#I'm bi as shit as well

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(Miguel O'Hara x Reader, Finnick O'Dair x reader, Joel Miller x Reader)

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- Rigor Mortis - college roommate!Miguel O'Hara x reader

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summary: Relationships end. People die. You move on, and Miguel does too.

warnings: angst, slow burn, smut, friends with benefits, mentions of depression, child death (not explicit), grief. 18+

- Just to kiss me - Finnick Odair x Reader

summary: You meet Finnick at a gala. He's not what you expect.

warnings: angst, strangers to lovers, mentions of depression and suicide, emotional hurt/comfort, canon level violence.

- Meet the Millers, part one, part two, part three - neighbourhood dilf!Joel Miller x reader

summary: Your neighbour, Joel Miller has always caught your eye. After a perfect storm of events, you end up in his house. Or more accurately, in his bed. 

warnings: pwp, fingering, grinding, squirting, dirty talk, eventual fwb, reader and Joel are oblivious asf, a bit of angst . 18+

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[beets]

baby, bi bi bi

[ggswaywardgifrepository]

It boggles the mind that the Bi-Han ship tier list seems to always put Sektor at the bottom below:

-the dude who convinced him to betray his entire realm for power that he never even got (Don't @ me, I love Shang Tsung, BiShang is my MK1 OTP, and my favorite Bi-Han ship.)

-one or both of his brothers (Not my thing 99% of the time but knock yourselves out. MK draws on loads of mythology for its lore and inc@st isn't exactly a foreign topic there.)

-his creator god (Despite loads and loads of baggage and a pretty significant power imbalance. There's also not much acknowledgment that Liu Kang had Bi-Han's entire life to notice his resentment brewing and try to reasonably intervene. Or he did try and failed--still, not a whiff of blame for Liu Kang, though. That's why I personally find this one off-putting, but again, enjoy what you enjoy.)

-Sareena (This one I totally get. We craved redemption for Bi-Han and saw a compelling and fulfilling possibility here. Tracks. 100%. It's also not as one-sided as other redemption focused Bi-Han ships because we know he positively influenced Sareena as well)

The bulk of the SekHan hate is directed at Sektor, and it makes me angry the more I think about it. But I admit this was my reaction for a long time as well.

In my case, at least, my discontent stemmed from Sektor not being a savior to Bi-Han, which suggests she has no value as a character other than to further his arc. And that's such a one-dimensional way to see both of them. By this logic, Sektor is worthless if she doesn't bring Bi-Han back to the light. Then also by this logic, Bi-Han isn't capable of championing his own redemption, rather, he needs another character holding the reins. (Sareena, Kuai Liang, or Liu Kang, most commonly.)

The DLC trailers were edited in such a way that we all had this preconceived notion of who Sektor was going to be in Khaos Reigns and a lot of it didn't hold up. She was hinted to be in love with Bi-Han but we all assumed it was one-sided--I did, at least. And somehow we all preferred the idea of that love being unrequited because heaven forbid two flawed, grown ass people be in a relationship. I also honestly think there's an aesthetic disconnect. I think there are a lot of people who either wanted him to not be in a ship, or to be in one with someone prettier.

I do still think they might've parted ways over the Cyber Lin Kuei, had that plot seen the light of day. But it's yet another 'what if' that never came to pass that I preemptively held against Sektor.

There's also a lot of speculation that Sektor is just manipulating Bi-Han, which can be used to invalidate romantic feelings but also suggests he's much more easily taken advantage of than I'd like to think he is. Him falling for Shang's shit was enough, alright. (And Shang is prettier. Sorry not sorry. Sektor is v attractive but Shang is much more attractiver.)

But Bi-Han is not a stupid man. At least, I don't want to see him that way. And the bulk of the anti-SekHan arguments paint him like this.

Honestly, anyone who says, "I know they're canon, I see the logic behind it, and I just fucking don't like it" resonates more because there are things I'm never gonna be jazzed about with them, and they're intangible, too.

SekHan is nowhere near my favorite ship, but I am sad to see it get hate. I think it was poorly introduced and left a bad taste in our mouths. But it still bums me out to know that that's why so few people even care to try and write the characters well together and rectify that.

And please, you're obviously allowed to disagree with every word here and ship or not ship whatever the hell you want. These are just my frustrations.

[uncanny-tranny]

It's okay to just be binary you know

It's also okay to let trans people do whatever they want forever. Hope this helps.

[halohalona]

ah ok so we bisexuals and pansexuals have to prove to you that we are also attracted to the same gender by being in a romantic/sexual relationship with the same gender?

i didn't know that was a requirement

[vanmarkus]

oh yeah btw the spy tommy mastermind who is a tv writer (allegedly) couldn't even crack the case of the dinner scene which lasted for a minute and couldn't have been more clean-cut... i'm sensing that those tuition fees won't be paying off

[acourtofquestions]

Kingdom of Ash Chapter 55-56

Chapter; Highlights, Notes, Tags, etc.

The Thirteen were on edge. They hadn't yet decided where to go. And hadn't been invited to travel with the Crochans to any of their home-hearths. Even Glennis's.

None of them, however, had looked his way when they'd prowled past. None had recognized him.

Dorian had just completed another walking circuit in his little training area when Manon stalked by, silver hair flowing. He paused, no more than a wary Crochan sentinel, and watched her storm through snow and mud as if she were a blade through the world.

Manon had nearly passed his training area when she went rigid.

Slowly, she turned, nostrils flaring.

Those golden eyes swept over him, swift and cutting. Her brows twitched toward each other. Dorian only gave her a lazy grin in return.

Then she prowled toward him.

Another assessing stare. "I would have thought you'd pick a prettier form."

He frowned down at himself. "I think she's pretty enough."

Manon's mouth tightened. "I suppose this means you're about to go to Morath."

"Did I say anything of the sort?" He didn't bother sounding pleasant.

Manon took a step toward him, her teeth flashing. In this body, he stood shorter than her. He hated the thrill that shot through his blood as she leaned down to growl at him. "We have enough to deal with today, princeling."

"Do l look as if I'm standing in your way?" She opened her mouth, then shut it.

Dorian let out a low laugh and made to turn away. An iron-tipped hand gripped his arm.

Strange, for that hand to feel large on his body. Large, and not the slender, deadly thing he'd become accustomed to.

Her golden eyes blazed. "If you want a softhearted woman who will weep over hard choices and ultimately balk from them, then you're in the wrong bed."

"I'm not in anyone's bed right now." He hadn't gone to her tent any of these nights. Not since that conversation in Eyllwe.

She took the retort without so much as a flinch. "Your opinion doesn't matter to me."

"Then why are you standing here?"

Again, she opened and closed her mouth. Then snarled, "Change out of that form." Dorian smiled again. "Don't you have better things to do right now, Your Majesty?" He honestly thought she might unsheathe those iron teeth and rip out his throat.

Half of him wanted her to try. He even went so far as to run one of those phantom hands along her jaw.

"You think I don't know why you don't want me to go to Morath?"

"Tell me to stay," he said, and the words had no warmth, no kindness. "Tell me to stay with you, if that's what you want." His invisible fingers grew talons and scraped over her skin. Manon's throat bobbed. "But you won't say that, will you, Manon?" Her breathing turned jagged. He continued to stroke her neck, her jaw, her throat, caressing skin he'd tasted over and over. "Do you know why?"

"Because while you might be older, might be deadly in a thousand different ways, deep down, you're afraid. You don't know how to ask me to stay, because you're afraid of admitting to yourself that you want it. You're afraid. Of yourself more than anyone else in the world. You're afraid." For several heartbeats, she just stared at him.

Then she snarled, "You don't know what you're talking about," and stalked away.

His low laugh ripped after her. Her spine stiffened. But Manon did not turn back.

Afraid. Of admitting that she felt any sort of attachment.

It was preposterous.

And it was, perhaps, true.

But it was not her problem. Not right now.

Manon stormed through the readying camp where tents were being taken down and folded, hearths being packed. The Thirteen were with the wyverns, supplies stowed in saddlebags.

Some of the Crochans had frowned her way. Not with anger, but something like disappointment.

Discontent. As if they thought parting ways was a poor idea.

Manon refrained from saying she agreed.

Even if the Thirteen followed, the Crochans would find a way to lose them. Use their power to bind the wyverns long enough to disappear.

And she would not lower herself, lower the Thirteen, to become dogs chasing after their masters. They might be desperate for aid, might have promised it to their allies, but she would not debase herself any further.

Manon halted at Glennis's camp, the only hearth with a fire still burning. A fire that would always remain kindled.

A reminder of the promise she'd made to honor the Queen of Terrasen. A single, solitary flame against the cold.

Manon rubbed at her face as she slumped onto one of the rocks lining the hearth. A hand rested on her shoulder, warm and slight. She didn't bother to slap it away.

Glennis said, "We're departing in a few minutes. I thought l'd say good-bye."

Manon peered up at the ancient witch. "Fly well." It was really all there was left to say.

Manon's failure was not due to Glennis, not due to anyone but herself, she supposed.

You're afraid.

It was true. She had tried, but not really tried to win the Crochans. To let them see any part of her that meant something. To let them see what it had done to her, to learn she had a sister and that she had killed her. She didn't know how, and had never bothered to learn.

You're afraid.

Yes, she was. Of everything.

Glennis lowered her hand from Manon's shoulder.

"May your path carry you safely through war and back home at last."

She didn't feel like telling the crone there was no home for her, or the Thirteen.

Glennis turned her face toward the sky, sighing once. Then her white brows narrowed. Her nostrils flared. Manon leapt to her feet.

"Run," Glennis breathed. "Run now."

Manon drew Wind-Cleaver and did no such thing. "What is it?"

"They're here." How Glennis had scented them on the wind, Manon didn't care.

Not as three wyverns broke from the clouds, spearing for their camp.

She knew those wyverns, almost as well as she knew the three riders who sent the Crochans into a frenzy of motion.

The Matrons of the Ironteeth Witch-Clans had found them. And come to finish what Manon had started that day in Morath.

The three High Witches had come alone.

Rushing steps crunched through the icy snow, halting at Manon's side just as Dorian's scent wrapped around her. "Is that—"

"Yes," she said quietly, heart thundering as the Matrons dismounted and did not raise their hands in request for parley. No, they only stalked closer to the hearth, to the precious flame still burning. "Don't engage," Manon warned him and the others, and strode to meet them.

It was not the king's battle, no matter what power dwelled in his veins.

Glennis was already armed, an ancient sword in her withered hands. The woman was as old as the Yellowlegs Matron, yet she stood tall, facing the three High Witches.

Cresseida Blueblood spoke first, her eyes as cold as the iron-spiked crown digging into her freckled brow. "It has been an age, Glennis." But Glennis's stare, Manon realized, was not on the Blueblood Matron. Or even on Manon's own grandmother, her black robes billowing as she sneered at Manon.

It was on the Yellowlegs Matron, hunched and hateful between them. On the crown of stars atop the crone's thinned white hair.

Glennis's sword shook slightly. And just as Manon realized what the Matron had worn here,

Bronwen appeared at Glennis's side and breathed, "Rhiannon's crown."

Worn by the Yellowlegs Matron to mock these witches. To spit on them.

A dull roaring began in Manon's ears.

"What company you keep these days, granddaughter," said Manon's grandmother, her silver-streaked dark hair braided back from her face. A sign enough of their intentions, if her grandmother's hair was in that plait. Battle. Annihilation.

The weight of the three High Witches' attention pressed upon her. The Crochans gathered behind her shifted as they waited for her response.

Yet it was Glennis who snarled, in a voice Manon had not yet heard, "What is it that you want?"

Manon's grandmother smiled, revealing rust-flecked iron teeth. The true sign of her age. "You made a grave error, Manon Kin-Slayer, when you sought to turn our forces against us. When you sowed such lies amongst our sentinels regarding our plans— my plans."

Manon kept her chin high. "I spoke only truth. And it must have frightened you enough that you gathered these two to hunt me down and prove your innocence in scheming against them."

The other two Matrons didn't so much as blink. Her grandmother's claws had to have sunk deep, then. Or they simply did not care.

"We came," Cresseida seethed, the opposite in so many ways of the daughter who had given Manon the chance to speak, "to at last rid us of a thorn in our sides."

Had Petrah been punished for letting Manon walk out of the Omega alive? Did the Blueblood Heir still breathe? Cresseida had once screamed in a mother's terror and pain when Petrah had nearly plunged to her death.

Did that love, so foreign and strange, still hold true? Or had duty and ancient hatred won out?

The thought was enough to steel Manon's spine. "You came because we pose a threat."

Because of the threat you pose to that monster you call grandmother.

"You came," Manon went on, Wind-Cleaver rising a fraction, "because you are afraid."

Manon took a step beyond Glennis, her sword lifting farther.

"You came," Manon said, "because you have no true power beyond what we give you.

And you are scared to death that we're about to take it away." Manon flipped Wind-Cleaver in her hand, angling the sword downward, and drew a line in the snow between them. "You came alone for that fear. That others might see what we are capable of. The truth that you have always sought to hide."

Her grandmother tutted. "Listen to you. Sounding just like a Crochan with that preachy nonsense."

Manon ignored her. Ignored her and pointed Wind-Cleaver directly at the Yellowlegs Matron as she snarled, "That is not your crown."

Something like hesitation rippled over Cresseida Blueblood's face. But the Yellowlegs Matron beckoned to Manon with iron nails so long they curved downward. "Then come and fetch it from me, traitor."

Manon stepped beyond the line she'd drawn in the snow.

No one spoke behind her. She wondered if any of them were breathing.

She had not won against her grandmother. Had barely survived, and only thanks to luck. That fight, she had been ready to meet her end. To say farewell.

Manon angled Wind-Cleaver upward, her heart a steady, raging beat.

She would not greet the Darkness's embrace today. But they would.

"This seems familiar," her grandmother drawled, legs shifting into attacking position.

The other two Matrons did the same. "The last Crochan Queen. Holding the line against us." Manon cracked her jaw, and iron teeth descended. A flex of her fingers had her iron nails unsheathing. "Not just a Crochan Queen this time."

There was doubt in Cresseida's blue eyes.

As if she'd realized what the other two Matrons had not.

There—it was there that Manon would strike first. The one who now wondered if they had somehow made a grave mistake in coming here.

A mistake that would cost them what they had come to protect.

A mistake that would cost them this war.

And their lives.

For Cresseida saw the steadiness of Manon's breathing. Saw the clear conviction in her eyes. Saw the lack of fear in her heart as Manon advanced another step.

Manon smiled at the Blueblood Matron as if to say yes.

"You did not kill me then," Manon said to her grandmother. "I do not think you will be able to now."

"We'll see about that," her grandmother hissed, and charged.

Manon was ready.

An upward swing of Wind-Cleaver met her grandmother's first two blows, and Manon ducked the third. Turning right into the onslaught of the Yellowlegs Matron, who swept up with unnatural speed, feet almost flying over the snow, and slashed for Manon's exposed back.

Manon deflected the crone's assault, sending the witch darting back. Just as Cresseida launched herself at Manon. Cresseida was not a trained fighter. Not as the Blackbeak and Yellowlegs Matrons were. Too many years spent reading entrails and scanning the stars for the answers to the Three-Faced Goddess's riddles.

A duck to the left had Manon easily evading the sweep of Cresseida's nails, and a countermove had Manon driving her elbow into the Blueblood Matron's nose.

Cresseida stumbled. The Yellowlegs Matron and her grandmother attacked again. So fast. Their three assaults had happened in the span of a few blinks. Manon kept her feet under her. Saw where one Matron moved and the other left a dangerous gap exposed.

She was not a broken-spirited Wing Leader unsure of her place in the world.

She was not ashamed of the truth before her.

She was not afraid.

Manon's grandmother led the attack, her maneuvers the deadliest. It was from her that the first slice of pain appeared. A rip of iron nails through Manon's shoulder. But Manon swung her sword, again and again, iron on steel ringing out across the icy peaks.

No, she was not afraid at all.

Around him, the Crochans thrummed with fear and dread. Either for the fight unfolding or the three Matrons who had found them.

But Glennis did not tremble. At her side Bronwen hummed with the energy of one eager to leap into the fight.

Manon and the High Witches sprang apart, breathing heavily. Blue blood leaked down Manon's shoulder, and small slices peppered the three Matrons.

Manon still remained on the far side of the line she'd drawn. Still held it.

The dark-haired witch in voluminous black robes spat blue blood onto the snow. Manon's grandmother. "Pathetic. As pathetic as your mother." A sneer toward Glennis. "And your father."

The snarl that ripped from Manon's throat rang across the mountains themselves.

Her grandmother let out a crow's caw of a laugh. "Is that all you can do, then? Snarl like a dog and swing your sword like some human filth? We will wear you down eventually. Better to kneel now and die with some honor intact." Manon only flung out an iron-tipped hand behind her, fingers splaying in demand as her eyes remained fixed on the Matrons.

Dorian reached for Damaris, but Bronwen moved first.

The Crochan tossed her sword, steel flashing over snow and sun.

Manon's fingers closed on the hilt, the blade singing as she whipped it around to face the High Witches again. "Rhiannon Crochan held the gates for three days and three nights, and she did not kneel before you, even at the end." A slash of a smile. "I think I shall do the same." Dorian could have sworn the sacred flame burning to their left flared brighter. Could have sworn Glennis sucked in a breath. That every Crochan watching did the same.

Manon's knees bent, swords rising. "Let us finish what was started then, too." She attacked, blades flashing.

Her grandmother conceded step after step, the other two Matrons failing to break past her defenses.

Gone was the witch who had slept and wished for death. Gone was the witch who had raged at the truth that had torn her to shreds.

And in her place, fighting as if she were the very wind, unfaltering against the Matrons, stood someone Dorian had not yet met.

Stood a queen of two peoples.

Yielding only those few steps, and nothing more.

Because Manon with conviction in her heart, with utter fearlessness in her eyes, was wholly unstoppable.

The other two witches had fallen back, as if waiting to see what might happen.

But she yielded no further ground. A wall against which the Yellowlegs Matron could not advance. The crone let out a snarl, attacking again and again, senseless and raging.

Dorian saw the trap the moment it happened.

No one seemed to breathe at all as Manon plunged Bronwen's sword into the icy earth beneath and bent to take the crown of stars from the Yellowlegs witch's fallen head.

He had never seen a crown like it.

A living, glowing thing that glittered in her hand. As if nine stars had been plucked from the heavens and set to shine along the simple silver band.

The crown's light danced over Manon's face as she lifted it above her head and set it upon her unbound white hair.

Even the mountain wind stopped.

Yet a phantom breeze shifted the strands of Manon's hair as the crown glowed bright, the white stars shining with cores of cobalt and ruby and amethyst.

As if it had been asleep for a long, long time. And now awoke.

That phantom wind pulled Manon's hair to the side, silver strands brushing across her face.

And beside him, around him, the Thirteen touched two fingers to their brow in deference.

In allegiance to the queen who stared down the two remaining High Witches.

The Crochan Queen, crowned anew.

The sacred fire leaped and danced, as if in joyous welcome.

"Go."

The Blueblood witch blinked, eyes wide with what could only be fear and dread.

Manon jerked her chin toward the wyvern waiting behind the witch. "Tell your daughter all debts between us are paid. And she may decide what to do with you. Take that other wyvern out of here."

Spared by the Crochan Queen on behalf of the daughter who had given Manon the gift of speaking to the Ironteeth.

Within seconds, the Blueblood Matron was in the skies, the Yellowlegs witch's wyvern soaring beside her.

Leaving Manon's grandmother alone.

Leaving Manon with swords raised and a crown of stars glowing upon her brow.

Manon was glowing, as if the stars atop her head pulsed through her body. A wondrous and mighty beauty, like no other in the world. Like no one had ever been, or would be again.

And slowly, as if savoring each step, Manon stalked toward her grandmother.

Warm, dancing light flowed through her, as unfaltering as what had poured into her heart these past few bloody minutes.

She did not balk. Did not fear.

The crown's weight was slight, like it had been crafted of moonlight. Yet its joyous strength was a song, undimming before the sole High Witch left standing.

So Manon kept walking.

She left Bronwen's sword a few feet away.

Left Wind-Cleaver several feet past that.

Iron nails out, teeth ready, Manon paused barely five steps from her grandmother.

A hateful, wasted scrap of existence. That's what her grandmother was.

She had never realized how much shorter the Matron stood. How narrow her shoulders were, or how the years of rage and hate had withered her.

Manon's smile grew. And she could have sworn she felt two people standing at her shoulder.

She knew no one would be there if she looked. Knew no one else could see them, sense them, standing with her. Standing with their daughter against the witch who had destroyed them.

Her grandmother spat on the ground, baring her rusted teeth.

This death, though ...

It was not her death to claim.

It did not belong to the parents whose spirits lingered at her side, who might have been there all along, leading her toward this. Who had not left her, even with death separating them.

No, it did not belong to them, either.

She looked behind her. Toward the Second waiting beside Dorian.

Tears slid down Asterin's face. Of pride- pride and relief.

Manon beckoned to Asterin with an iron- tipped hand.

Manon raised a hand. "Let her go."

When there was no trace of the Matrons left but blue blood and a headless corpse staining the snow, Manon turned toward the Crochans.

Their eyes were wide, but they made no move.

The Thirteen remained where they were, Dorian with them.

Manon scooped up both swords, sheathing Wind-Cleaver across her back, and stalked toward where Glennis and Bronwen stood, monitoring her every breath.

Wordlessly, Manon handed Bronwen her sword, nodding in thanks.

Then she removed the crown of stars and extended it toward Glennis. "This belongs to you," she said, her voice low.

The Crochans murmured, shifting.

Glennis took the crown, and the stars dimmed. A small smile graced the crone's face.

"No," she said, "it does not."

Manon didn't move as Glennis lifted the crown and set it again on Manon's head.

Then the ancient witch knelt in the snow.

"What was stolen has been restored; what was lost has come home again. I hail thee, Manon Crochan, Queen of Witches."

Manon stood fast against the tremor that threatened to buckle her legs.

Stood fast as the other Crochans, Bronwen with them, dropped to a knee. Dorian, standing amongst them, smiled, brighter and freer than she'd ever seen.

And then the Thirteen knelt, two fingers going to their brows as they bowed their heads, fierce pride lighting their faces.

"Queen of Witches," Crochan and Blackbeak declared as one voice.

As one people.

[kravchikfreak]

i bet you know how these two pairs are the same one ship

and i FUCKING HATE them both for that

shit's gross, i'm actually anwell

i'll rant on my stupid tags but this is important

[unproduciblesmackdown]

"normal" meaning "unquestionable" & the embrace of that cropping up anywhere such as an aim to be on the unquestionable side of a Normal / Weird binary, thus surely being a comfortable effortless indelible version of Good that stems from "just be normal"

ppl out here like freud 2.0 where well they had the sufficiently normal Nuclear Household family(tm) experience so they're sufficiently normal for it, versus the weirdos who had the Questionable family times so as to end up with Issues, surely unlike all those who are Family Issue free, i.e. normal, no question. like how also Going To School is Normal, so of course there's that idea that anyone who didn't go to school normal style or did but Did That Wrong are the people made Weirder with Issues. & when what's Normal is what's Good is what's Unquestionable it's like why would i need to question it when it's so normal? why wouldn't some rando asshole nepo man be Meritous & Good at business when he's so Successful at it. speaks for itself, same as Your role of being treated entirely differently does, this can't be questioned, blame it on your own failures; again how the supposedly "questionable" experiences (unlike other ones, which need no Legitimate questioning) are pathologized like. people talking about disabled ppl's lacking "social skills" being this meaningful Driver of ableism just like poor people's lacking "financial literacy" being that darn cause of classism & resource extraction, the already Questioned vulnerable [you're just doing it wrong / failing] people are the cause of their own mistreatment, Normal people who are so socially & financially successful are helpless, this victim blaming (can't question it. Normal) sure totally doesn't speak to abuse being "normal" as well

which, good thing abuse totally isn't Normal i.e. in the territory of unquestionable things (with, obviously, the idea that Abuse (Real abuse, if you like) must be Exceptional in addition to, if not to Really be, "obviously" questionable) since if something can't be questioned then surely it's also How Things Were In The Beginning, Are Now, & Ever Shall Be (catholic prayer paraphasing re: god, for referential context) & there's just nothing to do but invest in & play into it For Success & resent / punish / try to eliminate disruption, like people just existing but doing it Weird, c'mon, be a better person please, obviously....meanwhile people out here approaching queerness in a way that accepts & acts according to the unquestionable normal of abuse of queerness, such that oh the "abnormality" of being queer (that is, "normal" people's abuse in the face of awareness of queerness) is unquestionable, such that Oh No, investment in that abuse now & forever world without end amen, & now punching down on the people who are just Being Weird & Disrupting this embrace of the norm: radfems invested in "all bodies will be classed as men & women & the former abuse the latter" & hate women who already disrupt this premise; pointing out ace exclusionism as terf logic just applied in the different context where queer vs nonqueer binary is neatly detected just as the gender binary is & people who already prove that & the way it's defined is not the case are the real problems, infiltrating Unquestionable (Normal) Queerness & delegitimizing it i.e. being The Cause of e.g. homophobic abuse, which will also unquestionably exist, so if we're gonna blame someone as Needing To Change it'll have to be uhhh already also affected Weird people who are ruining things, they're the Real causes of this abuse, so they're basically men, basically cis, basically straight. boooo to trans ace bi pan aro nonbinary gnc people....hardest to be binary gender "same sex" "romantic" "visible" Truly Queer couple currently holding hands in public or in front of family, & it's You Mfs who make it harder, not, yknow, the people who were already always embracing & perpetuating the abuse bolstering Normal(tm) Cishet Just Being Normal. and of course don't forget going after poly people & others disrupting / not accepting premises about Unquestionable Relationship Structures/Requirements. so not just being normal

also the beloved concept broken out that, of course, Being Normal = Being Good, b/c hello, unquestionable?? where it's like meaningless ideas that abuse is Abnormal like ":( hurt people hurt people" (inherently a framing to counter any response to [person is hurting me] that's not silent secret sympathy forever i guess. nobody's using this catchphrase to argue for Hey Quick let's all intervene to stop someone being hurt, lest they go on to hurt anyone themselves) like & yet everyone is hurt, yet not everyone is doing shit where these arguments are broken out after they're already getting away with nonsense & we're telling others to just stop complaining, while also not everyone isn't getting shit on for being "disruptive" & perchance the real hurtful problems for trying to Stop being shitted on, or just have a little more breathing room to day to day live while it happens. everyone's hurt bitch let's get you some "what's the actual patterns & context of supported power imbalance made emergently evident by whose choices & life are constrained & undermined & made smaller" like. or the expanded idea as that well all abuse comes from Being abused, i.e. the Cycle, never mind that abuse is everywhere as per its being Normal, & nobody's intervening every time it manifests despite its supposed exceptionality thus rareness & supposed indication that someone's Being abused to cause it. just gotta roll with it, wow. & pathologize being victim to it, abuser in the making, Vulnerable People are dangerous, those insulated & given more access to systemically backed power in an oh so Normal way are surely oh so Safe as well. the very rich families are all lovely havens. the abused people are treated so well & embraced & supported by all the more Normal people they encounter, certainly not Also isolated, bullied, victim blamed by these Normal friends family coworkers new partners randos in public randos who are "professionals"

but yknow uh literally just be normal lol. aaand post. and like "lol being Anti Being Normal? just like a weirdo" like yeah of course. and what, i'm gonna try to win the heart & mind of someone like "of course you have blue hair & pronouns" & convert them, as would definitely happen if only all transgenderists were Normal about it? and the perspective of "what Unquestionable Good is ever actually coming from striving to get to point at Others as Weird" involves going like "nooo i wanna see myself & be seen as Just Being Normal" instead of like having ideas / arguments about how to be considerate towards people which can be articulated in any other way & involve effort & said consideration (ft. anything able to be questioned)

[savage-rhi]

💀

[loganlermanstanaccount]

6K Followers Event - PRESS PLAY

Thank you all for 6k subs! It means the world to me that people enjoy my fics enough to give such consistent support - I really, really couldn't have done it without y'all ❤️❤️

To celebrate 6k, I will be taking requests (for fics/ drabbles based on songs! cuz it's fun lmfao) and writing a part 2 to at least one of my oneshots. This event will be in two parts: Requests and Voting!

(Main Masterlist) (Event Masterlist)

Requests

- Send me a request based on a song!

Tape 1, Side A: love, love, love,

(listen here)

my favourite straight-up love songs

tracklist

track 01: My Kind of Woman // Mac DeMarco

track 02: Daze // Steve Lacy

track 03: We Might Even Be Falling in Love // Victoria Monet

track 04: Romanticist // Yves Tumor

track 05: Amor Prohibido // Selena

track 06: Crush On You // Lil' Kim

track 07: Baby, This Love I Have // Minnie Riperton

track 08: Seaforth // King Krule

track 09: Fraulein // Chuck Berry

track 10: Pilot Jones // Frank Ocean

track 11: La Ciruela // Nico Play

Tape 1, Side B: ...and other stories.

(listen here)

angsty, heart-wrenching; songs that tell a different story about love.

tracklist

track 01: Lover, You Should've Come Over // Jeff Buckley

track 02: Baby Blue // King Krule

track 03: King // Dreamer Isioma

track 04: Shot My Baby // Daniel Caesar

track 05: Mojo Pin // Jeff Buckley

track 06: Jonny // Faye Webster

track 07: Seigfried // Frank Ocean

track 08: Carry Me Out // Mitski

track 09: No Me Queda Mas // Selena

track 10: Show You A Body // Haley Henderickx

Rules for Requests:

- You must: send in a song, from the tracklist or otherwise. I'm happy to take song requests and add to the tracklist - all I ask is that it fits the "vibe" of either Side A or Side B.

- You must: Specify which tape side, A or B. To clarify: Side A: fluff, mild angst with a happy ending, all about love! Side B: heavy angst, hurt / comfort, happy ending or otherwise.

I tried to pick songs with potential for different stories - so give my playlists a listen to understand the "vibes" and also cuz I spent so so long creating them, I'm begging y'all 😭

- You must: Provide an x reader pairing! I mainly write for Miguel O'Hara, Joel Miller and Finnick Odair, but I'm more than happy to write other pairings - check tags for the fandoms I'll write.

- Other than that, be as specific or vague as you'd like. Give me a specific line from the song, a trope / prompt, etc etc. or don't! go crazy lmfao.

- NSFW is allowed for either category, please specify, but as always: 18+ for those kind of requests.

- Most of these will be drabbles, around 500 words or so; but I tend to get carried away with prompts so no promises 🤞

- I will write as many that catch my eye, with a few of my own ideas as well :)

(i am still taking other requests, but prioritising the ones for this follower event for the time being)

Voting

Please vote for a oneshot of mine that you'd like to see a part 2 of! This does not mean I won't write a second part for the other fics at all, it just tells me what to prioritise.

(Main Masterlist) (Event Masterlist)

I already have some stuff planned, but please give me some time to write all of this up – unfortunately, I am a slow writer with a whole ass job. This will be an ongoing event, just a little project I will chip away at.

Reblogs are appreciated, thanks everyone!

_

-

-

[is-this-really--life]

Bisexuals definitely have experiences that overlap with both homo and heterosexuals, but personally I'm tired of being referred to as "kinda like this group, but different" "half gay, half straight". Bisexual *is* its own thing, we are our own group and I want my own defined category that isn't a derivative of someone else's.

Ok. I dont. Because like what does that mean in the real world. When you like actually go to date women or even find a community of women attracted to women? If you want to actively pursue that?

Because no one fucking cares about our relationship to our straight attraction and straight world, that never comes into question because it's the default and it's so easy to find men attracted to women. But people are sooo abnormal about what words we use to describe our attraction to women and lesbian community. No, I actually would very much like people to see me as at least partially gay again. To see bisexuality as *both* homosexual and heterosexual.

[comradecowplant]

Love that the discourse is so rancid that cishet men are the main character of pride this year! Great job everyone!!!!!

[welcome-to-the-indulgence-phase]

The Huntsman: Winter War

Expectation: Frozen ripoff

Reality: Kony 1066

[khaopybara]

i just happened to be doing other things not related to the heart killers today when i thought about this line in particular:

where fadel tells bison that he's selective and not easy like his brother, and that could mean many things. maybe they are talking about a person that betrayed bison's trust somehow, maybe he was cheated on by a past lover, maybe he just wears his heart on his sleeve.

but here here i am, praying to the jojo gods that i'll finally get my playboy khaotung. i've been waiting for him to kiss as many lips as he possible can since only friends when he was nominated as the resident fuck boy, and then he proceeded to only manage to kiss mew and get into a situationship with sand for the most part of the show.

and yes, i know the kantbison thing will probably start happening very early on, but maybe, in a round of introduction of the characters we can see him "being easy unlike his brother who's a lot more guarded", yk.

[negativepeanuthoarder]

Looking at twitter has me all: