protein intake. collagen, a protein, maintains the integrity of our skin, hair, and nails. adequate protein supports healthy skin elasticity and wound healing.

the recommended dietary intake for protein relies on factors such as age, weight, height, gender, activity and overall health. remember that individual needs can vary, so consulting with a healthcare provider or registered dietitian is advisable to determine your specific protein requirements.

many diets exist that cut out entire macronutrients (keto for example) but that is not the way. each macronutrient has great importance in helping the body function.

carbohydrates are the body's (including the brain) preferred energy source. they enable muscle contraction during exercise and even at rest. carbs maintain body temperature, support heart function, and aid digestion.

the keto diet comes from the belief that when carbohydrates are not providing energy (are not being consumed), the body will use reserved energy stored in lipids (fat). while this is true, this diet is not maintainable-- it throws the body out of whack, storing more energy to maintain homeostasis.

fats provide energy and are essential for hormone production. they contribute to cell growth, brain health and vitamin absorption.

our brain is composed of ~60% fat. fats are essential for neurotransmitter production, affecting mood, cognition, and hormonal signalling. cholesterol, often associated with heart health, is a precursor for steroid hormones (testosterone, estrogen, progesterone). without adequate cholesterol, our body cannot produce these essential hormones.

effects of diet on mood: firstly, going long periods without eating can cause a drop in blood sugar levels, leading to tiredness and irritability. secondly, consuming excessive amounts of food can make you feel tired and lethargic.

choosing the right carbohydrates can help maintain blood sugar levels. our brain primarily runs on glucose (obtained from carbohydrate-rich foods). you can opt for slow-release carbohydrates to maintain steady energy levels. slow-release carbohydrates (a.k.a low GI food) provide a more sustained and gradual release of energy compared to other carbohydrates. examples include fruits, vegetables, whole grains (grainy bread, brown rice, oats) and sweet potatoes. high GI foods rapidly spike blood sugar levels due to their quick digestion and absorption.

going too long without eating can lead to low blood sugar levels, resulting in irritability and fatigue. overeating to discomfort can also leave you feeling tired and lethargic. consistent, moderate-sized meals help maintain stable blood sugar levels and promote an even mood.

i know, overeating is an issue that one cannot simply 'turn off'. it's important to know the psychology, and if you struggle with it--please talk to a health professional.

here is what i can tell you about overeating:

overeating is typically a learned behaviour and habit. certain foods are associated with pleasure and reward. when enticing food is encountered, we engage in eating behaviour and immediately experience pleasure. this reinforces the habit, making it challenging to change.

overeating may be serving as a coping mechanism for emotions. when feelings of sadness, disappointment, frustration, or even joy arise, someone may turn to food. emotional eating provides temporary relief, reinforcing the behaviour.

the first delicious bite triggers pleasure, satiates our appetite, and improves our emotional state. our memory associates this reward process with eating, leading us to continually seek that pleasure. this is due to immediate reward.

people with eating disorders may disregard their health, body, body image and lifestyle goals. they use food as a way to punish themselves and gain control over their life. restrictive eating disorders can lead to 'binging behaviour'. bingeing serves as a way to numb emotions. anxiety, stress, and depression can trigger binge behaviours. consuming certain foods or substances (like junk food or alcohol) releases dopamine, the “feel-good” neurotransmitter. this chemical rush can lead to physical addiction, reinforcing bingeing. a culture (unfortunately which is abundant in the world today) that emphasizes consumption as a measure of worth can contribute to bingeing. messages about thinness, drinking, and material possessions can drive these behaviours.

i hate that i am having to say this but alcoholism is bad. and caffeine addiction is bad. in no way is harming your health aesthetic or 'a vibe'.

limiting caffeine and alcohol can also improve mood. again, i'd like to stress that there is never going to be one perfect diet, and allowing yourself to enjoy whatever food you like is perfectly fine- as long as you are doing so in moderation.

everything is a balance.

resources/further reading, to end: Fat Requirements For Optimal Hormonal Health - Clean HealthHow Dietary Fat Benefits Hormones - Women's International Pharmacy (womensinternational.com) The truth about fats: the good, the bad, and the in-between - Harvard HealthDietary fats | healthdirectMacronutrients: Definition, importance, and food sources (medicalnewstoday.com)Know Your Macros-Why Macronutrients Are Key to Healthy Eating | Cedars-SinaiWhy the Proper Balance of Macronutrients is Vital for Good Health - Functional Diagnostic Nutrition What Is Protein & Why Do You Need It? (eatingwell.com)Protein: Why Your Body Needs It (webmd.com)Protein | The Nutrition Source | Harvard T.H. Chan School of Public HealthBinge-Eating Disorder (Compulsive Overeating) | Psychology Today AustraliaThe Psychology Behind Binge-Watching | PsychregBingeing: Why It Happens and What You Can Do About It (greatist.com) Understanding Overeating: The Psychology Behind It - Listen-HardWhy stress causes people to overeat - Harvard HealthThe Truth About Overeating | Psychology TodaySlow-release carbs list (medicalnewstoday.com)Why understanding carbs (and how to count them) matters | Diabetes UK Food and your mood - Better Health ChannelHow food can affect your mood | Nutrition AustraliaStress-related stomach pain: When to see a doctor - UChicago MedicineWhat Is Gut Health? A Comprehensive Guide to Digestive Wellness | U.S. News (usnews.com)Why Gut Health Matters More Than You Think | Well.Org Probiotics: What They Are, Benefits & Side Effects (clevelandclinic.org)Probiotics: What You Need To Know | NCCIH (nih.gov)What should I eat for a healthy gut? - BBC FoodLet’s Eat: How Diet Influences the Brain (brainfacts.org)

i know the fact that the resources are one big block may be annoying, but i don't have the commitment to in text reference lmao. hours of research and writing for a blog post, yes, but in text referencing is just too far.

i hope you learnt something

❤️joanne

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