#but i genuinely feel so unsafe right now

[welveteen]

My dad found my IG account 😬

[officially-other]

My first attempt at writing that's vaguely like poetry: from a dragon

I am not what you think.

I walk around, awkward limbs and flighty mannerisms, and you think I’m strange. You have no idea how strange you would think I am if you only saw what was underneath.

Underneath, I am a creature of the ocean. Something that could never pass as human, and no longer wants to. Saltwater rushes through my veins in secret, silent to everyone but me. To me, it’s a roaring sound of the waves that I have never seen except for within my soul. It yearns to dissolve into the ocean like it could long ago, but for now those days are over and I am hidden underneath skin and muscle.

Underneath, there are wings; fins; antlers. They ache to tear from my back, through my skull. Nonetheless, they stay hidden for me, safe in the silence. Protected like I protected my kin in a lifetime so close to the surface and yet unreachable. Wrapped in a form that no longer coils around them like a serpent, but keeps them hidden from predators well enough I suppose.

I suppose.

I accept my form reluctantly and do what I can to make it mine. I shape it to feel better when I discover my gender, and when I can’t shape it to fit my true self I cover it in things that feel a little more like home. A little more draconic. A little more like the ocean that I never have seen, but feel homesick for anyway.

I do find joy in being in this body, at least. Out there, there are others. Angels working minimum wage, dragons sitting on a park bench, wolves buying groceries. We hide, but we do so to be free. We walk through crowds, and no one notices our scales and fur and feathers. But we do. We see each other, even if from miles away, and we see what’s underneath.

And underneath, none of us are what you think.

(Tags for side commentary/context)

[intern-seraph]

.

[thecommunityoftrustworthysinks]

got irradiated today

[joculatrixster]

if ur posting about mourning a loss bc the fav u were parasocial w was an abuser or has done bad things but also not flooding the victim of abuse w support and getting her name trending instead of his...ur part of the problem...hope that helps. give her the same positive energy u gave him...stop making it about YOU. send HER support.

[sludgeguzzler]

can we stop making posts that follow the treat-fake-scary-thing-as-real formula please ease pleaseplase please

[too-much-tma-stuff]

This idea sort of burst out of me like Alien so it's unedited. There will probably be more.

In short, Cas picks up on the fact that Danny is pregnant at a Wayne Gala and have the right idea but the wrong context.

Masterpost

------

Danny was barely holding it together and really he had been for a long time. It had sort of been fun and games at first when he became a hero. Sure his accident had hurt like hell but he'd sort of repressed that and for real? Lunch Lady? Box Ghost? Even Skulker was sort of a joke and he hasn't actually felt threatened. Sneaking around behind his parents backs and sneaking out with his friends had been fun. It had all felt like a game at first, and then somewhere in there things had gotten very real.

He'd known he couldn't count on his family to protect him but they couldn't even see Vlad was a threat. And he felt like he had lost the last of his innocence when he saw the clone Vlad had made of him melt. He hasn't been in time, he had panicked and he had only managed to save a couple by taking them into his own body to shield their still forming cores. Ellie and... should Danny name the other one or would he name himself when he was ready?

He kept touching his stomach over where he could feel the little balls of his mirror children hovering just below his own core. He was so tired all the time as they relied on his energy, he was eating more then ever and he knew his family was worried. He didn't think he could hide this and he couldn't predict when they would emerge. What if they did in front of his parents? They definitely wouldn't react well. And Vlad kept trying to use this against Danny. Promising to look after him and the babies if he was really insisting on carrying them, as if Danny could rip those tiny 'lives' out of himself now.

And no matter how many times he tried to tell his parents that Vlad was bad news, that he creeped Danny out and made him feel unsafe they wouldn't listen! Dad didn't even hear him and mom made sympathetic noises and then told him to bear with it for Jack's sake because he didn't have many friends.

So of course when Vlad had asked if 'Daniel' could accompany him to a gala in Gotham his father had agreed! Even his mother had agreed when Vlad promised it would be educational and safe! And here Danny was, hanging on by a fucking thread in a suit that felt uncomfortably tight around his middle, having just escaped being paraded around as Vlad heir like a particularly expensive watch. He was behind the snack table having piled a plate as high as he could and scarfing it down before Vlad could find him again and scold him for being rude. He hadn't noticed yet that a family of dark haired socialites kept giving him worried looks. A young woman with dark eyes signing frantically to a man with blue eyes and a dimpled frown.

It was the man who slid up carefully next to Danny trying not to startle since he seemed to have genuine food aggression.

"Yeesh kid you seem like you're starving! All those fancy Hors d'oeuvres are fun but not very cooling and I feel like I'd be a poor host if I didn't offer you something more filling! If you'll come me to the kitchen I'm sure our family butler would be happy to whip something up for you?" The man said with an inviting some that did nothing to sooth the way Danny's hackles raised instinctively.

He was about to say no on reflex when he spotted Vlad heading towards them with an expression like a thunder cloud. Danny's back went ridged and the other man followed his gaze with a frown. "You know what ya that sounds great let's go now!" Danny said dropping his half full plate on a nearby tray and dragged the stranger away with him as Vlad shouted after him.

"Daniel come back this instant! Unhand mister Wayne! Daniel this is unacceptable!"

'Mr. Wayne' took over leading them and spirited Danny through a back door as a bubbly blonde intercepted Vlad and a small woman slid in behind them like a shadow.

"So, Danial I assume?" The man asked, amusement crinkling around his eyes as Danny grimaced.

"Mr. Wayne I assume?" Danny returned, unaware of the way one arm was protectively wrapped around his stomach, but the girl noticed. It was Dicks turn to grimace.

"Okay ya, I go by Dick. What about you?"

"Danny," he said not reacting to the name, he'd heard far stranger. "And what about you?" He asked Cas, startling Dick a little because she was doing her 'shadow thing' and not many people would have noticed her.

"That's Cas, she has a hard time talking sometimes," Dick explained as Cas materialized and gave Danny a reassuring smile and wave.

The teen harrumphed but he did follow them down to the kitchen where Alfred was drinking a cup of tea, staying well clear of the foolishness upstairs. "Ah, hello young masters," Alfred he said, glancing between the three with a raised brow. Though the two who knew him could see the way his expression softened when Danny shrunk in on himself. "What can I do for you?"

"Hey Alfred do we have any leftovers from dinner or something filling we can whip up fast? Danny here is too hungry for just the fancy font for upstairs." Dick asked cheerfully.

Alfred raised his eyebrows again and looked at Cas who was standing behind Danny. Glancing at Danny to make sure he wasn't looking she grimaced then touched her stomach and mimed holding an infant.

Alfred's expression turned stormy for just a moment then smoothed. "Of course we do, Why don't you make our guest comfortable and I'll see what I can do. Do you have any allergies young man?" Alfred asked and Danny shook his head mutely.

"You're the best Alfie!" Dick said, hovering a hand over Danny's shoulder rather then actually touching him as he leas him towards the comfortable breakfast nook.

The boy seemed tight lipped and gaunt, his eyes flicking around them as if he expected a threat to pop up at any time. Dick slipped into the booth across from him. Trying to think of the best way to ask this kid how... why, and who hurt him.

Cas has stayed in the kitchen, but not for long. She came to them with a tray of mugs moments later and slipped into the booth next to Danny. Gently she took his hands and pressed the warm mug unto them. He blinked and focused of it, as if on autopilot he lifted it to his lips, Cas keeping a hand on his elbow to steady him as he drank.

The warm comforting drink, and hand on his arm, presence by his side as Cas slid imperceptibly closet and closer till she was pressed against Danny's shoulder, felt like they were taking him apart from the inside. Thawing out the cold numbness he shielded himself behind. Half way through his tea he glanced up, at the worried blue eyes so like Jazz, so worried and warm.

He put down the mug suddenly as a sob shook his body. Cas wrapped her arms around him and pulled him close, cooing comforting wordless little sounds as she let him bury his face into her chest and just sob heaving, exhausting outbursts of repressed emotion.

"Are the babies okay?" She asked and he froze, his breath catching in his throat. She clicked her tongue and rocked him gently. "Okay, okay, not in trouble," she promised.

"They- I don't know, they were so weak, I’m trying, but I don't know if I can keep them alive." Danny sobbed lifting his hands to cover his face.

"The stress can't be helping," Dick pointed out, climbing across the table like it was nothing to sit next to them and rub Danny's back. Danny gave a little hiccupping hysterical laugh. "Do you have support, or like, do you know your options?" He asked awkwardly.

"I'm not getting rid of my babies! I don't care if the man who made them is an obsessive creep who drugged me! I love them they're MINE!" The feral protectiveness seemed to startle Dick even as Cas continued to make soothing sounds.

"Your choice, only yours," she promised. "Have help?"

Danny sniffled and shook his head. "Safe?" Another shake of the head.

"The man who... did this?" Dick asked as delicately as he could. Another hysterical laugh.

"I've tried! I've tried to tell my parents he's a creep, he's dangerous but they don't listen! My dad thinks he hung the fucking stars, mom says he's harmless. They don't believe me! I-I can't tell them about the babies. They'd make me get rid of them or worse! I can't." Danny sobbed and Cas soothed.

"Okay, okay, you don't have to." She promised. "You stay with us, you and babies safe, never have to see him again."

"Ya right. Wait, your serious? What" Danny asked, pulling back and looking at her with wide bloodshot eyes.

"She's very serious young master," Alfred said as he approached making Danny jump. there was a hard set to the old man's jaw and steal in his eyes that left no room for questions as he set a plate of eggs, sausage, and fruit in front of Danny. "Master Bruce has a foster license and is a mandatory reporter. I'm sure once he hears even a fraction of this he will insist you stay. I will prepare a room for you. Am I to assume the man who's shouting demanding your return upstairs is the source of this distress?"

Danny swallowed and nodded, Alfred nodded back and paused to rest a gloved hand gently on Danny's hair before walking away briskly.

"Eat," Cas said, nudging him gently to let go of her. "As much as you want. Still hungry? We raid Tim's secret cereal stash."

"Gasp! You know where it is? You've been holding out on me?!" Dick demanded with exaggerated betrayal and as the two started to banter Danny ate. He was glad of the distraction, of not having the attention on him as he devoured the healthy, and nutritious meal the butler had made for him. It had been a while since he'd had a good home cooked meal, it made his core feel warm and he could feel the two little echoes as his hummed.

The babies were happy too, he didn't believe these people could keep him safe from Vlad really, but this was nice. Maybe he would let them try, get a few more good meals, a respite, and maybe... maybe his parents would finally notice that something was wrong and actually stand up for him?

That was probably wishful thinking but he could hope right? there was no harm in that.

Part 2

[tododeku-or-bust]

could you elaborate a bit on that post abt (not) wearing headphones in public/playing your phone out loud? i was under the idea that it was nice to not play stuff aloud bc ppl might have migraines or be sound avoidant, but didn't realize i might just be seeing it from a white perspective, and id love to learn more

All right! First, check this link out: Xochitl does a far more eloquent job of explaining the idea than I would:

I assume that you're specifically honing in on my tag about the "white right of comfort".

Okay, so here's the thing. You're allowed to find public noise annoying. I too, find public TikToks and music annoying! And if you have migraines and such, I can understand how it would be impolite and inconvenient.

But what you're NOT allowed to do, is feel entitled to the public and prioritizing your OWN comfort in it over everyone else to the point of DEMANDING that it conforms to you or it's "bad". Especially when there are things you as an individual can do to prevent this discomfort.

While this gross sense of entitlement is very first world American in nature, it is extremely White American in nature because white Americans actually have the social power to enforce what they believe is the "right" thing based on their own standards.

For many cultures around the world and for many people of color, noise in the community is a GOOD thing. It's part of being a community. I feel safer if the people around me feel safe enough to be outside, to exist and to be, visibly in public.

And you got to understand, while many white people think they're genuinely in the right for believing that being loud on public transit or in the public is worth enforcing as a "bad" thing, people of color have literally already been killed for it. A Black teenager was shot in the face for playing music that a white man didn't like. A Black mentally ill man was murdered in front of EVERYBODY on a train because he was having a mental breakdown. This sort of policing ALREADY HAPPENS to us. Hell, even white gays with any sense of community should be aware of how queer gatherings would be shut down for "noise" (when in reality it was bc it was homophobia).

And now people want me to empathize that YOU'RE oppressed by... noise? On Public Transit?? IN PUBLIC?? Kiss my ass lmao.

I've been on trains where a man was legit growling at me like he wanted me dead. Another i saw Teens high on crack. Another where people beg and people sleep and people listen to music. And you know what I did? I turned my OWN music up and went on my way. Because at the end of the day, the only person I control is me!

And if people were REALLY concerned about others welfare, they would COMMUNICATE. no one is willing to say "hey, I have a headache, do you mind-" bc they're afraid of the rejection, so it's easier to demand "well EVERYONE SHOULD BE LIKE ME". Mhm. Learn to confront your issues. But you're not "unsafe" bc music. You're just annoyed, and you'll get over it.

In summary it really gives me "I can give you something to cry about" energy. Bc y'all swear y'all don't understand the existence of an HOA but here yall are replicating the same Karen behaviors, and y'all don't even realize (or maybe even care) how racist you sound. But why would you lmao, that makes you uncomfortable! And damnit, you have a right to comfort!!

[yawnderu]

A/N: We made it to 3k less than a month after I reached 2k followers 🥺<3!!

I was genuinely not expecting this when I first made my account, but so far I've gotten so much support and I've met so many lovely people. I'm always reading your comments and reblogs, you mfs are hilarious JFEHJBFEHJB💕Onto the nasty sinful monkey sex now.

Synopsis: tired of working a dead-end job with no rewards, your childhood best friend offers you a job at his company, promising the stress levels are minimal and the pay is good. You accept with no second thoughts, not realizing you were tricked into becoming a stress relief toy for his men.

CW: humiliation, hard sex, gangbang, double vaginal, triple penetration, unsafe sex, creampie, 14 vs 1, cum swallowing, bukkake, spit kink, cockdrunk reader, deepthroat, handjobs, size kink, watersports.

Being a commander who saw his soldiers as family, Graves knew he always had to watch out for his men, reward them for their hard work and loyalty, and what better way to do that than with a sweet little thing like you? Their own personal stress relief toy, who was tricked into taking a job at the Shadow Company, yet so willing to please. So eager.

"You're enjoying this more than you should." He's teasing you, of course, yet his cocky expression does nothing to help the pooling warmth on your stomach. One of the shadows is sitting behind you, gloved hands hooked under your knees to keep your legs open while Graves grinded his clothed boner on your bare cunt, the fabric feeling almost painful if it wasn't for how wet you are.

"Maybe I am." You manage to reply, barely able to speak between whiny moans and soft gasps, his cock rubbing in all the right places, but the stimulation wasn't enough. No, he had been teasing you like this for the past 20 minutes, making his men watch as you became a putty mess in his hand. The shadows were men of discipline and self-control, keeping their hands folded politely behind their backs, ignoring their painful, throbbing cocks until their commander allowed them to use their brand new chew toy.

"I want you to know," He began, hand slipping under your chin firmly to force you to look up at him, hard cock rubbing faster up and down your cunt, pressing into you harder. "That I ain't playin' with you, Stray. My men will do anythin' I tell them to. Last chance to pull out." He warned and you shook your head no, his cocky smile growing even wider as his other hand went to squeeze your tit, looking for any signs of discomfort and much to his delight, seeing none.

"I can take it." The words are more of a reassurance to yourself, gaze drifting around the room and counting the men inside. 14, including Graves. You swallow thickly, nervous eyes drifting back to Graves, who simply raises an eyebrow in return, waiting for you to realize just how fucked up you are if you don't pull out.

"I can take it." You repeat, slowly believing the words more and more. He simply smiles and ruffles your hair affectionately, the same way he always did growing up.

"Attagirl." He pulled away from you and you can see the satisfaction in his eyes, knowing you'll do a good job for him. He nods to his men and they quickly get to work, hands groping you all over, long fingers entering your cunt roughly to the point you're becoming nothing but a whiny, whimpering mess. They're rough and impatient, your wrists being grabbed and forced onto their hard cocks until you're willingly jerking them off, hands barely able to wrap around their thick lengths. It's intimidating, yet so hot to be locked in a room full of hormonal, pent-up military men.

"On your knees." One of them commands, yet you're forced on your knees before you can even try to get up. Four cocks are in front of you and you begin sucking with no hesitation, eyes closing as you give into your role at the company. Your lips wrap around one of them, slowly taking him deeper until he gets too impatient and forces your head down to the base, the gagging noises your throat lets out simply making it feel better.

"Good girl." You don't even know who's praising you, but it's enough to give you the encouragement you needed, starting to bob your head up and down until you're pulled off the cock, a new one being shoved down your throat. They're using you— you know it, and you're letting them. You get passed around, tasting and sucking on different dicks while your hands keep themselves busy, deep moans and groans coming from above you. They get too impatient quick, the man you recognize as Oz wrapping his fingers on your hair, pulling on it until you willingly get up, throwing you into bed and opening your legs wide with brutal force. You look down, eyes widening as you see just jow thick he is.

"You said you could take it, ain't that right?" He uses your words against you, the tip of his cock rubbing up and down your folds, your head dropping back as a moan escapes your lips. That's all he needs for confirmation, hands firmly holding the curve of your waist before he buries his cock to the hilt in one thrust. A pained moan escapes your lips, eyebrows furrowing as your nails dig into his arm— the pretty, long acrylic nails Graves paid for earlier that day.

"Shit... S‐slow down, asshole." The way you struggle to take him is almost cute, a cocky smirk pulling on his lips as he shakes his head no once, holding onto you tighter while he slams in and out of you. You don't have much room to complain before another cock is being shoved into your face, your lips willingly wrapping around the tip, hollowing your cheeks while your tongue circles all over it. Your whiny moans are muffled as you slowly begin to suck more and more, the pleasure of being groped all over and being fucked good slowly getting rid of any hints of regret you may have.

"Fucking slut." Oz says, hand coming up to gently pinch and pull on your nipples while he fucks into you faster. All you can do is nod, tears dotting your eyelashes at the mix of pain and pleasure, using the cock in your mouth to cover up the embarrassing sounds escaping you from being a used like a whore. Your body is manhandled into another position, a different shadow underneath you who wastes no time on fucking into your cunt, filling you just as much as Oz was. Your hands are kept busy jerking off more cocks while your mouth is put into good use again, muffling the moan of protest that threatens to escape when you feel the tip of a dick teasing the entrance of your ass.

"Wait—" You manage to speak when the shadow takes his cock out of your throat to give you time to breathe, only to be interrupted by your throat being forced open again. You close your eyes tightly, trying your best to relax, the folds of your tight hole slowly being eased, the man is being surprisingly gentle for someone who holds so much power over you.

"Good girl." He praises softly, voice deep with desire, yet holding so much care. His hand gently caresses your ass as he bottoms out, giving you time to adjust before his hands rest on your waist, pulling you up and down his cock, the thin layer of skin diving your ass and cunt making the pleasure even greater. It doesn't take much before you're willingly slamming your hips down, moving in your own pace and fucking yourself into the big cocks inside you like a greedy whore, too eager to wait.

"Lovely girl, ain't she?" You can recognize Grave's voice, choosing to ignore it for now as you simply focus on feeling good. It doesn't take long until the men are taking turns with you, wet cunt leaking everywhere, yet none of them seem to care. You wince as you feel a second cock on the entrance of your pussy, nervous, yet eager to please. You don't even have to lift your head to know whose cock it is— fucking Phillip Graves. The man who got you into this situation on the first place... which you're now glad happened.

He's surprisingly gentle as he squeezes his cock into your airtight hole, the pain of the stretch only being overpowered by the feeling of a cock slamming back into your throat, nose hitting dark, curly pubes every single time the masked man makes you deepthroat him. Your whiny moans are mixed in with the lewd, wet sounds of your holes being used and abused. You lost count of how many times you were filled, mind too hazy from all the overstimulation, yet you can register the door closing behind them, leaving you alone with Graves.

''Attagirl.'' He praises, his hand running down the length of your sweaty hair as his soft cock settles into your cum-stained lips, half-lidded eyes looking up at him with curiosity. Your mouth is suddenly filled with a warm liquid and you swallow without thinking about it, eyes closing once he's done pissing into your slutty mouth. He slowly pulls out, putting his cock back in his pants and admiring the mess his men did of your body, covered in cum and small bruises from their strong hold when they were fucking you.

''I got another job for ya. Ever heard of the 141?''

[signanothername]

From your killer post of him being a lapcat

in the timeline/future of where he leaves nightmare, do you think he’ll keep being a lap at to Color?? Like, Color could just simply be sitting down and reading on the couch and Killer could walk over and lie his head down on his legs, simply say “affection.” Or “pet me” and be like a cat????

The post Anon is referring to

Oooh that’s so adorable to think about

It’s a yes, but not immediately, just eventually

The thing about my lap cat post is that Nightmare’s not one to ask for permission, so he was forced to do such a thing rather than be ok with it

And Killer is also the type to not take affection positively, he’s been conditioned to be used to violent/unsafe environments, and conditioned to take such gentle gestures as simply emotional/ mental manipulation and a type of forcing control upon him, rather than any genuine love and care

Killer in general doesn’t truly understand the idea that he can even say “no” to any physical contact, he thinks people have the right to touch him whenever they like, even when Killer himself is uncomfortable with it or doesn’t want such contact, so even if somebody else other than Nightmare manhandles him, you’d see him let it happen like he’s some sort of rag doll, completely ignoring any sort of discomfort he feels, cause people touching you even when you’re uncomfortable is the norm right?

So he gets extremely fucking confused when Color asks for permission before touching him, and Killer would vocalize his confusion, telling Color, “y’know you don’t have to ask for permission right??”

Only for Color to hit him with the question “are you actually ok with being touched at anytime?” Cause that’s what Color does, he emphasizes and questions Killer about such topics that Killer usually wouldn’t question himself, to help Killer figure out that he has control over his life now, that he can say no to things if he doesn’t want to do something

And Killer, on autopilot would go to the answer “yes” only to stop himself before that word comes out of his mouth

Cause in reality, no, he’s not ok with touch everytime, sometimes he wants his personal space to himself, but Killer doesn’t vocalize that, instead opting to just drop the subject, and Color doesn’t push beyond that

Eventually, he would try and experiment by saying no, fully expecting Color to ignore him and touch him regardless, only to be surprised by Color backing off and actually taking that “no” fully seriously

Not only that, but the gentle touches Color does? Killer genuinely believes it’s just Color manipulating and trying to control him at first, just like how Chara and Nightmare used to do

Then as time goes on, Killer starts realizing that Color actually does those touches as a sort of showing genuine affection and love, and well, Killer would be lying if he said he hated Color’s gentle touches

So it takes time for Killer to let go of such negative associations with touch, before he perceives it in a positive light

So i feel like Killer is going to be hesitant to do such a thing at first, and since Killer won’t take physical affection very positively at first, it’s better for Color to keep his distance, lest Killer’s beliefs just end up even more engraved in his mind

But eventually as time goes on and as Killer gets closer and more used to affection and start actually accepting such affection for what it truly is, he might actually go to Color for affection himself

And yes Killer, would just act almost like a cat himself, putting his head on Color’s legs or leaning into Color’s hand when it’s touching his face

In fact, allow me to say that I love to think Killer would sometimes sleep around Color’s feet in a curled up manner, that’s peak cat behavior if you ask me chchch

Something like this

[gallaghersgal]

TA lip making you cockwarm him while he grades papers because you couldn’t be patient and kept begging for him 🚶‍♀️

olive, i think this genuinely killed me. like im 6ft under. nsfw 18+. cockwarming, degradation, name calling, mean dom lip but he's secretly a softie, trust.

you're seated in lip's lap as he sits at his desk grading papers. it's a precarious perch but with the way you cling to his body it doesn't feel unsafe. his cock is brushing deep inside you, you've felt it go soft with time, as he made you wait and wait and wait for what you really wanted. you shift your hips just a bit, grinding until his tip just barely kisses your cervix. a pathetic whine falls from your lips, morphing into a startled yelp when a sharp smack! lands on your ass.

"cut it out," lip scolds. "so fuckin' needy. quit movin', you're gonna take what i give you, like the whore you are. y'understand me?"

you remove your face from its hiding place in his shoulder just to throw a frustrated pout in his direction, but he only shakes his head and threads his fingers through the hair at the base of your skull to pull you back tightly. you know better than to talk back but something in you wants to defy him. there's something to be found in the thrill of the chase, what you need so tantalizingly close, with him right where you need him and yet just out of reach. not without a great difficulty, you manage it, remaining quiet.

"you're gonna be good, right?" lip asks, his voice carrying a rough edge that has your walls pulsing around him. you feel him twitch inside you, watch him bite his lip before he adds, "gonna sit right here on my cock, an' do as i say?"

"y-yes," you manage, gasping when his grip on your hair tightens. he cocks his head as if asking, wanna try that again? "yes sir."

lip doesn't quite smile at your obedience, but there's a hint of fondness on his face. in that same stern tone that always has you willing and ready to do whatever he asks, he continues. "'ve got a deadline to meet, you know that. so you're not gonna keep squirming around, and whinin' an' shit. cause if you keep it up, swear t'god, i won't fuck you for a week. don't need t'do that to my poor needy baby, now do i?"

"no sir," you respond. "i can be good."

"good, good girl." he releases his grip then, giving soothing scratches to the area and smushing a quick kiss to your brow.

you're so eager to please, but when he tries to guide your face down to rest on him once again your stomach twists in sudden anxiety and you resist the pressure, letting out another small, needy whine. his hand moves from the back of your head to hold your chin, forcing your gaze to meet his own. you'd opened your mouth to speak but quickly close it again, frozen with intimidation, your eyes hiding from the intensity in his gaze.

"never fuckin' listen, y'stupid thing. i gave you clear instructions," lip growls, but when your glassy eyes brim with tears he finds an ounce of pity within himself. he ducks his head to meet your downcast gaze, and with a softer tone he asks, "what's the matter, sweetheart? need'ya to use y'words."

you stare at him for a few moments, whether it's to test his patience or relish in his fond softness you aren't sure. but time passes with his blue eyes locked on your own, in tune with your body and wary of any boundaries he might be inadvertently breaking, and you manage to spit it out. "kiss?" you ask softly, to which he huffs out a laugh.

his lips meet yours in a slow and firm kiss, giving you one, then two more before he separates again. the pad of his thumb traces over your bottom lip, pulling it into a pout. "that wasn't so hard, now, was it baby?" he coos, fingers moving to dig into the soft flesh of your hips. he adjusts you in his lap, makes sure you're comfortable, then one large hand is cradling your head and guiding you back to the crook of his shoulder.

"wasn' bad," you repeat softly. "thank you."

there's a kiss landing against your temple, and his lips move softly against your skin as he murmurs, "just a few more papers. then 'm all yours."

let's have a sleepover at mine | submissions closed

[rosenotactuallyquartz]

“you, you’re supposed to change”

(pearlrose, healing, & body positivity)

the angst in pearlrose is deep & meaningful, but the purely comforting parts have impacted me, too. as i wrote this, i realized how much my perception has been shaped by my own experiences. i relate to all of this in some way, and that’s what comfort characters do, really.

unsafe versus safe environment symbolism

(sensitive subject matter, abuse mentions)

pink diamond hates being a diamond. she’s forcing herself to be someone she isn’t, which is exhausting and uncomfortable. she’s smaller than the other diamonds & they literally look down on her. of course, she’s beautiful, but pink is forcing herself to fit into the expectations of what a diamond should be, even though it causes her pain. she doesn’t smile easily; she feels powerless & weak. as pink, she’s unhealthy, being in constant fight-or-flight & facing unimaginable punishments such as being kept away from light, isolated. deprived of anything that might help her live or bring her comfort. she’s repressed & her her “home” at the time is horrific.

initially she shifts to a quartz so she can fit into another group for a day. a lot changes from there.

rose is finally in a safe environment for the first time in her life. as time goes on, she realizes that rose is her true self. an important part of the rebellion is that she wants gems to understand that their life is their own and they don’t need to fit into homeworld’s society. they can be whoever they want to be, they’re perfect the way they are even if they don’t look or act as they’re expected to based on their gems. she doesn’t exactly fit in anywhere, she looks how she wants, she becomes aware of some unique powers, & she’s comfortable being just rose. once she’s able to escape from her abusers and never needs to return to that environment again, she permanently reforms as rose.

she’s shorter than she was as pink diamond, but it doesn’t scare her. in fact, she doesn’t feel smaller; she feels bigger, literally & figuratively. she was only small on homeworld because she was abused, made & forced to feel small & weak. now, she’s stronger, aware of her powers, & no one looks down on her—they often look up to her. this can be challenging: she struggles to trust herself & to be vulnerable (see eye-to-eye) with others. healing takes time & isn’t always perfect; leaving an unsafe environment brings trauma & it’s okay to need support and have ongoing issues. her body is also very different: her true self is naturally chubby. as time goes on and she adjusts to her new environment, experiences life on earth, & is more relaxed than ever, she wears what she wants, embraces her femininity & sensuality, and her belly is no longer flat. she lives with someone who gives her consistent protective care & intense romantic love—such a contrast to life on homeworld. being abused can exacerbate guilt & make one feel undeserving of something so new and different: genuine love. she’s loved anyway because she is, in fact, deserving of it even if she doesn’t think she is. pearl doesn’t stop when she needs to remind her that she’s important (“yes, you are”) every now & then. garnet, ruby, sapphire, & ame are safe people she has a unique bond with & loves living with. she feels more comfortable with her form than ever before.

i love the symbolism, especially in a society that often views putting on weight as solely negative, an indication that one is unhealthy & unhappy. rose is a reminder that it can be a sign of healing, and she’s far healthier, stronger, more comfortable as rose than she ever was as pink.

image description: the far left depicts rose quartz in her quartz outfit, a crop top & pants with her arms in the air and a smile on her face, the background being the kindergarten. the middle is of rose with the crystal gems, dressed as witches for halloween. the far right is of rose in her white dress in story for steven, looking at a cd, the background being the blue sky.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ⋆ ☁︎ ✩₊˚⋆⁺₊✧ ⋆ ☁︎

“you weren’t built for fighting”

pearl’s body is different from the gems who are supposedly “built for fighting.” according to homeworld, pearls are made to to “stand there and look pretty.” they’re made to feel weak.

sword fighting is a passion of hers and she’s incredibly skilled. rose gives her a decision to stay & fight with her or opt out, and pearl argues that she wants to fight. from there, she never tries to change her body. she protects rose, and aside from the excessive self sacrificing issues i’ve brought up in the past, she has a very important line in do it for her. just think about the life you’ll have together after the war!

yes, she was putting rose’s life over her own. at the same time, she didn’t expect to die. she had hope in her goal to save both of them, and she was never intimidated by the fact that the gems she was fighting against were bigger than her, with body types that were supposedly “more capable” of doing something that she was passionate about. she proves them wrong, as she has a memory in which she protects someone who’s much bigger than her by fighting against a gem who’s also much bigger than her.

when she sings strong in the real way, it’s clear that pearl is not completely comfortable in her own skin yet, and much like what i said about rose, that’s okay. healing takes time, isn’t linear, and the way that the homeworld gems underestimated pearl for being a pearl understandably has an impact on her. still, as she slowly builds confidence, she teaches steven that there are other ways of being strong.

pearl focuses on what her body can already do & she uses all of her traits to her advantage instead of trying to change them. ballet comes naturally to her, so she has a pattern of fighting that involves ballet & quick, graceful movements that her opponent struggles to keep up with.

she also uses traits that are less about her physical abilities & more about who she is, such as her intelligence & attention to detail. she often outsmarts her opponent & can confidently say "you can’t beat me" because her main motivation as she learned to fight was to protect rose. her love for rose is so deep that she believes it's stronger than anything or anyone. it’s amazing how pearl uses her love & ballet movements—things that would be considered weak on the battlefield—to become a powerful, terrifying, & intimidating sword fighter.

people sometimes mock her nose, a feature all pearls have, & while it annoys her, she never tries to change it. it’s who she is, & she’s proud to be a pearl (that’s right! i am a pearl!)

pearl wears whatever she wants and doesn’t try to look intimidating or like a rebel—it doesn’t need a look, and she doesn’t need to fit stereotypes; it's just who she is. she loves legwarmers & skirts. occasionally & on other platforms i’ve seen fans make fun of her thin arms & legs. they miss a comforting message: she doesn’t cover anything. now, the thing i wrote about rose in the last section? i closely relate to it, and i always knew i did. i’m now realizing i relate to pearl in a way, too, even if it’s to a lesser extent. when i was a little girl i was smaller than my classmates & i’d be encouraged to hide my arms with long sleeves. i really wish i knew this character back then. she’s so pretty, so bold with a lovely sassy side, and she doesn’t change a thing. she doesn’t need to.

image description: pearl in the episode we need to talk, in a studio where greg makes his music video. one leg up and the other en pointe (standing at the tips of her toes). she has a smug smile on her face and her eyes are closed.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ⋆ ☁︎ ✩₊˚⋆⁺₊✧ ⋆ ☁︎

a good partner

i love that my favorite ship is not only sapphic representation, but they both have underrepresented body types. they’re both flawed & traumatized and their relationship is complicated, but nevertheless they are entirely & deeply in love with each other.

“pearl is falling in love. pink, as rose, is intoxicating. she’s free somehow. they both are, when they are on earth.” — rebecca sugar, end of an era, page 77

i’ve written about this a lot, but pearl falls in love with her true self, the person she is when she’s happy & safe. she doesn’t have anything against how rose used to look, she just knows that person isn’t who she truly is. pink was unhappy, uncomfortable, repressed. the environment was unsafe for both of them & everything was so forced. pearl sympathizes with pink (i.e., crying when she fakes the shattering, telling steven & sapphire about how she really did everything she could as pink, just all around feeling sad for what she went through) but she adores her form as rose; seeing rose fills her with joy & warmth. rose isn’t fitting into any society & she’s no longer a diamond; she’s a rebel who’s still figuring everything out. she’s imperfect, she’s not forcing herself to fit into any homeworld expectations, & pearl’s met her true self & she falls in love.

a good partner will understand who you were in the past & they’ll care for & sympathize with that person, but they’ll be in love with the most genuine version of who you are. pink was a higher status gem as part of the great diamond authority, but that wasn’t her true self. that's why pearl loves just rose. pearl is also a reminder that a good partner won’t love you any less if you gain weight. if someone gains weight because they’re healing, happier, & aren’t forcing their body to look a certain way that doesn’t reflect who they truly are, a good partner will not only accept the weight gain but they will love it. while it may be tricky to grasp this symbolism because they’re gems, the point is this: rose being comfortable in her own form and true to herself is not just lovable but deeply attractive to pearl. the form that was the most beautiful, in pearl’s eyes, was the one that rose had when she was the happiest.

society can be a bit painful at times. sometimes, people feel like they can only be liked & loved if they’re thin and distinguished in some way, even if it’s inauthentic & they aren’t happy. but pearl fell in love with rose when she was no longer thin & no longer a diamond—and still figuring things out as a crystal gem leader, too.

they not only accept but adore each other just as they are. sketches & the fusion dance show pearl embracing their sensual relationship, teasing rose, & showing off their connection on camera. pearl does this confidently, by being herself.

they defy stereotypes beautifully. rose, who is larger, contrasts with pearl who is shorter & thin, but rose appears more shy in their flirtatious moments. she’s also more feminine and pearl tends to be more bold & she’s incredibly protective of rose. they remind us that you don’t need to be short & thin to be feminine & gentle, nor tall & big to be protective and bold. their genuine, beautiful, & sometimes, sensual chemistry goes against stereotypes and as i said before, they have underrepresented body types. a lot of characters in the past consist of the more masculine character being taller and bigger (but muscular, not fat) while the more feminine character is shorter and slender, yet has large breasts and some curves. really… how frustrating is that? pearl + rose are sapphic representation and they defy multiple stereotypes, not fitting into that very oddly specific box, and in my opinion they look incredible together.

lastly, remember the symbolism in rose’s section, where i talked about how abusers looked down on her & people on earth looked up to her?

in now we’re only falling apart, pearl literally lifts her up. encouraging, supporting, uplifting her.

this is rose’s first experience with love & pearl goes on to confess her feelings. they nearly fuse; something that’s done only between the same (“equal”) gems on homeworld. rose isn’t familiar with being loved & genuinely cared for. she’s scared, but pearl uplifts her before they connect. it’s representative of how intense her love is; how she’s the first to show her affection, the first to express love for her, and she’s encouraging and supportive, showing her love until her death.

image description: sketches by rebecca sugar. the left image depicts white diamond talking to pink with a mocking smile, pink looking very afraid. the right image depicts rose kissing pearl’s forehead. they both look comfortable & they’re smiling.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ⋆ ☁︎ ✩₊˚⋆⁺₊✧ ⋆ ☁︎

healing your younger self

i wrote this when i was describing why rose is a comfort character for me:

“i loved princesses & fairytales as a child & [rose] gives me nostalgia with her healing powers & other princess traits. my four-year-old self watched princesses who did everything right, did no wrong, were loved by everyone. straight with one specific body type. i couldn’t quite relate to them, & of course i wanted to be a princess. but rose! she’s sapphic & chubby & she fights with her knight who uses she/her pronouns & she makes mistakes & has mental health issues & is disliked by some. i can’t even begin to explain how refreshing that is. she’s unique, realistic, relatable, different from the stereotypes, complicated, & just as beautiful (if not, more) as any princess that i loved growing up. her story with pearl has so many fairytale features & yet it’s so complex.”

pearl + rose's story has many fairytale elements, yet they embody qualities i felt i couldn’t have as a kid to be like the princesses i admired. princesses symbolized beauty to me, so i thought i had to fit into a very specific mold to be beautiful. pearl + rose, with their imperfections, underrepresented body types, sapphic love, trauma, etc. remind me of the fairytales I loved as a kid but are even more beautiful & interesting in my opinion. it’s really lovely & incredibly healing.

i wish i could go see four-year-old me and say that it’s okay to be yourself, you don’t need to change anything to be a princess!

image description: official artwork by elle michalka. pearl stands in front of rose with her sword as they meet garnet. the background is pink, like a sunset, with bushes of flowers.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ⋆ ☁︎ ✩₊˚⋆⁺₊✧ ⋆ ☁︎

gems being gems can help with self esteem

for gems, everything moves quickly on earth. human beauty standards & ideals shift quickly and gems couldn’t possibly keep up with them. not that they would want to. instead, they focus on all the wonderful things about earth.

rose loves growth because it’s a symbol of how people are constantly changing and inventing who they are based on their experiences. it’s comforting to remember our favourite characters whenever we’re made to feel bad about our differences because of messed up beauty standards. for example, some parts of society act like putting on fat or getting stretch marks is always a negative thing, or it’s unattractive. rose wouldn’t feel that way. in fact, i wouldn’t be surprised if she loved getting her own stretch marks, i.e., when she was pregnant with steven. i’m in no doubt that pearl would love them on rose too, & she’s bright enough to understand exactly why they develop. “rose, i love it so… oh, you don’t know what it means? it means you’re growing. yes, you are! you must be happy after that long speech about how beautiful you think it is that humans are never the same and everything should grow. yes, i remembered. how could i not. you talk about it every. single. day.”

gems have a variety of body types. steven shapeshifted to be taller on his birthday, which hurt him. this symbolizes that everyone has different versions of what’s healthy. forcing yourself to look a certain way, even if it’s deemed “healthy” or “attractive,” can be unhealthy if it doesn’t suit your natural body type or involves a harmful process.

as magazines and celebrities became popular in beach city and thinness was the desired beauty standard, maybe once or twice, some absolute loser called rose fat, in a rude way. rose, being unaware of beauty standards, would have likely stared blankly and replied, "yes, i know i’m fat, are you okay? are you angry? but why? i’m confused, do you hate my pink hair, too?” later that day she’ll visit the bakery & feel guilty when she eats lots of blueberry pie… but only because she doesn’t want pearl to think she likes the pie from the bakery more than the homemade pie pearl makes for her. you deserve something from a good bakery too, and to be completely unfazed by any hypothetical jerk who dares to say anything cruel about your body.

you’re wonderful. yes, you.

image description: two sketches by rebecca sugar. on the left, pink is in gym clothes: a pink hoodie glancing over her shoulder with an unhappy, angry look. on the left, rose is wearing a crop top, a hoodie, & leggings, all grey. she has a peaceful, almost curious look & she seems to be pulling her hair back.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ⋆ ☁︎ ✩₊˚⋆⁺₊✧ ⋆ ☁︎

[hiiragi7]

If you genuinely think intersex people are safer or more widely accepted than trans people, you do not know anything about intersex people. Being so incredibly blind to intersex oppression that you would say things like that (especially if you're someone who gets defensive over it when intersex people try to educate you) makes you a poor ally to intersex people and actively feeds into silencing our oppression and sweeping it under the rug.

Telling people you have a sex variation or a hormonal condition is not safer than telling people you are trans. It is callous to attempt to use us as a shield and then claim it doesn't harm anyone. So many of those in the queer and trans community know nothing about intersex oppression or how we are being killed too and it hurts.

I am both intersex and trans. These communities are siblings. Watching one sacrifice and then neglect the other over and over pains me. We are siblings, yet you use the intersex community when you think it suits you, and then you are silent when intersex people are screaming for our rights and for help. We have been fighting our oppression all this time, and it feels so often as though we are doing it alone. It especially hurts when the trans community, the sibling to the intersex community, claims the great harm we are facing either does not exist or that it is "not nearly as bad as what the trans community faces". Or, worse, erases us entirely by calling us "cis people with a disorder" rather than intersex.

When you claim to be intersex "for safety", you actively participate in erasing the unsafety we as intersex people face every day. Claiming you are intersex is no safer than being trans, and when you say it is safer, you erase how my community is being slaughtered, the laws that are pushed against us, the intersex babies that are mutilated at birth, the constant harassment, the high risk of sexual assault or violence when someone learns you're intersex, the medical malpractice and forced medical procedures, the way we are isolated socially, the insults, the mockery, the fetishization, and so on, and so on, and so on.

I understand the need to feel safe as an oppressed minority. However, saying that you are intersex "for safety" is not actually any safer at all. And when you claim it is, it harms my community. It works against the visibility of intersex issues that we have been trying to bring up for decades.

The harsh reality is that there is no way to be completely safe as a queer person in this world as it is right now. Telling others that intersex people have it better is a lie. We are all unsafe, all oppressed. Whatever illusion of safety you get from the lie that intersex people have it better is not worth the damage it does to intersex activism.

[bulbabutt]

i dont know how to put this delicately. i dont know how to put it in a way that doesnt get me put on a fucking blacklist. but HONESTLY? im so tired right now.

please kill the cop in your head. like some of you are so into being a fucking surveillance state of 'this person talked to that person who followed this person who promoted this' and i just... guys. if no one is actually fucking being hurt?? and nothing 'inappropriate' is actually BEING promoted? why the hell are you telling people about shit you STALKED THEM to find out?? you genuinely dont fucking know people and you have a warped sense of morality about it. THATS whats going to get people hurt. when shit in this world starts goes south really soon and you start noticing the more open kinks of queer people on the internet, i sure hope you dont start selling them out as perverts just to justify yourself as 'one of the good ones'. cuz thats the slippery slope youre on with the way you talk sometimes. learn some fucking history about the ways in which these kind of justifications have been used in the past.

im a visibly queer adult with other shit going on i do not fucking care if someone has a side thing they arent fucking telling you about. its weird that youre telling me. im TIRED of you trying to tell me. im never gonna fucking answer these things because its MESSED UP! im not joining a fucking hate parade!

fucking kill the cop in your head. i mean that. its an important lesson to learn, and i get some of you are young and you dont get why yet, but one day youre gonna regret being like this. one day when you realize youve made people unsafe you will feel really fucking bad about it. this world is hateful enough right now without needing to fucking dog pile on people who are keeping to themselves. and if theyre not? block them and move on. why is that so fucking hard?

a fucking hate campaign game of telephone only serves to make people feel unsafe. I FEEL UNSAFE around you people. have you never been on the receiving end of group harassment before? i have. as a teenager! back when the internet was MORE anonymous than it is now! got my shit plastered on bigoted sites where people were sending me death and rape threats to my inbox every day for weeks. thats the end result of what youre doing to people. it WILL become co opted by those kinds of people.

just because something gives you an ick, it doesnt mean someone is a morally reprehensible person. it doesnt mean they deserve to feel unsafe in the world. block it and move the fuck on. youre going to get someone hurt. you probably already have.

[sukirichi]

SUKI SUKI? @! ÷ 2? I THINK YOU HAVE CLOSED THE REQS BUT IT OCCURRED TO ME TO ME MAGICALLY HELP. LISTEN !!!! husband bonten but the first time they met with y/n, like THE FIRST INTERACTION OF EVERYONE AND IN WHAT SITUATION DID THEY HAVE AN INSTANT CRUSH TO EACH OTHER AND EVERYTHING THAT CONTAINS?×)÷,×!",!)0273*?× ¡�� 2 I PRAY YOU TO WRITE IT, IT DOESN'T MATTER IF IT IS IN 10 YEARS 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 IM CRYINH

BONTEN MEN MEETING THEIR WIVES FOR THE FIRST TIME !! (PART ONE)

☁️ mikey, haitani ran, haitani rindou

☁️ unedited. mild angst on mikey's part. ran is technically not a first meeting, but yeah! suggestive on ran's part. fluff. cursing. mikey is lowkey a stalker. (only putting the three of them first because it was getting too long 😭)

♡ — MIKEY

It’s just another day, another mission. There’s nothing new for Mikey. And even if there was, there’s hardly anything he looks forward to now. Whether it’s a mission accomplished or mission failed, he hardly notices. His executives will take care of it, anyway. So he walks aimlessly in the streets he calls his, unafraid of the night’s darkness and the dangers it might bring – quite frankly, because he is the danger that lurks. What is there to be afraid of when he’s the worst imaginable nightmare around?

So lost in his own thoughts, it takes him a second to register the collision of his body with someone else. “I’m sorry!” a sweet voice cuts through the night air. You sound adorable and apologetic enough Mikey’s eyes light up for just a brief moment. Dark, lifeless eyes come to life as he glances at you – bowing in apology while clutching your satchel to your chest. “I wasn’t looking where I was going and I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to–”

At any other day, Sanzu would’ve handled this for him. At any other day, Mikey would’ve let it slide and moved on because he just doesn’t care. You’re a civilian, anyway, and you knew better. No one bumps into him like this by accident. Curious, he tilts his gaze to you. There’s only one good conclusion of your unabashed expression that of guilt and genuine embarrassment – you must not have any idea who he is and treated him like you would anyone else.

He’s not the fearsome Manjiro Sano to you.

He’s just a stranger you inconvenienced, and for some reason, that soothes him. He’s not a killer in your eyes. He’s not a person who’s continuously done the wrong thing for the past few years. He’s just... him.

“It’s okay,” he replies after a moment, tucking his hands inside the pockets of his hoodie. “It’s late, though. You shouldn’t be out around this time of night. It’s dangerous.”

“Oh, I know,” you scrunch up your nose, “Gangs are running rampant and all. But this is the only time I can take a high-paying shift, and what’s the point of safety if I can’t pay my bills, right?”

He doesn’t know how to answer that. He hasn’t worried about bills in a long time – Kokonoi has that covered. Instead, he nods, finding it hard to look away from you. “Stay safe, then. And if you need help, then...” Then, what? The gangs would help? Bonten would keep you safe? No, that was ridiculous. Bonten was the one thing everyone wanted to be protected from.

It hits him, then, that he is the monster that makes everyone feel unsafe. And for once in his life since he’d established Bonten, Mikey feels sick.

He doesn’t want to be the cause of your worries.

— It doesn’t take much to find out everything about you – where you work, where you live, when your shifts happen, and even silly details like what your favourite flavour or cup ramen is. He tells himself he’s doing this for your safety, and in a way, he is. You weren’t kidding when you said you take graveyard shifts because it pays the best, so upon finding out you come home really late, and go to work just as, Mikey takes it upon himself to watch from afar. Never approaching, never striking a conversation – because he doesn’t know what to say, and how could he explain he knows your routine by now – but always watching. Guarding. Protecting. He must look ominous gazing upon you from buildings afar, but he’s content with it. He thinks he can do this for as long as he likes, simply watching you from afar.

— But then he realizes he wants more.

— And he doesn’t know what ‘more’ means exactly. More time with you? You don’t even know who he is. More conversations? He’d probably stumble over his words, or make the worst jokes. Fuck. He hasn’t joked in a while. Would you even find him funny? He thinks about all day long, all night long, until you’re the only one running into his mind and he’s been so mentally checked out of his own meetings that his executives have – politely – asked him to just take a while for himself.

— So he does, and because he was never good at controlling his urges, he goes to you. He dresses a little nicer than usual; a newly ironed shirt, a good pair of jeans, and even asked Rindou to fix his hair up for him. “Going on a date?” he’d teased, but even Mikey doesn’t know how to answer that. It’s not a date, but he’d be damned if he let another day go by that you didn’t know his name.

— He introduced himself, rather awkwardly, and pretends like he didn’t come to your work on purpose. “I didn’t know you worked here,” he says, and it couldn’t be a bigger lie. But you just smile up at him like you’re happy to see him, like you’ve been hoping to meet again, and for a moment, Mikey lets himself believe that it could be true. Maybe he deserves that smile. Maybe someone actually wants to see him. He lingers on that delusion long enough that he’s matched his routine with yours – walking you back home, letting you talk about how much you hate your boss, and hate your sleazy customers even more. It’s not easy being a waitress, especially when you’re forced to wear tight-fitting clothes with the intention of attracting customers. And it gets to him. The darkness and rage he’s been letting quietly simmer beneath his veins as to not scare you off finally resurfaces.

— He hates it all – hates how you’re in such an unfortunate situation, and there’s only so little he could do. Until he realizes he’s the Manjiro Sano. After sending in Sanzu to deal with your boss, who may or may not have been gently blackmailed into treating you better and giving you higher pay or else, Mikey notices the weight being lifted off your shoulder. You’ve started smiling more and even invite him to your place one time to celebrate your ‘fortunes.’

“Are you sure?” he asks rather warily, “I mean, it’s late at night.”

“Yeah, it’s fine,” you reassure him, and lead him inside your home. He almost feels bad for you for being so unaware. You don’t have the slightest idea you’re bringing a killer in the safety of your home, but he doesn’t get the chance to dwell on it when you turn on the lights. He’s greeted by your homey apartment, a little cluttered, a little messy, and it’s a little small for you that he can’t imagine would be comfortable – but it’s yours, and you’re proud of it. Pulling out a mat, you tell him to make himself at home while you prepare some celebratory snacks. They’re nothing fancy – mostly chips, cheap wine, and a few hardened candies.

It’s probably the worst timing to realize he’s falling in love.

First of all, there’s nothing romantic about watching you lean against the counter, humming to yourself as you pop open the wine. Second of all, you don’t look enticing or seductive. Not in your mismatched pyjamas and even more hilariously mismatched socks. But you are enticing – from the way your throat vibrates at your humming, to your quick, swift movements preparing the snacks. You look so at home, so content, that he can’t help but want that for himself. Want you for himself. He wants you at his place and to decorate it as you wish. He wants you to liven it up and scatter knick-knacks all over his room. He wants your toothbrush next to his in the bathroom. He wants you – wants all of you – from your crumpled shirt, to your aching shoulders after a long day at work, wants to kiss it all better for you.

He wants you.

And when the Bonten Head wants something, he will get it.

— If someone told him that a few years from now that his silly musings at three in the morning would finally come true, he’d have scoffed at them. But this is his reality is now, and how he’ll spend the rest of his life.

You’re standing next to him in his bathroom, brushing your teeth while simultaneously humming to yourself. He’s heard the melody enough to have memorized it. And when he’s having a hard day, he sings it to himself, although it never sounds as good like when you do it. The tune is comforting, a reminder you’re in his life now, that everything’s worked out. You married him, and he couldn’t be a happier man.

“Something wrong, Manjiro?” you ask after rinsing your mouth, turning to him with a hand on your hips. Stern, yet unbelievably gentle. Cupping his cheeks with your hands, he melts. “Tell me. How can I make it better?”

“Nothing’s wrong,” he says, and it’s the truth. The moment is all too perfect. You’re here with him, you’re safe, and you’ve loved him after everything he’s done. “Just wanna hold you.”

You break him to it. Lunging into his arms, you giggle and bury yourself around his neck, knowing full well he’ll catch you. Mikey laughs, too, but it’s quieter, more reserved, the sound nearly muted because your skin is pressing against his so hard that it becomes hard to fathom there was ever a time he felt he wasn’t worth of love. And maybe he still isn’t. He still has Bonten, he still has horrible urges, he still gets the demanding itch to kill and hurt – but you’re there, in his arms, and he feels the darkness slowly simmer into tamed shadows.

♡ — HAITANI RAN

Ran is not subtle with his feelings. He believes in the beauty and art of flirting, of holding one’s gazes for just a second longer than what was considered polite, the fleeting, yet burning touches one could pass off as innocent. He’s had enough experience in his life to have mastered it. He’s handsome, he’s irresistible, and he knows it. Beauty and charm is a weapon he wasn’t ashamed of wielding, especially not around his current flavour of the month – or more like months, now. He’s played this game of tic tac toe with you, this push and pull, for so long that he feels he’ll lose his mind.

Like everyone else in Bonten, he usually gets what he wants. But you’re different. You’re attracted to him – that much he knows – but you’re the one responsible for all of Bonten’s uniform and suits that your attraction borders just on the edge of professionalism. But he knows. Oh, he knows. You aren’t so subtle yourself.

Each time he comes around for a fitting, your lips twitch as if you’re fighting back a smile. He also doesn’t fail to notice how you’re gesturing around to your staff in the shop to give you two ‘privacy.’ Bonten executive or not, Ran isn’t foolish – he knows he’s the only one receiving this special treatment. Knows you don’t touch your other clients like this – with a perfectly manicured nail grazing down his arm, your eyes lidded with lust, your blood-red lips caught between your teeth.

It makes Ran yearn.

He wants those same claws to run down scratches behind his back. He wants to take those lips into his mouth, instead, to have you ruin his suits by staining it with your lipstick on his collar, his neck, his tie, his pants. It’d give him more of a reason to come back, anyway. But you just had to be so professional that he always leaves the shop with his pants feeling tighter than ever, his lungs constricted because it becomes hard to breathe around you, yet feeling so addicted to the high of having you so close, yet so far away.

“You should come back for another fitting,” you call out to him just as he swings the door open. He freezes. He’s always the one scheduling a fitting. Unable to help it, he shuts the door and locks it, smirking to himself when he hears the vague hitching of your breath behind the counter.

“And why is that?”

“Oh, you know,” you manage to tease, but ah. He can see right through you. Even with your nonchalant facade, he can tell he’s getting under your veins with every step he takes to close the distance between you. Damn the counter. Damn any customers who might be waiting outside. For now, there’s only him and you, and he thinks he may damn well truly ruin his pants when you look up at him with eyes blown wide with want. With need.

He wishes you could just let go and give in.

“I, in fact, don’t know. But do care to enlighten me,” leaning down, he rests his arms against the counter, glad to finally be at your eye level. You’re prettier in this angle, which baffles him, because you’re already so pretty enough it hurts. And he can’t help but wonder if you’d look a hundred times better in... different angles. An angle under him, perhaps, where you’re helpless and forced to clutch his biceps while you hold on for dear life. Because Ran guarantees once he gets his hands on you, he’s never letting go.

“I just think,” with narrowed eyes, he feels your heated gaze travel from his face that’s inches away from yours down to his chest, and to the bulge constricted around his pants. You let out a breathy sound at the sight of it, his body responding by growing even harder. “Your pants are too tight for you now. Perhaps we should make you a better one?”

“I have other ways in mind in which we could resolve this problem. Preferably one that doesn’t consist of measuring tapes,” he raises his brow, watches as you slowly unfold and unravel right at his palms. It’s almost satisfying. Almost. He’s wanted you for so long that frustration is more what he feels right now, and impatience. “Although I’m not entirely against using ropes.”

♡ — HAITANI RINDOU

Rindou doesn’t concern himself with civilians. He has better things to do, and after a long day, he’s more than ready to just plop himself into bed and wake up only when the world is ending. Or, he could just let it end, too. He couldn’t care any less. Unfortunately for him, though, the universe has different plans for him that night. He just wanted to get a damned drink, for fuck’s sake, until he hears screaming and the shuffling of feet as soon as he steps out of the convenience store.

“Stop him!” someone squeals, the cry helpless and desperate. From where he stood, wine bottle on one hand, he could see the figure of a man running with what seemed like a bag clutched to his chest. “Someone help, please!”

Rindou sighs. There’s nothing more that he hates more than petty crimes that are more inconveniences than impactful. Before he could register what he’s doing, Rindou’s arm extended out in front of himself, and within the blink of an eye, the thief whizzing past him had been caught by the collar. The thief struggles against his hold, whining and thrashing with curses thrown his way.

“Let me fucking go, you oaf!”

“I don’t think so,” Rindou tips his head to the side just as a figure appeared behind the thief. You stand there, wheezing to catch your breath with your hands on your knees. At the sight of him effortlessly restraining the thief, you break out into a relieved sigh and snatch back your bag, holding it more possessively. And oh, aren’t you just pretty? With your skin layered with a sheen of sweat from all that running, cheeks damp with tears, your frown now replaced with a grateful smile – Rindou feels like you’re the thief. “Whoa. Careful with that smile, sweetheart.”

Your brows furrow, and he nearly groans. It should be a crime for someone to look so adorably confused. “What?”

“Okay, that’s enough, they got their bag back, now let me go!”

Right. He still had a lame excuse of a criminal on his hand. With a roll of his eyes, Rindou throws the man against to the ground until he’s coughing out blood from when he hit the pavement. He hears you gasp, and it makes him wince. He hadn’t meant to be so harsh. You’re probably afraid of him now.

“Run along,” he warns the petty thief, and he didn’t need to be told twice. As soon as the man disappears, Rindou turns to you, a lazy smile making its way into his face. “You know, I usually hate being troubled, but this might be the first time I don’t mind as much.”

Your jaw drops. You look around frantically in your bag for a moment, and just when he thinks you can’t get anymore interesting, you pull out a wad of cash and shove it to him. Rindou cocks a brow. “And what is that for, sweetheart?”

“To-to thank you for saving me! And it’s also an apology because I troubled you...”

Rindou fights the urge to scoff. “I feel like I should be offended,” he says in a sing-song manner, only because you don’t take the teasing well, and the sight of you stumbling over your words is already making his night. He wants to reassure you it’s no trouble at all, that he’ll easily catch all your thieves for you, or that you can steal his heart and never give it back to him. But he doesn’t, because he’s just met you, and maybe, just maybe, he’s curious how this will go.

“Oh, I’m really sorry, I didn’t mean to–”

“Say, if you really want to thank me, why don’t we share this?” he lifts his wine bottle, and you eye it for a moment before nodding eagerly. His heart drops. He lowers the bottle, his voice growing darker – yet make no mistake. Behind his scowl and hardened eyes, his heart is beating a mile a minute, and his skin is burning impossibly hot. “Don’t you think you say yes a little too easily?”

“Uhm, but you saved me. You helped me, and this is how you want to be thanked.”

Rindou thinks his brain might short-circuit. You are definitely trouble.

“I could be more dangerous than him, you know,” he leans toward you menacingly to prove a point, but you don’t cower. Your breath hitches, and you clutch your bag tighter. But you don’t move away, and neither can he. Now that he’s closer, he can smell your strawberry scented perfume and he shuts his eyes, greedily inhaling the scent. Shit. He hasn’t even drunk anything, and he already feels intoxicated. Taking a step back for his own sanity, Rindou levels you a warning glare. “You really should be more careful, sweet. Perhaps it’ll lower the chances of you running into trouble.”

“Oh,” you look dejected, though he could just be imagining it. “Yeah, okay, uh... I’ll be more careful. Thank you again...?”

“Rindou.”

“Rindou,” you repeat, and he realizes his name sounds sweeter when you say. With a scrunch of your nose, you eye the wine in his hands again. “Will I see you again? I really want to thank you for your help.”

With such a sweet offer, how can he resist? He’d be stupid to say no – even if you were trouble, it’s fine. He wasn’t notorious for being a troublemaker for no reason anyway.

[velvetvexations]

my personal take on "antigonism" is that it's entirely what you make of it. which is to say, i agreed with your post explaining why you felt such a term was necessary, and i do think this mentality of "most of us are normal about each other" and simply assuming we understand each other's experiences by virtue of being trans is reinventing artificial gender solidarity between cis people ("bros before hoes", "girl's girl") but superimposed onto trans people. which can be particularly contentious, given that we're an extremely traumatized bunch with a lot of baggage and massively diverging perspectives on all kinds of things. relating to each other outside of conventional gender relations means we have to put in that much more work to bridge the gaps between us, because we can no longer rely on the common assumptions made about men and women to carry our interactions, if that makes sense.

i do think a whole word for transfem-to-transmasc solidarity does toe a line between being unnecessarily inflammatory and conditionally useful. i'm genuinely glad for the people who felt seen and appreciated by the fact that a transfem made so explicit her stance on intracommunity issues. i'm also sympathetic to the people who feel put-off by such a word. when does allyship become chauvinistic? there is no word for a non-misogynistic man to signal to women that he is explicitly anti-antifeminist, for example. do we need one? i think a vast majority would say no, on account of simply stating he believes in feminist principles to suffice. so i'm wondering what specifically the push was for you to coin a word around tfem4tmasc solidarity, because while i do think trans people as a whole need to take significantly more initiative about rooting out transmisogyny and transandrophobia both, i'm not quite clear on what could signal more clearly a transfem's stance on intracommunity dialogue than just saying "i believe in transandrophobia and condemn all radfems". all feminism, transfeminism included, has had their malicious actors-- the existence of transradfems isn't really anything noteworthy as far as the broader feminist conversations go.

i hope this doesnt come across as confrontational because i think the people who found comfort in the fact that you are willing to go that far for them is truly heartwarming. i just don't want to see us splinter further into microfactions over something like one person coining one maybe-overenthusiastic word on the internet

Sincerely, there is a word for men who are anti-anti-feminist, though, they're feminists. Granted, self-identified "feminist" men have somewhat of a negative stereotype associated to them, but still, feminist men are feminists.

One of the biggest reasons I think a term would be useful is because so many people feel unsafe in the trans community because of trans radical feminism right now that it can help them relax a lot when they see a trans woman identifies as such. Just reminding people with assurances that most trans women are Normal doesn't really help that when they keep running into ones who aren't over and over.

TRFs are aggressive about this stuff. Seriously, every single day, post after post, their primary form of activism is crying about TMEs stealing kinks and liking a children's toy too much. I feel strongly that should be countered. Even if they aren't the majority, they sure as hell act like it and repeat how great it is that every single trans woman except velvetvexations alone agrees with them.

To be absolutely clear, I do not think I'm the only non-weird trans woman! That is just literally what they say about me! They may be the minority now but that frog is boiling.

IRL transmascs are forced out of spaces and talked over when they're let in because mascuwinity is scawy, No doubt transfems have similar problems because some spaces are TERF-y, but that problem is exacerbated when social media is filled with TRF rhetoric because it gets drilled into people's heads they need to be worried about that, and I don't think "touch grass" is a good response to that.

Hell, what if someone touches grass and then they do happen to end up having people be transandrophobic/exorsexist/intersexist/etc. to them? "Oh, well, that didn't count, try again somewhere else, I prommy that's not Normal."

It's all about volume. I feel very, very strongly that volume is necessary here, to combat the feeling that that radical feminism is around every corner and help people feel at ease and know trans women are with them.