#all the men are queer. they are. i love how comfortable they are with each other. and RAJAN IS A GODDAMN KING. ID DIE FOR THAT MAN

[s0fter-sin]

sometimes i think about how wild a mw2 movie would be if they just dropped soapghost right in the middle with no warning or marketing. like imagine it being beat for beat the exact same, it’s your typical military action movie, promoted as just another military action movie then after they get to the safe house, ghost has to patch up soap and he’s still out of it, overwhelmed by the betrayal and everything he’s seen and ghost needs to ground him and keep him in the present, to remind him that he’s alive and safe so he kisses him and they have sex. the tantrums and the rants and the “ReAl sOLdiErS aRen’t liKe ThAt”, god i can taste it and it’s delicious

[coolauntlilith]

So I finally watched Sense8. I regret not watching it sooner for a couple reasons. But I'm so glad I finally watched it.

[blazinghotfoggynights]

Can Team Tuck and Team Buddie please agree that both can exist and serve as positive spaces for queer male representation?

I've been thinking. Let me run something by you.

Oliver says he has always felt Buck was a bi-coded character? Right?

Does that mean when TK thought Buck was hitting on him, he was?

If Buck was always bi, but just didn't know it, are we supposed to believe he never flirted with Eddie just because his first kiss was with Tommy?

Was Tommy his bi awakening or was Tommy the embodiment of the attractive traits he has seen in a man he's been falling for over five seasons?

You can like or even love multiple people. Even at the same time! 😮

Believing that Buddie is or should be the endgame does not negate or disrespect Buck's arc with Tommy in any way. I question if Tommy was just a convenient character. He's a safe guy to explore Buck's evolution with. He has a history with members of the 118, but he is not integral to the cast. If it doesn't work out, he is easily explained away. Remember Natalia?

I think it is possible to have a Buck and Tommy centered arc, focused on Buck becoming comfortable with his sexuality and exploring it in a healthy, positive way and still have Buck and Eddie eventually realize they have been each other's person for years. Having both doesn't make the other any less important. How many people have dated others when their eventual life partner was right there? They had no idea they saw that person in that way.

Now that we know Buck is bi, it could lead to different interpretations of scenes:

Buck is looking at Eddie. Tommy is not there and we don't know for sure who Eddie was speaking to.

2. Look at that smile and his eyes at the end. Buck positively beams and bats his eyes when he realizes Eddie is going to look at him. That's how platonic friends look at each other?

3. But we can take it all the way back if we have to. Look at Buck when Eddie compliments him.

3b. Do you know what that reminds me of?

4. If Buck has subconciously been into guys for a long time, then this scene takes on a whole new context.

Moving closer to the other man? Check.

Eye contact? Check?

Smile and shy head duck? Check.

*I'd like to state that I have no doubt Edmundo Diaz knew Buck was into him. Look at the reaction.

5. When I'm into someone, you know what I don't talk about? Someone else.

6. Wow. Look at how Buck looks at Tommy.

6b. We have never seen that before have we?

Buck x Tommy and Buck x Eddie can coexist in harmony. Life stories are long and have jumpscares, plot twists, plot holes, etc.

Buck being genuinely attracted to Tommy doesn't mean that all the scenes from the past five seasons that made us all side-eye Evan Buckley didn't happen.

If we never get Buddie, let's just take the win. ABC said, "There are queer men in the world who are masculine, hot, and relatively stable. Let's show that."

Do we really need to talk about how the LGBTQ community was represented on their former network? I could stand on that soapbox and go off for days. Let's just say I know others who also felt some way about it, whether they were straight, queer, or allies.

I am just going to enjoy what is shaping up to be an amazing season. Moving to ABC breathed new life into 911 and I am excited. (Season six? Can we just not talk about it?)

[genderqueerdykes]

i love you so much i love the way u talk abt trans men and our struggles i makes me feel so seen especially bc youre older than me, i want to be understood , keep posting please

THANK YOU !!

i appreciate that. i feel like nobody (aside from some very cool bloggers on here) is advocating for trans men anymore. like unless its a trans man talking about these issues, it just doesn't happen. nobody advocates on our behalf for the most part. everyone just leaves us to the weeds. we have to help each other because most people just don't even understand what trans men and mascs want. like it's absolutely positively insanity inducing

when i was in college, at my pride group, there were just. no conversations about trans men. at all. in fact. at the time i was beginning to realize i was a trans man but i couldn't find support or acknowledgement of transmasculinity anywhere. whenever i would participate in the conferences, and large group meetings for LGBTQ communities in our part of the country... I was forced into queer women's groups. i did not identify as a woman or bigender at that time. i asked them where a female-to-male genderqueer person should go, and they put me in every queer women's group. i was not being considered trans. i was being viewed as a cis butch lesbian.

i was fucking pissed.

i learned the word transgender and what it meant and the example that was given was male to female, which was informative. i heard a lot of things about feminine transition, drag queens, cis gay male culture, bisexuality, pansexuality, and even asexuality. i want you to know that my college's pride group in 2011 - 2012 was more accepting of asexual people than trans men, which is insane for that time frame. i was actually allowed to help with a presentation on asexuality

i had to go online and research trans men, though. there were none to be found in the group that were at least out and able to talk to each other. we were all very stealth and nervous. my long term friends there ended up being gay men, lesbians, and a transfem agender person. i never met a single trans man there. it was heartbreaking.

i am tired of participating in transmasculine silence. i will not participate in self-erasure. trans men are trans. we're men. we're mascs. we NEED support, community, and care. we need to learn how to access transition resources, to comfort each other, to laugh with each other, to help each other find what clothes make us feel like ourselves, to say each other's names and pronouns, to see one's self in the other.

we need people who will protect us from misgendering. we need to be able to talk about our unique issues. we need to be able to talk about how yes, we experience misogyny, but also that transandrophobia is literally a thing. we need people who will stand up for femme trans men and gay trans men. we need people who understand that it's not okay to call every single trans man a confused butch lesbian and assume that they're a queer cis woman. trans men can be butch lesbians and that's okay. but you can't rip away a trans man's manhood for the sake of being a catty asshole. it's misgendering. it's transphobia. care about being transphobic. transphobia hurts all trans people no matter where it's directed. we all lose when you opt to deny trans men and mascs the right to community.

i am transmasculine. i am a trans man. i love being a trans man. i'm not ashamed. i'm not going back in the closet. i love my transmasculine brothers and siblings. i will not silence them. silencing them is a disservice to us all. i refuse to do that to us.

thank you for sending this ask. stay safe, take care of yourself, you're an important part of the LGBTQ community, don't let anyone take that from you.

[hadesoftheladies]

actually, I DID have gender dysphoria as a teenage girl without being exposed to anything about it on the internet, on top of "racial dysphoria" and body dysmorphia

there were points I DID want to kill myself because i wasn't, or bleach my skin or change my body, i would have done anything to be a white boy at one point

which is both sad and funny to me because i remember two of my then good friends explain being enby and transgender to me and me being like "that doesn't make any sense" and it's because of trans-discourse we eventually broke up. the closest i ever got to accepting trans-ideology was transmedicalism with weak support for "queer" culture. i did not understand pronouns, but i understood dysphoria. but i did not understand how one could be a man or woman without the sex characteristics.

how did i heal?

one, i left church. that was one of the places i was most scrutinized for my physical body. two, i distanced from my parents, especially my mom. who often made my ocd and body-image worse (not because she was mean, but because she was always fretting about "decency"). three, i focused on bettering my personal space. writing, reading, watching my comfort shows, getting the focus off me. four, i started eating better, and my body became less burdensome. i stopped getting horrible period pain. five, i surrounded myself with self-confident women and stopped trying to resurrect toxic friendships with girls and boys (especially boys). started eliminating each toxic friend and focusing my efforts on healthier relationships. six, i'd started educating myself on my own history, watching and listening to more black and African people. even when i didn't enjoy what they made or resonate with it, i found i appreciated the experience and could allow myself to hate or love whatever i found.

by the time i discovered radical feminism, this was like, the final step for me: consuming women-centric literature and media. this was HUGE. i'd see paintings and photography of women in all shapes, colors and sizes. i'd listen to master musicians, read women philosophers, anthropologists, etc. this started mending a lot of what caused initial disquiet when it came to my dysphoria or dysmorphia.

basically, i took myself out of bad environments (especially those which force you to scrutinize every detail about yourself, like social media, i took long breaks from that), drew boundaries with people i couldn't get rid of, learned about myself (ocd, dyscalculia, anxiety, female biology) so that i developed understanding and could empathize, stopped centering men and white people.

now, while there's still a hint or trace of dysmorphia and dysphoria, it doesn't plague my life. it's like the occasional itch. more of a mild temptation to go down a dark hole than an actual threat. and i've learned how to handle those.

i learned the root of things. not just my history, but the root of how society worked and how it affected me. and i'm still learning, and my life is still improving.

so yeah, girls and women going through this is normal and common. anyone who is used to who they are being shameful is more at risk (like gnc lgb kids), but you can recover. usually better if you get out of the places that are making you sick.

[menlove]

one thing that adds to credibility of Paul being closeted imo, is that often he is thought of as having this internalised homophobia, if not homophobia itself, because he always mentions how un-gay he is whenever some gay subject comes up in interviews

but like, there are so many things that disprove him being homophobic, it's not even funny. going to Paris alone with gay men? Paul did that two times (three if we count John lol) and that Peter Brown story is incrediblyy suspect. what homophobic man, scared of gay, sits on the bed of his male employee and his male fling that casually late at night in his hotel room and chats them up?

most likely reason, combined with his incredibly suspect lyrics, is that he is so defensive about his sexuality because he has something to hide

THATS WHAT IIIIIM SAYING!!!! like he is so comfortable w gay people and gay culture which on its own isn't suspect but it Is when people insist he's homophobic as a Reason He's Repressed Not Closeted. and once again I must remind everyone that john nearly beat a man to death for calling him gay and was still undeniably queer.

it's just like. imagine for a moment. with me. everyone hold my hand. not claiming this is true but walk w me along this path to get to current paul that isn't "he's just repressed and stupid and doesn't even know he's bi" but is instead MY speculative timeline (somehow this turned into a mini fic or something god help me but I'M SO SERIOUS IM SO SERIOUS THIS WOULD MAKE THE MOST SENSE TO ME WALK WITH ME HOLD MY HAND)

you are born in the 1940s. you are raised by a strict man who was physically abusive & in a culture that hates gay people. you grow up watching people get killed for being queer and being bullied over your feminine features that people think make you queer. you hit puberty and Shit Gets Harder because you start finding other men hot. elvis, for one! when you're 15 you start seeing a boy around that you think is hot and it turns out he's in a band and you fall in love with his looks and his voice and then him. and he's just as insane about you. you start doing increasingly sexual things together. eventually, you're having a full blown sexual affair. while writing love songs together and growing up together. and then he gets his girlfriend pregnant. and marries her. and you lose him, a little bit. he goes off and has an affair with your gay manager & when he gets home he ruins your birthday party by nearly beating a man to death for bringing it up. you wonder what he'd do if anyone found out about the two of you too.

and then the insane happens and you end up The Most Famous Band In The World. the ENTIRE world is watching your every move. the entire world loves you. they wouldn't love you if they knew. you get a girlfriend and it's convenient because she's always gone and you're always alone. but you still have him. and other girls. through everything, you have each other. even when he says something stupid and the world wants all of your heads on a platter and he starts to fall into a depression, you still have each other. even if now you Know how bad it could be if they ever found out. and then your manager, your father figure, an openly gay man, dies. and it's not a suicide, but a lot of people think it is, and sometimes you wonder, and fuck it's terrifying, isn't it? the reality of your life, the reality of loving Him, the reality of being queer. what if that winds up being You? you start to lose Him a little bit more as you throw yourself into your work and push everyone way too hard. you propose to your girlfriend. and then you do lose Him. to a woman. which was sort of unthinkable because he was already married and never cared about her, just you. never cared about any women, just you. but he cares about Her. and you fucking lose your mind. lose yourself in drugs. blow up your engagement. propose to another girl and many more "jokingly". your one girlfriend says you had to try again or you would have gone "raving queer" and killed yourself. the whole time you're losing Him more and more. suddenly he's looking at Her like he used to look at you. you're no longer his world and what the fuck do you have? a bunch of girls you don't care about and a drug problem? and then you meet a woman who, according to you, is more woman than anyone else. she's a mother already, a family ready made when you've always wanted one. she's smart and she's funny and she's quick and you let yourself cling to her because you don't have Him and he has Her so you've got to have someone, don't you? and she winds up pregnant and that's great, that's wonderful, you're no longer in danger of dying alone and queer and sad. you've lost Him by now completely, even though you have about a month where things feel a little less awful again and you perform together one last time. you marry her and you ASK people, flat out, if they expected you to be a 26 year old unmarried queer. you fight the night before you're married for some unknown reason, so badly she almost leaves you. and then He marries Her, and everything is fine. and then it all falls apart completely. you at least had Him as your friend, your writing partner, the other half of you legally. and then he asks for a divorce. and the world ends. you don't have the band, you don't have Him, you don't have anything. you stay in bed all day, drinking, miserable. like a breakup, not just of the band.

eventually, your wife pulls you out of it. you survive. you start writing again. you write to him. you put two beetles fucking on the cover of your second album and he thinks a song you wrote about your wife's ex is about him (and maybe it is, a little) and he shoots right back. and you keep that up for a decade. writing to each other. seeing each other only in the news and in snatched moments together where nothing is the same as it was. you plead with him through your music: why do you hurt me so bad? call me, pretty baby. I'm waking up screaming over you. I can't tell you how I feel. you try and make things like they were, even a little, showing up to his house with your guitar like you're 15 again, but he sends you away. in all that time, he's basically gone to conversion therapy. he's with someone who makes disparaging remarks about his sexuality. for you, you've let yourself embrace being a bit campy, but you still can't bring yourself to be open about any of it. not with anyone but your wife.

and then you start talking again. you make up. things seem hopeful. it seems like he might still love you and he writes you a song about starting over with you. and then he's murdered. and it's senseless. it's so so senseless. and it's unfair. you lock yourself away for days listening to that song he wrote you. the media tears you apart for grieving wrong. they wish you died instead. they think you're cold. you never loved him, not like he loved you. you write a song, with tear marks on the page, telling him how much you DID love him. all the things you'd say to him if he were there with you. you write more songs about that, all centered around that theme. some of them you say are about him. others you don't. once, you say if anyone catches on you can just deny it. but he wrote you love songs too, apparently, for you, and you eventually record them with your old band

and the thing is, You are one of his widows. his name follows yours every time it leaves someone's mouth. he's all anyone ever talks about with you. he's all you want to talk about too. his legacy is your legacy. he's no longer here to tell people about his sexuality, he's no longer here to consent to everything that you were being told. he's not here. and how can you even begin to mention Your Own sexuality without bringing him up? you owe him more than outing him in death. you owe Her more than that too, because you were already cruel to her and so was the world. she's grieving just like you, you can't do that. your wife dies, and now you're her legacy too and you being queer would seem like a betrayal to her. your best friend dies, and now he's your legacy too. you aren't just you- you're Him, you're 1/2 of the living members of the most famous band to ever exist, you're Her, you're your dead wife

so when someone asks you about him. when someone asks you about being gay or calls him the love of your life. What Exactly Are You Supposed To Say?

I wouldn't say shit either

[dykeomania]

lovergirl!hazel headcanons

｡.｡ just some evidence of a love that transcends hunger, tbh.

a/n: i needed a break from writing a fic and wanted to write something sappy. this is the something sappy in question. wanted it to give how-you-become-hazel's-lover -> what she does when you're actually her lover vibe but it just got real mushy. i like it. i hope you like it, too. proofread, but i'm blind as fuck + i'm rusty, so.

tags: gender neutral (i think. i may have fucked up once or twice. please correct me if i did, i proofread fr fr over time. not intended for cis men), body neutral, and poc friendly. some niche reader things (tarot mention, reader wears makeup). mild nsfw -- kissing, making out, heavy petting. almost third base. starts in high school, ends in college.

practice fanfic etiquette. please don't plagiarize or repost my stuff.

ღ*♡∞:｡.｡ hazel callahan who sits up straight on the edge of your bathtub and looks up at you in complete awe when you're getting ready. she's got the dumbest, most lovesick puppy look in her eyes as she watches her lover line her lips, and apply a sheer coat of gloss on top. when they turn around to ask if it's even, hazel smiles so wide that it makes the apples of her cheeks sore.

she doesn't really know if it looks okay, she just knows that she wants to kiss you.

she only manages an mhm because it's what you want from her and, well.. at this point, hazel's convinced that she'd drop just about everything to give whatever you want.

you snicker, closing the space between you in slow and steady strides. "what are you looking at, huh?" you teases, grin stretched across lips lined nude, gleaming pink.

"mmm..." hazel can't help but like, drunklenly (she's dead sober).. haphazardly loop you in by the belt loop, head tilting easily to the right. "yyyyyou."

her eyes droop as she falls victim to the familiar spell that you cast over her. one that starts with you taking her face in her hands, and bringing yourself close enough for to take in all at once. she's made dizzy by the smell of your conditioner, made defenseless by the familiar trace of your body wash radiating off of your skin.

"what're you looking at me for?" you grin, your hands hot on her cheeks as you stand between her legs.

"why wouldn't i wanna look at you?" hazel gently manages, hand finding comfortable purchase on your hips. she grips gently with admiration, fingertips pressing into sacred flesh of something, someone, who she couldn't believe is hers. "you're just so pretty."

but let's take a few steps back first,

ღ*♡∞:｡.｡ hazel callahan who meets you purely by coincidence. you don't go to fight club, and you don't do cheer. you don't have any classes together, you hardly even know of each other. you do, however, have to work concessions for football together one night.

ღ*♡∞:｡.｡ hazel callahan who doesn't talk much, and honestly standing next to you feels kinda stupid with the bruise that she has on her cheek. she usually never really cares and she's usually super talkative -- she doesn't talk much because well.. she doesn't really know.. how to. how to talk to pretty people -- well, it's not like she finds you pretty, it's just.. anyways,

ღ*♡∞:｡.｡ hazel callahan who makes some dumb joke about athletes and you kind of snort.. and she's immediately charmed. hazel callahan who has a desire to keep you entertained, and continues to do so throughout the remainder of the game.

ღ*♡∞:｡.｡ hazel callahan who actually is in your class, but, neither of you just really noticed. hazel callahan who sits next to you in the weeks following. who spends her free periods with you. who eats lunch with you. who eventually gets around to telling you about fight club, over turkey and rye sandwiches.

"so you just, like..." you take a break from chewing, tonguing some bread out of your back molar. "punch the shit out of each other, and it's school-sponsored?"

"...well, yeah. but in like a self-defense, queer way. bring people together, create some solidarity. a safe-space on campus for queer community, kind of thing."

"oh okay, so like, in a slay way," you revise.

hazel stares. scoffing out a gentle laugh. "uh... yeah.." hazel furrows her brows, shaking her head. "um.. what does that.. what does that, like, mean?"

ღ*♡∞:｡.｡ hazel callahan who becomes your best friend.

ღ*♡∞:｡.｡ hazel callahan who really likes you. like, as a person.

ღ*♡∞:｡.｡ hazel callahan who likes you maybe a little bit too much.

ღ*♡∞:｡.｡ hazel callahan who doesn't know how to embroider, so when you embroidered her converse -- creating a wreath of vines, speckled with bright little flowers around the all star symbol -- she was so happy. but she felt so bad because she didn't know how to repay you.

"let me make it up to you?" she insists, fingers playing with your own, but not creating enough distraction to prevent you from protesting.

"what?" you scoff, subconsciously locking her hands with yours, as though you're about to declare a thumb war. "no, how?"

"i don't know! this is so nice, let me like..." hazel shrugs voice dropping timidly, "..take you out or something."

a beat passes, one that feels like forever. a large enough one to create space for all the butterflies to rumble around both of your stomachs, and for the elephant to pass through the room. hazel can't tell if it's your hand that's begun to sweat in your grasp, or if it's hers.

your eyes narrow at her, grin stretched into something cheshire as you shake your hand, and hers. "i think you just wanna take me out on a date."

hazel smiles sheepishly, cheeks flushing a bright flamingo. she shrugs, next words quiet and intentional,

"so what if i do?"

ღ*♡∞:｡.｡ hazel callahan doesn't know how to embroider but she does have an eye for wildflowers. when the girl who shows up at your doorstep, it's with a dorky smile, a batch of spring, and a bandaid wrapped around her index finger and her thumb. the flowers that she biked about an hour north to pluck -- from a field she discovered after having simply gone too far -- are bunched together and wrapped in a trader joe's paper bag, the kind that her mom always leaves in the kitchen under the sink. she put the boquet together herself. spent too much time thinking about whether or not you would like the arrangement or the colors, probably went to the store to grab a few of your favorite flowers that she couldn't find.

"oh, these are for you. see, i tried to make this whole thing, like.. semi.. transactional. again, like, i don't really know how to embroider flowers, or like anything really, so... these were next best thing, i guess." she offers, as though it's nothing.

"you look.. really nice." hazel's eyes linger, stricken and dumb. she fills her lungs with air, huffing out her next sentence. "are yoooouuu.. ready to go?"

ღ*♡∞:｡.｡ hazel callahan who thinks that star signs mean nothing, and doesn't know jackshit about crystals or anything of the like. but hazel callahan who is all eyes and ears, criss-cross-apple-sauce with you on her floor, as she watches you knock your knuckles on a deck of tarot cards and shuffle through them for what you called a "semi unreliable, two-card reading."

hazel callahan who jumps a little when two cards fly out from the deck. who furrows her eyebrows when you turn the over. an the lovers and two of cups, both upright.

"what..." she snorts. "what does that mean?"

"um.." she watches you blush. "it means.." and she blushes when your eyes linger on hers, and then look up. feels her stomach flutter when she watches you take a deep breath in through your nose, like you're shuffling through all of the words in your head.

"...let's just saaaaayyyy... nnnew connections might be coming your way, soon."

hazel has no fucking idea what that means, looking at you, she surely could hope that that's true.

...

ღ*♡∞:｡.｡ hazel callahan who is shocked that you want to like.. have a sleepover with her. this doesn't really happen to her. like at all. but it's happening with you, so she's down.. but it has to be planned. hazel callahan pulls out all the stops to try to make sure that it's.. well, perfect, she guesses? she makes sure that it's on a weekend where her mom is out of town (not even because she wants to do anything but you know how her mom is). she asks you what all of your favorite snacks are beforehand, and offers to go get more if you run out. she makes sure that you have satin pillowcases if you have textured hair, just in case you forget a bonnet, or anything. probably does that regardless of whether or not that's applicable to you, because she hears it's better for your skin and what not. she gets a weighted blanket for you and some extra pillows + takes out an extra throw if she knows that you get cold easily, or damn near strips her bed down to just one comforter and gets a desk fan to face her bed if she knows that you get too hot.

ღ*♡∞:｡.｡ hazel callahan who you create a shared movie list with, and who will sit with you and watch all of your favorite movies. all of your least favorite movies. will watch movies that you insist that she must see and will do so with very little fight because it's whatever you want, really. hazel callahan who is very quickly realizing that she would do whatever you wanted, as long as it meant that it got you to smile.

ღ*♡∞:｡.｡ (hazel callahan who, granted, talks through a lot of those fucking movies. like. hazel callahan who has a really fucking hard time paying attention to movies.)

ღ*♡∞:｡.｡ hazel callahan who clearly has overthought everything. who laughs at and understands all of your dumb jokes and is always a little shocked when you laugh at hers. who lets you rest your head on her shoulder when you watch movies in her home-theater. who lays with you in her bed and compares your tiktok for you page with hers and finds it a little too easy to poke fun of you. finds it not as easy to remain calm when your head rests comfortably on her chest, and thus hopes to god that all of the cringy tiktok audios are masking the sound of her heart beating out of her chest.

ღ*♡∞:｡.｡ hazel callahan who looks at you when you mention that it's getting late, and insists that there's a guest room if you wanna sleep in there, or an air mattress that she was supposed to blow up.

"it's too late for that, though." you frown.

"no," hazel, being hazel, is quick to reassure, shaking her head. "no, no, i could totally blow it up. we have an automated pump, it'll take like 20 minutes."

"mm, i don't know, it's still kinda late for all of that..."

hazel blinks at you. her eyebrows raise, corners of her lips gently upturning. "okay. i mean, do you wanna take the guest room?"

you look up at her, eyes big on purpose. "that guest room's kinda scary." you lift a brow. "it's dark. and cold."

hazel thinks she might.. be tripping. she has to be. her blink is slow, and her face knots together, and releases -- the way it does when she gets all timid and indecisive. "o..kay..." she grins nonetheless, furrowing her eyebrows. "so then .. where are you gonna sleep?"

"..i mean.." you burn, and so does she. "...i could just sleep here with you?"

ღ*♡∞:｡.｡ hazel callahan who can't help but feel girlish and vulnerable laying in her bed with you, her stomach tied in knots over how there is nothing usual about this situation. fully seeing you in your pajamas. feeling the gentle flesh of your bare calves rub against hers. being within such close proximity of you that she can still smell the lingering remnants of soap on your skin from your shower.

ღ*♡∞:｡.｡ hazel callahan who dares to let her finger dance on your upper bicep, but that's just about it, really.

ღ*♡∞:｡.｡ hazel callahan who only nudges closer only when you nudge closer. who only lowers her voice, when you lower your voice. who only holds eye contact when you start it, but is always the first to look away.

ღ*♡∞:｡.｡ hazel callahan who falls into a trap: eye contact held after some conversation that did not, and does not matter. she follows your eyes down, chocolate eyes focusing on the arch of your cupids bow. she does tilt her head up to find her nose nudging softly against the underside of yours. she doesn't know how you two got this close. hazel callahan who feels her hands grow sweaty, feeling your breath linger over her the chap of her lips. who nearly stiffens when she feels your hand press into her back, but instead arches into the crevice your body makes and presses her palm against your hip.

ღ*♡∞:｡.｡ hazel callahan who does what she thinks she's supposed to do, and kisses you -- soft and gentle, like the whispers that fluttered over both of your lips earlier. brief, and endearing.

her lips stick to yours, and then her lips press into yours. and then her lips open when yours do, and her hand tightens on you when yours does.

ღ*♡∞:｡.｡ hazel callahan who has no fucking idea what she's doing. like, seriously. she kind of knows -- i mean, okay, yeah, she knows how to kiss, but this is, like.. not just a kiss. hazel's kisses are brief. gentle, maybe a little slow. never this deep. hazel callahan who forgets herself when her fingers weave through your hair. hazel callahan who doesn't recognize the way her breath shakes in your throat when your fingers ambitiously sift through her thick, black locks and pull.

hazel callahan whose lips slot over yours, and unlock. who leans forward when you lean back, and is almost nearly on top of you.

ღ*♡∞:｡.｡ hazel callahan who doesn't know what to do with her hand, so she puts it everywhere. glides it over your side, presses it over the expanse of your lower back. who smooths her hand under your shirt and marvels in the way your skin burns against her palm. who itches to explore, traversing over your stomach, venturing up, up, and up--

ღ*♡∞:｡.｡ hazel callahan who stops dead in her tracks when you hum something sour in her mouth and grab her wrist. who looks at you stunned with parted lips as you softly shake your head against hers.

"not yet," you pant, opening your eyes to look at her. "not yet."

ღ*♡∞:｡.｡ hazel callahan who bats her lashes, dizzy with affection yet sobered from your action. she knows how you sound. not like you're rejecting her, but like you're admitting something, which you.. might be. something that she understands. regardless, she understands.

but she burns bright with embarrassment, stomach rattling with a guilt that crawls up her throat and wraps around it, tightening and tightening...

"yeah," she manages a whispers after a while. somehow, it's still raspy. "yeah, okay.."

"okay.."

"...m'sorry--"

"don't be," you shake your head. "keep kissing me."

you rush, and it's kind of just in time. whatever stinging was lingering in her chest subsides as you bring yourself closer, lips softly capturing her lower lip in affirmation after hazel just stares at you.

hazel callahan who blinks, oscillating between consciences, dazed and a little confused. she's cautious and readjusted, her hand only lingering over your side as she whispers a faint "are you sure..?"

the sentence dissolves when on the tip of hazel's tongue when her lips find yours again, at your action, which is her answer. hazel callahan who listens. who lets you take her hand and place it somewhere that feels more comfortable, somewhere that's right and yet still sensual.

ღ*♡∞:｡.｡ hazel callahan who is wiped, but intentional with every kiss that either you or her leads, every swipe of her lips over your jaw, every tender kiss that you let her place against the stretch of your neck.

ღ*♡∞:｡.｡ hazel callahan who will admire within her bounds. kissing you, and drowning in you until she is simply too sleepy to continue. until she is dizzy and feels comfortable enough to nuzzle her face somewhere into the crook of you, breathing you in until you become a part of her dreams,

and she will wake -- in the morning, and in the middle of the night -- only to have a hard time believing that she isn't still dreaming.

...

ღ*♡∞:｡.｡ hazel callahan who kind of has to get used to.. all of it. who crushes, even though she's already "achieved," so to speak. who grins at her phone when she's texted, who finds any excuse to facetime you and keep you on the line -- sometimes just so that she can look at you. who finds any excuse to be around you.

ღ*♡∞:｡.｡ hazel callahan who you can't get rid of once you go both go to college. who facetimes you whenever, who visits you on weekends. who comes into your space and steals all of your sweatshirts and your pajama pants and of course, all of your spare time.

ღ*♡∞:｡.｡ hazel "no, i can make that for you" callahan who can't embroider, but can crochet. she will buy you that jellycat that you really want, a hundred percent. hazel callahan will also greet you with a fucked up rendition of said stuffed animal that you wanted (giving jamdog, perhaps) and furrows her eyebrows when you have to hide your laugh with your hand.

"what?" she asks, grin dulling only for a moment. "do you not like it?"

"no it's--" you cover your mouth. "it's perfect." you cackle. when you cup her cheeks, all the worry and fear of judgement fades. sort of. at least enough. "you're perfect, babe. i love it."

ღ*♡∞:｡.｡ hazel callahan who does, in fact, keep a picture in her wallet of her lover, ready at all times. hazel callahan who weaves her lover into casual conversation.

ღ*♡∞:｡.｡ hazel callahan who still doesn't really understand figure of speech all that well so when you say things like "i wish you could just come over," she literally goes "..well like, i could,"

and then proceeds to make like, a three hour drive.

ღ*♡∞:｡.｡ hazel callahan who keeps the picture that you hate of yourself as her lockscreen and it's not to spite you, it's because she thinks you're beautiful, and she has no idea what you're talking about.

ღ*♡∞:｡.｡ hazel callahan who figures out what names you like to be called by throwing everything at a wall and seeing that sticks. pretty. handsome. lover. angel. baby. and when she does find one, one that makes you blush just about as hard as she does every time you even look in her direction, she holds it over your head to high heavens. makes it your contact name. uses it to punctuate reassuring sentences, when she greets you, when she tells you goodnight.

ღ*♡∞:｡.｡ hazel callahan who gets to take you on real dates, and gets excited to. who gets giddy when you get ready. who gets to fix your hair and come up behind you when you take mirror selfies once you're finished. who now feels comfortable enough to place her hands at the mid-point of your waist and let them venture toward your frontside while she rests her chin on your shoulder, and leans in to kiss your cheek. who tells you you smell nice, and makes you smile when she buries her face into some part of you and literally just goes rahhhh!!!!

ღ*♡∞:｡.｡ hazel callahan who is also stuck sometimes, in moment such as these, watching the wonder who she has had a crush on since high school -- jesus, has it really been that long? -- with gentle eyes and a completely disarmed disposition.

hazel callahan who is honestly such a fucking loser -- like, literally, loser-since-birth, no-hope-since-middle-school, gay-haircut-and-new-repotoire-can't-save-you, loser, and can't help but ponder and marvel over how someone like you is in her hands. in her face. in her life.

"m'not that pretty," you insist, fingers weaving through her hair, nails etching at hazel's scalp in a way that hazel has grown to like. love, even.

her eyes flicker over your face, smile lopsided and eyes heavy like despite everything, you don't even know the half of it. she scoffs, voice hardly above a whisper,

"yeah no, you are so much more than pretty."

[letters-to-lgbt-kids]

(Content “warning”, of sorts: unlike most of my posts, this isn’t intended as positivity or advice, it’s just a stream-of-consciousness piece of writing that I wanted to share) 

My dear lgbt+ kids, 

Every now and then, I receive a message like “Share this with your 5 favorite bloggers and ask them to share 5 fun facts about themselves” or get tagged in a post like “Share your favorite movie, song and book, and then tag your friends to do the same”. I read them, I smile and appreciate feeling included in those little games, and I log off without replying - and then I turn around and go „Oh, yeah, I guess I run a somewhat popular blog but people don’t really care about me, you know? I just, like, monologue to people about stuff and sometimes they read it but I as a person do not matter to anyone. I could be replaced by some robot and nobody would notice or even care.” 

As I’m typing this, I think that I could try to turn this into some general positivity and/or advice: on how people with a low self-esteem tend to dismiss signals that other people think highly of them, or on how small „meaningless“ connections like some random internet stranger just thinking of you while forwarding a chain message aren’t so small or meaningless at all, or maybe on how “lonely” can sometimes become a self-identity that stands in our way of connecting to others. 

Or I could talk about how part of the reason I just briefly smile at these messages but do not reply to them is the (re-) emergence of the queerphobic, false rhetoric that “queer adults are much more likely to be pedophiles, so all of them should be treated like suspects at all times“ (statistically not true, btw, but since when do people care about facts when they could just share inflammatory lies?) and all the ways it makes it hard to be a queer content creator with a young audience (and also to just be a queer human being at this point). And how even typing this makes me worry someone will twist all this into me asking minors for comfort and if maybe I should rephrase it, and now I’m thinking how this need to constantly self-censor ourselves fucks with our mental health and contributes to the loneliness epidemic among queer men. But this is getting too heavy and I’m running out of space in this letter. 

Yeah, I could write about any of these things now. I could monologue about it and someone would read it and they might even comment “good point OP” and I would read that and smile. And for a brief moment, we would connect. The same way two strangers connect when one lets the other cut in line at the supermarket and the other says thankyou and they never even look at each other and this small moment will be forgotten in no time but for a brief second it made the world a touch kinder, and it means nothing and it means everything. 

With all my love, 

Your Tumblr Dad 

[archangeldyke-all]

can you write something about amab ceo sev and her trans identity and story, i love ceo sev sm she has my whole heart

yeah lets do it!

quick disclaimer! i'm cis, so if there's any mistakes/missteps lmk and i will fix it asap!

men and minors dni

i imagine sevika as one of those people who's just always known who they are. not just in terms of queerness, but like, just opinions and taste and personality in general.

so i think when she was a kid, she likely knew she was trans, just like she knew she liked women. she might not have had the vocabulary to name it, or known that other people feel it, but she never questioned it about herself specifically.

i dont think she would've told anyone, though.

sevika's incredibly perceptive-- she would have known, even as a kid, how talking about the different feelings she was having could upset people, or get her in trouble.

she found the words for what she'd always known to be true about herself when she was an early teenager. sevika's a big reader, and she was one of those kids who wants to know how everything works: from machines to nature to politics to society-- she'd stumble across the complexities of gender identity earlier than most kids do.

but again, she didn't tell anyone. sevika's no stranger to how horrible people can be-- she didn't want to give anybody an extra reason to fuck with her. instead, she just kept to herself, finding comfort in reading as many books and articles on queerness and transness that she could get her hands on.

she understood early on what she was up against, being a trans, gay, brown/black woman in this society. but she never let it deter her.

the second she turned fifteen she got a job as a busser at a restaurant in her town. she saved every penny-- and she worked all the time. besides the occasional pack of gum and pair of socks, the only thing sevika ever bought in was a junker of a car from her neighbor-- only $500.

she repaired it on her own during her free time. (of which, there was hardly any.)

the second she turned eighteen, sevika packed up her belongings in the backseat of her car and left her hometown never to return. it was now that she could finally start living her truth.

with her saving she managed to get an apartment to lease for a few months while she scrambled for a job. for a while, she was bouncing from security job to security job, but then she managed to snag a stable position as a saleswoman.

with her new job she got benefits. a 401k and healthcare.

she started going to therapy at, like, 20. again-- sevika's incredibly self aware. she was laying in bed staring at the ceiling once night, and she just thought to herself 'huh, you know, i've kinda been through a lot. i'm kinda going through a lot. i should... probably go to therapy.' and then she just did.

it took her a few tries to find a good therapist, but then she met a four foot tall little old lady who looked like mrs. clause but cursed like a sailor. sevika fell in love the moment they met.

mrs. clause-- or dr. walsh-- was a no-nonsense, no-bullshit kind of lady. each time sevika would try to downplay her achievements or doubt herself, dr. walsh would throw a crumbled postit at her face and rant-encourage-remind sevika about her strength and bravery.

with dr. walsh's help, sevika started to see her future as something that could be... positive. she'd been so focused on escaping the past, she forgot she could look forward. but once she did-- she was exhilarated.

it was definetly an, 'oh, shit, i can do anything i fucking want' moment for her.

she knew that she had it in her to do it-- she'd proven it to herself time and time again-- now she just had to decide what she wanted to do.

it took her a while, a lot of research and soul searching, but by the time she was 22 she started to socially transition.

her hair'd always been long, but she finally treated herself to a visit to a salon-- getting it styled in the perfect slightly slanted bob she'd always wanted. she made a promise to herself in the parking lot that she'd never cut her own hair again, she was so fucking thrilled with the experience and the outcome. (her stylist was a huge gossip-- spent the entire time telling sevika about her sister's sex life. sevika had a blast)

she started treating herself to more clothes. custom tailored suits for the office-- blouses and button ups and fun silky ties for underneath.

(all the while, she was effortlessly climbing the ranks at work. despite the horrible office culture in a competitive environment like sales-- money talks. and sevika was outselling all her co-workers.)

she found the name 'sevika' one day completely randomly. she hadn't really given changing her name any thought until her eyes glanced over the name in contact screen of a stranger's phone-- but she couldn't get the sound of it out of her head.

at 25, sevika started to medically transition. with a lot of research, both on her and dr. walsh's end-- she started estrogen.

she was thrilled. she knew changes couldn't be seen on a day to day basis-- but she swore every day she woke up looking and feeling more and more like her.

always a gym rat-- sevika's muscular frame started to carry a little more curve.

she smiled for a full six hours the first time she noticed her ass jiggling in the full length mirrors at the gym as she did burpies.

sevika was no stranger to eyeliner having gone through a bit of an emo phase as a kid-- but beyond that she found the sensory feeling of makeup unbearable.

but when she found out that there was such a thing as tattoo-able makeup-- you bet your ass she made an appointment. it hurt like a bitch but it was worth it when she could have perfectly defined dark lips all throughout the day no matter how many coffee cups she sipped from or chicken burritos she sank her teeth into.

at work, sevika had worked her way up so high the ranks that nobody dared to give her shit anymore. and when they did-- she just fired them.

she spent her late 20s dating around. she had a few girlfriends and a lot of flings, but nothing ever really worked for her. it did give her a shit-ton of confidence though.

the more herself she became-- both in her body and in her job and in her bed-- the bigger and brighter her future seemed.

this isn't to say she never had shitty days. she had plenty. some she journaled about, some she cried about, some she boxed about, some she called dr. walsh about. the worst ones she drank about-- though as she was growing up the hangovers were making this one less tolerable.

people are assholes. dysphoria is a fucking asshole. sevika's boss was an asshole. but when she felt close to drowning-- when she felt the grief and sadness and the self-destructive urges creep up-- she just closed her eyes and thought of herself at fourteen-- cooking up a plan to get as far away from home as she could. she imagines herself meeting teenage-sev, telling her all the things she'd come to do, (and all the girls she'd come to do, if you know what i mean, wink wink, nudge nudge) and she imagines how fuckin' proud little emo-acne-riddled-brace-face sevika would be of her.

it works every time.

on her thirtieth birthday, she bought herself a breast augmentation. she loved her tits-- but she just wanted a little more. she wanted to have to wear a bra under her silky button ups, instead of it being optional. but once she got them done she was so fucking thrilled she didn't want to wear a bra under her button ups. (she did, of course, because wasn't trying to cause an hr nightmare at work.)

when dr. walsh died-- sevika was devastated. there were a few months there where she was in complete depression. she made no attempt to find a new therapist-- she took as much paid time off from work as she could, just to sit around her house alone.

but then one night-- sevika swears on her life-- dr. walsh visited her in a dream with a message

'you better get your shit together girl! don't let all my hard work go to waste!'

sevika woke up the next morning laughing and crying, and she was back at work the next day.

she found a new therapist, and she forced herself to make new friends, suddenly aware that the only person in the world who knew her had died.

she started hanging out with some of her more tolerable co-workers, and she was shocked to realize that most of them were... actually pretty cool.

she started taking herself out to dinner-- just her and a book-- just so she could spend more time with herself.

she made it a point to take a vacation once every six months.

and when the ceo of her company stepped down, she was riding on a high. she was feeling good about life, so she decided: fuck it.

and she applied for the open position.

and then she got the job.

and at thirty five, sevika finally felt like she was in her bright future-- not just working towards it.

the night before her first night on the job-- sevika's mind was racing.

there were so many changes she needed to make, so many ideas she had to implement in the company. not to mention the fact that she had to buy furniture for her new office, and find an assistant-- and a good assistant is really fucking hard to come by-- and was she sure she could really do this job in the first place? what if she made a mistake accepting it-- what if she can't handle it--

sevika cut her racing thoughts off, scrubbing her face. she took a second to breathe, then she conjured up little-sev in her mind to give her an update and get a pep talk.

who the fuck are you? little teenage sevika asked, huffing as she had to shove her headphones off her ears.

'i'm you, jackass.'

...woah. we look... hot...

'duh.'

how did that happen?

'moved away, worked hard, got lucky, got rich.' sevika says, watching her younger self's eyebrows rise.

shit... look at our tits!

'i know-- they're great, right?'

fuck yeah. well... whaddya want?

'wanted to tell you we just got promoted to ceo.'

...really?

'yeah. we start tomorrow.'

...us?

'yeah. we're like... kind of a big deal now.'

...woah.

'yeah woah.'

then, just as she's about to drift off to sleep, sevika's mind speaks again.

...soooo... have we met our wife yet?

taglist!

@fyeahnix @sapphicsgirl @half-of-a-gay @ellabslut @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner @shimtarofstupidity @love-sugarr @chuucanchuucan @222danielaa @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther @gr0ssz0mbi3 @ellsss @sevikaspillowprincess @leomatsuzaki @emiliabby

[alwaysonthemend]

Author’s Note: Happy Valentine’s Day! Here’s a little Josh fic for you all. Just as an aside, this fic follows the reader after she’s just gotten out of a past relationship that ended badly. I used gender neutral pronouns and words for her ex and Josh is also written as being queer in this fic. I wanted to make this as inclusive an experience as possible for my readers so that is why I chose to use gender neutral language for her ex-partner. And obviously, Josh has never given us a specific label for himself and so I didn’t want to assume anything about him by doing so myself but I do write that he’s had past relationships with both men and women – but I am in no way claiming to know his dating life or how he identifies. I hope you all enjoy and happy Valentine’s Day to each of you <3 

Warnings: Smut (p in v sex, unprotected sex), oral (f. receiving), fingering, pleasuredom!Josh, discussions of infidelity (past relationship - not between reader and Josh), slight panic attack (nothing major), feelings of body insecurity, parties, drinking. 18 Only. Minors DNI 

Word Count: 5k

♡︵‿♡︵‿♡‿︵♡‿︵♡

Fuck them was all you really had left to say. In all honesty… there wasn’t much to say at this point. You’d given them 3 years of your life – 3 years spent crafting a future around a person who, in the end, hadn’t cared enough to do the same for you. You’d been with them for 3 whole years, had spent hours and hours of time with them, loved them at their best and their worst, comforted them when they needed it, been their shoulder to cry on, celebrated their achievements, and loved them with your whole heart for those entire 3 years. And how had they repaid you in the end? By climbing into bed with someone else. A quick fuck with a stranger that they met at a bar was apparently worth more than the 3 years that you had spent loving them the way that you had. It’s crazy how even after all that time you can still find out that you hardly even knew a person at all. 

And now here you are the day before Valentine's Day eating ice cream and watching The Office reruns on your couch to try and keep from actually thinking about the hurt you have in your heart. You’ve cried all the tears you have and now you’re just left with a hollowness that you can’t seem to shake. There’s a hole in your heart where all that love for them used to be and now you’re stuck in this weird limbo between heartbroken and downright furious. 

Ping!You glance down to where your phone screen has lit up with a text message. You pick it up and immediately sigh at the message that waits for you. 

Danny 9:08 PM 

Please tell me you’re still going to come to the party tomorrow night 

You hadn’t been planning on it. You’d thought since the very moment that Josh had brought up the idea of a Valentine’s Day party that it was borderline ridiculous. But you had agreed to go simply because your partn- your ex had said that they wanted to go. But now that they weren’t in the picture anymore… the thought of going to a party where everyone is going to be hanging off the arms of their partners and, as Josh had put it, love is gonna be in the air! makes you want to scream. Hell no. Fuck no, even. 

You 9:09 PM 

Don’t think so. Not really in the Valentine’s Day mood to be honest. 

It takes hardly even a minute before Danny answers you back. 

Danny 9:10 PM 

Totally fair 

Danny 9:12 PM

There’s gonna be free booze tho… And you’ve gotta stop rotting away on your couch eventually

You pause for a moment before answering. He’s right to be completely honest. You’ve spent two weeks holed up in your apartment and wallowing in self-pity after your breakup. And honestly it’s starting to get a little old. But a Valentine’s Day party? You’re not sure that that is going to be the best break from your self-imposed lock down. But on the other hand… free booze does make the whole idea just a little bit more appealing. Plus, it’d be a great excuse to get dressed up and feel sexy for a night and have it be just for you and not for anyone else. And you haven’t actually gotten to see Danny and the rest of the guys a whole lot recently thanks to their busy schedules. 

You sigh once again before texting Danny back in defeat. 

You 9:15 PM 

Fine

♡︵‿♡︵‿♡‿︵♡‿︵♡

Any and all excitement that you had the night before is entirely gone by the time you step through the doorway of Josh’s incredibly color-coordinated home. You’d felt sexy in your outfit as you’d stepped out of your apartment but the loud music and even louder people make you want to turn heel and run in the opposite direction. But you’re here now so you figure you might as well enjoy the free booze. You’d taken an Uber tonight solely so that you can get as drunk as you want without having to worry about driving back to your apartment.

“Y/n!” 

Danny comes bounding over to you, crushing you in a hug that steals your breath away. You squeeze him back and giggle softly. 

“You smell like beer.” You scold him, wrinkling your nose in mock disgust. 

Danny smiles and nudges your shoulder with his. 

“And you don’t and that’s just not acceptable.” 

With a comforting hand placed on your upper back, Danny leads you through the crowd of people into Josh’s kitchen where an array of bottles and stacks of red solo cups await you on the counter. And amidst it all, pouring himself another drink, is the host of this over-the-top Valentine’s Day party. He grins at you as you and Danny enter and you can’t help but to smile back. 

“I didn’t think you were gonna make it out tonight!” Josh starts, throwing back a shot before turning his body to face the two of you fully. 

You shrug and jab your thumb towards Danny who laughs lightly. 

“I’m persuasive.” Is the only bit of explanation he gives. 

“And annoying.” You mutter playfully as you walk over to the counter to survey the various choices in alcohol that lay before you. “Watcha makin?” 

Josh’s attention drops back down to the drink that he’d been in the middle of pouring when you’d walked in. 

“Tequila Sunrise.” He holds up the glass for you to see and you’re impressed with how nice the drink looks. “I’m no bartender but…”

You shake your head, eyeing the beautifully balanced red and orange colors in the glass. 

“Nonsense. You know you’re good at mixing drinks. That looks great.”

A pink blush dusts the apples of his cheeks (the color of them making the white dots of his makeup stand out even more) and even the tips of his ears turn a shade darker at your compliment. 

“I think you should try a sip before you praise me too much.” He extends his hand and holds the glass out to you. “For you. And if it sucks… Jake is the one who told me how to make it so blame him.”

You take the glass and sip the drink, closing your eyes and humming at the taste. Josh is watching you intently and you wonder briefly if he’s always been so damn attractive.

“And if it’s really good?” You question, taking another sip. 

He puffs out his chest and grins. 

“Why then it’s all me, of course.”

You can only shake your head at him but a smile spreads across your lips despite yourself. 

“It’s really good, Josh. You have my stamp of approval.”

Your eyes meet Josh’s and those brown eyes of his glint with something that you can’t quite name before it’s gone in a flash. You drop your gaze to the drink in your hand and Josh looks towards Danny. 

“Daniel, care for a drink?”

– 

You’d spent the last hour or two milling about throughout the house, saying hi to friends and occasionally bumping into Josh who always smiles warmly at you in passing as he busies himself with being a cordial host. 

And you’d had perhaps one too many drinks and the room is starting to spin by the time you collapse onto a sofa to take a breather. Danny had stuck by your side for a while before his date had arrived, at which point you’d latched yourself onto Sam until he decided to leave early with a girl he met. You’d gone searching for Jake but he’d been nowhere to be found. Likely, he’s already gone home. He’s never one to stick around at social gatherings this big for too long. 

You try not to but your heart aches slightly that you’d been abandoned by Sam and Danny. You know that ‘abandoned’ is a strong word but… they knew you were freshly single and hurting. You had hoped that they would have been more willing to spend just a little extra time with you tonight. In fact, the longer you think about it, the more your hurt feelings begin to grow. You’re not angry with them. Not all. If you’re being honest with yourself, you envy them. They both had someone to spend the night with tonight. Jake, too. 

You glance around and suddenly all you can see is other people with their partners. Holding hands, laughing, touching, kissing. Your breathing picks up. Does everyone here but you have someone? It sure freaking feels like it. Maybe it’s the alcohol making you have such a strong reaction but you’re suddenly desperate to get out of here. You need to get out of this place. You stand, the abrupt movement causing your head to spin a bit but you ignore it in favor of trying to find an escape. As you make your way through the throng of people it’s like navigating through a sea made of nothing but smiles and kisses that aren’t for you. Your eyes scan frantically until at last… there! The door to the back porch. 

You push your way to it and open the door quickly and slam it shut behind you as you escape out onto Josh’s back porch. You pause there, bowing your head and taking a moment to try and steady your breathing. Your throat burns with unshed tears but you swallow them down – you refuse to shed any more tears over the person who treated you so horribly. You refuse to give them the satisfaction. 

“Y/n?” 

The sound of your name makes you jump and your eyes snap open to find Josh leaning against the bannister, his head turned back to look at you. 

“Hi.” You answer him, willing your voice to sound more composed than you feel. “I didn’t see you out here.” 

He smiles and beckons you over to him with a lazy wave.

“Just taking a break for a moment.” His voice carries a warmth that you hadn’t realized you needed as you come to lean on the bannister beside him. “You okay?” He keeps his face purposefully neutral but you can see the concern swirling in his eyes. 

“Yeah. Just got a little overwhelming in there.”

He nods, the motion making an errant curl settle onto his forehead. Your hand itches to reach up and swipe it back into place. 

“No Alex tonight?” 

It’s an innocent question but your ex’s name sends your heart breaking all over again. You’re not even sure why you’re still so upset. Clearly they didn’t love you the way you had loved them and you want to say that you’ve moved on but… 

“No. We’re not together anymore.” 

“Oh.” Josh breathes out, his features melting into a look of pure sympathy. It makes you want to cry even more. “I’m sorry.” 

You shrug.

“It’s okay, really. They fucked a stranger in our own bed so… I’d say it’s a good thing that we broke things off.”

Josh winces at the bitterness in your tone and looks like he wants to say something but doesn’t know what. 

“Honestly, I don’t even know why I’m still so upset. It’s not like I love them anymore. Not really.”  The alcohol in your systems seems to have loosened your tongue as you begin speaking again despite having no intentions of wanting to talk about them at all tonight. 

“Anyone would be upset, Y/n. Alex betrayed your trust. Regardless of how you feel about them now… it’s still painful. That’s normal.”

You huff. 

“It’s stupid. Stupid and tiring and-” You stop yourself and swallow thickly. “Sorry.” 

Josh smiles. It doesn’t reach his eyes all the way but it’s genuine. 

“Don’t be. Trust me, I know how you feel. Once that trust is broken… it’s like you’re afraid you’ll never get it back again. With anyone.” 

You turn to look at him but his face is pointed back out to the yard. As willing as Josh is to discuss matters like this with others, his own relationships he’s always been private about. He’s had a few relationships that you know of in the years that you’ve known him – some men, some women. You’d met only a handful of them in person but he’d never seemed to allow anyone in your little circle to actually get to know them other than Jake. You had no idea that maybe he’s gone through something similar. 

“Sometimes I just… It feels like I’m never going to find my person. And all this-” You gesture towards the door and the Valentine’s Day festivities that lay beyond it, “just didn’t really help at all. It feels like everyone has someone but me.”

A warm, steadying hand lands on your shoulder and you swear that a tingle runs up the length of your spine at the touch. Josh’s eyes glitter in the light of the night sky and the porch light casts shadows across his sharp jawline. And as you look at him, it feels like you’re seeing him, really seeing him for the first time. And he’s beautiful. 

“You’ll find your person, Y/n. I know you will. You’re too nice of a person to not.”

You can feel your cheeks grow hot. 

“Thank you, Josh. That means a lot.”

“Of course.” He grins, dropping his hand from your shoulder at last. “That’s what friends are for, right? Helping each other out when we’re down?”

For some reason, his words make you pause. You and Josh have been friends for so long and you’d only ever seen him as a friend. But now, standing next to him and thinking back to all the years of kindness and laughter that he’s given you… you’re struck suddenly with the thought that maybe you don’t just want to be friends with him. You’ve always been able to acknowledge that he’s attractive. And he makes you laugh like no one else can. Always there for you when you need a shoulder to cry on. Hell, he’s been one of the only constants in your ever-changing life. And he’s-

You shake your head at yourself. He’s just a friend. He’d just said so himself. 

“I wish more people were like you, Josh.” You find yourself saying softly. “You’re one of the good ones.”

He blushes – the apples of his cheeks flushing a dark red that reaches all the way down his neck too. Has he always blushed this much around you? First earlier when you’d complimented his drink making and now… Surely not. Right?

“You just have to be patient.” He tilts his head and grins, nudging your shoulder playfully with his. “And hey, if you can’t find someone else you can always give dating me a try.” 

You don’t mean to but you laugh, perhaps a little harder than you should have. The idea has your heart pounding in your chest and you desperately don’t want him to see how much the joke affected you. A desperate wish that bleeds into regret as you watch the light in his eyes dim ever so slightly as you laugh. 

You want to take it back. You want to tell him that maybe you’ve been blind this whole time and not seen what was right in front of you. But he only smiles tightly and straightens himself, popping his back and rolling his neck before beginning to turn away. 

“I suppose I should get back inside. I’m being a terrible host by hiding out here.” 

With that, he turns on his heel to begin walking back inside but his name explodes past your lips before you can stop it. 

“Yeah?” 

The hope in his voice makes your stomach drop. 

“I-” You don’t know. You don’t know what to say. You don’t even know if these feelings are real. Have they been here this whole time, hiding under the surface? Or did it take you getting heartbroken by someone else to see the kindness that he’s been offering for years? There’s so many questions swirling through your head and you can’t seem to even form a full thought. Defeatedly, you shake your head. “Never mind. I’ll see you later.”

Josh stares at you for a long, tense moment before nodding his head. 

“I’ll see you later, Y/n.” 

You turn away before you see him leave but the sound of the back door shutting makes you wince. Should you have told him how you feel? Hell, you don’t understand how you’re feeling so you don’t even know what you would have told him anyway. 

Regardless, you can’t shake the feeling that you’ve just made a mistake. You’ve spent years desperately wishing for true love. Dates with people had come and gone and Alex had just been the first person who seemed to want the same from a relationship as you. No one had expected you to date them. No one had expected the two of you to last as long as you did. And honestly? You hadn’t expected it either. Alex was… comfortable. Safe. 

You’d been so caught up, so desperate to find love… and maybe it’s been right in front of you all along. He has been right in front of you. And you just let him walk away. 

Frantically, you whirl around to go and find him but stop short at the sight of Josh shoving the door open and coming back outside. He looks frenzied but determined as he strides over to you. You’re frozen in place, but with each step that he takes you grow more and more certain about the warmth spreading through your chest. Yes, he really had been right here all along. 

Josh stops. He’s so close that you can feel the warmth of his breath. 

“Y/n.” His voice is soft – quiet but just as determined as his steps had been. “I couldn’t- I had to come back. I couldn’t not tell you.” He rambles, his dark eyes pinning you in place before him. “I know we’re just friends and- and I know that you don’t-” 

“Josh,” you interrupt, “I love you too.”

“What?” 

He’s utterly still, jaw dropped open and eyes gaping at you. If your heart wasn’t pounding so hard you think you might laugh at the sight of Josh Kiszka rendered speechless. 

“I said I love you too. I don’t know why I didn’t realize it before… but I do, Josh.” 

His mouth remains open for a long moment and you think for one brief, horrible second that you’ve made a mistake and he doesn’t feel the same. But then his lips spread into a wide smile that makes your heart melt. 

“You- you love me?” 

You nod. 

“And I’m sorry that I didn’t realize it sooner.” 

He huffs, the noise a mix between a sigh and a laugh before he takes a step even closer, his lips hovering just above yours. He pauses there, waiting. You give him a slight nod and then his lips are on yours – soft and pillowy and oh so warm against your own. With a soft whine, your hands find perchance on his shoulders while his palms settle on your cheeks, thumbs caressing your cheek bones. The heat of him is delicious and you use your grip on his shoulders to pull him in closer to you. He answers with a breathy moan into your mouth that sends liquid fire pooling between your legs.  

“Y/n.” Your name escapes him with a sigh, his lips parting from yours for a moment to breathe. “I’ve dreamed of this.” 

“Yeah?” You whisper, lips ghosting over his once again, just barely touching. “Just of kissing me?”

He catches his bottom lip between his teeth and shakes his head, curls bouncing. 

“Much more than that.” 

“Show me?” 

Josh answers you with a Cheshire grin and turns his head to look over his shoulder at the party still going on inside. 

“Think they’ll notice that I’m gone?”

“We can be quick.” 

He shakes his head and grins but laces his fingers with yours and begins to tug you towards the door. 

“No. We won’t.” 

“You can’t just leave.” You start to protest but Josh silences you with a grin. 

“They’ll take the hint and leave eventually. We’ll worry about cleaning up tomorrow.”

– 

You barely notice the people as Josh leads you through them and none of them seem to notice the two of you as you both slip up the stairs. It feels like a dream as he tugs you through the threshold of his bedroom, shutting the door behind you with a soft ‘click.’ 

“So many dreams and so little time.” He murmurs, hands finding your hips and guiding you backwards until the backs of your thighs hit the bed. 

Josh kisses you again before pulling back and letting the moment hold for a moment. You take in your surroundings. The soft, white bed sheets. The warm glow of the lamp in the corner and the smell of incense. The room screams Josh – cluttered but organized, comfy.  

“But enough time,” Josh continues, palms sweeping down your sides, “that we can do as much or as little as you want tonight.” 

Josh is selfless in everything else that he does and you can’t help but smile knowing that he's selfless in here too. 

“I want you.” Is all your brain can manage to come up with. 

But it does the trick given the way Josh’s eyes glitter with mischief as his fingers dance across your shoulders and hook underneath the straps of your dress. 

“Can I take this off?”

You nod and he slides the fabric down, letting it pool around your ankles and leaving your bra and panties on display for him. You’d gone with black lace and based on the groan that rumbles in his chest, it was the right choice. Before undressing you further, Josh tugs his own shirt up and over his head and tosses it haphazardly to the floor. His khakis are next and you exhale shakily as you take in his smooth, creamy skin. His body is lithe and toned, muscles defined but still slim. There’s something effortlessly graceful about his body and you reach out a hand to feel him, a palm settling on his pec and the other hand grabbing his waist and squeezing. 

“You’re beautiful, you know that?” His words come out husky and a little gruff and your core pulses. “Bra off then on the bed.” 

You comply, unhooking your bra and letting it fall to the floor before jumping up and scrambling backwards until your back hits the wall of plush pillows guarding the head board. He follows you, climbing onto the bed and settling onto his knees between your thighs. Chocolate eyes sweep up to yours, somehow filled with an almost innocence despite what the two of you are about to do. 

“Can I taste you, Y/n?” He pleas– and it is a plea. 

You want to nod. To let him use that pretty mouth on you for as long as he pleases. But years of insecurity – insecurity that’s only been made worse after recent events, bubbles to the surface. 

“I- I didn’t shave. You don’t have to.” You hate how weak your voice sounds. You hate that you feel like this. You hate how every single cell in your body wants to close your thighs and hide from him despite the love that you see swirling through his eyes. 

“I want to.” Josh answers, warm hands finding purchase on your thighs. “And I don’t care about whether or not you shaved, Y/n. It’s your body that you’re choosing to share with me.” His thumbs trace small, soothing circles into your skin. “But if you don’t feel comfortable that’s okay too.” 

You take a deep breath. You let all those insecurities that have welled up recently come to the forefront of your mind. You let yourself feel each one. And then you let them go. 

“Y-you can. You can taste me.”

Josh smiles softly, the weight of your trust not lost on him as he leans down and slides your panties down your legs. Already soaked, Josh hums at the sight. 

“Stunning.” He says, swiping a finger through your folds and earning a cry from between your lips. 

Hooking his arms beneath your thighs and dropping his body to lay against the mattress, Josh pulls your glistening center flush against him and sucks your clit into his mouth. He rolls his tongue around the swollen bud and your hips buck up to meet the feeling. 

“Oh fuck.” You whine, eyes shut tightly against the onslaught of pleasure. 

His tongue works over you effortlessly, switching between circling around your clit and slipping into your entrance. The sound is obscene. Your wetness coupled with the way Josh moans into your heat has the band of pleasure in your lower belly beginning to tighten already. It’s like he somehow knows exactly what you like the most – effortlessly coaxing you to the edge. He’s groaning into you, head thrashing from side to side and his own hips pushing down into the bed.

“Josh.” You warn, your body beginning to tense as the white hot pleasure keeps building. 

“Cum in my mouth, mama. I need it.” 

With one last lick of his tongue against you the wave breaks. With a loud cry, you let the pleasure overtake you and Josh keeps working you through it, making sure to give you the most pleasure he can as your orgasm works its way through you. 

Finally, he sits up and wipes his mouth against the back of his hand. 

“How was that?” 

It’s an innocent question but the cocky grin he’s sporting lets you know that he knows exactly how good it was. 

“Fuck.” Is all you manage to say and Josh giggles. 

“Eloquent.” 

Josh sits up and you can see his cock straining through the fabric of his boxers, his flushed tip trapped underneath the waistband. Even covered you can see that he’s big. You’d always known that he was – his jumpsuits leave little to the imagination. But seeing it like this, hard and leaking for you, makes your breath stutter in your chest. You reach out to feel him but he stops you, shaking his head and grinning. 

“Not done yet.” Is all he says before his fingers find your wet folds again. 

Slowly, he presses a finger in and you whine, legs falling apart wider as he curls the digit. He’s watching you intently, noting every shift of your hips and every change in expression as he explores your body, finding what makes you tick. His finger brushes against your sweet spot and you cry out his name. 

“Oh fuck, Josh. Right there.” 

He grins. 

“There it is.” 

He adds another finger, scissoring them to stretch you but making sure to brush that spot over and over again as he does so. You’re a whining mess beneath him, embarrassingly close to cumming again already. No one has ever paid attention like this – actually taking the time to learn your body and its responses in order to maximize your pleasure. Maybe it's that thought that has you about to reach climax again. 

“You gonna cum on my fingers, Y/n?”

You nod your head, unable to form words as he pumps his fingers in and out of you. 

“Yeah? I can feel you squeezing them, baby. You can cum, angel. Just let it go.”

Your body trembles and shakes all over as you cum and Josh moans in delight at the sight of you surrendering to pleasure, at the sight of the pleasure that he is giving you. This one lasts longer than the last and Josh works you through every second of it until you're panting and shying away from the touch as the oversensitivity hits you. 

“Good?” He murmurs, eyes practically black as they stare at you. 

“Very, very good.” You answer with a lazy, satiated smile. “Are you going to fuck me now?” 

Josh’s tongue darts out to wet his bottom lip and your eyes track the movement. You want him. You want him so bad it aches. 

“Only if you want me to. We don’t have to do anything else tonight.”

Of course he didn’t expect more from you. And you’re 100% certain that if you asked him to, he’d lay down and go to bed with you right now despite how hard his aching member must be. But you don’t want that. You want him. All of him. 

“I want you to, Josh. I need you to fuck me.”

A soft, delicate little whine escapes him. 

“Okay.” 

Wordlessly, he reaches over to his night stand and opens a drawer. His hand disappears inside it before reappearing with a condom in hand. He palms himself once with his right hand through his boxers before hooking his fingers in the waistband and tugging them down. 

You never knew that a cock could be so fucking pretty. 

He rips the foil with his teeth and rolls the latex over his length, hissing as he does so. 

You let your legs fall apart and beckon him to you. With dark eyes, Josh pumps his length in his hand once, twice, before he guides himself into your soaked entrance. He’s big, the stretch causing a delicious mix of pleasure bordering on pain. He moans as he bottoms out and your hands latch onto his shoulders and your fingertips dig into the muscle. 

“Fuck, you feel good.” You moan, already aching for him to move. 

“And you feel like satin, angel. So fuckin’ tight.”

Slowly, Josh pulls almost all the way out of you before sliding back in again. His arms come to rest on either side of your head, his weight resting on his forearms. With each snap of his hips you can’t help but moan. Every movement, every inch of him, sends sparks of pleasure through your entire body.  Sex with Alex had been rough – frenzied and almost mindless. But this? This is worship. 

“Don’t stop.” You beg, heels digging into his hips to keep him close. 

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” His voice sounds wrecked – cracked and broken with his own pleasure. 

“You’re so good.” You find yourself mumbling, eyes squeezing shut. “So fucking good, Josh.”

You can feel his length twitch and pulse inside of you as soon as the words leave your mouth. He likes knowing that he’s making you feel good. 

“Wanna make you cum, mama. Wanna make you feel good.” He whines, jaw dropping open and face contorting in pleasured agony. 

You nod your head frantically, tits bouncing as he picks up his pace. 

“Feels so good. Oh fuck!” Your own voice sounds foreign to you – high pitched and almost squeaky. You’re losing yourself in the pleasure, his cock hitting your sweet spot perfectly. 

“Please cum, baby. Cum on my cock. I need to feel it.”

His right hand slips into the heated space between your bodies and his finger finds your clit, ruthlessly swirling the pad of his finger in time with his thrusts. 

“Fuck I’m gonna cum, Josh. Please, please, please.”

“You don’t have to beg, baby.” He grits out, his pace beginning to falter as your walls clench mercilessly around him. “Gonna take care of you. Gonna get you there.”

It hardly takes a minute more before the band snaps. With a harsh scream, your orgasm rips through you. Stars explode behind your eyes and any thoughts that you had have been ripped from you. All you can focus on is the pleasure as Josh keeps fucking you through your high. The only words you can think of fall from your lips in a breathy whine. 

“I love you. I love you. I love you.”

Josh cries out harshly, his own body tensing as he finally lets himself reach his own climax. 

“Oh fuck, I’m cumming. Y/n.” His words are almost a growl, rumbling from deep within his chest as his orgasm hits him fully. “I love you too. Fuck, I love you so much.”

With one last thrust of his hips the two of you finally settle, Josh’s weight coming down to pin you to the mattress as you both come back to yourselves. He doesn’t pull out, allowing the intimacy of the moment to stretch on. 

“My God.” You mumble, your throat feeling raw from screaming. 

Josh leans down to capture your lips with his, his tongue exploring your mouth lazily for a moment before he draws back. 

“I love you, Y/n.”

“I love you too. I’m sorry I took so long.” 

“I would have waited even longer so long as I got to have you in the end.”

You pull him down to kiss him again. 

“You have me.”

♡︵‿♡︵‿♡‿︵♡‿︵♡

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[honey-minded-hivemind]

We’ve seen yans adopt reader, but what if reader takes initiative in getting themselves adopted?

Universal Cat Distribution System style.

(I envision this w/a reader who’s more of an animal/feral type mutant but this works with neutral readers too)

Seeing the heroes on TV or even in person whether witnessing an emergency or being actively saved, reader is probably in awe that mutants can be so cool and well loved (by each other at least, people in universe seem to hate them for some reason). They probably get in in their head “oh these guys could love me” and reader is right!

Reader, outside in the rain: hi I’m here to be adopted

Logan, who thought they were the delivery person but isn’t going to turn them away: what are your qualifications?

Reader: well for starters I bite-

Logan ‘I adopt rabid children’ Howlett: say less

n e ways, I love the “Hi, you’re my parent now” trope, especially when pets just decide your house is now theirs. love your content!!

Ahaha! I love it! This is how my cat was adopted! She was so loving and sweet and was a stray kitten we were feeding, and she would comfort we when I cried outside, so when it was raining and cold one day, I was told I could take them inside- so I did! And she is now my sweet bby princess kitty!

Yes, Logan would adopt any Reader who looked sad and pitiful and was partially feral or animalistic. He adopts any teen who needs help, he will fight anything or anyone for them, and will show them to Charles and be like "here's another X-Men, Chuck, now let's feed them and get them a bath-" and no one can say no, because they also fell in love with this teen who has slitted eyes and looks like soggy wet kitten and is fluffy too.

Reader, trying to get adopted: I was bullied for three years of elementary school, I have religious and emotional trauma, I once was emotionally and mentally abused/manipulated by an adult, I am probably queer and/or gender-noncomforming, and I like fluffy jackets and don't have a dad or possibly a mom or any parent at all, or at least not any good ones-

Logan: You're adopted

Reader: Oh, what decided it?

Logan: When I first saw you, but I wasn't leaving you after you mentioned the manipulative adult and the trauma, so, you're our kid now

Reader: All I need is two meals a day, a bath every other day, and somewhere to sleep!

Logan: ... You're getting more than that

Charles: Yes! A new child and X-Men! Welcome, my dear, what is your gift? 😊

Storm: Yes! A friend for my Evan and dearest Kurt and Kitty and Jean and Scott and Rogue! We shall feed you, and shall guide you!

Hank: We can finally give you a check-up! We've been watching you for quite some time now-

Logan, tackling Hank and slapping a hand over his mouth: That is not important! What matters is you're here! Now, let's get inside! We should introduce ourselves...

Reader, oblivious: 🥰💕💛

[happypotato48]

We Are: Fighting Toxic Masculinity With The Power Of Friendship

Wow, who would have thought that it We Are of all things that make me write this, i really need to expand my horizons.

I will mostly be talking about Phum and Toey in this post, on how i feel related to certain aspects of their characters that related to toxic masculinity and how that ties in to the overarching theme of this show, Friendships.

So i've mentioned before that the way Toey talks is very noticeable, let me elaborate that further. both the way Toey use his name as a first person pronoun and his mannerism are very childish but its not just that. becuse of toxic masculinity and societal norms in thailand it's more acceptable for women to talks like that and use childish pronouns than men. for an example the pronoun Nu. boys are expected to drops that when they reach certain age (some don't and continuing to use it exclusively with their parents especially their mothers, including your truly.) cause of that the way Toey talks also can be read as feminine + satang performance made him feels like a very visibly queer character to me.

And here i think We Are strength come in cause the show never break its bubble but alluded that Toey had been bullied in highschool. and it so heartwarming to me knowing that Phum and Fang stood up and protect him then, and now with this current friends group who never one even remotely mentioned or tease him in anyways and ready to protect and fight for Toey's happiness, its give me all the feels. Toey can be himself and never felt like he needs to change and conform to the standard of masculinity because he have men in his life whose said no you are perfect the way you are.

Now Phum oh my dear baby boy. as first i was not vibing at all with PhumPeem as main couple but after the slow burn of 11 episodes they had won me over wholeheartedly. first thing first though i don't know anyone mentioned this before but the word that got translate as "slave" is เบ๊ *Be which in this school context have more of a bullying vibe and feel less harsh than the word slave. anyways we learned that Phum had a lonely childhood abroad far aways from his family and how stuffed toys are his only comfort at the time. as the start of the show Phum because of his childhood had walls up around himself manifested as toxic asshole exterior. and i loved that it not just only because of Peem that those walls came down, the show made the point again and again by having Phum said that he loves spending time with Peem and his friends that being with them makes him feels at ease.

And that why i think this show is goodish (it still a bit trash but hey i love it anyway.) and not a show that has nothing to say because how much it give important to the friendships. the show clearly stated that friends are as important as lovers and through friendship us queer guys can protect and better ourselves with each other. that male friendships can be more then what the world told us to be.

These are the reasons why i think We Are is one of my favorite BLs this year. because the nature of it never breaking the bubble its, for one hour made me feel like i can breathe, that for one hour i don't have to think about queer truth that hurts sometime and live in this queer fantasy. and i appreciated that eminently when i have to leave that bubble and face the music.

tagging for reasons >.> @bengiyo

[leslie-lyman]

Election Night

A Euclidean Geometry drabble

Summary: Election night 2024 does not go as they’d hoped.

Pairing: modern!Pero Tovar x Frankie x Jack x nameless!OFC/f!reader (written in third person, reader is only referred to as she/her/their girl, with no physical descriptors)

Word count: 1.1k

Rating: G, just some election-related angst/hurt/comfort

a/n: Trying to work through my feelings about the 2024 election results. Would like to have three large Pedro boys comfort me. Had a breakdown. Wrote this.

Masterlist.

———

She hadn’t wanted to stop watching the results come in.

Not even after the swing states had started to fall, one by one, like red dominoes. But at some point the hands she’d pressed tightly over her mouth had begun to shake, tears spilling down her face, breath catching in her throat with each shallow inhale.

Frankie had finally turned off the tv, slipped her phone into his pocket, and carried her to bed. They’d pressed in tight against her as she sobbed, soaking the front of Jack’s tshirt as he held her against his chest, crying so hard she nearly made herself sick.

I don’t understand, she’d said, over and over. I don’t understand. This can’t be happening again. I can’t do it, I can’t face another four years of this…

In that moment the worst thing is how helpless they feel. The three of them are smart, strong, capable men, men who are trained to protect, to figure out how to get out of impossible situations. And if they could they’d burn the world down if anyone or anything caused their girl to hurt like this. But there’s nothing they can do to fix it.

She’s scared for herself, yes, but they know she’s far more worried about the three of them. The horizon of possibility stretches terrifyingly wide before them.

Pero has his green card, but will that matter? How careless and indiscriminate will the promised deportations be? At the end of the day, being a tan-skinned, Spanish-speaking immigrant may be more than enough to put a target on his back. Frankie and Jack are citizens, but neither has to branch out terribly far in their respective family trees to find relatives who are undocumented.

To say nothing of the fact that the four of them live together in a queer, polyamorous relationship. Where even now they have to be vigilant in public, wary of how obvious they are, always aware that simply being who they are out loud could result in unexpected attack. How much worse will it get? How much harm will be caused?

And as they do their best to soothe the woman they love, they know this reaction isn’t just about fear, or frustration, or anger.

It’s grief.

It feels like suffering through a death because that’s what it is. The death of a hope, of a dream, of what could have been and what should be if there was any justice or common sense or decency in the world. And even though this grief inwardly pummels them black and blue too, they know they will never truly feel it the way their girl does. The unique pain of women, who hope so much for so little, for even just the opportunity to be equal, and to be denied so resoundingly. To have gotten so close to a woman president and to have that chance ripped away by a man as odious as he is dangerous not once, but twice? It’s just cruel.

They do what they can for her, holding her close, letting her cry it out, murmuring soft words of reassurance.

It’ll be okay, sweetheart. Just let it out.

We’re here. We’ve got you. We’ve always got you.

I’m sorry, darlin’. I’m so sorry.

Tears roll down their cheeks and they try to muffle their sniffles for her sake, but the looks they share with each other are pained and haunted.

At last their girl quiets, having cried herself into a fitful doze. The clock on the bedside table reads 1:37am.

Jack, Pero, and Frankie all lie awake, ingrained military instincts refusing to let them sleep when they have something precious to keep watch over.

Jack breaks the silence.

I’ll call our lawyer later today, he half-whispers. Make sure we have all our paperwork in order. Wills, power of attorney, that sort of thing. So we’re as protected as possible, legally speakin’, should anything happen to one of us.

Frankie and Pero nod in silent agreement.

We should sit down with Robert soon, Frankie adds, mentioning their financial advisor. Reassess where we’re at, have a contingency plan in case we decide we need to move.

She’ll want to increase where and how much we donate, Jack adds, looking down at their girl with her head on his chest, one first curled into his shirt.

This is good. This is a plan. This is what they need.

We should go away for a bit. Pero’s voice is low and deep in the dark. Take some time somewhere remote, just the four of us.

I can think of a long weekend in January when I wouldn’t mind be disconnected from the rest of the world, Frankie quips humorlessly.

There’s an old Daniels family cabin in the U.P., near Mackinac, Jack says. Snow-covered trees, big roaring fireplace, little to no cell service…

Their girl shifts to blink sleepily up at him, just awake enough now to interject.

What about someplace warm, Jack?

Oh you’d be kept plenty warm, sugar. Don’t you worry about that.

He softly brushes her hair back from her tear-stained face, placing a delicate kiss to her forehead.

How are you feeling, querida?

She reaches for Pero’s hand to anchor herself before she answers him.

Sad. Scared. Angry.

That is how you should feel, Frankie murmurs, and the validation is strangely reassuring.

And tired, she says, tears starting to clog up her throat again. Fuck, I’m so damn tired. Tired of fighting, of resisting, of feeling like I’m screaming at the top of my lungs to have my and others’ basic humanity recognized by people too devoid of empathy to care. I’m so, so tired.

I know, querida, I know you are. And it seems overwhelming right now. But the alternative is giving up. And that is the only thing that truly feels impossible to do, no?

Her hand squeezes Pero’s as she nods, reluctantly conceding that he’s right.

But not at this moment, Frankie says. We should rest. There’s nothing else we can do at this moment.

Their girl turns to face him, making sure she’s still touching all three of them before closing her eyes and snuffling down into the pillow.

Should call our lawyer, she mumbles, starting to slip away into sleep again. And Robert…make sure we protect ourselves…as much as possible…

The three men share an amused look.

Those are great ideas, baby, Frankie praises her quietly, pulling a blanket up to her chin. We’ll do that.

And maybe…find a place to go…a beach somewhere?

Muffled chuckles break out around her.

Whatever you want, darlin’, says Jack.

It doesn’t matter where they go. And whatever happens next, they can face it, as long as they’re together.

[fungifanart]

Romantically Bankrupt

Characters: Male reader, Yuu!reader, Ruggie Bucchi

CW: Blood/fatal injury, death, heavy angst/whump, hurt/no comfort, angst with a sad ending

Word count: 2.8k

Notes: Happy Pride Month, my fellow queers! Sorry it took me so long to get this done, but I promise it's worth the wait! Also, props to you if you get the reference to a certain other Ruggie fic of mine! ( @lemonchuu / @leichor pspspspspsps) ( And @nemisisnemi pull up a chair)

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Ruggie genuinely can't remember a time when he's felt happier than he does now.

Living comfortably with a stable, high-paying job at the Sunset Savanna palace, thanks to Leona.

Being able to move his grandma into a nicer, safer part of the kingdom and work with government officials to slowly but surely close the gap between the rich and the poor.

And last, but not least: Doing this and so much more with his beloved husband by his side. The man who came to this world with nothing, but still rose from the title of Janitor to the Prefect of Ramshackle dorm and then eventually to the Headmaster of NRC itself.

Y/n.

His handsome, loving Y/n.

The man whom he's sworn his heart and soul to for the rest of their lives.

The man for whom he's used all of his built-up PTO to spend a whole week with starting today, their five year anniversary.

Ruggie flops down into a chair at the kitchen table after finally finishing making his and Y/n's anniversary dinner and waits patiently for his love's return.

Fifteen minutes later, Ruggie's ears perk up at the sound of footsteps approaching and then the front door to his and Y/n's shared living space opening.

"Ruggie, I'm home! Sorry I'm late, I had a phone call that--" Y/n's sentence ends abruptly as Ruggie runs up and surprises him with a tight hug while he's still in the doorway.

"Shihihi! Welcome home!" Ruggie exclaims while nuzzling his face into his husband's neck, "I'll forgive you for being late just this once, seeing as how it's our anniversary! Not to mention how I'd hate for the special dinner I made to go to waste!" He finishes lightheartedly while motioning towards the kitchen.

"Like I'd let that happen! But first, I got something for-" Y/n moves his hand from behind his back only to just realize that it's empty and looks back at Ruggie to see him happily sniffing the bouquet of rhododendrons, begonias and chrysanthemums he'd bought for him.

"Shihihi! You know old habits die hard!" Ruggie quips before placing a tender kiss on his husband's lips, "I love them, dear. Thank you so much."

This tender moment continues in the kitchen where the two men eat their dinner while discussing all manner of things, from how their days were to how their friends are keeping up to how Grim will do as Acting Headmaster while Y/n is away, until the food is finished and they fall into a comfortable silence. A silence which Ruggie breaks upon seeing Y/n begin to fidget nervously.

"Is something wrong, love?" Ruggie asks while placing his hand on the other man's in comfort.

"N-no! It's just that I got some amazing news earlier and it's getting harder and harder to contain myself!" He says with excitement rising up in his voice.

"Well, don't keep me waiting, then! Lay it on me!" Ruggie urges, his curiosity at it's peak.

"Ok ok! So do you remember that phone call I mentioned that made me late?" The other man begins before taking both of Ruggie's hands in his own with a big smile, "It was from the adoption agency! The papers were accepted!! We can adopt a child!!!"

All time seems to stop in the moment it takes Ruggie to process this information before resuming as his face breaks into the biggest smile he's worn all day and he reaches across the table to wrap his husband in a tight hug.

The two remain like this for several minutes, hugging and crying from happiness until they've calmed down enough to separate and look at each other with eyes full of love and adoration.

"I'm so happy that I get to adopt a child with you, Y/n!" Ruggie says elatedly.

"Me too, Ruggie!" The other man responds, "Now, all that's left to do is--"

"W......... ...p..."

Ruggie blinks for a second, unsure of what he'd just heard, "Uh, what was that last part, Y/n?"

"Huh? Well, I was just saying how we need to--"

"W...KE U..."

'There it is again. It sounds far away, but close at the same time...and what is it trying to tell me?' Ruggie thinks as he attempts to clear out his ears with his finger to hear better, "Sorry, my ears are acting weird suddenly, could you say that again?"

The confusion on Y/n's face is quickly accompanied by concern as he reaches forward to check Ruggie for a fever, "Dear, are you feeling alright? Maybe you should--"

"PLEASE, RUGGIE!!! WAKE UP!!!"

The hyena's surroundings begin to melt away into darkness as he hears the voice loud and clear, that of the real Y/n begging him to wake up from this apparent dream, the last thing he sees before doing so being dream Y/n's concerned face dissolving into the darkness.

Ruggie floats in the void of unconsciousness briefly before he feels a pair of hands shaking his shoulders frantically and his eyes flutter open to see the real Y/n's face looking back at him, contorted in desperation that turns into immense relief upon his awakening.

"Ruggie! Oh my god... oh my god. Thank goodness, you're okay!" The Prefect says while pulling the hyena into a tight hug with shaking hands.

"Y-yeah...sorry for worrying you! I'm okay now, though!" Ruggie says while shaking off the drowsiness caused by Malleus's spell and returning his boyfriend's hug.

Ruggie would've preferred that this nice moment go on for a bit longer, but it's instead ruined by the sound of a spell being launched at the two of them and the Prefect instinctively rolling them out of the way.

"Crap, I was so relieved that I almost forgot." The other man says while helping Ruggie stand up and staying close to him protectively, "We managed to severely weaken Malleus in the dream world, but he's not down just yet. Will you help us finish him off?"

And here Ruggie was just getting used to being awake again and suddenly he needs to fight. Typical.

"Shihihi, anything for you, Y/n!" Ruggie says while shaking off the last of the drowsiness, "And besides, I need to pay that guy back for teasing me with something that hasn't happened yet!"

And so, the fight continues as Ruggie and the others lob spell after spell at the weakened fae prince until Malleus's stamina is seeming to reach its limits, which his dormmates and the Prefect use as an opportunity to try to reason with him again.

"MALLEUS-SAMA, PLEASE YOU MUST UNDERSTAND--"

"Malleus, it hurts me too, but this isn't the way to--"

"Malleus, just give it up! This can't go on forever--"

"Lostie, please! This isn't who you are--"

"SILENCE!!!" Malleus yells in one last fit of rage that sends a barrage of thick and sharp thorn vines out in all directions, one of which speeds towards Ruggie faster than he can dodge.

Ruggie closes his eyes and braces for the feeling of the vine tearing into his flesh, when suddenly--

"RUGGIE!!!"

He instead feels a hand pushing him away, hears the Prefect’s voice calling his name in sheer desperation and opens his eyes just in time to see the thorn vine drive itself directly through the other man's stomach as he lets out a blood-curdling scream in pain.

Ruggie's vision turns red at this and the next moments go by in a blur until he comes out of it to the sight of an unconscious and now normal Malleus at his feet.

He has no time to wonder how that happened as he whips his head around to find where his boyfriend is and sees him collapsed on his back in a growing pool of blood with Grim crying his name next to him.

"Y/N!!! No no no no no no--" Ruggie says as he sprints over and slides on his knees to a halt next to him and holds him in his arms, uncaring to how much blood would get on him, "Y/N! Hey!! Talk to me!!! Grim! Go find Professor Crewel or Riddle or someone who can help!"

The direbeast sprints away as the Prefect stirs in Ruggie's arms.

"...*cough* R-Ruggie? You're alright?" He looks at Ruggie with barely focused eyes and coughs up blood on top of the blood already gushing from the gaping hole in his stomach.

"Forget about me! Why'd you do that?!" He practically screams as he shoves his scarf into the wound in a desperate, but vain attempt to stop the bleeding, all survival knowledge having left his brain due to panic.

"S-sorry...*cough* when I saw the vine coming at you, my body moved on its own. I just couldn't bear the thought of you getting hurt..." Y/n says with a small, pathetic smile.

"I-- That's-- Y-you shouldn't-- I-I'm not--" Ruggie tries to argue, to say ANYTHING, but, looking at the ever growing pool of blood around them and hearing the sound of the Prefect’s breathing becoming more labored, all words die in his throat and all he can do is look into his love's eyes while tears pool around his own.

Just as the tears begin to fall, the Prefect reaches up his hand to caress the hyena's cheek, which he takes in his own trembling grasp.

He's scared. So scared.

Ruggie's finally found something, someONE, that his childhood self could only dream of finding and now here he is, slowly but surely slipping away.

His spiraling is interrupted by the Prefect’s weakening voice, "R-Ruggie, there's actually-*cough* s-something I need to tell you in case I-*cough* don't make it..." He says as his words grow more forced.

Ruggie's eyes widen, "H-hey! Don't talk like that! Grim's gonna get Professor Crewel here and you'll be patched up in no--"

"Ruggie...please just listen..." The Prefect says in a weak tone that overpowers the rest of Ruggie's sentence, "If I don't make it, I want you-*cough* to go to my room-*huff* at Ramshackle. T-there's *huff* s-something in the very back of the drawer in my desk that I-*cough* want you to have, ok...?"

Ruggie nods nervously as his grip on his boyfriend's hand tightens, "S-sure, but that's only if you don't make it! Which you will! I mean it!" He says, unsure whether he's trying to convince the Prefect or himself.

"Y-yeah...of course..." The other man responds while turning his gaze straight upwards, "Hey...would you mind-*cough* telling me what you dreamt about...?"

Ruggie blushes in embarrassment thinking about it, "Uuhh...w-well...you and me, we were...uh...living together. I was working at the palace and you were the Headmaster here and...we were...really happy. I'd really like it if that could be our reality someday."

The Prefect continues to stare upwards as his eyes glisten with tears, "That-*cough* sounds wonderful...*huff*...I'd like that too." He rasps as Ruggie can see the tears threatening to spill over, "H-hey, Ruggie?"

"Yeah...?" The hyena responds.

"You k-know I love you, r-right?" He says with a weak, but geniune smile causing Ruggie's heart to skip a beat.

"O-of course! I love you too!" Ruggie responds plainly with no hint of sarcasm or false bravado, just the honest truth.

However, this one statement is what makes the Prefect's tears finally spill over, "Th-that-*sniff*-makes me-*cough* so happy to hear. I love you, Ruggie." The next part, he says in a barely audible whisper, "I wish I could’ve...*huff*...shown you how much..."

Time slows down to a crawl in this moment as Ruggie watches the love of his life close his eyes and feels his hand go limp in his grasp, seemingly at peace.

But not Ruggie.

Ruggie is anything but at peace.

All sound is cut off in this moment to the point that he can't even hear his own voice as he desperately calls out Y/n's name and shakes his shoulders, his heart pounding wildly in his chest.

He only stops upon being pushed away by someone he vaguely recognizes who tells him something he can't hear before putting their ear to the Prefect’s chest and trying all manner of tactics to resuscitate him.

But it's too late.

Ruggie had already guessed this, but the confirmation saps the color from the world around him as the person and a small animal still work feverishly for several minutes.

But it doesn't work.

The end of those several minutes of fruitless work is marked by the person placing their fur coat on top of the Prefect's body.

Ruggie goes fully numb at this, his brain barely registering anything about the world around him and even his own actions as he only realizes he's started walking away upon seeing the faces of people he's pretty sure he knows as they either are only just waking up or nursing their own injuries.

How lucky they are to walk away with their lives, unlike a certain someone. Unlike the one person who mattered.

Ignoring the questions of his peers, Ruggie exits Diasomnia and continues walking.

To where? He doesn't know or care anymore. It's not like Y/n will be there to greet him after all.

The minutes pass by in a blur as Ruggie walks until he finds himself at the gates to Ramshackle, 'Oh yeah, that thing Y/n wanted me to have.' He thinks numbly to himself before entering his boyfriend's dorm.

Walking into the Lounge, the hyena's mind clears enough to see the faces of the dorm's three ghostly residents in front of him who look ready to fire a barrage of questions, but settle on one upon seeing his expression.

"He didn't make it, did he?" The middle ghost asks, all three of their expressions turning crestfallen as Ruggie nods silently, "That's...unfortunate. He probably already told you about his gift for you, so go on up to his room, lad. We won't keep you."

'Like I needed your permission.' Ruggie thinks bitterly to himself.

Upon reaching the room he's been to countless times at this point, Ruggie hesitates, but pushes forward and opens the door, already regretting it as he's bombarded with Y/n's scent and every memory he's made with him rushes through his head relentlessly.

Fighting back the tears and forcing each foot in front of the other, Ruggie eventually makes it to Y/n's desk and opens the drawer, finding it empty save for a single envelope with his name on it leaning against the very back.

Snatching up the envelope, Ruggie opens it and immediately recognizes his boyfriend's handwriting on the paper contained inside.

"Dear Ruggie,

If you're reading this, then it means I'm no longer alive. With how dangerous things have become, I've suspected my death as a possibility for quite some time now, so I wanted to be prepared for this outcome.

As I'm writing, you're currently out working one of your jobs and I still find myself marveling at how hardworking you are. It's one of the qualities that I love and respect the most about you. Just before you left, you mentioned how you'll need to hit the grind harder than ever to provide for your 'darling future husband.' which you probably meant as a joke, but it still made my heart skip a beat to imagine that kind of future for us.

But...regarding the future, I really need to apologize. It seems like I won't be able to fulfill the promise we made before we officially started dating.

I'm sorry. I really and truly am. I don't know how I died, but I can one hundred percent assure you that it was never my intention to leave you like this, because the time we've spent together, however brief, was easily the happiest I've ever been and I sincerely hope that you can say the same.

You may have already noticed a certain something I've left behind this letter, which I had hoped to give to you in person later down the line, but seeing as how that's no longer possible...

It's probably cruel to ask this of you now, but:

Ruggie Bucchi, I love you with all of my heart,

Will you marry me?

Forever yours,

Y/n"

Shoving his hand back into the drawer, Ruggie pulls out one more thing like the letter said, a very small box that he opens to reveal a circle of metal adorned by an even smaller glittering jewel on the top.

A ring.

An engagement ring.

The Prefect was going to stay and he was going to propose to him.

With this revelation, Ruggie's legs finally give out and he drops to his knees, tears falling freely down his face as he tightly clutches the letter and ring box to his chest.

"Yes, Y/n...I will marry you…”

[outrunningthedark]

I don't understand. I see people under posts of buddie hugging or comforting each other say "I hope Tim isn't baiting us again", "idec if I'm being baited I'm enjoying this" etc, but... How is that baiting? To me they're best friends acting like best friends idk. Like sure it could lead to more but I find this weird how some people seem to think physical touch and comfort can only happen between people who are in love?? They sound like these men who think that when a woman smiles at them or is kind to them it's bc they're interested 😬

Ngl, Bi Buck and BuckTommy has opened my eyes to how those people talk and think about men IRL (my bad for assuming we could all be fucking normal about male friendships while shipping for funsies 🫠)

Seeing a man touch another man’s shoulder should not automatically make anyone think “that’s gay”.

Hearing a man tell another man, his BEST FRIEND, he loves him should not have to come with a “bro” or “brother” or “man” at the end just so they know he doesn’t mean it like that.

This fandom, despite being largely queer, doesn’t know how to react to two men in close proximity, particularly two younger men who aren’t y’no, like our dads and don’t shy away from affection, because to them it still feels foreign. To them it still feels wrong.

(Internalized homophobia is nothing to laugh at, I just wish they weren’t using actors on a tv show to broadcast it, especially not when they also claim their hope is to see those actors get together on screen. It’s giving fetish, not “representation”. Sorry.)

[elkkiel]

I am absolutely in love with vessel and II* and III and IV, not in a romantic way. Just utterly enamoured by their talent, the genuine love for each other, and how they openly demonstrate healthy expressions of masculinity as men in the modern metal scene. They're the kind of men I would feel safe and comfortable being alone with; just very good vibes all around, especially in a space that can be really hostile to queer folk, bipoc, and women