#How they feel

[angel-inked]

How they feel.

WARNING: cannon typical graphic violence in Pierre's part, the killing gene/WΔZ is a part of the horror genre.

I've lost count of how many times I've rewritten Forrest for this, Pierre and Eddie weren't even involved to begin with. It's amazing how things evolve over time, isn't it? Except for Alfie, he was written in a day with minimal editing. lol sometimes, the words just flow out effortlessly, and other times, you need a crowbar to get them out 😆

Taglist: @vvkingofgaybisciutsvv @thequeenofthewinter @thedevilshardy @mollybegger-blog @wandawiccan60 @cameleonhardyfan63 @inkwolvesandcoffee @liliac-dreamer @potter-solomons

Addicted.

Addicted. That's really the only word he could think of that could describe the feeling. "Tommy? Are you even paying attention?" Brendan scolded. Tommy turned away from the cafe's window with a glare and a scowl. In all honesty, being trapped in a booth between Brendan and a wall while their father rattled on about everything under the sun across the table was the last place he wanted to be right now. Not to forget, Brendan falling right back into his old habit of holding his older brother seniority over his head. Tommy played with his hoodie string idly, If Brendan wanted to gloat his age, then so be it. His mind went back to a few days ago, when you and him had just gotten in out of the storm that had ruined your evening walk. You were both soaked, but you were laughing. Tommy narrowed his eyes in confusion as he shrugged off his dripping Carhartt. While he wasn't quite sure what you were laughing about, he had to admit that you looked good when you laughed like that. Your laugh sounded like home, and he loved it, just like how he couldn't help but smile when the slasher movie made you squeal last night and snuggle against his side and he savored the warmth of your arms wrapped around his bare, topless abdomen.

"Tommy." Brendan sighed. There it is again. "Do you nag at your girlfriend like this?" Tommy retorted. Before Brendan could think of a comeback, he's a physics teacher, not an English teacher, for a reason. "Tommy," Paddy intervened before his sons teenage-like bickering went any further. "What were you just smiling about?" He asked. "A memory." Tommy replied after a moment of silence. "A memory of someone nether of you have the pleasure of knowing." He added in a murmur. "Maybe do us the pleasure of explaining what the hell you're talking about then." Brendan said, annoyance at his younger brother being less than present in the moment. All this remark did was help Tommy find his scowl again. Scooting as close to the window and as far from Brendan as he could, in the window, Tommy found his reflection staring back at him, his slightly paler than normal complexion and the dark circles beginning to form around his eyes, one of the later was mostly bruising from a left hook he took in his last fight, did little to remind him of his struggling sleep schedule. He sighed quietly through his nose. Eye color, the shape of his jaw and eyebrows. He was the masculine version of his mother. He was always told he looked like her. Looking past himself, Tommy watched autumn leaves fall and scatter across the ground in a lovely array of warm oranges, yellows, and reds, while others danced on the blustering wind. It all reminded him of the night he met you a few Octobers ago.

The next countless number of "What was I thinking coming back here?" Ran through his mind with a sigh. He's been back in the United States for almost twenty-four hours now, and he's wishing he caught a flight back to Tacoma, or anywhere else that wasn't Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. Being stuck in his head meant that he wasn't really listening to what was going on around him, not until he felt a hand on his arm. He stopped and looked at you as you nodded toward the busy road he had been blindly marching toward. "Oh," he murmured softly, more so in place of chastising himself. "Is everything alright?" You asked. Tommy remained silent as he hung his head. "Are you a soldier?" You asked, taking notice of a tattoo showing just below his rolled up hoodie sleeve, "USMC" it read. "I am.. or, was." He replied. You directed him to a motel for the night, coming back the next morning and insisting on taking him out for breakfast. Tommy was hesitant, eyeing you silently for a moment before, ultimately, his growling stomach decided for him. Now, Tommy's glad you're as stubborn as he is.

Brendan sighed into his coffee, watching his little brother become lost in his thoughts again. "Brendan, leave your brother alone. He's not bothering you, so I don't see what you're getting out of bothering him." Paddy warned lowly. And Brendan Conlon, as much as he didn't want to, listened to his father for once. Leaving Tommy to swim in his wayward thoughts.

Addicted, yeah. Tommy thought, that has to be it. He's definitely addicted to you.

Enamored.

"Eames," Arthur started, straightening out of his slouch, "I am impressed.". "Your condescension, as always, is much appreciated, Arthur, thank you." Eames said with his usual teasing smile. Arthur huffed a sigh, leaning back in his chair with a shake of his head at the forger. The sound of a door opening caught the attention of the Inception team, and Eames lost his grin at the sight of your figure in the doorway. He narrowed his eyes and clinched his jaw as he swallowed thickly, making him look somewhat mean. Cobb opened his mouth to ask something along the lines of "who's that?" When he was effectively silenced, "Excuse me for a moment." Eames said shortly, shoving his notes into the chest of the dream thief, and moving toward the door. There's his voice edging into meanness. He led you through the warehouse to an empty room. He leaned back against a folding table and opened his arms to you. Burying your tear soaked cheeks in his chest, "Shh," he soothed, stroking your hair. "What'd he do?" Eames questioned after a moment. "Cheated." You murmured, getting out of a terrible relationship isn't nearly as easy as you wished it could be. "Again?" Eames exclaimed. You pulled away enough to look up at him and nod, but not enough to pull out of his grip. "I'll kill him." Eames stated with malice, anger appearing in his cerulean eyes. Those eyes were usually steady, like the sea lapping against the sand on a calm day, and just like the ocean, those waves would rise with each passing storm. "You have to be the friendliest evil person I've ever met." You said with a weak smile at his immediate thoughts of exacting revenge. "Do not pretend you are some meek, pathetic little thing, darling, when I can see that vicious mind working behind your eyes," he said softly with a smirk, however, this smirk wasn't cheeky, it was as close to sweet as Eames would outwardly show. "Besides, we both know that the suit doesn't fit you." He added.

"Oh, I'll get over it, I just gotta be a bit dramatic first." You explained sarcastically, wiping a few stray tears from your eyes as you took a few steps away from his personal bubble. Your own British accent seeped through stronger when it was just you and him as it always had, and as always Eames was thoroughly amused by this. Eames chuckled, crossing his arms over his chest. "For someone who doesn't want to lose me, he sure doesn't act like he wants to keep me." You added, shuffling your feet around as you glanced down at the floor and back up at Eames, or as he said, Arthur had called him once, a pesky weasel in a kitschy suit. "What was it he told you last time? Forgive and forget? Well, I'll have him know that I'm neither Jesus nor do I have Alzheimer's, so I wouldn't wager he'd take to kindly to me showing up on his doorstep, now would he?" Eames stated, making you giggle.

There's what he wanted to hear. His face split into a huge grin, not unlike the grin he wore when Arthur was pushed out of his chair backward. However, this grin lacked its usual flamboyance and impishness. Instead, it opted for sincerity. If it wasn't for your bastard of a partner, Eames would've swept you away to Mombasa with him years ago, when that failed inception job brought the two of you together for the first time, it had left Eames absolutely and completely enamored by you. "Do you need a place to stay love?" He asked, and you nodded. "and, if you don't mind my asking, I'd rather Ariadne learn architecture from a proper architect rather than Dom Cobb." He added with another grin, this one more mischievous then the last. A smile took over your features, "I'd love to."

Warm.

There aren't many people who could say they've watched a rocket explode. Then again, you were probably the only person who was currently being physically dragged out of bed by the alien symbiote that lived permanently under your boyfriend's skin at the annoying time of two forty-eight in the morning. "You need to come quick!" Vemon urged. With your half asleep senses slowly reeling, all the symbiote got in response was a tried grunt, as expected it did little to deter them, not that there were a lot of things that did. Tendrils carried you into the living room, Eddie held his head in his hands with his elbows on his desk, and his shoulders shook visibly. "There's something wrong with Eddie." Vemon murmured, best as they could anyway, there wasn't much about the symbiote that was quiet, next to your ear, while Eddie proceeded to choke on his own laughter.

The soft blue light of Eddie's laptop lit up his features and defined his figure in the dim living room. His desk was littered with pens, one rested upon his open notebook, hastily scrawled notes in messy handwriting abound. He was always up late working for one reason or another. A half empty water bottle was abandoned on the side with its lid off in Eddie's laughing fit. The sent of a microwave ramen bowl with a kick entered your nose, and you began to suspect what had the symbiote all worked up.

"V isn't too found of having a little spice in their life, I take it." You rasped with sleep stubbornly sticking to your vocal chords. Eddie shook his head with a grin, shoveling a fork full of the noodles into his mouth. "Why would you eat something hot enough to burn you?" Vemon asked, "You should wait until it's cool."

"It's not that kind of hot buddy." Eddie smiled. Vemon narrowed their eyes, "What other kind of hot is there?!" The symbiote exclaimed. You chuckled softly as you pulled up a seat next to Eddie, setting your glass of water down on your boyfriend's desk with a tink nose. "Here," you said, tearing open a chocolate bar and holding it up to Vemon, "This is more to your taste, isn't it?"

Vemon nodded and took the candy with a gentle tendril, breaking it in half with another, eating their half whole and handing the other back to you. Eddie watched you break off another two pieces of the chocolate, eating one yourself and tossing the other in the air for Vemon to catch in their mouth. "Again!" Vemon urged excitedly like a child. Well, a child that has way too many teeth and was made of extraterrestrial ooze. You chuckled and broke off another piece of the chocolate. Eddie's cheeks were slightly sore from grinning at you and Vemon, but the reporter physically couldn't make himself look at the two of you any other way. Most people wouldn't react very well to Vemon. The symbiote was anything but subtle and would often think with their stomach before their head, none of which seemed to have ever bothered you.

This made Eddie feel all warm and gooy inside, like all the good parts of a teenage crush. He's had the thought that he couldn't love you anymore than he does now before, but you prove him wrong every time.

Enthralled.

You were his. You just didn't know it yet. His smile hid his jealousy as he watched you mingle with the Shelbys across the room from the table where he and his men were sat, "Is everything alright, sir?" Ollie asked. Alfie nodded, "if Alfie Solomons wants something, he gets it." He said lowly, eyes remaining locked on you. Downing the rest of his half-full glass of bourbon, Alfie stood and made his way to you. Tommy had insisted that the purpose of this party was making business connections, and for that reason alone insisted that Alfie had to turn up to the festivity. The Wandering Jew was less than eager to attend, so after many tireless calculations, he decided he'd show only to make it clear to Tommy that he didn't want to be there. "Did he complain the whole way from Camden?" Tommy asked, nodding toward Alfie as he turned to Ollie. Alfie scoffed at the question, glancing around the room. Once his eyes found you, he found himself completely enthralled. Ollie watched a certain Birmingham native curl his thin pale lips into a smirk before excusing himself.

Now, Alfie watched you laugh as he made his way to you. The corners of his eyes crinkled, and a smile formed on his face as he watched your eyes sparkle in the elegant lighting. Any party thrown by the Shelbys was bound to be extravagant and have an endless supply of drink. However, there was a catch. There was always a catch. You were laughing at something Arthur said, once again stirring the jealousy in Alfie's gut. Stomping that out as much as his heart would let him, he continued his approach. "Hello Alfie," Arthur said with a grin, "didn't think you'd show.". "Well, you stand corrected!" Alfie exclaimed, throwing his hands out to the sides. Unbeknownst to him, you were admiring the way his hips swayed as he walked up to you and the Shelbys. A smile lined your lips, Tommy's plan was working just as you hoped it would. Tommy barely tried to hide his smirk, rubbing his cigarette over his lips before lightning it as he watched Alfie Solomons do what he did best, talk, and you were the main focus of his attention, Arthur shared a knowing look with Tommy. "Right, gentlemen!" Tommy exclaimed, "shall we leave Alfie to his monarch?" He said, eyeing the grins his family was wearing. Alfie eyed Tommy suspiciously, "The fuck you playin' at mate?"

"Don't worry," Tommy said, patting Alfie's shoulder as a wave of Shelbys surrounded the three of you on all sides, "I put in a good word for you." He explained, gesturing to you, and with a nod, he left to follow his brothers.

Intrigued.

Jack grimaced as the metallic thunk of brass colliding with bone filled his ears, "Yep, that's what he's talking about." Howard said with an amused grin. Forrest nodded to himself, gripping his brass knuckles tightly before slipping them back into his pocket, out of sight. "Yeah, alright now." He said softly, stepping over the unconscious man, moving toward his younger brother. "Jackrabbit," Forrest and Howard said in unison, both pausing to glance at the other. Jack remembered mom calling his big brothers' twin flames of a sort, as they always seemed to know what the other was thinking before anything was said, and because they spoke in unison like this far too often for it to be a coincidence. Forrest wouldn't admit it out loud, but they were rather compatible as a unit. As long he was at the head of the operation at least.

Howard rubbed the back of his neck with an awkward chuckle as Forrest grumbled incoherently under his breath. Jack glanced between the pair with a mix of wonderment at Forrest's handling of the situation and embarrassment at being caught at knife point and not being able to defuse the situation himself. "Forrest!" A familiar voice called. The brothers turned to see Ida Belle rushing toward them, "is everything alright?" She asked, Forrest nodded to the man on the ground, watching a grimace spread across Ida's face. "He'll wake up," he started, Ida snapped her attention back to the middle brother. "Probably with less teeth, but it should at least make'em reassess his life choices a little bit." Forrest murmured, shaking his head at the man. Jack tentatively removed himself from the wall, taking a few steps forward to gawk at the man's face. The would-be burglar's nose was likely broken, and his skin was already turning many shades of purple and black amongst the crimson liquid that coated the bottom half of it, and the imprint of brass knuckles could still be made out.

Forrest removed his hat and held it against his chest. Jack figured it was a show of courtesy for Ida Belle rather than for the man laid out on the ground. Everybody knew Howard could become volatile at a moments notice, but what seemed to take people off guard was when Forrest lost his temper. Jack felt rough hands grab his shoulders and yank him off his feet. His shoulders were the first thing to collide with the hard ground, and his back hit second. "Fuck you Howard!" The eighteen year old exclaimed. "Oh, whatever you say, little doggie." Howard grinned widely. The pair froze at the sound of the middle brother's soft gruff laugh. Howard smiled, glad to hear the happy sound. Jack fought with his features as he picked himself up, Forrest certainly made keeping a straight face look easier than it actually was. Jack lost this battle when he noticed Howard smirking at him, and his eyes narrowed into a glare.

With a soft grunt, Forrest brought a cigar up within inches of his face. Storm grey eyes inspecting the roll of tobacco from end to end before clamping his teeth down on it. Jack watched him slip his hand back into his pocket for a match as the sound of a subtle click came from behind him. There was no mistaking what this sound was, the safety on a weapon. Forrest slid his fingers into his brass knuckles for the second time tonight. When he turned around, he was met with a smile. You stowed your pistol back in the holster on your hip, "I thought I told you to stay inside!" Ida Belle exhorted. You merely huffed in her direction, much too taken by the stranger in front of you. "May I?" You asked, reaching for the cigar. Jack didn't think you looked like much of a threat. However, he knew Forrest thought otherwise, eyeing you up and down agonizingly slow until another grunt rumbled out of his chest, and he thrusted the cigar into your hand. You retrieved a square shaped metal lighter and allowed white smoke to waft out of your nose while you repocketed your lighter. Jack often wondered what preference Forrest had for carting around a box of matches to light his smokes with as opposed to an actual lighter. Matches had their other uses, like lighting oil lamps, the campfires people would huddle around after dark, and Howard's favorite, shine stills. Jack could ponder till his puzzler was sore, and the only conclusion he would ever come to was that this was simply a quirk of his silent older brother. "Good taste." You smirked, passing the cigar back to Forrest, who grunted.

Howard noted a look of bewilderment appeared in Forrest's eyes after he returned the smoke to his lips and removed it again, inspecting it. Was there something wrong with it? Howard wondered. "Hmm." Forrest hummed, leveling his steely gaze with the side of your head as he wedged the already flattened end of the cigar between his teeth and firmly bit down on it. Ida Belle introduced you to the brothers properly, adding that you were new to Franklin County. Forrest grunted lowly at this. "What on earth could've brought you to a town this small?" Jack questioned. Forrest shook his head like he thought the question to be of little relevance. "Work mostly. My mother wanted to marry me off, but I'd rather carve my own path in life." You responded casually. Forrest snapped his attention back to you, "Hmft." He grunted softly. Jack gave Howard a confused glance, the eldest only shrugged in response. "We ought to let you boys get back to work." Ida said, attempting to corral you back inside. You shot Forrest a smile over your shoulder, effectively locking him in place. He glanced toward his brothers as he heard a truck door slam. Jack was already griping the wheel, and Howard was sauntering toward the back end of the brothers shared vehicle. The eldest stopped by the driver's door, appearing to have been smacked by a thought, and spun on his heels to see Forrest hadn't moved. "Are we gonna get a move on before sunrise, Forrest?" Howard liked to tease his baby brother for being slow and lumbering. "Hmft." Forrest grunted again, at the remark. Forrest turned back in your direction, contemplating his actions for a moment. He whistled to get your attention. "Ida Belle! Wait just a minute, now!" He hollered, catching up with you. "What the hell is he doing?" Jack asked impatiently. "Well, I'll be damned to hell," Howard grinned from ear to ear with a chuckle, watching his baby brother converse with you, knowing his brother well enough to know something had his interest piqued. "looks like ol' Forrest found something that intrigues him."

Obsessed.

A friend had warned you against taking a job in your area. You knew you lived in a bad part of New York, but you didn't need someone to tell you that. you grew up there despite it all. Besides, working at the diner was decent, you made ends meet and your new job had brought new friends along with it. "The usual?" You smiled cheerfully at the group of rowdy boys who just walked in. "As always." Pierre smiled. He was always the dominant one, acting before any of the others. You'd even heard some of them call him boss a few times. "How's Alice doing, PJ?" You asked as you refilled his coffee. Pierre perked up at the nickname, his pale features practically beamed as he pretended not to hear his friends snickering. They've told him repeatedly to ask you out already. "She's good." He replied. This is what the two of you bounded over, Pierre lived with and cared for his elderly grandmother, who was struggling to get around these days. She's not getting younger, after all. You lived with and cared for your ailing father. His health and characteristic charisma had taken a hit when a back injury forced him into retirement. He buried himself in his construction job after the divorce from your mother. Had it been up to him, he would've worked himself into the ground. You were currently one of the only things keeping the old man afloat.

"When are you gonna make a move, man?" Jamal asked. Pierre rolled his eyes. A glare quickly replaced his nonchalantly as he spotted the man who had been openly flirting with you over the last week ordering a coffee from you, Pierre and his boys used to come to the diner every other Wednesday after the lunch rush, but Pierre has been showing up daily since this started. If there was one thing that Pierre didn't like, was someone else encroaching on something he had convinced himself was already his. "Might be sooner than we think." Khalid, Jamal's twin, said lowly, recognizing the dark look in Pierre's eyes. "Don't do somethin' stupid, Pierre." He growled, grabbing Pierre's hood and wrapping it around his hand just in case. Pierre was compulsive at best, and flat out obsessive at worst. The rest of the gang have had to physically restrain him more then once because of his inability to control himself. "Alright, alright! Jesus don't fucking choke me!" Pierre griped, trying to yank his hoodie out of Khalid's hold, effectively gaging himself in the process.

The diner cleared out as the sky grew dark, Pierre broke off from his friends. "I'll catch up with you guys tomorrow." He said, propping himself against the outside of the diner. "Don't do anything stupid." Khalid warned again, resulting in Pierre flipping him off. The gang walked on regardless, unwittingly leaving Pierre to lie in wait for his target. Pierre spent the next half an hour psycing himself up, gripping the glock he kept hidden under his shirt. Finally, the targeted man emerged from the diner, walking past Pierre and down the block. Pierre knew the back alleyways well, sure he'd have to jump a few fences that he knew he wasn't supposed to, but who cares? He had to get ahead of this guy. Weaving his way through the dark passages, he peaked his head around the corner and spotted the man again. He plastered himself to the wall and exhaled heavily. His heart was like thunder pounding in his chest. He would never grow tired of this feeling, Pierre thought. The man, whose name Pierre couldn't be bothered to remember, appeared in his vision, causing Pierre to act. Snatching his victim off the sidewalk and yanking him deeper into the alley.

Pierre chuckled darkly as the man scrambled to get to his feet again after being thrown onto his back, Pierre appeared somewhat scrawny, writing him off as such would often prove fetal. Never underestimate the insanity of Pierre Jackson. Pierre laughed and knocked the man back down with a well placed kick and placed his foot on his chest. "Any last words bitch?" Pierre grinned wickedly, tossing his leather jacket aside and retrieving the glock from his belt. "N..nn..no." the man stammered. "No?" Pierre taunted, "Well, too fucking bad." He added, squeezing the trigger. Bang. The deed was done, no going back now. Pierre's arm fell to his side limply. He breathed heavily as the thrill of his actions enraptured him. Soon enough, muscle memory kicked in, and Pierre began rummaging through the man's pockets. A wallet, a lighter, and a pack of cigarettes, he could make use of these. He placed the unfiltered end of one of the stolen cigarettes between his teeth, not bothering to light it. He just wanted something to chew on.

His cell tone brought him out of his daze, he stumbled from the slight dizziness of standing up too quick and almost fell, "Fuck!" He hissed in irritation. Grabbing his phone from his jacket, "Hello?" He answered. "Hey Pierre, are you very far from the diner?" You're voice came through the other end of the line. "About half a block, what'd ya need?" He asked. "We just heard a gunshot nearby," you started, making Pierre aim a glare at his lifeless victim for screwing things up again. "Could you come walk me home?" You asked, completely unaware of the part Pierre played in the ruckus. "Yeah, sure I can, just give me about five minutes." Pierre responded. "Okay." You said, hanging up. Glancing down at himself, Pierre noticed the blood splattered over the front of his hoodie, he thudded his head back against the wall with a sigh, lolling it to the side in order to stare down his jacket that he threw on the ground in a haphazard manner. He grabbed it and zipped it up hastily to hide the evidence, pulling himself together and checking the cost was clear before darting out of the alley. A toothy grin appeared on his face as he headed back to the diner. He achieved his goal of eliminating the competition, and was giddy at not getting caught.

[astros-silly-place]

glranboo disease has taken my brain again SMH. get out of my head /j

[charlotteafy]

understand?No?[How they feel to each other]

Banban:

-> Josh:Good(Friend)

-> Banbaleena: Siblings (My AU)

-> Flynn:Enemies

Flynn:

-> Banban:Hate

-> Banbaleena:Good

-> Josh:Best friends

Josh:

->Banban :Good

->Banbaleena:?

->Flynn:Best friend

Banbaleena:

->Banban:Siblings

->Josh:Good

->Flynn:Good

[shrubsparrow]

It's in the eye of the beholder

[jammboe]

Pangaea miku

[scribefindegil]

being a writer leads to a genuinely helpful but also very stupid kind of mindfulness where you'll be having a sobbing breakdown or the worst anxiety attack of your life and think "okay, I really need to pay attention to how this feels. so I can incorporate it into my fanfiction."

[stimmingandstruggling]

more good news from tiktok: they’ve started blocking celebrities.

they’re calling it block party 2024. just blocking and ignoring countless celebrities who havent said shit about palestine. influencers, actors, anyone who went to the met gala, whatever, they’re getting blocked. and people keep talking about how cathartic it is, how good it feels, how they never realized they could DO that. there was some kind of subconscious law against blocking famous people, but it’s broken, and people are LOVING it. and it’s WORKING. a social media/digital advertising coordinator was talking about how ad companies are PANICKING, because they can’t accurately target anymore. so many big influencers, including fucking LIZZO started talking about palestine the MOMENT their follower counts started going down. and the best part? no one is forgiving them. lizzo posted a tiktok asking people to donate to palestinian families, and all the comments just said you’re a multimillionaire. put your money where your mouth is. blocked.

i feel like i’m witnessing the downfall of celebrity culture, right here right now. people are waking up.

[unsung-idiot]

don't show him modern technology; it won't end well

bonus under the cut:

[pouletpourri]

"You just have to look closely."

[trinketbug]

"furry inflation" (2024)

[nervousmonolith]

figured out why i dislike the term non-man so much thanks random screenshot

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

The math just adds up!

[heedra]

unsung benefit i think a lot of ppl are sleeping on with using the public library is that i think its a great replacement for the dopamine hit some ppl get from online shopping. it kind of fills that niche of reserving something that you then get to anticipate the arrival of and enjoy when it arrives, but without like, the waste and the money.

[donnieisaprettyboy]

can we stop pretending like it’s so super easy for trans men to pass. “oh just put on a baggy shirt and cut your hair-“ it literally doesn’t work like that and I refuse to believe you actually think it’s that easy

[inkskinned]

she's singing in another room and my dog is asleep at my feet. my grandma asked me why i haven't found a man yet and i laughed. oh, you know. i like my house clean.

my girlfriend is also my man is also "my partner" if i'm in a professional setting. yesterday we went to a ren faire and a man mimed at me - you're together? and at my delighted nod, his baffled, you're gay? made me laugh. a woman with rainbow hair said i love the two of you together. you're both so beautiful it's absurd.

my dad introduced my partner as my "..... friend. or whatever" the other day. he knows we're dating. in the same way, i was never able to get my sister's husband to stop saying that's gay like it's 2008. he still uses the word fa***t, and my sister's defense of him has always been well, he's just kidding.

my lover and i dance to old music in a tiny kitchen. we judge new music together and take food critique very seriously. we watch love is blind before we fall asleep and agree that if they had a queer season, it would be bloody but also make for excellent tv. of fucking course queer people would know someone for only 2 weeks and agree to get married. what are you saying.

at a bar with friends, a man puts his hand on my wrist. got a boyfriend? and yes, i do have a boyfriend, she's amazing. i am texting her while i wander around a gas station named after geese. i am visiting a swing state for a wedding. in the candy aisle i overhear: she's actually like a lesbian it's disgusting. two teenage girls with packaged sandwiches in their hands, giggling. no literally, like. i'm not, like. okay with her being there while we're all, like, naked and changing.

my girlfriend and i tailgate, drink gin and cider out of cups. from the frat group beside us, a man corrects himself with one of his friends: bro, i mean, nonbinary entity, and it makes everyone around him laugh, myself included. he razzes his friend the same way i would have killed for at 19 years old - like nothing happened, he continues: you apply sunscreen like an alien. he does a little sassy (and fairly accurate) dance interpretation of the motion. his friend is laughing so hard they're crying.

i am lucky, i live in a safe neighborhood in a safe state. my masc passenger princess comes up from DC. i drive her for an hour to where all the leaves are a violent arrangement of color. we walk along the trails, letting autumn into our blood. in this part of the state, there's a lot of pickup trucks and trump signs. when we chastely kiss before getting into the car, i accidentally make eye contact with a woman holding her child's wrist. she looks disgusted. she looks fucking pissed.

two hours later my girl and i are eating dinner on a patio, soaking in the last warmth of new england sun before the chill of winter sets in. we are giggling and trying to talk through plastic vampire teeth. at another table, i see a young woman sit up straighter. i watch her watch us. she blushes and takes her partner's hand from across the table. shy, like the taste of evening has just become something deeper.

it's worth it for this moment, i think. my lover is still humming the same song she's been singing for four days straight and i don't want to kill her for it. her guitar is beside my bed. her toothbrush is in my bathroom. in a few moments i will make us lunch. we are lucky enough to have found each other. it is lucky enough to be in love.

[dirtytransmasc]

the men and boys are innocent too.

we cry "the innocent women and children" to appeal to the masses, to try and force their sympathy, but the men and boys are innocent too.

I have seen sons crying out for their mothers, their fathers, their siblings. I have seen them break down at the loss of their families. I have seen them cling to their dead and grieve.

I have seen fathers cradle their dead children, seen them kiss their faces and hold their little hands. I have seen them faint with grief when asked to identify the dead. I have seen them carry their sons and daughters. I have seen them fasting to provide what little they can for their families.

I have seen men and boys digging through the rubble with just their bare hands, I have seen them comforting strangers, playing with children, rocking them, hushing them, even if the face of such imminent danger. I have seen them cry, seen them grieve, seen them break down into each other's arms, seen them be selfless, beyond selfless, becoming something I don't have a word for.

I have seen the men who are doctors refuse to leave their patients, even when they have no medicine or supplies to give them, even when they're threatened with bombings. I have seen fathers who have lost all their children pick orphans up into their arms and proclaim them their child so they are not alone. I have seen men and boys digging pets out of the rubble.

the men are innocent too. the men and boys are being hurt and killed too. the men and boys are grieving too. the men and boys are scared too. the men and boys are fighting to save their people too. the men and boys deserve to be fought for too.