#I don't know your pronouns

[jonathan-cranes-mistress-of-fear]

@gothmoth3727 gave me permission to color their AMAZING jon art, and idk if I did it justice but I tired!

thank you for the practice!! <3

[izakk-tiberius-kyle]

Cigarette smoke with

Filled lungs, Smokey afterthought

Escaping the past

-✨

Pretty much yeah Mx. ✨

[beebfreeb]

If I saw a nutcracker nobody could stop me

[corpsentry]

pick your battles

[svartalfhild]

Unsurprisingly, people are already being fucking weird about Mizu's gender.

Headcanons are all well and good, but maybe we shouldn't be so eager to apply modern Western gender politics and terms to a character whose identity is so tied to the time, place, and circumstances in which she exists.

Please remember that Mizu was forced to present as male for her own safety and agency. Please remember that allowing others to see her as a man and call her he/him is not a choice; it's protection; it's a means to an end. Until we see Mizu talk about her gender in further detail, that's all the context we have.

Don't project what you want to see onto her and then treat it as fact.

[irradiatedrosegarden]

sometimes you just gotta lick the homies

[turning-monday-blue]

Sweets (1/?)

The snugness was barely tolerable. She had overestimated herself. She looked surreptitiously over her shoulder and ducked around a corner. The only thing following her were her bad decisions, but she felt chased all the same.

Okay. Calm down. Breathe (but not too deep). Evaluate the situation. What are your options? Can you loosen anything?

She looked down at herself. Past her swollen breasts, past a fluffy roll of upper belly, she examined her waistline. Nope. The button was the only thing keeping the zipper together, and vice versa. For the millionth time, she lamented her morning. What a bright idea, interviewing for a job with a snack company. She was very well aware of how sweets affected her.

Could she find somewhere discrete to wait out her... little metabolic mishap? She looked around for a discrete nook to accommodate her fresh bulk.

The little atrium she had found had a series of plush benches around the walls. She sighed and headed for the one in the corner. She sucked in as best she could and sat down. Some horny little corner of her mind made note of how it felt as her tight belly shifted against her puffy thighs.

Sitting like this, only barely upright lest bending too far compromise her jeans, she couldn't ignore how her waistband was trying to cut her in half. She thought back to how she had done this to herself. The lovely HR manager had very explicitly pointed out the basket of the company's sugary offerings there in the middle of interview table. The woman had been insistent that she try at least one of each, gushing like any good salesperson about their rich flavors and subtle textures, occasionally even peeling one out of its wrapper and handing it to her.

How could she have done anything but eat what was offered to her? And by a beautiful woman, no less. She knew how her body reacted to food like this, but she had been desperate to make a good impression, to look good and eager and employable. A good girl. She ignored that last thought, and the accompanying shiver through her frazzled tummy.

She closed her eyes and tried to steady herself. Breathe in through the nose and out through the mouth (but not too deeply). All she had to do was calm down, and give her body a chance to do the same. Then she could find a back door to sneak out of, go home and hope that somehow that she hadn't blown the interview.

She opened her eyes again and caught sight of herself in a mirror across the room. Holy crap, she was huge. She had been her normal, narrow self, and her outfit had fit very very normally, when she had arrived. But now? Now it looked positively painted onto her. Her breasts were trying to spill out of her tastefully exposed bra and over the lapel of her blouse. She was more balloon than woman at this point. She ignored another tingle.

As she watched herself in the mirror, she noticed something change. Slowly but surely, the last wrinkle in her blouse smoothed out. Uh oh. That meant... she was still filling out. Panic. She tingled again.

No. No. Calm. Breathe (but not too deep). She closed her eyes again, and could feel her plump body quietly grow. Crap.

Panic. Calm. Breathe (but not too deep). Calm.

Maybe if she didn't look, it would go away. That had never worked before, sure, but there's a first time for everything, right?

As she rationalized to herself, she noticed the sound of heels clacking towards her hiding spot. Panic!

Maybe their owner would pass and not notice her?

No such luck.

The woman who had interviewed her rounded the corner.

"There you are!"

She struggled to stand. So tight.

"You left your purse upstairs. I get it, though. Interviews can be pretty stressful, huh?"

Like nothing had changed. Did this woman not notice that she was currently three times the size she was when she had shown up? Could this woman not hear every seam in her clothes creaking in harmony? Could the woman not see how wide and deep and round she was becoming?

"It's such a beautiful handbag, I almost wanted to keep it for myself!" The woman laughed. "Oh well."

She took the bag from the woman. "O-oh! Thank you!" Leapt out of her.

"Listen," said the woman, "technically I have to review a few other candidates, but I think you're a shoo-in for the position." The woman moved closer. "No one else has shown so much... enthusiasm." Closer still. She basked in the smell of the woman's musky perfume.

"Oh... that's great!" she managed to squeak out.

"In fact," the woman continued, "if you'd like to come back upstairs, we can have you fill out the onboarding paperwork now, so you don't have to come back just to fill out some forms if... when we give you the job." So close now.

"Um! Okay!" What.

The woman placed a gentle hand on the side of her massive, tight, growing belly. "Listen, between you and me, that passion you showed today will take you far with us. Do you feel like the offer is fair? We can negotiate further if you need." The woman's eyes were so sincere.

What was going on here? She could barely think.

The woman placed her other hand on top of her belly, well hidden by her burgeoning breasts. "I do hope you'll say yes."

"Um..."

There was a pop. Her button pinged away across the room from her overburdened jeans. It made a little thwack sound as it hit the far wall. Her zipper flew down, zizzing audibly. Her belly erupted through the breach. Her blouse retreated upwards. The tingling became a roar. All the while, the woman, as though no tectonic shifts were happening right there and then, continued to implore with borderline puppydog eyes.

The world held its breath with her. How had this woman not reacted to any of that?! What? Was the woman still waiting for an answer?

"...okay?" She tried. She wasn't sure if her brain was still working. "Sure?" Best to stick to small sentences.

"Yay!" cheered the woman, "I really think you'll love it here!" The woman launched in for a quick hug around her exposed belly. The woman's arms didn't go even halfway around her. And still the woman didn't seem to notice that anything was wrong.

"Well! If you'll follow me back to the elevators, we can at least get the formalities out of the way."

The woman took her by the hand and pulled, still gentle. She followed, mutely. Even the horniest, shamiest corners of her mind were silent, waiting with bated breath.

As they reached the elevators, the woman pushed the up button and stood to the side. "Please," said the woman, "after you!"

On autopilot now, she stepped into the elevator and... wedged into the door. Stuck. What. Panic? Calm? The elevator dinged again as if to say "I'm waiting!"

The cold of the elevator doors brought her back to reality. She put a hand on either side of herself and tried to pull herself in. As though this were somehow normal, the woman chirped "Oh, here, let me help!"

She felt a gentle pair of hands press into her oceanic bottom. Her horny brain thrilled again. She clamped down on those thoughts. No time to be a pervert.

Between the two of them, they muscled her into the elevator. She turned to face the doors in time to watch the woman press into her in order to let the doors close. Normally equipped for eight full-sized human adults, due to her immensity, it very barely fit two.

"We need floor thirty," said the woman into her barely contained cleavage. She tried to reach for the panel of buttons, but by now there was simply too much of her in the way.

"I've got it," said the woman, reaching behind her without looking.

They rode the thirty floors quietly. She could feel herself still widening, pressing towards the walls of the elevator car. Her embarrassment had burnt out, leaving only a kind of stunned peace in her mind. She tried to will her body away from the woman, but where else could it really go?

By the time they reached their destination, the woman was firmly pressed against the doors, still showing no indication of the extra-ordinariness of the situation.

As the doors opened, the woman stepped back, grabbed her hands, and pulled as she tried to wiggle through the door. Eventually she floomped through, and they set off toward the HR suite.

Full-on waddling now, she felt an inner tension release. She had stopped growing. Relief. If nothing else, at least things had stopped getting worse. Sure, she was almost round enough to roll. Tingle. Sure, her clothing had been reduced to barely covering her... rude areas. Tingle. Sure, a beautiful woman was acting as though this was all perfectly normal. Tingle tingle tingle. But hey, at least it finally wasn't getting worse.

The woman pushed open the double doors to the HR suite and welcomed her in with another glittering smile. They seemed to be the only ones there. The woman led her, patiently, to the front desk area. The woman ducked behind the desk, looking for something.

"Hmm, it looks like I'll need to go print off more some more copies of the forms. Shouldn't take more than a minute or two." Finally she'd have a moment to collect herself.

Then the woman produced a basket, laden with various goodies, from underneath the desk. "Here! Help yourself, sorry to make you wait." Uh.

"Oh, here, allow me," said the woman, picking out a chocolate confection, peeling it, and pressing it into her mouth. "I'll be right back!"

She chewed and swallowed the treat.

Uh oh.

[slyandthefamilybook]

asking people their pronouns is the bare minimum of trans acceptance and it's something we've had to drag cis people kicking and screaming into doing. where the fuck do you get off throwing all that progress out the window because you like it when people are mean to you actually

[wizardsix]

is it just me or is bioware spoiling way too much about the game . talking about gameplay improvements is one thing but revealing story and companion arcs seems very insecure to me bc now the mystery is gone when people play for the first time . seems like they're trying too hard to prove that their game isn't garbage after that first trailer but this is not how you do that

[bumblingbabooshka]

[TUVOKTOBER: Day 15] At First Sight. [Patreon | Commissions]

[aprofessionalwithoutstandards]

Sticking this on here even tho it's a general Sitewide Problem - I'm sick of people making excuses for retroactively adding more bigotry into tf2. It feels like people are only capable of thinking about marginalized people (especially "in the past") as our suffering, so writing a gay character, or a trans character, or a black character, or etc. must involve them suffering somehow. People go to such fucking lengths to pull hypothetical marginalized people out of their ass who LOVE writing about characters like them experiencing hate crimes as "coping", but In My Opinion your coping should not involve publicly making a bunch of joke characters from a comedy video game get called real slurs that affect people in real life. Even if your point is "bigotry is bad", not every single fucking thing that has a black character or a gay character in it has to be About Bigotry. You all let white characters just be characters, but the minute you wanna put Demo tf2 in your fanfiction you need to take some great stand against racism and choose to do this by portraying him suffering. I don't care if it's to show that Racism Bad - you NEED to learn to love marginalized people more than you hate bigots. Never mind everything I could say about how actually no, it would not be "period accurate to the 1960s" for everyone to constantly be spewing or facing racism and homophobia. Acceptance and taking stands against bigotry aren't new concepts. Your "historically accurate" tf2 fanfic has done absolutely nothing except show a bunch of already marginalized people that our suffering is more important than our joy. In My Opinion

[vellichorom]

yes i will call thierry a woman. yes you may also. he is whatever you want him to be

[xcziel]

has anybody else thought about how jk could easily manage sofia's parts of slow dance or is it just me?

[200grandbeaverave]

Hello, donate to these vetted campaigns and I'll draw for you!

[corvus-frugilegus]

A thing I truly love as a non-binary person playing a non-binary Rook getting to take Taash on their non-binary journey is how quickly Taash catches on to the non-binary bit of all time: claiming the most random shit as gender affirming.

Them trying to convince Lucanis to do the wing thing for Rook because all non-binary people love flying? Taash gets it. Taash is doing gender on the deepest level like a fucking natural. I fully believe they would point at a relatable piece of garbage and say "oh gender" and Rook would solmenly nod in agreement like "yeah I really see that for you ".

Bonus points to non-binary Rooks with an undercut, them and Taash together are enforcing a truly hilarious stereotype.

[inexplicably-spookified]

diversity win! this witch is bi... lingual?