#but male validation is a drug for me

[blessedhypocrite]

like mannnnnnnnn. Mannnnnnnnn.

[dumbstonerslvt]

I'm so sad that there's nothing in my asks right now...

One of my favorite things is reading all the ways you guys want to fuck me. I know it's very bimbo slut of me, but oh my God the validation! I feel like a fucking goddess.

All things it doesn't just have to be about how you might want to fuck me... Maybe it's something else? I don't really know. I'm down for fantasies, any kinds of questions, little smoking tasks. Picture requests even....

Either way, if you want me to post more shit about myself, fill my ask box. Because it gets me wet as fuck.

[odinsonslut]

Young

⊹ genre: Fluff mostly, minimal angst

⊹ pairing: Fred Weasley x Slytherin female reader

⊹ themes: Friends to lovers

⊹ summary: Fred rejected your advances, claiming you’re too young. You set out to seduce him, which backfires. Unwarranted comments were made in your presence, and George attempted to comfort you, finally explaining his fears and feelings in the process.

⊹ warnings: Swearing, third-party slut-shaming of the reader, mentions of an emotionally toxic relationship, very brief mention of drugs.

⊹ word count: 1.7k

⊹ a/n:  I don’t know why I’ve chosen to base this whole fic off of rejection yet again, but It’s completely different to the last, trust. A cute Fred one today because I’ve had a recent fixation on the twins and can’t seem to write for anyone else atm. 

Confidence has come naturally to you since the first day you walked through the castle doors. Many would wager that’s why you ended up in Slytherin over Hufflepuff. You’d never had issues letting people know how you felt about them; rejection had never been a concern or a fear simply because your self-assurance wasn’t so easily deteriorated. 

This wasn’t ever in question until two weeks ago. You hadn’t thought twice about approaching Fred after months of mutual teasing, or so you thought it was. You went to his spot on Gryffindor’s table in the morning, greeting him with a single pumpkin pasty. You waited till he took a bite out of it before making some quip that you couldn’t seem to, or rather didn’t want to remember, about owing you a kiss and maybe something more in return for it, to which he painfully, tragically mustered a chuckle past his lips, probably the most awkward position I’ve seen him in, before finally finding the words to let you down easily.

“You know I love you endlessly, but we’re friends” He could’ve just as easily stopped there, but he continued. 

“You’re just a little too young for me.”

Young

He briefly dated Amelia Farrow last spring, and she’s four months younger than you, so obviously, it wasn’t an age issue. He saw you as immature, a kid. He couldn’t even begin to picture you as attractive in any form. Actually, feeling affected as a result of rejection was unfamiliar; it was scary. How had you allowed yourself to feel enough for a man that your own stability suffered? As a result, you didn’t just feel hurt, you felt inferior, and that was harrowing enough in itself. 

You were just beginning to fall into another rant directing every expressional detail from the twitch of his bottom lip to the scrunch in his left brow when you were interrupted by a loud sigh.

“Babe, I couldn’t live a day without you, but swooning over a blood-traitor Weasley is way more than I can handle for the 7th time this morning”, Pansy quipped after a supportive kiss on my cheek.

“Give me a solution then”, you pleaded, faux pouting while hugging her thighs desperately.

“Seduce him, love; you’ve got the best ass on anyone in this entire school. Malfoy tells me he’s got a preference for it, says he lets a lot slip when they’re off smoking muggle grass.”

“Teach me how. You’re probably the only girl in our year every Slytherin male wants to shag a second time.”

-

It was the first quidditch match of the year, so naturally, you put on your uniform from 3rd year to cheer the team on. Malfoy found your overreaction to rejection amusing, like a fish out of water, to use his words, so he didn’t mind playing the role of the pawn in your game. You spent all game cheering Draco on, making sure you were just enthusiastic enough to attract Fred’s attention. 

The game finally came to an end. Gryffindor just barely scraped by, with Harry catching the snitch. I could already see Oliver Wood pushing Fred about, demanding a valid reason for his poor performance during the game. He pushed Wood off of him and stormed off with an exasperated look on his face.

I caught up to him a few feet away, deciding to skip past the jokes, figuring he wasn’t quite in the mood.

“Hey, you okay?” I timidly asked, reaching out to stroke his hand

“You sure move on quick, don’t you?” He spoke harshly, ignoring my question completely

“Are you serious? You reject me, then get mad at my attempts to move past that?” I shoved his shoulder, feigning annoyance. I knew exactly what I was doing, trying to prompt a reaction out of him.

“And what the hell are you wearing? Damn near sent Adrian Pucey spiralling into the benches with your ass out like that.”

“So I had both team’s beaters distracted, huh?”

“I wasn’t distracted so much as horrified.” He immediately followed

You shoved him playfully. “Shut up, weasel. You’re literally still staring at my tits.”

“You’re telling me you didn’t put that outfit on for me to stare at?” He whispered as we came to a halt just outside the quidditch changing rooms 

To my dismay, I couldn’t think of anything to do or say but scoff at him, to which his grin grew even bigger.

He turned to leave, my brain regaining activity without the pressure of his eyes in contact with mine.

“I put it on so you’d have a clearer image to jack off to tonight.”

I headed back to my dorm before he could get another word in.

-

I approached the great hall hand in hand with Daphne Greengrass, completely satisfied with the way I left things with Fred yesterday, convinced I’d won. The smile on my face immediately dropped as I heard the conversation taking place at the Gryffindor table.

“- he’s even got a Slytherin girl in his pocket, dressing up like a little slut just for him.”

“Tell me, Weasley, does she like it rough?”

“Seems like the kind of girl that’d take it in the back.”

Your heart dropped as you heard comments from miscellaneous men in the house, jeering over each other, collectively patting an angry-looking Fred on his back and shoulders in a congratulatory manner.  

We made eye contact. Before the men at his table sensed my presence, too, I broke away from Daphne and sprinted out of the Hall. I sank by a tree in front of the lake as I took shallow breaths.

What hurts is that every assumption they made about my character felt deserving. When did I become the girl so desperate for one man’s attention that I so pathetically made myself more sexually desirable in his eyes? So that his lust would cloud his judgement and throw me lay at the very least? I hadn’t even realised how delirious I was acting and how painfully obvious it was to everyone but me just how much more I clung to the idea of him. It was like a montage of clarity was playing in my brain, of the way I continued running up to the Gryffindor common room every morning, taking every opportunity to make what I thought was subtle physical contact with him. God.

I let out a little yelp when I finally opened my eyes. Fred sat right next to me, leaning his head against the tree the same way I was.

“God, you scared me half to death! fucking cunt” I muttered the last part, allowing my anger to peak through 

“I had Malfoy help me make sure those guys’ mouths stay shut. I’m sorry you had to hear that, and I’m sorry they were able to say more than two words without me hexing them and their mothers, to begin with. None of what any of them said is worth your care. They heard us talking outside the changing rooms yesterday. They’re all jealous little virgins that have-

“They were things I needed to hear” I cut him off before he fell into a rant that honestly wouldn’t have made a difference to the way I felt.

He looked at me incredulously, struggling to find the words to respond. 

“I was seeking your attention so incredibly desperately. It embarrasses me to think about it. You said no; I should’ve respected that and left it as it was. I took your reasoning personally, and for the way I’ve acted since that day, I apologise, truly,” I continued.

He sighed. “I only said what I said out of fear. I’m sure you remember I briefly dated a Hufflepuff girl in your year, Amelia. I made a mistake getting involved with her. She didn’t know how to separate love from attachment, and it got to a point her dependence on me started affecting her mental well-being, along with mine. Nobody saw much of me during the time we were dating because I was just so caught up with making sure she was okay since she relied on me completely. I didn’t realise  I was even allowed to have boundaries at all in a relationship. She constantly made me feel selfish and uncaring for wanting space or even just time with my family. When you told me how you felt about me, I had recovered from the relationship, but I hadn’t yet allowed myself to consider a future relationship with another person. I said what I thought I needed to say to avoid our relationship turning into the one I had with Amelia. But ever since you told me how you felt about me, it made me realise nothing about us has ever been platonic to me. I have never thought of you that way, and even when I tried to, I didn’t know how to look at you in any other way than lovingly. I feel so much for you. I could see myself loving you so easily. I’m just really afraid. I don’t know if I’m ready to navigate that all over again.”

It took me a while to respond, taking in everything he said in a state of such vulnerability. I noticed a stray tear on my skirt; it was his. I immediately reached out to hold his hands in comfort. I opened my mouth to respond but was cut off yet again.

“I will never allow anyone to say a word against you ever again, love.” He added

“I care a lot about you, Fred. I reacted the way I did, with such force and conviction, because it’s unfamiliar to me too, feeling so deeply for someone. Whatever you want to come from this, we can do. I want to learn to keep my independence through my feelings for you. I don’t think declaring something more than friendship will change things between us overnight, and I think all we need to do is keep being us.” 

“Okay”, he responded timidly but surely.

He could’ve just stopped there, but I’d come to learn that’s never something to expect from him.

“I absolutely did jack off to you last night, though.”

I kicked him in the shin as we walked back to the castle, hand in hand. 

End

✩ I DO NOT CONSENT TO HAVE ANY OF MY WRITING POSTED ON ANY EXTERNAL WEBSITES ✩

[maaarine]

The sexual assault of sleeping women: the hidden, horrifying rape crisis in our bedrooms (Anna Moore, The Guardian, June 15 2021)

"Naming specific acts, rather than using broad – and loaded – terms such as “abuse” or “rape”, her survey asked more than 22,000 women if, for example, they had ever been spat at, or strangled, kicked or bitten.

It also asked respondents if they had ever woken to their male partner having sex with them or performing sex acts on them while they slept.

To this question, 51% answered yes.

This was not randomised sampling – the survey was widely shared online and participants were self-selected. For this reason, it’s hard to extrapolate from the findings.

The results sparked a predictably polarised online response. “This was extremely validating for me after years of thinking, ‘Am I being raped?’ I’m not alone”, tweeted one woman.

“It’s why I now jerk awake if someone even gently brushes against me while I’m sleeping, 13 years later,” wrote another.

Other comments included, “Only chance I get!” and “the other half was OK with it!”

Katie Russell, spokesperson for Rape Crisis, says she was “not massively surprised” by the findings.

“There isn’t a lot of research into the multiple ways women experience violence from known men, but we do know the numbers are so much higher than any official statistics,” she says.

“Rape myths are still incredibly pervasive. It’s commonly believed that if it’s your boyfriend or your spouse, if you’re sharing a bed, if you’re naked, if you consented earlier, then it can’t be rape.

There is a really big difference between gently waking your partner and initiating sexual activity and actually doing something sexual or penetrating someone while they’re still asleep. (…)

In Martha’s case, the rape happened once, but for some men, seeking sex with a sleeping woman is an active preference, a fetish known as somnophilia.

Svein Overland, a Norwegian psychologist, is one of the few to have studied it – his interest sparked partly by his work in prisons, trying to understand the motivations of sex offenders, and also by his work with victims of what Norwegians call “after-party rapes” – attacks on vulnerable women who were either sleeping or drugged.

Overland believes somnophilia is part of the wider growth of what he calls “one-way sex”.

His research into online porn showed a steep rise over the past decade in categories such as “sleeping sex”, as well as other forms of sex that are based on unresponsiveness, on only meeting your own needs.

(“Flexi dolls” is another example – where women pretend to be sex dolls.)

These preferences overlap with porn itself, says Overland. “With one-way sex, with porn, with masturbation, there’s no dance, no seduction, no interaction and no pressure to perform,” he says.

“The more I looked at this area, the more you see that a lot of men are afraid of having sex.

Society is becoming more pornified but, at the same time, many studies show that people are becoming less sexually active. We have young men buying Viagra, unable to keep an erection.”

A sleeping woman is no threat – she’s absent, an object, a receptacle. (…)

“There seems to be a perception that something like this is a ‘lesser crime’ because it might not be at the hands of a stranger but your partner.

But what would feel worse? Being pickpocketed by a stranger or robbed by someone you love and trust?” she asks.

“The idea that you’re asleep so it didn’t require violence is also very dangerous. Penetrating someone’s body without their permission is an inherently violent act.

“Imagine being asleep and waking to find someone going through your personal things,” she continues. “Now imagine it’s your actual body that has been intruded into.” (…)

“When I first left him, I wouldn’t sleep. I’d lie awake all night and have hallucinations – him raping me.

Those flashbacks, that trauma response, was the mind and body trying to piece things together.

Even now, nine years on, I still wake at two every morning. I don’t even need to check the clock.

We know that the body stores memories of trauma – and I think 2am is when it used to happen.” (…)

In February 2020, she told the jury: “There has never been a part of me that has not been profoundly impacted,” and that in the immediate aftermath, she suffered PTSD and had tried to take her own life.

She said she had felt “unsafe everywhere”, frightened to trust anyone, even her parents."

[ash-says]

This one is for my girlies who grew up in dysfunctional families.

Girls who don't know healthy love, care and affection. Girls who grew up watching fights, in violent and stressful environments, being picked on by their peers, their own family members.

Know that it's not your job to maintain peace, people please and accommodate yourself to other people's expectations.

Take this as a BLUNT reminder for yourself:

1) Have strong boundaries. Surprise. I know you read this a thousand times but before you eyeroll read this again.

2) Stand up for yourself. It might be scary but sometimes fighting back against your family can be helpful. Do it strategically. Don't rush in blindly. The main goal is survival afterall.

3) No doing drugs, self harm, compulsive relationships, casual sex, alcohol and many destructive, addictive and escapist behavior won't help you in rebelling against your family. What are you three years old???

4) Establish your relationship with God or whatever the hell you believe in. Have a strong belief system. That's the only way you can save yourself and keep yourself on track. Even if you deter on the wrong path it will swing you back. Trust me.

5) Form strong female friendships. PLEASE. Female friendships are literally holiness in disguise. My girls are my biggest assets. The amount of emotional intelligence and support a female can provide. Chefs kiss.

What ? You can't vibe with girls?? You are more of a girl who vibe with boys?? Girls are secretly jealous of you??

Okayyyyy... I am no one to criticize but I think we need to reassess somethings.

At least one female friend. Won't cost you a fortune. Will it???

(If you think you got no one around you. My inbox + Gossip Box is always open.)

6) Academic Validation>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>Male validation. Always.

7) Exercise and work out. Woahh did not see it coming right. Well it's important because it helps you in calming down your mind and expressing those repressed energies. Any anger issues babe in the house?? Guess what it's the best outlet for all your angst.

8) This is for those girls who are into toxic households please find a way to get out of there. I won't suggest permanently cause I believe in mending things and parents are a crucial part of your life. But find a way to live your college life or at least two to three years of your life out of your hometown. A lot of things you will understand by yourself then. If you know. You know.

9) Sharpen your people and survival skills. I hate to say this but we are highly susceptible to attracting people who want to take advantage of us. So listen to your gut the next time it warns you against someone.

10) Tone down your intensity. Not everyone is trying to get you or attack you. Coping mechanisms are great they kept/keep you alive but make sure they won't create trouble for you. Keep them in check. Got it??

[neuropoppins]

Gender Critical Autistics

"I am an autistic women who grew up as an autistic girl, I just wasn’t aware of it. At 13 I had my first suicidal thoughts, which persisted on and off, until I was in my late twenties. I had no idea why I felt so disconnected from the world. I felt as though there was another planet that I was supposed to be on; that this one was just too small, too impossible, too wrong. Nothing made sense and I longed for something or somewhere else, where I could exist in a way that made sense. I couldn’t understand why everyone around me seemed to know exactly what to do.

If my school had told me, or taught me, that I might have a different identity, a reason why I felt so utterly different to everyone else, a way of making sense of some of the pain and utter self-loathing and suicidality that I felt, I would have grabbed at it with both hands.

Meanwhile, back in 1986, I was stuck, with no internal sense of gender, no coherent feeling of being male or female but a crashing feeling of suicidality. If I had been told that this meant something, and I belonged somewhere because of it, I’d have grabbed at it with both hands. If it meant taking medication, no matter the side effects, even better, because with my damaged sense of the world, medication meant that whatever I was experiencing was real.

I would know that the cacophony in my head was so important, so relevant, that a doctor somewhere had given me something to take to make it all better. It would give it meaning and leave no room for doubt; there was something wrong with me. It would have provided a sense of validation for my internal torment, and dare I say it, to my adolescent mind, a certain glamour. (‘I’m on drugs. This is serious’).

It wouldn’t have been real though. The feelings were real, but It would have been ASD and ADHD; all the stuff in my brain that I didn’t know about yet, because back in the 1980’s, far too many neurodiverse girls weren’t diagnosed.

But we know now that we can be and are neurodiverse and we know that at the moment, these girls are vastly over-represented at GIDS. And no one is saying ‘slow down’."

[bethanydelleman]

Trope exploration: Man, usually a war veteran, with PTSD drowns his sorrows in alcohol

I was rewatching one of my favourite shows and I was struck by the fact that the main male character had severe Posttraumatic stress disorder (PTSD)* and yet didn't drink because it seemed like a big trope subversion. This made me wonder about the real world comorbidity** of substance use disorder (SUD) and PTSD, so I could determine if this common association was a reflection of real life or a trope.

PTSD & SUD co-occur at a rate of about 30-55%

(many of these studies are in veterans, source, source, source)

However, this is SUD in general, which means it includes any abuse of a drug, including but not limited to alcohol. The highest rates of PTSD are in cocaine and opiate users. Also, and this is very interesting, the direction of causation is unknown (does the substance or the PTSD come first):

Although PTSD and SUDs appear to be strongly linked, little is known about the nature of their relationship. The most widely held explanation of their frequent co-occurrence is the self-medication hypothesis. This hypothesis is based primarily on clinical observation and posits that traumatized individuals attempt to use substances in order to dampen traumatic memories, or to avoid or “escape” from other painful symptoms of PTSD. A second hypothesis, the high-risk hypothesis, posits that individuals with SUDs, because of high-risk lifestyles, are likely to experience a trauma and are, therefore, more likely than the general population to develop PTSD. Finally, a third hypothesis, known as the susceptibility hypothesis, states that substance use increases an individual's susceptibility to developing PTSD following a trauma. (source)

It was also noted as important that most patients who suffered from PTSD had multiple traumatic events in their lives, beginning in childhood. Also, more men had SUD than women, which holds true in the general population as well.

I think one of the best representations in popular media of PTSD might be The Hunger Games. They have SUD/PTSD Haymitch and the Morphling (opioid abuse) victors, but Katniss and Peeta deal with their experience in other ways, as do the others that we see. Also, it's clear that most of the victors have repeated trauma: Katniss's father dying and nearly starving to death; Peeta's childhood abuse; and Haymitch being forced to have a front row seat to subsequent games.

Conclusion: at most, only about 50% of patients with PTSD abuse a drug of any kind, less of them abuse alcohol. So it would be both interesting and scientifically valid to see more characters with PTSD who are not constantly drinking. Men are more likely to have substance use disorders, so the trope is partially supported.***

*Comorbidity is when two disorders happen in the same person at the same time. There are many conditions that are likely to co-occur, like depression and generalized anxiety disorder or Type 2 diabetes and obesity.

**Symptoms of Posttraumatic Stress Disorder, taken from one of the sources above:

The characteristic symptoms of PTSD can be divided into three clusters: avoidant, intrusive, and arousal symptoms. Examples of intrusive symptoms include unwanted thoughts or flashbacks of the event. Avoidant symptoms include, for example, attempts to avoid any thoughts or stimuli that remind one of the event. These symptoms are particularly relevant to this review because substances of abuse are often used by individuals with PTSD in an attempt to avoid or escape memories. Arousal symptoms generally include exaggerated startle reflex, sleep disturbance, and irritability, and are generally associated with hyperactivity of the autonomic nervous system.

***I'm not saying that this trope is bad or that we shouldn't see any people with PTSD resorting to substance abuse in media. Instead, I'm saying that the amount of people with PTSD who use alcohol as a coping mechanism is lower than most people probably think, and it would be interesting to see other representations of PTSD as well. PTSD & SUD are most likely commonly paired together in media because it's an easily visible sign of internal suffering.

Also, varied displays of different disorders are important, in my opinion. We don't want someone thinking they don't have PTSD or that a loved one doesn't have PTSD because they don't also have a problem with alcohol.

[ghoulfuckersincorporated]

Preview

Please enjoy this excerpt from my forthcoming Hancock one-shot! As I said previously, I'm going to be focusing solely on finishing this up for the next couple of days. Once it's wrapped up, I'm planning a major inbox cleanout (currently sitting at over 100 messages in there...I'm terribly sorry, but also, I love hearing from you guys so much!), with lots of blurbs and shorter posts to hopefully get the oldest/simplest requests fulfilled. I also have a few other things planned for funsies, because, y'know, Kinktober.

Brace yourselves to be absolutely sick of me in the back half of this month. Thanks for reading!

John Hancock (FO4) x Virgin!Reader One-Shot

Warnings: smut (18+), very sexual pining, loss of virginity, corruption kink, reader's first "real" orgasm, absolutely perverted thoughts, mutual and consensual drug use, discussion of addiction, mild exhibitionism, finger fucking, mutual masturbation, oral sex (male and female receiving), cock piercings, possessive sex, manhandling, hair pulling, breeding kink, slightly dishonest creampie, jealousy, self-hating John.

Preview Word Count: 2,200

Notes: Reader is a former vault dweller but is explicitly not Nora/the Sole Survivor. Post-Institute destruction. It was difficult to choose an excerpt that's representative of the whole piece; do not let this preview trick you if it seems overly romantic. It's nasty.

Your heart raced under your skin, your pulse flying under the press of his fingertips as he pushed you firmly against the decrepit wall. You exhaled harshly through your nostrils, hands coming to knot themselves into his work flannel as his mouth pressed forward with its assault on yours. He expected you to begin to push him away using the shirt for leverage, but couldn't force himself to pull back first through the blinding possessive rage he felt.

John had always been more of a “free love” sort of guy most of his life, jumping from partner to partner without much thought or care, and, because he'd never put much emotional investment or time into any particular partner, had never really cared enough about another person to feel possessive of them. Jealousy was such a negative, ugly emotion that he hated to waste any of his time on it, but the fire he'd felt in his gut from the moment he'd watched that asshole place his fingers under your chin to tilt your face up, obviously angling for a kiss, could not be ignored.

He heard the whispers of the people around Sanctuary, around every settlement and trade outpost; the speculations about why a woman like you would choose to travel with a ghoul as a companion, why you'd spend almost all your time with him, how you were so comfortable touching and being touched by him. Criticism from shitheads about his own actions and choices rolled off of him like water off a mirelurk shell, valid or not, but it stirred him up fiercely to hear these people you'd given so much of yourself to judge you, as if they had any room. Some of the more hateful ones called you a fetishist and a freak when they thought no one else could hear, and if it weren’t for you specifically asking him to not start trouble around the settlements unless you started it first, he would have made those people swallow their own teeth long ago.

That guy had added himself to that list the moment he made it clear that he pitied you for your choices.

John hadn’t previously had much problem with him, save for noticing the glint in his eye when he spoke with you. He couldn't necessarily begrudge him his attraction to you, though; you were, after all, the most beautiful woman in the Commonwealth, hands down. Beyond that, you were kind, generous, hardworking, and terrifyingly smart. You’d give the clothes off your back to anyone who needed them, and would offer a stranger your shoulder to cry on if they needed. It was nearly impossible to not fall in love with you, just a little. He knew; he had tried and failed as miserably as he'd ever failed at anything.

The guy’s feelings themselves weren't the problem, though. The problem was that he obviously thought himself some sort of contender for your affections. Or, he was trying to make himself one. It couldn't be tolerated. If this trespass was allowed, every man in the Commonwealth who fancied you or cut of your vault suit would feel comfortable trying to pick you up right in front of him, and it'd be nothing but trouble for everyone involved.

His mouth found the side of your throat, placing open-mouthed kisses and sharp nips the way he knew you liked in a beeline from your clavicle to your ear. When you squirmed, letting out an airy moan as you yanked him closer, he latched onto your pulse point and sucked, bathing the skin with his tongue hard enough to leave a spotted, wine-colored mark that you wouldn't be able to hide the next day. You liked that, too, but you’d never admit it out loud.

Well, unless he made you, maybe...

A low, drawn out moan escaped your mouth, your hands moving up to cup the back of his head, pulling him still closer. He obliged you, pressing the line of his entire body against you, making you feel his throbbing need against your belly, and you whimpered in response, your hands finding the top button of his flannel and beginning to work it open.

He paused his ministrations, reaching up to cup your cheek gently, your own fingers stalling for a single beat as he gazed into your eyes, trying to reassure you that he wasn’t upset with you. And he wasn’t. You hadn’t done anything wrong. But he was upset at that guy’s uncharacteristically bold actions, his disregard of his place in your life. The disregard of the others.

He needed to assert his place. He needed to show you how he felt.

Promptly, he resumed his ministrations. By the time you'd managed to undo the last cracked button, he’d left a huge, oblong purple bruise along the side of your elegant throat.

“John,” you whispered in between harsh breaths, your hands moving to yank the thin shirt over your head. “I want you.”

The tone of your voice was sure and clear despite how it trembled. When he fully looked up to your face, you were gazing at him dreamily, your brow furrowed with effort as your hips began to move, trying to find some friction against his. Just like the previous night, he could clearly see your desire, your trust, in the way you gazed at him. Still, though, a tug of guilt in his chest had him chastising himself as he hesitated; he should protect you and tell you to not do this. Not only because of the societal response you could expect for being with a ghoul, but because he was far from anyone’s ideal man. He didn’t deserve you. He wasn’t sure he could be everything you needed, and wasn’t sure a man even existed on Earth who could be all that a divine woman like you deserved.

Even knowing this, he couldn't pull himself away from you. The overwhelming desire he'd felt since the moment you'd met burned too hot in his gut, long transformed from a deep want to a need.

“John.” you repeated, slightly louder though just as winded.

His head dropped to your shoulder, kissing across it placidly for a moment. Your hands traveled up his back, eventually moving up to grab the tricorn from his head and toss it onto the counter beside you. He felt the warm bloom of self-consciousness as you pecked along his bald head gingerly, your lips feeling extra plush against his ruined skin.

“This really what you want, sunshine?” he asked, forehead coming to rest against your own as his hands rubbed your sides.

You didn’t respond vocally, but instead reached out to stroke his cheek like he had yours, thumb swiping back and forth for a few moments. There was a silence, but a warm, comfortable one that wrapped you together in your own little bubble. When your eyes met again, he had his answer.

He led you by your soft hand to the next room, the two of you dropping onto the mattress in the corner, chuckling at the plume of dust that rose from the thing as you cuddled close. Your hands absentmindedly petted at him, one twiddling at one of the frayed tails of his shirt, averting your eyes. Soon, the unoccupied hand began to move down his chest, stroking the wiry muscle of his exposed torso. Your palm was warm and soft against him as you explored his chest, eyes following your hand as it slowly moved lower. He tensed a bit as your hand swept along his abdominals ticklishly, fingertips dipping below the waistband of his jeans. You hesitated a moment, your fingers retreating slightly to sweep back and forth along the upper seam, toying with the loose threads there.

John was radiating tension at the way you were touching him; you had never been quite this bold before, and his head swam with the overwhelming amount of emotion that he felt as your fingers began to dip below again, shyly. He was proud of you, knowing how much work you’d put into getting over your nerves to get to this point; at the same time, he was beyond touched that he was the man you’d chosen to share these milestones with. Both of these tender feelings made the overwhelming arousal he felt at your soft hands on his body a little embarrassing.

His breath caught in his throat when the tips of your fingers lightly brushed his erection, the sound odd. You froze, eyes moving to his to assess; he gave you a small head shake to convey that you hadn’t hurt him or anything, his usually silver tongue caught in his throat.

Given the green light, you slid your hand just a little further down, warm against the side of his shaft as you gently explored; your ginger poking and prodding was unpracticed, almost clinical, your hand trembling a little as you made him squirm. He was already rock hard, electricity sparking from where you touched him, and his frazzled emotional state didn’t help in the slightest. He gave a little grunt, trying to remain quiet and calm but feeling a mounting need to touch you, to kiss you, to hold you down against the filthy mattress and make you come undone.

He wanted you naked.

Generally, when you two got to fooling around, you were more than okay with him touching you both over and under your clothes, and you responded to him beautifully, making it easy to figure out what you liked and what you didn’t. However, you were often very skittish to fully remove your clothes when he made it clear he actually wanted to touch you. In the past several weeks you’d been so bold as to let him push up the hem of your shirts or open the blouse of your dresses to softly fondle and kiss your breasts, which you held and shielded with your hands when he wasn’t directly touching them, your face dusted with a dusky, embarrassed blush.

It hurt him terribly to see that you doubted your own beauty; if he had his way, he would spend every day from here to the next end of the world showing you how gorgeous you really were. But at the same time, the lingering shyness you demonstrated drove him wild.

A sharp inhale left his mouth when you suddenly wound your index finger lightly around the head of his cock, the softly calloused pad collecting some of the precum that dribbled from the slit and dragging along his piercing. You jumped a little at the sound, but when he looked at you in the dim light, your eyes were wide and the corners of your mouth were turned up ever-so-slightly in an expression of gentle confidence. He didn’t dare interrupt you, not wanting to risk throwing you off whatever wave you were currently on, instead tucking what remained of his lower lip between his teeth as you shimmied a little closer to him, the new proximity granting you a little more length of your arm to slide into his pants.

When your soft fingers curled all the way around his shaft, he nearly lost himself.

He cried out, the sound embarrassing and dragging out as you moved your grip on him up and down, slowly, hesitantly, his face burning with the shameful realization that he’d nearly cum in his pants like a teenager from a single touch from you. He was grateful his blush couldn’t be read on his tarnished skin as he dropped his face to your shoulder once more, placing a series of little kisses across the tan softness there as your blush began to work it's way down to your chest. One of his hands swept down your spine, caressing you softly as it slipped low and came to rest in the small of your back.

“Fuck.” he grunted, his jaw clenched tight as you continued your gentle ministrations, “I wanna see you, baby. Please.”

Your hand paused for a moment, giving a couple more gentle strokes before pulling back. When he lifted his head again, you were looking at him straight-on.

“Only if I get to see you, too.” you replied simply, your voice just above a whisper.

He was surprised at that; John had no real issues being a ghoul, but generally made it a practice to stay mostly clothed during sex for the ease of things (and, you know, just in case someone decides they don’t like what they see). His shirt was already hanging open, exposing his chest, but he went shirtless or open shirted frequently, both at home and on the road. It wasn’t an unfamiliar sight to you. He pulled back from you a bit to straighten up, his hands coming to work the fly of his jeans down as he gazed back at you, lips swollen and throat heavily marked where you sat, leaning back against the moldering wall.

“Deal.”

[radfemsiren]

Lately it has really been bothering me how hellbent everyone is on defending BDSM as a coping mechanism but they're so against things like self medicating with alcohol, drugs, cutting etc. Why are women into BDSM "so valid" and even to some people, oppressed even, but if I cut myself I should go to a mental hospital? & I agree it's a bad coping skill, but why do I belong in a mental hospital but women into BDSM don't? Oh, because it's sexy to men. It just makes me crazy how obvious it is that BDSM is bad for women & how nobody can make the connection. "What people do in privacy is none of your business" but my therapist can send the police to my house to handcuff me and send me to the ER and put me in medical debt or even attack me or arrest me if I refuse. I don't understand how women fell for this shit. I don't understand how men aren't going to jail. I guess because men portrayed it as sexy and what I do is portrayed at disgusting or weird?

Yup you hit the nail on the head! Because it’s very pleasurable and profitable for men, it’s impossible to criticize. Not just in the individual cases of men exploiting mentally ill, hurting women, but on a massive scale too:

Porn culture is a misogynistic capitalists dream. You have a huge supply of men that are addicted to porn, socially inept, bad at sex and talking to women now, and relying more and more on their drug. And like any drug that gives artificial pleasure, porn needs to become more and more degrading and extreme to give an effect. But the supply doesn’t match the demand, most women are unwilling to go through physical and emotional torture like this for almost no compensation.. so how do they remedy this? Trafficking, coercion, rape… while also pushing nonconesenting incest and rape scenarios in their porn media: triggering real life abuse and bringing in more traumatized women to feed the machine and line their pockets.

BDSM is the perfect remedy to fight any feminist criticism of this system: “Pain and pleasure is just light, kinky fun! Never examine the patterns, the power imbalances, or the origin of how it all came to be! Just don’t judge or shame, because us kinksters are oppressed just like those gay people you activists care about so much 😉”

We radical feminists do not fall for this clear facade, so we get the hate. But it doesn’t matter, nothing will stop a truth from revealing itself, people always recognize the pattern eventually. Anti porn and bdsm stanced women are getting way more traction now, and the social tide is changing in our direction. Women can connect en masse and the male media monopoly is dying… with women now breaking into commentary spaces on TikTok and YouTube, discussions are finally tilting in our favor !

[crmsnmth]

Hello

Version 5.5

Introductions Are stupid.

Hey. How goes it?

I'm 36. Caucasian male. Goth-punk. I live in a small-town of 2000 people right in the center of the drunken state of Wisconsin. It is not even close to as fun as that sounds, and it doesn't sound all that fun to begin with.

I listen to all music, and I'm not just saying that. I actually do. You can go through my main playlist, and you'll find everything from Slayer to Britney Spears to Alan Jackson to The Casualties to Katy Perry etc.… My favorite band of all time is the Descendents. But standing tall in second place is Amigo the Devil and Frank Turner rounding out my top 3. But you should tell me your favorites song, or one that means something to you, I need new music to memorize.

I'm mentally screwed and quite medicated. I have come to peace with this fact. I've been as stable as I can get for a good four years now. So that's neat. I am a raging cynic. I am a recovering addict, long-term. 8 Years. I am sober a little over two. I am a major cinephile, especially when it comes to the glory of the 80's slasher movie. I absolutely adore weird movies. The last film I watched that I really liked was Kinds of Kindness. I thought it was brilliant. My favorite movie of all time is Tommy Wiseau's masterpiece "The Room." I mean that 100%. That movie is the best thing to ever be put on film and I will fight and die upon this hill. I write more than any sane and healthy person should write, but I'm far from sane and I'm far from healthy. I post at least once a day, but sometimes I can post over ten. My notes app on my phone is scary looking.

I do not write for anyone's actual approval. Not even my own really. I do this because it's the only addiction I have that isn't actively trying to kill me and is actually trying to better me as a person and get in touch with unresolved feelings and places that will never have closure.

I will always love constructive criticism. But please, for the love of all the love in the world, don't just tell me I suck. I get that. It's a massive part of my whole gig. Please, give me a reason why I suck, what I'm doing wrong in your eyes. Help me to better this craft I play with. Seriously, I love it. But if you can't give me a reason, maybe it's best you keep that food-hole shut, and stop trying to be a dick, dick.

So since, I write some much, what topics to a tap dance to the grave with? I'm pretty predictable. So, this stuff: The Girl with the Ocean Blue Eyes, Kid, The Broken Mirror Girl, My Junkie Angel, The Girl from California, The Best Friend, The Drunk*, love, lost lovers, hopelessness, isolation, drug addiction, alcoholism, depression, forgotten acquaintances, mental illnesses, rage, hate, rejection, joy, insignificant moments, slices of life, laughter, beauty, self and self-reflection, self-hate, art, other writers, panic, infatuations, obsession, therapy, group homes, rehab, jail, grace, nature, loss, hope, fear, grief, anguish, philosophy, anarchism, nihilism, religion, god, the devil, ugliness, politics, serial killers, cults, suicide, death, destruction, chaos, music, validation, closure, memory, enemies, friends, rock bottom, sex, violence, rock and roll, sin, self-exploration, bipolar disorder, schizoaffective disorder, pain, self-destruction much more.

Consider this little spot your trigger warning.

I make music as well as the writing gig. Go tell me I suck at it.

I know about the typos. I am very aware. You don't need to tell me, because I'm probably not going to fix them anyway. Besides, you can figure it out.

There's bare bones about me and what I'm about and where I stand. If there is anything else you'd want to know for some godforsaken reason, go ahead and message me. I may not be real good at it, I do enjoy having fifteen second conversations.

*NOT REAL NAMES

[midnight-talescape]

𝒩𝑒𝑒𝒹𝓈 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒲𝒶𝓃𝓉𝓈 (𝒪𝓂𝑒𝑔𝒶 𝑀𝒾𝑔𝓊𝑒𝓁 𝓍 𝐵𝑒𝓉𝒶 𝑅𝑒𝒶𝒹𝑒𝓇)

Kinktober Day 9: Male Lactation

The inspiration is that one person who’s like they want Miguel to breastfeed them.

Very valid opinion me fucking too

The idea was like either Miguel eat a serum or Omega Miguel, and in the end I just like Omega Miguel better.

But I don’t believe in submissive Miguel and theres too many submissive omega, so instead we have a angry dominant omega and a go-with-the-flow beta.

Warning: breeding, male lactation, miguel is still a dom, ooc etc, etc you get the point not for kid

Genre: filthy filthy smut

Word Count: 2656

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Fuck! Fuck fuck fuck fuck FUCK!

This is not what he needs right now, he shouldn't be here. He should be fixing the multiverse, not curling up in his bed unable to do anything!

Miguel snarled as another wave of heat hit him and he curled up in his hastily made nest, desperately fighting the instinct inside him to mate.

As he lay there panting and his body flushing with needs and wants, he couldn't help but think of you…

He shouldn't think of you, he shouldn't want you, he shouldn't need you…

You were a beta, you can't mark him, just like he couldn't mark you…

But he wants you, he wants you so badly it hurts him. He wants you more than anything else in the multiverse.

He wants to bury his cock into your soft body, to watch you cry and beg as he fucked you stupid.

He wants to fill you to the brim with his cum, to breed you, and impregnate you with his child.

He knows he couldn't and it's scientifically impossible for an omega male to impregnate a beta female, but oh god does he want to try…

He wants to watch the cum drip down your thigh as he fills you up over and over again, to plug you up with his cock as he work, his cock in your throat as he have a meeting…

He wants to claim you as his, to make others know that you belong to him and only him.

Miguel groaned into his blanket as these thoughts swirled in his mind, he could almost smell your tantalizing scent of rain and lavender on his tongue as he lay there your image filling his head.

Wait…

He’s not imagining things, your scent is getting closer and his body froze as he heard a knock on the door…

Fuck…

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You knocked on Miguel's door, worried for his health since he hadn't been out of his room all day.

“Miguel, are you okay?”

Miguel stumbled as he got up to unlock the door for you, his face flush and his body sweating as he towered above you.

“What do you want, (Y/N)?” His voice came out harsh and raspy hiding the fact about how much he needs you,

“I came to check on you since you haven't been outside all day, are you having a fever?” you ask looking at his flushed face,

Miguel growled lowly as he heard you say that, the throbbing of his erection becoming all the more apparent.

He wants you.

He could feel himself trembling, his eyes glowing red with need, he pushed down his desire for you before turning his gaze back to you.

"It's complicated, (Y/N)," he said his voice deeper than usual, laced with unspoken lust and wants,

You placed your hand on your hip as you looked at him,

“Then tell me, Miguel.”

He watched you as you waited for him to speak. He opened to speak but he closed his mouth once again.

He knew that if he did you’d probably hate him once you found out how much he wanted you.

He cleared his throat, as he studied you.

God, how he wished he could touch you and make you his.

"It's complicated, (Y/N)," he repeated,

He wanted to tell you the truth

That he wants you so badly it's tearing him apart.

That when you walk near him his world turns upside down.

That he craves you so much it's like a drug, demanding to be fed with your presence.

That right now, what he wants more than anything in the multiverse is you, crying and begging under him as he fucked you into oblivion.

But he couldn’t…

Hearing him say that you bristled with anger, you were worried sick and here he was being the usual stubborn prick he is, walking forward you grabbed his shirt and pulled him down towards you,

“Then explain it to me, Miguel! I have been worried sick about you all day!”

As you grabbed him Miguel groaned, every touch you give him sends waves of pleasure through him. Every breath you take is a blessing, a curse, and a heartbreak in the working.

In one last desperate irrational act, Miguel pushed you against a wall, his body leaning closer to you.

His breath was hot against your face, causing a shiver to run up your spine as he said harshly,

"What if I said I’m in heat and I want you? What if I told you I didn't want to let you leave? That I want to lock you in here until you relieve my need?"

He waited.

He waited for you to push him away, to call him a sick bastard, and get the fuck out of here.

But you didn't.

Instead, you looked up at him confusion in your eyes as you said,

“Pardon?”

Miguel groaned as he repeated himself, it was too late to regret this now…

“I said, I’m in heat and I want you, that I'm borderline ready to just lock you in here till you deal with my need, you imbécil,”

Despite his harsh words, his voice was laced with desperation. Each word was a vulnerability, an offering, a plea for you to return his feelings.

"You’re an omega and you want me" you repeated trying to make sense of everything,

"Yes, (Y/N), get it through your thick head," his voice laced with anguish and desire. "I'm an Omega. And, god help me, I want you."

"No need to be rude, I'm just confused.” you said as you shook your head trying to clear your mind before rambling, “Will that even work? I can't mark you, can I even help you in your heat?" your brain flew into chaos, less concern over the fact that he's an omega and more concern on the question, can you help him?

Miguel sighed as you rambled on before pulling you into his chest and shutting you up by kissing you.

Your eyes widened at the kiss and when you guys broke apart, your eyes was still round with shock.

Looking at your face Miguel grinned before burying his face in your neck, his body shuddering and he let out a groan as he finally got close to the one thing he desired above all else.

"You don't have to help me, (Y/N)," he said, his breath warm against your neck "Just by being so close to you in my heat, it gets me off more than anything anyone could ever dream of. And that's just fucked up. It's fucked up how much I want you, (Y/N)”

His voice was rough as he said that, as he finally admitted his deepest desire to you, he wrapped his arm around you as he breathed in your scent.

You looked up at him your heart finally calming down, you took a deep breath before hugging back and saying softly,

“Be glad I want you too, be glad you are the closest thing to love I will ever feel toward anything and anyone…”

Feeling your arm wrapped around him, Miguel couldn't help but feel a surge of protectiveness and possession towards you

The heat that he had suppressed for the entire day erupted inside him turning him almost feral. Pulling you tightly toward him, he dragged you toward his nest and pushed you onto his bed.

His claw extended as he ripped your shirt and bra off of you, desperately kissing and biting you as he whimpered into your neck.

His voice was hoarse from suppressed tears as he whispered,

"I love you mi amor, I need you. You are the only thing that brings me any relief in this godforsaken world. You’re my weakness, and my savior, all wrapped up in an annoying bundle."

With that he pulled you into a deep kiss, desperate to feel everything you have to offer.

You moaned into the kiss as he slipped his tongue into your mouth, his tongue wrapped around yours as he explored every corner of your mouth.

Your hand desperately grabbed onto his shirt as you lost yourself in this desire.

Miguel pulled away from your lip and kissed down your neck again. Biting and licking at every inch of skin that he can get to, he wants the world to see you belong to him. He wants your skin to bloom with flowers of purple and red.

As one of his hands tangled into your hair pushing you into him, he began to rip at his clothing.

When he finally ripped his clothes off of him he begin placing kisses down the valley between your breast and before taking a hardened nipple into his mouth.

Miguel swirled his tongue around your nipple, biting it like he wanted to devour you whole, groaning as you let out a sob from pleasure. His hand slid down your bare body and he pulled your pantie to the side.

“F-fuck!” you swore and tears spiked in your eyes as you felt Miguel slip a clawed finger into your fold,

You bit down on Miguel's shoulder as his claw scraped against your wall, drawing a loud moan from him as he thrust his finger in and out of you.

“H-hurt…Mi-miguel t-this hurt…haaaaa…”

Miguel kissed your tears away as his claw continued to dig and curled inside your wall. Each of your moans and mewls seems to fuel his desire for you even more.

“I'm sorry, mi amor… it will feel better, I swear it will feel better… fuck… te necesito…por favor…”

You sobbed as your nails scrapped at Miguel's back, desperately trying to relax your body around his clawed fingers.

"Let yourself go, and just feel me. Fuck, you're incredible, mi amor…" Miguel groaned out as he bit down on your neck with his fangs,

You let out a silent scream as he bit down on you, pain and pleasure coursing through your body, and coming to a violent high as he slipped another clawed finger inside you.

Miguel let out a shuddering groan as he felt you clenched around his finger. He kissed your throat as you shuddered under him.

Part of his desire felt satisfied at the fact that he was bringing you all these sensations. That he didn't have to be an alpha to bring you these mind-numbing pleasures, to have you trembling and shaking under him.

But it wasn't enough, it will never be enough. He needs to feel more of you, he wants to hold you so tight you become part of him.

"Oh god, Miguel... please... fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck! So full…," you sobbed out as you rode out another climax,

Miguel's thumb massaged your clit, as he violently thrust his fingers inside you. You threw your head back and your wall clenched tightly around Miguel's fingers as another orgasm shook your body.

Miguel moaned in response, his cock throbbing painfully as you convulsed under him. The feeling of your wall clenching around him and the sound of your desperate moan turned him on beyond belief.

He twisted his claw inside you one last time before pulling out and slamming his cock inside of you.

He groaned loudly as your body clenched around his cock, your eyes rolling to the back of your head as your body stretched painfully around him.

Sweat dripped down Miguel’s forehead, your wall clenching tightly around him as he waited for you to adjust to his cock. He didn't want to hurt you, despite his mind screaming at him to fuck you into oblivion.

"Let me know if it's too much, I won't stop, but I'll try to make it bearable. God, I want you so much." Miguel panted into your ears,

You gripped his arm as you tried to calm down. Your body was in so much pain as you felt yourself being practically split open on Miguel's cock. You could practically feel him in your stomach in fact you can see your stomach bulging out showing the shape of his erection through your belly.

After a few minutes, you took a shuddering breath, your eyes streaming with tears as you nodded your head motioning to Miguel that he could move.

Miguel grits his teeth as he begins to thrust into you. Feeling every inch of his cock stretching you open, causing you to groan and buried your head into his honker chest as your body shuddered violently.

He lifted you onto his lap, holding you close to his body and begin to slam you onto his cock roughly.

The desire and lust from his heat finally took over his mind.

"Can’t think straight, niña... Need to mark you… por favor… quierdo dios… want to breed you…mi amor...," Miguel panted into your ears, his voice hoarse from the pleasure he was experiencing,

You sobbed as you felt him pounding into you, you felt so full and the pleasure was overwhelming.

In your mind fucked state you bit down on Miguel's boobies chest and begin to instinctively suck on his nipple.

Miguel let out a desperate moan as you did so, using one hand to continue slamming you on his dick, while the other hand pushed your head further into his titties chest.

As you were pushed into his chest your eyes widened when a warm sweetliquid hit your tongue.

Even in your daze state you manage to recognize that, what was being forced down your throat was milk.

Miguel was lactating…

As he begin to lactate into your mouth Miguel moaned loudly, his pupil blown wide open as he cum inside you. Filling you up with cum as he forced you to keep drinking his milk. His body shuddered with pleasure as he felt his heat being satisfied momentarily before coming back stronger than before. He needs you, more than ever.

“Gonna breed you… need to breed you, so badly… Good girl…. Just drink a little more… for me… por favor…necescito este cariño…” he babbled into your neck as his eyes glow red from needs and wants,

You moaned into his chest as you drank Miguel's milk, feeling his milk and cum filling you up. Your eyes were dazed and glassy from how hard Miguel was fucking you.

Miguel let out a low groan, his primal instincts taking over him as he feel your body clinging onto him.

He moved your head away from his chest and held your head up to look at your dazed face. You looked up at him, some of the milk you couldn't swallow dripping down your chin. He leaned down and licked away the bit of milk before kissing you deeply.

When he parted he put his forehead on yours saying,

“I can never truly mark you, cariño. Just like you can't mark me because you are a beta. But I will make you mine, no one will take you away from me, mi amor…”

You looked up and pulled him into a kiss, your answer clear,

You are mine just like I am yours…

Growling he kissed back with an animalistic hunger as he sank farther into your body. His claws dug deeper into your flesh as the room around you guys seemed to fade away, replaced only by his need to mark you and the intense pleasure he derived from it.

"Por favor," Miguel murmured into your kiss his hand finding yours as he pounded into you,

You’re his and he will breed you, mark you, and show everyone that he doesn’t need to be an alpha to make you his.

No one else will have you, not an Alpha, not a Beta, not another Omega.

You belong to him just like he belongs to you.

It was fucked up but it was still love; a twisted, imperfect love that defied reason and science. A love, destined to push both of you to the very edge of the multiverse.

[blubushie]

Yikes, reading some of these messages hit a little too close to home.

I'm a trans man, and my relationship with masculinity has been more rocky as recently. I started T and realized I have much more dysphoria than I realized because I was ignoring it. And I've experienced my fair share of transphobia.

I've had classmates say (jokingly, I know) that I'll start becoming entitled, and a misogynist because I started T. In a university level queer studies class, they all had certain distaste for men. The expectation was that they would shut up and not talk over the woman's experiences (to be fair, I was one of 2 men in that class). Even one of my closest friends has issues with hating men that I've meant to bring up (I'm the exception because I'm trans and don't really look like a man most of the time). But I've always brushed it off, saying that "trans women have it worse" or "this is what I get for becoming the 'enemy'".

It took me a long time to even admit I was trans because I know that men were "the enemy" and I was betraying people by becoming one.

That anon who said that he didn't want to become a Twink, oof I relate to that. It wasn't until I got into TF2 that I realized what kind of form I wanted (Engineer and Soldier being major players in this realization).

You are the only one I've ever really seen talking about masculinity. Like ever, and I've been in queer spaces for a very long time. It's comforting to know that my struggles are real. And aren't being brushed off as "well xxxx have it worse." (I know. I know other trans people have their struggles and should not be treated as irrelevant. I know that. But I never see anyone talking about masculinity. It's treated as a disease almost).

I'm rambling, but I guess I just wanted to say thanks. I rarely talk to anyone on the Internet, content to just observe, but you've really made me feel seen. So thank you

I don't wanna be the one to break it to you, but if someone says they hate men and say you're an exception because you're trans or don't look enough like a cis man, it's because they're transphobic and don't see you as a "real" man. And that will change when you start passing and getting clocked as male, and it'll especially change when you express any joy in what testosterone is doing to your body or any joy in being perceived as male. You're most likely an exception because they don't see you as a man yet even though you are one.

Additionally I don't know how long you've been out, but since you're just starting on T, this means people have probably been clocking you and IDing you as female most of your life. Which means you have every right to discuss women's issues and misogyny because you have been subjected to misogyny. NO ONE gets to just erase your lived experiences growing up in a female body and being subjected to misogyny just because you are now openly identifying as male.

And we don't choose our gender. We're born this way, remember? You're betraying no one by "becoming" a man because you were born a man. At most you're making a choice to change your body to ease the symptoms of an illness—gender dysphoria—and I don't see anyone copping shit with depressed people for taking antidepressants. You're not on some random drug, you are specifically on a medication to treat an illness that you have. If people don't like that because of what variant of that illness you have, they can get fucked. They are not worth your time.

You are 100% valid in your experiences and feelings. I'm glad that I can offer a safe space for you to speak about those things.

Also, if I can suggest, it might do you some good to join a club of some kind with a lot of men where you can see masculinity be celebrated in a positive light instead of demonised. I'm not sure if you're into hunting or fishing, but those are my best suggestions. An archery club, a hunting club, a fishing club, etc. Hang out at your local bait shop looking like a sad puppy and some old fart'll find you and invite you fishing.

Chookas, mate. Keep your chin up. You're doing fine.

[menlove]

i’m new to the whole beatles rpf (i am an rpf veteran though i wrote 75k words of michael jackson fanfiction in middle school and 15k of queen freshman year of hs 😐) so what are like the tenets of beatles rpf. what’s the need to know.

YELLS that's so fucking valid of you I can't even lie

and HMMMM okay I can only speak for mclennon bc I observe the other ships from a distance but don't chomp at the bit about it but here's some things that come up A Lot in fics

john & paul met on july 6, 1957 at a church garden party. john played "come go with me" & got the words wrong while paul watched from the audience and Fell In Love. after, they officially met. paul took john's guitar, tuned it, then flipped it upside down (he's left handed) and played 20 flight rock perfectly. john was smitten and the rest was history

oh shit edit I forgot! john used to climb the drainpipe into pauls room. VITAL info that comes up so often

they had group wanking sessions (beat the meatles lmfao) & they'd call out the names of various female celebrities during it (john would apparently call out male names as a joke to throw people off which 💀)

STUUUUUU. we love stu, paul hates stu. stuart sutcliffe was a boy john met at art college & he became His Boy Bestie instead of paul for a while which had paul FUMING. john & stuart lived together for a while & in mclennon lore john was in love with him (& I do also think that lmao). which brings us to

HAMBURG. in 1960 the beatles went to hamburg & stayed several months in the world's dingiest room. they shared bunk beds & stayed up all night playing music & took pills (prellies) to stay the fuck awake. stuart went with as their bassist & paul hated him soooo bad so bad. in part bc stu did not take the band very seriously & was not good at playing and paul is a notorious perfectionist. fun hamburg facts! here stuart met astrid, his future fiance. and she took them to a gay bar lmao. also, at one point, in the most heinous and toxic move, john walked in on paul fucking a girl and lost it. he cut up her clothes with a pair of scissors and then started stabbing the wardrobe 💀 normal behavior. the whole thing was just drugs and sex and music. great fic setting always.

eventually they got back. george was deported first bc he was underage & then paul and the drummer lit a fucking condom on fire where they were staying and got deported too. john stayed an extra bit & when he got back didn't tell anyone. in the meantime, stu stayed in germany w astrid and paul Got A Job at his dad's insistence bc they all thought the band was over when john didn't show back up. but eventually he did. and made paul pick between the job and the band...... or rather, his dad and john. and paul picked john.

Some Months Later john took paul to paris for his 21st birthday. 200000000000 fics about this. all legendary all gay.

stu died </3

there's barely any fics of the touring days which is tragic I think there should be 60000. I guess the only thing that comes up semi often from that era is that they played lovers in a play, pyramus & thisbe, and paul named two kittens pyramus & thisbe. and gave pyramus (the character he played) to john. not joking at all.

next biggest Canon McLennon Event everyone brings up is lsd. george & john got into lsd first & ringo tried it as well. paul was extremely reluctant to and this caused a bit of a rift between him and john. eventually though, they did trip together and the first night is McLennon Fic Lore. john accidentally dropped acid in the studio (smth he avoided) & was out of it. almost jumped off the roof. paul took him back to his home (cavendish) & took lsd with him. there's a lot to this trip I can't even summarize but it was gay and there's lots of fics abt this incident

was Not the first time paul took lsd though which brings us to the Next Big Tropey Players: tara browne and robert fraser. both are men paul hung around in 1967 and there's looots of fics where he was gay w them and john is Seething

india! I'm not an india truther so I don't really get into these but the fandom at large thinks Something Happened during the beatles' 1968 trip to india. this usually takes the form of john confessing to paul and them fucking and then paul turning him down. background lore for many many breakup fics

and that's the stuff that tends to come up Most Often. there's so much lore I could probably write an entire novel & a lot of it gets referenced but these are some of the biggest players lmao

[obsessivevoidkitten]

I really enjoy your fics where it’s hinted the reader may be trans, especially when it’s just pointed out by the yandere and they lean into it. Hellbound Angel is one of my favorites because of the reader going “oh yeah he’s got a point, I am this, and it feels right.” That’s actually how I found out I was trans, a friend pointed it out to me and I had such a vivid warm fuzzy feeling of coming home and finally having the language to describe what I am.

That may not be the case for that story due to the drugging, but imagining it that way lets me experience that warm fuzzy euphoric feeling again. Seeing it in a yandere monster fic lets me imagine a big strong monster taking me away and helping me become more myself too, which is one of my top fantasies—especially when the yandere is sweet, it just makes my heart flutter.

Love your work, and wishing you well ❤️

None of my fics are really hinting that the reader is trans. They are just feminized forcefully.

I like it because I'm trans, but I feel bad about it. I don't pass and I don't feel valid.

When I was recently back in a long distance relationship with my ex he cheated on me and dated others because he wanted a real woman he could have kids with.

Only one of my family knows I'm trans and he only refers to me as female when he is trying to exploit me, otherwise he calls me a guy.

Even my oldest friend wont call me female since she has known me since before I knew I was trans.

So I like to writw forced fem stuff since it doesn't make me feel fake and because the reader is forced into it so they have no say. Like the yandere's treatment of the reader is so strong that they don't care if the reader thinks they are male. They STILL get treated as a girl.

Idk. Sorry for rambling. Gender is complicated and weird.

[nightswithkookmin]

3D SLAYS WITH JACK HARLOW

I'm not here to tell anyone how to feel but I'm just saying Jackie killed those bars.

I don't want to get into this whole debate over whether or not Jack Harlow's verse was offensive because Jack is for the black girlies and the queers and I'm black and queer. Let's leave it there

And frankly I was too busy deciphering all the Easter eggs and black and white themes and weirdly familiar lyrics and all the diversity in there to notice anything off with Jack.

He's a white guy in a predominantly black space who is not only aware of this but is also less misogynoire-cist than a lot of these gay hating black rappers out here. I'll take Harlow over any day because I ain't tryna hear another homophobic rapper with internalized racism make caricature of black women and call it music.

Yall hate misogynists, I hate homophobic misogyny targeted at black queer women specifically even more and to me Jack is far from that. So may be there's a conflict of interest here somewhere caused by my intersecting identities.

And as a feminist I have a problem endorsing the slut shaming of men just as much as I disagree with the slut shaming of women.

How are we shaming this man over openly talking bout thoting.

And it's crazy cos we all be put here drooling over BTS openly talking bout wanting to be choked to death by these boys but God forbid a grown man says in his songs he is polyamorous.

Equality of genders means we can not slut shame men from expressing their sexual desires any more than we can slut shame women.

And 2023, monogamy isn't the only valid relationship model. Why does this feel like monogamy is the new heteronormativity?

And it's not as if he's glamorizing cheating on a partner, or drugs or gun violence.

I feel we've been fighting misogyny and objectification of women by men for so long we can't even tell what a healthy expression of male desire looks like.

I think Jack is so real for those lyrics. Some men and even women do like to fantasize about getting with different women. And having female attention really is form of validation for lots of men. For a lot of them it's deeply tied to their self worth.

Women will always be the object of desire for straight men. But that don't mean any time they talk about that subject that they are objectifying women. That's like saying men hurt women for pounding them at night- sex is not inherently oppressive. It's the lack of consent, and the treating women as if all we are good for is sex that makes it oppressive.

As long as he isn't berating women calling us slurs or promoting the objectification of women he and I are good.

From where I sit all I heard was a man discussing and bragging about his insatiable lust- for that I'll recommend he speaks to his therapist. Jesus can't help him.

He has an appetite. We shouldn't slut shame him for that. Misandry is not how we are going to fix misogyny.

If a girl sang the same lyrics we would be tweaking right about now.

Plus these lyrics are even pretty tame in comparison. Lmho. Jack has always been vulgar and explicit. Jack's personality to me is why I like him to be frank. He's pushed for visibility and acceptance of the gay community more than any non queer rapper you can think of.

As far as his talent as a rapper goes- I only care about his songs when he's featuring lil Nas X or Jungkook

I'm just gonna have to throw him back to yall

BUT PLEASE LEAVE 3D ALONE.

PLEASE AND THANK YOU.

[low-budget-korra]

My comments on The Substance

- Okay, first of all , I've seen a lot of comments and some reactions and people are really forgetting that Elisabeth and Sue are the same, they are one. And their hatred and disregard for each other is the hate and disregard they had towards themselves.

-Ive saw Coralie Fargeat first movie (Revenge) so I knew what to expect here. But with The Substance it happened something that happens when movies like this go mainstream, people simply don't get it.

Like, people are saying the ending was trash and "too much", complaining about Monstro Elisasue and all the blood...in a BODY HORROR MOVIE.

It's like watch a romcom and complain about the aspects that makes a movie be considered as a romcom

-Demi Moore and Margaret Qualley are incredible in this. If the academy didn't discriminate horror movies, they (especially Demi) would get their Oscar nominations.

-In Brazilian Twitter, there's this whole discussion about Sue's body being unreal, which I think is really funny cuz it def isn't. But Coralie filmed Sue's body as if she was filming a commercial, Sue's body is seen as a product rather than a person. And that creates some unreal feeling, like, you're watching a robot or something since she is so dehumanized.

And it's brilliant since we all sadly know that's how society sees women. Especially the straight and bissexual ones, cuz they are mostly the ones that still seek male validation since they are attracted to them. And the patriarchy is the major reason behind things such as sexism

No wonder why this year had at least 4 big horror movies that talked about issues such as unwanted pregnancies, violence against women and sexism.

(I haven't watched Smile 2 yet so I dunno.)

-Ive seen on Twitter people saying that if Elisabeth had gone to a lesbian bar, she wouldn't have taken the substance and I agree 😭

The amount of lesbians who would just fall at her feet ready to give her the world if she ask...

-The Elisabeth and Sue relationship also parallels some narcissistic and toxic mother/daughter relationship. When the daughter (Sue) is forced to follow her mom(Elisabeth) dreams, and becomes so good at it that the mom actually gets mad and envy about it. While the daughter becomes arrogant and mean because she is better than her mom

The "You got it from me" part when Elisabeth was yelling at Sue on TV gave me that vibe.

-When they are coexisting I think that for a second Sue weren't herself when she was beating up Elisabeth but also it's like after seeing herself like that and realized that Elisabeth was gonna rob her of the biggest moment of her career...she snapped.

It's like when you are hating on you for sabotaging yourself. And as Sue cried after murdering Elisabeth, it's like that moment when you realize what you did to yourself. Also like you can use drugs, drunk, hurt yourself because you hate yourself but at the end of the day there's this moment when you realize what you did and just feel regretted.

-Also, it's sad how nobody's cared for Elisabeth. She had no support system, no real friends, nothing. And this happens to a lot of women, especially women in the business. Like we get 30y actress playing fucking grandma's but we don't have much 60y playing roles that aren't just grandmas. While men can play wherever they want and in their 40-50y take roles that should be for 20y

-Why did Sue look so damn hot while smashing Elisabeth's face in the mirror? I mean c'mon. For me it was the hotter she looked the whole movie (I would let her smash my head in the mirror too and apologize for the inconvenience)

-Ive seen one person commenting that they miss the opportunity to have Elisabeth fucking Sue. Either as pure narcissistic self love or as hate fuck for what Sue was doing to her. And I think it's a matter of time until some horny crazy person to write something like this is ao3 😭