#and get a binder asap

[spicypussywave]

everytime i notice the way shirts fit on perth i go. (sighs) i need that physique. then i remember i got boobs

[dragonji]

bamboo, chia, camellia?

bamboo -> do you change into a different outfit when you get home?

If I have no other plans for the day yes I'll almost always switch to lounge clothes!

chia -> what’s an inside joke you have with someone else?

Nothing really comes to mind off the top of my head ^^; A lot of my humor is in reaction to situations so doesn't tend to be very long lasting!

camellia ->  what were you like when you were younger? do you think you’ve changed a lot?

Generally I think I've just mellowed out from when I was younger but haven't changed too much... As a kid I was much less socially aware but also in a way more outgoing bc I just did Not understand many social cues unless I was directly told.. I was also way more stubborn and bossy lol. I was very much a kid that wanted every adult's approval whereas now recognition still matters to me but I'm not so obsessive over it.

[hello-there]

Communities are a new way to connect with the people on Tumblr who care about the things you care about! Browse Communities to find the perfect one for your interests or create a new one and invite your friends and mutuals!

[prettycottagequeer]

ok maybe I'm a little late to this BUT I'm gonna do a to-do list motivation thingy because I've had the worst two weeks since I started college :)

SO these I should start on asap:

50 I make the snack I really want but I haven't had the motivation to make

100 I clean my dorm. another thing I've been meaning to do for a week

150 I do the presentation about mid-victorian fashion I've been putting off (due Monday)

200 I start memorizing the monologue that was due a week ago (now due Tuesday)

these can wait longer:

300 I spend time outside. It's so nice but I'm getting stuck scrolling because I feel like shit. vicious cycle ect

500 I start setting a better weekend routine (aka getting up before noon)

1k I start working out again. I was doing a routine to get more masc and build muscle and I liked it but life hit me like Crowley driving the Bentley and I've missed like 3 weeks

2k I buy my first binder. I've been coping with sports bras for almost a year now and I haven't been able to justify spending $50+ on a binder even though I know I'd love it and use it everyday.

Do I tag people? I don't know but I'm going to. @the-globe-theatre-maggot @weirdly-specific-but-ok @howmanyholesinswisscheese

here's just some context if you want to read, feel free to skip. some of this I've talked about in the maggot server, some I haven't, but I really just need a place for this to go that's out of my head. tw homophobia, transphobia, car crash(??)

How I Have Been Run Over By The Bentley Going 90 In Central London What Feels Like 50 Times In The Last Two Weeks

I'm going to college about 4 hours away from my parents, and it's been really nice. They.. suck, to say the least. transphobic/homophobic ect, super traditional conservative catholic, racist, all of it. so i tried to move somewhere where I wouldn't have to think about them and I could be myself and do what I can to be happy. March 1st was the start of my spring break, which meant going home because the dorms close. I was already not excited, but I was prepared. the problem with being away from home is I forget just how bad they are. My optimism gets the better of me and I think maybe this time they'll be better. so I decided to not hide my septum piercing.

that was a mistake. it starts a whole fight where they say we know you're trans, you're actually a girl and you always will be, we have the bones argument, they think I'm being influenced by demons or something (if only they knew about crowley) because I want to change my name, and they tell me that going on t will completely ruin my body and give me cancer and other things. They're also mad about my dyed hair, septum, and general style, and say I'm setting a terrible example for my (5) younger siblings and make it a point to tell me just how much of a disappointment I am. I think I'm pretty cute and fun but y'know, whatever. very fun time. I lie so much, don't give them any more details about my identity, and say I'm not planning to go on t to save my ass. which is all on instinct which makes me feel worse because if I'm really trans I should be able to stand up for that, right? maybe I'm faking the dysphoria.

the next morning I wake up really sick, and spend the rest of the week sick and feeling like shit because I'm home and back in the same place and situation I was a year ago that I thought I escaped. at one point I pretty much lose my voice but also kind of get gender euphoria from it. it's weird.

On Friday it's time for me to drive back 4 hours to school, and I make it about 3/4 of the way when google maps takes me on a random gravel road and I crash my car, really crash my car, like sideways-in-a-ditch-windows-broken-crawling-up-out-the-door crash it in the middle of nowhere. (I was fully paying attention to the road, it was raining and super slick) I call my parents because I have no one else to call and I sit in a Subway for 3 hours while they drive to get my car. when they get there they're (understandably) really mad, and they tell me that I'm not mature enough to be going to school so far away and I need to get my shit together and stop depending on them. which. is probably true. but made me feel even more stupid about the fact that I crashed my car. I get back to school and I'm still Very Sick with no energy or motivation to do anything. So I've spent the last week trying to get better and honestly to do anything. it hasn't really worked. I'm a lot better health-wise (Not emotionally), still sick but I have a lot of work due, so I really need a push to get started

[aceday]

Agatha Harkness x Reader and Rio Vidal x Reader

summary: you’re but an innocent young actor slightly in over your head filming a movie opposite rio vidal, directed by milf extraordinaire agatha harkness. what could possibly go wrong and what could possibly go right?

warnings: age gap, slight dub/non!con themes, fingering, oral, slight exhibitionist themes, public sex

*afab gender neutral reader

@covenofagatha @d-z20

i guess i straight fucking lied when i said i don’t do this last time bc here we are again whoop de fucking doo

The Director’s Cut

With a satisfying pop, Rio Vidal’s fingers slip out of your mouth. The fingers of her other hand tighten around your throat, wrangling a strangled moan from your lips, and she pushes you back onto the mattress. Your fingertips scratch desperately at her forearm, tears pricking the corners of your eyes as you fight for breath, and Rio’s knee shoves your legs open.

“Got something to say now, hmm?”

You shake your head fervently, a plea in your eyes. Rio releases your throat and you gasp, only for her mouth to be on yours immediately, smothering you, her hands greedily grabbing at your hips, sides, ribs. Her mouth detaches from yours only to find itself immediately at your neck, her hands now attempting to tear your shirt off of you.

“Professor,” you gasp out, voice strained with blissed pain, with velvet panic. With some frantic struggle the shirt is wrenched off of you and the air nips at your skin. The hair on the back of your neck lifts. Rio finally stills for one cold, heavy moment, to stare at you under her, her face contorted in a cool sort of snarl, her eyes sharp.

“You act up, you play by my rules.” Her hand grabs your face, squeezing your jaw painfully. “Understood?”

“I-”

“CUT.”

A scatter of voices and murmurs arise immediately. Rio lets you go and heaves a barely-restrained sigh.

“Cut!” The voice of the director demands again, and both you and your co-star sit up on the mattress. You scratch awkwardly at your throat and look around for your costume shirt somewhere in the sheets.

“It’s wrong, really. Wrong. Fuck.” Agatha Harkness steps onto the set. You squint against the spotlights, feeling your face burn. You and Rio exchange a glance. “The energy, the dynamics. We’re going to have to totally rework this.” She paces furiously. Rio stands from the bed and grabs your shirt, which had apparently been tossed off in the heat of the scene. She hands it to you and you nod gratefully, pulling it back over your head. Agatha has been in an awful mood all day. “We’re going to take twenty. I want everybody to go splash cold water on themselves and get their heads out of their asses.”

You can’t conceal your exhausted sigh as you wriggle awkwardly off the bed. You’re about to go get some water when Agatha snaps her fingers at you, freezing you in your place. With an inward groan and your heart going a million miles a minute, you turn dejectedly to your director.

“Not you. You’re going to meet me in my trailer, asap.” You stare at her for a moment with bald-faced shock, but she’s already turned to her assistant director and is complaining her ear off. You swallow your… so many things, your pride, shame, embarrassment, fury, and stomp off set to the trailer lot.

You don’t bother waiting for Agatha to catch up to throw open the door and walk inside, toeing off your shoes. You’ve never been in her trailer before. It’s not as sterile as you would have imagined; there’s stacks of books and papers and binders and folders and a whole bunch of other boring shit on every flat surface, along with more than a few half-full mugs of what seems to be black coffee.

You slouch doggedly onto her couch, rubbing your eyes. It hasn’t been your best work, you know, but you’re certain you haven’t been bad enough to quite warrant getting chewed out in private. You stare out the small square window. It could be worse, you suppose, she could be chewing you out in public. This is easier to manage, even though you hate the thought of your director being unimpressed with you, but you might as well cut your losses now and move on.

As you sit and stew, the door flies open. Agatha marches in, doused in all black, the sleeves of her button up pushed up to her elbows and her hair tied up into a messy ponytail. She seems to have calmed down a little, a very little amount, well, maybe not at all, actually, maybe she looks angrier than she did before-

The door slams shut and knocks you out of your thoughts. There’s a sizzling silence. A huge knot forms in your throat.

“What was that back there, hmm?”

You don’t know what to say. You cried that take. “I cried that take.” It’s impossible to hide the desperate edge to your voice.

Agatha holds out a finger and your mouth snaps shut. “No excuses,” she hisses, “your face is fine, more than fine, but you act like you’ve never been fucked before.” A huge, violent, and deep blush spreads immediately from your collarbones up. You look away quickly. “You’re simultaneously stiff as a board and loose like a slinky. You wanna look like a slinky out there?”

Agatha has such a way with words. You shake your head. “No, I do not want to look like a slinky out there.”

Agatha doesn’t seem to notice nor care that you’ve spoken. The heat in your face burns brighter as she paces exasperatedly in front of you. Your fingers begin to scratch anxiously at your jeans. “Rio Vidal is a hot young woman. I can’t imagine that she’s not your type. And yet- hours of intimacy coordination later and we’re still at square one.” That’s firstly not true and secondly a bewilderingly unfair thing to say. The rejection stings. Tears well in your eyes and you blink them away furiously, adamant on keeping a tough front for your director. She paces furiously, dizzyingly, back and forth and back and forth. “Seriously, kid. Hours of intimacy coordination and talking and talking and going over the movements step by step. I could do your part in my sleep by now. And maybe I will!” She whirls on you, then pauses. You can’t imagine what you look like right now, your body unnaturally still to keep your leg from bouncing, feeling neon you’re blushing so hard, your jaw clenched, your eyes narrowed and wet.

Agatha has always had a way of being four steps ahead of you, always in the know before there’s even anything to know, so you shouldn’t be surprised when she takes one look at you and suddenly declares, “You’re a virgin,” as if it is the most obvious truth in the world. You look away, trying hard, desperately hard, to maintain your composure. But what can you do? She’s right, for the most part.

Agatha’s eyes narrow when you don’t reply. The manic air about her stills, and you’re suddenly wishing for her fiery temper instead of the cold, calculating dread that suddenly sits heavy between you two. She crosses her arms and continues pacing, but slowly this time, less like she’s being whipped around by her own anger and more like she’s a shark circling something tender and bloody.

“Well,” she says, gesturing lazily in the air, “do you have anything to say for yourself?”

“It’s not a bad thing.” You sound defensive. It’s because you are.

Agatha appears to be lost in thought, “No, no,” she hums. “Nothing bad about a little prude ruining my film, hmm?”

Well. That shuts you up. Your mouth is closed, your eyes are a little wide in disbelief, you’re pretty sure this kind of talk violates some sort of workers rights something, and upon seeing your speechless state, the ghost of a smirk tugs at Agatha’s lips. A shiver runs down your spine.

In stunned silence you flounder, opening and closing your mouth like a fish, while Agatha waits, leveling you with her knowing stare, sizing you up, her eyes tracing up and down your frigid form, for you to say something.

“I’m sorry?”

Are you apologizing or asking “Excuse me?” - you hardly know. Agatha steps in closer to you, your knees almost touching her legs, what is she thinking? Really, what could she possibly be thinking?

“Are you?” Maybe? Agatha sighs and sits next to you on the couch, an arm slung behind you. “How about I propose something for you, for us, hmm?” She turns to look at you, and you’re suddenly caught in the narrowed ice of her eyes as if under a blinding spotlight. She’s always had one of those absolutely shriveling stares that you can’t tear away from. You nod for her to continue, and a smile crawls on her lips. Something brushes your arm and you flinch, only to realize that her fingertips are floating lightly up and down your bicep.

“Tell you what, kid. I’m having a shit day, I’m definitely making it your shit day, and you’re a little prig that needs to loosen up.” She leans in closer to you, far enough away, but you can feel the heat of her breath, can see each delicate flick of her eyes around your face. Her voice drops to a whisper. “Why don’t I fuck you silly here in my trailer, blow a little steam, and teach you what it looks like to feel so, so, impossibly good?”

You blanch. A terrifying expanse of heat sears down your stomach, not out of embarrassment this time. “E-Excuse me?”

“Tell me, kid. What do you think about when you touch yourself?”

“Agatha, I-”

“And don’t pretend like you don’t sneak glances down my shirt every chance you get. I see the way you look at me. The way you’ve been looking at me.”

“No, no, I-”

“Then I’m wrong?”

She’s so close to you now, her mouth hovering just above yours, eyes drifting lazily across your face. The worst part, the worst part about it, is that she’s not wrong, she’s not, you do stare, you do imagine, and even now you can feel sharp tendrils of lust unfurling inside of you, dampening your underwear.

“Come on, kid,” a low whisper, her voice like the trembling string dangling the carrot of her offer in front of your face. “Tell me what you want.”

Breathless: “I…” you shake your head, “I want-” to your infinite surprise, you cut yourself off, pushing your mouth against Agatha’s, your body propelling forward almost as if of its own accord. Agatha hums in delight. She wastes no time.

She climbs on top of you, pushing you back down onto the couch and straddling your hips. Her tongue slides between your lips and, hesitant, your mouth opens, and the kiss grows sloppy, wet, Agatha’s tongue and teeth and lips on and against and in you. You whimper, your hands finding her ribs, your hips bucking involuntarily as her knee slides between your thighs. Your muted breaths melt into a high pitched moan as her knee presses against your cunt.

“I knew it,” Agatha whispers when her mouth breaks from yours, and her head dips down to the soft space between your neck and shoulder. She bites, hard and fast, not enough to leave a mark but enough to send a pained spasm through your body. You tense and dig your fingertips into her sides, and Agatha chuckles.

“Come on, kid,” Agatha says, pushing up on her palms to look down at you. Your lips sting, your chest rising and falling heavily, your breathing audible, not quite gasping, but stuttering. “Pay attention, okay?”

You nod, and Agatha pushes your shirt to your collarbones. She kisses down your naval, down your stomach, her thumbs brushing your nipples and mouth hot beneath your belly button. She looks up at you, eyelashes dark, eyes pale and sharp.

“Are you watching?”

“Yes,” you breathe, and Agatha’s fingers undo your jeans. Your heart clenches at the soft snap of the button being released from its denim hold, a cold sweat at the back of your neck as you hear the zipper being pulled down. Agatha looks slowly up and down, between your eyes and each new inch of skin revealed underneath your clothes.

She tugs your jeans off of you, your underwear going with it, the bits of your costume being shed from your body. Agatha sighs, relieved, the way a dog does curling up in a warm patch of sunlight, and your skin dances at the gust of breath crawling up your body.

“I needed this, kid. Let me tell you.” She leans close to your cunt, you already know you’re dripping, you’ve been dripping, but Agatha doesn’t remark on your pathetic state. Instead she hovers close and inhales deeply. “Fuck,” she whispers, barely audible, and your head falls back, a whimper dislodging from your throat.

Her tensed tongue licks slowly through your folds, the tip circling carefully around your clit, and the shudder you release grips your entire body. Your hands, which had, up until this point, been white knuckling the cushions of the couch, fly to your mouth, and Agatha is suddenly on you, lips and tongue breathing pleasure into you like a gust of wind, like fire from a dragon’s belly, and it’s intense, intense. You’ve been fingered a few lackluster times by lackluster people, but Agatha runs hot, runs feverish, and everything feels scalding, your pleasure, your — Agatha scratches down your sides — your pain, and you want more and more and more.

“Agatha,” you mutter. Your voice sounds like it’s being forcefully pulled from your throat. “Agatha.”

Agatha’s fingers play against your folds, joined with her tongue, and your hands thread through her hair. She lifts her head to look at you, and you can see the glisten of yourself on her chin. Her fingers work you, slowly, in tidal beckoning motions. Your pleasure, vague, dazzling waves, suddenly straightens, taut and defined, and you can feel your orgasm inching into you. Your breath becomes shallow.

“Let’s see,” Agatha murmurs, “how did the coordinator do this? Rio has you pinned, she’s being a little violent, there are tears in your eyes, and when she fucks you, she fucks you rough.” Agatha stuffs three fingers into you, setting a brutally slow and violently deep pace. Your yelp sounds more like a cry and Agatha narrows a cold glare at you. “Shut it, kid, I don’t want to have to do it myself.” You bring a hand to your mouth, stifling each staccato whimper to the tune of Agatha’s thrusts. “And I’m sure you don’t want that either.”

Strung with pain, your skin shivering, your heels digging into the cushions, Agatha’s pace finally relents, slows, and she studies you maliciously. “In the next sex scene, our Professor acquiesces, takes pity on her disobedient but young student,” she pulls your thighs over her shoulders. Her fingers slip out of you, and though your body aches with relief, the wavering string of your pleasure keens for more. Agatha chuckles. “This is my favorite part.” She licks a broad stripe against you. You shiver. “You should see the way Rio looks at you when we film this part. It’s perfect every time.”

Agatha crawls up, your knees still hooked around her shoulders, and you whimper, feeling impossibly small as two of her fingers bury gently into you, stroking gently against your walls, her thumb brushing a light touch against your clit. The beaten, puppeted orgasm you’ve been chasing swells once more against you, rearing, an animal about to pounce.

Agatha kisses you, and you’re ready, your lips parted and waiting for her tongue, which slips eagerly between your teeth. You taste yourself. You think of Rio, stripping you on that damn bed, all hard touches and stinging words and dark, velvet eyes, and Agatha behind the camera, in her all black outfit, blending into the shadows behind the key light like a predator, biting the knuckle of her pointer finger, watching and watching. Fuck. It’s hot. It’s so hot. Agatha’s fingertips curl against what you can only imagine is your g-spot and you gasp against her mouth, earning a quick nip of your bottom lip in response.

“You gonna come for me, kid? It’s about time. Just like you do for Rio right about now, hmm?” Your body teeters slowly, achingly slowly, into an orgasm, its golden edges fizzing like a pot about to boil over. You thrash against Agatha, your hands clawing desperately at her back but your body still trapped in the curled contortion she has you pinned in. “Good, good. Much better, right? You’ll be perfect in front of that camera. Just like that, kid. Perfect.”

The thread snaps. Your orgasm douses you. You throw your head back, the cry in your throat wrangled out of you, unbidden, until Agatha slaps a hand over your mouth. “Don’t ruin your pretty voice, kid,” she purrs wickedly, “Save it for the camera.”

Agatha holds you while you shudder through your orgasm, your vision blurred at the edges, eyes unfocused, and she gently frees your legs from her shoulders, kissing you softly. Your hard panting mellows, evening out steadily. Agatha checks her watch and clucks her tongue.

“You made good time, kid. Are you going to remember this?” You nod, running your fingers through your hair. Agatha rights your jeans and helps straighten your shirt, pressing a kiss to your head as you wriggle into your costume.

“Good, because we’re getting right in it. Be ready to run the scene in ten.” A knot of shock flashes through you. Director Agatha is still director Agatha.

“But don’t I…”

“Don’t you what? Smell like sex? Still sensitive in your cunt and legs? That’s the goal, kid. Now get out of my trailer.” She waves you off. You gulp, cursing silently in your head but undeniably relishing in the hot flush at your cheeks. You stuff your feet into your shoes and let the door swing shut loudly behind you.

The team is in motion, cameras adjusting, the boom guy talking with Rio, who has her arms crossed. She casts her gaze briefly to the side and catches sight of you. She pauses. Her eyes narrow. Your stomach flips, but before you can think of what that look could possibly mean, someone grabs your arm. You whip around and face your makeup designer.

“I’ve been looking all over for you! I-” she cuts herself off. You must look a little like a mess, flushed, wet-eyed. If you had to guess, you probably look like Agatha spent the entire break chewing you out. Chewing, no. Eating, on the other hand…

You chuckle dryly, and your designer takes a step back. “Nevermind,” she says, waving a hand dismissively. “You look perfect. Break a leg.”

“Alright everybody. Places.” Agatha’s voice cuts like a knife over the noisy bustle. There’s immediate quiet as everyone hustles to their designated spots. “We’re starting from ‘Got something to say now’.”

You situate yourself on the bed. Rio climbs on top of you. A shudder runs unprompted down your spine. With horror, you realize that you are still sensitive. Violently sensitive. Above you, Rio’s eyes narrow. She inhales deeply. You think she’s sighing, but a treacherous thought flickers through your mind that maybe she smells you, smells Agatha, smells you on Agatha on you. Rio’s eyes trace down your body, seeming to clock every unfortunate and incriminating detail. Your messed up hair, your hot skin, your shaking legs.

You’re not sure if it’s to your relief or distress, but Rio chuckles lowly. “Extra lesson, hmm?”

You swallow. “S-Sorry?”

She leans down close to your ear. Her hands wrap slowly around your wrists, pressing them above your head. This wasn’t in the intimacy coordination. “That’s fine. If you’re going to get a little extra help, maybe we can have a little fun, right?”

A knot forms in your throat. Your ears feel hot. “I think-”

Agatha’s voice, booming, as if from heaven. “Scene 30. Take 7. And… action!”

Rio grabs quickly at your throat. You feel dazed, but vaguely remember your blocking and shakily hold onto her forearm. Rio flashes you a toothy smile, a creepy, toothy smile that hollows out your chest. “Got something to say now, hmm?”

You shake your head quickly, and to your surprise, instead of releasing your throat, Rio shoves a knee between your legs, knocking against your clit. You gasp out your next line, “Professor-” and Rio’s fingertips dig harder into the sides of your throat. Her other hand finds your wrist, slamming it above your head, her grip tight. “Professor,” you choke out again, finding Rio’s gaze, the wild, manic look in her eyes shooting guilty sparks of pleasure down your spine. “Please,” you beg, off-script, and this time, Rio relents.

She releases your neck. Your hand flies up to it, your breath scraping down your throat, heavy, but Rio catches your other wrist and shoves it down with the other. “You act up,” she hisses, “you play by my rules.” She gathers both wrists with one hand and strokes a manicured nail down your jaw. You strain your face away, breath light and fluttering.

“Understood?”

At the word, she grabs your jaw sharply, forcing you to meet her eyes. There’s something of a challenge in her gaze. You’d probably break if you weren’t so fucking turned on, but your own arousal dampens your underwear. You feel hot everywhere.

“I understand, Professor,” you whisper. A well timed tear traces from the corner of your eye down your temple. “Please, don’t go too hard.” You blink pathetically up at her. “I didn’t mean to.”

The double meaning is more than received. Rio laughs loudly. “Didn’t mean to? Yeah right.” Her knee pushes up into your hot cunt and you whimper loudly, your eyes rolling back. The hand squeezing your jaw drops down between your legs. You whine and buck your hips. Rio scoffs, shaking her head. It’s miserably clear to her that you’re not acting anymore.

“Pathetic,” she sneers. Her hand quickly unbuttons your jeans and sinks beneath your waistband. Usually, she doesn’t come close to touching you. The jeans are low-rise and loose, but this time, Rio has no qualms about pressing her fingertips against your underwear, no doubt feeling the hot, soaked cloth. She groans and curses.

“Professor,” you gasp, choked. Your tears flow freely now. Her fingertips dig blindly against your cunt, feeling through the fabric your folds, your clit, warm and sensitive. You feel raw from the orgasm you just had, so violently raw, and even the lightest touch sends a dark pleasure scattering through you. You jerk uncontrollably, writhing beneath Rio, feeling an orgasm, a fucking orgasm, climbing panicked below your stomach.

Rio’s mouth crashes down onto yours, as if trying, and failing, to mute each desperate noise that crawls from your throat. The result is you moaning wildly into the kiss, choking around her tongue, her fingers kneading into the cloth and sending you sputtering into a lingering orgasm that you’re not sure ever fully evaporated - a fact Rio seems to be well aware of.

Your body tenses and you careen through the waves of pleasure splashing in you, swallowing you whole. Rio pulls her mouth off of yours to watch the bliss bloom across your face and the cry that erupts from your throat is somehow both a whimper and a howl.

“Much better,” Rio whispers, pulling her hand from your jeans, kissing down your neck and stroking your cheek with her thumb. You can smell yourself on her fingers. You lay there dumbly, shivering through the dregs of your orgasm, sighing into an exhaustion you’ve never known. “That was good, that was really good,” Rio hums, pleased.

When your eyes meet, there’s a bit of tentativeness. This got out of hand. The smile you give her is, you hope, both wayward and reassuring.

“Did I-” you’ve started your line while still out of breath, and interrupt yourself to take a deep breath, “Did I do okay, Professor?” A phrase carrying a triple meaning, at this point. You’d give anything to look at Agatha right now, but manage to stay in character, keep your gaze trained on Rio’s glazed eyes.

“You were amazing,” she whispers, kissing you softly.

“Cut!”

Both Rio and you jolt in surprise. She peels off of you, lightly intertwining your fingers with hers, and you sit up, looking towards Agatha. You only see the camera, and in the darkness, her dark form slides from behind it. Her outline becomes slowly visible as she takes a few steps closer towards you two, though shadows still cut across her. You can see a smile stretch across her face.

“Now that,” she says. “Was perfect.” Agatha turns to face the crew. “On that note, that’s a wrap for today. Everybody go take a cold shower.” Agatha then steps fully into the light. The look on her face is indescribably malicious, a smile that could be angry or just evil, pale eyes glinting. You exchange a glance with Rio and notice a soft heat on her cheeks. “You two, meet me in my trailer first.” Agatha’s eyes narrow. “I want to discuss some notes with you.”

[sorin-thru-the-sky]

my first compression top just arrived and the gender is gendering hard today

[palepersonacoffee]

💜for the ask game?

💜 What is your favourite fantasy involving detrans/misgen?

My doctor decides I'd be be better off as a girl. Of course, if I knew that that's what they thought, I would switch doctors, so they don't tell me. Instead, they trick me into detransitioning- They tell me that my T levels are abnormally high, so I need to take a lower dose to get me back on track. After all, extra testosterone in the body turns into estradiol or something right? We don't want that. So they halve my dose indefinitely, and send me to a therapist that's in on the game. I think the therapist is kind of weird, but I don't want my mental health to take a turn because I'm sad about my lower dose.

The next appointment I go in to see the doctor, they tell me to take my shirt off. I ask why, and they gaslight me into thinking it's so they can check my health somehow- but they don't do it right away. I sit there on the table covering my chest up while they talk about the new drugs they're prescribing me. I don't think about anything but how humiliated I am- Whats Flibanserin? What's domperidone? What's Metoclopramide? What's topamax and why is the dose on that so high? I don't know and I'm not paying attention. I'm just desperately wishing I could put my shirt back on. When theyre finished listing off all the new medications I need to take, the brush my hands put of the way where I was covering up like it's the most normal thing in the world. They start squeezing my tits, massaging them, pinching and pulling and jiggling. I'm squeezing my eyes shut wishing it was over.

My next appointment, I'm really confused for some reason. Dizzy and stupid and dim. The therapist has been having me undress to talk about my trauma because somehow that's going to help me, so it's not weird that the doctor is having me undress now. They finger my sloppy cunt while they tell me that I need to stop taking testosterone entirely, it's very dangerous for me. I try to ask why but I'm so out of it, they just brush right over me. They put me on estrogen and I don't even notice. They tell me that to keep myself healthy, I need to start pumping my breasts. There's yucky stuff in there and I need to get it all out every night before I can start taking T again. They up my dose on everything. They tell me I can go ahead and leave my boxers and jeans and binder with them, I don't need them, they need to make sure I'm not using them to hurt myself. Oh, here's the breast pump I need btw. Start immediately.

My next appointment, I'm basically brainless. The therapist had to drop me off. Why was the therapist driving me around places again? What happened to all my boy clothes? Why are my tits so big? I can't remember. I don't have the brainpower to think about it for very long. The doctor doesn't even bother talking to me other than to tell me to strip. They press something big into my wet vagina, so big it's uncomfortable and I can't close my legs around it. Somehow, maybe using a medical glue, they make sure it stays inside me. Then they start fingerings my ass open, and do the same there. They tell me it's unsafe for me to be alone, but luckily there's a clinic near here that can help me. I need to be admitted ASAP. I look ridiculous when they finally let me stand up from where I was bent over the examination table, I can't even walk right. I waddle around, crab walking because I can't close my legs around the things inside me. They don't say anything when they pry my mouth open to stuff something inside there, either- I don't realize it, but it's my old boxers. They expect me to just stupidly take it without any explanation, and I do. They tell me to step into the closet over there and they shut the door behind me, locking me in until the end of their shift. I can hear them starting the same thing with another confused girl, but I cant make any noise to warn them. I wouldn't know what was even happening anyways. I can barely articulate my own name. When their shift is finally over, they take me to the clinic- It's just their house.

[cryptidcorners]

Hey! I saw your requests were open! Could we have some cute Mike fluff of taking Abby back to school shopping and struggling to help choose outfits for her? Probably would include being silently discouraged by the prices of the nice clothes but trying to get her something nice anyway? This can either be just Mike and Abby, or include a y/n girlfriend, I’m not picky. Thanks!

~ Mike Schmidt x Reader ~

= Title: $49.99

= Character: Mike Schmidt

= Media: Movie!Five Nights at Freddy's

= A.N: I'm loving your requests ! This is too cute, had to write it ASAP! Hope you like it.

= Prompt: N/A

= Description: Just a fluffy one-shot of Mike & his girlfriend going "back to school" shopping with Abby !

= Request: "Hey! I saw your requests were open! Could we have some cute Mike fluff of taking Abby back to school shopping and struggling to help choose outfits for her? Probably would include being silently discouraged by the prices of the nice clothes but trying to get her something nice anyway? This can either be just Mike and Abby, or include a y/n girlfriend, I'm not picky. Thanks!"

= Tags: Fluff ! Slice of Life, Sweet Talk + Moments, Abby being Adorable, Back to School Shopping, Established Relationship, Some Comfort, Romantic, Found Family + Reader is !Fem

= Warnings: Slight Doubt + Worry from Mike, but it's Subtle !

= Please read my INTRO before interacting !

"How about this one?" Abby pointed, eyes fixed on a colorful binder paired up with a neat pack of coloring supplies. Before Mike could open his mouth, she was already tailing it forward. An exhausted breath left his lips instead, but he couldn't help but chuckle softly at her enthusiasm. He missed when he was that way. It brought him closure to see Abby running around all excited, and he was going to nurture it as much as he could.

Mike gasped quietly when you lightly nudged his shoulder playfully. "Earth to Michael," you joked. Mike eased, folding his arms and shyly looking away. "Sorry, just thinking." Mike's eyes promptly shifted towards Abby, who was stirring about like she was in a candy store. Your voice softened, "About her?"

"Yeah. It's just nice to see her so happy. Especially after, well," he trailed off. "I'm just glad she's doing okay."

You caressed his face with a smile, and he quickly placed a hand on yours, obviously savoring the moment. His eyes closed in comfort.

"Mike, can I get this?" Abby asked. His eyes flickered open. "Oh?" He lowered himself down to get to her level. Something you had always found cute.

She extended her hand on a sparkly-colorful outfit, its lower half dragging against the floor. Mike hummed and pulled out the tag, and frowned. Which caught into you as well.

"Mike?"

"Hey, how about you keep looking for some more supplies. That way, when I get the cart, we can just pile everything up and get out of here quicker." He continued, "And you'll be able to use your color pencils quicker too."

Abby smiled, "Really?" Mike nodded quietly and ruffled her hair a bit. She turned back and disappeared down the aisle. Mike's eyes were following her the entire way, he wouldn't let her out of his sight.

Mike stood up, face low with defeat. "Nearly fifty bucks. I don't think I can afford it, but-"

You finished, "You don't want to tell her?" And he nodded.

"Look, I can put in a few bucks, Mike. I shouldn't let you pay for everything." You told him, arms wrapped around his shoulders. Mike weakly protested, "I can't let you do that. You've done so much, I don't want to take your money."

"Mike, I want to. I love the kid, and you've been working hard." You kissed his cheek lightly. Which made him bashful in record pace, "Are you sure?"

"Definitely."

Once Abby returned, you had decided to spend more of what you intended. As much as Mike protested, you insisted that it was all for Abby. Besides, it brought him incredible joy to see Abby trying on new sweaters and accessories she adored. That was convincing enough to let you gather a few more pieces of her new wardrobe and leave the store with a heartfelt attitude.

Abby had been holding your hand the whole time. She was definitely giddy, but she was quiet too. Which brought Mike to gently remind her, "Don't you have something to say, Abbs?"

"Oh, right! Thank you so, so, so much!" Abby said childishly. "I'm going to try all of these when I get home. My friends will love this."

"I'm sure they will." You replied with a grin. Which made you turn to Mike with a softened expression, silently mouthing an: "I love you" before driving home to spend time with Abby one last time before her new year of school.

[macgyvermedical]

Hello Ross!

Came across your post reblogged by @msbarrows. Sorry if you've been asked this before, but what are some good steps to take now before the new regime comes into effect in January?/RFK Jr brain worm antivaxxer BS.

Thank you in advance.

I know just about every post on the subject says this, but- get your vaccines up to date. Buy yourself a nice TDaP from the CVS for Christmas. The Department of Health and Human Services (of which RFK Jr will have control) oversees the CDC and the FDA. While it would be unlikely he would go for an all-out ban on vaccines, he could make vaccines a hell of a lot more optional and refuse to approve new ones. Considering another goal of the administration is to repeal the ACA, that would mean childhood vaccinations would no longer be covered by private insurance (I was a child prior to the ACA and my mom paid $750 to get (fully insured) me vaccinated (about $1,638 in today's dollars). Meaning people will likely not be able to afford vaccines even if they wanted them. And a combination of expense + lack of mandate would mean a drastic reduction in the number of people who get vaccinated. While vaccines are less effective without community (herd) immunity, they are still great at keeping you from dying. So get them while they're available and covered.

Get your records. Download or request as many of your own medical records (and those of your children!) as you can. You can get most of your records through MyChart or other online portals. If you received medical care before electronic charting, you'll have to directly contact your hospital or clinic's records department to see if they can send you copies. Save them in hard copies in a binder or at least on a flash drive or disc you have the ability to read from a computer. This makes your medical care portable if you have to see a new doctor without a lot of time to plan.

If you're on more than one medication, have a "medication reconciliation" appointment with your doctor. Learn what meds you are on and know what each of them do. Call your pharmacy and learn how much they cost without insurance. Ask your doctor if there are any cheaper alternatives that treat the same things. In the case of an ACA repeal and loss of drug coverage, you're going to want to know so you can make an informed decision about which drugs you buy.

Get your mental health straightened out as much as possible. RFK Jr. has said things against antidepressants and other psych medications. While again, he's probably not going to ban them (Think of the lost productivity! Think of the pharmaceutical companies losing revenue!) he may make it hella difficult for new antidepressant meds to be approved.

Get on long-term birth control of you can get pregnant and don't want to be. The copper IUD is the longest lasting form of birth control and can prevent pregnancy for more than 10 years, but hormonal IUDs can last 7 or more. Each has their own side effects and benefits. You can always get it removed later if you change your mind, but getting access to birth control might become difficult.

Have any semi-elective procedures done ASAP. At least get them scheduled. If the ACA is repealed you may not qualify for health insurance and you really don't want to have to pay for a surgery out of pocket. Plus, if the FDA becomes less reliable, you're going to want any tools or implants used in that surgery to still be safe.

Get new glasses. If you have vision insurance, get a new pair of glasses (not contacts) now with your most up-to-date prescription.

Get any dental work you've been putting off done if you currently have dental insurance. Get a cleaning and any preventative care done you need too.

[xzaddyzanakinx]

So like i'm chronically ill and i suffer a lot from pain and fatigue and it can get really disheartening and demotivating at times.

How do you think Anakin would act with a chronically ill partner?

I’m not too well versed on any chronic illnesses other than POTS (family member has it)

But thinking of her/her symptoms/issues here’s what I came up with:

You wake up stiff and and your joints just don’t seem to work properly? Anakin will be late to work just so he can get your heating pad, your coffee and breakfast, along with some snacks for later. He’ll be so sweet and give extra cuddles before he puts on some bio-freeze for you (he hates the smell but he loves you so it’s worth it)

You’ve had a great day, a productive day, so good that you made plans… and now you have to cancel them. He understands, he likes being home and cozy on the couch with you better than being out in public anyway. He’s secretly happy that he gets to skip out on drinks at the bar with your friends, that means he has you all to himself.

You promised you’d fold the laundry and do the dishes before he got home from work, but you only got halfway through before you had to take a break… that small break turned into four hours. Anakin doesn’t mind, he’s just happy you are taking care of yourself and letting yourself rest when you need to. He hates it when you push yourself too hard and you end up worse off.

He takes you to all of your doctors appointments, he takes off work the full day if he can. He knows appointments are stressful for you (they stress him out too). Anakin will make a full day out of it. Coffee and donuts for breakfast, lunch at your favorite place after. If it’s a long distance appointment he packs you a bag for the car ride full of: snacks, water (no soda or juice bc he has to force feed you water; he knows you don’t drink enough when he’s not home!!!), a book, your headphones, chargers, fidget toys, and most importantly Hot Hands bc you can’t have your heated blanket in the truck😕

Your pain is 10/10 and you can’t even pick up the phone to call him like you do every day on his lunch break. He’s immediately on his way home, if he’s not there already. Anakin has anxiety through the roof when you don’t respond to texts so you miss three? He’s coming home asap. You don’t answer a call? You best believe he’s leaving work without a second thought, he’s not wasting a moment to even tell his superiors he’s leaving.

He manages all your meds for you.

He makes all your appointments and keeps them neatly on the fridge calendar.

He surprises you with little treats as much as possible.

Anakin’s a homebody, he enjoys the comforts of your shared space, so even your hospital stays are treated like nights at home. He brings all your favorite things, doesn’t matter if it’s a one night stay. He’s bringing your pillow, your blanket, stuffies…

He knows more about your illness than the doctors at this point. He’s basically a specialist. Countless hours of research and learning not only to understand it better, but also to help you cope.

He keeps a record of all your appointments in a binder to track your medical progresses/declines.

He helps you get a service dog, he’s so good at redirecting/educating people in public when they get too close or try to pet them.

[icycoldninja]

Okay so I have an idea so hear me out:

Do you know Casper the dog who faced off 11 coyotes and killed 8 of them. He went missing for 2 days because he set out to find the rest, and finish the job. He was obviously injured, with one eye turned white after said confrontation but he was alive and well

Can you write something like this with the DMC men with a reader whose family member (let’s say her sister or mom) gets killed/heavily injured by the Devils. She herself is pretty chill but the moment she found out, she’s seething and brewing with rage so she grabbed her sword and started slashing them down (imo characters who are the angry quiet type are scarier than the average loud kind of angry)

Afterwards, she’s on the hunt for the rest of them and went missing for days, just when the boys are slowly losing hope of finding her again, she returned back, with more injuries, bruised lips, claw marks and a blind eye covered in blood with a mysterious bag in her hand. Only when they ask her did she open the bag, revealing a bunch of the Devils’ heads

Basically the epitome of: “Idc whatever you do to me, touch the people I love and I’ll reign hell upon your existence”

P/S: I’m a sucker for women in binder wearing only Hakama pants so if you can have the reader wearing that, It’ll be delightful. Have a nice day

Even though I have no idea who Casper is, you've given me plenty of information to work with. Hope I did it well enough. Enjoy!

Sparda boys + V x Casper the dog-like!Reader headcannons

¤ Dante ¤

-Dante was used to you being calm, quiet, and generally relaxed with everything, going with the flow and hardly ever getting angry.

-When you and Dante were visiting one day, a bunch of demons showed up out of literally nowhere and seriously injured her before either of you could even react. This was the first time Dante got to see your silent rage.

-In the blink of an eye, you reduced one of the demons to bloody ribbons, your entire body trembling with cold anger. Dante reached out to grab your hands but you pulled away and took off into the woods, chasing after the demons that had run off.

-Dante tried to follow you, but he lost you amongst the trees. The poor man was so worried for your safety, he searched for 24 straight hours but couldn't find a trace of you. It was like you'd vanished off the face of the earth, which wasn't good. What if you had been kidnapped by the very demons you were trying to eliminate? Worse, what if they'd killed you?

-Dante was forced to return to Devil May Cry after an additional 5 hours of searching because his weary body just couldn't go on. He sank into his favorite chair and sat there, staring tiredly at the floor, too exhausted to do much of anything.

-The next few weeks were hell for him. He couldn't sleep, could hardly eat, but didn't want to be awake. Not having you around made him worry, and worry kept him from functioning properly.

-Then all of a sudden, you arrive on the doorstep wearing nothing but your chest binder and hakama, injuries marring nearly every visible square inch of your skin, a gouged out eye and a strange bloody bag in your hands.

-Dante couldn't believe what he was seeing, and though his instincts instincts were telling him to get you to a hospital ASAP, he was also curious about the bag you had there.

-After he asked you, you graciously opened the bag to reveal the heads of all the devils that had hurt you and your mom, perfectly mutilated and rotting in their own blood.

-Dante would have whooped and congratulated you on your victory, but he was way too concerned about your injuries. Getting you patched up came first, celebrations could wait.

■ Vergil ■

-Vergil was accustomed to you being as calm and aloof as he was. It was comforting to him, in a way; it showed he wasn't alone in the world, as there was someone almost just like him in terms of personality right next to him.

-When you brought him with you to visit your mom, he never expected you'd be ambushed by a group of powerful demons. They must have anticipated your arrival, somehow, and set out to destroy you while your guards were down.

-Thankfully and unfortunately at the same time, the only person they succeeded in injuring was your mother. This action understandably pissed you off beyond belief. Vergil had never seen you like this, but truth be told, he rather admired this side of you.

-What he didn't admire was the recklessness you displayed in mindlessly chasing after the other demons after you'd already tore apart the one who actually inflicted the injuries.

-Vergil would have gone after you, but he was a practical man and focused on the important things, such as getting your mother to safety. Once she was in the hospital, he set out to look for you, but try as he might, you were nowhere to be found.

-He was worried sick, his stressed, exhausted mind overcome with emotions and crazy theories about what could possibly be happening to you. He was terrified, and this fear fueled him to continue his search until he nearly collapsed of exhaustion.

-He couldn't sleep, though, his concern for you acted like a boost to his insomnia, keeping him up all through the night. The next few weeks were all like this, a seemingly endless cycle of searching throughout the daylight and crawling back home at night.

-Then, completely out of nowhere, you showed up on the doorstep wearing naught but your binder, hakama, innumerable injuries, a blind, bloody eye, and a bag of something that seemed to be dripping blood, just like the rest of you.

-Vergil immediately pulled you into the bathroom to clean you up, scolding you about how foolish you were for running off like that and how he was so worried about you. He continued lecturing you like a frustrated mom as he cleaned and bound your wounds.

-After you were somewhat patched up, he questioned you about the bag in your hand. You gladly showed him the severed heads of all the demons you had taken in revenge. It is safe to say that Vergil had never been prouder of you.

□ Nero □

-Nero always thought your reserved nature made you awesome. He thought you were the kind of person who never got mad.

-Then, as you and him were visiting your mother, a group of demons appeared out of nowhere and attacked your mother, critically injuring her.

-Your silent rage was something Nero never thought he'd see. He'd never had the displeasure of witnessing your rage, and now that he had, he was terrified.

-He watched in horror as you tore apart one of the demons like paper, scattering bits of it all over the grass. Before he could say a word, you'd charged after the others, your expression that of cold stone.

-Nero panicked at first, but quickly gathered himself and took your mother to the hospital. He wanted to go after you, but he knew that you were undergoing some serious emotional trauma and he knew better than to interfere.

-He was sure you'd come back at some point, but was still tense and on edge. A couple times he set out to look for you, with no luck. He repeated this cycle for a few months, his hopes slowly draining more and more with every day that passed.

-Right at the apex of his misery, he heard a knock on the door. He rushed to answer it, and to his surprise, there you were. Sure, you were bloodied, injured, missing an eye, and only wearing your pants and chest binder, but you were there, and that's all he needed.

-He ignored the fact that you were dripping with your own blood and hugged you, mumbling frantically about how much he missed you.

-Then he asked what was the lumpy sack you were holding was, and why it seemed to be bleeding as well.

-You eagerly showed him all the lovely heads you'd ripped off, and though it was an admirable feat, Nero was now a little bit scared of you.

● V ●

-V knows that behind every stoic, expressionless face, there lies an inner heat; an inner darkness that burns brighter than the sun, should it ever be set free.

-When you took him to visit your mother, he never thought he'd find himself in the middle of a sudden and unexpected demon ambush.

-He fought hard, he really did, but the demons got to your mother before he could. They critically injured her, which caused your inner hatred to finally be released.

-You tore into those beasts with more enthusiasm than you ever had in your life. It honestly scared V to see how powerful you really were--he never thought he'd witness something like this.

-After dealing with one, you raced off to kill the others, and V, of course, tried to follow you.

-Sadly, he couldn't keep up. His weak bones gave out and he crumpled to the ground, feeling more useless than ever. He tried so hard to go after you, but he just couldn't.

-He was then taken back to Devil May Cry by the others who had found him, and remained there, feeling more depressed and lifeless than usual for several weeks.

-He was about to set out to search for you one more time, when you suddenly appeared on the doorstep, bloodied, bruised, missing an eye, and only wearing your undergarments plus your hakama.

-V was beyond shocked, he was absolutely flabbergasted, and also overcome with joy. So overcome in fact, that he started crying tears of joy. He first dragged you into the house and started cleaning your wounds, then he hugged you so tight, a few bones popped, and begged you not to do that again.

-Next, he asked about the strange bag you were holding that had gone largely unnoticed until now, and in response, you showed him the heads you'd literally torn off the demons' bodies. It was shocking, stunning, and also extremely frightening. V decided you two could talk about it after he got you to a hospital so you could get your eye treated.

[brf-rumortrackinganon]

I think M could’ve got an invite in 2019 but her bad behavior was already starting to leak out and her inability to dress properly also made designers not want to dress her and that she was pregnant

I wonder if she was angry that Archie was due then (apparently she was really overdue, but some say she was saying she was near the end in Dec at Christmas… some say Archie was born Feb or Mar) and took attention away from her

I just don’t understand the whole fiasco about the birth and the announcement and then the birth certificate too… and then Waaah saying she was home asap after an epidural & traumatic birth?

Yeah, there are a lot of questions about Archie's birth.

I don't know if I buy the "really overdue" story. I think she was overdue, but it wouldn't have been that overdue because it would've been considered high risk since she was having a geriatric pregnancy - which is what they call any pregnancy for any woman over 35 - and going too overdue would've been even riskier, to the point where she would have been induced.

I'll give her being a few days overdue but if her due date was March, there's no way her doctors would have let her continue to carry for over a month longer.

A theory to consider: (it's easier if I write this out in bullet points so just bear with me)

Meghan and Harry insist that they didn't announce the pregnancy early, that she was already out of her first trimester when they began telling people at Eugenie's wedding. So if she's 12 weeks at Eugenie's wedding (October 12, 2018), that puts conception at the end of July and her due date around April 15.

After the pregnancy was officially announced, Meghan was papped carrying two purple binders. In the virtue-signalling and IVF worlds, two purple items means boy-girl twins. A twin pregnancy would have been due mid-March.

Then there was the too-big-too-soon belly, further contributing to the theory that it was twins.

In January, Meghan famously made her "not too long to go" comment, suggesting that the baby was due sooner, supporting the theory of a March due date for twins.

Also, I'm not sure that the palace ever followed up the "Meghan's pregnant, baby due in Spring" announcement with a second announcement stating which month the baby was expected (as they did for each of Kate's pregnancies). So Spring, in the UK, is March through May.

Around February 20th, the infamous baby shower at the Mark Hotel (i.e., where the celebs stay to get ready for the Met Gala) instead of Diana favorite The Carlyle. This is where it starts to unravel for Meghan: if she had a March due date, then there's no way any doctor would have allowed her to fly a long-haul flight that late in her pregnancy, even if it was a private charter, and most absolutely not if it was a twin pregnancy. So clearly the baby wasn't due in March and it was no longer twins. Then, all the decor at the baby shower was in light pink, suggesting Meghan was having a little girl.

May 6th, Baby Boy Archie is born. But if it's true conception was end of July with Meghan being exactly 12 weeks at Eugenie's wedding, this would put her at 3 weeks overdue and that seems really risky for a geriatric pregnancy, especially one that's being overseen by American-based healthcare at the Portland Hospital.

So here's the theory. Given the inconsistencies in Meghan's shape and the virtue-signalling with purple binders, I think she thought she was having twins and did all her homework on twins. But then they lost one of the embryos (which is normal, it happens all the time) and Meghan never adjusted her thinking or preparations and kept trying to hint at a twin pregnancy for the attention but no one realized it because of all the inconsistencies.

Anyway, all this to say, I think Archie's due date was two weeks before May 6th (given Harry's "babies change so much in two weeks" comment), which is April 22 and they just kept it quiet until Meghan felt 'presentable' enough to appear in public postpartum or the parental paperwork (because I think the UK the parents have to either adopt their baby from or get parental orders to take the baby from the surrogate, right?) was processed.

But long story short, yeah, there's so many issues with their stories of Archie's birth and so many inconsistencies from Meghan's pregnancy that it beggars belief the version presented in Spare is what really happened. (Especially because as many of the moms pointed out around here, no doctor is letting a woman with an epidural give birth in a pool. I always found that suspicous because then wouldn't the Netflix show have photos of Meghan holding newborn Archie in water? (I didn't watch the Netflix series so I don't know.))

[peaches2217]

TW: dysphoria

Welp… I dunno.

I was hoping wearing proper clothing would help me see it in a new light, but I think this was a mistake. Maybe I could cut out the front panel and make it less square-looking? It does exactly what every other binder has ever done: flattens my stomach and makes my tits look even bigger and more noticeable. And blockier, if I sit a certain way. God I’m fucking disgusting. Literally nothing will ever make me look presentable.

I can get away with it when wearing random clothes on my days off because I can layer and hide, but it’s hopeless for my work shirts. I’ve tried layering under and over my work shirts but they’re dead-set on accentuating every last curve I possess. Literally no one will ever see me how I wanna be seen until I go under the knife and I’m just praying now that that happens ASAP because I’m so fucking sick of being so horrible to look at.

[chewbokachoi]

ew real life

I have more or less tackled the final box from my ex. It was just a fuckton of the tea that got left behind, the cast iron skillet (I can make pizza again hooray), and my binder full of what remains of my writing notes from like....8th grade~a little after high school.

I don't think what would have been our 14th anniversary really phased me. It was a date that was busy with work things and then getting told "Yup you be bendy" by a specialist.

But maybe it is hitting me just in different, dumber ways.

Honestly, it was the beginning of the end when I was in NYC visiting family because while chatting with my sister, she commented on somebody she worked with who was in a situation of "found the perfect person and both really liked each other but it was the worst time." Thus, my sister's coworker never got to be with the woman who he was a perfect match for and vice versa.

The fact fact that I was like "HAH people being in love what a concept" was when I realized (but denied like a fucking moron) Oh my god I need out of this "relationship" ASAP.

Anyway, salty lemon juice in the wounds--and maybe it's just the stupid mood swings we're trying to track and calibrate--guess who found somebody that seems to actually be the most compatible? 🙃

I'm doing the smart thing, don't worry. 5 months is not enough time, and I'm still actually enjoying being on my own and being me again.

It's just rather annoying, and a part of me is hoping this can just be used as more data for figuring out the mood swings. It would not surprise me in the least if what's going on is just some stupid "up" state. If I sit and be logical about it for 5mins, that seems to help realign me. Mostly. Admittedly, the best way to deal with it is to probably just go "Yup. I see you feelings. Run along now--I'd like to write about sad angsty ninjas, please." Accept and acknowledge the feelings are there but not hit them with a shovel and bury them.

And quite frankly, he is so mild-mannered and nice he should be with somebody who isn't a firecracker on a "calm" day.

[t4tfitpac]

I was interested in knowing what you think the preferred binding method of the two are? Or was the preferred if you think they had too surgery. As a nonbinary individual I’ve reached the point in my art where I’m experimenting with drawing characters adapting their chests so I’m curious. Hope that’s not to weird thank you!

OMG FIRST OF ALL ! I AM SO SORRY I DID NOT SEE THIS AT ALL ! wow, this was asked when the QSMP was still in business (i am so normal i prommy)

Ok so second of all thank you so much for your ask ! I have so many thoughts on this :D (so many thoughts in fact that they're below the cut now whoops)

I do like reading and writing all different kinds of trans Fit & Pac - whether they're pre-op, post-op, don't want surgery, anything goes. But I do have a special affinity for a few details.

Regarding Fit: I definitely think he did not have the ability to get anything done surgery wise in 2b2t, and his hormones were DIY at best. By using what he has available, I think layers of clothing have been key to him hiding his chest for all those years, as well as bandages when he's had access to them. His reputation would also help him along in not being outed, as people will flee from him from far away, and the ones he does see up close are either too distracted by the explosions of combat, too afraid to accuse him of anything, or people that he's close enough with to the point of them respecting the secret (because they have secrets too and it's a mutually assured destruction type thing).

When Fit first gets to Quesadilla Island, I think he sticks with his tried and true method of binding, even though it's not the healthiest, because it's what he knows. But, eventually he reveals that part of his identity to a few people. Phil definitely knows, and he would possibly sew Fit a binder, or share with him a sewing pattern for one. When Pac finds out, of course Fit gets a Tazercraft branded binder. But honestly, I think that the more comfortable Fit gets on Quesadilla Island, the less he has to compensate for his gender identity being recognized. It's just a given to everyone there that he's a guy, so he lets them hang loose, or even wears a bikini on occasion when going to the beach. I don't know if Fit would get any kind of top surgery for quite a while.

Regarding Pac: Oh he got those chopped off as early as possible. In prison (Fuga), he would be binding using bandages he sweet-talked Felps into getting for him, and he would have back issues from binding them way too tightly. I even think it would be kinda beautiful if Cell were to adjust his bandages for him at some point during the refuge because while he's a crazed maniac cannibal, he at least knows how to not crack a rib while binding !

When Pac gets to Quesadilla Island, he's either had top surgery already or is gonna be getting it soon. I think at first he wears some regular tank tops w/o sideboob, maybe some more loose fitting ones later, but Mike would help him out with surgery asap and that would be that. I could definitely see Pac keeping the compression vest post surgery though, for the grounding pressure it provides. and he'd wanna have a little fat left, I think, just enough to be kinda big pecs but not enough to be full on boobs.

Thank you so much again for your ask and I'm so so sorry it took months to respond ! I hope the many words help :D

[hurtapollo]

what if my teacher from highschool found me on a dating app and when he swiped right on me he saw it was a match

he asked to take meon a date asap and i said i guess go out tonight. we met at a park and took a walk it was so quiet and peaceful. and no one was there to see the onler manwrap his arm around me and hold me close to him. we went out to a bar and got a drink and snacksand when we were drunk leaving outside he was talking to himself saying i cant. u were my student i cant

but he did he grabbed me and kissed me on the lips. I wrapped my arms arlund him and i kiss him back. were both to drunk to drive so he pulls me to a hotel and buys us a room and we go up and put the donot disturb siign up and lock the doors.

he grabs my face and pushes me back against a wall and kisses me more forcefully. i kiss him back more and he starts grinding his cock on me. i can feel his cock getting hard and i reach down to stroke it first through his oants than i reach inside his pants to rub his cock.

he moans and pulls my shirt off and paws at my titties over my binder. me pushes me down on my kneees and pulls his pants down and shoves his cock in my mouth. I gag but suck him like a good boy slut. he grabs my hair and pushes the back of my head on the wall and fucks my face making me choke and drool all over his cock. and my drool drips down my face to cover my binder with my spit.

when hes done fucking my face he pulls me up to my feet and yanks my binder off of me. he pushes me back to lay on the bed and climbs ontop of me and fucks his droolcovered cock between my titties. his cock keeps hittinf my chin so I move my head down to the tip goesin my mouth with every thrust. he moans and spits on my face and said he knew in highschool id turn into a slutty little whore. he just didnt know id be a boy

he climbs off me and pulls my pants down and fucks his cock all the way into my using my drool as ur lube. u grab my hips tight and fuck me watching my droolcovered tittjes bounce under you as I moan. i reach down to grab one of my titties and rub my nipple with one hand and rub my clit with the other and you lean over me to kiss me as I moan in ur mouth.

when u can tell im almost cumming u reach up and grab my throat and swueeze. i whine and grab ur wrist with the hand that was groping my tittie and i moan and call u daddy as i cum on ur cock and making you cum deep inside my pussy. you make me moan my trailing your hand down to my titties and kissing my neck and slowly fucking ur cum deeper into me and I pass hout underneath you.

[our-genderfluid-experience]

(tw transphobia + homophobia)

I can't go to a pride parade, my town is literally too small for that and a good portion of my town is homophobic Christians. I can't tell my dad that I'm Genderfluid because of this burning fear that he'll hate me or invalidate me. Goddammit, I also want to get top surgery but I have family members who are against it and I don't want them to invalidate me as well all because I want to be myself. I can't do anything at the moment, I'm a minor. I don't have anyone to talk to: my family would either hate me or not understand, my friends wouldn't understand and one would try to tell me that I'm wrong. I'm so alone and I can't do anything. The best I'm hoping for is a haircut and a binder to give me the comfort of masculinity and neutrality. I'm incredibly sorry for this vent and you don't have to answer this. I just need to get this off of my chest.

I hope you'll be able to get to a more accepting environment asap