#anyways I feel like this is a true statement. that women feel more threatened by the patriarchy than capitalism

[birdmenmanga]

Missed ass opportunity... the last time I was at the Marxist meeting one of the members brought up how there was a strong gender imbalance in the organization that heavily favored men, and wondered how they could increase recruitment of women. They kindly reminded current members to not say misogynistic things such as "women just don't care about politics" because it really really seems like women who are curious about Marxism tend not to return if people in the organization say shit like that. I mentioned that women likely do care about politics; that they were simply more likely to focus their efforts on things such as women's rights because they often feel more threatened by the patriarchy than capitalism.

What I SHOULD have said was, "I have a suggestion."

[rainydayalchemy]

夕闇

Reader X Tengen Uzui

18+ MDNI

TW: Suggestions towards SA

Reader has been sold into the red light district, so heed with caution

Dusk.

The red glow of lanterns flicked to life. The sun was setting quickly, and with it, the energy was rising. Static crackled through the air. You always loathed the heavy weight of the nighttime. The night meant the street would be slick with sin and cruelty.

You would never get used to the feeling of being used. Experience after experience was quickly detrioating you. Other women and girls did this job with such bravery. You couldn't grasp the concept. No matter how hard you tried to swallow down the discomfort or shame, it always seemed to consume you.

Shallow giggles and flirtations echoed through the walls. You had to put on a brave face. Money was tighter than ever. It hadn't escaped you how the usual long line of men has dwindled in the past month. Everyone was struggling to get by.

A shaky breath left your red painted lips. It was time. Your skin was painted heavily. Dramatic flicks of red paint adorn your eyes. Your makeup was too beautiful to cry. The pricks of tears threatened to fall, and you shook your head.

The night was in full swing. The house you worked out of was overflowing. Each woman pulled close to a man. You smiled at the older customer seated beside you. He was a merchant who was deadset on talking until your ears bled. He rambled on and on about his so-called miserable wife and how he was glad to be away from her. That statement made your heart clench, that woman was caring for their children at this very moment. Most likely tucking them in for the night, and yet here he was, at such an establishment.

A sneer danced across your face. The man hardly noticed, still continuing to complain. Affairs were common in this line of work. It was something you turned a blind eye to. That never failed to make your stomach churn.

"Well, sweetheart." He breathed out. He stunk of sake and smoke.

"Yes...?" You offered him another smile, a sad attempt at stalling the next part.

"I suppose it's about time I took you in the back." His words dripped with suggestion.

You felt your stomach drop and the urge to vomit swirl inside of you. You gave him a brief nod, and he snatched your wrist. You were going willingly, and yet he used force. Tonight would be brutal. He yanked up and began to stomp down the hallway. No one spared a glance to you. No one would step in if he got too violent.

"Wait I-"

The words escaped you before you could stop them. Reluctance was heavily punished, and yet every piece of you fought to tear your arm away. He scoffed, his face twisted in offense. Your bones ached as he practically crushed your wrist. This was going to make it worse.

"How dare you whor-"

He never finished the insult. His words cut short by a hulking figure standing in between you two. Your eyes widened at the interruption. Your wrist was reddened but released nonetheless. The man standing with his back to you was adorned in strange clothing. He was enormous. His appearance was overwhelming in every aspect.

"It's best if you don't rough up the workers..."

His tone wasn't angry but held such authority it was unnerving. The customer scoffed once again. His face was an ugly expression of distaste.

"Whore isn't worth it anyway." He spit out venomously.

It was a true statement. There were hundreds of other workers, much more willing to please him. The customer only continued grumbling and stumbling out of the house and onto the next. Sighing in relief, you straightened your crumpled robes. Not a single person glanced your way, another reminder that anything could happen and no one would step in.

Except for him, of course. You bent at the waist. You stared at the ground, only able to have visibility of his trousers and footwear. He shifted his body and faced you finally. You finally rose from your bow and came face to face with him. He was awfully beautiful, and that sent a heat racing through your veins. His features were stunning and so absolute you felt your jaw drop bit in awe.

"T-thank you!" You exclaimed.

It was a bit louder than what you hoped. Oh god. You could already feel the flush rising on your chest. His only response was a quiet huff. It felt as if he was staring through you. Perhaps he took pity on you? That was possible. You figured it was only right to express graitude after he stepped in. A shudder racked through your body thinking about what tonight could've been. Yet, his response was lackluster.

"Come with me."

Huh? You barely had time to think before he was pulling you down the hallway. A shocked gasp left your lips. Had he only saved you for himself? Although his grip was much softer, it was still firm and comanding. You grit your teth, of course this would happen. Did you really expect a savior?This man was just like the others.

[wild-wombytch]

So. I'm still new to radical feminism and still in the middle of my peak trans, so I'm trying to be careful with my critical thinking and tonight I genuinely wondered about that injunction that feminism must by default ve trans inclusive. Because does it, really? What do trans people actually bring on the table for feminism? Or are they only beneficiary/exploitative of feminism without bringing on anything in return but misogynistic anon hate? I wondered "hey, if "trans women are women" is a true statement, then what is statistically the involvement of trans women in women's rights? In abortion's rights? In thing that allegedly concern womanhood even if it doesn't concern them personally?"

Because I'm a lesbian and chances are I'll never need an abortion in my whole life. Hell, due to personal reasons, I'd have more chances to want to keep my pregnancy going if I had to have one because I might not be able handle abortion psychologically. Yet, I'm fighting for every woman to be able to have an abortion, to have that choice. Even if more likely than not it doesn't effect me as an individual as much as it effects me as a woman. Because women always have to bear the weight of all the women's rights anyway, we get little privileges in terms of individuation in comparison to men. So I wondered -genuinely, in good faith- if trans women were feeling the weight of this as well or if it was going to be full male "not my problem, don't care" entitlement. And ladies. Let me offer some more exhibit (I swear these are all the first results I had for TWO different wordings on Google):

So let's do the midnight/mushbrain quick unpacking of this :

- No stats

- No arguments, we're supposed to accept trans women benefit feminism because They Said So™

- Lots of vitriolic takes on anyone questioning it ("cruel" "appropriative of the rhetoric of women's rights" that "inflict life-threatening harm on trans people"-lol-, "narrowly interpreting a statement", "bigoted", "anti feminist", weakening feminism)

- Many of those are made by trans women and also denying biological reality [not surprising, BUT an argument of TRAs is that most trans people believe in bio sex...despite hating radfems, somehow]

- It's so focused on pushing the trans activism, trying to prove that trans women don't have male privileges (an idea in these examples often defended by...other males) and that uwu but transwomen experience misogyny too uwu + trying so hard to prove us that there's no threat to women's rights here whatsoever. Nope. None. Please, look elsewhere. That it doesn't answer my question directly.

And by that lack of answer I ironically found it. It's male centered. It's gaslighting us in believing women's rights are ok and NEED trans activism (cause women need saviors and haven't been handling feminism themselves on their own and under hatred all of these centuries, y'know /s?). Nobody cares about women's rights here. It's not based on facts, it's all based on the fact we should blindly believe what TiM say. That including them will benefit us somehow and that it's not male violence because they identify as women so they allegedly can't reproduce male violence. All that while packaging disagreement from female feminists in diverse degrees of insults and misogyny and misinformation...say again how there's no trans agenda here and how it's not like, oh, I don't know, literal male entitlement and narcissism?

Anyway, I'm too sleepy to dig further but by all means, please do if you want to add something.

Just, I'm new to this and this is already pretty exhausting. To think a lot of you have been radfems for years...istg y'all are braver than honeybadgers (complimentary). Literally all the online communities now cater to them and throw us under the bus when we raise questions. It's male privileges benefiting males over females.

Exhibit 4852 about why radfems/gender criticals are right.

[autolenaphilia]

I noticed a lot of complaining from men, cis and trans, about women being afraid of them, that women treat men they don’t know well with a cold cautious distance. And men being men, they claim that this is proof that misandry is real, that being a man is not a position of privilege, that this is part of the “male loneliness epidemic” and so on.

I don’t want to single out trans men here, although they do that kind of complaining a lot here on tumblr, especially the “transandrophobia” true believer guys. In fact as far as I can tell from glancing at the blog of saint-speaks who coined the term, the “androphobia” part literally means women’s ��irrational fear of men and masculinity” I can easily imagine transitioning and going from being gendered as female a lot by others to being gendered as male might make this gender difference more obvious and those men thus more likely to comment on it.

However, antifeminist cis men do this kind of whining a lot too, and they are actually more numerous, even if their preferred social media for that is reddit (at least before that site’s ongoing implosion).

And it is whining, let’s be clear on that. Sure, on a purely personal level it can feel awful for men to be treated as a threat by stranger women. It’s alienating. But let’s consider what these women feel instead, which this kind of discourse never does, which is why it’s misogynistic. These women feel fear, of bodily harm, of sexual violence. And it’s well justified. We live in a patriarchal society, in a violently misogynistic rape culture. Most violence against women is done by people they know, but it’s wise to be cautious about men in public if you are woman, whether you are cis or trans. Being a trans woman only makes that threat of violence worse. For men, successfully performing masculinity empowers them to hurt women and lesser men, and trans women are “girls you can hit.”

And for women, having to be that cautious and fearful is alienating and lonely too. There are women who have varying degrees of agoraphobia and seldom leave their home because of their fear.

It’s also kinda bizarre to demand genuine warmth from complete strangers anyway, especially those who genuinely fear you, yet men often expect it of women and there is a kind of entitlement in that. The ultimate statement of that kind of entitlement is perhaps Elevatorgate, where misogynists harassed a woman for being uncomfortable when sexually propositioned in an elevator.

And in practice, when a woman is afraid of a man, her response is typically deference. When you actually are afraid that someone will get violent, and they aren’t yet active threatening you or getting violent, you’ll try to avoid a fight or confrontation as much as possible. When a man and I are walking in opposite directions and are on a collision course, it’s nearly always I who will go to the trouble of stepping out of the way while the man just walks on in a straight line. This is probably true for most women. Because we are afraid, we will treat men coldly, but with deference and politeness, for we dare not do otherwise. Being too warm might invite dangerous sexual propositions, as all warmth shown by women towards men is interpreted as flirting in heteronormative society.

This is how all men benefit from violence against women, even if they have never been violent themselves. It’s part of how male privilege works.

Sure, men doesn’t actually get any emotional connection out of women being conflict-avoidant yet distant towards them, but neither do women, and men benefit in other ways. Male privilege does bring power. White men in a patriarchal white supremacist society can literally get away with murder.

It’s of course tragic that patriarchal violence keeps people apart, that it makes being with other people a fearful and tense experience. But focusing on men’s feelings of alienation and loneliness is not that productive. Women are also lonely and alienated due to this situation, to a greater degree than men. And the real problem is patriarchy and the culture of violence towards women it generates.

There is important nuance however that I need to add. “Accusations of sexual menace are a key weapon used against marginalized people in feminist spaces,” and public spaces overall, I might add. Black and disabled men are unfairly singled out as threatening and aggressive in ways that white and able-bodied neurotypical men are not. Even if a woman feels fear, her threat assessments are often poisoned by racism, ableism, lesbophobia, transmisogyny and so on. Such assessments are often based on gut feelings, and they are shaped by what society tells us is a threat, not some basic animal instinct.

And when marginalized people are viewed as a threat, they are often treated with aggression rather than deference born out of genuine fear of harm. These groups tend not to have the power to even defend themselves without being punished, while privileged men tend to have the societal power to take revenge for any perceived slight. You can see this in the public debate, trans women regularly should be thrown out of public life and denied resources for women because we are painted as dangerous, while there is no call for men to have any restrictions in public, despite the proven threat they pose.

And of course, the dynamic described here is also true for other axes of oppression besides man-woman. As a trans woman, I don’t feel entirely safe around cis women either. And non-white people have good reason to be cautious around white people like me.

But being a man is not a marginalized gender. Men can be marginalized in other ways, but not because of being men. Being oppressed curtails their male privilege but does not eliminate it entirely. Men are privileged for being men, and them being treated with deference by women is actually part of that.

And yes, that’s true even for trans men. Trans men are oppressed for being trans, but they can also access male privilege. It’s dependent on their ability to pass for cis men, be perceived and treated as men, so it’s conditional and meaningfully curtailed by their transness. But all male privilege is dependent on the successful performance of masculinity. It’s just much easier for cis men to perform masculinity in the eyes of wider society compared to trans men due to their cis privilege.

And this is not unique to trans men. The genuine oppressions men experience all impact their ability to successfully perform masculinity and thus be accorded the benefits of male privilege. Men who are not white or are disabled or neurodivergent, or seen as gay or effeminate are often inhibited in this way, and are viewed as defective men.

This is incidentally why trans women seldom are the “privileged men” of transmisogynist myth. Pre-transition we tend to perform masculinity inadequately and uncomfortably, and are seen as effeminate and faggy as a result.

Of course all these caveats don’t apply to men who do regularly perform masculinity successfully. They are given male privilege, and I can’t see how they are the main victims of that process. It’s not a big deal if women are cautious around you if they don’t know you well. Men are not evil for belonging to an oppressor class, but you are sure entitled if you expect women to never be afraid of you and treat you like a trusted friend from the minute they lay eyes on you.

[redditreceipts]

Hi, i'm new to radfeminism so i browse in this app a lot, and i think i still have a lot thing to learn from you guys, it's honestly amazing <3!! But there's one thing in particular i want to ask, what do you think about truscums? I think i differ from most rad-leaning feminist in trans issues maybe because i come from very transphobic country and in my queer community lots of trans people helped me, but i also aggre some of the statements y'all make, and feel like truscums are like a middle-ground so i feel more emphaty to them.

hey :) so generally there is not one opinion that I hold regarding trans medicalists, because they under themselves seem to tolerate a much broader range of opinions than tucutes do. I mean, I haven't heard about trans medicalists attacking people on the street for claiming that you can be trans without dysphoria or something, while other trans activists regularly threaten violence if you don't agree with them on every single point they're making.

there are some trans medicalists like Blaire White, Kalvin Garrah or Marcus Dib who predominantly make cringe content without explaining their views too much (and I don't think that I have to explain why I disagree with Blaire White on a political level), but people like Debra Soh or Buck Angel seem like really nice people who are interested in discussion and research.

I think that me and them are interested in different questions, I personally care more about women's and lgb rights, while many trans medicalists seem to be more interested in how to best deal with gender dysphoria.

One of the few problems I'd say I have with trans medicalists is the notion of "true trans" - that was a big talking point a couple of years ago, but they seem to have abandoned it largely (except for Marcus Dib, who brings it up a lot). It seem like it's impossible to define what a "true trans" person would be, given that things like autogynephilia can also cause gender dysphoria, which is the criterium used by many trans medicalists to define what a "true trans" person is. The same is true for the "brain sex" theory - was a big talking point a while ago, but not really convincing.

But yeah, in the end, I feel like if your friends help you along the way and you want to keep them in your life, you shouldn't break off contact with them. If people tell you to break off contact with people because they disagree with you on a metaphysical belief, your in a cult lol

anyways, cool that you're here :)

[coochiequeens]

Thanks to gender ideology a dude who didn't sign up while there was still spaces left in the men's category was able to sign up to compete in the women's category. And he won leaving with prize earmarked for a woman while if he did run in the men's category he would have come in 55th.

By Nuria Muíña García February 2, 2024

A man claiming to be “gender fluid” has won the women’s category of a mountain race in Spain, signing up after there were no more spaces left in the men’s category. Quim Durán Pradas, who lives his day-to-day life as a man, says running makes him feel “feminine.”

La Cursa de NaDalt is a chrono-climbing race held annually in December in Catalonia, and its most recent iteration, held on December 26 of 2023, was its 13th anniversary. The race, which starts in Sant Pere de Torelló and ends at the Sanctuary of Bellmunt, is a short but challenging event, and consists of a spectacular route of trails and climbs of 3,862 meters with a positive elevation gain of 620 meters.

In true Spanish fashion — once at the finish line, every racer gets a glass of sparkling wine, something to eat, and to finish it off, hot chocolate.

But the results of the most recent race sparked outrage in Spain after it was discovered that a 48-year-old male had won the top prize in the women’s category.

Speaking to La Vanguardia, sources from the event’s organizing committee explained that the initial outburst had begun at the awards ceremony, where several people broke out into an argument.

Among them was Quim Durán Pradas, a 48-year-old male runner who was seen at the awards ceremony wearing makeup, earrings, and a ponytail.

“[He] was saying that [he] had won in the women’s category and that [he] had every right to be recognized. As an organization, we were caught off guard. There had never been a case like this in previous editions,” explained sources from within the Centre Excursionista Serragrenyada, organizer of the event.

Durán Pradas reportedly threatened to sue the event if he was not provided the prize he claimed he had earned — a pricey leg of cured Iberian ham from Beher Red Label. The prize’s value could range anywhere from €100 to €500 (approx. $107 to $540 USD) depending on the weight of the leg.

Due to his threats and aggression, the event organizers attempted to accommodate him, noting that it was “a bit of a tense situation.” Durán Pradas ended up receiving a provisional victory in the women’s general category. When he stood to receive his ham, there was booing in the audience.

The fastest female, Laia Montoya, had previously taken the top spot in the race in 2022 and 2023. Though she had been booted out of earning the top prize by Durán Pradas, the organizers sent her a box of Iberian ham anyway out of apparent acknowledgement of the unfairness of the situation.

Durán Pradas would have come in 55th place had he participated in the men’s category.

On Instagram, the race’s organizing committee issued a statement explaining “the ethical, moral and philosophical dilemma” they faced.

“We want to show our support and the utmost tolerance, solidarity, and empathy towards gender-vulnerable people,” they wrote. “However, at the same time we also want to underline that the NaDalt race has always tried to promote women’s sport, because historically it has been discriminated and less visible.”

Yesterday, Durán Pradas appeared on Más Espejo, a popular Spanish morning show, where he explained that he is a “gender fluid” athlete who feels “feminine” when he is running in natural environments, but “masculine” at all other times. He is not on any hormone therapy, and does not intend to seek out any surgeries.

“I am gender fluid, and when I run in the mountains, I feel like a woman, I feel like the other female runners,” he said. “I have been to an inclusive psychologist who told me that this is not a disorder. I am simply a person who, depending on the situations, is gender fluid. In my day-to-day life, at home when I’m with my children, I feel like a man. In my leisure time, in contact with nature, I feel like a woman.”

On the program, Durán Pradas stated that he wanted to educate audiences about gender fluidity, also noting that he had previously felt too scared to participate in a women’s category but decided to finally take the risk after being informed there were no slots left in the men’s category. He described the situation as La Cursa de NaDalt “putting [the opportunity] on a platter” for him.

He refused to accept questions from the presenter and the rest of the morning show’s panel, deeming them too “argumentative” to respond to. He then complained he was being subjected to a “hate crime” after one of the panelists accused him of “cheating” for running without having altered his testosterone levels.

“I thought this was going to go well for me, and you just won’t let me justify my position,” Durán Pradas said. “People who do not understand [gender fluidity] and ridicule it as you are ridiculing it… it can become a hate crime.”

[the-witty-pen-name]

Deadbeat Pt. 1

Lee Bodecker x F!Reader

18+ ONLY

Warnings: age gap (reader is 21), smut/masturbation (implied/mild), cursing, abandonment, infatuation, alcohol, cheating, violence?, mild housewife kink? 

Word Count: 4.3k

Summary: You work at the bar at the edge of town, the Sheriff is going through a divorce and needs to rent a room. 

A/N: I’m terrible at writing summaries and I’m so sorry about that! I don’t think I would consider this a dark!fic, but it does cover a lot of themes, and topics that are darker than I usually write about- but I think that comes with the territory of writing about Lee Bodecker. I’ll make sure to update the warnings for each chapter and do not read if you are underage. I also ignored canon for this one.

There are no tags on this one, because no one has specifically asked to be tagged on smut fics and I don’t want to make anyone uncomfortable!

I hope you all enjoy!

Tags and Requests are OPEN

“Get out of here Lee,” you spat, pointing to the door he just walked into the bar from. “You swore to Janie you wouldn’t touch a drop.” 

“C’mon (y/n),” he said sitting at the bar anyways, a smug grin on his face, making you scoff. 

“I ain’t having anything to do with you breaking your promise to that lovely woman,” you say confirming your point. You wipe your hands on the towel that was hanging from your apron. 

“Jack and coke?” He asks, looking at you with eyes that would be endearingly puppy dog if it weren’t Lee Bodecker. You shook your head. 

“A coke it is,” you say and he gives up trying for now. He regrets telling you on his last visit he’d be swearing off drinking cause Janie finally threatened to throw him out. 

You slide a glass bottle of Coca-Cola down the length of the bar to Lee and he grinds his teeth slightly. The sugar was always his temporary fix. You also sent down his way a small bowl of roasted peanuts, feeling bad for the mess of a man. 

“She’s gonna leave me anyways,” he grumbles and you shake your head, picking up on his attempts to illicit sympathy to coax you into giving him a drop of anything. 

“Stop giving her a reason to Lee,” you point out, gesturing with your hands to emphasize that he was in the same small bar on the edge of town he always wandered into on weeknights. He’d tell Janie he was on duty but he’d really be down in this little box of a building getting drunk as a stunk. 

“She’s the one who gone and cheated,” Lee said in an angry tone, not towards you, just at his situation. “That Miller fellow living a few miles down from me. I see his truck parked outside my house plenty of times to know he’s not just being neighborly.” 

“I’m sorry Lee,” you say with a genuine tone of sympathy. You felt for him and his pain. You knew the stress of the job he led and the pain of knowing the love of your life don’t love you. 

“She’s going to leave me,” he says, staring intently at the condensation on the bottle in front of him. “I’d been trying so hard for her and our marriage and she’s two timing with the neighbor when I’m out working.” 

“And the thing is I don’t even care if she cheated,” Lee continued, “I’d look the other way if I knew she’d be staying with me. But it’s cause I know she don’t love me anymore. That’s what’s hurting me most.” 

“Maybe y’all can work through this-“ 

“This was inevitable,” he says, cutting you off. You don’t point it out, cause he’s clearly distressed but normally you’d have no problem saying to Lee ‘Fuck you, let me finish Sheriff.’ 

“Do you got somebody?” Lee asks you. The question takes you back cause it wasn’t like the Sheriff to ask your about anything personal. He would come in, and you’d shoot the shit, exchange small talk, maybe some harmless flirting for a larger tip, but that was the extent of it. 

“No, not anymore,” you say, having recently broke things off with your boyfriend. “I was seeing Arvin Russell for a couple months, but we just broke it off.” 

“You’re too good for him anyways,” the sheriff scoffed at the mention of the Russell boy and took another swing from his bottle of pop. “How old are you anyways, sweetheart?” 

“Twenty-one,” you respond, not thinking too much about the nickname. He had a habit of frequently using names like that when he talked to the women in this town. You think it started out as a tactic to win re-election and then it just stuck. He nodded. 

“Yeah you two are around the same age,” he said, more so thinking out loud than it being a statement directed towards you. “Why’d you break it off?” 

“Beat up my brother,” you answered, “Granted, the little shit had it coming. Can’t blame Arvin after I heard how the asshole was bothering that sweet thing Lenora. But he just took it too far. Almost killed the kid. The boy saw red so I got myself out of the picture. You can’t be with a boy who does that to your kin.” 

Lee nodded understandingly. You didn’t interpret his actions or questions as genuine concern or interest in you, but that he was just asking you questions to distract from his marital woes. 

“I’d do so many things different if I could be your age again,” he chuckled in a self-deprecating tone. “I’d sure as hell love to turn back time and have myself go down a better path.” 

“It’s not just you, Sheriff,” you reply after collecting money another man sitting at the bar. You nod as a goodbye to the man, and then curse under your breath when he doesn’t tip you. “Asshole,” you mumble, tossing the few pennies into the tip jar. You walk back over to the sheriff and prop your elbows on the bar. “I’m sure everyone is this town wishes the same thing,” you say, trying to make him feel better. 

“I’d love to just be your age again,” he says with a sigh, and then pops a small handful of the peanuts in his mouth. “Young, got your whole life ahead of you.” 

“I’m not sure working in a place like this is setting me up for great things, Sheriff,” you chuckle moving to wipe the bar in the area where that other customer left. “A woman working as a bartender is equivalent to just being a whore according to the eyes of the Lord... at least in this town,” you laugh, using the towel from your apron to wipe the rings left behind on the countertop from the glasses. 

“Arvin didn’t think so,” Lee countered, trying to make you feel a little better about your position. “I don’t think so. Hell, people in this town are so uptight about things that aren’t their business. You’re young, you need a job and you have one. It’s that simple.” 

“I wish more people in this town thought that way,” you reply with a smile. “That new preacher last Sunday-“ 

“Don’t listen to that asshole,” the Sheriff scoffed, and chuckled when your eyes widened at his derogatory words towards the preacher. “He’s a showboating son of a bitch and he’s as phony as they come.” 

“Those ruffled shirts are the most pretentious thing I ever seen,” you say, letting out a big laugh thinking about when he is giving a sermon in what looks like tacky prom attire. 

“Pay him no mind,” Lee said, bringing the bottle to his grinning lips as he looked at you. “You’re a better person than he is.” 

“I appreciate the sentiment,” you chuckle. 

“Have a goodnight hunny,” another customer at the bar says dropping cash on the table as they leave. “Goodnight Sheriff,” the older man tips his hat and then walks out. 

“Have a goodnight Marvin,” you call after him, “Give my love to Loretta!” You clear the empty glass and drop the cash off in the register. 

While you’re moving around, Lee takes a moment to actually look at you. Any man with eyes knew you were pretty, but he ain’t never noticed before just how attractive you were. His eyes lingered for a moment at how the canvas waist apron extenuated your figure. He couldn’t believe this stunning young thing was stuck in a place like this with a dead end job talking to a deadbeat like him. 

“How long you staying for Sheriff?” You ask suddenly, pulling him out of his trance. 

“Uh, not sure,” he says, looking up at the dingy Luger Beer clock that hung on the wall. “Why sugar?” 

“Seeing as though your sober I was hoping I could trouble you for a ride home?” You ask shyly. 

“Of course,” he said without hesitation. “No trouble at all honey.”

“Thank you, Lee,” you say with a smile, making his heart skip a beat. 

He’d talk to you most weeknights and never had this feeling. Maybe he had but he was too wrapped up in his own troubles to notice it. You were such a sweet girl, and he realized what an injustice it truly was for you to be stuck here. 

The thought crossed his mind very quickly about if he wasn’t married- even though he knew divorce was coming around the corner any day now. If he had met you at a different time in his life if it would’ve been better. Instead of meeting you as an overweight, deadbeat of a sheriff which a drinking problem- he’d met you when he was fresh out of school, same age you are now. You all coulda fallen in love, started a family, and that would’ve been enough to keep him from taking up drinking in the first place. 

He knew from the beginning Janie ain’t ever loved him. Hell, he’s not sure if he ever loved her thinking back on the whole relationship. Lustful, without any sort of promise behind it and they both were users. They used each other. He knew he treated her poorly as poorly as she treated him. He definitely had loved her, that much he knew was true, but now she’s cheating- something Lee never thought of doing at all no matter how many fights they had until the early morning hours.  

As you maneuvered around behind the bar, locking up the liquor and wiping down the machines getting ready to lock up for the night, his mind played little tricks on him. The canvas apron was instead a pinafore, and the bar was his kitchen. He’d loved the sight, thinking about coming home to you instead of what was soon to just be an empty house. 

Hell, he wasn’t even sure if he’d even be the one to keep his house. The idea of finding a new house- buying one for you, and being able to start over sounded like a dream life. Hell, he’d run away from this town right now if you said the word. He’s sure he could secure an election in another town, he had the connections to make it happen. 

“I just got to lock up the office and I’ll be ready to go,” you say, untying your apron. He gulps and nods as confirmation. You disappear in the back room, cash drawer in your arms to lock away in the safe. He heads behind the bar to dispose of his empty bottle and the cardboard tray his peanuts were in. 

You come back, your peacoat buttoned and the sash tied around your waist in a bow you had made. You had a small handbag in one hand, and your work apron in the other. Suddenly, he was nervous and didn’t know how to carry himself around you. Undeniably, the Sheriff was developing a crush. He couldn’t shake the feeling. He wanted to ask you out on a proper date, but he knew with his age and reputation- it wouldn’t be fitting. He was moving way too fast in his own mind to keep up with. Just daydreams, he thought to himself, suppressing the thoughts of a future with you for now.

“Okay,” you said, giving the place one more once over to make sure it was all set. “That does it.”

“After you,” he said, holding the door open for you. You giggled, and once you both were outside, you used your key to lock the front door. He held the door open for you to take the passenger seat in the cruiser. As you buckled your seatbelt, he walked over to the driver’s side and then slide into his seat.

You were a little nervous. You weren’t sure why. This wasn’t the first time you’d asked for a ride home. Usually, it’s never this late. When you close, you usually walk home alone. You definitely didn’t live that far, but again that was more dangerous than getting a ride home.

You realized that you were worried about nothing. You thought maybe some would accuse you of something scandalous, getting a ride home from a man so late. However, this was the Sheriff and the streets didn’t have another car on it at all. The town knew where you worked and if anyone were to see you, they’d know you were closing shift and you asked for a ride to avoid walking home this late alone.

“Thank you again,” you said, starting up a conversation as the sheriff was backing out of the tiny lot that was next to the bar.

“Oh, don’t mention it, hun,” he said, “It’s my job to make sure you get home safe. Your house is the white one at the end of Birch?”

“The very one,” you say, looking out the window. There aren’t any street lights, and the only light for miles is coming from the headlights of the cruiser. You don’t catch Lee stealing glances at you as he starts moving forward.

“How’s your ma doing?” He asks, making conversation.

“Oh, she left,” you said nonchalantly, and it makes Lee’s eyebrow raise in confusion.

“Wait. What?” He asks looking over at you for a second before turning his eyes back to the road.

“Oh, I thought you would’ve heard,” you say softly, your façade of indifference torn down. “She left us about a month ago. Met a man from Columbus and moved in with him. The whole town was talking about it for weeks.”

“So, is it just you and Tommy now?” he asks, wondering what kind of a mother leaves her girl to take care of her high school aged brother on what she makes at the bar.

“Oh, he went with her,” you explain, “House is all mine. After the whole thing with Arvin, she decided to pull him out of school and he goes to school in Columbus now. She wasn’t gonna bring him but after that, she changed her mind.”

“They just left you?”

“I chose to stay.”

“No offense but why would the hell would you chose to do that?” he jokes, making you laugh a little.

“It’s all paid off, and my grandpa left it to me and not her anyways,” you explain. “House has been in my name for three years now. And if we sold the house, she’d just piss the money away. Besides, would you move back in your mother now, Sheriff?”

“No, I can’t say I would want to,” he chuckles.

“So, I’m just supporting myself and that ain’t too bad,” you shrug.

“Sounds lonely,” he comments and you nod in agreement.

“It can be,” you admit, as he turns down your street.

“You ain’t worried living alone?” He asks.

“You tell me, Sheriff,” you joke, “If I got something to worry about it sounds like you’re not doing your job.”

“Ouch,” he says and holds a hand clutching his hand to his heart dramatically. It made you laugh, and it made him smile that he made you laugh. God, he loved your laugh.

“Thank you again, Lee,” you say sincerely, quickly kissing his cheek when he parks in front of your house. The gesture takes him back, and he’s relieved you can’t see how red his face is. He’s almost angry at how flustered you make him and you have no idea. “Have a goodnight,” you say.

“Goodnight, (Y/N),” he says, a little shakily. You get out of the car, and he watches you walk up to the porch, your hips swaying naturally, and he bites his lip. He groans, but at his disappointment in himself for staring again. You disappear behind the front door and he hits his palm on the steering wheel, trying to shake whatever feeling this was.

He reluctantly drove home, not wanting to have to talk or see Janie. He knew he was just heading home to a fight for being out so late, even though he knows she takes full advantage having fucking Miller over. His jaw is locked, angry about a fight he hasn’t even had with her yet. His cheek still tingles from your touch, and he thinks about if he should just leave Janie. He could just leave, get an apartment nearby or something. He doesn’t even care if she gets the damn house. He’s bracing himself for another night of fighting as he pulls into his own driveway and heading up to his own house.

He fumbles with his keys in the dark. He thinks he had the right one, but it doesn’t work. He tries another that is the same shape, still doesn’t work. He intakes a sharp breath and tries the first key again- he’s positive that’s his house key. “Fucking Christ,” he mutters when the key won’t even go into the lock. “Janie!” he shouts, pounding on the front door. She changed the locks.

“Fuck,” he exclaims, stomping down the front steps and walking around to the back door. He tries his keys again with no luck. He pounds into the door hard and incredibly loud. He knows she’s there, upstairs in their bed, ignoring his knocks. He tries the kitchen window, but it’s locked. Every window on the first floor is fucking locked. He curses again and heads back to his cruiser. He slams the door shut and his grip on the wheel is turning his knuckles white. Does she expect him to sleep in his car in the driveway?

He doesn’t even think about where he’s going to go, but he knows damn sure he’s not going to give her the satisfaction of sleeping outside of his house in his cop car for the whole town to talk about. He just pulls out of his driveway and starts driving. He isn’t even thinking about what route he’s driving, it’s like he’s driving on autopilot while he screams out every curse word in existence.

By the time he calms down, he realizes he’s driving down Birch again. His muscles in his body tense, and he thinks back to your conversation when he dropped you off. Your mother and brother were gone, meaning you have two spare bedrooms. He knows he shouldn’t but the temptation is way too overwhelming. He has nowhere else to go. If someone saw his car… well, he’d worry about that tomorrow. Your house is two miles away from your nearest neighbor, settled back at the end of a long dirt road. Someone knowing he was there was unlikely. He had people who could save your name. It was all innocent. Janie kicked him out and he knew you had an extra room. Hell, he’d rent a room from you- Wait. That’s perfect. That solved all of his problems and yours. He knows you were downplaying how hard it must be to keep up with the house and by him paying rent, you could take care of the house. It was a win-win.

He felt so confident now and he was so proud of himself for devising this plan. He parked his car out front and then walked up to your front door, knocking gently. The sound of the knock made him now incredibly nervous. He didn’t want to scare you or for you to think he was trying to take advantage. Granted, there would be a lot more than financial benefits to being able to live with you, which he knew were selfish, but the idea of being able to see you everyday was overwhelming. It was the closest thing to the dream he was wrapped up in back at the bar. He could live out his little pretend domestic bliss, and you’d get the money you need for the house. He knew he was insane and this was probably wildly inappropriate, but he knew you were too kind to turn him away.

You opened the door with a small yawn, a yellow bathrobe secured over your nightgown fully, to keep yourself decent when you answered the door. You were going to call the Sheriff when you heard the rapping at your door so late and ignore the knocks, but looking out the window of your bedroom you saw it was Lee’s cruiser parked outside.

“Lee?” you ask quietly, sleepiness very evident on your mumbled voice.

“Janie kicked me out,” he said softly, “Changed the locks on me. Darling, I’m so sorry for intruding but I have no where else to go.”

“Come in,” you say sympathetically, the news waking you up quite a bit. “Lee, I’m so sorry. You can take my mom’s old room; it’s got an attached bathroom you can use too.”

 “Thank you (Y/N),” he says quietly. You close the door and secure the lock and the chain again as he looks around the house.

“Don’t worry about it,” you insist. “I can take you there. Follow me.”

You walk up the stairs, Lee following closely behind and he’s ashamed that he took the opportunity to just openly check you out again. At the top of the stairs there was a hallway lined with photographs in mismatched frames. You point to the door at the end of the hall.

“That’s the master,” you explain, “There’s a bathroom attached inside if you want to clean up or anything. There’re clothes in the dresser if you want pajamas- should be in the bottom drawer.”

“Okay, thank you,” he replies, looking down at you as you yawn again, and he notices how your hair is a little messy. The sight drives him wild.

“Anything in the kitchen is up for the taking to,” you offer.

“Look, (Y/N),” he says, “I know this isn’t the best time to be talking about this, but I really need a more permanent plan on where to go. I know it sounds crazy and out of the blue, but could I rent that room from you? Name your price. I figured… I really need a new place, and you could probably use another source of income to keep up with the house. Plus, it’s safer than living alone…”

“Um…,” you begin to speak, but you bit your lip, showing that you’re intently thinking about his offer. Everything he said was right. You needed the money, and he was right that living alone was dangerous in this town and living with the sheriff is the safest person there was in the whole town. People would talk, of course, but no one would deny that the circumstances were just ideal for the two of you and nothing more. You were an adult, a homeowner, and it was your business who you rented a room too. “Yeah, I think that makes sense for both of us,” you agree. “We’ll sort out the details tomorrow.”

“Of course,” he says with a smile.

“Alright, um,” you say crossing your arms around your chest awkwardly. “Goodnight, Lee.”

“Goodnight, (Y/N),” Lee responds as you head back into your own bedroom. He let’s out a heavy sigh and heads into your mom’s room- or rather his new room. He’d have to figure out how to get his stuff back from Janie tomorrow. He’d really just need his clothes and some other necessities. 

The room was fairly spacious. There was a closet and dresser. The closet still had some clothes of your mom’s left behind, and for the most part, the room looked fairly intact. It was like she up and left with just a few things. Lee shook his head, angry at how poorly you were treated by your mother. He pulls off his leather jacket, tossing it and his hat onto the bed. He opened up the bottom drawer of the dresser, and just like you said, it was filled with men’s clothing. He concluded they had to belong to the man your mom lived with now, more things just left behind.

He tosses a pair of plaid pajama bottoms and a white t-shirt onto the bed, and then he heads to the bathroom.

In the drawer beside the sink, he finds a new toothbrush still in its packaging, that he opens for himself and drops it in the white toothbrush holder on the counter. The towels are all clean and folded neatly on the shelf above the toilet. He finds a new soap under the sink as well, and decided he needed a shower to just wash off everything of tonight off in hopes he’ll feel better.

He strips of his uniform, folding it nicely knowing he’ll need to wear it all again tomorrow morning. He steps into the shower and turns on the water. The hot water just immediately helps him to loosen the muscles that had been so tense. He lets the warm water run down his face and back, just letting himself enjoy the feeling. He lathers up his body with soap and then it finally hits him that he was here, living with you, and then suddenly he’s hard.

“Fuck,” he mutters, resting his head against the shower wall, the running down his back. He was in so much trouble he realizes. As he beats himself off in the shower, his mind is clouded with thoughts of you. The way the apron at the bar looked around your hips, and the smell of your perfume when you leaned into him. The way your body looked as you paraded yourself around behind the bar. The way you have no problem talking back to him when he walks into the bar after saying he’s off the bottle the night before, just making want to shut you up with a rough kiss. The feeling of your lips on his cheek and he imagines your lips on his neck. He thinks about how your hair looked tousled when you just showed him to his room. He lets himself slip back into that same domestic daydream. You being his wife… married to you instead dealing with this goddamn divorce. The absolute sickening sweet domesticity making him groan, as he imagines his hand is yours. Why on earth did he think he’d be able to do this?

PART TWO

[aries-writingblog]

Child’s Play

Summary: Steve is falling fast for a girl that he’s only been on a few dates with (I suck at descriptions🤦🏻‍♀️)

Word Count: 1968

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader

Warnings: none

AN: GIF is not my own, credit to original creator

“All I’m saying is that you should really consider bringing that uniform back.” She nodded, wiping her fingers delicately on her napkin. Steve cocked an eyebrow, trying not to smile too broadly. “It did wonders for you.”

Steve lowered his eyes, heat creeping onto his face. It was a good embarrassment, though. He couldn’t remember when he last laughed so hard. Even if it was at himself. He had to agree the things he did once were a little cheesy.

“You we’re supposed to pay attention to the message. The videos had a message.” He scolded lightly, dipping a fry in his ketchup. YN scoffed, stealing two fries from the plate and dunking them in her milkshake. Steve scrunched his nose in distaste.

“I was in high school, dude. And you were hot, what was I supposed to do?” She grinned as his cheeks shifted from a shade of pink to a deeper shade of maroon. “It was detention and I was bored. I had to think of something or I’d lose my mind.”

Steve tried not too think too hard about the age difference. It jarred him to take into consideration she watched the stupid patriotic videos he had to film in her high school days. He focused mainly on the present age gap of only a few years. Not the seventy year gap.

“Okay, if I see one more fry go into that milkshake, I’ll flip this table.” Steve threatened, eyeing the drink suspiciously. YN laughed, a bright giggly sound Steve had come to enjoy.

This would be their fourth date. He had the idea to take her to an old diner he’d stumbled upon. Mainly because it had been around in his day- the coffee was still outrageously disgusting. He wasn’t sure how they’d managed to keep the same flavor the whole time but the moment it touched his tongue, Steve was thrown back into his youth.

“Just try it.” She demanded, shoving her glass across the table. He lifted his eyebrows, glancing between her and the chocolate milkshake.

“Absolutely not. The fries get soggy in there- I know they do.” He explained, observing as she rolled her eyes. Slumping back into the booth in playful defeat. “You enjoy that?”

“Uh, yeah. Get with it, gramps.” She dusted her hands off, placing her phone and wallet on the table. “I’m gonna run to the bathroom really quick- watch my stuff?”

“Yeah- of course.” Steve watched her as she stood, pulling at her shirt before starting towards the bathroom. He then turned his attention to their mostly finished plates, stacking them neatly to one side of the table.

Just as he went to catch a waitresses attention, he looked around. They were the only two customers remaining. Steve felt the guilt immediately, seeing the women cleaning around their table. They had been so distracted he had forgotten time could pass. He flicked his wrist, checking his watch. They had been at the restaurant for way too long.

YN emerged from the restroom just at the same moment he stood to approach the register. She noticed he had taken her things, tucked in his jeans pocket. So she found her way to his side, curling her arm around his and hugging it to her chest.

He finished paying, apologized several times to the wait staff for taking the booth for so long. She had brushed it off, telling him it had been a pleasure to serve Captain America himself. Steve still felt guilty, leaving a very large tip for her.

“Ready?” He asked, turning to face YN. She gave an enthusiastic nod, clinging to him as they walked to the door. He pushed it open, holding it for her.

“It’s so late- I don’t think we’ll ever catch a cab.” YN checked her phone, the time shining up at her.

“I’ll walk you home. It’s not that far, if you’re up for it?” He offered. Steve watched as she frowned at the device in her palm, the streetlight gleaming down onto her hair. Giving her face an ethereal glow, eyes sparkling. Her lipgloss was incredibly distracting- shimmering and glittering under the lights.

“Steve?” She asked. He jolted, breaking his stare as he realized he had been zoned out while she was speaking. The heat crept back into his cheeks; He never seemed to get rid of it around her. It was always lurking under his skin, readily revealing itself at any moment.

“What?” She laughed.

“I said that I’d take that escort home, if it doesn’t put you out of your way.” She repeated. Steve shook his head immediately.

“You’re never out of my way, sweetheart.” In truth, her apartment was seventeen blocks to the east of the diner. The Tower was nineteen from the diner, to the north. Steve would’ve done pretty much anything to keep her with him longer, even walk the entire length. Carry her if she wanted.

“I just don’t want to keep you.” Her hand found his forearm again, slithering down to his hand. Her fingers twined with his and he squeezed her hand gently. “You had mentioned that you had to get up early tomorrow. I don’t want to make you late.”

“It’s just some work. Nothing drastic. Can’t leave until I get there anyways.” He assured her, their sides bumping together as their strides evened out. It was practically true- it was work and it wasn’t drastic. He had to leave early for a stake out mission with Natasha. She would eventually forgive him, if not immediately. “I might be gone for a couple weeks… I’m not sure how long it will take.”

“That’s okay.” She shrugged, swinging their arms between their bodies. “Just means our next date can be even better, cause we’ll be really excited to see each other.” Steve smiled, his free hand finding his front pocket. He was always excited to see her.

They fell silent for a moment- something that didn’t happen often. YN was a regular chatterbox when she was excited. And as far as Steve could tell, she was always excited to be around him. He didn’t mind, he loved hearing her voice. Liked listening to her. Telling him fun facts, stories, asking questions, going off on tangents. It was always amusing, watching her face go through several ranges of emotions during her stories. Hands gesturing vibrantly.

“So you’re gonna let me hang around for another date?” Steve asked, risking a glance to her. A light smile on shining lips.

“I may.” She nodded. “Depends.”

“On?” Steve pressed, nudging her with his elbow. YN pursed her lips, feigning concentration with her eyes rolling to the side.

“Well, if I finally get a good night kiss I might let you stick around.” She teased. Steve chuckled, shaking his head. He’d wanted to kiss her the first night, but didn’t want to scare her away. He was still unsure on twenty first century mannerisms, caught in between the centuries. Wanting to move into the current for her, but clinging onto the values instilled in him growing up. Remembering the awkward dates he had with girls. How he never really knew what to do.

But now that she had mentioned it, Steve figured it would be safe to push his luck.

Suddenly, YN gasped and yanked his hand- jeering off course. His feet hit grass as she released his hand. Steve looked up, seeing a playground laid out before them.

“What are you doing?” He followed her at a slower pace, watching as she leapt up. Hands catching on a set of horizontal bars. She twisted upward, hanging down by her knees.

“What- you’ve never played on a playground at midnight before?” She demanded, pushing her shirt back down. Steve laughed, standing in front of her, hands on his hips.

“Not that I can remember.” She released her hold on her shirt, hands reaching out to him. The fabric fell back down, bunching around her chest. A snippet of her dark red bra peeking over the edge. Steve snatched the end and shoved it back upward, covering her torso. “You’re gonna get hurt, YN.”

“Not if I have a superhero boyfriend here to save me.” She argued, leaning back up to take the bars. “Come on, Stevie- let loose for a while.”

He sighed, meeting her eyes as she turned herself right side up. Dangling by her hands. She gave him a pout, eyes twinkling in the park lights.

Steve stepped to her left, tucking his loose t shirt into his belt. Ensuring his hands were clasped tightly around the metal bars before pulling himself up and hanging beside her.

“There you go, now- pull your feet up and hook your knees around a bar and you can hang.” She instructed, then quickly giving him a visual reenactment. He picked it up easily, releasing his grip and turning his body upside down to hang beside hers. “You’re doing it!”

YN wiggled her body happily, figure swinging wildly. Steve reached out, hands on her waist to steady her, worried she would tilt or lose her grip.

“Take it easy, YN.” He squeezed her hips as she laughed. “I don’t think a date should end with an emergency room visit.”

“Then you definitely haven’t been on a really good date.”

“Should I be worried about that statement?”

“I wouldn’t think about it too hard.”

“Oh, for sure.” He smiled, feeling the blood begin to rush to his head. His face felt tingly as he hung beside her, pins and needles pricking at his skin. “We should probably start back, it’s getting late-“

Steve felt her hands grasp his shirt, pulling him closer. YN’s lips brushed against his before planting firmly. He grunted in surprise, hands clasped to his chest, between hers. She moved her lips slowly, gently. He could taste her lip gloss- mix of cherry and vanilla flooding his system with error messages. Brain flashing a ‘vacant’ sign before his consciousness.

“I don’t know if you’re a really good kisser or if all my blood rushed to my head but I’m really lightheaded.” She murmured, not even allowing him to go far as she spoke, lips still touching.

His wide blue eyes stared gleefully into hers, swinging himself down to his feet. Reaching to help her back to the ground next. YN huffed, readjusting her shirt before leaning to pick up her phone that had slid from her pocket whilst upside down.

“Y’know, I think my research isn’t complete yet- still not sure which caused the lightheadedness.” She pressed a finger to her lips, the gloss smudged down her chin. Steve narrowed his eyes at her grin.

“Now you’re just trying to get me to kiss you.” He clarified, able to see through her actions easily. She shrugged, as if to say ‘you caught me!’

“Only if it’s working.”

Steve chuckled, one hand grasping the back of her neck while the other found a place on her waist. Pulling her body to his. She stumbled forward, colliding with his chest as he angled her mouth up to his. Leaning down to meet her height. He pressed them together, cradling her body. His fingers tangled in her hair. YN’s fingers curled into his shirt, finding purchase in the fabric. He felt her lips curl upward in a smile, still pressed to his.

He pulled back, keeping his eyes on her face as he did. A happy, dazed smile on her features- eyes crinkled in the corners. Her fingers drummed against his chest in time with his heartbeat as she ripped herself away. Breaking into a full sprint across the grassy playground.

“Race you to the swings!” She shouted over her shoulder, feet pounding the ground.

Steve chuckled. For once, he didn’t feel the need to be an adult, to be the mature, responsible one. He could turn everything off- even if only for a few minutes. Even if it was something as simple as sprinting across a playground with a girl that was slowly changing his life and perspective. He decided he liked that feeling.

“You asked for it, sweetheart!”

[dhwty-writes]

A Touchy One

Is this incredibly self-indulgent? Yes. Am I posting this anyways? Also yes! I dug this up somewhere in my WIP folder and decided this deserves to be finished.

This is the first thing I've posted in forever, and I know (and am sorry) that it's no OWBABH update (that will come, too, I promise), but take this in the meantime. I am finally feeling like writing again, so here's to hoping I won't take as long next time. Have fun reading!

Summary:  The bard is a touchy one, which is an odd travel companion to have, especially for a witcher. It isn't that Geralt minds so much as that he startled terribly the first time it happened.

Or: how two people, who do not like being touched learn to enjoy each other's closeness, featuring a sex-repulsed Jaskier and our resident grumpy witcher.

Warnings: none, as far as I’m aware

Read on AO3

The bard is a touchy one, which is an odd travel companion to have, especially for a witcher. It isn't that Geralt minds so much as that he startled terribly the first time it happened.

It has been scarcely more than a brush of his fingertips across his forearm, but still Geralt did jump and scoot away as if burned. He even faintly remembers growling quietly, although he's not quite sure if that was a later addition of his mind. He distinctly remembers the surprised, and slightly hurt expression on Jaskier's face, though.

After that, there has been no touching for quite some time. Until one night, when Geralt returned from a contract too tired to rid himself of his armour and simply flopped face down onto the bed in the inn they were staying at. Jaskier drew close, hesitantly hovering at his side, one hand extended. "May I?" he asked quietly.

The bard patiently waited for his grunt of approval, before hauling him upright, deftly unbuckling his armour and putting it away. Geralt was half asleep during the whole process, leaning his forehead against Jaskier's shoulder, while fighting the urge to pull him close.

The bard is a touchy one, and although that seemed odd and startled Geralt in the beginning, it now is the most natural thing in the world. Because the thing is, the bard isn't necessarily a touchy one. He is a spacey one. Comes with the profession, he guesses.

Wherever Jaskier goes, he brings a stage with him, announcing his presence with loud songs and colours as well as grand gestures, uncaring for other people's opinions. It is only natural, that with every other spread of his arms he brushes against someone. And it's also mostly natural that, as his travelling companion, those touches mostly reach Geralt.

Just as natural as touching him in return. In fact, it is the most natural thing in the world. There is seldom a moment when the bard isn't touching him, be it a hand on his forearm, an elbow nudging his side, or his dirty feet in his lap. And it isn't as if the bard is the only one to initiate that kind of intimacy. Geralt delights in throwing an arm around his friend's shoulder, steadying him with a reassuring hand on his back after he had too much to drink, or wrestling him into a river. He especially delights in waking up cuddled close to his bard, their limbs and scents intertwining, both of them too lazy to start the day.

He can't remember when that had started, if he's quite honest. He thinks it was maybe five years after they first met, that they arrived at an inn tired and battered, as well as soaking wet from the thunderstorm outside only to discover that there was only one bed left.

After tucking the witcher into bed, the bard threatened to slip from his grasp. "Jaskier," Geralt slurred after a failed attempt to grab his wrist.

"Yes, dear witcher?"

"C'me 'ere." Geralt doesn't quite remember the motion accompanied by his words, too much asleep for that already, but according to Jaskier he made 'grabby hands'. Despite that embarrassing escapade, the bard beamed and indulged him, slipping into the single bed next to him and cradling him tight to his chest. Geralt never slept so soundly in his entire life.

 He thought that he would mind, if he is honest. He never liked anyone invading his space before, and Jaskier is nothing if not invading. It took them a bit to establish some boundaries, to find out what made the other snarl and pull back or vanish come morning. Geralt doesn't like his potions to be messed with and Jaskier is very protective of his notebook. Geralt prefers to be cuddled instead of doing the cuddling part and Jaskier allows no hands from his hips to his knees, although he doesn't mind waking up with Geralt draped over him from chest to toe.

Other taboos soon soften until they are abandoned completely. Like the bag-sharing ban, for example, or clothes. In the first few months of cuddles and touches, Jaskier enacted his strict shirts-and-pants-required-policy with vigour, only to be the one to ultimately forego it. Geralt still smiles at the memory.

It was an especially hot summer, maybe a decade into their acquaintance and Geralt just wrestled the bard into a clear creek. They were sodding wet, Jaskier huffing indignantly, in nothing but their smallclothes, too lazy to dry off if the sun was about to do the work anyways. Seeing him standing there, shaking his wet hair, his hands on his hips, did something funny to Geralt's stomach. As if it dropped and lifted at the same time.

Before knew what he was doing, he tossed Jaskier his clothes. "Get dressed," he ordered gruffly and spread his arms, "and come here."

Jaskier looked at the garments in his hands and sneered. "Oh, fuck no," he spat out. "You want a hug, Geralt of Rivia?" He threw the dirty clothes back at him and spread his arms. "Come and get it."

Geralt let them hit him. Although that also might have been the shock of Jaskier so readily abolishing his most adamant requirement. "You sure?"

"Yes, I'm bloody sure, you daft witcher. Now come here before I dry and start melting again."

Geralt has never been so quick to comply to a request. He lunged to tackle Jaskier to the ground, happily sprawling across him until they were both sweaty again. He was shoved off unceremoniously and then coerced into another bath in the river.

That night they didn't bother to get dressed either. Not when setting up their camp next to the creek, not when Jaskier got out his lute, not when Geralt started cooking their dinner. Certainly not when going to sleep.

Maybe it ought to feel weird. It's a weird thing to embrace your friend like a lover, is it not? It didn't, though. It doesn't. In fact, it feels like most natural thing in the world.

The bard is a touchy one. But that is not the reason why he is odd. The reason why he is odd, is his reaction to being touched in turn. He often startles and pulls away, just like Geralt has.

They are lying in bed one evening, entangled like they always are, Jaskier on Geralt's chest (the bard insisted they swap for once), Geralt carding his fingers through his bard's hair. There was a performance, earlier that day, and Jaskier made the acquaintance of a nice-looking gentleman. Geralt resigned himself already to the fact that he would go to bed alone that night.

But then, the man reached out to place a hand on Jaskier's knee. The bard froze up and a moment later he was plastered against his witcher's side, insisting they go to bed. It is a strange behaviour, although not the first time he has seen Jaskier react that way. The question burns on his tongue and, of course, Jaskier notices.

"What is it?"

Geralt tenses beneath him. Fifteen years and still not brave enough to ask. "Hm."

"Don't be daft," the bard chides, "we both know something's on your mind. Out with it."

There's no evading a determined bard, Geralt discovered that a long time ago. "You... don't like to be touched," he notices. Which is an odd thing to say to the half-naked man sprawled across his chest, with his ankles hooked around his calves. But they are odd people and an odd pair, so that's neither here nor there.

He is quiet for a long time. Such a long time, in fact, that Geralt feels the need to check with a quiet "Jaskier?" if he hasn't fallen asleep.

"Hm," the bard replies quietly. "That's not strictly true."

"Not strictly untrue either."

Jaskier sighs with a resignation of a man who knows he cannot hide, but doesn't particularly want too either. Still, it takes him a long time to reply: "I don't mind the touching. I... am not a great fan of what comes after."

Geralt freezes, his fingers tangled in Jaskier's hair, trying and failing to decipher that statement. "What comes after?"

"Oh, you know..." Jaskier makes a very illustrative gesture.

"Ah." Yes, he knows what comes after. He is, in fact, a great fan of what comes after. "You mean you don't like men?"

"Oh no, don't get me wrong. I like men and women well enough, just... not in my bed."

He frowns and looks down again at the man sprawled across his chest who must surely notice his heart beating rapidly. "Jaskier..."

"Hm?"

"I'm in your bed."

"Yes, I know, but that's different. I don't like them naked in my bed."

"Jaskier," he says again, glancing down at their almost naked bodies pressed together.

"Oh, shut up, you great oaf," he hisses and grins. "You know what I mean. And you're... different."

"Hm. Why?"

"I don't know." Jaskier sighs and pushes his hair out of his face. "You just are. Never tried to shove your dick into me, for starters. Or tried to coax me to shove my dick into you."

He shrugs. "Never thought you'd be interested."

"I'm not. Are you?"

He shrugs again. "Does it matter, if you aren't?"

"I guess it doesn't. Still, are you?"

"Jaskier," he chides softly and does his best not to squirm under his inquisitive gaze. But the bard is unrelenting. Geralt sighs and raises his eyebrows as he answers. "You... are a very attractive man. I would gladly suck your cock, or let you suck mine, if you were so inclined. Seeing as you aren't... I would rather refrain from it, if it's all the same to you." He smiled and splayed his fingers over Jaskier's shoulder. "I assure you, not the most proficient cocksucking in the world could grant me greater bliss than I am in right now. There is nothing in the world that could persuade me to give up what we have, especially not something as insignificant as a roll in the hay."

"Oh." Jaskier's shoulders sag and for a moment Geralt fears he's said something wrong. But then a bright smile spreads on his bard's face that is mirrored by his own a moment later. "That's a relief. And thank you. I guess."

Geralt snorts, amused. "You're welcome." After a moment of silence, he adds: "Jaskier? You're different for me, too."

"I am?" The bard beams at him. "How so?"

He has to be exhausted. Or drunk. Or both. There is no other explanation for the next words that leave his mouth. "Because I love you," he hears himself say, to his own mortification.

But Jaskier just smiles and closes his eyes. "Oh," he breathes and languidly squirms closer, like a cat basking in the sun. Then, after a mortifying moment that feels like an eternity, with Geralt's heart thundering in his chest, he replies: "I love you, too, Geralt of Rivia."

He breathes out, relieved, and opts for holding his bard tighter. That's always a good option. It just feels right to share their space and share their silence. Natural. 

He's not sure how long the quiet lasts before, for once, he's the one to break it: "Are we lovers?" Geralt asks suddenly, the question that has been occupying his mind for the past few minutes.

Jaskier sleepily blinks up at him. "Do you want us to be? I'm sure you could find a person better—"

"No, I don't think so," he interrupts him without hesitating.

Jaskier smiles again and it's a sweet expression, one that makes his heart speed up and his face go soft. "If we were lovers, Geralt...," he says after a while, "what would that mean for us?"

"You mean, what would change?"

"Yes."

"Hm." He gives him a long glance. "You said you are averse to naked people in your bed."

"I am," Jaskier confirms. 

"Are you also averse to clothed people kissing you?"

Geralt feels stupid while asking it. Apparently, it is very stupid, for Jaskier immediately starts laughing. "No, my dear," he replies after having calmed down, "I am not averse to clothed people kissing me."

"In that case, I would like to kiss you from time to time."

"Like when?" Jaskier props himself up on an elbow and his lips curl into a different smile, one that's more teasing, more flirtatious than the soft expression before.

"Like now," he says before he can change his mind. 

Jaskier hums and reaches out slowly, so that he cups Geralt's face with his hand, tracing his cheekbone with his thumb. Then, he leans in, just as slowly, and presses his lips to the witcher's in a sweet kiss. 

"Good?" Geralt asks when he pulls away.

"Good," Jaskier confirms. 

"Good." He allows himself to smile as well, bright and unguarded like his bard taught him, and pulls him against his chest again. Once they're settled, he says, feeling a little silly: "I suppose I would also like a love poem or two, master poet."

"Oh, Geralt." Jaskier smooths a hand down his side and feels around until he finds Geralt's hand and can interlace their fingers. "Are you so daft as not to realise that each and every one of my poems for you's a love poem?" he mumbles and presses a kiss to his knuckles.

Warmth spreads in his chest again and he smiles. "I had hoped," he replies and returns the gesture, "but I did not dare to presume." After a moment he adds: "Thank you."

"Always, love," Jaskier replies. "Now go to sleep. I'm knackered."

Feeling relieved and relaxed, holding his bard—his lover!— close, Geralt does.

The bard is a touchy one. And an odd one, although not for his relationship to touches. He's an odd one for loving a witcher. But said witcher is an odd and touchy one as well, so it's alright. In fact, it is the most natural thing in the world.

[blkmxrvel]

Haven’t Forgotten My Way Home (25) - [CONVERTED]

Pairing: Kara Zor-El x Female!Reader

Summary: In the D/s society of National City, men and women abandoned by their Dom/mes or otherwise deemed unfit for life “outside” end up at the Mount Overland House for Orphaned Submissives. It is here that Kara Zor-El finds Y/N Hastings, broken and fearful from mistreatment at the hands of her former Dom. Can Kara coax Y/N back into the world that once so terrified her, and show her the true meaning of care and submission?

Warnings: Domestic Violence (Flashbacks, Mentions and Descriptions), Misogyny, Domination/Submission.

She hadn’t known what to expect for the trial. She’d thought that she’d have to sit in a little box, with a judge towering over her and yelling questions. Or maybe they’d let James ask the questions, even though both Sam and Lucy had told her that wasn’t the way these sorts of trials worked. She didn’t know; she’d never been to one before. She’d watched a court show or two when she was younger, at her parents’ house, but she was pretty sure even then that that wasn’t the way real life worked.

Then again, Y/N was growing ever surer that her own life wasn’t the way real life was supposed to work.

She certainly hadn’t expected for James to be this close, so close that she could smell his cologne and the underlying hint of soap. So close that she could see his eyes, the nervous, uncertain way they would flick in her direction then back down to the table again, as if he was afraid – or ashamed – to be caught looking at someone who was “beneath” him. She hadn’t expected the fear, the revulsion that had welled up within her at knowing that the man who had tormented her for years was now, once again, within mere feet of her.

She hadn’t expected to find herself hating him.

The only thing that gave her comfort, even more than sitting with Sam on one side and her lawyer on the other, was knowing that Miss Kara was also a few feet away, sitting in the gallery with Lena and watching her with kind, proud, protective eyes.

Miss Kara had kept the blanket fort up for a few days, and she and Y/N had slept in it the night previously – but only after Miss Kara had bought an air mattress.

“You’re not sleeping on the floor,” she’d said, a determined look in her eyes that made Y/N fall in love with her just a little more.

She hadn’t really been able to get much sleep; she’d tossed and turned with images of the trial not letting her close her eyes for more than a few moments. Finally Miss Kara had had enough – they both needed to rest so they would be in top form, she’d said, her voice gentle but authoritative. She’d held Y/N close in her arms and sang into her ear, softly, soothingly, until finally Y/N was able to settle down and get a few hours of sleep.

Nothing had really prepared her for seeing James in the courtroom. Even having Kara on one side, Sam, Lena, and Lucy on the other, did little to quell Y/N’s nerves. The moment she saw him, it all came rushing back.

And then, listening to the reasons for why he had done what he had… was that enough? She found herself wondering. Would it all excuse what he had done to her? She hated that for a brief moment while listening to James’s testimony, her heart had ached for him. The little boy, his family in turmoil and ultimately being abandoned by the father… She could only imagine what James had gone through, what he had thought, how he must have blamed himself. For just a few minutes, Y/N could see the scared boy that James had been. And yet, the boy that he had been was quickly overshadowed by the instruments he had used, the angry scowl of his voice as he beat her. The pain, the bruises, the broken bones…

But at least that’s why she was there – to give voice to her own worst memories.

They had decided that, rather than having Y/N prepare her own statement, she was better at questioning, a call-and-response testimony that kept her head clear and focused, and her answers concise. So Lucy Lane’s voice was soft, gentle as she asked the first question.

“Y/N, what was it like when you first met James Olsen?”

She hadn’t been sure about Lucy at first. There was something too flighty about her, a goofiness that had made Y/N wonder if the thin lawyer with the outlandish clothes was really dedicated to her case. But Sam had sworn by her, and the loud chomping of gum while she pored over the notes to Y/N’s case was offset by the look of sheer determination in Lucy’s eyes, and that had made her feel better. Plus she had seen the tender way Lucy had interacted with her submissive when her boy had brought them all lunch one day, and that had done even more for Y/N’s trust.

“He was nice,” Y/N admitted, toying with the hem of her shirt and looking down at the table. “I saw him… a couple of times when we were kids and he always seemed nice. Really… tall.”

Across from her, James snorted, and Y/N smiled a little.

In another life, would they have known each other? If they hadn’t been matched up by her parents and his – before his father left – would they have ever run into each other? On the street, or in a crowded supermarket. Would she have been charmed by his eyes, by the smile that only seemed to lift one side of his face, by his awkwardness hidden under a sense of false bravado?

Or would she have known to stay away from him? Would she have known that he wasn’t a “nice boy,” as her mother had said; that instead he was a spoiled child who made himself out to always be the victim? That he would try to sway Y/N to feel sorry for him even as he was hurting her, that it was, and would always be, only about James’s happiness, James’s dreams, James’s goals (or lack of), everything James wanted?

Perhaps she would’ve met Miss Kara first. Y/N glanced back out to the gallery and smiled, seeing her in the front row again, watching them. Y/N had been scared when Miss Kara had run out, afraid that she wouldn’t come back. It didn’t matter that Sam was on one side of her and Miss Lane on the other; Y/N only ever felt really safe knowing Miss Kara was there with her.

“Can you tell us what your first day with him as your Dominant was like?”

She’d known this was coming. Sam had held her as she cried, the first time she’d described what that day had been like with him. But it was different, telling one person. How was she meant to describe it to a room full of people? But Y/N took a deep breath and focused on Miss Kara, who gave her yet another reassuring smile.

“He was nice, at first,” she explained. “We were both… nervous. I mean we were just sixteen and I don’t think he was very sure of himself so I knelt d-down and I said that I would help him as much as I could, that I was there for Sir, that I was his.”

“And what did he do?”

Y/N shook her head. “I-I can’t-“

Sam’s hand closed over hers and squeezed, and Y/N glanced at her gratefully. She wasn’t Miss Kara, but it helped.

“We need you to,” Miss Lane said gently. “What did James do when you knelt for him and expressed your desire to help him?”

She closed her eyes.

“He slapped my face and said he didn’t need my help. Then he adjusted my stance because he didn’t like the way I was kneeling, and I had to stay that way for a while. An hour or two.”

“Will you tell us what your life was like, from that day on?”

Y/N sighed. “Have you ever felt,” she said quietly, “like no matter what you do, you’ll never get it right? No matter how much of a g-good girl you try to be, it isn’t good enough? I tried so hard, and I always made a mess of things. I didn’t kneel right. I didn’t cook his favorite things well. I was too smart, then too dumb. I talked too much, didn’t talk enough. Didn’t cry, screamed too loud, I was too n-needy. Nothing I ever did was good enough for him.”

“Okay,” Miss Lane said, carefully stopping the flow of words that threatened to send Y/N out of control. She breathed in, shakily, and concentrated on the table again.

She was glad that Lucy had said she wouldn’t ask any sexual questions; Y/N wasn’t sure she could handle those, not yet anyway. It was hard enough to talk to Miss Kara about things like that, even if things between them were growing steadily more intense with each passing day. It was getting even harder for Y/N to deal with her emotions, things she’d never felt before, wasn’t even sure she was allowed to feel. Things like need. Desire. Miss Kara was always telling Y/N to be open with her feelings, but sex… wasn’t anything that was ever discussed in the Hastings household, and in the Olsen household it was more of… a chore. Something that had to be done to keep him happy.

To close her eyes as he always took her from behind, because he said looking at her face ruined the mood.

At least it had never lasted long. At least he had never lasted long.

Miss Lane moved on to the questions about James’s physical treatment of her. The beatings, the broken bones (and here she offered into evidence numerous medical reports), the missed meals. Kneeling for hours on a hard tile floor. Sleeping in a corner of a dark, cold bedroom with little more than a sheet for comfort. Being humiliated in front of his friends.

Y/N told it all.

Everything she had held inside herself, kept hidden for years… it didn’t matter that Miss Kara wasn’t sat right beside her. Y/N looked out into the gallery, locking her hazel eyes with the soft, tear-filled brown ones that she loved… and told it all. She took a deep breath, dug deep and quietly repeated the words to herself, the words that first Sam had told her when she’d sobbed in her arms that day, and then Miss Kara had reiterated hours later.

It’s not your fault.

“Why did you never use your safe word?”

Y/N cocked her head at Miss Lane. “Safe word?” she repeated, feeling a little dumb.

Lucy Lane nodded. “The safe word that you and James agreed upon.”

“But we didn’t,” Y/N said, confused.

“You didn’t have a safe word established?”

It was one of the tenets of their society, Y/N knew. Well, she knew that now. Before, she hadn’t known that safe words and contracts, mutual agreements, were actually a thing. Growing up she had always been taught that her Sir was to be pleased, he was to be obeyed, and her own needs would be met if she did those things.

She wasn’t told what to do if those needs weren’t met.

“No, I didn’t have a safe word,” she answered, and once again her eyes met Miss Kara’s. “Not with James.”

“So your contract didn’t establish the usage of safe words?”

Contract. An agreement between two or more parties for the doing or not doing of something specified. An agreement enforceable by law.

Miss Kara had told her that just a year before Y/N had been “matched” with James, the government had established that contracts were “necessary and advisable” within their society. Every couple, once a claim was made, was required to go and file a contract, with an itemized listing of rules and regulations, the safe words that were to be used, and punishments that would be enforced within the context of the relationship. It was meant to facilitate stronger protection for submissives; Miss Kara’s voice had grown sad when she said that she wasn’t sure it had worked. If it had, there wouldn’t have been a need for places like McKinley House.

Y/N shook her head. “We didn’t have a contract.”

Lucy’s hand paused over the paper on which she was scribbling notes and she glanced at Y/N, then at James. “No contract?”

It was all for effect, Y/N knew. They’d been over this before; Miss Lane knew there had been no safe words, no contract. Nothing in writing to establish Y/N’s role in the relationship, nothing that outlined how James ought to care for Y/N, and how she should respond in kind. It was Lucy’s plan of attack: show that James, while not caring for Y/N and being abusive, had also actually broken the law. This, she said, would virtually guarantee their win.

Y/N wasn’t sure about that; Judge Schott looked like he was ready to fall asleep.

“No contract.”

“No safe word?”

“No,” Y/N said again. “I had no safe word, and no contract. I didn’t… have anything.”

“So how did you keep safe?”

Y/N sighed, and shook her head again. “Obviously I didn’t,” she said, unable to keep the slight edge from creeping into her voice. She looked over at James, and her heart plummeted a little when she saw the smirk on his face.

It was the smirk he always wore, just before… she curled her fingers against the table, grasping lightly and reminding herself of the other thing Miss Kara and Sam had told her.

He can’t hurt you.

“So you lived in a relationship with a man who broke the law by refusing to employ a contract and safe words, and subsequently abused you frequently? We could even say, every day of your life with him.”

Y/N nodded. “Yes.”

Lucy Lane gestured toward Mrs. Allen-West, effectively ending her questioning of Y/N.

She steeled herself as she smiled at her. She was pleasant enough, Y/N decided, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t still the enemy.

“Miss Hastings,” she said easily, “Could you tell us about the house you shared with James Olsen, please?”

She resisted rolling her eyes, wondering if every lawyer was an expert in redundancy. “He was never happy,” she began to explain again. “Nothing I ever did was right, no matter how ha—“

“No,” James’s lawyer interrupted, and Y/N flinched slightly at her raised voice. “I am referring to the house itself. What was it like?”

Y/N drew back a little, confused. “Okay, I guess?” she said uncertainly. “A little small?”

“Not as nice as the one you grew up in?”

“No,” Y/N answered, suddenly a little nostalgic for the large house with its big rooms and soft couches, even softer beds with snuggly blankets. She still wasn’t sure where Allen-West was going with her line of questioning, but she already wished she’d stop. The last thing she wanted to remember during a trial was her former home. Her parents – she hadn’t heard from them in years. And her grandfather…

She missed him so much. He’d have protected her.

“So the house was small.” Y/N was sure that the woman with the perfect hair and dapper tie meant to be kind, but her voice was condescending, as if she were talking to a small child. You’re probably a bratty sub, Y/N thought, and not the kind Miss Kara seems to like. Probably one that throws a temper tantrum every time something doesn’t go your way.

“Was it also comfortable?”

“Yes?”

If Iris Allen-West detected any malice in Y/N’s answer, she didn’t let on as he continued. “Warm in the winter, cool in the summer?”

“Yes.”

“You stated that Mr. Olsen would sometimes make you sleep on the floor.” Y/N nodded, not bothering to verbally respond. She’d already stated as much. “Were you naked when you slept on the floor?”

“Sometimes.”

“But the house was warm.”

“Yes.”

“Were you given a pillow, a sheet?”

“A pillow. And a sheet. Sometimes a blanket in the winter.”

“And you stated that every now and then he’d let you sleep on the bed.”

“The foot of the bed,” Y/N clarified, adding in a mutter, “Like a dog.”

Allen-West nodded, seeming thoughtful, and then smiling at Y/N again. “Were you ever homeless, Miss Hastings?”

Her brow furrowed. “I don’t understand—“

She interrupted her again, leaning forward, and Sam put a reassuring hand on her shoulder as Y/N scooted her chair back an inch.

“In the time that you were with Mr. Olsen, did he ever force you out onto the street, were you ever homeless?”

“No?” Was there a point to all this, Y/N wondered.

But then, with Iris Allen-West’s next question, her defense of James Olsen became clear.

“Y/N, would you ever say that you deserved your punishments?”

Her mouth dropped open a little. “W-what?”

That same damned smile, mirrored by the smirk on James’s face. “You’re a submissive,” his lawyer said smoothly. “Your dominant owns you; his duty is to train you, to make you your better self, to punish you whenever you don’t live up to his expectations. Did you live up to his expectations?”

“I-I didn’t deserve it,” Y/N said shakily. “Not that- not what he-“

“So everything you did was correct?” his lawyer pressed. “You were always good, always obedient, you never smarted off to him, you never broke a rule, and you never left him dissatisfied?”

She could feel the panic start to rise, the endless doubt that had been ever present each day for the last few years, that had only just began to fade, with the persistent gentleness and care of Miss Kara. The feeling that she was always wrong, that she was bad and disobedient, a horrible sub, because she could never do anything right.

“I-I tried,” Y/N said, hearing that her voice was bordering on pleading. “Every day I tried, to do what he wanted to, and I couldn’t—I never—“

“So you admit it, then?” His smile seemed almost feral now, menacing, and when had he stood up, leaning forward on the table, almost towering over her despite how short he was?

“You admit that you were a less than acceptable submissive. You admit that James Olsen frequently had to correct you in ways he saw fit, ways that were permissible because he is your Dominant.”

Now Judge Schott was sat up in his chair, his expression rapt as he listened to Allen-West attack Y/N with gusto.

“You admit that though he was severe, though he may have punished you in ways you didn’t like, that it wasn’t always about you, it was sometimes about James, as a good relationship should be. And the fact that you were never lacking for food, for clothing, for adequate and comfortable housing. And the fact that he was actually a very good Dominant, dedicated to you and your well-being, dedicated to training you in the best way he knew ho—“

“He wasn’t a good Dominant!” Y/N snapped, slamming her hand onto the table. “Not like Miss Kara!”

She was aware that the room had gone quiet. That Schott seemed suddenly interested in her, as did two men in suits sitting in the back of the room. That Sam had softly sworn “Oh, fuck” under her breath, and that Miss Kara was suddenly fidgeting in her seat and Lena had placed a steadying hand on her knee.

The gesture made her irrationally jealous, but Y/N plowed forward, her trembling voice suddenly loud and echoing in the silent court chamber.

“He beat me every day,” she said. “Until I cried, until I screamed. He broke… my bones. Me. I-I didn’t deserve that. And Miss Kara—“

“Y/N,” Lucy put her hand on Y/N, but Y/N shook it off with a glare.

“She’s good. She’s good and gentle and even when I’m ba—even when I’m naughty she’s still soft when she corrects me. She puts me in the corner or… she made me scrub the floor two days ago but she sat in the kitchen with me. She doesn’t beat me, ever, and she won’t.”

“She’s nothing like you,” she spat out toward James. “I may not be a good submissive but you’re not a good Dominant either. Not like her. Not like my Miss Kara.”

She fell quiet then, hating the way Allen-West quirked one extremely forest-resembling eyebrow and said to Judge Schott, “I believe I have made my case, Your Honor.”

The words dismissing them for a recess while he rendered his decision barely registered to Y/N’s ears; she sat numbly in her seat as Sam and Lucy stood up and tried to coax her to go out into the hallway with them. Y/N couldn’t shake the feeling that she’d done something horribly wrong, because everyone was looking at her strangely and even Miss Kara seemed unnaturally pale as she came up and took Y/N’s hand, pulling her to her feet and leading her out into the hall with the others.

“M-Miss Kara?” Y/N queried softly, but the smaller woman shushed her with a finger against her lips and a tender look.

“I am so proud of you,” Miss Kara said, and Y/N relaxed when she pulled her into a hug. Y/N rested her chin on Miss Kara’s shoulder and breathed in, letting out most of the tension she’d felt since that morning.

“Really?”

“Really,” Miss Kara assured her, her hand in Y/N’s hair. “You were so brave up there, and you didn’t back down.” She kissed Y/N’s cheek gently.

“You were such a good girl.”

“You did good, kid,” she heard Sam say, and felt the light thump on her back, and Y/N giggled. She nuzzled further into Miss Kara, tightening her arms around her, enjoying the closeness and the comfort… until she heard an unfamiliar sound, a strange clearing of a throat.

She backed away from Miss Kara slowly, feeling the panic again as they both were confronted with the two men in suits, who had been sitting in the back row.

Miss Kara had stiffened, though her arm was still firm and secure around Y/N’s waist as she regarded the men.

“I hadn’t expected to see you here,” she said easily, casting a glance to her side as Alex and Allen-West walked past them, James in between.

“She is a member of Mt. Overland House, of course we would be here,” one of the men replied, looking down at Kara.

“She is Y/N Hastings,” Miss Kara said, and Y/N felt a swell of pride.

She was Y/N Hastings.

The other man nodded coolly, regarding Miss Kara, before saying, “We’ll see you tomorrow in our office, Miss Zor-El. I’m sure you know what we’ll be discussing.”

Miss Kara rolled her eyes as they walked away. “Of course they wouldn’t stay for the verdict,” she said through gritted teeth. “It’s not like they actually care for Y/N’s well-being. It’s all for show with them.”

“Kara,” Lena said, a warning tone in her voice. “Now is not the time to make enemies of your bosses.”

Bosses? Y/N drew away slightly as the realization dawned on her.

The men were Miss Kara’s bosses at the Society. Her government bosses. And Y/N had just blurted out about her Miss Kara…

“Oh, no,” she whispered with a feeling of dread. “I-I didn’t—Miss Kara, I didn’t mean to do anything wrong, I’m sorry!”

“No, no, Y/N,” Miss Kara said firmly, even though her voice shook ever so slightly. “You didn’t do anything wrong, little one.” She led Y/N over to a bench and sat down with her, gently rubbing her back.

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” she repeated. “And they can’t do anything to me.”

Y/N looked at Miss Kara, doubtful. The way everyone seemed to be acting strange, acting worried, and the way even Miss Kara’s face looked pinched and strained seemed to tell an entirely different story.

“Everything’s going to be fine,” Miss Kara said, and pulled Y/N closer to her.

“Do you think he’ll… do you think I did okay?”

“I know you did okay,” Miss Kara said. “You did more than okay.”

Y/N smiled faintly. “But do you think it was enough?”

“Y/N, Kara,” Lucy said, coming down the hall toward the door to the courtroom, followed a few steps behind by Alex, James, and James’s lawyer. “Come on, we’re back in session.”

Y/N sat up in shock. They’d only been recessed for ten minutes. It was too early…

Miss Kara glanced at her, and Y/N knew that she felt the same way. It was too early.

“I guess we’re about to find out, little one.”

[starklore]

Anon, I'm not going to publish your asks, but I will say you're making a lot of assumptions about what I think and what behavior I'm objecting to here.

I don't agree with, follow, or even particularly like the individual in question you mentioned (I actually have them blocked) and I've said before how much I dislike even "trans inclusive" r*adical feminism, for many reasons, including but not limited to the fact that it needlessly demonizes men, which is something I'm opposed to in all social justice conversations.

I don't agree with everything that everyone I reblog from says. That said, you can argue that I probably need to be more careful about who I promote on this site, and frankly you probably have a point.

I'm just kind of tearing out my hair right now. I mentioned awhile back that by pretending systemic misogyny doesn't exist, you're letting radical feminists monopolize the conversation about it. And that's exactly what's happening.

Most of tumblr seems to want to pretend that systemic misogyny just doesn't exist anymore, if it ever did. That if a woman is otherwise privileged, she has no real problems whatsoever. That abortion is solely an issue of class, race, and trans rights, with women who point out the misogyny accused of "cosplaying oppression." That the most important thing about a white woman being abused and murdered by her partner isn't how it happened and how we can prevent it, but how privileged she is to have insane TikTok true crimers and fake mediums exploit her tragedy for clout. That white women are not just complicit in or enactors of white supremacy (true), but the ONLY people complicit in or enactors or white supremacy, with white men just kind of passive agencyless forces of nature whose racism is not worth calling out.

And that anyone who objects to this must hate men or not care about their issues, too. 🙄 Among other things.

That's what I'm objecting to here. Not the thing where people get called out for bodyshaming or victim blaming men. Not the thing where people get called out for gender essentialism.

Also "male victims get arrested when they call the cops on their female abusers" I mean, yes, but female victims also get that. The cops in Gabby Petito's case told her that her abuser had generously decided to not press charges against her and let her off with a warning, but that very much happens to women too. DARVO is a thing regardless of the genders of the people involved. Also I made it pretty explicit that I was talking about that specific case, so it's honestly kinda weird for you to come all lives matter domestic abuse to me. "/

Lastly. The bad politics and discourse I choose to vent about or comment on on here is not based upon thinking I have a moral obligation to do so. I don't sit around going "the people need to know my official statement on [ insert discourse talking point ]." I talk about what I have thoughts on that I can articulate, or things that I feel very strongly about that I need to vent about. To assume that because I talk about X, I don't care about Y, is...odd. You're reading my blog, not my mind.

Anyways, tldr, I'll concede that I should be more careful of whose platforms I'm contributing to on here, but I actually do think that tumblr is a misogynistic hellhole, just not for the reasons you assumed.

Oh, and one more thing: I'm not blocking you because you made one (1) salient point, inadvertently. But I have no obligation to entertain people who are assuming bad faith on my part and can't even put their name to it. I'm making the choice to entertain you anyway. Come at me again with bad faith assumptions and I will stop entertaining you and just block you instead. Not trying to threaten you, me blocking you is not that big a deal. Just, you know, full disclosure in case you decide to message me again.

[thoroughlyskeptic]

“We both went to the London premiere but not together. We weren’t engaged and there was no reason to sort of show off to the world." USA Today November 18, 2014.

I'd like the Nannies to express their opinion about this please. With the full understanding that no person or persons on this side of the computer can control, sway or change Ben's mind or heart. That's not the point. The point is to understand what you believe is the psychological reasoning behind the decision to use that phrasing with his pregnant, soon to be fiancé and soon to be wife and soon to be mother of his child. According to People magazine and the Daily Mail, and those, including nannies, who said they have seen a Birth Certificate, Christopher Carlton Cumberbatch was born on June 1st.  Dislike it all you want, having a birthday makes it possible, and given human nature, likely that people will speculate on the date of conception, especially considering the facts, including the timing with regards to the Oscars and the shotgun* nature of the wedding. If it was a full term no problem pregnancy, 40 weeks, not under or over due, she was 2 and a half months pregnant when the above statement was made.

This story you nannies have built up, that Ben and Sophie have a true perfect love forever, that they never fight, how do you reconcile that with the whole unvarnished truth? Unless Sophie was totally gormless, she must have known she was pregnant. If Ben was dating her and truly in love, he would have known she was pregnant. They married three months later. He was in true love with the women he married, the woman he proposed to, whom he didn't mention by her name in interviews, and didn't want to walk down the red carpet to his movie premiere with the woman making his dreams come true, his dreams of being a father.

Now you are going to yell about things like privacy. That what he said was meant to protect Sophie and hide the pregnancy. I think anyone who is at all skeptical could answer that one. No one eager for privacy about their personal life talks to reporters, USA Today, or People magazine at all, let alone does a wedding dress spread in Vogue. I'm surprised it was in the print edition, and not the digital only. After all, maternity bridal gowns aren't really "en vogue". The long and short of it is that photo spread was well positioned and they managed to photograph her to look like she wasn't 5 1/2 months pregnant, perhaps to make that style of gown more in demand. Shotgun weddings tend to favor empire waists and lots of flounce to disguise the bump.

Now, I know the next question from the peanut gallery will be, why bring this up? They have stayed together, have two more kids together and it has been x and whatever years.

Here are several responses. Pick one or more in any combination.

1. Our feelings don't have to be right to be valid.

2. You have the option to object to our perfectly valid emotional reaction.

3. We have a right to block you from our page. You also have this right.

4. If you object to our opinions, you do not have to read our blogs or interact with us in anyway. If you are constantly feeling harassed because you see content from skeptics, BLOCK THEM, don't blame them! If the worker at Sea World handed you a poncho to protect yourself and you didn't use it, you can't blame the Shamu if you get splashed.(Sorry for the outdated and insensitive analogy but I wanted something easy to understand. I disagree whole hearted with the captivity of intelligent creatures be they aquatic or terrestrial mammals.)

5. We are valid in our own right as people. If you attack us on a personal level, we will defend ourselves and we have the right to do so.

6. As long as we do not interact with anyone,(i.e. Ben, Sophie, Karon, his management, etc) we can say whatever we want on our own blogs. The majority of us have never met him and don't want to. As far as we are concerned, Ben is an imaginary person that we are writing as a character for a long running D&D campaign.

7. However, the same does not apply to you. Many of you have gone out of your way to meet him. You believe that by sending hate to skeptics or doxxing them you will earn validation from him. I worry that some of you are on the brink and if he doesn't acknowledge you one time, or does something that you can't justify with your world view, one of you will snap. You think this about us, I know. But the nannies on the whole have much more emotional investment in Ben's personal life. (As a for instance, The skeptics call him Ben because at least one nanny has said that, "we don't know that he prefers that nickname so we should use his full name" another said "nicknames are for close friends and family and we aren't those, so we should call him by his full name or Mr. Cumberbatch." If Ben even has two thoughts about any skeptic or nanny(especially how they address him in blog posts) for the entire year I'd be surprised. Unless, of course, it when he has to think about you lot bothering him, stalking him, and generally making a nuisance of yourselves.

******

I also know you complain that the skeptics don't "love" Ben in every thing he does and don't always watch all his work. The gatekeeping within the fandom, not include how you discount and loathe the skeptics, is extreme. Fans must be all or nothing.

1. Not everyone has the money to participate fully, whether that is buying movies, theater tickets, merchandise or going to conventions to hear him speak. Disregarding fans based on their ability to participate, especially due to financial inability, is gatekeeping and it is the worst kind of gatekeeping. You are saying the only good fans are rich ones.

2. Generally the nannies viewpoint is Eurocentric as well. Some people have jobs, have children to raise, have other things that take priority over "being a fan". Being a fan requires time that poorer countries, less developed countries generally lack. Some countries censor the movies that are shown. Doctor Strange was not shown in the East the way it was in the west and unless you can afford to travel to another location,(Say the London Premiere that didn't quite happen and the nannies were upset because he didn't preform like a good little monkey in a suit for them?) you are made to feel left out by the uber fans.

3. Some people have emotional triggers. Ben's roles tend more towards the dramatic then comedic. Drama can deeply affect those who have experienced similar situations. He has been in movies dealing with Cancer, Childhood Abuse, Incest, Slavery, War, Pedophilia, have I missed any major triggers?

4. He is also in the MCU and the Hobbit movies which have flashing lights which makes them inaccessible to those who have seizures and migraines. Another oft used gatekeeping tactic in fandoms is the restriction of accessibility. In the US, there are compliancy laws for disabilities(although they aren't always obeyed) but smaller, poorer countries may not have accessible movie theaters. Fans with disabilities can not travel as easily as more abled fans. Smaller independent films Benedict made at the beginning of his career may not have captions or audio description or may be unafforable for those that have medical costs to consider.

5. There is also gender bias in the Cumberbatch fandom. One need only look at their chosen name, Cumberbitches. I can think of 15 more gender neutral terms off the top of my head but men and those who identify as male were inherently excluded from the fandom. I can think of ONE male fan. Maybe one that writes under his wife's account as to not get ridiculed. Because they would be ridiculed by the nannies, that is who they are, the "gatekeepers of the fandom", deciding who is worthy to be a Ben fan.

They have made fun of fans before. Not just skeptics. People they don't like or don't want in their little clique. So the majority of Ben's fans are middle aged rich white women. Not because that's who he's trying to reach as an audience but because that is who his uber fans allow to worship him.

If you are in need of examples of how out of control the uber fans are take the following for an example.

Someone did a nice tweet about other actors. It had nothing to do with Ben, although it did feature Tom Hiddleston and other Marvel actors. The ubers starting by saying Ben wasn't listed, then jumped into, well, a screenshot is worth a thousand words.

As they say, that escalated quickly...

*Shotgun Wedding is an American term for a marriage precipitated by the pregnancy. It comes from an American colloquialism, termed as such based on a stereotypical scenario in which the father of the pregnant bride-to-be threatens the reluctant groom with a shotgun in order to ensure that he follows through with the wedding.

[megsironthrone]

Servant

Based on this request: Hello! I really enjoy your GoT oneshots, and I was wondering if you could do an Oberyn Martell x male reader, where when Oberyn comes to King’s Landing the Lannisters are very wary of him so they send someone (the main character) to spy on him and pose as one of his servants to keep an eye on what he does and where he goes, but over time they slowly start to develop feelings for him? I hope that’s detailed enough, if you need anything else feel free to let me know! Thank you for doing this, many fandom communities greatly appreciate it :D

Here you are, lovelies! *Familiar characters are NOT mine!* Also, it’s been FOREVER since I last wrote a specifically male!reader one-shot.

Warnings: A little angst-ish?? Fluff. Kissing. mentions of brothels and use of the word “whores” multiple times(in proper context, of course)

Pairings/Characters: Oberyn Martell x male!reader, Ellaria Sand x male!reader(platonic), Oberyn Martell x Ellaria Sand

Y/N hated this. He absolutely hated it. He was so uncomfortable. He wasn't a spy! He was merely a servant. So why in all seven heavens and hells did he agree to do this? Oh right…Tywin and Cersei threatened his employment and therefore, his way of living. So that was how he found himself standing in Petyr Baelish's brothel trying to find Prince Oberyn of Dorne.

         The discomfort crept into Y/N's flesh and bones as he made his way toward the room one of the whores indicated. Y/N looked straight ahead, desperate not to see anything more than he had to. It wasn't that he was ill at ease with any type of sexuality. He'd had his own fair share of women and men, though he did tend to prefer one over the other most of the time. That didn't mean he wanted to be surrounded by sex-crazed, scantily clad(if even that) people all the time.

         When Y/N entered the room where Oberyn was staying, he wanted to turn around and leave right then. Before he'd even set eyes on the prince, his gaze was blocked by several nude whores, mostly women, but there was a male as well. A feminine voice spoke, pulling Y/N back to reality as he hoped his presence hadn't been noticed yet.

         "She's timid. Timid is boring." A deep chuckle followed the statement. As whores shifted this way and that, Y/N caught sight of a beautiful woman. He knew she must have come with Oberyn. She definitely wasn't a woman who worked in a brothel. Her gaze met Y/N's and she smiled. "My Prince, it seems Lord Baelish has provided another man for us to see. Why didn't he send him earlier, I'd like to know. He's beautiful to look at." As soon as she said it, Oberyn moved into Y/N's line of sight.

         Y/N felt his breath leave his body. Now he was in serious trouble. Oberyn was not only one of the most handsome men he'd ever seen, but there was something about him. He drew Y/N in like a moth to a flame. "You are right, Ellaria. My paramour has an eye for such beauty. Who are you?" Clearing his throat, Y/N bowed slightly.

         "Y/N, Prince Oberyn. The Queen Regent has offered my services to you as your personal servant and liaison." He felt Oberyn's thumb and forefinger cup his chin. Oberyn gently tilted his head back up so he could gaze into his eyes. "Is that right?" Y/N nodded slightly. Oberyn's lips upturned slightly into a smirk, his dark eyes never leaving Y/N's face. How was Y/N ever going to do his job now?

         Y/N remained in the brothel with Oberyn for weeks, only leaving when the prince absolutely had to make the trek up to the Red Keep. Any time they would make the journey, Oberyn would make conversation. At first, Y/N tried to maintain an appropriate distance and relationship. He was merely a servant after all. But after a while, that became more difficult. It was nearly impossible for him not to get along with Oberyn which is what made his job that much harder. Not that there was anything to report.

         Whenever he was in the Keep, Cersei and Tywin would pull him aside, demanding that he gave them something, anything, they could hold over the prince. Y/N would simply shrug and tell them there was nothing to report which wasn't a complete lie. He knew Oberyn wanted revenge, but had yet to speak of any plans to exact said revenge. In fact, Y/N had pretty much given up the idea of spying the moment he set foot in the brothel so he would have nothing to tell anyway.

          Cersei and her father left in a huff, once again threatening Y/N's employment until he left with Oberyn again. And all the while, Y/N was forming his own plan to get out of King's Landing. There was only one thing holding him back.

         The longer Oberyn remained in the capitol, the more difficult is was for Y/N. There was absolutely no denying that he was falling in love with the prince. And Ellaria was a true friend as well. She seemed to know exactly what was happening between Y/N and Oberyn and had even gone so far as to approach Y/N about it.

         Y/N stuttered out an apology, but Ellaria merely laughed. "You people here are so…traditional in your thinking. I am not upset. In fact, I quite like the idea. You are different than the other men that have captured Oberyn's attention. You love him for him, not for how he looks or the title he bears. We knew from the moment you appeared why you were here. And yet, I also know that you have reported nothing you've seen or heard to Cersei."

         Y/N's eyes widened  in fear. "You knew?" She nodded and Y/N continued, "Please believe that I never wanted this and after meeting you both, I refused to go through with what Cersei and Tywin wanted. You're right. I love Oberyn. I know it is not my place-" A laugh cut off Y/N's apology. Y/N felt himself stiffen. He knew Oberyn was behind him. He turned to face the prince, only to have a pair of arms wrap around him.

         "There are few things you should never apologize for," Oberyn spoke softly as his nearly black eyes met Y/N's (e/c) ones, "One of those things is loving someone." Y/N felt his heart nearly beating out of his chest. He wasn't exactly pinned to Oberyn's chest. The prince had left enough slack in his arms that Y/N could step away if he wanted to. He didn't. He could feel the heat radiating off Oberyn and he soaked in like a flower.

         "I would like to kiss you, Y/N," he whispered as Y/N heard the sound of a door closing. Ellaria had obviously left the room to give the two men some time alone. "Really?" Y/N asked. His voice was hardly above a whisper. Oberyn nodded. "If you are agreeable." Y/N chuckled a bit. As a servant, it wasn't often he was asked for his consent about anything. In answer, Y/N surged forward and crashed his lips against Oberyn's. It was everything he thought it would be and so much more.

(a/n: I hope you like it!)

Forever Tags: @fizzyxcustard​ @brewsthespirit-blog​ @etherealpotter​ @line-viper​ @frozenhuntress67​ @cd1242​ @gruffle1​ @smalltownbigheart​ @igotmadskills​

All Tag Lists are OPEN!

[searchingforproofsthatimwrong]

THE JAMMIEDODGER VIDEO ABOUT JK ROWLING (as recommended by a very polite anon)

so I go point by point after the cut but in short: they should read more feminist theory, they are lying, they are not as coherent as they think they are but they make some points, notably about the rapid onset gender disphoria that’ll need to check in more depth later on.Most of their sources were unfortunatly either on points I already knew or already agreed with.  Also that woman ( the “cis” one not Jammy), should really stop thinking being born a woman is somehow a privilege.

So the video starts by saying three things I agree with :

1)      Biological sex is definitely real

2)      Women’s right and girls’ right need to be protected

3)      JK Rowling is entitled to like support and write whatever she wants

 So far so good. Except it then goes on to say that TRA agree with that. Now maybe most do but at least some don’t. Don’t lie to me, Jammie Dodger.  

They then go on to misrepresent what our problem with “cis” is. Are they going to spend that entire video about trans people at destination of the non educated on that subject without ONCE defining what a trans person is? They are aren’t they ?

“TRANSPEOPLE AGREE THAT BIOLOGICAL SEX EXISTS!!” 

see earlier but given the number of people who are saying “sex is a social construct” and “sex is a spectrum” and “a neovagina is just like a vagina”, you may at least put a “most” in your statement here. Anyway this is not the problem we have, we wouldn’t even discuss this if it weren’t for the brain dead morons who argue with us about it.

“my biological sex -the one I was assigned at birth- was female” 

is Jammie here telling me he knows biology exists but his sex WAS female ? It still IS female. You’re a female. Moreover you cannot say I know biology exists and I was assigned a sex. The entire “assigned sex” is a refutal of biology by implying doctors choose a sex for you. This is stupid.

Strawman. They are saying radfems have no argument against “gender identity is a real thing”. The lies. Gender identity is not a real thing it’s just gender stereotypes and gender is a tool of oppression for women, it’s sexist garbage. I also notice they don’t define gender identity, this is starting to be a pattern, this video is aimed to normies but the only thing they defined so far is terf.

They did 5 fucking minutes on “transpeople know that biological sex exists” I am already exhausted.

Oh my bad they defined “gender identity” as “the gender you know you are”. THANKS A BUNCH THIS IS SO HELPFUL . Define gender please I beg of you.  

“They know they are a man but their bodies don’t match” 

okay so you agree that man and woman are words that depends on your body right? Since it can “match”, they are not gender then ? Nevermind he then says that man is their gender identity. This is not making sense.

Ooooooh the floating head analogy never heard that one before, this is a stupid one because gendies also argue that their gender is innate (unless Jammie here specifically says he doesn’t think that I’ll act as if he agrees with that statement) so the good question would be if you were born as a floating head and never even had a body would you still be a woman? And my answer here as well as plenty of people I suspect is “men and women don’t make sense if we’re born as floating heads what are you on about?”

“transwomen needs women’s right too” 

I know you think that is self evident but I’ll ask what exactly are the women’s right transwomen need. Abortion? Affordable periods product ? The right to have places free of male? oh wait. They are male so they can never have that can they ?

“so feminism also needs to believe in gender identity”

 because if we don’t our feminism is only for females and we exclude males. Notice how they didn’t continue their logic by saying how THIS feminism excludes transmen and nonbinary? Because it does, but guess who actually need the women’s right of abortion for exemple?

“transmen don’t need women’s rights” 

I FUCKING CANNOT YOU STILL NEED IT WTF ARE YOU ON ABOUT. OK I need them to define women’s right asap

“well JK Rowling said she supports trans rights”

 funny how you can understand how those words are not a proof that she in fact does but you still started your video by “we support women’s rights !!!”

“adding [to Harry Potter] content that was LGBT+ friendly” 

she added things that were gay friendly. I don’t remember her adding trans characters.

“transphobic” = saying men can’t become women. Whoah. The hatred.

“the lack of belief [in gender identity] is what she wants protected”

 yes and ? Atheism, the lack of belief in a god, is protected. Gender identity existence only proof is some people saying it does exists, it is not a scientific reality in any way shape or form.

“His biological sex was previously female” 

BUT WE KNOW WHAT BIOLOGICAL SEX IS WE SWEAR; Damn they spend 7 minutes on “transpeople know biological sex exists” and then keep acting like they fucking don’t.

After that they point blank say that gender identity is more important than sex, having someone who passes as an exemple. What about transpeople who don’t pass? How much you bet this will never be discussed in this video.

Anyway they follow that with that : 

Which is true but defining what a woman is does affect women actually (I know weird right)  so it’s completely irrelevant to the discussion here.

“When a large group of transpeople are telling you something is wrong please listen to them”

 please afford women the same courtesy. We are a large group of women saying males are not the fucking authority on what womanhood is but we are told to shut up. Listen.

“we cannot take the behavior of the minority [online abuse] and group it onto the majority” 

I agree with that statement but the majority still didn’t condemn the abuse. Honestly the people in this video did -just before saying HOWEVER but hey – but it is pretty rare to see TRA actually confronting the people who abused JK Rowling online, they cheered them on more than anything.

It is very telling how they spend more time in this video saying people collecting screenshots of the abuse JK Rowling suffered were “not cool” than the TRA giving them a bad name by actually abusing JK Rowling. They even say Jammy was also insulted online so TERF and TRA are as bad as each other right ?? Being called delusional or idiot is not the same as death threats sorry Jammy. (I doubt the “freak” one was from a terf tbh but even then, this is not even comparable) I mean didn’t you get at least one person saying they were going to kill you ? Because I did, and I have ,like, 200 followers. I find very weird that the woman here said “I received sexual assaults threats and this is as a cis woman!” as if women weren’t the primary target of sexual assaults threats. Yeah it’s the misogyny. What’s new.  You really should stop thinking you are somehow priviledged even when you are being sexually threatened ffs. What gender ideology does to a mf.

 “neither of these sides are innocent” 

oh come on, you cannot possibly means that the men who gave you sexual threats were terfs, this is ridiculous, you are just trying to excuse and diminish what people did to JK as per fucking usual.

 “persistent low level harassment” 

it hasn’t stayed low level tho. Stop trying to say you and JK are receiving the same abuse it’s embarrassing.

JK Rowling’s essay having real life effects on policies for exemple has an element of thruth ,even tho we disagree on wether or not this can be a good thing but your are deluding yourself if you think people assaulting transpeople are the sort of people whose views are in any way influenced by feminists. This is laughable. Also please stop with the guilt tripping, we are not responsible of the mental health of transpeople, we are not their therapists, sorry.

I love how they implied that the guy who forced GNC kids to behave as their assigned gender would somehow give a letter of thanks to a feminist. This is implying “terfs” want the same things as this maniac which is just a straight up lie, terfs absolutely adore GNC people and are mostly GNC themselves.

“What rights of women are actually being eroded by the inclusion of transwomen ?” I am glad you asked !! Well apart from the freedom of speech since “terfs” are losing their jobs and being deplatformed because of this, we have the inherent dangers of replacing sex by gender in what the law protects : https://www.aclu.org/blog/speakeasy/firing-mom-because-shes-breastfeeding-sex-discrimination this is a link to a story about a woman who was said being fired for breastfeeding was not sex discrimination because men can lactate. Do you see the problem ? Moreover there is quotas for women in politics etc….Women fought for their quotas and now males can have them, who do you think an employer would prefer someone who probably will be pregnant at one point or someone who never will ? and let’s not forget the right for women to have women only places :Women in prison are raped by the trans identified males in it .

“I cannot think of a single right that is removed from me”

 good for you maybe you should have actually researched radfems talking point before doing this video ? Your ignorance is not a good argument.  

“transwomen can use the women changing room because they are women” 

you keep saying that but apart from “they feel like women” you didn’t explain how they are women. This is the basis of this entire video and you never explained.  Also allowing any person who say they are women into the women’s changing room does not only allow transwomen does it ? It also allows lying freaks.

“You can protect cis women’s rights and transrights simulteanously” HOWWWWWWWWWWW, please tell me how to keep female only spaces (women’s right) while saying TWAW (transrights apparently according to them).

“transwomen can be the victims and cis women can do the voyeurism” 

true but did you forget we actually live in the real world and in that one males are much more likely to be sexually harassing people than women ? It is a brazen form of lying to tell women that since theoretically other women can also be creeps they don’t have to worry about males. Get a grip. Live in the real world for a change.

“It doesn’t reference transwomen but men pretending to be women” 

apart from “they feel it” you still haven’t told us what the difference is. You are aware nothing from an outside perspective distinguishes the two right ??

“there is no evidence of men pretending to be trans to enter female only spaces” and how would you know they are pretending ? This is the same problem again and again, if you define transwomen as men who feel like women then there is absolutely no way of verifying someone really is trans. And that’s a lie anyway since we do actually have proof of that happening?? There was that video making the room on radblr a while ago of a clear male pissing in the women’s bathroom saying (lying) that he was trans.

Yeah actually radical feminists would accept transmen in their bathrooms, but it’s not an easy question with an easy answer to know how to check they really are transmen. Although notice how they are again only talking about transpeople that passes ? I would feel safer with Jammy in my toilets than Hannah Mouncey for exemple :

  That is so obvioulsy a man in a dress.

“ If a transman with a beard and penis and balls can go into a women’s toilet and that is deemed okay because of his biological sex what is to stop a cis man from doing the same”

 I am sorry but are you saying a transwoman cannot have a beard and penis and balls ?????????? This is incredibly transphobic of you, you said that gender identity Is just feeling like a gender, how exactly does that mean transwomen cannot have beard ? If you want to know, radfem are arguing for a third toilet for transpeople, that’s our solution. What is yours ?

 Ok the next part is racist I’ll skip that thanks

On accusation of TERFery intimidating people and organizations “we haven’t seen these” again, your ignorance is not an argument, I am posting these on Tumblr where cryptoterfs arer numerous. Why do you think that is ?

Are they seriously saying Nike and addidas “accepted” transpeople because they “realized it was the right thing to do” ?????? Those companies employs slaves IN WHAT WORLD DO YOU LIVE IN??

“trying to make transpeople look crazy” 

the clownfish things were said online by real transpeople. We don’t need to invent thing to make transpeople look crazy, if there is  large enough group some people belonging in that group will say stupid shit .

“We support these rights”

 when speaking about women victims of abuse. This is a lie, the Vancouver rape shelter relief is often targeted by transactivists, recently a gofundme for it was cancelled because of transactivists, they are quite litteraly stealing money from raped women. This is not a small, inconsequential part of transactivism. 

“The trans-inclusionist views expand the meaning of women to include transwomen”

 It doesn’t expend shit actually since it excludes transmen and non-binary. If anything it reduces it.

They go on to say that transwomen deserves protection as women because of their murder rate. It doesn’t explain how being seen as women will help them here and anyway it’s a bold lie considering their murder rate is actually quite low. They also fail to consider how depriving transmen and nonbinaries of those same women’s right might be a problem.

Again they make the distinction between transwomen and men pretending to be transwomen without a way to identify which is which. This is starting to get repetitive and tedious. The problem is not that all transwomen are predators is that there is no way to see a difference until the predators acts, until a woman gets hurt, so accepting transwomen is accepting predators and saying transwomen feelings are more important that the women being hurt because of this. I disagree. The tiny tiny percentage of transpeople doing bad things is actually the same percentage as men doing bad things. If your argument could be used to say women only spaces shouldn’t exist at all because not all men are dangerous maybe you should reconsider your argument because I will not reconsider women’s right to have female only spaces.

“If you push transwomen out of female only spaces you push transmen in”

 Yes. I don’t even see where the problem is here.  Now why don’t we analyse the fact that if you push transwomen into female only spaces you push transmen out of them ? I don’t think transmen belongs in men’s prisons, do you ?

“Transpeople don’t dispute biology and don’t impact how female only diseases are treated” 

eat shit. They do impact this, every woman trying to say “female biology” get shit thrown at her faster than you can blink, stop lying to me Jammy. Do you think I would get called a bleeder, a fetus carrier, a motherfucking birthing body if transactivism wasn’t trying to erase sex ? Don’t you think the sentence “men can have periods” is not eroding biology ? Fuck off

Back to JK, Jammy is saying her disabling comment on her blog was not conductive to a conversation, I have to salute the straight face he says it with because do you really think a nice educated conversation would have taken place on JK Rowling’s essay ? They flooded her children’s book tag with porn for fuck sake.

“Thre is no explosion in young women who wishes to transition” sources ? Because it does seem to be true :https://onlinelibrary.wiley.com/doi/full/10.1111/jsm.12817

“the detransitionners rate is actually really low” hard to know but most people who transitioned did it not so long ago since transgender is a recent trend, we will have to wait and see to have a more robust number. But maybe they are right on that one, this is not going to be the one argument that changes my views unfortunately. 

“Does that mean we should stop people from getting plastic surgery then ?” 

lol you don’t know the radfem stance on plastic surgery do you ?

“There is more significant transphobia than homophobia” 

sources ? Because transition is used as converstion therapy in Iran so it is at least untrue in one country. 

“If transmen transition to escape womanhood why is there transwomen ?” 

You really didn’t research this did you ? the radfem answer is that transwomen are either gay men who have gender disphoria OR AGP (autogynephiles) read this if you want to learn more about it: https://grahamlinehan.substack.com/p/the-elephant-in-the-room

“why would people who have male privileges choose to give that up” 

you are assuming they lose their male privileges but I will need sources on that because most transwomen do not pass and are treated more as special men than as women.

“We have already shown you that transphobia is far more rife and damaging than homophobia” 

did I miss that part ? When ? You just said that ? Without backing it up ?

“anti trans narratives constantly contradict itself” 

No we do not, we are feminist so we OF COURSE we analyse men and women differently, this is an issue of gender which radical feminism posit as an hierarchy, trying to explain transwomen and transmen with the same arguments is doomed to fail because they were not equal in their relation to gender to begin with. Do you think black people trying to pass as white do it for the same reasons white people try to have more black features ? Of course not.

“What am I a lesbian or a homophobe ?”

 You are both, you are a lesbian in denial with a deep case of internalized misogyny and homophobia. You know yo can be both sexist and a woman right ? Well it’s the same here.

I heard “Simone de Beauvoir” and I knew they were going to be really fucking stupid with that “One is not born a woman but rather becomes a woman” quote and THERE IT IS! Please read the book. She is not saying male can become women if they try hard enough, she is saying basically the same thing JK Rowling’s quote said which is that “womanhood” as it is forced on women is alien and not natural and the point is that we should not accept it, it’s a feminist quote on femininity and I am so sick of men using it to say that they are women.

Transactivists acting as if sex recognition patterns don’t exists is exhausting so I won’t comment on “nobody checks if you have XX chromosomes before passing you over for a promotion” other than to say : passing over for promotions happens a lot when women are pregnant and after giving birth stop acting as if misogyny is unrelated to our reproduction capacities it is fucking insulting.

“transwomen will support [fights against tampon tax and FGM] too” 

FGM was a bad choice here considering transactivists tried to stop a bill against FGM .  I will need sources here actually since I never seen a transwoman fighting for women’s right in my life.

Ok I let a lot passes here because I’m tired but we are 48:40 in the video and fuck you “intersectional feminism” is not about males. It was for black women. It is not reductionist to say women are people with a vagina, this is just a definition, and one that applies to 50% of the population at that, there is litteraly no definition of woman that includes more people than that.

Imagine thinking “women are people with vagina” is reductionist but not calling women “vulva owners”. Please , I am begging for coherence.

“transwomen who experience greater abuse than cisgender women will ever experience” . 

This is revolting. I don’t have any other words. I am glad this is the end of the video because I would have stopped immediately if this was at the start. What abuse transwomen can experience than ciswomen cannot ? Because I would have thought forced pregnancy was horrific but maybe this doesn’t compare to being misgendered?

“most people are comfortable with transwomen going into women’s bathrooms” https://www.bsa.natcen.ac.uk/media/39147/bsa34_moral_issues_final.pdf

It says 13% of women are at least uncomfortable with sharing bathroom with transwomen, why are we ignoring their wishes? Because 0.1% of the population wants to ?  Whatever, the really interesting thing in this study is that for this question they defined “transwomen” as someone who has gone through all the steps to become a woman aka someone with surgery. I find extremely misleading that this is used for bathroom bills which defines transwomen as male identifying as women. Do you think the numbers would be the same if they specified the transwoman in question still has a penis ? Which is the case for most transwomen btw?

[a-little-slice-of-fandom]

In response to the Jane ask, I totally agree! Her song, as vague as it might be in the newer versions, is very much about emotional abuse and her realizing/reflecting on it. In the other versions this is arguably even clearer! Besides the list in the first verse, there’s a line in the student run version that always get me, in the second verse after “with out my son your love will disappear”. Usually in the lastest version it’s “I know it isn't fair, but I don't care”, which can be a sign of even tho she knows that he has hurt her at this point, her love will still be there for her son. But the student run it’s something like “you’ll let us fall apart, try to break my heart” which I think is much more powerful in showing more of her self awareness at what would happen to her. Also that opening monologue before about if she was really loved or just checked all the boxes on a list before she could make him angry, she knew that he would be willing to destroy her if she didn’t do as he wanted (Cause Anne wasn’t some death that would never happen again and that only happened cause Jane was there, he was to said to have threaten Jane with the same fate cause of the pilgrimage of grace incident (also well it did happened gain two queens later). Also just a slight unrelated thing, I can sorta understand why people blame Jane for Anne’s death but also not really. It was a whole campaign against Anne, and we only know that Jane was yeah trying to be queen due to influence from her family and others trying make sure she was but I don’t think it’s her fault Henry (and others) decided the best course of action would be to kill Anne. Though I am not a big Tudor researcher, this is only from multiple weeks and hours of searching and learning cause of curiosity and someone could fact check me but that’s what i interpreted the history as. Random rant over) Also the fact (and I’m pretty sure this is true in the newest version), she says “loved” most of the time. The past tense is important there, cause yeah maybe she did truly think she “loved” him. And he may have been the only one she ever “loved” but that cause she probably didn’t get a chance to love someone else (when Henry says it’s you, it’s you after all). This is just speculation though, I can’t assume what a 500 year old historical figure was truly feeling but a character in a show is different and ready for analysis. For that I say that maybe she did “love” him but it easily could have been out of fear or wanting to just deal with the cards dealt to her. But at the end she realizes where she wants her love to be directed towards, and that’s her son and in “Six” her new found family.

And fun fact about her part in “Six” (I kinda learned from something on tumblr but can’t remember who but either way here it is.) it’s 200% about the queens as her family, with her pun at the end being the main signifier of this. “You could perhaps call us the Tudor Von Trapps” is a reference to the Trapp Family Singers, an Austrian singing family (if you see the wiki for them, they are apparently the inspiration for sound of music, Neat!). So from that you would think “oh she’s talking about Henry and her kids with him having a band” but then she says “Just kidding! We’re called the Royalling Stones!”. A Rolling Stones references and they were made by friends forming a band, so that can be associated that the queens are said friends in this case but also part of family that has grown! Also Rolling Stones have a song called heart of stone, seriously this is the most clever joke Jane had during the show and it makes me, a pun/joke lover, very happy to see this be such a character trait that it’s in the damn description for her character for an auditioning sheet (check out Citadle Theather and Six the Musical in google, i think you’ll find it.)

Anyway sorry about this long ramble, it’s just that even though I totally can see how people view Jane as “weaker” in terms of some writing choices made, I still think there’s a lot to talk about with not just her current incarnation but also the other ones as well. I wish some changes werent made to her song, but she is a still strong character about the effects of emotional abuse and maternity. There’s nothing bad about talking about those things, your right that it doesn’t make her any less feminist. Anyway ramble over and I hope you have a lovely day :)

Hello hun!

Please don’t apologise for rambling! I’m always so interested in hearing other opinions on the queens and I love the opportunity to discuss any queen at any time! Frankly, I’m just impressed you got the whole essay into one message! Have they gotten rid of the character limit? Sorry, not relevant to the question.

(Also sorry for how long this took to answer! Uni happened sort of happened and I didn’t want to half ass my response to such a well thought out ask)

I adore the older versions of Heart of Stone, especially the student run version! I completely agree that Seymour feels so much more aware of her place in Henry’s life in the older versions. In the older version she knows she wasn’t Henry’s true love (even though she loved him) and she knows her worth is completely dependent on her ability to give Henry a son. She literally says “nothing lasts forever, I’ll fade away”. That is such a powerful statement and I wish that line was still in the song! I still think these themes are in the new version, but they’re nowhere near as explicit. Plus the character development in the student run feels much more explicit, with Seymour saying “soon I’ll have to go, I’ll never see you grow” instead of “him grow” in the new versions. She’s clearly speaking to Edward in the older version, so the last half of HOS in the old versions (at least in my eyes) is actually directly speaking to Edward and not Henry as many people think. I still think this is true for the new versions, illustrating Seymour’s character development as she breaks away from Henry and rather concentrates on her son, but again I don’t think it’s obvious in the new version. The older version just felt so much more powerful and I think it presented Seymour as much more as a victim than the newer version...which I argue is true! Seymour was as much of a victim as any other character in the show and I think she deserves more sympathy than the show gives her, and for as much as I love the newer versions of six, you can’t deny that Seymour is reduced to a joke for half of the show. The student version is such a genuine and earnest version of Seymour, and I can’t help but love her. It’s definitely a testament to the actresses from the student run that their characters are still on parr with professional versions of the show!

(Im so sorry I don’t feel like I’m adding anything to your analysis, but you’ve really summed up my feelings perfectly! )

Weirdly, I think that the student run and studio run play with the idea of having a “heart of stone” better than the modern version. I love the contrast between the material things that Henry can buy versus the natural world. Material things can fade, but the natural world (and Seymour’s love) transcends that. It’s a really nice use of juxtapostion in that song and I just don’t feel like the newer versions play with those images as much as the older version.

I do sort of get why they changed it (I think Seymour spends upwards of 10 just listing different objects, which is powerful in its own way but I do think audience members could get bored of those verses) but I wished they had still somehow managed to keep the theme that Seymour as explicit. I still think it’s there in the newer version of the song, but I don’t think it’s anywhere near as obvious as the older version. It would make HOS more like AYWD in a way, and that would be brilliant. Six shouldn’t be afraid to tackle different forms of abuse.

I personally can’t comment on the whole Anne Boleyn vs Jane Seymour thing because I just don’t know enough about the situation. However I don’t think any of the wives should be burdened with the blame of what happened to their predecessors. It wasn’t their fault.

Also I’d never thought of the tudor von trapps vs the royalling stones indicating that it was a found family rather than a blood family, but it’s actually such a neat little detail and I think it makes complete sense! I have always maintained that Seymour’s “family” doesn’t have to be related by blood. Found family is just as meanigful and as important as a bloof family, and Seymour finding her place with the other queens and calling them her family rather than Henry is very powerful in my opinion. I just don’t think the “my family’s grown” lime has to be as literal as people take it. Thanks for bringing that line to my attention though!

Seymour isn’t a “weak” character, both in term of the writing and in terms of character development. As much as I love the older versions of Seymour, I still like the new versions and appreciate that Toby and Lucy decided to allow Seymour to be a motherly character and have that be treated as an equally empowering thing as the other queens. Some women want to be mothers and that’s okay!

Anyway thank you so much for this ask my love! I really enjoyed thinking about Seymour (since she’s not a character I talk about a lot). Sorry again for taking so long to respond ❤️❤️❤️

[yodawgiherd]

Gone Clubbing

>>>Read on AO3<<<

Coming hot from the Red Flag update, I wrote this chapter that is in a very similar light. It fits the story, so you can't blame me :P Enjoy!

The interior of the club was looking surprisingly normal. Dark colors, tasteful wooden decorations, tables and booths lining the walls. There was a bar in one corner, but the center of the whole club was undoubtedly the raised stage. It was empty now, Darius’ performance didn’t start yet, so Eren took the lead and maneuvered them towards the reserved booth.

Looking around, he realized one thing. Hey, they even fit here! Mikasa was looking amazing as ever and her goth getup worked well with the overall vibe of the club. Eren, who was dubbed a clown by both himself and his friends, also got substantially better, because black lipstick and nail polish were very far from the most eccentric clothing they saw.

“Look, that catsuit is the same as one of yours.”, he pointed out, making Mikasa look.

“It is..”, she agreed, inspecting the latex bodysuit of one of the visitors, “I guess Darius is making big bucks with custom-made gear.”

“He is an artist.”

“True that. Everything we got from him is amazing, so I will never disagree with his statements.”

Mikasa’s grey eyes slid towards the bar, pondering the question of “not getting hammered.” She could handle a few more drinks, especially when she asks for something with less alcohol, and there was no reason to just sit here dry.

“Well, I’ll get us something to drink, because I might get thirsty over the course of the evening.“, Mikasa stated, letting the double entendre hang in the air as she stood up and walked in the direction of the bar.

That’s when Eren’s phone rang, and a quick check showed that it was his mother calling. As one does not let his mother go into voicemail, he picked up, curious what she might want. They did see each other a few hours back.

“Mom?”

“E-Eren, you freak!”

That made him blink.

“Come again?”

“I know what you did! Mikasa spilled the beans and now I know… Everything! I don’t remember raising you like this!”

Eyes flying to where his fiancé was, Eren’s mind worked frantically around the words. Carla knew… everything? What did that mean? What did Mikasa tell her? He couldn’t imagine his reserved girlfriend bragging about anything embarrassing in public, so…

“Mom, what are you talking about?”

“I know that you… you had s… sex in public, Mikasa said so.”

Statement one – Carla was drunk, judging from how she mingled the words.

Statement two- What the fuck?!

Statement three – What on god’s green earth made Mikasa tell Carla such a thing. Fine, it was far from the worst that they’ve done, but still. It’s not something that you boast about to family members, and Eren would rather bite his tongue clear off than walk up to Levi and say: “Hey friend, did you know that I often tie your little sister up and do all kinds of freaky shit to her?”

“Well, I mean…”

But Carla didn’t even let him finish, another accusation flying Eren’s way.

“And you have a tattoo!”

“You said that it looked cool!”

“Yes but…”, she sniffled on the other side, “You were just a tiny little baby yesterday, and today you have a tattoo and a girlfriend and… s-sex… and…”

The sounds she was making were suspiciously like sobs.

“Mom? Are you okay?”

“Y-Yes... It’s…”, he could hear her shaky exhale, “I wasn’t here for such a big part of your life, I missed so much.”

“Mom I…”

“No, it’s my fault, I was the one who decided to leave. But no more. I promise that I’ll be around much more Eren, I want to remember what you do, I want to be a part of your life.”

“You are a part of my life mom.”

“Bigger part then.”

“Very well.”, he chuckled, “Do you want me to come over and talk?”

“No, I know when I’m drunk. Mikasa’s party was great but I feel like lying down now.”, Carla bit back a yawn, “Also, tell her that she looked beautiful today.”¨

“See? Even you tell me that she’s beautiful and you act all surprised when she tells you that we fu-… I mean that we are intimate. Like seriously, did you think that we were in some sort of celibate relationship where we kiss each other on the cheek and sleep in separate beds?”

“Okay Mr. Libido, where are my grandchildren then?”

If Eren was drinking anything, he would spit it out right now.

“Mom! What the hell?”

“I’m just saying Eren, if I die without seeing a single tiny bundle of joy from you and Mikasa, I’ll haunt you for the rest of your days.”

“I…”

“Shush, I’ll get out of your hair now. I love you Eren and tell Mikasa I love her too. She’s like the daughter I never had.”

“Now that would make things rather awkward between us.”

“You know what I mean! Once you finally push yourself to action and marry the poor girl, she’s going to be my in-law anyway.”

“Wait, did you say poor?”

“Good night sweetie!”

And with a click, Carla was gone. Putting the phone down, Eren’s eyes were drawn to Mikasa making her way back towards him, two glasses in hand. She moved through the club with her usual predatory grace, easily weaving through the people there, completely in her element. Eren wasn’t the only one watching her, he noticed, several pairs and individuals stole a look at the enchantingly beautiful goth girl that walked in their midst. Maybe it should have made Eren jealous, but all he felt was a pang of foolish pride in his chest. Yes, she’s so incredibly gorgeous, and she’s mine. Look, but don’t touch or we might have a problem. Or who was he kidding, Mikasa would definitely take care of herself. She was the one who, in high school, broke a hand of a guy who touched her without permission.

Reaching her destination, Mikasa slid down to the booth next to Eren, putting the glasses on the table. A bit driven by all the stares, he immediately took the opportunity to grab a sort of possessive hold of her, angling her face so he could kiss her. Way more aggressive and deeper than necessary, but he was buzzed just the right way not to care. Let anyone see how much he loves her. They were in a freaking BDSM club anyway, this was by far not the worst that happened here.

“Well hello stranger,”, she said once they broke apart, her cheeks all flushed and the black lipstick smeared around her lips, “Didn’t know that you were this grateful for the drink”

Keeping one hand wrapped around her, Eren took a sip of whatever she brought up, pleasantly surprised. It was good, way better than he expected even, as one would not think that a club like this needed an amazing bartender. There were other reasons why people came.

“Mom called.”, he announced, putting the glass back down, “She knows about our public adventures because you told her. May I know why?”

“Eeh, I couldn’t help it.”, Mikasa had an apologetic smile on her lips, “We were playing truth or dare, and it sort of came up.”

Truth or dare? That did sound like fun, and Eren regretted the dumb argument he got into with the other guys at the bar. Pulling out secrets from Hitch or Krista, or hell, his own mother, would have been amazing. Then again, he was here with Mikasa, they had drinks and the show didn’t start yet. So…

“Wanna have a little game of our own?”

“Why? We know exactly what we did.”

“Maybe it’s just an excuse to get you drunk.”

“Ooh, you sly bastard.”, Mikasa’s eyes narrowed, “You’re on.”

“Good, I’ll be taking the first word then.”

Eren cleared his throat, raised his glass, and began.

“Never have I ever been suspended from a ceiling.”

“Cheap shot.”, she commented.

“Could be, but still.”, he tapped her glass, “Drink, shibari lover.”

She did so, revenge forming in her head.

“Never have I ever licked someone’s boots.”

“And you talk about cheap shots.”, Eren clicked his tongue but drank.

“Never have I ever done a pole dance.”, he shot back.

Mikasa’s eyes were calculating as she took a sip.

“Maybe we will have to change that.”, she said before firing her volley, “Never have I ever filmed us having sex.”

“That tape is going to be useful one day. And we have so many more to make…”

Mikasa ignored the tingle that it sent down her spine, frowning at her fiancé.

“Sure thing, voyeur.”

Rolling his eyes, Eren drank.

“Never have  I ever wore cat ears during sex.”

“Yet.”

“What was that?”

“Nothing, nothing.”, with a mysterious smile, Mikasa drank.

“Never have I ever been in a chastity cage.”

“How the hell is that fair? You literally can’t even be in one.”

“There are similar devices for women, it’s fair play.”

“But…”

“No buts.”, she pointed at the glass in clear command, “Drink, puppy.”

Eren obeyed, eyes studying her even as he spoke.

“Never have I ever stepped on someone.”

“Oh please, you enjoyed it!”

“Sure did,”, Eren agreed,  “but that’s not the point of this game.”

Mikasa took a swig, a follow-up in her mind.

“Never have I ever come from a footjob.”

“Dirty.”, a sip, and it was Eren’s turn, “Never have I ever been taken against my will.”

“Can you really call it non-consent when I was the one who came up with the idea?”,  Mikasa wondered, clearly just stalling.

“Miki, I still have some of the photos I took of you back then. Should I pull them up as evidence and let the committee decide?”

Defeated by a sound argument, Mikasa drank.

“Maybe we could give it another shot, sometimes soon.”, she said, remembering how strange the experience was.

Terrifying and perfect at the same time, she was scared for her life when the Not-Eren threatened her, he managed to play the role of an abusive bastard so well. Maybe there was something about him being a bad guy in her dreams because at least party he could be such an asshole even in real life. If she begged nicely, that is.

“I’d have to ask Mr. Incognito if he has a free schedule.”, Eren joked, making Mikasa snicker, “But I have a faint feeling that he might squeeze you in.”

“Let’s leave it on open for now, who knows, maybe I will be the one in charge once we get around to the thing.”

That made Eren blink a few times.

“You want to do that to me?”

“Maybe..”, a bit of worry entered her face when she realized that Eren might not be into it. She had to be sure because Mikasa would never force him into something he didn’t want, that was a big No in their relationship.

“Don’t you want me to?”, she asked, but Eren shook his head.

“It’s not that I don’t want it, I honestly just have a hard time coming up with any scenario where I don’t want to have sex with you.”

“Tsk, don’t you worry about that. If I want it, I’ll come up with something.”

“Fine by me. Open it is then.”

With that topic solved, it was time to continue their game. Mikasa’s turn, she thought for a moment before she tried her next line.

“Never have I ever deepthroated a strap-on.”

But Eren was having none of that.

“Nah, but you did, don’t you remember the “class” you gave me?”

“That wasn’t a strap-on, it was a vibrator!”

“Close enough. Drink.”

Murmuring about unfair rules and crooked referees, Mikasa drank with Eren mirroring her.

“Never have I ever had anal sex.”, was his put, and Mikasa snorted in amusement. She couldn’t even count how many times Eren was either the giving or receiving party in anal sex, so she called him out on his bullshit.

“Seriously? Do you need me to spell it out for you?”, Mikasa moved closer, whispering, “Slut.”

It was magical how a single word could make Eren’s crotch tingle.

“No need, I did it on purpose.”, he drained his glass, putting it down, “I like the stuff they serve in here.”

Chuckling, Mikasa followed suit, both their drinks empty. Then, just as Eren was about to get up for a refill, the lights dimmed and the show began.

The figure that walked in on the stage was undoubtedly Darius Zackly, and he was followed by not one but two women, the player. One was dark-skinned and the other very pale, almost as much as Mikasa. To contrast their natural look, each wore lingerie of the opposite color, white on black and black on white, complete with high heels on their feet. No one spoke, the trio bowed to the crowd instead, almost dramatically, while two rings descended from above, stopping to hover over them.

Keeping his mysterious air, Darius held out a hand and the pale girl moved, grabbing a rope from the cart in the back and handing it to him. With the silky thing in hand, Zackly began his performance. He worked on the black girl first, coming up with an intricate design. Even the rope was white, Mikasa realized, a stark difference to the model’s skin. First, Darius tied her hands behind her back. The second rope went around her chest, tying her breasts in a very familiar design. Then he guided a rope through the metal ring, one that went from her tied hands to the chest bondage. With that, the ring rode up a bit, forcing the model to stretch her body and anchoring her in place.

“Isn’t the chest bondage the one you used on me?”, Mikasa whispered to Eren, recognizing the shapes.

He studied the way Darius worked the ropes for a moment.

“It is, you have a good eye. Although the binding on her hands is different than the one I used on you.”

“Because you tied me all the way from wrists to elbows.”, she made a tiny frown appear on her face, “I couldn’t move my hands at all.”

“Only the most secure bondage for a beast like you.”, he chuckled, kissing Mikasa’s scarred cheek, “I can’t edge you unless you are properly bound, otherwise you take control of the situation.”

“You better keep those skills up then.”

“For you Miki? Anything.”

The performance continued while they talked, and Darius was now working on the model’s legs. He didn’t touch her right leg, but her left was picked up and bend at the knee. Ropes sneaking around the limb, Zackly immobilized it, and that was it for the black girl. She was now balancing on one leg, but with the ropes pulling her up it wasn’t that much of a strain. With one model done, Darius turned his attention to the pale girl.

Retrieving a few more ropes from the cart, black ones this time, he closed the distance to his partner. Following the same path as before, Zackly tied her hands and chest first, copying the pattern. But then the show changed. He didn’t secure the model to the ring, he made her lie down instead, kneeling and working on her legs like that, with her on the floor. The ring started descending at the same time, going very, very low. Done with the design, Darius pulled the rope up and into the ring, anchoring it. And that’s when Eren realized what was happening.

“He’s hanging her upside down.”

“Ooh, that looks like fun.”, Mikasa poked Eren in the shoulder, “Why don’t you do that to me?”

“Eh, I don’t prefer it. When you are upside down, blood goes to your head quickly, so you have to be very mindful of the time. When I tie you up, I like to go slow, really enjoy you.”

“Hmm.”, Mikasa’s eyes were back on the performance.

She was chewing on something in her mind, and Eren had a chuckle when he realized what it was. So many things that they’ve done and Mikasa still had trouble asking him for something.

“We can try it if you want.”, he offered, making her face light up.

She leaned over to press a chaste kiss to his lips followed by a gentle whisper.

“Thanks, I’d like that.”

Just then the whirring resumed, and the ring began ascending, pulling the pale girl up. Upwards she went, until her whole body was off the floor and hanging from the ring, her blonde hair cascading around her face. It was the hangman position, Eren realized. And when Darius took a step back, both Mikasa and he finally took in the thing Zackly created as a whole. Contrast, that was the centerpiece of his performance. One girl was standing while the other was hanging upside down, both in the exact same position. One was dark-skinned yet wearing white lingerie and tied by a white rope, while the other was pale, wearing black and tied by a black rope. It was bondage, but at the same time it was art, and from the murmur that ran through the club they weren’t the only ones who realized that. The old man was an artist, no matter how you put it.

With a bow from Darius, his performance was finished. Both Eren and Mikasa joined in on the applause that resounded through the club, the show he put on was amazing. Once the ruckus began to die down and everyone got their fill of ogling the beautiful bondage design, Zackly untied the ladies while talking to them, laughing here and there. It was an interesting dynamic to see them like this, relaxed around each other, it betrayed that they all have been in this business for some time.

“Hello?”

As they were both watching the stage, neither Eren nor Mikasa saw the couple approach them. The woman was tall, made even taller by the extremely high heels on her shoes. It was the one that Eren noticed earlier, dressed in a latex bodysuit of the same design as one of Mikasa’s. The man at her side was much less eccentric, wearing jeans and a shirt, but when he nodded his head in greeting Eren saw that there was a collar around his neck, marking him as a property of the lady next to him.

“Hi,”, the woman repeated, “Did you like the show?”

Mikasa took the lead in answering.

“Yes, it was great, very artistic too.”

“That’s Zackly for you,”, the woman smirked, “He is amazing at what he does.”

“But we didn’t come here to fawn over Darius,”, that was the man speaking, nudging his partner, “Did we, sweetie?”

“Right, no, we didn’t. We came to talk to you for a reason.”

“Which is?”, Eren asked.

The woman faced Mikasa when she spoke, the words aimed at her.

“I hope that we aren’t too straightforward, but my husband saw you at the bar, and he was quite taken by you.”

Eren had to bite back a laugh at how Mikasa’s eyes widened.

“H-huh?”, was all she managed.

“We were wondering if you would be willing to do a partner exchange for a night or two, maybe a weekend.”, the collared husband took the word, “If you guys are into it, of course.”

“He’s a bottom, as you might have guessed,” the latex-clad woman followed up, “and from watching you I’d guess that you are the top in your relationship? You have that air of dominance around you.”

“I-I do?”, Mikasa choked out, much to Eren’s amusement.

But he wasn’t spared either, as the woman’s eyes slid over to him.

“You don’t have to worry either pretty boy, I promise that I’d take good care of you. I’m an experienced dominatrix.”

Now it was Eren’s eyes widening. He and Mikasa looked at each other, neither knowing what to say. Seeing their slight panic, the man grinned.

“I feel like we started with a wrong question, we should have asked if you are in an open relationship first.”

“That’s right, our fault.”, the woman agreed immediately, “Sorry if we are making you uncomfortable with this.”

Finally understanding what this was about, Mikasa blushed but reached out, taking hold of Eren’s arm.

“No, we are not open.”, she said, meeting the woman’s eyes, “We are very closed.”

“Yep, just me and her, no one else.”

“Aw, that’s too bad, you guys are something else.”, the woman clicked her tongue, “Oh well, can’t have everything.”

“We will take our leave then.”, the man said, unbothered by the refusal, “Have a pleasant evening.”

With that, he walked away and deeper into the club. The woman stole a last wanton look at Eren before following, her heels clicking against the floor. The stunned silence that came didn’t even get a chance to properly cook before a new figure appeared. Familiar one this time, it was Darius who slid into the booth, grinning at the pair.

“Eren! Mikasa! I knew that I saw you!”

His joy was infectious, and the cold feeling was being melted by his presence alone.

“That was an amazing show,”, Eren complimented him straight off the bat, “You are so good with the rope.”

“Bah, just years of training. Plus judging from our talk, you are pretty good yourself, the forms you wanted to do were rather advanced.”, his gaze went over to Mikasa, “Isn’t that correct, miss Ackerman?”

She nodded, feeling way more relaxed around Darius than the two from before. But his mention of her, Eren’s significant other, combined with how the pair talked about open relationships and brought a question out of Mikasa, one that she was pondering ever since they entered the club.

“Darius, aren’t you married?”

“Sure am.”

“And your wife… does she know about this?”

“But of course, I don’t think that keeping such a big thing secret is a good idea.”, Zackly sighed, “I keep trying to make her come here, but this scene doesn’t interest her at all.”

“So she doesn’t mind you working with other women?”

“Not at all, she knows that I appreciate the art in bondage, not the sexuality.”

“That’s very open-minded of her.”

“I mean, I work in a sex shop,”, Darius shrugged, “I never kept what I like hidden.”

Smart approach, if they ever heard one. Seeing that he satisfied Mikasa’s curiosity, Darius put forward his idea.

“Are you liking the club?”

Two heads nodded to that.

“What about the performance, looked like fun, right?”

“For sure.”

Well then…

“The thing is, you guys could perform here too if you wanted.”

“W-What?”, Eren exchanged a bewildered look with Mikasa, “You’re joking, right?”

“Why would I?”, Darius continued, completely unmoved, “How long have you two been in this biz?”

“A bit over four years at this point?”, Eren guessed and Mikasa agreed silently.

“And I’d guess that you have the skills for it.”

“I mean…”

But they did, all the plays and scenes they did together amounted to a fair amount of skill when it came to the act. Mikasa knew how to maneuver her sub expertly, Eren knew how to tie her up without worrying that he might hurt her. The experience did matter. Having a quick mental conversation, they both agreed in the end.

“See? I’m willing to bet that either of you could easily take the stage. Forgive me for saying, but you two are very, very hot. In fact, I’d go as far as saying that you two are the hottest couple I’ve seen here, and you would be in high demand.”, he gestured around, “If I walked around the club and asked every single person in here if they would perform with you, I’m pretty sure that I could count the number of “No.” on fingers of one hand.”

He redirected his attention to the pair.

“From the various gear I sold you, I’d guess that you are both switches, right?”

This time it was Mikasa who answered, agreeing cautiously.

“See? Even better. The possibilities would be endless..”

This felt like the same conversation they had with the pair from earlier.

“Look, the thing is, I don’t think that either I or Mikasa would be willing to ever perform with anyone else.”, Eren cut into his monologue, “We are very… possessive of one another.”

Mikasa was again just nodding to his words, shuffling closer and wrapping her hand around Eren’s waist. He did the same, surprising her a bit when Eren pulled Mikasa to sit on his lap. Talk about needing to express your attachment physically.

“We are super exclusive to each other.”

Seeing that and hearing her words, Darius grinned.

“You guys are just adorable. This devotion you have, this is rare to see and it’s so beautiful.”

“T-Thanks.”

“But still, if you want, you could totally perform as a pair. Even exclusive, seeing one of you work the other would give the guests something to dream about.”

“Look, we will think about it.”

“Of course! No one will ever force you into anything.”, Darius calmed them immediately, “Your comfort and consent are the most important things here.”

He said his piece, got the offer out, and there were still several people he needed to talk to. So bidding the half-confused half-surprised pair a quick goodbye and see you soon, Darius stood up and disappeared towards the bar. Eren was the one who broke the silence Zackly left behind, rubbing Mikasa’s back in a soothing motion.

“So, what do you think?”

She shifted on his lap, chewing her dark bottom lip cautiously for a moment before answering.

“Ask me a year back and I would say No. Ask me two years back and I’d laugh at you. Ask me three years back and I wouldn’t talk to you for a week. But now…”

“Let’s add it to our pile of open topics.”, Eren proposed, “No need to worry about that now.”

With that out of the way, Mikasa grew more relaxed again. Just when Eren was returning from the bar with refilled drinks, she looked up at him, eyes sparkling.

“We should bring Ymir and Krista here.”

“Why is that?”

“Krista needs a confidence boost. She wants to top Ymir, but she keeps questioning herself, so uncertain about it all.”, Mikasa gestured around, “Being here, I think that it could bring her inner domme out.”

“From what I hear you are sure that there will be a next time?”

Realizing the meaning of her words, Mikasa smirked.

“I would want that. I like it here.”

“Ah, look at us – the quiet goth girl from the back of the class and the grade-a student. How far we’ve come.”

“Indeed, but I’m enjoying these changes. Do you?”

“As if you had to ask. When I’m with you, I’ll go for anything, and do you feel like stopping what we do?”

Mikasa’s black lips curled upwards as she shook her head.

“Hell no.”

This year’s birthday was amazing and Mikasa made sure to thank Eren properly once they got home. But the amazing night would have a sadder continuation because, despite all the great fun that she experienced tonight, Mikasa’s dreams were once again disturbed by an unwelcome visitor.

A nightmare.