#anti incels dni

[nozomi-incel]

M/Foids be like "don't interact with incel content it'll make you a sexist pedophile rapist!!!!!!!!! >:(" and the content in question is literally just some dude named Elliot Rodger being a silly goober and a bunch of shitposts (and some fanfiction every here and there)

He do look silly tho tbh :3 if only he were alive to see what he would've become..

[nozomi-kaizoku]

1/7/2025

---

You wanna know what pisses me off to my core?

Whenever I try to interact with fellow incels (involuntary celibates) so I can interact with a community i actually feel welcome in, but most of the posts talking about incels are just calling us misogynistic pedophiles who think rape is okay (either that or some shit about the true crime community, which I don't have a problem with personally, but it's not interesting to me whatsoever). They even have the fucking nerve to compare us to shitty people like Trump or Elon Musk just to prove a point (and they've been laid before, so they don't even count).

No Susan, not all of us think that all women are sluts and think that little girls look hot (imo, i hate kids cause half the time i can't even understand them, especially anyone under my age range). And I'm saying this as a fucking woman myself, a queer and neurodivergent one for the matter (well, I'm nonbinary with a fluctuating gender expression, but you get the idea). It's true that there are a handful of sexist people in the incel community, but they do not represent us, and in my opinion, they aren't valid because they chose to be sexist assholes, therefore making them voluntary celibates.

Moids really think that it's easy for a woman to get asked out. According to sexist assholes on red pill podcasts, all a girl's gotta do is spread her legs, and boom! a dick is right in front of you.

On the other hand, you got foids out here saying that all women get raped or sexually harassed at some point in their lives. (and ooh boy would I be lucky if it happened to me.)

I hate to break it to you people, but it's not that easy.

I've only ever been asked out for sex once. by an old friend of mine.

ONCE, and my dumbass rejected that. And now I'll never have that chance because everyone's under the impression that I wouldn't enjoy it (even though I've proven otherwise). I'm pretty sure the dude has a girlfriend by now, and we've lost contact since the day he asked me out, so it's not like I can ask him anymore. Doesn't help that there's also the chance that he didn't actually want to fuck me and was just saying that he did to mock me.

And it's true I've been in relationships, and that me and two of my ex partners are close, but they never lasted any longer than like maybe a year, and that's talking about on-and-off relationships, and it's so hard to even find a partner nowadays because anytime I try to find a date, i get overlooked. And when I do find a partner, we end up breaking up because one of us is unsatisfied, therefore making the relationship a waste of time.

It's especially more difficult since I have BPD, a condition known for fucking you over in your relationships. (and fun fact: A lot of incels are also a part of a marginalized group, and that alone contributes to our celibacy)

What's worse is that being in a relationship has always been a goal of mine since the idea of dating and love became a concept to me, but you know what they say: Don't make goals you can't achieve.

I've been genuinely depressed because it doesn't matter how much effort I put into my looks, or how social I am, or really anything. No guy is ever going to want to fuck me. Not even some pedophile who gets horny over teenage girls would look at me and think I'm hot, that's how bad it is.

And because of that (plus other forms of childhood trauma I've experienced), I've begun to grow an extreme hatred to society (though for me it's a trauma response regardless of my sex life). I hate how people have set this high ass expectations for women, especially the sex part. People expect us to be able to have sex or find a partner with no issues, and it just-- AUGHHH.

I never ASKED to be a virgin, i never asked to be an incel, I NEVER ASKED TO BE UNDESIRABLE. This is the life I'm forced to live, and it's unbearable.

Go ahead and tell me that I'm a sexist pedo who thinks rape is okay (even though that's not the case at all), i don't care. I'm sick of the people who use our sex lives that we don't have control over as a comeback for their argument, and I'm tired of the way people treat us. You can call out misogyny, sexism, toxic masculinity, etc. without making it about our sexual history.

I'm gonna say what nobody else is willing to say: Being anti incel is also anti-feminist since it reinforces toxic masculinity, not only that, but also sets yet another unrealistic expectation for women. And a lot more.

Seriously, why should I have to suffer just cause YOU can't admit you're a slutty asshole??

Anyway, I gotta head to bed, I can't deal with this BS anymore, and I have a stream planned tomorrow at 6 or 7 pm.

Btw, if anyone wants ACTUAL representation of what being an incel is like, i recommend watching the anime "Watatome".

Even thought the main plot focuses on the struggles of social anxiety (which is common amongst incels) and the need for popularity, it does touch on the topic of incel culture from the perspective of an incel (though Tomoko, the main character, doesn't realize she's one, and even flat out denies it throuout the series, which is yet another experience that some incels have, and in particular it was my experience when I first discovered I was an incel).

It's not available on any streaming services due to copyright, but season one is available on the internet archive, and you can watch it here!

That all, see ya nerds >:p

[problematicraccoon]

absolutely cannot wait to pull up to the airport wearing this in my fame dr

[jewishbarbies]

this is actually hilarious

[nozomi-incel]

I'm gonna say the one thing that nobody else in the incel community is willing to admit:

I think some of the sexism that is in the community is a tad bit justified.

Okay, fine, if you're just minding your business, not saying shit about us incels, and one of us comes into your DMs and starts sending rape threats or whatever, then that'd be an appropriate time to freak out. but the reason I say this is because moids and especially foids in particular are making tons of posts about us on this app, FLOODING THE GOD DAMN INCEL TAG, complaining about "oh this one man that DMed me on instagram was sexist to me, they're obviously an incel!" "Trump is being such an incel" (spoiler alert: he has a wife and kids) yada yada yada-- basically pushing the narrative that "all incels are sexist men who like raping little girls"

I made several posts about it, and I'm gonna say it again: BEING AN INCEL DOESN'T MAKE YOU A SEXIST ASSHOLE, AND VICE VERSA.

You know those "popular" girls in school, the basic ass ones with the ungodly amounts of makeup that wear adidas n shit, the ones that routinely pick on autistic kids n shit then act like they're the baddest bitches in the class for it? Yeah that's what these moids and foids remind me of.

The funny part about it though is that I've actually rarely ever ran into a sexist incel, so idk what they're on about, but then again i'm kinda new to the community so wtf do I know? :p

[porcelain-gal]

THINGS TO SCRIPT: FOOD VER pt. 2 original post / pt. 1 here! divider, ending divider, header image

you have a high spice tolerance.

hot drinks/food never burns your mouth.

you never get tired of eating a certain food.

your teeth never turn yellow after eating a lot.

you can immediately tell when food has gone bad.

all alcohol you drink tastes like how it's advertised.

you never get stomachaches from eating too much.

you make the best desserts anyone has ever tasted.

you can drink a lot of coffee without having bowel issues.

you always have access to your favorite foods, sweets, snacks and drinks.

your jaw never gets tired from chewing/eating nor does it lock or get loose.

all watermelons you eat are seedless unless you purposely get one with seeds.

fast food places don't lie about what their food looks like in commercials.

you know how to order food by yourself without getting nervous or making mistakes.

whenever you fry things in oil, the oil never gets dirty and stays clean and useable.

whenever you eyeball measurements, they always come out perfectly as if you'd measured them with an actual tool.

your drinks never go flat and always stay crisp and delicious even if you leave it out in the open for years or a bunch of ice melts in them.

you never get the kind of full that makes you feel like you're gonna throw up or pass out. it's always the comfort, happy kind of full that makes you wanna take a good nap or something.

anti-shifter, proship/profic, ageplay, pro ana, bigot/incel, and any variation dni

[mlqueen89]

One | Flyboy 

so cross your thoughtless heart  she's the albatross  she is here to destroy you 

The Albatross by Taylor Swift | TTPD |     

pairing: jake “hangman” seresin x f!oc (top gun: maverick) 

rating: 18+ (minors dni) 

w a r n i n gs : smut, mentions of masturbation, oral (f receiving), fingering, p in v sex, multiple orgasms, one-night stand, jake being a cocky, self-assured man who leaves no crumbs after he eats. 

word count: 8,997

summary: in affairs of the heart, eleanor rigby has one strict rule: no pilots. Less than 24 hours back in the US, she breaks it. 

A/N: this whole entire fic literally started with the (full) name of eleanor. i also have a radar tech in the family, so that helped a bit. snowball met a steep hill and picked up speed. i've planned for ~10(ish) chapters, but it may be open ended with a few more random scenes/chapters here and there.  

proud to say that this one was beta read by my bestest friend, so you know she was mean to me helpful. 

also! i saw the asks - super excited to dive into those, tysm. ♡♡

❥ playlist ♡ masterlist ♡ taglist ♡ next chapter ❥

Eleanor Rigby hadn’t wanted to go to the Halloween party, not really.    

The boxes stacked in the spare bedroom of her friend Nicole’s four-bedroom house desperately needed unpacking and the 10-hour time change from Western Turkey to San Diego was kicking her ass. She’d done about as much unpacking as was required to find a suitable outfit for her new job in the morning, folded them carefully and set them out.   

When Nicole had invited her out, Ellie had fallen asleep, mid-unpack of the rest of her belongings, waking only when the bubbly blonde burst into the room and jumped onto the foot of her bed, dressed in all her glory as Barbie.   

“Ellie does San Diego! Let’s goooo.” Nicole tugged at Ellie’s arm as Yanique flicked on the light in the ensuite, reapplying a purple-ish shade of lipstick as Ellie blinked against the sudden light in her dim room, her arm jiggled aggressively by an enthusiastic Nic.   

Bleary-eyed, her voice just a croak, Ellie politely declined, muttering something about starting her new job early the next morning and making a good impression. Nicole eventually relented with a huff and left, a little less than impressed, with their other two roommates, Yan and Sophie, in tow.   

Within 45 minutes, her phone buzzing against the hardtop of the nightstand, the voice messages started flowing in.   

Nicole’s first voice message was short, 12 seconds. Ellie’s thumb jabbed at the play button as she gathered the dishes from her girl dinner of toast and coffee and used her elbow to push down on the paddle door handle, making her way to the shared kitchen.   

Ellieeeeeeee... Eleanor Rigbyyyyyy ....   

There was a dull thud of base in the background somewhere, behind the long, pronounced whine of Nicole’s voice as she sang the beginning of her namesake Beatles song, horribly off-key.   

Ellie, please you have to come out. It’s Halloween, the most magical night of the year! Just make an appearance. An hour, tops. Please?   

Ellie moved through the kitchen, rinsing out her cup and placing it on the drying rack. Her head was in the fridge, scrounging around for an apple in the crisper drawer, when the next three messages came in.   

Please, pretty, pretty, pretty, please with like, a million cherries on top, even though I know you hate cherries.    

Bradley’s not here yet, Yan already left with a weird guy in a Frankenstein costume—do we know what kink that is? That has to be a kink, right? I’m not kink shaming though, I promise. He was just like... weird. Do you think I should get her to drop her location? Like, just in case?   

Soph is requesting Chappell Roan for the like, twentieth time, and I think she’s going to start a fight with the DJ about being an anti-feminist incel if he doesn’t play “HOT TO GO!” again... did you know that she broke up with that witch, wiccan girl from Hinge? HingeWitch? The one that had that study of cheeses in her bio, that blue cheese description—Ellie thought she heard Nicole pause to gag—anyway, I think she thinks she got cursed or something...    

The voice message cut off even though Nicole’s tone suggested that she wasn’t finished talking about Sophie’s ex.   

There was a garbled message in between the last one and the next, one in which Ellie could hear Nicole begging the DJ not to leave and promising to talk to her friend about the excessive requests for Chappell Roan.   

Don’t abandon me in my time of need, El. Desperate need. Like, jumping off of very tall somethings desperacy.   

Ellie smirked. Nicole, her very best friend in the whole wide world, quite possibly the vast universe, was, in fact, very dramatic.   

Quickly, before another voice message could roll in, Ellie hit record on her own before she bit into her apple, wrestling the third box out of a teetering tower of boxes in the corner of her room and hit send.   

Fine. I’ll be there in twenty.   

The response pinged back quickly.   

Ohmygodohmygod, thank you! Remember, the theme is Icons through the Ages!   

Wear something sexy. Iconic sexy. Iconically sexy? But not Hawaiian Barbie. Or whatever Soph is dressed up as. I want to say is either Frida Kahalo or Mama Imelda from Coco. Basically, avoid anything with a Mexican gothic vibe.

Once Ellie had managed to pull her vintage leather aviator jacket from the box, the one she’d mislabeled in her hurry to pack everything up, the rest of her costume came together fairly quickly.   

When she found the venue, a small bar off a main street, she still had around 30 seconds to spare on her twenty-minute promise to Nic.   

Eleanor had always known that Nicole was popular, but the Halloween party, a party which Nicole had demurely announced was just “a small thing” with “a few work friends” was in actuality, not quite a small thing.  

Weaving her way through the crowd, Ellie scanned the room, trying to pick out the hot pink of Nicole’s costume or the flower crown Sophie had carefully woven into her voluminous red hair.   

Squeezing her way through a group of Spanish Conquistadors (notably with less armour and more exposed skin than was historically accurate) Ellie paused short of the small DJ booth in the corner of the bar, her eyes still scanning for Nicole when her eyes fell on him.  

Sandy blonde hair peeked out from under a neon sweatband, shoulders stocky and solid in a sleeveless denim vest over a t-shirt that read, No Shirt, No Shoes, No Problem. The white sneakers, short shorts, and that unmistakable lanky sway to the beat of Footloose pumping through the venue that could only belong to one person.   

It was Ken.  

Specifically, the Ken to Nicole’s Barbie.    

“Bradshaw?” Ellie called, squinting.  

Ken spun around with the beat of the song, a lopsided grin already on his lips as he faced her. “Holy shit, Rigsy?” Swiftly, Bradley Bradshaw was over to her, scooping Ellie off her feet, squeezing her tightly in a bear hug, shaking her frame slightly with a growl, before she groaned and he set her back down, feather light.   

“You didn’t say you were back stateside.”   

“My flight got in last night.” Ellie shrugged, straightening her jacket and adjusting the thin white scarf around her neck, “Just wanted to surprise you, Rooster.”   

“Well, damn it,” Bradley nodded in approval, all dimples and easy charm, “colour me surprised.”  

It was no wonder Nicole had fallen for him, head over Barbie heels. Even Ellie liked him, and that was saying something.   

Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw was less pilot and more golden retriever, a good heart wrapped in an all-American charm with an easygoing, dopey grin that made people feel like they’d known him for years. He was the kind of guy who’d lend you his jacket and forget to ask for it back or show up at your door with takeout and Sleepless in Seattle cued up on a streaming service he had to pay an arm and a leg for, because he “just had a feeling.” The Batman who responded to the Emotional Needs and Mercury Retrograde Bat Signal™. The hero the people deserved. Ellie was pretty sure she caught him watching videos of a baby hippo getting into shenanigans at a zoo in China on loop for 14 minutes while Nic tried to pick an episode of Keeping Up With the Kardashians that would really pique his interest and get him invested enough to make it his “new Roman Empire”.  

Ellie remembered the night Nicole and Bradley had met with perfect clarity.   

Nicole had been in the middle of swearing off all men for the foreseeable future, her voice thick with the brand of determination that came with a prosecco-fueled resolution. Ellie had watched as her friend declare a new era of singlehood and Taylor Swift before turning to Sophie, slurring out a request for “gorgeous, single women willing to humor an experimental phase.”   

It wasn’t two minutes later that Nicole lurched forward, losing all her resolve—and her prosecco—in a sudden, graceless bout with the sidewalk.  

As Ellie rubbed her back and tried to get her standing, a group of pilots had come down the street—Bradley Bradshaw among them, flanked by two others they’d later get to know as Phoenix and Bob. Bradley had been the one to stop, eyes quickly scanning the situation, assessing and then moving in with expert precision. He’d peeled off his jacket immediately, holding it out to Nicole as she moaned her embarrassment and weakly gestured at the puddle of what had once been bubbly and appetizers a few feet away.  

“It’s okay,” Bradley had told her, voice soft and reassuring. “If you throw up on this one, I’ll just get another jacket tomorrow.” When she’d protested, he’d grinned, shrugging in that effortless way of his. “Honestly, they just give these jackets to anyone,” he’d joked, as if he hadn’t spent years earning the right to wear it and every single patch stitched on it.  

Nicole had blinked up at him, mascara smudged, his jacket draped over her shoulders, looking at him like he was some knight out of one of the many cheesy rom-coms she loved. And for once, Ellie hadn’t blamed her for it.  

That night, Bradley Bradshaw had seen her best friend at her worst and treated her like she was worth sticking around for.  

And that was Rooster in a nutshell—a steady warmth that lingered long after he was gone, the guy who would do just about anything to make Nicole smile, including, but not limited to, dressing up in the ridiculous costume he was currently wearing.  

Nudging her, Rooster grinned. “So,” he drawled, “does this mean I finally get the best friend stamp of approval?”  

Ellie rolled her eyes, feigning a reluctant sigh, but she couldn’t help the small smile tugging at her lips. She didn’t want to tell him that she’d approved of him long before now. “Don’t let it go to your head, Bradshaw.”  

“Too late,” he laughed, mimicking his head expanding dramatically before throwing an arm around her shoulders. “Already there.”  

Rooster grabbed his drink off the small table bordering the dance floor, draining the glass. “Love the costume, by the way," he sucked his teeth against the burn of the whiskey he’d downed, “I’ve not seen one Amelia Earhart here.” He craned his neck, searching in the dimly lit room.  

“You think the goggles are too much?” Ellie adjusted the strap on her head, pushing a loose strand of hair up underneath the band. “I think they might be cutting off circulation to my brain..."  

“An aviator is only as good as their headgear,” Rooster tapped the top of his head. “You’re just missing your call sign.” 

“Guess you must not be a very good one, then.” Ellie smirked, snapping the neon sweatband on his head with a laugh.  

Rooster levelled her with a narrowed gaze, but there was no heat behind it, “one day someone is going to love that you’re kind of mean.”  

“Sorry, Bradshaw—” Ellie pointed at her ears, shrugging as she stepped back, a smirk on her lips, retreating into the crowd “—I can’t hear you.”  

Rooster flipped her off, in an affectionate way, she assumed. “Sit and circumnavigate, Rigby.” 

With another laugh, Ellie turned and set her sights on the bar, squeezing her way through a grouping of zombies and a Michonne, who stood shoulder to shoulder with a Negan, complete with Lucille, tugging her scarf out of Zombie #1s grasp on the other side. 

The last tug, sharp and forceful, sent her stumbling over the tattered chiffon hem of the La Llorona’s dress at her back.  

Ellie braced for the rough landing as she attempted and failed to steady herself. She felt the fall in her stomach, the way it pitched as gravity pulled her down. She figured it served her right, the swift intervention of karma coming for her after she’d insulted its favourite pilot — Rooster was going to have an absolute field day over this. 

Ellie had been so lost in the idea of bracing for the impact of the ground, hard and sticky, she didn’t notice that she hadn’t fallen until she looked up and saw a lopsided smirk and green eyes, looking down at her. The realization there were hands hooked under her arms, holding her up came quickly after. 

“And here I was thinkin’ that Amelia Earhart had a reputation of staying upright.” The man was all smirk, dimples ghosting his cheeks, as Ellie blinked up at him, processing the situation. 

“Guess I’m overdue for a refresher course on emergency landings.” Ellie cleared her throat, righting herself with his help before she tugged her bomber jacket back into place. 

When she glanced up from her improved angle, Ellie could see just how striking he was—sharp jaw, confident eyes, and a natural swagger that suggested he knew it, suggested he knew women sized him up in more ways than one. 

“What are you drinking, Amelia?” 

“Nothing, yet.” 

“Let’s fix that, shall we?”  

The music pumped anew, the DJ spinning a Thriller remix, as she approached the bar, the presence of the man at her back as she weaved her way through the crowd. She could feel the hover of his hand at her lower back, ready to catch her if she took another tumble. She hadn’t been expecting much from the night—just a few drinks, maybe some small talk with Nic, a short discussion with Sophie on Chappell Roan’s representation of duality in the midwestern identity to prove that she’d come out and spent the appropriate amount of time there. But as she took the beer the bartender slid her way and the man leaned against the bar next to her, she couldn’t help but smile. She definitely hadn’t been expecting this. 

“Let me guess,” Ellie’s eyes scanned his costume then, taking a moment to take stock. Carefully, she scanned the skull patch, dagger in its teeth, VFA-151 stitched in below, the chevrons, patches, carefully piecing the images and small details of his costume together before she replied, eyebrow raised, “you’re a pilot—” she paused to sip her drink, her eyes falling on the patch on his bicep, “—Navy.”  

A grin pulled up the corner of his mouth as he gave her a slow once-over, a scan he didn’t bother to hide, before he leaned casually against the bar beside her. “Hangman,” he said with a smirk, and Ellie’s eyes dipped to the patch on his chest, the golden wings stitched above the call sign. “Best pilot you’ll ever meet.” 

She tilted her head, gaze sliding from his call sign back up to his face. “Best pilot, huh?” She gave him a once-over that was part skepticism, part intrigue. “You Navy guys really know how to sell it.” 

Ellie leaned into the bit hard. Tonight, she was Amelia, and he was Hangman, the name stitched into hundreds, if not thousands, of storebought costumes. If she were Navy, she might have been insulted. 

If he heard the skepticism in her tone, he ignored it and chuckled, not breaking eye contact as he matched her smirk. “Only because it’s true. Besides,” he said, letting his voice drop lower, “don’t have to sell anything when you’ve got it all.”  

Ellie raised an eyebrow, meeting his challenge head-on. “Big words for someone who still hasn’t proven a thing.”  

“Oh, don’t worry, darlin’,” he drawled, leaning in just close enough to lower his voice to a rumble, “I’m very good at proving myself.”  

She laughed softly, a glint in her eyes as she set her drink down. “Okay then, why don’t you start with this—” Ellie leaned in, her finger tapped lightly on the golden wings over his heart, her touch lingering. “Explain why they call you Hangman.”  

She waited, waited to see if he’d squirm, held his gaze and paused for the story that was sure to come. Some feeble attempt at role playing for an unpracticed character, just a call sign with no real bite, no real story.  

He smirked, clearly used to that question but still savoring her attention. “I’ll leave that for you to figure out,” he teased, straightening, “after all, you strike me as a curious type. And I’d hate to ruin the mystery.”  

Ellie chuckled, leaning back as she looked him over. That was his game, wasn’t it? A tennis match, a steady volley and lob. Two could play at that game. “Maybe I’ll get bored before I do.” Ellie added a shrug to punctuate her words for effect.  

“Somehow, I don’t think so.” His voice held a hint of challenge, his gaze lingering, his grin lazy but sharp. He straightened up, hand resting on the bar, close enough that she could feel the warmth radiating from him.  

“Guess we’ll see,” she murmured, lifting her drink to her lips, her gaze unwavering as she took another sip. She looked away for just a second, but not before she caught his confident grin widening.  

“Believe me,” he said with that maddening confidence of his as he leaned in, so close that his voice was low, the heat of his words warming the shell of her ear, “I’ve got plenty of ways to keep you entertained.”

Ellie had barely unlocked the front door to Nicole’s place when he was on her, his hands on her hips as he pressed her into the wall at the bottom of the stairs. He kissed her like a man starved, his fingers reaching up to tangle in her hair at the base of her neck, anchoring her to him.  

This was the culmination of the barely veiled innuendos, the heavy-handed flirting that had gone on all evening.  

When he’d slipped out of the bar and onto the street with her, Ellie knew what would happen. He knew what would happen. She could tell in the way his eyes raked over her, all want, pupils blown wide. He wanted her and she wasn’t shy to admit, maybe not out loud, but to herself, that she wanted him too.  

“Maybe we should—” Ellie’s breath was uneven, her mouth missing his the moment they broke apart, just long enough for her to tip her head in the direction of the stairs.  

“Yeah—” his reply was equally breathy, his eyes on her lips even as she spoke, his tongue jutting out to whet his lips. A thrill shot through her, one that dipped low and pulsed between her legs.   

She was wet already, she could feel the slickness of herself, the material of her panties weighted with the evidence. In response, in a swift motion, he picked her up and Ellie instinctively spread her legs so that they framed his waist, her ankles locking at his low back. Ellie didn’t need to be told, she gripped him with her thighs, squeezing tight as he chuckled.   

“Good girl,” he smirked against her mouth before he kissed her again, deeply, his tongue pushing inside to taste hers.  

When they reached the top of the stairs, she broke from him only just long enough to give directions to her room in as few words as humanly possible, reaching out to grip the door frame of her room as he carried her down the hall and almost walked past it.  

Shutting the door behind them with his foot, he wasted no time in pressing her up against the wall. His fingers worried the buttons, slipped each from their place, starting from the bottom up as Ellie took her bomber jacket off, tossing it and the goggles to the floor before she joined him in working on the buttons from top down.  

“So many—” his breath came out with an edge of frustration and Ellie gave up on her buttons to tug the zip of his flight suit down to where her hips met his waist.    

“Just rip it,” Ellie huffed out, voice unsteady as his lips dipped to her neck, teeth grazing the spot where her collarbone met the base of her throat. One less thing between his mouth and her skin warranted the sacrifice of a shirt.  

He didn’t waste time, didn’t question and the sudden coolness on her skin and the sound of the buttons hitting the floor, scattered, had her grinning. She liked a man who followed orders. “You owe me a new shirt, Captain.”  

“Lieutenant,” his voice rumbled into her skin, making quick work of her bra next. By the time it hit the floor to join the other articles of clothing, his hands were on her breasts, teasing her nipples, every pinch and pressure, every touch of his lips, every nip of his teeth sending surges of raw pleasure pulsing down.  

Ellie hated the way he ripped the sounds, raw, unabashed, desperate, from her. Hated how she’d folded under his smooth charm — she could have stopped it, could have said good night and left him at her door. Touched herself, alone, in bed, thinking about the way he’d been so eager to prove he was the best, picture how his touch would have felt, how he would have filled her as she coaxed herself over the edge and leave it at that.  

But she hadn’t, she’d wanted him —she’d own that. She wanted him to fuck her stupid. She could feel him, the hard outline of his cock pressing against her as he held her to him. 

“Easy, darlin’,” he chuckled lowly, rough around the edges as she shifted, reaching to touch him over top the Nomex. “We haven’t even started yet….”  

He was across to her bed in a few easy strides, carefully setting her back so that she sank into the pillows, his hand lingering at her waist as he leaned over her, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. His gaze held hers, steady and unhurried, as he let his fingers trace lightly over the edge of her jaw, his index finger coming to rest under her chin, his thumb smudging her bottom lip.  

As his thumb traced her lip, smudging her lipstick, she caught his hand and pulled his index finger into her mouth, closing her lips around the digit, tongue tracing purposeful patterns as she slowly dragged it out. Her eyes never leaving his as he huffed out a heavy breath, a thrill running through her. 

“You should know that I have a rule, sweetheart.” He murmured, leaning over her so that his arms framed her, so close that his nose brushed hers as he spoke, his voice low, deep, edged by the hard edge of desire. “Ladies first.” 

Her pants were off quickly, leaving her in nothing but a whisp of material separating her from the man who wanted all of her. She heard the jingle of dog tags as he lifted the white shirt that had been under the flight suit over his head and abandoned it. 

Before she could sit up to see him, stripped down to his boxers, he was back on her, lower.  

Softly, he kissed her inner ankle, the next kiss trailing higher, her calf, another on the inside of her knee and the next, on her inner thigh, so close to where she wanted him, she was sure he could feel the heat radiating from her core.  

She was a wreck, a hot, wet wreck and she was barely holding onto the part of her that was ready to beg him to touch her. The part of her that wanted all of him in a way that was driving her mad every moment he wasn’t touching her.  

“What do you want?” His voice was steady, measured as he touched her over her panties, his rough fingers brushing over the dampened spot of the material. The sound that left his lips, a quiet hissing intake of breath, told her he knew what he was doing to her, knew that he had her right where he wanted her.   

In response, Ellie writhed, sensitive to even the smallest brush and despite herself, a small moan left her lips, one she couldn’t have contained even if she had wanted to. What was the question again?  

He moved up from the altar between her legs, nipping a sensitive spot on her side where her ribs ended before he remedied it with a soft kiss, blazing a trail up her body with his mouth. Carefully, holding himself just above her, he bent to tease her nipple with his tongue, whetting the already hard peak, before he closed his lips around one and then moved to the other.  

Ellie was barely holding on, her vision edged with haze as he looked up to finally locked eyes with her. If he kept it up at this rate, he wouldn’t even need to fuck her.  

“What do you want?” His voice was husky, his body propped up over her as Ellie tried to order her thoughts, process them into coherent words. “You going to tell me or am I going to have to guess?”  

She could feel him against her thigh, hard, ready, the thin material of his boxers the only thing between her and all of him. There was some small satisfaction, a thrill that swept through her and coiled low in her stomach, that there was a part of him he was barely controlling a part of him that wanted to be inside of her now. The wet spot of precum on his underwear ghosted against her bare skin and she swore she could feel him twitch.  

Hangman, she’d asked at the bar, explain why they call you Hangman.   

Mystery solved.  

“I want—” she started, barely a whisper as he kissed the corner of her mouth, kissed her jawline, his fingers slipping under the top waistband of her panties as he continued to nip at the most sensitive spots on her neck.  

“You want…?” He prompted, waiting, even as his hand slipped lower, slow, calculated.   

“I want you to—,” Ellie lifted her head and muffled her moan into his shoulder as his fingers found her slick clit, massaging lazy circles, steady, calm, “Mmm.” Her nails bit into the muscles on his back as her head fell to the pillow, arching into his touch.  

“Guess, it is then.” He murmured, that infuriating smirk in his words as he pulled his hand away from her slick, stopping the steady rhythm she’d just gotten used to. She whined after the loss, but he didn’t give her much time to mourn before he was down between her legs again, his fingers dragging her panties off.  

Swiftly, he pulled her to the bottom of the bed, throwing her legs over his shoulders. Ellie gasped, her hips bucking up into his tongue as he swept it up through her folds. Calmly, as she inched closer to unravelling completely, ascending the slope at dizzying speed, he gripped her hips, controlling her movements as she pressed down against his mouth. 

She could feel the pressure building with every expert movement of his tongue over her, through her. Reaching down, she combed her fingers through his hair, gripped into it and tugged him over, directing him to her need.  

“Oh, god….” Ellie whined, the words just barely words as they dissolved into a moan, her free hand gripping the mess of sheets underneath her.  

“Hangman’s fine, gorgeous.” The response was quick, cocky. The response of a man who knew exactly what he was doing to her and taking his time. 

“Wait,” Ellie’s hips chased after his mouth, a groan on her lips as she threw her arm across her eyes. “Don’t stop—.”

He was torturing her now, bringing her just to the edge and then allowing her to come down just enough to bring her back up again. He was fucking good and he knew it. It was going to drive her insane with want. 

“You have to say please, sweetheart,” he murmured, the heat of his breath on her inner thigh almost too much, carefully, he touched her with his thumb, a light pressure as he teased her. Ellie could hear the smirk in his words.  

Words. What were words? Ellie's mind was short-circuiting. Short-circuited, past tense. Already gone. Wires crossed— leads jammed in the wrong place, signals crossed.     

She hadn’t wanted to fall apart under his touch so easily, she'd wanted to seem like she wasn’t desperate for him, but his touch was a warm fire on a cold night.    

“Ple—fuck,” Ellie moaned, her words dragged out, long and torturous as she felt his thick fingers slip inside her, slow and deliberate.     

She didn’t even know his real name, wasn’t even sure if she could manage to say it even if she did. He was undoing her carefully, piece by piece, sensation by sensation, she was malleable under his touch.    

“What was that darlin’?”    

Ellie might have been embarrassed at the squelch of her wetness as his fingers stroked in and out, excruciatingly measured, but she couldn't think about anything. Just the way he filled her while still leaving her wanting more, more, more.    

“Please—” her nerves crackled like livewires as she moaned, her hips moving against his fingers with each stroke, her movements almost involuntary, the wild need in her chasing the high, just out of reach.     

“Well, since you asked so nicely…” his voice was husky, lower now. He gripped her hip, holding her, steadying her rhythm before he added another thick finger, three deep in her now, his thumb moving in circles around her swollen clit.    

“Jesus,” he breathed, taking a moment before his mouth dipped to her hot center, alternating between sucking and the slow caressing tip of his tongue, creating just the right amount of excruciatingly perfect sensation, his fingers stroking and curling inside her. “You're so tight, sweetheart. Might not—” 

He might not fit. She finished his words in her mind, a secondary thought, one that made her mad with want. 

She breathed through the sensations, jolted and writhed as his pumping digits searched for the spot that made her see stars. She felt drunk, high, soaring, just on the edge of release, her muscles aching to reach the peak before she tumbled over, completely undone.    

When she finally broke, her back arching off the mattress, her hips grinding harder into his hand, she moaned into her forearm to muffle the sound. 

That air of self–assured cockiness he carried himself with at the bar, the swagger. It was all well–earned, she was coming to realize. Pun intended. 

“You know what they call a pilot with at least five confirmed air-to-air kills?” His voice was low as he drew his fingers from her, slipping his arm behind her still arched back as he leaned over her, his heavy cock pressing up against her throbbing pussy through his boxers, hard, ready.  

She was hyper aware that she still wanted him, inside her, filling her, spreading her to her limit in a unique mix of pleasure and pain. 

“Hmm—Ace?” Ellie’s mind was still hazy, vignetted around the edges as her heart hammered against her ribs. 

It happened in a moment, a quick change of position, as he lifted and turned, positioning himself under her so she straddled him. Smooth and calculated, precise and fast, an expert maneuver.  

Ellie could feel her bare wetness against him, her hands bracing on his chest, feeling the defined muscles beneath her touch. In the dim light of the room, she could see the glint of his dog tags hanging off to the side, a small detail of his costume she wished she might have looked at before, in the bar.  

“Ace.” He smirked up at her before he shifted her hips up and he pulled her down over his face. 

Ellie gripped the steering wheel tightly, the worn pleather creaking under her hands as she leaned forward and angled the rearview mirror sharply so she could get a better look.   

“Fuck,” Ellie hissed, her fingers hovering just over the purple mark on her neck, just above her collarbone. How she hadn’t noticed it in the mirror this morning, she wasn’t quite sure.  

“Seriously? A fucking hickey?” She was already digging around in her purse as she huffed, her fingers blindly searching for the concealer she knew wouldn’t be there because she could see it in her mind’s eye, sitting on the edge of the porcelain countertop in her ensuite bathroom. “Are we fourteen?”  

This was definitely topping her list of things she didn’t need her first day on a new job site, especially not Miramar.  

When Ellie had woken up that morning, the sun barely peeking through the half-shut blinds, she wasn’t surprised that she was alone in bed. There was no note, no forgotten sock, no evidence, save for the dull ache between her legs and a tender, purple love bite on the inside of her right thigh as evidence that last night had even happened.  

That was what one-night stands were though, right? One night.  

Even under the hot stream of water from the shower in the ensuite though, Ellie closed her eyes and let her thoughts drift back, only shaking herself from the thought of him when the alarm from her phone buzzed it right off the counter.   

Groaning, Ellie blew out a noisy breath, abandoning the purse search when she found nothing other than a stray mint.  

Guess today was going to be a hair down kind of day.  

It wasn't the look she normally felt comfortable with on military bases with all the formality of rank and protocol, but she was a civilian contractor, it was unlikely anyone would notice. Hair down was better than the talk that might follow her around if anyone saw the mark on her neck.  

Sighing, Ellie pulled the pins out of the bun she’d spent her morning perfecting and allowed her hair, dark, still damp and wavy from the shower, to fall around her shoulders. Carefully, she pulled the tresses forward, over the rouged mark on her skin, peeking just out from under the collar of her white blouse.  

It wasn’t the best, but it would have to do in a pinch. She made a quick mental note to head off base on break to stop at a CVS to grab some concealer before she twisted the rearview mirror back into place.  

Tony Cudmore, the Crew Staffing Supervisor she had been coordinating with solely through email before now, was already waiting for her just outside the gates, his eyes on his wristwatch as Ellie approached. “Rigby, glad to have you on board. Heard we snagged you from your work on base in Turkey.”  

“Yeah, well. When Uncle Sam comes knocking, right?” Ellie snagged a tress of her hair as it lifted from her shoulder in the wind, carefully patting it back into place.  

“Don’t I know it,” Tony chuckled, his white, push broom straight moustache blustering as he waved at the officer stationed in the booth by the gate before he scanned his security pass. “How’s your old man?”  

“Ah, you know the type, Tony.” 

Ellie had perfected the art of sidestepping questions about her dad and Tony didn’t push further, seemingly content with the non-answer. 

As they reached the security clearance office, Tony slid a few documents under the glass and Ellie stepped up in front of a camera, the flash going off quickly before she had a chance to adjust.  

Whoever thought DMV photos were bad had clearly never had their photo taken by a Naval Officer a few months away from retirement.  

“Given name?” The man behind the glass murmured, so low that Ellie had to strain and lean toward the hole at the bottom of the glass to hear him.  

“Eleanor.” 

“We have a lot of work here that could really benefit from your expertise. The boys are flying Super Hornets nowadays, so the tech is good, but the improvements from your research could really give ‛em the edge.” Tony continued at her side, distractedly flipping through emails on his phone as he waited, “Now of course, those Super Hornets are far and away from the Tomcats your dad would have been flying in his heyday here, let me tell you….”  

“Surname?”  

“Neven - but you can just put Rigby.” It was Ellie’s turn to murmur now, edging closer to the slot in the glass, her voice just loud enough to be heard over Tony’s absent chatter behind her.  

The Security Officer paused, fanning out Ellie’s passport and glancing up at her for a moment, eyebrow raised before he punched something into the computer. She offered him a tight smile a beat too late.  

When the man slid her the newly printed security pass, Ellie’s eyes scanned for any sign of the hickey and was thankful that, though her hair looked like a bird's nest and her eyes were half-closed in mid-blink, at least the hickey wasn’t memorialized in her security pass.  

As they stepped out of the security office, Tony untucked a manila folio from under his arm and passed it to Ellie as they walked. “I’ll take you around. Give you your bearings. You’ll be working with the tower crew lots. Some good people up there.”  

They were out of the outbuilding now, Ellie’s heels clicking across the tarmac, past the line of F18s lined up on the hardtop and gleaming in the early morning California sun.  

“The ground crew might ask for some help with the planes, so you’ll be in the hangars. I’ll take you for a quick flyby,” Tony chuckled to himself, pleased with the pun, “we’ll pick up the tour after since the meeting with Admiral Simpson and Rear Admiral Stark is at 0900 sharp and those suits don’t mess around.”   

Tony’s strides were long, and it took Ellie a moment to jog after him, catching up just in time for him to open the door for her.    

“If you’re not five minutes early—” Ellie started, half playing into the old Navy saying she had grown up hearing as she slipped into the hangar.  

The nostalgic scent of jet fuel and oil hit Ellie hard in the closed space — it didn’t seem to matter how long she did this, how long she worked around planes and crews, in different countries, different airfields, this part never changed. Part of that was comforting in an odd way. It felt like home to her. 

Tony snapped his fingers in response, the sound of agreement. Tony opened his mouth to speak when a loud peel of laughter echoed in the closed space. Tony glanced at his watch, confused for a moment before his face turned toward Ellie, excited. “Oh, well, will you look at that, lucky you, we’ve got some of our Flyboys here. Must have some free time before drills.”    

Ellie followed a few steps behind Tony as he rounded the front of a line of Super Hornets, a spring in his step. As they approached, she took in the group of aviators in their flight suits from a distance, casually talking and laughing — and then her stomach twisted, her gait faltering for a moment. 

There, leaning against one of the jets, was the last person she expected to see again, let alone here: Hangman.

He looked almost exactly as he had last night, though somehow the daylight amplified everything about him— his height, the confident set of his shoulders. He turned, mid-laugh and Ellie watched as his eyes caught on her, like he recognized her for a fraction of a second before the look was gone just as quickly. 

Hangman’s easy smile shifted when he saw her, an eyebrow shooting up, surprise flashing across his face before his expression settled into something like amusement.

The last time she’d seen that look, she’d been over top of him, hovering, before he pulled her down over his mouth greedily, his tongue painting pictures over her most sensitive nerve endings as she moaned. She was pretty sure she’d broken one of her fingernails as she gripped the headboard, biting into her bottom lip so hard she could taste blood, his other hand reaching up to cup her breast roughly.  

Yet here he was now, in the light of day, truly in his element, looking like he belonged here as much as the jets around him. 

Ellie felt her heart kick up a notch, a reaction she’d hoped she’d managed to stow away. She forced herself to play it cool, lifting her chin slightly as they neared the group. She didn’t have a choice – there was no running from this. The consequences of her own actions coming back around to haunt her. 

“Hangman, Payback, Harvard,” Tony greeted, nodding to him and the other pilots. “Good to see you guys. Just giving our new radar tech a tour.” 

Ellie felt her pulse quicken as his gaze slid back to her. He wasn’t going to say anything, right? They were strangers here, well, coworkers now. She wasn’t Amelia Earhart, and he wasn’t the pilot from the party, except, he very clearly was and Ellie had miscalculated, mis-stepped. A TOPGUN pilot no less. 

As she held his gaze, she could see the recognition flickering behind his eyes. He knew exactly who she was, but his mask didn’t slip, not for a second. 

“This is—”  

“Rigby. Eleanor.” Ellie interrupted Tony sharply. The introduction as herself, not as Amelia, would be on her own terms. At least she could control that. Here, at Miramar, she was Eleanor Rigby. 

“Welcome to the team, Rigby,” he said smoothly, holding out a hand as if they hadn’t already met in the most intimate of ways. The way he said her name sounded off, like he was testing it out in the context of their previous… encounter. 

Ellie held her breath, pausing only a moment before she forced herself to shake his hand. “Thanks,” she replied coolly, her voice even, though she was silently praying for the ground to swallow her whole. She refused to let him get the upper hand. Not here, not in front of people she had to work with.  

His grip was firm, his eyes amused. Ellie caught the brief flicker of his gaze to her neck, his eyes resting where Ellie knew she’d tried to hide the hickey, admiring his work, likely.    

Tony chuckled, oblivious to the tension. “Lieutenant Seresin’s one of the best we’ve got. You’ll probably end up working on his bird now and then.”  

Ellie forced a smile, though she could feel the bottom of her stomach drop out and she cleared her throat in an attempt to press down the nervous, incredulous laugh that threatened to escape her. Technically, she’d worked on it last night, right?   

“Looking forward to it,” she said instead, even though the last thing she wanted was to be anywhere near him right now.  

He released her hand, stepping back into the group of pilots. “Catch you around, Rigby” he said casually, before turning back to his crew, who began to stalk off, out of the large open hangar doors, not looking back.  

“Anyway, you’ll be working here between—” Tony continued, oblivious. 

Ellie let out a breath as Tony waved at her to follow him, continuing the tour. She kept her eyes forward, focusing on Tony’s voice, but she couldn’t shake the feeling of Hangman’s eyes on her or the memory of last night still lingering between them. This complicated things. This really complicated things. 

At least he’d set a standard: he didn’t know her and Ellie was only happy to play along with that pretense. She didn’t know him either. At least, that’s the story she was sticking to. 

The fluorescent lights in the conference room felt harsher than usual, and Ellie shifted uncomfortably as Admiral Simpson and Rear Admiral Ingrid Stark watched her closely, their expressions unreadable.  

Standing before two of the Navy’s highest-ranking officers, Ellie tried to steady her breath, tried to ignore the slow trickle of panic coursing through her. The same panic that churned the small bit of breakfast she’d managed to eat while maneuvering in and out of San Diego traffic all the way to North Island.  

All she had to do was focus, recenter her mind on the presentation. The presentation that culminated the last three years of her career, it was important, she knew – it had been the sole focus of her work in Turkey and yet, here she was, hiding that stupid hickey and thinking about the man who made it. Thinking about how he looked at her in the hangar not but twenty minutes ago, a glance exchanged that held a shared secret between them as he took her hand and treated her like a stranger. Cool, calm, collected, all charm.  

It was the same easy charisma she’d leaned into just last night, at the Halloween party, blissfully unaware of who he really was. Except now she knew he’d been telling the truth the whole damn time and she’d just called his bluff wrong. And now, now with all those thoughts running through her mind at Mach 2, she was standing here, in front of the highest-ranking personnel on base, expected to deliver a groundbreaking presentation on her research, trying to ignore the lingering flush of that unexpected run-in this morning.  

Ellie cleared her throat, tightening her grip on her tablet as she began walking the Admirals through her research. Running through her practiced script, she carefully outlined her new detection algorithm—a project that had garnered their attention in the first place, the same work that had pulled her back here, to Miramar.   

Truthfully, if they’d asked any probing questions, Ellie would have to confess that the technology was in its earliest stages but had the potential to counteract enemy jamming of GPS signals. In theory (because that was the key word theory), the algorithm she’d developed, on paper, had the potential to become an un-jammable navigation system.  

Ellie clicked through to the next slide, “The reason this algorithm has the potential to give our pilots the advantage is because the enemy would have -”  

You have to say please, sweetheart. 

The memory from last night, his words a steady command, sent a pulse through her, from her chest, down into her core, where it settled, hot and pulsing. 

Ellie’s voice caught in her throat, and she coughed, before holding up her index finger and pouring herself a glass of water from the pitcher at the head of the table. Quietly she sipped the water, her eyes landing outside the window at the tarmac as ground crew guided an F18 out of the hangar. She waited for a beat, measuring her sips as she calmed down. 

Get your shit together, Rigby. She coached herself, draining the last of the water as she caught Admiral Simpson checking his watch from the corner of her eye. You are not going to screw this up because you had sex last night.    

Incredible sex.     

The best sex you've had in the last two years... possibly in your entire life.    

Top tier sex... with your new co-worker. Who just so happens to fall into the off-limits category. 

If she could have shaken her head without it seeming strange, she would have, but she suspected she was getting into foot tapping territory. With Admirals, time was money. 

“I’m sorry, as I was saying—” Ellie straightened her blazer, setting the glass down and resuming her presentation, determined.      

When she finished, Admiral Simpson leaned back, giving her a thoughtful once-over as he drummed his fingers on the folder containing her research on the table in front of him. “Well, Ms. Neven,” he said, a slight smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “The best of the best. That’s what they told me about you. I suppose that must run in the family.”  

The weight of the comment hit her immediately, and her mind reeled again. This time for an entirely different reason. She hadn’t anticipated Rick’s reputation coming up so soon—or at all.  

She managed a quick nod, hoping it looked confident. “Thank you, sir,” she said, barely keeping her voice steady.  

Simpson’s smile deepened. “When we saw you were one of the top minds in the field, it was a no-brainer to bring you in for this project. Your research is intriguing.” His gaze softened slightly, just enough to give her a glimpse of the man behind the rank and she wondered if, for half a second, it had anything to do with the fact that he had a daughter her age. “You’re going to do great things here. Your dad’ll be proud, no doubt.”  

Ellie nodded again, murmuring her thanks, feeling an odd pressure bubbling under the surface. Truthfully, she had expected some bluster about her family, some comments about her father and his Radar Intercept Officer being wingmen for the late Fleet Commander Tom “Iceman” Kazansky. She hadn’t expected it this soon. 

“Admiral Stark and I will take a look over your documentation and see how best to get the testing started. I trust you’ll let us know if you need anything in the meantime?” Admiral Simpson stood then, and an Officer stationed outside the boardroom opened the door from the outside.  

The meeting adjourned, and as everyone began to filter out, Ellie felt herself unraveling by the second, anxiety pushing its way to the forefront. She wanted to scream or laugh, possibly both. Instead, she was rooted in place, unable to decide whether to escape to the nearest empty room or brace herself against the wall and breathe. If she didn’t leave this room for the rest of the day, what were the chances she’d run into him again? Probably slim. 

This was her first day here. The first day and she was thinking about how she’d been laid bare and fucked out of her mind by a man she’d never thought she’d see again, much less work with. All in the middle of one of the most important presentations of her entire life, in front of the people who could make that research into something tangible, a finished product, a cornerstone of new technology in aviation, a reality.   

The lights in the boardroom automatically flicked off and Ellie sighed, gathering up the last of her things before exiting the room. She could hide in the women’s bathroom, right? 

“Ms. Neven.” RADM Stark’s voice approaching from the hallway behind her startled Ellie. As she turned, Ellie watched as Stark appraised her with a mix of curiosity and approval. “Impressive work. It’s good to have some estrogen in the room for once.” Her lips curled into a slight smirk, and Ellie let out the measured breath she’d been holding.  

“Thank you, ma’am. I’m—excited to work here,” Ellie's voice was a little steadier now, a bit of genuine enthusiasm breaking through her nerves as she reminded herself why she was here in the first place. Her work. Her career. Her tech.  

Stark raised an eyebrow, amusement flickering in her eyes. “Don’t get too excited,” she said, producing a small stick of concealer from a crisp tan pant pocket. She held Ellie’s gaze, a message or a warning behind her cool eyes, Ellie couldn’t be sure, as the ranked Officer handed the makeup to Ellie. “I think we might be the same shade.”   

Ellie’s heart stuttered as the realization hit her, broad-sided. Her hand shot to her neck before she could think, the heat in her cheeks flaring brighter than before as she accepted the concealer, mumbling a mortified thank-you.  

Stark gave her a knowing smile, a curt little nod as she tapped the side of her nose, before walking away, her stride as calm and confident as when she’d approached.    

Ellie waited until the RADM was clear from sight before making a beeline for the bathroom, practically stumbling into the mirror over the sink. She tilted her head to confirm what she already knew was there: a very visible, very damning mark on her neck. The scarlet letter.   

Great.    

She didn’t waste a second applying RADM Stark’s concealer, muttering under her breath as she blended it carefully with the tips of her fingers, dabbing. “One day at Miramar, Ellie. One day.”    

As she swiped on the secondary layer of concealer for good measure, she felt the rush of everything hit her again. The tension of the presentation, the equal parts pride and pressure from the Admiral’s praise, and him—Lieutenant Seresin, Hangman, with his easy, cocky grin and the piercing eyes that, despite everything, she could still feel on her.  

tags: @mrsevans90 , @avengersfan25 , @hookslove1592

taglist if you want to be added/removed!

[fertilize-my-eggs]

Virgin incel looking for love 💕

Tomura shigaraki x chubby fem reader noncon smut

A/N: this fanfic is to celebrate 800 followers on tumblr, thank you everyone who supports and loves reading dead dove content y'all are the best!! So this one is a bit long and tomura doesn't speak english in this one so he's talking Japanese while reader speaks english (technically since I don't know how to type Japanese 💀) anyway I hope y'all enjoy this one😉💕 ( this was taking too long so I'm sorry if it's bad and I was super tired asf. ) DNI: minors and antis you have been warned 18+ blog.

Warnings: sex trafficking + smut with no plot + dead dove do not eat!! + noncon + black market + creampie + unsafe sex + dry humping.

You were at a bar drinking your sorrows away as you got dumped by your partner, you sigh softly as you get up.

You could barely walk as you walked out of the building. Your head is spinning and your mind is filled with emotions and thoughts.

You were walking on a cold chilly night as you're heading home.

" Hey sweetie, come here. "You turn your head to see an older woman as she's waving her hand towards you in a dark alleyway.

You didn't think much, it's a sweet old lady after all.

You follow her as you watch her from behind as you continue your clumsy walk. Suddenly you feel someone come up behind you, quickly using a wet rag on your mouth.

You didn't have time to process this as you feel heavy and sleepy as you watch the old woman turn around and give you a devilish smirk.

You're blinking fast and groaning out in pain.

Your head is hurting as you try to rub your head only to realize you're unable to move.

Panic set in as you look down to see chains, you're breathing heavily.

" WHERE AM I?!??? " you scream out as you begin to cry out. A man comes in and speaks to you but it's a different language, you don't understand what he is saying.

You're shaking up as you keep screaming for help, the man has a syringe in his hand as he moves it to your thigh, penetrating your skin.

Your salty tears flow down as you try to move, your eyelids getting heavy by the second soon you're losing consciousness again.

You're waking up again to see you're in a different cage, you were in a very revealing elegant white silky lingerie. Expensive jewelry covered your body nicely showing off your goods.

The position you're in is vulgar, your legs are spread out, your crotch barely covers as you whimper.

You were looking around to see the place look to be a fancy underground hideout.

You watch different people in nicely fit outfits as you hear them speak in a language that you don't understand.

There were other people in cages as well, different ones with their height, body size and ethnicity.

As your eyes move along but stop in their tracks as you're staring back at a man that looks very out of place, his outfit was fully black, the hood over his head. 

The light pale blue shaggy hair covers his face but you can see his striking crimson eyes stare back at you in the crowd of people looking at your cage.

You felt a chill running down your spine as you were holding your breath.

The blue haired man smirks at you as you're hoping someone will help you from this situation.

You watch the stranger as he waves another man over as they begin to have a conversation. You watch them and their hand suggestions, judging this you're assuming the man is gonna buy you off.

The man's eyes wided with joy as the hoodie man gave him a stack of cash, nodding in your direction.

You're breathing heavily… no no please no, I don't want this… I don't wanna be here. You need to leave and escape this hell hole.

You're shaking up as the man come to your cage, start to unlock it

He's quickly removed the chain and has you standing up roughly but put new cuffs on your hands.

You were pushed up to your new owner who has the biggest smirk on his face.

It was unsettling having this strange man carass you, you felt him grope your thighs and chest area inappropriately in front of others but no one stopped this behavior or did something to help you out.

The hoodie man dragged you out of the place as you pushed out of the exit and were greeted in the back alley.

He keeps pushing you up against a wall as he begins grinding behind you, you hear his whiny groans as he begins to nip at your earlobe. Hearing his hot breath near you makes you squirm in fear.

" please… stop.. I don't want this. " You whimper at his assault, the man clearly has no clue what you're saying but he can tell you're uncomfortable by this situation.

You turn your head to see him quickly remove his pants but not fully off, his pants are around his knees, your eyes wide as you stare at his cock. You never seen a dick in person the reason why your partner dumped you was because you always make excuses and never went further but in reality you were scared and you were a virgin, that why you didn't take the next step but you gasp out loud as he shoves his hard on between your thick thighs.

He continues his assault as he roughly thrust his hips fast and harder from behind. You sob softly as you try to remove the cuffs but it's no use. Where are the damn keys you thought, you could try to look for his pocket but it would be way too obvious and you don't know if he has a quirk or not.

You hear him make a high pitched squeak as you look down to see his red tip between your thighs and his thick semen sliding down so lewdly.

He sighs heavily as he begins to remove himself.

You heard him say something but it's still difficult to understand. You turn your head to see his face reveal, you shouldn't have looked back.

He looks a lot scarier without his blue hair covering his face, he was flustered and his breathing calmed down but he started to pull his pants up. 

He grabbed your wrist again as you're seeing a dark misty portal in front of you, you keep struggling and move away but he was a lot stronger than you.

You whine out by his strong grip as you are pushed again into the strange portal.

Blink the tears away as you were greeted by a whole different environment, it looks to be someone's room.

It looks a bit childish since you see some action figures and a desk that has two big moderators. But you don't have time to look at it more.

He puts his fingertips on your cuff as you watch it slowly decay in the process.

You begin to cry more, you should keep on walking and mind your own business… stupid old lady.

His finger started to trace your hand all the way to your breast, you bite your lips from the moans, you didn't realize your chest was so sensitive. He begins to pitch at your nipples, you watch the deadly hands play with it roughly like he was making dough.

His other fingers were away; only his pointer and thumb caressed your perky areolas. you felt his drool land on your shoulder as you felt a shiver run down your spine. He starts pushing you more on the desk.

He removes his hand away, you turn to watch him decay both yours and his own clothes.

He leaned in to whisper." Tomura.. " you think that was his name, so you repeat the same word as he groans out, grinding his manhood from your behind.

" shigaraki.." he continues to bite your ear softly as you repeat the words back, he nods his head as he begins to cuddle with you.

You feel strange, you never understand him nor his language but you had to guess it.

You say your name to him why maybe he will understand what you are saying.

He started to purr at you and said your name back in his language.

It's going to be hard to communicate. You felt his hand on your neck as he grabbed his thick cock to your entrance as he began to tease you.

You grip the edge of the desk as he pushes inch by inch inside of you.

You whimper out, feeling your hymen break once he shoves more of his cock inside.

The feeling was uncomfortable, the stretch felt overwhelming as you keep struggling with his size.

" please stop… i-it hurts.." you tried to push his hips away but tomura quickly grabs both of your hands as he puts it behind your back.

He ignores your pleas as he starts off slow and shallow deep thrust as he starts to bite your shoulder area to stop the cries but it's getting possible.

Tomura let out the most pathetic whines and whimpers, you never thought you would hear a man make those types of noises.

The heavy balls slapping your outer lips as he begins to get faster and harder.

It's hard to get comfortable when this man is lying on top of you, you can't breathe.

Your eyes rolled back to the heavens as you began to drool onto the desk, you can already feel yourself dripping down your thighs.

The slapping increases, getting more volume, you start to notice that you're reaching your high. You don't want this to stop but your mind is screaming at you to escape… you on other hand don't mind getting dick down by this strange man.

Your brain couldn't think straight as you start to chant his name, turning to mush by his powerful thrust, he starts to play with your hair and whisper other things that you still don't understand.

You hear him chant your name as you hear the familiar squeak from him, the throbbing cock inside of you, begins to release thick white cum covering your walls.

You cry out his name, squirting in the process. Milking him for his worth and you start to feel shame all over, you know that this man didn't wear protection, making it a high risk of getting pregnant.

You didn't want this and hoping you don't get pregnant too soon. Shigaraki kisses your neck as he begins to remove you from the desk and towards the small dirty bed.

You were pushed again as you start to realize he didn't pull out of you, his cock is still inside.

You cry out as he pushes your back down, he roughly grabs hold of your hips. You hear the loud skin slapping skin echo in the room as tomura growls and acts like an animal.. Feral animalistic instincts cloud his mind as he thrusts your abuse hole, you feel his tip hitting your cervix.

The fingertips dance on the skin of your thighs to your belly, he begins to caress it lovely. His hand gripping your chubby waist as he dragged you towards his heavy thrust.

You can't tell how many times you orgasm but you started to babbling and mewling at this.

The sheets are already ruined and you feel the wetness sliding down your thighs, you throw your body backwards meeting his hips. Tomura grabbed your hair putting you into a lewd arch position, the tears sliding down your cheek from the overstimulation.  

He leans in to lick the tears away as he growls out.

His thrust becomes more sloppy and you can tell he reached his end but his pace wasn't slowing down any time sooner.

You start to see blackness around your eyes as you start to lose consciousness as you try to blink again to keep awake.

He finally slammed into you one more time to shoot more of his own semen into your walls.

You collapse breathing heavily as he keeps grinding his narrow hips on top of you, he lay down but didn't remove himself.

You can feel his arms wrapped around your waist as he pulls you close, you feel his cock soft a bit but it still didn't slide out of you, you sigh softly.

The throbbing feeling begins to hurt and sore between your legs. 

Your heavy eyelid falls close as you start to feel sleepy and take hold of you.

Hearing soft snoring and humming relaxes you a bit but you're not escaping anytime soon when he's madly in love with you and wants you to have his first child and life together.

[mmartisttalent]

SUP well its about time I did this so yipe kay yay mother trucker :3

DNI

-drake

-homophobic people

-whatever the fuck radqueers are

-not to be racist but- * insert racist slur *

-"women don't deserve rights"

-Anti autistic idiots

-incel weirdos

-people who think hypersexuality means they want to fuck everyone

-bad people idk

-kinky shit

-zoophiles cuz the bleach ain't working anymore

-that one 16 year old Scottish guy that loves pokemon and saying racial slurs

-proshippers (please just let the ship die already)

-anti abortion people (it's literally jello why do you care)

-people who say "what we're you wearing?" To a rape victim

-Rapist

-pedos

-anyone who has even THOUGHT about liking project 2025

-orange man with a blonde wig supporters

Thank you for coming to My Ted talk :3

[pillarsalt]

hi Im the same ex transmasc anon who sent you that aask about rhe tumblr ban thing, I did a lot of reading without forcing myself away this time. (I used to look at radblr sometimes bc I got curious, but when it started making too much sense i would make myself stop reading and tell myself I was being manipulated and try to forget about it..looking back that probably wasnt normal haha,)

I have mixed feelings tho. I don’t regret looking closer, the amount of sexism in the trans community was horrible. I think even radfems don’t understand how bad it was because it was all subtle styff. But seeing it constantly irl and online was terrible for me as a female. It gave me so much internalized misogyny, it made me hate myself and I felt worthless and stupid! and whiny! and annoying! all the time!! unless I was able to be perceived as a man. I felt like I had to be a man to have any respect in the community. I remember being so amazed to see abortion be covered by trans people I followed in even a reblog because it was the first time I saw people in the community talk about female issues at all. Even then it was covered with disclaimers and terfs DNI banners. male,opinions were always prioritized.

I thought this was dysphoria and a sign I was really a man. then I started reading radfem things and its like that feeling instantly lifted. I felt respected, listened to, even though I wasn’t speaking. It was also like all this stuff I’d internalized from being female, all the trauma around sex based oppression, was actually being addressed. in trans circles you get called a terf for acknowledging females face any kind of oppression (they acknowledge sex when it’s to talk about how hard male loneliness is on young trans women, and how the incel to trans woman pipeline happens, though…)

but the reason I have mixed feelings is bc I now feel….dumb? And afraid. And angry. I spend well over a decade being part of this community, half my friends are in the community, I’ve been trans since I was 9. My typings not the best… dyslexia sucks lol. But I like to think I’m smart. Now I don’t know,

And it makes me think totally different of these people I saw as progressive cis male allies, who were so loud about trans rights and hating JKR and terfs. Now they just feel like the same flavor of anti-feminist man I hate.

And the community is so huge and it’s so widely accepted and I don’t know how to deal!

But I am happy to be a woman now. In a healthy way I haven’t been for a long time. thats all that matters.

I'm sorry for everything you were put through. Many girls and women have been sucked into this thinking it will provide a solution for their distress at the social ramifications of the body they're born in, only for more people, namely men, to take advantage of their distress and gain power over them. As you mentioned, even "cis" men get in on the action when they justify intimidating and threatening women with violence in response to perceived transphobia. It's a terrible situation to be in. Made worse when you can't openly talk about with people you're close to for fear of alienating them.

I think you should give yourself more credit. You ARE smart. You questioned what you were told was never allowed to be questioned and realized you were being misled. And what you said about trying to make yourself forget the realizations you've had, that is normal. It's a difficult and scary thing to hold opinions that conflict with those of the majority of your peers. I think it's like the climax of cognitive dissonance -- when what you know is true clashes so hard against what you want to believe, you find it impossible to justify anymore, so you just resort to pretending you never learned the information in the first place. Been there.

I'm just being a stereotype now, but there's a classic Dworkin quote for this:

"Many women, I think, resist feminism because it is an agony to be fully conscious of the brutal misogyny which permeates culture, society, and all personal relationships."

Anyway my point is, don't beat yourself up. I'm really happy to read that you're accepting your womanhood, it's a hard journey but it's worth it to have a good relationship with yourself. And in my experience (at the sage and wisened age of 25) that it gets easier as you get older. You work through mistakes, and that prepares you to handle the next mistake better. You're right, your health and happiness is all that matters, keep striving for that and it will steer you right.

I wanted to give you some reading recommendations, you mentioned you have dyslexia but I believe these two are available in audiobook form if that's up your alley:

Delusions of Gender: How Our Minds, Society, and Neurosexism Create Difference by Cordelia Fine

Invisible Women: Exposing Data Bias in a World Designed for Men by Caroline Criado Perez

There are tons more great books on feminism but these two are my go-tos for hard facts on gender, socialization, and the systematic discrimination against women worldwide through biases that are built into society.

Well uh; TLDR thanks for gracing my inbox, anon :) Hope you keep well.

[30499285929210111102939193]

Gabriel/Samael. Male. 29. Radqueer. ✝️. Ex incel & in recovery from anorexia nervosa.

Anti-contact leaning: Complex-contact. My girlfriend @enlight-end ❤️🐇

Pro-paraphilia. Pro-conabuse. Pro-kink. Pro-ship.

CisIDs: Autistic, Hypersexual, BPD, Bodybuilder, Athlete, Body dysmorphic, Suicidal, Aspiring mogger.

TransIDs: Trans-harmful, Trans-abuser, Trans-stalker, Trans-anorexia, Trans-shapeshifter, Trans-cannibal.

DNI: Antis and sub5 males.

[t0tally-n0t-lou]

welcome to my blog!

i am the number one teruko defender. don’t expect anything profound or well thought out. i just type :3. things you will see are gore, random rants, hot takes. if you don’t like it, scroll. here’s my venting blog @t0tally-n0t-n0t-lou

hi, i’m lou/eve/michael. i go by any pronouns, but i prefer they/it. i’m a lesbian and genderfluid.

i don’t do nsfw because i’m a minor so don’t ask me to draw nsfw

i’m still learning anatomy and stuff so go easy on me with my drawings. if you like my art or rambles you can follow if you want (no pressure).

i’m attempting to learn russian at the moment.

my main hyperfixation is bsd but if you want to chat with me about r1999, dead plate, hsr, or class of 09 i’d allow it.

aesthetics i like: meatcore, dreamcore, clowncore, goblincore, weirdcore, gorecore

My awesome music taste: will wood, msi, mcr, lemon demon, sodikken, set it off, weezer, tally hall, scene queen, fall out boy, dazey and the scouts, penelope scott, tv girl, alex g, marina, ghost and pals, rio romeo, bikini kill, bratmobile, jack stauber, the dresden dolls, tlt, 6arelyhuman, and maretu.

i’m agnostic, but i may say things like ‘oh my god’ or ‘jesus christ’. my art may also include lines with religious stuff. i’m not religious however. if you are, i’m fine with that.

my favorite characters are: ranpo, mushitarou, q, teruko, jecka, ari, emily, schneider, balloon party, druvis III, sunday, aventurine, and clara.

i have anxiety so i find it hard to talk to people i find cool. don’t assume i don’t like you.

undiagnosed neurodivergence central.

i’m an infj.

no creepy shit please!! i’m a minor.

i love being silly and feral on the internet. i am NOT a calm mutual.

my dnis are: proshippers/darkshippers/comshippers (neutrals are fine i guess unless you actively talk to me about proshipping), homophobes, terfs, transphobes, femcels/incels, radqueers, xionists, trump supporters, paraphiles/pedophiles, misandrists, misogynists, racists, msi antis, music elitists, xenophobes, those who judge others just based off personal style (i’m looking at one of my irl friends right now), assholes in general, etc.

likes: literature, music, drawing, fanfiction, being alone, character analysis, sleep, gore, rarepairs, silly bsd content, gaming, clothes, theatre, cool people.

dislikes: babies, dazai (affectionately), coloring my drawings, letting others down, school, most of humanity, myself, studying, writing.

my kins are: nikolai, akutagawa, mushitarou, poe, sigma, and atsushi.

• my art tag is: #lous art

•my talking tag is: #lou yaps

•my inbox tag is: #lous inbox

•my venting tag is: #lou vents

•my writing tag that will almost never be used is: #lou writes

my irl friends: @x6v1er @starreskies @kallonwaibel13 :3

my strawpage

my pinterest

my favorite tracks right now:

[porcelain-gal]

random things i've scripted

i never embarrass myself.

no one ever throws up on me.

no one ever hears me pooping.

everything works out in my favor.

all parties i go to are fun and lively.

people are always willing to help me.

i have my house address memorized.

i don’t get bad second hand embarrassment.

i’ll never get a tattoo or body modification that i’ll regret.

i never get a stiff neck from laying, sleeping or sitting weird.

whenever i get cocky, it’s perfectly justified because i am that bitch.

my nails (both hand and toe) don't catch on or scrape against things.

i am never an angry or abusive drunk (i'm taking no risks with my bloodline.)

my ears never get damaged when blasting anything at a high or full volume.

grease isn’t hard to wash off of stuff and doesn’t leave stains on any of the dishes i use.

i can tell when an animal is showing specific kinds of behavior (e.g., casual, affectionate, hostile, etc.)

you can't shame me for shit. i always own the shit i've done with my chest and can acknowledge when i'm wrong.

all the places i stay, especially hotels, have completely soundproof walls unless i don't want them to be for a reason or i scripted a scenario or whatever.

the majority of humans commonly can live up to 200 (i'm not human in most of my drs and ion want my human friends just dying on me too quick.)

i'm pretty good at regulating my emotions and i never let them get out of hand to the point where i'm impulsively or thoughtlessly hurting someone or something.

i enjoy rollercoasters, fair rides, etc., and have no fear of them. plus all of the ones i go on are completely safe, stable, and fully-functioning and no one ever gets hurt on them.

my disorders rarely cause me issues with physical intimacy (sexual and non-sexual) and if they do, there's always simple ways around the issues that doesn't really inconvenience me or anyone else.

whenever i commission someone or pay for a service, i always pay exactly on time or sometimes even before. i never allow people that work for me or give me any kind of service go unpaid or unsupported.

none of my friends, followers/fan, family members, or anyone i am currently aquatinted with or will be aquatinted with ever had a racist/homophobic/sexist/etc phase nor do they support/defend that type of thing.

i never slam any part of my body into doors, windows, books, and vice versa (i slammed my finger into my grandma's front door once and it took literal years to turn back to its normal color. plus it hurt like shit so NEVER again.)

any online creator who has harmed, is harming, or is attempting to harm any other creator without valid and justifiable reasoning has their platform taken away and can never get said platform back nor are they able to rebrand and start over.

i always give the best advice for people when they ask me things. like the advice i give leaves people with new perspectives and hope and all. and i also deliver it in a very good way that doesn’t offend or make people or uncomfortable or feel like they’re being berated or whatever. it’s just incredible advice delivered in the best way without sounding bad or sketchy.

anti-shifter, proship/profic, ageplay, pro ana, bigot/incel, and any variation dni

[chaotickiddo]

🚫NOT SELLING ANYTHING🚫

🖤DMS ALWAYS OPEN 2 MUTUALS🖤

My energy and time is limited and messages can get lost so if I don't answer you, it's not personal💕

DO NOT SPAM LIKE PLEASE UNLESS YOU'RE A MUTUAL, IT CLOGS MY NOTIFS

I don't have a partner and am not looking for one 😊 I'm very happy just playing with my fwb(s) and hope to create more meaningful relationships and meet more like-minded people to grow with.

USUALLY RUNNING A QUEUE

About me:

Hi there 👋🏼 I'm Luna/Bug, yes those are actually the names I go by and I will not be giving out my dead name, don't ask.

You can also call me kiddo, mutt, creature and moth among other things.

27.

SoCal ☀️🌱

Disabled/chronically ill

Genderfluid/transnon-binary

Pronouns: ALL but prefer they/he/it/she

Pansexual/possibly also Demisexual

Ethically nonmonogamous/polyamorous

Brat/Submissive/little/pet/masochist/exhibitionist

IT'S A YES FROM ME 👉🏼👉🏼✨:

CNC, somnophilia, petplay, DD/LG, impact play, breathplay, orgasm torture, cock warming, free use, intox, kidnapping, knife play, ropeplay/shibari/suspension, anal, fauxc3st, degradation/humiliation mixed with praise, edging, and plenty more, I'm generally a gross lil toy🫶🏼😇

HARD LIMITS:

scat, vomit, branding (hot items), detrans, raceplay, maybe piercing play🤔 there's not that much, I'll update as I think of em

Tags on my page:

I have them tagged below so you can easily browse 🥰

#D4ak / #me - pics of yours truly 🌜💕

#cutedateidea - exactly what it sounds like

#meandwho - let's me real, it's me and the besties/mutuals

#thisenergy / #this - things I like

DNI:

Minors, pet/age regressors, lil tots, incels, maps, terfs, radfems, trump supporters, anti-lgbtqia+, any hate, if you aren't here to be considerate, queer, kinky and kind then kindly GTFO🐶💕

Do not send me unsolicited pics, you will be blocked.

[kaleido-write]

Boundaries

People related:

Dni if you're

Racist

Homophobic

Transphobic

Anti-feminist

Antisemitic

A zionist

Ableist

A Terf (i have no problems to talk if its genuine/out of curiosity but respect my identity and my pronouns or you're blocked)

Conservatives

Alt right peeps

Rusty hearts/leasebound enjoyer

Christian forcers

Conspiracy theorist

Exclusionist

Incels

Radfems

Anti shifters

Leasebound related:

Well if any rusty enjoyers nor leasebound enjoyers come to my blog and send shit to rusty you're fucking weird cuz I blocked all the main ones so if I find your accounts I'll block you as well and if you're using stuff to bypass the blocking you're as fucking weird

My content:

Also don't repost my art you dumbasses unless I state you can , if its to critique my own comic /Lil strips I do sometimes then sure go for it but pls tag me if you do

Fanfic:

My requests are open

I ONLY do MxM and FxF fics!! Since there's a huge lack of gay fanfics I'm doing that work :p

! I don't do smut lemon or lime , at most heated kisses

I do violence and other stuff like that but there will be warnings , i want to keep my content somewhat minor friendly

[nozomi-kaizoku]

Hi!!!

Welcome to my Offical Tumblr!

This is where I will be posting all of my vent content (Mainly stuff regarding BPD and my thoughts on online drama), it's kind of like making a public diary lmao

I also reblog other people's vents that I relate to, so if you see me reblog your vent post, that's why :3 (if you need me to take it down, please let me know, and I will)

My spam account: @nozomi-spam

My posts on this account will contain or mention the following:

Suicide and suicidal ideation

Self harm

Any relevant drama that goes viral (ex: the YandereDev situation)

Negative perceptions of my relationships and myself

Sex, sexual topics and self sexualization

Ableism (including internalized ableism and stigma against my disorder)

Psych wards

Invalidation

Hopelessness for the future

The hardships that come with BPD (such as mood swings and dissociation)

Anxiety

Mentions of some problematic behavior I did back in 2021 (do not ask me about it btw, I'm not comfortable with going into detail and I might not remember everything)

Wanting to be in a relationship with older men (mainly with men in their 30's)

Attention-seeking behavior

Incel/Femcel stuff

Other things that might be potential triggering

If you are not comfortable with any of the above in any way, please DNI and do not come onto my page (see boundaries for other DNI criteria). I do not want my content to cause harm in any way.

Thank you.

Name: Nozomi Kaizoku, but I'm cool with Nozomi, Zomie/Zomi (doesn't matter the spelling), or just Luca(s) or Pheonix

I'm 18 (My birthday is 01/14)

Pronouns: He/she/they

Disabilities and mental conditions: autism (professionally diagnosed), ADHD (professionally diagnosed),BPD (professionally diagnosed, provisional)

Sexuality and Gender Identity: Pansexual, Aromantic, and Non-Binary (Masculine and androgynous terms for me are cool with me)

Always Welcome!! (unless you end up on the DNI list somehow)

Neurodivergent people of all kinds (especially autistic and ADHD folk)

Anyone of any mental illness

FNAF fans, canon and AU (especially Tony crynight fans)

Any race, gender, sexuality, religion, disability, etc. (this is a safe space)

Any fandom (outside of what is on the DNI)

Weird/cringe people of all kinds (furries, therians, alt fashion, etc.)

Problematic in recovery people (basically any content creators who are problematic and in the process of stopping their problematic behavior) (this s a pro-recovery page)

Just cool people in general!

Anyone 14 and over

Unless I made you an exception, DO NOT INTERACT (DNI) (you will be blocked)

anyone under 14 (I'd rather not expose anyone that's really young to any sort of content that's gonna mess them up for life. Trust me, I saw some shit I wasn't supposed to at a young age and it messed me up big time.)

Anyone who openly shares their political ideology (No hate against any of you, but I've seen way too many people get into fights over one's political viewpoint, and I'd rather not have that negativity on here. I'm considered a "leftist/democrat/liberal" incase anyone is curious, but I'm not gonna talk about it much on here)

Springtrap x Ballora shippers (most of y'all are toxic as fuck and I don't like it)

DNI (no exceptions) (you will be blocked)

Anyone who fits into these categories: Ableism (especially against neurodivergent people and anyone with "evil" mental illnesses, such as NPD or BPD), Racism, Sexism/misogyny, Homophobia/ transphobia, Antisemitism, Pro-genocide of any kind, Nazis and Neo-Nazis, pro-"life", or any sort of discrimination that I haven't listed here.

People who justify literal bullying as "criticism" (seriously, it never helps, there's a difference between actual criticism that can help someone and bullying)

Tony Crynight Anti's (this is a Tony Crynight fanpage, and as such, any hate against him will be deleted and blocked)

Personality disorder Abuse believers (eg: Narcissist abuse believers)

People who make mental illness look like a quirky trend (Eg: saying "bpd = beautiful princess disorder", "I'm so OCD" etc.) (mental illness isn't fun at all, coming from experience) (ONLY APPLIES TO NEUROTYPICALS, SOME PEOPLE WITH THE DISORDER USE THESE JOKES AS A COPING MECHANISM)

Fashion Jirais (due to harassment and spreading harmful misconceptions about mental health and the Jirai community)

Anti-recovery (especially when it comes down to mental illness)

Cancel culture participants (most of yall are anti-recovery and pro-bullying.)

---

Feel free to reblog my posts if you find it relatable, but please be respectful about any criticism you have, otherwise you will be blocked.

---

That's all folks! /ref