#another had been beaten up for being trans

[odo-apologist]

Every ENT character is the most character ever. Archer is a bitch he plays a fundamental role in the creation of the Federation he brings his dog on away missions which once causes a diplomatic incident he likes water polo he commits war crimes he saw a gazelle giving birth and implements it into his rousing speeches he had a wet dream about his first officer that included his dog's funeral he had to carry the soul of the creator of the main tenets of Vulcan philosophy in his head he gives a lecture on Tycho Brahe while getting his ass beaten during an interrogation scene. T'Pol is strict in her Vulcan beliefs she doesn't believe in time travel even as she's presented with irrefutable evidence and remains somewhat skeptical after experiencing it firsthand she is the funniest person on Enterprise she is more emotional than average Vulcans to the point that she had to have memories erased for causing her too much distress she could canonically pick up any of her crewmates and carry them bridal style she has Vulcan HIV she has it cured by the woman that later watches Spock and Kirk roll around in the sand in Amok Time she is technically canonically trans she is a recovering drug addict. Trip is a perfect gentleman he undergoes incredible emotional losses his favorite movies are Frankenstein Bride of Frankenstein and Son of Frankenstein he gets pregnant five episodes in he dies in the worst episode of the entire series (and the entire franchise) only to have that death retconned in the following tie-in novels he ran around the ship in his underwear he leaves the ship for a couple weeks only to come back after one person had been kidnapped another thrown in jail and the engines are on the verge of destruction and reacts like :/. Malcolm is gay he has 50 ex-girlfriends he has only had one friend in his life his own sister barely knows anything about him he dies alone he likes pineapple even though he's allergic to it he gets spacesick he worked as an agent for a top secret organization he's afraid of drowning he whined about getting a cold he had a spike driven through his leg and didn't complain at all he has a psychosexual obsession with a man he thinks is after his job and grows to respect once they had a homoerotic fight scene before witnessing him die. Hoshi is a linguistic prodigy she's the greatest contributor to the universal translator she has a panic attack on one of her first missions she ran a gambling ring she has a black belt in aikido and broke her superior's arm she has never been to the principal's office in her life she is afraid to use the transporter she became an empress in an alternate universe she is the only one who gets laid on Risa making her the first human to do so she reacted to the threat of getting worms injected into her brain to make her reveal secret information by spitting in her interrogator's face. Travis is the sweetest man ever he loves rock climbing he gets injured whenever he tries to use those skills he's a fan of ghost stories he grew up on a small freighter he gets neglected by the narrative his counterpart helps Hoshi become empress he works out when he's horny he dies in a alternate future where Earth is destroyed he's a movie buff who would probably love the Criterion Collection he likes to chill in a part of the ship with zero gravity which he calls "the sweet spot." Phlox grins like the Cheshire Cat he breaks doctor patient confidentiality to help figure out Malcolm's favorite food he goes crazy when the rest of the crew have to sleep through part of space because of how social his species is he has three wives who in turn have three husbands he responds to the news of one of his wives propositioning a crew member by being like "cool! have fun :]" he once nearly vivisects Travis because he's being affected by radiation and gets obsessed with knowing why the guy has a simple headache he has a menagerie in the middle of his sickbay. And they're all my best friends.

[ramblings-of-a-detrans-woman]

Why I will never support the radical feminist movement, as a detransitioning woman.

note: this is not meant to be any sort of hit piece or slander, I respect every feminist, even ones I disagree with. This is just my reasoning for why I do not like the radfem movement.

For a bit of context, I’ve indentified as trans since I was 12. At 18, I’ve decided to live my life as a lesbian woman, and i’ve never been happier with that choice.

Now, being a young trans man, I interacted a lot with pro trans content online (of course I did), and so of course I’ve heard about radical feminism. A passionate branch of feminism that takes a unique approach to women’s rights- deconstructing gender entirely. It sounds wonderful in theory, because of course gender is oppressive, most notably of women. I would know, being one. Even when I was trans I had to worry about being out at night. I even got chased once, and a man attempted to lure me to his truck another time. It’s brutal. But radical feminists devote their activism to ending this in a straightforward, logical way.

So why do I, a woman who has experienced both misogyny and transphobia, not support that? I feel that this is a good question for both trans allies and radfems alike to to ask. Knowledge is power.

Well, I’ll be direct. Radfems are some of the most depraved people i’ve ever met. I know, that sounds like a lot, but there’s no other words I can use that don’t perfectly encapsulate my experience with radfems. It’s depravity.

For weeks, I was harassed by transphobic radfems. Radfems, who are insistent on their love and support for TIFs aka trans men. It’s strange then that they would be so cruel towards one, wouldn’t you say?

Detransition is hard enough. It’s difficult to tell family that you were wrong. It’s difficult to reconnect with my gender. Hell, i prefer the term detrans over cis just because i have such a disconnect from my gender. So why do I have to deal with transphobic radfems sending me gore and death threats?

Thankfully all of the accounts doing this seem to be deleted or repurposed. But it’s only a matter of time until a new account is made just to send me an ask telling me to kill myself or a message about how much of a loser i am.

It’s this reason alone why i’ll never be a radfem. They’re just sick people. They don’t want liberation for women, they just hate trans people. It’s not even thinly veiled, their accounts are fully based around how horrible trans women are.

The truth being, trans women aren’t bad people at all. It’s easy to think they are because the news and media cherry picks some of the worst ones, but every community and minority group has bad people in it. some of the sickest people you could imagine, really. yes, they can be trans. but does being trans make you a sick person? does it turn you into a predator? no, it doesn’t. it just means you’re trans. trans or not, it’s up to men to be mature and take accountability for their own actions that they consciously make. a cis man is as capable to walk into a women’s room as a trans woman is.

if radical feminists cared more about women and detrans women, i could consider getting along with them. but sadly, all these passionate and dedicated feminists care about is hating trans people with a fiery passion. and i’ve been a casualty. it’s very difficult for me to sympathize with radfems when they’ve upset me to the point that they have

let me make it clear that gore and death threats don’t upset me, i’m not easily offended. So it’s not the threats that make me angry. It’s just the principle. The fact that radfems are spending their time scrolling reddit for gore pictures to send to fellow women instead of supporting us makes me SICK. it’s heartbreaking to picture a woman, raped and beaten by her boyfriend, and a radfem standing in front of her, readily available to help, but choosing to yell at a passing detrans woman. It’s really sad.

hopefully those reading this can take my words into consideration and use it to improve yourselves or your community (if you’re a radfem). i love womanhood and being a woman and i would love to share that joy with my sisters, but i just can’t when these issues i’ve experienced are in the back of my mind. I want radical feminism to be a safe space, a place where sisters can go to talk to women, relate to women, cry with and support women. but so far, the only love and support i’ve received has been from the trans community. that speaks volumes.

i am going to post more about my experience with finding my womanhood again in the future, so if you’re a detrans woman yourself, trans ally or not, consider following me :) i’d love to build myself a little community

[wajjs]

to sum up SOME of the things happening in Argentina:

There's a nation wide manhunt for Loan, a toddler that disappeared in Corrientes (province that has borders with Paraguay, Brasil and Uruguay, three neighboring countries). Foul play has been suspected from day one. The family is believed to be involved by some people. The most popular on going theory is that he was sold to an international pedophile ring dedicated to buying kids from Latin American countries and selling them to people in power in the USA and aligned countries.

The court case connected to Tehuel, a trans young man that disappeared while going to a job opportunity he was offered by a local semi-political figure he was supposed to be able to trust, has been reopened. It is heavily theorized that this political figure, plus his partner and an accomplice, tortured and killed Tehuel for being trans. (There is a strong online theory that they fed him to the pigs after to get rid of his remains. Another popular theory is that they sold him to a human trafficking ring.)

The ex first lady, Fabiola Yañez, and ex president, Alberto Fernández, are in an ongoing legal battle after she was more or less forced to come forward and press charges against him for physical and psychological abuse. A lot of it was perpetrated while he was in office during the pandemic. He kept her locked up, isolated, and publicly blamed her for the things that went wrong during his presidential mandate. Unfortunately the media is having a field day with the pictures of Fabiola beaten up, basically showing off her bruised face and body while zooming in on the injuries. Fabiola had to come out and ask them to please stop showing those pictures as they are effectively re traumatizing her and her son.

Current president, Javier Milei, has effectively altered the employment contract law, taking away things that were meant to protect workers from corporate/employer greed and abuse. He has also effectively closed down the statal, official, ways to get in contact with authorities in case of gender based discrimination and abuse.

Current ruling political party (far right) is pushing forward a denial of facts and attempt at retelling our history by more or less saying that the last military dictatorship wasn't that bad, trying to pardon their sentences (even though the ones in charge of kidnapping, torturing, and disappearing people are living well while serving their sentences). A delegation met with one of the most heinous figure heads of the last dictatorship. A person from said delegation alleged it's old history and that people born during the 90s don't know and don't care about it.

[genderkoolaid]

out of spite at the people who think transhet men have straight male privilege, i was planning to look into violence against straight transmasculine people specifically. i was going to look through the aovatp and see what i can find about the victims' sexualities, but i wanted to first ask if you had any information on their seuxalities already from your research. no worries if not, i just figured i'd check.

100% support that. I think straight trans men especially see a lot of erasure from other queer people, who are quick to portray them as cis lesbian victims of lesbophobia.

Here are the victims on the Archive who I know would be relevant:

Khleo Finnie (USA) - Assaulted and slashed along with his wife while being called slurs

Maria Paola Gaglione (Italy) - A cis woman who was murdered by her brother to "teach her a lesson" after getting engaged to a trans man

Unnamed trans man (Qatar) - A member of the Qatar royal family fled and went into hiding with his girlfriend after his freedom was restricted by his family.

Phillip (Malawi) - Assaulted by police officers along with another trans man for "doing lesbian activities"

John (USA) - Murdered by the ex-husband of his girlfriend in the late 1986. "During the murder trial in 1990, the defense proposed the argument that it was not a “real murder,” as John was just an “it”." (Hung Jury chp. 9)

Nicole Saavedra Bahamondes (Chile) - A camiona (butch lesbian) who was murdered, and had been previously harassed by cis men who sought to "correct her" and "make her a woman." She lived in Valparaíso, a region known for its lesbophobic violence.

^ Unnamed camiona (Chile) - Whipped with chains while being called lesbophobic slurs. Also from Valparaíso.

^ Carolina Torres (Chile) - Brutally beaten and permanently disabled by cis men who specifically targeted her, and not her femme girlfriend, for being a camiona; during the attempted murder, they asked her "Why do you dress like a man?"

Kavi/Kaveri (India) - Murdered and had his body burned by two cisgender men because he was against one of them dating his friend.

Jorge (Ecuador) - Forced into conversion therapy where he was physically abused and made to wear sexy feminine clothing (his girlfriend was also subject to similar treatment).

Manoj (India) - 17-year-old who was tied up, beaten, locked in, and threatened with murder by his family after coming out as a straight trans man. He was also taken out of school and forced into marriage with a much older man.

However there definitely are other people on that list who might be of interest to you.

[riley-writes]

Damaged Goods (Dhawan!Master x GN!Reader)

Hi! It’s been soooo long. Grad school will be the death of me. Enjoy this fic that I wrote instead of studying for an exam I’ll take in less than 36 hours that determines whether I graduate or not. This was more fun though. Please excuse any typos I proofread this once and now I have to go study to prove that I can be a professional at hearing people's worst memories while helping them be okay

Dhawan!Master x GN!Reader

You’ve accepted your fate on a planet you don’t even know the name of after being left behind. The last person you expect to see is your ex-friend’s best enemy.

Notes: So reader is gender neutral but there’s a throwaway line that more aligns with the queer/trans experience, but could probably read as anyone who is an outsider or struggled to feel accepted. Enjoy babes!

Warnings: Reference to torture, brief SI language but no followthrough, angst, abandonment. The works.

This certainly wasn’t the way you’d expected to die. Well, that might not be exactly true. You had expected some kind of trouble that you and the fam got into would end in your demise, but foolishly you’d thought that maybe it would be quick.

This was not quick.

While on some godforsaken planet that you couldn’t remember the name of, the Doctor had managed to piss off another alien race, leading to you all fleeing to the TARDIS under heavy fire. And only you hadn’t made it on time.

At first, you’d been confident that the Doctor would come back and rescue you. But the first day passed, and then the second, and then the third, and then before you knew it, you’d been being tortured for… well, you didn’t know anymore. Hard to keep track when you have no clue how long you’ve been passed out for after getting the shit beaten out of you for not knowing where the Doctor had run off to. 

You weren’t really sure when you’d started resenting her for it–for leaving you behind. She and the fam had taken you in when no one else was there for you, when no one would accept you for who you were. You had no one back on Earth. And now you had no one period. It hurt. To be left behind and forgotten like a toy that had been broken and discarded.

And that’s what you were. Broken. You’d held onto your spirit for so long, but as you heard the barred door down the hall swing open, you realized that you just wanted it all to end. You just couldn’t take it anymore.

You didn’t look up as the door to your cell opened and someone was shoved to the ground, followed by the door slamming shut and locking once more.

“Oh come on boys, it was all in good fun!” said a familiar voice, causing your blood to run cold. You snuck a quick glance, and confirmed– yes, the Master had just been thrown into your cell. Unfortunately, your movement didn’t go unnoticed, and his head snapped in your direction. You quickly diverted your eyes, but the damage was done. You heard him tut and wander towards you, and your entire body tensed. 

“Now what is one of the Doctor’s little pets doing in a place like this? Lost, love?” he asked cruelly. You didn’t respond or look up, still curled in on yourself. He stepped closer and your body got impossibly more tense. Your lack of response encouraged him. “Waiting on your precious Doctor to come and save you?”

You couldn’t help but let out a quiet scoff at that, which egged him on further. “How long has she left you here to rot?” He made an irritated sound when you didn’t respond. “I asked you a ques–,” you saw him reaching for you.

“Don’t touch me!” you shouted, vaulting yourself away from him across the cell. You could feel yourself start to hyperventilate, breaths coming quicker and quicker. Yep, this was it. You were dying. The Master was frozen in place, an unreadable look on his face.

The only sound was your quick breathing. He took a step forward, and you pushed yourself into the corner as far as you could.

“Don’t…” you sobbed, terrified. The Master held his hands up and took another step forward as if he were approaching a wild animal. “Please,” you whispered.” He hesitated.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he said after a moment. There was some emotion on his face that you couldn’t quite place– though that was reasonable, being that you hadn’t been in contact with anyone that had shown you anything but disgust and anger. Still, you didn’t relax.

“You need to breathe or you’re going to pass out. You humans are pathetic like that, only having one respiratory system,” he said with jest, and you let out a short laugh in shock. He took this as a good sign, because he slowly approached and knelt down next to you. He seemed to not quite know what to do, but settled on a gentle hand on your back as you steadied your breathing.

“Now. I’m going to go destroy every other being on this planet, and then we’ll leave. Consider this my good deed of this regeneration. Can’t be ruining my reputation now, can I?” he said quietly. You looked up in surprise, and were met with an intense gaze. You nodded, throwing your trust to someone who’d never shown you anything but disdain up until this moment. What did you have to lose?

And as you got on the Master’s TARDIS, you couldn’t help but wonder what life had in store for you next.

[insipid-drivel]

Endometriosis, Fat Doctors, And Bellybuttons: What They Don't Teach You In Health Class

Woo another rambling TED talk, but I just got home from a meeting with a doctor specializing in wound care that I really feel a lot of you should hear:

Firstly, I've been having mysterious pains in my bellybutton area since... probably last Autumn? But I've had menorrhagia (extremely heavy, painful, and even dangerous periods that can cause spontaneous hemorrhaging) since I was 13 years old. Since my menorrhagia became active, I've been begging for a hysterectomy. I'm moving into my 20 year anniversary of Living With A Uterus That Hates Me As Much As I Hate It.

Being trans (agender) also really incentivizes the whole "yeet the uterus" thing, too, but that doesn't really have anything to do with why I wanna talk to y'all about endometriosis and bellybuttons.

Anyway, as of this year, I've had a lot of issues with my bellybutton region. Random infections, inflammation, pain, trips in and out of the ER; the works. My doctor has been so confused by my bizarre constellation of symptoms that he hasn't been sure of what's going on or what the best course of action is, aside from referring me for more tests and prescribing comfort measures in the meantime.

Until today. My desperate track for a diagnosis began over a week ago when my symptoms became alarmingly sepsis-like, but my test results came back with nothing but signs of an elevated white blood cell count. My doctor has been rushing me from specialist to specialist, and today was a wound care doctor that specializes in treating bariatric, hospice, and disabled patients that can't necessarily follow conventional wound-care advice meant for young, abled, and thin people.

I didn't expect much. Maybe some magnifiers, swabs, and a biopsy at worst, followed by antibiotics and whatever else, but definitely nothing that would help me solve this latest scary health mystery. While the worst of the pain I had that landed me in the ER went away on its own enough that I can get by with mobility aids, I still haven't had a diagnosis.

Until Awesome Fat Doctor.

Awesome Fat Doctor I celebrate. I live for this man. He literally gave me a reason to keep on trying and not give up. I was so scared of the appointment I'd gone nonverbal (not weird for me these days), but I got my voice back after I spent a while with him and his nurse (who was also fantastic). Even though I only met him for a few minutes and he forgot to introduce himself so I can't remember his name right now, Awesome Fat Doctor was a rock star. He was in his later middle age, scruffy, unshaven, and fat - enough that I could imagine the reason he specializes as a wound care doctor is because he may have gotten fed up of other doctors blaming his own health problems on his weight and life choices.

AFD gave no fucks. Along with being a big guy, he carried himself with the gruff no-nonsense of a man that's probably beaten up his ableist colleagues overdiagnosing fibromyalgia in the back of a Wendy's parking lot. He had been informed of my autism and my own needs for a wheelchair due to my own long-term chronic pain and other health issues, as well as my troubles speaking, and treated me like a little cousin that was having a rough go of things like he'd had.

He was compassionate and a straight-shooter with me. He was respectful of my boundaries, talked to me as casually as if I could respond like anybody else with working vocal cords (which I was eventually able to), and generally had all the bedside manner of someone that has worked with patients with special needs of all kinds. He looked at the trouble area and my records and history, told me that he was gonna do his best to get things straightened out, and then went quiet as he studied the timeline of my issues.

"Do you have endometriosis?" he asked, while studying a photo my mom had taken of a... skin infection over my lower abdomen, which had spread from my bellybutton.

I was confused.

"Not that I know of," I answered. I'd found my voice already when he and his nurse both helped put me at ease and showed me I was respected, safe, and seen. I've been tested a few times in my life for endometriosis and had my fair share of ultrasounds (the most common way to diagnose endo), and nobody had found anything unusual. But I have menorrhagia, am always in pain from my reproductive organs, and am desperate to get them removed. I'm on a 24/7 regimen of 2x normal birth control pills just to keep me from menstruating for my own safety. It sucks.

"My wife once had to get emergency surgery for what we thought was appendicitis. Do you know what it turned out she had?" he asked me, very suddenly, and like he had an idea.

"Ectopic pregnancy?" was my first guess, because women have died in the past to ectopic pregnancies that were mistaken for appendicitis.

AFD shook his head. "It was her menstrual cycle, and she had endometrial tissue bleeding into the space beside her appendix. I think you may have endometrial tissue in your bellybutton, and every time your hormones try to cycle in spite of your birth control pills, it bleeds and infects."

I was gobsmacked. Endometriosis and PCOS run in my family as reliably as eye and hair color, but I'd never really thought of how pernicious endometrial tissue could actually be. When I picture endometrial tissue, I picture overgrowths inside of reproductive tissue, or clinging to the outside; not growing randomly within the abdominal cavity or emerging out of my fucking skin like a turkey pop-up timer of doom.

AFD slowly nodded. "And the only way we'd be able to see the endometrial tissue is if you had it tested while you were menstruating and the tissue itself was inflamed and bleeding. Otherwise, it won't show up as anything different to the normal, healthy tissues surrounding it. A biopsy isn't reliable, either, because we have to know exactly where the tissue is before we test it. You have to have your hormones triggering the tissue to inflame and behave differently so it can be diagnosed if there are no big deposits of tissue to see."

After a long time of my ears ringing, I asked him, "Do you think it's possible that the ultrasounds were showing false negatives? Like, I have endometriosis and had it all along, but the tissue is too small to see or were being looked at at the wrong time?"

As it turns out, that's exactly what may be going on.

I see my doctor tomorrow, and meet with my surgeon at the beginning of next month.

Listen to your bodies, y'all. I am so thankful to that doctor, who wound up diverting into a very colorfully-worded rant about how much he hates the American medical system immediately after that. He gave me hope that I was just having new issues with old problems and was right all along about what my body really needed, and that my symptoms now are just showing what happens when doctors neglect their patients' needs.

I did wind up asking if he specialized with wound care because of how other doctors responded to his weight, and he said that it was a mix of reasons beginning with Yes: Both so he could have a safe space from fatphobia and ableism for himself and his patients, but also so his wife - who, while I hadn't seen her, he explained was about as big as he was - would have her own pain taken more seriously, being both fat and female. As he'd already explained, she hadn't been successfully diagnosed with endometriosis until she was symptomatic of full-blown appendicitis-levels of pain as an adult and her doctors were forced to stop blaming her pain on her weight.

Now, as I sit here reflecting... It's hard to believe that, thanks to this doctor's theory, I may finally be free from pain and dysphoria sooner than I imagined. It just took a doctor who could empathize with me to see me, and choose to take the scarier hill to fight on with me.

[dehydrated-turtle]

Sketchy Motel and Midnight Jerking

//warnings// smut, nsfw, 16+, mdni

//contents// Dick Grayson x transmasc!reader, trans reader, masturbation, one bed, transmasc reader

//synopsis// You, a detective are working with your long time friend, Dick Grayson, aka Nightwing on a case but when you get to the stakeout motel, they only have one room with the one bed. One thing leads to another... wc - 3.2k

//on ao3//

Driving to the outskirts of Blüdhaven, you and Dick were on your merry way to start a steakout on some drug dealers that have been selling tainted drugs to kids. Nightwing had gotten a “tip” (he beat up a thug) that the ring leader was staying in a sketchy house on the outskirts. Lucky for you guys, there was an even sketchier motel across the street that had a perfect view from the windows, spectacular for surveillance. 

You had become Dick’s go to cop in ‘haven after you “proved yourself” working on another case with him. You slowly became really close friends and being one of the best detectives in your precinct, you found out his secret identity, bringing the two of you even closer. 

“Looks like we’re pulling up to it now.” Dick says, turning the steering wheel and pulling into a gravel parking lot. The motel looked like it was on the verge of being abandoned, eaves troughs hanging down off the roof, clear water damage from outside , doors with no handles, and shingles missing from the roof. 

“Quaint.” you sigh, taking a good look at the building as Dick parks the car. 

“C’mon, let's get a room and set up surveillance, I wanna get it up and running as soon as possible.” 

You unbuckle your seatbelt and step out of the car onto the rough parking lot gravel, too cheap to get pavement I guess. As you keep looking at the state of the building, you follow Dick to the check-in office to get a room. 

As you walk in the door, a little bell jingles above your heads and a short, raven haired woman comes out from the back room. 

“What can I do you for?” 

“Uh, a room preferably.” Dick said with a chuckle and his signature friendly smile. You’ve seen him use it on kids who were in danger or to colleagues of yours. 

“Alright, let's see here…” She turned around to the wall that’s not so full of keys, “I’ve got one room left. Just a heads up, there’s only one bed so you two boys are going to have to share.” She hands Dick the key. 

“How could you only have one room, the parking lot was empty?” He says, looking at the key. 

“I dunno what to tell you kid, you see any more keys on this wall? How long?” 

He looks over at you nervously, “Uh, 4 nights.” He says while the woman taps something into her computer and Dick taps his card on the debit machine so your four nights are all paid for. No taking this out for company charges because it’s technically not a case. At least an official one. 

The two of you walk back out the jingly door and up the steps to try and find your room, 204. The door seemed tattered and like it had been beaten down in the past but at least the lock worked once you got in. Just as the woman said, one bed, queen sized so at least you could have your own space and not be practically on top of eachother. 

“Ok I’m going to go get some of the bags from the car, wanna help?” You say, walking to the door. 

“Sure, sure.” He replies, hurrying to the door and following you close behind. 

After you bring up all of your luggage and the many, many bags and cases of surveillance equipment, Dick flops down on the bed with a heaving sigh. You place the last case on the floor near the window and walk over to the bed as well, sitting on the opposite side as Dick. 

“I really don’t want to set all the stuff up right now. Maybe we can just set it up tomorrow morning, first thing.” Dick groans, turning onto his side to face you. 

“Yeah, it’s getting dark anyway, might as well get ready for bed.” You get off the bed and head toward your suitcase to get out a change of clothes and your toiletries bag before making your way to the bathroom. Said bathroom is disgusting but that’s not surprising, you just avoid the corners and don’t swallow the water. You change into your PJs which are really just a hoodie and a pair of shorts. You leave the room and walk back to your suitcase to pull out your phone charger and plug it into the wall. 

You ignore Dick as he gets his stuff out–just the same as you–and shuts the door to the bathroom as you crawl under the covers which seem to be relatively clean, at least they smell freshly washed. You lay on your side facing the bathroom door, scrolling on your phone when Dick comes out, wearing a tee shirt and boxers. You give him a surprised look and he responds, 

“Forgot my pants.” 

“Sure you did, or you just wanted me to see how much you’re packing.” You say teasingly with a smile. You mean it as a joke but he still flushes nonetheless and turns away. Odd. He pulls his pair of sweats on over his boxers and comes back to the bed. He lifts the covers and scoots underneath. For a second your legs brush ever so slightly. 

“Sorry,” he says, rather frantically. Also odd. 

“Oh, no it’s ok.” You look up at him, he's still so flushed. “Ok, I’m going to sleep, I’m beat. G’night, Dick.” You roll over and snuggle into the pillow. 

“‘Night…” He replies, also shuffling into a more comfortable position to sleep in. 

You don’t really remember falling asleep but you definitely remember waking up: you had apparently rolled over again because now you were facing inward. You were woken by some soft noises coming from beside you. You’re still not sure what it is because you’re still half asleep but as you open your eyes slowly, you have a perfect view of Dick’s dick, glistening in the moonlight. You don’t want to make it weird so you just stay perfectly still, watching him jerk off. 

His soft, quiet moans and whimpers make your boxers absolutley soiled, you try not to make any moans yourself. The squelching of his wet cock ringing in your ears making it extremely hard not to intervene. The bed starts to rock just slightly as he pumps his hand up and down, pulling him closer to a climax. You can’t see his face, with the way your head is, so you know he can’t see your eyes so you just keep watching, waiting until he’s done so as to not make it awkward for him until… 

He says your name. 

Amidst his moans and squealing whimpers, your name is whispered along with a string of profanities. His hand starts to move faster and his voice, louder. You want to intervene more than ever, now knowing that he’s jerking it to you and, by the looks of it, he’s about to cum. 

But what if you misheard. 

What if he’s thinking of someone else. 

What if he wouldn’t want you to touch him. 

Too many risks. 

His hand stutters and he squeals as you watch him cum all over his lower abdomen, rivers of white, pouring out of his tip. He lets out a sigh and dips his fingers into the cum on his abs, bringing it up to his mouth. You squeeze your legs together, trying desperately to feel something on your throbbing clit without arousing suspicion that you’re awake. 

He slides out of bed and heads toward the bathroom, nothing on his lower half so you watch his perfect ass as he walks away. There goes your opportunity. 

You roll over and try to go to sleep but the image of his pristine cock keeps popping up every time you close your eyes, shimmering and jumping in his hand. Fantasies come to mind, you sucking away at it, bouncing on it for hours, maybe adding a vibrator to the mix before he comes back through the bathroom door. You can only imagine what his soft cock looks like as he comes back, rebounding between his perfectly toned thighs before he puts his pants back on. You feel him crawl back into the bed, pausing for a moment before sliding down into the covers. After a couple of minutes, you fall back asleep again. 

This time you wake up to Dick’s hand on your shoulder and his voice pulling you out of your REM. You were facing him again, but this time one of his thighs was between yours and your hips were rolling against it. 

“Welcome back to the land of the living. I was going to leave you be but… you said my name, thought maybe I should intervene so, I dunno, you could get the most out of it?” He looks really flushed again but this time he’s keeping eye contact. He did what you couldn’t, little fucker. You’re too tired to really know what’s happening so you just keep rolling and let out a whimpering moan. “Is that a yes?” He asks, lifting your chin so you meet his eyes. All you do is nod. “I’m going to need a verbal confirmation.” 

“ Please just fuck me.” You slur, your eyes lidded and heavy still, but not until Dick takes your lips into a deep and sensuous kiss, rolling his hips along with yours, cock hard and so very ready. The pheromones are practically flying around the room. You moan gutteraly into the kiss as you feel his cock jump against your lower abdomen. Dick’s lips leave yours and start to travel along your neck, down to where your hoodie starts. 

“Mind if I take this off?” he asks, so sweetly. 

“No…” You reply, sitting up and lifting it off your torso and throwing it onto the ground. He pushes you by the shoulder so you’re laying back on the bed before he straddles your hips and kisses the nape of your neck. His kisses take a long journey, peppering and fluttering all the way down your chest, abs, and stomach before getting to the waistband of your shorts. 

“This ok?” he asks, looking up at you with those precious puppy dog eyes but genuinely asking. 

“Mhm.” you whine as he pulls down your shorts underneath your ass, off your legs, and onto the floor with your shirt. He places a kiss on your pelvic bone before looking up at you again with those beautiful dark blue eyes, looking for more confirmation, how much could he possibly need. You nod nonetheless and he licks a stripe up your folds, slowing down as he reaches your growth and you let out a soft whimper. You see him smile before going whole hog and taking your clit into his mouth, sucking vigorously. Your head hits the pillow as you moan out loudly before slapping your palm to your lips in an effort to stifle it. 

“Mm-mm, no, honey… I wanna hear you.” Dick whispers, pulling away from your core making you whine into your palm again before he reaches up toward you and pulls your hand away by your wrist before going back down on you. 

He pushes your thighs apart, massaging them as well while he slides his tongue into your leaking hole. You gasp at the sudden stretching and clench down on his tongue. He curls up and hits a certain spot which makes you all the more loud, he responds with a moan of his own, vibrating into your core. He takes his tongue back out to lick fast circles on your hardened growth and alternate with sucking. His actions are fast and spirited, making your inner thighs shake as your eyes roll back. A familiar heat growing in the depths of your abdomen, your hand snaps to the back of Dick’s head, pushing him down then pulling on his hair. His eyes look up and land on you, making eye contact as he lifts his hand to find yours, intertwining your fingers with his and squeezing three times. That pushed you over the edge. 

You had been mercilessly pining for Dick for ages now and the lewd acts were almost too much let alone him basically telling you he loves you. You just nearly scream out his name as you fall over the cliff of your climax, squirming under his mouth and his muscular arms resting on your thighs. 

“‘Atta boy…” He whispers against the skin of your inner thighs, leaving open mouthed kisses along them along with some bruising ones. “You really have no idea how long I’ve dreamed of this.” he nuzzles into the crook of your leg, breathing in your scent as you play gently with his hair. All you can do in your post orgasm haze is hum in acknowledgement. 

With a singular kiss on your thigh, Dick sits up between them and starts to pull the hem of his shirt over his head. You had almost forgotten that he had been fully clothed the whole time you had been completely naked. His abs flexing as the collar of his shirt comes over his head and his biceps relaxing as he brings his arms back down. He tosses it gently onto the floor beside the bed and you take this time to admire his physique. 

You try to sit up to touch his bare chest but he pushes you back down, shoving your shoulder so you fall back bouncing onto the bed. He kisses your collarbone, leaving more maroon bruises on your skin as you tug at the hair on the nape of his neck and planting a kiss on the top of his head. You can feel Dick rutting into your thigh as he massacres your collarbone, whimpering softly. 

“Dick…” you whisper, “I need you. I need to feel you inside me, please .” 

“Oh, I was planning on it.” He says with a smug smile looking up at you. 

He sits back up, slides off the bed, and pulls off his sweats and boxers, you watch his cock spring free and slap his lower abdomen gently which makes you clench. He pumps his dick a few times before coming back onto the bed. You lock eyes with him and he sends you a genuine smile before spreading your legs again. He lets some spit fall onto his hand then coats his head with it before lining up with your entrance, swiping a line up your wet folds. He tilts his head as he does so and smiles again before looking back at you and pushing in slowly. He wants to make sure you feel every bit of this. 

He lets out a deep exhale as he bottoms out, gently. You stretch out your arms, reaching for his skin and touching his waist slowly massaging the flesh. Your hands travel along his body as he starts to move inside you, cock jumping ever so slightly but enough that you could feel it deep inside your guts. The stretch was so perfect, not nearly enough to hurt but just so that you could feel it pushing at your walls. 

“Hm, look at you… taking my cock so well.” he whispers almost to himself with his head still tilted, looking at your cunt. His fingers start to dance on your clit, toying at it and smiling another time because you just can’t stop clenching on his dick. 

He quickens his pace, balls now slapping against your flesh and moans being thrown around the room carelessly. He falls forward, catching himself with an arm right beside your head, his other hand palming at your sides, holding you steady. Your fingers now wandering along his back and arms, gripping desperately to anything you could get your hands on. 

His hand reaches your jawline and he looks right into your eyes before taking your lips into his, sliding his tongue past them and mingling with yours. He moans tenderly against your mouth as he relentlessly pounds into your cervix. With a wet pop, he breaks the kiss, panting heavily against your skin before he sits back up. He presses his palm down onto the flesh right above your pelvic bone. 

“Oh, fuck .” he whines, apparently the action had given you both an intense sensation, the pressure was immaculate and he just went slightly faster, pounding into spots of your walls you didn’t know could be pleasured or even reached for that matter. “Oh god, I’m gonna cum, shit-” 

“Don’t you dare pull out- OH FUCK.” The comment had made Dick’s cock twitch, sending him over the edge, spilling into you. The white rivers of cum pouring into your canal, ebbing and flowing, painting your insides white, leaking out onto the sides of his dick. Now he might be sensitive but he’s not stopping until you cum on his cock. He keeps pounding until you’re a shaking mess, moaning his name. 

“Such a good boy, cumming for me… clenching around my cock, so sweet.”

His thrusts slowly come to a halt, delicately pulling out and watching as his cum pours out of your hole. He dips his fingers into the mess and brings them to his lips, licking the cum off of them just like he had done in the middle of the night except this time you could see his mouth and he was looking right at you. The lewd act makes you whine before he bends down to your cunt again and lapps up his and your own juices from your leaking hole. He flattens his tongue and licks all the way up your core, tasting all of you before focusing more on your clit, sucking and circling with his tongue. 

After a couple of moments, he slides a finger into your hole, curling up and hitting your sensitive g-spot. He pumps this finger for a while while still sucking and bobbing his head ever so slightly before adding another finger and curling them repeatedly and with vigour. Your sensitivity causes you to gasp at the sudden intense pleasure, moaning Dick’s name and pulling at his hair. An unfamiliar sensation arises in your core, a sort of pressure and your stomach tightening. Before you knew it, there was a waterfall of clear liquid gushing up from your cunt, falling onto the bed and you. Dick looked at you in awe with a disbelieving smile and a little chuckle, completely soaked as well by your orgasm. 

“Fuck, I’ve never done that before… my god, you’re soaked.” You say, sitting up and brushing his hair out of his face before pulling him in for a kiss. 

“I’m just glad to know I make you feel good.” 

“Spectacular, even-” you’re cut off by your alarm going off meant to wake you up so you can set up the surveillance equipment. “Shit, we still have a perp to catch. Wanna come help me set up then maybe we can go out so they can change the sheets.” 

“What a great idea, maybe we should shower first, no? I’m kinda soaked already.” 

“Sounds good to me.”

[lavenderskye29]

Hi I found your Page and I love plum princesses and MQ

I have a question

What would they do if they found out that there's queen was abused mentally and didn't have a good relationship with her family.

And al'so if one of her brothers was very voilnt to her

Like the notice that there queen not back yet but they smell blood and they run to there wife and see her with a broken leg after getting pushed down some stairs ( I just broken toes with my family most of them them cuz I came out as she/her trans and it wasn't pretty but I am doing ok I have my girlfriend to help me or my fiance as I should call her lol) but what would they do to them and how would they get the reader home safe. And how would they take care of her.

(First off, I am so sorry this has happened to you. You don't deserve that. I hope you're safe and away from your family. If ever in trouble please seek help, here is the link for the domestic violence hotline.)

Monkey Queen and Macaque would not let Peaches go after capturing her, so there would be no incidents during her time on the mountain... but in the village, when the ladies are posing as monkeys and they come for one of their weekly visits and they see their soon-to-be wife crying and quivering in her bedroll, is when something would happen.

They don't understand at first what happened so they rush over chattering worriedly, looking to inspect the pathetic lump that was Peaches curled up on the floor. Being warriors, the ladies knew what inflicted injuries looked like and the minute they saw her swollen, bruised face peeking out from under the thin sheet she called a blanket, they lost it. It took every ounce of self-restraint to remain in their disguises and to not burn the whole village down to ash. Macaque had to convince Wukong to wait so they could see who the real culprits were before dishing out a punishment. So they waited, curled up against a whimpering Peaches as time passed.

As evening approached, they didn't expect to hear the sound of stomps approaching Peach's room from within, and when they noticed their beaten love trying to curl up deeper into her covers and the quivering of her body start to increase violently, they knew they caught their culprit. As the thin sliding paper door slammed open, they could immediately tell it was one of Peaches family members by the shared features in their face... but whereas Peaches was nearly always smiling or laughing when her furry companions saw her, this person was only snarling at the room. Malice radiated from the person.

The monkeys bristled when the person shouted at Peaches to get up, but nothing compared the anger they felt when the family member approached with a heavy wicker broom and started whacking at the lump that was Peaches and at them. That was enough to send Wukong and Macaque in a vicious flurry of rage. They lept at the attacker, tearing the human limb from limb, and bathing in the blood-curtling screams that ripped from their throat. It didn't take long for the human to die, but the sounds of pain did bring the rest of the family to come rushing in. Wukong and Macaque wasted no time in continuing the slaughter, but not before making the head of the family beg for forgiveness.

By the time they were done, the house was covered in blood and torn bits of flesh. The only sound that could be heard was the sound of giggling coming from Macaque and Wukong. At least that's what they thought until another sound entered the fray... a quiet, sadder sound that clawed at the hearts of the demon warlords... Peaches' light sobbing.

She had been conscious for it all.

Macaque rushed back to Peaches whereas Wukong faltered a bit. Surely, Peaches would fear them now... Would hate them... this was going to take a lot of work to fix on their part. Wukong was going through scenario after scenario in her head as she slowly made her way back to Peaches room of how their little human would react to them. Imagine Wukong's surprise however when from the hallway, she sees Peaches practically clinging to Macaque for some sort of comfort in all the blood; the only spot of white in this ocean of red. The sight made Wukong pause. Suddenly everything came to light for her, and a wide, sharp-toothed grin split across her face.

After that day, Peaches would have no worries... and no use for anyone else but her knights in shining armor.

[morgueofstories]

Dark Farfadream Royalty AU

So the Dark Farfadream Royalty AU won by a landslide so I will be talking about that. Be warned this will contain some dark themes like non/con, torture, miscarriage mentions, and just Dream going through the wringer for this idea

TW mentions of rape, miscarriage, and torture in graphic detail read at your own risk

Farfadox is the Demon King who came out victorious in a war against the kingdom of Essempi. To not have the kingdom destroyed, the nobles agree to a list of demands the Demon King has given them, one of the demands being they give him a bride because his previous spouse died and he has no heirs to his throne.

On the final day before departure, Farfadox is handed his bride who he notices is dressed in a wedding dress too big that covers the bride completely. The bride has a veil covering their face but Farfadox can see that his bride-to-be is trembling in fear as they are pushed into the Demon King's arms, ignoring the snide remarks from the soldiers who brought him his bride, he lifts the veil covering their face to see beautiful emerald green eyes filled with tears staring back at him. His bride's face is heavily scarred but to Farfadox, his bride is one of the most beautiful people in the world he has seen

OR

Dream, Essempi's princess turned prince has been locked away in prison after his family was overthrown and executed by the NotFound family with him only being alive due to the NotFound family's son who took an interest in him. After an incident, Dream was tortured and assaulted for many years until he was given to Farfadox being told he wouldn't even survive the first night

Side Notes:

Dream is trans but he was misgendered during his imprisonment and when he is offered to Farfadox he doesn't bother trying to correct him whenever Farfadox addresses him as a 'she'

The reason why Farfadox wasn't enraged when Dream was given to him as his bride after being told Dream was a prisoner is that in demon culture it's not uncommon for their people to sometimes marry slaves; Farfadox's father was a gladiator slave before his mother married him

During his time imprisoned, Dream was impregnated against his will and had multiple kids which are Ranboo (kicked out of the house at a young age due to how 'different' he looked and now lives in the forest at the edge of a village), Connor (living in fear with his dad who is a raging alcoholic), Hannah and Tina (half-sisters who are constantly abused by their stepmother but their half-sister Sylvee tries her best to keep them safe even if it means taking the brunt of her mother's abuse) and Yogurt (who was actually the only consensual pregnancy Dream had with Fundy after Fundy was forced by his dad Wilbur to sleep with Dream)

The reason why Dream was saved from being executed was because George had seen Dream once as a kid and wanted him as his wife, so another kid was executed in Dream's place. Over the course of a year after the rebellion he gets close to Dream and when he tries to initiate sex Dream gets scared, lashes out and on accident breaks George's nose; this then leads to Dream getting raped by George, beaten by some knights who then are given permission to use him as they see fit

Before Dream is sent off to Farfadox, he is gang-raped for hours and was told he was sent off because he couldn't produce any more kids so Dream doesn't say a word to Farfadox about the assault until a couple months later he wakes up feeling nauseous and finds out he is pregnant (it's George's kid) but loses the baby a couple weeks later

Techno is Dream's Godfather and emperor of the Antartic Empire, a small kingdom. He was devastated when he heard of the rebellion and execution but he couldn't declare war as his kingdom was smaller and not as powerful compared to Essempi

Farfadox and Dream eventually work things out and Dream gets all the help he needs to fully heal and a couple years later the two have sex and eventually Dream gets pregnant with twins

My inbox is open for asks so feel free to ask me anything about this au as this is one that I've been fleshing out for a while and will publish after Wither Roses is done

[penisbagelbite]

Note: I got this screenshot from a post that crossed my dashboard, and what I've gathered from that post is that TMA xitter discovered "malgendering" and had a meltdown about their Emotional Support Mistreatment of transmascs being named and shamed.

As I am the coiner of "malgendering" I have some words about this and probably should touch on it again, seeing how it's festered online.

First things first, I don't think "transmisandry" is real.

Unless, as usual, the use of “transmisandry” here is in reference to anti-transmasculinity (no matter what it’s called) in general and any discussion of it had by transmascs, because it is a lot easier to demonize and disregard these discussions and the problems being brought forth when referred to in a way that likens any and all discourse of anti-transmasculinity to MRA rhetoric (even though anti-transmasculinity at it’s core is misogyny and a feminist issue) then, sure. In that context I guess I do. As much as any other transmasculine individual who discusses anti-transmasculinity & misogynandry believes in "transmisandry".

Regarding it's coining and the post that started it: the initial post was impulsive, and something I plucked out of my drafts meaning it was far from finished (and knowing my track record, probably never would've been) and glaringly has it's flaws. I decided on doing this because the topic of transmascs and trans men only beeing seen as men or "affirmed" in their masculinity when it can be used as an excuse to abuse them was coming up quite frequently the preceding week.

One was an account of a recent assault that happened that same week resulting in a cracked rib in a private channel. From the account it was very clear anti-transmasculinity was the motivator behind the attack, and malgendering was the choice of violence. The attacker told the victim pretty plainly that they deserved to be beaten and should put up with being beaten because "you're a (trans) man now".

There was — and still is — a lot of pain and confusion around, especially when it comes to this type of treatment of transmasculine individuals. It is a mindfuck to deal with and go through. I wanted to help by contributing to the conversation around the phenomenom I'd personally called "malgendering", however rudimentary my help may have been. I wanted to help by giving transmascs more language to better articulate their experiences and another means of understanding what has been done to them/is done to them and the "why" of it, so that their pain may be alleviated just a little bit. It's a lot easier to combat something and heal from it when you can name and define it.

I thought it'd only reach and help about ten people at most, which was enough to try.

"Malgendering" was also conceived in response to transmascs who pointed to being malgendered as evidence of "misandry" and to give alternative language to the very real phenomenon of transmascs own masculinity and negative sexist stereotypes being levied against them as an excuse for violence and abuse without giving credence to "misandry". The type of corrective sexism malgendering is is ultimately rooted in misogyn(andr)y and is better understood that way. It is one method of many to punish those who’ve stepped out of femininity and their assigned role of “woman” (and coerce them back into it if possible).

Though the sexism and gender stereotypes malgendering uses can look to be what could be considered “misandry” on it’s face, underneath it is not a genuine hatred of (cis) men, but a hatred of transmasculinity specifically. Invoking “misandry” is just a means to an end and a lot of what I see evidenced as “misandry”, especially when explained in it’s relation to “transandrophobia”, is really just misogynandry. Masculinity being "wrong" and "dangerous" on someone mullerian is misogynandry, not misandry.

This aspect that is critical of the use of "misandry" was not established well and did not take hold in it's spread, because as stated what little I had written that I built that post around was wholly unfinished, but "malgendering" as a concept achieved it's main and most important goal which was to help, and that matters more to me than my feud with the use of "misandry" by transmascs on the topic of anti-transmasculinity and playing semantics.

To conclude this post, I don’t especially care how transmascs themselves find use of the word and don’t think there are any ‘wrong’ interpretations of it.* Language is subjective and words have lives of their own, they take on different meanings and contexts depending on the speaker. I threw "malgendering" out into the wind knowing that in all likelihood, it would be carried off and become something else to someone else like all other words. As long as it's still understood what it means when I use it as originally conceived, I don't particularly care how it's finding use with transmascs elsewhere.

*Non-transmascs butting in to once again police our language and decide for transmascs what actually is and is not malgendering, however, are annoying as fuck and wrong on principle. Non-transmascs in general need to stop dictating the narratives around transmasculinity if transmasculine advocacy that actually serves us is to get anywhere - but they won’t because too much is at stake for them to not have control over transmasculinity, so they must be resisted and refused any ground whatsoever.

[altermay]

Tw/ transphobia, discussions of dysphoria, brief mention of suicide, descriptions of child abuse

Getting unbearable. Feeling sick. Started working to afford hormones only to find out the service that is most accessible to me (plume) doesnt offer T in alabama anymore due to changing laws. Fuck all these stupid politicians putting their noses in others lives.

Thought people at work wouldnt make a super huge deal, as I was selective with who I told, so i thought maybe I could hold out a bit longer and at least i wouldnt have to feel so dysphoric all the time, since all my coworkers knew me as Monte. But then instead of my name, people who would usually call anyone else by their name started calling me “Miss” and “maam”

Even the ones I had come out to, and even the ones who told me they were accepting.

Whatever, im from a small rural area, so transphobia is not new to me, what is new to me, however, is being openly trans in an unfamilliar environment. I thought I could start T quickly and maybe people would ever forget that im trans in the first place, but now its been so long.

Some people call me He, and use the right pronouns, but increasingly lately Ive received a myriad of transphobia.

Being called tranny loudly while my coworker kicks my broom as I try to sweep (kicking hard enough for the broom to almost leave my hands and hit another person behind me) , Getting called “it” behind my back. Stuff like this is becoming more common.

The two coworkers who called me it, have been spreading lies about my work performance these past five days, Ive been told my three different people that every time I leave to go do something they start talking badly of me. So I got to my breaking point, at this point it had nothing to do with the pronouns, I was just upset that two forty+ year old adults were purposefully making my job harder to do while I was also struggling with a ton of other stuff (ptsd, seasonal depression, a family members recent suicide) and so I couldnt stop crying.

Despite this situation having nothing to do with me being trans, they are now trying to spread the narrative that Im just being sensitive because they were misgendering me while they were borderline bullying me.

If I was not trans, people would take me seriously on these issues. But now, because I am upset, suddenly Im just a stereotype. A sensitive trans person who is offended because someone used the wrong pronouns a few times.

I will be one to say, I do not give a SHIT about my pronouns. Ive been called the wrong ones my whole life by a majority of people. That was never the issue. But because Im trans, that is the only issue people can perceive for me to have. The ONE issue I had with them regarding my pronouns was them calling me “it” and thats not because its the wrong pronoun, thats because its DEHUMANIZING.

But now I have other coworkers who know NOTHING about the situation saying shit like “well if she claims shes a man maybe she should suck it up” “well if she wants to be seen as a man maybe she shpuld cut her hair”

Fuck you. How about YOU get beaten for 17 years, YOU watch your siblings get beaten near to death for 17 years. YOU have flashbacks of things you dont understand all day every day and we will see how fucking well youre able to “suck it up” you are WEAK. YOU ARE ALL WEAK. And you dont know what its like to be me. My mother tried to kill me. My mother almost killed my sister, I was neglected, never went to a doctor, and I STILL dont know how to take care of myself. And I still havent recovered all of the memories.

Ive had SHORT HAIR ive had LONG HAIR Ive had a MOHAWK, ive had a BUZZCUT ive been BALD. And people STILL fucking saw me as a woman. Im tired of conforming to this bullshit just so people can treat me the same as they always do

Fun fact though, since Ive had long hair Ive been gendered correctly by strangers MORE than I have with ANY OTHER HAIR STYLE.

These stupid fucking transphobes and their stupid fucking stereotypes im so fucking sick of it all. And corporate wont do anything about it, Im sure of this.

Why is it so hard for me to just live my fucking life.

Im so sick of it all

[eggcompany]

Bleeding Gold, My Love

Oswald's trans. He works as a camboy to try and pay his share of their shared apartment. One day he streams on his period. Edward helps him to clean up and takes time to fuck him in the tub. But what happens when the money keeps rolling in without them knowing?

“I’m just like hanging out. I’m horny but I’m on my period and I know if I cum I’m gonna screw up my cup and then I’ll have to mess with it and I’m comfortable right now.” Oswald said and read some more comments that floated in. 

He was laying on his belly on their shitty little bed. Cam shows were a new thing to try and scrounge up money since his mom died. It got them enough to buy some food. Eddie in college barely made enough at the library to pay off the bills and keep them in the shitty little apartment. Oswald had tried working at a few places but because of either getting beaten up or threats on his life, he always had to quit or got fired. 

Now he found a pretty good niche, he was a fetish. He was both petite and trans. He’d had top surgery and the scars brought people in, the fact he was so pale with dark hair and blue eyes brought them in, and of course his blushing pink pussy and hard t-cock were the stars. 

He made enough to not quit. He made enough for his blackmarket testosterone and enough to be able to eat. Plus the comments were a definite confidence booster. 

“Yeah I use a diva cup. I don’t like pads, they like rub me weird and the hormones make me just unreasonably sensitive when stuff rubs on my clit and a pad just irritates that skin.” He explained as more questions rolled in about different stuff. He ignored most of the weird or really gross questions but didn’t block anyone. He really couldn’t afford to block people who weren’t threatening his life. 

He groaned and rolled his wrists, he was so stiff, the cold weather was killing his joints. His shoulders hurt too and the way he was laying wasn’t helping but it could be worse. 

“Um… I’ve never done a show before on my period. I’ve tried the um, the cervix cup things but I just don’t like those. Just don’t like having to like… Manhandle my pussy when I’m so sensitive.” Oswald said and watched as a big flood of comments came in after. He read through them and was a little shocked. He chewed his lip and rubbed his feet together which brought forward a few foot comments but most of them were just pushing the same thing. 

“Don’t bother? Don’t bother with a show or a cup?” Oswald asked as a big influx of “ no do it!” “Please do it” “I’ll tip you so much if you do it ” “ Three hundred for a show” . 

He waited a minute to read more comments and looked back at the camera with a shocked look. 

“You guys want the blood? Oh you pervs!” Oswald teased as more and more comments flooded in about how the viewers wanted to see Oswald’s cunt bleed around a toy. Most comments were begging but there were a few that were more… graphic.

“Um… I mean I could. No time like the present but… oh what the hell I could do it in the bathtub and just wash it down after.” Oswald said and smiled brightly at the camera. That’s something he really had to get used to. Not smiling at the screen, smiling at the camera. It seemed to be something that would drag in some extra money for christmas. 

“Okay, make sure to tune in tomorrow! Um or my emails. I put out emails…” Oswald said and looked to press the end button. They had updated the site recently and the notification mute button was where the end button used to be and the close stream button was in the corner. 

“Tomorrow…” He muttered and looked at the camera one more time before closing out the stream. He groaned and let his face fall to the bedspread. Fuck… he was so wet. 

“Ed, I’m just a little nervous. I mean it’s just so sensitive and what if something icky comes out? I mean I’m just… people want it but what if…” Oswald was yammering nervously as he washed another dish. They’d just finished their slight dinner. Edward had always been a good cook, being able to whip up something warm and filling out of canned food and cheap cuts of fatty meat. 

“Ozzie, you'll be okay. You know I love it when you let me have you during this time.  You know people are gonna love those little sounds, gonna love seeing how sensitive and tender you get. They signed up to see you, they’ll love to see you no matter what.” Edward said and rubbed his hands from where they had been massaging Oswald’s pelvis up to wrap around him to hug his torso. He loved the way the shorter man’s skin was always a little clammy, loving the way it warmed under his hands. 

“You’ll help me clean up after?” Oswald asked and turned his head so Ed could kiss his lips. He was always insecure about his job . Edward worked a real job and was so pretty and tall and had such pretty eyes and was so smart and his skin was really soft and….

“Of course, you know you can call me and I’ll come help you. Try and be careful though so you don’t need my help.” Ed said and referenced to the last time Ozzie had a show in the bathroom. 

He’d slipped in the shower and kept going on with the show until it ended and then screamed out. He’d wrenched his bad knee and was laying crumpled in the shower and Ed had to carry him to bed because it hurt so bad. Then he was bed ridden for the next few days and his knee had turned dark and swelled up and Ed had nearly dragged him to the doctors. 

“I know, I know, but I’ll be laying down this time.” Oswald said and moved Ed’s hands by his wrists to warm and push back at his lower stomach again. 

“Fuck…. My clit’s still throbbing. Oh my god. Thanks guys but I’m, oh lord, I’m done. It’s been very fun and uh oh just bye, bye, I gotta clean up.” Oswald said exhaustively and clicked the video end. He laid back against the cool tub wall. He’d set the computer up on the lid of the toilet beside him and the camera was sitting on the opposite edge of the tub so it could capture the whole picture. He was sort of out of breath still. 

It had been more fun then he’d thought it would be. The dings of the tips had been nonstop and the bells even rang when they met their goal of $500 when he had barely even gotten his fingers into himself.  

“Eddie? I’m done now.” Oswald called out and smiled as his boyfriend walked in in his sweatpants riding low on his hips. The shorter man was floating somewhere very far away and felt very good. 

“Beautiful, darling” Ed said and knelt down to kiss Oswald. Oswald hummed and let his head loll over to lay his cheek against the wall. 

“Rinse and then a good bath?” Edward asked and picked up the dildo and held it over the tub as it was still dripping a bit of blood. Oswald hummed and nodded. 

“Yeah, just… put that in the sink, I’ll deal with it later.” Oswald said and Ed ran some water over the toy and returned to his blissed out bloody boyfriend. He looked gorgeous. Cheeks and chest all blushing pink, his scars standing out on his chest, eyes all big and dark, and of course his body all lax and lovely looking. Ed wanted to hold him and cuddle with him forever. 

“Th-“ Ed started gazing down at Oswald. 

“No riddles.” Oswald cut him off with a smirk and Edward grabbed the shower head from the wall. It was one of Oswald’s investments. And one Edward had learned was very very worthy of the splurge. 

“I love you.” Edward said and turned on the water and turned it away from the noriet until the water grew warm. Oswald hated cold water so he tucked his feet up away from the water for a moment. 

“Quick rinse or do you want me to really get at you?” Edward asked and looked over at Oswald who rolled his eyes. 

“Just rinse me off and then bath. You should join me.” Oswald said and smiled as Ed knelt down and rinsed his legs off. The older boy let his legs straighten back out so Edward could gently rub the blood away with the assistance of the perfectly warm water. 

“Of course my bird” Ed answered and quickly rinsed the blood from Os’s legs and stomach and gave a quick rinse to Oswald’s still aroused red folds. Oswald’s stomach jumped a few times when a particular stream of water hit his clit. 

“I hate pants” Oswald grumbled and pulled at Ed’s sweatpants when he put the shower head against the wall and turned the faucet on. Ed let them be pulled over his butt and pool at his ankles. He wasn’t wearing underwear, hoping on getting to join Oswald’s bath anyway. 

Oswald giggled and watched Ed with eyes full of adoration as he kicked the offensive sweats away and moved to climb in behind Oswald. 

Ed hugged Oswald’s damp body and kissed the side of his head, sweat making his lips taste slightly salty. 

“My handsome man. My pretty bird.” Ed whispered hotly into the other’s ear causing Oswald to preen and rub his head against Ed’s shoulder. 

“My beautiful boyfriend. My pretty, pretty bird.” He whispered and mouthed along the pale side of Oswald’s neck. The dark haired boy tilted his head so Ed could spread the kisses and scraps of teeth. 

Ed reached and turned the water off once the water was up to Oswald’s chest. He continued to kiss and suck marks into Oswald’s neck, making the other boy let out whined and cute little cries. 

“Eddie, please, come on- ah~” Oswald asked and shoved back so Edward’s erection rubbed against the clef of his ass, rubbing at the soft flesh there. Ed bit down on his neck and laughed a bit at Oswald’s trembling. 

Ed pulled at Oswald’s hips so he was turned around straddling the taller man’s thin thighs. 

“Please Eddie, it’s so tender.” Oswald whined and shoved his face into Ed’s shoulder and wrapped his arms lightly around Ed’s middle. 

“Say it Ozzie, just say it.” Edward said and let his hands wander across and down Oswald’s trembling body. He ended up using one hand to grasp the base of his cock and the other to rub at Oswald’s hip as his cock teased at his hole. 

“Oh you ass!” Oswald cried out and tried to shove himself down but Edward didn’t let him. 

“Say it.” Edward said and Oswald looked up at his eyes and looked so prissy in the moment. Like a brat being told no. 

“You're an ass. Please fuck me now though.” Oswald said and shouted as Ed’s cock slipped into his open body. He clung tightly back onto Ed’s muscles shoulders and let out short whimpers and grunts. 

Bath sex was his favorite. 

Bath sex was everyone’s favorite. 

-0-0-0-0-0-

“You are going to literally kill me.” Oswald said as Edward walked into their bedroom. He had the laptop open in front of him on the bed and Edward stopped short of pulling his jacket off. 

“Why? What happened?” He asked quickly. He’d hate to not know for a second longer. He moved to look at the computer and his eyes nearly bigged out of his head at the sight. 

Their bank account. 

“I didn’t turn off the stream. I didn’t press the right button. People really like you, apparently.” Oswald said with a huff of laughter at Edward’s shocked face. That one stream, one little internet stream, brought in enough for a new apartment, furniture, fucking ribeye steaks at the best restruant in town. 

“Ozzie… That’s fourteen thousand dollars.” Edward said and looked at his smiling boyfriend. 

“I’m thinking a penthouse with a view.” Oswald said before being picked up and pulled to be hugged and swung around the room. 

“Never fucking do that again! But oh my god Ozzie we can move out! I’m gonna buy so many groceries!” Edward said and they both broke out in loud laughter. 

[the-voice-beckons-below]

down, down, down below

miguel o’hara / trans masc reader (+anyone who uses he/they pronouns).

warnings: angst, break up, miguel being held accountable, minor injury, no happy ending.

Miguel’s silhouette crowded into the doorway, the mass of it practically shaking with stress and unresolved anger as he began to collapse into his home. The spider’s shadow pooled into the room, and darkness practically unfurled from him with how much he was seething.

beaten by a kid. hundreds of spider humanoids all failing to catch one fifteen year old. And now once again, that stupid kid was weaving the fate of the multiverse carelessly. Atleast, that’s how he saw it.

His partner was parallel, not that he was aware of it yet.

The only light in their apartment was a kitchen lamp, illuminating a face that held no warmth. Beneath the isle chair they sat on, laid a suitcase, heavy and packed.

“mi corazón, you would not believe the day i’ve had.” he sighed, sliding towards the kitchen island. When a harsh beat of silence rang through the space they occupied. Miguel paused, “¿Qué pasa? are you alright?”

at another breath’s silence, he stilled. Angling his gaze to the partner he cherished, who appeared anything but loving in that instant. “cariño?”

The other spider-man finally spoke, eyes levelling to meet Miguel’s coldly. “I came to give you lunch.”

“you did? i’m sorry, i didn’t-“

“i’m leaving you Miguel.” his voice quivered for just a moment as he stood up abruptly from the raised stool. Fists clenching until they turned stark white.

at first, Miguel just faltered, breath hitching in disbelief. it had been the last thing he had expected to come home to, his partner declaring he was leaving him. abandoning their relationship. he lurched forward in an attempt to beg. “no - cariño, what do you mean? we can talk about this. where is this coming fro-“

“you don’t understand?” he started with a scoff, silencing miguel abruptly. the light from the counter sprayed on his skin, showing a canvas of bruises and small cuts. miguel could see the deep purple and red splotted over, and he instinctively edged closer to fuss over them.

“what is this? who hurt you?” his voice, a usually deep and confident timbre was shaky and uprooted. it looked like the other man had been in a fight - countless actually.

they shook their head, gaze softening only slightly before hardening to sharpened steel once again. “this is the work of just about every spider person in that headquarters. i was an obstacle in their mission, to chase down a-“ he almost choked on his words, “a..a kid.”

“i’m sure this was a misunderstanding, don’t do anything brash, it’s the middle of the night.” He pleaded, beginning to realise the root of the anger directed towards him. Life had been loss after loss, until Miguel had found one particular arachnid who didn’t inconvenience him. Who in fact, blossomed some hope within the previously grief ridden man. Now, he was terrified of losing the only thing he had gained since the worst events of his past.

“No. you listen to me Miguel. Today i went to give you lunch, and do you know what i saw? i’m pretty sure you know. I saw the manhunt for a boy!” His voice began to raise in volume. “You set a bounty on him. He was all on his own and you told him his father was going to die and he could do nothing. And then, you pinned him down. and what did you call him miguel? what did you call that boy?”

the words felt too heavy to say.

“tell me. tell me what you said to Miles.” The partner pressed, eyes flashing with vitriol.

“I..i called him an anomaly.” miguel turned away at his partner’s fury, unable to swallow the lump developing in his throat.

“but you didn’t just call him that did you?” he inhaled like it hurt to breathe, miguel thought then, that maybe there was some evidence the relationship was salvageable with that. that they were affected, that they still cared despite miguel’s actions. “You said he was a mistake. That he didn’t belong here. You trapped him, hurt him. Blamed him for something that was out of his control.” This time, resentment flickered in their pupils. “I looked into it. it was a scientist that got hold of an anomaly, a spider. it escaped. miles had no choice in the matter, and you treat him like he did, like he’s to blame.”

miguel’s lips curled automatically, “he is to blame! it all started with him, you don’t get it.”

as soon as the words left his mouth he awkwardly froze, attempting to backtrack and smooth over the cracks in his exterior.

their jaw ticked, the light catching the faintest sight of watery eyes. “no i really don’t. because you never would’ve treated gabby this way.”

with that, he dragged the suitcase by the handle, wrenching open the front door. Despite his speech, and the venom laced within in, tears still lapped at his ducts. There was a sadness buried in his bones, and an anger rising in his gut. Miguel wasn’t the man he fell in love with. This version of Miguel was twisted, in some sense of moral justice where people still lost their lives and apparently nothing could be done.

gabby had been miguel’s world, he had loved her so dearly, and had had a natural affinity with children, before…it had all went wrong. miles was not to blame for a freak accident, and miguel should’ve known that.

he had sat back, supporting miguel with keeping universes in check and safe, but everything with miles, it was where he drew the line. there was once concrete evidence with miguel’s theories, but then again, a lot of information was withheld from him, as much as he had previously trusted miguel, who was to say they had gone down every avenue? what if there was a way to save everyone?

“don’t look for me. you won’t find me.” He pressed on his watch with twitching digits, a portal beginning to open jaggedly, before he vanished into it. Leaving their history, and now a broken travel watch on the ground. Crumpled and beaten, much alike to his body.

By the time Miguel unfroze from shackles of shock, he was far too late. Managing to kneel in the hallway, hands cupping the broken device ever so softly. It would be the only piece left of him. As much as he wanted to deny what was said, he couldn’t. He had lost his everything once again.

It was all his fault. No excuses. and yet, the hatred for miles only trebled, finding another reason to blame him.

all of it stung. Just like a spider’s bite.

author’s note:

i rewatched ATSV yesterday and so desperately wanted to read a fic where miguel was held accountable. but they’re a little hard to find through all the thirsty posts. So i wrote my own :) it was done in a rush so no mean comments or criticism!!! there’s beauty in imperfection lol.

Miles deserves a hug and someone who immediately supports him. So in my head, this oc/reader insert sees what’s happening and is on Miles’ side almost instantaneously. Mf does NOT let it slide.

anyway, this was technically the first post on this account but it has been re-edited and reposted, because fun fact, when i made this new account tumblr marked me as a bot and i was shadow banned. i was so sad at first i genuinely thought people just hated my writing LMAO, i hope this scratches an itch for any angst lovers, ily.

have a great day or night <33

divider credits @strangergraphics

[jrmytxt]

Bandages

Fandom: Metal Fight Beyblade Characters: Masamune Kadoya, Kyouya Tategami Relationship: Masamune Kadoya/Kyouya Tategami, Masamune Kadoya & Kyouya Tategami Summary: 5 times Masamune saw Kyouya bind (and 1 time he didn't) Warnings: Binding with bandages/Unsafe binding Genre: Fluff Word Count: 2221 Notes: This is supposed to be shippy, but nothing much shippy happens until the end and even then it's not that explicit, so, really, if you'd prefer this as a platonic story, you can read it as such! Happy pride month, enjoy my Trans!Kyouya fic!

I'll post the entire story after the cut, so I don't have to make multiple posts

READ ON AO3

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On TV

The first time Masamune ever saw Kyouya was on TV. Battle Bladers was popular enough to get a single time slot on an American channel. It wasn’t prime-time but that worked, because Masamune didn’t need to split his time with Zeo or Toby.

Kyouya was powerful, he could admit that. Powerful and maybe even a bit intimidating. Watching him battle never got boring, and he had to say he was always glued to the screen whenever he was on.

One thing that perplexed him about the other was his style of clothing, though. Everything seemed torn and ripped, but not in a natural way. Not like regular wear and tear, and Masamune wondered of the guy ripped them on purpose to seem cool and edgy.

The bare midriff wasn’t necessarily doing him any favors either, even if it wasn’t a bad view. Especially when, during one match, the wind made his shirt ride up and revealed… bandages? A frown had spread over Masamune’s face when he’d seen that. Was the guy hurt? And yet he was still battling? That was peculiar, and probably not very good, but Masamune had to admit that he was a bit impressed. He had to meet that guy, and he had to battle him.

2. During Battle

When Masamune did finally face Kyouya in battle, it was a tag team match. He was a little bit disappointed, if he was being honest, but he’d make do with what he got. During this championship he’d long since realized that there were much stronger opponents out there, and that he had to take any training he could get, especially regarding situations he still needed to master.

After all, what good would it be to be a Jack of all trades, but master of none?

The disappointment did however persist, when that Kyouya fellow pretty much completely ignored his existence in favor of screaming at Gingka instead. Not that that seemed entirely unbelievable, but still, he was there too after all! He knows he did tell Gingka that he could take on Kyouya and that he’d have his own rematch with Nile. It would have been nice to get recognized, though.

A frown spread over his face and he glanced over to Gingka and then to Kyouya. Both of them sank to the ground, still very much exhausted from their last match against each other. He looked at Nile, who was similarly distracted, and another glance at Kyouya made him notice, once again, the bandages underneath the other’s shirt.

His brows furrowed in confusion (and concern), and he wondered how badly he must’ve hurt himself in the last battle if he needed that many bandages. Sure, he seemed a bit bruised and beaten up, much like Gingka, but that seemed unnecessary. Maybe this tag team battle had been a bad idea. Neither Gingka nor Kyouya were in any condition to fight.

Those thoughts were quickly wiped from his mind, though, when he had to focus back on the battle and he pushed them away.

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

3. In the hospital

The final battle against Nemesis cost everyone. A lot of them sustained injuries bad enough they had to go to the hospital, Gingka especially. Amongst those people had been Kyouya as well, and Masamune debated whether to pay the other boy a visit or not. He was already there for Gingka anyway, and so far he still hadn’t really had a chance to just have a regular conversation with the other. The few times they’d seen each other was during the championships and world-ending catastrophes, and that didn’t really leave any time for bonding.

Following the directions a nurse had given him, he stood in front of the hospital room and debated his decision. It would be weird, right? To just go in there, and exclaim he was here to see Kyouya. The other probably didn’t even remember his name. Or maybe he thought him annoying. The last thought didn’t matter, he decided, because when had that ever bothered him? So, with as much bravado as he could muster, he opened up the door to the room and came face to face with a horrified Kyouya.

“Idiot! Don’t you know how to knock?!”

The other huffed, and underneath the disgruntled and angry expression on his face, Masamune noticed a slight blush, that got hidden when the other hurried to pull a shirt over his head.

This time he’d seen the bandages clear as day, but it wasn’t surprising. Not this time. He’d sustained pretty serious injuries, and Masamune didn’t doubt that he’d broken a few ribs.

“Your chest always gets it the worst, huh?” “What? What’s that supposed to mean?!” “Well, whenever you’re injured you’re always wearing bandages around your chest. How often have you broken your ribs at this point?”

Kyouya’s expression was not what Masamune would have expected. Instead of a scowl, or a glare, the other seemed surprised, and almost a bit worried. He averts his eyes and crosses his arms in front of his chest, almost as if to hide it.

“You noticed?” “Well, yeah. You wore bandages after your weird exhaustion battle with Gingka. And when I saw you on Battle Bladers you were wearing them, too. By the way you really shouldn’t fight when you’re injured.”

Kyouya seemed alarmed, his eyes widening.

“It was on TV?!” And before Masamune could respond, Kyouya took a deep breath, very obviously forcing his expression from alarm to an indifferent scowl. An expression Masamune had gotten used to seeing on Kyouya, but never before had he noticed how fake it looked. “You watched me on TV?”

Masamune decided he wouldn’t push the matter any further, because it simply wasn’t his place. Him and Kyouya barely knew each other. Instead he grinned and nodded, taking a seat on one of the chairs close to Kyouya’s bed.

“Sure did. Battle Bladers might not have been a prime-time event in America, but I watched all of it. And I was rooting for you.” A grin. “You were pretty powerful. Still are. You impressed me, and I’m not easy to impress!”

Kyouya’s lips tugged up into a smirk and Masamune realized that it was the right thing to say. After all, that was exactly what he needed. A good conversation starter. And who didn’t like listening to other people praising them?

“I thought ‘Wow, I have to meet that guy’. And even if you didn’t win, you still left an impact. The same thing can be said for the world championships. You know, I was pretty disappointed that I didn’t get to properly battle you. I’d been planning on that.” He stuck out his tongue. “So I’m challenging you to a battle whenever you’re feeling better.”

That, too, seemed to be the right thing to say, because Kyouya’s smirk widened.

“You got guts, coming in here when I’m injured and challenging me to a battle. I’m sure I could kick your butt even with all my injuries. You’ll see!” “But that wouldn’t be any fun, would it? I want you at full strength!”

With that the ice was broken, and Masamune spent a lot longer talking to Kyouya than he’d originally intended. They’d hit it off, surprisingly, and Masamune had to admit Kyouya did seem like an alright guy to hang around, and he hoped the Leone blader thought the same.

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

4. In the Dungeon Gym

In hindsight, Masamune really should have realized it sooner.

Right from the start it should have been obvious that those bandages Kyouya wore, were not to treat injured ribs. If he’d been paying any closer attention he’d have realized sooner that they were crude and not professional. They weren’t even wrapped the way they should be to actually help. Hell, they barely even covered all his ribs.

But, in his defense, Masamune didn’t intent on dedicating a lot of time staring at Kyouya’s chest. Sure, the sight wouldn’t have been bad, but it would have been weird regardless. Even now that they’re friends (acquaintances? Masamune wasn’t sure how close they really were, though Kyouya at least liked him enough to pay him a visit when he was in America), he wouldn’t just stare. It was rude and he wouldn’t even know how to explain himself when Kyouya inevitably noticed.

Now though? Standing in the changing room of the Dungeon Gym, Masamune noticed clear as day that those bandages Kyouya wore were not because he hurt himself. He knew Kyouya hadn’t even intended for him to notice, because he hadn’t even intended to change, but his shirt got dirty, and there was really no way around it, especially when Coach Steel had so graceously offered the other boy a shirt.

“You’re binding.” “What?!” “Those bandages. You’re not hurt, you’re binding.”

Saying it out loud now, somehow, it seemed like the most obvious thing in the world. With the way Kyouya’s voice occasionally cracked. The secrecy with his clothes, the coats that hid his hips. His features. Suddenly everything made sense.

Kyouya, on the other hand, was not at all thrilled with Masamune’s sudden realization, and he glanced around quickly, seemingly making sure they were completely alone.

“How did you find that out?!” Masamune scoffs at the question. “The way you bandage your chest. It’s crude. It’s not even reaching your ribs!” He sighs at that. “Do you know how unhealthy that is? Why don’t you use a binder?!”

The realization that Kyouya was trans really didn’t shock him as much as the fact that Kyouya was completely reckless with his binding.

Immediately Kyouya assumed a defensive position, pulling his shirt over his head and crossing his arms. He had his back turned to Masamune now, and Masamune felt frustrated by the simple notion.

“It’s not that easy when you don’t have someone that can get it for you,” Kyouya huffed eventually and Masamune quickly got the hint that Kyouya’s family probably wasn’t the most supportive. It’s not as if Kyouya could just randomly order one, either. A frown spread over his face and he thought for a moment.

“Well,” he began, a little sheepishly. “There’s a store nearby. We could go and get you one.”

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

5. In the store

Masamune stood by idly, waiting for Kyouya to be done with whatever measurements the clerks needed to take. He was glad he was able to convince the other after all, Kyouya having been skeptical about Masamune’s intentions, because, apparently, Kyouya didn’t understand basic human decency. Not that it surprised him, from what he’d heard about the other, he had a tendency to be a douche.

He wondered if the other’s constant fight response was due to some underlying insecurities. Whatever the case, Kyouya had definitely internalized toxic masculinity. Masamune hoped, maybe a bit selfishly, that this experience would be a formative one for the other, and he’d grow. Just a bit.

On their way there, it became apparent that Kyouya did not have any money. Or at least any valid American currency, and Masamune, naive, and kind, and wanting to impress him, proudly boasted that he’d pay for it. And while, yes, his own parents had more than enough money, he only had so much as his monthly allowance, but he supposed he’d just have to cut back on the snacks this month.

When Kyouya finally stepped out of the changing booth, though, Masamune decided it was definitely worth it to see the smile the other wore.

It was the first time he’d ever seen Kyouya give a genuine smile. Not a smirk, not something condescending. But a real, proper, genuine smile. He couldn’t help the grin that spread over his face when Kyouya stood in front of him, moving a bit, letting him look at different angles.

“How does it feel?” “Way better than bandages. How do I look?” “Way better than with the bandages.”

That got a laugh out of the other, and Masamune’s grin widened impossibly.

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

+1. In the hospital

Kyouya was awake when the nurses moved him back into the room, and Masamune let out a breath of relief he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. Sure, this was a standard procedure, obviously it was, but still, it was a surgery, and surgeries were something big. It seemed, though, that the other was fine and Masamune gave him a smile, moving to sit at the other’s bedside as soon as the nurses would allow him to.

“How do you feel?” he asks, taking the other’s hand in his. Kyouya gives a tired grin in return, squeezing his hand and closing his eyes. “Like a new man.”

Masamune couldn’t help the laugh that escaped him and gently he kissed the back of Kyouya’s hand, making the other join into his laughter. It felt wonderful, seeing Kyouya so carefree and happy. So genuine and real, something that almost seemed impossible during their youth. But things had changed. They’ve grown up, they’ve gotten older, wiser, and mellowed out a bit.

Masamune wasn’t the hyper-energetic whirlwind he used to be (although he had his moments), and Kyouya had actually learned how to be a decent person (for the most part).

“I prefer you like this,” Masamune said with a small grin, and Kyouya rolled his eyes, though the smirk on his lips was fond. “Titless?” “Happy.”

He’d happily accept the slap to his arm if it meant seeing Kyouya blush.

[reginageourge]

https://www.tumblr.com/reginageourge/716497030605881344/who-are-the-worse-fauxbians-youve-encountered?source=share

May i ask why?

oh god ... so the whole story is long and weird so idk if I'm doing it justice by condensing it down into a few short sentences, but basically, me and another one of the gs server girlies accidentally doxxed goldstarsappho (she'd gone awol for almost a year, we wondered what the hell happened to her so we snooped around on her reddit account, which she'd let me know, found her instagram from the reddit, and her instagram ... had her entire name and face on it. which confirmed something we'd been wondering for a while, which is that she was race-faking).

we were pretty mad, especially bc a lot of the ppl in the server are actual woc and she was not only trying to sit with us but acted like she'd suffered sooo much bc of her ethnicity when she really was a white canadian.

fast forward a few months, and it's the time of year when a certain transgender "charity" (which is run through Instagram, has no vetting process, and is essentially just tras buying stuff off of troons amazon wishlists) takes place. goldstarsappho and a few of the other server members had participated in scamming the charity the year prior, and goldstarsappho herself had notably managed to scam literal thousands worth of goods, she milked it for all she was worth.

we knew that she was probably going to scam the charity again next time it came around, and sure enough she did. to a ridiculous extent.

many of us were also scamming it, so it wasn't so much the "lying about being trans for freebies" thing we were mad about. however, we were mad that she'd race-faked and made up a bunch of random trauma, and seeing as she'd gone entirely offline for a year and we couldn't yell at her, the only way we had to get her back for being racist was to go yelling in the comments section of this charity about how "[goldstarsappho] is a liar pretending to be trans to scam you"

but to our surprise, someone had beaten us. there were a couple of tras all over this instagram page talking about how goldstarsappho is a cis woman and a scammer.

we were surprised that someone else outside of the server was onto her, so sunlight-beauty (who mods the server with me) dmed one of the tras complaining about gwen being a scammer. turned out they lived in the same building as her on her uni campus, had noticed a lot of packages with weird names arriving for her and figured she was scamming again (from what they said she seems to have a history of it). then bc goldstarsappho was an idiot and kept sharing instagram posts of her lying about having a transona on her ig story to try and get her followers to buy things off her wishlists, they realised she was scamming this particular transgender charity. and bc they were a tra, they were mad.

we had a lot of questions about goldstarsappho, one of which was whether she was a lesbian or if she was lying about that too. she'd told us a lot of contradicting stories about her sex life. some of them were things that basically made her sound asexual, like not being into sex and preferring to just hold hands, and some of them made it sound like she fucked, such as being nicknamed the "pussy slayer." she'd talked about only having had sex standing up over corpses in prison (which is one of the things that set off our bs alarm), but she'd also talked about only having sex with dental dams and rubber gloves on (which perhaps I'm just a nasty who doesn't care about safe sex as much as I should, but that sounds so unsexy), and she'd talked about liking to have sex in baths so big they were basically "hot tubs." a lot of contradictions all around basically.

sunlight-beauty asked the tra who lives in her building about whether she was a lesbian or not, and got this response

the daddy dom sex also lines up with suspicions we had about her being an adult baby. I'm unsure if she was pretending to be a lesbian to get material for conversion therapy role-play with her male lovers, or if it was just another case of her pretending to be a minority bc she loves preaching at people and pretending to be the most oppressdest person ever, as evidenced by various other lies she's told about her identity. but either way: she ain't gay

screw you gwen, if you're reading this

[ask-sister-solaris]

Coming Out

Warnings: mentions of abuse, blood and scarring.

Words: 503

Heavy footsteps echoed across the empty corridor. They stopped infront of the chapel, which laid silent and still, as it had for nearly a millennia. Dust had gathered on the golden engraved handles, untouched and unloved. A gray hand travelled to the scars his chest. 10 years. 10 years since he had his surgery.

Thirty years since he’d run away from the toxic environment he’d called home. Thirty years since he allowed himself to be resummoned as a Ghoulette, despite protests. He still remembered how he told everyone.

“Can I have everyone’s attention please”

Her soft voice rang out. Ghouls, Ghoulettes, Siblings of Sin..even Papa himself looked at the short Ghoulette stood on the table. Her ears lowered and she smiled

“I have an announcement. I…I’m trans…I don’t want to be seen as a Ghoulette anymore! I want to be seen as a Ghoul”

Mountain was the first to pick her up and hug her. Mountain gave a grin and turned to the others, Flare on his shoulder

“We have a new brother! To Flare!”

Mountain raised a plastic cup in cheers and everyone followed, even Terzo. Flare smiled as Mountain put him down and Sodo and a few other ghouls surrounded him and offered their support. Flare was supported by those close to him.

Sister was a different matter however. She pretended to be accepting, but in reality she would make snide comments when Flare was alone. Telling him it was a phase or that he was just doing it for attention, even going as far as saying he enjoyed being beaten by his Catholic parents. It all made him sick to his stomach, realizing maybe he should have just kept it in.

After surgery, Imperator showed her true colours, and Flares claims against her were proven. By now she’d ‘rid the ministry of dirt’ by which she meant killed the other three Emeritus brothers. Copia was determined to make the Ministry a safe place. When he found out about Imperator he finally found the means to rid the ministry of her ugly ways.

A soft hand on Flares shoulder jolted him from his trance. Looking over his shoulder Copia gave a small smile. Looking back at the door it was clean again, there wasn’t a speck of dust anywhere. Flare looked at Copia confused before tearing up. He’d lost so much Terzo, Secondo and Primo, the three he counted as very close. His tail wrapped around Copias waist and the satanic pope kissed his forehead

“You had another night terror didn’t you?”

The way Copia could tell just by a facial expression always surprised Flare. He was truly cared for by the Satanic Pope, he got rid of Imperator, the new head Sister was much kinder, and loving. Flare nodded and let out a small, upset chirp. Copia stroked his hair with one hand as the other rubbed circles on his back.

“I know tesoro. It’s difficult, you’ve been through so much…Never forget Papa loves you, your his favorite ghouleh”