#but terf has been watered down so much

[lesser-vissir]

At this point when I see people claiming random discourse they don't like is terf shit or gender critical ideology I want them to die

If you say "queer is a slur" is terf rhetoric I want you to walk into a wood chipper

[imababblekat]

Bayverse TmnT X Trans-man Reader; HC's

Anon Request," I don't know if you do TMNT Bayverse boys with a trans-man!reader so if you don't, I'm sorry and feel free to delete this ask: How would the boys react when their S/O discovers in the middle of their relationship that they don't feel like a girl anymore and realizes that they prefer to be called a man but is scared to tell them for fear of the turtles hating them and break up with them. S/O is scared that they're going to call them a freak and a weirdo for it; even though at times they forget that they're dating a mutant turtle."

◉Story Notes: trans male reader, very brief mention of terf(just the word), s/o referred to as they before coming out to turt bf, he/him with (s/o) is the turt's now bf for clarification, hurt with comfort

~xXx~

Leonardo:

He senses from the gecko that something is different about his s/o, it’s an energy thing is what he tells them later on

Leo won’t bring up this strange feeling he has about his s/o till he starts noticing how they started acting almost distant with him

Like they’re hiding something and it concerns him more than anything, because what if it’s something serious? Like they’re secretly in danger?

Leo will sit them down with their favorite drink, somewhere private and let them know that he’s concerned for them, and while they have absolutely every right to not say anything to him, he just wants them to know he hopes they’re okay and that they can trust him

His s/o confessing that they’re trans, was not at all what he thought was going on, but he’s so incredibly happy they felt they could come out to him

However, Leo does feel kind of sad that his s/o had been worried this whole time because of him(s/o) being a transman might effect their relationship

When he(s/o) explains this to Leo, said turtle is quick to reassure him(s/o), stating he’d love him(s/o) no matter how he(d/o) identified, because if anyone knew that there was more to the world than the physical, it’s definitely Leonardo

Raphael:

His s/o’s stiffened return to his hug is what tips Raph off that something is going on

Did he do something wrong? Oh god, he hopes you’re not becoming repulsed by him

After a few more instance of his s/o acting strange, Raph pretty much puts his foot down and ask what’s going on

His s/o is thrown for a loop when he ask if he did something wrong, or if there’s something wrong with him, and it almost makes them laugh

They’re quick to explain, albeit scared, that no, nothing is wrong with Raph, and that in fact, they’re worried that he’ll think something is wrong with them

Poor lover boy is so confused till they confess how they feel like a man more than a girl, and Raph just kind of sits there like. . .ok??

His s/o is still his s/o, and he’ll love him(s/o) regardless of how he(s/o) identifies, so why would he(s/o) be worried what he thinks?

It’s not that he finds his s/o coming out as a transman is bad or anything, he just doesn’t see the big deal till he(s/o) goes on to explain to the large turtle that the reason he(s/o) was so scared to say anything is because of how terribly the trans community has been treated

Raph gets quickly understands then, and even though his s/o being trans doesn’t make a big difference to him, he of all the turtle brothers knows what it’s like to be treated horribly just because you don’t quote on quote fit in

He’ll reassure his boyfriend that coming out doesn’t change anything for him, Raphael still loves him(s/o) wholeheartedly, if anything's changed it’s that he added terfs to his list of “People I’d Punch On Site”

Donatello:

Donnie is so perceptive about things, especially concerning his s/o

He’s the fastest to notice a change in them and ponders if he should outright ask his s/o if everything's okay, or wait for them to come to him

Donnie will test the waters with his s/o responses to any forward actions he takes before deciding this is a matter of them needing to want to come to him, in which case he’ll spend so much time making them comfortable with non-verbal gestures to feel they can confide in him

It takes a while, but Donnie is a patient turtle; if he can spend a week plus on a single project, he can wait an eternity for his love

Eventually they do come to him, in the middle of the night while he’s typing away at his laptop, and his s/o feels their heart flutter when Donnie is fast to stop his work just for them

It helps encourage them in confessing that they no longer feel like a girl, but a man instead, which is terrifying to tell Donnie

Why? Because the man is a literally scientific genius if not prodigy, and bigots love to use science to demean the trans community

So imagine how surprised his s/o is when he simply smiles and gently reminds his s/o that he’s(s/o) dating a mutant ninja turtle

Donnie gets his s/o to laugh the anxiety away by jokingly stating that the most normal part of their relationship is his s/o coming out as trans

Seriously though, he like his brothers love his s/o no matter what, and he’ll spend the rest of the night showing his s/o why being trans is actually scientifically plausible so that if anyone tries to say something to him(s/o), well he’s got his genius partner to back him(s/o) up

Michelangelo:

Mikey is by far the quickest to find out his s/o is trans; his welcoming personality makes it easy for his s/o to make up their mind on telling him

Ofcourse that doesn’t mean it’s still all that easy, it’s a very serious topic and Mikey tends to be anything but serious

Except for when he picks up on his s/o’s sudden odd behavior around him

He’s so good at letting them know how worried he is, and it nearly breaks their heart that he was so concerned for them

When they do confess that they’re a trans man, a stiff silence fills the room as Mikey stares that them, thinking. . .

It’s got his s/o quickly regretting saying anything, dreading the moment their sunshine would ultimately break up with him(s/o), when Mikey dumbly comments

“So like. . .the robots?”

He's(s/o) left sputtering, on one hand he(s/o) wants to laugh at the pun on the other he(s/o) wants to slap Mikey on the arm

Mikey laughs for them both, quickly pulling his s/o in for a hug and a big smooch, feeling over the moon for being the one his s/o chose to come out to, knowing how big of a moment this is for him(s/o)

His s/o is still a little peeved at his joke, but can’t help to smile because he(s/o) can always count on Mikey to help wash away any fears he(s/o) may have

Not to mention, but Mikey is also the biggest hype man for his transman s/o, if anyone can make someone feel themselves in the best of ways, it’s definitely Mikey and he’s 100% going to make sure his s/o loves being him(s/o) self

~xXx~

[lesbianrobin]

not to return to the drama of yesterday/invite more but the terf accusations are wild because like. the whole fucking thing is that it's trans exclusionary radical feminism. what makes terfs terfs is the transphobia particularly transmisogyny.

and accusing somebody of being a terf for. being mean to a fictional man. is like... first of all i actually don't think they believe anything they're saying like i do think they're just trying to use social justice language to make themselves seem justified but BESIDES THAT. it is actually so insanely transphobic and misogynistic to act like Being Mean To A Guy is equivalent to trans exclusionary radical feminism. terfs are not primarily hurting men they are primarily hurting trans women!! it is quite literally in the name!!

but "terf" has been watered down so much that now people just use it as an insult against any lesbian they don't like. if you commit the crime of not worshipping men then you are actually a radical feminist which means you are also a transphobe and now people can attack you for not liking men but in a Woke Progressive way. it does not matter your actual ideology or even if you're trans yourself All that matters is that you dared to not center men 24/7.

and the worst fucking part of all of this is that as always trans women are being shouted over and disregarded! these people don't CARE about trans women all they care about is bullying dykes. and they're losers so they invoke trans women as some bizarre justification for their actions while doing Nothing to aid or advocate for trans women. it's just like such hateful loser behavior and it pisses me off.

[the-trans-folk-witch]

The Triple Goddess of Wicca, and why she must be killed : Another trinity with a problematic following

What better time to bash Wicca than the present? At the time of writing this it is nearing the height of Autumn and All Hallows is lurching towards us with natural disasters all along the southeast of the US. Hurricanes are bringing ruin to the homes of the innocent, as well as the possible deserving conservatives of Florida.

At this time I am in deep thought of the many times in history that loss, death, illness, and danger upon a group of people was seen as a "cleansing" by the Christian god. The Aids crisis is a great example of this. It was seen as natures way of ridding the earth of queer folks. so why should we not view the hurricane as such a riddle?

In relation to problematic religious views that damage queer folks, I wanted to disect one of these religions. Wicca, a religion with many branches and problems. This religion -as many know- prides itself on its pagan origins and distance from Christianity, while still displaying the same issues Christianity presents to the world. A religion where the pedo-priest becomes the rapey-coven-leader. A space where women are just a womb for a man or god to lay seed in, and most pressing; a place where trans bodies are ignored. Another religion made by a cis white man and taken too far.

I was inspired to tackle the beast that is this neo-religion by the load of terfs that have plagued my inbox for the past 3 years. These Dianic-Wiccans seem to forget the cultures that bore their goddess also created many stories of gender-bent gods such as Hermaphroditus who is most famously known. Shikhandi, who is labeled as a FTM warrior. Lakapati, whose gender changed many times in Filipino history. And Apollo who has a myth where he lived in the form of a woman for 7 years. As we all know, transness is older than wicca will ever be, and there is no use in continuing to argue with dianic -terfs on the internet. So, instead of berating them on their lack of historical knowledge, I want to pinpoint the thing within their faith that this trans-exclusionary "feminism" stems from. Their goddess.

We all have seen the links made to Hecate or Diana in their religion. The concept of an ancient goddess having three main forms or titles to call on. But what maddens me is the ignorance that many non traditional wiccans spout off. As if they are from an ancient tradition of Hecatean worship. When their triple goddess is historically claimed as a purely wiccan invention by the mouth of Gardner himself. The dissent from traditonal wicca to neo-wicca has been maddeningly full of lies. This religion did not evolve, but made space for more issues. If you asked the first or traditional wiccans who they worshipped, you would hear they worshipped the gods of wicca who were revealed to Gardner. Not an entirely Greco-Roman rip-off. Yes, the triple goddess may have been inspired by triple goddesses of history. But she is much newer and much more problematic than her ancient counterparts. To think an ancient tradition such as hecatean devotion has been watered down and conflated with a made up goddess that prioritizes women's usefulness to man as her purpose. To be more clear, let me roughly describe Hecate's triple form in history. Hekate of the moon/sky, Hekate of the earth, and Hekate of the underworld. A goddess who was encompassing all places and aspects of life. The ultimate power of the world. She was not this maiden mother and crone being. She has been reduced to this western concept of "maiden, mother, and crone". As if counting the stages of a woman's service to men is to be empowering. As if all women must be these three things. As if women are only worthy of worship if they rear children, or had a period of chastity (maidenship). A spirit that was made up by a man with a breeding kink has claimed the titles of hekate and are now toting her images as if they are her. People are holding this goddess close to their hearts and wombs only to mock greek culture despite not having greek ancestry. Cis women are using Hekate's image to attack trans women and use this made up triplicate nature of child birth and their British founder's obsession with women's bodies to make us seem unnatural. Yet, here they are pretending Hecate, Diana, or whatever name they are aimlessly slapping on this goddess is of natural pagan origin. It all satirically contrasts with the actual historicity of transness. Imagine having the nerve (read: ignorance) to mock me for being trans as if it is a new thing, when the very gods you're using to back it up are from the mind of a mortal man. Trans people have and will always be divine. Even without bearing children, having a womb, or lying with a male god. Your obsession with your baby making abilities is not the feminism you think it is. You can be so much more you terf wiccans. Yet you cling to the parts of yourself a man told you to. Do not use your body as a weapon to shame my body. Because we are both equal in the eyes of men. worthless, and only for sex. Whether its to make a baby or to give a man a shameful night to remember with a tranny. You, like i am, are just a fantasy. And your god emulates that.

Before you tell me I am sexualizing the titles of the maiden, mother, or crone too much, notice how the religion does that itself. Lets not forget how often wicca has holidays devoted purely to their two gods having sex. The maiden claiming to hold this fertile power and being a feminist figure of virginity while also slightly drifting into purity culture is not exactly the feminist religion wicca intends to be. Its damaging if anything. The maiden is simply a title given to woman to hold until she was made pregnant. There is little depth or actual ties a true maiden in the religion may relate to in this goddess. It is such a flat epithet which holds little use for ones faith other than to claim your youth and sexual awakening. And yes, being young and sexual is in line with feminist ideas. Embracing sexuality or the lack of sex is empowering. But this empowerment was not intended by Gardner. The "feminist" nature of the maiden is fairly recent and flawed. And it is still being marked as a woman's title which she can not move from in life until a man allows her to become a mother.

The mother is a a more three dimensional aspect of this spirit. One I think wicca did mostly right. She is the typical mother goddess all religions have. She can be loving, stern, etc. And yet, she is still hollow. Who would she be outside of the other pagan cultures she is based on. Where is her originality? And do modern wiccans realize Gardner did not share the same ideas of her as the religion does now?She was made by a man's idea of a woman just as many other goddesses were, but who was she before? There wasnt always an origin myth. She was the maiden. Wicca tries to make this growth of a goddess reflect human growth expecting it to make her relatable, but it falls flat. She is a mother. cool. She got pregnant. What if a worshipper has no interest in having kids, fertility obsessions, or the sort? what is the point of even worshipping her? in the early stages of wicca, she wasn't a mother goddess in the sense of caring for her worshippers. Gardner in my belief fully intended her to be a way to pull women into the religion by utilizing the growing feminist movement of his time. She was a way for him to express his mommy issues in a spiritual sense as well as to discuss sex between man and a woman in a disturbingly hetero-centric way. It started off as a minor sex cult in the eyes of Christians. And there was some truth to that belief. The mother was cause of this. She allowed space for men to get women to embrace their sexuality in a group setting. It was masked as a feminist idea instead of the reality which was men perversely trying to discuss nature's sexual powers and the power of creation. Many a coven spent time sharing intimate stories and ideas in a setting that was more than just friendly. And I can not be convinced this was not for male gain. With the spread of femininism there were covens who of course tried to rid the group of creepy men. But alas, they all fail to admit the religion was crafted for the very things.

The crone is no better. She is today revered as a source of wisdom or power. Yet in a coven system this "wisdom" is just older coven members using their age as a way to act smarter than their fellow members. The spirit of the crone is an archetype we see in many cultures. I can respect the usefulness of it in one's spiritual hierarchy. Yes, older women are wise. I say this with my fantastic and loving grandmother in mind. But the crone of wicca originally was not as multifaceted as she is today. She was the ending of life. But most importantly and unbeknownst to female members, she was the ending of a woman's sexuality. The idea that after you're old you are no longer beautiful. You are no longer having sex with the male god or bearing children. you are no longer useful to a man unless it is to inspire his art or give him ideas as a source of wisdom. The crone too was made by a man's idea of female aging. The god and goddess were presented to us as a pair on equal footing, but the woman was just to fulfill a role. The god serves an equally damaging role too. Enforcing ideas of masculinity and protectiveness. But it does not hold the same weight as the triplicate nature. It does not follow a man into every stage of his life expecting him to change multiple times. The crone is the end of female empowerment. She is not a servant to her children or husband like the mother, but a servant to men who seek knowledge.

Wicca had a feminist appearance at one time. But it has not aged well. Although many covens try to be inclusive to queer folks, we can not ignore how its own gods do not acknowledge us. I understand the interest in wicca that many (mostly newer) witches have. The hunger for a community or a mentor. But forcing yourself into a highly performance based and gendered grouping is not going to result in a deep faith or fulfilling spiritual life. Yes it can be nice for those of us with OCD or autism to put all of the spirits in boxes and to categorize them into a balanced or symmetrical hierarchy. (god and goddess, sun and moon, life and death.) But the dualism in this religion reflects the gender binary and transphobic agenda within the religion. It can not be escaped. In fact, it is so infectious that traditional witchcraft spaces have adapted these male/female concepts. We have forgotten how feminine the devil is and how the witchmother has a beard. We have allowed our spirits to be organized in ways that fall within the binary. And it all started with Wicca.

So as a response to this malignancy in our community, I kindly tell all of my terfy readers to get fucked. Preferably by the old wrinkly cock that leads your coven.

[mint-and-authoress]

Slime HRT - Progress Report I

<<| ⏯️ |>>

“...”

[The video shows a bedroom with a computer setup in the background and an empty chair in the foreground.]

“...gods how do I even start…”

[o-s]“Just talk, love. You’ll be fine.”

“...but I meant like… no, you’re right.”

[A young woman appears from stage left, wearing a green flannel hood atop a t-shirt and leggings. She has brown hair and glasses, standing around 5’8/172cm. She sits in the chair.]

“Hello. My name is Elise, and I’ve decided to make a video documenting my transition. I’ve recently thought about some life choices and more about my identity, and I’ve chosen to undergo human removal therapy. Basically I wanna take all m’ flesh and bones and turn it all into slime. Thanks to experimental drugs and the fact that the FDA is not responsible, I’ve been given an opportunity.”

[Elise holds up one generic prescription bottle containing capsules; two vials for injections, one opaque and slightly coloured green, the other clear and watery; and one tube of ointment that has been emptied.]

“This is the motherload, right here. Everything I’m taking to do this. This bottle is my… ‘my-o-chi-tin-ase’... yeah. This is the main ingredient, turns all your insides to mush and turns that mush into slime. The pills are homolipostat, it’s basically spiro but for human removal. Stops your human parts from regenerating. The other vial and the empty tube are things to help the transition. This is vasopressin, helps with water retention, which I’ll need a ton, since I’m basically becoming 50% more water by mass. And this tube once contained something like 30 grams of salicylic acid, all to break down m’ skin. The myo is 1mL once weekly, the -(pfft)- the homo is 100mg once daily, the vasopressin is 0.01mL once daily, and the ointment is one tube weekly.”

[She sets the medicines down.]

“So…day one of Slime HRT. All that is to say, nothing yet. Though I have heard this human removal therapy business is supposed to work pretty fast compared to hormone replacement therapy. So, hopefully I get some good results out of it.”

“Still haven’t told anybody except my darling wife so…yeah that’s gonna be fun when it happens.”

“Oh, and yeah, this is what I look like right now. It’s decent as far as a human body is concerned, so just to make it obvious to the TERF-y crowd, I am happy I went through this process. Even though the slime is gonna replace all of…this.”

[Elise vaguely gestures to herself.]

“I’m gonna end up uploading this all in one big compilation-esque video at a good stopping point so this is all ya get for now!”

[The woman reaches for the camera and the first segment ends. The next segment opens in a different room, messier and more decorated. In the top right corner a timestamp of ‘14 Days’ is shown.]

“Two weeks later! Still not used to talking to cameras, I’ve had absolutely zero practice since the last time you saw me.”

[Elise brings her right hand and wrist up to the camera.]

“So in terms of changes, I haven’t really noticed much. Pandora - that’s m’ wife, if ya didn’t know - she thinks my skin’s gotten clearer. I think to her-”

[Elise momentarily looks away pointedly, likely towards her wife]

“-it’s just a confirmation bias thing. Not to mention I just cannot imagine. Nope. Nothing. Never been able to. It’s called aphantasia, and if you’ve ever seen that image where it’s the five heads all imagining an apple, I’m the one that can’t see anything. But that’s not really relevant to the slime stuff.”

[The camera switches to the outer camera of a smartphone, pointed down at the back of Elise’s left hand]

“So… just so you can see… even turning my hand over just to show… nothin.”

[The segment ends. The next segment opens with a headshot and the timestamp reads ‘1 Month.’ Elise looks excited, despite having obvious bags under her eyes. Her skin appears more lustrous and is slightly translucent. She is wearing short sleeves.]

“One month! Gods one month! It’s like, impossible to explain how excited that makes me. Anyway, big news! Look!”

[Elise holds her arm up to the camera, the skin looking notably transparent.]

“That’s the first sign! Well, the first visible sign. The actual first sign was like a couple days ago. Turns out the first thing to change is something to do with sweat, probably because slimes don’t want any help in terms of drying out. It got a sweeter smell, weirdly enough. If for some reason you’re using this as a guide, take the extra time in your day to keep your skin clean. Sweat equals bacteria, so while your skin is kinda retiring from the idea of keeping all that outside of your body, do yourself a favour and take preventative measures.” 

“...and I guess this’ll be a kinda vlog thing, too. Transition’s not all about the meds and stuff, y’know?”

“I told my boss about it. Honestly, it went pretty decently, all things considered. Most importantly: not fired, which was what I was most scared about. We talked about it for like, an hour while she was in the store for something else. She’s a very human human, so I don’t think she really got the deeper meanings of it.”

“Still haven’t told my friends or my family. My friends are…also human. It took them a while to actually take my transition seriously, and even then it was because I had to tell them to. As far as my family goes���yeah, nah. I’m moving out at some point soon so either way they’re not gonna have to deal with all this for long.”

“I have connected with people more like myself, though! These drugs are experimental so it’s not like everybody can just go for it yet, so that list of new friends is kinda small. There’s a couple little support groups but everyone kinda talks to everyone and wow there’s some nice creatures I know now. So, Mayday, Sandy, Xion, if y’all are watching, hey! I am aware of you!”

“I think that’s everything? Again, not much, but it is still only a month into all this. If something happens, I’ll keep you all posted.”

[The segment ends. The next segment appears to be an Overwatch lobby, where in the top left corner a webcam is set up, showing Elise wearing headphones. The timestamp reads ‘7 Weeks.’The audio from the game is intentionally muted.]

[o-s, distant]“Hey, El?”

“Yeah?”

“...”

[Elise removes her headphones.]

“One sec.”

[Elise walks away and opens the door, still in frame. The video zooms in to mostly show the webcam, though nothing of note happens in the gameplay.]

“What’s up?”

[o-s] “Nah I was just headed to the store and…”

“...and?”

[o-s] “...what the fuck? You feel okay?”

“Uh, yeah. I feel fine. Why?”

[o-s] “Look at your skin, you’re like breaking out or some shit!”

“No, dad, it’s fine. I’m fine, okay?”

[o-s] “No no, it’s not. You’re not! You got like, shiny skin and it’s…”

“...”

[o-s] “You’ve been taking shit behind my back, haven’t you?”

“What? What do you mean?”

[o-s] “Oh don’t you start that bullshit. Come on, El, you know that shit is delusional. You see it on TV, you see those people just throw everything away and kill themselves on that removal shit.”

“You don’t understand! You don’t struggle with identity issues! I want to be something that isn’t human, it literally should not change anything between us.”

[o-s] “Ah don’t give me that shit. This trans species stuff is all just a hoax. Government just wants an excuse to take gullible people and experiment on ‘em, they get away with it every time there’s some international shit to take the heat.”

“This isn’t from the government, though! It’s from Hyper City-”

[o-s] “Hyper- when the fuck did you leave the house that long? No, if your doctor didn’t give that out then hand it over.”

“Not happening. And we really don’t wanna talk about unprescribed meds, do we?”

[o-s] “You know that’s different, you… Whatever. You’re not gonna be around long enough to make it matter anyway. You don’t show any of this to your mother, got it?”

“...Fine.”

[The door shuts loudly. Elise returns to the setup as the scene fades to black.]

}~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~{

YEAH THAT'S RIGHT, PART THREE

finally made some progress thank you to sandy and weiss and the rest of them over at @sandyca5tle for dropping a bomb of inspiration on us earlier this morning

but yeah! finally actually getting the changes documented, as well as the developing lore (tm)

the trans experience on full display today ;-;

[lostloveletters]

And I Lay Right Down in My Favorite Place (Bill "Hoosier" Smith x Reader)

Summary:  The Australian heat has nothing on how you feel when you finally get Hoosier to yourself.

Note: Female reader, but no descriptors are used. Title comes from the song I Wanna Be Your Dog. This is based on the fictionalized characters in the miniseries and not the real individuals. Do not interact if you’re under 18, terf or radfem, or post thinspo/ED content.

Word count: 3.2k

Warnings: Light period-typical misogyny. Obviously some historical inaccuracies. Sexually explicit content including oral sex (f. receiving) and some femdom elements. Do not interact if you’re under 18.

Your shadow cast abnormally long over Hoosier, his eyes scrunched shut as he slept in the rapidly setting Australian sun, curled up on his cot like a cat on a windowsill. If he had actually moved from that spot in the past few days, you would have felt bad waking him up. Except he hadn’t unless absolutely necessary, and so you attempted to disguise your selfish request as simple altruism.

“Hoosier, c’mon, we’re in Melbourne—civilization! You can’t just sleep through it. At least spend one night out so you don’t regret it.” He was unresponsive. “Please, for me?”

He snickered. “Even if I wanted to—which I don’t—I don’t have a pass.”

“I swiped an extra one. Look, everyone else ran off with some girl, and I have no one to go to bars with me tonight,” you said, stretching the truth a bit. Chuckler promised he’d look out for you in whatever little local dives you ended up in. For the most part, he had, but after a few drinks, he’d get distracted by a local girl, and you’d have to fend off equally drunk suitors without him as reliable backup.

“Fuck, alright,” he grumbled, pushing himself up from his cot, blanket still wrapped securely around his shoulders.

You shoved the dubiously acquired pass into his hand. “I just need to change, and—”

“Change?”

He stood up, the two of you staring each other down in an unspoken stand-off, waiting to see who would fold first.

“I bought a dress.”

“Don’t take too long or I’m going back to sleep.”

You ran to your cot, grabbing a paper shopping bag you’d shoved beneath it. A local boutique’s logo printed on the front, announcing your purchase of a flowing wrap dress that you couldn’t take your eyes off of in the shop. It didn’t take much convincing for you to buy it, and the unwavering confidence you felt while trying it on in the dressing room made a swift return when you ran into one of the locker rooms in the cricket stadium, changing in one of the stalls.

The plunging neckline had especially caught your attention, far from the conservative attire you’d usually wear as a Marine—though there had been strong opinions among some of the men toward your wearing pants, until Hoosier had asked them how the hell you were supposed to trek through the dense jungles in a skirt, which promptly shut most of them up. 

Still, you bought the dress knowing full well it was an impractical, expensive purchase that wouldn’t make it out of Australia with you. The slip that you wore beneath it was a buttery soft satin that you never wanted to take off, nothing short of heavenly against your skin. You didn’t have much in the way of makeup or perfume, so you’d chosen a dress and some heels that could do most of the heavy lifting for you.

Your name echoed through the empty locker room, Hoosier calling out for you as his boots smacked against the tile floor. “Hey, you in here?”

“In the stall!” you shouted back.

The tap ran along with the sound of water splashing. “You sure there’s no one else around to go with you?”

“Leckie’s playing house with some girl from the trolley the other night, Sid’s with his girl Gwen, Chuckler’s god knows where, and Runner’s got a date with the shop assistant at the boutique I bought this from, so no,” you said, securely tying the wrap dress in place. “Look, if it’s that much of a bother, you can stay.” You shuffled out of the stall, your uniform folded and shoved in the shopping bag the dress had been in. 

Hoosier whistled lowly when he saw you, quickly shaking his head. “Not while you’re wearing that.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Means you’re showing about as much tit as the girls in those magazines.”

You straightened your back, giving yourself a once-over in the mirror above the sink. “That’s why I bought it.”

“It’s sure as hell working on me.”

“Really?” you asked, raising an eyebrow as you turned to him.

He folded his arms over his chest. “What made you think it wouldn’t?”

“You’ve seen me covered in mud and blood—I think I’ve even thrown up on you before.”

He grinned. “Gives you character.”

“So I spent my hard-earned money on this new dress for nothing?”

“Not for nothing. I wouldn't mind seeing how it looks coming off you.”

“Maybe somewhere nicer than a locker room?” you proposed.

“Now you’re gonna make me spend my hard-earned money just because you wanna fuck somewhere fancy?”

“I wanna fuck somewhere with a real bed, and privacy.”

“Sounds like you already have a place in mind.”

“I might," you said, taking his hand in your free one and leading him out of the cricket stadium.

Running down the streets of Melbourne with Hoosier sent a rush through you. Your dress flowing in the cool night breeze, the hem flirting around your thighs, each gust of wind threatening to give a peak of what lay beneath to passersby. For the first time in months, you felt like a woman, anticipation building in your gut as Hoosier kept his hand firmly around yours, bringing you closer to the night you’d been hoping for. The fact that it’d be with him was icing on the cake. Even though you were no longer relentlessly hounded for your answer of which member of H Company you would fuck if you absolutely had to—from day one, you’d pick Hoosier.

He really hadn’t been exaggerating about the dress, because when the two of you ran into Chuckler smoking outside of a bar, at least three whiskeys into his nightcap, he didn’t even recognize you. Instead, he shot a wink your way and congratulated Hoosier for ‘getting some.’ He had shouted something else your way when you and Hoosier were halfway up the street, nearing the hotel you’d seen on your shopping trip.

A tall, swanky building with valets outside, you tried not to gawk at the giant chandelier in the lobby, surely worth more than you’d make in your lifetime. You and Hoosier caught some odd glances from the people milling about, but some went out of their way to thank him. You bristled at the perceived slight until you remembered what you were wearing, your uniform hidden in the shopping bag in your hand.

A well-put together man stood behind the front desk, not bothering to pay either of you any mind until Hoosier cleared his throat.

“Good evening, sir. I’d like to book a room for one night for, uh, Lewis Juergens and guest.” 

You nudged Hoosier with your elbow.

The manager looked you and Hoosier over with his lips pursed, as if he were resisting the urge to sneer. “We don’t tend to allow unmarried couples to share a room.”

You put on a charming smile and the best imitation of an Australian accent you could muster. “Just married. We’re honeymooning while we can. Gotta keep this one in line before I hand him back to the Marines.”

“I see,” he said, neither fully convinced by your story nor concerned enough to argue. “Mr. and Mrs. Lewis Juergens for one night, then?”

“That’s right,” Hoosier said. “Honey, why don’t you wait up for me?”

You kissed him, perhaps a bit more passionately than was acceptable in such an upscale establishment, but the desire in his eyes when you pulled away to wander over to the elevator was worth it.

He grinned as he walked over to you less than a minute later, holding up the room key. “Wait ‘til Chuckler finds out he’s married.”

“To a nice Australian girl to boot,” you said, pushing the elevator button.

“Nice girls don’t kiss like that.”

“Oops.”

When the doors opened, Hoosier told the operator to bring you to the seventh floor. You caught a glimpse of the room number engraved on the key’s tag. As soon as the doors opened, you rushed down the ornate hallway in search of the room. He seemed to take his sweet time walking over, amused by the scowl on your face.

"You know, I think I might've forgotten something downstairs—"

"Hoosier, I swear to god."

He snickered as he unlocked the door, ushering you inside.

You pushed Hoosier against the door when he locked it behind him, kissing him with a ferocity that shocked him for a moment before he came to his senses. The kiss was overtaken by the desperate clashing of teeth and tongue, a long repressed primal urge rearing its ugly head as you pressed yourself against him. Before that night, you’d considered the situation you found yourself in little more than a foolish yet pleasant fantasy, doubting he wanted you as much as you wanted him. His vulgar quips toward you had blended with the others you’d gotten used to, learned to take in stride. They were all talk, anyway. The way his hands kneaded your ass through the flimsy material of your dress proved otherwise.

“How much did you spend on this?” he asked, voice husky with desire.

You threw the shopping bag aside, paying no mind to how it fell over on its side. “You don’t wanna know.”

“Five bucks?”

“Higher.”

“Ten?”

“Higher.”

“Shit, I better make this worth your while, then.”

“You will,” you said, catching his bottom lip between your teeth, tugging on it ever so slightly.

Your hand half-wrapped around his neck, you pressed your thumb against the base of his throat while you sucked and bit on a patch of skin just beneath his collarbone. No one would notice unless they really looked for it, like you would over the next few days, your eyes inevitably drifting to where you staked your claim on him. 

He leaned against the door, breathing heavily while you left your mark on his skin, slightly tanned by days in the relentless tropical sun. Your hand drifted up to caress his cheek, your thumb brushing his lower lip. He took the digit in his mouth, and you gasped when he began sucking on it. 

“You’ve got everyone else fooled, you know that?” you murmured, softly kissing the corner of his lips. “Sleeping all day like you’re above it all, when you’re a bigger slut than the rest of them.” You palmed him through his pants, his hard cock straining against the fabric, earning a muffled moan from him. 

When he reached for your hips, you pulled your thumb from his mouth and grabbed his wrists just as quickly, pinning them on either side of him.

“If you want me, you gotta work for it.”

He groaned. “Jesus, you’re mean.”

“I know, but I think you like that,” you said. “Do you like that?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he answered without hesitation.

You released his wrists from your grasp, kicking off your heels as you walked back to sit on the edge of the bed. “Then show me how much you want me.”

He sank to his knees before you without hesitation. He would have looked almost pious if his hands were clasped together instead of pulling your panties and stockings down to your ankles, his tongue darting out from between his lips as you spread your legs. He’d seen you before, though, not this intimately, but close enough. Privacy was a scarce resource, and so modesty packed its bags along with it. You’d conquered shame on those islands, perhaps the first woman to do so. Maybe that could be included in Lady Marines’ recruiting materials—put the church out of business, be naked and unashamed.

With a frustrated groan, you pulled off the wrap dress, hearing it tear as you were too impatient to untie it properly. The soft, patterned fabric pooled around Hoosier’s knees. He pushed your slip up around your hips, his calloused fingers drifting down between your opened legs. His rough touch electrified you, your legs seizing a bit when he started rubbing your clit with the pads of his fingers, watching intently as your face contorted in pleasure.

His hands gripped your thighs as he ducked his head between your legs, slowly dragging his tongue up your leaking slit until his lips reached your clit, sucking it while he slipped his fingers inside you. Leaning back on the bed, comforter balled up in your hands, your arms strained to support you as he ate you out, lust clouding your reason, your climax just achingly out of reach, like he was doing it on purpose.

“Don’t fucking stop,” you ordered through gritted teeth, your hand buried in his hair, keeping his face pressed against your pussy. His teeth grazed your clit, and your pussy clenched around his fingers when he flicked his tongue against the sensitive bundle of nerves. Your back arched, pleasure cracking down your spine like a whip as you came with a moan that echoed in your ears. “Hoosier—Bill—oh my god—” His tongue lapped up your wetness as you rode out your orgasm on his face.

He moved back from between your legs, hair unkempt and face flushed, his mouth and chin glistening in the low light.

“I wish I had a camera,” you sighed, affectionately running your fingers through his messy hair. “You look perfect.”

“Yeah?” he asked, almost dazed.

You nodded. “Like a wet dream.”

He moved to wipe his mouth with the back of his hand, but you grabbed his wrist before he could.

“Don’t,” you said, a little harsher than you intended. “I wanna see how I taste.”

When he stood up, you took his face in your hands, kissing him deeply, taking in the taste of yourself on his tongue, his lips. The sensation sent an irrational, possessive urge through you, greedy for more of him, as much as he’d give you—and only you. 

“You got a condom?” you asked breathlessly against his mouth.

“If I don’t, I’m gonna kill somebody,” he grumbled, searching his pockets for one. 

Salvation in his front shirt pocket, he held one up triumphantly. 

With shaky hands, you unbuttoned his shirt, frustrated by how much he was wearing compared to you—for once. Usually you were the one overdressed, sneaking glances of envy and admiration whenever he was shirtless. He had never caught you, or at least he never let on that he had. You reveled at finally having your hands on him the way you wanted, the way that’d make you curl your hands into fists, digging your broken fingernails into your palms to distract from how frustratingly out of reach he was on those islands.

Your slip came off over your head much easier than the dress, and soon a pile of discarded clothes was kicked to the wayside as he joined you on the bed. 

You stroked his cock, his hips jerking at your touch. 

“It’s been a while,” he offered as an explanation for how his body reacted. As if he needed to, as if you weren’t on the verge of pouncing on him at that very moment.

“I don’t care. I want you inside me, Hoosier. I wanna feel you when you come.”

He groaned, chewing on his bottom lip. “Oh fuck.”

You kissed him, practically swallowing the groan that emerged from his throat when he plunged his cock inside you, your cunt clenching around him as he filled you. 

He pressed his forehead against yours, his gaze locked on your eyes as you struggled to keep them open with each thrust in your pliant pussy, taking him deeper with each stroke. 

“Fuck—I’m close,” he barely managed to force out, his cock twitching as he neared orgasm.

“I got you, baby,” you whispered, your lips soft against the shell of his ear as his thrusts slowed and became erratic as he bottomed out inside you. 

He gave you a sloppy kiss, taking a few moments to catch his breath before pulling out of you. “Fuck,” he murmured, mostly to himself.

You curled up beneath the covers as he got up to discard the used condom.

“Jesus Christ, they’re gonna think someone tried to decapitate me,” he said from the bathroom.

“Sorry!”

“Don’t be. Maybe I can claim some rare jungle illness and get a few extra days off.”

You scoffed, smiling when he got into bed next to you, pulling you against him. “Yeah, you and every other Marine running around Melbourne.”

“Hotel room was a good call,” he said softly, nuzzling his nose against the crown of your head. “Fuck, I’m gonna be dreaming about this on the next shithole island they dump us on.” He was quiet for a moment. “Never thought that’d get me going, you bossing me around and all.”

“Something about you brought that out,” you said. “I don’t know, I feel like I’d go crazy if another woman touched you.”

“I’ll make sure to warn ‘em.”

You barked out a laugh, hiding your face in the crook of his neck before resting your head on his shoulder. “How about you? Most guys think eating out is degrading.”

“Because they’re fucking idiots.”

“I won’t argue with that.”

The two of you talked well into the night before falling asleep, only to be awoken at ten in the morning by a phone call from the front desk, informing you that if you didn’t check out within the hour, you’d be charged extra.

“Can we put it on Chuckler’s tab?” Hoosier grumbled, reluctantly getting out of bed.

“I wish,” you said, hastily freshening up in the bathroom.

“What’re you gonna do with that dress?” he asked. “Can’t take it with you.”

You shrugged, glancing at the torn, wrinkled garment. “I guess I’ll just leave it here.”

And you did, leaving it behind as you slipped out of the hotel room first. Wearing your uniform, far less comfortable than what you’d been wearing the day before, would inevitably draw unwanted attention to you and Hoosier if you left together, especially if you were seen by any number of fellow Marines who were prone to running their mouths. That, or the same haughty manager could have been behind the front desk again.

By the time Hoosier caught up with you at the cricket stadium, Chuckler was already there, sitting on your cot with you as he told you all about his escapades the night before. His attention quickly shifted to Hoosier.

“Hey, who was that cute broad you were with the other night? The one in the slinky dress?” Chuckler asked as he pulled on his boots. “Was she any good?”

Hoosier glanced at you, a smile tugging on his lips. “She was a real nympho. Tore off her dress and everything.” Your eyes widened when he held up a scrap of fabric clearly ripped from your now discarded dress. Chuckler grabbed for it, but Hoosier kept it just out of reach. “Woulda thought she was in heat or something”

You kicked his boot. 

He snickered. 

Chuckler didn’t notice the silent exchange, instead huffing out, “Man, I gotta get me a girl like that.”

“Gonna have to look somewhere else,” Hoosier said, eyes on you as he pocketed the torn piece of your dress. “This one’s mine.”

[glorianas]

its actually so maddening seeing how feminism has degenerated on this site which is supposedly the sjw cesspool. even the most lukewarm takes of women in power, women who don't need men, women who are confident etc are immediately dismissed with "girlboss feminism" "media hates feminine women" "why are you implying men might have faults what are you a terf?" its maddening.

its called libfem its called white feminism which just waters those very real terms down. okay so we dont like lukewarm feminism. what feminism do we like? a harder feminism? oh thats radfem thats terf. speaking of men as a class is terfy. speaking of patriarchy as systemic is misandry. its maddening!!!!!

its horrific in leftist circles. its like they learned of class and marxist materialism and decided "oh, so class is the REAL problem and every other discourse is just idpol" gender is idpol, race is idpol. are you all brain dead? what happened to intersectionality? have any of you even interacted with feminism beyond picking it apart?? sorry for the tirade but holy shit. MADDENING!

it is actually driving me to madness, like i genuinely feel jokerfied over the past seven years or so, it's people who learned half of social theory and just ran away with it even though it makes no sense, like it is honestly very, very much a result of people On Here who live in certain bubbles and if they can't see it it doesn't exist, like oh you live a life where you've never seriously encountered misogyny? well that's great it is very very much not the case for large parts of the world

YEAH that's absolutely the problem here, if everyone rejects "liberal feminism" then what's the next step? everything else is considered evil terf ideology, so then we just come to the result of no feminism allowed, and it's particularly wild to see people think they just magically arrived at this idea as if we haven't been dealing with extreme misogynistic hate group that have very far reaching influence and it may have affected them too

it is SO funny how class focused people have just decided that is a default way to be, yeah working class white men don't have kind of identity politics you're SO right that is so true, that's exactly how a group of those people would behave, they are all committed communists actually, they'd never put the social power their race and gender gives them over the idea of class unity that's why we achieved a perfect classless society hundreds of years ag-oh wait

[wildpeachfarm]

Never thought I’d see the day Nick Deorio was fighting in the trenches with us as a drolo. It almost makes me want to reinstall twitter just for that. Almost. Mans was scarred from John Swan and he wants to be on the right side of the argument this time. He’s seen dream come with receipts so he knows. Not an expected soldier, but I’ll take him regardless.

Saw a previous anon post about how Twitter has the mindset of “being a woman means being a perfect person” and how that’s not a good mindset to have; I wholeheartedly agree with that anon.

I’m of the mindset that I will protect all women, but I will not support them. There have been people in my life that are women that have made dumb decisions and have dangerous mindsets and I’ve called them out on it continuously. However, the second they tell me they need my help, I’m there. It doesn’t matter if we haven’t talked in months, or since high school-you ask for my help, you got it. No questions asked. Because like that anon said, we are human first before we’re women and we are going to make mistakes. I want to make mistakes and have the ability to own up to them like anyone else, cause if people protect me from myself, I’ll be a very misguided and disillusioned person.

I also think that mindset stems from many people not knowing what feminism actually is. I’ve seen on TikTok this trend of women going “I’m not a feminist” and then saying some wild ass thing like “I can wear dresses” as if that’s all feminism entails. True feminism is recognizing men and women are equal to each other and deserve to be treated as such. Equal pay, same opportunities corporate-wise, same options to be SAHM or SAHDs, etc. That also means women can be horrible people just as much as men, and they deserve to be held accountable for it.

Twitter thinks women need protecting and we can do no wrong and that’s absolutely dangerous. And I think thats part of why Caiti responded the way she did in her final stream, cause she’s been misguided to believe that she can do no wrong as a woman, hence the angry reaction to people pointing out her inconsistencies. And I feel for her, cause she’s young, and it seems like shes still easily impressionable, which is the perfect combination for Twitter to take over her thinking. I hope she takes a long, indefinite break from the internet and goes to see adults who aren’t chronically online to help her, cause she’s a very unstable person.

Women aren’t perfect, and we shouldn’t be protected from ourselves. But if one of us is in genuine need of help, we rally as a people to be there; that’s the best part of being a woman-the sisterhood and that gets taken away the more people develop the “women are perfect and need to be protected” mindset.

-L :)

oooh very good additions!

One of the worst things to ever happen to the internet is to create a space for words to be watered down to the point that people have completely missed the meaning of the original word and now it's something different.

Which leads people to speak damaging rhetoric in the name of something they /think/ they're representing properly when thats just not the case. (Unfortunately this is how we get radfems and terf rhetoric under "feminism" according to some people on the internet)

[velvetvexations]

Feel free to ignore this since this is mostly just me venting about the sheer amount of radfem adjacent transfems I keep running across but it really is disheartening the sheer amount of them I see now. I remember migrating to tumblr fairly recently when Twitter started truly going even further into the shitter and being really happy with the amount of other transfems that were here and the little slice of community we had with trans people in general on this site. Now it feels like so much of that has been thrown away by people bringing in what is essentially watered down terf rhetoric, which especially sucks because given recent events, people are likely going to start needing a sense of community and support now moreso than ever before. Sorry for the sudden off topic ask but I'm just getting genuinely sick and tired of seeing other people like me on here and having to stop and make sure they arent actually just a queer flavored radfem.

Because I've felt the same way, I've come up with antigonism to help fight the perception radfems are the majority. I want people to be able to signal to other transfems and non-transfems alike that they're safe and strongly, venomously opposed to radical feminism. It's always good to see and hear from other trans women who aren't like that. Radfems on here are not representative of trans women and I refuse to cede that ground to them.

[saltsicklover]

Title: The First Official Letter - Fan Mail Pt. 3

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2900

Rating: T

Warnings: Depictions of blood, mentions of killing, angst, mentions of hangovers. Swearing. Soft Steve.

-- To be continued. I hope you enjoy! Let me know if you want to be added to the tag list :) --

This story now contains a lesbian couple, OCs, and this is a PRO LGBTQIA+ Page. If you do not support or cannot be kind, you can kindly get the fuck off my page and get your free media somewhere else. NO TERFS, NO HOMOPHOBIA, NO HATE. Happy Pride Month!

Disclaimer: I do not own Bucky Barnes, or anything related to Marvel within this piece. Not Proof Read or BETA'd. All mistakes are my own.

I do not consent for my work to be edited, reposted, or translated.

You are responsible for your own media consumption. This is a work of fiction that may contain mature themes. If you are sensitive to those subjects, please do not read.

Maybe Bucky shouldn't have written at all. The thought swam around Bucky's mind for weeks. Since the moment he ran down to the mail room, the elevator taking much too long for his liking, and attempted to sweet talk the lady behind the desk. She did not allude to the fact that both Steve and Sam were hiding in her office.

Steve and Sam made it to the mail office the first thing the morning after the bar, Steve more or less dragging a very hungover Sam behind him. Steve insisted that he saw Bucky's letter in the 'Outgoing Mail' pile on the kitchen countertop when he got up to get a glass of water that night, but the pile was gone this morning. And if Steve knows Bucky like he thinks he does, and he does, the moment Bucky wakes up he is going to try and get that letter back. 

The boys made it to the mailroom with only a few moments to spare before Bucky came running down the hall. Steve only got a couple of words in before they both shoved into the small office, pushing their backs up against the door as to not be seen from the other side of the service window. 

"Hi, uhh, hello," Bucky  huffs a bit, a hand coming up to slick back his bangs from his forehead. "I mailed a letter, and I would like it back," The woman behind the window does her best not to snicker at his words, her eyes casting a quick glance over to the men currently hiding only a few feet from her. 

"I'm sorry sir, but once letters have been mailed they cannot be unmailed," She speaks, her eyes not leaving her computer. She worries that if she looks at him, she won't be able to keep from laughing at the whole situation. Working in the tower always comes with antics by the hands of the Avengers, but the trouble they get into is always a bit surprising.  

"Please, Miss," Bucky's eyes flash down to her nametag than quickly back up to her face, "Miss Brown, I really do need that letter back," 

"I am sorry, but I cannot release any mail once it makes it this far. Once it is in this office, it is stamped and sent on its way to the post office. You will, however, get it back if it is marked returned to sender," Miss Brown finally looks at him, biting her tongue a bit to keep her composure. 

"Are you absolutely sure there is nothing I can do?" Bucky's tone boarders on begging now but he does his best to flash her his best puppy dog eyes, the same ones that used to get any girl he set his sights on. Steve elbows Sam hard in the ribs to subdue his snickering. 

"Excuse you, but I am old enough to be your mother, you better not be propositioning me, young man," Miss Brown scolds at him with a pointed finger and Sam has to clasp his hand over Steve's mouth to keep his laughter from giving them away. Tears peak at Sam's eyes as he fights to keep back his own roar of laughter. 

Bucky sulks away a moment later, and when he is out of sight Miss Brown turns to the two large men who have fallen to the floor with laughter, tears streaming down their faces. 

"And what are you two laughing so hard about?" She questions, looking down at them from her seat. The men try and regain composure, they really do, but each time they look at each other they burst into another fit of laughs. They aren't laughing at Bucky, of course not. They are laughing at just how precisely well Steve knows Bucky, and at the way Miss Brown was so quick to put Bucky right into his place. That was two weeks ago. 

Now, Bucky almost falls out of the elevator due to exhaustion. There is a thick layer of sweat holding caked mud onto his skin, the dirt already worked deep into the fabric of his tactical uniform. Chunky pieces of earth fall off his boots as he trudges through the main living area of the compound, leaving a trail behind him with each step. 

The mission went to hell in a handbasket. From the moment he stepped foot off the helicopter it seemed like everything was going wrong. Between jammed guns and twice as many Hydra goons as originally thought, Bucky was in over his head. "Leave no bodies" behind turned into a a trail; one that left Bucky feeling queasy and on edge from the moment he crawled back into the helicopter at the extraction point. He wasn't even fortunate enough to collect the data he was sent out to get, the whole operation came up dry. 

Agent Hill tried to assure him during his debrief that it wasn't a total loss- one less Hydra agent on the street meant the world was a little safer and with the amount of firepower that Bucky bestowed upon them, that sliver of the world is looking a lot safer. This knowledge did nothing to calm the stir of sickness that flows under Bucky's skin. The only thing that is keeping him going is the thought of the ice cold shower waiting for him at the end of it, so he continues to trudge past his friends in the kitchen. 

"Hey, Buck," Steve calls after his friend. Bucky doesn't stop moving towards his quarters. 

"Bucky!" Sam calls, shooting a glance Steve's way, confusion written over both of their features. 

Bucky wasn't going to stop, he really wasn't. The promise of cold water easing his muscles and the image of the blood and dirt running from his skin, swirling down the drain is too enticing, the thought itself cathartic, but Steve's words manage to have him halting mid-step. 

"You have mail, Buck," Steve's voice caries down the hall, "Its two letters, and they are pretty thick," Bucky turns now, an eyebrow raised in curiosity. 

"You look like hell," Sam mutters when Bucky rounds the corner into the kitchen. Bucky sends him a glair that could shake the heavens but doesn't say a word. 

"Here you go," Steve holds out two envelopes for Bucky, both stuffed full. Bucky doesn't waste a second before ripping into the top one, small tight script on the back reading "Open First". He takes the letter out of the envelope, his eyes drawing over the words quickly.

"Dear James- Bucky, Dear Bucky, I can't even begin to explain how happy I was when I came home to find your letter in my mailbox. I couldn't even contain my joy, if we are being honest. I'm not exactly sure how to go about writing to you now, even though I was the one who proposed being pen pals so I guess I am just going to ask you some questions and maybe you can answer them on your letter back? Only if you want to, of course. 

Is it possible to come off as nervous through written word? Because I am positively nervous. I feel like it may be silly to ask, but what do you do for work? I know you are an Avenger, but that means you have exciting stories, right?  What do you like to do when you have free time? Do you have a favorite song?

I guess I should tell you a little more about myself. After my grandparents were killed, I was moved into a house with a lovely couple. Jan, my Ma, is the sweetest woman. She loves to cook and bake. She used to sew my clothes when I was a kid, and she always made us matching outfits, for her, my Mom and I. My Mom, Dottie, is a mechanic. Her specialty is motorcycles. She and my Ma have been in a local club for longer than I have been alive. They do charity events and fundraiser drives. They are really wonderful. 

When I first came to live with them I really wasn't sure what my life was going to look like, but they took me in and loved me like I was their own. It really made a difference in my life and I couldn't be more thankful that I get to call them my family. After I got out of  high school, I went to a really fancy school to become a barber. The school was snobby and the people there took themselves way too seriously but I love my work. I work out of a little shop in Hell's Kitchen called "Sargent's English Traditional". We call the shop "The Set". It's quaint, really. 

Anyway, I sent along another envelope with this one, and it contains some bits and bobs to help you get to know me. I hope to hear from you soon, Bucky.

Warmest Regards-" 

Bucky can't help the smile that he wears as his eyes fall over the words. There is still a part of him that cant believe that someone is taking time out of their life to write to him. He tries not to dwell on that fact, a bit of excitement blooming in his stomach. 

"What's it say, pal?" Steve nudges Bucky's shoulder. 

"It seems my pen pal is a barber," Bucky smirks, "And they work in Hell's Kitchen," 

"What's the other envelope?" Sam asks, bringing his drink to his lips. Bucky turns his attention back to the other letter, a small, yellow, manilla envelope lined with bubble wrap, ripping it open carefully. He dumps the contents out on to the countertop. Bucky begins to flip everything face up, not looking at each piece too long before moving to the next. 

"What is all this stuff?" Steve inquires, leaning closer to the small collage of items on the table. He reaches forward and picks up a flattened coin, the face of the coin distorted and warped along with the metal. Sam picks up a different item, a set of three pearl buttons. He fingers them around his hand, looking at the delicate pearls from every angle. There are other items too, plants that were once pressed between pages of a book and a ticket stub from a local jazz show. There were pieces of paper with poetry written across them in small neat handwriting and clippings from magazines. 

Bucky didn't care about any of it, nor the list that was included that described each item and their meaning, he just didn't care. Instead, he reaches for the polaroid photo that peaks out of the discarded envelope, the corner still stuck on the tack strip that once held the letter closed. He holds it face down for a moment, the realization that there could be anything depicted on the other side sets his lungs ablaze. With a deep breath he tries to fan the fire that burns behind his ribs- he flips the photo. 

His action catches the attention of Sam and Steve, their eyes quickly jumping from the other objects to the photo that seems to be dwarfed by Bucky's large hand. Their eyes each map over the photo, taking in each individual detail. 

The black and white photograph contains a large brick building, the photo taken from street view. There are plants on the front stoop and clothing lines hanging from windows that string out of frame. There is a caption written on the bottom in red pen, one simple word accented with a heart, "home". 

Both Steve and Bucky come to a stop, their eyes locked on the photograph. Bucky's senses are overtaken by the sweat that seems to slick over his body in an instant, mixing with the grimes that is already stuck to his skin. He flashes hot then cold, a shiver running down his spine. 

He couldn't care less about the mission anymore, the lives he had to take or the blood that is buried deep under his fingernails. He doesn't care about how he almost fell out of the elevator or about the cold shower he swore he would stand in until he lost track of time. All that matters now is this, the photo in his hand and the sender that made this moment happen. 

Sam looks back and fourth between the two, reading a sort of sick nostalgia written across both men's faces. 

"What exactly are we looking at?" Sam asks, his voice low. 

"Home," Bucky and Steve both whisper, eyes coming up to meet each other. 

"That's where we used to live, right before I got shipped out," Bucky's voice is no louder than a whisper and it wavers a bit with each word. 

"You technically didn't live there," Steve interjects, his voice only a hair louder than his friends. "You still lived with your Ma and your sisters. It was my place, but he was there so often we were basically roommates." 

Sam acknowledges Steve, listening to his story but Bucky can't seem to take his eyes off of the brick building. He never thought he would see it again, usually avoiding it when he is in that part of town. It was a part of his story he wasn't ready to revisit. He has seen his family home and other important places from before the war, but this building was not a place he was ready to bring into the twenty first century. 

Maybe he wanted to leave the memories preserved. If he didn't go back, the bubble of time would exist in his brain and everything would be left untouched. He liked it that way. A part of his life he deemed perfect, untouched by the claws of Hydra. If he left it there, pristine and sparkling, it would live on that way forever. 

But here it is, encapsulated in black and white, staring back at him. Maybe a part of him knew he wouldn't be able to escape it, the knowledge that it would change with time, just like he did, just like everything. 

"Buck, you might want to look at this," Steve holds out a piece of paper, the list and descriptions of the items in the envelope. Bucky takes it with a shaky hand. He rakes his eyes down the list, looking for a description for the photo. He finds it under number seven. 

"This is my building in Brooklyn! I think it's a beautiful piece of architecture and I just wanted to share! My Ma helped me find it in an old school newspaper ad. I have lived here for two years now and has been wonderful! The windows are original and they have a habit of getting stuck to prove it. The woodwork is original too, there is even a height tracker that was kept in one of the closets, the pencil marks and initials are still there! SR, JR, SGR, and JBB. I hope they were happy here." 

"Do you really think that could be possible?" Steve asks, his eyes on his best friend. 

"At this point, I am willing to believe anything," Bucky answers back. It's like they can communicate in half thoughts, leaving out the meat of the conversation, instead communicating it in a way that only they know.

"Does someone want to fill me in here?" Sam questions, trying to read the paper upside down. 

"Bucky's pen pal lives in the building I grew up in with my parents, and by the description, they might even live in my old apartment." Steve explains. Bucky looks up but doesn't reach either mans eyes. 

"Just when I thought this couldn't get more interesting," Sam whispers, more to the room than to his friends. They stand there for awhile, silence enveloping them like a heap of fresh snow. Sam and Steve shared glances, not sure how to best support their friend. 

After a little while, Sam pulls the photo and the paper from Bucky's hands, setting them on the table. Steve takes Bucky by the arm and walks him to his quarters, whispering in words that Sam can't quite hear.  Sam collects the mail, putting all of the trinkets back into their original place before setting them back down. 

Steve brings Bucky to the bathroom, helping him strip of his tactical gear. He brushes hair from his forehead attempting to keep the blood soaked strands out of his face. He turns the shower on, warmer than Bucky would have done himself, if he could have, but he gets into the shower anyway. Steve stands with his back against the closed bathroom door, his shoulders square, jaw set. 

He is swimming in his own feelings but he pushes past the waves instead standing guard for Bucky, keeping the demons of his past at bay while the other man roughly scrubs away the mission from his skin. The dirt, the blood, the remains of his perfect fucking memory. Bucky scrubs his skin raw until its red and weeping. 

Bucky lets out a sob, one he barely seems to notice and one Steve definitely doesn't comment on. When Bucky finally draws back the curtain, his face is swollen, tears hidden behind the water that drips from the ends of his now clean hair. The men do not speak, instead Steve lets Bucky pass. 

He is off to write a letter. He is sure this time around, no room for maybe. 

TAG LIST 

@vicmc624 @cjand10 @songoficecreamandfireworks @crazymusicgirl104

[impishtubist]

Factually, I know that there are a bunch of younger people in the marauders/wolfstar fandom who haven't actually read the books, but the thing I just can't wrap my mind around is: WHY??? And I don't even mean it in the sense of "these kids are ruining the fandom and should read the canon before they start writing fics" (well... at least not entirely). I mean that I utterly don't get it as a choice for them. Like, there is SO MUCH media out there that (a) has way better canon, (b) has canonically queer characters, and (c) wasn't written by a racist TERF. For example, Young Royals. In itself, a really good show. And if these new MWPP fans' fics are anything to go by, it has the exactly the kind of character archetypes, character relationships, and story lines that these folks are actually interested in seeing/reading. There's also Good Omens, OFMD, the (small but great) the Old Guard, etc. The options are abundant these days!

Now, for all I know, a lot of these folks might be in a few of these other better-suited fandoms in addition to MWPP. But why do they bother with MWPP at all? I get that MWPP & Harry Potter in general is a bigger, older fandom with a lot of existing content. But I feel like this newer pack of MWPP fans could really help build up more vibrant communities in the fandoms that genuinely suit them if they just invested their time & energy on that instead of on attempting to shoehorn characters & story arcs that they don't even (canonically) like into a form they enjoy.

I have many thoughts about this, actually! It's an interesting thing to discuss.

(I'm going to start out by saying that if you're a newer/younger fan here and you are reading this post...cool, you do you. I understand that the hyperfixation brain worms sometimes lead you places you didn't expect and you can't extract yourself very easily. But I'm still going to talk about how it 'tis a bit puzzling to me.)

This is not going to be universal at all, but I find personally that the fandoms I'm more active in are the ones where the queer relationships aren't canon, or are only hinted at very very slightly. Like, I wrote 18 fics for Good Omens before the romance was confirmed, and after that I wrote...1. I've written one fic for Maurice and 130 for Sherlock. I think that once the couple I want to get together is actually confirmed in canon, there's nothing left for me to do, you know? No more writing sandbox to play in. Don't get me wrong, I'm ecstatic that Aziraphale and Crowley kissed and I cannot wait for season 3. I'm just not as compelled to write fic for that fandom now as I am for, say, Temeraire. So I can see people being more drawn to write for MWPP, with so many possibilities to play with and so many characters/couples, as opposed to Young Royals, which was a fun show to watch but I am not compelled to write anything for because the romance already played out on screen! Same with OFMD and Old Guard - LOVED watching them, don't really feel compelled to write for them.

Obviously this is not universal because those fandoms are thriving, but it's just kind of how my brain works.

Also, there must be something about the way that Sirius's and Remus's characters have been watered down/changed entirely for TikTok videos that is compelling to the younger crowd. I don't know, because I don't go there, but I've heard so many younger fans say they started shipping Wolfstar because of what they saw on TikTok.

So...yeah. I am as baffled as you! With the abundance of queer content out there not written by a TERF, it is definitely surprising to see the fandom gain new members. I am only here because Sirius Black grabbed me by the throat when I was 7 years old and hasn't let go since. If I hadn't been seized by the series at a formative age (and before her TERFness was known), I don't know if I would have gotten into it as an adult. But I can't speak for those fans! I can only speculate, like you.

[radelenagreco]

i'm #newtoradblr i've spent so much time these past two weeks scrolling through radfem blogs i knew i had to make an actual radfem side of tumblr blog for my own sanity. the way i "peaked" is kinda funny 3-4 months ago i liked a radfem post without realizing and all of a sudden i had other radfem posts recommended to me by the algorithm and i was so annoyed because i was very anti-terf etc but for a couple days i read through a bunch of radfem blogs and it was actually such a relief to encounter FEMINISM not some watered down version of it but i felt guilty due to 5+ years of conditioning (and also because i had a nonbinary friend sitting right next to me in class as i was doing this) and i also didn't like the prominent use of the word moid? but anyway, 3 months later, i'm not sure why but the mra nature of the trans movement has grown so much more apparent to me i have like three mutuals who are trans men on my other blog and i would find myself rereading the few feminist posts i would reblog/write because these people are literally reblogging shit like "don't think like a terf. men aren't your oppressors, they're your friends/neighbors/brothers/fathers. if you think that any man could harm you you have been fooled by terf rhetoric" like actual morons/meninists. anyway two weeks ago i saw a post made by someone i knew was a radfem on my twitter tl and i don't know why i knew i was ready i went through her blog and through many others and now here i am.

[chainsawprophecy]

getting mad online sorry guys

the absolute state of the tumblr lgbt community is SAUR embarrassing. white trans girls and tme lesbians getting pissy that their faves old bigoted and also somewhat bad and cringe comics is getting hate is soooo insane. and then instead of like, listening to poc (black ppl especially bc god damn was hussie casually shitty to black ppl) or trans women, they all double down and dig their heels in. like it's okay to admit you're wrong. i do it all the time.

and then, instead of anyone admitting they were wrong, you have people writing rape and detransition fics about each other. LIKE? ? there is something in the water here there has to be.

ultimately, alison bechdel and andrew hussie were both kinda bigoted and shitty people who did some bigoted and shitty things. these things include (but are not limited to) palling around w TERFs, supporting Michfest, and making a comic about a black person dunking a welfare check into a hoop. one of these people being bad does not fucking mean the other person did nothing wrong and to view it in such an all-or-nothing way is really really stupid.

please just admit that alison bechdel has been casually pretty transmisogynistic (unintentionally? sure, maybe, but transmisogynistic regardless of intention) and andrew hussie was pretty fucking casually racist specifically against black people and asian people in their webcomic for years. damara megido is literally an asian schoolgirl sterotype. oh my god. pretending your fave comic creator on either side has done nothing wrong actually makes you look so much worse.

homestuck and dykes to watch out for are still both iconic pieces of queer media and to discount one or both because you do not enjoy the creator is fucking stupid. you don't have to like them to admit they were foundational to the current queer community. it is a fact that they shaped us, for good or for ill.

i do think it's absolutely insane that this is the fifth month in a row that trans girls have been dogpiled on tumblr though. tmes have gotta do a personal inventory or something. this shit is getting crazy. we cannot go after our sisters in arms like this w the anti-trans bills that are on the horizon. we have got to start stepping up and protecting trans women and donating to them because this shit is wack and we cannot let the rampant transmisogyny that has been infecting lgbt spaces on social media and irl for decades keep spreading.

[gibbearish]

Hey, just wanted to say thank you so much for making that post calling all that stuff out. Maybe it's me blowing smoke out of my ass, but it feels like the posts that try to pin blame on transmascs for this don't seem to understand that the ban shit going on right now's not just been going on for a long while, but has basically been affecting everyone. Transfems like me might be getting hit the most noticeably at the minute, but from what I've been hearing this site's had a rep for screwing everyone who isn't "normal" over.

Maybe folks try to pin the blame on others because its easier to send anger towards people who can be bullied compared to a CEO who... apparently can also be bullied but can also just leave and ignore it all whenever the fuck he wants.

Again, thanks for calling that shit out. Hope your day goes good.

aaaa thank you /w\ + i think it might be less about who it's easier to attack (although that 100% is part of it) and more about like. taking advantage of mass anger / mob mentality by redirecting them to their personal target if that makes sense? like. not saying these are equal at all but just using it as a metaphor, from what I've heard neo nazi groups have stepped up recruiting during the i/p situation because when everyone is already mad at Israel The Country/Government, it's easier to push them towards being mad at Jewish people in general if it's something they were on the fence about / had biases about that just had never gotten a chance to be expressed before. i would argue this is similar, although obviously with VERY difference circumstances.

or for a more directly related metaphor, TERFs tend to step up their recruitment after some trans woman does a crime, because they can push people from "this person is bad and also happens to be a trans woman" to "this person is bad BECAUSE she's a trans woman," and then from there to "and trans women are bad because they are men".

basically hate groups will use big events to slide watered down versions of their ideologies into mainstream discourse to try and lure in people who either a) already agree with them but hadn't found the community yet, b) are generally progressive but have biases they're not aware of that can be used to boil the frog into outright hate, or c) genuinely do not agree but just didn't know the warning signs and will bail as soon as they figure it out, but will still spread things in the meantime as well as absorb at least /some/ of the ideology. people have worse judgement when they're mad, mobs trample people they don't actually want to hurt. righteous anger and vigilante justice feel good, so hate groups slide a group juuust close enough to who you were mad at before into your sights to keep that anger flowing once the actual target is gone.

although i guess now that i think about it, this is less "part one thing part the other" and more. your thing is the why and my thing is the how? i dunno. either way i hope your day goes good too:3

[xclowniex]

I hate how zionist is becoming the new nazi by goyim.

The word Nazi has been watered down so much. If someone is being bigoted goyim decided to call them a Nazi, regardless of their actual opinions. If you use a slur you can't reclaim you are a nazi. If you are transphobic you are a nazi.

All of the things I listed are bad, they just don't make someone a Nazi. Nazis are very much worse than some white 14 year old online who uses the N word or some 30 something terf.

The same thing is happening with the word Zionist.

I have seen jews who want a one state solution of Palestine, be called zionists because they call out antisemitism.

I have seen jews who have not spoken their opinion on a solution be called zionists because they call out antisemitism and propaganda.

Zionist is literally just becoming "jew I don't like"

Why is it that terms surrounding the oppression of jews getting watered down? Nazis killed 6 million of us. Zionism is a thing because we were forced out of our homeland.

The watering down of "zionist" is actually extremely scary as leftists will say "I'm not antisemitic I'm just anti zionism" but then also water down the meaning of zionism which will just lead to zionist meaning jew I don't like to be the widely excepted meaning.

That will then lead to goyim being able to try to hide their antisemitism as antizionism on a wide scale which will lead to jews world wide being persecuted.

This part is directed to goyim (non jews):

If you care at all about jews as a whole, you need to learn the actual meaning of Zionism and be proactive in making sure that you don't fall for antisemitism under the guise of being anti zionism. If you do not do that, jews will suffer more than we already are. If you care for jews to not be oppressed, you will do your part in preventing that.

Please do not let zionist mean jew I do not like

[maxellminidisc]

Once again, trans women fucking warned us and have been warning us for AGES about how divorcing transmisogyny and the targeting of trans women SPECIFICALLY from the agenda of TERFS would absolutely water down what a TERF is to people with 0 investment in doing the work of understand and combat their bullshit. That it would absolutely do more harm than good in doing so. And there y'all go doing exactly what they told us NOT to do.

Like it literally creates this shit storm of stupidity, both by undermining and erasing how important acknowledging the hypervisibilty of trans women as targets for transphobes, by absolutely twisting feminism into some mra shit that makes 0 fucking sense in the grand scheme of how men oppress women as a class (example: "any woman who hates on men is a terf"), and by making it so apparent that y'all clearly don't see trans women as women when you include them as men when other women talk about how disappointed or even angry they are at men, like get a fucking grip!

If you ACTUALLY gave a shit about combating terf rhetoric, you'd be able to spot dogwhistles a mile a way and distinguish between a woman simply being a hater for 2 seconds and a literal violent transmisogynist, y'all even call trans women terfs for having anything remotely critical or mean to say about men for fucks sake. But no, y'all just made TERF into "any woman who has a bad thing to say about men, and if she's a lesbian she HAS to be a terf." Truly fuck all the way off, trans women deserve so so much fucking better than this!!!