#I know even if I was into feminine women I would run a mile from this stuff bc I dont want to be ur straight bf surrogate

[cruelsister-moved2]

no but thinking about it gay girl game and straight girl game are COMPLETELY different so I wonder how many of them their problem is just that theyre trying to do the same thing with both. especially if you're used to men being obsessed w you and suddenly you basically have to learn a whole new skill it's easy to get discouraged and just go back to what you know.

i see these girls saying like ohhh but girls dont text first and it's like well? you text her then! its not hard to talk to another woman, you do it every day. the type of girls that expect mascs to hit on them but don't realise if someone's visibly gay and you're not, you need to be the one to approach them and make your intentions clear. if you're used to just waiting around and falling into a relationship I get why gay dating would seem hard to you. but it isn't hard. you're just really bad at it. sorry. there's still time to learn <3

[ponderingmoonlight]

Sanemi finding out you pretended to be a boy in order to get trained properly and him falling head over heels for you after

Pairing: Sanemi x fem!reader

Word Count: 4,2k

Synopsis: If there's one thing you always hated, it was being underestimated. Because you're nothing but a petite girl in the eyes of every other demon slayer you stumbled upon with even the sound hashira going easy on you. They left you no choice but to pretend that you're a boy in order to finally get the training you deserve. Little did you know it will be the wind hashira himself who uncovers your dirty secret...

Warnings: it's Sanemi so language, the bonus scene is for those of you who are in desperate need of some spice (no direct smut), last part not proofread because this needs to be published and I'm tired lol

Thank you sooo much for that super cool request, @xxx-oneofthegirls-xxx, I hope you like what I came up with (also, you made me listen to one of the girls nonstop while writing this hehe)

You stare at your foreign reflection in the mirror, cheeks still burning. This looks ridiculous and you know it, your plan so plain and stupid that you regret your decision more and more with each passing second.

But you have to do this.

“Don’t overwork yourself, (y/n). You’ll rest here while the others run a few extra miles.”

“But Tengen-sama, I-“

“Here, let’s get you something to eat!”, Suma cried out.

“You’re overworking that poor woman, Tengen-sama”, Mako commented dryly.

“I already told her to take a break!”

Because without pretending that you’re a boy, they’ll never take you seriously. Not when you’re a petite girl, not when everyone treats you like porcelain because of your small frame and gender. You came her because you’re ready to fight, because being a demon slayer is your true destiny. You want to get trained hard, you urge to surpass yourself each and every day.

You stare at your eyes filled with determination in the mirror. Therefore, you need to make sure they see nothing but a normal boy in you. 

It’s hard to breathe properly with countless bandages tied around your chest in order to hide your feminine curves to their eyes. Carefully, you tie a ribbon around the ends of your hair and pull them up. Good, now your hair is about shoulder-length. A plain hairband that is convincing enough as a sweat band turns your usual longer hair into a temporary short cut.

Is this enough? Will the mist hashira actually believe you?

Confidently, you change into the uniform you stole from a boy nearby earlier and grab your katana. There is no other way than finding out.

“Where’s that little girl? Didn’t Tengen-sama allow her to continue?”

“Huh, you mean the little wallflower? I bet she gave up when she saw what hashira training really means. She wasn’t even strong enough to hold a sword.”

Your heart drops to the floor while your eyes automatically look down in panic and distress. Everyone underestimates you over the sheer fact that you’re a girl. But why? Why would you give up? Why is everyone thinking you aren’t strong enough when women like Shinobu Kocho show them how it’s done? You didn’t train since you were 4 to get reduced to your gender and height.

No, you’ll show them soon enough how good you really are and that you’re no one to be messed with.

“Look at him!”

“Who is that guy?”

“He fights as good as Tanjiro!”

“I’ve never seen him around. Do you know him?”

And you did. Training after training, hashira after hashira. Somehow, you surpassed them all. Despite your small frame, your disadvantage towards the boys with their ability to move freely in the scorching hot sun, you made it.

“It seems like you’re decent handling your sword. I have no use for you here anymore”, Obanai proclaims dryly.

You…you did it? You’ve been here for 3 days, spent the first day tied to a wall while getting smacked by some useless comrades. But you really convinced him, the serpent hashira, the man a lot of the others were so afraid of.

Your heart jumps up and down in excitement. You convinced him.

“Thank you”, you mumble in reply with deepened voice.

“Let’s see how you’ll keep up with Shinazugawa. Now get lost.”

Shinazugawa? You’ve heard that name before. Is this…the wind hashira? Your eyes widen as you sprint down the forest in the merciless sun. If Iguro Obanai is considered rough, Sanemi Shinazugawa has to be a menace. You heard from countless slayers that went back home as soon as they arrived at his estate, some beaten up so badly that they needed treatment.

For days.

You swallow hard. If this man finds out that you’re not who you pretend to be, you’ll be dead. But you have no other choice. After everything you’ve been through, you won’t give up because of the wind hashira’s bad reputation.

“How’s training going?”, Sanemi mumbles while staring into the distance.

“All of them are trash. There’s only one that is decent, though”, Obanai replies dryly.

“Don’t tell me it’s that Kamado brat-“

“No, I’ve never seen that boy before. No one seems to know who he is. He’s pretty small for his age and acts even weirder than the others but I can’t deny that he’s skilled. Even Kanroji…praised him”, Obanai presses out.

He’ll definitely never forget you for taking up the space of a full hand-written site in her note to him.

“You all went too easy on him, then. I’ll mop the floor with his ass when he gets to me.”

“We’ll see about that.”

Your breath gets stuck in your throat. There it is, the estate of the wind hashira. Only him and the stone hashira are left. Only these two until you’re able to drop your false identity and use your newest skills in a real fight. When you’re done here, you’ll finally be able to protect your village properly. No demon will ever hurt your friends and family again.

You just have to get through a few more days of training. A few more days with the wind hashira…

-two days later-

“Get lost, brats”, Sanemi barks out in sheer frustration.

Are these losers really supposed to be useful in a fight against Kibutsuji? They aren’t even good enough to hold their wooden sword correctly, let alone find the right stance to fight. God, this is such a waste of time, so fucking annoying that he smashes his own wooden sword into the ground roughly.

“Fucking useless rabble”, he hisses through gritted teeth.

When his blurry sight catches yours, he’s even more infuriated. He really thought the other pillars were too gentle with you. You, with your thin and small frame, with your innocent eyes that almost make you look like a girl. And while you look like the biggest loser of this whole corps, you manage to fight better than all the others.

“Enough of this bullshit, we’re using real swords now”, Sanemi barked at you while already grabbing his sharp katana.

“Fine.”

You didn’t storm towards him, didn’t act out of confidence or rage. You stayed so calm that Sanemi didn’t know how to act for the split of a second.

The split of a second. This minor moment was enough for you to lift your blade and scratch his cheek ever so slightly.

“Did he…Just hit the wind hashira?”

“This can’t be true. A strange guy like him, hitting one of the most powerful demon slayers?”

“You…You have some fucking nerve, little brat! I’ll make you pay for this!”

Oh, how often he tormented you. Made you stand up in the middle of the night for a fight, forced you to stand up against all your comrades. He pushed you over your limit over and over, made you suffer in a way he never did before.

But you still stand your ground. Still, you grab your wooden sword and follow the others inside at dawn as if nothing happened.

And it simply drives him insane.

“You, little brat!”

“Yes, Shinazugawa-sama?”

Your guts turn in an instant. In contrast to the other hashira training, this feels like a trip to hell and back. It almost seems as if the wind hashira made it his mission to let you suffer more than anyone else. What have you done to deserve his anger? Did you act out of line, aloof? It has to be the fact that you injured his cheek during your fight…

“Never mind. Get out of my sight.”

He doesn’t have to tell you twice. Instantly, you turn on your heels and make your way to dinner. Maybe you’ll finally have to chance to wash yourself tonight. With all those unexpected training sessions and the wind hashira torturing you until far past midnight, you didn’t even find the time to take a bath. Urgh, you can’t wait to finally take those bandages off and to wash your itchy scalp. All that sweating without the relief of a jump in the cool lake nearby is definitely hard to endure.

But tonight. Tonight you’ll finally get the chance to escape the merciless gaze of Sanemi Shinazugawa.

He doesn’t know what keeps him up tonight. Is it the full moon that lights his room, his still enraged heart? It’s still hard to believe that you’re acting up like this, that you manage to hit him. Out of all the jerks he trained, why does it have to be the smallest and therefore weakest one?

Maybe all he needs is letting his anger out on you. Sanemi storms into the dormitory wearing nothing but a casual yukata. He might hunt you around the lake for a few rounds or lets you practice your sword bows until you turn blue-

But his eyes don’t get greeted by your hair sticking out underneath you’re blanket.

“Where the hell are you, brat?”, he hisses to himself.

“This feels like heaven”, you moan to yourself while you dip your head into the cool water.

You never cared about getting covered in mud or dried blood sticking to your skin. But oh, the feeling of cleaning yourself up again after a rough day is just unmatched. Gently, your fingers brush through your wet hair, free yourself from all the dirt of those last days.

When will you be able to return? After that, only the stone hashira is left. How did you manage to land all the way over here? Hiding behind the identity of a boy no one know in order to get treated equally. Your efforts were definitely worth it. With those countless new techniques you’ve learned, you’ll finally be able to stand up against the demons that haunt down your village on a regular basis. Finally, you’ve got the education you deserved.

“You have to be fucking kidding me.”

All color drains from your face in an instant. You don���t have to look past his knees to know who stays right in front of you. Why didn’t you hear him coming? How did he manage to show up in front of you without you noticing?

“S-Shinazuwaga-sama”, you breathe out.

It doesn’t matter how he found you. With your hair open and your upper body barely covered by the water, he already saw through your well-hidden secret. Or better said, your lie.

“You’re so dead.”

You can’t escape. In the matter of seconds, he is with you in the water and grabs your wrists roughly.

“You lied into our faces this whole time?”, he hisses through gritted teeth.

“I had to-“

“You’re nothing but a little girl!”

“You left me-“

“What else do you have to hide? Are you even a demon slayer? I’m totally in the mood to kill you right on the spot-“

“YOU LEFT ME NO CHOICE”, you finally blurt out.

“No choice? Are you out of your goddamn mind?”

“Tengen-sama treated me like porcelain because I’m a woman, but I didn’t want that! I wanted to train like the boys do, I wanted to suffer like everyone else! How am I supposed to become a decent swordswoman when everyone goes easy on me because of my gender!?”

“You…You lied to us.”

“I did.”

“You aren’t a guy.”

“I’m not.”

Thick silence hangs between both of you, only interrupted by sharp and heavy breaths. What now? Will he send you away in dishonor or even worse, exclude you from the corps completely? You’ve worked so hard to even get accepted, poured your heart and soul into those past days. All of this, vanishing in thin air?

“Please don’t send me away”, you finally press out.

“Are you dumb? Ain’t no way I’m letting you stay-“

“I can’t return home in dishonor. I did all of this to be able to protect my family and village. If I return home like this…”

You can’t finish your sentence, your throat suddenly feeling so tight that you even fail to breathe.

“Get out of my sight.”

“But I-“

“I said get out of my sight!”, he screams on top of his lungs.

You flinch backwards and almost trip into the water. Talking doesn’t do much. If you’re not leaving the next few seconds, he might drown you.

With a heavy heart you leave the water, carefully hiding behind a tree until you’re fully dressed again.

“What’s your real name?”, he shouts towards you harshly.

“My name is (y/n)”, you mutter, not daring to look into his cold eyes.

And then you stumble back. Back into the dormitory you know so well by now. Back into what might be the last night at the demon slayer corps for you.

“Remember that skilled guy you told me about?”, Sanemi mumbles while staring at the ground.

“Yeah. What about him?”

“It’s not him. She’s a fucking girl that pretended to be a guy.”

It still feels like a feverish dream. Why did nobody realize sooner? Not even himself…God, he’s such an idiot for not throwing you out instantly. You lied straight into his face, you lied to the whole demon slayer corps all this time. You deserve to leave, you deserve all that hatred and disgust.

“That’s actually quite impressive. How did you find out?”, Obanai comments dryly.

“I caught her bathing. Said she didn’t want to get differently because she’s a girl.”

Just the thought of seeing you there lit by nothing but moonlight, your long hair draped like a veil around you and your female curves he didn’t even know existed…

“That are some unexpected news. Do the others know?”

“I won’t tell ‘em. I’ll kick her out the corps when I return.”

“Why kicking her out? No matter if boy or girl, you can’t deny she���s the most promising one until now. Why not keeping her?”

“Keeping her?”, Sanemi repeats in sheer disbelief.

“Ain’t no way I’ll ever speak to a filthy little liar like her again.”

“Her plan worked, though. And I hate to admit it, but she did pretty good.”

Sanemi’s furious eyes dart towards Obanai in nothing but frustration. You fooled every single hashira until now. You hold so much potential that eventually…Would you survive as his tsugoko?

“I’ll leave”, he finally speaks out before turning his back on Obanai and storming away.

What the hell is he supposed to do?

How utterly dumb you feel sitting on that porch with your wet hair still open in the cool breeze far past midnight. You have no idea where he went, if he’s out to inform the head of the corpse about your behavior or even worse, your own family. Is it too early to pack your few belongings, to leave before he comes back? You definitely can’t stand another round of getting yelled at by the wind hashira.

“What are you doing here outside, brat?”

Fuck. He steps out of the darkness like an unpromising shadow with his face as hard as stone.

“I can’t sleep anyway”, you murmur.

“I’m so fucking mad at you for shitting me like this. Pretending you’re a guy while you’re just a girl.”

“I’m not just a girl”, you clarify sharply.

“Shut the fuck up. You’re a lying little brat but-“

He takes a deep breath in while sitting down next to you.

“But you’ve got what it takes. I’ve been looking for a decent tsugoko for quite some time now and-“

You can’t believe your ears. This man can’t possibly be the wind hashira you know by now, the man who looked like he’ll drown you any minute just a few hours ago. He can’t suggest to take you in as his tsugoko, right? There’s absolutely no way this man wants to train you on a regular basis-

“And maybe you’re that decent fit.”

Oh.

“Me, as your tsugoko”, you repeat his words in order to make them sound real.

“I’ll still kick your ass for lying into my face like that, though”, he adds aggressively.

Never in your life would you ever dreamed of being the apprentice of a hashira. You always worked hard, always made sure to develop your skills with everything you do, but being considered a tsugoko? Of the wind hashira, who never takes in a student? Who seems so rough and cruel but allowed you to handle your katana even better?

“I’d love that”, you finally breathe out.

“I’m beyond thankful you’re e-“

“Shut up immediately. A yes is enough. You’ll stay here with me, then.”

“Y-yes, Shinazugawa-sama!”

“No go to sleep, I can’t beat your ass when you’re tired”, he mumbles before getting up and leaving while your feelings are still over the place.

You, the tsugoko of Sanemi Shinazugawa?

-a few months later-

“Gimme your best shot now, brat!”, he barks at you.

Sweat runs down your forehead like a waterfall, your heavy panting tasting like blood. Just one more hit, one more strike and you’ll get him.

“Thunder breathing, fourth form-“

“Too slow”, he comments next to your ear.

Within the split of a second, you find yourself just inches away from the dirty ground with Sanemi’s arms keeping you from falling.

“Still not fast enough. Do it again.”

Mindlessly, he still drops you into the dirt with his sword casually draped over his shoulder.

You lift yourself off the ground with trembling limbs. There you are again, deep within your trip to hell and back. What you expected when agreeing on being the tsugoko of Sanemi Shinazugawa?

You grab the handle of your sword even tighter and storm towards just like you did hundreds of times before with the smallest of smiles creeping up your features.

Well, exactly that.

-steaming hot bonus: meeting in the lake at night-

You allow the cool water to caress your countless wounds gently. How good it feels to finally bathe every single day instead of once every few days. When the truth came out and everyone started to realize that you aren’t a boy, you regained a part of your freedom along with the merciless training of the wind hashira. Each and every day, he tortured you and others with his cruel training methods before you slide into the lake before the sun sets and go straight back to sleep.

Not today, though. It has to be almost midnight by now, the stars in the sky glimmering so magnificent that you can’t look away. Sanemi allowed you to visit your family and friends today. As you have learned, demon attacks have subsided since the sister of Tanjiro Kamado mastered the sun. And even though that means your loved ones will be safe, you can’t deny the slight turn of your guts. This means a war is around the corner, that Muzan Kibutsuji himself might come for all of you.

But this is nothing you should think about now. Not when you just returned and desperately longed for a bath. You dip your head into the cold water, moan to yourself as the water surrounds you fully-

“What the hell are you doing here, brat?”

Sanemi.

Out of instinct you cry out while burying everything except for your head inside the dark water. You’re butt-naked. How long has he been here already? And…has he seen you? Suddenly your whole body feels hot against the cool water around, cheeks turning dark red.

“Calm down, idiot-“

“How long have you been here already!?”

“What? I’m always taking a bath around this time. You’re the one who shouldn’t be here”, he clarifies dryly.

There he stands. Droplets of water run down his bare chest and almost make him shimmer in the moonlight. His wet hair stick to his face so delicately that you can’t force yourself to look away. He looks…hot.

Hot?

“I-uh…I just returned from…home”, you stutter.

“Hope your family is fine”, he mumbles along with slicking his hair back.

Within these past months, you’ve caught a glimpse of Sanemi you’ve never witnessed before. This man isn’t as cruel as everybody makes him look, his words aren’t always meant as harsh as they sound. Sanemi has a very tender side. Especially when his eyes soften for the blink of a moment, you couldn’t help but feel lost.

“They are. Apparently, the incidents with demons involved lessened when I departed”, you press out.

God, you’re acting ridiculous and you know it. Sanemi is your teacher, your training partner. Even though you’re living under the same roof (he even gave you an own room), there aren’t any romantical feelings between both of you.

“Good to hear. I’ll let you rest a little tomorrow morning. You have to be dead tired.”

“I’m fine”, you lie in an instant.

Truth is, you’re so drained out that the water is the only thing that’s able to keep your knees for failing you at the moment. Not only from your journey, but all those countless harsh training sessions, dueling yourself over and over with Sanemi and the others. But you’d never admit it, would never say it out loud.

“You’re probably the baddest liar out there. Your cheeks are red as hell, (y/n)”, Sanemi comments dryly.

You don’t dare to move when he stretches out his hand. Enough to gently caress your cheek, enough to cause an explosion in your stomach.

Did Sanemi just touch you? Tenderly?

“I…N-no…I…”

You can’t find the words. In fact, you are too distracted to care about something like words. Slowly but surely, he draws closer with his perfectly formed chest exposed to your hungry eyes.

“(y/n), I…There’s actually something I wanted…Well…Fuck!”

Is that really Sanemi Shinazugawa, stumbling over his own words? And why is it him who’s blushing at the moment?

These past few months made it really easy for you to actually respect the wind hashira. Not only his frightful skills when handling the sword, but just him. Him, when he’s brushing the fur of the cat that visits his estate from time to time. Him, when he tucks you into your blanket when assuming you’re already asleep. Him, when checking on you in his own unique way.

How ridiculous to even think about him like that, to even allow your heart to jump up and down in joy. But you can’t help yourself. Despite the way you despised him when the two of you first met, you really started to love this man with all your heart.

“(y/n), you’re a pretty decent women”, he begins again while drawing closer.

“Well, I…Thank you?”

A decent woman? Is that what he thinks about you?

“I still can’t believe you lied to me about being a girl, though”, he barks at you.

Oh.

You hate the way your heart drops. Were you really dumb enough so think he might have something to say, that he might tell you he has feelings for you as well? How ridiculous, how absolutely dumb.

“I think I should get going. It’s been a long day”, you mumble.

It’s probably the best to get away from here as soon as possible. But just when you start moving towards the shore, his hand grabs your arm tightly and twirls you around.

Right against his bare chest.

“Don’t you dare leaving now, brat”, he hisses through gritted teeth.

“I…there’s something I wanna tell you…”

“Why are you acting like a child?”, you finally spit at him yourself.

Oh, you’re having enough of all those ups and downs. Especially today, when you’re totally drained out already. You really don’t have the nerve for him to pick on you again, not when his last statement lies like a heavy stone in your stomach-

“Acting like a child?”, he challenges you.

Just before his lips crash into yours.

Longingly, Sanemi wraps his strong arms around you, devours you against his body while all you’re able to do is holding onto his broad shoulders for dear life.

This…is really happening, right? This is really Sanemi, pressing his lips against yours over and over again while your naked skin brushes against his?

“You’re fucking driving me insane, brat”, he mumbles against your lips before grabbing you even tighter.

“Since the moment I realized you aren’t a boy.”

He grabs you by your waist firmly, your naked skin rubbing against his sixpack almost making you lose everything that’s left of your self-control.

“I can’t get you out of my head.”

Your hands wander around his biceps, feel the deep valleys of his muscular back. God, this feels so good – almost too good to be true. But even if this is nothing but a dream, you’ll enjoy every minor movement, every sweet moment until you open your eyes again.

But when you do, you don’t find yourself in the comforting darkness of your room. No, his eyes glimmer like molten iron when staring down at you in the moonlight, his hot breath brushing against your wet face so seductive that you threaten to lose your balance.

“Still saying I’m acting like a child, brat?”

[icanseethefuture333]

How Jupiter in the houses affects the physical appearance.

Jupiter in the 1st house: Similar to a Aries Jupiter, it creates a large head or prominent facial features. I noticed that most people with this placement have a bigger forehead. Their appearance can bring them their most success or fortune. They have a very marketable look.

Jupiter in the 2nd house: Could have an attractive neck. Their necks can be long and swanlike or thick with a prominent Adam's apple. Their voice can be attractive as well.

Jupiter in the 3rd house: Their voice is loud or can be heard from a mile away (Jim Carrey for example lol). Something could be unique about their handwriting. Their appearance can be a topic of discussion as well. People gossip about them or either talk about it out of admiration or jealousy. Halle Berry has a Libra Jupiter in the 3rd house. Her beauty is often praised and admired, she also has been quoted as the most referenced woman in hip hop music. "They go Halle Berry... or Hallelujah." - Kendrick Lamar.

Jupiter in the 4th house: Literally the embodiment of the saying "I got it from my mama!" Their body shape runs in their genetics, could be passed down from a family member, or their features is common amongst the women in their household. May also look like their mother. Their appearance is very feminine. Siren eyes. Big boobs. Even if they identify as a man, their bodies could be more soft, plump, or possibly short in stature. Timothée Chamolet has this placement and I always thought of him as the "pretty boy" type 🌸 A lot of women with this placement radiate milf vibes as well.

Jupiter in the 5th house: These people can be baby faced or look younger for their age. Their body could be like a child's (Lily Rose Depp has this placement and she is very petite with a cherub-like face). They are also very fertile. I feel they mature into their bodies once they have children. Their body will change and gain weight (dad bod incoming!). During pregnancy, they could also look very beautiful and radiant (Jhené Aiko & Grimes)

Jupiter in the 6th house: To remain their shape they have to exercise and have a diet. When they work out their muscles are nice and toned (Cameron Diaz). Out of all the placements, they are the ones who are most likely to be successful when it comes to having fitness goals. Without exercise, their weight fluctuates a lot (Mariah Carey & Leonardo Dicaprio). They overall have good physical health (as long as they take care of themselves!). If they drink too much alcohol it can make their faces very puffy.

Jupiter in the 7th house: This is the person everyone has crush on. Their appearance can fit the beauty standard in some way or a lot of people find them attractive. Harmonious, balanced, or symmetrical features. They could benefit from pretty privilege without even realizing it. All they have to do is bat their eyelashes and everyone would fold immediately lol.

Jupiter in the 8th house: These people could like always be in their birthday suit??? If they are a actor or p*rnstar, they could be famous for their sex scenes or for being naked. Some could potentially have their nudes leaked or be exposed somehow. Their appearance could be brought up in taboo topics. People could sexually fantasize about them. Their beauty can linger in their sex partners mind. They could have a nice 🍆/🍑. Their body language could be very sensual or they know how to use their body for seduction. They exude sex appeal and mystery. Could be very talented when it comes to dancing. Janet Jackson has a Cancer Jupiter in the 8th house and she is one of the biggest sex symbols in America. She has a very dreamy yet alluring presence about her.

Jupiter in the 9th house: These people could look very otherworldly, unique, or ethereal (Diana Ross, Mitski, & Emmanuelle Béart). They may also seem racially ambigous (Keanu Reeves & Vin Diesel). If they were to travel to a foriegn county, people would consider their beauty as very "exotic", and could gain popularity from that (Giselle Bundchen). Their appearance could be internationally well known or admired (Taeyong from NCT has this placement and he is literally popular everywhere 😂 He is also famous for visually looking like a 3D anime/video game character!). On the downside, these people could also go viral for their cultural insensitivity (Gwen Stefani, Rosaliá, Kendall Jenner 💀💀💀). They tend to make choices with their appearance that is either highly questionable or iconic (whether in fashion, skin, hair, makeup, etc.) Ariana Grande has this placement and one of her biggest controversies is how her appearance has drastically changed over the years. It's like so many of these people with this placement do cultural appropriation or get in involved with some racist scandal.

Jupiter in the 10th house: These people tend to look like their father or the men in their family. May even have their mannerisms. People could see them and go "Oh you're *insert dad's name here*'s kid? Its on the house!". If people recognize them, they could receive privileges through their dad. Their appearance could create long term financial wealth and success (Bob Marley has this placement and still to this day the people in his family are making music. Most of them also look and sound similar to him 👀) . Their faces could go down in history. They will be remembered as someone who is a very important figure (Picasso) or for being very beautiful (Angelina Jolie, Adriana Lima, Kim Kardashian, Nicki Minaj, Lady Gaga, Nicole Kidman, Drew Barrymore, Selena Quintanilla, & Chris Evans all have this placement and they are like some of the biggest superstars). These people radiate regal energy and their aura reminds me of kings/queens. Their appearance is honestly unforgettable.

Jupiter in the 11th house: These are the people who become big on social media or in advertisement. Their appearance could be great visually for commercials or editorial shoots. People could make them their icons (Madison Beer) or wallpapers. Whatever that has to do with technology, they're involved lol. If they are self conscious about their appearance, they could photoshop their pictures. They could appear differently than how they do on social media (either will seem more beautiful in person or could look unattractive, depending on how their Jupiter is aspected). Their beauty could set trends for the future or they are just ahead of their time with their fashion choices. They may be considered "the blueprint" by many if they are popular (Kanye West has this placement and he played a big part in the Kar-Jenner's family style and in the fashion industry in general). They have features that stand out from others (Frida Kahlo). Zendaya has this placement and she has one of the most followers on Instagram, also a lot of her posts have gone viral. I mostly think of influencer and beauty gurus for them.

Jupiter in the 12th house: These people have a very a peaceful, comforting, or healing presence. Something about them is almost angelic. People might compare their beauty to a god/goddess or some sort of holy figure. They can cause people a spiritual awakening or something about the way they look affects their conscious? For example, you ever meet someone who is so just beautiful or nice and then never see them again? They're like that. "Who is sheeee, a misty memoryyyy". People could project their fantasies onto them or make assumptions by their appearance. They could be considered an it girl/it boy. There is a shyness and sweetness to them that makes them come off as humble, so people are drawn to that. People don't really know them because of that so that also is what makes them so intriguing and interesting. A lot of people will have crushes on them. These people could portray any image they want and people would still admire them (Justin Bieber, Beyoncé, The Weeknd, Margot Robbie, and Usher all have this placement). They are very elusive and can play around with their looks. Which is why I also believe some people are scared of them, their beauty is multilayered, deep, and intense that people will never know what they're truly dealing with. People could also have dreams about them.

[fafnir19]

The Gender Switch Experience

Linus sat on his stool in the laboratory, swirling a stirring rod idly in a beaker of bubbling pink liquid. Elias leaned against the adjacent bench, eyebrow raised in amusement. Linus sighed, setting the rod down. "I just don't get it, Elias. How do women work? Why can't I find a girlfriend?"

Elias chuckled, adjusting his glasses. "You know, Linus, sometimes intelligence can be intimidating for some people. Plus, you can be a bit too deep with your scientific explanation of the universe. You need to be a bit more approachable and light-hearted." Linus huffed, running a hand through his blonde buzz cut. "But isn't it frustrating? Women seem to go for these brainless muscle masses, like that arrogant Aron from sales.

It's like their brains shut down in the presence of biceps and a charming smile." Elias arched an eyebrow. "Are you jealous of Aron?" Linus blushed. "Of course not! It's just... frustrating. I wish I could understand them better. And on top of that, my parents keep pressuring me about grandchildren. I'm their only hope to carry on the family lineage. It's like the weight of the ancestry rests solely on my shoulders."

Suddenly, Elias's eyes lit up with an idea. "Wait a minute, Linus. Remember our research project? What if we use our machine on one of us to understand the female perspective better?" Linus blinked, intrigued. "You mean the gender switch device?" Elias nodded. "Yes! We've been on the verge of a breakthrough, and this could be the perfect opportunity for you to walk a mile in a woman's heels, metaphorically speaking." Linus's eyes widened with realization. "You really think this could help me understand women better?" Elias grinned. "Absolutely! Plus, it could be a fantastic test run for our breakthrough project. Think about it, Linus. You could become Lina for a while and experience the world through a new lens." Linus hesitated before nodding resolutely. "I'll do it." Elias clapped him on the back. "Great! We'll do it on Friday evening when no one is in the lab. We'll keep it a secret, just between us." Excitement and nervousness swirled inside Linus's mind. What would it be like to inhabit a different body, to see the world through a different set of eyes? He couldn't wait for Friday to come. 

As the laboratory fell into a hushed silence, Linus positioned himself before the formidable transformation machine.

Nervously, he squared his shoulders, anticipation and trepidation intermingling within the depths of his being. Elias, his stalwart companion, stood poised to assist, his eyes alight with a fervent intellectual curiosity that mirrored Linus' own. "Do you truly wish to proceed with this, Linus?" Elias inquired, his voice tinged with a blend of caution and excitement. Linus met Elias' gaze, his own filled with unwavering determination. "I must understand, Elias. I must experience firsthand what it means to walk in a woman's shoes," he replied, his words resonating with resolute conviction. With a nod, Elias initiated the sequence, setting the transformative apparatus into motion. The contraption hummed to life, casting an otherworldly glow as it enveloped Linus in its embrace. Time seemed to stand still as an iridescent aura unfolded around him, bathing him in an ethereal luminescence. The air crackled with anticipation as Linus felt a strange, almost imperceptible tugging at the very essence of his being. His form contorted and shifted as the machine worked its mysterious alchemy, imbuing him with a profound sense of transformation. His heart quickened as he became increasingly aware of the subtle, yet undeniable rearrangement of his physicality. A surge of emotions coursed through him as he observed his chest swelling with newfound fullness, the contours of his physique assuming a delicate femininity. He gasped in astonishment as his once-familiar genitals underwent a profound metamorphosis, inverting and reforming into the embodiment of womanhood. A flurry of sensations, both exhilarating and disconcerting, washed over him, signaling the irrevocable completion of his transformation. Elias surveyed the scene with an analytical fervor, his eyes aglow with exhilaration. "It's working, Linus! You're becoming Lina!" he announced, a spark of triumph dancing in his gaze alongside a glimmer of incredulity. Indeed, the profound metamorphosis had come to fruition, and Linus had been reborn as Lina, her spirit pulsating with the complexities of her newfound identity.

With an unyielding resolve, Lina prepared to embark on a journey teeming with uncharted territory, her gaze alight with an insatiable curiosity. "Elias, I need to immerse myself in the world as a woman, to truly comprehend," she declared, her voice resonating with a fervent resolve. Acknowledging the weight of their audacious experiment, Elias met Lina's eye with a nod of acquiescence. "We must exercise caution, Lina. This is unexplored terrain, and we must tread with utmost care," he cautioned, cognizant of the gravity of their endeavors. As the evening unfolded and the initial shock of her newfound identity began to subside, Lina found herself filled with a sense of empowerment and curiosity. She wore a radiant smile as she thanked Elias profusely for his part in the experiment. "We should celebrate this momentous occasion, Lina," Elias suggested, his eyes gleaming with mischief. "Let's go out, have some fun, and truly experience life as a woman." Lina's eyes lit up with excitement at the prospect. "I'd love that! Let's make the most of this opportunity." Together, they ventured into the vibrant city, the evening air filled with an infectious energy. They found themselves in a lively bar, where the gentle clink of glasses and laughter mingled with the pulsating rhythm of music. Lina savored the feeling of newfound freedom and embraced the thrill of the unknown. As the night progressed, Elias and Lina indulged in a few cocktails, their lighthearted conversation punctuated by fits of laughter and the occasional insightful observation. It was a rare and cherished moment of unburdened joy, unmarred by the weight of responsibility and expectations. However, their carefree revelry was interrupted when a familiar presence entered the bar. Lina's heart skipped a beat as she caught sight of Aron, the very object of her frustration earlier.

She felt an urge to flee, but fear and defiance warred within her. Elias noticed Lina's unease and leaned in to whisper, "Let's leave, Lina. We can find another place to enjoy ourselves." Lina hesitated for a moment, then nodded her head with determination. "Yes, Elias. I want to dance. Let's go to a club." Elias raised an eyebrow, surprised at Lina's sudden resolve, but he acquiesced, understanding that she needed her space.  In the pulsating ambiance of the club, Lina lost herself in the dance, her body moving with a fluid grace that she never knew she possessed. The music resounded in her veins, infusing her with a sense of unbridled liberation. Elias, on the other hand, felt out of place in the thumping rhythms of the club and approached Lina. "I think I've had enough," he said with a strained smile. "Do you want to head home?" Lina, intoxicated with her newfound freedom, shook her head. "I'm going to stay a little longer. You go ahead, Elias. I'll find my way back." Elias hesitated, his concern evident in his eyes, but he eventually relented, knowing that Lina needed this night of self-discovery.  As Elias departed for the sidelines, Lina lost herself in the music, the vibrant allure of the night sweeping her into its enchanting embrace.

However, when an unexpected figure approached her amidst the dance, Lina's enthusiasm faltered. Aron materialized in the midst of the crowd, his confident strides carrying him closer to Lina with a charming smile playing on his lips.

Despite her initial reluctance, Lina found herself tentatively entertaining his approach, a strange sense of curiosity seizing her. "What's a vibrant beauty like you doing all alone on the dance floor?" Aron inquired, his blue eyes glimmering with a warmth that caught Lina off guard. Lina hesitated, caught in a curious dance of conflicting emotions. "I was planning to leave, but the music got the better of me. I couldn't resist the allure of the night." Aron's smile widened, the playful glint in his eyes stirring something unfamiliar within Lina. "I'm glad you stayed. Care to join me for a drink? I'd love to get to know you better." Lina's thoughts swirled in a tempest of uncertainty, her resistance slowly eroding in the face of Aron's undeniable charm. "I suppose one drink couldn't hurt," she acquiesced, allowing herself to be swept up in the enigmatic allure of the night. As the evening wore on, Lina found herself entangled in a captivating conversation with Aron, his charming manner casting an unexpected spell over her. The vibrant energy of the club intertwined with the heady allure of Aron's company, stirring sensations within Lina that she struggled to comprehend. Though she had harbored resentment towards Aron, Lina discovered a surprising charm and warmth in him as they conversed, his laughter infectious and his wit surprisingly disarming.

The night unfolded in a whirlwind of emotions, and before she could comprehend the gravity of her actions, she found herself in Aron's embrace, succumbing to an unexpected wave of desire. The next morning dawned with a disorienting haze of regret and bewilderment. Lina struggled to come to terms with her unexpected liaison with Aron, the weight of her actions settling heavily upon her. 

Eventually, Lina reunited with Elias, the gender switch machine restoring her to her original form as Linus. However, amidst their joyous banter, Linus divulged the startling revelations brought about by his time as Lina. "Elias, you won't believe what happened," Linus confessed, his expression a concoction of incredulity and astonishment. "As Lina, I found myself overwhelmed by unfamiliar sensations, and I… I slept with Aron." Elias arched an eyebrow, amusement dancing in his eyes. "Well, well, well, Linus. It seems that Lina had quite the adventure. And with Aron, no less!" Linus scowled, his cheeks ablaze with embarrassment. "It was a mistake, Elias. I don't know what came over me." Elias chuckled, offering Linus a reassuring pat on the back. "Relax, my friend. It's all part of the grand expedition of life. And I must say, this will make for a fantastic story to tell." 

As days turned into weeks following the experiment, Linus noticed a newfound vitality within himself, an inexplicable surge of energy and a fervent inclination towards physical activity. In a departure from his usual demeanor, he delved into rigorous physical exercise, his frame gradually gaining strength and definition.  Elias observed Linus's remarkable metamorphosis with a mix of awe and curiosity, remarking on his friend's newfound dedication to fitness. "I must say, Linus, the change in your lifestyle is truly astounding. Your commitment to exercise knows no bounds. What ignited this newfound passion?" Linus, a sheen of sweat glistening on his brow, beamed with a newfound confidence. "I can't quite put my finger on it, Elias. It's as if this surge of vitality has engulfed me, propelling me to embrace physical activity like never before. I feel like a whole new person." Elias raised an eyebrow. "A whole new person, you say? Are you certain it's simply the result of amplified endorphins from exercise?" Linus chuckled, the resonating tones of his laughter carrying a semblance of unfamiliarity. "Sure thing, man!" In the following weeks, Linus's fervor for physical activity yielded undeniable results. His physique underwent a stunning transformation, his once slender frame honed into a chiseled form that exuded an air of confidence and vitality. Rumors of his newfound allure rippled through the research facility, prompting admiring glances from colleagues and an influx of attention from female acquaintances.

One fateful day at the gym, Linus found himself face-to-face with Aron, the very embodiment of the idealized image of masculine vitality that Linus had previously begrudged. The air buzzed with an unexpected tension as Aron regarded Linus with a glint of recognition and intrigue.

Aron's eyebrow quirked up in surprise as he studied Linus's physique. "Well, well, well, Linus. Look at you, morphing from a bespectacled scientist into a swole stud. Quite the metamorphosis, I must say. What's your secret?" Linus paused, acutely aware of the newfound strength that surged through his being. "It seems that I've stumbled upon a penchant for physical exertion, much to my own surprise. Perhaps I should be asking you for workout tips, Aron." Aron chuckled, a bemused smile tugging at his lips. "I must admit, the transformation suits you, Linus. Embracing the ways of the jocks, are we?" Their encounters at the gym became a regular occurrence, and soon, Linus found himself embarking on training sessions alongside Aron, their banter filled with a surprising sense of camaraderie. As they delved into rigorous workouts and exchanged jabs and jests, a bond of unexpected companionship began to burgeon between the once unlikely allies.

It was during one such training session that Aron inquired about a peculiar detail. "Say, Linus, I couldn't help but notice something. Your eyes are typically brown, yet they seem to be blue. Are you wearing contact lenses?" Linus furrowed his brow, a flicker of perplexity dancing in his gaze. "That's odd. I haven't donned any lenses, so this alteration is indeed perplexing."  

Seeking answers, Linus approached Elias. In the dimly lit laboratory, Linus paced nervously as Elias fiddled with vials and beakers. "Elias, you have to help me figure this out," Linus implored, his brow furrowed in worry. "My eye color has changed, and I don't understand why. It's like I'm turning into someone else." Elias adjusted his glasses and peered at Linus intently. "Hmm, let's run some tests. We'll get to the bottom of this, Linus," he assured, his voice laced with determination.

With deft movements, Elias collected samples and scurried off to the lab equipment, his mind whirring with potential explanations. After a few days of anxious anticipation, Elias bustled back into the room holding a sheet of paper. "Linus, I have the results," Elias declared, his eyes ablaze with curiosity. "It's... unexpected." "Spit it out, Elias," Linus urged, his nerves on edge. He braced himself for the impending revelation. "According to the DNA test, it seems that Lina, well, she was... she was impregnated by Aron," Elias stuttered, his shock mirrored by Linus's gaping jaw. "Aron? But... but that's impossible! How could this have happened?" Linus spluttered, his mind swimming with disbelief. "And what does this mean for me?" Elias paused, choosing his words carefully. "It seems that transforming from Lina back to Linus triggered a fundamental change in you. Because the lack of a uterus has prevented you from growing a child, it appears that your own genetic makeup has been irrevocably altered.You, my friend, are now technically considered Aron's son," Elias explained, his voice tinged with uncertainty. "No, that can't be right," Linus protested, his fists clenching in denial. "I refuse to accept that I'm anything like him. I'm not his son." "It's common for offspring to resist acknowledging their similarities to their parents," Elias chuckled, attempting to lighten the heavy atmosphere. "But Linus, when we really think about it, you've taken on a lot of Aron's traits, haven't you?" Linus fell silent, his mind grappling with Elias's observation. He couldn't deny that over time, he had mirrored Aron's behavior, finding a newfound confidence that had eluded him before.

Unbeknownst to them, Aron had overheard snippets of their conversation and sauntered over, a smug smirk dancing on his lips. "What's all this fuss about genetic makeup?" he inquired with a curious glint in his eyes. Linus flinched at the sight of Aron, his newfound anxiety clashing with his unease. "It's nothing, really. Just some absurd test results that we're trying to make sense of," Linus replied hastily, attempting to brush off the seriousness of the situation. Aron folded his arms across his chest, casting a knowing smirk at Linus.

"So, does this mean that you're no longer part of your own family line?" he prodded mischievously. Linus squared his shoulders, determined to refute the assumption. "Children carry the genetic traits of both parents. I can't just be solely considered like you," he asserted, his voice wavering with uncertainty. Elias shifted awkwardly, the weight of the revelation sitting heavily on his shoulders. "Well, the test results did show that about 90% of your genetic makeup is now paralleled with Aron's, with only 10% retaining aspects of your old self," Elias confessed, unable to meet Linus' gaze. Aron raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. "Does this mean that Linus' family line has now been wiped out - he is an only child?" he asked mischievously, his eyes glinting with mischief. Silence enveloped the room as Linus struggled to grapple with the enormity of the truth. How could he come to terms with the fact that he was more akin to Aron than himself and that his ancestral line has been vanquished?

Aron clapped Linus on the back, his expression brimming with amusement, "Look at that, you're one of the cool kids now, Linus! Embrace the change, buddy." "This is absurd," Linus muttered, feeling overwhelmed by the sudden turn of events. Over the next few months, Linus noticed a change within himself. His once-keen intellect seemed to wane, and he found himself drawn to activities he had never before considered. Linus clasped his hands and stared into the distance, "I never used to enjoy sports or casual conversations. What's happening to me?"

Elias patted Linus on the back, a tinge of sadness in his eyes, "It seems the transformation has altered more than just your physical appearance, Linus. Your interests, your behavior, they're all shifting." Linus shook his head, unable to comprehend the magnitude of the changes taking place within him. "I don't want to be like Aron," he muttered, despondent. As days turned by, Linus found himself a sudden desire to be more outgoing and social gnawing at him. "I never thought I'd say this, but Aron has become my best friend," Linus admitted to Elias, a sense of bewilderment lacing his words. Elias sighed, "It seems like you're embracing more and more of Aron's traits with each passing day, Linus. It's like he's become your role model."

In the nine months that followed, the change in Linus was palpable. His once razor-sharp intellect dulled, morphing into a shadow of its former self. No longer was he the dedicated scientist engrossed in groundbreaking research, but a husk of a man, devoid of his former brilliance. It was a bright Monday morning when Linus trudged his way into the sales department, a world away from his beloved science department. He was greeted with slaps on the back and hearty cheers from his new colleagues, among them, the suave and charming Aron. "Hey, Linus! Look at you, all dapper and ready to conquer the sales world!" Aron exclaimed with a roguish grin. Linus barely managed a dim smile in return, his once keen eyes now glazed over with vacant emptiness. His transformation was complete, and Elias could only watch in despair as his best friend slipped further and further away from him.

As the months went by, Linus' days revolved around sales pitches and closing deals. Gone were the days of intellectual pursuits, replaced by the pursuit of fleeting pleasures and hedonistic indulgences.

As Linus strolled into the sales department, a noticeable swagger in his step and a twinkle in his eyes, Elias glanced at him with a mixture of disbelief and resignation. "Linus, what in the world has gotten into you?" Elias asked, his brow furrowed in concern. "Hey, bro, check out my new watch. It totally seals the deal with the ladies," Linus drawled, flashing a blingy timepiece that gleamed under the fluorescent lights.

Elias's mouth gaped open. "Linus, you were a prodigy in the science department. A budding genius. And now look at you. What happened?" Linus chuckled smugly. "Who needs all that nerdy stuff when you've got charm, huh? Aron showed me the way. Now I'm living the dream, man." He slapped Elias on the back with a booming laugh, his once soft voice now laced with a newfound bravado. Elias's eyes widened as he watched Linus saunter over to the water cooler, surrounded by a flock of female co-workers hanging on his every word. Elias, torn between disbelief and resignation, approached the boss of the sales department, hoping for a glimmer of some solidarity. "He's dumb as a rock but knows how to use his good looks for successful sales. I guess, you should produce more of them, Elias," the boss remarked casually, not a hint of recognition for the man Linus used to be. In a moment of resignation, Elias turned to Linus, his once-friend, now a mere shell of his former self. "Linus, I need your help with something," Elias began, the weight of his words heavy on his chest. "I need a sample of your...cum." Linus, now devoid of his former depth, chuckled thoughtlessly. "Sure, man. Anything for you," he replied with a vacant look in his eyes, his once keen mind reduced to nothing but a mindless echo of Aron's.

And so, Linus and Elias drifted apart, their once unbreakable bond shattered by the cruel twist of fate. What was once a story of scientific discovery and friendship had now morphed into a tragic tale of lost intellect and shattered dreams.

[soxcietyy]

Temptation

Chapter 7

Your dad is tired of you bringing home these unworthy men. None of them being fit to take care of you or to be given the family business since you are the only daughter. He decides to find you someone fit to be your husband and receive help from the father of the church. That’s when you meet Yuta, though just because he goes to church doesn’t mean he’s much of a saint

Mafia, murder, violence, mentions of religion, (will contain other things in the next chapters)

The rest of the week he spent as far away from you as he could. He would come home late, sleep in a spare room or sometimes he wouldn't come home at all. Ever since that day he couldn't help but maintain his distance. He was scared, he didn't want to frighten you like that again. Not only did that cause him fear but also the fact that he cared about that.

He was Yuta Okkotsu, one of Gojos most important business partners that worked under him. Everyone was supposed to be terrified of him. But just the single though oh you being scared of him gave him an itch.

He tried to convince himself multiple times that maybe it was because this was all new to him. The concept of marriage and now having to care for Someone else other than him. Yea that sounds about right. This will soon pass and he'll be back to his normal self.

He's been away from you for a good length of time that he kinda felt prepared to face you again. Putting his foot down and putting you in your place. A women shouldn't be walking over a men. Maybe his actions were justifiable last week. He told you to stay put and you did not listen which created consequences.

Yea that's it, you deserved what you got and he will not let it slide.

"Yu?" He hears a soft feminine voice speak. He snaps his head from the paper he held to the door way where you stood in a sun dress.

"Darling you know well you're not allowed in my offic..." as he spoke to you he noticed the bruises on your neck that he left last week. That delicate skin of yours being harmed by his own hands. He couldnt bare to see the injury's he caused so he looked back down at his paper.

"Yes I know but I'm worried. We haven't been able to sit down and relax. You're always busy or coming home late. We haven't even slept in the same bed. Im worried about us." you say

About us? what a joke, with the way he's been treating you he was surprised you thought that way. A normal girl would of already attempted to run away.

"I don't think what I’m doing should concern you. Go back to bed and get some rest." Yuta says as he scans the paper he's been rereading over and over again. To him it seemed like a never ending paper, every time he read it he would get lost in the words making him have to reread it over and over again.

“Can I least go out for some fresh air?” you ask him “Of course.” He says as he begins sign the paper he held.

“Without someone following me.” You cross your arms. The number of times they had stopped you this week from walking out was outrageous. Every time you confronted Yuta about it he would ignore you and keep on with his business.

“you’re not allowed to go out without anyone accompanying you.”

————————

Your angry thoughts influenced your actions immediately. Storming out of his office you quickly made your way upstairs snatching up his wallet that rested on the nightstand. You couldn’t believe that he had just spoke to you that way. This wasn’t what you imaged being married to him was. You felt like an idiot for actually agreeing to something so dumb like this. Anyone would have seen something like this coming a mile away. You were just so stupid, so gullible to believe every word that fell out of his mouth. After putting your heels on you walk downstairs. You knew well that Yuta had guards stationed right out the doors.

You were so sick of being stuck here with an arrogant man. All you did was try and be the best wife but clearly, he could care less about you and your efforts. Opening the door, you see a tall buff man standing with is back facing you. You let out a small huff as you quietly closed the door behind you. Taking a few small steps forward you see him turn around at the slightest sound of your heels hitting the floor. “Go back inside before I throw you like last time." That did happen didn’t it. “Yuta said he’ll meet me outside the gates. He seemed to have lost his wallet.” You say trying to get pass him.

He lets out a laugh as he blocks you from going further. “do you think I’m stupid little girl? He would never let you go even a few feet from him.” The guard laughs even harder as he shoves you back making you stumble a bit.

You give the man an innocent smile. “Clearly you don’t know him enough to know that he would let me do that. Let me through before I tell him that you put your hands on me.” You talk back.

“What would people say if Yuta’s wife was being man handled? Clearly you would be fired right away.” You stare into his shocked eyes. He mumbled a few words before letting you get pass him. If you knew it was this easy you would if been escaped this place.

Immediately you started walking to the open gates. Walking with the fear of him possible looking outside his window to see you walking off the property. Once you made it out the gates you turn around and shut them. The guard looked at you confused for a second before booking it towards you. That’s when you quickly lock it with the key Yuta always carried in his wallet. You gave him another innocent smile before you ran down the road. Luckily those gates where as tall as pine trees, that means he had no choice but to get another key from Yuta who should be at a meeting about now. That’s if he had the guts to interrupt a meeting.

Running as fast as you could in heels, you cut through people’s property’s so you wouldn’t be found so easily. Eventually after so long of running you made it to the city of New York. Yuta did not live far from the city at all making everything supper close to you guys. Stopping at a coffee shop you rest by the wall and catch your breath. You haven’t ever ran this much in your life before. The adrenalin in your body was still pumping as you held your chest.

“Oh, darling are you alright?”

Alarm bells ran in your head once you heard them say darling. When you look up your met with blue eyes but not the dark ones you know. They were infused with a light green color making them look really friendly. Moving from his eyes to his face you realize this was a total stranger. This man had blonde short hair, chiseled jaw, he wore such a nice navy-blue suit that complimented him. Your mouth seemed to have dropped, mesmerized by his beauty. “y-yes! I’m fine I just got done with my morning run.” You say

“A run? In heels?” he raises his brow.

“yes...��

“Your quite an interesting girl, how about I invite you to grab a drink with me?” he says holding his hand out. You looked at him not being able to believe him but take his hand either way. He grabbed it firmly and walked out with you in his arm.

“ I know this coffee shop with better drinks up the street. I had came to the one we had just left to grab a quick drink to go. Then I ran into you, and I just love having drinks with people.” He says as he walks with a fast pace. This man was really tall, to the point where it kind of hurt your neck to look up at him.

When you guys got to the place you couldn’t believe how beautify it looked. Plants where planted in so many spots and it smelled like roses from the pots that surrounded you. This was something you’ve never seen before. As you approached a table, he pulled your seat out and letting you sit before taking his own. A waiter soon came up to you guys and asked if you guys needed time to order.

“No need, I would like Americano and for the lovely lady hmm, what do you want tea or coffee?” he tilts his head making his golden locks fall to the side.

“I uh, I like tea.” You say

“ Hōjicha please! Oh and maybe a set of your delicious biscuits.”

As the waiter left, he put his attention back towards you. “so do you usually take strangers on-“

“Coffee dates? No, no I am quite a busy man, I was actually free this morning and well I couldn’t just ignore you.” He smiles.

“Oh well thank you for taking me out uhh.” You say ignoring the fact that he called this a date.

“How rude of me! I haven’t introduced myself, haven’t I? The name is Angelo.” He says.

“Oh, I’m y/k Okkotsu.”

His eyes seemed to have lighten up once you told him your name.

“Magnificent.”

“Do you work Angelo?” You ask him curious to know his profession if he could afford to go to such a coffee shop.

“I own many restaurants and coffee shops around here, including the one were at. Its quite new actually.” He says as he looks around admiring his work.

“Really? Wow I really love what you did with the place. It’s so stunning and it feels like I’m in the middle of a flower field.” You say surprised.

“I’m glad you’re enjoying it darling. What do you do for work?"

“um currently nothing, I’m just home all the time but I want to get into my husbands business. I want to feel useful you know? But how can I do that when I’m not even allowed to know anything about it.” You look down at the wooden table “oh sorry I started venting without realizing it.” You say embarrassed.

“No need to feel bad I enjoy giving advice to people.” He says as he receives the drink from the waiter that you didn’t even notice. He set your drink in front of you as he took a sip of his. He let out a satisfied sound come out as he tasted the drink.

“What does your husband work in” he asks as he licks his lips.

“Trading under a company.” You say as you also took a sip out of your drink. Your eyes brightened the second your tastebuds made contact with the liquid. This was really good, this man kept on surprising you by the second.

“What is this? It’s so good, I’ve never had such a flavorful tea.” You bring the cup up to your lips once again.

“Ha, I knew it would be to your taste. It’s a Japanese’s tea that has roasted green tea leaves. Its naturally sweet yet has a hint of a smokey flavor in it.” He lifts his hand up in the air to get a waiter’s attention.

The man quickly runs to him and ask him if everything is okay. Angelo reassures him everything is good and that he just wanted to know if he had a bag of the tea you were currently drinking.

“oh you don’t have to do that! I can always come on my own, I want to support the business.” You say.

“oh sweety but what if you can’t go out when you crave it? You already know how husband can be, ugh so bitter for no reason, Speaking of.” He brings his drink to his mouth. “Y- your husband how is he like?”

For a second you thought he was going to say your husband’s name. Then again, he shouldn’t even know him.

“Well, he’s…nothing like I expected him to be like.” You say with a sense of sadness. You had no idea why you held such high expectations for him in the first place. You didn’t even know him for that long and here you thought he was going to be the best husband ever. “I just wish he was more caring, kind, and well just loving in general.”

You had no idea what had happened, when you first met him, he was the most kindest person ever now he was someone else.

“Sorry to hear that,” Angelo crosses his legs as he stretches them out. “Something like that must not be easy to go through, I trust your strong enough to pull through, right?” Angelo looks down at his watch and raises his brows. “it’s near noon, do you need a ride?”

Ride, but to where? You couldn’t possibly go back to Yuta’s. He was going furious when he finds out you escaped. If you ran back home, you feared your dad would call Yuta since apparently, they were buddy’s now. You could get a hotel room, but they would be able to track you right? At this point he must have already called everyone he knew to look for you. At your wedding the kinds of people that came up to him were unexpected, bank tellers, police, business people, doctors, and more. He probably had all eyes and ears out for you. You couldn’t held but fiddle with your wedding ring to ease your thoughts.

“Or you could come to work for me, you can be my secretary for the day.” He offers with a genuine smile.

“Really?! But I’m a women, wouldn’t people look down on you?” You say feeling a bit excited for the opportunity.

“You think I care about other opinion? Is that the way your husband thinks? Such a childish mindset. Common let’s go to my company building.” He says as he helps you get up.

AN: Guys I wrote this on my laptop on word during my finals. I typed 5 pages of fanfic and thought I out did myself and once I posted it onto here I screamed. YOUR TELLING ME THIS IS HOW 5 PAGES LOOK LIKE.

[slutforsilverfoxes]

Close Shave

[A/N: What up homies, it’s me, ya girl, steadily adding to my Honorable Men-tions while my husbands watch me like 👀 bitch?

This fic is inspired by the scene & song from Skyfall- I hope you like it :) Feedback is always appreciated, as well as requests for fics or new characters to explore!]

007 glides silently through the doorway, a jungle cat on the prowl for his next meal. He eases the door shut with a soft click, then moves stealthily down the hall in search of his target. A single lamp illuminates the modest London flat casting wicked shadows on the walls surrounding a small feminine figure. He creeps forward, ready to pounce, the next phase of his plan already formulating in his brain.

“Hello, James,” you murmur, not even sparing him a glance as you casually flip to the next page of your novel.

His warm chuckle caresses your skin like a lover’s gentle touch, his honeyed voice stoking the fire in your belly spurred to life by his mere presence. “How is it that I can sneak up on assassins but not a museum curator?”

Your mouth turns up in a smile and you offer your cheek in greeting, scrunching your nose at the feeling of coarse stubble against your skin. “I can smell the cologne I bought you for Christmas from a mile away.“

“Hm.”

“And I may have pestered Q into telling me when you’d be home.”

“Pestered?”

Folding your legs under your body, you swivel to meet his steely blue gaze with a grin. “Bullied,” you concede. “Only so I didn’t almost accidentally kill you with a fireplace poker.”

“Again.”

You wag your book in his face with a raised eyebrow. “That’s what you get for breaking and entering at four in the bloody morning with no prior warning!”

He grunts in concession before easily lifting you off the couch, only to take your seat and tuck you against his body. You hum in delight at the prospect of having him home, however short lived his visit may be, placing your book aside before nuzzling into his chest and pressing kisses to the underside of his strong jaw. Scraping your nails along his cheek, you muse, “You need to shave.”

He gives you an indignant look, carding his fingers through your hair. “Some women happen to like a beard, you know.”

“Then go break into one of their homes,” you fire back, letting your teeth graze along the path forged previously by your lips.

He lets out a throaty laugh that dissolves into a soft moan as you work your way over his jaw to press your lips to his. You share a few innocent pecks before your longing takes over, and you shift to straddle his lap as James’ tongue slips past your willfully parted lips. His fingers work their way under your shirt, trailing along your ribcage before settling on your hips with a gentle squeeze. You release a contented sigh into his mouth, all of the tension leaving your body and allowing you to relax against him.

Running your nose over the sharp planes of his jaw, you murmur, “Let me. Please?”

“Let you what?” He nibbles at the spot just south of your ear and you gasp, rocking against him and feeling him growing hard beneath you in response. Static fills your mind as your senses are overwhelmed by everything that is James, but you press on valiantly. “Help you shave.”

Calloused digits knead the soft skin of your thighs as he hums, contemplating. “Is this another attempt on my life? Replacing the poker with a razor?”

“James!” you admonish, laughing before growing serious as your fingers dance across his handsome features. “You know that my expertise lies in handling art delicately. What kind of curator would I be if I allowed any harm to come to my favorite exhibit?”

He turns his head to press a kiss to each of your palms, then meets your gaze with a cheeky grin. “That’s all I am to you, hm? A specimen to be ogled?”

“Oh, don’t be ridiculous,” you retort with a roll of your eyes. Climbing off his lap and taking his hand to lead him to the master bathroom, you tack on, “You conveniently double as a bodyguard.”

You slide the cushioned seat from your vanity over to the sink and tap it twice with a coy smile. James settles into his spot obediently while you hunt through the cabinets for his straight razor and shaving cream, placing them on the counter before moving to stand behind him. You study your reflections in the mirror as you run your fingers through his hair, your body growing warm at the sight of him subtly shifting his hips when you tug on the short strands. You walk your fingers down his neck and over his broad shoulders, kneading the taut muscles along the way to the apex of his dress shirt. “May I?”

He opens his eyes to meet your gaze in the mirror, ocean blue eclipsed by a sea of inky black. “Always, my love.” His voice has dropped to a low growl that sends a thrum through you. Deft fingers hastily unbutton his shirt with the promise of exploring his body after too many days and nights spent apart. You tug the fabric off and toss it aside, kissing his neck while your hands glide along his muscular chest. “Darling,” he rumbles out through a laugh to get your attention, and you look up to find several marks blooming across his previously unadulterated skin. With a bashful smile, you respond, “I just can’t help myself around you.”

Rounding the chair to squeeze yourself into the space between his legs and the counter, you lower yourself to your knees. He watches your every move with rapt fascination, his breathing picking up ever so subtly when you reach forward to release him from the confines of his fitted slacks. You tug his pants and underwear off before delicately trailing your fingers over his length, marveling at the weight in your hand and how responsive he is to your touch. Peeking up at him from beneath your lashes, you lean in and swipe your tongue over the head, a needy whine escaping your lips at the taste of him. “Darling,” he calls out again, now with an edge to his voice, cheeks flushed and chest heaving with forced restraint. He threads his fingers through your hair and gives a gentle tug, guiding you forward once more. You wrap your lips around him in earnest, gliding down his length while one hand comes up to massage his balls, the other resting on his lower abdomen. With each swirl of your tongue and pull of your lips, the toned muscle beneath your fingertips ripples and liquid heat pools between your aching thighs.

Replacing your mouth with your hand, you look up at James with nothing short of utter devotion in your misty eyes. “I missed you so much, my love,” you rasp out, an involuntary shudder racing down your spine when his fingertips brush over the apple of your cheek.

Tucking his hand under your chin, he directs you to stand and pulls you close for a tender kiss. You continue twisting your wrist along his length as his tongue slides against yours, a sharp gasp punching out of you when he unceremoniously rips your underwear off and runs his middle finger along your slit, the useless lace now pooled on the floor.

“Oh, sweet girl,” he rumbles lowly, slipping his finger inside you and groaning in appreciation at how greedily you clench around him, “you really did miss me, hm?”

“More-” You whimper into his mouth when he adds a second finger, and then a third, lovingly preparing you for his thick cock. “More than I can even describe.”

He draws his fingers out, caressing your sensitive walls as he does so, before replacing your hand with his own at the base of his cock. The obscene sound of your spit and slick gliding along his length as he draws his hand over himself has you clenching around nothing, a desperate whine of “James,” falling past your pouting lips. He soothes you with sweet words, pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth while his free hand comes up to your hip to guide you down onto him. You cry out at the exquisite stretch, nails digging into his shoulders as you circle your hips to sheathe him inside of you as deeply as possible.

Tucking your face into his neck to pepper his glistening skin with kisses, you beg, “Don’t move. Just let me feel you.”

He hums in concession, gently tugging your oversized sleep shirt off before running his fingers along the column of your spine. The tingling sensation has you rolling your hips against him, moaning when the movement presses the head of his cock against just the right spot.

“Now, darling,” he mumbles against your hair, his large hand possessively cradling the back of your neck, “I do believe we came in here to accomplish something.”

“Can’t remember,” you sigh out. “Too full.”

His ensuing chuckle warms you from the inside out, and you gasp when he leans forward to reach the countertop, shifting his position inside you. He presses something cold into your hand, and you blearily open your eyes to find his razor glinting at you in the muted bathroom light.

With a sigh, you relent, “Fine,” but his firm grip on your hips stops you from rising. “But then how will I-” Your line of questioning comes to an abrupt halt when you spot the smirk playing on his sinful lips. “Oh.”

“Go ahead, love,” he croons, inclining his head toward the shaving cream while his hands come to settle on the globes of your ass. You gather some of the foam between your fingertips, then trace two delicate lines on his cheek in the shape of a heart. Glancing at your work in the mirror, he questions, “How can you be so damn adorable while full of my cock?”

You answer him with only a wink, then get to work coating his stubble with the shaving foam. Once he’s sufficiently lathered up, you ease the blade out and plant your non-dominant hand firmly on his shoulder. “Don’t move, James,” you instruct softly.

He tucks a lock of your hair behind your ear, smiling at the way your tongue peeks out between your lips in concentration, and murmurs, “I won’t.”

You run the blade down James’ face in precise, delicate strokes, mewling in delight every time you stretch to rinse the razor off and he pulses inside of you. Several minutes into your ministrations, he arches his hips against yours with a ragged sigh, moving impossibly deeper as he cranes his neck to look in the mirror. “Halfway there. Doing well, sweetheart.”

“I feel like I’m going to explode,” you attempt a laugh, but it morphs into a strangled moan.

“That would certainly be less than optimal.” He runs his index finger down the side of your neck as you take your next swipe of the blade, your breath hitching when he wraps his hand around your throat and adds the smallest bit of pressure.

The razor stills on his cheek, momentarily forgotten, and you shiver in delight. “What are you doing?”

“Focus on the task at hand,” he chides softly, and you obediently return your attention to the remainder of his beard even as his other hand comes up to massage one of your breasts. You clench around him reflexively, and the hand on your throat squeezes in kind.

“James,” you growl out, this time purposefully flexing your walls around his throbbing cock. He answers your show of defiance with one of his own, both hands tightening their grip and eliciting a whine from you.

“Tit for tat, darling,” he mutters softly, the corners of his mouth ticking up in a wicked smile.

With every movement, every precise flick of your wrist, every droplet of water running down your arm and dripping onto your thigh, your walls squeeze around James’ cock and his fingers press deeper into your skin, and your vision starts going blurry around the edges with need. Finally, mercifully, your lover sits before you clean shaven once again, and you smile proudly at your work.

Nuzzling your nose against his, you sigh at the idea of having to separate yourself from him. “I forgot a towel.”

“Top cabinet?”

“Mhm.”

Tucking his hands underneath your thighs, James stands and settles you on the counter, still sheathed in your warmth. He pulls back to open the cabinet and collect a towel, and you keen at the loss of the fullness until he slots himself back between your thighs.

“Christ,” you hiss, digging your nails into his biceps and arching your back.

“Easy, love,” he murmurs smoothly in response, hiding his smirk behind the cloth as he pats his face dry. You lock your ankles together behind his back, shifting closer and trying to entice him to move. “This is turning downright torturous.”

Dropping the towel on the counter, he shifts his attention back to you and lovingly squeezes the pillow of your thigh. “I always take care of you, don’t I?”

“Sooner rather than later would be preferred in this instance, Bond,” you sass back.

“Patience is a virtue,” he hums with an infuriating calmness to his voice even as he draws his hips back and drags his cock along your sensitive walls.

“I wouldn’t- oh god- consider what we’re doing to be entirely virtuous,” you answer through a moan, teeth sinking into your bottom lip in an attempt to quiet the noises spilling out of your mouth.

“Darling girl,” he tuts softly when he recognizes you’re trying to muffle your cries, fingers ghosting over your cheek before he grips your face and his hips pick up speed. The pressure has you releasing your lip from beneath your teeth, your mouth falling open and allowing wanton moans to escape. James tucks his other hand behind your knee, tugging you closer and letting him sink deeper with each stroke. He smiles down at you when you call out his name and rake your nails down his back, cooing, “That’s it, love. Let me hear you.”

Ever obedient, you moan unabashedly, your cries competing with the sinful sound of skin slapping against skin echoing throughout the marble bathroom. “James! Oh god, James,” you keen, clawing at his shoulders for purchase as your consciousness threatens to leave you, “I can’t- I’m going to-”

He hungrily mouths at your skin, soft pants falling past his lips between kisses as he makes his way up the curve of your throat. Moving his hand to grip the back of your neck, he draws you close to his body and grits out, “Cum for me, my darling.”

You feel your body shudder with the force of your orgasm washing over you, every nerve alight and buzzing as the sound of James’ beautiful moans fill your ears. Your mouth drops open but no sound comes out, your eyes rolling back when you feel the warmth of his release painting your walls. Holding your waist firmly, he presses his hips against yours as his cock twitches inside you, claiming your body completely.

“Good girl,” he pants in your ear, and you whimper at the praise.

“Yours,” you sigh out, completely spent. You turn your head to dot lazy kisses along his cheek, your lips curling upward at the feeling of his freshly smooth skin.

He notes your self-satisfied smile and chuckles warmly against the shell of your ear. “Pleased?”

“Mhm,” you respond sleepily, nuzzling his face and emitting a sound dangerously close to that of a purr.

“I’m glad,” he hums, pressing a sweet kiss to your forehead. “Shower?”

“Can’t,” you mumble. Swinging your legs, you clarify, “Jelly.”

“Bath, then.”

James guides your arms around his neck and you latch on obediently as he lifts your sore body off the countertop. He slips out of you when he hitches you higher up in his arms, and you mumble out a protest despite the aching between your legs.

“What, darling, haven’t had enough?”

Fighting sleep, you tighten your hold on him and nip at his ear. “Never.”

“Naughty thing,” he chides playfully, landing a light pat on your ass before setting you on the edge of the tub.

“You know,” you begin, trailing your fingers along his back while he adjusts the water temperature, “it’s your fault for being so utterly irresistible.”

He grumbles out an undoubtedly unamused response under his breath before climbing into the tub and beckoning you to join him. Carefully maneuvering your shaky legs, you settle back against James, resting your head in the crook of his neck and sighing as the warm water caresses your sore muscles.

“Wet your hair for me.” You stifle a yawn, barely opening your eyes to fix James with a quizzical look. Always a man on a mission, he holds your gaze, unrelenting. “Humor me, darling, will you?”

Heaving a dramatic sigh, you grip the sides of the tub and scoot your body forward until you can lower your hair below the waterline. After a thorough soak, you sit up and nestle yourself back between his legs, closing your eyes once more.

You hear the telltale snap of a bottle being uncapped, and then James’ expert fingers are massaging your scalp as the scent of vanilla and honeysuckle pervades your senses. You let out a hum of pure content, thoroughly enjoying being pampered by your love.

“I can’t explain,” he peppers your shoulders with delicate kisses between words as he works his fingers through your hair, “just how much I missed you.”

“Trust me, the feeling is mutual,” you sigh, responding to the pressure of his fingertips by tilting your head to grant him better access.

His silky smooth voice settles like a warm blanket on your skin as he runs his nose along your neck, and you shiver in delight. “You are absolutely exquisite.” He splays one hand possessively across your belly, the other dancing over the curve of your hip. “Divine.” Moving to grip your chin, he turns your face towards him and you feel his warm breath mingling with your own. “My own personal masterpiece.”

Drawing a trail of water down the column of your throat, between the valley of your breasts, and lower still to the apex of your thighs, he eases your folds apart once more and sheathes himself inside of you. Your mouth drops open wordlessly and he takes the opportunity to capture your lips in a tender kiss.

“You took such good care of me, my love,” he murmurs, delicately threading his fingers through the soapy strands of your hair as his hips press up against yours. “Now let me take care of you.”

[bucketspammer4life]

☆ punch out sexuality headcanons ☆

im running out of funny things to say help me, also tw for mentions of homophobia & transphobia

Glass Joe

- aromantic asexual (sex neutral, romance positive) + trans, he/him

- Just because hes ace doesnt mean he doesnt make inappropriate jokes on a daily basis, if there was a ranking of who made the most sexual jokes he'd be at the top

- when he came out as trans to his parents they were suprisingly supportive even though they didnt understand much, it just went like: "mom, dad, im a boy and if you dont like that too bad" "we dont care as long as you dont murder anyone" And they were generally chill with him

- when he first binded he used bandages & cloth instead of a actual binder (before he came out) and due to that he almost wasnt able to get top surgery

- has faked a lot of crushes to fit in during his childhood, ended up dating 3-5 people he didnt even like

- thought his gender envy was attraction until he just asked himself "do i wanna be them or be with them" And boom, gender confusion

- fell down the "im not like other girls!" to "im not a girl." pipeline

Von Kaiser

- demiromantic, demisexual + bi with a preference for men, he/they

- when he didnt know the demi labels he just saw himself as a picky dater, when he saw the demi labels he was like "Wait thats me" And pretty much ascended on the spot

- thought everyone just liked both men & women until he said it out loud and got met with pure shock

- his first crush was a famous model he saw in a fashion magazine, also slipping down the "do i wanna be them or be with them" pipeline

- his dad wasnt really supportive but became a bit more open minded once he realized that his hatred distanced himself from his son even more

Disco Kid

- nonbinary,gay, he/she

- okay with both feminine & masculine terms

- somebody tried to call him "princess" to insult him when he was little, instead he took it as a compliment and saw them as a friend, still in contact with said person & theyre besties now, the princess thing has become a nickname for him

- when he first came out his parents were like "the closet was wide open" and were not suprised at all, they saw it coming 1000 miles away as soon as he started it out with the "i have to say something important"

- started doing make up & playing around with dresses thanks to a close friend of his (the childhood friend) , when he first put on a dress he was like "i think i realized something"

King Hippo

- #1 label hater + all pronouns

- if he were to use labels, he would count as gender apathetic and pan oriented aroace

- labels are for losers to him

- not out but his parents know that he doesnt give a shit about labels, they first found out when he didnt care about being called "queen" and liked it, they have no problem with it

Piston Hondo

- pan, cis (?) + he/him but likes to refer to himself with feminine pronouns in japanese

- not out to his parents but dropping hints, theyre struggling to pick up on it and hes going mad over it

- going through some major gender questioning™

- playing around with dresses & femininity and enjoying it

Great Tiger

- polysexual (prefs are enbies, men & genderqueer ppl), genderqueer + all pronouns

- closeted it but trying to make it clear hes not straight,its just flying over his parents head like "oh me oh my our son is sure close with his friends!! Such close bros"

- likes dresses not only for spinning skirts but also how comfy they are

Bear Hugger

- gay, bear (ITS IN THE NAME. COME ON THE CLOSET IS GLASS), trans + he/him but ok with they/them

- when he first came out there was a lot of crying, not in the "i wont accept this wahh" way but more in the "i cant believe you trusted me enough to tell me this" way

- didnt know he was trans until he said "yeah i like being called son, yeah i like being called manly, im a girl though" out loud and he was like "wait a minute"

- has had 2-3 boyfriends during his teen years and is still in touch with them since the break ups were done without any harsh feelings & grudges, hes the only person that can see his exes all chatting together and not die of a heart attack on the spot

Don Flamenco

- gay, trans + he/they

- got called gay way before he knew it since he kept calling his male friends handsome often, always passed it off like "cant a man call his friend handsome?"

- the only feminine terms he will accept is queen and aunt, refer to him as anything other than that and he will punch you to orbit

- cut off contact with his parents since they didnt accept him & kicked him out, the only person who took him in was his aunt, she helped him get t & bind safely before he got top surgery

Aran Ryan

- genderfluid, pomosexual + all pronouns

- label hater but still uses them because why not

- came out in the most casual way possible, was just chilling on the couch with his dad and he just said "i kinda like being called miss sometimes" from boredom just to see dad go "huh??"

- sometimes does drag when he feels fem

Soda Popinski

- gay, cis + he/him

- Rocky dating history, most break-ups of his were really sad since it was either forced by family members or over arguments

- exes with bald bull but they still get along & dont care about their past, they just had better platonic connection and decided together

- out but not, making it clear hes a bit fruity but not too much for it to snowball into "the rumour come out: does soda popinski is gay?"

Bald Bull

- Boyflux, gay + he/they

- flamboyantly gay and cannot hide it no matter how much he tries, the closet is not even present, show him someone he has a crush on and you'll hear the gayest squeal in your life before he evaporates into thin air and holds you at gunpoint

- has the Don Flamenco issue going for him, compliments his male friends and calls them handsome wayyy too often, this time its 99% more obvious

- either really bitter with his exes or close friends, no inbetween, if you tell him "yeah your exes asked about you, theyre there" theres a 50% chance its gonna have his soul physically exit him and another 50% chance hes gonna walk right over to them and say hi

- not out publicly since it would cause a shitstorm, only out to a few people he trusts, has issues trusting people to not say his secrets since a close friend of his outed him during his teen years

Super Macho Man

- bi (slight pref for women), cis + he/she

- didnt really come out, he just showed up to his parents door with his (now ex) bf and was like "heyy say hi to my boyfriend" and everyone just kinda accepted it

- thought the attraction to men was envy for a long time until he learned the fact that wanting to be lifted into the arms of a man and making out with said man is not really straight

Mr Sandman

- gendervoid, demiromantic, acespec, pan + all pronouns

- feels like he should be more masculine but cant bring himself to it,he cant force his behavior to act in a way that doesnt fit him

- out and about, hes not repressing himself for anyone

[forbidding-souda]

can you do korekiyo x black fem reader?

just him like.. asking questions about box braids or telling y/n how beautiful her dark skin is

Korekiyo Shinguuji with a black girlfriend

i have so many articles open right now so fyi I am not black (+ for context I'll like to clarify that I have straight n thin hair so even things about curlier hair I have to look up) but anyhoo

and ofc if you want me to change anything then i'll make edits

videos i watched that really mildly had nothing to do with this ask but i really like watching youtube videos: what's it like being black in japan in 2021 , hairdresser reacting to box braiding videos

currently playing: evil by 45 grave

playlist: joker

-Mod Souda

❤ The two of you were equally interesting to each other. Both of you got along immensely, even when you were barely acquaintances. You always felt rather,,,, safe with him? He never looked at you differently - he always had the kindness and (often) temper to correct other people misunderstandings when it came to your culture - this is something you hardly witnessed for yourself since he made sure not to do it in front of you, not to put you in that position and possibly embarrass you. He often does presentations at museums and open businesses about different cultures and social correctness. He will sometimes runs them by you first, getting the approval of somebody within the culture because he starts spouting stuff (even though, technically, he's the master of the subject - but no matter how many facts or statistics he learns, it's not as if he can experience any of it for himself).

"Aaah, I see where you have been all day." He looks up at you from his book.

You take off your shoes, slipping your jacket from your shoulders and taking off your mask, the loop of your house keys still around your fingers. Your new (knotless) braids go to your back, the parted hair on your head forming shapes of triangles instead of squares. You give him a dramatic spin before stepping into the living room.

He stands, meeting you halfway and staring really deeply into your hair.

"Women of wealth would get them," he reaches out to touch then but halts halfway through, remembering his manners and bringing his arm back to his side. "They would take so long that it is thought only those who could afford the time were the people who did not have to labor."

You hum in agreement, grabbing a single braid and brushing the end hair against his arm. "Do you like it?"

"It's beautiful," he says. "How long does it last?"

"These? I'll keep it in for maybe two months. It matters."

"Interesting." He makes mental notes - his brain runs around, gathering all the information he remembers about braids and specific African hairstyles. There is always chance to learn, and this would be a perfect opportunity to gather more facts and details that he can include in his arts and presentations. Maybe he can teach other ethnically Japanese people about hairstyles, maybe he can find a way to support straight haired hairstyles to learn how to do black hair.

He has many ideas.

❤ He wears bonnets to sleep, too. He has long hair he'd like to keep maintained, plus it gives him a bit of feminine gender euphoria.

❤ He had always and will continue to always call you the most beautiful girl in the world. Other words include striking, and stunning and even pulchritudinous.

❤ If the two of you are planning on having a future family together then (beyond adoption, unless you plan on adopting a black baby >:) ) he will spend a lot of time learning how to correctly braid hair. I feel as if he'd know the European way to do it - perhaps a bunch of European crowning style as well? But African/Black braiding techniques would be beyond him. He might literally travel to Africa and/or American to learn from many different people.

❤ Feminity goes great miles with him - he loves embracing it and learning about it. If you wear makeup then he's going to want to watch your style and take some tips. Also I imagine he had never heard of doing edges before so show him what that process is like.

❤ Jumbo braids and micros - anything that's beyond average box braids make him cover his mouth in surprise before rambling about how beautiful it is. He is very easy to be impressed, especially since he understands personally how hard hair can be to style.

❤ If you go to a salon to do it then he's tipping them like 60,000 yen every time you go.

❤ ^ That tiktok of that guy banging his credit card on the table except it's Shinguuji giving your salon a fat ass tip.

[badnewbie]

hi i have a brain that can’t shut up and here’s my little pet theory on what i like to call the joker’s trick: the fact that the joker is gay and we all know it, but we cannot ever say it out loud or acknowledge it

this is literally his picture on the wiki btw. also i feel like if you’re here i don’t need to argue that the joker is gay because he literally is. we’re doing gay joker analysis 2.0 here, sir

please note that i’m about to use a bunch of sexist and homophobic language, as i generally find that the most effective way to communicate the cultural norms that i’m about to touch on.

obviously, i’m using the word ‘gay’ when i’m talking about joker as a bit of an oversimplification. i’d use ‘queer’ or maybe even ‘queercoded’ (ugh), because it’s more accurate to how joker is actually portrayed, but when i grew up, gay was still very much a slur and gay-as-a-slur, an f-word, is in fact what the joker needs to be. this is for a reason: to me, the most important aspect about the joker is that he is a creation by straight men, meant to appeal to other straight men. 

so yeah, problem solved right? the joker is the symbol for ultimate evil, so he generally represents whatever his writer thinks is the worst thing that exists and for a lot of straight men, that’s a gay dude. kinda sucks, but checks out. 

except, that’s not the whole story, because straight men friggin’ love the joker. they’re dressing up as him, they’re quoting him, kinning him, coming up with elaborate backstories for him, leaving really intense youtube comments about how he’s the only one who really gets batman about him. in other words, they think the joker is cool. they think he’s really, really, really cool. They want to be the joker

why? that actually doesn’t check out at all. sure, he’s a villain who does whatever he wants, but most villains do and most of them haven’t been able to capture the hearts and minds of straight men the way the joker has. and joker has gotten more obviously gay over the years as he’s gotten more popular, not less. straight dudes love that the joker is gay! 

time for some academic perspectives: our cultural attitude towards gayness are deeply interlinked with our attitudes towards gender roles and masculinity. and masculinity is a deeply strange concept and it is something that a lot of comics concern themselves with (see: straight men appealing to other straight men). while most comic book men are usually examples of hegemonic masculinity (the culturally ideal form of masculinity), the joker is at his core a failure of hegemonic masculinity, and him being gay is the easiest shorthand to straight men for communicating this. a true man is a straight man is a masculine man is a man who is not feminine is a man who is not attracted to men. queercoding men and failing masculinity is usually one and the same in practice.

here’s another thing about manhood: it’s often precarious. with ‘precarious manhood’, we refer to the phenomenon that manhood for men often feels like something that can be taken away from them. while being a woman is often conceptualized as something innate, for men it is much easier to be accused of not being a ‘real’ man. as such, men tend to be more pre-occupied with their own masculinity and often remain in a more anxious state in which they constantly try to re-affirm their manhood to both themselves and their surroundings.* this is what many people incorrectly refer to as toxic masculinity btw. It should also be noted that hegemonic manhood is a cultural ideal and therefore attaining it is fully impossible and this is leaving a lot of men frustrated. they reach for an unattainable goal under the treat of cultural punishment if they fail. also, this effect is generally stronger in straight men, as queer men generally already ‘know’ that they will never reach hegemonic masculinity, as it is defined through being attracted to women only, and therefore, in this aspect, they can walk the mile

so what is a frustrated straight man who is feeling like a failure of masculinity to do? well...what if there was a role model for you who is on every account a failure of masculinity too and he was thriving? what if there was a guy who’s laughing about all these gender rules and breaking them and maybe it made him even more badass? maybe there’s this complete failure of masculinity, not just walking the mile but running directly in the opposite direction and he’s scary and powerful and maybe that’s true power and maybe you are in some way even more powerful (masculine) than all those other guys who are effortlessly performing their masculinity. what then?

but is he gay? don’t worry straight men, of course he isn’t :) 

(is he gay? yeah)

(but is he?? no, he isn’t (although he is))

seriously, is the joker gay? yes! but also no! because his purpose is to be a (lol) safe space for straight men to project their anxieties about their own masculinity on. the joker has to be gay in order to be an effective failure of masculinity, but he can’t be gay because then he’s just some gay guy whose nature is just naturally different from straight men/real men and straight men can’t project on him anymore.

so yeah whoops, it’s still homophobia. but at least it’s weird homophobia. it’s what the joker would have wanted * this also can lead to much greater difficulty for women to go against their assigned gender role, which is often constricting and oppressive. i blog about this a LOT on my main, so please don’t come for me on this

[tsumusamu]

nice receive [miya atsumu x fem!reader]

genre: fluff and (once again, a sad attempt at) humor

word count: 3.8k

summary: eight months into your relationship, atsumu takes you to meet his family. things don't go as planned, but of course, everything ends up alright in the end anyway. alternatively, miya atsumu adores you and his family thinks it's easy to see why.

warnings: uhhh implied sexual content at the end but it is like barely there ok

commission for @ muppetz (it wont let me tag for some reason ugh) thank you so much for commissioning me!

a/n: this ended up being way longer than the word count requested but that’s no one’s fault but my own because i dont know when to shut the FUCK up anyways i hope this one shot is enjoyable lol

content under the cut!

You literally never thought that you would ever end up in this situation.

"C'mon babe, why the long face? Ya nervous or somethin'?"

"No." You purse your lips, huffily averting your gaze from your boyfriend's smirking face.

"Ya don't needa be like that." Atsumu drapes an arm across your shoulder, pecking your forehead as a sort of reassurance. "No one could ever hate this cute face, after all." He accentuates his words by squishing your cheeks, drawing out a yelp of protest from you.

"If you keep talking like this, you're gonna jinx it, you know." Your words come out softer and more hesitant than intended, and you startled even yourself at how utterly anxious you sound.

"Yer gonna be fine. Trust me, I wouldn’t take just any random girl to meet my folks, and they’re well aware of that." Atsumu ruffles your hair.

"I just... I hope they're not..." You pause for a moment, trying to find the right word. "...Disappointed?" You grimace when your boyfriend suddenly throws his head back in such voracious laughter, that you swear you saw a few hysterical tears.

"Are ya jokin'?" he all but wheezes. "Yer the libero for the national volleyball team, for God's sake. If anythin', I'd be the disappointment here."

"'Tsumu — " you start, but he interrupts you by pulling you in for a comforting hug.

"Don't worry yer pretty head anymore, got it?" he murmurs into your ear. "Yer wonderful, and I couldn't be luckier to have ya. My parents are gonna love ya. Honest."

A small smile tugs at your lips as you reach around his back to hug him back. "I hope so."

A year ago, if someone had told you that you would end up having Miya Atsumu introduce you to his family as his girlfriend, you would've laughed until your ass fell off and your stomach ached like no tomorrow.

You had been absolutely overjoyed when you were chosen for the women's national volleyball team, and you were so eager to start playing with your new teammates that you had decided to attend the national team's training camp without hesitation despite your recent knee injury at the time. However, you completely overlooked the fact that you would be working with the men's team as well, which would've been completely fine... if not for Miya Atsumu.

When you first met Atsumu, he was the cocky, annoying little shit of a setter for the Japanese men's national volleyball team, someone who you were stuck training with for the next two weeks.

You still remember the first words he ever spoke to you.

"The hell are ya doin' there, lil libero? If yer not gonna be able to save the easiest ones, then ya might as well sub out."

You also remember the first thought you had about him.

'Prick.'

And the first words you spoke to him.

"Can't you look at this — " You had gestured angrily to the knee brace supporting you. "And take a fucking hint, or what?"

He had sent some unapologetic, biting words right back at you and that marked the beginning of the time you have had the utmost pleasure of knowing Miya Atsumu. The two of you had bickered rather relentlessly (not too unlike literal children, despite the both of you being well into your twenties) throughout the rest of the camp, and by the end, for some unknown reason through some unknown method, he ended up with your number.

He started texting you constantly, and as much as you tried to convince your foolish self that he was just a nuisance, you found yourself responding to his messages like an idiot anyway. Throughout the next few months, you learned that Atsumu was far more than just his overly confident demeanor; he's genuinely kind-hearted, down-to-earth, and actually kinda hilarious. And eventually — neither of you quite knew how — the two of you were staring across a table at each other in a fancy restaurant as if daring the other to blink and lose an unspoken game, on a first date that neither of you thought would go as well as it did.

A little over eight months into your happy and committed relationship, Atsumu suggested that the two of you go to his hometown in Hyogo for a weekend to visit his family. You had immediately agreed with his idea, excited to meet his parents and twin brother in person, but now that he's leading you out of your shared hotel room to go do just that, your stomach's knotting uncomfortably.

Atsumu's been nothing but supportive and comforting ever since you started showing that you're nervous to meet his family. He was always happy to provide a never-ending flow of cheesy words and warm hugs, but you're genuinely afraid of embarrassing yourself. You want to impress his family and not have them see you as undeserving of their son, who you truly care for from the bottom of your heart. Atsumu is your first long-term boyfriend, and you would jump off your roof if you managed to mess anything up during the visit to his folks.

The taxi ride to Atsumu's childhood home doesn't do much to soothe your nerves either, with you fiddling with your fingers the entire way through while Atsumu makes small talk with the driver. As the cab pulls up to the address that your boyfriend had provided earlier, you instinctively clench your fists so hard that you think you might bleed.

A look of alarm crosses Atsumu's face as he notices that you're still just as anxious as you were when you left the hotel earlier. He thought that the ride to his parents' house would give you some time to cool down, but that had clearly not been the case. His eyebrows furrow in concern as he reaches over to grab one of your hands in his, giving you a comforting squeeze.

"Just breathe, darlin'." He runs his thumb over the shallow nail marks embedded in your skin. "If it means anything to ya, my mom's a huge fan of yers. For real. I didn't tell ya this before, but she's especially excited to meet ya. Keeps yappin' to me askin' how I pulled ya." You flush.

"R-Really?" you stammer, wide-eyed.

"Really. Who wouldn't be a fan yers?" Atsumu grins, pecking your nose. "See, ya got nothin' to be worried about. Just chill out and be yerself, 'kay?" You nod, some of the tension releasing from your shoulders as Atsumu leads you out of the cab, hand still clutching yours.

You're feeling a little better now, though your thoughts are still running through your head at the pace of a mile a minute as you watch Atsumu pay the taxi driver and thank him for the ride. Atsumu's mother is my fan? Your ears start to heat up. I hope I can somehow live up to her expectations of me…

“Ma! We’re here!” Atsumu shouts at the top of lungs approximately one second after simultaneously ringing the doorbell and obnoxiously pounding on the door.

“Comin’, comin’, ya brat!” A feminine, yet strong voice hollers in return. You freeze on the spot, your mind going blank once again. It’s happening. It’s finally happening.

The door aggressively swings open, revealing a middle-aged woman wearing a pink apron and carrying a wooden spatula in her hand. Her dark hair is pulled into a bun away from her face and her eyes, the same chocolate brown as Atsumu’s, are gleaming with annoyance. She briefly glares at Atsumu for his rowdy entrance before her gaze catches onto you, and her entire face lights up with excitement.

“(L/N) (Y/N)! It’s so nice to finally meet you!”

“M-Mrs. Miya,” you stammer out, trying your best to smile but you’re sure it looked more like a wince. “It’s good to m-meet you t-too.”

"Aw, hey now. What happened to my feisty girl? It's not like ya to be so lame.” Atsumu lays his forearm on your head, effectively using you as an armrest. You jerk away, scowling.

“Shut the hell up, asshat,” you snap without thinking. About half a second later, regret slams into your body like a truck. Oh, shit. I just called my boyfriend an asshat in front of his mother. You were about to run off into the streets in utter embarrassment if not for Mrs. Miya letting out a hearty laugh way too similar to her son’s and linking arms with you.

“No need to look so scared, dear. I don’t bite. And it’s good to see that yer willin’ to put this brat in his place.”

“Ma!” Atsumu whines, pouting petulantly.

“Yer really losin’ out with him though, y’know,” Mrs. Miya whispers to you as she leads you into the house by your arm. “I’ve got another son; Atsumu’s twin. Osamu’s quite well-behaved. If yer just likin’ the looks, he would be the better option.” You can tell she’s joking by the merry twinkle in her eyes, but instead of humoring her you end up shaking your head with a quiet chuckle.

“I think Atsumu’s perfectly good for me.” The two of you pause to watch Atsumu practically sprint into the kitchen, and a few moments later there’s an agitated yell as proof that he was on his way to annoy his brother. You smile. “He makes me really happy, Mrs. Miya. You raised him well.”

“Aren’t ya just the sweetest thing?” Mrs. Miya coos at you, pinching your left cheek. “And so pretty too. I swear ya could probably clobber my brat at volleyball as well. You and yer teammate… ah, Miss Amanai? The two of you always caught my eye while I watched yer matches. Make sure ya let her know.”

You blush a little and thank her, making a mental note to tell Kanoka that. She’d probably find it extremely amusing, especially since she was the one who had given Atsumu your number in the first place (which, as you had found out months later, was because he had practically groveled at her feet multiple times. Dumbass.)

“Come meet my husband, (Y/N).” Mrs. Miya leads you into the living room, where an older, balding man with rimmed glasses is quietly flipping through a book. He gives a start upon hearing your entrance, clearing his throat and sitting up straight.

“Ah, hello!” Mr. Miya greets you. “I’ve heard a lot about you! From both Atsumu and the missus.”

“Nice to meet you, Mr. Miya.” You nod once in a respectful manner.

“It’s about time that he settled down with a nice girl. Make sure ya keep him in line though, got it, missy?”

“Of course I w — “ you start, but Mrs. Miya is already dragging you towards the kitchen. You smile apologetically at Mr. Miya, and he just laughs and waves.

“Osamu’s makin’ dinner right now. He is such a hardworkin’ and dedicated boy. Both of them are, really,” she rambles. “But Osamu sure can cook a mean meal. He and his twin always used to fight over who’s the better cook. But I betcha Atsumu hasn’t touched the stove since he left for university years ago.”

You debate telling her that Atsumu had made quite a decent meal for the two of you just last week to celebrate your eight-month anniversary (which you hadn’t even known he remembered), but before you can formulate the right words in your head you’re suddenly shoved in the path of an unfamiliar man. Well, not really unfamiliar. He has the same face as the boyfriend who you see every day, after all.

Miya Osamu is (as expected) the literal carbon copy of Atsumu; same strong eyebrows, same hooded eyes, same angular jawline. The only thing that easily sets them apart is his black, ruffled mess of hair in stark contrast with your boyfriend’s bleached blonde.

Mrs. Miya pulls Atsumu away from the two of you, demanding that he help her with some mundane task, leaving you and Osamu by yourselves in the kitchen.

An easy smile graces his lips as he sticks out his hand. “Hey, I’m Osamu. Honored to finally meet the famous (L/N) (Y/N).” You smile back, gripping his hand firmly and shaking.

“And I’m honored to meet the famous ‘Samu.” At your words, Osamu bursts out laughing.

“Man, I don’t really let a lot of people call me that, y’know? But if yer gonna be part of the family, you could be an exception.”

“F-Family?” You pause, your sudden confidence dissipating as fast as it had come.

“Naw, no pressure. Just sayin’.” Osamu casually continues with his task of shaping onigiri. “I can tell he really likes ya.” You raise your eyebrows in curiosity without entirely meaning to. “I mean, we’re twins, it’s like a sixth sense. And also he never shuts up about ya when we text or call.”

“I hope you’re hearing all good things?” you quip jokingly.

“Oh, for sure. If I didn’t know who you were I’d think that he’s talkin’ about the reincarnation of a goddess with the way he talks.”

“Seriously?” You snort, and Osamu just laughs.

“So I’d like to ask ya the favor of continuin’ to take care of him. Guy’s just a huge ass baby. I can obviously see that yer good for him, though. He wouldn’t have stayed for so long if he wasn’t serious.”

The two of you briefly glance at Atsumu helping his mother set the table. They’re currently debating over whether Atsumu should go back to his natural hair color and “Stop makin’ yer hair look like fuckin’ straw!”

“He is a huge ass baby,” you start seriously, causing Osamu to smirk. “But he’s an honest and good person, so I’m not too bothered. I’ll take care of him, promise.”

“Thanks.” Osamu sighs, glancing rather fondly in his brother’s direction. “He’s an asshole, but at least he’s a redeemable asshole. I’m glad he’s finally got someone around to take care of him. Makes us all feel a little more relieved since he’s away from home.”

You suddenly feel warm inside.

Atsumu had been right; you truly didn’t have anything to be afraid of. The Miyas have been nothing but kind and welcoming so far, and they even seem to already have a positive opinion of you.

“Can ya help me carry these to the table?” Osamu holds out a plate of freshly-made onigiri.

“Ah, sure!” you accept hurriedly, taking the plate from him with careful hands. You take slow, calculated steps towards the dining room; the last thing you want is to accidentally drop any of the food.

Atsumu and his parents are already waiting in the dining room, and they all look up at you expectantly as you approach them with the onigiri plate in hand.

“Why, thank you, dear!” Mrs. Miya chirps. “Helpin’ Osamu out! How sweet of ya — “

She’s cut off as disaster strikes.

You trip on your last step to the table, causing a single onigiri to tumble off the plate and towards the floor. Your mouth drops open wide as you practically slam the plate down on the table and in practical slow-motion, watch the onigiri plummet down, down, down —

Then you dive.

You dive towards the floor, in the same manner as you do when you’re digging for a volleyball.

And you catch the rice ball in one hand, laying flat on your stomach. You have a moment of mental celebration; yes, you caught the onigiri! Then you realize that you look like a fucking idiot as you lay face down with one hand extended and clutching a rice ball like it’s your lifeline.

There’s a few seconds of agonizing silence.

You want the earth to swallow you whole.

There’s no way that you could ever show your face in front of Atsumu’s family or even Atsumu himself now; God you’ve never been more embarrassed in your life, and over an onigiri too —

“Nice receive!” Atsumu suddenly bellows, clapping his hands boisterously. “(L/N) does it again!”

His brother, who’s standing a few feet behind you with a platter of chicken skewers, pumps his free fist into the air and joins in with a “Hell yeah!”

Mr. Miya starts laughing the same loud Miya laugh that you’ve heard way too many times today, and his sons soon follow suit. Shame is still flooding your body, but now you’re realizing just how ridiculous the whole situation is and you resist the urge to smile at your own stupidity. As soon as Mrs. Miya recovers from her initial surprise, she comes to help you up, and you can tell that she’s doing her best not to laugh as well.

“Are ya okay, dear?” she briefly inspects you for any sign of injury.

“All good here, Mrs. Miya.” You smile, genuinely and comfortably, as Atsumu comes behind you to wrap his arms around you and peck your cheek, still chuckling with a small note of pride. “All good.”

-

“See?” Atsumu’s smug as hell as the two of you enter the hotel elevator on your way up to your room. Osamu had dropped you off so there would be no need for another cab. “I told ya that they’d fuckin’ love ya.”

“Why’re you rubbing in something like this?” You scoff, dodging when he tries to pull you into a crushing hug.

“Because I was right.” He smirks. You roll your eyes to heaven.

“Well, you can’t blame me for being nervous! I still can’t believe that none of them got upset at me for diving for a rice ball at the dinner table.” You groan, hiding your face in your hands.

“Nah, why the hell would they? It was cool. Yer cool, Miss National Team Libero.” He laughs, reaching for you again and this time you let him bring you close to him. “Besides, like I said before, who could ever resist yer pretty lil face?”

“You’re a hopeless asshole.” You sigh, and Atsumu of course just chuckles, his laughter vibrating against your ear as you press yourself into his chest.

“I’m yer hopeless asshole.” He pecks the top of your head. “C’mon, babe. It’s our floor.”

You hadn’t realized how tired you are until the two of you enter your hotel room and you see the large, inviting bed. You practically jump onto it, burying your face into a pillow. “Goodnight…” you mumble sleepily.

“Ya gotta go shower and brush yer teeth first, idiot.” A pillow smacks you in the side of the head, and you leap up with a cry of surprise. “Damn, don’t be so loud, sweetheart. It’s late, y’know. Don’t wanna get a noise complaint like last night.” You turn bright red at the reminder.

“Shut u-up,” you retort. “I told you that we shouldn’t have tried to do it on the balcony.”

“It was fun, though, y’know! An experience. And ya sounded like you were enjoyin’ it, anyway.” He chucks another pillow at you, and you yelp as it nails you in the face. “Now get yer cute ass over here, we’re gonna shower.”

“You can’t make me.” You stubbornly lay back down and close your eyes, and you had peace for all but ten seconds before Atsumu’s plucking you off the bed and settling you into his arms bridal-style. Your eyes shoot open in shock and you flail desperately. “Put me down!”

“No can do. I’m not sleepin’ next to yer stinky self tonight, darlin’.” Atsumu laughs as you scowl.

“The floor’s always open for you,” you snap.

“Aw, yer no fun.” He steals a kiss from you in the blink of an eye; the only evidence of there being contact at all is a tingling feeling on your lips. You feel your heart melt just a little more.

“Fine. After we shower, we go straight to bed. Got it?”

“ And brush our teeth. Yer mornin’ breath is bad enough.” He lets out quite an unpleasant squawk when you smack him lightly in the shoulder. “Alright, sorry, sorry.”

“Is this just your excuse to see me naked?” you tease him as he sets you down on the bathroom counter before immediately removing his shirt to reveal his muscled torso. He grins wolfishly at you and shrugs.

“And if it is?” Atsumu’s eyes are zeroed in on the small hickey he had left right below your collarbone last night, which is now visible thanks to the way your shirt had rumpled after he had practically manhandled you into the bathroom.

“Well, I won’t complain.” You follow his gaze down to your neck, before glancing back up to meet his eyes and raise an eyebrow at him. “If you’re going to make it worth my time.”

About an hour later, the two of you are lying in bed together, effectively tuckered out and finally ready to sleep. Atsumu’s strong arms are wrapped tightly around you like a protective cocoon as you snuggle your face against his chest. The slow, steady rhythm of his heartbeat rocks you towards dreamland, and all the worries from the past day are slipping away.

“Hey, ‘Tsumu,” you mumble against his chest. He grunts tiredly.

“Yeah, sweetheart?”

There’s a small silence.

“...Thanks,” you finally say after a beat.

“Huh? For what?” he quips.

“For being patient with me today, even though I was so nervous. And for taking me to meet your family.” You crane your head to look up at him, contentment adorning your features. “I had a good time. I hope they don’t hate the idea of me coming around again sometime.”

Atsumu smiles that familiar smile, the smile filled with affection that others rarely get to see. His eyes are almost half-mooned with joy, his lips are curved up in genuine adoration, and his cheeks are flushed with color. You saw this smile for the first time when he set an incredibly low ball at training camp, earning the awe of everyone in the room, including yourself. Never did you think that you would ever have this expression of pure love aimed at you, nor did you think it would fill you with so much happiness every time you had the blessing of seeing it. He says nothing for a while, suddenly resorting to trailing kisses all over your face. You let him, closing your eyes peacefully as he showers you with his love, ending with one final peck to your nose.

“I'm sure they'd like to have you around again.”

And if Atsumu continues playing his cards right, he thinks there might be a possibility that in the next five or so years, you could truly become part of the family with a glittering ring on your finger.

Only time will tell if that possibility will ever come to fruition, but as you tilt your head up to give him one last kiss on the lips and whisper those three words to him, he knows for sure that he wants to continue building towards that future with you.

“I love you too.” He lets his eyes fall shut as well, before resting his chin atop your head and savoring the warmth of your body against his.

Only time will tell.

-

tip jar + commission info

general taglist (italics for people i could not tag):  @aomineavenue @intheawks​ @deltahemm​ @bap-kingdom @shegoeshexing @brinnnx @crescentsteel​ @ dokidokisama @smellssharpies​ @dearhajime​ @plutoxxxworld​ @kritiiiii​ @ muppetz @ iscreamtea @rizzyrisso​ @makeitrainonsomehoes​ @maraudusk​ @kybabi​ @tsumue​ @thischickwritessometimes​ @angrylittleriri​

[river-bottom-nightmare]

Nightwing 79 Review

i said i would and i will. i did like this issue! not as striking and attention grabbing as 78, but i think this issue was meant to be a foundation one, laying out the groundwork for the future. overall, pretty good. also there wasn't enough bitewing. as promised, overly extensive metaphors and me reading too much into things under the cut

i know i've talked about this cover before, but this particular thing is oddly important to me, so i'll talk about it again

this is me, once again screaming about how artists put nightwing in traditionally feminine poses and how every time i see it i just get whiplash. i mean, true, the main reason why is because nightwing is a so often sexualized character, and putting him in these poses just increases the objectification, which is a goal that dc producers have. but there are very few popular male characters that do this. the only one i can think of off the top of my head is deadpool, but that was so obviously a critique and a way to make fun of the media industry. when they draw dick like this, they’re being serious. they’re putting him in appealing poses meant to show him off, and that’s something that’s traditionally only been done to women.

it's a very direct and very loud breaking of traditional gender roles in media, especially for a character as high-profile and historic as dick grayson. colour also plays a factor in this. the entire background is pink. i was absolutely shocked when i first saw it, when the teaser came out, because i cannot think of any comic book covers of male comic heroes this high-profile where pink is even just prevalent in the cover, let alone the majority of the cover. the pink does look beautiful: it offsets and highlights the black and blue of dick's suit gorgeously, but does it with more finesse than orange or red. but the fact that the stylistic choice was made to accent and draw this cover with aesthetic and beauty in mind, completely ignoring traditional hard-set gender rules in art, was a conscious choice and one i wholeheartedly support.

just another example of the sexualization i was talking about. i remember seeing harley quinn in this exact pose in suicide squad.

so far, taylor's been pretty dead-set on bringing alfred to the forefront of importance in this series. he wants people to know how much he loves alfred's character, and how much the butler meant to dick growing up. he was dick's father too. but what i adore is how taylor managed to stress alfred's importance in a way that didn't insult or belittle bruce.

this is one of the best bruce and dick interactions i've seen, and it's done in one simple interaction. in this, bruce is tough and harsh. he knocked dick down hard, but then he reached a hand down and helped pull dick back up. let me analyze their dialogue for a minute

on your feet: this is bruce telling dick to get up. he's trained dick, he knows what the younger boy is capable of, he knows his limits, and he knows what dick can do. this is bruce telling dick i know you're strong enough to get up, so get up and prove me right

are you just going to knock me down again?: surface-level, it looks like dick's complaining. he doesn't like bruce's rough training, and he's tired of bruce knocking him down. but look at his face in this. he's smiling up at bruce, knowledgeable and a little hopeful. he knows that bruce is doing this to help dick better himself, he's completely on board with the rough training, because they both know the rewards are incredible. also, he's teasing. he's bantering with bruce. there's an ease in that joking statement, one that belies affection and intimacy. they've only known each other for a little bit, but they're already slipping into a close familial relationship.

it depends on how fast you learn: this is bruce bantering back. this is bruce not being a stoic, unfeeling asshole. instead, he's shown with the dry humor that a good batman writer knows is a staple of the character. he's teasing dick, telling him he'll basically whoop his ass if dick doesn't learn fast enough. it's incentive for dick to train harder, while also being lighthearted enough to tell dick that believes in dick and doesn't want him to push himself too hard.

gosh i love the titans. also it looks like wally's staring at dick's ass.

this was cute. a prod at dick's silly and playful sense of humor, while not dumbing him down for the sake of a laugh. instead, he's joking about food, which is stuff everyone jokes about. this is the kind of stuff that'll actually make me laugh, instead of just making me vaguely uncomfortable.

bludhaven's almost always portrayed as a cesspool of a city. and to be honest, it really is. but this panel gives the city a meaningful history, while also giving us a reason for why dick moved there.

it talks of a time when people still thought they could beat the monsters. that if they fought hard enough, they could win the fight. it was a tentative hope that you could always overcome hardship.

dick's little "i like that it's still standing" shows how he still believes that, despite what the rest of the world thinks. despite everything that he's been through, dick is still tentatively an optimist, and believes he can fight the monsters of the world and win. it's a beautiful testament to his character, and i'm like that they added his signature element of hope back in. it used to be what he symbolized as robin, and despite his growth and character arc from robin to nightwing, this is one aspect of robin that i'm glad nightwing still has.

remember when i said "things that make me vaguely uncomfortable??" yeahhhh,,,,,,,,,,,,,,

Shooketh Dick: A Sequel

(the expressions in this series are just,,,,on point)

this was an incredibly sweet and kindhearted thing for dick to do, but i found it kind of,,,,,,,,desperate? maybe that's just me, but let me explain.

dick's suddenly a billionaire, and he has entirely too much money that he knows what to do with. it's also alfred's money, what the man left to him, so dick forever links it with alfred. in addition to that, he's back and bludhaven and looking at it with "fresh" eyes. (at least, from a different point of view since he got shot in the head. then mind controlled.) he's desperate to do something with the money and he's desperate to help the people around him that so obviously needs up, so he comes up with an on-the-fly solution that's a little impractical and a little crazy, but it still helps and still does some good.

to me, dick seems a little lost. he hasn't completely found his balance yet, and he's trying to do things that will. he tries charity, because that's what bruce did and it's what he knows, even though he admitted that he always thought bruce could have done more as bruce wayne than batman.

they have a family group chat guys yall were right.

also, do i think that dick would ever actually get his wallet stolen?? no way in hell, he’d notice someone getting ready to pickpocket him a mile away. but i suppose it’s important to the Plot. 

okay this is getting interesting. first blockbuster, now maroni (+ the weird heart stealer guy). i can officially say that i am intruiged

this particular artistic quirk is shown a lot in this issue, and from this art team in general, but i feel like this panel is one of the best examples of it. it was stunning enough to take up a full page, and it’s well deserved.

the way they show dick moving is absolutely brilliant. as a reader, i like seeing these smaller versions of dick getting clearer and in more detail as they come closer to the screen. not only do they show depth in the picture beyond what a simple 3 dimensional piece of art does, it also shows the passage of time.

in addition, it showcases dick’s skill. dick spots these mobsters running after a group of petty thieves. he then, and follow me here, leaps off the roof of one building feet first, springboards backwards off the side of the adjacent building with his feet, gracefully continues his backflip, rights himself, shoots a line with perfect timing: just in time to soften his landing but not slow him down, execute said landing on top of a moving bus, keep running on the moving bus without missing a beat, shoot his grapple, use the grapple to swing, use the swing to build up momentum, then use the momentum to deliver a powerful blow to the mobsters. and he did all that fast enough to catch up with the mobsters, even though he was a ROOFTOP OVER. 

d a m n  s o n

this panel, the very first in the issue, is also another example of that art style, but a little more distinctive. i love the way they showed dick’s different costumes through the ages, along with him simply growing up. it’s a little heartbreaking, but a lot uplifting to see how far he’s come. thank god he got rid of the red. now all we need is the fingerstripes, and we’ll be golden

discowing my beloved. also i can’t clearly see discowing’s hair but it definitely looks like it’s pulled back. it looks like he put it in a ponytail. guys. guys. dick had a ponytail omg. 

he’s having a Hero Moment

are you talking about the city, dick, or are you talking about you? the kgbeast, the court, the joker. dick fell to each one of them, no matter how hard he fought. he won in the end, eventually and with his family’s help. but i think he’s feeling a little low, a little defeated right now. it’s almost like he needs a win, he needs to feel victorious, he needs to feel like he helped someone (hence the food and the hotel room), just because he needs to remember what it feels like.

these lines were supposed to resonate with you, and goddamn they did.

i looked at it from two ways. first, it’s the girl asking, begging nightwing not to hurt them. bludhaven doesn’t know dick the way gotham does, they’re still a little frightened of him. this child was brave enough to step in front of all of the other hurt and homeless kids and ask, to a strange man in a mask, if he was going to hurt them like the other men had. it’s heartbreaking, but commendable, and an echo of the city itself that dick’s decided to protect. they’re bloody and broken and terrified, but still gritty and brave enough to stare what they fear in the eye and ask it not to hurt them.

second, it’s dick seeing the question reflected in himself. recently, he got shot in the head and lost all his memories. while i think that the way ric reacted was a perfectly valid and human response to the situation, i think dick still regrets how callously and rudely he treated his family. then, he was manipulated by the court of owls, then he was brainwashed with a magic crystal by the joker. dick does have a guilt complex. it’s not a big as bruce’s, but it’s there. and right now, with this girl begging her not to hurt them, dick is probably thinking about all the times he hurt people, in control of his own actions or not, bc he “didn’t have a heart.” 

little ambitious don’t you think, dick?

also just look at the sunset colours loOK at the they could not make this any more obvious oh my godddddddddddddddddddddddd

in conclusion, i need more of her

[honey-dewey]

Family Reunion

Pairing: Javier Peña /Reader

Word Count: 2,702

Warnings: mentions of canon-typical violence, probably inaccurate Spanish, but otherwise none! This is all fluff!

Permanent Taglist: @phoenixhalliwell @star-wars-hell

Returning home is hard, but with you by Javier’s side, he can face anything. Including a Peña family reunion.

“I’m really not sure about this.”

You laughed, putting a hand on top of his and watching the Texas countryside pass you by. “Javi, it’s two days. What could possibly go wrong?”

Javier sighed. “Ay dios míos, you’re gonna regret saying that.”

The Peña family ranch was all set up for the reunion, and for the first time in a long time, Javier was actually able to go. He pulled up the driveway, face already scrunching as three women rushed out and stood eagerly on the edge of the driveway. “Here we go.”

Immediately, as soon as Javier’s feet hit the pavement, the three women were upon him, hugging and squealing that they’d missed him. You grinned, stepping out of the car and simply watching as Javier tried to brush off his sister’s affection.

Finally, once they were all done greeting Javier, he pulled you close to his side. “These are my older sisters, Maria, Cynthia, and Patricia.”

You smiled. “Pleasure to meet you all. I’ve heard so much about you.”

Cynthia bounded back into the house, apparently eager to tell everyone Javier was home. Maria, who you were pretty sure was the oldest, helped you and Javier grab your bags and take them inside. While Javier got lost in the sea of family members who hadn’t seen him in a decade, you found near silence in Javier’s old bedroom, which was where you two would be sleeping.

“Y’know, Mamá couldn’t believe it when he called home to say he got married,” Maria said, setting Javier’s bag on his bed. “Our little Javi, all grown up and married.”

You put your bag down next to Javier’s. “Is he the youngest?”

“Nah,” Maria said, pointing to a framed photo on Javier’s nightstand. “Melissa and Lori are both younger than him.”

Examining the photo, you suppressed a grin. “He’s the only boy?”

Maria’s Cheshire grin grew. “Yeah.”

An unfamiliar woman poked her head into the room. “Is this Javi’s spouse?”

You nodded.

“Ah!” The woman pulled you into a tight hug. “Hi! I’m Melissa!”

“Lissa!” Javier said, and Melissa put you down with a pout. “Bájalos, ahora.”

Another call of Melissa’s name, and she was racing out of the room with a cheerful laugh, Maria hot on her heels.  

Javier fell onto the bed, and you pulled the door shut, falling next to him. “Home sweet home,” he groaned, putting his hands over his eyes.

You rolled over and ended up laying on Javier’s chest, resting your ear on his collarbones. “I like it,” you said softly.

After a few minutes of simply enjoying each other’s company, a loud shout echoed through the house, disrupting your peace. “Lori’s home!”

The house began to bustle, but you stayed on top of Javier, keeping him trapped. He didn’t seem to mind, and actually wound an arm around your back to keep you secure. Voices filtered around you, but they were fuzzy, like they were underwater or behind a closed door.

Finally, someone opened the door to Javier’s bedroom. “Hijo?”

“Si mamá?”

Javier’s mother looked at you on top of him and smiled. “Lori is home. Do you want to say hello?”

Javier sighed, and you laughed as you were lifted up as he breathed in. “Yeah, I’ll come say hi.”

He stood, and you stood with him. “Come on. You’ll like Lori.”

Lori, if you remembered correctly, was the youngest and the most mature. She looked damn near identical to Javier, despite her feminine features and the fact that she was clearly younger.

“Ah, you must be Javi’s spouse!” She said, shaking your hand. “Damn, Javi really knows how to pick them!”

You laughed. “Thank you, but I think I picked him.”

Lori smiled. “Of course. C’mon! Can you bake?”

Turned out, Lori needed help with the pies, and you and her spent almost half an hour making various pie crusts and fillings. Javier tried to help for a few minutes, but he got dragged off to help somewhere else. You waved as he went, following one of the younger cousins.

“So, how was Columbia?” Lori asked, mixing another apple pie mix in a glass bowl.

You took a breath, continuing to knead lest your emotions get the better of you. “Hard,” you finally admitted. “Very hard. I wasn’t even in the thick of the fighting most times, but it was harder than anything I’ve ever done. We had to move four times, and we caught bombs in Javi’s car on two separate occasions. It was a good day if no one shot at him, and then there was all that shit with Los Pepes.”

“Oh I heard about that,” Lori said sadly, grabbing another pie pan. “That must’ve been hell for him, not being there when they finally put a bullet in Escobar.”

“Steve called us immediately,” you said. “The body was still warm, I don’t think the news knew yet. But we did. Javier cried.”

Lori shrugged. “What’s he gonna do now?”

You looked around, making sure the kitchen was empty. “Going back.”

“What?”

You nodded. “They’re sending us back, something about the Cali cartel? I dunno, but apparently it’s big and it’s a problem. They want Javi because, well, he’s had connections with those people.”

“Oh,” Lori breathed, passing the pie to you so you could lattice it. “That’s awful.”

“That’s government work,” you said with a sigh.

Before Lori could speak again, Javier came back with two men, one of whom put an arm around Lori’s waist.

“David, this is Javier’s spouse,” Lori said, smiling as the man kissed her cheek. “The one who was working with the DEA.”

David nodded to you. “Pleasure. I’d shake your hand, but,”

You grinned, holding up your pie crust covered hands. “I’ll spare you the feeling.”

“And this is my cousin Chris,” Javier said, leaning on the counter and watching you expertly lattice the pie in front of you. “How many of those are you making?”

“Three apple, two cherry, one pecan for Cynthia, one blueberry, and a peach pie for Javi.”

Javier lit up. “I thought you weren’t making a peach pie!”

Lori laughed. “Beth brought Georgia peaches, so I had to.”

Chris opened the oven, examining the pies. “Damn, these look divine.”

“Off,” Lori said, giving Chris’s hands a light smack with a wooden spoon. “These are for dessert!”

Once you were finally done and the pies only had to be baked, you were able to wash your hands and sit on the couch. Javier sat next to you, along with a few aunts and uncles you didn’t know. Javier’s father sat in a recliner, his mother sat on a loveseat, and beside her sat a wonderful old woman who you quickly learned was Javier’s grandmother. You closed your eyes, leaning against Javier’s shoulder and dozing a bit. You didn’t fall asleep, but damn you wanted to. Conversation filtered around you, but you didn’t pay much attention.

People came and went, and eventually, everyone was moving outside. Javier nudged you to awareness and you blinked blearily in the Texas sunlight as you followed him outside.

“Veteran DEA agent, bothered by a bit of sunshine,” Javier teased, handing you his aviators. “Ain’t you a sight.”

You huffed at him. “Don’t make me regret saying yes to marrying you,” you said, waving to Patricia and Melissa.

Lunch was a happy affair. You sat beside your husband, chatting eagerly with some of his cousins. His sisters sat with you, happily telling you stories about Javier that made him turn red and you bend over with laughter. Finally, once they’d had their fun embarrassing him, Cynthia, Maria, and Lori all left to go oversee some game the young cousins were playing. Melissa leaned over the table and grinned, Patricia already rolling her eyes.

“Javi,” she said sweetly, fluttering her eyes. “Have you taken Bella out yet?”

“Bella?” You asked, seeing Javier copy Patricia’s eye roll. “Who’s Bella?”

Melissa pointed to the stables that the ranch had. “Javi’s horse. She’s getting old, but she still runs.”

“She’s thirteen,” Javier said. “Not old.”

Patricia smiled. “Javi managed to get her off a man trying to sell her for meat,” she explained to you. “Right up until the day he left for Columbia, she was his pride and joy. Brought her back basically from the dead.”

You tried to imagine Javier caring deeply about a horse, deeply enough to save her. Unsurprisingly, the thought came easy. “Bella, it’s a beautiful name.”

“Short for Belladonna,” Javier said. “C’mon, I’ll introduce you.”

The ground was warm beneath your feet, still bare because you hadn’t had time to put shoes on before lunch. The Peña stables didn’t have many horses, maybe three or four. Right at the end was a stall painted with gorgeously intricate vines and flowers, the belladonna plant. Javier leaned over the door, whistling.

The effect was almost immediate. He was shoved from the door, a black horse pushing him out and butting against his body, searching him.

“Bella!” He said happily, scratching behind Bella’s swiveling ears. “Hello! Did you miss me?”

Bella snorted.

“I know, I missed you too,” Javier said, lost in his own little world. “Hey, guess what! I got married. Mhm, I think they’re perfect too.”

You smiled, leaning against the wall and watching Javier talk to Bella. “She’s gorgeous.”

“Thank you,” Javier said. “C’mon, I’ll take you on a ride.”

He introduced you to another horse, Bella’s neighbor Aristotle. Aristotle was well behaved, and within no time, you were sitting in the saddle and following Javier down a trail. Aristotle was an easy ride, and it helped that you had some prior riding knowledge. Javier, however, was leagues above you, riding as if he’d been doing it his whole life. Which you supposed he had.

“The ranch is huge,” Javier said, leading you through a section of forest. “But even if it wasn’t, we’re all good friends with the neighbors, and they don’t mind when we ride on their land.”

You left the forest and entered a large field that stretched on for miles, a wooden fence bisecting the field. “Is that where the neighbor’s property starts?” You asked, pulling Aristotle to a stop on the edge of the woods.

“That’s still ours,” Javier said. “Technically the neighbor’s land starts at the end of the field on the other side of the fence, but the fence was there when we bought the land and no one wants to take it down.”

You nodded. “How far is it back to the ranch?”

Javier looked at you, confused. “Twenty minutes at a steady trot, maybe thirty at a walk, why?”

Pushing Javier’s aviators up your nose and wiggling in the saddle, you grinned. “Over the fence, race you back!”

Just like that, you were off. Aristotle seemed just as joyful as you as you leapt the fence with ease, using what little riding knowledge you had. Javier caught on to your game and followed suit, laughing as Bella and Aristotle raced side by side.

The trail was likely too dangerous to keep this pace at, but if you weren’t mistaken, you could wind around the forest, staying at your pace. Abandoning Javier at the path, you cut a sharp turn, feeling the wind on your skin as you laughed.

True to your thoughts, within ten minutes, you were coming up on the ranch with no Javier in sight. Jumping the fence yet again into the riding ring, you pulled Aristotle to a stop, jumping down and stroking his nose.

Maria and Cynthia ran up to you as you straightened your shirt. “What happened?”

The sound of hooves alerted you to the return of your husband. “Javier and I went for a ride. I challenged him to a race home. He lost.”

Javier stopped Bella beside you, looking you up and down as he slid out of his saddle. “That was some damn impressive riding,” he said. “Congrats.”

You grinned. “C’mon, let’s put these two away and relax.”

Of course, in the Peña house, there was no such thing as relaxing. You and Javier were halfway to the porch when Javier was hit in the back with a water balloon. He turned, back dripping. Melissa and Patricia both pointed at each other, barely containing their laughter.

“Oh hell no!” Javier said, taking off his shoes and smiling. “Get back here!”

He chased after his sisters, both of which ran away, shrieking with laughter. You sat on the porch swing, watching Javier grab a water balloon and throw it. His aim was off, so instead of hitting Patricia, he hit Maria, who immediately joined the fight as well. Within minutes, all six Peña kids were throwing water balloons at each other and laughing. It was such an innocent sight, and it made you sigh. How long would you be in Columbia fighting the Cali Cartel? When would Javier get a chance to laugh like this again?

A shriek pulled you from your thoughts as Maria took control of a garden hose and began to aim it mostly at Javier, catching Lori and Cynthia in the process of soaking her brother. Javier ducked away from the hose spray, and Melissa snuck around Maria’s back and stood on the hose. It was a simple trick, but one Maria fell for, looking into the hose and immediately getting a face full of water.

“Niños!” Javier’s mother yelled, coming out of the house. “Que estás haciendo?”

“Jugando, Mamá!” Javier called, sitting up in the grass from where he’d been play wrestling with Cynthia, entirely soaked and decently muddy. “Melissa lo inició.”

“Did not!”

“Did to!”

“Niños!” Javier’s mother said again, trying to cut the childish bickering off. “Lavarse!”

“Si Mamá!” The chorus of six voices called back. Javier was up first, shaking like a wet dog and trotting over to the house, followed by his sisters.

Ten minutes later, a significantly cleaner Javier was sitting next to you, his hair still wet and in completely different clothes. “Hey.”

“Hey,” you said softly, watching the large extended family gather for dinner.

“Okay, what’s wrong?”

“Hm?”

Javier took your hands. “You only ever use that tone when something is really wrong. What is it?”

You shrugged. “Just wondering when we’ll be back here. Will it be years, like last time?”

“Not if I can help it,” Javier said softly. “Hey, look at me cariño. This won’t be like last time, okay? I swear it. We’ll be home soon.”

Nodding, you kissed Javier, running a finger over his ring. “I love you.”

Javier smiled, kissing your forehead. “I love you more.”

You leaned against him, taking in the setting sun and the bustling happiness of the yard. Someone started playing music, and you perked up. “Oh! I love this song!”

Javier tipped his head, trying to figure out what was playing. “I don’t know this.”

“It’s from the mid sixties,” you said, standing and tugging Javier to his feet. “Never charted, but my mother loved it.” You started to sway with the happy music, and Javier copied your movements. “Hey, hey, hey, lover, you don't have to be a star,” you sang, making Javier smile. “Hey, hey, hey, lover, I love you just the way you are.”

Javier moved his hands to your waist, and you put your forearms on his shoulders, still swaying and singing. “For love is just the same, without fortune and fame. Just give me true love and understanding. True love and understanding.”

The song kept playing, and you kept singing, dancing with Javier on the porch. About halfway through the song, someone interrupted you. “Hey, dorks!”

You jumped, almost knocking into Javier and hurting him. “Jesus! A warning next time!”

Maria grinned. “Mamá says it’s time to eat, and if you don’t come down, she’ll feed your portion to the dogs.”

Javier smiled. “Yeah, that sounds like Mamá. C’mon, let’s eat.”

You took Javier’s hand, following him off the porch, still singing lightly as the grass crunched under your feet and the warm Texas breeze rippled your clothes.

“Hey, lover, treat me good and nice, and it will be alright. Just give me true love and understanding. True love and understanding.”

[alaynaantics]

A Feminine Touch-- Part 1

(( Yeah stuff about the cartoon Regular Show will now haunt my page until I feel like it. I’m binge watching this again on Hulu soooo yep yep yep. So without further ado I present to you a Regular Show Fanfiction Featuring Y/N and her friend Dakota.

Regular show is a cartoon network original not my own work obvi.  

Enjoy ))

A Feminine Touch 

Part 1

“Chick’s ain’t nothing bro!” Muscle Man started “I totally would’ve won that free t-shirt if that chick with the pigtails shut her mouth.” 

Muscle Man continued to unfold into great detail of the event that had recently occurred. Earlier that evening himself and High Five Ghost participated in an eating challenge at Cheezers and were a hairs length away from winning. However, before Muscle Man could finish his last couple wings, his female competitor caught him using an illegal eating technique which caused him to be immediately disqualified. 

The event left a sour taste in his mouth for the remainder of the day which led him to express his anger to Mordecai and Rigby who had also experienced a similar scenario themselves.

“Ugh! I know right! It feels like girls have it out for us today.” Rigby exclaimed, he leaned back on seat and took a firm swig of the soda he swiped from the snack bar. 

“Hm, Hm, Totally dude. Earlier today me and Rigby saw this girl drop her purse on the sidewalk and we tried to help her but then she freaked out saying we tried to harass her or something. Almost got us arrested!” Mordecai spoke with a high level of irritation alongside Rigby who nodded in agreement. 

“Sounds like she should stop taking birth control and start taking some chill pills! WOOOOOOOOAH!” Mordecai and Rigby call out in union, leaving Muscle Man and High Fives in a hysterical fit of laughter. 

“But seriously guys we should get back to work before Benson finds us slacking off.” Mordecai said as he stood to return to his assigned task as the others followed in his footsteps. Not one man took notice of the figure that hid near the snack bar, every word spoken was heard by keen ears not about to be forgotten any time soon. 

~~~

“Okay, Everyone listen up there are a few important announcements I have for today so I need everyone to pay close attention, I'm looking at you Rigby.” Benson voiced at the brunette raccoon which caused him to roll his eyes in annoyance. 

“Now first order of businesses we have a CEO visiting the park today for a special proposal!” With new information everyone voiced their excitement between one another but before another word could be spoken a woman appeared from out of thin air. This caused everyone to halt with their chatter and focus on the strange individual before them. 

“Ah! Diane, welcome my name is Benson and I'm the Park manager and these are my employee’s Skips, Pops-” unfortunately, Benson never finished naming the rest of his crew once the hand of Diane, the CEO, placed itself right in front of his face. 

“I don't need names of your boyish workers who reek of sweat and testosterone.” She spoke with a heavy Russian accent. For obvious reasons this caused the guys to jeer at Diane with anger. 

“GAH you girls are all the same! Always complaining and hating on guys when in all actuality it's your fault you're so uptight in the first place! You-you bitch!” Rigby blurted out to Diane who stood unfazed before him. 

“Yeah, I get that you’re this big fancy CEO but that doesn't give you the right to pick on us because we're guys!” Mordecai joined Rigby against Diane alongside Muscle Man who joined in due to Rigby’s outburst. 

“Yeah, you're just stuck up because no man would wanna hit that! Bahaha am I right Fives?” Questioned Muscleman who leaned over to his ghostly best friend for a high five. What should have been a celebratory high five in his eyes turned out to be the breaking point for Diane.

“Wow” she muttered her heavy accent now non existent “looks like I am in the right to discipline the lot of you.” 

Diane shook her head in disappointment before she turned her head to the sky and released a powerful shriek that shook the earth to its core. The sound of the waves created a blast power so great it caused all fragile objects within a ninety mile radius to shatter into dust. 

Luckily for Benson Skips protected his head from the soundwave which delayed the damage that would have caused his immediate demise. 

“Run!” Shouted Skips but his words were left with no prevail due to massive tree roots that sprouted from the earth that continued to wrap themselves around their ankles in a viper clasp. Diane's eyes shined an envious green before the glow of her hues caused momentary blindness to the park employee’s. Their vision was temporarily impaired even when they cower beneath her gaze they could not escape the wrath of an angry woman. Suddenly, the tremors and screaming all came to a halt that left everything in dead silence. 

Skips was the first to uncover his eyes but once his gaze settled upon the being in front of his he cursed beneath his breath. Since Skips rarely cursed in dire situations the other park employees opened their eyes and were not met with Diane but with a giant doe. 

“Workers of this so-called Park heed my words!” A voice roared from above.

“It is I, Mother Nature! the Creatress of this planet you house yourselves upon. For centuries I have done nothing but nurture and provide the very resources that give you the very breath you take. So care take why do you believe I am here man?” She questioned, her voice stern yet diligent such as a mother would speak to a mere child. 

Benson was the first fool to speak his mind. 

“...To make a deal with the park?” 

This displeased Mother Nature greatly, so much in fact that she struck lightning near Benson in a slight fit of rage for his incompetence. This caused Benson to shriek and therefore leap into Skips’s arms who skillfully caught him. 

“No you blubbering fool! I stand before you today because of how you men view the actions of women! Throughout this disastrous day I have bore witness to everything shorter than a candle’s lick of compassion towards women. Only for heinous comments to follow soon after those encounters from these treacherous snakes you so call friends. Mordecai, Rigby, Muscle Man, and High-five Ghost since you’re so unappreciative of the gifts my kin bestow upon you I shall reap this land from this earth! And take you along with it!” 

As she finished her words Mother Nature cast her arms amongst the park grounds leaching the essence and beauty of the land within her grasp. A bitter breeze ripped through the sky that ripped away any vegetation the park acquired through the years. Benson looked around in horror as he witnessed his park being destroyed for the up tenth time within the past few days. His gumballs turn a fierce shade of red as he turned to his two workers who latched onto the house for stability. 

“MORDECAI AND RIGBY FIX THIS MESS OR YOUR FIRED!!” Benson screamed across the house lot where he too dangled from the neighboring park light pole. 

“Yeah Benson like we totally know how to fix this!” Rigby yelled from afar using sarcasm directed entirely at Benson. 

“Yeah Man even if we knew how to fix this I don't know if she’ll listen to us!” Mordecai chimed in next to his best friend a look of confusion stapled upon his features. Benson could feel the strength in his grip depleting by the second and by the looks of his surroundings if they don't act accordingly they won't have anything to hold onto much longer. So, he mustered up whatever professionalism he had left to make an offer in an attempt to save his workers. 

“Skips! Skips! I’m begging you please find a way to get us out of this, please Skips help us!” Benson pleaded to his immortal companion, hot tears threatening to overflow and stream down his face. Skips sighed in defeat knowing that it was inevitable that he himself would have to fix everything this time. The white haired man took a deep breath and bet everything on his next words. 

“How about we cut a deal?!” Skips yelled aloud and luckily his booming howl reached the Goddesses fluffy ears. Mother Nature hummed with interest allowing the discord to cease momentarily to hear the rest of Skips offer.

“Very well Sir Skips I will adhere to your offer and induct a challenge of my choosing. Understood?”

Skips nodded then continued to hear out her offer.  

“I will give yourself and your companions precisely one hour to hire two female workers to be a permanent part of your team. These two individuals will be of my choosing, however, it will be up to you seven to decipher who these chosen ones are within a group of many others. If you hire the correct girls I will spare you and the park but choose wrong and I will drain the essence of your life back into the earth's crust. Do we have a deal?” Her words were sweet but laced with venomous intent as her outstretched hand dangled in anticipation.  

This challenge was going to be difficult. They knew this, they all know that the chance of them finding the correct pair is like finding a needle in a haystack. Nevertheless, they all knew what was at stake and with an unspoken unison they all shared a glance with one another in a silent agreement to accept her challenge. 

They each stood and placed their hand atop the tip of Mother Nature's massive finger, giving a firm squeeze as a sign of agreement. 

“Deal.”

[badsext]

Leap of Faith - Part 2: Klaus x Reader

Part 1

Still no warnings...use of trope maybe?...light crime? The 🌶 is coming in part 3. This thing has a mind of its own. I was listening to early 60’s Motown music to get in the mood.

———————————————————-

“So what happened, Klaus? Why were you walking in the rain?”

“I’m a guru-“

“A what?”

“A spiritual leader...like a priest...but I’m done with that now. I walked away. I quit.”

“Just like that?”

“Yeah, It was too stressful,” he sighed. Everyone wanted a piece of me.”

You suppressed a laugh. Klaus turned to you looking defensive. “What about you, kitten? Why are you running?”

Your cheeks flushed. “Who says I’m running?”

“Just a hunch.”

“Well, if you must know...and I don’t know why I’m telling you this...I have just left my husband,” your voice started strong then diminished, the words falling strangely off your tongue for the first time.

“I see. You strike me as someone with an independent spirit. Congratulations.”

You smiled. This was not the sentiment you expected to receive. The validation was nice, even from a stranger.

“Looks like we will both be starting over.”

It was silent for a moment. You put on the radio to the Shirelles singing ‘Will you love me tomorrow’, violins competing softly with the sound of the rain.

“You know, we’ve been driving for at least ten miles and neither of us have even mentioned where we are going,” you mentioned as casually as possible.

“I was hoping you would just drop me off wherever you were going. I have gas money.” He pulled several wet bills from god knows where and attempted to use the car’s heater vents to dry them.

“There’s a Howard Johnson’s up ahead. Are you hungry?”

“I’d die for some waffles.” Klaus sounded like he meant it.

You pulled into a parking space then looked over at Klaus with the blanket in his lap. His clothes were still damp.

“What are we going to do about this?” Your hand found his wet bicep. His penetrating green eyed gaze made you jump and retreat. “I...I have an idea.”

The rain was still coming down. You turned around to fish something out of your suitcase and handed it to Klaus. “Put these on.”

Klaus reclined in his seat. His hands went to his waistband.

“Jesus, what are you-? Wait until I get out of the car and use that blanket to cover yourself! I’ll get us a table and meet you inside.”

The hostess escorted you to a booth in the corner where you waited for Klaus. He sauntered into that restaurant like he owned it without a shred of embarrassment on his face. He was so at home in your black turtleneck and trousers. They were the least feminine garments in your wardrobe, casual pieces you would never dream of wearing together. The women’s cut of the clothes served only to accentuate what was sexy about him. He looked like a rebel, a beatnik. The beard was ugly, but it made no difference. The power he had over you was like a gravitational pull.

He sat down in the booth across from you and spread his arms. “Not bad, eh?”

“Shh, you’re drawing attention to yourself.”

“You’re right. I need to keep a low profile. Destiny’s children...my followers could be anywhere.”

“What kind of religion did you say it was?”

“Well, I made it up. It’s all bullshit.”

“Like a cult.”

“I never hurt anyone. I just persuaded some people -“

“Like a con artist.”

Your words turned some heads. “Okay, now you’re the one drawing attention,” he said dramatically opening his menu. Then he leaned forward and smiled. “I am a rascal though.”

The waitress interrupted to take your orders: eggs, bacon and waffles. The two of you kept talking and eventually the sun went down. The waitress had taken away your plates and refilled your drinks multiple times while you lingered.

You suddenly felt bold. “I want to see these powers of persuasion. Think you could get a free room at the motel?”

“Oh, easy.”

You smacked the table with excitement. “I want in. Tell me the plan.”

Klaus posed as a critic from a German travel magazine. You played his assistant and translator.

“Excuse me, concierge? This is Klaus Schmidt. He is here to review the hotel for ‘Das Vagabund,’ the most popular travel magazine in all of Germany.” Klaus started looking around, pointing at objects around the room and mumbling in German.

The desk clerk looked nervous. “What did he say?”

“He said all this orange decor is giving him a headache. We are tired from a long day of driving. Surely you have a room for us with double beds, yes?”

“Absolutely. On the house.” The clerk checked his guest book and sighed. “Oh, dear. I see the only room available has a king sized bed.”

Klaus nodded as a little smirk pulled at the corner of his mouth.

“We will make do, thank you,” you replied with an elbow to Klaus’ ribs while the clerk turned to get your room key.

Once you arrived at your room, Klaus broke into a fit of laughter.

“Go ahead, laugh it up. You’re sleeping on the floor tonight, heir Schmidt!”

“Hey, that was some good improvisation back there and that accent wasn’t bad either. You ever do any acting?,” Klaus asked, sincerity ringing in his words.

“Oh, ages ago. In school.” You smiled, enjoying his compliments.

“Well, I’m impressed,” he said, stroking his long beard.

“Thank you.” You watched his hand glide over the dark wiry hair that dangled from his chin. “Tell me, Klaus, are you attached to the beard?”

“I am literally attached to this beard.”

You swatted at his chest playfully. “You know what I mean. If you want I could cut it for you. It might help with anonymity. I have a little pair of scissors in my sewing kit.”

“Okay, you’ve convinced me. It’s all yours,” he sighed, gleefully closing his eyes and sticking out his chin.

Part 3

@motherofanimals @bubblyani @spookyboogyuniverse @helena-way07 @magic-multicolored-miracle @salvador-daley @fendersaur @jynandtonics @rainysuitcaseprunegiant @bla-bla-bla-hut @thegirlinthefandoms @kanaekocho @tuutifruuti @dixonsunicorn @hanatashii @cahtah-haht @punknatch @chipster-21 @ringpopdust

[cruisingthedemimonde]

America’s Gay Men in WW2

World War Two was a “National Coming Out” for queer Americans.

I don’t think any other event in history changed the lives of so many of us since Rome became Christian. 

For European queers the war brought tragedy.

The queer movement began in Germany in the 1860s when trans activist Karl Ulrichs spoke before the courts to repeal Anti-Sodomy laws. From his first act of bravery the movement grew and by the 1920s Berlin had more gay bars than Manhattan did in the 1980s. Magnus Hirschfeld’s “Scientific Humanitarian Committee” fought valiantly in politics for LGBT rights and performed the first gender affirmation surgeries. They were a century ahead of the rest of the world.

The Nazis made Hirschfeld - Socialist, Homosexual and Jew - public enemy number one.

The famous image of the Nazis burning books? Those were the books of the Scientific Humanitarian Committee. Case studies of the first openly queer Europeans, histories, diaries - the first treasure trove of our history was destroyed that day.

100,000 of us were charged with felonies. As many as 15,000 were sent to the camps, about 60% were murdered.

But in America the war brought liberation.

In a country where most people never even heard the word “homosexual” , historian John D’emilio wrote the war was “conducive both to the articulation of  a homosexual identity and to the more rapid evolution of a gay subculture. (24)” The war years were “a Watershed (Eaklor 68)”

Now before we begin I need to give a caveat. The focus of this first post is not lesbians, transfolk or others in our community. Those stories have additional complexity the story of cisgender homosexual men does not. Starting with gay men lets me begin in the simplest way I can, in subsequent posts I’ll look at the rest of our community.

Twilight Aristocracy: Being Queer Before the War

I want us to go back in time and imagine the life of the typical queer American before the war. Odds are you lived on a farm and simply accepted the basic fact that you would marry and raise children as surely as you were born or would die. You would have never seen someone Out or Proud. If you did see your sexuality or gender in contrary ways you had no words to express it, odds are even your doctor had never heard the term “Homosexual. In your mind it was just a quirk, without a name or possible expression.

In the city the “Twilight Aristocracy” lived hidden, on the margins and exposed their queerness only in the most coded ways. Gay men “Dropping pins” with a handkerchief in a specific pocket. Butch women with key chains heavy enough to show she didn’t need a man to carry anything for her. A secret language of “Jockers” and “Nances” “Playing Checkers” during a night out. There is a really good article on the queer vernacular here

And these were “Lovers in a Dangerous Time.”

In public one must act as straight as possible. Two people of the same gender dancing could be prosecuted. Cross dressing, even with something as trivial as a woman wearing pants, would run afoul of obscenity laws.

The only spaces we had for ourselves were dive bars, run by organized crime. But even then one must be sure to be circumspect, and act straight. Anyone could be an undercover cop. If a gaze was held to long, or lovers kissed in a corner the bar would be raided. Police saw us as worthy candidates for abuse so beatings were common and the judge would do all he could to humiliate you.

Now Michael Foucault, the big swinging french dick of queer theory, laid out this whole theory about how the real policing in a society happens inside our heads. Ideas about sin, shame, normalcy, mental illness can all be made to control people, and the Twilight Aristocracy was no different.

While cruising a park at night, or settled on the sofa with a lifelong lover, the thoughts of Priests and Doctors haunted them. “Am I living in Sin? Am I someone God could love?” “Is this healthy? Have I gone mad? Is this a true love or a medical condition which requires cure?”

There was no voice in America yet healing our self doubt, or demanding the world accept us as we are. And that voice, the socialist Harry Hay, did not come during the war, but it would come shortly after directly because of it.

Johnny Get Your Gun… And are you now or ever been a Homosexual?

For the first time in their lives millions of young men crossed thousands of miles from their home to the front.

But before they made that brave journey they had another, unexpected and often torturous journey. The one across the doctor’s office at a recruiting station.

In the nineteenth century queerness moved from an act, “Forgive me Father I have sinned, I kissed another man” to something you are, “The homosexual subspecies can be identified by certain physical and psychological signs.” 

These were the glory days of patriarchy and white supremacy, those who transgressed the line between masculine and feminine called the whole culture into question. So doctors obsessed themselves with queerness, its origins, its signs, its so called catastrophic racial consequences and its cure.

“Are you a homosexual?” doctors asked stunned recruits. 

If you were closeted but patriotic, you would of course deny the accusation. But the doctor would continue his examination by checking if you were a “Real Man.”

“Do you have a girlfriend? Did you like playing sports as a kid?”

If you passed that, the doctor would often try and trip you up by asking about your culture.

“Do you ever go basketeering?” he would ask, remembering to check if there was any lisp or effeminacy in your voice.

Finally if the doctor felt like it he could examine your body to see if you were a member of the homosexual subspecies. 

Your gag reflex would be tested with a tongue depressor. Another hole could be carefully examined as well.

Humiliating enough for a straight man. But for a gay recruit the consequences could be life threatening.

Medical authorities knew homosexuals were weak, criminal and mad. To place them among the troops would weaken unit cohesion at the very least, result in treachery at the worst. In civilian life doctors had much the same thing to say. 

The recruit needed a cure. And a doctor was always ready. With talk therapy, hypnosis, drugs, electroshock and forced surgeries of the worst kinds there was always a cure ready at hand.

Thankfully the doctors were not successful in their task, one doctor wrote “for every homosexual who was referred or came to the Medical Department, there  were five or ten who never were detected. (d’Emilio 25)”

Here’s the irony though, by asking such pointed and direct questions to people closeted to themselves it forced them to confront their sexuality for the first time. 

Hegarty writes, “As a result of the screening policies, homosexuality became part of wartime discourse. Questions about homosexual desire and behavior ensured that every man inducted into the armed forces had to confront the possibility of homosexual feelings or experiences. This was a kind of massive public education about homosexuality. Despite—and be-cause of—the attempts to eliminate homosexuals from the military, men with same-sex desires learned that there were many people like themselves (Hegarty 180)”

And then it gave them a golden opportunity to have fun.

The 101st Airborn - Homosocial and Homosexual

“Homosocial” refers to a gender segregated space. And they were often havens for gay men. The YMCA for example really was a place for young gay men to meet.

Now the government was already aware of the kind of scandalous sexual behaviour young men can get up to when left to themselves. Two major government programs before the war, the Federal Transient Program and the Civilian Conservation Corps focused on unattached young men, but over time these spaces became highly suspect and the focus shifted to helping family men so as to avoid giving government aid to ‘sexual perversion’ in these homosocial spaces.

But with the war on there was no choice but to put hundreds of thousands of young men in their own world. All male boot camps, all male bases, all male front lines. 

The emotional intensity broke down the barriers between men and the strict enforcement of gendered norms.

On the front the men had no girlfriend, wife or mother to confide in. The soldier’s body was strong and heroic but also fragile. Straight men held each other in foxholes and shared their emotional vulnerability to each other. Gender lines began to blur as straight men danced together in bars an action that would result in arrest in many American cities.

Bronski writes, “Men were now more able to be emotional, express their feelings, and even cry. The stereotypical “strong, silent type,” quintessentially heterosexual, that had characterized the American Man had been replaced with a new, sensitive man who had many of the qualities of the homosexual male. (Bronski 152)”

Homosexual men discovered in this environment new freedoms to get close to one another without arousing suspicion.

“Though the military  officially maintained an anti-homosexual stance, wartime conditions nonetheless offered a protective covering that facilitated interaction  among gay men (d’Emilio 26)”

Bob Ruffing, a chief petty officer in the Navy described this freedom as follows, ‘When I first got into the navy—in the recreation hall, for instance— there’d be  eye contact, and pretty soon you’d get to know one or two people and kept branching out. All of a sudden you had a vast network of friends, usually through  this eye contact thing, some through outright cruising. They could get away with  it in that atmosphere. (d’Emilio 26) ”

Another wrote about their experience serving in the navy in San Diego, “‘Oh, these are more my kind of people.’ We became very chummy, quite close, very fraternal, very protective of each other. (Hegarty 180)”

Some spaces within the army became queer as well. The USO put on shows for soldiers, and since they could not find women to play parts, the men often dressed in drag. “impersonation. For actors and audiences, these performances were a needed relief from the stress of war. For men who identified as homosexual, these shows were a place where they could, in coded terms, express their sexual desires, be visible, and build a community. (Bronski 148)”

“Here you see three lovely “girls”

 With their plastic shapes and curls.

 Isn’t it campy? Isn’t it campy?

 We’ve got glamour and that’s no lie;

 Can’t you tell when we swish by?

 Isn’t it campy? Isn’t it campy?”

The words camp and swish being used in the gay subculture and connected to effeminate gay men.

I would have to assume, more than a few transwomen gravitated to these spaces as well.

Even the battlefield itself provided opportunities for gay fraternization. A beach in Guam for example became a secret just for the gay troops, they called it Purple Beach Number 2, after a perfume brand.

This homoerotic space was not confined to the military, but spilled out into civilian life as well.

Donald Vining was a pacifist who stated bluntly his homosexuality to the recruitment board as his mother needed his work earnings, and if you wanted be a conscientious objector you had to apply to go to an objector’s camp. He became something of a soldier chaser, working in the local YMCA and volunteering at the soldier’s canteen in New York he hooked up with soldiers still closeted for a night of passion but many more who were open about who they were. 

After the war he was left with a network of gay friends and a strong sense of belonging to a community. It was dangerous tho, he was victim of robberies he could not report because they happened during hook ups, but police were always ready to raid gay bars when they were bored. “It was obvious that [the police] just had to make a few arrests to look busy,” he protested in his diary.  “It was a travesty of justice and the workings of the police department (d’Emilio 30).״

Now it might seem odd he was able to plug into a community like that, but over the war underground gay bars appeared across the country for their new clientele. Even the isolated Worcester Mass got a gay bar.

African American men, barred from combat on the front lines, were not entirely barred from the gay subculture in the cities. For example in Harlem the jazz bar Lucky Rendevous was reported in Ebony as whites and blacks “steeped in the swish jargon of its many lavender costumers. (Bronski 149)”

The Other War: Facing Homophobia

“For homosexual soldiers, induction into the military forced a sudden confrontation with their sexuality that highlighted the stigma attached to it and kept  it  a  matter  of special  concern (d’Emilio 25)”

“They were fighting two wars: one for America, democracy, and freedom; the other for their own survival as homosexuals within the military organization. (Eaklor 68)”

Once they were in, they fell under Article 125 of the Uniform Code of Military Justice: “Any person subject to this chapter who engages in unnatural carnal copulation with another person of the same or opposite sex or with an animal is guilty of sodomy. Penetration, however slight, is sufficient to complete the offense.”

Penalties could include five years hard labour, forced institutionalization or fall under the dreaded Section 8 discharge, a stamp of mental instability that would prevent you from finding meaningful employment in civilian life.

Even if one wanted nothing to do with fulfilling their desires it was still essential to become hyper aware of your presentation and behaviour in order to avoid suspicion.

Coming Home to Gay Ghettos

“The veterans of World War II were the first generation of gay men and women to experience such rapid, dramatic, and widespread changes in their lives as homosexuals. Bronski 154”

After the war many queer servicemen went on to live conventionally heterosexual lives. But many more returned to a much queerer life stateside.

Bob Ruffing would settle down in San Francisco. The city has always been a safe harbour for queer Americans, made more so as ex servicemen gravitated to its liberated atmosphere. The port cities of New York, San Francisco and Los Angeles became the prime destinations to settle. Vining’s partner joined him in New York, where they both immersed themselves in the gay culture.

Other soldiers moved to specific neighborhoods known for having small gay communities. San Francisco’s North Beach, the west side of Boston’s Beacon Hill, or New York’s Greenwich Village. Following the war the gay populations of these cities increased dramatically.

The cities offered parks, coffee houses and bars which became queer spaces. And drag performance, music and comedy became features of this culture.

These veterans also founded organizations just for the queer soldiers. In Los Angeles the Knights of the Clock provided a space for same sex inter racial couples. In New York the Veterans Benevolent Association would often see 400-500 homosexuals appear at its events.

A number of books bluntly explored homosexuality following the war, such as The Invisible Glass which tells the story of an inter racial couple in Italy, 

“With a slight moan Chick rolled onto his left side, toward the Lieutenant. His finger sought those of the officer’s as they entwined their legs. Their faces met. The breaths, smelling sweet from wine, came in heavy drawn sighs. La Cava grasped the soldier by his waist and drew him tightly to his body. His mouth pressed down until he felt Chick’s lips part. For a moment they lay quietly, holding one another with strained arms.”

Others like Gore Vidal’s The City and the Pillar (1948), Fritz Peters’s The World Next Door (1949), and James Barr’s Quatrefoil (1950) explored similar themes.

In 1948 the Kinsey Report would create a public firestorm by arguing that homosexuality is shockingly common. In 1950 The Mattachine Society, a secretive group of homosexual Stalinists launched America’s LGBT movement.

References:

Michael Bronski “A Queer History of the United States”

John D’emilio “Coming Out Under Fire”

Vivki L Eaklor “Queer America: A GLBT History of America”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The Lesbians

In 1947 General Eisenhower told a purple heart winning Sargeant Johhnie Phelps, “It's come to my attention that there are lesbians in the WACs, we need to ferret them out”.

Phelps replied, “"If the General pleases, sir, I'll be happy to do that, but the first name on the list will be mine."

Eisenhower’s secretary added “"If the General pleases, sir, my name will be first and hers will be second."

Join me again May 17 to hear the story of America’s Lesbians during the war.

[moonlights-inkwell]

It’s Not Fair

Summary: The thing that will see you into an early grave is almost definitely going to be Jaskier ignoring you.

Jaskier x Reader

Word Count: 4,361

A/N: Me? Writing fics again? After like 2 Years? It’s more likely than you think. I’m kinda obsessed with Joey Batey and The Amazing Devil... so enjoy some Jaskier fic, clearly based on Fair by TAD.

This might just be the thing that kills you. After gods only know how long traveling with the Butcher of Blaviken, how many times you’ve seen the business end of a sword, or how many fights in taverns you’ve been involved in, it seems that the thing that will be the end of you won’t be a gaping slash or stab wound or even hunger, no bleeding out against the wall of some dingy inn or dying heroically in battle for you. No, the thing that will see you into an early grave is almost definitely going to be Jaskier ignoring you. 

Well. Not you specifically. Really, he’s ignoring everyone, and when everyone in your travelling party is only two other people and a horse, that’s difficult; especially seeing as Geralt and Roach are hardly conversationally gifted. For the past four or so days Jaskier has been silent as the dead, not a word had passed his lips; not so much as a ‘good morning’, ‘good night’ or ‘kiss my arse'. Talking, singing, story-telling- it’s his job, his lifeline, everything that your Dandelion lives and breathes for. You’ve known him for years now, spent endless nights with him laughing, singing, talking endlessly, but now he’s quieter than a graveyard. It’s not just out of character, it’s worrying.

You hate the silence, but more so than the silence you miss his touch. Since the two of you have become involved with each other, the Bard has sought out any and all opportunities to touch you (and when none came, he would create them), and now there’s nothing. Four days without a warm hand to gently squeeze yours as you walked or wind an arm about your waist while sitting in front of a fire at night, and it’s enough to make you want to scream. You aren’t courting. You aren’t, but it’s hard to remind yourself that when everything is as it should be. If anything, the two of you actively dance around the courtship without ever really entering it, at least in your eyes, and as a result what you share is so much more and less than that, unnamed and unknowable. You no longer linger around bars at taverns to flutter your eyelashes in exchange for free drinks, Jaskier no longer sniffs around any skirt that he sees, reserving his flirting for during performances. The two of you are intimate, seeking each other out in the night both to find release and to simply lay in each other’s arms, and you have to force yourself not to succumb to the overwhelming urge to stare at him, moon-eyed, while he performs, encouraging patrons to be generous with their coin; really it’s hard not to stare at him while he just smiled, or breathed, adding his music to the conversation makes it harder still. But you are not courting, no matter what the passing touches or delicate pet names would make strangers comment about how lovely a couple you are. Geralt does it too, in the moments when he feels like talking, though his comments are always snarky and in passing than anything else, and makes you try and impress upon him that you and Jaskier are not a couple, no matter what he thinks he sees between the two of you. It feels more like you’re just trying to remind yourself of that, to keep the thought of the bard and yourself out of your mind. Courting, romancing, whatever you could call it, it requires love, and neither of you have told each other that you’re in love, which is important, or so you think. And you do think. Often. Mostly during the night, curled up with him and feeling the warmth of his breath dance against your skin, how easy it could be to just... let yourself say it, to whisper your love to him, release yourself from the much too comfortable purgatory that the two of you have fashioned for yourselves. Your mother always called you brave, and more often bold, impertinent, stubborn or headstrong before you decided running away with a Witcher and his bard was a good idea, but even your bravery does not extend that far. You can’t just do a thing like that; just reveal how much you do actually love him. It’s an easy thing to show, by sitting awake at night with him or buying him the lavender oil that he pours into his baths, but saying it is something else entirely. It would be humiliating, and well... improper. You’ve never cared about impropriety before, but when it comes to making yourself vulnerable? You care. Especially when more than anything you want him to just say that he loves you.

The night before it all started, life had been as normal. Settled in the closest space to a clearing as the three of you could find to make camp, a barely lit fire sent as much dim light out as it possibly could, and even less warmth than that. Geralt, as he normally did, had settled himself in the treeline, close to Roach for him to meditate, while Jaskier was beside you. He claimed that he preferred to be alone during the night but you assume, at least in part, that Geralt’s distance had developed as a result of you and Jaskier being as close as you are and was hoping to avoid seeing things that he would have rather not between the two of you. The bard had curled up around you on your shared bedroll, forehead buried between your shoulder blades and arms wound tight around your waist, while peppering gentle kisses to your skin between whispered sweet nothings to lull you to sleep. It had grown to be routine, this chaste level of intimacy that saw him try to serenade you into slumber while holding you close like you might be ripped away at any time, it was normal. Made you forget, however momentarily, the dangers you faced traveling with a Witcher, because nothing existed outside of the confines of the warm arms that held you like you were something precious. It becomes, in these moments, far, far too easy to forget that you two are not a couple; that this isn’t an unspoken love shared with the man behind you, that he doesn’t love you.

“Dear heart, I could sing about your eyes until I died, and I still don’t think I’d ever do them justice.” He whispered against the back of your neck as you drifted quickly into sleep, followed by something that had been said too quietly for you to even pick up on. Tongue rendered useless by tiredness, you didn’t ask what he had said, but noticed how his breath hitched after saying it and intended to ask him when you woke up. But you didn’t, and he didn’t speak a word all day. Or the day after. Or the day after that. The first day you had blamed yourself entirely, sure that you had done something to upset him into being quiet, but now you’ve veered into just being upset at him in turn for it. Jaskier’s always been so open, too much so even, about his feelings, so his reluctance to share is confusing and hard not to take to heart. He’s even began sleeping apart from you, and it hurts. His nightly whispering while holding you close have become the only way that you can sleep, and the past few nights have seen you lay awake- holding your own arms in a pathetic replacement for the embrace you want from the man sat away from you, melancholically plucking at the strings of his lute and staring at the moon as if it was keeping the answers to every question he had ever had.

It’s hard not to take his newfound fondness for the quiet personally. It’s deliberate. You know it’s deliberate that he’s silent and trailing behind; and worse still, seemingly so does the Witcher.  

Geralt always rides ahead on Roach, leaving the two of you to talk and sing to your hearts’ content without being bothered with it- but now the mare keeps pace with you or, maybe now without a bard to laugh and play with, you keep pace with her. The White Wolf has never been much of a conversationalist, normally Jaskier’s mile-a-minute chatter and songs fill the gap for him, but with his sudden silence you’ve started noticing Geralt grunting to you every hour or so to initiate a moment or so of conversation before you both settle back into your usual quiet travel. It’s appreciated. Little as it is, you can’t help but be grateful that he’s willing to try so that you don’t feel uncomfortable, though it’s beyond his own realm of comfort.  

The song the silent bard is plucking is melancholy and slow, and it takes everything in you not to look over your shoulder to him every time the notes turn sour, or simply stop. It’s strange to hear him play without singing accompanying it. You grew up with a mother who was more lark than Lady, flitting about and singing songs of love, which you hated. They all would always include waifish women who withered and died without a man to lavish them with love and attention, leaning on every cringe inducing stereotype of femininity; the kinds that made you want to shake them by their shoulders until they gained some sort of courage about them. Simpering and cooing had never been what you thought would encourage love. But now, in this exact moment? You might just understand those women from the ballads entirely, if the vice tight feeling in your chest is any indication.  

Maybe that’s a sign of how much you love him, you think to yourself as you and Geralt finally break through the thicket of the woods, the sight of the bustling town around you filling you with a familiarity that only slightly loosened the tightness in your chest. Surely if the lack of him is painful and driving you to distraction, then it can’t be anything but. Nearby crowds all but engulfing you and your companion without second thought on their way to wherever they’re headed makes you feel all at once welcomed and isolated, surrounded by people but entirely alone. The sound of a sudden grunt beside you and Roach’s quiet whiney draws you from your thoughts, and your eyes dart up to the man closest to you. The Witcher gestures slightly towards the town square and tilts his head slightly,  

“Find an inn.” He says simply as the mare's pace slows to a stop. You open your mouth to argue, with him almost certainly going to find his contract someone would need to wait for Jaskier, but the words don’t reach your mouth before he cuts you off. “I’ll wait for the bard. Get a room and some food.” He says it in such a way that lets you know there is no room for argument, though the command is hardly a hardship. Geralt can tell how tired you are, how your pace is slowing with the growing darkness beneath your eyes, and though the man will always claim he feels no emotions, you can see the pity in his ember eyes. Somewhere warm with food and other people who speak sounds heavenly, so without a word you nod with a smile. He doesn't smile back- he never does- but the look he gives is as close to one as he will give.  

“...Fine. But you had better find me.” The brusque harshness you had hoped for is instead a tired plea, which Geralt nods at.  

“Rest.” Is his only response before Roach nudges you forward with her head, sending you off on your way. It feels all too much like being reprimanded by a parent, but genuine concern is hard to come by, and even harder to come by Geralt being open in his compassion, so you let yourself walk off on your search for an inn.  

////

When the Bard and Witcher find you, you’ve been sat in the inn warming yourself, barely able to keep your eyes open. The barmaid, a kindly older woman who had took one look at you and ushered you towards the fire roaring towards the corner of the spacious room all while forcing a bowl of broth into your hands saying you looked half dead, had been periodically looking over at you and then the door. You had insisted on staying down there, instead of in one of the two rooms you had rented, just so you could be easily found, but staying awake was growing harder to do. Eyes finally flickering shut, you jolt awake at the feeling of a cold hand on your shoulder. Geralt, stoic as ever, stands behind you with an enraged looking Jaskier stood a foot behind him, looking for all the world like a reprimanded child.  

“I told you to rest.” Geralt says, ember eyes watching you with a look that was lingering somewhere between amusement and disappointment.  

“...I was waiting for you two.” It sounds weak, but it’s true. The two men sit down across from you, Jaskier keeping his distance from Geralt and his eyes focused on the floor. Something’s happened, if the scowl on both of their faces is anything to go on, but you can’t bring yourself to ask what’s going on. “...I got two rooms.” Neither says a word in response, and you look down to stifle a yawn.  

“Witcher!” A voice from across the tavern calls out, bringing with it a call of drunken appreciation from the rest of the patrons, shouting about the White Wolf. Some begin an out of tune rendition of Toss a Coin, which only serves to make Geralt cringe. You aren’t entirely sure if he prefers the monikers or the out and out cruelty. At least those are open about their hatred, instead of hiding their distain behind songs and treating him like a sideshow attraction. White Wolf, you can’t imagine mocking a man who gets called a thing like that. In spite of himself, Jaskier’s chest puffs with pride at the sound of people singing his song, pride written across his face. Some other patron sees the lute strapped to the bard’s back and recognises him, calling out his name which sends him springing to his feet with a bow, all but running to his adoring audience.  

“He’s a fool.” Geralt says, gesturing the barmaid for some ale.  

“I’m aware.”  

“I told him such.” That you were not aware of. “He’s no idea how badly he’s treating you.” You hadn’t assumed Geralt really cared, that awkward as it may be, he probably appreciated not hearing you and the bard’s constant chatter.  

“...Thank you.” You say unsurely, but he nods and gestures to the stairs.  

“Don’t. Just sleep. You need it.”  

You don’t argue, just clap a hand gratefully on top of his and walk past Jaskier on your way upstairs, not seeing how his eyes lingered on your frame as you disappear from view.  

///

The sound of the door to your room creaking open causes you to crack one eye open, but in the near pitch of the room you’re confused. It had only been about ten minutes since you fell onto the mattress and curled yourself into a ball and the sun had still been high at that point. It’s dark, save for a candle you don’t remember lighting, and realise that what you had intended to be nought but a quick rest had turned into the sleep you hadn’t been able to find outside of Jaskier’s arms. The door opens slowly, and even in your sleep addled state you find yourself clenching a hand and readying yourself to strike at whoever dared to let themselves in, but you stop at the sight of your Dandelion, barely illuminated by the light of the single candle flickering on your bedside table. He’s creeping in and gently shutting the door behind him so as not to wake you up. You had assumed he would wind up sharing Geralt’s chambers seeing as he’s chosen not to sleep beside you for days, and tiredly you smile, reminded of other nights resting in taverns when he‘s performed and slept wrapped around you like a blanket. He is Not Your Dandelion, something cruel in the back of your mind tells you wiping the smile from your face, and you roll over towards the window. He lays down his instrument and begins pulling off his doublet, whispering into the darkness,  

“Dear Heart? Are you Awake?” You could cry at the sound of his voice- so sweet and familiar, whispering his pet name for you in the same caring tone he usually reserves for when you’re injured- spoken for the first time in days. He takes your silence as a no, clambers as delicately as he can to the bed and settles on the edge, pulling his boots off and letting them fall to the floor with a quiet ‘thud’, followed a few seconds later by another. A few seconds later he finds himself once more in the space that he always occupies behind you; hairy chest pressed against your back, arms around your waist, forehead pressed in the valley between your shoulders. It’s as if the days of silence never happened, and you could almost pretend they hadn’t but that wouldn’t be right. You’re still angry. Who do you think you are? You long to scream at him. Staying silent yourself, you breathe out deeply and the bard laughs softly, fanning warm breath down your back.  

“I’m sorry.” For the laughter or ignoring you, you’re unsure, but as he has been so inclined the last few days, he falls back into silence. What little light the candle has been giving off has lessened even still as your eyes flit from the wall to the window. Pinpricks of light cut through the inky blue of the night sky, but you can’t see the moon. The moon and stars are the best part of sleeping outdoors, constant companions that glitter and know you, have always known you and always will. You miss them.  

Spurred on by either your presumed sleep or the lingering high of his performance, Jaskier continues on quietly. “I’m sorry Dear Heart, I’m an idiot. I’m an idiot and I’ve certainly done a good job of showing you that in the past few days...I, I.” He struggles in spite of his usual skill with words and presses a kiss to your spine, which seems to ground him. “I had such a grand plan in my head. Spent all day every day trying to write the words for you, and I ignored you.” He sounds so unsure of himself, which is almost enough to distract you from the idea of his struggling for words about you of all people. “...the words just are not coming though. You probably think I’m an arse. I do. Geralt clearly does. He made that more than clear after my performance. I missed you. I’m so used to you being there after my performances.” You usually are, waiting for him with a mouth full of compliments and kisses. “I’ll... I’ll tell you now, and maybe you’ll dream it so, when you wake, you won’t want to smash my lute over my head or castrate me.” He chuckles weakly, and you struggle in vain not to smile even though you know that he can’t see your face.  

“It... it’s not fair.” His voice shakes slightly, and all at once you expect the worst. “It’s not fair how much I love you.” He follows the words with a kiss to the back of your neck, which only encourages him, whispering his declaration of love and affection into what he presumes is a sleeping audience. “It’s not fair. And it never will be. You’re so... beautiful, and clever and stronger than me, I know. And I love you. And I always will- My rotting bones will sing how much I love you when the rest of me is dead.” He says feverishly, fingers pads calloused by years of playing lute brush gently across the expanse of your stomach, eventually finding a resting place on your hip. “When you smile and sing with my songs... I understand the reason I was born. Melitele, Dear Heart...”  

His voice cracks and something warm and wet drips onto the warmed skin of your back, making you realise that your bard, silly, foolish, perfect Jaskier, was so overcome by his feelings that he was crying. And from the streaks of wet lining your cheeks and making home in the pillows, so were you. Days spent dwelling on the thought that his silence was indifference, never once considering that maybe he was... afraid. You had never considered that Jaskier had ever felt insecure a moment in his life. He floats above those things, as all beautiful, talented people do, but now here he’s admitting that he loves you, has been afraid that he loves you.  

The tightness in your chest squeezes once more before dissipating entirely. Daydreams of confessions had seen the two of you bathed in starlight, or sat in a field of buttercups, never once had you imagined it would be in a dark and somewhat smelly rented room. It feels appropriate, and you begin to shake with laughter. Days of silent strumming and hissed curses make sense when you consider him trying to avoid your hearing his confession of love before he felt it finished. Idiots. Utter Idiots. The worst kind at that, the sort to wallow and pine, planning grand gestures that never reach fruition as opposed to just speaking like adults. Morons deciding that the way to show your love is to detangle from one another only to fall back together like magnets. Bloody bastard bard, fucking foolish fighter, you think, all anger from days of quiet gone like petals in a storm, what a right pair of idiots we make. Jaskier pulls up from his position to lean over you, eyes narrowed in accusatory slits, watching you silently shake with laughter.  

“You’re awake.” It’s a statement, not a question, and one that sounds deeply hurt at that. Overcome with the relief that he doesn’t hate you, and in fact rather loves you, the thought of how it must look for him to confess his love only to be laughed at doesn’t cross your mind, and so the hurt look in his eyes catches you off guard. “I. I see. I’ll... let you rest.” With that, he begins to pull away from you. After nights of coldness and no sleep you simply can’t bare another night without him, causing you to surge up, grabbing him by his forearms firmly enough to keep him in place without hurting him. Moments before you fall asleep where he clutched you like he loved you fell into place in your mind. He did. He does. He loves you. You want to laugh, scream, yell from the rooftops, but really all you want to do is slam your mouth into his and kiss him like the world will end if you don’t. But there is something to do first. Faces barely an inch apart, your lips turn up in a ghost of a smile.  

“Oh Julian,” You whisper quietly into the almost-darkness and feel his breath hitch against the delicate skin of your lips. He'd forgotten. Of course, he had forgotten. His real name was something scarcely spoken, and something you had only learned because he had felt especially emotional once while buried to the hilt inside of you and desperate to hear you moan his real name instead of his moniker. It had felt much too personal to use in front of other people, but now in this moment, it feels only right.  

“You don’t have to pity me, Dear Heart-”  

“How unreasonable.” You cut him off, fingers straying from their place around his arm to gently trace around the angle of his jaw, lips brushing against his with every syllable spoken. “...How unreasonably in love I am with everything you do.” Fear of vulnerability falls away like waves, and it feels like salvation to speak the words out loud .  

His face breaks into a grin, roughness of unshaven scruff shifting against your fingertips, and his own hands scrabble up to cup your cheeks, pulling you into a kiss. It’s nothing like what you know from him. Even in your most desperate of moments, Jaskier kisses like you’re made of smoke and a push that is even slightly too hard will see him destroy you; but now it’s hard and needy, a mashing of teeth and tongue against lip that draws shocked but delighted sighs. He normally prefers to be slow, gently build up, but now he isn’t. It’s clumsy. Everything recently has been clumsy, songs unsung, hands not held, words unspoken, now all poured desperately into a kiss that begs you to stay. I know I’ve been a fool, it seems to say, but I’ll spend every hour of ever day proving I’m not a fool, and that I love you. You believe it.    

“Gods you’ll be the death of me.” He murmurs against your lips like there’s nothing he wants more in the world than to be destroyed by you. The feeling is mutual. Being ruined, broken, pulled apart piece by piece by the Bard, kissing you as if with enough pressure you two will become one, sounds like the most beautiful way to end it all, especially when his tongue dips coyly into the cavern of your mouth before retreating and breaking away from you, breathing deeply.  

“You dare just start ignoring me again...” You whisper breathlessly, but the feeling of him pressing his forehead into yours silences you.  

“I’d need my tongue cut out to not speak to you, Dear Heart.” He reassures you, deft fingers pressing against your lips. “...I’m sorry. I love you. I didn’t want you to... go.”  

“I love you.” 

“I love you.“ You believe him.