#I actually found a pretty good one in men’s health magazine of all places

[coolfoxykitkat]

Not me casually sending my mom articles on QPRs to prime her for explaining the I am in fact marrying my best friend platonically and no it has not been a joke

[olderthannetfic]

No hard feelings if this is asking for tmi and you don't want to share, but do you think your sex positivity as an early teen was purely the result of a more open minded environment, or did you ever consider yourself to be hypersexual?

I am struggling to wrap my mind around the childhood you have described. I went to public school in the central valley. It's a red area but my sports team traveled to private schools all over the state for competitions. All the wealthy parts of California seemed very conservative and Christian to me.

I was horny at that age too, but I don't think I would've wanted actual sex, even if my environment was not quite so conservative. I was too worried about pregnancy and STDs. By 16, the furthest most people had gone within my peer group was outercourse. (At least, as far as I knew. I also was not very popular and probably did not get all the gossip.)

However the only girls who went further than that, or at least openly talked about going further than that, were from troubled homes. They always seemed like they were getting pressured into the things they were doing.

I believe you had a healthy childhood. I'm not trying to insinuate anything and I know you are tired of people suggesting this. I'm just struggling to comprehend the upbringing that you're describing. If I had even attempted to get a vibrator at that age, I'm pretty sure I would've been bullied to hell.

How in the world were you getting sex books and toys at 14? If your parents were in on it, how did they not get bullied by other parents?

--

I got most of my teen health books (which included sex advice) from my parents friends as presents. No, other adults would not have bullied them.

Have you ever seen Call Me By Your Name, anon? I'm vastly less European than the vibe there, but those intellectuals reading books aloud and pretending they can't see their hapless offspring trying to figure out life remind me of the adults I grew up with.

The sex toys I mostly got when I was a little older. I'm probably exaggerating to think I had them at 14 rather than 16. (I'm old. Things blur together.) But if one looked old enough, one could buy them plenty of places. Good Vibrations was my go-to later, but some of the sketchier places were closer by and not at all discerning about clientelle. Books were easy: I just walked into any one of the many, many odd little bookstores around here and went poking around the queer or sexuality sections. Some stuff I found in the library. Bookstores don't card people.

I really cannot emphasize enough how much difference it makes to be geographically near weird indie bookstores with alternative sexuality sections. Not only was I able to buy, but I could lurk in the aisles, reading things in the store. (Unnecessary in my case, but a godsend if you don't want your parents catching you with something at home.)

It was at these bookstores that I bought Anything That Moves, a bisexual magazine that ran during basically my entire adolescence and no other time. Reading queer community papers certainly does something for one's outlook. This particular magazine was especially interesting in that the 90s queer landscape was very much oriented towards cis gay men and cis lesbians, and not only was the magazine specifically about bisexuality, our own rights struggles, and our culture, but it was also very trans-friendly.

On the subject of schools, private schools, broadly, come in three types: Catholic, for rich people so they don't have to associate with the poor, and for the ~gifted~. All can be expensive and full of rich people, but the last of the three tends to be a lot more liberal than the other two. Also, a lot of them suck at sports.

But to answer your question... hmm... I don't think I was hypersexual. I was on the horny little gremlin end of teens, certainly, but I wasn't such an outlier that I see it as pathological. I definitely stood out from my classmates though, and I chalk it up to early unfettered access to Usenet.

At the time, the internet tended to be full of academics and tech industry people from a few parts of the US, from the Netherlands, and from a couple of other countries. (No, really, I knew a bajillion randos from the Netherlands.) Many countries seemed to barely be online in the early 90s. It was very unevently distributed, even compared to now.

So Usenet was full of adults who felt themselves to be in relatively homogeneous, friendly, ephemeral spaces (little did we know about later archives of posts) and who wanted to discuss BDSM, bisexuality, and other sex and identity things. I didn't interact that much, but I was lurking in the kinds of spaces people usually try to keep minors out of.

I doubt I was that much hornier than other classmates, but I was vastly kinkier, especially in fiction tastes, and much more self-aware about that. Because my tastes were weird, I kept seeking out spaces with adults discussing kink. I also sought out a lot of freaky art.

My mom actually wasn't at all supportive of BDSM. She thought that kind of taste came from a background of abuse (which I know because she made weird comments when she saw me reading a book about BDSM safety), but it didn't matter because I was secure enough and had enough exposure to kinky adults to not be freaked out by Mom being wrong. I just thought it was embarrassing for her that she was so ignorant.

When I say I was online and unsupervised on the old internet, I think some people imagine a lot of gore spam and scary porn I wasn't ready for and old people creeping on me... But Usenet of that era was awash with FAQs by overly earnest adults pontificating about their special interests. How my tumblr sounds now is a lot more similar to that environment than most horror stories about internet porn.

Here's an example of some tl;dr overly earnest types in 2010 trying to document the history of fantasy necrophilia sites online. These people were definitely pedantic Usenet nerds 15 years before this.

Here's a 2001 version of the soc.bi FAQ. This is such a microcosm of what internet culture looked like in the late 90s/early 00s prior to everyone leaving Usenet and mailing lists for Livejournal and such.

muffin: A person who reads but has never posted to soc.bi. De-muffining means posting to soc.bi for the first time, hence no longer being a muffin.

Oh my god! I'd forgotten about 'muffin'!

Anyway, the big thing to notice here is that whether it's freaky fetish porn or factual info about orientations, everyone is extremely earnest, likes answering nosy questions endlessly, and is actively engaged in recording the history of their own communities and compiling lists of resources and where to find things.

It's culturally the opposite of, say, tiktok, where the algorithm serves you up what it thinks you should see and everyone is stewing in learned helplessness.

So it was partly a stable, sex-positive, supportive family. It was partly access to other adults' writing. And a decent chunk of it was that I had some pretty dark fantasies, so it was natural for me to actively confront what those do and do not mean in a way that a more vanilla teenager wouldn't have needed to.

I wasn't hypersexual, but I was born kinky, and it did make a difference.

[shreddedparchment]

A Wife for Thor Pt.22

Obstacle

04/08/2021

Pairing: King!Thor x Reader          Word Count: 5,413

Warnings: angst, jealousy, marital problems, pregnancy, allusions to cheating (no actual infidelity), fluff, smug Loki

A/N: It took me SO long to get this chapter down. I wrote literally like a few sentence a day for a bit and then finally got some good chunks out. This has been a tough week but this chapter makes it all worth it! I hope y’all think so too. A lot of good stuff happens in this chapter, as in stuff that I really like. If you happen to reblog, thanks so much for helping me spread my work!

Please DO NOT repost my stories on any other sites or blogs.

REBLOGS are always welcome!

The shuffle around the palace as Loki escorts you through the front gate is overwhelming.

It’s safe to say that judging by your reception when you’d shown up in Heimdall’s tower located on the far side of the city, the Asgardians are happy to see you.

Armod is also happy to see you and you rush to get into your car before you can get swarmed by eager Asgardians.

Loki joins you in the back seat and lets Armod gush over his happiness at seeing you back home and healthy. And pregnant! More than anything, the people are happy to see the swell of your belly.

Many of the women are crying as you step out of the car at the palace gate, the men cheering enthusiastically.

Some of the children have found flower petals to throw into the air and it rains white, pink, and yellow blossoms.

It's the small waving hand of a little girl with ebony floor length braids that tugs too hard on your heartstrings and you give in to your impulse.

“Armod, stop the car, I’d like to greet the people,” you ask, swayed further by the eager faces of the young girl's siblings who flank her..

As much as being Queen had come unexpectedly and as much work as it's been, loving the Asgardians has never been a challenge and you've missed your people.

Their kindness has always been the best part of your day.

Armod gives Loki a quick look but stops the car just as the palace gates are opening.

He pulls over to the side, putting it in park before hurrying out to open the door for you.

“Are you sure?” Loki checks, reaching over to place his hand over yours on the seat.

“Of course. I owe them this. I’ve been gone for so long.”

“If you’d rather go in, we can find an excuse.”

“Loki,” you laugh once. “Is something wrong? Is there a reason I shouldn’t get out of the car?”

“Not at all,” he assures you. “I just don’t want you to force yourself. I know this pregnancy hasn’t exactly been easy on you.”

“I’m okay. And I’m sure they wanna see the proof that they have an heir coming. Really, Loki, I don't mind.”

Loki sighs, but gets out quickly to move around and take Armod’s place and offer you his arm.

Taking it, you pull yourself out, and after a long moment to steady yourself on your feet, you turn to face your people.

A large number of Valkyries suddenly pour from the open palace gateway and you wait as they line themselves in front of the gathering crowd. A simple border of control to keep you safe.

The people don’t seem threatened by the guard either and they continue to cheer until you raise your hand and call them to silence.

It only takes a few seconds for the noise to die, leaving only the ambient sounds of the city, wind, and the shuffling feet as more Asgardians and visiting humans gather.

“Hello,” you begin, voice a little shaky from nerves. “I’m...I-I’d like to start by first apologizing for disappearing. And then for being gone so long.”

The people watch and listen attentively, hanging on your every word. As your hands drop down to your belly to stroke it anxiously out of habit, their eyes are drawn to it and they seem to rattle with excitement again.

Looking down at your tummy, you contemplate the little one inside and the kicks he gave you earlier in the day.

He's really in there.

“It’s been a long journey to do what’s been expected of me. Difficult, actually. Giving you and Thor what we’ve all been hoping for is a privilege though. It's important that you all know that.

"However, I'm not as strong as all of you. I'm not as resilient. As soon as I knew that I was expecting the future prince or princess of New Asgard, I knew that I had to take precautions. I had to stop thinking like your Queen and just for a while, think like a mom. I told Thor that I wanted to take some time away from my duties as Queen if only to make sure that my pregnancy would take. In order to ensure the health of this baby.

“Im so very sorry if I caused any of you any worry or pain by disappearing. That was never my intention and it makes me...I can only say that I'm sorry. I hope that you all can understand why I left. The The thing is I’m happy to say that my efforts weren't wasted, clearly."

There's a rumble of gentle laughter that flows through the crowd and breaks the slightly somber mood your speech is causing. You give them a smile and they smile back.

"And while that does make me very happy, it has not been easy to carry this baby. I have been sick and weak but after some rest I'm now feeling stronger than ever. With the constant and careful care provided by Doctors Wilson and Alric, I’m finally able to resume my duties as Queen with the knowledge that this baby is strong and healthy and my body can take the strain of bringing him-or her into this world.

“I’m so happy to be back among my people, my home. You all are my family and it fills me with such joy to know that I have made you all proud.”

The people cheer, more and more gathering along the street so that it’s now clogged and impassable. Others have taken to peeking out of windows from the surrounding buildings or finding balconies and roofs to stand on to get a better look at you.

Their excitement changes to trepidation at the look on your face as you realize that now is the perfect time to address what happened yesterday.

They’re so attuned to your mood that they quiet down again and wait nervously for you to speak.

"On a more serious note, I know that many of you must have been shocked by the lies spewed onto the pages of the Watch. And I'd like to be as clear as I possibly can about my absence from the palace.

"I only left because of the concern I had for our future prince or princess. There was absolutely no other reason for my absence in our great city. While it is true that something did happen between Thor, Jane, and myself--well, I will only say that now I know that His Majesty the King of Asgard is wholly devoted to me and our family, just as he has been from the moment he accepted me as his wife.

"Not that I ever doubted it," you lie. No one needs to know how bad things are and it is true that now you know Thor is devoted to you.

So, it's not completely a lie.

"As a people," you continue. "We'll need to be vigilant about the people we choose to trust to come into our homes. We will be more cautious now, and as a woman…"

You swallow hard, thinking about the words itching on the tip of your tongue to tumble forward and make your heart clear. Maybe it's not right to say it? Maybe it isn't the queenly thing to do?

You don't care.

"As a wife and a soon-to-be mother, I will say that Doctor Jane Foster is not welcome in my home. She has proven to be unworthy of the trust we placed in her and while her expertise is an invaluable commodity that I am sad to lose, I would rather have the second best than risk the stability of my family."

To your surprise, there are a flutter of approving nods and smiles, wives and husband's looking scandalized by the confirmation that something went down but clearly it was Thor that had Jane kicked out. A few cheers come but they quiet down quickly.

"My love for His Majesty is unwavering. As is his for me. No marriage can be without it's struggles but Thor and I are as united as we have ever been. Both in love, devotion, to each other and you, our people. Together we will strive to protect this kingdom to the best of our abilities and with this child, I hope we can begin to lay down proper roots for us so that everyone on Earth will know that New Asgard is here to stay."

The crowd cheers. It's deafening and your hands are trembling so terribly even clenched into fists they shake.

"LONG LIVE THE QUEEN!" someone shouts and the others fall into the chant as it's picked up by what sounds like everyone in the crowd.

A cool hand presses against the center of your back and you lean towards him as he whispers in your ear.

"That was beautifully done, Y/N," Loki admires. "Now come along. You need your rest."

You cradle your bump and the crowd cheers louder as you wave while Loki leads you back into the car.

As it pulls away from the curb, the Valkyrie turn to follow behind you. Faces full of stern pride. Their gleaming armor shining bright in the late afternoon sun.

The large wooden and steel reinforced gates of the palace close with a thundering clatter and you lean back, heart suddenly clenching painfully. Your stomach turns and you feel like you might throw up.

You shut your eyes and open the window allowing the cooling air to help drive your nausea away.

"Y/N? You alright?" Loki checks, putting his hand on your arm.

"I'm fine," you assure him, unwilling to open your eyes.

"Are you sure? Only, you're looking a little green."

That doesn't actually happen does it? Do people look green when they're gonna throw up?

You assume he's exaggerating, but as the last bit of the swirl in your belly passes, you look at him with fearful eyes.

"I'm nervous," you admit.

"To see Thor?"

"Mm," you nod.

"He's missed you. He will probably try and hug you. Might even kiss you."

"I don't know if I can handle that, Loki."

"You'll have to. The guards around the palace are sworn to secrecy about anything that happens in here, but with the amount of information that magazine was able to get we're pretty sure there's a mole amongst our number."

You look away from him, frowning because the last thing you want is to hug and kiss Thor.

Well, that is, you really want to do those things. Which is why you shouldn't. Not until you can be around him with some kind of rational thought and control over your feelings.

You need to get a grip and come to terms with the reality of your situation before you can let yourself love hum.

You have to protect yourself.

It turns out that you have nothing to worry about.

Estrid who had come before you with your things is there to greet you. A few others of the palace staff come to see you and you're welcome back with fondness.

Because you know you have to play the part, you look for him.

"His Majesty had a sudden summons from the Lady Sif and the Warriors Three, my Queen. He apologizes for missing your arrival but he's had the small dining room filled with all of your favorites.

"When you are finished with dinner, he has asked that you wait for him in his study."

Estrid's tone tells you she's wary for you. She wants to make sure you're okay.

The disappointment you feel gives you away not only to yourself, but everyone there to see your face fall as you caress your belly.

"A blessing in disguise?" Loki suggests in your ear for just you, but the smile on his lips says he knows better.

"He'll be back before it gets too late, Your Majesty," Estrid assures you, trying to soothe your sadness. "He promised. There’s nothing more he wants than to see you."

"I know," you smile at her, then the others before you head for the dining room, your stomach grumbling in anticipation of the foods you know are waiting.

~~~~~~~~~~

Waiting is torture. You keep trying to read your book but your attention is pulled back to the door of Thor’s study every few seconds.

You groan, dropping the book onto the desk before throwing your head back with scrunched up eyes.

How is it possible to be desperate to see someone while also dreading it?

It feels like you'll die if you don't lay eyes on Thor but also like it'll tear you to shreds if you do. There's no winning here.

You gasp as the door opens and get to your feet in the same breath.

Thor's body is rising and falling heavily with his own labored breathing. He'd been running.

To get to you? No. You can't be swayed.

"I'm here."

His declaration is soft but heavy with meaning. More than just him announcing his arrival.

"Oh, aren't you a vision," he gushes.

"Hi," you whisper, only because you can't catch your breath.

He's wearing jeans, a plain black t-shirt stretched across his bulging chest. He's even more massive than you remember. Three months away has deprived you so fully that suddenly being in his presence leaves you hungry for him.

You want him so much.

"I've missed you, desperately," he confesses. "May I greet you properly?"

You frown, so undecided.

"Or not," Thor relents. "Forgive me, I just got caught up in the moment."

Why is this so hard?

You want to feel him.

"You can greet our baby properly," you give in.

A big part of you needs to feel him and this is the only way you can give in and feel like you're still doing your best to hold strong in your resolve to get some distance.

Thor’s eye lights up and quickly finds the swell of your tummy with recognition.

"Really?"

"I will never keep you from our baby, Thor. Even if I'm not ready for things to go back to normal between us just yet."

Thor takes a half step towards you and watches you carefully for any indication that you're not comfortable with his proximity.

You sigh, head tilted to the left slightly before you hold out your hand to him, beckoning him closer.

In three long strides Thor takes your hand and stops when he's only a foot away.

"Here," you gasp.

Your heart is in overdrive. Thor’s touch is doing things to your body. There's an initial rush of butterflies in your stomach and quickly you pull Thor’s hands to the spots where your baby is kicking in response.

Thor’s body freezes. He goes rigid. He even stops breathing.

For a moment you begin to worry that maybe you've broken him, until he suddenly drops to his knees.

He swallows hard, eyes pooling as he stares at the swell of your stomach as the baby continues to kick.

“They’re really in there,” he’s so choked up about it that his voice cracks around the words.

As he speaks, the baby kicks more.

Thor laughs but then leans in to kiss your stomach over the fabric of your dress.

“We really made her,” Thor gushes.

“Her?”

He looks up at you, confused for a second before he smiles wide, “Or him. It doesn’t matter. What matters is our baby is coming.”

Your heart swells, and you’re so happy that you could float away like a hot air balloon with the warmth flooding your limbs.

This is the moment you’d dreamt of. This is the moment that had been stolen from you by Jane and her lies. This is the moment that you and Thor had both been yearning for.

He’s so caught up in it, floating through the glow of this perfect moment that he presses his lips to your tummy again two more times before he’s rising, his hand hooked behind your neck as he meets your lips as he gets to his feet.

You’re so unprepared for it, so utterly lost in this sweet exchange between him and your baby that your lips pucker on their own.

He opens his eye and yours, already open, stare into his. He looks slightly shocked to find himself kissing you but he doesn’t stop.

Instead, his expression shifts into a pained look of desire. He pulls back, his hand dropping to grip your bicep.

“I would say that I’m sorry but I have been wanting to kiss you since the moment I left you three months ago.”

You say nothing, watching him, listening. You’re searching your soul to see if this is okay with you because it feels okay. Despite the sirens blaring in your mind about the restrictions you’d set for yourself when you’d decided to come back home, your body is telling you it needs this. Your heart is painfully aching at Thor’s touch.

You’ve missed it. You’ve missed him. 

“Is this alright? I can go.”

The idea of him going now feels like the end of the world. Rationally, you know that isn’t an appropriate response to his offering to leave you be, especially when you know you asked him for space for specific reasons.

“No,” your hands grip the sides of his t-shirt tightly, holding him in place without any actual strength since compared to him, you’re as mighty as a little mouse.

You refuse to look up at him, despite the crumbling of your resolve.

“No, don’t go.”

It’s an almost involuntary shy response to your diminishing shame at losing all control after his touch. After one kiss. You should be disappointed in yourself. And part of you is. However, that part of you grows increasingly small as Thor gently takes hold of your chin and guides your gaze up until you can meet his.

“I’m sorry, cherub. I will try and be worthy of you again.”

“I know,” you admit, knowing how sorry he’s been from the moment he realized that he’d done something that hurt you badly. “I know you are.”

“Can I kiss you, cherub?”

His voice is so deep, so alluring and coaxing that you drop your gaze again, fixing it on his collarbone before slowly you nod.

His arm winds its way around your waist and he pulls you to him before dipping down and catching your lips with his again.

He pulls away after a second because the swell of your belly gets in the way, but he laughs and looks down at it.

The pleasant sound of his happiness gives you too much joy.

As you begin to smile, Thor reaches down to press one hand to the side of your stomach while he pulls you against him again and kisses you this time with more fervor.

The longer he has his lips pressed to yours, the more enthusiastic he gets until finally you’re breathless and you pull back but instead of pulling away, you wrap your arms around him and fist the back of his t-shirt,

You bury your face against his wide chest and Thor brings his hands back up to caress the sides of your face, his lips kissing the top of your head.

“I know I may not have a right to say this, but thank you for coming home. Thank you for coming back to me. I thought I’d lost you."

His arms grow a little tighter, his heart is in an absolute stampede.

You turn your head sideways so that you can listen to his heartbeat.

"This is what I'd wanted," you whimper, starting to be overcome with the emotion of being reunited with Thor and things falling into place more easily. "This is how I'd wanted us to share this moment."

Thor sighs heavily, giving you one more squeeze before he pushes you back a little so that he can look at you.

“I’m so sorry that I robbed you of that. I was a fool,” he nods, his eye intense as he stares into yours with wordless declarations piercing into you.

The memory of your speech with the people when you arrived pops into your head and now with Thor’s arms around you it all feels a little like an overreaction. The past three months feels like a distant nightmare.

Or does this feel like a dream?

“Thor,” you begin but Thor’s lips are on you again, drowning out your words.

“Oh, to hear you say my name,” he declares and kisses you again.

Your mouth opens for him and you absolutely melt against his chest as he nearly dips you in passion.

He pulls back again, “Is this real?”

He kisses you.

“You feel so good in my arms.”

He kisses you.

“Your skin is so…” but then he hums and kisses you.

He dips down and with his arms tight around your waist but also careful with the swell of your stomach, he lifts you so that you’re level with his eye.

“I love you, so much, my cherub. Thank you, thank you for coming home. Thank you.”

“I’m sorry I stayed away,” you sigh. “I need to be strong without you, Thor. I was hurt but I never stopped loving you.”

His face goes through shame, understanding, and then elation.

In a burst of subdued anger and aggression for what he put you through, you reach up and grab his shoulder. You dig your fingers in against the taut muscle then reach up to pull one of his ears.

You’re clearly not hurting him but he allows you to move his head, understanding the need to express your anger even if you’re not doing any damage.

“Never do that to me again,” you growl. “Never say that you’ll leave me. Why would you say that? Even in passing? You were so damn sure.”

“No, Y/N, I wasn’t. The moment I saw you, I knew that I could never leave you. I’m sorry. I could never even think those thoughts again.”

“You better not, or I won’t come back next time. I’ll disappear and you’ll never see me again.”

Thor takes your threat for what it is. A promise. Truth.

He shakes his head as he leans forward to press his forehead to yours, shutting his eye.

“I swear,” he begins. “On my life.”

He keeps you there, hovering over the ground with your heads together for a few minutes before he slowly lowers you to the ground. You realize it’s because he wants to stroke your belly and you take a slight step back so that he can.

He smiles, happy. It reminds you of the look your people had when you’d arrived only a hundred times as possessive and joyful.

Again, your speech intrudes on your reunion and this time, you won’t let him distract you.

“Thor,” you coax, placing your hands over his where they rest on the sides of your stomach.

“Yes, my cherub?”

He’s excessive in the affection he puts in his voice but you know that he must be floating on cloud nine after what you both went through when you made him leave you at your house.

“I-I did something and I’m not sure if it was right of me to do it,” you watch his brow wrinkle and for a split second you almost lose yourself in the beauty of his face.

Has he always been this handsome?

“When I got back I kinda made a speech? Everyone was so happy to see me and to see me carrying our heir and I wanted to apologize to them for leaving and for making them worry. I wanted to share in their excitement for the baby and with that stupid tabloid having come out yesterday-”

“Right, the article,” there’s guilt in his voice despite there being no truth to the rumors it printed.

“I wanted to put their minds at ease and I...I did confirm that something happened with Jane but not what they were thinking.”

Thor’s expression hardens just a tad and he pulls backs towards a large armchair. He grabs your hand though and pulls you along with him until he can sit and then carefully attempts to offer you his lap, unsure if you’ll sit.

You do, because you’re tired and because you’re not eager to be away from him again. Now that you’re touching him, you’re not in a hurry to change that again.

“What did you say exactly?”

Swallowing hard, you lick your lips nervously, “Um...I told them the truth. Not exactly the truth, but enough of it that they’ll understand that Jane isn’t welcome here. I said that the only reason I left is for my health and the health of the baby, which is true. I didn’t want them to worry about us because even if we didn’t reconcile, I want us to be united for them at least.

“But I don’t trust Jane, Thor. Not after what she did. Not after how she treated me when you weren’t looking, and the people need to know that I will protect them from anyone, no matter who they are to you or me.”

Thor’s face grows pained as you speak, his arm wrapping around your waist as his other hand caresses the side of your stomach. You’re starting to realize that it’s going to be hard to get his hands off it, but that doesn’t seem like a terrible problem.

“I wish you had told me that she’d been rude to you,” Thor sighs, taking his hand off of his stomach to stroke your cheek. “If I had known-”

“She wasn’t rude to me Thor, she dismissed me. I wasn’t even worth acknowledging to her and now I know it’s because she was jealous and wanted you back because what? She saw what we had together and suddenly it was good enough for her?

“I was in her way. That’s all I was. Even if in the end she couldn’t go through with it whether it was because she felt guilty for doing this to us or for lying or for having second thoughts and knowing that she doesn’t want to be Queen or a mom, she’s a bad person to me. And I have every right to protect myself, my baby, and our marriage from her. She’s not welcome here Thor. I never want to see her again. Ever.”

He’s cradling you now, holding you close because the intensity with which you're telling him that Jane is not welcome in your home is transferring to him.

“And if you’d known, you wouldn’t have done anything, Thor. You’d probably have talked to her and asked her what was going on and she would have lied to you and you would have believed her.”

He doesn’t deny it. He does look like it hurts him to know that you know though. That’s enough for you.

“I think it took her lying and doing this to us to make you see what she’s capable of.”

Thor shuts his eye, resting his head against your chest as he wraps his arms around you again.

“I’m sorry.”

“I know you are, Thor. But you weren’t the one who lied. I mean, you didn’t tell me what was happening, but you weren’t the reason that this happened. If Jane hadn’t lied-”

“But she did,” Thor says, his deep voice anguished. “And I failed to honor my vows. You are my Queen and I should have come to you the moment she told me she was pregnant.”

You both fall into silence as you reach over to stroke his bicep. His skin is so soft. Touching it gives you comfort in a way you weren’t aware you needed. The more you touch it the more you need to feel it.

A finger stroking his skin turns into two, then four, then your entire hand is running up under the sleeve of his t-shirt.

With the way his hand curls around your thigh, you know that both your bodies are responding to your touch. Both of you are heated but instead of giving into that because you aren’t ready for that yet, you lay your head on his shoulder and curl in closer to his chest.

Thor sighs heavily, wrapping you up in his arms as he cradles you close.

“Now we know better,” you whisper.

“Now I know what losing you will do to me,” Thor agrees. “I’ve missed you so much, cherub.”

You don’t respond. You’re too choked up to say anything without your voice cracking so both of you stay like that for a while.

The cocoon of Thor’s arms is toasty and from the exhaustion you’re feeling plus all of the emotions that have drained you, your eyes are heavy and difficult to keep open.

“What about you?”

Thor’s chest rumbles with a chuckle.

“We can talk more tomorrow, cherub. Sleep.”

“I’m not sleepy,” you lie.

“Very well, then. What about me?”

“You’re sleepy?” you look up at him, full of concern.

He chuckles again, “No, cherub. What were you asking?”

“Oh! I just wanted to know if you’re okay. What Jane did to you can’t have been easy. Despite what she did to us as a couple, she said she was pregnant. You’ve been wanting a baby for so long and she dangled that in front of you like the rat that she is. And then she wasn’t even pregnant?”

Thor’s arms constrict around you as he pulls you up towards him to kiss you.

It’s slow and full of emotion.

“Even after all of that, you’re still worried about me?”

“It took time,” you admit. “Once I wasn’t so angry and I thought about what Jane really did. I hate the idea that your heart broke over her lies. I can’t believe she ever loved you if she was willing to make you feel that way.”

Thor just stares at you, searching your eyes before he rubs his nose gently against your own. When he speaks, his voice is so low, so deep, an intimate whisper. It burrows into your chest and settles right there underneath your ribs and makes you breathless with missing him and desire.

“That’s why you’re my Queen, Y/N. And she is not.”

You’re not sure if it’s an Asgardian ability or if maybe it’s something specific to Thor, but he has a way of making you swoon.

“I missed you so much,” he confesses again, that whisper sinful. “Did you not miss me?”

You nod because you can’t speak. There’s a lump in your throat made of both sadness and want.

“Was your bed as frigid as mine was in your absence? Did you miss my breath on your neck as I did yours? Or the steady beat of your heart when you pressed your breast to my back as you held me while I slept?”

Fuck, he’s making this so impossible.

“I hate you so much,” you counter, but his lips stretch into a small knowing smile as you take a tight hold of the neck of his shirt and pull him up to meet your lips.

He exhales heavily into you, tasting you, relishing in every pulsating touch as both your hearts ache and yearn almost in disbelief as if both of you can’t believe that these wants, these needs are finally being met.

As he pulls back to tilt his head the other way, he takes hold of the sides of your face again, his lips grazing yours, “I love you.”

Before you can reply or yank him back into that torturous yet blissful kiss, a voice at the doorway clears their throat.

“Well, that was fast, what happened to keeping him at a distance?”

Loki’s voice pulls your gaze and you can feel your cheeks and neck burn at how easily it seems you’ve crumbled when finally face to face with Thor.

You frown at your brother-in-law, while Thor ignores his brother and leans up to press very non-chaste kisses to your neck, “I told you coming back was a bad idea.”

But Loki’s smile is blinding and with one chuckle he backs out of the room, shutting the door quietly as Thor turns you back to him so that he can get back to kissing you.

[buckysbitch107]

Home Isn’t Just A Place Part 2 | Steve Rogers x Reader

Summary: Life in 2023 is very different from your old life 80 years ago. Steve has caught you up on some of it, but there’s still so much for you to find out.

Warnings: Swearing, Angst, Slight Allusion to Habits of an Eating Disorder, Fluff, Nudity?

Word Count: 2.6K

A/N: Here’s part two of this small little series. Hope you like this one and I hope it meets your standards! I deeply apologize for not being active for a while. I am going to attempt to upload on a schedule, but school and mental health and COVID are all impacting my life in a negative way at the moment. I have been struggling with my bipolar disorder and depression, so I am in fact trying my best.

“Winnie the Pooh.” Steve calls out, bending his head over the back of the couch to project his voice across the common room. A small gasp and running footsteps are the only sounds heard on that floor of the tower before your figure appears in the doorway of the kitchen and living room.

“POOH!” You squeal, throwing your arms up in the air, the material of Steve’s sweatshirt flopping over your hands. As soon as you found out that wearing your partner’s clothes in the 21st century was acceptable, you practically pillaged Steve’s closet of all sweatshirts and shirts in general. The past two and a half months have been full of learning pop culture and getting caught up with the 78 years you skipped, which included all things Disney. Nat giggles at your response to Steve’s words, and he holds up a finger before leaning his head back again.

“Y/N, what’s the most wonderful thing about tiggers?” He asks, a small smile forming on his face as you gasp and your eyes light up like a kid in a candy store.

“Well, the wonderful thing about tiggers is, that tiggers are wonderful things.” You explain, the smile sticking on your face as you continue reciting the song. “Their tops are made out of rubber, their bottoms are made out of springs. They’re flouncy, bouncy, trouncy, councy, fun fun fun fun fun! But the most wonderful thing about tiggers is that I’m the only one!” You flop down onto Steve’s lap as the finale to the song, and he quickly wraps his arms around you to protect you from falling off the couch.

“Told you she’s obsessed.” He mumbles to Nat, a frown appearing on your face as you overhear his words.

“Not my fault Walt Disney’s a genius.” Natasha silently agrees with you, the small nod she gives you making you pump your fists in victory. As Steve and Natasha continue their conversation, you lay in Steve’s lap and play with the dog tags hanging around his neck. He runs his hand through your hair, slowly lulling you to sleep.

~~~

“But-”

“No! I am on my break!” You exclaim, finishing your extra assigned duty of organizing the different bandages and gauzes.

“Y/NNNNNNN-”

“NO! How many times have I told you? Steve’s shield should not be used as a frisbee, and Redwing should not be used to divebomb your friends.” You screech once more, attempting to brush off the three dipshits you call friends, all with different ailments caused by the shield and the tiny robotic bird. 

“How did you know about Redwing?!”

“Part of Redwing is stuck in Buck’s arm.” 

“Ah.” Sighing once again, you motion to the table and try not to laugh as all three of them try to fit on the medical bench at once. The three men somehow all fit, squishing each other a little bit but eventually sitting normally. You look at the clock and sigh, knowing your break only lasts for another fifteen minutes. You start with Steve, cleaning off the bruises and cuts on his face, even though they’ll heal in a moment. Moving to Bucky, you pull his arm forward and begin carefully maneuvering the broken piece out of his upper arm. You tug. He flinches. Finally, the piece comes out of Bucky’s arm and the man sighs. 

“Thank you.” Bucky mumbles, flexing his fingers to make sure everything is still intact.

“Yeah, yeah.” You say, brushing him off with a small wave. “Don’t thank me until I’ve fixed the only purely human person in your idiotic triad.” Sam looks down at his feet and you chuckle, grabbing an antiseptic wipe and attempting to clean the cut from Steve’s shield.

“OW!”

“It would hurt less if you stopped moving!” This continues for what seemed like hours but was only a few seconds. You were finally able to clean and bandage the cut on Sam’s forehead and hand him some Tylenol for the other bruises after he stopped whining like a four year old. The three of them sat there for a little longer while you finished cleaning up and they thanked you, one by one heading out of the medbay. Steve lingered, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“You’re adjusting really well. I’m proud of you.” He whispers.

“I know! I barely say gas anymore!” Steve smiles and kisses you once more before walking out after the other two. After putting away the bandages and tweezers, you sit down to actually enjoy your break, now shortened to ten minutes instead of thirty. You pick up the nearest magazine and start reading. Everything is going fine, until you reach the advice section of the magazine. And I thought the 40’s were harsh about women.

~~~

What you read in that magazine shook you a bit. You knew that beauty standards had changed over the years, but you didn’t know that they changed THAT much. Women were expected to be so much skinnier and healthier and plastic. After overhearing Steve tell Bucky he’d always liked a girl with a “good figure”, you began striving to look like the girls on the pages of magazines. Cooking healthier meals, working out more, even skipping meals sometimes to not pile on carbs. You realized it wasn’t the healthiest, but it seemed to be working. And yet every day, you looked in the mirror and loathed yourself a little bit more. On this mediocre day, you had just finished a run and were now looking for food when Wanda walked into the kitchen. 

“Hey Y/N!” She exclaims, walking over to you as you dug through the fridge. “What’cha making?”

“Oh nothing, just grabbing an apple for lunch.” You say nonchalantly.

“For lunch? Aren’t you gonna eat more than that?” She looks at you worriedly while you shrug and she sighs, pulling you closer to her so she can look at you head on. “Tell me what’s going on.”

“What do you mean?”

“An apple for lunch, working out when just three months ago you mentioned loathing it, and you’ve been skipping dinner with the team a lot. What’s going on?” You shrug once again and she pulls you over to the couch on the other side of the room before staring at you and gesturing for you to talk.

“Well- the future is really new and exciting, but it’s also scary. I picked up a magazine a while ago and it talked about body figures. And I know I don’t have the prettiest body but the future seems really harsh and then I overheard Steve talking to Bucky and saying he likes a girl with a good figure and I’m chubby and-” At this point, you begin to cry and hyperventilate as you vent your feelings to Wanda. She listens quietly as you rant about how you feel overweight and unlovable in the future, and how you think Steve is getting sick of you and might leave you for a different woman. A modern woman. A skinnier woman. 

“Oh you poor thing.” Wanda whispers, pulling you into a hug as you cry harder. She turns her head, a certain blond-haired man catching her eye as he stands quietly in the doorway. You continue to sob as Wanda glares at your still-fiance and rubs your back. They seem to communicate telekinetically before Steve nods and walks away, leaving Wanda to calm you down.

~~~

You slowly walk into the apartment you share with Steve, your medical bag slung over your shoulder. You slam the door behind you and take off your shoes, setting your bag next to the door. You’re about to stand up when a pair of hands clamps around your eyes. Gasping, you’re about to fight back when a familiar voice begins to shush you.

“It’s just me, it’s just me.” Steve whispers, causing you to relax a little while Steve loosens his hands a little bit. You start to speak as you attempt to pry his hands off your eyes.

“Why didn’t you say that? You nearly gave me a heart atta-”

“Don’t open your eyes!” He exclaims, scaring you once again. Steve can practically feel your heart begin to race once again. “I-I have a surprise for you.” You nod and he stands you up, leading you blindly further into the apartment.

“Should I be nervous?”

“I don’t think so.” Steve answers, leading you a little bit further before taking one of his hands off your eyes, sliding the other to cover both. You hear the balcony door open and wind rushes in as Steve leads you out onto what you assume is your balcony. He removes his hand and you quickly gasp as you look around you. The tiny balcony that had once only contained a single light was now covered in soft yellow fairy lights, a rug placed down instead of the harsh concrete and soft music playing. You quickly recognize this as the song you two danced to the night he proposed. The night he left. Turning around, you find him standing there with one hand out to you and a grin on his face. “May I have this dance?”

“Of course.” Steve quickly grabs your hands and pulls you closer. Resting your head on his shoulder, the two of you slowly sway to the beat of the song, the calming chaos of the streets of Manhattan now just a background noise in your tiny little bubble. You look up at Steve and he’s smiling down at you, occasionally mouthing along to the song. Quietly laughing once more, you decide to focus on the man in front of you, starting with his eyes. “Have your eyes always been this blue?”

“I mean, I think so. Kind of hard to tell.”

“Well they’re pretty.” He smiles at your compliment, and Steve hears you mumble something else. He doesn’t quite catch it all, but he does hear one word. Kids. The two of you dance for a little while longer before it starts to actually get cold, and the two of you head inside.

“I have one more thing.” He says, taking your hand and leading you to the bathroom. The two of you stand in front of the mirror as he slowly starts to undress you, and your mind goes in a whole different direction than what he’s planning. Steve finishes pulling off your clothes and instead of kissing you like you’d hoped, he moves you in front of him so you’re forced to stare at your reflection. You start to squirm as he looks at you, a small frown resting on his face. “I hear you talking to Wanda today.” He starts, immediately being cut off by your gasp.

“Oh god. I’m so sorry. None of that has to deal with you, it’s just me being stupid and-” You quiet down when Steve gives you that look, and he soon resumes talking. 

“You’re not stupid. Your reasoning is valid, but I want you to know that you have nothing to worry about. I will always choose you.” But what if you don’t? He can practically see the doubt on your face, so he pulls you closer to him and begins his original plan. Steve kisses the top of your head, lips pressed softly against your hair. “I love your hair because it’s part of you. It’s gorgeous and always seems to look perfect, no matter how much you criticize it.” And he continues doing that. Going slowly down your body and pointing out what he loves about every single part of your being. Once he reaches your thighs, however, you start to grow more self-conscious. How could he love something like that? It’s all cellulite. And yet he carries on.

“I love your thighs because they’re perfect to hold. Whether I’m dancing with you in my arms or having them squeeze my head, they’re perfect in every way. They’re perfect for me, because they’re a part of you.”

Every single body part, from the hair on your head to the feet attached to your legs (he didn’t kiss those, he said no thank you), was properly adorned with love from your fiance. By the time he finishes, there are tears in your eyes, and he stands up with a goofy smile on his face.

“I want you to know this, Y/N. I mean every word I just said. I love every part of you.” You nod slowly and he finally does what you’ve been waiting for. Steve kisses you softly before pulling away and beginning to run a shower. You stand there quietly until he’s done, and he motions for you to join him. Once the shower is warmed up, the two of you make your way in, simply staring at each other for the time being. Steve wraps his arms around your shoulders in a hug, the two of you just standing there silently under the water.

“I love you.” You murmur, some of your words blocked by his chest, the others getting through to him. Your fiance smiles and looks down at you, similar to the way he did outside.

“I love you too.” He gives you a kiss on the forehead before reaching behind you, grabbing your bottle of body wash and squirting some on his hand. Confusion crosses your eyes before he begins washing you, something he does every once in a while on special nights. Your fiance carefully moves his hands around your body, his actions calming from the very hectic day you had. He continues to do this with your shampoo and conditioner, movely slowly in order to not pull you from the beautiful land between sleep and consciousness. Once he finishes with you, Steve lets you rest against him as he takes care of his own shower routine. The one time he moves you is to rinse out your hair, making sure everything is out in order to not have to do it again. He knows how much you hate being woken up. 

~~~

Grabbing a towel, he carefully wraps it around your body, drying you off before repeating his actions on himself. The two of you exit the bathroom and you stand in the middle of the bedroom, your fiance moving around somewhere off to your right. Steve returns with his shirt and boxers for you to where, along with some boxers for himself. After getting dressed, the two of you brush your teeth and get ready for bed before finally falling into the wildly-made bed from this morning when the two of you were late. You cuddle into Steve’s side and wrap his arm around your shoulder, the man chuckling at your actions. The two of you sit there for a little longer before Steve turns to you.

“Y/N?”

“Hmm?”

“What did you say about kids earlier? After you asked about my eyes?” You stare up at him as you start to blush, and Steve nudges you to explain what you said.

“I said-” You pause. “I said that I hope our kids have your eyes.” You hear Steve gasp and you look down at his chest, the two of you never having the conversation of kids before.

“You-you want kids?” He asks, sitting up to be able to look you in the eyes.

“Of course I do! I’ve wanted them since forever, but back then, you said you were scared of them having your medical problems. And now it seems we kind of don’t have time for them with the whole saving the world thing and-” Steve cuts you off with a kiss, the both of you smiling and he pulls back first.

“I will make time for them.” He whispers, kissing you once more for good measure. “So,” He begins, sitting up a little straighter. “When do we want to start trying?”

Permanent Tags: @wintersoldierslut​ @breakmy-bedbarnes @stuckys-hot-dogs​ @andreasworlsboring101 @yaxamarvel @donutloverxo​ @celaena-carstairs-cullen​

Just a reminder that all requests are open! My masterlist is in my bio, so you guys know who I specialize in, but really I do anyone y’all request. As I’ve mentioned, nothing is too fluffy, angsty, smutty, or gorey for me. I mainly write Marvel and its characters/actors. I can also write some characters from other things, you just have to ask! Also please let me know if you want to be a part of the Permanent Tags! My Prompts list is attached to my masterlist in case you need something extra! But please, for now,

Call me Emily

[hecohansen31]

It Was Fun Till It Lasted

Duncan Shepherd x F1 Pilot Female! Reader

(A/N): Hello there, lovelies!

I have been a bit silent the latest weeks, but I just got hit by the inspiration train as of lately (even more after all the F1 glory we have been getting) and I just thought about a small drabble, about Duncan in the race car universe.

Not as a driver, but more like a sponsor.

This is very PWP, even for my sentimental ass, so I do hope that you’ll like it, even though it isn’t the most perfect thing ever (just to warn you).

Also I just wanted to give @guiltyfiend a big shoutout because she has been a constant source of inspiration for me with various fics (‘Quid Pro Quo’ has been the main reason why for the existence of this drabble) so do check out her lovely fics!

I am also personally, maybe (since I don’t feel apprecciated in the other fandoms I am in) of making a few comebacks in this fandom, if any of you would like iit obviously!

So, please, if you want more, don’t forget to leave some kind of feedback I truly apprecciate it from the bottom of my heart and it’ll truly make my heart beat stronger and my fingers write faster!

Don’t ever ever forget to support your beloved writers with feedback, if you liked what they wrote!

Have a nice reading!

SUMMARY: Galas can be annoying things, but when an handsome fellow accidentally drenches you in champagne there are many ways your night might change.

WORDS: 5,4 K

WARNINGS: Mention of Sexism, Misogyny, Harassment On The Workplace, Inaccurate Portrayal of The F1 World, Inaccurate Way Of Cleaning Champagne From Clothes, Sex, Slight Dirty Talk, Mirror Sex, Oral Sex (Female Receiving), Sex Between Strangers.

You sipped slowly from the flute of champagne you had managed to steal, meanwhile your boss wasn’t looking, since you had been instructed to avoid getting yourself drunk till you got the trophy in your hand, to avoid replacing the ‘drunk Kimi meme’ in the F1 world.

But it was difficult for you, an introvert, to feel at ease in a room full of different people.

A few of them were gladly ignoring you, but more were looking at you like you were some kind of freak in a costume, which was probably the best description for being one pilot of the only all-female team existing in F1.

You had grown up with the myths of Ayrton Senna and Niki Lauda, thanks to your grandfather and his the passion for fast cars and elegant ones, raising you as some kind of substitute to him, who had never been able to race, having had various problematics with his own health.

An heartattack at seventy had taken him away, just as you signed your first contract with the F2.

You had been partnered with a male pilot, and although the car wasn’t the fastest, you had managed to become much better than your partner, eventually getting yourself fired because females, in a place like F1, couldn’t raise to fame, throwing you in a depression that had brought you almost on the verge…

… but then your newest F1 stable had brought you back, giving you a car that wasn’t definitely one of the best you could have gotten but it had gotten you through a nice first season, and you had actually arrived at the sixth position in the constructors’ championship, alongside your partner…

… who, right now, didn’t look less bothered than you, at this fancy party.

But Abigail could definitely hold the curious gazes better than you.

You might have needed something more than champagne to get through a night like this.

You had begged your stable director to just bring Abigail, the social butterfly out of the two of you, but he had just insisted that ‘having two beauties on his arm would have done him and the stable more good than just one’.

And aside from the blatantly sexist part of the comment, you knew he was right.

Sponsors had been rushing to you this season because the media had focused much attention on the importance of new female figures in races, but now that the novelty was rushing off a few had decided to let you go, so you had to grab a few new ones, convincing them through either the use of your talk and your feminine charm.

‘… I had almost thought that he’d ask us to sleep with the sponsors to get them to stay’ had commented Abigail, as you both set yourself up for the night, the elegant rented dresses waiting for you on the comfortable bed of the expensive suite of the hotel ‘… it was this close to becoming an episode of ‘Law & Order: SVU’.

And now Abigail was being her usual chatty with a few sponsors fawning around her, as you tried to down the flute of champagne almost as if it was a full bottle of vodka, something that you honestly missed and stared at the expensive drink in the glass.

If only your glare could turn it in something that would give you more liquid courage.

A few of the rookies had been tried to talk with you and you had been extremely happy to have someone approach you, but soon the chat had diffused itself and all the drivers had been called back by their own director, and you had found yourself alone, again, and with annoying stares upon you.

Many of the pilots from the other stables had tried to get you in bed with them, and you knew that there were various bets going on about getting you or Abigail to finally relent your ‘haughty pretenses’, not to talk about the fact that the entire media platform and magazines had been set up on you and Abigail, waiting for any false step of yours.

You had been dubbed ‘the sole chance for feminism to raise’ and everyone was waiting for you to fall.

To prove that F1 wasn’t female territory.

So, you had been rigorously swearing off any coupling with the other drivers.

The fact that you found it already quite difficult to combine your training and the various galas you had to attend with an healthy social life, certainly did help with the whole ‘chastity promise’ thing.

And you never regretted such a choice during the race season.

The ‘no sex’ rule helped you during the competition, keeping your mind in the game, but now that the driving season was ended and you were finally enjoying your well-deserved holiday, you couldn’t help but hate thoroughly the situation you had landed yourself in, only able to rely on your hand and a few interesting toys.

But otherwise, utterly frustrated.

And yet unable to come up with a solution on such a short notice.

Dicks didn’t grow up on trees, these days.

You just bumped in them, apparently.

Because, as you were halfway through having your second drink of the night, counting on the fact that the director of your stable was halfway through a successful talk with some well-dressed older gentlemen, hence making him quite busy already and unable to check up on you, you clashed against a wall.

A wall of muscles, at a second glance.

A breathing wall of muscles, at third glance.

But you were far more interested by the fact that the bump-in had just made you spill your entire drink on your Givenchy rented dress, the one that costed more than your apartment rent, something that made a loud ‘shit’ leave your mouth and making the ‘wall of muscles’ raise his head towards you, as he noticed the stain.

And then, when you noticed that ‘wall of musclea’ had a pretty face and an even prettier body, a softer ‘shit’ left your mouth.

What a way to make an impression.

“Oh Gosh, I am sorry!” American accent, no British accent.

That was probably where Mother Nature had drawn in blessing him with all the ‘fucking handsome man’ gifts.

His handsome face was elegantly touched up by high cheekbones and feature that had something of roguish matched with elegant traits and darker colors, making him stand out as someone who wasn’t definitely a pilot or a journalist.

Which was ideal for you.

Such an refined face was matched with an elegant tailored body, the suit definitely made for him and him solely, knowing perfectly how to highlight each and every trait of a body that was obtained through attentive work, a careful one that was meant to impose itself or pump his muscles with no aim, but to give him a lean appearance of power.

That definitely worked with you.

“… oh” brain to Earth, brain to Earth, (Y/N), say something intelligent ‘… it was an accident’.

Tell that to the lady that will want the dress back.

But for now, that wasn’t your main concern.

Which was the handsome man in front of you.

But you couldn’t just hump him right there, not only because you were pretty sure that it would have been described as ‘sexual harassment’, but all the spotlight was set up on you, hence all the cameras were focused on every little small mistake you could have done, intensifying them in a way that didn’t happen with men.

You had to be perfect, but even more than that.

You had to be the male everyone thought you were, although you lacked of the attributes.

So, flirting was considered a hellish sin.

“Gosh, I am… extremely sorry” he repeated again, as his eyes shared a quick glance with yours, and you just nodded your head as if you had to confirm to him that you had heard him clearly the first time, before ducking to the restroom, hoping to be able to scrub away the stain, at least to avoid its yellowish color on the stark white of your dress.

But before you could start raising the dress off your legs, where the stain was more evident, you were followed inside by the man, and before you could utter any protest, he caught the ones in your eyes.

“I swear I am not a creeper” he raised his hands as if to reinforce this “… I just… you shouldn’t scrub on silk, it’ll just ruin the fabric, just ran the water and then wait for it to dry, some alcohol and a bit of bleach might also help, the stain will come out, with a single wash… I swear”.

You had a million questions for the stranger, unsure if you shouldn’t have already screamed at him for having entered the ladies restroom, but you just assumed that he was the first handsome guy ever to come with a cute personality.

And good domestic knowledge.

That was meant to always do something to a lady.

“… thank you” you settled on uttering, comforted by the fact that the guy turned around to leave you some privacy, but you couldn’t just let go such an opportunity, even more when you were in some kind of secluded area, and he didn’t look like the type that had a secret go-pro camera under his clothes.

Some girl that you had once met in a bathroom at one of the races had turned out to have one, as she egged on commenting some shit over Abigail.

Unluckily for her, Abigail was in the other stall and she had flushed in the noisiest way the water, before appearing with some kind of triumphant aura around her.

“… can you please stay?” ‘people will probably doubt you on your “abilities” if you come out after five minutes’ you almost wanted to utter, as a test to know if he looked just like a sex god or he fucking was, although with the way his cheeks blushed of a light red, you simply bit down on your tongue “… just to help me get the stain off, properly… you seem to know much more than me about it”.

“Things happen in college” he commented, as if it was an explanation.

What kind of parties had he been in college?

You just remembered the rush to grabbing the cheapest and most efficient alcohol.

He reached out as kindly as he could to start on the farthest part of your dress, where it wasn’t straight up skin tight, gently dabbing it with a piece of paper you had handed him, the fabric destroying itself on the dress, but the stain became a bit less prominent.

Enough to pass as some kind of enrichment the stylist had done on the dress at the last minute.

You hoped you could make the lady that had rented it to you buy this shit off too.

Because you either managed to get the stain out or get yourself a sponsor for the new year, or you’d have had to probably start living on the road, with only a few shining trophies for losers, such as the one you were supposed to grab tonight, for ‘best promising team’.

As if there was some kind of competition, between your small team and various established ones…

“… what are you doing at such a party?” you knew that conversation during this kind of thing would have gotten it to seem less sexual than it truly was, and although you were as good at small talk as you were at handling a crowd, you did your best to sound as relaxed as you could be.

But your question still sounded like one out of a police interrogation.

“Friend of a friend” it was more like meaning ‘none of your business’ but kinder, and you couldn’t deny his own right to privacy “… by the way, I do think that I should give you my name… in case you want someone to curse for the dress, I am Duncan”.

“I am (Y/N)” you were glad when no light of recognition shone in his eyes, just as his hand lightly grabbed the back of your upper thigh, to make the dress adhere perfectly to your skin and dab the stain more properly, a light shiver at the touch made you understand how truly touch-starved you had been “… and you look as out of place as me in this fucking gown”.

“Don’t tell anybody, but…” and he lightly leaned in closer to you, enough that you could feel the strong but comforting perfume of his cologne, something that smelt extremely male and yet, you couldn’t detect a trace of toxic masculinity in it “… I have never seen a single race of F1 in my life”.

Just what you needed.

“… oh tell me about it” you played coy, as his hands raised up from your legs skillfully avoided your ass, instead choosing to grip on the outer part of your hip, handling you with care but a sureness that made you want to relent the whole ‘male image’ you had created around you.

What would you have given for a night in which you didn’t have to be the one in control, constantly checking every detail!

“… neither a fan of the whole race panorama?” he asked, as his eyes trained themselves on your stomach, barely covered by the white of the dress, showing him a bit of skin behind it, exactly as the absence of your panties, a crazed decision of Abigail, who had thrown away your seamless granny pants.

‘They might be protective when we race, but these are shit’.

You knew you shouldn’t have lied to him about not belonging in the racing setting, but you just wanted to have one night in which you weren’t the prodigy, the promise, ‘the sole chance for freedom to raise’.

You just wanted to be (Y/N).

“Definitely not”.

“Brought here by a boyfriend?” now he was scanning his own ground, and he had a small break from his cleaning duties, as you caught a glimpse of that damned profile, the kind of thing you saw on expensive old coins.

He was definitely some kind of emperor in his own right.

“Nope” you mumbled, before you gave him back his own same coin “… just brought here by a friend of a friend”.

He smirked at his words being spit back at him and you smiled almost foolishly.

You even let out a soft giggle.

How fucking long had it been since you had giggled?

And done it because you honestly wanted.

And not because you were forced in front of journalists or potential sponsors.

His hands were now on the side of your chest, against the slight hill of your bra (you could have forsaken panties, but you needed that support), his hands lightly tracing the ridge of the silicone part where the bra stood attached to your skin, sweaty due to the fact that you had been wearing the whole thing for five hours, before of the event.

“… and you had an idiot spill a drink over it, in the span of an hour” the words were meant for self-deprecation, but the smile that accompanied him was utterly confident.

Had you had panties, they would have definitely hit the ground soundly in that moment.

“… it could have been worse” you mumbled, just as your eyes twinkled with secret meaning.

‘You could have been a complete twat or old enough to be my grandpa’

“… you couldn’t have known how to get out champagne stains” you joked, settling up on a more PG-13 comment, unsure of what to do, since it had been quite some time since you had last flirted, and although his hand told you a story, you weren’t exactly sure if he had gotten all the clues of the game.

He laughed so brilliantly that also a light blush joined your soft giggle.

“Gosh, that would have been awful” his tone was joking, but his eyes were onto you, as they searched some kind of confirm in yours, and you just had to lean in to sign the deal, leaning down to kiss him.

You had never been one for one-night-stands and neither for quick fucks in a restroom, but with the way he lightly gripped you, making sure to position you on top of the elegant porcelain sink, careful to avoid the water: it wouldn’t have been neither.

And you were completely swept away.

He definitely passed the ‘kiss’ test.

His hand went through your hair perfectly, but careful of the small updo you had done, his fingertips lightly scraping the baby hair on your upper neck, in a way that kept you grounded, just as his lips lightly bit onto your upper lips, leaving you wanting for more, just as he backed away with a cunning smirk.

One that spoke of that technique never failing.

And before he could perform again that cocky enchantment, you kissed him.

Releasing on him entire months of sexual frustration.

And you had to say that you surprised him, enough that you were worried that your suddenness would have scared him, but he just needed to regain the control, before his hand without any care went to mess up your updo, in a way that instead of grounding and relaxing you, made you tense up, just as his hand splayed your knees wide onto the sink to have him come up between them.

And after the passionate kiss you had been sharing, you found yourself quickly locked, with one that gripped you by the hair against the cold mirror and another one splayed on your knee

The fabric of your silk dress lightly caressed the skin of your inner thigh, right as his elegant and expensive pants did the same with your core, making you feel that you shouldn’t have seriously worried about the ‘five minutes thing’, or at least you hoped.

But the package seemed fucking good.

“… so, would you like to have a bit more of help?” the way he pronounced the word ‘help’ sounded downright sinful and how could a girl deny him, as your own hands moved to gently tap on his sharp cheeks, the scratchiness of a cleanly shaved beard making you feel like this was all real.

“Just don’t get my dress dirty” it was a whisper, but your eyes played with the dominance you wanted to relent to him, and he just looked intrigued.

“Then spread your legs properly, little one” and as if under a spell they opened properly and let him adjust himself against them as his hands lightly raised up to collect the dress away from your legs, stopping right up on your hips and leaving a bit of dress to cover you, as if he had to leave you some modesty “… good girl”.

You purred at that, leaning in the light petting of his grip having become less pronounced as a grip and more a caress.

“…  I saw you out there in the crowd and I wanted to buy you a drink, because you looked at unease as me, I thought that you could use that” he commented as his face lightly moved down to the crook of your neck, his nose making a teasing trail down your profile, just as his beard lightly scratched your skin, making it redden simply for his lips, before he covered it of purplish bruises “… I thought I had done the worst thing ever since with pouring a drink over you”.

“… couldn’t stay mad when you fucking looked like a sex god” you muttered unable to deny the truth, your body arching right against his as his hands, gently dragged he strap of your dress down your shoulders, revealing the awful skin-like bra, but he just seemed focused on your collarbones, his hand working slowly to ease the bra away from you, eventually dropping it onto the small tissues box over both of your heads, so it wouldn’t get on the ground.

An attentive gesture, exactly as the way he gripped tightly your breast, making sure that your nipples were lightly caressed by his thumb, right as he bit down on the softer flesh of your neck.

“I am glad that my good looks were of some use” he joked, and gently looked up at you “… and let me tell you, I have a tongue that will make you forget all about my clumsiness”.

“I do think that I deserve an apology” you muttered, as your eyes met again, your lashes cornering perfectly your hazy eyes, breathy and soft “… a vocal apology”.

And he simply smirked down at you, falling on his knees with a sound thud, as you pushed yourself further down the sink you were on, till you felt the painful dig of the faucet in your back, enough to make you moan in protest, but soon the look of wonder on his face as he unveiled the secret underneath your dress was definitely a relief against the uncomfortable position.

“… didn’t know that you were one of those girls that go without panties” he pushed a knee up on you to spread you further to him, as he took in the proper masterpiece that had been revealed to him down there, and his kisses moved up on your inner thigh “… look like the pretty girl turned out to be a bad bad girl, no wonder I am about to fuck you like a fucking bitch in heat in a restroom”.

And you blushed at the profane words.

But it was just more endearing for you as he pushed himself to properly settle against the nest between your legs, already oozing soft milk and sweet honey, his lips lightly pushing against your own, as he dragged the same beard you had felt on your cheeks against your cunt, the sensation making you hiss, right as again your lips came to soothe your ache.

The plumpness of his lips made you unable to stop yourself from moaning out loud, your eyes closing just as he delivered a slap to your thigh, a silent warning to keep your eyes trained on him and you did, as his lips sucked your softest piece in his mouth.

His tongue was instead a blessing inside of you and this time you were the one delving a bit of pain to him, as you grabbed strongly his hair, some kind of relief to keep you grounded as your body became like a cloud, weighted down just by the tension in your whole muscles.

“Fuck, you do know how to have fun” he mumbled tightly, as he released your cunt, something that made you protest loudly “… when was the last time somebody fucked you this good, (Y/N)”.

And before you could properly reply, his finger slipped inside you, making you hiss out at the feeling of being full, so unlike the stretch of your own fingers, so slight that now you needed a minute to calm yourself from everything, as you waited to answer his reply.

And he gave you a moment to breath, before his finger lightly probed further, reaching inside with a wayward gesture that made you choke up on your own words, as your back arched against the mirror and the hand that wasn’t in his hair gripped so tightly the sink that you were sure you had left an acrylic nail there.

“… a long time for sure” he smirked so devilishly that it broke you thoroughly.

And then his tongue matched his finger and before you knew it your floating was interrupted by your skyrocketing to the ground in a pleasurable trail that brought you back to all the earthly pleasure you could ask for, leaving you numb and tensed, your eyes rolling back as you lost sight of what was going on with you.

And then as you regained, your legs were slack over Duncan’s sides, his lips teasing again the skin of your neck, but no intention to punish you with any pain or tease you, instead there was a desperate soothing in his gestures, as you slowly came back to reality.

Fuck, you honestly should do this more.

Sadly, half of the guys that wanted a hook-up wouldn’t have ever done anything like what Duncan just did with you.

And would probably last five minutes, indeed.

“… was that enough of an apology?” he asked as soon as he saw that you had regained some semblance of calmness.

“Definitely yes” not that you could reply with much more.

Your fingers spoke louder as they went to his belt, undoing it with a bit of problem since you were slightly trembling, but he tried his best to let you do it, but before you could lower the pants, he gently grabbed your hands, something soft in his eyes, as he made you look up at him.

“We don’t have to do this…”.

“Oh, c’mon…” you mumbled, but his question was sincere and you couldn’t help but blush lightly “… I am pretty sure I want to do this”.

He mumbled softly, as he grabbed something from his back pocket, as you lightly lowered pants and boxers in one move,

And you weren’t disappointed,

He was definitely a big guy.

Larger than longer, with a light curve that made you painfully ache for having him inside of you, already half-hard, and your hand gently moved up and down on him, in a gentle foreplay that was completely uninterested about the knocking on the door, eventually dissipating in curses.

“… gotta be quiet baby” he commented, as he pushed his wallet on the side of the sink, getting a condom out of it, something for which you were thankful, because although you were on birth control, he was a complete stranger to you, and although the thrill of it just made it all just more daring, you would have preferred avoiding anything that might have given you an awful month “… I don’t know if you will, since I’ll make you feel fucking good”.

You just smirked at him, with a smile that told him ‘I can take it, sweetheart’.

And he just silenced it with pushing himself inside of you.

The penetration gave you an unpleasant stretch, and you needed a minute, as your whole body shifted against him, completely pushing himself in your arms, and to his credit he didn’t do much more than steady you, as he gave you the time to adjust yourself on him, till your whole body relaxed but your own insides.

Gripping him tighter.

Goading him closer and deeper.

And he gently set up a slow rhythm, making you feel each inch of him, till you were hypnotized with the way his hips moved against you, his upper body lightly stroking your clit, as wetness oozed down him, lubing him up, as he took up more speed and you found your back pushed against the mirror with such intensity that you were sure it would have been broken soon.

But you couldn’t give a fuck.

He gently pushed you in another position turning you around, so that you could face the mirror, meanwhile he took you from behind, the angle being deeper and the slight curve of his cock hitting the perfect spot.

And the fact that you could see yourself being fucked by him was only a bonus.

The way his face became so deformed by pleasure gave it all some kind of dreamish state, as the pleasure intensified desperately and you were there just on the right spot, but not enough stimulation was there for you, till he brought a finger in your mouth, and you sucked him inside, looking at the wanton expression on your face, before you closed your eyes.

And pleasure overtook you.

It didn’t take him too much time for him to finish alongside you, as his hand lightly went in your hair again, pushing as a way to grip on reality for a last time and your muscles spasmed around you, desperately and tightly in a way that almost made you wonder how it would have felt to have his seed on you.

And not in a plastic wrapper.

But for now that was all you could do.

Your legs trembled but he steadied you, something that definitely gave him more credit than you thought, expecting him to simply tug himself back in and disappear, maybe stand a bit next to you, to wash himself, but to his credit he gently  handled you better, till you were again seated against the sink, the facet now digging painfully in you.

But you were definitely sore in more pleasurable places.

He gently got you back in your dress, adjusting your bra on your sweaty skin, too sensitive for the powerful orgasms you had felt, his silken touch making goosebumps appear on your skin, as your nipples lightly peaked and he couldn’t stop himself from gently sucking one after the other in his mouth, as you moaned almost as a protest.

“Don’t start something you won’t finish” you warned him, as his eyes twinkled with teasing happiness.

“… I would… but I do think that people need this restroom” and he was right, since you felt somebody halfway through calling the security and you shouted out calmly a soft ‘sorry, I just stained my dress and I am trying to get the stain away’ “… but if you want, I can… leave you my number, for more fun…”.

Which you were tempted to take, honestly.

He was handsome, he had a good dick game and he was definitely respectful of boundaries.

But you knew these things always got too complex for you.

First of all because had you given him your number, you would have to admit the truth and secondly as much as you were free right now a partner that was repeated a few more times was dangerous, because feelings might be developed.

“… I…” but how could you let down a guy like this.

“… you aren’t the type” a sad smile appeared on the man’s face, no hard feelings for sure, but definitely uncomfortable at your rejection and you couldn’t help but simply nod “… got it, well it was fun till it lasted”.

And to his merit he didn’t do anything that might have been rough against you, choosing to instead smile politely as he cleaned himself a bit, before he exited with one last look at you, as if to check if you had changed your mind, but you simply stood painfully uncomfortable off the sink as you dabbed a bit more the stain.

“… thank you for the suggestion and…” ‘…the fucking amazing sex’.

“You are welcome”.

And with that he disappeared from the restroom, as you thought he’d disappear from your life.

The only trace of him was the faint stain on your dress and the slight blush on your cheeks as you joined Abigail again.

‘… somebody got lucky’ she simply muttered, as she twirled her glass, another one in your hands, as your eyes searched for Duncan, he joined a few of the investors, but your eyes diverted immediately from that sight, worried the connection might be seen and questioned ‘… at least one of us got laid tonight’.

You simply elbowed her, as you smiled lovingly at the sponsors.

But you definitely felt rebirthed after the restroom session.

Maybe you were wrong about not seeing him again.

Not that you hadn’t to wait much to meet him again.

That morning you had been asked to take part at a reunion of the stable, alongside a few sponsors that you had found at the latest event, it was a way to get them to know the ‘talents’ they’d fund, and as you expected old and older people to approach you, you were surprised to find Duncan standing there.

Hadn’t he been a complete stranger to the F1 platform?

And as your grew nervous and more nervous, your stable director came up to you and Abigail, slinging an arm over you both as he moved to get you and present you to him, making you blush as much as he did, but he was extremely professional.

You couldn’t, when you discovered he was your newest sponsor.

‘Girls let me introduce to you both our latest sponsor’ your boss commented softly ‘Duncan Shepherd’.

And he was Duncan fucking Shepherd.

The heir to the Shepherd foundation.

What the fuck had you done?

---

Duncan Shepherd (I don’t really have a taglist anymore, so if you are interested on being there for Michael do let me know, and I’ll add you, if I ever think about writing something for him again!):

@blakewaterxx​, @melodylangdon, @avocodys​, @ahsbitch​, @littlegirlsdontplaynice​, @accio-rogers​

[hms-chill]

RWRB Study Guide: Chapter 7

Hi y’all! I’m going through Casey McQuiston’s Red, White & Royal Blue and defining/explaining references! Feel free to follow along, or block the tag #rwrbStudyGuide if you’re not interested!

Crêpe-eating tourists (157): Crepes are a thin, flat pancake traditionally filled with sugar, but commonly filled with other toppings. They are an iconic French dish and are popular with tourists both for this reason and because they are typically inexpensive.

Place du Tertre (157): A square in Paris, it is in the Montmarte district, which is known for its art history.

Crusty baguettes (157): Baguettes are a French bread that is meant to be crusty on the outside and soft on the inside.

Le Monde (158): The most popular French newspaper.

Fromagerie Nicole Barthélémy (158): A famously wonderful cheese shop in Paris.

Parisian cheese shop (158): French cheese are known for being fancy and especially good.

Pisces (159): A zodiac sign known for being compassionate, artistic, and intuitive. (more)

NYU (159): New York University.

The Met (159): The Metropolitan Museum of Art, a famous art museum in New York.

Joanne (160): JK Rowling, who wrote the Harry Potter books, and has been pretty consistently homophobic and transphobic on twitter. 

Freddie Mercury (161): Lead singer of the band Queen, Mercury never officially came out, but he had long-term relationships with both men and women and was known for his camp performances, and there are claims that he was “openly gay”. His flamboyance and camp performances, as well as his relationship with partner Jim Hutton, essentially demanded that people simply take him as he was. He died of complications from AIDS in 1991, one day after admitting openly that he had been diagnosed four years earlier. (More)

For context within the book, he wrote “Don’t Stop Me Now”

Elton John (161): A famous British musician. He came out as bisexual in 1976, then as gay in 1992. He and his husband, David Furnish, became civil partners in 2005, the day they became legal in the UK. They were officially married on the ninth anniversary of their civil partnership, the year that gay marriage was legalized within the UK. (More)

Bowie (161): David Bowie, who was a bi British musician and actor who, in 1976, described his bisexuality as “the best thing that ever happened to me”. His wife (who was also bi, and with whom he often shared partners) claimed that he had a relationship with Mick Jagger, though his bisexuality has been consistently erased, both during his life and since his death. (More)

Again for book context, Henry’s dog is named for David Bowie

Jagger (161): Mick Jagger, an English singer/songwriter and member of the Rolling Stones, known for his promiscuity. As mentioned above, he and Bowie pretty clearly had a relationship, though his Wikipedia makes no mention of queerness. (More)

Oakley Street (161): A street that runs through an affluent borough of London.

Stonewall (161): The Stonewall Inn in New York City is a gay bar. The riots against police brutality there in July of 1969 are heralded as the beginning of the gay rights movement.

SCOTUS decision in 2015 (161): The Supreme Court ruling that legalized gay marriage across the US.

Walt Whitman (161): An American poet who wanted to become The American Poet and saw himself as the quintessential American. His poetry often deals with his queerness, and he absolutely slept with Oscar Wilde in the late 1800s. 

Fun fact; he is celebrated in the movie The Dead Poets Society, which is incredibly popular with Sad Gay English Majors and which Henry would definitely have seen.

Laws of Illinois 1961 (161): In 1961, Illinois became the first state in the US to repeal its sodomy laws.

White Night Riot (161): A series of riots in San Francisco protesting the lenient sentencing of the man who killed Harvey Milk, the first openly queer politician. The riots were the most violent queer uprising since the events at the Stonewall.

Paris is Burning (161): A 1990s movie celebrating drag ball culture in New York. It celebrates in particular queer communities of color in the late 1980s, when the AIDS epidemic was at its peak.

“If I die of AIDS...” (161): This is a real photo; you can find it here. The man’s jacket could refer to a form of protest called “die-ins”, where people with AIDS would go to a homophobic politician’s office or another public place where they were refused treatment and simply not leave until after they died. (see it here)

Chop my own tit off (162): Fun mythology fact; the Amazons (warrior women from Greek mythology) actually did this to make themselves better archers.

H fucking W (162): George HW Bush, a former US president.

George (163): George Villers was the boyfriend of King James the I/VI, and Prince George, Duke of Kent, was rumored to be in a polyamorous relationship in the 1920s. 

Edward (162): Edward II was a famously gay king. He was may have been "wedded brothers" with Piers Gaveston and may have also had a relationship with Hugh le Despenser the younger following Gaveston's death. (More)

James (162): The British king known for translating the Bible and being just... indescribably gay and very deeply horny. He promoted his boyfriend, George Villers, to the highest non-royal position in the UK within a few years of starting to date him. James’s friends actively tried to set him up with hot guys for their own political gain.

Alexander (163): Alexander Hamilton was an incredibly bi founding father. He’s remembered for founding our current national banking system, having the first ever American sex scandal, and for literally never shutting up or knowing how to stop being A Lot All The Time. 

Catalina (164): Catalina is an island near Los Angeles. On a more meta level, St. Catalina was a respected writer.

June (164): June Carter Cash was an American singer/songwriter/director/comedian.

Tricky Dick (164): Richard Nixon, a president remembered for wiretapping his opponent.

Taft (165): 27th president of the United States.

Eisenhower (165): 34th president of the US.

Baby (166): this is what Henry’s mom calls him; I wrote a thing about it here.

Daily Mail (166): A trashy British tabloid.

Lollapalooza (167): A music festival in Chicago known for setting fashion trends and having lots of drugs.

Joni Mitchell (167): A singer/songwriter known for her innovative use of the guitar, including unique tunings, chords, and a unique fingerpicking/strumming style. (Listen here)

Cocaine (168): A highly addictive drug. It is snorted, smoked, or injected, and while it makes people feel more confident or forget their problems, the highs from it last only up to about 30 minutes, which often drives people to take it more frequently. Side effects (aside from addiction) include a loss of appetite, irritability, and increased mental health issues. 

Spitfire (168): Someone with a quick temper or willingness to fight.

High as a kite (169): Someone who’s “high as a kite” is on a lot of drugs and is still enjoying the high.

Clean (169): Drug/alcohol free.

Stiff upper lip (170): Ability to seem determined or hold it together in the face of hard times.

A levels (170): A UK test taken for admittance to college, similar to the ACT/SAT in the US

Henry V at RSC (171): Henry V is a Shakespearean history play about the life of Henry V, especially focused on the events of the Hundred Years’ War. RSC, or the Royal Shakespeare Company, is a Shakespeare theater company in London.

Travis County (171): The Texan county where Austin is located.

Surfside (171): A beach in Texas.

Adderall (172): A prescription drug taken for ADHD but commonly abused by students to help them stay awake for all-nighters or focused for unhealthily long study sessions. However, given McQuinston’s claim that Alex has undiagnosed ADHD, it likely helped him to be able to focus and helped his brain work the way it was expected to.

Almond milk (vs. dairy) (173): Texas has a huge dairy industry, and almond milk is not great for the environment.

The Gun File (173): American gun law is so deeply broken.

WASPy Hunter’s Harvard pencil cup (175): Harvard is a prestigious college in Boston; it has a reputation for being mostly rich white folks.

Iron curtains of gerrymandering (175): Gerrymandering is a form of drawing lines for voting districts to disenfranchise marginalized voters. It is a form of skewing elections to keep power in the hands of the powerful that divides marginalized votes, making people of color or poor folks the minority in their districts, therefore erasing their votes on a broader scale.

Vision-boarding his funeral (175): a vision board is typically made to inspire someone to pursue a goal.

Parks & Recreation (175): A popular American sit-com focused on the parks and recreation department in a small town in Indiana. 

Leslie Knope (176): a Parks & Rec character. One of her defining traits is an aggressive, overwhelming love for the people in her life.

Mid-century rug (177): Mid-century furniture and style is characterized by lots of color and playful patterns (following the more reserved WWII period in the 1940s); it is rising in popularity again as a classy yet fashionable look.

J14 (178): A teen fashion/celebrity magazine.

Sacramento Bee (178): The largest newspaper in Sacramento, CA.

Southerness (180): In positive lights, the American South is known for its genuine, warm, unselfish hospitality.

Jane Austen my life (180): Jane Austen is a British author whose novels star lower/middle class women who fall in love with rich men. They typically try to avoid these men for large portions of the book, or at least have rather negative feelings about them due to a misunderstanding or other failure to communicate.

LSAT (181): the test taken for admittance to law school.

Carmarthenshire (183): A largely agricultural county in South Wales. As a tourist destination, it is known for its wide range of outdoor activities.

Llwynywermod (184): A royal estate in Carmarthenshire, the biggest building of which is a renovated three-bedroom farmhouse. It is surrounded by the rolling green hills common to south Wales.

Finals (in the US) (185): At US colleges, a semester’s final tests (typically worth up to 30-40% of a final grade) take place the week after classes end.

Stamp on his forehead at The Tombs (185): Tombs is a bar near Georgetown. According to reviews, and “Tombs Night” parties, where students celebrate their 21st birthday and get their foreheads stamped at the end of the night, are a Georgetown tradition.

Jumped in Dalhgren Fountain (185): Dalhgren Fountain is in the center of Georgetown’s campus. Swimming in it is a Georgetown tradition.

Summa cum laude (186): “with greatest honor”.

Ceviche (186): A seafood dish native to Peru that spread to Mexico, where it contains lime, avocado, chili peppers, onions, and cilantro.

Palm Room (187): The gateway to the West Wing, the area of the White House where most politics happen.

Hoe Dameron (190): A reference to Star Wars character Poe Dameron, a rebel pilot and the first Latino main character in the series.

Prince Buttercup (190): Princess Buttercup is the heroine/love interest in The Princess Bride, 

West Hollywood (190): One of the most prominent gay neighborhoods in the US.

“Call Me” (191): The most popular song of 1980; it was originally written for the film American Gigolo and inspired by the film’s opening sequence of a character driving along the coast of California. (Listen here)

“So Emotional” (191): An absolute bop about enjoying being in love. (Listen here)

“Don’t Stop Me Now” (193): A Queen song where Mercury sings to both a man and a woman; it’s a huge bop. (Listen here)

In-N-Out (194): A fast food restaurant/burger chain native to California and unavailable in other states.

Animal style (195): Animal style burgers are an In-N-Out staple; it includes the typical burger toppings, along with mustard fried into the patty, pickles, onions, and extra spread.

French-fries-dipped-in-milkshake (195): a truly god-tier American dessert tradition.

“O captain, my captain” (196): A reference both to the idea of a lacrosse team captain and to Whitman’s poem, “O Captain, My Captain” (as mentioned above, Whitman was a deeply gay American poet).

Burberry (200): A posh British brand of clothing known for its classy, traditional pieces.

Cats that caught the canaries (200): A cat that caught a canary is a person who looks smug or satisfied.

Mother hen (201): A “mom friend” or someone who will do everything they can to look out for people they care about, sometimes to the point of it being annoying.

—-

If there’s anything I missed or that you’d like more on, please let me know! And if you’d like to/are able, please consider buying me a ko-fi? I know not everyone can, and that’s fine, but these things take a lot of time/work and I’d really appreciate it!

—–

Chapter 1 // Chapter 6 // Chapter 8 

[myhockeyworld87]

Nervous Regrets - Part 7

Requested: No

Word Count: 4566 

POV: Tyler

Waring: Cursing I think I at least use one swear word every part.

Notes: Pretty fluffy, but I like it. Got a little long. 

With one last flourishing swish of your hand it would be done, well not completely done; they still needed to accept your offer, but the realtor assured you they would. Now you just needed (Y/N) to come inside for her part of this venture. She’d been strolling outside around the pool for the last several minutes, hopefully not regretting that kiss you just shared; you could still taste her on your lips. It had been sweet and unexpected. The fact that you wanted it to happen again, was in the forefront of your mind; even as you signed papers for a multi-million-dollar home. 

 Striding through the french doors, came the woman of your dreams, finally stepping back inside your dream home; munching on one of her protein bars. Skeptically you looked at her, “Is that mine?”

 Mouth full, her answered garbled, “ummm…no.” Her cheeks blushed a delightful shade of pink, giving herself away. Reaching over, snaking your hand around hers, you brought the snack to your mouth; taking a huge chunk out of the bar.

 She narrowed her eyes at you, while snatching her hand back at the same time. “What? Don’t try and fool me I know that one was mine. Here I need you to sign this?”

 Settling the papers for the house in front of her, you handed her the pen. “Why do I need to sign?”

 “Because the house is in your name as well, dummy. It’s just for the bid we are putting in, but then the deed and all the rest of the papers will be in both our names as well.”

 Tugging on your arm, she pulled you aside; out of ear shot of the realtor. “Tyler, you shouldn’t be putting this in my name. This is your money, your house. It’s not a smart business move.”

 “You’re wrong babe. It’s our house and the deed is going to reflect that. It’s a done deal, just move your sweet little ass over there and sign your name, or else I’ll eat the rest of that protein bar.” It was an empty threat; if not utterly ridiculous. That it had her moving over to the table and signing the paper, had you patting yourself on the back. “Alright, let’s go get some real food now.” With some last words to the realtor; the two of you left the house.

 Thankfully at this time of night the crowd had thinned out at the restaurant; though you still asked to be seated in the back, so it could just be the two of you. Well three really. “God, I’m starving. I think I could order one of everything off this menu.”

 “Taking this whole mom thing seriously, aren’t ya babe,” there was a teasing tone in your voice; hers and the baby’s health weighed heavily on you. You knew the first few months of the pregnancy hadn’t been ideal, because of your stupidity; but now their well-being was your main concern.

 “You have no idea. I ate a whole pint of ice cream, watching the game the other night.”

Blinking, not sure if you heard her correctly; you digested the information that she was now back to watching you play. It was one step closer to getting her back into the arena, but more importantly back into your bed. “A pint babe, really that’s not a lot. No wonder you ate half of my protein bar.”

“Ugh…you and that damn bar. Next time I’m packing more, they’re small.” The waiter came by then, you two placing your orders; hers really not changing for the last time you two had been here months ago, even though she insisted she was famished. “Don’t be mad or anything. But I’m not sure I’m ready to just move back in or anything with you yet. I mean, I know we wouldn’t be getting the house for a bit, but I’m not one hundred percent sure I’ll be ready when it’s ready.”

You couldn’t mask your disappointment, and were sure there was a touch of sadness in your voice, “I understand. No pressure. Whenever you’re ready.”

She looked at you, surprise written all over her face. “Really? No argument?”

“I’m not gonna lie hun. I wish you’d tell me you were ready to move back right now, but I can wait. We’ll just take baby steps,” laughing at the pun you’d just made. “But really, as long as it’s not a forever thing, I can wait. The dogs on the other hand; they might not like that idea so much.”

Bringing the boys in was a low move, you knew she had a soft spot for them; loved them as much as you did. That she hadn’t seen them all this time, was probably eating her alive. “Oh, you don’t play fair. I miss them so much. How are they?”

“Well, Cash and Marshall are still pissed at me over you leaving. And Gerry,” shaking your head you continued. “Gerry keeps digging holes to come find you.” While the picture you painted wasn’t exactly correct, it also wasn’t a lie either. The dogs had sensed something was wrong the minute she walked out the door; whining and crying with you that day. They’d been moping around as much as you had been the last few months. “They’re all really good though. They’ll be excited to see you. You should come over and see them.”

She hesitated briefly before answering, “Yeah, maybe sometime this week I can make it over.”

“Hmmm, we’ve got a road trip coming up, but go over anytime you want. You have the code still.”

“How long are you gone this time,” was your mind playing tricks on you, or was that a touch of sorrow you heard in her voice.

“It’s not too bad this time. I’ll be home late Sunday night.” Thankfully it wasn’t a long trip and then you’d be back in Dallas for at least a week afterward. Though you’d need to come up with a plan for keeping your relationship with (Y/N) on its current course; you wouldn’t have this five day away trip, make her rethink any of the progress the two of you had made.

You could see the wheels turning in her brain, wondered what she was thinking; though you weren’t meant to find out. The food you’d ordered arrived just then; ceasing the current conversation. The two of you ate; speaking of nothing of great consequence. Essentially just catching up with each other’s lives; while falling back into an easy routine. Before you knew it, the check came; signaling the night was almost at an end. Leaving the restaurant, you helped (Y/N) out of her seat; holding her hand as you made your way to the vehicle.

 Once again you buckled her in, making sure that both she and your child were safe. The last thing you wanted to do was drive her back to the small little apartment, she currently called home. It wasn’t like it was in a bad area, in fact quite the opposite; it was just, she belonged with you. But that would happen in time, you just needed to be patient. Walking slowly, so you wouldn’t have to leave her any sooner than necessary; you made your way to her door. “Thanks for meeting me tonight. I had a nice time.” Your sixteen year-old-self took control of your body then; for you suddenly felt shy and awkward. Not knowing if you should kiss her good night, or just allow her to walk inside.

 (Y/N) took the decision out of your hands, going up slightly on her tip toes to press a quick kiss to your lips. It wasn’t near enough, but you’d settle with it for now. “Goodnight Ty, I’ll see you tomorrow at four.” With that she closed the door; leaving you standing there giddy with how the night had gone.

That the hours ticked by slowly until four o’clock the next day was an understatement. But finally, you found yourself pulling up outside (Y/N)’s office building. That she was standing out there waiting for you, didn’t surprise you in the least; of course, she wouldn’t want anyone to know yet, that the two of you were working on getting back together. “Hey hun, you look amazing.”

“Thanks,” giving you the address to the doctor’s office, so you could punch it in the navigation system. “So, are you ready for this?”

“What’s there to be ready for? You’re the one getting the exam, not me. Besides you said there was no ultrasound today.” Reality was, that you were a tad bit anxious, but only to make sure the baby and (Y/N) were ok; not that you would ever let her know that.

“I don’t know. It’s just a…how do I want to put this. A different environment than a regular doctor’s office.”

You’d seen all those romantic comedy movies with her, to know enough, that there would be a set of stirrups in the office; not to mention that they’d probably be looking at her vagina. Admittedly that would be weird. “I think I’ll be fine.”

Twenty minutes later when you were sitting in the office waiting room; you had to acknowledge you were not fine. While a good percentage of the woman there were pregnant; there weren’t many men with them. Literally you felt like you’d just received a five-minute major for fighting, and now, all eyes were on you, as you made your way to the penalty box. You’d assumed more men went to these things when (Y/N) asked you, but that obviously wasn’t the case. Striving for an air of nonchalance, you picked up a magazine; while (Y/N) filled out the paperwork. Curiosity got the best of you though, when a woman sat her car carrier beside you; inside was the sweetest little newborn, snoozing away. Automatically you asked, “How old is she,” assuming said little one was a girl, since she was wrapped up all in pink.

“She’s six days old today.” The mom answered, as she moved the baby’s blankets down, so you could get a better look.

Funny thing, before you found out (Y/N) was pregnant; you kind of thought all newborns were well….it was sad to say, and ugly was too harsh a word, but they just weren’t cute. Now however, they were the most adorable creatures on this planet; like sweeter than Gerry when he was a puppy, and that was damn adorable. “She’s a heartbreaker, that’s for sure.”

“Thanks, is this yours and your wife’s first?”

“Yes, can you tell,” the fact that you didn’t feel the need, nor did you want to correct her about (Y/N) being your wife; was not lost on you. It actually felt good that someone thought you were a couple; well more than a couple, husband and wife.

“Well to be honest. You look a little nervous, but don’t worry, my husband was a wreck with our first one. With number three here; he’s an old pro. You’ll be fine, just follow your instincts, and just be there for your wife. That’s all she needs.”

Just then the nurse called (Y/N)’s name. “It was nice meeting you. Thanks for the advice. Oh, and congratulations on number three, she’s beautiful.” Letting your hand rest on the small of (Y/N)’s back, you let her lead you into the exam room.

Once encased inside, the nurse started chatting about the appointment. “So, Doctor Harris got called away for a delivery. Hope you don’t mind but you’ll be seeing our PA today.” (Y/N) didn’t seem to have a problem with that; so the nurse continued on. “We need to get your weight, do some measuring, draw some blood and get a urine sample. Then we’ll have the PA come in and check the heartbeat. You two good with that.”

Both of you nodded your approval, considering all you had to do was watch; you were fine with everything. Taking the seat over in the corner, as to not be in the way; the nurse got to work taking (Y/N)’s vitals. Handing over the small plastic cup, the nurse left the room to go find the PA; while (Y/N) went to give the sample. It gave you a chance to better inspect the room. On the wall, hung images labeling all the parts of a woman’s body, as well as depicting a baby inside. There was a small model on the counter of a baby inside the womb as well; as you stepped over to get a closer look, the door flew open, causing you to jump back. “What are you doing? Please tell me you didn’t take that baby out of there.” (Y/N) was shaking her head at you, as she laid the sample down.

“Relax, I was just checking it out.” Truth be told, you were fighting the urge not to touch it right before she came in. (Y/N) took a seat on the exam table; while you resumed your seat in the corner.

The door opened once more, this time a woman who looked to be in her thirties walked in. “Hi (Y/N), not sure if you remember me; I’m Amber, Dr. Harris’ PA. I think I did your ultrasound the last time.” The two exchanged handshakes, (Y/N) smiling, remembering their first encounter. “And you would be,” extending her hand to you.

“Tyler. I’m the dad.”

“Great, to meet you. So glad to see you here supporting mom.” She walked over to (Y/N). “So mind if I check to see how our little one is doing.” (Y/N) raised her shirt revealing her non-existent belly, for the PA to start the exam; pressing here and there, obviously feeling for the baby. After a few minutes she picked up the tablet to review some records. “So, I know you’re not scheduled for an ultrasound today, but I spoke to Dr. Harris before I came in and we’d both like to have one done today.”

“Is something wrong?” it was said in unison, by both you and (Y/N).

“Not that I can tell. Honestly, with you only having a 4 ounce weight gain this whole time; combined with the nurse not really getting a good measuring of your uterus; we’d just like to double check and make sure the baby’s growing at a normal rate. I don’t anticipate anything being wrong.” She started moving things around the room, grabbing a small sheet type thing for (Y/N) to put over her legs. “Dad, why don’t you move closer to mom over here and do me a favor take a deep breath ok. Everything is fine.”

Panic had set in, all the fears you’d had since (Y/N) had told you about the baby; setting in. The voice in the back of your head, beat a steady tattoo of, it’s your fault if anything is wrong.  (Y/N) reached over grabbing your hand, hers slightly shaking in the process; that she was just as nervous didn’t make you feel any better. Turning off the lights, the PA spread some warm blueish gel over (Y/N)’s stomach; then started moving the wand back and forth in search of the baby. A swooshing sound hit your ears first, and you looked to the PA to see if this was a good sign. She remained silent, concentrating on locating the baby; and then there is was, this tiny little human being. It was small but yet you could still distinctly make out its head and body, and what possibly looked like a leg; you couldn’t be sure.

“There you are little one. Oh you look good.” She kept up a little conversion, more with the baby than either you or (Y/N). “Ok let me see,” moving the wand one way, and then you heard it; what sounded like a tiny galloping horse. “Ok dad, that’s baby’s heartbeat. Can you hear it?” Amazingly you could, it was fast and constant; a steady rhythm beating over and over again, and it was music to your ears. This was your baby, you and (Y/N) brought this little miracle here, it was overwhelming. All those fears you had, came back, but instead of feeling scared and wanting to run away; you wanted to run towards it. You felt protective the minute (Y/N) had mentioned she was pregnant; but this, this was different. You wanted to wrap them both in a bubble and never let any harm come to them. They were your life, your being, your reason for living; and god you would do anything for both of them.

(Y/N) looked over at you tears streaming down her face; yours mirrored the same. Bringing your joined hands to your lips; you softly kissed her knuckles. Mouthing the words, I love you over to her; that she uttered them back, sent more tears down your eyes.

The PA’s words had you turning your attention back to the screen. “So I’m just going to take a couple measurements, but everything looks great. You two can breathe now.” She would move the wand, then do a few clicks here and there. “Ok so we definitely need a picture. I’ll print a couple for you both. Measurements look great. We need to get you eating a little bit more mom; think you can help us out with that dad?”

Sniffing, you did your best to answer. “umm..Yeah, I’m on it.”

“Good, I have a feeling this little one will be popping out on you any day. So I have you marked at fifteen weeks and 6 days, by the measurement; which coincides with what we had down before. Things look really good though, I’m happy with everything. We’re going to schedule you with another ultrasound the next time as well. We should be able to tell the sex then, baby wasn’t too co-operative today, but hopefully next time, if you’re interested.”

“No, we decided we don’t want to know.” (Y/N) answered for both of you as she wiped the blue goo off her.

“Not a problem, I’ll make a note on your chart. Just let us know if you change your mind.” Wheeling over in the chair, she snapped on the light switch; quickly you swiped at the tears on your face. Handing over a box of tissues to you, the PA proceeded, “So do either of you have any questions for me.”

Making a few more passes with the Kleenex, you asked, “How much weight should (Y/N) be at for next time?” You’d be force feeding her the whole damn box of protein bars, if you had to.

“Well we would’ve liked to see a gain of about two to five pounds this visit. So at the twenty week mark, we’d like to see eight or ten pounds. I’ll be happy if you can get her at the five pound mark. Remember we are looking for health eating options too, not just all junk food. I’ll get a print out for you to take home. What else?”

Your brain was swirling with about a million things; yet there was only one question you needed to know. The problem was how to word it. “Ummm…with (Y/N) finding out late about the pregnancy; and all the stress I put her through. Do we need to be concerned about any problems or complications in the future with the baby? Or is there something special we should be doing?” Guilt had overwhelmed you after (Y/N) told you what she went through. If there was something you could be doing, should be doing you would do it.

The PA came over to you then, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder. “Mom and baby are fine dad, the ultrasound confirmed that. So nothing that happened before today, has harmed the little one. Going forward, just try and keep mom in a stress free environment.” Turning she spoke to (Y/N), “And like we spoke about last time, light exercise is good, no heavy weights or anything; and sex is fine, I see no problem with that for the two of you.” (Y/N)’s eyes widen; but other than that, she gave no signs that the subject of sex was awkward, all things considered. “As you know in the second trimester, you’ll get some strong hormonal urges; and many women get an increase in sexual drive. This is all normal and since I don’t see any problems; you two should be fine. So, anything else?”

Stunned into silence; all you could do was shake your head no. At least you had the doctor’s go ahead to have sex; now all you needed was (Y/N)’s consent. “Well, if there’s nothing else. We’ll see you both in a couple weeks. Feel free to call in if you have any questions or concerns. You guys take care.” With that she left the room, leaving the door open for you two to follow.

Lips opening, you started to say something, only to be cut off. “Don’t, just don’t say it.” (Y/N) was shaking her head, laughing at you.

“What? I was just going to say that it was amazing that we got to see the baby today.” That was not what you were going to say at all; but it definitely was a good cover.

“It was, wasn’t it?” the two of you continued out the door, making the next appointment for four weeks from now. Thankfully, they were able to schedule a time when you had home games, instead of being on the road. Making your way to the car, you reached for (Y/N)’s hand, grasping it in yours never wanting to let go.

As had become your ritual, you buckled her in and headed down the road; the plan being to take her back to the office and then you could head to the arena for the game. Continuing to hold her hand; her thumb started to caress your knuckles. “So, you got a little emotional in there. You ok?”

“Yeah…I mean I am now. I just didn’t think….” Trailing off, not really knowing how to express all the emotions you felt in that moment. “I mean, when I heard the heartbeat, it all just became really real, ya know.”

“I know what you mean.” Looking over at you to draw your attention; since you were at a stop light, “I’m really glad you came with me today, Ty. I can’t imagine going through today alone. Thank you.” The smile she sent you went straight to your groin; you had been the recipient of it numerous times in the past, but hadn’t seen it in months.

Shifting in your seat, you returned it, “No, thank you for letting me be part of it. You really don’t know what it means to me.”  The light changed colors, shifting your focus back to the road. “And I’m gonna be there at all the next appointments with you. And every other day if you’ll let me.” Kissing her hand, you hoped she would let you inside her heart just a bit more.

Pulling into the parking garage, you got out walking her over to her car. It was killing you to have to leave her yet again; this woman was your all and so much more. “So, is it too much to ask if you’ll be watching me play tonight;” wanting her to be there to cheer you on, was the ultimate goal; but you knew she wasn’t ready for that yet.

“Of course, wouldn’t miss it.”

It was at least a start. “Promise me you’ll go home and eat, as well.” The mild panic attack you’d received when the doctor asked to do an ultrasound; had you taking your job as (Y/N)’s new personal pregnancy trainer seriously.

“I will Ty, I promise.”

“Ok good.” Standing there, not wanting to go, but knowing you should be leaving for the game; you waited for (Y/N) to say goodbye first. The upcoming road trip meant five days of not seeing her, and had you reluctant to move.

After a few moments, she shifted closer to your body; and drew you near. The small movement was the opening you’d been waiting for; you reached for her waist pulling her close so that no space separated the two of you. Tilting your head, you bent down touching your lips to hers; as her hands snaked around your neck drawing you further in. A moan escaped her mouth, you seized the opportunity to deepen the kiss; she didn’t resist. You had let her have control the last two times you’d kissed; not wanting to scare her with the need and desire you had coursing through your veins, for her. But this time, this time you didn’t hold back; letting your mouth worship her. Another moan had you wanting to lift her onto the hood of the car and sate your lust for her right then, but time was not your friend today; so you slowed your pace, savoring each sweep of your tongue, as you gently ended the kiss. Breathing heavy like you’d just skated twenty laps; you enveloped (Y/N) into your arms. She’d always felt so perfect there, as if she had been made just for you; needing just one more minute before saying goodbye.

Softly, she pushed herself back, not breaking contact completely. “I’ll miss you Ty. Score one for me, would ya?” Eyes, blinking rapidly from the force her words had taken; you stared down at her. She would ask you that every time you left for a game; now those words meant more than just putting points on the board.

“I’ll do my best babe.” Kissing her one last time, before you released her. “I love you. Take care of our little one.” Caressing her stomach, as you reached for her car door.

She slid into the vehicle, and waited while you buckled her in; closing the door you stepped away as she turned the engine on, pulling out of the parking spot. She stopped then, rolling the window down, “I love you Tyler.” It was soft, but it had your heart soaring above the clouds, and before you knew what happened; you were at the window kissing her one last time before she left.

Elated you made your way to the arena; where you had one of your best games. Scoring not only one, but two goals and racking up an assist; easily making you player of the game. The only drawback were all the interviews afterwards; you had already told yourself; you’d be stopping at (Y/N)’s after the game, just needing to see her one last time. Now, after all this media attention, you were hoping she would still be awake. You’d just drive by and if the light was on in her apartment then you’d stop.

Luckily at the late hour, you could drive slow past the complex, without drawing attention to yourself. The first thing you noticed, was that the lights to the apartment were still on; your heart sped faster at thoughts of seeing (Y/N) again. That was until it just plummeted deep into the ocean, like the damn Titanic. For the second thing that caught your eye was (Y/N) wrapped in another man’s embrace. But it was the third that made you want to grab the man and rip him into shreds; as he leaned forward and kissed the woman you loved.

[eldritchsurveys]

1020.

5k Survey LXXI

3601. What brands do you like? >> I usually don’t pay much attention to brands unless it’s about food or electronics. I like the Sweet Earth brand of prepared foods, for example, and I have found Asus products to be pretty reliable. (So far.) 3602. What do you think of the 'don't ask don't tell' policy of gays in the millitary? >> I’m pretty sure they repealed that. I say “pretty sure” because to be honest, I wasn’t paying a whole lot of attention when that was a hot topic. 3603. Why do you think that so many people have such a problem with gays? >> There’s no one-size-fits-all answer for that, as far as I can ascertain. 3604. It seems like it is more accepted for a woman to be bi or gay than for a man. Why do you think that is? >> I don’t care to make a guess about that. I’m not even sure that assessment is true. 3605. When a kid kisses another kid on the playground is it sexual harassment? >> I think the particular term “sexual harassment” is best applied to older people who can grok exactly what that entails. When it comes to kids, I think the teaching point should be about respecting boundaries and others’ bodies, as well as appropriate behaviour in certain social settings.

3606. If you had to name your self after an object in the room with you what would you pick? >> No. 3607. Pick the two most important things out of these: writing deep thoughts, expressing your self clearly, being honest, finding new novel ways to waste time, being organized, practicing what you want to do, trying to be famous >> My two most important things from this list would be “expressing myself clearly” and “being honest”. 3608. You were only waiting for this momen to ----- >> ??? 3609. Knowing historically that native American indians were and are the first americans, how do you feel about america and current americans? >> I have no answer for this extremely broad and vague question. 3610. Just what exactly determines whether or not one is 'mental'? >> *shrug* Not me. 3611. is it true that people with depression CAN'T function in society? >> Some can and some can’t. People with depression should have access to mental health resources regardless of ability to perform socially. 3612. fill in the word: half of what i say is ----------- >> --- 3613. Some people believe the Holocaust was a hoax?. What do you think of this? >> I don’t think anything about it. I’m aware that’s a thing some people believe, but I am not one of those people and it’s nothing to do with me. 3614. Does EVERYONE in the world care about how they look except YOU? >> Well, I also care about how I look, so, no. 3615. Do you love italian names like Lorenzo, Gaetano, and Grazziano? >> I mean... not especially? They’re just names to me. 3616. Everyone does horrible things. Do you think that people are more accepting of the bad things they do themselves or the bad things others do? Which are you more accepting of? >> I think that depends on the person and how they view themselves versus how they view others, etc. I give other people way more leeway than I do myself, because I have a pretty developed Inner Critic who is tailor-made to assert that everything I do is bad and wrong even if it’s no badder or wronger than what some other guy did. 3617. Is it true that NO ONE wants to date grumpy people? >> I don’t know, I haven’t taken a fuckin poll or anything. 3618. Bush and his henchmen have now come up with a list of people for the CIA to assassinate. What do you think of this? >> What I think is that I find that highly doubtful. This is an extremely dated question, anyway. 3619. Why is it that in many states sodomy and oral sex are still illegal, even if they are consensual? >> Because those laws simply haven’t been updated for a more sexually liberal time period. 3620. What is the first thing that comes to mind when you think of: liberals? conservatives? hippies? nobel peace prize winners? black panthers? time magazine? feminists? 3621. Order these issues from most important and needing to be dealt with to least important and we can put it off: cloning, racism, aids cure, the middle east, putting power back in the hands of the people, the environment, better education >> --- 3622. Do you feel like you are missing out because you can only know a certain number of people in this world and you can't know everyone? >> No, that’s not what makes me feel like I’m missing out. It’s usually stuff like “I can’t read every book” or whatever that makes me feel acutely how short our time on this planet really is. 3623. What do you imagine being a soldier in a war is actually like? >> I don’t want to imagine that, thanks. 3624. Do you agree that woman should be allowed to enlist in the army? >> Sure. Why anyone would want to is beyond me, lmao, but you should have the right. 3625. What is the purpose of government? >> You know, take care of the people etc etc. 3626. Why don't people believe in free love anymore? >> I’m pretty sure the rampant spread of STIs had something to do with it. The concept of “free love” comes with a lot of fine print. 3627. Do you make decisions with your head or your heart? >> I make decisions with my whole consciousness... 3628. What is the differance between sympathy and empathy? >> Google it. 3629. Can you think of any person or group you cannot empathize with? >> Not off the top of my head. 3630. Like creme savers? >> Unfortunately those do not exist anymore, but yeah, I was nuts about them back in the day. 3631. Your best friends asks you to marry them Out of the blue. You say: >> --- 3632. What makes you feel seriously depressed? >> Depression. 3633. Have you personaly worked for peace? >> Er, no? 3634. Do you suppress parts of yourself because you are afraid of judgement? >> Unfortunately. 3635. Do you take in the ideas and opinions of others too often?/ >> I don’t know. I don’t think so, but who knows. 3636. 36 - 24 - 36? >> ?? Those look like measurements, but they ain’t mine, so. 3637. What just isn't right? >> Left. 3638. What makes your blood boil?? >> I’m not sure. 3639. Have you ever gone to the bathroom in a place that wasn't a bathroom? >> Yeah. 3640. Want some water melon? >> Not right now. 3641. What's your favorite gum? >> It used to be Orbit Bubblemint, but then they changed the formula and now it’s horrible, so I have no more favourite. :( 3642. What do you imagine going to Harvard is like? >> I don’t want to imagine going to Harvard. I’ll just watch Legally Blonde instead. 3643. What would you get rid of forever if you had to choose snow or rain? >> As annoyed as snow makes me, I don’t want to get rid of it. I just want to live somewhere that maybe gets a little less of it. The climate doesn’t need to change to suit me, I can just... move... 3644. Is there a santa clause? >> Yeah, it’s that movie with Tim Allen or whoever. 3645. Do you understand yourself? Do you understand everyone else? >> I understand some parts of myself and I’m still learning about others. It’s similar with other people, just with varying ratios. 3646. Do you think there is a connection between understanding yourself and understanding others? >> Yeah, I do think that. 3647. What's good? >> Garlic bread. Garlic bread is good. 3648. Have you ever played dodge ball? >> Maybe in school. 3649. Is there anything you feel men can do better than woman? >> There’s nothing I can think of off the top of my head, and I suspect that there probably isn’t anything at all that I truly believe men can somehow naturally, innately do better than women. 3650. Is there anything you feel woman can do better than men? >> Same answer, just switch the nouns around.

[aflyingcontradiction]

aflyingcontradiction reads a women’s magazine - Installment 2

As I threatened two weeks ago, I just received the second magazine in my free trial subscription (Freundin 14/2020) and here’s my reaction log.

The cover lady is actually a woman of colour this time. I wonder whether this particular magazine tries to match its diversity to the actual diversity of German women or whether this is a one-off. ‘Cause most of the women’s magazines I see in supermarkets around here tend to have a never-ending barrage of long-haired blonde white women on the cover (and stereotypes aside, nah, we don’t all look like that.)

We immediately start out with some plague content: The editorial staff answer the question “Our lives have changed a lot in this crisis. Tell us what you do more frequently or less frequently these days.” Fortunately, the answers aren’t ALL of the uplifting variety, so it’s not too nauseating.

There’s a “Six heroes of the crisis” feature later in the magazine that almost-but-not-quite crosses the line into nauseatingly uplifting (the “not quite” being that the tone is at least sometimes “We’re helping to make things less shit, but let’s not forget that that’s because THINGS ARE CURRENTLY SHIT!” Personally, I would have preferred less focus on these specific instagram models - no, really, several of them are - and their lives and more on the projects they started and the problems they’re trying to solve, especially because each feature was only about half a page long, but oh well.)

Again with the vapid interviews. They’ve literally managed to get a Green party member of a state parliament and what do they ask her? “What makes you a good friend?” Just ... how shallow do they think the average German woman between the ages of 25 and 49 is, exactly? Surely, you can manage to maintain the feel-good vibe you’re going for while also not being completely condescending!

Half the content is still actually ads for overprized products. I wonder whether this is aspirational or whether it’s actually common to spend 20 € on a single piece of costume jewellery.

There’s a pretty decent if basic article about anxiety (basically: anxiety disorders - what are they? How can you tell you have one? Here’s where you can get help and this is what some forms of therapy look like). I think it’s good that a mainstream magazine acknowledges and talks about mental health issues that affect a lot of people - I assume my social bubble of “everyone is a mess and perfectly willing to admit it, at least to some extent” is not most people’s experience of the conversation around mental illness.

Somewhat hilariously, the only non-condescending interview I’ve found so far is with a woman who founded a “social plant nursery” (where she grows flowers organically and employs people who would otherwise be unemployable due to various mental health issues - and hopefully pays them properly, but they didn’t ask her about that.) At any rate, they asked her actual questions about her project and the philosophy behind it, about the importance of the project to herself, her employees and wider society, etc. I mean, they did also ask her about her favourite flower, but most of the questions were actually, dare I say it, relevant. Now if they could manage to do the same thing next time they interview a politican, that would be lovely.

There’s an article about the importance of eye contact, some of which is genuinely interesting, but I have no love for the shame-y “People these days look at their phones instead of other people on public transport” intro. Germans already stare at strangers too damn much (myself included, tbh) - we do not need encouragement. Please, everybody, keep looking at your phones!

Some of the ads are seriously pernicious. There’s a two-page “article” on the *cough* science *cough* behind a weight-loss supplement that I very nearly took for - erm - ad-adjacent content before I spotted the little “Advertisement” note at the top of the page and realised it was just a good old-fashioned ad-ad.

Okay, so I was wrong - there are a few non-condescending interviews in here. One of them is with a heart surgeon who also researches the connection of mental health and heart health. The interview is, of course, as dumbed down as they could possibly make it, but at least they asked him actual questions and not “What’s your favourite place in the world?”. I like that the article has a little info box on how the symptoms of a heart attack in women often differ from those in men.

Wow. Just wow. The article immediately following the heart surgeon interview is a three-pager on homeopathic remedies for children The intro: “Homeopathy is frequently discussed. It is true that not everybody is happy with this alternative form of therapy. However, it is also a fact that many parents swear by globuli as a gentle treatment for their children’s minor medical problems or to supplement conventional medicine.” That’s certainly one way of not technically lying. Many parents do, in fact, swear by homeopathy. Ideally they would stop doing that, but I suppose it is undeniable that they do. Also, the German text uses the term “Schulmedizin” for, ya know, medicine, which I hate with a passion. In fact, I hate literally everything about this. Also, all the “medical issues” that they list as being treatable with homeopathy are also fucking treatable with a kiss, a cuddle, potentially some bed rest and a hot cup of tea. They even included home sickness. HOME SICKNESS! (Mind, the book on homeopathy that my dad made me read in an unsuccessful bid to convince me to switch to homeopathy for my chronic illness included a treatment for masturbation in children, so it could be worse). ... I. am. going. to. break. things.

Apparently there’s such a thing as “organic water”. Okay then.

And yet more plague content: “Since the start of #stayathome, I’ve been paying a lot more attention to my neighbours and noticed that their lives are actually just as boring and flawed as mine”. Great realisation, now kindly stop writing self-congratulatory opinion pieces about spying on your neighbours. Or maybe just stop spying on your neighbours. Jeez, lady.

The horoscope on the final page tells me I’m afraid of change. I don’t think I needed the stars to tell me that, thanks though.

The magazine came with a little extra-booklet of summer holiday destinations in Germany - somewhat more realistic than last edition’s very optimistic international travel tips, but I doubt all the attractions they mention have actually reopened.

[seasonson5th]

The G-spot doesn’t exist

There is no magic button. We’re here to correct the record—and to apologize.

Once upon a time, that time being 1982, there was sex. And then, suddenly, there was sex.

The difference? A teensy half-inch ribbed nub on the upper front wall of your vagina. Scientists—and magazines (hi) and books and sex-toy companies and movies and TV shows and your roommates and your sex-ed teacher—reported that it was a universal key to The Mysterious Female Orgasm. And thus began the era when you were supposed to be able to say “it blew my mind” to your girlfriends at brunch.

Or was it three inches wide? Farther down, near your vulva? Slick instead of ribbed? Kinda springy to the touch?

Whatever, it was it. And fuck if we all didn’t work hard to find our own. Back in 1982, Cosmo told women to get there by “squatting” so it would be easier “to stick one or two fingers inside the vagina” and make the necessary “come-hither motion.” A 2020 Google search turns up thousands of road maps (“where is the G-spot?” has been searched more times than Michaels Jordan and Jackson). That cute-adjacent guy you slept with in college tried the classic pile-drive maneuver, to middling success.

🩸THE G-SPOT IS ALLEGEDLY…
🩸🩸“One inch in.” 
🩸🩸🩸“Three inches in.”
🩸🩸🩸🩸“Barely in.”
🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸“Near my cervix.”
🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸“The roof of my uterus.”
🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸“The back right of my vagina.”
🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸“In a little pocket of space up near my belly button.”🩸

But it must not matter, because the G-spot economy is booming: G-spot vibrators, G-spot condoms, G-spot lube, G-spot workshops, and, for the particularly daring and/or Goop-inspired, $1,800 G-spot shots meant to plump yours for extra pleasure.

Hell, even Merriam-Webster is in on it: The G-spot is a “highly erogenous mass of tissue” in every dictionary it prints.

So then why, when we talked to the woman who helped “discover” it, did she tell us we’ve all been obsessed with the wrong thing?

THAT WOMAN IS BEVERLY WHIPPLE, PHD. SHE AND A TEAM of researchers officially coined the term “G-spot” in the early ’80s. They named the thing, which they described as a “sensitive” “small bean,” for German researcher Ernst Gräfenberg (yeah, a dude). And just like that, your most frustrating fake body part was born.

Honestly, it all got out of hand from there, says Whipple. Her team wasn’t saying that each and every woman has a G-spot. (“Women are capable of experiencing sexual pleasure many different ways,” she insists to Cosmo now. “Everyone is unique.”) And despite that bean analogy, they didn’t mean it was a spot spot. They were talking about an “area” that could simply make some women feel good. But the media (hi again!) preferred the neat and tidy version and ran with it like a sexual cure-all.

Researchers did too. In 2012, a study published in The Journal of Sexual Medicine proclaimed that of course the G-spot was real. It just wasn’t a bean. It was actually an 8.1- by 3.6-millimeter “rope-like” piece of anatomy, a “blue” and “grape-like” sac. This revelation came from gynecologic surgeon Adam Ostrzenski, MD, PhD, after his study of an 83-year-old woman’s cadaver. (He went on to sell “G-spotplasty” treatments to women.) Over the years, lots of other researchers found the G-spot to be lots of other things: “a thick patch of nerves,” “the urethral sponge,” “a gland,” “a bunch of nerves.”

For the most part, though, the thing that women were supposed to find has remained a mystery to the experts telling them to find it. Dozens of trials used surveys, pathologic specimens, imaging, and biochemical markers to try to pinpoint the elusive G-spot once and for all.

In 2006, a biopsy of women’s vaginas turned up nothing.

In 2012, a group of doctors reviewed every single piece of known data on record and found no proof that the G-spot exists.

In 2017, in the most recent and largest postmortem study to date done on 13 cadavers, researchers looked again: still nothing.

🩸🩸THE G-SPOT IS ALLEGEDLY…
“Really deep in there, not close to the opening of my vagina at all.”
“IDK.”
“My clitoris.”
“By my butt.”
“Behind the clitoris.”
“Right inside my vagina and to the left.”
“In different places.”🩸🩸

“It’s not like pushing an elevator button or a light switch,” asserts Barry Komisaruk, PhD, a neuroscientist at Rutgers University. “It’s not a single thing.”

“I don’t think we have any evidence that the G-spot is a spot or a structure,” says Nicole Prause, PhD, a neuroscientist who studies orgasms and sexual arousal. “I’ve never understood why it was interpreted as some new sexual organ. You can’t standardize a vagina—there is no consistency across women as to where exactly we experience pleasure.”

Sure, she says, some women might have an area inside their vaginas that contains a bunch of smaller, super-sensitive areas. But some women say that when they follow Cosmo’s old two-finger come-hither advice, they feel discomfort or like they have to pee. Others feel nothing at all. Because for them, there’s nothing there.

NOW FOR THE TRICKIEST PART OF this story—and, TBH, the reason this is even a story at all. Despite the lack of scientific evidence, there are still lots of G-spot believers, many of them super-smart, well-meaning sex educators. They’re a pretty heated group (one hung up on us when we called for an interview) and not...entirely...wrong. Their point is: If a woman believes she’s found her G-spot, that should outweigh any lack of science. And specifically, if someone claims to have experienced G-spot pleasure, it seems “bizarre” to shut her down, says Kristen Mark, PhD, a sex educator at the University of Kentucky. “That feels like going backward.”

Fair. It’s just that, as Prause points out, “women deserve accurate information about their bodies.” Can’t we have our pleasure—and the truth too?

As Prause said (and this bears repeating), for some women, there is sexual sensitivity where the G-spot is supposed to be. But for others, there’s none. Or it’s to the left. Or it’s in a few places. And that’s kind of the whole point. It’s all okay. It can all feel good.

What everyone can agree on is that we need more research. Women’s sexual health is vastly understudied, and the scientific hurdles are borderline absurd. In 2015, Prause tried to get a trial going at UCLA that would study orgasms in women who were, you know, actually alive. The board heard her out but wanted a promise that her test subjects “wouldn’t climax” because they didn’t like the optics of women orgasming in their labs. (As you’ve already guessed, the study wasn’t approved.)

So yeah, a new kind of thinking about female pleasure is going to take a minute for certain people to get on board with. Like those brunch friends who go on and on about G-spot rapture. And like men, who might love the idea of the G-spot best of all. A G-spot orgasm requires penetration, which just so happens to be the way most guys prefer to get off. “If you’ve got a penis, it would be super convenient if the way the person with a vagina has pleasure is for you to put your penis in their vagina,” says Emily Nagoski, PhD, author of Come as You Are, a book that explores the science of female sexuality. Related: 80 percent of the men in Cosmo’s survey said they believe every woman has a G-spot; nearly 60 percent called it the “best way” for a female partner to achieve pleasure. (“Once you rally enough experience like myself, you can find it on every girl,” one supremely confident guy told us.)

Just like it did for women, the G-spot gave men a universal performance metric and the “cultural message that pleasure for women happens by pounding on their vaginas with your penis,” says Nagoski.

Things were this close to going in a much better direction. “In the early ’80s, there was research that was really putting the clitoris front and center,” explains Nagoski. “Then along came the G-spot research, creating this pressure for women to be orgasmic from vaginal stimulation even though most women’s bodies just aren’t wired that way. And if you really think about why vaginal stimulation matters so much, it’s because it puts the focus on male pleasure.”

GO AHEAD AND LET THAT SINK in while we gear up to talk about the fallout. Not only the sexual frustration (although that, definitely that) but also the giant emotional burden the G-spot unwittingly dropped on all of us. Turns out, the thing that was supposed to awaken and equalize our sex lives came with a really shitty side effect: shame.

More than half of the women in Cosmo’s survey reported feeling inadequate or frustrated knowing that others are able to orgasm in a way they can’t. Eleven percent said this made them avoid sex entirely. “I have friends who say they always climax from intercourse alone and they’re like, ‘You just haven’t found it yet,’” says Alyssa, a Cosmo reader. “It’s like they’re the lucky ones.”

That’s why on one recent Tuesday, another Cosmo reader, Beth, found herself sitting in a room that looked oddly like a vagina—low, pink light, a candle burning softly nearby—getting her first round of G-spot homework. She and her husband had hired a sex therapist to help them feel more in sync sexually. Basically, he wanted it a lot more than she did, probably because she was still waiting for something...bigger. “I can have a clitoral orgasm,” she says. “But knowing that there’s something better, I wanted to experience that.”

🩸🩸THE G-SPOT IS ALLEGEDLY…
“Just go up with your finger and make a G.” 
“Slightly out of reach.”
“It depends.”
“On the outside of the labia.”
“Part of the lady parts.”
“A secret place.”🩸🩸

The couple’s take-home tasks were a checklist of “sexy” moves, designed to help them find Beth’s G-spot so she could have The Orgasm. “The night we did doggy-style, it felt...god, there was the sound of skin smacking and my husband asking me if it was working. It was terrible.” (We fact-checked this with Beth’s husband. Oh yeah, “it sucked.”) After that, they gave up.

Other couples are still searching: 22 percent of guys say that finding a woman’s G-spot is the number one goal of sex, which helps explain the 31 percent of women who say they’re dealing with exasperated partners. Prause worries about that. She says: “You’ll hear guys say things like, ‘My last girlfriend wasn’t this much work,’ or ‘You take a long time to orgasm,’ or ‘This worked for the last person I slept with.’ That makes women question if they’re normal. And that, we hate.”

WHICH IS WHY WE’RE CALLING OFF THE SEARCH. WE’RE done with the damn “spot” and we’re sorry, again, that we ever brought it up. And actually: Unless sex researchers make a surprisingly major breakthrough, Cosmo won’t be publishing any more G-spot sex positions or “how to find it” guides.

“What would truly be revolutionary for women’s sex lives is to engage with what research has found all along: the best predictors of sexual satisfaction are intimacy and connection,” adds Debby Herbenick, PhD, a professor at Indiana University School of Public Health and a research fellow at the Kinsey Institute.

The science world is revolutionizing, too, trying to figure out how to rebrand the G-spot into something more (and by “more,” we mean actually) accurate. Whipple stands by her “area.” Italian researchers have suggested renaming it the somewhat less sexy “clitoral vaginal urethral complex.” Herbenick has her own ideas: “First of all, it should not be named after a man. It’s a female body we’re talking about, and just because a man wrote about it doesn’t mean he was the first to understand or experience it.” But anyway, she’d go with “zone.”

As for us, we’re going to kick off this new era with a 100 percent G-spot-free piece of smarter, wiser sex advice, courtesy of Nagoski: “If it feels good, you’re doing it right.” Call that whatever you want.

WELL THIS IS A BUMMER...

YEAH, IT FOOLED US TOO

[harlan-hard-way]

America’s Alpha

I created an ABO stucky AU and I need to share it with the world, so that’s what I’m doing.

It’s the 1940s, most people are Betas, but Alphas and Omegas exist.  Omegas are treated pretty much like women (no better, no worse) and Alphas like men (though maybe more like elite men, and expectations are accordingly higher).   Steve and Bucky become friends before either of them presented.  Steve lives in an orphanage so when he presents as a super shrimpy gender-non-conforming Alpha, there’s really no hiding it.  When Bucky presents as a super big and equally gender-non-conforming Omega, however, he and his family make the choice to not report it and he continues to live as a Beta.

After much mutual pining and unnecessary melodrama, Steve and Bucky bond.  They continue to live as “friends and platonic roommates” because Bucky would lose his job if he came out as an Omega and Steve has too many health problems to support both of them.  What this ends up meaning though is that Bucky gets drafted.  He goes off to war.  (His heats are irregular and not very strong so unless somebody forces him into a prostate exam, he’s unlikely to be found out.)

Bucky gets declared MIA.

When a person loses their bondmate all kinds of crazy things can happen with their hormones.  Most often it’s nothing overly dramatic: a bit of sickness and depression.  But there have been extreme cases where it has lead to severe illness or death or any number of things.  In Steve’s case, hearing that Bucky is missing drives him into a second puberty and in a matter of months Steve goes from smaller than most Omegas to hyper-idealized Alpha.  As soon as he can walk in a straight line down to the recruiting station (he’s kind of out of it for a while) he enlists in the army.

Steve has no explanation for why his hormones went haywire like they did (he had tried to enlist when Bucky was first drafted and been rejected and since they have his medical file and he is listed as unbonded, there is no reason for his dramatic change) so he passes it off as probably having been just protective instincts going into over-drive because of the war.  He gets funneled into an elite program almost immediately because his stats are absolutely through the roof now.

It’s been months since Bucky’s disappearance so Steve becomes focused on winning the war, so he can scour the earth for Bucky as soon as it’s over.  He makes a bit of a name for himself and Stars and Stripes magazine make something of a symbol of him.  His recruitment story gets publicized and he becomes known as America’s Alpha because he reacted to America being in danger the way few Alphas would react even to their bondmate being in danger.  Steve is largely unaware of how out of control the propaganda surrounding him has gotten and is frozen in ice before he is able to find Bucky.

When he is unfrozen, Steve discovers that he has become this legendary symbol of America.  There is a museum exhibit about him where Bucky is only mentioned as a side note.  “See how Steve is dwarfed by Beta friend, James Barnes [tragically lost in the war shortly before Steve’s recruitment].”  Bucky is still listed as MIA and Steve just doesn’t see the point in trying to changing the story that people have been telling and retelling for over 70 years.

Then the events of Winter Soldier happen, essentially the same.  Bucky doesn’t tell the Avengers the truth of who Bucky is to him, mostly out of instinct of having always kept the secret.  So he continues with the line of Bucky being his tragically missing childhood friend.

Then Bucky gets framed at the beginning of the events in Civil War and Steve finally comes clean to the Avengers.  The reaction he gets is pretty much: “Steve, that is the most convoluted lie you could possibly have come up with.  Your childhood friend was secretly an extremely gender-non-conforming Omega and you two were secretly bonded?  Really?  Pull my other one.”

But when he and Sam track down Bucky, it become IMMEDIATELY clear that they are bonded.  Bucky is still pretty messed up, but they are both leaking hormones all over the place and Bucky is about to go into the most extreme heat of his life, to the point where they have to raid a pharmacy and dope him up so he doesn’t go crazy.

Sam turns himself in, basically trusting that he will be able to get through to Tony that the Situation has SERIOUSLY Changed.  Tony is extremely skeptical of the whole thing.  He never really trusted the “America’s Alpha” propaganda story and as a result had always been a bit distrustful of Steve in general.  He finds this story even more convenient and less believable.  But when he sees the truth of it, and hears from Steve how it all happened (and at this point Steve is struggling to keep his shit together after being reunited with Bucky after so long) and it kind of pulls Tony out of his depressive spiral and he’s able to take a step back and be like: okay.  How about we table the superhero registration act for a couple months?  Let’s all just take a few deep breaths and come back to this after we’ve all had a good think.

Things are just starting to settle down when Bucky and Steve end up with twins because of course they never used protection before since they figured either one or both of them were sterile.  Oops.  Turns out what was considered “gender-non-conformity” back in the 40s was basically just people being close-minded.  Bucky is actually pretty damn fertile.  Steve is super protective of his family and he has at least two breakdowns (only two that he’ll cop to) after the twins are born before he and Bucky make the decision that Steve should be a stay-at-home parent.

So Steve retires and works a bit on the side as a freelance illustrator while taking care of the kids and Bucky goes to work for SHEILD alongside the Falcon.

[gayasinstupidpodcast]

Gay As In Stupid’s second episode is out! (pun intended)

Hey y’all! It’s Isaac and Aaron and we’re back with another episode of our Fantastically gay podcast, Gay As In Stupid! This month’s episode is about gay trans experiences, where me and Isaac share some of our experiences as gay trans men, talk about the history of societal and medical prejudice, and share an interview with a spectacular trans lesbian on her point of view!

You can find us on the Itunes Podcast App/Webpage at Gay As In Stupid Podcast! You can also find our episodes uploaded to Youtube and Soundcloud! Sorry for any audio goofs this episode! Recoding in my college dorm has proven to be a thotty whom we will have to get used to working with.

Ordinarily, me and Isaac would put our main sources under Further Reading at the top, but I (Aaron) found the main sources I had to go through for this month’s topic to contain disgusting levels of transphobia that I would feel irresponsible telling our listeners to read. If you want to know what I looked through and used, however, feel free to DM me @albert-dj-cashier​

Aaron’s 2018 September Recs!

What The Trans?! (podcast)

A roughly hour-per-ep podcast by Michelle and Ashleigh, two trans women living in the U.K! The hosts are witty, informative, and compelling, and they talk about topics like the current events in UK trans politics, representation in media, institutionalized prejudice, and personal experiences! Their episodes are really fun as well as interesting, and they have a great dynamic!

Big Eden

This is an absolutely Classic gay feel-good film, and one of me & my friend Lauren’s personal favorites! It centers around a gay New York artist who returns to his childhood home in Montana to care for his grandfather, and finds himself having to deal with the loose threads he left behind (and Also finds an unexpected love interest). It’s cute, romantic, super funny, and doesn’t leave you with long spans of meaninglessly meaningful shots and call it Film.

Isaac’s 2018 September Recs!

Yank! A WWII Love Story: A New Musical

Follows Stu, a young man who gets drafted into World War II where he ends up becoming a photographer for ‘Yank Magazine, a journal for and by the servicemen’.  In present day, Stu’s old journal is discovered, and his story of the war, and his romance with Mitch; a handsome Private he met during training. It’s fun, colorful and absolutely heartbreaking. The songs are memorable, and so are the characters. If you like heart-string pulling gay romances and strong lesbians, this production will make you horny!

MIKA

If you aren’t already listening to MIKA, then I don’t think you’ve been living yet. His songs are sweet and fun to dance to, and truly never get old. He’s gay and a talented singer-songwriter. The music he makes can be best described as Pop/Glam Rock (also GAY!!!) Love yourself and go give “Talk About You” and “Grace Kelly” a listen.

MARCY’S FULL AND WONDERFUL INTERVIEW UNDER THE READ MORE

Q: How do you identify? A: I am a trans woman and a lesbian.

Q: How do you feel trans straight people react to your identity? A: honestly, I’m not sure. I don’t personally know any straight trans people. I’d imagine that we have common grounds on dysphoria and trying to understand gender, but with regards to sexuality, I’m sure it’s kinda up in the air. I doubt there’d be like, hostility regarding my identity. Probably just general acceptance, maybe some minor prodding.

Side note: not to generalize, but from what I understand, straight trans women tend to have different experiences with self-discovery than bi or lesbian trans women. The former tend to figure things out earlier, are sometimes seen as more traditionally feminine, etc. Some of this is from rather TERFy science, though, so take it with a grain of salt.

Q: How do you feel your identity is perceived in the LGBT Community? A: from an intracommunity standpoint, I think that trans WLW in general are steadily becoming more accepted as we speak up about or lives and experiences. Many cis WLW, whether actively or passively, exhibit an alarming amount of transphobic beliefs, but I like to think they’re in the minority.

Q: How do you present your gender and what do it mean to you? A: I’m butch, so my experience with womanhood and femininity is… interesting, to say the least. I certainly don’t take a traditional approach to femininity, and I find that very empowering, especially as a trans woman. I don’t wanna force myself into a role that I’m not comfortable filling, just to appeal to what society expects of me. I wear suits and vests and I keep my hair short and I’ve honestly never even touched makeup, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.

Q: What role do you feel like the intersection of your gender and your sexualilty play in your life? A: my gender and my sexuality are both very important to me, the intersection thereof even moreso. Understanding that intersection has helped me piece together a lot of the questions I had growing up. To put it simply, figuring out that I’m not just trans, but also a lesbian, has helped me figure out like, the past eight-to-ten years’ worth of failed romantic endeavors. The way I experience relationships, the way I interact with people, the way I love are all impacted by both my gender and my sexuality; neither’s importance can be understated.

Q: Do you feel like your gender presentation makes people more prone to invalidate your identity? A: pardon my language but, of fucking course. Like, cis people and transphobes alike will find any reason they can to invalidate a trans person. But the second they find a trans woman who’s a lesbian, who isn’t presenting like a perfectly feminine stereotype, all bets are off my dude. Until I have like, B-cup tits and a soft face, I’m essentially a straight guy in most people’s faces. Which, eh, who cares at this point? Straight people have never understood butch womanhood. I don’t expect them to recognize a trans butch when they see one.

Q: Do you feel like your identity as a gay trans person makes it harder for you to receive proper medical care (hormones, sexual health, etc)? A: quite honestly, I don’t know yet. I’m still pre-HRT; I have yet to jump through the hoops and red tape necessary to get hormones and whatnot. I imagine it’ll be tough, though.

Q: How has your coming out process been different than if you were just trans or gay? A: the biggest difference, for me at least, is that it’s been a multi-step process. For a while I thought I was a bi cis man, then pansexual and agender, then a bi trans woman, and it wasn’t until ~June 2017 that I figured out I was a trans lesbian. Coming out to friends has always been easy; they pick up on new identities and pronouns fairly easy. Honestly, I don’t think my parents quite understand what being trans is right now, but we’re working on it.

Q: Have you ever found yourself feeling guilty over your attraction to women because of your gender identity? A: honestly? At least once a week, I have that dysphoric voice in my head telling me I’m just some creepy straight guy preying on lesbians. I know it isn’t true, it’s just self-doubt and internalized transphobia and TERF rhetoric echoing, but it’s hard to not think that, frankly. Especially when it’s repeated so often.

Q: Do you feel like your voice is heard/your identity is seen between media and the community? A: in media? Outside of a few niche places (and surprisingly, IDW’s Transformers comics), trans lesbians are largely pretty nonexistent. Of course, in the actual community we’re much more populous, but frankly we’re a little bit insular as we tend to mostly befriend and date one another. All in all, don’t think we’re entirely invisible, but I do think we could do with some more fictional representation, and to get more involved with the larger LGBT community.

Q: Is there anything else about your experience as a gay trans person you would like to add? A: admittedly, it hasn’t been until recently that I’ve felt truly comfortable around cis lesbians. Most of my relationships in the past few years have been with other trans girls. There’s a variety of reasons for this, and every woman’s experiences are her own, but for a long time I was afraid that cis lesbians just wouldn’t recognize me as a woman. Q: Would you like your instagram/tumblr to be linked in the episode description? A: sure! I’m @opossumghoul on tumblr and @opossumbutch on other social media

[obsidianarchives]

Black Woman Creator: Kiesha Richardson

Raised in Philadelphia in a house full of women (grandmother, 4 aunts, and mother) Kiesha Richardson learned early on the importance of solidarity and support among women. She is the founder of Ge’NeL Magazine, a woman-operated geek and pop culture website devoted to creating high quality from a woman’s perspective to combat sexism and racism in the gaming world. She is also the owner of Ge’NeL Media, LLC, a small startup that edits and creates content for businesses and brands. When she’s not working, she’s leading her World of Warcraft guild, traveling the world and playing faux-tographer, or relaxing at home, watching Netflix or reading comics with her pups. We spoke to Kiesha about Ge’NeL and being a creator.

Black Girls Create: What do you create?

We create geek culture and gaming content from the perspective of women because most of the outlets are dominated by white men. When I go to different websites, their communities are pretty toxic and they don’t try to fix or address it. It’s just “sexual harassment is ok and it’s normalized” so I figured it was time we do something different. Through my research, I didn’t realize that there were more places for women, especially women of color, to express their geeky side in a safe space. So one of the things I wanted to do is instead of creating a safe space I want to change the narrative. Make sexual harassment, racism, and homophobia no longer normalized.

BGC: What inspired you to create this site?

I personally got tired of trying to play different games and being called the N-word or told to go back to the kitchen, or that I shouldn’t be playing games when someone would hear my voice. It just got really tiring. The last straw came when I was streaming and a couple of friends and I were just having fun, minding our own business, and this dude came into my stream channel and said “show me your n***r tits or get the f*** out.” When I talked to other women about it they would say “oh it’s happened before,” and I thought it shouldn’t be normal. So I tried talking to other organizations I was writing for and the response was “we don’t want to get political.” I thought “thanks for being an ally,” and decided to do my own thing.

BGC: Why do you create?

I create because first of all, I just love writing. It was the natural outlet for me. But I also create so I can just stop this nonsense. We don’t have to deal with this stuff anymore and we should at least get larger platforms to take notice and do something. Some of the gaming companies and developers are trying, but it’s not enough. It’s so pervasive and if you go to different forums or gaming groups and try to have this conversation, there is a lot of pushback. But when you ignore it, you’re not addressing the problem and you’re letting it spread, so we have to do something.

BGC: How did you get interested in gaming?

I’ve been gaming since I was 8 years old, in the second grade. My childhood best friend had an Atari and I got hooked on it at her house. We would exchange different cultural things; she wasn’t allowed to watch music videos so she would come over to watch videos and I’d go over to her house and play games. So we would switch off that way and I’ve been playing ever since.

BGC: When did you realize that gaming was a part of your identity more than just a hobby?

When I lived in Germany with my parents, I took a semester off of college to move. My brother, cousin, and I would have sleepovers in each others’ room and play games all night on the weekend. We would take turns playing different games like Tomb Raider, Resident Evil, and others to see who could beat the map. It became something that was a part of us. When I ended up working in Iraq running a recreation center, I was the only one who knew how to set up Xboxes and Playstations and set up tournaments. So it was what I did and how I knew gaming was just me.

BGC: What was it like to take something like gaming to a different country and culture? Is it easier to connect or is it just another cultural exchange that needs to happen?

It’s definitely easier to connect with people through gaming. I operated the recreational center for the US and UN forces. You can’t make people forget that they’re in a war zone, because we were definitely in the thick of it, but what I could do is give people a place where they could at least relax for some time, and that was through video games. It was how we connected and how we communicated and found commonalities where there weren’t many to be found. I made so many friends that I’m still friends with today. When they would have a bad day or be stressed out, they would come and just talk about games. Video games were a way of bridging a gap in communication.

BGC: Who or what inspired you to do what you do?

I’ve loved writing from a very young age. My grandma, Nancy, always inspired me to write, even when I would get in trouble for my writing. I actually think getting in trouble for my writing made me want to write more. When I was in the fifth grade I was supposed to write a Halloween story and she said she wanted it to be scary, to “let our imagination fly.” Well, my imagination flew too far because she called a parent/teacher conference to ask if I was being abused or if anything was going on at home because the details in my story were too vivid. When my mom assured her there was nothing going on, she asked if I plagiarized and I was shocked because I did what she had asked me to do.

BGC: Something that I’ve noticed is that the things that either got me in trouble growing up or made me feel ostracized are the things that I’m not most successful with. Have you noticed that as well?

Yes, I do notice that. I’ve always been a bit rebellious and it got me into a lot of trouble. My mom used to tell me “sometimes you have to know when to close your mouth. It doesn’t matter if you’re right or wrong, just know when to shut up,” and now I’ve found that it’s helped me out a lot. Sometimes you have to say what you have to say and ask for forgiveness later.

BGC: Why is it important for Black women to create?

We need to be the authors of our own stories. For too long other people have been telling our stories and that’s something that we need to change. We need to change that narrative. I love Black men, I do, but our story isn’t always intertwined with theirs and we’ve had different struggles throughout history. Angela Davis talked about how the Civil Rights Movement left Black women out just like the women’s suffrage movement left Black women out. We need to be the authors of our own story now and it’s time, it’s important for us to do that.

BGC: How do you balance creating with the rest of your life?

Is there such a thing as balance? I’m not exactly sure yet. I want this to be my career, to be honest. When I was going through my divorce, writing was the only thing I could do. I couldn’t get out of bed. I’d always lived with depression but going through that divorce, it was crippling. The only thing I could do was write, I’d be in bed with my laptop and I could write. It was a way for me to transport myself out of my circumstance and when I think about that and how writing saved me in addition to gaming, I think the balance is just living and not letting one overtake the other. They both saved my life, creating and writing helped me and video games helped me, but I have to make sure to go outside every once and awhile I guess.

BGC: How does writing help your mental health? Do you ever find that writing hurts your mental health?

I think helps because a lot of times it’s not easy to talk about what you’re going through with other people. When I write, it’s a way for me to communicate how I’m feeling and what’s going on with me. I noticed when I first started blogging and I started writing about depression, there were other people who were feeling the way I was feeling and that was important to me. So when I do write about mental health I try to keep in mind that I’m not alone. People may not have the exact feelings but they’re feeling a similar way. When I write, I try to take into account self-care when it comes to mental health issues. So when I write, I try to make sure that other women know that they’re not alone and know that taking care of themselves is a part of taking care of their mental health. One of my coworkers once said “muting you is my self care for the day.” Sometimes you have to mute the negativity. It’s definitely easier said than done but don’t be afraid to hit that mute button. Take care of yourself and do it in a way that makes you feel good. People think self-care is one size fits all and it’s not. You have to figure out what makes you happy, no one else is going to make you happy. Things won’t necessarily make you happy, but something might. People say “material things won’t make you happy,” but shoes do for me. Figure out what makes you happy and try something new. I think that goes a long way towards helping your mental health.

 BGC: What’s important to you when you’re building a community and working with other writers, especially when you’re trying to serve underrepresented groups? What do you try to focus on when working with other people?

Passion, empathy, and understanding that there is a problem that we want to address and that we are going to be the voices to do it. There is no such thing as a perfect person and there are no perfect writers. I have people on my team who have no writing experience, no writing background, but their stories are beautiful. I can work with someone who is not really a writer. What I can’t work with is negativity, internalized sexism, and putting down other women. With me being a streamer, I come across so many people, especially guys, who have a problem with women who show cleavage when they stream, but they’re marketing and are full of life with energetic personalities and these guys only reduce them to what they're wearing. Then you have some women who will piggyback on that and say they’re making streaming worse for the rest of us. How? They’re working, it was nothing to do with the boobs, I mean guys (and some women) will look, no doubt, but that’s not going to keep them watching. It’s about positivity and being understanding of all women and their struggles. You don’t have to like all women, that’s not realistic, but you don’t have to put them down. I’m not going to be negative and when I look for people to work with I look for that positivity. Are you uplifting other people or are you trying to tear people down because you don’t have your own stuff going on? Positivity. Empathy. Sisterhood. Solidarity. That’s what I want the community to be regardless of racial, ethnic, religious, or cultural backgrounds. I want women to be able to be themselves. I want to uplift us all without having to step on someone else. Having male allies, that’s fantastic. Guys who come to the site think Ge’NeL magazine is anti-male and it’s not, we just don’t want to be shit on. We’re tired of the racism and sexism and xenophobia. I didn’t know there was an entire community of Muslim women gamers but they don’t say anything because of how they’re treated on social media, so we have to uplift each other. But I’m also not going to try to let someone take over the narrative of Black women. Our story is our story and it’s okay for us all to have different stories, to just be different chapters in the same book.

BGC: Do you have any advice for new creators who are just starting out on their journey?

It was hard for me to get to the point where I was getting paid writing gigs and I can’t remember where I heard the quote but someone said if there are no opportunities create your own. So that’s what I did, I didn’t give up. I started putting everything single thing I did on my resume when it came to writing. Don’t be afraid to go to content mills to get the experience that you want or need. Research, read, you can’t be a writer without reading. If you don’t understand the content you’re trying to create or how other people view different types of content, then you’re not going be successful.

BGC: Do you have any future projects that you’re thinking about working on?

Not exactly with Ge’NeL but there is a non-profit in Augusta called Girl Warriors that takes at-risk girls and introduces them to tech and other avenues outside of the environment that they’re currently in. I’m also going to be editing a book as well.

As for Ge’NeL, I’m still trying to find more writers. Unfortunately, we don’t have a budget to pay, we’re all volunteers at this point. But I’m looking for writers, editors, and I am putting together a pitch deck to get some funding for Ge’NeL and to maybe start a stream team.

BGC: Where can we find you?

You can find me on twitter @onewildflowerz, same for Facebook and Instagram, or you can find Ge’Nel at @genelmag on Twitter and Facebook.