#even if the last one bit me in the ass last time it was still fun to discuss w/ people

[toastling]

Y'know, I've seen a fair bit of critique of this and posts like this mostly boiling down to some variation of "And where is this mythical imperfect ally?", and honestly, I think it just goes to show what part of the problem is. They're everywhere, dude. Offline. And every time I see that sort of critique I'm like, what a tone deaf way to callout just how terminally online you are dude, because this is almost everybody I've ever interacted with irl at work, in stores, on the street, on vacation.

I know it's hard to believe, but most people aren't terminally online like us. They have no clue about any of the stupid-ass debates the left and queer community is having - not even with anybody important or on the fence about them - but having with themselves. The lesbians debating and tearing down trans women, the leftists throwing not-as-left-as-them-ists under the bus, the dumbasses constantly screening for the purest pure and most correct language/image.

When you talk to actual real people, you begin to realize these things are not even remotely as black and white as said internal debates would have you believe. These "imperfect allies" aren't just some hypothetical, they're the norm. They're your neighbor. They're your grocer. They're your coworker.

Like, genuinely, do you know how many coworkers, young and old, I've had in the last 2 years alone who would say the wrong/questionable things, make some edgy jokes, use the wrong terms, but then also went to bat for all our trans coworkers anytime anything happened? How many people I've encountered who don't even begin to pretend to understand queer culture, but have blended in with and celebrated alongside us regardless? The stereotypical cis white college boy might dress and talk and joke different from us, but that doesn't make them a bigot or an asshole. When push comes to shove, they've always been more liberal than half the leftists I've encountered online.

I think more of us need to learn to separate our community's internal debates from the external reality instead of projecting them onto everybody to ever live. In our relative safety amongst each other, we have the luxury to argue about these sorts of things, because the life-and-death stuff isn't such an immediate concern here. We can talk about obscure shit like theory and terminology. But 99% of the population doesn't and has no reason to care, but that doesn't make them automatically bad or an enemy.

Somebody can still be a friend to and stand up for somebody they don't fully understand, because most people aren't fucking assholes, which is more than I can say for a lot of terminally online power bloggers and twitter users I see every day. It's like we've convinced ourselves that the only way to be kind to someone is to either be just like them, or to have some 100% perfect understanding of them, but that couldn't be further from the truth. That sort of thinking will hurt EVERYBODY in the end.

It's not about perfect language or performance, it's about respect. That's it. It's about apologizing if a line is ever crossed and learning, and about stepping up when something actually bad happens. Most people I've encountered in public life have that respect. The ones that don't are just assholes, and they all remind me of the sort of people I have the grave misfortune of seeing crawl down my activity feeds every day. They're the outliers.

Because most people are good, actually. And most people are tremendously flawed. Don't go thinking you're not because you know every microidentity by heart. Everybody's flawed in ways invisible to them but glaring to anybody outside of them. That's just being human. But it doesn't make you or me or anybody inherently "bad". Stop thinking like a Christian, god damn it.

Stop trying to separate yourself from the masses as if you're somehow superior and them lesser. You are the masses, dude! We all are. The only people who try to separate themselves from the masses are the jackasses at the top who want to oppress everybody below them. Hard not to think you might be one of them if you're trying so hard to demonize the majority of the population because you're just so saintly and correct.

"The trannies should be able to piss in whatever toilet they want and change their bodies however they want. Why is it my business if some chick has a dick or a guy has a pie? I'm not a trannie or a fag so I don't care, just give 'em the medicine they need."

"This is an LGBT safe space. Of COURSE I fully support individuals who identify as transgender and their right to self-determination! I just think that transitioning is a very serious choice and should be heavily regulated. And there could be a lot of harm in exposing cis children to such topics, so we should be really careful about when it is appropriate to mention trans issues or have too much trans visibility."

One of the above statements is Problematic and the other is slightly annoying. If we disagree on which is which then working together for a better future is going to get really fucking difficult.

[according2thelore]

ageswap!au, continuation of these two things.

"i used to daydream about dying," dean blurts.

as soon as he fucking says it, he wants to swallow the words back down. his only excuse is that he is absolutely smashed, sam actually letting him drink tonight, in light of it all.

sure, dean's nineteen, and sam is always super uptight about his "normal" milestones, but considering dean's eternal soul is about to be dragged into hell in five months, sam's been letting him have some allowances.

it's a quiet night, pulled over in a mid-size town a few hours outside of davenport. their motel is right next to the highway, and dean can hear the swish of cars and the rumble of motors as they speed past their despondent tableau.

dean's big brother doesn't even look at him for a long moment, both hands tight around his beer bottle on his bed, shoes and jacket still on like a nutcase.

dean thinks it's because he's going out tonight, but he doesn't know where sam even has to go. maybe that's why he said it. another weak, selfish grab for attention. trying to get sam to stay. he takes another swig of his beer. it tastes like a granary's armpit.

dean is slumped against the motel table, the bottle opener and the graveyard of bent bottle caps litter the formica surface.

sam's tilted away from him, and dean can't tear his eyes away from him, even has dean's shoulders relax. yeah. he must not have heard him.

"what?" sam says, and dean's stomach seizes, almost a full six pack of cheap ass beer about to make a reappearance. dean's heard his big brother sound like that maybe four times in his entire life, and he'd be happy to never hear it again. the last memory he has of it, he was crawling back to consciousness while their dad lay dead on the floor.

"nothin'," dean babbles, taking another swig, and almost forgetting to swallow before he talks again. "i just...y'know. i just meant."

sam turns to look at him, movements slow. his eyes are sunken, cheeks hollow, and he has aged decades in the time since they popped the first tin cap off of these bottles. dean wants to leave. he needs to get the fuck out of here. but sam's implacable eyes pin him to the bed, and dean swallows thickly.

"y'know. i mean. you and dad used to fight. and fight and fight and fight. it never ended." dean closes his mouth so he doesn't emit a nauseous belch directly in sam's direction. "the only thing you'd ever get along over was me. sometimes."

sam doesn't react. his eyes are as hollow and blank as they have been since they pulled over to sleep a few hours ago.

"y'know." dean chuckles awkwardly, forced. "in--in my head, you'd always. i don't know. i'd save your asses on a hunt or s'mthing. you'd both uh. shake your fists at the sky and rue the day and agree to get along and be a. i don't know. a team."

dean tries to grin viciously, for effect, but it feels rubbery on his cheeks.

"avenge me good and bloody, y'know?" sam still doesn't react, so dean continues, "and of course i'd be like 'i told you so.' in my halo or whatever."

sam's eyes slide right past dean, over his shoulder, like dean isn't even there. dean's starting to feel defensive, starting to feel annoyed. sam hasn't let him out of his sight, but dean can feel him already pulling away. sam has to have dean within arms' distance, but can't look at him for longer than a few minutes at a time.

maybe it'd be easier that way. can't be too torn up about your baby brother in hell if you try to forget you even have one. or if you barely care he exists.

"it'd keep me busy while y'all were going at it." bitter. too bitter. dean takes another large swallow of his drink. too large. he chokes on it a little bit and coughs, taking another swallow. "anyway. it's ironic. my death won't even bring y'all together anymore. 'swhy i mentioned it."

sam's eyes slide back to his face, dazed, but his blank expression doesn't so much as twitch.

whatever.

dean doesn't say that these fantasties often had sam pulling dean's tragically limp body into his arms and wailing, peppering dean's hairline with kisses like he hadn't done since dean was young enough to be picked up. he'd haul dean into his lap and curse at the sky, big wet tears hitting dean's cheeks. maybe he'd try to give dean CPR. maybe it would be raining. regardless, it'd be very cinematic.

maybe dean would jump between dad and a werewolf claw, or shove sam out of the way of a drowner's grasping hand. his favourite, though, was blowing up a building with a bunch of ghost artifacts. it'd be over quick, he'd save both of them, and he'd kill a bunch of sons-of-bitches with him. it'd be very die hard. or independence day. very cool, is what dean's saying.

in that particular scenario, sam didn't get to wail over his body, but hey. nothing's perfect.

sam jerks to life, suddenly, but it's just to put his beer on the nightstand woodenly. he turns, rising. his knees creak and crack. he's twenty-three, too young for his bones to sound like that. dean realizes, as he stands, that sam hadn't even taken his wallet or keys out of his pockets. he just sat down in his heavy coat, three layers of shirts, jeans, boots, and all.

dean's palms break out in a cold sweat as sam approaches him, hands limp at his sides. dean's hand spasms around the warm beer bottle, mouth opening but unsure what to say.

sam's close enough to smell now, warm sweat and leather and outside air and that unique something that makes dean's brain light up like a switchboard.

dean's ready to say it, he has the two words on his tongue sitting pretty like a gift: i'm sorry, and is trying to get his throat moving. dean looks up at his big brother, feeling five years old again, as sam's bangs shadow his eyes and make the hulking outline of him blot out the light of the lamp completely.

sam doesn't look at dean when he falls to his knees, the sharp thuds of his knees slamming into thin, worn motel carpet over the concrete foundation making dean jolt in reflex pain.

dean's heart shoots up into his throat, but his brain doesn't even have time to process the image of sam on his knees, or the implications that have haunted dean since he first saw his first pair of work boots sticking the wrong way out underneath a truck stop bathroom door stall.

because sam leans forward, into dean's open knees, and wraps his arms around dean's middle. sam's so big, and dean is so not, that he touches his own armpits. he buries his head deep in dean's stomach, so deep that he can probably feel dean's heartbeat thudding against his temple.

sam's been doing everything he can to pack pounds on dean since they reunited, and succeeded on moving dean up a weight class, but dean is still more wiry than bulky. dean can feel it now when sam's entire hand spans his waist. dean was reckless with his money when dad wasn't around, and lived for about a month on nothing but gas station slim jims and energy drinks. it was only in the few months before dad's disappearance that they found a way to keep doing their credit card scams after the nationwide crackdown on fraud. dean had been eating three hamburgers a day when he finally showed his face through sam's window, but sam still got onto him about eating "actual food."

and clearly, the time with dean has been doing some good to sam, too.

dean's thighs are awkwardly spread around his big brother's bulk, a few inches underneath his arms. he can feel the shift of sam's growing muscles underneath the thin, sensitive skin of his inner thighs. dean's arms are raised high like he's wading through waist-deep water, and afraid to get his arms wet. he can't see sam's face, only feel his slow, shuddering breaths against the sliver of his bare stomach that sam bared when he slid his arms around dean.

he awkwardly puts the bottle on the table, so dazed that he puts it on top of one of the bottle caps and the bottle tips over, right off of the table, and spraying its last few mouthfuls over the carpet. the bottle rolls, and rolls, and hits the metal leg of sam's bed.

dean puts a hand on sam's hair, confused.

and sam begins to cry.

his chest heaves, once, and dean hears the high, wheezing whine of his lungs as they squeeze around a wail. sam's face is so warm, nose so hot that it takes a second for dean to distinguish between the wet, hot gasps of his breath and the feeling of dripping tears, soaking into dean's shirt.

dean blinks down at his big brother, in his arms, in his lap. dean's frozen. something roiling and sickly and nauseating makes his stomach twist, as sam tries to burrow his way into dean's abdominal cavity.

sam used to let him play with his hair for hours when he was younger, dean twisting the strands between his pointer finger and thumb. sam asked a girl at school to teach him how to braid hair, and he came home and showed dean one night. dean pshaw-ed and called it girly shit, but would braid little plaits into sam's shaggy hair before unravelling it, for hours. from when dean was seven to thirteen, he'd often wake up with strings of sam's hair in his fist, half-braided. dean can only think of that, now, as sam shakes apart in his lap, and dean's fingers twist through limp, greasy hair.

it's pathetic to hear and see sam sob, in the truest, purest definition of the word. it's pathetic in the way a sick, mewling puppy is, in the way a child lost in a park is, in the way a lone person sitting in a graveyard is.

sam has always been bigger than life--dean's perfect, brilliant, beautiful, strong, brave big brother. sam taught him how to tie his shoes and how to throw a punch and how to love a world that has taken so much.

and sam sits at his feet and wails. it feels like something dean should've never been allowed to see. it feels like finding out swayze and grey hated each other the entire time. it feels like stripping the beloved exterior of an animatronic off and seeing all of the inhumane, mechanical pieces that make it up. like finding out batman is just some scared guy in a mask.

dean bends over sam's body, making a cave out of his torso for sam's head, and wrapping his arms around the top of his back. sam grapples for him desperately, one of his arms coming up to go around dean's back and hold him there, so they're pressed together like two 'c's.

"it's okay, sammy." dean says, brokenly.

his body hurts. his mouth tastes like shit. he's exhausted, and he's sweaty, and his head is spinning from too much terrible beer, too fast. dean's in the middle of nowhere, iowa, and the room smells like old cigarettes and lonely sex. and dean's an orphan, at nineteen. and the only other person in the whole world that cares if he lives or dies is in his lap, sobbing like the world is ending.

his eyes burn, and before he knows it, dean is crying, too. he tries to keep his breath even, letting burning, acidic tears roll out of the corners of his eyes, and onto his crossed arms.

sam's hands shake against dean's sides, his fists balling until he's holding handfuls of dean's shirt, that's actually sam's. dean stole it out of his duffle earlier, instead of taking a shower.

dean moves so one of his hands is completely flat on sam's back, and feels the bones that make his brother up, the calcium and marrow and collagen. feels how his bones grind together and separate as he gasps dean in, the smell of sam's shirt on dean's skin.

dean quickly wipes a tear before it can fall onto sam's shirt. he doesn't want sam to know that he's crying. he doesn't want sam to know that he's scared shitless. he doesn't want sam to know that he's barely holding it together. he never thought he'd last long, but dying a few months after his twentieth birthday makes him shake and quail and feel ice-cold adrenaline down to his toes.

sam doesn't need to know that. sam might get angry again. sam had already been through the anger stage, and dean can't die if his big brother is angry at him. he just can't. and dean also doesn't want sam blaming himself, which he will if dean falls apart now.

dee, dee, dee, sam mutters into his stomach, more teeth than human speech. it sounds like a death groan, the last breaths of a battlefield body. dean had snapped at him a year ago for saying it, when sam had tried to wrap an arm around him in his apartment complex's parking lot, his girlfriend upstairs. don't call me that. dee is a chubby twelve-year-old, he spat.

it chokes another few tears out of him, and he aches to be a little boy again, the one that sam would run out of first grade to swoop up in his arms and swing around. he tries to picture himself at age six, wants to shake him by the shoulders and tell him to take more time, because he only has fourteen years left.

dean wipes the tears away again, harsher this time, and it makes his eyes burn. the pain sharpens his gaze a little, and sam, head still buried in dean's stomach, lets loose a lung-rending wail. his arms tighten, and he holds dean impossibly closer, their bones grinding together uncomfortably.

dean inhales sharply, trying to chase his snot away. he swallows thickly, and clears his throat.

tears are over.

he'll have time to be scared later. for a long time, dean can be as scared as he wants. sam has been brave for dean for nineteen years. dean can be brave for sam for five more months.

he pets down sam's back, his sides, sliding soothing fingers into his hair, like sam used to do when he had a fever.

"it's okay, sammy," dean murmurs, as sam trembles apart underneath his palms. dean's voice doesn't shake. not even a little. "it's going to be okay."

[song-of-the-frozen-pines]

A few more notes, from the perspective of an ardent lover of both series (and the manga and the light novels and the games-) (these are mostly about Greed + the chimeras)

The whole squad of original chimeras and Greed get more appearences and interactions over the dozen-ish additional episodes between their introduction and the Devil's Nest raid (which certain characters actually survive)

Bido and Kimblee go on a mission together. Shenanigans ensue.

Greed escapes imprisonment for the first time in a century and the first thing he does is sympathize with the chimeras he sees are also wrongly imprisoned. He goes out of his way to free them, joining up with them afterwards even knowing it would make him easier to track by the other homunculi.

Some of the other homunculi are clearly established as more powerful than him and a threat to his very existence and he is extremely aware of this, making the fact he sticks his neck out to help the chimeras anyway even more meaningful.

Another thing - characters looking their age. Greed's body is a grown ass man and looks like one, he and other characters his physical age generally have more contours, wrinkles, and muscle compared to their BH counterparts, making his figure and expressions extremely sharp and interesting, which I personally feel suit his character a bit better. Compare and contrast BH's preference for soft lighting and smoother edges contributing to a generally younger appearence (BH on the left, 03 on the right. I tried to find comparable shots/angles)

TELL ME you can't feel the 'oh shit trauma' in the last pic from the look on his face alone, or the absolute anguish on the second right. In OG Greed's defense he was definately huffing the copium during his Broho episode, especially during his fight with Bradley after watching his family be massacred in front of him, but I still enjoy how 03 Greed's emotions are a bit more raw on his face, I like to think it's due to his longterm isolation before he met the chimeras screwing with his emotional regulation and physical ability to mask.

Also love how absolutely monsterous his fully shielded form looks when he's fighting Ed. BH shielded Greed looks cool in his shield, but is still Regular Guy Shaped. Shielded 03 Greed looks like the hulk mistook Flex Seal for sunscreen and got pissy about it (Gif by me):

Greed also has a 'chapter' of an OVA dedicated to fleshing out his revised backstory and role in the plot regarding Dante ("Reflections Chapter 4: Homunculus"). I won't spoil anybody but the song 'Cursed' by Lord Huron is a great accompaniment to it.

Another thing is, of course, the colors, especially in regard to how they color skin - BH has wonderful lighting, and at it's best its cinematic shots can be absolutely stunning, but other times this can be a little overdone, causing the characters to look washed out and even pasty in some scenes, made even more obvious by the fact many of its characters are very close in skin color with very few exceptions, so when one looks pasty, they all do. 03's bolder color palettes characters come across much more vividly even in bright scenes. (BH cinematic vs washed out examples on top, 03 examples below

So yes there are Many Benifits to being a fan of both animes

REASONS YOU SHOULDN’T HATE THE 2003 FULLMETAL ALCHEMIST ANIME, A LIST BY TUMBLR USER KYRIANNE:

little baby Wrath

Russell and Fletcher Tringham

Dante

Sloth is their mother, how about some extra angst

ALFONS HEIDERICH

The concept of homunculi being born of botched attempts at human transmutation and an actual physical embodiment of sin

“Why didn’t you come to me for help?!”

Ed’s anguished scream after killing Greed

Ed and Al helped Gracia give birth to Elicia on Ed’s birthday, how can you not think that’s perfect

Perfect baby Al emulating Ed because he misses him/doesn’t want people to forget

Multiverse is canon

Aaron Dismuke

the soundtrack

this list is not exhaustive

Why do people actually hate this anime

It’s all our babies in another context

It’s still our precious baby children who deserve love

[stinkysam]

Choi Subong "Thanos" - Nerd ?

Warning : drugs

Genre : fluff

Synopsis : “could you do Thanos with a male reader who is stoic and quiet which comes off standoffish, smth that contrasts his own personality” -anon

Reader : gender neutral (you/yours)

A/N : bold is in English // is it short ? I can’t tell

Reminiscing when he met you brings him way back. You appeared -or more accurately, he noticed you- a year before he dropped school.

Everyone knew each other, talked to each other and hung out together. Except you. You weren’t particularly focused on your studies but you cared about them definitely more than Subong did.

He approached you thinking you were a nerd that wouldn’t make any noise if he pushed you a bit. He had already planned to leave school at the end of the year but he still needed good grades so his father wouldn’t be on his back all the time.

You gave him your answers, not wanting him to annoy you further.

He definitely was about to beat you up for his barely above average grade so you showed him your paper, you had the same result.

He stared at you shocked, why the fuck did you have the same grade as him if you’re smart ?

“I’m not… a nerd ?” You said, confused. Why did he take you for one ? Shit, did you look like it ? Ah…

“What do you mean you’re not one ?! You’re never hanging out with the others.”

“…Because my friends are not in this school ?”

“Why don’t you make new ones ?”

You took a moment before replying quietly.

“Don’t want to.”

“And when you’re reading the books during recess ?”

“It’s because I’m bored but that doesn’t mean I understand shit.”

He stared at you, disappointed. He sighed.

“Are you serious ?”

“Do you… think I have fun bringing average grades home ?”

He glared at you before sighing again, scratching his head. What a pain.

You thought it would be the end of you and him, that he’d finally leave you alone. But the next day he grabbed you by the back of your neck when you passed next to him.

“Your grades are still better than mine. So give me all your answers.”

You shrugged.

“As long as you don’t get caught. I’ll rat your ass if the teachers find out.” You managed to answer, feeling confident today.

“Do it and I will beat you up.” He smiled, planting his index finger on your chest, pushing you lightly.

You sighed, there goes you confidence.

One one hand, getting beaten up meant possibly staying at home to heal. Good.

But being beaten up meant being in pain. Not good. Ah…

“Okay.” You replied, walking away.

Then for the rest of the year Subong sat next to you, glancing at your papers constantly to copy your answers.

Of course you two got caught and had to meet the teacher after class.

“You said you wanted to be a rapper ?”

“And ?” He replied, not seeing where you were going with your question.

“Why did you not remix my answers ?”

“That’s not how it works.”

“It isn’t ?”

“Don’t be a smartass now.” He glared at you, planting his hand on your head.

You sighed, not replying, focusing on cleaning up the class faster to go home quicker.

That didn’t stop you two from continuing, slowly getting closer, learning more about one another. Even hanging out together. You got to know his friends, though you talked to him more than to them.

If they had to get rid of someone, it’d definitely be you.

Then on the last day, he dropped out of school as he had planned.You thought that this time would be the end. A “friendship” that only lives through school.

You were a bit sad. Although he could be quite annoying and dumb at times you had learned to appreciate him. You’d definitely miss his presence next year.

Then a few days into the holidays he knocked at your door to hang out with you. How the fuck did he know where you lived ? You had given him your number but not your address.

“What… are you doing here ? I mean. How ?”

“You don’t need to know.” He shrugged and you imagined the worst. Did he bully a teacher into telling him ? Did someone else at school know where you lived ? Did he stalk you ?

“Come on, get out !” He said, and you quickly obeyed, walking out in slippers. “Put some fucking shoes on, idiot.”

You rapidly walked back into your house, Subong following you as he looked around, studying your decoration.

Your shoes were finally on and you both walked out, closing the door behind yourself.

“Why ?” You finally asked, completely confused. “School is over so why are you with me ?”

“You're asking too many questions.” He groaned and you looked at him even more confused. It was literally your second question.

“Your grades were shit.” He finally said. “My father kept biting my head off about it.”

“Then why did you keep copying my answers ?” You asked and he shrugged.

“Could’ve been worse.”

“Seriously, why are you here ? Why did you go through all the trouble to find where I live ?”

He sighed, rubbing his hair.

“Can’t I see a friend ?”

“We’re friends ?” You finally asked with a frown.

“Yeah.” He shrugged. “Sure.”

“Sure ?”

“Yeah.”

You looked at him, doubtful. Whatever. You shrugged, focusing on walking with him.

“Where are we going by the way ? I’m following you but I have no idea.”

“Huh ? Mh, I was actually following you.”

“What ? Why did you urge me out if we have nowhere to go ?.” You groaned. This is what you meant when you said he could be dumb at times.

“Dunno.”

“Ah…” So annoying. You suddenly turned around, walking back toward your home, Subong following you.

Though your friendship had started weakly, you two stayed together over the years.

Your calm behavior grounds him. If you’re calm it means there’s no need to worry and everything is chill even when the situation seems tough.

Although it rarely happened, he did see you lose your shit a couple times.

He’s so not used to seeing you like this that when you lose your temper he can’t help but chuckle, half nervous half amused. Which makes things worse.

You don’t talk much yet you have some bite in your words especially when he annoys you, which can happen often, and over time you’ve learned to be more confident, especially with him.

Sometimes you think he still takes you for a smart-ass nerd because his emotions will depend on yours. As if he’s trying to read on you how to react to certain things.

He’s chill when you’re collected, but as soon as you get pissed off at something or someone, he gets angry too.

You lost the count of how many times he asked you if he had to beat someone up for you, knowing you would never lay a finger on anyone.

“Subong.” You placed your hands on his shoulders to turn him around before holding his face, trying to get his full attention on you.

“Yeah.” He looked at you, blinking.

“I don’t need a guard dog.” Yo said quietly.

You’re pretty sure you saw disappointment in his eyes.

“Of course you do ! You’d let someone walk all over you ! And you’d thank them !”

“Don’t exaggerate.” You sighed. “I appreciate your concern, really. But you can’t ask to punch anyone that pisses me off. You’ll end up arrested. How would that work for your rap career ?”

“I’ll find a way. Plus it’ll literally be self defense.”

“Subong.”

“What.”

“I love you, really. But stop.”

“You love me ?” He asked, eyebrows raised, his face still against your hands.

“We’re friends. Yeah.”

“Oh.”

You looked at him, slightly confused as to why he seemed a bit disappointed.

“Plus how could you punch him ?” You pulled away. “He’s a celebrity, good luck trying to punch his annoying face.” You chuckled, waving your hand.

“At an airport. I go through his security and punch him.”

You had to be honest, he seemed committed and had already thought about it. You were impressed.

“That’s-” You sighed, defeated. “Do you really think I’ll get you out of jail for attacking a celebrity ?”

“You said you loved me so you have to !” He argued back, pointing at you.

“My love has its limits, Subong.” You replied with a smile, crossing your arms.

As he starts drugs, Subong gets even more energetic, which tires you even more. His sociability is really hard for you sometimes. He’ll take you to clubs and parties, where you don’t really feel the most comfortable and present you to people with an arm wrapped around your shoulders.

He’s high off his ass when you express your worried thoughts about him when walking out of a club.

Heart or liver and kidney problems could occur, along with cavities and gum disease. His mood swings were also worrying you as he got more anxious over time, sometimes going through depressing episodes and what seemed like paranoia.

He was already an aggressive person but it definitely got more evident since he started taking these pills.

His sleep schedule was also shit, even more now and going out all the time didn’t help at all.

But he just smiled as he let you rant. You’ve never spoken that much in such a short time, he felt happy. All that because you were worried about him ? Nice.

“T, I don’t want to have you not respond to your phone because you’re at the hospital or dead from overdosing.”

“Ah, you can’t kill the great Thanos like that.” He said with a chuckle.

“I’m not joking, I’m worried as fuck for you. You already had money trouble so why did you begin taking these ? How much is your debt again ?”

But instead of replying he kissed you. His hands holding yours gently, thumbs caressing your skin.

You stared at him, shocked, while he smiled at you, squeezing your hands as he began to bounce on his feet, you could still hear the music playing faintly in the back.

Sure, your heart was doing somersaults and your breath was caught in your throat. But you didn’t know how to respond to the kiss, not after everything you’ve said. This was not how you had expected the conversation to go.

You just stared at him, thinking about your next move.

“You didn’t listen to a single thing I said, right ?” You finally asked. He shook his head.

“Nope, but you were worried about me, right ?”

You sighed, closing your eyes. You had no idea of what to do.

“Aw, come on, cheer up !” He gently caressed your cheeks, kissing your forehead before wrapping his arms around you, holding you close as you hugged him tightly.

“You're a true pain in the ass.”

[guinevereslancelot]

how do i stop feeling like i'm in trouble all the time fr. sitting here on my lunch break like everyone's gonna be soooo mad when u get back...from lunch...which you are allowed to have.....(?)

[no1ryomafan]

I like to say I’m okay with my interests having very small/pretty non existent fandoms because that means no stupid drama even if I wish the things I liked were more acknowledged, it’s better to take them in a vacuum then mainstream cause some of the stuff I like if it got bigger would be more mixed, possibly even controversial-

and I still stay true to that but I also remember how my interests could’ve been decently popular yet all of them got screwed over in some fucking capacity somehow regardless if that was intentional or not and I low key get a little mad.

LIKE JUST AS A POINT OF REFERENCE (I’m listing these all in chronological release order):

Big O: flopped in Japan but when it was brought over to the states it apparently did well enough to get a season 2, but cn were fucking stupid and aired the second season on adult swim rather then its original home network toonami, which is likely why it fell into obscurity when it could’ve been up there with other old animes if people saw the entire thing because a lot of anime popular from toonami are remembered

Kikaiders anime: Was like only popular in Hawaii but the anime was dubbed and aired on adult swim- only problem is they gave it a 12:30 am time slot and even if it first aired in summer a lot of people probably skipped out on it- also I have a hunch that even tho big o on adult swim definitely got less traction it and kikaider afaik aired around the same time, and big o time slot came first. People if they did know big o got moved probably only watched adult swim for that then shut off the tv for kikaider, which further shows putting big o on adult swim was not a good idea. (Oh and the fact this was a anime reboot for a toku even if it was somewhat more accurate to the manga probably didn’t help the reception in Japan, next to how little interest there seemed to be for it given it was so short)

Shin Jeeg: Literally flopped so hard in Japan that it wasn’t even considered getting a dub besides Thailand and Italy, Italy being the only place Jeeg is fucking remembered. It’s no wonder this one probably the most forgotten among my interests despite being a dynapro mech and a reboot directed by fuckinv Kawagoe.

Casshern Sins: I have zero clue what japans reception of it was but probably not high when it’s “an edgy reboot”. As for the west it did got aired on toonami and is LITERALLY the only anime I like that is legally watchable on crunchyroll but it became forgotten cause it aired on toonami when people stopped caring for it, and crunchyroll only tends to show what’s popular so you’d only find this show from really digging.

Getter the only thing I’m not listing here next to it’s still decently remembered-big o is too, but at the same time it goes under a lot of mecha fans radars-but also cause I’m perfectly accepting of “the times it aired on tv it was super old and only part of it got dubbed, then the rest of it were ovas before not getting anime content for fucking years” like that’s a fair reason to be forgotten- but everything else just feels like I’m cursed 💀 (and I wonder how the cycle will continue when I gain yet another old anime robot interest because it will happen- eventually)

[bmpmp3]

i think its really fitting that the "this shit........ is so ass :'') " anime girl reaction image is from oshi no ko because that is also what my expression was like the whole time while reading the entire last third of the story

[rosesradio]

i think my university fucking bit me wtf

[todayisafridaynight]

time a flat circle why the hell am i usin the same loafers i bought for one cosplay of my fave antagonist for another fave antagonist

[phagodyke]

the fucking rat is back in our flat 😭

[luxraydyne]

honestly thinking abt it i’d definitely have preferred if danganronpa v3 had actually fully committed to the “fiction that hates you and mocks you and wants you to question why you still enjoy it bc you become brainless amoral voyeurs whenever you engage with it, you people kinda suck ass tbh actually” reading all the way to the bitter salted earth end. like i doubt i’d have *liked* the weird superiority complex vibes from it and the whole deflected creative ennui onto the audience still. but i’d for sure have to at least *respect* the gumption, the sheer full-chested audacity of the choice, especially in the context of this specific franchise, if the writing didn’t spend like an extra hour pussyfooting around doing a watered down, sugarcoated little backpedal into “oh no, not you actually bc you specifically are special and nice and good and don’t count”. this trial is way too fuckin long anyway like pick your bit and stick to it binch. call me a sucker to my face binch come on!

[luvsavos]

i have decided that lance is very fun

[daemonbrain]

Part 2

1.8k, cw: ghosts a pervert, smut, readers husband is piece of work, not proofread.

Simon Riley who first saw you at the butcher's shop on the phone. 

You were a pretty thing. Wearing a pink little yoga set, one arm holding your mat and the other holding your phone to your ear as you wait for the butcher to bring out your cut of meat.

Which was taking a long time

Simon would’ve had it chopped and packed to go by now. Though, he can’t complain with the view he has of your ass- you. The man was touch starved. He hadn’t been back home in a while, back-to-back deployments keeping him occupied. His only company being his calloused and scraped hands roughly jerking himself until he came, bordering on unpleasurable. Not what some could consider enjoyable, but try being in the middle of fuckin’ nowhere for weeks on end and see if you care so much about gentle.

The borderline perverted look you were blissfully unaware of was tracking down your form. He stared at the way the material tightly clung on to every bit of you in a welcoming way, a second skin. The sweat on you from your little session.

Just how flexible does yoga make a bird like you?

It was only when he heard a grating sound come from your phone that he snapped out of his trance. Even with his bad ears from all the bullets whizzing past him, bombs going off within meters of him, and the usual shit show he did for a living he could hear the voice which bled through your phone's speaker.

"Get me a steak this time. Nonna that nasty shit from last time!"

You hurriedly turned your volume down as it blasted in your ear, startled by the voice. Chewing on your lip you pivoted towards the counter to see if your order had been brought out; the motion to no avail as the employee continued chopping away in the back room.

It was only when your other hand came into full view from the motion he noticed the absolute rock on your finger.

"Honey, I thought the salmon was pretty good." That prick clearly firing something back as you winced away from your phone once again. Gritting your teeth as if biting back your arguments, looking around to occupy your time as the man on the phone continues to speak. "I know... I'm sorry. Don't worry, it'll be ready by 7." You placatingly cooed.

"Listen, I have to go. I love y-" You began, but the moment the words tumbled from your lips you pulled the phone fully from your cheek to see a blank screen with the time staring back on you. The asshole hung up!

What a fuckin tosser.

Simon hears the butcher finally call your name with familiarity and with a sigh you step towards the counter. 

He leaned on to the wall further as he had been the entire time. Silent. Unsettling. A stark contrast to your bright appearance in the shop, the larger man brooded in his corner waiting his turn.

“See ya’ next Friday!” You still managed a bright smile at the butcher who handed you your meat.

A mild thing like you really shouldn’t be talked to so thoughtlessly, some guys are fuckwits though. He never liked the type. Why lock a bird down with a ring if you were gonna be mean to her?

“S’cuse me sir, i’m just gonna push past you here” You asked. With widened eyes, Simon gruffly mumbled a “Yeah,” out before creating a stupidly small space.

Maybe he really did want you to push past him. Or just push up on him but oh well.

Sweeping past him, you give him a toothy smile as you had so sweetly done to the butcher, as if you hadn’t got yelled at less than five minutes ago. God you really have no common sense, beaming up at the lurker in the corner at least twice your size. A girl as pretty as you should really stick to herself.

From that interaction on, Simon found himself being guided by the memory of you back to the butcher shop the next Friday.

And the next…

And the next.

Every week progressively standing closer and closer to you as you picked up your usual order. One day you had taken the liberty of starting small talk with him after recognizing his unmistakable stature. After all, there were only so many people you had seen in this shop and none so… large.

You could not deny you found this mystery man disquieting. Always dressed in dark colours, not so much as a word coming from him. Like clockwork you would come in after hot yoga, greet the butcher, he would come in, silence would ensue as you both waited for your meat, and you would leave with a quick smile.

It was rude. He had never even said a simple hello to you! Though, you suppose that it could be due to your own curt exits. The thought of the unkindness you might’ve exhibited subconsciously sent your mind into a spiral, leading to your abrupt introduction.

After all, who were you to judge! Kindness is and should always be the response in your books.

At this kindness, Simon swore he had to take a breath in as you politely outstretched your hand and spoke your name casually. Tilting his head down to your face he raises a brow skeptically, and then firmly shakes your head.

He failed to hide the shudder which wracked his body. The way your hand effortlessly slipped into his. Soft and manicured engulfed in his.

“Simon.”

“Well it’s good to meet you Simon” With the twinkly little smile you would grace him as you hauled it out of the shop. He felt the shiver go down his spine a second time when you spoke his name for the first time.

And then- it happened.

You giggled. A soft thing, no doubt intended to be small. It wasn’t to Simon though. It reverberated throughout the room, rang so prettily in his ears. Fuck. He would remember that sound later on tonight.

“Are you cold? You keep shivering. It’s pretty harsh out there right now.”

“Nah. Not really.” His accent thick as he shrugged.

Letting out a little “mhm” you nod and look back to the counter.

“I was freezing outside! Usually I walk home-” Simon already knew that “-but today I called my husband to come grab me! Way too cold!”

That visibly made him stiffen. Of course. Perfectly normal that guy is coming to get you, he’d be an idiot to leave you walking home alone in the cold.

If you were his girl, Simon wouldn’t have let you out of his sight. Fuck sakes you practically had “come mess with me” written all over you. There were creeps all over the place nowadays, (thought the creep).

He would’ve carried everything for you, scarfed down whatever the hell you had taken the time to prepare him. That husband of yours doesn’t like your salmon? Simon would. Hell if he didn’t, he’d cram it down his throat with gratitude anyways. He doubted anything could be worse than some of the rations he’s eaten on duty. 

That train of thought is pretty redundant when he takes note of how you wouldn’t be able to leave the bed to make anything.

Maybe you’d cram something of his down your throat in gratitude.

Shaking his head subtly, he hears the bells of the store door opening. He watched your face fall as you step away from him and it’s when he sees your husband's look of complete irritation he understands why.

You had grabbed your order swiftly and with a quick wave goodbye you were on your way back to your husband. Simon could only register your husband's whisper-yell as he disapprovingly glared his way. “The fuck are you doin talking to him?”. And with that you were hurriedly ushered out.

You deigned it necessary to continue greeting Simon, have little chats about the weather, any plans he had for the weekend. Tossing in your stupid jokes that he would laugh at. You interpreted it as something closer to a breathy snort-hopefully positive- and it went on as such for weeks

And every time he returned home Friday night, he came home with only one thought after. You.

As he laid in bed the same thought persisted as he slipped his cock out of his boxers, red and weeping for some sort of stimulation. He took to his usual harsh pace. You’d be so much softer.

You’d be so nice to him wouldn’t you? Coo some compliment as he lets you tug at him. Fuck he wouldn’t know what to take first.

Would you give him a blowie or a hand job? 

No. You wouldn’t be on your knees- not yet. If you’d let him have you, you’d be on your back in an instant. He’d rip the stitches of those leggings right down the middle, your panties next.

“Fuuuuuck” he moaned into the quiet of his room. He’d stick it in slow, he’d try. It would be torture not to ram himself right up to the hilt, but he’d do it for such a good girl.

That’s what you were, weren’t you? Always a nice word for someone? What would you say to him when he began to rut into you like a madman. When you would feel the pummeling intrusion, his head knocking into the deepest parts of you.

He’d be able bend you into so many different positions that you’d better hope that yoga has taught you well. Split your legs open to accommodate his imposing body size as he’d take purchase between them. Then you better hope your cunny can accommodate his other size when he spears you open on his cock.

Would you take it smiling? Would your tears roll down your cheeks, the prodding bordering too much? You’d take it either way, he knew you could. He’d rub at your clit with such tenderness he never afforded himself (as gentle as he could anyway). He’d make sure you begged to stay on his cock forever, fuck himself so deep you would be too stupid to pull away unknowing of where he ended and you started. Not that you’d have to care.

He’d flip you on to all fours and rip away your clothes entirely, pounding you from the back and instead of just his own labored breaths, the sound of skin slapping together would ring out.

In silent stoicism, he feels his balls tighten up at the thought of your perfect face stuffed into the pillows screaming your thank you’s. You probably were just as nice with someone stuffing themselves into your pussy.

At both his ruthless ministrations and boundless imagination, his release spurted all over his hand with a breathy sigh. When you were here he’d make sure to slam his hips to yours and keep them flush against you, coat your insides in hot cum better than your limp-dick husband ever could. That man wouldn’t be able to fuck you the way Simon knew he could. You deserve someone who could make you go stupid on his dick, not cry of frustration like you probably did everytime that knob who thinks himself a man rolled over after finishing himself off.

Not that you’ll have to worry about that soon

…

He wouldn’t be around for much longer anyways.

[tonycries]

The Family Matter?!

Synopsis. Babyfevér - it’s never felt so good.

Pairings. [SEPARATE] Gojo x Reader, Sukuna x Reader, Choso x Reader, Geto x Reader, Nanami x Reader, Toji x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, breéding, mentions of kids/ marriage, a LOT of creampíes, Gojo’s powers, cúmplay (like a lot), spítting, overstím, exhíbitionism (Geto’s), chokíng Nanami, pússy-slappíng, proposals, rúts (Choso), bíting, true form! Sukuna, overspill, dp, bondagé, mentions of dàddy kínk, pet names, swearing.

Word count. 5.9k

A/N. To the one anon that wanted this - how did you read my mind?? Hope y’all have a lovely week <3

♡ TOJI FUSHIGURO - Santa, baby…

“B-but- Christmas isn’t for another few months, Toji—”

Now, Toji has to admit - that broken, honeyed-out little drag of his name is enough to crack even that tough demeanor of his - just a bit. And it’s all he can do to calm down the raging twitch of his buried cock, driving it deeper and deeper against your mushy g-spot to shut up those dangerous moans of yours. 

“B-b-but-” You’re flinching when his deep, baritone voice pitches dramatically high to mock your own, a large palm coming down to give your poor clit a branding smack! “-but, you think that’s gonna stop me, ma?”

Stupidly, you’re whirling your dazed eyes over your shoulder to catch his, only for the calloused pads of his fingers to swiftly force your face back down. 

“Not me, you don’t get to hah- look at me just yet, doll.” Toji grits out from behind you, feverish puffs of breath sending goosebumps down your spine. Down to where your puffy cunt was just bulging with all long, solid inches of his swollen, overworked cock. Sloppy. Overspilling. “Not until you’re giving me another brat by Christmas.” 

A sob wrenches out of you when Toji jostles his sharp hips against yours. Harder, until you could feel every minute smack of his still-full, sensitive balls, every slosh of his syrupy sticky cum coating your walls from earlier. 

“Look.” 

You’re shaking your head in almost-bratty protest, the fat of your ass still pushing and pulling against his rugged thrusts. You feel like you could go insane if you saw any more. Thighs twitching to a shy close, “Ngh- can’t s’too- too much.”

This only pulls out a displeased growl from your pussydrunk boyfriend, rasping out a warning. “No fuck-  don’t you fucking dare-” Big, beefy hands wrench your legs even farther apart to admire the mess he’s made, bruising where he holds them unable to escape. “Don’t you even think of it, woman.”

It’s accompanied by another harsh slap! on your puffed-up clit, this time harder than the last. Shocking you to your heated core until you’re seeing stars behind your eyes, already-ruined cunt just clenching in painful pleasure. 

He laughs - laughs, “Instead of squeezin’ the fucking soul outta me, look here at how you’re wastin’ my cum. How can I make you a momma in time like this, huh?” 

You’re blinking away those big, fat globs of tears to finally spy back down again at your drooling cunt. Swollen folds spread shamefully, gaping. Every slam of his hips makes you gush down his achy shaft with a gloss of your sweet sweet juice and his own cum. It splays in a creamy little puddle at your silken sheets, clinging to your bodies like a second, sloppy skin. “Y-you’re so filthy, Toji.”

But Toji couldn’t bring himself to be disgusted - not one bit. In fact, he could feel the tip of his angry head growing even fatter, expanding to meld its way deep into your elastic walls.

“Filthy, huh?” he chuckles so darkly. “Got such a mouth on ya, can already tell you’re gonna be a ah- strict momma.” His fingers are prying your jaw to sag open, whispering so slow and syrupy along your open mouth, “Well, let me tell you a little secret, ma. Doesn’t matter what you call me now, because in about nine months you’ll be calling me something else.”

“And what would- mmpf!” Oh, for how much he loved your sharp mouth, he sure was well and fully intent on shutting you up. Toji’s hitting his cock at the back of your pussy, just mashing deep into your g-spot in sinful sync. Over and over. “-and what would that be?”

Another finalizing smack to your pulsing clit, so smug and messy. He tilts his head to that growing pool below you, splurging farther and farther with each decisive, feral ram. “Your baby daddy, that’s what.” 

As if on cue, you’re cumming - you can’t even remember which saccharine sweet high of the night, but all you know is Toji’s gifting your gummy cunt with a few bullying kisses on your ravaged g-spot. Rough, lingering clashes of his weepy tip on your ravaged g-spot, sending your toes curling, white-hot shocks of pleasure. Again and again and again-

“Fuck- fuuuck yeah take it.” he’s grunting out hoarsely, hips stuttering and so so feral. Barely having the sanity to pull out in his jagged half-thrusts, splitting you apart on all his weighty length to cum inside you - deep.

Painting each and every inch of your heavenly cunt that could be reached with coat after coat of velvety white - all the way from where he was gliding his fat tip across your cervix, down, down, down to your sensitive spots, your sopping wide opening. “Want- need it so bad. Need ya to make me a daddy again. So fuckin’ bad you have no idea- you’d be fuckin’ scared.”

Those mean fingers smushing your cheeks into an embarrassing pout dance down to gather the dredges of his own cum, oozing out of the corners of your slit in a milky white sheen. Still rutting into you, he suckles on them languidly like his favorite candy, “Mmpf- as sweet as ever, doll.”

“Y-you’re so fuckin’ mean, Toji-” your jaw slacks open at his lewd actions. “Our kid better not get such an- hah- an awful personality.”

That makes him pause - it makes him pull away his digits, glistening and connected with stringy ropes of the mess he’s made. Grinning for just  a split-second before shoving the entire length of his fingers into your plush mouth. 

Toji huffs cockily, the rounded tips of his fingers swirl around and around your lolling tongue, addicting you onto the slighty-salted taste. “Our daughter will be lucky to hngh- get my personality n’ your pretty looks.” And you’re barely even lucid when he’s whispering into your sweat-sheened forehead, “So you better give me good news for Christmas this year, ma.”

♡ NANAMI KENTO - “Take it, like a good lil’ wife.”

Your mouth is sagging open at Nanami’s uncharacteristically gritted words. So hoarse, pained - like they were dragged out of his raggedly heaving chest with each bullying ram of his hips. 

It was barely midway into the evening, and you had no clue how you ended up like this. How those fleeting little titters during your romantic at-home dinner date about kids wound up with Nanami splayed on his broad back on the soft silken sheets. Sculpted abs curving into your back when he nuzzles your neck, plowing his furiously hard cock in his favorite mean full nelson.

“Ha- you’re being so-” you’re gasping out in a wet stutter, ass grinding back onto those neat lanes of blond at his thick base. He’s spearheading you so- “-so mean, Ken.”

“Am, I?” he’s purring, a low rumbling growl from the bottom of his chest. “Well, I might be the stricter parent, that’s right.”

Rolled-up sleeves graze against your heated skin, and you could feel every ridge of the veins along his forearms when he spreads your dangling legs even wider. Jutting his hips so deeply upwards to bow your body to the throbbing curve of his dick. “But, I apologize, darling.” Neat rows of his pearly white teeth sink down on your earlobe, “Feel free to do something- anything about it. Because m’afraid I won’t be able to stop any time soon.”

It was a promise - just the clingy feeling of your walls molding and wetting according to his very shape has him losing his mind. His sanity.

Choking back a long, drawn-out groan when two thick fingers slide down to roll over your puffy clit, “Fuuuck, my love, you’re so- hngh perfect like this.” The bed creaks in protest when his powerful thighs arch even higher upwards, all those hours at the gym paying off when every frenzied mash into the bulging treasure of your g-spot makes your mouth water. He breathes into the intimate crook of your neck, “Though, I bet you’d look even prettier as a momma, right?”

Somehow, that makes your face burn more than being split apart on his relentless cock has. 

“Oh- shit.” you whine, fucking your hips back in a sloppy little staccato. Reaching your trembly arm around his strong neck, your fingers find his favorite speckled yellow tie. Yanking until Nanami’s stern lips in a syrupy sweet kiss. “Really wan’ you to hah- breed me, Ken.”

“Fuck- Oh yeah?” he gasps. And if you didn’t know any better then you’d have said that that came out as a fucking whine. The ever-stoic Nanami Kento crumbling bit by bit with each rummaging thrust to shape your gummy walls. “Then why’d it fuck- take so long. Fuck, I’ve been dreaming of this since the ah- day I met you, my girl.”

Sharp hips dig into the plush of your ass with each pivot, it’s bouncing you back and forth along his slobbering cock. So rough. So tall and angry, you’re hit with a steaming hot gush of milky precum every time Nanami’s sliding out of you up to his thick, girthy tip. 

“Been thinking about you and I- and a little one. A few, actually. One blonde with your eyes, the other two with mine and your gorgeous smile.” That sweet little admission has your twitchy fingers subconsciously dragging at the heavy fabric of his tie. Tight around Nanami’s straining neck, making his head light and cock twitch wildly to draw little patterns on your cervix. “Fuck! Fuck no- keep pullin’ like that, darling.” 

You could feel his raw length rub against sensitive sports you never even knew felt good, in sync with that wandering free-hand of his. Now dancing upwards to glide his touchy thumb over your bouncing tits. “K-Ken, m’so close.”

“How pretty these would look all full of milk, darling.” he muses, sounding more like he’s speaking to himself than anything. Your knees are buckling now, cunt eagerly taking in every powerfully pressurized thrust of his. But Nanami hasn’t had enough of his fill, feeling a burning trail down your arching body. Down the valley of your breasts, your stomach, “And here- where m’gonna fuck-” He’s cutting himself up as his hips slam up into you like with a mind of their own, “-fill you up, make you a momma. Oh, you’d be the best momma. The best.”

He’s fucking you so rough now - so jagged that you’re white-knuckling his tie, reeling him in so close. “And you’d- fuck m’gonna-” you’re sobbing now, over those drawled-out squelches from your velvety cunt. “You’d be the best da-”

You can’t finish your sentence - you couldn’t, because with a few more practiced strokes, you’re cumming all over Nanami’s massive cock. Feeling your elastic walls try to suck him up so hard you wondered whether it didn’t hurt. 

But it didn’t - it felt so sinfully good, in fact, that it was only a matter of a few blissful seconds before you’re being filled up with thick globs of his seed. Drooling out of you with each creamy rut into you, your gaping entrance only takes more. Still pounding into you, bottoming out - yet still pushing to give you everything he had to give.

“Sh-shit.” Nanami marvels at the silky ribbons of cum being stuffed inside, the way it slews up with your honeyed slick to form a glistening gloss down both your fronts. “Wait- oh, wait.” Nanami’s trembling cock spurs out a few more overflowing shots of seed at the very thought of what he was about to do. Still stuffed in, he’s reaching over to rustle through the pockets of his dress pants scattered mere inches away from the two of your slick, convulsing bodies on the bed.

You’re jolting when you feel something cold and metallic slide around your left ring finger, “Didn’t think I’d let you be the mother of my kids without a ring, did you, my wife?”

♡ GETO SUGURU - Escape?

“Gorgeous…” Geto’s sultry, slow whisper sends goosebumps running down every inch of your skin. And it’s so soothing - so gentle, and yet- “-doesn’t matter how much you tug, these things won’t let you escape, m’kay?”

A wrenching sob rips from your hoarse throat, and all you can manage to do is tug on those tight, hot-pink handcuffs around your wrists. Pulling to prop your fucked-out body against the very top of his luxurious futon, “S-Sugu, you’re so mean.” Your wide eyes scan the pristine tatami room at his shrine, “Anyone could walk in-”

“And yet you’re still being such a slut, my girl.” He flashes you a rosy red grin, so blindingly pretty that it makes your cunt throb. “Still waiting f’me to breed your pretty pussy. Which would it be? The fifth now?”

Geto doesn’t even have to finish the sentence before you’re abruptly sitting upright, bottom lip wobbling with need. Your swollen pussy is just weeping beads of his cum at this point, sobbing down where he was still buried so eagerly inside your gummy walls. Your thighs shaky in- fear? Anticipation? The need for more? 

“Ah ah-” you feel two soft little smacks to the side of your cheek. “Don’t zone out on me just yet, gorgeous. S’this hah- boring for you?” And despite all the pleading shakes of your head, he only plows on, “Aww, what a shame. Guess I just hafta spice things up-”

It’s all the warning you’re getting - barely even - before your poor, weepy cunt is back to being just split apart on his fat head. Not even being eased into it, no care or concern for those overstimulated spasms when he stuffs you full. 

“F-fuck-” your eyes are shooting open - when did they even close? - at the sound of nearby footsteps in the hallway behind those sliding doors. Very nearby. “I swear someone’s gonna catch us, Sugu-”

The only sound that rings throughout his humid, heady room is your wet gag - muffled around the pale, slender fingers of his being shoved between your kiss-bitten lips. All you can register are the soft pads of his digits pressing down on the back of your taste buds and the unforgiving little pulses of his prominent veins dragging against your gummy walls. 

Leaning down - until he’s so dangerously close, until you could count every long, dark lash on his eyelids, every flex of his muscles - slosh of his syrupy sweet inside you - as he sets a languid, lazy pace. “If someone catches us then I will hngh- jus’ keep going, do not test me, pretty girl.”

The other of his splayed out fingers are drawing methodical, dizzying circles on the very tip of your sensitive clit. Matching his teasing place, every grazing nudge of his leaky tip coating your bruising g-spot. 

“Haven’t I already told ya not to start things you c-can’t finish?” Geto’s husky voice is talking you through every clingy thrust. Falling from his pretty lips with each deep snap, fucking you into the drenched futon leisurely like some cocksleeve. “N’ what did you do, hm?”

You couldn’t answer if you wanted to - because Geto’s fingers were still firmly swiping around your tongue. Murmuring, “Exactly that. Just had to make that fuckin’ hah- stupid little joke about me not being able to handle another daughter, huh?”

“Mmpf- hngh Sugur-” you try to moan out at a low thump! outside, but he’s shushing you pliantly quiet with a ragged pump into your womb. Making you gush velvety ribbons of his previous cum.

“Heh, think this cunt actually wants to get out of this without being bred?” It was true, your painted-white walls were just clinging elastically to Geto’s shaft every time he drove into you, sucking up every bit of him like you’re trying to milk out something delicious. Again. 

“And guess what?” he’s so crazed now, eyes glowing with a dark delight. Hips pistoning into yours with fearsome accuracy to smash over and over into the bullseye of your sensitive spot. Sloppier. The shuffling outside getting louder. So unfairly good that you’re barely registering his next words, “M’jus’ gonna breed this slutty pussy until you give me another. Until everyone knows you’re my slut.”

It only takes one, two, three more drilling clashes with your g-spot for you to fall apart once more. 

Your own orgasm bursts out of you. Squirting in glistening dredges again and again until it’s just a few fatiguing shocks of pleasure that have you heaving for air, whining Geto’s name like a mantra. The overstimulation too much, his twitching cock too big - over and over-

“F-fuuuuck- squirting all over, y’made such a mess.” Geto’s moan is so pornographic when that angry divot at his flushed head explodes with spurts of thick hot cum. So addictively sweltering against your plush walls, it floods into your womb, down your thighs - to your lungs it almost feels like. “Gonna give me another daughter? Yeah?” He breathes, head thrown back while he stuffs you too-full, until he could see the seeping white on your creamy cunt in his glassy peripheral vision. And he still isn’t done cumming - thinning out to mere sticky wisps. “Gonna make you so full- so swollen. Until everyone looks at you and knows what I did- how I defiled you. They’ll look at you and see me. Me, me, me, me-”

There’s such an animalistic cadence in the way he’s rutting into you, pushing you further and further up those drenched sheets. Just dragging your body forwards with one strong arm around your handcuffs when his sheer volume gets too much that you’re trying to pathetically escape. 

Thump!

In a split-second, Geto’s grabbing at a hidden dagger from underneath his robes. Throwing - dead straight through the paper doors - only for a loud thud! to echo from outside. “Bet the scum outside don’t even need to hear the pregnancy announcement, huh?”

♡ CHOSO KAMO - My strange addiction

Oh, there’s nothing you loved more than Choso losing control - around the time of year when the weather grows a little warmer, when your sweet boyfriend becomes a little more restless. Those dark, dewy eyes of his turning black with something primal, desperate. 

Ingrained in his blood to breed you. To do nothing but breed you. 

Like right now. 

“Oh?” you’re purring with a coy bat of your lashes, looking over your shoulder to where he was looming. Flushed, gulping, absolutely drunken off your heady scent. “On your rut again, Cho?”

And that makes his entire body jolt, as if zapped by a sudden wave of electricity. Large, trembly hands fist your thin shirt to pin you down like some ragdoll onto the cool kitchen counter. Breath hitching, such a pained grunt leaves him at the sound of his name leaving those pretty lips of yours. 

Almost guiltily, he’s baring a wet gasp, “Y-yes. Saw you makin’  ah- makin’ us dinner in the kitchen and-” It’s like he hasn’t even realized what he was doing, slapping his raw cock against your drooling slit with each word. Smack! Smack! Smack! “-and- I just thought about how- just needed to…”

But alas, Choso doesn’t get to finish a single thought - because you’re stepping up onto your tip-toes - ever-so-slightly. Feeding your needy cunt with just the round girth of his very tip.

“Just needed to what, Cho?” you hum, quirking a devilish brow his way, holding back a keen at the sheer stretch of him around your sopping entrance. “Or do you wanna stop?”

Fuck, Choso swears he could feel his overworked balls squeeze so painfully at the very thought. “No-”  he’s hissing, glassy gaze widening almost comically. “No no no no no- please no. please, please this is all I want.” 

With a sultry giggle, you reach behind to pull him roughly by his soft strands. Choso’s grunting out hoarsely, letting himself be dragged to clash his lips against your bruised ones in such a sloppy kiss. All tongue and teeth, he drinks you in like a man depraved. “All you ever want is to just hah- fuck me in this kitchen, Cho?”

It’s so cute the way he’s sputtering dazedly into your sagging mouth, such a sweet whiny cry of, “Yes but no- fuck, I jus’ wanna–” The slow drag of his heavy tongue coats the crook of your neck in his saliva, hammering his swollen cock upwards until he was practically lifting you off the ground with sheer inhuman force. “Jus’ wanna breed you full, baby. Breed this pretty pussy like m’meant to.”

It’s with an almost-animalistic type of worship that Choso’s just ramming the rest of his thick cock into you until he’s spearheading straight into your spongy g-spot, weighty balls - painful, and ready for breeding - smacking against your ass. Addicted. 

“O-oh, fuck–” you can’t stop your honeyed gasps. “You’re s-so big- so hard even after just this morning? What a naughty boy.” 

Just slamming you down onto the cool marble,“Fuck- fuck fuck y’know what I imagined when I hah- saw you in the kitchen?” Such throaty groans drag along with each and every plunge into your slobbering pussy, Choso was always so talkative when he was like this. Slurring out a mile a minute, “Saw my pretty wife, the pretty mother of my kids.”

And you knew what he was going to say, but that doesn’t stop you from milking him so tight, velvety walls contracting in a way that almost made it difficult to maintain his sloppy staccato. Back arching into such a slutty bow to drag even needier down his drilling length

But your beloved boyfriend still wasn’t done, kissing away hotly at the corner of your mouth. “N’ s’not jus’ the hngh- rut talking either. Fuuuuck-” All six feet of his muscled body pins you to the counter, and distinctly, you could feel him scramble desperately to buck up a knee to angle his hips even deeper. “Saw you makin’ breakfast before school, and I’m- hngh- and I’m getting the kids ready - a boy and a girl, both as gorgeous as you.”

“Y-yeah?” Is all you can breathe out, “What- hngh- what else?”

You didn’t expect his humorless chuckle - broken, and a few pitches higher than normal. “What else?” His eyes are absolutely crazed now, and he’s biting down on your pouty lower lip. “Oh what didn’t I see?” 

Bowing till you could feel every ripple of his abs against your back. Every slow tremor of his glossy head nudging past your defenses, hitting deep at the bottom of your g-spot. It takes a few more sloppy pumps for you to realize that Choso’s still speaking. 

“Saw the wedding- saw the first birth, the way I cried-” The way he was crying now, ragged, overstimulated tears dripping down his pretty cheeks. Panting out wetly, “-what a great momma you are, the best. The way I help you hngh- milk these p-pretty tits when it’s too much. But my most favorite of all-”

You don’t hear the rest - and he doesn’t tell you, because he’s too busy cumming. Cumming and cumming so much that Choso thinks he can’t stop, swollen base rummaging deep inside to plug up those thick ropes of hot seed inside. It was impossible that he hadn’t achieved his dream with this. 

It’s bloating you up, too much. Spilling out of those little gaps at the dips and ridges of his twitchy cock that your inner thighs cover in a clingy white sheen. 

Drawn on instinct, you can only scream when Choso’s sharp canines bite down on the sensitive spot at your neck. Hard enough to draw blood - and, if you two were in any better state of mind, you’d have noticed that he did draw blood. 

A thin saturation of heady red coating his devilish grin, delicate strings of spit still connect to the mating mark. “-my favorite was when we made another.”

♡ RYOMEN SUKUNA - DOUBLE STUFFED!

“One more.”

“Kuna-”

“One more.”

When all you’re getting is that leeringly dangerous grin - the very same one he gifts any weak curses just about to be killed at his feet - you know there’s no way you’re getting out of this. Either you take it - or he makes you. 

Gliding your palms across Sukuna’s bulging pecs, your trembly legs twitch atop his muscled thighs. Gingerly jutting along where your poor cunt was being split apart on his twin bulgingly hard cocks. Up and down up and down up and-

“S’too much-” you’re whining, feeling the gush of his sticky cum coat down your thighs. Oozing out of your bloated cunt with every syrupy sweet bounce of his ravaging cocks. “I- not enough space-”

Any you were about to stupidly babble out is cut off when Sukuna wraps five thick digits around your exposed neck, intentionally dipping his sharp nails to leave branding little divots right about your racing pulse. A warning. A punishment. “Did I tell ya to keep runnin’ that hah- mouth, brat?” he spits, waiting for you to shake your head deliriously “no” before grinning. “Then why am I hearing so much t-talking n’ not enough of this slutty lil’ cunt of yours taking one more? You hear that?” 

All that was ringing in your ears was the honeyed echoes of squelches from below, smacking and slapping in sync with your pathetic movement. 

“Exactly.” Sukuna’s snapping you out of your thoughts, one hand resting at the glistening plush of your hips, the other spreading your puffy pussy lips to let you just slobber down his angry, red shafts. Glossing over him all the way from those fat tips to the creamy ring around his base. “Wastin’ too much of my hngh- cum with yer talkin’, brat. How are ya gonna have time to carry my seed?”

And he’s so large - so strong. Not even breaking a sweat when he’s getting up from his decadent throne with you boneless in his arms, still stuffing your cunt full with all greedy inches of both cocks. 

“O-oh, fuck, Kuna!” you’re squealing when gravity pulls you down until you could feel the scratch of his pink happy trail against the sensitively grazed areas of your skin. The dizzying push of two matchingly massive girths stretching your gummy walls to its limits. Your nails draw jagged red line down his tan skin, trying to keep just an ounce of your sanity together, “Fuck you’re in so hngh- deep.”

“Easy on the back there.” Sukuna’s rolling his eyes, but he can’t deny the way his heart clenches at the way you’re so fucked-out and easily sliding down his cock like some pretty sex toy. Whimpering about some baby names.

Not like it mattered, anyway. He’d name the little devilspawn whatever you wanted - after fighting about it for the fun of it. Heh, he always has been soft on you, huh?

All it takes is one hand holding you up, another to toy with the sensitive nub of your clit. Rolling and teasing you even deeper into his arms while another still rests firmly around your throat. 

The remaining hand? At Sukuna’s favorite place cupping your teary cheek, gliding away those big fat tears with the cure of his soft thumb, “Shh shhh, you can take it. You’re my pretty lil’ queen, right?”

Even his mind a hot melted mess on your dripping cunt. Just fucking into you ruthlessly, up, up, up till he was bulging at the very back of your cunt. One fat tip firmly kissing your g-spot, the other gliding in a silky smooth cadence against your poor cervix.

Matching veins rubbing matching sensitive spots, rendering you so awfully dumb on his cocks. Mixing with the hypnotic splattering of his seed against the velvet of your walls, it’s impossible to not feel like you’re about to fucking burst. 

Intertwining your fingers with his much longer ones on your face, you’re dragging them to rest at that palpable little nudge along the middle of your stomach. Pressing down to make him feel where he was buried deep, hiccuping lewdly, “You’re right here, Kuna. S’gonna be- hngh! impossible to not give you an heir.”

An heir. 

And fuck he couldn’t take it anymore - if anything even fucking heard about this, they’d faint. 

Because with a shuddering gasp, the king of curses was just dragging your weight down his cocks - over and over - to gloss your insides with each new coat of the thick, syrupy cum weeping out of his angry heads. So overfilled, but still greedily swallowing everything Sukuna gives. 

“Fuck-.” With an angrily strained growl, Sukuna only speeds up his motions on your clit. Methodical. Urgent, even. Still fucking him seed deeper to smash his quivering tips at your g-spot. Both - two divots pressurizing you at the same time. “How dare you make me cum first, woman. Think you’re soo fucking funny, huh? Better give me hundreds of lil’ hellspawn to make up for it.”

“N-noo-” you croon, but that limp little curl of your lips at the abundance of seed seeping out of you gives you away. It was so unlike him - so startling to spy the blushing rouge at his ears, the way his fat balls smack and only squeeze harder when you milk every drop. So hot, and splattering right down both of your legs, forming a creamy puddle at his floor. “I didn’t-”

You don’t finish your sentence, you can’t. Because with all of his brute strength, Sukuna is just wrenching that orgasm from your grasp - fucking you over and over through your high. 

The puddle only grows wider. And there’s no warning before he spits, once. Twice. Right onto the middle of the overwhelmed taste-buds on your tongue, gently shutting your mouth with one hand. The other spreading your puffy pussy lips to let you drool a glossy coat of cum down his front. Making a mess.

“S’inauspicious, y’know. Having the momma cum first-” He’s gruffing, sure you were still crashing into wave after wave of pleasure to even hear his whines. “-so why don’t you give me one more?”

♡ GOJO SATORU - Meet the Gojos

“Toru- we’ll get caught.”

“Shut up- fuck- shut up.” Gojo’s face was ashen, grinning so dangerously at the sight of you completely and utterly bound into that obscene mating press he loved so much. Your pretty pussy at the perfect angle for him to hammer his achy cock so thoroughly into you. “S’not what this cute cunt is sayin’ though, sweetheart.”

Fuck, if you were in any better state of mind, you’d have smacked him maybe. But you knew right by the glowingly amused tinty in his blue eyes that he was waiting for that to happen - goading even. 

You’re whining hotly, fingernails digging sharply into the winding wooden desk rested cool beneath your skin. “The- the elders are about to have a- hngh! meeting in here soon and-”

Gojo’s lips curl  when your breath hitches, feeding you each and every one of his merciless inches over and over- “Well then it’s damn good that they’ve been bugging me for an heir, dontcha think~?” 

You’re letting your drooling maw fall slack in disbelief - only to create the perfect opening for your boyfriend to catch you into a sloppy, open-mouthed kiss. Spitting out little profanities with each harsh push of his fat gliding tip across the slippery slopes of your walls. “Heh, always so fuuuck- cute when you’re fucked dumb on my cock.” he’s chuckling, mouth looser than usual with the way the tight channel of your cunt is sucking out every one of his honest thoughts - his soul. “But ya needa get more firm, I’m gonna be the fun parent.”

It takes another harsh snap! of those toned hips bruising against your ass for you to jump back into your heady reality. 

“T-Toru…” you’re murmuring, but it comes out so much more breathless than you wanted. Catching on to that syrupy, fucked-out tone of yours, Gojo takes the opportunity to ram his swollen length even meaner into your slobbering cunt. Wringing out your narrow hole to mold around the exact shape of his massive dick. “We- ngh! We’ve got to set an example.”

You feel the fat girth of his shaft grow two sizes even bigger at your scolding. Bulging those two prominent veins down the middle to imprint onto your gummy walls. The roaming point of his glossed-over head pressing straight onto your g-spot, making you writhe underneath him. Bucking up for more more more-

A pale, splayed-out palm slams! down onto the creaky mahogany right beside your head, and when you’re batting your dazed gaze up you see-

Oh. 

Oh fuck - forget setting an example, you were about to be made one. 

Because Gojo’s blue irises were sparking with tiny rods of lightning, teeth bared in such an amusedly feral grin that it made your cunt ache. 

“Fuck-” even his voice sounded deeper - raspier, cracking ever-so-slightly with need near the end. “Fuck, you can’t talk shit to me about ‘setting examples’ when you get so fuckin’ wet just because I play a little rough.”

Playing a little rough was an understatement - and both of you knew it. Because if Gojo was simply toying with your sanity before, then he was well and fully intent on breaking it right now. Right along with your poor pussy with those bludgeoning, harsh thrusts you were being gifted with.

The expansion of his weighty cock has you squealing with each powerful slam, “Fuck- fuck you little-”

“Hunk? Absolute catch?” he grins, voice dropping to a low husky drawl. A slick little trail of drool dips down the corner of his mouth already with every cracking beg and plea, followed by a series of lingering grinds - not even thrusts, just slow, shallow swerves to feel you tighten wetly around his hot shaft. The lights flicker above, “Father of your kids?” 

That makes you wrack in a sinful shudder, words tumbling out before your syrupy sweet brain could compute them, “You’d make a- a good daddy, Toru.”

Crack! 

It’s happening in a split-second - a stuttering gasp catches in Gojo’s throat, those baby blue eyes going wide. Glowing. In the distance, your popping ears catch the sharp shattering of that prized vase in the corner of the room. 

But right now it felt like you were the one about to break - because ribbons and ribbons of Gojo’s hot, potent seed were knocking on the door to your womb. Splurging in thick dredges to stuff you full from the inside out. 

“Fuck- fuck, you evil evil woman.” Gojo breathes out, the only thing he could seem to do at this very moment. When the tethering clenches of his balls have tapered out, he’s pulling out to smack! the length of his throbbing, red shaft on your clit. Mouth hanging open at the way just buckets of his own cum gush out of your tight hole. “Shit- m’gonna breed this cute cunt. Gonna fill her up until you’re so round and swollen.” he’s babbling, gliding pale fingers across the sloshing cum now seeping onto the desk to shove it back inside. 

“Fuuuck- m’gonna breed her till she hah- doesn’t know what it’s like to not be stuffed full. Until you’re giving me a cute lil’ blue-eyed baby.” Crackling with jujutsu energy, he’s smack down on your puffy cunt - hard! “Until m’not the strongest. Not even second- or third or fourth or fifth-” kissing your pouty lips in addicted little pecks. “-no. S’gonna be my- our kids. All ours.”

“Ngh! Toru–” you’re whining, only taking another few messy swivels on your cunt before you cum. And you swear, the lights go out at this very moment - the only thing you can see being Gojo’s flickers of purple jujutsu and his gleamingly white grin.

He smacks another hand down on that wooden meeting desk - the now broken desk, standing wearily on only three legs - and the puddle of cum seeping below you. “Think we’ll be excused from the meeting? Because m’not done with you just yet, ma.”

A/N. Yuh I had two Kendrick references I apologize (I don’t).

Plagiarism not authorized.

[gor3sigil]

Before starting T, when I socially transitionned, I was surrounded by radical feminists who saw masculinity as gross and inherently evil, something to avoid, something to make fun of, something to destroy. The other transmascs in my friend group, sometimes, told me that they didn’t knew if they really were non-binary or if they just were scared shitless of saying “I am a man”. Because they saw this as a betrayal to their younger self who had been SAd and abused.

I saw many of my masc friends and trans men around me hate themselves, not outing themselves as men because it would imply so so much, it was like opening the Pandora Box. Even when we were just together, talking about our masculinity was always coated with bits like “I know we’re the privileged ones but…”, “I don’t want to sound like I have it bad but…”, “Women obviously have it worse, but last time…” and we were talking about terrible traumas we experienced while taking all the precautions in the world in the case the walls were a crowd of people in disguise waiting to get us if we didn’t downplay the violence we faced, or like crying and being upset and being traumatized and afraid and scared and to say it out loud would make us throw up the needles we were forced to swallow every second of every day living in our skin.

Most of us weren’t on T yet, some of us were catcalled every day and harassed in the streets or in abusive relationships nobody seemed to care to help them get out of because they were “strong enough” to do it by themselves.

I was using the gender swap face app and cried for ours when I saw my father looking back at me through the screen. The idea of transforming, of shedding into a body that would deprive me of love, tenderness, and safety, was absolutely terrifying. I knew I couldn’t stay in this body any longer because it wasn’t mine, but I also knew that if I was going to look like my dad, my brother, my abusers, it would be so much worse.

5 years later and I’m almost 2 years on T, and almost 2 months post top surgery.

I ditched my previous group of friends. I was bullied out of my local trans community. But let me tell you how free I am.

I was scared that T would break my singing voice: it made it sound more alive than ever.

I was scared that T would make me less attractive: it made me find myself hot for the first time in my life.

I was scared that T would make me gain weight: it did. But the weight I put on is not the weight I used to put on by binging and eating my body until I forgot that it even existed. It’s the weight of my body belonging to me, little by little. The wolf hunger for life.

I won’t tell you the same story I see everywhere, the one that goes “I started going to the gym 8 times a week, I put on some muscles, I started a diet and now I look like an action film actor”, in fact if you took pictures of me from 5 years ago vs now I’d just have more acne, I’d have longer hair and still look like I don’t know what to do with myself when I take selfies.

But the sparkle in my eyes, my smile, tell the whole story way better than this long ass stream of words could ever.

I want to say some things that I wish someone told me before starting medically transitionning.

It’s okay to take your time. It’s your body, it’s your journey, if you don’t feel comfortable taking full doses and want to go slow, the only voice you need to listen to is your own. Do what feels right.

If you feel overwhelmed, it’s okay to take a break, it’s okay to ask for support.

Trans people are holy. Everyone is. You didn’t lose your angel wings when you came out because you want to be masculine. You are not excluded from the joy of existence, from being proud of yourself, from being sad, from being scared, from being angry. The emotions and feelings you allowed yourself to feel while processing what you experienced when you grew up as a girl and was seen as a woman are still as valid as before. Nobody can take that from you. If someone tries to, don’t let them.

It’s perfectly normal to grieve some things you were and had before you started to transition, like your high soprano voice or even your chest. Hatching is painful. You can find comfort in things that don’t feel right, so making the decision to change can be incredibly scary and weird and you deserve to be heard and supported through this. Wanting top surgery doesn’t make the surgery less intense, less terrifying, less painful to recover from. When it becomes too much you have the right to take a break and take some deep breaths before going on.

You don’t have to have a radical, 180° change for your transition to be acceptable or valid or worthy of praise. Look at how far you’ve come already. It doesn’t have to show, you’re not made to be a spectacle, you’re human and it is your journey.

Oh, and last thing, you know when some people say “Oh this trans person has to grow out of the cringy phase where you think that you can write essays about being trans or transitionning or just their experience because it’s weird” ? If you ever hear this or see this online, remember all the people whose writing you read and, even if they were not professional writers, helped you more than any theorists did ? If you want to write, do it. It won’t be a waste. It can help people. Or it won’t, and even then, if it helped you, that’s enough.

Love every of my trans siblings, take care of yourselves. You deserve the world.

[prlssprfctn]

Jason Todd arrives to the Gotham after being brought back alive for the first time, and while building up his career as Red Hood, visits Harvey Dent in the Arkham. They talk in a surprising peace, discuss this and this, and Jason even shares some of his insane ass lore, because, honestly, who is going to believe Harvey Dent?

And no one doesn't.

But there is a problem. The next time Bruce Wayne visits Harvey, Harvey randomly drops a bomb on him by saying that he is so, so glad that their Jaylad is back, and he grew up so much, looks so much like Bruce now! He even tries to assure him that, you see, yeah, Jason was dead, but he crawled out of his grave, and then, the Lazarus Pit fixed him!

Bruce thinks Harvey finally had reached the end of his line. Like, low-key, the last stage of insanity.

Harvey: God, he is still so well-mannered. I feel so pleased that he came to visit old me first, though. I always thought I was his favourite over you.

Bruce, laughing awkwardly, while asking the medics to add some new medicine to Harvey: Ahaha, yeah, that sounds like our Jaylad.

Harvey: Super happy for him, seriously. I mean, look at him, getting himself a new career as a Red Hood. That's our son. Feel a little bit bitter that he is into Al Ghuls family now, but that's fine.

Bruce, frowning, because Harvey isn't supposed to know about Al Ghuls and their connection to Lazarus Pit or about Red Hood: Uh, had J-Jason said something else to you?

Harvey: Oh, damn, we spoke for the whole night. He was pissed at you, though. Like, for the Tim guy, whoever he is.

Bruce, turning to the doctors: ...Maybe, uh, give me the same pills you gave him. I feel like I need it, too.