#but it still sucks SO bad to be a woman even NOW for literally anyone living outside the west and honestly a lot of western women too

[musical-chick-13]

.

[ladynoirist]

"FAMILY STRUCTURES WHERE EVERYONE TOOK CARE OF EACH OTHER" tell me you've never met an asian woman without telling me you've never met an asian woman

[holyviolence]

having the most irritating day at work 😊👍

[xxchromies]

Admittedly the way people talk about motherhood makes me a bit sad. Both in the world at large and on here. It's true that as women we have essentially been treated as incubators and the natural capability of our bodies was/is exploited and used to keep us in line. But I really do think that motherhood, carrying and raising children, is beautiful and something to be appreciated. We literally have the power to create life and men don't. True, not all women can give birth but anyone who can give birth is a woman. And while I capitulate that we used to be treated like incubators in the past, some people use this term to even describe pregnancies that are wanted. And I think it's a bit misogynistic to compare something as cold and machine-like as an incubator to something women are naturally able to do. It feels objectifying.

I feel like a lot of radical feminists talk about pregnancy as if it were a travesty. As if you've become corrupted by an evil force. I know that pregnancy can have a serious impact on a woman's body but sometimes I feel like the way people talk about pregnancy on here is misogynistic towards women who want to be pregnant. I don't think it's really that progressive to talk about something that women's bodies are naturally able to do as if it were some sort of curse. Many of us see it that way because men used to use our reproductive capabilities as a way to control us, and still do to an extent. We can't stoop to their level. It's not inherently a bad thing.

I've also noticed that a lot of societal messaging seems to imply that pregnancy is an inferior state. Both misogynists and radical feminists talk about it as if it means your life is over. That you're nothing more than a mother now. That you've been defeated by the patriarchy. And while I understand that the feminist perspective is different (it's critiquing the misogynist perspective), I've never really seen radical feminists try to empower mothers or talk about how we can change the way society views motherhood. A lot of them seem to think no women should be mothers at all. Motherhood is just going to be a part of our reality. We're living things and it's in our nature to reproduce. It is ultimately a choice but human nature is powerful. Antinatalism is not going to happen, sorry. And I feel like pregnancy is mocked. Women are mocked for things like morning sickness and cravings. Pregnant women often aren't taken seriously because of their "hormones". There's a reason why so many people find m-preg so humorous.

In many ways it does suck to be a mother, but that's because of societal issues. I do believe it's misogynistic to denigrate the concept or pregnancy as a whole. I'll never believe that something women's bodies are naturally able to do cannot coexist with female liberation.

[zolawffy]

Heyo! (Zoro, Sanji, Law, crocodile, doflamingo) Their reaction to their s/o wearing revealing clothes in public? 👀🙏

Hii i like this one. This will be headcannons and ill write a story to go with these sometime soon. And apologies this probably sucks im having writers block again 🫠

Zoro

It was hot outside, so a girls gotta show a little skin. You decided to wear shorts that just barely covered your ass. You also had a croptop on. It was a perfect time to wear this right? Wrong.

Zoro would be so pissed off that he pretends he doesn’t see it. However when he saw others looking at you, he began to cover you with his own body, but discreetly. He trusts you but he doesnt like other people looking at his woman.

Now if someone approaches you, hell just say, “oh yeah? Well too bad shes not your girlfriend.” Or something of the sorts.

Maybe later zoro will admit he wants to get rid of onlookers.

And you know how much it takes zoro to admit something like that.. 😭

Sanji

Oh Sanji loves revealing clothes. He’s melting because he gets to see your skin. However, he starts to realize he’s not the only one looking at you.

This man will literally give people the meanest look in the face and automatically think that if they’re looking at you, they’re looking for a fight.

Sanji will take off his jacket and put it around you.

“I don’t like other people staring at my girl.” - he says lighting a cigarette. If he starts to get possessive, hell share a little touch or glance that shows your all his. But he still treats you like a lady, maybe even more now that he really cant peel his eyes from you.

Youll get many compliments from sanji because hes a hopeless romantic.

However if someone else does it hell get defensive instantly, verbally but not afraid to get physical.. someone help this man.

Law

Law is chill and laid back about it. He will sit back and observe everything. Hes keeping his thoughts to himself as for right now.

However, this doesnt mean law isn’t protective. Its just his aura, no one will dare approach you.

He will glare at anyone who looks at his woman in a inappropriate manner, making the message clear.

Crocodile

Idek why you came out of the house in this. Hes glaring at everyone he catches looking. You didn’t notice but he starts glaring at you.

He will stand close to you so people know your his.

Hes mostly mad at the attention your getting from people that aren’t him

Doflamingo

Doflamingo would kill anyone who looks at you. But lets not go there today.

He would just casually watch everyone either jealous of you or fawn over you. Then you’d start to hear grunting behind you.

When you turn around to see his face, doflamingo had veins BUSTING I MEAN BUSTING BULDGING through his forehead. This man looks constipated.

“I see you’ve made yourself known.”

Hell threaten people who look at you in a bad way.

Hell also so something extremely romantic in public to make others jealous.

Guyssss wait until i have time to write for stuff we barely see like gear5, opla, and more 😭🙏🏾

[blacknedsoul-blog]

Montresor is the Bad Ending of White Raven

So Montresor has a religious trauma. And from what little we know of the flashback to his death, the man was apparently a corrupt preacher.

What that tells me about his life made me crack my knuckles, because holy shit, this guy is an even better villain than I expected. And not for the reasons I thought at first.

Montresor's possible backstory

A fun fact: "unholy men" used to be called "sons of Belial". Same as Monty's Spectre type, so there's the initial connection, but with what we saw in chapter 87, this phrase from his mother resonates quite a bit:

Montresor was most likely a bastard (literally), and if he was raised in a religious community, that immediately made him and his mother outcasts. Possibly his mother hated him for "ruining her life". Whether this is true or not, the implication is that he grew up a victim of a system that decided he was sucked by the devil from birth.

In this light, Montresor's attitude towards the world is actually a logical consequence: he has decided that abuse is the only way to relate, and you can either be the victim or the victimizer. Of course, he is now the victimizer.

But he decided that because life taught him two lessons that were important enough to make him the person he is now.

"I know this game better than anybody"

We know from the clothes and hat in his flashback, and the cross around his neck, that Montresor was a preacher. And I would venture to say an excellent one: he has heard all his life that he is a demon, he knows better than anyone what terror hell produces in people, so he knows exactly what to say (or not say) to manipulate others through that fear.

Montresor, like Annabel, is someone who exploits his own traumas.

Annabel has been almost conditioned to behave like the perfect high-society lady, and that includes going to impressive extremes if it means getting something in return. She has engineered her way through life by identifying the currency of the people around her and knowing exactly what to give them so that they will, in her words "kissing her rings".

Loyalty gained through fear vs. loyalty gained through pretended sympathy.

Same goal.

If the world has made them that way, both Annabel and Montresor will use every last footnote of knowledge gained through trauma to get what they want.

But then there's something else they have in common: this deep knowledge of the rules of the game has also made them both know that the odds are too stacked against them to ever win. In the past, we've seen Annabel throw in the towel on her arranged marriage, but Montresor took a different path, much more along the lines of…

"So I'm not afraid to cheat."

Montresor decided that if people wanted a demon. He would give them one. The worst demon of all, because this one knows the rules: he knows how to play the game, he knows how to cheat and get away with it. We don't know the extent of his atrocities, but given what happened in the flashback and the fact that his idea of a sleepover is stuffing someone behind a wall to slowly suffocate, this guy must have a long rap sheet.

So long, in fact, that he was tied to the tracks of a train to be torn to shreds without even a trial.

Because if the rules are just there to screw you, then screw them: the only option left is to cheat.

Which is exactly what Lenore did when she burned down her house and pretended to be a man to go after Annabel. Lenore jeopardized everything Annabel said was important to her.

And she got away with it. At least until they were both killed (or, if those of us with our chips on Annabel's childhood friend, they may have both died without anyone knowing).

Now, in Nevermore, Lenore is still doing that, as we can see in her reluctance to kill or destroy Montresor: she refuses to play the game, refuses to follow the rules.

She will look for ways to cheat here, as she did before (something Annabel actually expects her to do). The woman is too stubborn to bend, and so far she seems to have the wind at her back (the question is, for how long?).

The bad ending

These elements make Montresor a complete exhibition of the ultimate consequences of taking Annabel and Lenore's attitudes to the extreme: a person who instrumentalizes her own traumas to unravel and try to inflict them on others, and who is not afraid to cheat for her own benefit if it means getting what she wants.

The only thing that separates Annabel and Lenore from Montresor is that they both still use these attitudes in the name of other people: Annabel for Lenore herself, and Lenore for the people she cares about. That both of them (still) seem to have their hearts in the right place.

But if Annabel continues to use her vast knowledge of this twisted game to work her way through people without caring, and Lenore still believes she's above all rules, here's Montresor to show them (and us) what's waiting for them at the end of the road.

[cxsmiicc]

fucking florida - emily prentiss x reader

word count - 1950

warnings - smut, eating out, vibe, office sex, alcohol, mommy kink, begging

first em fic so sorry if it sucks

cr @storiesofsvu for the vegas line i read a dangerous game all in one sitting the other night and it was stuck in my brain

------

“Fucking Florida,” you muttered on the way to the coffee machine for your third cup of the night. It was already after twelve and the mountain of paperwork didn’t seem to be getting any smaller. You began the permanent battle to get the ancient machine running and picked out a mug, savouring every second away from the towering files and microscopic print. Almost immediately after the overwhelmingly strong scent whipped through the bullpen a certain unit chief emerged from her office, silver hair dragged back into a haphazard ponytail and top three buttons undone. To say you were obsessed with this woman would be an understatement. Yes, she was your boss and yes, she was majorly off limits, but there was no telling your body that. There was no helping the shiver that ran down your spine when she spoke, the goosebumps that revealed themselves whenever she brushed against you on the jet, the way every little hair on your body would stand on end when she singled you out. In short, you had it bad for Emily Prentiss, with no end in sight.

“Didn’t know anyone else was still here,” she drawled.

“Everyone sane went home hours ago.”

“And who can blame them, look at us. Relying on far too much caffeine just to get us through the paperwork.”

“When in Quantico,” you said with a small smile.

She laughed slightly, picking up the coffee pot and pouring two mugs, “It’s too late for your bad jokes.”

“You’ll have to excuse my lack of comedic genius, I'm exhausted and working on an empty stomach,” you replied, taking one of the mugs from her.

“What! Why?” She asked.

“I’m not a breakfast person to begin with and then with all the chaos this morning and the flight and the paperwork I just haven’t had the time to breathe.”

“I just ordered food, you’re having some of it.”

“Where did you order from this late?” 

She chuckled, “A lady never kisses and tells.”

God you wished she would kiss you. You simply raised an eyebrow and took a sip of your coffee in response.

“It’ll be delivered to my office soon, grab a file and come wait.”

“Exactly what I’ve been craving, yet more blindingly dull reports,” you deadpanned, already heading back to your desk to sweep the top folder into your waiting bag and follow Emily to her office.

Of course you had been in there before, but never so late and never for an extended period of time. It was different, strangely exhilarating, walking through that door and being directed to the low table in the corner, sitting on the carpet and working this closely to another person. The two of you typed in comfortable silence until a knock came and a sheepish college student walked in with a huge brown paper bag.

“Finally, thanks so much,” Emily said to the poor boy, handing him the cash.

“Quick, move the case notes. Just dump them under the table for now.” You did so, pulling them all into a rough pile and quite literally dumping them on the floor under the table. She wasted no time in delving into the enormous bag, pulling out a burger, two boxes of fries and the biggest soda you had ever seen in your life.

“Good job I was hungry,” she joked.

“Fries.” You reached over and snagged a box, grease seeping through the bottom and onto your fingers before you even opened it. “Oh my god that’s good,” you said around a mouthful.

“I have an idea..” She swerved around the table, snatching a fry on the way and walked right out of the room. A minute later she came back in, bottle in hand.

“Rossi’s finest I presume?”

“Only the best for you,” She finished with a devilish grin.

“Glasses?”

“On ne fait que commencer.” And she took a sip straight from the bottle.

Fucking French. You reached over and stole the whisky from her, upending it and barely blinking when the amber liquid hit your throat. 

“Someone has a tragic backstory just waiting to be unlocked.”

“The years of greasy food and crushing loneliness have numbed me to the mundane sensations of everyday life.” 

“Preaching to the choir honey.” She raised the burger to her mouth and took a bite, sighing in content as she did.

The two of you kept eating in not quite silence, the crunching of fries and occasional clinking of the bottle providing the nights soundtrack. Only once all the food had gone and you were both sufficiently tipsy did you come up for air.

“Remind me to tell you I'm starving more often, this is the best time I've had in this building to date.”

“Anything to make some half decent memories in this place, all the bad we see deserves a little alcohol and fast food every now and then.”

“I know something you could do to make this memory more than half decent,” you muttered.

“Oh? Now what, pray tell, could that be?” She feigned confusion and came to sit on your side of the table, resting her head in one hand and looking up at you through her lashes.

“Fuck it.” Both of you leaned in at the same time, lips crashing together and a breathless gasp escaping from you, her hands drifting to your waist and tugging you onto her lap. It was desperate and clumsy and everything you expected it to be, everything you needed it to be. Her tongue pried your lips apart as you explored each others mouths, too desperate for contact to bother with technique. You fumbled with her buttons and she smiled against your mouth, breaking the kiss to pull your shirt over your head and undo the few buttons of her own that you had been unable to access. Breathing hard, you pushed yourself off of her and sat on the table, legs wide and one hand splayed behind you for balance, admiring the view in front of you. Not every day the unit chief of the BAU was shirtless in front of you after all.

Reaching for your belt, she asked, “Can I?”

“God yes.”

She made quick work of both the belt and your jeans, tossing them aside before slowly pulling your underwear all the way down and dropping it, slipping both hands between your thighs and slowly separating them. Lowering her face, she met your eyes and slowly kissed a teasing path from your inner thigh to your clit, stopping just before she made contact. You let out a whimper, already soaked for her.

“Desperate, are we?”

“Less talk more tongue,” You demanded.

Luckily for you, she obliged, wasting no time in wrapping her lips around your clit and sucking hard, dragging a savage groan from the base of your throat. Loosening her hold on your clit, she focused her attention lower down, flicking her tongue briefly in and out before delivering a broad lick to your cunt, finally setting for alternating between the two motions whenever your moans peaked in volume. Bringing her hands into the mix, she drew slow circles around your clit, successfully driving you to the edge as your breathing became faster and faster, the only coherent word coming from your lips being her name over and over in an increasingly high pitch. Her relentless pace never slowed, even as you finally came with a breathy gasp, fucking you through your high.

Dropping back down onto her heels, she smiled at you before reaching behind her back and unclasping her bra, throwing the purple fabric to the corner before grabbing you by the thighs and pulling you back into her lap for another searing kiss, easily parting your lips this time and taking full advantage of your post-orgasmic confusion. The haze clearing somewhat, you became aware enough to dive your hands downwards and play with her chest, flicking her nipples between your fingers and relishing in the soft whimpers falling into your mouth. It was you that pulled away this time, taking one of her breasts into your mouth and swirling your tongue around, eliciting a delicious moan from Emily. You bit down, hard enough to leave a mark, and she let out a squeal of pleasure, pushing you to do more.

Switching your focus to the other side, you repeated the movements, teeth pressing into her soft skin as your tongue worked overtime. Just as she released a particularly loud moan, your fingers forced their way into her waistband and found her clit, jerking it back and forth to the same pace your other hand was setting on the side of her chest not currently in your mouth. She was a mess, to put it nicely, grinding on your hand in a desperate attempt to get herself there. Feeling just how wet she was, you decided to forego any teasing and simply go faster, push her harder, anything to get her over that edge. Twisting your wrist for better access, you pushed both your fingers and tongue to the same brutal speed, stirring raw sounds from the woman above you as she peaked, ruining her formerly perfect suit trousers once and for all. 

Wordlessly, she pushed you off again and crossed to the desk, rummaging in a drawer until she came up with a small silver key. Bending down to where you couldn’t see, she fitted the key in the lock of her bottom drawer and yanked it open, retrieving something without bothering to close the drawer behind her as she walked back towards you, hands behind her back so as not to reveal what she had. The second she was close enough you stood and grabbed her trousers by either hip, meeting her eyes as you removed them. 

“So what is it that you keep locked away in that desk of yours?” You asked.

In response, she smirked and lifted up a bubblegum pink vibrator.

“Let’s see just how many more we can get out of you tonight sweetheart.”

She flipped you around and forced you onto the desk, pushing your legs apart as you whimpered in anticipation. Laughing at your eagerness, she pushed the toy into you, flicking at your clit as she turned it on at the lowest setting and you let out a groan. 

You glared at her. “More.”

“Manners, or mommy won’t do a single thing more. Besides, I bet you look so pretty begging for it.”

Breath hitching at her words, you felt the vibrator slip as you grew wetter, reaching to push it back in only for Emily to grab your wrist. 

“Please…” You muttered.

“I know you can do better than that baby, now come on, tell me what you want.”

“Please mommy please turn it up I need more god just please.”

“Since you asked so nicely…” She trailed off, pausing for a second before pushing the vibrator deeper into you and setting it to max, pulling a guttural gasp from the recesses of your throat.

“That's it princess, let me hear you.”

You held nothing back, letting her tear sounds from you that you didn’t even know you were capable of making for hours until you were both spent, collapsed on the office floor as the first threads of sunlight came through the blinds.

“Fuck Em it’s getting light outside.”

“Shit.”

The room was a blur of motion as both of you hunted for your clothes, her sighing when she saw the state of her trousers and rummaging through her go bag for a fresher pair. 

“Anyone finds out about this and we’re both royally fucked, capisce?”

You beamed at her. “What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas.”

[suzukiblu]

For wip Wednesday Love the vibes of “weird Kryptonian bonding rituals” especially if it’s superfam

. . . I am just gonna blame the fact that I haven't really worked on this WIP in a minute for how "write you three sentences" turned into "write you 1k", cough cough.

Clark gets into Superman's suit and leaves the Daily Planet building at inadvisable speed, probably, but manages not to break the sound barrier anywhere too obvious, he thinks. He follows the sound of that thrumming heartbeat and voice, and finds himself blocks and blocks away, hovering in the air a few hundred feet above a food truck being operated by a woman with dark skin and bright pink hair in her mid-twenties, and the single customer standing on the sidewalk in front of it as assorted civilians pass by in one's and two's.

The single customer is the thrumming heartbeat's owner, and he's about fifteen or sixteen, with pale skin and dark curly hair and bright and eager and inhumanly blue eyes behind a pair of round sunglasses. He's wearing a loose-fitting black leather jacket and heavy black boots and a tight bodysuit, all blue and black and red and yellow and with the exact same "S" on its chest as the one Clark's wearing himself.

The kid looks up, takes one look at Clark, and absolutely lights up.

Clark feels several very new and strange feelings, then charges straight down into the kid and sends them both skidding into the empty street. Hitting him, touching him, is like . . .

Clark barely even remembers to be careful, but the instinct is ingrained too deep to ignore even as they crash into the pavement together.

And then the kid laughs delightedly and throws him off.

Actually throws him.

Clark comes to a stop twenty feet up in the air, blinks down at the kid still beaming up at him, and then bolts back down and smashes him into the pavement again.

"Shit!" the food truck worker shrieks in alarm. "Don't hurt him, Superman, he's just a kid!"

Clark . . . pauses, then looks up from said kid that he is currently pinning into the street as he struggles underneath him.

"'Hurt him'?" he asks in reflexive confusion, and then realizes how batting a teenager around like a person-shaped cat toy and pinning him to the street hard enough to crack it probably actually looks to an outside observer.

. . . um.

Whoops.

"Um," he starts awkwardly, and then the kid slips his pin while he's distracted and throws his arms around his neck with a gleeful laugh and a bright grin.

"Dad!" he crows triumphantly, and hugs Clark harder than literally anyone has ever hugged him before, except maybe, like, Ivo in the fullest and most vicious version of his Parasite suit while trying to crush him to death. It's . . . kind of adorable. Although also Clark can't really breathe very well now. "I found you! Hi, hi, I totally found you!"

"You did," Clark agrees reflexively and slightly out-of-breath-ly, patting the kid's back as he shoots the food truck worker and the several other staring civilians back on the sidewalk all an apologetic smile. "Sorry, ma'am, didn't mean to worry you. We're just playing."

"Oh my god so there was this lab and these doctors and they were all such jerks so I maybe kinda just broke everything and I guess maybe that was bad but they all sucked and they deserved it, I promise, I hope they all lost all their data and their personal files and their customization settings when I smashed up their stupid computers and stuff," the kid half-rants, hanging off Clark like a super-strong but also undeniably floating koala, and Clark straightens up and pats his back again as he listens to his excited and also-adorable ramblings. The way the kid talks actually reminds him of a much younger kid, oddly–even younger than Flip and the rest of the newskids, despite his appearance–but that doesn't exactly hurt the "adorable" impression. "Also there were some really annoying guys who were bothering the way cool chick in the truck over there so I threw them in a dumpster but did you know chili fries were a thing because they are so good, seriously, you should get some!"

"Are you asking me to buy you more chili fries, kid?" Clark asks wryly, and the kid somehow finds a way to perk up even more.

"I mean, no, but if you wanna . . ." he mentions, grinning hopefully.

"Two orders of chili fries please, ma'am?" Clark requests, sparing the food truck worker another smile. "If it's not too much trouble."

"Yesssss," the kid cackles delightedly, hanging heavier off his neck again as he somehow actually manages to hug him tighter. The food truck worker stares at them both for a moment, then reaches for an empty fry basket.

"Uh, sure," she says slowly. "No problem. Uh. Sorry, Superman, but do you . . . have a kid? Is that, like . . . what's happening here?"

"Yes," Clark replies reflexively, patting the kid's head.

. . . wait, that's not–

Then the kid beams at him again and nope, never mind, apparently that is right, he guesses he's just a dad now. Oh no, he and Jimmy are gonna need a bigger apartment, and Clark really hates apartment-hunting and doesn't even know how he's gonna afford his half of a bigger apartment, though at least he knows Jimmy can after selling Flamebird so he guesses that's something, and besides, what, is he gonna make his kid sleep on the couch? No way. The kid can have his bunk, heck, he'll sleep on the couch 'til they can sign a new lease or something. At least he's not an intern anymore, that's been a bit of a financial improvement, so that'll help.

". . . well okay then," the food truck worker says. "How do you even age, are you–um. I'm just . . . gonna make those both double orders, then. No charge. Congrats on, uh . . . congrats? Like, fifteen years late, apparently, but congrats."

"Thank you," Clark replies politely, smiling at her again as he walks over to her truck, the kid still happily hanging/floating off him. "We can pay, though, that's really not necessary."

"Dude. My dad would literally fire me if I ever made Superman pay for freaking chili fries," she says feelingly. "Like. Fire me so hard. Unto our family's next three generations, would he fire me."

"Thank you," Clark repeats, still smiling at her, then pulls a couple of twenties out of his belt and tucks them into her tip jar. Only seems decent, he thinks.

"Oh my god how are you even real," the food truck worker mumbles under her breath as she drops both double-orders of fries into the fryer.

[utilitycaster]

actually taking the last bit out of the tags of that post because here is the thing. and I'm going to use specific examples, because I think it's illustrative.

the two groups of people in this fandom who have specifically harassed me have been, as I've said before, imo/dna fans mad I don't find the ship very good, and (to be fair, only on one occasion) shadowido/mauk fans who got mad that I said that tagging ao3 fic about throuples with individual pairs sucks. [hilariously the latter was not even about them at all, it was about me looking for imogen and fearne ship fic that wasn't witchy trio fic and finding it almost impossible to filter].

I do not like these people because they have engaged with harassment. It is not about identity; it is about actions. My closest friend, and the first non-family member I talked to on Wednesday morning, is a bi woman in an open marriage to a woman, with a longterm male partner. I was a bridesmaid in her wedding. The last time I visited her, in September, I was joined by other mutual friends, who are similarly in an open marriage with longterm partners and at least one relationship between two women.

I am entirely secure, in my personal life, that I am kind and accepting to queer women (of which I am one) and to poly people (of which I am not), and so I hope you can appreciate that if someone attempts to attack me on the internet on these grounds because I do not have the same exact opinions on pretend people kissing, my response isn't "oh my god I should go off and die because I'm a terrible person," it's "get a load of this moron making wild assumptions about my personal life based on a single data point in my preferences in fiction; I'm going to make them regret doing this to me, and hopefully anyone else, because this is genuinely a detrimental behavior in the fandom space." And also, you know what. If they were a homeless person on the street and asked for a dollar I would still give it to them if their attacks were merely verbal (yes, I know the idea of someone screaming "YOU'RE A LESBOPHOBE FOR HATING IMO/DNA can i have a dollar" outside the grocery store is rather comical, and I think that is how you need to consider statements like "um actually I won't help pro-shippers." Imagine that conversation happening in an irl activist group. Everyone would be like "uh...anyway, how do we fight back against this hostile bench architecture.")

I think right now it is vitally important to remember what actual bigotry looks like and what needs to be fought, and the reason I tapped the sign of this post last night is literally that I think you are wasting time and energy engaging with people who think bigotry is "criticizing the pretend guy Ashton Greymoore for concrete but pretend choices they made" when I also think most people criticizing Ashton would, if Ashton were real, still toss them change if they needed it, or are people who currently donate to or otherwise work with local programs that assist nb people, disabled people, or unhoused children.

I like to argue and I like to engage in fandom and I will continue doing that because it is a source of enjoyment and comfort for me, but I really urge everyone to ask yourself "am I arguing about genuinely different readings, or do I think that everyone who doesn't like my blorbo ship is a bad person" because if it's the latter, I think you need to nip that in the bud of online fandom before it grows into something darker and worse. A lot of irl hate and bigotry starts from a place of "everyone who doesn't agree with me and give me what I want all the time is wrong and evil" and perhaps I am too optimistic, but I think many people who say things like that in fandom just are caught up in the drama of it all and are capable of exercising empathy when they stop treating shipping or interpretation like a popularity contest that, if they lose, indicates that everyone around them is irredeemable. But I also think it can be the start of a really bad path.

[mothiir]

romancing the lion

You are not going to be courted in any sense of the word - you think you’ll get knightly romance? Nope, you need to study your history and realise that most of the courtly romances were told to entertain and had no more bearing on actual Caliban courtship than mills and boon has on today’s dating scene. Even if they were the norm, the lion is a feral child of the wastes who believes he is quite literally gods gift. He’s not doing any of that.

instead, the first indication of his interest is going to be indistinguishable from literal kidnap. You’re a serf? Well done, you’re not serving him exclusively. You’re a noble woman? Congrats, you’re now a serf serving him exclusively. Diplomat? Guess. And try telling him no. Go on. Try it. This is a promotion you do not get to say no to.

does this mean that he is now nice to you - absolutely not of course it isn’t. He isn’t nice to anyone. He doesn’t even really have the words for the feelings he is feeling for you. This applies to him in the 30th millennium and the 41st btw. Either iteration is equally bad with emotion. The older version of him is less likely to start killing people you love so you’ve got that going for you.

the fact is that now you have his total attention and that means you get ordered about constantly because his love language is acts of service which means you will be serving. Think the princess bride but a little less wholesome. “Mend my armour. Make my food. Prepare my beard oil. Spend time with my watchers.”

At this stage you probably think he is planning to kill you. He can’t stop staring at you. Every little thing you do seems to to infuriate him. You’re not to know that this is his brand of cuteness aggression.

he will kill things for you. Like a cat dumping dead lizards on a doorstep. It’s what he’s good at and it’s how he shows affection. If you have enemies they are now dead. If you are a normal person with no mortal enemies he will just kill the biggest scariest things and ensure you see him do it. Do you feel aroused yet?

when he takes you to his bed he will be under the impression he has been incredibly obvious with his intentions and you will be completely taken aback

he is not suave. His pick up line is: “come to bed with me.” Or: “come to my chambers to see to my needs.”

he’s a virgin. War always took priority over sex for him. He will try and mount you without any prep, flipping you onto your front and clambering aboard.

he will blame you for not being open for him. For being too tight to fit him. He’s seen women give birth he knows how this works.

(he saw one woman give birth once and has extrapolated)

40th millennium him will be a little less grumpy about this but will still insist that you are doing something wrong. You will have to coax him through the business of foreplay which should be easy enough as long as you suck his dick. As soon as he realises that’s an option he’ll be happy to hold off on actually penetrating you as long as you keep licking

Will get annoyed at you for walking too slowly and carry you. There is no choice in this

basically be prepared for the most aggressive care you’ve experienced in your life - on the one hand he will yell at you for being stupid and human and frail, on the other he will carry you on his shoulder like a tame kestrel and hand feed you “because you’re too foolish to take care of yourself”

[thedo0zyslider]

Spoiler Alert: That's Not Poison - 4k Words

Scott, for all his complaints, was used to Pearl's damaging little tricks. But she's gone way too far this time. With nausea, horrible cramps, and headaches, Scott can't believe she actually poisoned them!

(Or: Pearl is on her period. Scott think she poisoned them. Cleo calls her chosen soulmate an idiot. Snuggles ensue.)

My second fic for @mcyt-trick-or-treat! This time for kuruasu!!

Tw for periods, in case that bothers anyone ^^

Scott, for all his (very valid, in his opinion) whining and complaining about them, is well used to Pearl’s self destructive tendencies. The powdered snow and his soulmate acting recklessly were daily occurrences, had been for weeks. And, as much as he liked arguing with Pearl over her behavior (read: he very rarely enjoyed doing so,) Scott was also a strategist . Scott didn’t necessarily want to win, not again, but he wanted to stay alive as long as possible. He knew how to manage the more unfortunate parts of their soulbond like he knew the back of his hand. Don’t do anything about the freezing effect, because Pearl will just dunk more on herself until she’s satisfied and warming up will only delay that. Keep extra food in his back pocket in case she decides to piss off a red. Actually heal himself from the freezing damage here and there to piss her off. That sorta of stuff. That was normal, that was practically everyday life for him.

But this? This was not.

Scott’s been stuck in his bed all day, plagued with nausea and insufferable stomach cramps. It’s so bad he feels like he can’t even walk. It feels like his insides are trying to kill him on purpose. Honestly, he can’t believe Pearl did this to herself, all to get back at him! This was literally torture! She’d gone farther off the deep end than Scott had originally thought, if she was going to these lengths just to put him in pain. The woman really was mad, and Scott now felt all his name calling was extra justified than it had been before, because what the hell, Pearl.

He can’t believe Pearl actually poisoned herself to get back at him. He knows he pissed her off pretty bad a few days ago, but this was an overreaction! Poison! She’d poisoned them! He doesn’t even know how she got the ingredients to make poison, but Scott had pissed her off so much, she's apparently found a way! They were gonna die if this kept up any longer, seriously, and Scott was not going to be happy about being yellow so early. Especially not over his stupid soulmate and her stupid poison.

The thought of dying seems to summon yet another wave of never ending pain, like some sort of ominous warning, and Scott buries his head into a pillow for what has to be the thousandth time. He’s been curled into a ball for hours. It’s the only position that was comfortable. Being stuck in it for hours sucked, and made his limbs sore, but being uncomfortable and in horrendous pain sounded much worse than a few aches and pains.

Eventually, there’s another lull in the pain, and Scott manages to get himself out of bed. He shambles across his house, grabbing bread and devouring it. The poison seems to be affecting his appetite too, since he’d made sure to eat in between the cramps and he’s still hungry. That, or Pearl’s hungry and she isn’t doing anything about it. She’s probably reveling in the hunger pains, actually, so proud that her stupid poison plan actually worked.

After that, Scott manages to get out of his house, gritting his teeth and ignoring the cramps. He thinks staying in that room any longer will accelerate his death. He’s tired of being in pain, and doing nothing about it. Though, walking over the admittedly wobbly bridge between he and Cleo’s houses makes him kinda rethink that choice. Sure, Scott wants to get out of the house, and ask Cleo if she can do anything about the poison; but the bridge’s slight swaying is making the nausea come back again, and he’s pretty sure Pearl just rammed her foot into something as revenge.

If Pearl didn’t want them to be nauseous, she shouldn’t have drank the poison. And if Scott wants to maybe cure said poison, he has to talk to Cleo about a cure. Because he’s checked his house, and he doesn’t have anything to brew a remedy with, and no brewing stand to even prepare water with. That honor goes to their treacherous soulmates and their early nether trip. (Even if he’s sure Martyn’s better at brewing than Pearl, and she just went in there to piss him off, but whatever. Not the point right now.)

He opens Cleo’s door without knocking, a bad habit he’s not interested in breaking. If Cleo truly cared about it, they would’ve axed him by now. And, as Scott stumbles through the house, finding his ally in the next room over, they could totally get a few good hits in with said axe. Maybe not kill him, but get a few good blows in and then hold a grudge forever afterwards. Scott would do just the same for them, and it’s why they worked so well together. And why he was barging into their house to complain. It was peak bestie behavior.

“Cleo, I think Pearl poisoned herself.” Scott says, feeling more exhausted than he should. He even has to lean on the room's doorway for support, feeling like his legs will give out if he doesn’t. Which is either from his body’s general feeling of fatigue, or the result of laying in bed for so long. Though he’s pretty sure it’s mostly the fatigue turning his legs into jelly.

Cleo hums, sounding surprised. She seems to pay no mind to his plight or pain, at least not for a few more minutes, busy rummaging through chests for iron and starting on some new armor for themselves. Armor that Scott would bet diamonds that Martyn “accidentally” broke in some stupid way. “Really? That’s a new low for her.”

“Tell me about it.” Scott hisses, now less leaning against the wall and more so slumping against it; letting the structure take most of his weight. He really regrets getting out of bed now, more so than any of his other prior attempts to do so. Maybe Cleo will let him die in theirs, if it gets bad again. Which it will. “I feel like I’m dying .”

“You probably are, if it’s poison.” Cleo snaps their chest shut, and turns half her attention to the crafting table. The other half, or a little less than, is given to her whining friend. Scott is honestly in too much pain to care. “I’d offer you a healing potion if I could, but I don't have any, or the ingredients.” Cleo adds with a shrug. And well, at least she sounds sympathetic about it.

“I thought I'd be dead by now.” Scott muses, ignoring another agonizing sensation in his side. He adds the last part a little uncertainty, unsure of how long it's been. Being in incredible pain for so long kinda makes you lose track of the time, especially when you can’t move. “It’s been happening since uh, two or three days ago?.”

“Are you losing hearts?” Cleo hums, already having two pieces of armor forged. They seem to have miscounted how much iron they have, cursing under her breath as they fail to craft a chestplate. Scott barely pays that any mind though, as his body is trying to kill him again. He pushes the aches down, and starts talking through gritted teeth. (God, he hopes Pearl is happy with herself right now…..)

“No, not really.” He responds, shrugging. It had been a little weird at first, that Scott wasn’t losing hearts; other than the odd half a heart here and there, something that was regenerated just as fast as it was lost. But the pain had been so horrible and persistent, he just assumed either he or Pearl would’ve died eventually. Either from the stupid poison or starvation. Clearly, he had been wrong; or, at the very least, a little off in his estimates, seeing as how they’re still green and the lost hearts never dipped past two at a time.

Cleo turns to him, looking thoughtful. And like she’s a few seconds away from a lightbulb appearing above her head. He doesn’t know if that look should make him feel scared or hopeful about the poison predicament. Scott feels like fear is probably the safest bet right now. Maybe. “Are there any other symptoms other than general pain?”

“Nausea, stomach cramps, headaches, and sometimes it hurts too much to walk.” Scott lists off, grimacing as one of said cramps stabs at his sides again. He’s had a headache this whole time, too, but he’s managed to put it in the back of his mind. At least until the pain sharpens once again, just like every side effect of this stupid poison seems to do. “And I feel like I’m losing blood when I’m not.”

Cleo just stares at him, not saying anything. But the zombie is giving him a look , one that says he’s a fucking idiot. A look very rarely used, but one usually reserved for the likes of Martyn and maybe Bdubs. Which makes Scott a little nervous. But only a little bit. He probably just forgot about some odd poison remedy, or something. Probably.

“What?” Scott asks, raising an eyebrow at her. He’s as curious as he is nervous, wondering what Cleo knows that he doesn’t. Plus, if there’s a way to stop being poisoned, he wants to know that ASAP. Being in pain twenty-four seven was not fun, and something he wasn’t really interested in anymore. Not that Scott was ever interested in it to begin with.

“Scott.” Cleo says, voice flat. She looks like she wants to slap him for being so stupid. Scott doesn’t doubt that they will, if needed, or that they're not considering it. She’s given Martyn random injuries and axe crits for much less. “You literally just described a period.”

He blinks at her, dumbfounded by the news, and then promptly stammers over his words. Like the right idiot he is. “I — what?"

“Pearl didn’t poison herself, she's on her period , you idiot!” Cleo repeats, with a little more force and a little more insult this time. Scott stares at her, wide eyed and still dumbfounded as he lets the news sink in. Yeah, he totally (and rather rightfully) feels like an idiot right about now. “Why was poison your first thought?”

“Because she’s crazy!?” Scott offers, now a little unsure of his own reasoning. All his symptoms due like up with a period, now that he thinks it over again. Admittedly, he absolutely should’ve connected the dots, with literally everything he’d be going through lining up with what Scott knew about periods. (Also like, girl experiencing cramps is usually because of a period.) But Pearl’s insanity just seemed more likely at the time, especially since he had upset her a day before it happened. Though he doubted she cared about that right now.

“Pearl’s not that suicidal, not yet .” Cleo said, probably stopping themselves from rolling their eyes at his stupidity. Another thing Scott cannot blame them for, he doesn’t think he’s ever had this big of a blunder before. He was usually a lot smarter than this. “I hope Martyn doesn’t think I poisoned him.” She mutters after, running a hand over her face.

“I’ll give him a heads up.” Scott offers, making a mental note to message Martyn about that later, and to spare Cleo from having to converse with him. That would be a pretty awkward conversation, but it was better than Martyn assuming poison. Or something else equally as stupid. (Though, unlike Pearl, Cleo is not insane and would prefer to not inconvenience herself to screw over her soulmate, so maybe Martyn wouldn't think poison.)

“Hopefully he’s smarter about women than you are.” Cleo responds, the armor she was crafting long forgotten. The zombie moves away from her crafting table, and goes to look through her chests again. For what, Scott has no idea.

Whatever Scott was going to respond with is cut off as he gets another cramp, and he winces in pain. “How do girls do this every month?” He hisses, wondering how many days of this were left and when he would be free of this torment. Scott doesn’t know how much longer he can last. And he also has no idea how Pearl lives like this, holy fuck. As he’s busy being in horrible pain, Cleo finds what they’re looking for, snapping a chest shut once again and turning back towards him.

“Because we’re stronger than you men are.” The zombie’s response is cheerfully casual, and they shove a small bag of coca in his hand. Who it’s going to and what it’s for are pretty clear at this point, and remain unsaid. Scott’s not that clueless about women. “Now be a gentleman and ask the poor girl if she needs anything! And give her this!”

“I was planning on that!” Scott says, fumbling as the coca is practically shoved into his hands. He almost drops it, and Cleo giggles at him. He gives her a sharp look after that, one with no real malice behind it, and exists from their base without another word. Cleo calls out a goodbye after him, presumably turning back to her crafting table once he’s out of her hair. Scott is too busy speed walking away to hear them, or to say goodbye back.

Somehow, about ten minutes later and against everything the universe is throwing at him, Scott manages to get to Pearl’s tower. And, thankfully, without running into anyone else. He does not want to be seen in a state like this; hobbling around the server like some injured animal. That would also not be good for his reputation.

He knocks on the door, and prepares himself to wait a few minutes. Pearl answers a lot quicker than expected, throwing open the door barely two minutes later. She blinks at him, surprised, and Scott blinks back. He had planned something to say, something annoyed yet comforting maybe. But now that he’s here, Scott finds that the words won’t come to him. Pearl, on the other hand, finds no problem in making her displeasure known.

“What do you want, Scott?” She says, glaring at him through slitted eyes. For once, Scott can’t say he blames her. Not after the poison thing he just pulled with Cleo. Which he still feels dumb and embarrassed about, by the way. Scott doesn’t think the mortification of that will ever leave his body. And that’s not him being dramatic. (It totally is.)

“I can feel your period cramps.” He responds, voice flat. Scott returns the rather unpleasant look his soulmate is giving him, doing so despite the weird piece offering sitting in his hands. They might both be suffering, but that doesn’t mean Pearl can give him nasty looks and get away with it! All he did was knock on her door, for god’s sake! Not everything he does towards her has malicious intent, and their relationship would be a lot better if she realized that!

“Wow, I didn’t think you could.” Pearl deadpans, glaring at him. Her sarcasm is unwarranted and very unappreciated, but Scott gives her a pass. He’s not exactly in a chipper mood himself, either, for very obvious reasons. She could still try and be a little nicer though, since he’d very obviously shown up with a gift in his hands.

“Cleo sent cocoa, to make chocolate with.” He says, deciding it was better to ignore any rude behavior that came from Pearl. Scott hands her the cocoa, probably stolen from the small jungle somewhere on the map, and is glad to finally get rid of it. Maybe he won’t have to stay long after this, and they can go about their merry ways and not see each other for a few days. At least until the period is over or something big happens. But hopefully the former occurs first.

“I’ll have to thank her later.” Pearl’s voice betrays a hint of excitement as she takes the gift, eyes widening ever so slightly. She quickly pockets it away for later, hastily shoving the item into her inventory, before turning back to Scott. He looks sheepish before the words even leave his mouth, and Pearl raises a curious eyebrow at him, a second before she finds out why.

“I thought you poisoned yourself at first.” Scott admits, staring up at the tower’s outer wall, not wanting to meet Pearl’s eyes as he says it. He feels even stupider when he says it out loud, if such a thing was possible. And, for all he hates Pearl, he probably deserves a little bit of powdered snow for assuming and thinking the worst of her for several days straight.

“No poison potion gives you these symptoms, you buffoon.” She huffs, rolling her eyes. If Scott might even hear a hint of amusement in her voice, buried beneath all the scorn. Scott chooses not to think about that, and to shove all related thoughts away. He focuses on the scorn in her voice instead, the one thing that never seems to leave Pearl’s tone these days. It’s the only emotion there that makes sense to him.

“Well I know that now.” Scott mutters, crossing his arms over his chest. He finally moves his eyes back to Pearl, the wall no longer being as interesting as it used to be. Her gaze searches his, looking for something. Her face isn’t twisted in a scowl anymore, her expression having shifted into something much.… softer . Scott doesn’t know what she’s looking for, and doesn’t want to find out. Whatever it is, it probably isn’t anything good. He almost looks away so she can’t search anymore. He doesn’t go through with it.

They fall into a brief silence after that, the two of them just simply….looking at each other awkwardly. Neither of them know what to say anymore, not that there is much to say. Scott had done what he came to do, tell Pearl about his situation and give her the cocoa beans. But now that that was done, and he was actually face to face with her…..

“Do you want me to stay, or..?” He asks, tentative. Scott asks mostly because he doesn't want to hobble back home, unsure if she can take much more movement; lest his legs give out on him. The feeling of not being able to walk is slowly creeping back in, the pain seeming to spike more with every minute. Also, he’d feel a little bad about leaving Pearl to suffer alone with this specific thing, especially since he knows how bad it hurts.

Pearl nods, the soft expression not quite leaving her face. Scott can’t tell if it fades or gets stronger. Yet another thing about Pearl that he doesn’t want an answer too either. “Get in here. You're riding this out with me.” Pearl says, and then walks away from the door, expecting Scott to follow. Like they were allies or something. And like Scott was usually allowed inside her house. (He’s been in there before, just when Pearl wasn’t home. He’d just gotten curious, is all. And what she doesn’t know won’t hurt her.)

“Fine.” He calls after her, and then shuffles into the tower. He shuts the door tightly behind him, and hopes no one saw that. It would ruin his whole reputation of hating his soulmate, something which Scott would like to keep. Because he does still hate her, they’re just at….somewhat of a truce until the torture ends. Then they can go back to being mad at each other, and inflicting pain by their usual means. But for now? It’s time to lay down again.

They end up at the top floor of her tower together, suffering in the same bed. Them, and a fair amount of dogs Pearl had somehow brought up here. There’s still a good amount of the bottom level, ready to run out the door and attack anything Pearl tells them too. The thought is mildly terrifying, and Scott feels sorry for whoever will (eventually) be on the receiving ends of those dogs. (Not having to worry about them appears to be the one benefit of this soulbond.)

While he had been climbing the ladder up, Pearl had made the cocoa into a fair amount of chocolate. She shits next to him now, cross legged as she breaks parts off and eats it. Scott doesn’t mind that he’s not being offered some. Cleo had sent over a lot of cocoa for a few days worth of chocolate; he wasn't too worried about Pearl eating all that any time soon. Also, Scott is too busy curling into a ball with the blankets to worry about eating anything right now.

“Does it ever calm down?” Scott hisses, trying and failing to curl deeper into the bedsheets. He fails because he’s not sure he can sink any deeper into them. Beside him, Pearl grimaces, but takes the torture a lot better than he is. They’re not even on good terms right now, but if anyone ever calls her weak Scott’s going to deck them. He can’t imagine doing this for seven days every month, because Jesus Christ it’s horrible. It hurts worse than literally being exploded or having lava poured on you. And lava burns like a bitch.

“Eventually, in a few days.” Pearl’s response is like, way too nonchalant for this, and she hands him a piece of chocolate. Tilly, identifiable by her colored collar, lays her head in Pearl’s lap. Tilly gets a good amount of scratches and head pats for this, Pearl petting her absentmindedly. Scott tries and fails to not be jealous of a dog.

Scott groans, rather dramatically, and gratefully takes the chocolate he’s handed. He doesn’t know if Pearl’s cravings are transferring to him in the same way the cramps are, but she had made some damn good candy. Plus, he read something once about chocolate helping with menstrual pain. So hopefully both of them eating it should do something.

“The cramps are basically like, labor lite.” Pearl says, words slightly muffled as she shoves more candy into her mouth. She passes two more pieces to Scott, and pets Tilly’s head again. And a few more dogs start nosing both of them, half of them wanting attention and the other wanting a share of their treats. Scott pets one of the bigger wolves, and makes sure two of the tinier ones don’t poison themselves while he’s not looking.

“Great.” He sighs, and eats more chocolate. Pearl is at least trying to half it with him now, instead of shoving every bite into her mouth. Scott takes back what he said about Pearl not eating all the chocolate anytime soon. He has a feeling they’re both going to have devoured the whole supply by tomorrow. (Maybe if one of them asks nicely enough, Cleo or someone else will bring them more. Scott doesn’t know how he’ll survive without it.)

Pearl’s attempt at a joke is lame. On second thought, Scott doesn’t know if it was a bad joke or just an observation. Maybe it was a little bit of both. “You and Martyn have now definitive answers to ‘What hurts worse, giving birth or being kicked in the balls?’”

“Pretty sure we both thought birth was worse.” Scott hums, cringing as another wave of pain rolls over him. Yeah, this is worse than getting kicked in the balls. Anyone who says otherwise is stupid. He hopes Martyn will share his sentiments, and be just as dramatic when it goes to his first period as well.

“Well now you know for certain!” She responds, shuffling Tilly into her lap fully. As she does that, a dog lays on top of him; the big one from a few minutes ago. It’s a very heavy wolf, but Scott doesn’t have the energy or motivation to move it off. He reaches up, and lazily gives it head scratches. The wolf wags its tail happily, like an overgrown puppy.

“Do you think we could get painkillers, somehow?” Scott knows there’s painkillers available outside the games, along with a bunch of other stuff for periods. But, rather unfortunately, they are stuck in a death game with nothing but natural resources, and none of their friends are particularly skilled in medicine. (This makes Scott wonder how Pearl and Cleo get pads or tampons during these games. He figures it’s probably best not to know.)

“Believe me, I’ve tried.” Pearl says, another dog trying to nose its way into her lap. The pack is extremely affectionate with her, Scott has noticed. He wonders if all of them have names, or if Tilly’s the only one who gets that privilege. “Golden apples tend to help, but we can’t eat those this time."

“Goddammit.” Scott hisses, finishing the last of his chocolate. From the tone of Pearl’s voice, it sounds like she’s tried to find a lot of remedy’s before. And Scott, unaccustomed to dealing with a period, is not about to go and look for one. Most things he knows to look for probably don’t even exist here anyways…Well, if there’s not much to help them, Scott decides he’s not going to suffer alone. Being here with the dogs is much better than being alone in his house. His house also doesn’t have supplies for candy. Oh, and it doesn’t have Pearl. That too.

“I’m living here for the next few days, if Cleo asks.” He says, not caring as Pearl lays down next to him. Sharing this pain with someone else was turning out to be far more…pleasant than he expected. Dare he say enjoyable. Whatever the word, it was certainly better than suffering alone in his base; with nothing but his thoughts to keep him company. “I don’t think I can walk back anymore.”

“Whatever you say.” Pearl says, the normal scorn still in her voice, just like it always is. Despite that, Scott gets the feeling she wants him to stay. Just for now or for forever doesn’t matter right now, just the fact that he stays. She wants him to stay this time, to not run back home to Cleo or whoever else.

And, for the first time in this game, Scott is going to.

[thelakesuite]

The Rusty Lake Story in Bitchass Baby Terms

this is ALL off the top of my head (and i haven't experienced like 10% of it maybe?) so i might be wrong but i don't care right now

the lake itself isn't, like, that well established 'cause it's a mystery game or something so we don't need full exposition. it's some deity-like thing as old as the mammoths (not canon) that eats time. or rather memories that are stored in lil cubes. and it gives its zookeepers immortality so they can keep feeding it. they call themselves the Rulers of the Lake but we all know the truth. 'immortality', or rather enlightenment, is represented by you becoming your fursona and living maybe an extra century. mr. owl's looking for a new heir pretty quick in the process but we'll get to that.

corrupted souls are kinda a byproduct of all this. truly the lake's farts. when a person dies horribly, when their memories get extracted wrong, or when the plot demands it, they become corrupted. corrupted souls still talk, and some of them are even sensible (like your mom oooooh), but generally they're jumpscare beasts or wet little puppies. sometimes both. yes you can get corrupted when you're enlightened, and right now it's the more likely outcome actually. there's a whole 'elixir of immortality' that gets harped on, where one drinker gets corrupted and the other gets enlightened, but that is literally only a thing for roots and a little bit of cave so don't worry about it too much. unless you're making dramatic fanart in which case leverage that shit.

cubes come up a lot in cube escape, believe it or not! black ones are bad memories, white ones are good memories, blue ones are connected to the past in a way that's somehow not a memory, gold ones are connected to the future, red ones only exist in my fangame that ellesian recently unearthed, and green ones are jello yum. also suck it anyone who told me pre-tpw the gold cube thing was unestablished. anyway. it was a big thing mr.'s owl and crow were working on, creating a golden cube (presumably to extend their own lives) as seen in cave, but then one just kinda appears in the past within when albert does electric jujitsu. jury is still out on that.

onto the actual narrative i think.

in paradise, you're mr. owl pre-owling (1790-something). the lake's current suckass servants are your family who tried to sacrifice you to it way back, but your mom took your place for mom reasons. now mom's corrupted and guiding you to... well, to get sacrificed for real this time. but with your powers combined (yes mr. owl was two people, no it is never addressed) you get enlightened and tell your family to fuck off 'cause you're building a hotel on that island now. you also get a tease in the secret ending that dale and laura will do a similar fusion dance to be the lake's next suckass. we've been waiting 6 years for that to happen.

in roots, two alchemist brothers get that elixir shit going (1860-1935). one of them becomes mr. crow, while the other becomes a playable character for a game. and corrupted. you rope your whole bloodline into this, harvesting their body parts (usually after they die from other means, but you totally caused most of their deaths) for a reincarnation ritual involving a magic seed (that also only exists for this game). this is where the best characters come from because rusty lake actually wanted to tell a story with this game. you reincarnate into a woman! don't think about the implications.

in samsara room, the inside scoop of reincarnation is fuckin' weird, dude (1935). the original was made before rusty lake began, so it's not truly part of the narrative, but it got folded in for the fifth anniversary.

in hotel, you do not get the backstory of the third bird man (1890ish). instead, you get to kill mr. owl's family again, but one-on-one as animal people. how did they become animal people? fuck you that's how! mr. owl probably did it on purpose to spite them with shit sandwiches and bullets to the brain. oh, also, there might be an evil twin of mr. rabbit that shows up later.

in arles, you're vincent van gogh. that's it. he's not relevant. but it is funny seing the death date of paul gauguin in the timeline docs.

we're talking about the past within later but the 'past' segment takes place around here. 1926 iirc?

in birthday, your parents get shot (1939). you're going to be an important detective, dale, but like right now you're getting traumatized. or rather you're experiencing that memory, then doing blue cube magic to fix it and have your grandpa shoot evil mr. rabbit instead. is your grandpa actually mr. crow? no. shut up about it now.

in underground blossom, your mom gets abducted (1935-1972 maybe). okay, well, not you. this is the laura backstory metaphor game but you're actually playing as the third bird man who is both her stepdad and her pet. and her grandpa albert takes her mom rose for his own nefarious reincarnation schemes maybe probably. rose is surprisingly okay with it but characters rarely put up a fight with the plot anyway. laura's a lonely kid, starts dating robert, picks up art to soothe her nightmares, gets murked, then reaches some kind of epiphany that we just train ride away from before finding out what actually happens. she's your daughter, damnit, you should support her transcendence. not enlightenment importantly. also, no, laura's life didn't literally happen at train stops, it's just a vehicle. not even a pun don't fucking laugh i see you snickering.

in seasons, you set up a really interesting plotline that gets utterly countered by everything that came after (1960's-80's). it's just laura time in there, and she uncorrupts herself, thank you very much. the series has been struggling with how laura gets her corrupted self to 1980-whatever, and so far only one other game's even taken place after 1972. and that game's the past within which also counters every other plotline. sigh. maybe we're not smart enough for these puzzle games. at least harvey's cute and bird-shaped. key point that's impossible to fuck up is that laura dies in 1972, and it's unclear whether it was a murder or suicide. that's why we get a detective.

in harvey's box and the lake, uh i don't know really (1969). these are early games that are basically spinoffs of seasons. they help with the overarching stuff but aren't much for the narrative at this point. also they suck

in case 23, dale starts investigating laura's death and gets wrapped up in the lake stuff (1972). it was supposed to be just another murder case, but he got too into it and it got too into him, so he gets teleported to the lake chapel and ferried off to. somewhere idk. he goes into an elevator that takes him down memory lane to the lake floor.

in the mill, mr. crow is really trying to clean house before dale gets here (1972). this is where laura gets her ass corrupted by mr. crow, and we find out how the lake eats memories or whatever. it's supposed to overlap with case 23 and it almost succeeds. whatever skrunk is still there is forgiveable, this was the flash era after all.

in theatre, dale learns about ripoff hinduism, goads a man into suicide, and abandons his darling toilet fetus son (1971). it's like birthday again, where this is a memory we're seeing, but that is a light distinction. robert kills himself at the bar, and we take his memories for legal reasons. there's some sixfold wheel we learn about that doesn't matter much.

in the cave, mr. crow still cleans house before dale gets to the Magic Memory Machine (1972). mr. owl's kinda sorta dying, and dale's been elected his son or something. gotta get his mindmeats. you read a textbook about cubes, pilot a submarine to the lakefloor, put dale and laura in a surrogate fusion dance machine, then give dale the golden cube it makes before sending him up the elevator again. hotel did imply something serious was gonna happen when he gets to the top, but that was eight years ago. the devs probably forgot and fell too in love with albert vanderboom in the meantime.

in the white door, robert unkills himself and gets wrong psychiatry (1972). as it turns out, mr. owl has a front business running a for-profit psych ward to extract totally good and healthy memories from people. this one is an actual factual spinoff but is kinda relevant for the greater rusty lake metropolitan area.

in paradox, fuuuuuuuck who knows maaaan, isn't it all just a metaphor? (1972). there's a consensus that none of the stuff that happens in paradox actually happens, and that it's all in dale's head while he's in the Magic Memory Machine from cave. even though there's five different endings, he kinda walks away at the end, which might be the worst ending of the lot. the information's solid though; mr. owl spells out the whole heir thing, there's bits of backstory for dale and laura everywhere. also the movie's sick.

in the past within, albert becomes a mechanical engineer for the sole purpose of making plot armor (1926/1984). yeah, remember that guy from roots? the voodoo murderer who got third-hand alchemy information to make up for his lack of pussy? yeah, he invented a time machine decades ago. and he enlisted his daughter to talk to her past/future self to grow him back to life in 1984. with a gold cube that he somehow got. and somehow his scar is genetically coded in him. and we don't see his wiggly lineart dick. what does he do in 1984? trap his daughter in a time loop then who the fuck knows. he's stuck in his jumpscare beast ways from being corrupted for so long. how did he get corrupted when he was literally buried in the ground and salvaged bones from? next game!

there's an ARG that i never saw a thing of because i hated it, best kept memory. from what i gathered, it was another front scheme for memory harvesting, except in the 2000's. does that mean it's enlightened dale/laura doing this one, since mr. owl presumably passed on the title then turned into a fish? i'd like to know too!

also, a chapter of underground blossom i haven't completed, and a paper-based game coming out within the next two years or whatever. i don't know how much they'll clear up.

toodles!

[hoseokhasmyheartxx]

For the writing prompt! 2 and 135 with Namjoon!😏☺️

Come Home With Me | KNJ

*Pairing: fuckboy!Namjoon x f!Reader *Word Count: 2.4k *Genre: SMUT, fluff, FWB-to-??, non idol AU *Warnings: EXPLICIT SMUT, MINORS DNI. jealousy, lack of communication, honestly they’re both idiots; dom!Joon, reader just goes along with it (isn’t really sub/switch/anything); piv sex, counter sex, bathroom sex, oral sex (f. receiving), fingering, breast play, nfcm, some fluffy moments scattered throughout because I can never write anything without the feels *Summary: Jealousy is an ugly emotion, especially when it comes to friends-with-benefits. Too bad you can’t hide yours any longer. *A/N: welp this is the first thing i’ve written in literal months, so bear with me if it’s terrible. i finally got some inspiration one night and decided to just go with it. also sorry for the formatting, posting on mobile sucks.

Prompts come from this post!

Main Masterlist

Who would’ve thought that you would end up here.

Staring, frozen, watching the man you love shove his tongue down another woman’s throat at a party thrown by your best friend.

The worst part of this? The worst part of all this is that he doesn’t even know you love him. Sure, you’d been fooling around with him for the better part of a year now, but you’d agreed from day one that it wasn’t exclusive.

Kim Namjoon wasn’t an “exclusive” person. He didn’t do relationships. Everyone knew that. And you weren’t any different. There was nothing special about you that would change his ways. But the knowledge of this fact didn’t change the way you felt, the acid in your throat threatening to come up.

You spun around on your heels, bumping your shoulder against the corner of the wall to your right as you fled from the room. Hissing out a few curse words, you then silently cursed yourself as you knew there was no way he hadn’t heard you. You chose to forget it, making your way back down the hallway leading to the main room.

“_____,” a deep voice from behind you called. You continued walking, ignoring Namjoon’s plea for your attention.

You only made it a few more feet before you were shoved from behind into the bathroom at the end of the hall. You stood still, silent as the door clicked shut behind you.

“_____,” Namjoon repeated.

You slowly turned to face him, not at all wanting to have this conversation. Peering up at him, you watched for any sign of any emotion on his face, but he was unreadable, as always.

“What?” you asked flatly.

“You weren’t supposed to see that.”

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes at his statement. Of course you weren’t supposed to see it. That’s why he did it far away from you, or anyone else who may have seen. But, as luck would have it, you did see it.

“Look,” Namjoon sighed, “We aren’t exclusive. But even so, I’m not trying to flaunt any hookups right in front of your face. I’m not that much of an ass.”

You scoffed. “Oh, thanks so much for your consideration. I’ll make sure to ask you if you’re bringing someone the next time Jimin has a party so I know to stay home.”

You moved to step around him to exit the bathroom, but were stopped by his large hand grabbing your waist.

“Wait a minute. Are you jealous?” Namjoon asked, eyes boring into yours.

“No.” You averted his gaze, refusing to look at him any longer. You weren’t in any position to be jealous when you knew he wasn’t yours. But you were, and you hated yourself for it.

Namjoon lifted his other hand, gripping your chin between his thumb and forefinger, forcing you to look at him.

“Don’t lie to me. Are you jealous?” he repeated.

With a shaky breath, you nodded.

“Why?”

“I just— I just am,” you choked out.

You watched as Namjoon tightened his jaw, glaring down at you.

“You are the one who said this was just fun. You said you weren’t looking for anything serious. How can you be jealous?” he questioned.

“Of course I said that, Namjoon. You don’t do relationships. What was I supposed to say, that I expected you to change everything about yourself and make me your girlfriend?”

His fingers never left your chin, eyes never left yours.

“If you didn’t want something casual, why would you agree to this? That’s not fair to you,” Namjoon asked, stroking your cheek.

Your anxiety over him possibly finding out how you felt was ebbing. This was one of many effects he had on you. Without even trying, he could ease your mind, calm you down, with the slightest of touches.

“Because. That’s— that’s the only way I could ever have you,” you finally admitted.

He furrowed his brow, staring down at you still.

“You’ve always had me,” Namjoon said, voice lowered, wrapping his arm around your waist and pulling you against him. His lips captured yours in a desperate kiss, his other hand moving to grip the side of your neck.

You returned the kiss, hands coming up to fist his shirt. He backed you up against the bathroom counter, trapping you there, lips not leaving yours. His tongue swiped across the seam of your lips, pulling a small gasp from you as you opened for him. His tongue overtook yours, his mouth engulfing you in passion and burning you from the inside out.

As he pushed you harder against the counter, he broke the kiss, his chest heaving against you as he steadied his breathing.

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

You struggled to form words, brain still foggy from his dizzying kiss. “I was scared you wouldn’t feel the same way.” You traced circles on his chest, avoiding his gaze.

“I would have. I mean, I do. C’mon, think about it. I don’t stay the night with my hookups. I don’t call my hookups in the middle of the day just to hear their voice. I don’t… I don’t do any of that stuff with anyone, except you. If you would’ve just told me how you felt… you would’ve been mine a long time ago,” Namjoon breathed out.

You looked up at him, small smile curling on your lips. Standing on your tiptoes, you kissed the corner of his mouth, working your way across his jawline and down to the space just below his ear. Nipping at his earlobe, you wrapped your arms around his neck to hold yourself steady on your tiptoes.

“Shut up and take your pants off,” you whispered in his ear. You felt the heat rise in your cheeks, knowing what was next.

Namjoon needed to be in control. Any hint of dominance shown from his partner, and it flipped a switch inside of him. His eyes darken, pupils blown out with desire.

Just like that, he ripped your shirt over your head, claiming your lips again as he reached behind you to unclasp your bra. His large hand immediately moved to your breast, massaging it as he sucked your lower lip in between his teeth. He bit down, not hard enough to really hurt but still enough to get your attention. You hissed, and Namjoon sucked your lip back into his mouth, easing the pain.

He lowered his head, wrapping his full lips around a nipple, beginning to lick and suck at the pebbled nub. You whine, encouraging him to continue. His sucks grow stronger, jolts of pleasure coursing through you, straight down to your core.

His fingers work to unbutton your jeans, pushing them down your thighs with both hands, his lips moving from your breast down to the flesh underneath it. Kissing down your stomach, he dropped to his knees, pulling your jeans the rest of the way off, lifting each foot carefully to rid you of your bottoms.

Standing in just your panties, with Namjoon on his knees in front of you, leaves you feeling vulnerable but highly aroused. The cool air from the bathroom vent makes you shiver, goosebumps pebbling your skin. His hands trail up your thighs, grabbing the waistband of your panties and tugging them off.

Suddenly, he’s lifting you up, sitting you on the edge of the counter, draping your leg over his shoulder. You gasp, reaching for anything to help you find your balance. Your hands settle on the countertop just as Namjoon pulls you forward, pushing your other leg away to spread your center.

Before you have a chance to get your bearings, Namjoon’s mouth is on your pussy, tongue warm against your flesh. You gasp, watching as he dives in. His tongue traces around you, avoiding your most sensitive spot as he looks up at you, cocky glint in his eyes.

“Fuck,” you breathe out as Namjoon’s lips finally claim your clit, sucking just a bit before he lets go. He licks broad stripes up and down your center, lips dragging against your clit every time he passes it. He holds your thigh tightly, keeping you still as you squirm underneath his ministrations.

His other hand comes up to your center, fingers tracing around your hole. You jolt, the new sensation only adding to your pleasure. He slowly inserts one finger, then two, chuckling against you. Pulling his mouth away from you, smirking, he teases, “This all for me?”

You nod, hand coming down to card your fingers through his hair. “Yeah, just for you.”

Namjoon begins pumping his fingers in and out of you, causing you to arch your back, your shoulders resting against the mirror. You pull your free leg up to rest your foot on the counter, spreading yourself more for him.

His fingers find your spot with ease. After all, he knows your body better than anyone else. You moan, tensing as his tongue reconnects with your clit. His movements become hurried, sloppy. The noises caused by his fingers thrusting into you fill the tiny bathroom, your juices dripping down his palm and wrist.

Your whines grow higher-pitched as you cant your hips, grinding your pussy against Namjoon’s tongue. He doesn’t relent, tongue working through your folds, hitting all your spots.

“Joon—,” you gasp, feeling the knot begin to tighten in your stomach.

“Yeah? Come for me, baby,” Namjoon growls, “Now.”

With a few more flicks of his tongue, you’re coming undone, falling over a precipice that you never want to be on again. Your muscles tighten, your pussy clenches around his fingers as your moans tumble out and you grasp at his hair, tugging him closer to you.

His big hands grip your thighs, fingers leaving indents in the skin. He doesn’t stop mouthing at your folds until you’re pushing him away, overstimulated and over exerted.

Namjoon stands, letting your leg fall from his shoulder as he meets you face to face, his hands resting on the edges of the countertop. He kisses you, his plush lips brushing against yours lightly before he rests his forehead on yours. Your breathing steadies, his presence calming you just as it always does.

“Baby,” Namjoon breathes out, his chest heaving.

“Yeah?” you ask, hands moving to the hem of his shirt, lifting it to remove the garment. He backs up, letting you lift the shirt up his torso and off his body with ease.

He kisses you again, desire glinting in his eyes. You watch as he undoes his belt and works his jeans down his thick thighs, still standing in front of you. His erection is obvious, tenting the front of his black boxer briefs. He palms himself, tipping his head back as he lets out a ragged breath.

“Let me fuck you, please.”

Stepping out of his boxer briefs, he closes in on you, hands gripping your thighs as he kisses you slowly, his tongue lazily working its way into your mouth.

“We don’t have a lot of time…” you trailed off, hands gripping his waist as you pulled him even closer to you.

“I know,” he mutters between kisses, “I swear I’ll make it up to you.”

You nod against his lips, pulling his body in between your thighs, gasping softly as his length makes contact with your core.

He grips himself, rubbing the head of his cock through your folds until he’s at your entrance. You brace yourself, mentally preparing. He pushes into you slowly, inch by inch, until he bottoms out against your pelvis. You take a few breaths as you adjust to his size, resting your forehead on his collarbone.

“Can I-?” Namjoon whispers, kissing slowly down your neck to your shoulder.

You nod against his shoulder, wrapping your legs around his waist just as he pulls out and thrusts back into you. You choke out a moan, Namjoon’s hips already snapping into you at a relentless pace.

His hands latch onto your hips, pulling you farther onto his cock, hitting deeper than ever. His cock drags against your walls, the angle allowing his cockhead to touch at your g-spot on every thrust.

“Don’t-,” Namjoon begins, struggling to steady his breathing as he continues, “Don’t ever question how I feel about you again. Understand?”

You whine his name, your mouth falling open as your head lolls back. You’re almost limp in his arms, letting him take you the way he needs.

“Understand?” Namjoon repeats, grabbing your chin to kiss you.

“Yes! Yes, I understand,” you cry out. You throw your arms around his shoulders to balance yourself, holding yourself up as Namjoon pulls you to the edge of the counter. His hips begin to stutter, telling you he’s close to his peak.

“Baby,” Namjoon repeats for what feels like the tenth time in the span of twenty minutes.

“Come inside me,” you gasp out, feeling yourself near your second high of the night.

Namjoon groans, pushing his cock as deep as he can. He stills against you, his fingers bruising the flesh of your waist as he comes. His face falls to the crook of your neck, his hot breath fanning over your skin as he pants, his hips jerking as he fills you up. He reaches between your bodies, fingers rubbing your clit in circular motions until you cry out, coming on his cock just like he wanted.

Your fingers dance across his shoulder blades as you breathe with him. Your chests rise and fall together, neither of you moving.

“We have a lot to talk about,” Namjoon starts.

You giggle and nod. He kisses you once more, slowly pulling out of you.

“We do, but we have a lot of time for that. Come home with me?” you ask, leaning up to kiss his jaw.

Namjoon looks down at you, pupils beginning to dilate in lust again. He caresses your jawline, pulling you closer to him.

“Let me make it up to you when we get there.”

You nod, following his lead to clean yourself up and make yourself presentable before exiting the bathroom. Before opening the bathroom door, Namjoon turns to face you, holding your hands at your waist, squeezing them gently as he smiles a soft smile.

Who would’ve thought that you’d end up here.

Staring, frozen, smiling up at the man you love, knowing that he loves you, too.

[lover-of-mine]

I so agree with everything you said. The difference of reactions when you didn't ship their previous relationship vs when you don't ship B/T is very telling (same with the fact that when some people talked about a cheating storyline, the reactions were always "it would be bad for Buck to do this to Tommy" but apparently it would have been okay if Eddie did this to a woman?? okay lmao)

What I don't understand is how people say that it's Buck's most developed LI/relationship. Like? We don't know that much about him. People have created (themselves and via the actor's cameos) lots of headcanons but that doesn't mean that they are canon.

To me, he really still feels like a love interest device for now. Like with the scene of the kiss in the last episode, they could have include some mentions of another date, whether past or a future one, but they didn't. The kiss was just there to be able to have Buck come out to the rest of the family, but it didn't bring anything more about B/T (we don't know if they saw each other since the coffee date/if it was their second kiss or if there was already more).

Literally. Like, look, I will say one thing, if buddie had hooked up at that bachelor party only one person would be cheating and that's Eddie. Buck and Tommy did not have a we're exclusive talk. They actually had a we can figure things out as we go talk. Personally, I don't think that counts as an we are together conversation, but that's my opinion. But either way no one seemed to care about the Eddie side of it. Eddie who is literally in a relationship serious enough he asked her to move in with him the episode before. But sure, that doesn't count because they hate Edy and forget Marisol exists (I do too, but I spent the whole time saying we shouldn't make the bisexual dude help his best friend cheat because I did not forget Eddie would be cheating and that would be bad no matter what). And to say T is the most developed love interest is a straight up lie. Taylor had a whole season as Buck's friend before they got together. She had a personality, flaws, qualities, she even got her very own tragic background episode. Say what you want about anything, and yes they sucked as a couple, but bucktaylor was developed. On screen. To a point where if the show actually wanted to, which they clearly didn't because they used the s4 Taylor development to stir her away from Buck instead of closer, they could've made bucktaylor work, they just had to make her as intense about Buck as she is with the job, and they could've been a very interesting golden retriever boyfriend/black cat girlfriend dynamic (good god I can't believe this fandom is making me defend fucking bucktaylor). Buck and T had one scene alone before they were kissing. Tommy has no established personality. Pretty much everything about him besides the begins episodes part of him (that dont paint him in the best light) we learned second hand. Through interviews. It's not even things that are being said to the audience in the show. I'm pretty sure the only things we learned from the show are the way he's a pilot, he was in the army, he likes wrestling, cars, and basketball. I could be wrong, fandom annoyed me so much I blackout every time I see him at this point. But he's not developed? He's just a guy? Don't get me wrong, he could be developed. There is space for it. But right now, he is there to serve as a device for Buck to find his bisexuality and that's it. They kissed twice. They went on half a date T left in the middle of. They went out for coffee and decided to figure things out as they went. He was at the hospital after the wedding to work as a way for Buck to come out without making him go around telling everyone. He exists around Buck. And that's it. Personally I don't see the endgame material people keep seeing. I don't see the development either. And anyone can headcanon anything, really go off, have fun with your ship, but people seriously need to stop acting like what Lou is saying in cameos counts as canon. Being in the fandom right now is exhausting because people just decided things about T and BT that are not backed by canon and they get real aggressive if you don't agree. I seriously am dying to see what's gonna happen if canon goes against the idealized version of him fanon created. I don't know if it's gonna happen but by god will I be entertained by it if it does.

[trans-androgyne]

hey, thank you for having and running this blog. you're doing the equivalent of gods work.

first, i'm sorry for the amounts of jerk anons you have to deal with. you literally articulate yourself very well and clearly, and still, people will find a way to twist it or not take it seriously. it reminds me of me "arguing" with terfs back in 2022 on twitter. (shudders.)

and second, how do you deal with the constant negativity? i have found myself doomscrolling the transandrophobia tag, and, well, to no ones surprise, my mental health is down the gutter. do you have any tips to deal with it? mainly with the transandrophobia in general? it is more than exhausting existing as a (gnc & enby) trans guy atm, and it's really getting to me. the thing is, I wouldn't mind it if it were non-queer bigots, but the fact it's coming from inside the community is devastating. i am more than hurt. this intense hatred for men and masculinity, queer, trans, or not, is incomprehensible to me. it never does anything good. anyone who says "i hate all men and anything masculine" is definitely going in the "yep that's either a radfem or a radfem hatchling" box. i partially understand as to why- i had a fear of men myself when i still identified as a girl, and slipped into the "all men bad. kill" side of the internet for a short while but ONLY because of this rhetoric ("you need to be afraid because there are men outside." , "men and masculinity are inherently predatory or dangerous")- but i got out of it because i saw how fucked it was eventually (thank goodness)- but nothing should ever be an excuse to excessively hate a gender or masculinity this badly. and its mostly gender essentialist bs anyways imo, so i do not understand it at all...it reminds me of people saying men/mascs cant be asexual because it's "in their nature to be sexual"- because testosterone. its hard. i just wish we all could respect each other. you're either "one of the bad bad evil men" or "noooooo not YOU. you're AFAB!! never!! youre a girl/woman in spirit!!" from my personal experience with terfs/radfems/idiots.

anyways, sorry for invading your anon space with this long rant, but i just wanted to leave this and the question. i hope you have a nice day/night, and thank you for reporting on transandrophobia as much as you do. it's sadly very much needed right now.

Thank you so much, this is such a kind ask to receive. To be honest with you: I don’t handle my mental health very well around it </3 It’s weighed on me pretty heavily these last few months especially. The things keeping me running this blog anyway are my passion for the transmasc community and lovely anons like yourself cheering me up. When it comes to trying to manage it, the most important thing for me has been finding people I can vent to about it who will understand. I’m lucky enough to have a wonderful discord server full of awesome trans people who will talk it through with me, and that’s been a life-saver. Staying offline for a bit and trying to engage in person with people who are unlikely to be transandrophobic towards you can be a nice relief. I catch myself doomscrolling constantly too, and it doesn’t feel great. If you need to set some sort of time limit on your phone even just to remind yourself not to do it, that’s helped me before and might help you too.

Having this much hatred levied at me for my identity from my own community lately has been devastating. I completely understand you. I’ve always been vocal about supporting transfems in particular, so it really hurts to see so many turn against me for speaking up. I understand how the queer community got this way, though. Antimasculinism has been an issue in queer and feminist spaces for ages. I think people are starting to notice it more and understand why it sucks and how much it negatively affects trans men and mascs. It feels like a losing battle sometimes with how much cultural feminism — the Men Bad Women Good flavor of pop feminism — has pervaded our communities and often led to very overt radical feminism that people still can’t always recognize because they don’t know anything about TERFs outside of them hating trans women. I believe the culture will start to shift soon such that people are able to recognize sexism and gender essentialism that harms all genders, and I will be doing my part to help that happen.

[1eoness]

uhmmmm actor leon kennedy?? mayvbe

cw: dom! ooc leon kennedy x sub afab reader | no specific leon | he's kinda weird here idk | creampie | praise | mild degradation | wee bit of size kink idk

[to clarify, i am a minor (17). anyone <17 and anyone >17 uncomfortable with interacting pls dni}

a/n bc i love rambling : so uhmmm when i was writing this there was an electric explosion right outside of our house so the power's out in our neighborhood and im back in this damn cafe LMAOOO

a/n : (update lol)i wrote this like monthssss ago (wtf this sucks).. so im back nd im gonna post this bc why the fuck not it's still rllyyyy bad and a lot of word repeating but yeah just felt like posting lol

synopsis : actor!leon kennedy has been in the gig too long to deal with nepotistic, wide-eyed girls like you. yet much to his exasperation, you're just too much of a greenhorn in the showbiz world.

‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ -you can fucking skip this part idc- ୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵

you've only ever heard his name maybe once or twice in one of the magazines in your mother's bar. you must've read it over and over again, having to see his name and face habitually to endure the excruciating hours of working behind the bar with your phone in a locker. you weren't particularly enthusiastic about films or Hollywood or WASP families, either. but it was better than nothing.

it started like this. you were wiping the cedarwood slab that dewed with beer, when the woman who sat across you (having drunk maybe 4 pints) reached over with her veiny, grisly hands. the acrylics tapped at your temples when she held your awkward face.

said "woman" was your aunt who just got back from monaco. and she's been urging you to work with Pierce. whoever that was.

you were well content with the life you had right now. but sometimes—often in front of your vanity— you did find yourself fantasizing about the 'big city'. you caught yourself in a cliche dream but the idea was invigorating, the mere machinations of those opportunities dangled above your eyes like meat on a stick.

"..oh, but.. i don't think it's practical, you know?" you excused as you dismissed the billowing thoughts in your head. even if you had the physical assets that aligned with the director's vision, it would still feel wrong. some people go to literal schools for this stuff, don't they?

but she remained persistent. and after a low, lighthearted sigh, she continued her persuasion. "..y/n, you're a diamond in the rough." your aunt neared you, holding your hands together in a friendly hold. "..let me make it a reality for you."

‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ -♡- ୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵

so. were you a natural? hell no.

you're wearing a costume that you can't even touch without the stylists getting mad at you. you got harped on and poked at for so long you were starting to get a migraine. the studio refused to let up on you, jabbing at you passive aggressively until you curled like a millipede. honestly, you were more pissed than sad!

and leon? god, he was a total fucking hottie. and he was totally cold.

the director announced an hour break to everyone just before they'd jump straight to the next scene. you remained sat on one of the props, hands clasped on your lap, contemplating the choices you've made over for the 7th time today. you were fidgeting like you were anxious. you forgot how breaks felt. the luxury was there, five star hotels, velvet cushions and robes and office gossip and dinners with imported wine and cheese. but it felt like hell. working with leon was the only thing that made it even ten percent worth everything, but even he doesn't seem to like you. why was everyone so mean? fucking fair enough, you were beginning to hate this place so much you might ask for a cigarette yourself.

the petrichor mellowed through the film set, nibbling her skin with chill. nights in raccoon are cold, you needed to keep mind of that in case you decide to open your front door without a jacket. the alleyways were diffused by vapor lighting and LED signs. you also had another superficial thought. what do people on set usually do when they're on break?

you whip your head up, legs swinging slightly as you scanned the area. most of them are either adjusting equipment, going through script, or smoking one. you turned your head to your right without expecting much.

you saw leon leaning against the wall, next to the director, sharing smoke (you're beginning to see this is a trend) and cheap laughs. you were mildly surprised, not realizing they were both adjacent behind you, and you felt goosebumps rise when your eyes landed on leon. you quickly looked forward again. you didn't want to move away.

you missed leon's subtle smirk to himself when his gaze flicked to the crown of your hair. he took a puff of his stick, still sounding like he was talking to the man beside him. his eyes didn't leave you and the way you sat there like you were going to spend the remainder of your break spacing out.

leon's voice was nonchalant behind you. to you, it was faint chatter. "...life will chew you up and spit you back out before too long, but that's..."

...

was he talking to you?

leon wasn't too nice on you while you guys were on set, but he wasn't so directly mean either—emphasis on directly.

he's earned word of you from both your aunt and the director, obviously. he doesn't look like the type, but sometimes he has a knack for gossip. that's just how the nature of stardom works, doesn't it? name number #1 did this that tto name number #2, someone divorced someone, someone slept with someone—and the whole world goes aflame. he could care less about where you came from, why you're really here or who you were connected to. but something about you was thought-provoking. contrasting you, he worked for where he was. you just sat there looking pretty and snagged the role right away. maybe that sort of incompetency and oblivious audacity made you stand out from the rest. he found it pathetically attractive. you're an artless girl.

your head swiveled over your shoulder, looking behind and up at leon.

leon's eyes met your gaze halfway. "aww. is this your first big time acting gig, baby? no need to be nervous, it'll be alright." a tinge of mockery sweetened the husk of his voice. the director, who you now know is 'pierce', snickered at leon's subtle sarcasm.

the director tells him he's going to announce everyone to continue, since he wanted the rain to 'sex things up'. heaven's dew tapped lightly on the concrete as the director mounted his back off the vandalized walls, leaving you and leon alone in the same space. oh god.

for a minute you sat there quietly, letting the tension sink in upon the director leaving. you tentatively take another glance at leon. he wasn't looking at you anymore, and his hands were out his pockets as he swipes the little box open. soft brown tufts wisped when he shook his head to get the rain off his hair.

you got off the table. you walked to leon. you'd say your feet were moving on its own.

his head shifts to your direction. his bangs falling over his face. a gust of wind breezes by, and he smells deep, musky. like cardamom. cedarwood.

" if anyone's givin' you trouble on set..." leon looks down as he slips a cigarette in his mouth, rummaging in his pocket for his lighter. "you come to leon... 'kay?"

his hush voice was honeyed whiskey when it wooed at you, applying simple emphasis to his two-syllable name. leon, leon, how that name would sound in bed. there's a slight tease to his eyes, before diverting his attention to his cigarette, casting an orange glow in his palms when he flicks the lighter on with his thumb. his presence was prodding, inviting you with every inch of his body language. this man was blazing and you were a fucking moth.

he likes the way you're looking at him right now. your eyes are batting at every subtle sculpt of him. you can look away but he knows you're still thinking about him.

such a sweet thing, this one.

he decides to be 'friendlier', pitying the fact that you're obviously having a hard time socializing with the crew. "what's your favorite movie, doll?"

"mm.. i liked kill bill. and pulp fiction." you converse casually.

a name rolls off his tongue. "quentin tarantino." he nodded in what seemed like approval, watching a puddle.

you blink. "what?"

he glances at you and he doesn't reply, before leaving that wall all to yourself.

...

leon's tongue trickles with the taste of vouvray. you were art in the shadows, the honey lighting of the dimmed lamp doing nothing to illuminate leon's hotel room. your lips are glossed with his saliva, evidence of your breath went after he made out with you.

you're barely holding it, all while his big hands purchased at your flesh, drinking in the way you straddled his boner. the subtle friction where you were able to feel how big he really is intimidated you, blooming excited butterflies, your stomach fluttering at each soft push of your hips. you watched with your palms flat on his stomach, the soaked fabric of your panties collecting and staining all over his boxers as you stifled a needy whimper. "y'need it now, baby? oh, don't go soft on me now... i'll take care of you, just tell me."

his pretty baby, sitting on him and too shy to plead from the big shot. leon's hands languidly travel your skin, palms massaging up your sides. "...i-i wan' it.. i want you.. please.." you murmured hazily, leaning down to give him a soft kiss to compensate for the bashfulness that rode over your speech.

"is that right, sweetheart?" he bit his lip gently at the teasing sight, loving the way you sounded needier by the minute. "oh, baby, go on. it's all yours, yeah?.." he crooned, patting your thigh gently.

"easy, baby.. oh, there you go.. atta girl.." he groans prettily when he's muttering you through it, eyes delectably gazing at the way you sink on his length. it was cute to him seeing you not knowing what to do with your hands. but he watches you settle them on his built torso, and he could only look at you in adoration. god, he was so fucking thick and you were so highly strung..

leon's touch stroke at your knees. you aren't moving, and he looks almost amused seeing you try to render just how he feels inside you. "i can't.." he heard you murmur before you giggled quietly, to which made him chuckle as well. but the flustered laughter dies down. the actor groans, feeling your fluttering grip around his cock, making it his instinct to hold onto your waist.

it didn't take long before you started getting loud. your arousal lathered up and everytime you pump down a creamy squelch. "mhmmm... uhh, keep going.." leon whispers, and his eyes stared at where your bodies met. you could hear a soft whimper from him—vocally begging your sweet little self to go faster.

leon watches you trying to change the speed. poor girl, you looked like you were already starting to ragdoll. you resisted stopping, unable to with the way he'd rub into the right spots. leon took your small, depleted whine as a sign for him to initiate. he was just letting you have your fun. just until you'd get a bit frustrated. by this time he'd already lit another cigarette and the stick perches between his lips.

"..tiring, ain't it, sweetheart?" leon coos, feigning pity for you, fingers clutched at your hips like its his favorite thing to hold. he started to thrust up into your sopping little cunt, pulling a weak mewl out of you. there might be nothing he loves more than watching your supple frame as it bounces atop him.

"mmm.. aww 's okay, baby.. leon's got you.. mhm, that's right." he responds to every quaint sob you make. his stamina was stubborn as he gradually shifted his pace.

"nice and quiet, baby... don't want th't fucker 'pierce hearin' you..." leon almost feels like a sick fuck, pretty lips grinning slightly as he moans. "god, fuuuuck... mmmhh... uh- f-fuck!" leon almost whines before giving you a harsh thrust, as if he were desperately trying to make you his cocksleeve. if you were going to take it so well then you shouldn't be surprised at how he's gonna force you down, and keep you in place while he sluts you out.

you're murmuring something, and the words fall like blabber to his ears.

leon smiles endearingly, as if he isn't fucking you stupid right now. "mhhh.. wanna cum? you wanna cum?" leon asks as he tries to make sense of what you're saying.

and you gulp, gasping through your watering voice. "w-wanna cumm.. give it t'me-"

he tries not to laugh.

"c'mon, let me make you cum... i'll make it feel good.." leon murmurs before you could feel him pound into you, a whine dripping like syrup from your voice. your body barely keeps up. you feel tight and it's making leon's head tilt back a bit. "oh, there you go, sweetheart... atta girl.." he mumbles hazily as his mind starts to get messy.

"like that? uhuh? mmmh?~" leon moans back almost mockingly at each pleasured whine that spilled your voice. you're mindlessly pawing at whatever you can reach on leon, turning him on with your helplessness. "takin' me nice and well-..." he growls as he starts to piston up into your cunt brutally. you look cuter when you're stuffed with leon's thickness, when you're crying on what you begged for.

"leon, c-cumming" you lolled out in a low moan, head leaning slightly. "i'm gonna cum.."

he responds with a groan, hips rocking upward as he feels you clenching around him. "go on, baby, give it to me. 'm right here,"

he has you shuddering when you cum, the vibrating sensation jolting to your brain as it reeled in pleasure. it takes a few shallow thrusts to keep you satisfied but it's hard to tell when you're already sniffling and twitching on top of him. you wipe your face as you draw a few breaths. leon reaches to warmly take your wrist, thumb pressing onto your skin, feeling your heartbeat.

he watches you gather your bearings before generously caressing your hair once. you help yourself off leon's shaft and a heavy-sounding breathe escapes him in wonder.

leon whispers something once he leans into you and chucks his half-dead cigarette into the ashtray. "c'mere.." his one arm tucked around your back and eventually the other to your leg as he makes you lie down. he treats you with some sort of delicacy, at least until he doesn't.

leon tugs you closer with his arm hooked loosely under your knee, pulling your princess body in for a few intimate kisses to calm the both of you. he tastes mildly bitter. you hummed in his mouth when your lips lock together, eyes fluttering while you felt weak. leon starts muttering as he asks if anything hurts, if you're okay, if you're gonna stay here for the night. for a moment he doesn't say anything and he's just gazing down at you languorously while he breathes. he kisses one of your eyelids before he shifts.

maybe leon liked you better like this, on your fours, limping against the satin bedding as you cried and panted in a way that seemed like suffocation. his thick fingers tug at your hair once, your only teary view being the couch and the TV that dimly mirrored a reflection of you being held down be leon as he rammed into your dribbling hole tenderly. your legs occasionally kicking up against him, hitting him with your ankles as you found it hard to not writhe. he watches you peek over your shoulder, the expression in your eyes instigating struggle. "what?" leon tugs at your hair again, fighting the toothy smile from his face as he fucked you brainless. "didn't think i could make a whore out of you?"

leon lets go of your hair to rut into you with urgency. the bed was starting to jut out small squeaks from leon's rhythm. he leans closer, chewing on his lip as his eyes narrowed in pleasure. a soft growl emanates from behind you, skin on skin, breathing near your ear. the rough hands that were once planted near yours on the mattress start to grip your forearms like handles. he watches your back contort.

you jolt up as leon yielded you to his body, impaling you with his girth in a routinely fashion, urging you to cry louder. "oh, baby.." he whimpers lowly as he starts to feel himself lose control again.

"fuck, i can't.." you wail out, head hanging low briefly. he notices.

"ready to pass out, honey?" he pants softly.

you weakly shook your head.

"good girl." leon bit his bottom lip, whispering out a needy 'fuck' as he slammed into you while pulling you back. he felt satisfied by the way you yelped. his brows furrow, expression tainted with a lustful and crude color as he almost began to drool. brown strands started to get in the way of his vision. his breath is suddenly hitched, water lining his eyes as his voice turned up a note. he hisses, head tilting to the side. "fuck, fuck,-" his gruff words start to match with his thrusts. "take it- all-, yes, baby, that's a good- fucking- mnnnghh..."

it takes leon a while to recover, moaning lowly and riding his orgasm, watching you spasm beneath him while he spills inside you without much restraint. he tiredly fucks his load in you before he gives out and huffs a spent whine. he catches a glimpse of it. you're leaking white.

you're breathless, fatigued, sweating, and almost thoughtless as you catch some oxygen back in your lungs. you could feel yourself pulsating around his twitching shaft as waves of pleasure traveled your burning body. his arms loosen of their sensual hold before they catch you, pulling your weary form down to spoon with you momentarily. you can feel each other inhaling. exhaling.

a phone rang. it wasn't yours, you could tell by the ringtone. your eyes flit to see pierce's name on a default iphone screen. "i need a drink." leon exhales roughly, leaning over to kiss the shell of your ear before he reached for the bedside table to grab for his phone. he slipped out of the sheets with his phone on his ear.