#NOT kurt specifically on any

[fvzzyelf]

“I would never lie; I willfully participated in a campaign of misinformation.”

so said the liar! kurt is far from impressed. should he be? so many in this world are self-professed fans of this man and yet something about him in person is making kurt's skin itch.

or that could be the suit he was current wearing, something he had never worn before because he never had the money for such things. his nicest outfit had been khakis he had to cut up for his tail to fit through and a thrifted polo shirt that was now too small on his broader shoulders.

"ach, whatever you say," he grumbled sourly. "when can i remove .... this..?"

he gestured to the whole of himself, the fitted jacket, the tie, the crisp oxford shirt, all too much just then. his anxiety was making him feel too hot and having a layer of fur under all of this didn't help.

not that tony could see the fur, not that he could see a tail carefully wrapped in such a way that it ached a little against his thigh and made getting fitted for the suit a terror. he had refused to be measured the old fashioned way and told the tailor he would use the digital method.

the inducer, seemingly a men's gold watch on his wrist, felt hot too, as if it was being used too much.

he was okay being known as a new addition to this growing team, known merely as a man with teleportation and heightened agility, but no one knew the truth that lurked under forge's invention. kurt had never been on any public facing team like others, and so the world did not know and did not fear what they surely would think of as hellish and demonic and certainly not fit for one of the many new avenger teams being created post war.

[collectivecloseness]

I like that fact that you as a writer agree that Kurt is so a sub

Kurt is such a sub. One who probably thinks, or likes to act like he’s a dom at first, but then his first partner immediately sinks their teeth into him, like “I know what you are.”

Kurt Kunkle x reader

Kurt moans shakily, but with volume, underneath you. His brown eyes up at you while his hands hold your hips for dear life. Trying to get his heart to slow down so he can get his words out, while he watches you riding him hotly from above.

“Pl-Please? Please I need to cum!”

“No.”

Kurt cries out, whining and a sob leaving his throat. Thrashing slightly underneath you, his head falling to the side dramatically on his pillow, as a whine starts to rise in his bare chest.

He’d already tried hiding his boner for nearly an hour before this but it just wouldn’t die, not when you looked so sexy lying on your front next to him as you both watched tv in bed. Kurt randomly starting to feel in the mood as he did every day, looking at the way your chest pressed up against your arms, how your foot kept kicking back and stroking his waist. And fuck, that skirt riding up your thighs.

Watching them press and squeeze together, especially when you laughed with the film. Looking at the way they’d shift, rolling into his bed sheets, sometimes that thigh gap driving Kurt crazy, or fuck, when they spread just that bit and Kurt could imagine he could see what panties you were wearing today, under the dark of your clothing. Kurt had even gotten to feel your thighs, just under your skirt. You’d let him slip his hands between both your warm thighs, tight and heated against his grasp. Feel the back of them just under the shadow of your skirt, his fingers tracing up there lovingly, exploratory, before he could cup the sides of them. But you’d later said that was a treat, and it meant you got to be more in charge now.

But then you teased him while sitting directly on the bulge in his grey jeans, asking if he could feel how wet you were through only your panties, and when he sadly admitted he couldn’t, not letting him get out of his pants yet so he could. And after you spent about five whole minutes only kissing his torso, his sensitive stomach, you’d been on top of him fucking hard for so long now. Well, long enough Kurt wanted to let go for the first round. But while Kurt liked your dominance earlier, even nodding underneath it, now he was too needy to sit back, be quiet and play good.

Kurt pouts up at you after your denial, at first determinedly, with those big shiny puppy eyes at you. Hands still clawing into your thighs though.

But at his frowning pout, you only teasingly “Aww” at him, moving one hand from where it’s pushing his tanned chest down, to gently tugging and playing with his hair. Kurt pushing your hand away.

Until that is, you see a thought appear behind his eyes. Gently he brings your hand back, with the one not holding you for stability, as you keep rocking, and he squeezes tenderly, pouting with a more innocent look now. And a sweet voice. “Please? I’ll be really good next time.”

“Uh uh. That’s what you said last time, and the next time you were a brat, like you usually are.” You raised a brow, slowing down just to hump lazily against his cock now. Your fingers splayed on his soft stomach while you feel him practically already throbbing inside of you, you’re surprised he hasn’t blown already. Still, you love watching your Kurt be teased.

Kurt looks like he’s about to strop again, pull a mini tantrum, until he thinks about his apparent reputation. Even though he has to breathe through his mouth because it feels like any blood he has is being pumped straight to his cock right now, and he can feel that sweat on his upper lip, he swallows his moans and self pity to try and focus on working on you instead. And Kurt knows how to do that.

“I’ll eat you out for three hours straight.”

He promises it. Bucking just underneath you, glad it gets you to start circling your hips more, as you’re practically sat on him at this point. And his lips are already watering, through his slight pants.

“Kurt, you try to do that anyway. I have to literally drag you off me by the hair after two. That’d just be an extra reward for you.”

“You won’t let me do anything!” Kurt yells slightly, all wound up. Breath shaky as he tries not to sob under you. He can feel you pulsing around him, squeezing his desperate cock so badly, like you’re teasing him even more! And he’s trying so so hard not to just bust in you right there.

Whines wracking his body as you experimentally bounce on him. Wanting to cross his arms over his chest, or throw them up in defeat, but only able to squeeze your thighs more in need, and grip onto you for dear life, while whining vocally.

Which is when you decide to make your move. Sitting right down on Kurt rather suddenly, with a force that gets him to gasp, giving you the opportunity to take your poor boyfriends chin in between your thumb and fingers, and make him look up at you.

“Hey... If you start being a good boy for me, I’ll let you cum inside, like I promised.”

Kurt’s eyes widen.

He shoots up, leaning up instead, while you still have a grip on his chin, bouncing on his cock, before Kurt’s immediately attaching his mouth to your neck.

Kurt kisses up and down your neck so much. Moaning as his plush lips and wet tongue taste you, kissing and sucking marks into your flesh, grazing his teeth over it, and moaning genuine breaths of pleasure and need, hot onto your spit covered skin. Yeah, he was definitely enjoying this too.

Your hand gripped his full brown hair, and he could feel your loud moan from your throat against his mouth and tongue, as you arched your head back loud, fucking down stickily onto his hard cock. Gripping onto Kurt’s hair and neck, as he lapped needily onto your own, fucking back up into you with his hands squeezed tight around your thighs. Tasting you, as your thrusts get harder and harder, and he can moan more right into your neck.

Maybe he really should start working on being a good boy for you more often.

[mrsmarlasinger]

Cis femme she/her lesbian but in a stoner dudebro frat boy loser kind of way

[blaintism]

there are many reasons i know the majority of gleeks lack media literacy but a big one is that sue said karofsky and blaine were cousins and everybody just took it at face value. despite two scenes later kurt saying she made it up and nothing overall coming of it

[backslashdelta]

was acitw ever finished

Unfortunately it was not 😭

I will stay though, I still consider it a must-read even with it's unfinished status. I also personally do think that where it stops is pretty good in terms of endings - there's no major cliff hanger or anything. Obviously not all the loose ends are tied up, but it could be a lot worse.

There are also some fan sequels that pick up where it left off! They're not written by the original author, but if you want an ending and aren't opposed to reading another author's interpretation, that's an option.

[micahdotgov]

im thinking of rewatching glee so someone needs to put me down like a lame horse

[loplainlointhemorning]

my favorite thing abt manson and perhaps one of his few non shitty qualities was he just really wanted to be famous and was always really honest abt wanting to be on a big label. u have literally no idea how rare that is on underground scenes & it actually worked out that’s so inspiring

[pluto-glow]

somehow forgot to post this Nightcrawler I drew a while ago

[eelhound]

"The idea of reforming Omelas is a pleasant idea, to be sure, but it is one that Le Guin herself specifically tells us is not an option. No reform of Omelas is possible — at least, not without destroying Omelas itself:

If the child were brought up into the sunlight out of that vile place, if it were cleaned and fed and comforted, that would be a good thing, indeed; but if it were done, in that day and hour all the prosperity and beauty and delight of Omelas would wither and be destroyed. Those are the terms.

'Those are the terms', indeed. Le Guin’s original story is careful to cast the underlying evil of Omelas as un-addressable — not, as some have suggested, to 'cheat' or create a false dilemma, but as an intentionally insurmountable challenge to the reader. The premise of Omelas feels unfair because it is meant to be unfair. Instead of racing to find a clever solution ('Free the child! Replace it with a robot! Have everyone suffer a little bit instead of one person all at once!'), the reader is forced to consider how they might cope with moral injustice that is so foundational to their very way of life that it cannot be undone. Confronted with the choice to give up your entire way of life or allow someone else to suffer, what do you do? Do you stay and enjoy the fruits of their pain? Or do you reject this devil’s compromise at your own expense, even knowing that it may not even help? And through implication, we are then forced to consider whether we are — at this very moment! — already in exactly this situation. At what cost does our happiness come? And, even more significantly, at whose expense? And what, in fact, can be done? Can anything?

This is the essential and agonizing question that Le Guin poses, and we avoid it at our peril. It’s easy, but thoroughly besides the point, to say — as the narrator of 'The Ones Who Don’t Walk Away' does — that you would simply keep the nice things about Omelas, and work to address the bad. You might as well say that you would solve the trolley problem by putting rockets on the trolley and having it jump over the people tied to the tracks. Le Guin’s challenge is one that can only be resolved by introspection, because the challenge is one levied against the discomforting awareness of our own complicity; to 'reject the premise' is to reject this (all too real) discomfort in favor of empty wish fulfillment. A happy fairytale about the nobility of our imagined efforts against a hypothetical evil profits no one but ourselves (and I would argue that in the long run it robs us as well).

But in addition to being morally evasive, treating Omelas as a puzzle to be solved (or as a piece of straightforward didactic moralism) also flattens the depth of the original story. We are not really meant to understand Le Guin’s 'walking away' as a literal abandonment of a problem, nor as a self-satisfied 'Sounds bad, but I’m outta here', the way Vivier’s response piece or others of its ilk do; rather, it is framed as a rejection of complacency. This is why those who leave are shown not as triumphant heroes, but as harried and desperate fools; hopeless, troubled souls setting forth on a journey that may well be doomed from the start — because isn’t that the fate of most people who set out to fight the injustices they see, and that they cannot help but see once they have been made aware of it? The story is a metaphor, not a math problem, and 'walking away' might just as easily encompass any form of sincere and fully committed struggle against injustice: a lonely, often thankless journey, yet one which is no less essential for its difficulty."

- Kurt Schiller, from "Omelas, Je T'aime." Blood Knife, 8 July 2022.

[bamfkeeper]

Dashing Swashbuckler

RQ: 'Imagine Reader trying to be subtle about how watching Kurt being a debonair swashbuckler makes her swoon (whether Kurt's showing off deliberately or not... who's to say?)' - @crocwork-clockodile

Warnings: F!reader, slightly suggestive themes, not edited.

A/N: This is so cute, it was fun to write. I hope you enjoy!

WC: 1.0k

Kurt was a charming man.

He was naturally charismatic, his kind gestures and demeanor had made everyone feel welcome, regardless of how they felt about their appearances or mutations. He made you feel like any insecurity you had didn't matter.

You wondered how someone who had such hardships could be so welcoming and kind, his heart was gold and full of never-ending love. You enjoyed spending time with him, you looked forward to any chance you got to be with him. He was thoughtful, chivalrous, and most importantly, he made you feel like you mattered.

It was no secret he was quite the swordsman too, you hadn't seen him do much with his swashbuckling skills, but when you saw him practicing one afternoon, you couldn't take your eyes from him. He was so graceful and efficient, the acrobat flipped and moved with such fluidity, he appeared to be like water.

He was simply practicing, but you could tell how frustrating he'd be in a fight. Not just his natural agility, but adding his teleportation, he's a hard opponent. You had never sparred with him before, you weren't trained as acutely as the rest of the team was. Most of your practice felt like you were on a baby level or safety proofed simulation. It didn't really matter to you, going out on big missions wasn't why you were there. You just wanted to feel safe for once in your life.

Your attention was caught again as Kurt continued his elegant movements, spinning and twisting and flipping with ease. The way he swung his swords around and hit all the obstacles was mesmerizing to you. He was so beautiful, and his kind soul just made you feel more attached to him. It didn't help that he often liked to show off in front of you, you felt yourself blush a little as you recalled a specific event of him being extra extravagant.

He was quite the showman.

You moved closer to get a better show of his skills, and he noticed you peeking around the well trimmed trees around the mansion grounds. The sudden pair of eyes on him gave him added energy, and his skills improved. He was clearly peacocking now, showing off and doing things he wouldn't normally in real combat, but for training he could execute.

He finally stops for a moment just long enough to walk to the small bench by the rose bed and pick up his water bottle. He drank from it and glanced at you hiding poorly. "You can come out, fräulein..." he chuckled lightly, watching your form peek out from where you had been hiding. Your cheeks were slightly dusted as you were caught spying, but you couldn't help it.

"Sorry for watching...I couldn't help myself. You were flipping and moving so fast. I only watched for a second, then...a few minutes and...time sort of kept going. Before I knew it I was...kind of being a stalker." You blushed admitting that you were watching him, even though he had already spotted you.

Kurt chuckled in response, twirling one of the swords he had. "Don't fret, I don't mind being watched. In fact, it helps me show off." He winked and stepped back a little. "You don't train much, why don't I help you? For fun, of course..." He offered the hilt of one of the swords to you, encouraging you take it.

Reluctantly, you grasped the golden handle, surprised at how heavy the swords really were. You grunted slightly, having to hold on with two hands. You felt a bit flustered, but he didn't tease you about it. "It's alright, just do your best to hold it up...like this, ja, that's it!" He guided your arms and helped you position, then pointed at the dummy. "Now strike it down, like you're trying to fight an enemy."

With shaky arms, you took a cautious step towards the unmoving dummy, raising the sword and striking the dummy with a long slash. You stumbled a little, the weight of the sword drug you down a little bit. Kurt grabbed your arms and made sure you didn't accidentally strike your own leg. By how he grasped your forearms, his chest pressed against your back and his pelvis brushed against yours. The closeness made you blush more and you had stiffened at the proximity.

"You are so tense...that is why you are having difficulty wielding these," he noted, guiding you to stand upright again. "Deep breath...and relax. It's just me, fräulein...no one else is watching. I promise Scott won't come out and demand a perfect form." Kurt added with a tease to help you relax.

You slowly tried again, doing better this time. Kurt clapped and laughed, "Wunderbar! Good job, fräulein...that was much better! Soon you might be as good as me." Kurt winked at you, making you slightly tense again. You swallowed and blushed a bit, lowering the heavy sword and relieving the muscles in your arms.

"Oh, I don't know about that. I think I'm better off just watching you." You replied shyly, "If that's...okay."

"My spy wants to watch hm?" he chuckled back and waved his hand, "Of course. I don't mind, it actually encourages me to go a little harder than I normally would. When I have a lovely thing like you watching, I must do my best to impress..." He teased, that charming smile plastered on his fanged face. You had to take a breath after he spoke, he wanted to impress you and wanted you to watch him.

You exhaled and tried not to show just how much he affected you. Despite your efforts, he obviously knew. It was so painfully obvious to him and pretty much everyone else how much of a crush you had on him. Kurt didn't want to overwhelm you so he stepped back to keep training, but would wink at you every now and then just to see you squirm and blush more.

One day he'd ask you out.

But first, he'd keep teasing you.

Thanks for reading.

*BAMF*

Dividers by @/adornedwithlight

Cover image: Amazing X-Men #1 (2014)

[dinogoofymutated]

NSFW! Nightcrawler/GN!Reader

This is purely self-indulgent smuttiness for Kurt, because sometimes cuteness aggression surfaces as really wanting to suck a man's dick. I know we haven't actually seen him in the 97' show yet, but I couldn't help myself. Think of this as a mixture between show Kurt and Comic Kurt. Or imagine any Kurt really.

Tw: MDNI!!!! Oral, slight cursing. Reader was pictured as AFAB while writing but no specific genitals or pronouns are mentioned.

Trying to relax in the X mansion was near impossible. There's always some event, some drama or loudness taking place. Living with gambit was hard enough with the explosions and shit, but after Jubilee moved in…

There was just no Peace in this house. Even though you wouldn't trade it for the world, there wasn't exactly any "me" time, If you catch my drift. It was ridiculously hard to find time for yourself, leaving you a bit more pent up than normal.

On top of that, there was almost always some sexual tension in the house. Rogue and gambit, Jean and Scott. Morph. Literally just Morph, and their innuendos. It was hard enough to see Rogue and Remy tip-toe around eachother, But Jean and Scott? You can't remember a time they weren't sneaking off together to get laid.

All this had left you ridiculous stiff. No free time, surrounded by the adult equivalent of horny teens, it was taking a toll on you. When Kurt came back to the mansion, you were over the moon to see him.

You loved your boyfriend so incredibly much, but never before had you been thinking such sinful thoughts about him. You'd steel glances of his toned arms when he'd hand you something. Glance at his ass when he walked by. Hell, just his smile and laugh would get you going.

He was just so cute. He's loving, and caring, and kind. You felt so lucky to be with him, but that didn't change the fact that you wanted to jump his bones, bad. You wanted to suck this man dry, and as embarrassed you are to admit it, you didn't hesitate to. The moment you finally had him in your bed, you knew you were going to give this man the best head of his life.

“You want to-?” Kurt’s breath hitches, the faint pupils in his yellow eyes dilating. His adam's apple bobbs as he looks away from your heated gaze and sets his eyes on your hands, idly stroking down his soft abdomen. You lean down to kiss him again, tenderly. He returns the kiss eagerly, his tail swaying back and forth on the bed. It takes a moment for you to be able to focus enough to get back on task.

“Please, Kurt.” You beg, breaking the kiss with him. He chases after your lips, and the action is so cute you can't help but kiss him again, and again. You kiss the corner of his mouth, before kissing the crook of his neck, and then his collarbone, dragging your teeth across the velvety blue skin. His soft moans are music to your ears as your hands drag lower, gently cupping the bulge that had started to grow. The air catches in his chest, but you don't tease him for long, moving your hands up and down his chest once again. His tail wraps around one of your wrists.

“Are you sure?” Kurt asks, one of his hands reaching up to brush the hair out of your face. You can help but lean into the touch with a sigh, mouth watering at the prospect of having him against your tongue. You smile at him, scoffing just lightly.

“Of course I am, silly.” The words come out breathlessly. “Why wouldn't I be?” You trail kisses lower, paying special attention to the curly hair of his happy trail as you softly run your fingers across his skin. Kurt swallows, letting out a quiet whine as you start to slide his sweatpants down to free his cock.

“ ‘Just… Don't want you to feel like you have to, Schatz- Hng..” He lets out a choaked groan as you start to press kisses along his inner thighs as you remove the pants completely. You giggle a little, aiming to make him moan just a little louder as you start to stroke and kiss along his length.

“Believe me, love, I wouldn't be begging for it if I did.” You respond. Kurt opens his mouth to speak again, only to cut himself off with a sharp “Ah!” as you take the head of his cock into your mouth and start to suck. The end of his tail twitches, still wrapped around your wrist, and he chuckles.

“That was a dirty trick,” He says, reaching down to move the hair out of your face. You hum in appreciation as his hand gathers your locks, holding the hair back so he can see you better. You reward him by taking more of him into your mouth, reveling in the noises you receive in return. His skin is smooth and soft, and you find yourself appreciating every inch of him you can fit in your mouth.

You're doing your very best to give him exactly the kind of head he deserves for being so sweet and loving and caring. You think about the chores he's done without asking since he's been back as you swirl your tongue around his tip. The book he brought you as a souvenir as you glide back down, nosing the dark blue patch of curls. God- he was just the most perfect man you had ever met, and you were determined to reward him for that.

“Scheisse- I… Liebe, I'm going to…ah!” Kurt begins to writhe underneath you, and it gives you the best satisfaction when you open your eyes to see his face contorted in the throes of pleasure. You savor the taste of his skin as he begins to twitch in your mouth. His grip tightens around your hair, he free hand opening and clenching as he scrambles for purchase on the bed. You take hold of it, lacing your hands together as best you can just in time for him to reach his peak.

You never really liked the taste or texture of cum, but for Kurt, You'd swallow every drop he gives you. You work him through his high as he squeezes your hand, moaning at the sensation. His moans turn to whines as he becomes sensitive, his tail unwinding Itself from your wrist. You can tell just by looking at it that it might bruise, but you wouldn't dare tell him that.

His grip loosens on your hair as you pull away from him. His yellow eyes are teary and his muscles are relaxed and boneless, but that doesn't stop him from sitting up a little and sliding his hand behind the nape of your neck to pull you in for a deep kiss. His kisses are loving and passionate, they leave you breathless when he pulls away. Kurt licks his lips as he takes you in, chest heaving. You can only imagine how you look with messy hair and swollen, spit stained lips, but there's nothing but adoration in his eyes.

“I love you.” He says, after a moment of silence. “I'm in love with you. You know this, Ja?” His other arm wraps around your waist, tugging you even closer to him. You can't wipe the smile off your face as you lean in, resting your forehead against his own, pressing a chaste kiss against his nose.

“I do. I promise.” You reply. Kurt grins, and you can briefly hear the sound of his tail swishing in a way you know means he's thinking about doing something mischievous, and the next thing you know, there's a *Bamf!* as you fall into where he was once sitting on the bed. You have the slightest moment of confusion before Kurt is behind you. He grabs hold of you, leaning back to make you fall backwards into him with your back against his bare chest. He presses kisses along your neck and maneuvers you into his lap. Your legs are hooked over his own, his knees widening the space between your thighs as his hands trail so close to where you want him to be.

“Please, let me return the favor, my love.”

[collectivecloseness]

oh my god that cockwarming one was incredible 😍😍 can I get your thoughts on breeding with kurt??

Thank you sm cherub!! Haha it was fun to write! And omggggg pls I have such a breeding kink when it comes to writing smut pls. I’m gonna have to write more of this type of stuff in other posts/asks, because I definitely won’t get all my thoughts down in one. (So if you have any other breeding kink asks, send em my way heheh)

Kurt is definitely a little possessive. Not in the typical toxic boyfriend way, so you wouldn’t expect it, or even really be able to see it until much later. He’s just slightly protective of you, if he thinks someone or something is bad. He’s pretty chill though! He’s a feminist after all. But the idea of you being filled with his cum just makes him 🤤😍🤤. Not just in a possessive way though, that’s not even a fraction of the iceberg. There’s so many reasons Kurt loves breeding you

If you’re on birth control or can’t get pregnant or anything, then he asks “oh... so.. so can I?.. In- in there?” He’s a bit shy around any subject of sex at first. The first time you two go at it, if neither of you bring up a condom or anything mid sex, and if you’re lucky enough for Kurt to know he’s about to cum, and be able to hold off for even a few seconds, because that man is cumming before you even touch him the first time, then he may be able to quickly ask you “oh god... w-where?” As he starts to pull out so he’ll be quick enough. But the second you wrap your legs around his thighs and push him back into you, when you beg Kurt to cum inside you, you promise that it’s okay, he actually collapses into your body as he cums inside. Just slowly rutting his hips a little, as he’s a dead weight on the rest of your body. Only just managing to thrust about an inch each way, as the sloppy sounds of his cum squelching around your walls spurs you both on as he keeps going.

Kurt cums a lot, as I’ve stated as my own personal hc before. Not like in frequency, although that’s also true, but there’s just so... much... of it... it’s absolutely insane how one scrappy gamer boy can produce that much cum in one load. And keep going for multiple rounds. Kurt didn’t even realise it was different until you pointed it out, although it was apparently something to (privately) brag about, so he felt pretty proud that he could provide that for you :). You once joked that you were sure if you spent an entire weekend, just making love to Kurt and letting him fill you up for the entire 2-3 days, you’d probably start to look a little pregnant by the end of it. Which actually made his eyes glaze over in a way you’ve seen many times before. He definitely has begged for you two to have that ‘special weekend’. Not that you or Kurt actually wanna see any kind of baby bumps, you both do not actually want that yet.

But it doesn’t stop the thought of Kurt fucking you full make him go feral. He promises he’ll be soooo good. He’s gonna fill you up, nice and warm, and safe, and full, just like you want. Just full of Kurt. A reminder of his love inside you. The most intimate session you could have with another person. Watching his face scrunch up as he cries so close to your head when he orgasms, is absolute bliss on its own. But feeling him pistoning inside you, as his white, thick, seed starts sticking to your walls, hearing him stirring it all up in you as he cries and pants and swears quietly above, as Kurt’s fucking your insides so warm, and wet, and deep, is absolute heaven. You’ve both toyed around with the idea of buying a plug, keeping his cum inside even longer. But Kurt also loves asking if he can ‘watch’ once you two are done. And he’ll lean dreamily on his arms, right next to your pussy, and watch as his cum starts to dribble out. Occasionally he gets impatient, or it may be really shot up there. So he gets this cute grumbly look on his face, before pressing his large palm against your stomach, and smiling with such wonder as he watches his cum pour out of you then, with him rubbing your belly.

There’s something feral, and instinctual about it. Kurt can just let his mind be free, and so can you. As you two grind into each other and just moan and fuck and make sure he’s held against you so tightly, that he’s definitely cumming deep inside you, where it’ll stick. One time, you two were walking around the mall, and your face just lost all blood. You showed Kurt in the bathrooms how his cum from last night was now starting to drip down you, and you both hurried to shove tissues in your underwear, and swab up the cum that was dribbling down your leg, as you were wearing a skirt. The white pearls clinging to your skin, as it escaped you, starting to leak out like a faucet. Kurt hurriedly drove you home, and he felt like a bit of a perv for almost wanting to lick your car seat the next day, when he went to clean up before his job. Even though you were both slightly panicked, as he helped you clean up in the cramped stall, not wanting anyone to come in, or to see you... that image, that thought of that happening again, having happened before, it fuels Kurt’s solo masturbation sessions forever

The dirty talk is insane. Kurt is very cute as he babbles about whatever is on his mind and he can half stammer out, when you two are making love. But sometimes when he gets closer to cumming, the dirty talk riles up as he remembers in expectant bliss whats about to come next. Mostly said in his promising tone, stuttering a little cause he’s close, and so so ready to make you cum, because he knows you love him describing exactly how he’s going to cum in you too. Sometimes it’s babbling as he loses his mind, lascivious thoughts in the back of his mind. Or it can be a mix. But Kurt will talk so sweetly to you about such private things, not just talking, but talking to you, his eyes full of love and awe, or scrunched shut in bliss. His desperation that isn’t rushed, but lived in, knowing that you want him too, you want him to breed you just as much as Kurt wants to fill you so fucking full of himself. Talking while he rubs you down there, and hopes to feel you squirt around his cock (because god, that’s so fucking hot to him), while he shoots his load as deep inside his love as he can get. Any sentence he can choke out, before he loses his control and his mind. “Yeah? Fuck, I’m gonna fill you up so fucking much baby. I love you so much. Mmmm ‘m gonna fill you and fuck you with my cum over and over. ‘M not gonna stop until you’re full down there. Always gonna have my cum inside you, huh? Always gonna be with a part of me? I’m always yours baby. Fuck, you ready? You want my cum? Want me to cum in you baby? Want me to cum all in your p-perfect pussy? Don’t worry. I’m gonna give you what you want. Promise. Gonna cum for you real soon can’t hold on babe!! Fuck fuck... shit!”

You may also get him begging to cum inside you. Crying, or kissing you everywhere, or tantruming while trying to hold you close, because he’s so desperate to not cum anywhere else. To not waste his load, when he could cum inside your pussy. His favourite place on earth maybe. Yeah he also likes cumming on your boobs, and your tongue, and your hand, and other places too. But if he’s in the breeding mood, he doesn’t want it anywhere else. He’ll be begging for you, to prove he’s being good just please don’t tease him, please let him have this!

Kurt wants to be the only one who cums inside you. He doesn’t care if you’ve had past sexual partners before, but the thought of him being the only one allowed to cum in you, that no matter how much he watches you kiss other friends on the cheeks, or cuddle your bestie instead of him, or dance flirtily with your pals, Kurt is the only one who gets to cum in you. And he doesn’t get jealous over others in that way. Kurt’s jealousy is different, he knows you don’t actually like your friends in that way, he knows you wouldn’t cheat on him, he knows you don’t actually love your fictional crush more than you love him. But he does get a bit of fomo sometimes. He just wants all your attention on him, and he understands that’s silly, so he lets you go. He’ll pout about it in his own corner, but he’ll be waiting patiently for you to ask him a question next. He’ll probably just watch you holding your friends hand and wish it was his, knowing he can pick yours up when you’re done, or watch you show your friend the cool new sexy trick you’ve learned of twisting a cherry stem with your tongue, and just hide his own chub while he buys your drink. Knowing he’s the only one who gets to breed you, satisfies any silly little thoughts like that most of the time. And remembering how you beg for Kurt’s cum. Knowing how you don’t want anyone else, from your groaning voice that still lingers in his ears

[dreaming-tonite]

The Necessity of Old-School Dating

— A relationship should start with flowers and a proper confession.

A/N: I just finished x-men 97 and my crush on Kurt when I was like 15 came back in full force. Like, you cannot tell me this man would not go to lengths trying to charm you.

Pairing: Kurt Wagner x reader

Warning: (1) German pet name in the feminine form that hopefully will not ruin this for any German speakers

Word count: ~1.5k

When Kurt Wagner was in love with you, the entire world would know.

He had a lot of love to give, knocking people off their feet (quite literally) when he made his sudden appearances and tackled his friends with full-body hugs. But with you, he was always more careful. While he made no hesitation in finding his way to you in a puff of purple smoke the second he saw you, he always landed just a step away from you.

He grinned ear to ear, glowing eyes curled into thin moons just at the sight of you. His body leaned towards you slightly, aching to be close to you but restraining himself until you reached out for him first. The heat radiating off his body tempted you to close your eyes and allow your mind to sink into his embrace when he immediately pulled you in after getting the go-ahead.

“It is good to see you.” His voice was soft in your ear, the vibrations from his chest seeping into your skin.

He made sure to tell you that every time, even though he must be aware that you already knew how often he told you that. But to him, it was important that you hear it from him.

Kurt never pulls away until you do and the lingering of his touch on your back when he does always leaves your skin tingling.

A true gentleman but with a trickster’s spirit nonetheless. Your back bumped into his anticipating tail, respectfully curved around your form. You gasped when it presented you with a bunch of flowers that he seemingly pulled out of nowhere, the end of his tail holding at the stems.

“Oh, you really shouldn’t have,” you sheepishly said, “today is not even anything special!”

“I like that they make you happy,” he mused, his gaze so soft that it made your face burn, “is that not enough of a reason?”

“They make me very happy,” you smiled and took the bouquet, his tail gently recoiling from behind you to sit neatly against its owner. You pressed the flowers against your chest, the faint scent of petals tucking at your senses, “Thank you, Kurt.”

You did not remember a moment when your room was void of flowers since the very first time he ever gave you any (in fact, you did not even have a vase before that and now it was reserved specifically for flowers he brought you). Some days it was a properly wrapped bouquet, some times it seemed he just saw a daisy on his way and plucked it when he thought of you.

It was a fluttering feeling to be treated special, to have someone show you that you were always on their mind. As much as it was a sweet gesture, it sure was a smart one too. Flowers sitting at the corner of your room reminded you of him whenever your gaze flickered towards them, and it brought a smile to your face whether you intended to or not.

("That brother of mine sure got you smitten for him, doesn't he?"

The sugar-sweet voice broke you out of your trance and you subconsciously stopped toying with the daffodil you had been twirling between your fingers. "I have no idea what you are talking about," you quipped, avoiding Anna-Marie's amused stare.

"Why, is that so?" she crossed her arms in front of her chest in fake thoughtfulness before it broke into a smirk, "Then care to explain what is so special about some little flower that it got you smiling like a fool?"

Your eyes went wide, the smile on your face that you weren't even aware was there dropping in an instant as the realisation hit you in full force.

"Sugar," she said, a loop-sided grin tucked at the corner of her lips, "I know the look of someone in love when I see one.")

They said that if their heart was in the right place then you would never doubt, and he made sure that his intentions were clear from the very moment you caught his eye.

He remembered things you said in passing, asked you to go out for dinners and subtly took note of items your eyes lingered on when you passed by store windows even before there was a proper label to your connection.

Kurt always managed to find excuses to take the long route when he walked with you back to the school. Sure, he could, and usually would, skip the unnecessary process of walking. But the minutes that were saved would be a waste of precious time he could spend with you.

The world was quiet and all was good in these rare moments when you were alone, talking about nothing and everything and all that fell between. He fell a little bit more in love every time you laughed as if his heart was not already threatening to burst out of his chest. He preened in moments like this, standing a little taller and a little closer to you until your shoulders nearly bumped with each slow stride.

And if the knuckle of your fingers happened to brush against his, then he would allow himself to be a bit bold under the disguise of the starry sky to hold your hand.

Kurt was a true believer in the importance of proper courting, putting in the effort and letting the effort be felt. But as much as he enjoyed the tip-toeing and the words that were left unsaid, there came moments when the passion was too much to bear.

It was a night much like any other. You had thought that things were going well, there was laughter and he was being his usual charming self until the two of you started heading back. Under the silver moonlight, he was... quiet. Your gaze flickered towards him in concern but seemingly, he was too deep in his thoughts to notice.

So instead of speaking, you reached for his hand and his walls came crumbling down.

"I wanted to take things slow so that you could consider if my affections, my— my love is worthy for you." He blurted out, accent thicker than usual in a moment of vulnerability. "But recently, I have been plagued by my own selfishness, that the more you have allowed me in your life, the more I crave to have you all to myself."

"Ah, entschuldige, I am rambling," he muttered under his breath, his voice trembling and guiding your hand so that he faced you properly. You reached out to hold his face and he leaned into the touch, sighing in content at the contact and all the more certain that close could never be close enough when it came to you.

"I like to think that any relationship, any romance, should start with flowers and a proper confession, and you deserve nothing less." he paused, his hand reaching up to hold yours firmly. "My heart is in your hands, mein liebe."

Time stopped, and all was still.

The thudding of your heart was the only thing in your ear as he waited for your answer with bated breath.

The first touch was so light he could barely feel it. Your body reacted before your mind could keep up and at the first brush of your cupid's bow against his lips, perhaps the bravest thing you had ever done even though you had been on literal battlefields, your reason immediately got ahold of the better of you. But before you could start to pull away, doubt and logic melted into a puddle when he crashed into you, strong arms holding you firmly as he returned the kiss with one much deeper than the one before.

He kissed you again, and again, getting light-headed when you pressed your palm flat against his chest and kissed him back every single time.

You gasped when you suddenly felt the ground disappearing from under your feet, purple smoke blurring your vision and your feet stumbling when gravity weighted you down once more. Kurt didn't seem to notice it at all, too drunk in having your body flushed against his.

Bamf, bamf, bamf. You nearly stumbled when you landed one last time, his hand finding its way to hold you by the small of your back before you could fall.

He was out of breath and if you could see under the blue fur of his cheeks you were sure he must be blushing like mad. Still heaving, he pressed his forehead against yours.

"Forgive me, I lost control of myself," he closed his eyes, the tip of his nose touching yours, "you have no idea how happy you make me."

Wrapping your arms around his neck, you decided that a proper confession deserved a proper answer.

"I love you," you said, "it would be a blessing to call you mine."

He chuckled before leaning in once more, this time soft and tender.

"And me, yours."

[rotturn]

you’re on your own kid, you always have been

[waskurttrans]

Kurt Cobain Will Have His Revenge on the Straights

Had a video call with my brother Chuck the other day.  Things got heavy:

KATE: Was Kurt Cobain a trans woman?

CHUCK: What?

Kurt Cobain.  Rock musician.  He was in a band called Nirvana.

I’m familiar with him, yes.

Was he a trans woman?

Um.  No?

OK.  Why not?

I mean, he wasn’t.  It’s like asking why he wasn’t an astronaut.

He wasn’t an astronaut because he never went to space.  Why wasn’t he a trans woman?

Because he didn’t transition.  I mean, he didn’t ever say he was a woman, didn’t ever say he was trans.  So no.  Kurt Cobain wasn’t a trans woman.

So someone is trans if they say they’re trans.  Self-determination.

That’s what you’ve told me.  Is that wrong?

No, that’s right.  We know ourselves better than anybody else can know us.  If we say we’re trans, nobody can say we aren’t.

And Kurt Cobain never said he was trans.

So was I trans in 1994?

I don’t know, were you?

Yes, but if you’d asked me in 1994, I would have told you “no”.

So if I tell you I’m trans, I’m trans…

Right.

But if I tell you I’m cis, I might still be trans?

If you tell me you’re cis, I believe you.

That’s not the same thing as “I’m cis”.

That’s a really good point.  This is sort of what some queer people are getting at when they say “gender is a construct”.

Come again?

Well, you’re cisgender, right?

As far as I know, yes.

Aha.

Hmmm?

You hedged.  “As far as I know” isn’t the same thing as “yes”.  “As far as I know” opens up the possibility that you could be trans and not know it.

It doesn’t seem terribly likely.

That’s an interesting statement.  Early on in transition one of the biggest problems I had was dealing with the sheer unlikelihood of my being trans.  I mean, I knew trans people existed.  I knew somebody had to be trans.  I just couldn’t wrap my head around the idea that it would be me.

Do you think this is why you’re on this whole “Kurt Cobain was a trans woman” kick?

Hey now, I’m just asking questions.  You know.  Like J.K. Rowling is “just asking questions”.

Kate, you are literally wearing a T-shirt that says “KURT COBAIN WAS A TRANS WOMAN” on it right now.

Am I?  Oh, shit.  I thought I was wearing my “Skip school, take hormones, kill God” T-shirt.  To your question, though - yeah, I do think that’s part of it.  Honestly, the hardest thing about growing up trans was believing that nobody in the world had ever experienced what I was experiencing.  I didn’t have any role models.  I didn’t wonder if I was the only one.  I was convinced of it.

So being able to say that this incredibly gifted songwriter, the voice of a generation, was a trans woman like you…

I need someone like that.  I need to not be the first of my kind.

Of course you’re not the first trans woman.

No, but before a couple of years ago almost every trans woman would tell you they always knew, unquestionably and innately, that they were women.

So it’s not just about him being trans, but specifically his being a trans woman who didn’t know he was a trans woman.

An egg.  Right.

Why Kurt Cobain, anyway?  What’s so special about him that you’re trying to induct him into the Egg Hall of Fame?

He knew things.  Things cis guys don’t know.  Things I didn’t know until after I started transition.  He understood women, what we’re like, what we experience.  “Pennyroyal Tea”.  “Rape Me”.  I just have a hard time thinking of a cis man who could write songs like that.

It wouldn’t be the only way in which he was exceptional.

True.  Ahhh.  I don’t know.  I mean, I know, I can give you all the reasons, but there’s something in his eyes.

Something in his eyes.

All the pictures of him.  No matter what he’s doing.  If he’s grinning, or sad, whatever he’s doing, you can see something trapped there.  Trapped and in pain, wanting to get out but not quite knowing how.

Huh.  You, uh, know that what you’re doing is pretty much the textbook definition of projection, right?

Maybe.  Chuck, do you think I’m happier?

Since you transitioned?

Yeah.

Of course.  Absolutely.  Night and day.

Everyone says that, and honestly, I see it.  Even in pictures, you know?  I see it.  You’ve seen some of my transition timelines, right?

You do look really different.

It’s not just me.  Every single person who transitions looks like that.  We look so much happier, so much more alive, so much more us.  I don’t understand how anybody can hate us.

I don’t get it either, Kate.

And when I look at any timelines, I look at the before photos… and I see something in their eyes.  Transmasc, transfem, doesn’t matter.  There’s something trapped wanting to get out.  Every picture I’ve ever seen of Kurt Cobain looks like the “before” picture on a transition timeline.  It’s just that with him, there aren’t any after pictures.

And it’s not just the eyes, either.  The way he dressed, the whole “grunge look”.  It’s just literally egg fashion.  We dress with total disregard for our appearance or how we look because no matter what we do it’s wrong.

“Egg fashion”, egg this, egg that… isn’t it a little bit anachronistic, judging him by 2022 standards, 2022 values?

Is it?  Chuck, I was alive in 1994.  I was an 18 year old egg.  I know what that feels like.  I know what that looks like.  I lived that.  Why didn’t I come out as trans in 1994?  Because I didn’t have the opportunity.  Because self-determination needs to be informed, and none of us were.  None of us.  Look.  You know what he said to Melody Maker in 1991?  “I knew I was different. I thought that I might be gay or something because I couldn't identify with any of the guys at all.”  That’s what he said.

Holy shit.  Really?

Really.  September 14, 1991.

Hold on, let me look that up.  Oh, yeah, I see it.  Look, if you look at the full quote he’s just saying he’s not a jock.  Like he didn’t fit in with the jocks. 

Well, what about the dresses?

What dresses?

Kurt Cobain wore a lot of dresses.  Like, a lot, both onstage and off.  On MTV in 1991, he said “It’s ‘Headbanger’s Ball’ so I thought I’d wear a gown.”  He said in a 1993 interview, “I personally like to wear dresses.  I wear them around the house sometimes.”  This is not some shameful secret he kept hidden from the world.  He was open about this.  He was proud about this.

Yeah, but… it’s just clothes.

Except it’s not just clothes.  Listen to his songs.  Listen to his lyrics.  “Should have been a son”.  “I’m a lady, can you save me?”  “Everyone is gay.”  The original lyrics to “All Apologies” from his journals – “Boys write songs for girls.  Let me grow some breasts.”

I mean they’re song lyrics.  There are all kinds of ways to interpret song lyrics.

Sure.  All kinds of ways.  You ever read Michael Azerrad’s biography of Cobain, Come As You Are?

Nope.

Azerrad spent weeks talking to Cobain.  He was Cobain’s biographer, but also his friend.  And he has his own interpretation of the lyrics.  For instance, Azerrad talks about all the lyrics about guns, and to me, now, I look at that, and I think of how he died, but Azerrad, when Kurt was alive, he looked at it another way.  He thought it’s about dicks.  “To paraphrase Dr. Freud,” he says, “sometimes a gun is just a gun.  But not this time.”  He talks about “Come As You Are”, where Kurt keeps singing “I swear I don’t have a gun.”  That’s not my interpretation.  That’s never been my interpretation.  That’s what this cis man says.  More than one cis man.  Kurt says Dave Grohl’s dad, he said the same thing.  Yeah.  There are all kinds of ways to interpret lyrics.

“By this time,” Azerrad wrote, “one begins to wonder how Kurt rationalizes being a man at all.  His first response is revealing.  ‘I don’t know,’ he says.  ‘Castration.’”  I don’t wonder how Kurt rationalizes being a man.  I rationalized “being a man” in all kinds of ways.  What strikes me is that he needed to rationalize being a man.  Had to come up with some kind of excuse.  It just strikes me kind of funny.

Kurt’s songs have meanings.   The lyrics to “In Bloom”, Kurt was pretty explicit about that.  The lyrics he wrote have meanings.  “Heart-Shaped Box”.  You know what that refers to?  When Courtney Love was flirting with Kurt, Michael Azerrad says in Come As You Are, “She gave Dave (Grohl) a package to give to Kurt – little sea shells and miniature teacups and a tiny doll, all packed into a small heart-shaped box.”  A tiny doll locked away inside a box shaped like a heart.  That was what I felt like before I came out.  A tiny phantom doll.  Kurt and Courtney first kissed after a show at the Cabaret Metro in Chicago.  Rumor was that they fucked against the bar, but they denied it.  What actually happened, Azerrad says, is that “Courtney had a bag of lingerie with her for some reason and Kurt ended up modeling the contents.”  And then they went to Kurt’s hotel room and they fucked.

You’re making it sound…

Maybe it was.  Because you look at that and you think that if it was like that, it was perverted and wrong, because that’s what you were told, that it’s a sick fetish thing, and I look at it and it isn’t.  To me, that’s normal.  That Kurt Cobain was sexually aroused while wearing Courtney Love’s lingerie, that’s normal.

Kate, he was a punk!  He hated jocks, and wearing a dress pissed off jocks, so he wore dresses.  He talked about wanting to wear a dress and piss on a redneck A&R man’s desk!  You think that was some kind of sex thing?

Sexuality is part of being a woman.  Part.  Rage – and Kurt Cobain had a lot of rage inside him – that’s another part.  Am I interpreting, am I looking at things from my perspective as a trans woman?  Yes, certainly, just like you’re interpreting, looking at it from your perspective as a cis man.  When cis people interpret things, their conclusion is never “they were trans”.  Never.

Ed Wood wasn’t a trans woman.  He was just a transvestite.  He was a man.

Pete Burns from Dead or Alive wasn’t a trans woman.  Sure, he got all sorts of feminizing surgeries, but he never said he was a woman.  Man.

Prince Nelson adopted a female persona, feminized his voice, and recorded a song about wanting to be a woman's girlfriend, but he was also a Christian and believed that being queer was wicked and sinful, and that's the identity of his we need to respect.  Man.

Richard Wright, who wrote the Phish song “Halley’s Comet”, spent most of the 1980s telling everyone he knew he was a transsexual lesbian named Nancy, but after being consistently treated like shit changed his mind about that, so none of that counts for anything.  Man.

Dave Carter was on HRT when he died, but he was just questioning.  He didn’t tell anybody for sure that he was a woman.  Man.

Quentin Crisp said just before he died that if he was younger, he absolutely would have transitioned, but wanting to transition isn’t the same as actually transitioning.  Man.

All men.  Always, always men, whatever they do, whatever they say.  I know how that works.  I was told all these same things about myself for decades, all these same reasons, and now, I don’t know, I guess people will make a personal exception for me, but for everybody else, the same old assumptions, the same old arguments, they still apply.  They’re still legitimate.

I thought we were talking about Kurt Cobain.

And the only way to do that is to talk about him in isolation.  There’s no larger context to consider, no bigger picture.  I can’t really know.  I can’t really judge.

I mean, everybody else does.  I guess I can’t tell you not to.  But all of this circumstantial evidence, all of the dresses and the lyrics that you I guess know the real meaning of – none of that makes him a girl.

Sure.  And nothing can make him a girl.  Because he’s dead.  Because he killed himself.

Oh, here we go.  After thirty years and countless speculation, you have at last uncovered the real reason Kurt Cobain killed himself – gender dysphoria.  Do you have a book deal yet?

Working on it.  And yes, people say a lot of stupid things about Cobain’s death, like it’s this big shock that this guy who hated himself and wanted to die killed himself.

Right.  He was pretty well-known for being a heroin addict, which isn’t exactly something that improves one’s quality of life.

Sure, but why did he start heroin?

I don’t know.  Why does anybody start heroin?

To help him cope with his eating disorder.

Wait, what?  Eating disorder?

You don’t know about that?  He had stomach problems, for a long, long time.  He could only eat certain kinds of food, certain kinds of food that wouldn’t make his stomach hurt.  Doctors looked but they could never find any organic cause for it.  Nobody took it seriously.  So he self-medicated with heroin.  “It was my choice,” he told Azerrad.  “I don’t regret it at all because it was such a relief from not having stomach pain every day.”  I know, though.  Lots of cis guys have eating disorders.  Doesn’t mean anything.

Kate there’s a lot of interpreting going on here.

Yeah, I guess there is.  Is that necessarily a bad thing, though?  Is that necessarily wrong?  Like.  You’ve seen The Matrix, right?

Only the first one.

Yeah, that’s fine.  So you know how important The Matrix is to a lot of trans women, right?

Yes, but I’m not really sure why.  Just seems like a retelling of Plato’s “Allegory of the Cave” with extra fight scenes.

It’s pretty trans, though, right?

Clearly.  It was directed by two trans women.

And trans women who watch it – eggs or otherwise – find their own lives and experiences reflected in it in ways that cis people, like you, don’t.

I guess, but the fact that it was actually made by two trans women carries a little more weight with me.

OK, but what if the Wachowskis had died in 2000?  In, like… a car crash or something?  Does that mean The Matrix isn’t a trans film?

Well, no, because it’s still a film made by two trans women.

A film made by two trans women that speaks to the trans experience, and that is recognized by living trans women as speaking specifically to the trans experience.  The only difference is that, in this scenario, nobody knows the Wachowski Sisters are trans women.  And we can’t prove it.  We can’t possibly prove it, and nobody is going to just believe us when we say it’s a trans movie, that the Wachowskis were trans women, because they didn’t say it, they didn’t say the special magic words.  Self-determination.  You know what self-determination meant to Kurt Cobain?  I remember seeing Courtney Love on television reading his note, I remember her interrupting to say that he was an asshole, that what he was saying was bullshit.  She didn’t respect his self-determination.

Um…

“Pennyroyal Tea”.  Cobain told Azerrad “It's a cleansing theme where I’m trying to get all my bad evil spirits out of me and drinking Pennyroyal tea would cleanse that away.”  Pennyroyal is an abortifacient – but, Azerrad notes, only in lethal doses. 

Hell, not just that song.  The whole album.  In Utero.  The collage on the back cover, the one Cobain described to Azerrad as “Sex and woman and In Utero and vaginas and birth and death".  The occult symbols surrounding it, taken from Barbara G. Walker’s The Woman's Dictionary of Symbols and Sacred Objects1.  There was something inside Kurt Cobain, something inside him waiting to be born, but he was told, over and over, that it was a monster, so he killed it, the only way he could.  By killing himself.

That could have been me.  That could so easily have been me.  I was told all the same things he was.  We all were.  When I was 27?  When I was 27, I was addicted to benzos, benzos they prescribed me because I was trying to bury, trying to kill this thing, this thing I had inside of me.  I was a zombie.  Walking dead.  When I quit, I quit cold turkey.  Nobody told me about the withdrawal syndrome.  Nobody told me it could have killed me.  And if it had, everybody would remember me, everybody would think of me, as a cis man.  Forever.  They would perpetuate the Lie.  That’s why I transitioned, why I chose to go through all the shit I went through.  The writer and musician Margaret Killjoy, in 2017 she talked about what she went through the day before she came out:

“All I could think was: ‘Oh god, I don’t want to die a boy.’”2

I felt the same way, came out for the same reason.  I figured no matter what I did, I was dead.  I didn’t do it live, but to at least have an honest death.  I genuinely believed transition would kill me.

It didn’t, though!  You’re alive and you’re beautiful and I’m so, so glad for that.  It didn’t kill you.

It could have.  Still could.  Transition has helped, has made it easier­ for me, but it’s not that way with everyone.  People have been kind to me, in ways that they aren’t kind to other trans women.  Others of us… aren’t so lucky.

Who are we respecting, exactly, by remaining silent about our shared experiences, our shared perspectives, things we see that you fucking don’t, that you can’t see?  Of course I can’t prove it.  I can’t prove that I’m trans.  You can’t prove that you’re cis.  Cis people, though, cis people never have to prove anything.  Their prejudices are the null hypothesis3.  If I was to go out there and say that Kurt Cobain was a cisgender man, would anybody say I was wrong?  Would anybody object or complain?  Even though my saying that is an anachronism, is meaningless.  The word, the concept, it literally didn’t exist when Cobain died.  Have you ever heard the word “agnotology”?

No?

It means making a false claim to ignorance.  Claiming that we don’t know something that we do.  That we can’t know something that we can.  We know things now, Chuck.  We know what the symptoms of gender dysphoria are.  We know what it does to people.  How eggs think.  How eggs act.  How eggs die.  But we pretend we don’t.  We still pretend.  We pretend suicide is an individual act, even when we know it’s not, that the reasons for it are wholly personal.  We pretend that when someone dies by suicide, their reasons for doing so die with them.  And they don’t, Chuck.  We’re still dying, still dying for the same reasons Kurt Cobain did.  It’s not just that we aren’t allowed to recognize ourselves.  We aren’t allowed to recognize each other.  Individual choice or social contagion.  Those are the options we’re given.  And neither of them are right.  Neither of them are who we are.

Kurt Cobain wrote, thought, talked, died like eggs do.  I don’t care if he never said the magic fucking words.  We know our own.  We recognize each other.  And if someone is alive?  If someone is alive I will go my whole life without ever breathing a word.  Because as long as we’re alive, we do choose, and that means we can choose ignorance.  What I think, what I want, for someone else, for us, it doesn’t matter.  I do that, I follow that code, for the benefit of one person – the egg themselves.  Once they die, all bets are off.  Omerta no longer applies.  Kayfabe no longer applies.

To be queer is to be erased, to experience erasure.  I still hear straight men arguing, as if they have any right to argue, as if they know, that Emily Dickinson was not a lesbian.  Emily Dickinson!  I’m supposed to listen to people who say this shit?  I’m supposed to take them seriously when they say well, actually, calling Dickinson a “lesbian” is historically anachronistic, we can’t apply the standards of the present to the past, and Jesus fuck have you read her letters?  She liked girls.  She really liked girls.  Kurt Cobain was a trans woman.  Kurt Cobain was every bit as much a trans woman as Emily Dickinson was a lesbian.  Refusing to say it isn’t “respect”.  It’s perpetuating the crime perpetrated against Cobain, against every other trans woman who ever killed herself because of the lies we were told about ourselves.  No more.  Kurt Cobain was a trans woman.  I can’t, as an individual, say that.  I don’t have the right.  No trans woman can say that, individually.  But collectively?  All of us together?  The things we see in each other, we see those things in him too.  Not all of them, and not all of us.  Absolutely not all of us.  But enough of us.  Enough that we have the right.  We have the right, and I will fucking say it, and if you don’t like that, you can go fuck yourself.

Kate, are you ok?

I’m fine.

Do you want a hug?

Fuck you, Chuck.

OK, well.  I’m, uh.  Gonna go to the other room.  You should, uh.  Drink some water.  Stay hydrated.  Love you, Kate.

Love you too, Chuck.  Sorry.

Shhh.  It’s OK, Kate.  It’s OK.

1 Diane Purkiss criticizes the occult nature of Walker’s encyclopedia in "Women's Rewriting of Myth", in Carolyne Larrington (ed), The Feminist Companion to Mythology, London, 1992, p. 444: “In Donna Haraway's influential terms, these women may wish to be goddesses, but they are cyborgs all the same”. The work she’s referencing is Haraway’s “A Cyborg Manifesto”.  Haraway was, it happens, an academic advisor to the trans woman Sandy Stone, and her “Cyborg Manifesto” was a pivotal influence on Stone’s “The Empire Strikes Back: A Post-Transsexual Manifesto”, one of the foundational works of transgender theory.

2 Margaret Killjoy, https://birdsbeforethestorm.net/2017/06/im-not-even-going-to-try-to-pass/

3 Natalie Reed, https://freethoughtblogs.com/nataliereed/2012/04/17/the-null-hypothecis/

[worstghost]

Hello! I saw u asking us requesting to u about xmen 97 and I hit u with this!!!!

Any hcs u have for/about Kurt(can be sfw/nsfw Idm)

Also more on Kurt: do u think he has a favorite perfume? Or like some sort of specific scent (as in a hint of vanilla or smth)

Would love to read ur thoughts about this

i love you for this fr

I'm gonna start with the scent thing- generally I think he enjoys sweet, fresh smells. Loves when you're straight out of the shower, will literally inhale your clean hair and rub against you to share the scent of himself with you.

On the other hand, I think the smell of incense is so nostalgic for him and brings him some peace. The smell of an old church, the comforting spicy smell of frankincense, cinnamon, rosemary. Those sort of warm scents that help him clear his head to pray before bed. The smell of old books too, brings him comfort.

now some fun little thoughts (:<

♡I think Kurt appreciates art very much, specifically the baroque era, and some post impressionist/expressionist art. He likes to feel things while he examines them. I think in particular he'd enjoy Klimts 'The Kiss' for it's vibrancy and romance, and Van Goghs 'Starry Night'. Obviously he's into religious art, it makes him emotional, but I also think he likes hopeful art, things that show the best parts of life. Its all part of his journey to be more grateful.

♡I think he's such a hopeless romantic loverboy, not in the way Gambit is with the flirting and the flaunting, but in an acts of service way. He's humble in the way he loves you, totally devoted and would do anything for you. You make him feel like he's enough and he can only hope to reciprocate.

♡Like I said, he's an acts of service sort of man. He'll do anything to lessen your burdens, help you handle tasks, draw you a bath after a long day, massage your shoulders while you talk about all the trouble the students gave you that day.

♡It translates to your sex life, he's a complete giver. Anything you want you can have, whenever you want it.

♡He bites, he can't help it. Sometimes he gets so into it, leaving bruising kisses down your throat, and then you move just the right way and he can't help but sink his fangs in just a little- he'll quickly lick away the pain when you yelp, whispering soft apologies.

♡Leaves hickeys and bites down your chest, sometimes your hips and the insides of your thighs. I think Kurt is pretty animalistic when you're having sex, his brain just switches and he has to mark you, rub against you until you smell like him, your lips taste like him.

♡He's secretly possessive, wouldn't admit if anyone asked him, but you can definitely tell. The way he sleeps with his tail wrapped around your leg or arm, always touching you and stirring every time you do.