#(and I’m still reclaiming myself)

[mihrsuri]

I think fathers day + period arrival imminent feelings should be illegal actually.

[campirebitesarchive]

I just booked my tattoo and I could cry of happiness

[genderkoolaid]

Tranny. Many people don’t know the history of the word, they assume it was an assigned hate term or slur along the lines of the “n” word. That’s not how it happened. Tranny was invented by us in Sydney, Australia in the 1970s where drag was a big deal, and still the best drag shows ever are in Sydney, Australia – they’re amazing. So a lot of trans-identified women who were assigned male at birth did drag, that’s how you made your living. And so they were transsexuals, transvestites, drag queens, and they were all doing drag to make money. They all bickered amongst each other who is better than who, “Well the drag queens are better,” “No, the transsexuals are better.” “You are all freaks, we’re better.” And on and on and on. But they worked together and they were family together, so they came up with a word that would say family and that was tranny. In Australia they do the diminutive, that’s how they come up with words. So tranny. I learned the word in the mid-1980s, late 1980s from my drag mom in San Francisco, Doris Fish, who was the city’s preeminent drag queen and she’d come from Sydney. And she schooled me in this word tranny, she said, “This way it means we’re family, darling.” “Thank you mama.” [...] So we used it and we were trannies together. And F to M was just beginning to start, the trans men were just beginning to become visible, Lou Sullivan was a neighbor of mine around the corner, and he was the first big out trans man, wrote his book. So trans men and cross dressers . . . cross dressers were also family. Transsexuals, we were all trannies and that felt good. That got into the sex industry and became a genre – there was tranny porn, there were tranny sex workers – chicks with dicks, she-males. [...] And, my only guess is that people who . . . because the only way they would have found out about the word is if they were watching tranny porn or having been with a tranny sex worker and then hated themselves so much that they turned it into a curse word. So it’s not really technically correct to say we’re reclaiming a word – it was always ours. So, many people mistake the word for the hatred behind the word and, in my generation, and I’m sure in future generations of trans people, tranny is going to be a radicalized, sexualized identity of trans in the same way that faggot is a prideful identity in the gay male community – not all gay men are faggots, but those who are are proudly fags and those who are dykes are proudly dykes within the lesbian community, trannies are proudly tranny within the transgender community. Does that mean we can’t call ourselves that because some trans woman does not want to be called a tranny? No. I’m going to keep calling myself a tranny. To the trans woman who gets called tranny, I’m sorry – as soon as . . . you’ve got to look at why you’re getting called tranny and if you don’t pass, you’re going to be read as a transgender person and then you fall back on the cultural view of trans folk which is freak, disgusting, not worth living, we can hurt you. It has nothing to do with the word, it has everything to do with the cultural attitude. So the word has stirred up a shit storm, but it’s not the word.

— Kate Bornstein on the word "tranny" in this oral history from the Digital Transgender Archive

[lnfours]

* ✰. — first place serotonin | l.n

summary: your best friend just won the miami grand prix. and what better way to celebrate then telling you he’s in love with you?

warnings: friends to lovers!au (..shocker), overall happiness and fun times, language, confessions, also a bit rushed because i wanted to get something out to you all asap 🧡 happy lando first win!! here’s to many more!

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

everyone around you was silent. watching the gap between lando and max grow higher and higher with each passing second. your nerves were shot, anxiously waiting for either lando to cross the finish line in first or for max to inevitably overtake the boy in papaya and reclaim first as his.

but he didn’t. lando held on, everyone cheering and celebrating as he crossed the line in first place. winning his first ever grand prix, a dream that sometimes felt impossible to achieve, now unfolding before everyone’s eyes.

aarav and ria pulled you into a hug, the three of you laughing and cheering before aarav spoke, “c’mon! let’s go!”

the three of you headed towards the paddock, laughing and joining the sea of papaya. the three of you made your way into the crowd. everyone let the three of you towards the front, just in time to see him place his helmet on the ground before he started to run over.

he pulled everyone into hugs, but when it got to you, he felt a wave of something different. the way you looked celebrating him and his win, the way your smile lit up your entire face, the way you ignored the happy tears rolling down your cheeks. he was so in love with you, he couldn’t take it anymore.

“c’mere!” he smiled, you opened your arms, fully expecting a hug. but when he lifted you off the ground and over the barrier, you couldn’t help but squeal. once your feet were placed back onto the ground, the sounds of the mclaren team whistling towards the two of you teasingly was drowned out by how close he was.

he smiled softly down at you, “i had this whole thing planned, but right now seems like a better idea, and i don’t know if that’s because of the adrenaline or what but i just can’t keep this to myself anymore,” he started, “but i’m so fucking in love with you, y/n. i always have been, and i don’t want to pretend like i’m not anymore.”

you smiled at the boy dressed in papaya, shaking your head and laughing softly, “i’m tired of pretending like i’m not in love with you, too.”

that was all he needed to hear before he was leaning down and pressing his lips to yours. everyone around you cheering and yelling excitedly, happiness radiating through the crowd. you smiled against his lips, uncaring of the cameras around you capturing the moment because the only thing you had your mind on was the man in front of you.

you pulled away and happily pulled him into another hug, head nuzzled in his neck. you didn’t care about how damp he was, drenched in sweat. the way this moment felt was definitely going to be engraved into your brain for a lifetime.

“i’m so proud of you,” you smiled, pulling away from the hug. your moment was cut short by andrea and zak yelling his name, telling him that it was time to head up to the podium. he turned back around to face you, almost like he was asking if it was okay if he went.

you nodded your head, “i’ll be here when you get back.”

he smiled, leaning in and pressing one more kiss to your cheek before walking backwards, still facing you as he called back to you, “got any plans tonight!?”

you laughed, shaking your head, “is this you asking me on a date?!”

“will you say yes if it is?!”

“definitely, yes!”

and with that he smiled, turning around to walk with andrea to head up to the podium. but not without one more glance your way.

aarav and ria were smiling, happy that their friends had finally caved in and realized that you both were meant to be.

everyone found their places to watch the podium celebration. you smiled and cheered happily as he took the top step for the first time, and certainly not his last.

he looked down at the crowd under him, his eyes only searching for one person. and when they found you, he smiled. a smile so bright it made your heart clench before you watched the way his mouth moved to silently say those three words.

‘i love you’.

[cranberryjuice-posts]

please do clarisse la rue x aphrodite reader who’s gorgeous and glowing and short like a ball of sunshine

- opposites attract -

Pairings - Clarisse La Rue x Fem! Aphrodite! Reader

An - ive gotta rewrite by Abby series bc it’s not going the way I want it 😭 I wasn’t really sure exactly what to write so I hope this is good 🧍‍♀️🧍‍♀️

Everyone at camphalf blood knew who you were. Not for negative reasons however. Being a daughter of Aphrodite not only boosted your social status but it was also your actions.

The first to volunteer to help when the infirmary was low on staff, ready to take on any chore from helping run the camp store to labor jobs that required you to get dirty. Even when the saytrs felt as though they were being ignored by the demigods you helped give them their voice.

So when you of all people started dating clarisse the most intimidating person at camp it was a bit of a culture shock. Though with you sweet and kind nature you seemingly took the most aggressive cabin and somehow made them slightly calmer.

Though when people tried to approach clarisse about you her former aggressiveness would come back. Most things that involved you got her heated. The recent endeavor being you both Separated for the weeks capture the flag game.

“No you’re on my team it’s not for discussion” clarisse spoke as if she knew it was fact, her arms crossed and her armor on you couldn’t help but fall back in love with her.

“But it is for discussion because I’m not” you chuckled softly, a gentle smile crossing your features. “I’ll be fine Claire I’m not a child”

“I’m aware of that but what if someone on my team hurts you? Or what if you get hurt by one of our traps I don’t like not being able to protect you” she placed her hands on her hips trying to open her stance to you.

“Aww” you gave a playful frown tucking a loose curl behind her ear. Placing both hands on her cheeks you gave them a small squeeze. “I’m ok, besides I have charmspeak remember I know how to handle myself”

Her shifting weight and the look of annoyance on her face all showed she did care about you deep down, and as much as people wanted to Deny it clarisse was yours just as much as you were hers. “I’ll see you after the game pretty” stepping on your tippy toes you gave her a kiss.

Turning to start walking away clarisse began yelling instructions to you. “Wait! Make sure your breast plate is tight— oh! And be sure to wear a helmet an—-“

“I got it clarisse!” You laughed back at her, giving her a final wave.

——-

The games had already began with you being in charge of reclaiming the flag with Luke and his team.

Stepping through the forest you carefully looked around worried that maybe someone would jump out. Which like it was a movie happened. Red team kids running out with blades swinging. Blue team defending themselves and you mentally scolding yourself for not wearing enough armor.

Before you even realized it you had a deep cut in your calf. Landing on the ground with a cry of pain you looked back instantly having to dodge the falling camper.

“You good!” Luke shouted helping you up, limping some you found your balance breathlessly nodding. The red team currently had either been knocked to the ground or retreated in fear.

“The flags up ahead.. behind Zeus’s fist if I’m correct” you took a stance against a tree, using it as support. “I’m gonna stay here”

“You’re sure you’re fine” he asked cautiously. Even though luke knew clarisse couldn’t touch him he still didn’t want to hear her mouth afterwards.

You nodded giving him a semi confident look. “Just go” You chuckled sending him off.

Though it was quiet for a while you heard a crying like sound. Confused you pushed off the tree and started limping towards the noise. Through the trees and down to the creek you saw a hurt hell hound.

Most times you would of killed a monster without hesitation but this time… this time she wasn’t a monster. It seemed crazy but this hell hound almost seemed domesticated.

Slowly walking towards her You knelt down beside the dog. At first she bared her teeth at you acting as though you wanted to hurt her, but once she realized you meant no harm she pressed her snout against you.

Once gaining her trust you began to examine her leg. Realizing it was broken you made the conscious decision to quickly leave to grab some sticks for a splint. Petting the hound softly you got up limping away some.

The ground was filled with a multitude of twigs though finding your two heafty pieces of wood was easy. The sound of the conch and a campers scream filled your ears, nearly running back to the creek you saw about all of the kids from the two teams with clarisse and Luke in the creek, their weapons aimed at the hound that looked as tough she was going to attack.

“Stop! Oh my gods stop!” You screamed running in-front of her causing clarisse to dodge to the side and roll fully into the creek.

“Move!” She shouted. The other campers looking equally confused as you shouted a no back at her. “Are You insane?! Don’t go near it” clarisse scrambled out the water to quickly grab your arm.

You turned around trying to pull free only to be unsuccessful. The tension around you made you want to cry but right now isn’t the time. “I need you to trust me… please” you practically begged.

She looked you up and down with a look of worry before gently letting you go. Without another thought you knelt down to the dog, ripping your shirt in half exposing your stomach and began wrapping the hounds broken hind.

The dog was huge, given that she was a monster she was bigger than even a Doberman and beefier than a pit but that didn’t mean she was aggressive.

A few of the other councilors walked down to the water with Chiron standing on a rock near by. “She’s harmless!” You shouted trying to get the defensive campers to become calm. “See! If she wanted to hurt anyone she would of!”

Your urgency only convinced maybe a handful of kids. “It’s a monster.” Clarisse scoffed.

“Yet she didn’t try to bite me when I put her leg into a splint” You corrected. The hound nudged her head into your leg in a comforting way, trying to get your hand to begin to pet her.

Annabeth took a step forward, extending a hand the hound sniffed her before licking up her arm. “Seems harmless to me” the wise girl shrugged.

Chiron made his way down looking across the water and holding a hand up signaling for every camper to relax. “This game is dismissed. Grover summon the Cloven council, get them to set up a meeting so we can figure out what to do for the hound, and for you.. keep her with you until we have a plan”

———

The following week camp halfblood had a new pet. A hellhound you named Rosie.

Sitting with clarisse by the lake letting the water run over your legs from the docs. I’m the distance you saw Rosie swimming around enjoying playing with the water naiads.

“How did you know she wasn’t ruthless” clarisse asked turning her head to look at you.

“I guess the same way I knew you weren’t as mean as everyone assumes. It’s your aura, Rosie’s was soft and hurt begging for any form of kindness” you turned looking at her. The sun light casted across clarisses features illuminating her eyes and skin. “Your so beautiful” you smiled leaning over and softly kissing her

Clarisse smiled wide returning the kiss. She pulled away only keeping her hand on the side of your face. “What did I do to deserve someone like you”

You shrugged your shoulders happily. “Working out helped”

She pulled away with a playful attitude. Causing you to laugh and reach out to her once more.

[zebulontheplanet]

The other day, I got yet another person telling me to use nonspeaking, since I have literacy skills and can type my words.

I realize the privilege I have over those who are unable, or not allowed. I realize that my experience of becoming nonverbal later in life is a privilege because I’m able to use my skills from before and use them in such a way that makes me able to communicate. That allows me to express my thoughts, feelings, and wants. That allows me to get my words out in a new way. That allows me to express myself in a way that society deems appropriate. I am lucky, and privileged for that. I realize that privilege.

That does not however mean that someone can tell me the language that I can use for myself. That does not mean I cannot use nonverbal for myself. That does not mean that I can’t reclaim it, that I can’t relate to it. That I, as a person unable to speak with an intellectual disability, can’t use a word that was marked for “people like me” people unable to speak who are intellectually disabled.

The history of nonspeaking is still there. It was still made to separate themselves from those who are intellectually and cognitively disabled. The history still rages through the community. Still worded in bold letters saying “nonspeaking doesn’t mean intellectually disabled”

And yet, sometimes it does. And so, I reclaim the word nonverbal. If you want to be separated from me then fine. Be separate from me. Use your word, I’ll use mine. I’ll stay here with my friends, with my intellectually disabled people, with them. Because I can.

The other day, I had a fight with a nonspeaking person. They said they don’t use nonverbal because it implies that you’re intellectually disabled. Which it doesn’t which it doesn’t do. It is another word for those who do not speak all the time. It is not a word just for the intellectually disabled, although some people believe so. That person said that it is ok to separate yourself from those who are intellectually disabled. That it is ok to not want to be associated with them. I don’t think that people realize the harm of separating yourself from a whole group of people. A marginalized group. A group that is constantly talked over, that is constantly thrown under the bus. It is HARMFUL to separate yourself from a whole group of people. They tried to justify it, saying they don’t want to be associated with intellectually disabled people because it’s been assumed that they are intellectually disabled. And fine, no one should assume. But why is it so bad? Why is it so bad to be assumed to be intellectually disabled? Why is it worse than being assumed of having another disorder? Why is it only the quote on quote “bad disorders” that are so terrible. That are outright horrible? Why is that? It is not terrible to be assumed. Simply correct, and move on with your day. Fight against the stigma. Fight against the assumptions. Not the group. Not the group that has been working so hard to be heard and listened too.

Stop fighting against intellectually disabled people. Fight with them, not against them.

[chronicallycouchbound]

Intelligence Doesn't Equal Morality

Intellect is rooted in ableist systems and stupidity and intelligence are pointless social constructs that don't relate to morals or character.

I try to be a pretty good person, I fight for human rights, I regularly engage in mutual aid, and I care for my community. I try to do the right thing and support causes I care about and make positive changes in the world.

But I also am not very smart. I have several neurodevelopmental disorders, as well as cognitive disabilities. I can’t do simple, basic math, it’s hard for me to remember facts or algorithms, I rely entirely on spellcheck and speech-to-text to write, I failed many classes in high school and I barely passed with a low GPA, I had low pSAT scores and I never took the SATs. I moved around a lot all through school starting in third grade, and I missed a lot of basic fundamentals in learning (like how to do division and multiplication) so when I went to a different school they had already passed it and expected me to know. After my TBI, I could barely read AFTER I was cleared from my “concussion” symptoms because letters and words would flip around and I’d get headaches. Which still happens sometimes.

A lot of people see me as smart because I've learned a lot of academic language and can formulate thoughts into cohesive posts. But I lack a lot of necessary skills and rely on my caretakers to assist me. Things like budgeting and planning are extremely difficult for me. If I need to do simple addition or subtraction, even with a calculator, I quickly get confused and struggle. I forget basic information about myself all the time, let alone other subjects. I'm talking, has to check my ID for my birthday type confused. Doesn't know my name or address or what year it is confused. It happens daily, sometimes multiple times a day. Being able to type out posts like this often takes weeks and many adaptive tools to get there. Focusing is extremely difficult on many fronts, severe chronic pain, ADHD, dissociation, fatigue, migraines, and TBI, are just some of the contributing factors. I struggle daily with many things because of my lack of intellect.

I’m also privileged in the fact that I had some access to education as a homeless youth, that I had some supports in place to help me (towards the end of school), that I was somewhat able-bodied at the time and could walk or bike to and from school when the school system didn’t provide transportation. I was fortunate to have a chance to succeed, and I’m proud that I graduated high school because it was a difficult task for me, and others often aren’t offered that chance or get accommodations. I almost didn’t and I dropped out many times before graduation. I passed on sheer luck and what little privileges I had. 

That all being said, me being stupid (reclaiming it here) doesn't make me a bad person. I don't hurt people because I can't do math. I may mess up things or get confused but it doesn't make me want to harm others.

We often (wrongfully) equate morals with intellect. Being ‘stupid’, ‘dumb’, or an ‘idiot’ doesn’t automatically make someone a bad person. Plenty of evil, awful, and abusive people are extremely intelligent. 

I see this most notably with people advocating for IQ tests to be able to vote. Often from left-leaning people, in hopes it'll make the right (that they view as unintelligent), unable to vote. The reality is, it just hurts some of our most vulnerable members of the community while not actively doing anything to restrict some of the most dangerous members of our community-- those who know what they're doing to harm others and deliberately doing so. My voice matters, and I speak up against injustice and participate in dismantling oppressive systems. Taking away my right to vote won't make the right stop oppressing minorities (which also puts a lot of faith into the two-party voting system, which is a post for another day).

Additionally, legislative measures that discriminate against intellectually disabled people such as IQ tests for voting are also rooted in racism and classism. 

Yes, education can be a vital tool when it comes to addressing discrimination and creating safer communities. But the kind of education that is measured with an IQ test (or any test) isn't the same. Building compassion and caring for others can (and should) happen at any IQ level. We can all practice this, we can all participate.

It harms our communities and stagnates our progress when we equate intelligence with high morals.

[kkami-writes]

waiting for us — chapter thirty seven. laser tag cw. derogatory language/slurs. wc 701 + 4 ss a/n. I do want to be clear that I am part of the lgbt+ community and have been called these things which of course isn't like? an excuse to say that like I can say it? though I think people should be able to reclaim their slurs but. ANYWAY the point is, I have censored it but if it makes people uncomfy, I can fully censor!!

After Felix had stopped pouting he had showered you in compliments, genuinely impressed at how you were able to get the plushy in two tries. He pretends to bow down to you.

“All hail the claw queen!!!!” You snort at his silliness before trying to pull him up, hoping no one was watching the two of you.

“Oh my god, stop it!! Lix!”

“What?? I’m just giving my respects to my new queen,” Your eyes roll playfully, nudging him softly.

“So, what should we name our son?” You question as you point to the duckling plushy he was holding. Honestly? It reminded you of the pretty boy.

Felix on the other hand was absolutely melting on the inside. The fact that you had called the plush “our” son. Why were you so adorable? He could feel himself falling more in love with you, every second he spent with you.

He clears his throat. “What about bbokari?”

“As in…yongbokkie?” A sly grin tugs at your lips.

Felix groans. “Who told you??!”

A giggle falls from your lips. “Minho let it slip,”

“Minho??? I expected Jisung or Hyunjin at least. They have big mouths. In more ways than one” Pink dusts your cheeks as you push the boy who only laughs at your shyness.

“Bbokari is cute though. I love it,” Felix just gives you that breathtaking smile.

“Oh!” Felix exclaims, pointing over towards the back of the arcade. “Look, they have laser tag. You down for a round?”

“It’s been forever since I’ve played. I’m down,” You nod, the two of you starting to make your way over there.

“Shall we make a wager?” You squint at Felix.

“What kind of wager?”

“Loser buys ice cream?”

“Oh you are SO on,”

And that’s how you find yourself in the dark arena, neon lights lining the floor as your only source of light. You were slightly directionally challenged so the maze like turns has made you very lost but you were still on guard, making sure to stay far away from Felix. It was just the two of you, trying to hunt each other down, taking your bet very seriously.

You’re hidden behind a wall, peaking your head out to see if you can catch a glimpse of his now raven hair. When the coast is clear you take a step to move to a new location, but a hand wraps around your wrist and pulls you back, pushing you up against the wall. Even though you were only a few inches shorter than the boy, you had felt so small under his gaze. Felilx has his hand slightly above your head, effectively caging you in.

He smirks down at you and you hate how attractive he looks under the neon lights.

“Well, well, well. Seems I’ve caught myself a pretty girl,” He hums, hand coming down to twirl a strand of your hair around his fingers. Felix’s grin becomes more cocky, canines peaking past his lips. “Give me a good reason why I shouldn’t shoot you right now,”

“Because I’m cute?”

“Hmm, that is a good answer…but is it good enough?” He pretends to think about it, but you take the chance while he’s momentarily distracted. You lean up to press your lips to his and Felix completely freezes, eyes comically wide. Before he can even consider kissing you back you’re tilting your gun, that’s been in your other hand, up so you can shoot him. His vest vibrates to signal that he’s been hit.

“Bye, bye~” You singsong before ducking under his arm and running away. This finally seems to pull him out of his stupor as he yells out after you.

“Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaait!! At least let me kiss you back!” Felix wails, chasing after you.

In the end Felix still wins but refuses to let you pay for ice cream and doesn’t give you a chance to argue.

The poor boy has been pouting the whole time about not being able to kiss you until you had let him actually kiss you. And perhaps that lead to the two of you making out in the backseat of his car.

But, you’d never kiss and tell. (But Felix certainly did).

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[mushroominaforest]

IT HAS BEEN DONE

Yeah I made myself cry with this one

Saint gets to be happy :’)

At first I thought I wouldn’t have Saint wear earrings again because they never wanted them in the first place, but then something something reclaiming something forced on you by a controlling/abusive parent and using it as a way to express yourself and now I’m crying

They just look so happy idk man

ANYWAYS not to be emotional or anything lol uhhhhh yeah their new earrings were made out of lizard teeth by Arti (short for Artist I guess since she can make jewlery now.) Having earrings that aren’t like super fancy or pretty sort of represents that Saint doesn’t have to be perfect anymore. Currently in the story even though Saint and Inv got away from their mom, Saint is still extremely anxious all the time because of how strict she was with them. They will eventually heal, they just need some time and some unconditional love, which they’ll get from their amazing sibling and eventual girlfriend (once said gf heals enough from her own trauma to have a healthy relationship lol)

[nateconnolly]

What Does the Lion Turtle Chant Mean?

A podcast episode about the spirituality of Avatar: The Last Airbender.

Transcript Preview:

Many people have told me they struggle to take Sozin’s Comet seriously because they would have killed the Fire Lord without hesitation. And, look, as far as I’m concerned — if you’re willing to kill a genocidal colonizer, good for you! Many blessings upon your journey! And the show isn’t trying to dissuade you. 

Aang is not the only voice of wisdom in Avatar. He’s not a puppet through which the text articulates its meaning. Avatar is about cultural exchange. When one character says what they think is true, that isn’t necessarily the moral of a story. That’s one voice, and the story is a conversation. So, I don’t think that Sozin’s Comet is using Aang to say “Hey, you, you, looking at the TV, you personally should never support violent revolution!” Water Tribe culture doesn’t seem to have any problem with killing on the battlefield. 

When Sokka lops off the Melon Lord’s head, there’s some very clear indications that we’re supposed to be troubled. The musical cue, Momo eating the melon, he lingering focus on Aang’s reaction … But I don’t think this scene is meant to communicate that Sokka is a bad guy. Or that soldiers are inherently bad people. I assume that Hakoda, Bato, and Tyro killed people. These figures are portrayed as admirable, and even as mentors. 

The scene in which Sokka kills the Melon Lord is there to illustrate the difference between Southern Water Tribe culture and Air Nomad culture. Sokka’s journey is about embracing and reclaiming all the parts of his culture that the Fire Nation tried to destroy. He wasn’t able to go ice dodging or to train as a wolf warrior, but he has found a way to become a strong, protective man anyways. And that does mean that he’s willing to kill or die for a cause he believes in. This scene doesn’t communicate that Sokka is a bad person. It communicates that Sokka is walking his own path, and that Aang is walking a different path. But the show doesn’t try to tell you one of them is wrong and the other is right. 

At the same time, I think we need to remember that Aang is saying something he believes. It’s not just an emotional problem for him. 

Aang gives multiple related, but different reasons not to kill the Fire Lord.

“I didn’t feel like myself.” 

The Fire Lord “is still a human being.”

Killing goes against “everything the monks taught me.”

“All life is sacred.”

In Southern Raiders, he also makes a more general claim that “violence is never the answer,” but I think that the writers had to use the word “violence” as a euphemism. In our normal usage of the word, punching somebody would be a “violent” act. Aang clearly has no problem whacking people over the head or shooting wind at them. I think this is a way of making the show more kid friendly, and that what Aang actually means is 

“[Killing] is never the answer.”

Some of these claims are about Aang as an individual. He’s saying he doesn’t feel like he, specifically, can kill someone. That it goes against the values of his culture. And some of these are universal claims. He’s saying no one should kill, not ever. 

But he also believes in a separate ethical mandate. As the Avatar, he has to protect the world. In this lifetime, that means preventing the Fire Lord from burning the Earth Kingdom. 

This is a story about moral standards, and they seem impossible to live up to. There’s no easy answer. If you believe that murder is wrong, and you believe in the duties of the Avatar, then you have a conflict of values, not just emotions. In order to understand the Buddhist themes of Sozin’s Comet, we have to understand Buddhist ideas of morality. 

This podcast episode

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Nate's short story about Buddhism

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[sweater-daddiesdumbdork]

On The Hunt: Mending The Remains

Summary- 5.4k Alpha Steve x Little One. You and Steve have started working together once more as a team, trying to meet one another halfway. Steve opens up in a vulnerable way, a first time for him.

Warnings- Steve being emotionally vulnerable.

A/N- It took a long time to get here, but I don't regret any of it. I love the journey we have been on, it was raw and heartbreaking. I appreciate all of you who have continued along with me on this. Special shoutout to @yenzys-lucky-charm for proof reading and encouraging me whenever I was doubting myself. Dividers made by the talented @firefly-graphics. Please reblog and comment if you enjoyed this chapter. It means so much to writers.

Chapter Eight / Masterlist

You woke up expecting to find Steve next to you but the bed was empty. Not cold though, when your palm reached across the mattress it was still warm from where he had been. Your senses drifted, listening all around you. 

It wasn’t quiet by any means. You had quickly learned that apartments were anything but peaceful like the little cabin by the lake. You could hear the endless voices of the building's other occupants. You sighed at the intrusion, but the smell of food coming from your apartment's kitchen had you perking up. 

There Steve was, making breakfast. And you inhaled the arousing scent of him among the smell of eggs, butter, and bacon. 

<Go jump him.> A sniggering voice and you groaned at it, pushing up to a seat and shoving off any blankets that were suddenly suffocating you. 

Chill you horny bitch. You retaliate, leaving the hallway and quietly heading for your bedroom to gather up some clothes. 

The Little Wolf was smug, her tail wagging in a playful manner as you dug through your stuff, getting everything you would need for the day. <We, not just me. It’s the heat.> She stretched and you made a quick retreat to the bathroom, taking a deep inhale. 

Heat or not, we are just starting to get back something. You turn on the shower to cold and climb in, your body tingling with anticipation, urging you to mate, to fuck and reclaim. I’m not ready for that, not yet. You admitted as you leaned into the water, hoping it would start to break the warmth in your body. 

It did no such thing. Instead clear images of past heats assaulted you, images of you and Steve tangled up together in the most primal way. His heavy hand wrapped around your neck to keep you pinned in your nest while he pounded you from behind. “Fill this belly with me Little One.” He would growl loudly while your body jolted into the bed.“Dripping me for days. Everyone will know who keeps you full.” 

“Fuck.” You muttered in a whisper as your body clenched in response, wanting that knot you knew Steve would fill you with. Your hand drifted down, hovering over your belly. “What a sweet smelling cunt for her Alpha.” The sensation of his tongue was very vivid as your fingers slipped between swollen folds, so sensitive that the brush of your fingertips against your clit was an aching need. You swirled against that spot, softly whining as your thighs spread further. 

“Feel so good Little One, fuck I could just stay knotted in you all day.” You heard his moan, the sun filtering in through the open balcony doors, the fresh air a cool breeze coming off the lake relieving your sex-drenched bodies. Steve shuddered above you as he released in you again, his knot stretching you till you were clinging to him, the sensation of pleasure almost overwhelming as you both were exhausted. The cold water of your shower did little to kill the way your body ached now from the memories, your fingers finally fucking into your aching heat while your thumb teased your clit. 

Release would bring a slight relief, but no satisfaction. 

The Alpha knew as soon as you walked in, the large wolf going alert and tense while Steve stood at the stove reheating the food. There was no denying he heard your soft whines and moans through the thin walls, what you were doing to appease your heat. 

Steve had never been so fucking hard in his life but everything in him refused to act on it, not even the Alpha pushed for it like he usually did. It was a solid understanding that nothing would happen until you were ready. 

So for now Steve would do other things for you that were as important, like making sure you had a solid meal. You settled quickly in your seat at the bar, watching as he piled plenty of food on your plate and handed it over. “You always make enough to feed a whole army.” You teased as you pushed your fork into the mountain of eggs and cheese he had on your plate. 

“Sorry.” He shrugged a shoulder, giving a small grin in apology. “Old habits like feeding a whole squad of shifters at home or with Shield is hard to break.” 

“Was that something you did often?” You inquired while digging into your food. Steve settled across from you, taking his time before offering an answer. 

“We took shifts with the Howling Commandos. All the work was shared in our unit, no one too good to do anything. I learned real fast how to make something quick, easy and good.” He took a bite, savoring it for a moment before swallowing. “I would never hear the end of it when I burned something. Being Captain of the unit, they weren’t about to let me get away with anything.” 

You chuckled at the thought of it, waving your fork towards him as you got caught up in the moment. “Hell no, you gotta do everything to tip-top shape Alpha. Including feeding your men.” You took another forkful and smirked as you brought it to your mouth. “And me too.” Then took that cheesy bite of eggs, sighing happily at how something so simple could be that good. 

“I don’t think I have ever let you go hungry Little One.” Steve said incredulously while scooping another forkful of eggs and this time a bite of his toast onto his fork and leaned over the counter towards you, offering the bite from his fork to you. 

“There was that one time…” You teased as you were quick to take his offering, listening to him sputter trying to recall what time that could possibly be. 

<You're gonna drive him mad Y/N.> Your Little Wolf scolded. 

I will make it up to him. You assured her while mimicking what he did for you, leaning over towards him with your own offering, smiling softly at him. “Your unit was lucky to have you, burned food and all.” 

“You have been talking to Bucky, haven’t you.” Steve huffed while taking your offering, the teasing dying down after that while you two continued the last of the meal. You groaned while pushing aside your plate that had scatterings of leftovers that Steve pulled towards him to finish off. 

“I'm stuffed, I can’t eat another bite.” 

“Then I did my job.” Steve rumbled with a smirk of satisfaction while he gathered the last of the dishes off the table and brought them to the sink. “I was thinking about going back in today.” 

You perked up at the change of subject. “To the warehouse.” 

“Yes… we know Ulysses isn’t there, yet. And we can’t do anything till he either is or one of them drops his location. We need to go back inside.” 

Your Little Wolf hummed with anticipation, her ears perked excitedly at the prospect of working together. “So what do you propose? I can easily slip in like before if they don’t know about that door, but you’re so much bigger. Yesterday we got lucky.” 

“We did, so you're going to go in that way, on the ground searching for anything we can use. I will be up high.” 

“Up high?” 

“The roof, I can access it that way. Before I came looking for you, I checked it all out. They have no surveillance up there.” Steve’s glance went over your features, like he was assuring himself before it fell to the bracelet Shuri equipped you with. “That works with the Little Wolf too?” 

“Yeah, it slows us down, but it will cover her chest and throat in the same way it does with me.” Your body tingled, the reminder that your heat was still raging under your skin, itching for you to nest and mate. Your shower tampered it, but not forever. “And I plan on using it.” You noticed Steve sharply inhale, his eyes going pinpoint in interest but nothing more, your pulse raced at the barely there response from him. “What are you thinking? Don’t censor it.” 

The pulse in his neck was picking up, your teeth aching to drag across it to make your Alpha shudder. Stop it Y/N… You snapped at yourself. 

<You know that isn’t going to stop it.> 

Blue eyes burned at you across the table and you braced yourself at the gaze, unsure of what he was going to tell you. “That you're going to be fine Y/N, I know that you're good at this.” Your brows sprung up in surprise, making Steve chuckle softly, his hand reaching over with an open waiting palm for you. “T’Challa had Shuri give Bucky and me access to the recent rescues. Little One, you made me so fucking proud, you pulled so many out that they never would have before.” 

Pride raced through you, making your hand reach out and take his while warmth raced to your face, making the tip of your nose wrinkle at the sensation and a little smile peek through. “Of course he did.” 

Steve squeezed your hand while continuing. “So I know the urge to make you stay is the alpha instinct and yes, it’s still there, I still want to command you to stay here. Especially when I don’t know what we're going into. I don’t have the pack to rely on, no Natasha doing intel, Sam ready to step in, Clint picking off targets, not even Bucky at our six.” 

“That’s a lot when you think of it that way.” You let your thumb stroke over his knuckles.

“Mmh, that's the fears playing all the what if scenarios. Although I can't predict the future, I can confidently say that I trust you to stay safe and pull out if you have to.” 

You nodded assuredly, your tongue darting to moisten your lips, which Steve’s sharp stare didn’t miss. “Anything else? Remember I said I want nothing censored.” 

“Little One…” He started and you flashed him a look. Steve’s moment of resolve crumbled with that look. “How tempting it would be to push you into one of those beds and knot you over and over Little One till you're as full as can be and needing me to stop, leaving you satisfied in your nest.” The growl in his voice was back, making your breath hitch as the Little Wolf ached to present for him. Tremors of excitement raced up your spine. “How are you keeping yourself composed… it's the tether we are hanging onto right now.” 

“Steve-” Your hand tightened in his, and the hint of need escaped from between your lips. “I can’t-” 

“Y/N, hey… '' Steve spoke sharp enough to make your mouth snap closed. “Nothing happens till you tell me too. Till we're both ready for us again.”

“Thank you.” You said earnestly and moved to a stand, tilting your head towards the door. “Shall we get this done Alpha?” 

“Lead the way Omega, This is your mission.” 

Steve crept among the warehouse beams, folding his massive body half over while he tracked the current residents from up above. He had last caught a glimpse of you several minutes ago, steering clear of the sound of voices, knowing that's where he was headed. You weaved among massive crates of cargo, going towards what looked like empty offices, searching for anything that would give them intel. 

Steve often wished for missions to end, not because of how he felt about himself, but because leading others into the possibility of danger took a toll on him. He learned to trust who worked with him though and he fell back onto that, you would call for him if you needed help. It didn’t stop him from constantly checking for you, there was no way he would be able to ever completely turn that off. 

But he was willing to work on it. Taking in a deep calming inhale, he forcibly made himself get further away from you till he was just above the few people remaining in the warehouse. Steve activated a small communications device in his ear, the ping letting him know it connected and Shuri’s voice responded. 

‘You found the base, but no sign of Ulysses?’ 

Steve hummed in confirmation, letting the sounds from below take over what he could have said. The sound of a keyboard on the other end was barely noticeable while Shuri excitedly took down the information provided. 

Fortunately for them, the people were discussing the next pickup point. An excited inhale of breath made Steve grin to himself, Shuri’s excitement infectious. ‘Excellent, I will tell my brother. They won’t be moving any more shifters from that location.” 

“Good.” Steve whispered, mentally taking in all the surroundings of the area, where the best exits were as well as the places that could trap him or you when the time came to collect their target. The conservation shifted to nothing of use, making Steve decide to pull away and go find you. 

‘Good job Alpha.’ Came Shuri’s voice in his ear before he muted it, needing to be able to keep better track of what was going on around him. Your scent was nearby and Steve used that as his lifeline to you, tracking you towards the back of the building where dark offices were lined up. He dropped silently on the balls of his feet and slipped inside the one he sensed you in. In the near dark he could see you whip around with a growl rising from you, only to settle back down once you realized it was him. 

“You're almost done?” Steve softly asked and you held up a small USB drive with a smirk of satisfaction. 

“Yes, I was just taking one more glance over. They don't lock up anything here. Idiots.” you mutter as you slip a file cabinet closed. You slipped Steve the drive, with the brush of your hand, your Little Wolf crooned, making you stiffen as your senses flared. Everything about Steve came in hyperfocus, your heat making your body ache with need once more. 

The edge you had taken off earlier was wearing off. 

Steve noticed it too, his eyes dilating with arousal, your scent filling him in the enclosed space. “Fuck.” He rumbled, his jaw clenching and the muscles fluttering in his cheek. Everything in him made him look like he was about to pounce, but with visible shaking of his body, he stepped back with a warning in the sound of a snarl escaping. “Little One, you gotta get it under control or else-” 

Else what? your alpha would pin you against the file cabinets and take you? Over and over, breeding you till you couldn't stand up anymore? Bend you against the desk with a biting grip to the back of your neck to hold you still while he knotted you? The images plagued you and your Little Wolf, your body waring with your common sense. 

You stepped closer, seeking to cross that line in the sand you drew. 

Sounds interrupted you both, voices passing the offices and Steve grabbed at you to pull you into him, both of you slamming into a wall to keep out of sight of anyone passing. 

Your heart raced in anticipation, crushed against Steve, you sighed in some relief against his chest, feeling him body to body. Your hand reached up, cupping his jaw to have him pry his eyes away from the partially open door to look at you. 

You were aching, your Little Wolf was feeling frantic and all you could imagine was letting go. To let Steve take over, to feel him in all your senses in a way that you didn’t have to struggle anymore. You missed him so much, even as close as he was, it still hurt to have a screaming void between you two. 

Your Little Wolf whined for that connection you both missed desperately, lonely for her Alpha. It’s what broke your resolve, feeling her pain like a physical throb in your chest. “You have until they are gone to kiss me.” Your eyes searched his, so crystal clear even in the dark shadows, there was no missing the flare of yellow melding in his blue orbs. Your lips hovered so close, leaving it up to him to close the distance, to take what you were offering. 

His gaze dropped to your cupid's bow, admiring the curve of your mouth before drawing in a breath and seeking it out. 

His lips felt familiar as they swept against yours, relief singing in your veins at the slight connection your body so desperately ached for. A soft grunt escaped him when your tongue touched against the seam of his lips, inviting more from him. 

A hand went to the back of your neck, squeezing lightly and drawing you in close, his nose tracing against yours a moment when the two of you broke before tilting to see each other out again. 

You gasped when his hand tightened into your hair, dragging your head back to open you more to him, teeth nipping at your lips till your lips parted and he devoured you. A man starved and you encouraged it, your soft whimpers escaping into the kiss. 

Panting against each other when you pull away, your eyes both closed and foreheads leaning together, you reluctantly release your hold on Steve. “Time’s up…” You whisper to him and slip out the door to make your escape, your Alpha close on your heels. 

It was late, the moon slipping through the apartment windows as you made your way back to Steve’s door. After the kiss, your heat once more sated but your yearning for your mate was a vicious cycle. 

Especially when he was keeping himself in check, and respecting your boundaries. Your hand hovered against the thin wooden door, pulling back to your chest in hesitation. It was a battle in your mind and heart, your mind warning you to be careful and your heart making you want to reach for him again. 

You couldn’t even blame it on your heat this time. You just missed Steve. 

Your Little Wolf was an ever-warm presence in your mind, but so quiet when usually her quips plagued you. You’re quiet tonight. 

<I am tired.>  She growled wearily, her tail wrapping over her nose in dismissal of you. <You know what you want and you are the one standing in your way.> 

Your frown deepened and your arms hugged around yourself tighter. So much has happened Little Wolf. You sighed, your fingertips tracing softly against the wood of the door, the barrier between the two of you. He says he is willing to wait, but I’m so stuck on that he left at all and I don’t know how to get past that. Whenever the thought snuck in, wiggled its intrusiveness into your thoughts, all those fears and anger sunk in deep. It had its hooks in you and you didn’t know how to let them go. 

It was like a dark stain you couldn't scrub off. 

<It can’t go back to what it was Y/N. You said so yourself. It’s time you open up to Steve, are you afraid this new version of you he will abandon? Stop being afraid of what could happen.> 

Of course, your Little Wolf could voice exactly what your unsaid fear was. What if we're both holding onto something that doesn’t even work? 

<What if it does? What if he is like us, learning and growing into someone he wasn’t before? Is he worth taking that chance?> Then she withdrew from your consciousness, letting you make the final choice. <Can you forgive him?>

You went to him the night before because your body was breaking, the heat so overwhelming that it made you crazy. Tonight it was just you, you missed curling up with your Alpha in a way far more intimate than sex could give. 

Just being held, just feeling your body meld against his while tucked against each other, sharing pieces of one another while the world stopped being so demanding for a little while. Your hand enclosed around the handle and you pushed the door open, slipping into the darkened bedroom. You sensed Steve in the bed, the shadow of his form shifting slightly to make room for you. 

You eased under the blankets, settling into your side while his arm wrapped around you to tuck you against him, his chest pressing into your back, you felt yourself start to relax into being held. A short tremor of relief was followed by you going completely lax in his hold. Steve shifted behind you, his face tucking in against your neck and his deep inhale had his chest pressing into you, his sigh one matching just how you were feeling too. 

Like you were home. 

It jolted you awake, the feeling of an arm crushing around your chest, the air being squeezed from your body, leaving you gasping. What the- 

Your Little Wolf was yipping <Wake him up Y/N.> 

Behind you could hear a sob escape, Steve’s body crushing against yours. You had to wriggle, and turn enough to ease from his hold. Somehow he was still asleep, whatever dream was plaguing him making his features twist in pain. 

Steve managed to roll onto his back, a gasp escaping him. In a split second, you followed him, perching on his stomach as your hands cupped his face. “Steve, baby wake up.” You called him. Your Little Wolf whined anxiously while you both watched his eyelids twitch frantically and then jolt open, his eyes unfocused as they rolled around the room searching. Then they fell on you and you felt the multitude of emotions in them.  

They glimmered with tears caught in his lashes, his gasps making his chest heave underneath you. Your hands were cupping his red cheeks, tear-stained while he was stuck in his nightmare. “Hey, you’re okay Steve, it’s all okay.” 

“Little One?” He croaked out, his eyes blinking rapidly as he seemed to take in his surroundings. The snarl that rolled from him sounded painfilled, making you push up off him to see if he was injured anywhere. 

Hands quickly grasped your waist and pulled you back firmly onto him. “Don’t… just stay, please.” His fingers were digging into you, sure they would mark you, but you didn’t make another move. Instead, you let your hands slide against him, letting him feel your touch on his face, swiping along his neck and his shoulders. 

Anything you could do to calm his racing heart in his chest and ease the tension riddling him, your brow furrowed with wonder at what had him having that haunted look in his eyes as he seemed to study you just as hard. His hands finally loosened enough to not hold you so tightly, instead, he traced your curves, dipping along your waist and up your back to squeeze the back of your neck assuredly while fingertips fluttered over your pulse. 

Your Little Wolf chirped at the touch, making your eyes flutter for a moment before they sharpened with concern. “Are you okay Alpha?” 

He gave a slight nod, inhaling sharply for a moment to clear out the last of his nightmare. You shifted down, alarm flaring in his features till he realized you were lying against his chest, letting him feel all of you against him. “What were you dreaming about Steve?” 

It was quiet for several moments, your head laid against his chest so you could hear his heartbeat against his chest, the whoosh of his breathing going back to steady assuring to your Little Wolf.

You debated on pushing for an answer, in the past you wouldn’t have insisted. The times you found him unsettled, waking up to find him out on the back cabin deck inhaling a cigarette, the only times you ever saw him smoke, you waited for him to return to bed. But maybe you needed to insist on him to share, be Steve’s safe place like he had tried to be for you when you were bonded with him. 

His hand smoothed up under your nightshirt, palm soothing against your back when you tipped your head up, the tip of your nose tracing up his neck. “Let me in.” 

“Do you remember any of when Pierce shot you with the dart?” Steve’s finally started, his arm circling your waist. 

“I remember my wolf disappearing and the pain, but that's it.” 

“I lost it, when you went down, I went feral. The Alpha wouldn't let anyone come near us till Bucky challenged him. All I could think was that I lost you.” 

You stiffened a bit when a croon from your Little Wolf reminded you to just listen to him. 

“It was like when Bucky was taken all over again, I failed to keep him safe with the Howling Commandos.” He rumbled underneath you. It took everything in you to resist correcting him, that this was life and he was just a man, there was only so much he could do. “I already know what you’re gonna say Little One.” His tone muffled in your hair, his face pressing in against your head for a moment, like it was reassuring him. 

“Not a peep from me Alpha, keep going.” The Little Wolf was waves of warmth in you, which you hoped passed to Steve in some way. “It must have been hard losing Bucky?” 

“God I blamed myself, hunted for him for months. They had him in that facility dragging him for information, testing him. If I had just been paying better attention…” 

“You got him back though.” You insisted, making Steve give a humorless chuckle. 

“I did, but he had already changed. They twisted his wolf till he broke, his limp is now permanent, and his mind was like a minefield. You saw him in Wakanda, so reactive to everything.” 

You hummed to acknowledge him, remembering Bucky’s nightmares taking over. You knew where this was going, Steve took everything that happened to his loved ones so personally, mixed with his alpha tendencies, it was enough to drive anyone a little crazy. “He trusted me and I failed him.” 

You trusted me, and I failed you. Your mind filled in what he wasn’t saying out loud. You kept quiet still, trusting your Little Wolf when she told you to just let him talk. “Then there's you.” You felt his lips against the crown of your head and his hold tightened, not that you could get any closer at the moment. “The half my Alpha sings for every day. What happened, Little One, I’m sorry that I wasn’t seeing you as you asked me to and I closed you out, that I broke-” 

Here you stirred, pushing back up till your elbows were tucked under you to give you leverage to look down at Steve.

You knew he was trying. He had kept so much bottled in, trying to be a perfect alpha for everyone who depended on him, strong and always in control. You knew he wouldn’t forgive himself for how everything happened, they would plague him like they are doing now. Part of you was mad at yourself for not pushing Steve to open up to you when he claimed you as his. 

He was never going to forgive himself, he would carry this till the end of his time, no matter how many times you could try telling him that you never blamed him for what happened to you. It hurts your heart to think of a whole lifetime of him punishing himself, even after working on meeting your needs. 

Pierce shooting you, Brock collaring Steve and turning him into a weapon, then him breaking up with you because he was scared of the control he lost, not to mention all the stuff with Bucky that you were just finding out about. How much of that did he still hold himself to blame?

Can you forgive him? Your Little Wolf’s earlier words echoed back at you. 

The alpha wasn’t perfect, but he was a good man. 

Your hands went to cover his mouth from saying anything more, his brows furrowing over his gaze, his eyes were raw to look into. He hid nothing in his blue orbs. When you were sure he wouldn’t keep going, you let your hand slide to his cheek, cupping it. Your fingers gently scratched through the beard covering his cheek, affectionate in your touch. Your Little Wolf crooned soothingly in your mind, making you smile softly at her actions. 

You could give him something he couldn’t give himself. “I forgive you, Steve.” 

You felt him try to turn his face away, hide his gaze from you, but you tightened your hold on him. His breathing picked up, his chest raising with his sharp inhales. “I don’t-” 

“Steve, look at me,” you commanded and he instinctively stopped struggling to do as you asked. “I forgive you.” You repeated firmly. He took a shuddering breath, releasing some of the tension he was holding onto. “I forgive you.” You repeated while your fingers traced along the top of his cheek and your thumb gathered at the tears building in his lashes. You felt him breaking slowly piece by piece under you. “I forgive you, Steve.” You repeated one last time with your shaky sigh. 

There was a relief in your chest that washed over you. You had been holding onto so much anger and pain. It wasn’t completely gone, but saying it out loud to him helped both of you. He started shaking under you, everything bubbling up to the surface that he kept down for so long. You saw his sob get swallowed, his throat working to keep himself contained. 

This had moved on beyond his nightmare, this was years of self-inflicted pain you were seeing bleed through, holding himself accountable for so much that was out of his control. “It’s okay Steve to not be okay. I am not going anywhere.” 

His arms tightened, hugging you to him as finally, he broke in a way you had never seen him before. You wrapped around him the best you could, sure to hold him just as tightly back. 

Steve stared at himself in the mirror, feeling the after effects of his late night wake up. His head throbbed and his eyes ached, the hot shower you insisted on him taking when he held a palm to his temple had helped a little.

Even feeling like shit, he felt better. Opening up to you lifted a weight he didn't know he had been carrying all this time.

His Alpha was a calmer presence in his mind, no longer a snapping and aggravated force that he had to contend with. Now the beast was calmer, occasionally scenting for where his Little One was in the apartment. 

You weren’t far, just beyond the door. Steve could see you still in his bed wrapped up in the blankets. Part of him was still shocked you stayed after he broke down, all of him was grateful that you did. 

<Our Little One doesn't think we’re weak.> The ever-sensible Alpha picked up on some of his thoughts. 

Steve inhaled sharply to clear his mind. It was certainly a lot to dump on her at once. I’ve never done that before. Not to her.

<She made it safe enough for it to happen.> The Alpha’s tail thumped once in approval. <Alanna would have murdered us in our sleep if she had seen it.> Steve shuddered at the thought of his ex seeing him like that. The Alpha snarled at the memory of it. <Our Little One isn’t a power-hungry bitch who will sell us out.> 

From the other room, a phone rang and Steve heard you answer it with a groggy ‘Yeah?’ He took one last glance at himself in the mirror and pushed away from the counter to go back into the bedroom. You seemed to be getting invested in the phone call, giving a glance at him and an immediate smile his way made Steve feel further at ease. “We got this.” You hung up the phone and pushed the blankets away. “So Steve, how do you feel about actually saving some people today?”

[genderkoolaid]

The transandrophobia brainrot has hit tiktok hard. There's a sound going around right now that uses the T slur in a reclamatory way, but whenever a transmasc person uses the sound people lose their minds saying it's transmisogynistic for them to use that word. But when cis male drag queens use the audio it's a slay.

My answer to those people is Get Kate Bornstein'd:

Tranny. Many people don’t know the history of the word, they assume it was an assigned hate term or slur along the lines of the “n” word. That’s not how it happened. Tranny was invented by us in Sydney, Australia in the 1970s where drag was a big deal, and still the best drag shows ever are in Sydney, Australia – they’re amazing. So a lot of trans-identified women who were assigned male at birth did drag, that’s how you made your living. And so they were transsexuals, transvestites, drag queens, and they were all doing drag to make money. They all bickered amongst each other who is better than who, “Well the drag queens are better,” ���No, the transsexuals are better.” “You are all freaks, we’re better.” And on and on and on. But they worked together and they were family together, so they came up with a word that would say family and that was tranny. In Australia they do the diminutive, that’s how they come up with words. So tranny. I learned the word in the mid-1980s, late 1980s from my drag mom in San Francisco, Doris Fish, who was the city’s preeminent drag queen and she’d come from Sydney. And she schooled me in this word tranny, she said, “This way it means we’re family, darling.” “Thank you mama.” [...] So we used it and we were trannies together. And F to M was just beginning to start, the trans men were just beginning to become visible, Lou Sullivan was a neighbor of mine around the corner, and he was the first big out trans man, wrote his book. So trans men and cross dressers . . . cross dressers were also family. Transsexuals, we were all trannies and that felt good. That got into the sex industry and became a genre – there was tranny porn, there were tranny sex workers – chicks with dicks, she-males. [...] And, my only guess is that people who . . . because the only way they would have found out about the word is if they were watching tranny porn or having been with a tranny sex worker and then hated themselves so much that they turned it into a curse word. So it’s not really technically correct to say we’re reclaiming a word – it was always ours. So, many people mistake the word for the hatred behind the word and, in my generation, and I’m sure in future generations of trans people, tranny is going to be a radicalized, sexualized identity of trans in the same way that faggot is a prideful identity in the gay male community – not all gay men are faggots, but those who are are proudly fags and those who are dykes are proudly dykes within the lesbian community, trannies are proudly tranny within the transgender community. Does that mean we can’t call ourselves that because some trans woman does not want to be called a tranny? No. I’m going to keep calling myself a tranny. To the trans woman who gets called tranny, I’m sorry – as soon as . . . you’ve got to look at why you’re getting called tranny and if you don’t pass, you’re going to be read as a transgender person and then you fall back on the cultural view of trans folk which is freak, disgusting, not worth living, we can hurt you. It has nothing to do with the word, it has everything to do with the cultural attitude. So the word has stirred up a shit storm, but it’s not the word.

^ From this interview

Four weeks ago, Bear posted a call for submissions on his blog. In the interests of keeping the call as open as possible, we agreed to include as many trans-identities as we knew, so we used the word "tranny." And that's where the activist shit hit the postmodern fan base. People have been pissed. Here's their argument: FTMs are co-opting a word that belongs to MTFs. The word "tranny" belongs to MTFs, reason those who were hurt by our use of the word, because it was a denigrating term reclaimed by MTFs—ergo, only MTFs could be known as trannies. I spoke with Bear, and we agree that’s wrong on several counts:

Tranny began as a uniting term amongst ourselves. Of course it’s going to be picked up and used as a denigrating term by mean people in the world. But even if we manage to get them to stop saying tranny like a thrown rock, mean people will come up with another word to wound us with. So, let’s get back to using tranny as a uniting term amongst ourselves. That would make Doris Fish very happy.

It's our first own language word for ourselves that has no medical-legacy. 

Even if (like gay) hate-filled people try to make tranny into a bad word, our most positive response is to own the word (a word invented by the queerest of the queer of their day). We have the opportunity to re-create tranny as a positive in the world.

Saying that FTMs can’t call themselves trannies eerily echoes the 1980s lesbians who said I couldn’t use the word woman to identify myself, and the 1990s lesbians who said I couldn’t use the word dyke. 

At one phase in the evolution of transpeople-as-tribe, it was the male-to-females who were visible and representative of trans to the rest of the world. They were the trannies. Today? Ironically true to the binary we’re in the process of shattering, the pendulum has swung so that it's now female-to-males who are the archetypal trannies of the day. The generation coming up beyond the next generation, i.e. my tribal grandchildren are the young boys who transition to young girls at the age of five or six. They’re the next trannies. None of us can own the word. We can only be grateful that our tribe is so much larger than we had thought it would be. How to come together—now that’s the job of the next generation of gender outlaws.

^ From Who You Calling A Tranny?

We've been having this debate forever and its been stupid forever.

And its an increasingly outdated debate. More people know about trans men&mascs than ever and there are plenty of TM&Ms who have been called tranny by transphobes who don't give a shit about this distinction. And not just people who have been mistaken for transfems, either, but men like Andrew Jonathan Blake-Newton and Saye Skye who were attacked by people who knew them. Do they have more or less of a right to say tranny than a trans girl whose never been called it by a transphobe? (Neither. Because no one owns this word.)

[abrunettefangirlnerd]

The Accident

Request: JJ got hurt when he crashed his motorcycle and he woke up to see the reader sleeping, head resting on her arms, on the edge of the bed. She’s had a crush on him for years, but never told him cause he liked Kiara since kindergarten.

Paring: JJ Maybank x reader

The screeching of metal on concrete vibrates through my mind as the scene plays on repeat. Kie’s sobs, Pope’s shouts for JJ to stop playing around, Topper and Sarah helping load JJ’s body back into the truck. JJ’s head resting on my lap, my fingers running through his blood matted hair, telling myself he is just asleep and we are on John B’s couch.

               The world is submerged underwater and my only focus is on the boy laying in front of me, my best friend. The whole idea behind getting the cross back was absurd, every moment of it. No other moment of my life has come close to the horror that chilled my bones watching the cops chase after JJ once getting Kie to safety in the truck.

               Rustling coming from the door frame snaps me out of my trance to find John B, Sarah, and Kie with hushed whispers. John B wasn’t with us on our failed heist and by the look in his eyes the girls are obviously catching him up to speed. We are supposed to be taking shifts so someone is here with JJ when he wakes up but I refuse to leave. JJ’s cousin checked him out and said he should be fine, but I can’t help but watch each rise and fall of his chest to be sure.

John B’s eyes meet mine and I can see the slightest rise of his eye brows at the scene he is witnessing. I duck my head back to JJ and ignore the heat rising on my cheeks. He is the only one who knows about my crush on JJ ever since a very embarrassing late night drunk conversation after everyone else passed out for the night. But we both know that JJ has been carrying a torch for Kie since kindergarten. JJ was most hurt during her kook year, taking a long while to forgive her, but now acts like it never happened.

JJ paces back and forth with joint in his hand. Pope and John B left with Kie to get provisions for her welcome back party. Only JJ is having a harder time letting go of the last year and I am trying to talk him down. I’m really hoping the weed kicks in soon, JJ is usually more open minded when he gets a nice relaxing dose.

“Y/N how could she just leave us like that and try to come back like nothing happened?!” JJ stops mid pace to look at me, waiting a real answer.

“JJ she explained everything. We were all mad and upset she froze us out. She’s sorry and she’s back. P4L right?”

               Honestly, with Kie’s abandonment I was hoping that JJ would get over his little crush and set his sights somewhere else. Ideally I would want his sights set more on me since I was the only girl in the group. I guess it takes a while to heal a broken heart. Everything went back to normal after that night.

“Y/N,” John B whispers from the doorway. I try to ignore him but he walks till he is standing directly behind me. Placing a hand on my shoulder he tries again. “Y/N, you need to get some rest. Or at least a shower.”

I shake my head as a sob builds in my throat.

“Please, shower at least. You still have his blood on your hands and your legs.” John B squeezes my shoulder, “I’ll stay here with him.”

               Relenting, I nod my head in agreeing with John B. I will my legs to get up and he swiftly takes my place, not letting me change my mind to reclaim my seat. Slowly I make my way out but pause at the door to look back at JJ. Just one more peak at his face before I make my way to the shower.

               On the sink one of the girls laid out some of their extra clothes for me to change into. A swirl of gratitude dances in my chest. It is the lightest I’ve felt since this terrible night started. Operating on autopilot, my hand turns on the water to the shower. I let it run to allow some time for it to warm up. Hot water here is hit or miss, but who can complain about running water.

               Tearing off my clothes one piece at a time my eyes lock on to the red coating my hands and thighs. You still have his blood on your hands and your legs. I run my hands over each other in attempt to rub it off. Not hard or fast enough. My hands move faster, I press harder. I move to my thighs. Small pieces flake off but not enough to make a difference.

               Tears patter against the tile floor breaking me out of my trance. I take deep breathes, 1…2…3… I count in my head. JJ is here, he is alive and he is going to wake up. Finally stepping in the shower the luke warm water cascades down my back and I can feel my muscles loosening. I quickly get to work on cleaning myself up and changing into the new set of clothes.

“He’s still asleep,” John B’s voice greets me without looking up from the ground.

               John B gets up to leave and I quickly reclaim my seat. I feel his presence linger at the door, not quite ready to leave. I can’t blame him, I don’t want to leave him either. JJ is my best friend, and I know John B feels the same.

“Have you thought about telling him yet?” I don’t answer him, which is an answer in itself. “When he wakes up you should.”

               His footstep leave toward the living room with the others. Tell JJ? Just so he can tell me I’m just his friend and that he still has a thing for Kie. To have him act weird around me for the rest of our lives. The thought of that happening is more unbearable than the idea of seeing him and Kie together and losing him in the process. At least I lose him because of her instead of losing him because of myself.

               My eye lids grow heavy as the last bit of adrenaline seeps out of my system. Maybe I should lay down for a bit, just rest my eyes. I’ll wake up before JJ does. Slowly I climb onto the side of the bed that JJ is not on. I loop my fingers in with his as I rest my head against the pillow.

For the rest you can decide how it ends:

Angsty/Sad Happy

[miasmal-sweetness]

Here, Kitty, Kitty

NSFW - MDNI - 18+ ONLY

Graduation is near and I am ignoring health issues by writing hot trash. I put on fake nails for the first time in a literal decade so I have had to relearn how to type during this and I am going to blame that for why this is honestly Not Good and pretty sloppy.

This is absolutely my attempt to reclaim the pet name “kitty” for myself after my weird abusive ex ruined it for me years ago since that’s what he called me.

Here, Kitty, Kitty

Summary: yandere!Cloud x reader. 3.1k. Cloud finally has the perfect nickname for you, but you’ve gone missing. Don’t worry; your hero will save you, just like always.

Warnings: he calls you kitty, duh; reader is gender-neutral but has a vagina; smut; Cloud 100% kidnapped reader; bondage; noncon; suffocation/drowning

“I’m home, kitty.” That’s it. Short and sweet and it rolls off the tongue. That’s what you are—short, sweet, and you also feel great on his tongue. Cloud is certain you’ll love the pet name; his heart has skipped many beats every time he’s thought about it.

Cloud sets his sword down by the door, waiting to hear the usual signs of your presence. You two have been living together for a while now, and you’ve settled into a routine. By now, dinner will be ready, and you’ll be waiting for his return in the kitchen as you flip through a cookbook for the umpteenth time. But this time, he doesn’t hear your breath, your footsteps, the soft turn of pages, or you stirring a pot. It’s silent.

Cloud steps further in to his house. Were you asleep? You had tossed and turned a lot the night before; he wouldn’t blame you for needing a nap. He peers in to the kitchen and finds no sign of you, not a single dish out of place, like you hadn’t even eaten breakfast. The living room is similarly empty, even though the couch is where you usually take your naps. Maybe the rain outside disturbed you; there was a large window that overlooked the couch, so it could be a little loud and chilly there.

You’re not in the hall. You’re not in the extra room he’s let you slowly turn into your own space. His heart is starting to pick up the pace; if you aren’t in the bedroom, then—no. He can’t think that way. Cloud cracks the door open, just in case you really are sleeping, but throws it open when he finds that the bed is empty. Cloud takes a deep breath and runs his hand through his hair. There is one other place you could be, but not only did he keep it locked, you also hated it. The basement—a place you’d only go in to if he dragged you kicking and screaming.

It was storming, though. Maybe you found a way to get in and took shelter out of fear. Cloud left the bedroom after another glance, heading straight for the basement door at the end of the hall. Sure enough, the door was unlocked. He keeps the key on him at all times; there’s no way you swiped it off of him, since it’s still in his pocket. Maybe you found a way to pick it.

Either way, Cloud pushes the door open and makes his way down the stairs. “I’m coming down, kitty,” he calls, flipping on the lights. “Don’t be scared, okay?”

He knows before he even sees the basement that you’re not there. He can feel it, but he holds on to that bit of hope anyway. Hope matters little in this world, though. You aren’t there. The basement is empty. His gaze lands on the red silk that lies by the wall. Strong, tightly-woven silk that he brought home after you kept getting horrible rope burns and bruises when he tried cuffs. You were too weak to get out of it, but it didn’t hurt you, either. He wishes he had used it that morning.

One of the windows has been broken open, and your struggle is remembered by the shards of glass covered in your blood. The bars that covered every window were damaged on only this one, pried apart with a hammer from the toolkit he forgot to take back from you. You said you needed it to work on your sewing machine; it needed maintenance, but he didn’t have the time to supervise you or do it himself. What a dumb decision. He should have just stayed an extra thirty minutes.

Now you’re gone, probably lost somewhere out in the rain and possibly trying to fend off monsters. You aren’t a fighter. You were easy for him to drag here; so easy he wouldn’t have had trouble even without years of training and mako forced in to him. You’re probably scared, cold, and lost, wondering why he hasn’t saved you yet.

Of course, deep down, he knows that’s not true. You ran away. Pried off the prison bars keeping you caged, escaped the room he kept you in for a month and a half before he thought he wore down your will—the room he still brings you down to sometimes when you misbehave or something triggers his paranoia. Cloud knows all of this, but he’s good at ignoring it. You need him, whether you like it or not.

Grabbing the silk rope from the floor, Cloud trudges back up the stairs and grabs his sword. You can’t have gotten far. The house is way out in the countryside, where paths are limited; your bare feet are not going to move quickly or easily on the rocky terrain. He follows a fading trail of blood leading away from the broken window. He’s so focused on your trail that the feeling of cold rain pouring on him is barely noticeable; he only thinks about it when he realizes that you must be freezing.

He moves a little faster.

Eventually, the trail of blood stops, either because the wound clotted or the rain has washed it away. He hopes it doesn’t hurt to badly. He does. He does believe that—he’s tries to drown out the thoughts that insist that you deserve it for being such a brat, that this will teach you a lesson, that this is nothing compared to what he’ll do when he drags you back home. The thought of making you crawl over the broken glass you left behind in the basement is interrupted when he notices footprints left behind in the mud. They’re barely visible, but they’re there.

The footprints guide him to a few shrubs. Some strands of your hair are caught in the leaves and branches; he wonders if you were trying to crawl under them for shelter from the rain. Evidently, you gave up and tried taking refuge under a tree, but that must not have been good enough. Your trail leads right to a dying tree leaning against a small, rocky hill; a small source of relief from the rain. There are no prints leading out. You’ve barricaded yourself in with branches and leaves, mostly in an effort to stay hidden. He smiles at the childish attempt—he might be pissed that you left, but it’s adorable that you think that would be good enough.

“It’s just me,” he calls. “You can come out.”

No response. He doesn’t even hear you shift.

“Here, kitty, kitty,” he teases, circling your poor attempt at a hiding spot. “Come to me, kitty.”

You want to tell him to fuck himself. You want to stick your head out just to spit at him. Even though you know it’s over, though, you refuse to reveal yourself. He’ll have to drag you out by your ankles, something that you know he has no problem doing. If you can’t escape, you can at least make this difficult for him. You sink further in to your spot, batting your lashes to blink away tears and rain drops.

You’re dirty, bloody, sweaty, and drenched in rain. You have scratches going up and down your waist, legs, and arms. The soles of your feet are red and covered in scrapes. You just want to be able to cry in peace, but you’ll hold your breath until you pass out if it means he won’t get the satisfaction of hearing you.

“Come out, kitty. It’s okay; you’re not in trouble.”

Liar. You know the second you’re back at that house, he’ll be grabbing at you and crushing you and making you say you won’t leave over and over until you lose your voice and he’s satisfied. You knew the risk of leaving, and you decided at the time that it was worth it—but that was before the storm came and slowed you down. Your lips and fingers are already blue. You couldn’t keep going. You can’t keep doing this. All you have the strength to do right now is sit in silence like a pouting preschooler who doesn’t want to leave the park yet.

Cloud crouches down by your shelter. You wiggle away from him, casting your eyes to the ground. He reaches past the thorny branches you’ve barricaded yourself with, not even acknowledging the thorns that scratch his arms and leave blood in fresh red lines.

“Come on out, kitty,” he urges, holding out his hand to you. His voice is soft now, gentle; it reminds you of when you first met Cloud. He had been rough around the edges and awkward, sure, but you thought you saw a good heart behind it all. Sometimes you still did, when you saw his eyes go soft as he stroked your hair or kissed bruises that formed when you bumped in to the counter—when he’d bring you treats from outside, reminders of the life he took from you, with a look in his eyes that implied a quiet regret that he couldn’t voice. Somewhere in him, that sweet boy with those big blue puppy dog eyes is reaching out for you, asking you to stay with him after he’s already lost so much.

You give in. You’ve never been able to resist him—not when his eyes go soft and he looks like you just broke his heart. You take his hand and crawl out from your spot, seeking new refuge in his warmth. Even in the icy rain, he still runs hot. He wraps his arms around you as you miserably shiver and sniffle. This was a terrible idea. You never should have left. It was pointless, and only ended with the both of you upset.

Cloud’s hand moves down to your waist, and you hiss when his fingers brush over your scratches. He murmurs an apology as he examines your wounds. They’re shallow, just plentiful.

“You didn’t run in to any monsters, right? No other injuries?” he asks, running his thumb over dried blood that crusted on your hip.

“No,” you mumble, staring blankly at your bruised knees.

“Good.” He continues to contemplate your scratches, rubbing small circles in to your thigh. “Why did you leave, kitty?”

The new nickname finally hits you. Even in the cold, you feel a little warmer from it. You supposed it’s fitting—back in the sector, you made nightly rounds in the neighborhood to give snacks to the strays. Your heart sinks a little, and the bitterness of your situation claws its way back up your throat. Sure, he’s being sweet now, but that doesn’t change the fact that he’s keeping you captive. “I wanted to go home,” you spit, lifting your head to stare venom in to those stupid big eyes of his.

“This—”

“No!” You pound your fists against his chest, even though you know it barely does anything to him. “That is not my home! You are not my boyfriend! I want to go home to my friends, to the sector, to the cats and my neighbors!” Each cry is punctuated by another thump of your fists against his chest, and he takes it all without even a wince.

“Kitty, don’t—”

You won’t let him get a word in edgewise. “Take me home!” you demand, unleashing your fury in the form of a flurry of weak blows to his chest.

Finally, he responds to your pathetic attempt at a tantrum. He grabs your wrists and holds them together with an infuriating amount of ease. His eyes aren’t soft and sparkly anymore. He doesn’t have that pout that you fall for so easily. His gaze is hardened, sharp, and focused entirely on you as he throws you on to your back. You grunt when your back collides with mud and your hair is soaked by a puddle.

“Listen, kitty,” he snaps, giving a harsh yank to your flimsy shorts. You try to scramble away, but he pins you in place with just his weight. “This is home now. You can either make it easy on yourself and accept it or you can keep throwing your tantrums, but it won’t change a thing. There is nothing for you back there.”

Your top is ripped off, torn in two and discarded in the mud. He doesn’t seem to care one bit about the dirt and mud you’re in, nor about the puddle that you keep trying to lift your head out of. “Th-that’s not true,” you sputter, forcing your legs shut with all the strength you can muster. “My friends—our friends—”

“Do you really think anyone even noticed that you’re gone?”

You fall silent at this, mouth agape. You had considered the possibility that no one noticed or cared, or that they quickly forgot about you and brushed you off when you never came back. But you always held out hope that they remembered and looked for you.

“You were just another body to them,” Cloud mutters against your neck. He’s running his hands up and down your body, between your trembling legs, as though nothing is wrong and he isn’t saying horrible things in your ear. “I took you away from that. Give you a home and everything you need. Keep you warm and safe… and you fucking run away?”

Your legs are forced apart, and you feel like a hot poker is being shoved in to you. You weren’t prepared in the slightest, but that doesn’t stop him from pounding in to you.

“Cloud, stop!” you cry, trying to wriggle away from him as he sucks on his favorite spot on your neck.

“Quit moving around so much,” he grumbles, finally stopping the brutal pace of his hips. The relief you get is brief and nowhere near enough; Cloud stops just long enough to turn you on your stomach, before resuming the same pace. With your face now shoved in to the muddy puddle below, he can enjoy himself without you saying things like “no” and “this hurts.” You can only guess that this isn’t one of the days he enjoys it.

Even though you’re half-drowning and you can vaguely hear him hissing obscenities and complaints, he still shoves his hand between your legs and plays with your clit. And it still feels good, no matter how much pain you’re in. When this nightmare first started, Cloud had been awkward and inexperienced. With plenty of practice, however, he found each spot you enjoyed, and which way was the best to pleasure you. The kind of knowledge and familiarity you’d only expect to grant a partner. He knew every inch of your body; it was mapped out in his mind better than anywhere in Midgar.

And you hate it, even as the warmth builds up in your gut. He grabs you by your hair and lifts your head to let you take in another desperate gasp of air, before shoving your head back in to the mud. This isn’t like him. Even on the days you’ve been a brat and he’s come home angry from whatever the hell he faced out there, he’s at least been apologetic while brutalizing you. Frantically telling you “sorry, I’m sorry” as he fucks your throat without concern for your gag reflex or chokes you from behind as he tries to bury himself as deep as possible inside of you.

There are no apologies. The closest relief you have is the brief gasps he allows you to take, and it’s still nowhere near enough. Your eyes burn and are covered in a haze. You can feel the pressure inside of you building; the lack of oxygen only seems to make it more intense. He lifts your head just to hear you moan and sigh. He knows every sign of your orgasm—the shake of your leg, the way your core tightens, the feeling of you contracting around him.

“That’s it,” he breathes as you writhe in pleasurable misery. “Say my name, kitty.”

You obey without question. Whatever will get this over with—and his fingers away from your clit. “Cloud,” you whisper.

“Say ‘thank you, Cloud.’”

If it weren’t for the lack of oxygen and orgasm turning your brain to mush, you would have put up a fight. But there’s no point to it now. “Th—thank you, Cloud,” you manage to croak, struggling to speak past the hand around your throat and his increasingly frantic pace. You hear him groan against your ear.

“More,” he demands. His voice is breathy and agitated; he can’t tell you exactly what he wants to hear, but you can hazard a guess.

“Thank you for—f-for saving me,” you eke out, squeezing your eyes shut. The high of the orgasm is fading, replaced by pain from overstimulation and the tears he created inside of you. Still, you’ll savor the oxygen he’s letting you have. “Thank you for… f-finding me—I was lost and needed you.”

Of course that’s what he wants to hear. Another groan, and he rolls his hips against yours as you feel his cum spill out of you. Cloud rocks his hips against you as he rides out the last of the high; he wants to savor every last moment inside of you. You don’t dare complain. He’s letting you breathe, and the pain isn’t as bad as before, at least.

You fall back in to the mud when he releases you, your arms barely able to move in the clumsy motions you manage in a late attempt to catch yourself. You struggle to push yourself up and roll away from the puddle, panting as water drips from your face. You hurt. You want to cry. And you feel Cloud lifting you up by your arms.

“Let’s go home, kitty,” he says in that gentle, low voice. All malice is gone. The sadism that had been in his eyes just moments ago is gone, the only evidence of it being the mud on your skin and cum dripping down your thighs. “You can have a bath to warm up when we’re back. You should feel better then.”

You don’t fight when he sweeps you off your feet. You don’t fight when he rinses you off and sets you in a tub of warm water. And you just watch as he fixes the broken window, reinforces the bars, and boards them up to keep you from getting any more ideas. You’re tied up in a pile of blankets on the floor, his attempt at softening the reality of your confinement. You’ll be down in that basement for at least a week, until he decides it’s safe to let you out again. You should have known he’d keep his promise—he’d always come to your rescue.

[veersnz]

News of a new Beginning

I am beyond exhausted right now but I wanted at least try and write something tonight. And where do I even begin… I’m overwhelmed by emotions right now, good ones I promise.

As today marks the day I finally graduated high-school. And some may wonder; « but Veer, you’re 22, how come you’re only graduating now ? »

The story is a little complicated but yes, I did start high-school just like everyone else my age over 8 years ago. 8 years ago was also when I started my recovery journey, and as with any journey, nothing is ever goes smoothly and to fulfill it I had to drop out of school. I tried my best over the years to go back and finish my education but I faced many challenges that made it nearly impossible. I managed to finish two of the three years of high-school over a period of 7 years between many hospital stays and periods of great difficulties. In my heart I knew I was getting too old to go back to high school, the gap between me and my peers was widening each year and with it grew the fear of going back, of feeling out of place, alone and crushed by the weight of my own expectations. I was raised believing my academic achievements made my worth and I’m sure many will relate to that, this fear of never being enough. So I almost made peace with never having the future I wished for. But truthfully, this future I had imagined for myself wasn’t mine, it was someone else’s dream. And I was left stranded on the shores of those wishes, not having the faintest idea of what my life would become. And I almost made peace with that.

I clung to those realizations until last September when I enrolled in this special needs school far away from my home. One last time, I thought, one more chance. I didn’t know what I wanted to do after that, if I even managed to stay until the end. But it didn’t matter, my family believed in me, so did my therapist and my friends, even after so many failed attempts they kept their faith intact. And this love, I think that’s what helped me make the decision.

So I took that leap of faith, got a small room and started living on my own for the first time while pursuing my education. I would lie if I said it was an easy ordeal, many obstacles came in my way and I almost gave up, many times. But with the help of my family, friends and the incredible people I met at this school I persevered. I am very aware of the incredible luck I had that September of 2023, being surrounded by so many loving and caring people. I couldn’t be more grateful. And you all count to, it may seem silly because this is « just a kink community » but I’ve met so many brave souls, incredible people and so much love even from afar. Having this positive presence in my life has brought me strength and respite sometimes from the outside world, even just for a moment sometimes. And for that I am eternally grateful.

And so after 11 months I am graduating with the highest honors and finally putting an end to this journey of 8 years. Of course the path to recovery will continue on, but I am turning to a new page of my life’s story and I couldn’t be happier and grateful. I’m still probably in shock and the realization will settle over me in the next few days. But today, today I know that I’ve reclaimed my future.

I know there will be many more challenges, uncertainty and pain to face but tonight I am basking in the happiness of having accomplished something my past self could only dream about. And I hope the parts of myself I left behind are proud of me.

Thank you ❤️

[sweetheartsaku]

—akaashi keiji ; sharing my heart is tearing it apart

a/n ; [fem!reader] THIS IS ACTUALLY MY ENGLISH ESSAY I RE-WROTE TO FIT WITH AKAASHI. 😭 this is angst no comfort by the way :3

chrysanthemum !

the oceans whisper sounded like an owl’s coo, a melody that no one else could treasure except y/n. never eerie, but a comfortingly cold embrace. the breeze was chilly, looking up to the hole of light in the sky. it felt like a fever dream, but only to y/n. a passing midnight breeze sends a feverish chill down her spine, all the way down to the edge of her worn out white sneakers digging into the crisp sand. the ocean sways and dances gently, as the waves glisten in the moonlight.

hands in the pocket of her white windbreaker, staring down as her shoes make prints in the sand. alternative rock blasts through her ears, which bass makes a faint noise outside of her earphones mushing with the wave’s tranquil calls.

“y/n?”

“what are you doing here?” the same voice gently asks.

swiftly, y/n looks back, eyes widening. in the midst of the dark, her eyes interlock with the owner of the familiar voice.

“keiji? i-… i’m… just… having some time to myself.” she mutters.

“another fight?” he knew her mind lingered on the thought that she was the reason her parents mercilessly fought every day. keiji knew, by the way her eyebrows stitch together a little tighter and her voice a little deeper. every day he wishes it was him who had to endure what she goes through.

“i…” her voice breaks.

keiji takes a step closer, a hand away. he extends his hand, slim and tan.

y/n crashes her body onto his. keiji has no hesitation into accepting her call for help in her grasp and the tight clench she had on the back of his now tear-soaked jacket. y/n's vision is hazy, helpless head in a daze.

“i wish i was buried six feet underground, but oh my i also wish i was buried in your arms.” she thought. she holds a grudge against herself like she does a hand.

“why would you even glance at a wretch like me?” she muttered.

he purses his lips. “i comfort because you cannot save people. you can only love them.”

y/n ponders if she is really worth of this love. was she born without love or just unlovable?

the night is over-time, and the sunrise is late, orange beams bleeding into the border of the horizon and its misty clouds. the sky appeared as a child had grazed the sky with warm and cold tones of chalk.

y/n breaks the hug, hands still on his waist, wind breaking the silence and its tension. her eyes now outlined a blush rose colour, so beautiful yet holding so much pain by a thread.

“let’s take down the world together.” words sweet as a treat, dripping of honey, the uttered words glued into y/n’s mind.

they walk pinkies intertwined; souls taped together by band-aids.

the bustling of early school arrives, the noise of chirping seagulls fills arabella’s ears.

keiji looks up to the skies, “it’s nice having our school near the beach. it puts you at ease quickly.”

y/n and keiji bid their farewells to separate paths for their first period. keiji eyes stick to y/n's hesitant pinkie still woven onto his.

y/n watches keiji as he walks off, but something catches her eyes making her glimpse back to his direction.

keiji, hands holding onto another girls.

they shared a smile, then a toothy giggle.

keiji lifts their laced hands to his lips, pressing their hands onto the same lips that once reclaimed that they would take down the world together.

his smile like cold ice-tea, sparkly eyes of a dull gunmetal blue and heart as full and warm as a bonfire.

y/n’s chest tightened; throat clenched by a merciless thorned hand. her heart felt heavy, as it was pulled by the heartstrings, blood dripping from it. the blood builds up into a lump in her throat, making her trance a muddy and smeared blur.

it felt like heart was cracking. snapping, even.

too immune to cry, all the blades that dug deep into her back felt like feathers. no more shine in her eyes, but now rotten. the heart she wore on her sleeve, stepped on and bruised.

chrysanthemums, which can mean "i love you" in some cultures, but "you're a wonderful friend" in others.

all she wanted was to be loved so desperately that her fingers shook with it,

“i am not beautiful.”

“but i could be.”