#got called out for gatekeeping so here

[pissed-whizard]

Here's the source if anyone wants to buy their own

[notjanine]

i’ve submitted well over 50 job applications this summer. tell me why the one (1) position i’ve made the most progress toward is one i didn’t even apply for???* and THEN. yesterday. one of my preceptors from the internship i just finished emailed me out of the blue like Hey i'm gonna have an open position at my private practice soon, are you interested?** girl what the fuck is going on here***

[taliabhattwrites]

I don't think there is a significant or notable number of people who believe transmascs are not oppressed.

I feel slightly insane just having to type this out, but this is rhetoric you inevitably come across if you discuss transfeminism on Tumblr.

The mainstream, cissexist understanding of transmasculine people is the Irreversible Damage narrative (one that's old enough to show up in Transsexual Empire as well) of transmascs as "misguided little girls", "tricked" into "mutilating themselves". It is a deliberately emasculating and transphobic narrative that very explicitly centers on oppression, even if the fevered imaginings misattribute the cause. As anyone who's dealt with the gatekeeping medical establishment knows, they are far from giving away HRT or even consults with both hands, and most transfems I know have a hard enough time convincing people to take DIY T advice, leave alone "tricking" anyone into top surgery.

Arguably, the misogyny that transmasculine folks experience is the defining narrative surrounding their existence, as transmasculinity is frequently and erroneously attributed to "tomboyish women" who resent their position in the patriarchy so much they seek to transition out of it. This rhetoric is an invisiblization of transmasculinity, constructed deliberately to preserve gendered verticality, for if it were possible to "gain status" under the sexed regime, its entire basis, its ideological naturalization, would fall apart.

Honestly, the actual discussions I see are centered around whether "transmisogyny" is a term that should apply to transmascs and transfems alike. While I understand the impetus for that discussion, I feel like the assertion that transmisogyny is a specific oppression that transfems experience for our perceived abandonment of the "male sex" is often conflated with the incorrect idea that we believe transmasculine people are not oppressed at all. This is not true, and we understand, rather acutely, that our society is entirely organized around reproductive exploitation. That is, in fact, the source of transfeminine disposability!

I know I'm someone who "just got here" and there is a history here that I'm not a part of, but so much of that history is speckled with hearsay and fabrication that I can't even attempt to make sense of it. All I know is that I, in 2024, have been called a revived medieval slur for effeminate men by people who attribute certain beliefs to me based on my being a trans woman who is also a feminist, and I simply do not hold those views, nor do I know anyone who sincerely does.

If you're going to attempt to discredit a transfeminist, or transfeminism in general, then please at least do us the courtesy of responding to things we actually say and have actually argued instead of ascribing to us phantom ideologies in a frankly conspiratorial fashion. I also implore people to pay attention to how transphobic rhetoric operates out in the wider world, how actual reactionaries talk about and think of trans people, instead of fixating so hard on internecine social media clique drama that one enters an alternate reality--a phantasm, as Judith Butler would put it.

Speaking of which--do y'all have any idea how overrepresented transmascs are in trans studies and queer theory? Can we like, stop and reckon with reality-as-it-is, instead of hallucinating a transfeminine hegemony where it doesn't exist? I'm aware a lot of their output isn't particularly explicative on the material realities of transmasculine oppression despite their prominence in the academy, but that is ... not the fault of trans women, who face extremely harsh epistemic injustice even in trans studies.

The actual issue is how invisiblized transmasculine oppression is and how the epistemicide that transmasculine people face manifests as a refusal to differentiate between the misogyny all women face, reproductive exploitation in particular, and the contours of violence, erasure, and oppression directed at specifically transmasculine people.

You will notice that is a society-wide problem, motivated by a desire to erase the possibilities of transmasculinity, to the point of not even being willing to name it. You will notice that I am quite familiar with how this works, and how it's completely compatible with a materialist transfeminist framework that analyzes how our oppression is--while distinct--interlinked and stems from the same root.

I sincerely hope that whoever needs to see this post sees it, and that something productive--more productive dialogue, at least--can arise from it.

[tbaluver]

The Love And DeepSpace Men- Boyfriend Headcanons + Scenarios/ Imagines Pt. 2

parings in order: Xavier x Reader, Zayne x Reader, Rafayel x Reader, Sylus x Reader requested: myself bc i craved writing something sweet genre: perhaps tooth rotting fluff fluff warnings: none unless you want cavities a/n: every day i wish they were real and every day i have a lads brain rot and i would gatekeep these ideas but i would never so here ya go ! lmk if i should write more of these ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა enjoy reading ! first part is here if you haven't read it! Pt.1 any likes and reblogs are always appreciated! enjoy!

⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆

Xavier:

The type of boyfriend who will finish your food whenever you can't finish it. He'll let you eat his food even when you say you're not hungry or you don't want anything. If the food he gets isn't something you would want, he'll make sure to buy something for you even if you say you don't want it.

You can expect his hand to always sneak into your lap when you lay in bed together after a long day. Gently embracing your lower stomach and whispering sweet nothings into your ear before you both fall asleep.

If you can't sleep, he'll try to join you for midnight snacks and watch whatever's on TV. He's trying his best to stay awake but you can already see him dozing off, clutching the stuffed plushie you won at the arcade.

Scenario:

You two sat on the soft grass, surrounded by a blanket of stars that painted the dark canvas of the night sky, eagerly waiting for the shooting stars to streak by.

"Xavier do you have anything in mind for what you're going to wish for?"

He turns to you, his gaze softening and a gentle smile spreads across his face. "I don't need to wish for anything else if my wish has already come true- I'm looking right at her."

Zayne:

He keeps all the little trinkets you've given him by his nightstand at home and his desk at work. That way when he wakes up you're the first thing on his mind, not that you left his mind in the first place. Each time he glances at them, he's flooded with happy memories and filled with anticipation to return to your embrace.

The type of boyfriend who puts a blanket over you if you fall asleep on the couch and eventually carries you to your shared bed.

Puts a ridiculous amount of sugar in his coffee that kind of leaves you concerned for your lover's sweet tooth.

Scenario 1:

You two lay in bed together, enjoying the lazy morning, not wanting to get up as if doing so would mean the day truly had to begin. You trace the outlines of his bare chest, your fingers dancing over the area where his heart beats.

“What are you doing?” he asks curiously as he watches you glide your fingers gently around his chest.

“Finding your heart and seeing who lives there,”

He lets out a breathy chuckle, a smile curling on his lips. “No one is there right now.”

You frown at his response, a playful pout forming on your lips. He cups your cheek, finding your reaction to be amusing and adorable. “That’s because the owner of my heart is currently right in front of me.”

Scenario 2:

As Zayne rushes to get ready for an emergency call from the hospital, his glasses are perched on top of your head.

“Zayne, aren’t you forgetting something?” you hinted, leaning in for a goodbye kiss.

“Ah yes, thank you.” He retrieves his glasses and you mock a pout. But he leans down, brushing your lips with his with a sweet kiss, amusement sparkling in his eyes. “I love you. Please don’t stay up waiting for me again.”

Rafayel:

Sometimes he can be your boyfriend but sometimes he's also like your child from how much you baby him

He needs to be close to you at all times. The type of boyfriend who is all over you all the time. He needs to be close and touching you at all times. If you got hot from cuddling, he'll have either his hands or legs over your body because if you were apart for more than a second he thinks he might explode.

The boyfriend who stays up making something special for days and stays up overnight just to make it perfect just for you.

The type of boyfriend who adjusts your do not disturb on your phone so only his notification pops up whenever you're on do not disturb.

Imagine swimming in the ocean, you're enveloped in his embrace as you both gaze at the moonlight and stars above. He holds you close, resting his chin gently on the top of your head while you nestle your hand and head against his chest. It’s perfect like this. Just two of you near his homeland, the sea. Just him and you in your own world where you both find peace with the gentle sounds of the waves surrounding you both.

Sylus:

At the beginning of your relationship he redecorates his entire home so that you'll like it more and feel more inclined to stay over and stay the night at his place.

He only has a soft spot for you and only you. You see a side of him no one else does and not just that but his super silly side.

Sometimes he'll lift you onto the counter or lift you up to get what you need on a high shelf just because he wants to hold you.

The type of boyfriend who gets on his knees or sits down to be on the same level as you when you don't want to look up at him anymore. If he was sitting, he's definitely pulling you to his lap because you're not going to be the only one standing!

The type to hold all of your shopping bags and pure for you when you’re out shopping together. He does not complain about holding your purse at all, not that it would ever bother him in the first place. Also does not complain about holding all of your shopping bags, it’s literally light work for him and he would encourage you to buy more things of whatever you wanted.

Imagine after a long night at an auction, you two stumble back into your shared home not breaking the kiss. Your hands rest on Sylus’s neck, slowly sliding down as he murmurs sweet phrases against your lips. His strong arms wrap around your waist as he carries you bridal style, guiding you both toward your shared bedroom.

[sknolls]

Maybe you'll find this helpful? But I think the concept of intelligence sort of dissipates as you get older. Because everyone works by their own metrics and specialties. Like, I couldn't tell you the first think about biology, that doesn't make me less intelligent than a dedicated biologist. Just means they specialize in something that I don't. And applies to shit that I'm good with too. It's all just experience. Even within the same profession, you wouldn't look at two brilliant artists and go "yep that one's smarter," without coming across as extremely reductionist. It's sort of hard to have a good relationship with a false concept.

I think the main thing that made me dismissive of the concept is that I couldn't define a coherent metric for it. Even as an abstract concept. Is Intelligence a measurement of the amount of information someone knows? One's propensity to learn and accept new information? Is it a collection of general knowledge or is it specialized knowledge? What information constitutes one's intellect? Is it a static variable or one that's in constant flux? Like, I've generally been above average at math in elementary school, but then I hit a brick wall upon reaching higher levels of it, which involved invoking a different set of skills. So, what does that say about my intelligence on the matter? Another potential metric for the concept is one's propensity to think. But the act of thinking, itself, isn't a measurable concept either. Like, it's the closest approximation to how I'll use the words "smart" and "dumb." Basically as ways of saying "you gave me a lot to think about" or "I don't think you've put in enough thought." But there's a more accurate set of words for that: thoughtfulness, nuance, etc. For the sake of comparison, I'd argue that wisdom is an abstract concept, but still a real one. It's the measurement of one's life-experience. It is abstract because it cannot be objectively measured, but its components are commonly understood.

Also, when I coin the term false concept, I'm just saying it's a concept people invoke and attach meaning to despite the concept itself being rather meaningless. When I say an abstract concept, I mean it's a concept that lacks quantifiability and yet still holds meaning.

I personally find talking about concepts and philosophies to be rather annoying because language is fundamentally imprecise. I dont think thats a fault of English specifically. I think it's more that language is how a person translates their thoughts into a format understood by their peers, and I think my autism just gives me a heightened sense of awareness to its function as a translator. Every word carries a degree of nuance and air for interpretation that makes communicating ideals, especially with non-autistic ppl, tedious. That's also why I end up using a lot of big words and coining a lot of terms; feels more precise.

I want to be smart and be seen as smart by others, its one of the only things I latched onto as a pup that could make me feel like I had something that neurotypical people didn't. It's at best a silly fantasy, but since I'm white I don't really know if I can have a productive relationship with "intelligence" in the first place. Much to think about.

[ty-bayonet-betteridge]

two of the transfems youre friends with have been talking to you about the clinic they got their bottom surgery done at. apparently its dirt cheap, and the surgeon - despite some oddities and, your friends admit, poor hygiene - is incredibly talented. theyre more than happy to give you her phone number when you ask, and while it sounds simultaneously incredibly sketchy and way too good to be true, at this point youre just so broke, desperate, and tired of gatekeepers that you're willing to give it a shot.

you call on a thursday afternoon, and the call is picked up on the fourth ring, when youre just gearing up to hear an answering machine. the voice on the other end sounds like a middle-aged woman with a smoking habit trying to sound like a cheery, bubbly young girl, and mostly succeeding. hiiiii! what can i do for you? she asks. you say er im looking for a surgical clinic is this the right number? she says mhm! thats me. you say okay, i just have a few questions. she says shoot. you say do you take patients who arent referred to you? she says nobody refers patients to me so yes. then she giggles. youve never heard somebody pull off a giggle in real life. you ask okay, so ive been looking for a place to get my metoidoplasty done, can you do that here? she says i dont know what that is give me like five seconds. then the line goes silent. you can hear her typing on a mechanical keyboard and humming to herself as she reads. youre now convinced that this is not in any way a legitimate medical institution.

youre about to hang up when she comes back on the line. OH you need a dick she says. sure i can do that! does tuesday afternoon work for you? i have that morning free too but i HATE getting up in the mornings so id rather not schedule it if i have to. you say tuesday afternoon is fine, how long should i expect the visit to be? she says i dont know like seven hours? you say seven hours? she says yeah give or take a few, every person is different so i dont know what itll be like until ive got your cunt opened up. honestly probably best to take the whole day off just in case it turns out to be a tough operation. you dont respond to that immediately. she says oh shoot should i not use the word cunt, is that too gendered? sorry. you say no its fine. you say i thought i was just going in for a consult? she says i mean yeah if youd rather. i dont mind doing same-day but some people like having more time to think about their options. do you have somewhere to be tuesday night or something? you say no its just... no tuesday afternoon should be fine. she says okay great!

she gives you her address. she says knock three times so i know its you and not my parole officer. parole officer you ask? she says im being good i promise but i still hate talking to him hes boring. you say if you dont mind me asking what were you imprisoned for? she says the ones i plead guilty to at the trial were a hundred and ninety-two counts of first-degree murder with a parahuman ability, two hundred and fifty-six counts of physical and emotional torture with a parahuman ability, five hundred and six counts of intentional infliction of emotional distress with a parahuman ability, four hundred ninety-eight counts of aggravated assault and battery with a parahuman ability, four hundred twenty five counts of domestic terrorism with a parahuman ability and two hundred and twelve counts without, three counts of arson, two hundred forty two counts of burglary with a parahuman ability, three hundred eight four counts of robbery with a parahuman ability, four hundred twenty seven counts of abduction with a parahuman ability, a hundred eighty six counts of human trafficking with a parahuman ability, three hundred ninety counts of destruction of public property with a parahuman ability, eighty counts of possession of a controlled substance, more than three thousand conspiracy and complicity charges in various felonies, eighteen violations of the Geneva Conventions, and the unauthorized practice of medicine. i plead not guilty to the larceny, sexual assault, contempt of court, corporate espionage, and identity theft charges and the prosecutor didnt really try to fight it since i had already earned seventy life sentences from the other stuff so im technically innocent of those.

you dont say anything to that.

after three seconds of silence she says sooooooooo i'll see you tuesday? you say tuesday, yeah. what was your name again? Riley, she says. Riley Grace Davis. you say thanks again and then hang up.

you debate constantly during the intervening days whether you should go on tuesday. youre grateful your friend group is so slutty; it means youve already seen with your own eyes that this surgery is real and not just a lure to murder you. still, you have some reservations, which you think is perfectly understandable.

you call one of your friends whos been there already. she picks up and you say if this is a joke its only sort of funny. she says if whats a joke? you say the clinic. you say you DID give me the actual number to the place where you actually had your bottom surgery done right? she says yeah, dont worry the surgeons so sweet. you say she admitted to doing two hundred murders when she was on the phone. she says i dont know anything about that but i trust her. you say if i end up dead, kidnapped, or mutilated, its your fault. she says dont worry about it.

tuesday comes. you never agreed to an exact time so you show up as early as you can and still have it be "afternoon" in your mind - 12:30. you climb the rusted fire escape to the third floor door and knock three times. the door is answered by a woman six feet tall in casual but very nice clothes with frizzy brown hair and an expression you cant read. you say er, riley? she says nope. another girl pushes past her, exasperated. she's maybe five foot two and her wavy blonde hair is worn down, with a red bow in it. she's wearing torn jeans - naturally torn, not the sort that you buy with holes in them that youve always hated but the kind that were once normal jeans and now have worn through much of the fabric on the knees. her tshirt is faded and has stains that you cant quite place on it, but youre pretty sure it was once Eidolon merchandise.

she says damnit amy let me answer the door next time. the taller woman, amy apparently, shrugs and steps aside to let you in riley claps her hands together once youre inside and the door is shut. introductions! she shouts. amy, this is, er... I never actually got your name? you tell them your name. she says right! hes one of my clients. and this is Amy, my sister. dont worry about her, shes just a little awkward. amy says can you PLEASE not introduce me as your sister. riley says make me. then she grabs amys shirt and pulls her down, standing on her tiptoes at the same time. they kiss in a very un-sisterly way. you clear your throat politely.

riley breaks away and says right, yeah, sorry! i get distracted easy. youre here to get a dick right. you splutter a bit, both at the bluntness of the question and the fact that amy is still standing right there. riley follows your gaze. she says oh dont worry about her! sorry, i wouldve run her off earlier, i thought you wouldnt come by for another few hours. you say sorry. she says dont worry, its her fault. amy says you didnt tell me you had a client. riley says you didnt ASK. you clear your throat politely again. you say er yes, i did come in for metoidoplasty. she bites her lip and furrows her brow. she says metoido... oh right. well i dont really do that here but i can give you a dick. you say uh im not really interested in phalloplasty. she says whats phalloplasty? amy says its the construction of a penis, usually via tissue flap taken from another part of the body, often followed by the insertion of prosthetics to allow the constructed penis to achieve erection. riley says oh, huh. yeah i dont do that either. i can give you a dick though. she takes a second then puts on an exaggerated scowl. who would want that she asks? amy says lots of people prefer it to metoido for aesthetic reasons or because they dont think theyll be large enough for penetrative sex with metoido. riley says but it wouldnt feel like a dick! man, some surgeons are talentless hacks.

you clear your throat again. you say so if youre- riley says youre clearing your throat a lot, are you okay? you say im fine, its just- she says oh duh were being so rude! why are we all standing around here. come sit down in the living room, do you want anything to drink? she leads you into the living room. it has the unmistakable air of a room thats been cleaned recently, with vacuuming marks present in the carpet and the unmistakable scent of air freshener. the sofa that you're gestured to sit on is, by contrast, unbelievably filthy. stains of every sort are visible on it - some of them are obvious, like the patches of blood and vomit or the ring of a coffee mug. others take you a second to place, like the crusty streak along one cushion that you realize all at once is semen, or the sticky yellow parts that you hope to god are honey. some of them, like the muddy green handprint along one arm of the sofa or the deep black smudge along a seat, are completely foreign to you. you can smell it from several feet away.

amy notices your hesitancy. she says i keep telling her to throw that thing out. riley says and i keep telling HER that its a relic from earth bet! its an antique and itll be worth millions soon. it just needs a good deep cleaning. amy says what that sofa needs is a bullet, not a deep clean. you sit down. drink? riley asks. you say er what do you have? she says water, diet coke, vodka, coffee. no more beer though, SOMEBODY drank the last one. amy says you never said they were off limits! riley says they arent, im just teasing. you say waters fine. riley says aaaaaaaaaamyyyyyyy, could you pleeeeeeaaaaaaaase go get our guest a glass of water and me a diet coke? oh and can you grab the pill bottle on the second shelf of the spice cabinet. amy says sure, i'll be right back.

riley sits down next to you. she says sooooooo what do you want for your dick? you say sorry, if youre not doing phallo or metoido then what exactly are you offering? she says no offense but it would take like literally eight years to give you enough background info for you to understand my explanation, and i dont have that kind of time. im not getting any younger. except for when i am. she laughs louder than you thought a human could. you have no idea how to describe the sound of her laughter. she says just tell me about your dream dick and ill give it to you. trust me, im a doctor.

except that youre not, amy says, returning with glasses and pills in hand. she sets the water down in front of you and you immediately take large gulps, feeling very much lost right now. riley says am TOO, accepting the pill bottle and diet coke from amy. she frowns. why is it can diet coke, she asks? she says glass bottle is so much better. she says why did i even BUY can. amy says they are literally the same liquid, what do you mean its better. riley says theyre not the same, stop deluding yourself. amy says which of us is the REAL doctor? riley says both of us! the PRT finally issued me an equivalency. youre talking to doctor riley davis, MED. amy says oh really? congrats she says. riley beams. then she unscrews the lid of the unlabeled, dark brown glass bottle, grabs three pills, and pops them into her mouth.

what is that you ask. ectasy she says. you want some? you say no thanks. she says you sure? you say i probably shouldnt take drugs before an operation, what if it interacts with the anesthetic? riley says dont worry, i made my own anesthetic that has zero drug-drug interactions. amy says except with sudafed. riley says ok YEAH except with sudafed, how was i supposed to know? she glances at you. you dont take sudafed do you she asks. you say no. she says good. it was such a bitch cleaning the pus off the ceiling she says. you say huh? she says dont worry about it, you dont take sudafed. she says are you sure you dont want any ecstasy? i promise its pure. you say i dont want to get addicted. she says i can surgically remove the addiction pathway from your brain if that would help. amy says riley, no means no. riley says fine. do you want any ecstasy babe? she says no thanks. riley frowns. she says you guys are a bunch of squares. she pops a fourth one and starts chugging diet coke.

she slams the can down after drinking what must be half of it, wipes her mouth with her arm and grins. sorry, we keep getting distracted! she says. she says im getting into the start of a manic episode and that always makes me roll right over people in conversation. what do you want for your dick? you say um. i hadnt really thought about it. its not normally a choice beyond the type of surgery, you sort of just end up with whatever the doctors are able to make work? thats lame she says. why are normal doctors all so lame she says. ok, rude amy says. OBVIOUSLY im not talking about you babe riley says. and stop distracting me from my client! amy holds up her hands in mock surrender, an easy smile on her face.

you didnt bring a toy with you did you, riley asks. you say huh. she says sometimes people bring a toy that they want me to model it after and that makes everything a lot easier. you say no you didn't. you say i hadn't really thought about my preferences, can we go dealer's choice on this? amy pipes up. she says you REALLY dont want riley to go dealers choice. riley says shut up and get me another diet coke, i just finished this one. amy says yes princess. you honestly cant read whether it was meant to be mocking or endearing. riley turns back to you. ok, she says, lets start with basics. primate? canid? equine? suine? dolphin? i could give you a hyena pseudopenis but i dont know if that would be offensive. you say human is fine. she says please dont tell me you're gonna just be boring this whole time. you say define boring. she sighs deeply and starts massaging her temples. amy, having stepped into the room in time to hear the last bit of conversation, tousles rileys hair. she says sorry babe, customer's always right.

you work out the appearance of your soon-to-exist cock this way. riley asks questions about length, girth, hair, amount of semen generated, percentage growth when erect, and you try to give what you think are average answers every time. amy watches, bemused, the whole time. halfway through she leaves to get the bottle of vodka. she drinks five shots in fifteen minutes. you say i didnt think the human body had that much capacity for alcohol resistance. she says it doesnt. riley swats playfully at her arm.

eventually, riley grabs a set of crayons and a cocktail napkin. she says ok, i think we got it, scribbling furiously. she shows you a crayon drawing of a dick. this look good she asks? you squint at it. there are no measurements given and the medium does not allow you to make out any fine detail. you say yeah thats fine. amy tries and fails to hide a smile. riley chucks the napkin aside and rubs her hands together. boring parts done! she says. time to get messy she says. amy pours a sixth shot of vodka. she says dont forget the anesthetic first. riley rolls her eyes. she says OBVIOUSLY i didnt forget the anesthetic. she says ill be right back. as soon as she leaves the room, amy knocks back her shot. she turns to you. she says you mind if i stay and watch? she says i dont want to make you uncomfortable, but i like watching her work. shes cute when shes working. you say at this point youre not sure you would mind anything at all. you say at this point you dont think you would be fazed if she came back with a fully-formed dick wriggling around in her hand like a fish and sewed it onto me. she says dont tempt fate.

riley comes back with a black bag the size of her head, which she sets on the coffee table with a thunk. she points at you and says okay, clothes off. or pants off i guess. you can leave the shirt on. or take it off. i dont care. you take it off. she tells you to lie down and starts pulling things out of the bag. amy stands up from the sofa to give you the space to stretch out and sits on the coffee table instead, one leg pulled up to her chest with her chin resting on her knee.

riley pulls out a syringe from the bag, filled with pitch-black fluid. she says okay this will hurt for a second but only for a second. you say huh? she flips you over onto your belly and jabs the needle against your lower back, into your spinal column. it hurts like a bitch for all of two seconds and then you stop feeling anything at all in your lower body. you also cant move your legs, you realize. what just happened you ask, as she flips you onto your back again. she says i just killed all the cells in the nerves in your lower spine. she says its the easiest way to make sure none of the pain signals slip through, and she'll just replace them with living ones when she's done. you don't know how to respond to that.

she pulls more things out of the bag. a cartoonish array of different cutting implements come out. most of them are various sizes of medical scalpel, ring cutter, or saw, but you also see a pair of chunky pink safety scissors, a pizza cutter, a serrated bread knife, an x-acto, a drill with a comically long bit, a pair of wire cutters, gardening shears, and an awl. she says okay im gonna start operating so look away if you dont wanna see how your crotch looks while its being rearranged. especially if you think you might puke, i hate having to stop to clean up puke in the middle of surgery. you look away. you notice amy is watching transfixed.

for a couple of hours things go on like that. amy and riley make light conversation, with riley filling any silence by humming a wordless tune you dont know. the sounds and smells youre getting are enough to make you slightly sick; you continue not looking.

in the middle of hour two, riley stops. oh goddamnit, she says. what amy asks? riley says she forgot that shed need extra meat. amy says you started a surgery to give somebody a whole new organ and forgot youd need more tissue to do it? riley says shut up, im dumb. amy says no youre not babe. riley says ughhhhh now what. amy says just get his stem cells to grow the tissue you need. riley says nooooooo thatll take forever, and i have places to BE tomorrow, and if i stop putting pressure on him here hes going to bleed out through his cunt. you say wait, what? amy says well i dont know what you want me to do about this situation, i gave you my solution. riley says baaaaaaaaaaabe. amy says whaaaaaaaaaaaat. riley says i think we have some bacon in the fridge, will you pretty please with sprinkles on top go get it? amy says and what do i get in return? riley says a kiss. amy says id get that anyway. riley says my undying love and affection. amy says i have that already. riley says not making me angry at you so you can sleep under my roof without having to worry that ill turn your sweat glands into acid glands in the middle of the night. amy says that, plus i get to top tonight. riley says fiiiiiiiiine, just go get the bacon. amy gets up.

you say look uh i know you said not to question what youre doing but i kind of dont want a dick made of bacon, not to sound ungrateful. also did you say something about me bleeding out? riley says dont worry, if you bleed out ill put the blood back in, im a professional. you say thats not as reassuring as she thinks it is. riley says whos the doctor, mister? you say technically both of us. i have a phd in social sciences you say. she says wow, theyre just giving out doctorates for anything these days, huh? you say hey, rude. she says only teasing. you say anyway, uh, you didnt address the bacon dick thing? she says oh dont worry about it, my amys amazing, youll see.

amy comes back in with the package of bacon. do you need this in any particular shape she asks. riley says nah just give me a good amount of it. and make sure its spongy, so when he gets hard the blood can- amy cuts her off. she says dont worry, ive given you enough penises at this point that i think i know what penile tissue is like at this point. you say given her enough penises? what the hell does that mean? riley says hey, dont kinkshame! she sounds legitimately offended. you say sorry. amy pulls the bacon out of the package, holding it aloft in her left hand. you watch as the familiar look of a half-pound of bacon shifts and warps into a strange lump of fatty, spongy tissue of a waxy color. she hands it to riley. riley says thanks sis youre the best, love you! amy says no problem. riley says id kiss you if i wasnt elbow deep in this guys cunt right now. amy says kiss me after the surgerys done.

another two hours go by. the sounds of flesh being chopped, sawed, and stitched underscore riley and amys meaningless conversation about whether they HAVE to attend their acquaintance lisa's birthday party. riley says lisa probably wouldn't throw a birthday party if there wasn't some sort of scheme going on. amy agrees but says that doesnt indicate whether they should get involved with the scheme or not. you wonder dimly if you will ever feel your lower body again. you wonder if this is purgatory, an endless afternoon of lesbians bickering affectionately while one of them does surgery on you. you turn your head enough to look at the clock. its 5:26pm. where the fuck did the time go?

another hour passes. riley stands up. she is soaked up to her elbow in various bodily fluids - mostly blood, but youre not looking too closely. she says finally! she says just need to regrow your nerve cells now. you say is that going to take long? she says like twenty minutes maybe as she flips you over. you say ok. she jams a different needle into the same spot, injecting a strange yellow paste into your spine. she then flips you onto your back again. you feel brave enough to finally look at your crotch.

there is a completely normal human penis of average size there. you reach a hand down and touch it. you dont have any sensation in it yet since your nerves are all still dead, but it feels warm and soft under your hands. you smile, feeling tears come to your eyes. its over.

rileys talking. she says i followed your specifications except i had to cheat a bit on the nerves, you actually didnt have very many in your clit for whatever reason so your glans has maybe eight thousand fewer nerves than you wanted, sorry about that. she says i gave you balls in your scrotum for shape but since you said you didnt want kids they dont produce sperm. let me know if you want that changed she says. she says it should be fully functional in every respect, but if you notice any erectile dysfunction, incontinence, discoloration in urine or semen, priapism, or any other issue come back and we'll sort it out. if you notice it bleeding in ANY capacity, call me immediately. if im not answering call Amy, ill give you her number. if SHES not answering either then you can start seeing normal doctors, not that those idiots will know how to help you probably. if you want any changes to it call me and ill pencil you in to get it adjusted. get all that she asks. you nod. she says cool. she says itll be like $200, no rush if youre not able to pay right now. you say it might be a bit since youre still trying to pay interest on your student loan debt. wait, she says, they have student loans again? you nod. she says the world ended like thirty years ago, when did they set up student loans again? fuck, how much do you owe? you say a little under eighty thousand. she says jesus fuck, nevermind, its free. goddamn. you say thank you so much. she says yeah of course. do you want us to dress you or do you want to wait until you can move and do it yourself?

[simandy]

It has been so long since I posted any wip! This is the hair i was working on for Halloween (along with other stuff). It was supposed to be a test for a blender add-on I got, but it turned out to look so good I really want to give it to you guys. I regret not updating blender earlier or looking for add-ons, this one really does make it much easier to create hairs! It's not free, unfortunately 😖 but it was worth it for me, it will make the hair making process much easier (and fun!) than what it was! To me, the best part is that I finished meshing the curves and solidified them as meshes and when i went to check the poly count it was 10k. FOR THE ENTIRE HAIR. COME ON.

I'm making this post because i believe real artists don't gatekeep! Here is the link of the video and download, in case you're interested. Posting the video link because of the promotional code ^^

*** IMPORTANT ***

This add-on is magical and i can prove it since I'm staring at sims4studio now with THAT hair (in the post above) imported with the hat chops and it's at 10k vertices and 14k polys and i didn't make a singular effort to reduce it yet. And if you work with hairs you know how this sounds like sorcery.

ANYWAY I have stuff to say. This add-on creates a thing in your mesh called COLOR ATTRIBUTES. I don't know exactly what they're for (because my blender knowledge is restricted to making cool crystals and custom content for the sims 4) but SIMS4STUDIO CANNOT READ THEM. FOR LIFE. They will cause various errors that will make you spiral forever because they're extremely UNCLEAR. I found them by accident so, if you bought the add-on and is now making beautiful hairstyles and struggling to make them to sims4studio, here is the culprit:

Located in: DATA. Delete every other color attribute besides "color0" and your hair will import to s4s normally!

[sleepymirko]

Bluelock boys reaction to s/o liking winter but (ironically) being very chilly (part 1)

..•°•..•°•..•°•..•°•..•°•..•°•..•°•..•°•..•°•..•°•..

Featuring Michael Kaiser, Rin Itoshi, Sae Itoshi

Fluff, nothing weird here except Kaiser being slightly suggestive

Let me know if there's errors! Enjoy!

..•°•..•°•..•°•..•°•..•°•..•°•..•°•..•°•..•°•..•°•..

You and Kaiser have been together for quite a while so it was obvious that he knew about it.

But he just couldn’t help being fascinated every time you got chilly, even in the mildest weather.

"It's not funny" you said narrowing your eyes at Kaiser, who had a shit eating grin on his face.

"It isn't?" He said cocking an eyebrow. "You're wrapped up with two wool blankets and on top of that a duvet. You look like a burrito." He said as he sat closer to you, the sofa feeling strangely smaller now that Michael was awfully close.

"I can't control my body temperature and if I could I wouldn't be in such a state, don't you think?" You said rolling your eyes but smiling faintly, knowing that he was just teasing you.

“Maybe we can change that...” he murmured, locking eyes with you. His grin widened as he saw the flush on your cheeks. “Looks like someone is in the mood,” the cocky soccer player said, lifting you effortlessly.

“Wait, I didn’t say anything...!” you protested, struggling against him, but the blankets wrapped around you acted as an unintentional shield, much to his advantage. The irony.

“Silence is consent, Meine Liebe." he said with a mischievous smirk.

..•°•..•°•..•°•..•°•..•°•..•°•..•°•..•°•..•°•..•°•..

It was snowing outside. The snowflakes were slowly falling, covering everything in white. Rin swore he never experienced a colder winter than this, and as a soccer player, it spoke volumes.

When you first met, he discovered how much you loved the season, and as time passed, he found himself loving it more than he had anticipated. He knew how easily you got chilly during this time of year, and, deep down, he liked it.

It was a good excuse for him to gatekeep you in the Itoshi household. Call him possessive, but he just couldn't help it.

The only footsteps heard in the house were his, going up and down the kitchen to prepare a hot chocolate for the two of you. You guys agreed on a horror film marathon, and choose various titles, with the majority chosen by you.

When he finally finished preparing the mugs, he walked towards your shared bedroom, where he found you already covered up to your ears, looking out of the window from the bed you were sitting on.

"Here" he said, laying on your hands the hot mug.

"You didn't have to.. thank you" you spoke softly, looking at him sitting next to you, the remote in his hand, ready for the movie marathon to start. In the first few minutes he noticed you shivering slightly and put your head on his shoulder, taking you by surprise.

Neither of you talked; the silent yet genuine gesture was enough to warm up the both of you, as you sank in a comfortable silence.

..•°•..•°•..•°•..•°•..•°•..•°•..•°•..•°•..•°•..•°•..

The storm was in full swing and you were looking at the snow outside, a warm oversized hoodie enveloping your body and a closed book in your hands that kept you occupied just a few moments ago. Sae watched you from across the room, the fire of the fireplace casting shadows over his stoic features. He had just gotten home from practice, and the warmth was enough to remind him that he was where he belonged, even if he would never admit it.

Because the source of it was the same person that was looking at the snow storm with eyes full of wonder.

One would say that he cared only about football and himself, but it wasn't the truth as without a word he walked over, your shivering not going unnoticed as his brows furrowed slightly.

Wordlessly, he draped his own coat over your shoulders, the familiar scent and warmth of him enveloping you. You looked up surprised, meeting his steady gaze.

"You're going to catch a cold even with all these clothes." He simply said, his tone uneven but the glimmer of his eyes betraying him as you spotted a hint of concern in his gaze.

"Thank you.."

"Still cold?"

You looked up surprised and nodded, not able to hide your small smile as Sae sighed.

"Let's go to the fireplace then. If you're still cold even there I'll take you to the hospital." He said, and you rolled your eyes but took his hand as he led you to the couch that was perfectly placed in front of the fireplace.

The heat of the flames warmed your body, but your heart was already warmed by the coldest man you had ever loved.

Let me know if there's some errors! Thank you for reading!

[ham1lton]

TEN THINGS F1 DRIVER Y/N L/N CAN’T LIVE WITHOUT — GQ.

— part of my maneater series ꕤ

Y/N (throwing her hat in the air with one hand and catching it in the other without looking): see? told you i could do it! not my only party trick.

Y/N: hi gq! i’m y/n l/n, formula one driver and i’m here to show you my ten essentials.

NUMBER ONE: IPAD

Y/N: first, has to be my ipad. this was my first big purchase and seeing my bank account being drained of that money almost caused a heart attack. but this bad boy helps me to organise my life, stops me from being bored on flights, keeps me in contact with my family and lets me write my notes. so yeah, thanks apple. also you guys should sponsor me.

NUMBER TWO: NOISE CANCELLING HEADPHONES

Y/N: i never used to travel a lot. when i was younger, my family couldn’t afford it so flying around a lot was a big shock to my system. obviously as in f1, drivers are required to fly to different races and it means i had to get over my fear of flying. these help a lot with that. these plus a spotify playlist made by my angsty teenage self will make me forget about the fact i’m flying. these are my favourite ones, i have multiple pairs just in case.

NUMBER TWO AND A HALF: MUSIC.

Y/N: i guess this sort of goes off the second one? but music. i keep trying to bribe the engineers to build a blue tooth radio in the car but to no avail. spotify has been my biggest supporter all of these years. i know i’m sponsored by them now but i have been using my account for almost seven years now? so my algorithm is perfection. it truly has helped me so much. i listen to music on the way to races, on the way back from races, in my house, outside my house, cleaning, cooking and even when i’m in the shower. yes, i’m a shower singer. once i get in there, i’m beyoncé!

OFF SCREEN VOICE: what was the last song you listened to?

Y/N: one second, let me see. it was the twilight soundtrack, in particular, decode by paramore. told you i was an angsty teen!

NUMBER THREE: EMERGENCY BAG

Y/N: okay this sounds bad, it’s not as much an emergency bag as in like medical supplies but more so like extra toothbrush, toothpaste, menstrual products, lotion and other stuff like that. i always carry this with me anywhere in case my suitcase goes missing. it has helped me and my friends out so many times so it’s definitely an essential for me.

NUMBER FOUR: HER CAMERAS.

Y/N: i picked up photography relatively recently and this was the starter camera that the guy in the shop recommended. so this is that camera. for this one, i vlog, which you guys might have seen and this is the camera i use for those videos. i actually don’t record my videos, one of my friends or family or colleagues or whoever will film and i will be in front of the camera. it’s my favourite part when i ask the camera person to reveal themselves and they do their own little introduction. i obviously provide the camera for it. which is this beauty right here.

OFF SCREEN VOICE: who has been your favourite person to film you?

Y/N: i have had a lot of people film me. my most recent being rihanna for my recent holiday vlog! so many people to the point that i genuinely don’t think i could choose a favourite. i mean, i’ve had my sister do it a lot so i guess i can choose her. she knows my angles best!

NUMBER FIVE: LIPGLOSS

Y/N: when i won my first championship and i kissed the camera, the amount of calls from makeup companies my manager received was actually obscene. i think i got so many comments on social media asking what makeup i use and how it stays on throughout the race! to be honest, i don’t always wear makeup but in the original video, i was wearing this fenty gloss. it’s in the shade fu$$y. so, yeah, at least no one can call me a gatekeeper! i always keep it on me. i feel a little more ready to face the world with lipgloss. now, i have my own fenty collection! so check that out.

NUMBER SIX: HER LUCKY SHOES.

Y/N: okay i know i say i’m not necessarily a superstitious person but these shoes have been with me from f3 until now. every race i’ve worn these, i’ve won. so i like having them around. i think they bring luck. i can’t wear them any longer as they’ve worn through the soles now. really annoying but we power through.

NUMBER SEVEN: WINGSTOP BLACK CARD

Y/N: i was really craving wingstop one night. so me and my sister were in london? i think and i vlogged our hunt for wingstop and they reached out to me to give me a black card. i know, isn’t it gorgeous? i was so happy. too bad i have to cut down on what i eat thanks to my nutritionist, but my siblings and friends love this thing.

NUMBER EIGHT: SKINCARE ROUTINE

Y/N: okay, so i’m trying to get more consistent with my skincare but it’s not necessarily working the way i want it to. however, i still stick to the basics. sunscreen, cleanser and moisturiser. i really like keeping my skincare on check as there is this unsaid rule that women have to wear makeup in their jobs and if i keep my skin looking good then i can skirt that rule. i love this cream in particular, it’s moisturising but very light on the skin. best of both worlds.

NUMBER NINE: NECKLACE

Y/N: this was given to me as a gift from my family when i turned eighteen. it was a necklace that i’d had my eye on for a very, very long time. they saved up for so long to buy it for me and it’s become my signature piece. i wear it around my neck constantly. it’s weird having it off my neck to show you.

(she fastens it around her neck quickly)

Y/N: now i feel normal again.

NUMBER TEN: MY PADDOCK PASS

Y/N: i am so bad with keeping my paddock pass on me. for people who don’t know what this is, this allows me access to the garage and things like that. i usually keep it around my neck because if its in my pocket or my bag i’ll forget. my assistant sometimes carries mine. i’m not going to show you my picture because it’s awful. i had woke up really early after no sleep and one of the staff had made me take the picture. now i am forced to wear this monstrosity at work. i keep it hidden as much as i can. last time, lando saw it and laughed so hard he cried so yeah.

author’s note: this was hard as i wanted to keep it as vague as possible so that you can relate it to your own maneater! i’m still taking questions/asks/requests so please send some in!

[punkitt-is-here]

I went back, read the FAQ, figured out I was working with bad information, and would like to present an actually polite version of the previous ask.

The other women you were having the "AFAB trans woman" debate with haven't been able to let go of it,

because anons have been accusing them of gatekeeping and TERF politics for providing anecdotes of, basically, AFAB people identifying as trans women to mock or overthrow their social groups. Citations below:

https://strawberry-crocodile.tumblr.com/post/742523159739334656/aita-for-warning-new-transfem-friends-that-someone

https://necronatural.tumblr.com/post/754196456131428352/sorry-but-if-youre-afab-you-do-not-get-to-call

I understand that the brazen, all-caps-bold-text mockery of any ask on this topic is great for driving off hateful anons pointed at you,

but if you could lend some credit to @patricia-taxxon 's responses, for example, it'd help take some hate off her back and really hep build my respect for you as an artist.

This will be likely my last proper response on any of this so be chill about it

I really, genuinely do not care that much about this subject much at all. It is a passing thought to me. I made the original post, responded once or twice, and made a quesadilla. it was fucking delicious. I do not appreciate the way you have talked to me. If you're going to treat yourself like someone I have to earn the respect back of instead of a random stranger on the internet who was very brazen to me in a one-off inbox message, I am not going to care.

With that out of the way: I have read the citations you have listed. I do not care. I have read them, thoroughly considered their points, and I still do not give a shit. What you are pointing at here in the first one is an individual perpetrating shitty behavior. I am not saying that this is the case, but if there was an assigned-male-at-birth woman perpetrating the same information, it would become very apparent very quickly how obvious it is that the issue is not with their gender identity, it is with the information they are spreading. Anyone is capable of misinformation, and I am not going to shit on and belittle a completely niche gender identity because one woman on the internet fucked up one time. If I did that, I'd be a hypocrite and would not be practicing any sort of good faith towards people with gender identities I do not fully understand. This is a core tenant of how I approach queerness. I do not need to understand someone to respect them. I do not need to worry about how conservatives will see us. I do not need to worry about the larger queer community when one person is being off-putting. I am not a fucking square. I achieve a lot of inner peace by simply practicing what you have named "tits-and-beer gender liberalism".

The second post you have linked is also something that I have read. I have considered the points in said post. My stance has still not changed. I do not think ID'ing as a transfeminine person when you were assigned female at birth is an inherently transphobic concept. Plenty of people in my notes have described experiences that very clearly and understandably outline why they do or why others might identify with the concept. I fundamentally disagree with the response because I do not believe that it is a transphobic idea. I am a transgender woman and have been for about half a decade now. My relationship with femininity is complex, and I am a binary transgender woman. I think in the grand scheme of gender identities, switching from one binary to the other has been pretty easy for me mentally. I am not intersex, I have never detransitioned in any way, and my family has been incredibly supportive. I transitioned specifically for the euphoria I got from identifying as a woman. I still have a complicated relationship with womanhood. Someone who has gone through many more hardships than I have is probably going to have an even more complicated relationship with femininity, and that is why I have no trouble imagining why something like an AFAB trans woman would exist. Perhaps someone has a complicated relationship with gender in relation to their intersex status and feels that the journey that transgender women take more closely aligns with their own rather than cisgender womanhood. Perhaps they are non-binary and have still transitioned to a more feminine-leaning identity. Perhaps they have de-transitioned, but now they are irreversibly changed by that experience and they are, in a way of thinking, "trans-feminine" because they are transitioning back to femininity. It is not hard for me to think of reasons. It is not saying that trans women are not real women. I think it is very clear to me that "transfem" can easily describe an experience with femininity that differs from the cisgender experience. It is no less valid, it is simply different, as with all things.

"Transfem" can mean "a man transitioning into a woman", but it can also describe a complex approach towards self-identification. We can argue semantics all we want, but I do not care personally. I do not think transfem means transitioning from man to woman exclusively. I am a binary transgender woman, and I do not agree that that is all it is. My journey as a transgender individual has been very uncomplicated compared to others, but it is still an ocean deep. I do not want to reduce that journey and identification down to a simple "man become woman" because that betrays the inherent complexity of transitioning and figuring out yourself.

Ultimately, to me, it comes down to not giving a shit. I am rarely, if ever, going to meet an AFAB transfem person. You are rarely, if ever, going to meet an AFAB transfem person. It is an incredibly niche gender identity with a lot of baggage, as we have seen. It is never going to matter in the broad scheme of things that they exist because 99% of people are not going to bring them up in the wider conversation about transfemininity. I know that finding your identity can be a rough, arduous process. I am not going to deprive someone of the joy of self-discovery, even if it is a complex or contradictory idea. I do not fully understand neopronouns. I do not fully understand things like polyamory or he/him lesbians or AFAB transfems. I do not need to. In real life, you hang out with people and share food and good times together. None of this shit matters. If I am ever so lucky to meet someone with a contradictory or confusing identity, I am happy that my words may provide them comfort and that they won't live to hide themselves around me. Making someone feel like they have to hide parts of their self is the last thing I would ever want anyone to experience.

I have no beef with Patricia. I quite like her work. When I saw her response, I disagreed. I still do. I am not going to start agreeing with an idea I am expressly opposed to because someone asked. But it is not the end of the world. I would appreciate, if my followers are sending her harassment, that they fucking stop, because it's not that big a deal. If anyone from my post is sending anyone hate because of a public disagreement on that post, I ask you kindly to stop and go outside. I do not condone the behavior. It is not that big a deal.

I am going to go make myself a ham and egg sandwich and practice tits and beer gender liberalism now. I hope this satisfies your request in some way.

[trashogram]

He Chose You (Pt. 10)

Lucifer/Reader: Lucifer chooses you to be the mother of his child. Rated E for Explicit.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 13.5 | Part 14 | End

Everything was white. Pristine white. 

You couldn’t be blind, but no one would blame you for entertaining the idea as nothing but white stretched beyond your gaze.

Unending white. 

Uncanny. White. 

“Hello?” You asked the white abyss. Your call echoed out and back in, the way you imagined sound would echo in a canyon. 

“Hello!” 

You screamed, jumping up at the new voice coming from somewhere high above you. You tried to pinpoint where it came from, staring up at what you hoped was the sky before things slowly materialized. 

Pastel pinks, oranges and soft blues bled into the white, adding definition to what had once been literally nothing. The whiteness remained in the shape of buoyant, fluffy clouds pillowing all around you. 

“Over here!” The voice chimed. “Oh no, here! You’re getting warmer! Almost there!”

After circling around like a dog after your own tail, you finally found the source. Behind you rose a ginormous golden gate, gleaming beneath an electric-looking, all-seeing eye.

 And at its entrance towered a gold and platinum podium. 

A very… well, there was no other way to say it — a very white man with swooping blond hair eyed you from the top of the podium, grinning from ear to ear. 

“Hiya! Welcome!” The man said. “You’re right on time!” 

“Uh, okay…?” You replied. 

Without a hitch, the blond lifted up a large tome and began flicking through the pages. In the meantime, you stood there awkwardly, a question on the very tip of your tongue. 

“Wh-um, where am I, exactly?” You finally asked. 

“Why, you’re in Heaven of course!” He stated jovially before turning the book around and tapping on a name. “This is you, correct?”

Your name stared back at you in a glowing golden font, all pretty and shiny — 

And underlined? 

“Yeah.” You blinked. “Wait, did you just say Heaven?”

“Mm-hm, yep! And if I could just get you to stand right here at the center of the platform, that’d be great.” 

An elevated slab of pure gold rose from the clouds beneath your feet a little ways ahead of you. Timidly, you made your way over and onto the platform as instructed. You were pleasantly surprised at the instant warmth that met the bottoms of your bare feet. 

“Pe-rr-fect!” With a flap of suddenly conjured wings, the gatekeeper floated down to hover right beside you. “Now, we just wait for Emily. She should be here in 3, 2, 1… .5 — ”

A loud clang startled you out of your skin for the second time, and you whipped around to face the woman that had spontaneously appeared in front of you.

She panted. “Oh my goodness! I’m so sorry! I didn't mean to be late!” 

The golden gates pulled back to reveal the white-haired newcomer in all her splendor. This other angel was bedecked in a floor-length white gown to match her downy-white hair and periwinkle-grey skin dotted with white freckles. A halo hung over her head, casting an eternal light over her large, bluish eyes that sparkled with mirth. 

Like the gatekeeping angel, her wings flapped behind her, but you noted how they seemed to flutter nervously. Or perhaps excitedly? 

“Welcome to Heaven!” She opened her arms toward you. “We’re so glad you’re here! I’m Emily, but you can call me Emmy, or E, or Millie. Whatever you want!” 

You waved dazedly. “Hi.” 

Emily stopped short of touching you, despite looking like she was about to wrap her arms around you in a hug. Instead, the angel bit her lower lip as she stared at you. 

“I really am sorry I was late. I got caught up talking with Sera, making sure everything was all ready for your arrival.” She gushed. “Thank you for greeting her, Peter!” 

Peter brightened. “Of course.” 

Emily turned back to you, buzzing with anticipation like a bumblebee. “Anyway, I’m sure you have tons of questions! No worries at all! I’m here to give you a tour and show you around your new home!”

You cautiously took the hand offered to you, and let yourself be led through the golden gate. 

— 

Heaven was very beautiful, and very clean. The polished golden floors and beautifully-crafted architecture, complete with smiling people of all races, sexes and species didn’t unwrench you from a nagging sense of confusion however. 

“Um. Emily?” You asked your companion — well, one of your companions. Peter had elected to join the two of you on your tour, commenting that he’d gotten someone to cover his eternal shift at the gate for the next few hours. 

“Yes! Yes?” She smiled at you encouragingly. No doubt, your silence, while it had not stopped her constant chatter, had been a downer in as far as engagement. 

“I’m… dead. Right?” You asked. “I mean that’s how one gets to Heaven, so obviously I am… right?”

The mood turned down at that, with Emily turning morose. “Yes, I’m afraid so.” 

“Okay, good. I mean — I’m dead, but I’m having a hard time remembering h-how it… happened.” You admitted, embarrassed. And a little afraid, if you were honest with yourself. “Is that… normal?”

Emily and Peter stopped on either side of you, twin looks of confusion on their poreless faces. 

Peter was quicker to recover. “Oh that can happen sometimes! Dying can be a very traumatic thing for the soul.” 

Emily seemed hesitant for the first time since you’d met her, but with a look from Peter, she seemed to gain resolve. “Yes, yeah. Lots of people forget… but you’ll remember in time, I’m sure!”

“But wait!” Emily gasped. “We could ask Sera about it!” 

She clapped her hands together joyfully, while Peter’s expression teetered on uncertainty. 

“Uh, Em? I don’t think —” 

“We were headed her way anyway.” Emily nodded as if affirming her own plan. “I’m sure she’ll be happy to help us figure this out!”

The angel yanked you forward in her quest to get to Sera (whoever that was) and had you stumbling on pure fluff to catch up with her. 

Many angels raced to get out of the way as Peter called out in alarm, but apart from shouldering a particularly tall angel clad in a chasuble, you were unable to stop or slow down. 

—

“Hello child.”

The Seraphim (“Sera.” Emily had urged) was so large that you had to crane your neck up to see her face. 

She was beautiful in the most ethereal way. To look upon her was to look at a celestial body and feel your own insignificance dragging you down and swallowing you whole. 

Your surroundings — a gold and white antechamber with delicately carved archways and a grand war table in its center — did not help. 

Emily laid a hand on your shoulder with concern before you realized that you’d been paralyzed by the scene before you and had yet to say a word.

You stuttered a hello, and Sera’s stoney face softened into an understanding smile. “Be not afraid, my friend. I mean no harm.” 

You returned the smile, albeit shakily. 

Emily squeezed your shoulder. “Sera? We have a question.”

The Seraphim gestured with open palms. 

“Well, we were going around Heaven, and just kind of talking before um… well…”

“Emily, dear. Please speak up.” Sera’s command was gentle but firm.

Emily bounced in her spot, unable to keep herself from floating up from the ground. 

“Shesaysshedoesn’trememberhowshegothere!” She blurted out.

You and Sera both stared at Emily for a long moment, trying to process what exactly she had said. Sera had opened her mouth once more before the grand entrance into the committee room was slammed open and all heads turned to the unwelcome sound. 

The angel with the chasuble came barrelling in, and the omnipresent sunlight that touched everything around you glinted off the sharp black horns winding down from his skull. Or was it a skull? The face of this particular angel looked odd to you, with its smooth, glassy surface and flickering pixelated expression that replaced natural features like lips, cheeks and a nose. 

Their appearance looked at odds with everything else you’d seen in Heaven, regardless of the holy garbs they wore. Everything, while somewhat fantastical on the basis of it actually existing, resembled the organic and natural, and this figure stuck out like a sore thumb in comparison. 

“What the actual fuck? She’s actually here?!” The abrasive, aggressive voice that came out his digitized face shook you from your musings. 

You shrunk back toward Emily and Sera, instinctively trying to get away from the rapidly approaching figure that also towered over you. He glared in your direction, as if you were an insect he wanted to squash, and only when you lost the nerve to meet his gaze did you realize there was another angel behind him. This one wore a similar face, though they were smaller, slimmer and straight-backed. They wore darker vestments and jet-black horns as well, with wings nearly as jagged and hardlined. 

“Adam,” Sera greeted hesitantly. “I don’t believe you were summoned.” 

“Why is she here?” ‘Adam’ demanded, as if the Seraphim had never spoken. His companion stood firmly just a pace behind him, arms behind their back. 

Their combined presence was so off-putting, and your brow furrowed with mounting confusion. Sera’s shoulders slowly rose and fell as she sighed, disapproval in the hard line of her mouth. 

“That was part of the agreement.” 

“Uh, yeah — with the Devil!” His demeanor completely threw you off, so much so that you didn’t catch the full extent of what he’d said. “Who the fuck keeps their end of the deal with that asshole?”

You couldn’t hold back a scoff of disbelief, even as your confusion deepened. ‘The devil?’ 

A hand wrapped around your forearm, making you turn to look at Emily, who’d once more moved beside you. Her ire was clear, though much less contained than Sera’s. “Who are you to question Divine Judgement?” 

Adam laughed condescendingly. “Do you know who you’re talking to? I’m the fucking CEO of Divine Judgement, kid!” 

“We are literally judges, juries and executioners in Hell.” The other angel chimed in, flat and resolute. The smirk that curved her stitched lips gave away some covert sense of satisfaction in that statement. 

“Executioners?” Emily’s voice rose a few octaves. “What’re you talking about?” 

She was legitimately bewildered. 

“Enough.” Sera stepped in. “Adam, this has never been, nor was it ever, a debate. If you have a grievance, you can take it up with the counsel at a later date.” 

“My ‘grievance’ isn’t gonna fucking wait for this bitch to fuck shit up!” Adam pointed at you with a poisonous claw. 

“Excuse me?” You demanded in sheer disbelief. “Who do you think you are?!” 

The grin Adam shot you was more a bearing of one’s teeth, which further threw you for a loop as, again, his face was completely digital. “I’m fuckin’ Adam. The First Man. The Original Dick. I’ve been here since the fucking beginning. I earned this shit.” 

“Who do you think you are?” He asked, advancing on you. “You think you can whore yourself out to the worst being in all of Creation and still take up space in Heaven? Are you fucking kidding me?” 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Your gaze narrowed, a stark contrast to the whirlpool of thoughts swirling in your mind at his accusation. 

“HA! Seriously?” His face was mere inches from yours. “What? D’you open your legs for fuckin’ everyone? Have a hard time keeping track of all the brats you pop outta that used vag? Guess so, if even dying for one doesn’t ring your fuckin’ bell.” 

“ADAM!” 

Adam’s sharp grin dropped, expression dawning from stunned to petulant as Sera’s thunderous exclamation reverberated through the vast space between your unusual group. You swore the clouds trembled beneath your feet, but it was hard to care too much with the insinuations that had been thrown at you rattling within your being. 

Dying for… 

“Charlotte.” Your eyes widened to the size of saucers. Air escaped your lungs - which shouldn’t have been possible, but you were already dealing with one crisis upon the epiphany of what you’d been missing this whole time. 

A blitz of images and sordid emotions saw you struggling, legs falling out from under you as the weight of how exactly you’d died forced you down. Emily’s distressed cry sounded from above you, melding with Lucifer’s frantic pleas for you not to go as life drained from your body. 

The Seraphim’s shadow engulfed your broken form while you panicked on Heaven’s floor. 

—

Lucifer sat hunched in his chair, your cold, lifeless hand hanging in his. 

Charlotte had stopped crying and presumably gone to sleep. He hadn’t put up any fight when Cass took her to a crib set up beside your… your bed.

That was who knows how long ago. And apart from Cass coming over the check on his daughter, the elderly worshippers had left him to grieve in peace. 

The King had tried to convince himself to get up. He needed to take Charlotte and leave. Go home. The sight of you in death was unbearable — but he could not move. 

He couldn’t leave you, even if you were no longer there in spirit. The You he loved the most, your soul, was gone and had been gone for some time now. 

You had gone to the one place he could not follow. 

Lucifer’s hanged head slowly rose. His thoughts were starting to become more coherent — what if you hadn’t gone where you were meant to? 

Heaven was a paradise bound by rules, but it was also a cold bureaucracy where things could fall through the cracks. 

And any dealings with him — Heaven’s sworn nemesis — were likely to be one of those things. 

Slow-building anger replaced the gold in his veins as Lucifer considered that his own Deal was not met. If it wasn’t, that meant you were down Below, alone and afraid and suffering. 

The Devil’s claws cricked, fist clenching as he glared at the wall opposite him. 

He would not let you Suffer. Not you. Never you.

And you weren’t here anymore. He needed to know where you’d gone. Now. 

Rising from his seat, Lucifer laid your hand at your side and ignored the tears that stung his eyes at the sight of your ashen face. 

He touched your brow, lingering only to memorize the way your lashes rested against your sinking cheeks before turning to Charlotte’s cradle. 

She was sleeping peacefully, unaware of his anguish, of the great loss that not only he had endured but she as well. It made Lucifer’s heart ache. 

He closed his eyes, inhaling deeply. 

Then, with a sudden snap of his fingers, Lucifer conjured the presents he’d made especially for her. 

The twin goats appeared, suspended in the air behind him. Lucifer didn’t bother to turn until their bodies were triple their original size, fur changing from felt to coarse fiber, eyes glowing as they were transformed from button to bonafide, and their bat-like wings began to beat at the air, blowing back the gossamer of Charlotte’s bassinet. 

Lucifer looked between the two magicked goats after kissing his daughter’s fragile head. 

“Stay here and protect the baby.” He ordered. “Charlotte is your top priority, do you understand?” 

The two creatures nodded simultaneously, determination set in their naturally adorable maws. 

“If anything happens, just bleat, and I’ll be back in the wink of an eye.” Lucifer’s wings extended and propelled him upward with a great stroke. 

The King of Hell disappeared through an enormous portal, sparking and swirling reddish-gold before vanishing behind him. 

*** Tag List: @crescent-z, @for-hearthand-home, @undertale-is-sansational, @loslox, @navierkalani, @yaimlight, @ivoryviness, @crystalplays28, @flowerempress, @wally-darling-hyperfixation, @altruisticradiodemon, @moonlight-readings, @halparkebitch, @charliecharlie65, @sockgoblin, @cocomollo, @caniseethefourthsword, @squeegeeclean, @crow-twink, @an-emovision, @marydragneell, @lafy-taffy, @fandom-imagines1, @loquacious-libra, @glowymxxn, @avadakadabra93, @froggybich, @hamthepan, @ukor02, @adaizel, @boogiemansbitch, @vinillies, @lbcreations-blog, @thesoundresoundsecho, @serenity-loves-red, @alientee, @aquaamythest96, @0strawberrysorbet0, @fluffy-koalala, @washeduphazbin, @rebecca-hvnstn, @velvette3, @kermitdafroggy, @wpdarlingpan, @apatcheworkofproblems,

[jjenthusee]

Racing Hearts Pt. 3

f1!driver!jason x reporter!reader

A/N: Another chapter, another story filled with jason todd 🤭 it makes me so happy to continue this au and to see my beautiful gremlins enjoying it as well 🥹 the comments for the tag list are so helpful (im new to that bear with me <3) but i love reading any comments about the story, any predictions your great minds have, or if you’re just looking forward to the next chapter :D so ENJOY and comment if your comfortable <3

See you in part 4 COMING SOON :))) also check out the masterlist for this series linked here <3

Tags: banter, agonizing fluff, hurt/comfort, strangers to friends to lovers, spice if u squint 👀

Word Count: 3.1k

Tag List: @jaybirdstreet @gallusstuff @meowkn @velvetberries @i0lovepink00 @rayaskoalaland @spidernuggets @janybabyy @deimks @yasmin-oviedo @bigraga-sk

yourmom34: Why am I kinda invested?

imjasonsrightleg: Bye, update me when they start dating

potatoislyfe: He has chemistry with EVERYONE

notrealroyharper: THAT SHOULD BE ME

bigbootylicious87: Is it just me or are they entirely different from that press conference???

justicefortacoman: I can’t believe Jason moved on from taco man :(

“I can’t believe this.” You said to yourself, setting down your phone to no longer read the comments.

Leaning forward until your arms rested on your knees as you sat on the couch.

You had completed one full interview with Jason. His management wanted to film it. A new press strategy to help their racers gain more popularity outside the track.

You had agreed.

Broadcast journalism had been an area of interest because of the age of the internet and how fast news can spread through social media.

Now they wanted you and Jason to interact.

Jason’s social media team had pitched that you two sit down, you ask him questions and Jason would be the charismatic man he was.

It was simple, something you had done with many athletes, but it was Jason. A man you had multiple meals with, volunteered with, and almost…nevermind.

You thought you masked it well, set personal away from professionalism, but you were clearly wrong from the comments on the video.

You had watched it on your phone, curiosity scratching at you when you cooked lunch. Then when you couldn’t take it, you pressed the play button.

You were in denial. Ever since you came back from your volunteer work on Jason’s motorcycle, you had tried to play everything off with as much nonchalance as possible.

You didn’t mention how close your faces were that day. He dropped you off after the work in Crime Alley. You waved goodnight.

You didn’t see him until you got the call from your company. The interview filmed, quickly edited, released and you continued to deny.

But how were you supposed to deny what you saw on the tiny phone screen. It was out in the open, the public knew, you knew.

Did Jason know?

Did he see what you denied to yourself?

Or maybe he was just too good at looking good with anyone?

His fan base even made a running joke to pretend he has chemistry with anyone he interacts with in public.

You were just the next contestant.

That had to be it.

jasonjustonechance51: Was Jason kinda…shy?

redhoodsgyatt: I’VE NEVER SEEN THAT FOINE MAN LAUGH LIKE THAT IM IN LOVE?

tortillagrease861: I don’t know who this beautiful man is but I need him.

redbulljasonismywater69: I was trying to gatekeep him, but I guess I can share cause everyone deserves to see this man smile

poopoobatman417: He is so boyfriend

You threw your phone back onto the couch cushion, reading anymore comments was not helping.

After calming down and a movie break, you checked Jason’s social media and Red Bull’s racing account. There were the usual clips, Roy and Jason being the most popular duo.

Multiple edits and clips of them doing miscellaneous things. It wasn’t that bad, maybe you weren’t his focus right now.

But you were conflicted, it was good if the video of the two of you went well. It was better than being popular from negativity.

You could live with this.

A notification popped up on the top of your screen, perfect font displaying “Mr. Todd has sent a message.”

Speak of the devil.

Mr. Todd: want anything?

You clicked on an image of a menu.

He always knew how to get you. A late night meal wouldn’t hurt.

You: Miss me already?

You: Combo, medium, sprite

Mr. Todd: kay

Mr. Todd: my place or yours

Oh no.

You had just come to terms with thinking you meant nothing to this man.

You watched three dots float at the bottom of the messages, anticipation eating at you.

Mr. Todd: couldn’t get enough of you after the interview

You needed to check yourself into the hospital at this rate.

Fuck read receipts, now you needed to respond.

You: bro I don’t know where u live

Mr. Todd: bro I can just tell u

You: bro my place

You’re an idiot.

Mr. Todd: Brok

You: brok?

Mr. Todd: bro + ok

You: return my food

Mr. Todd: too late I already left and the kind lady gave me a free drink

You: I hope u drop ur free drink

Mr. Todd: no sprite for u then

You: wait

You: the sprite is innocent

Mr. Todd: this hurts me more than it hurts u

You saw a picture appear in the messages. He was holding the cup of sprite over a familiar ledge. The ledge of your apartment building floor.

You grabbed your keys, pulled on some quick sneakers, haphazardly put on, laces loose. You raced out of your apartment, quickly locking the door and running down the hall.

You ran to see Jason near the open ledge, night air surrounding him. Seeing his face turn to you, a smile spreading on his face.

You ran to save your sprite from his evil hands.

“Aw, so excited to see me that you didn’t put on your shoes properly.” Jason quipped, letting you take the hostage from his hands.

After securing your drink, your turned around. Eyeing Jason from your side.

He waited, a soft look on his face.

“Well, are you coming?” You walked forward, small smile perfectly hidden from Jason’s view.

——

You had sat down in front of your TV, putting your drink on the coffee table. You grabbed the remote trying to browse through several movies.

Jason had followed you in through the front door, taking off his shoes as soon was he walked in. He slowly walked toward you, taking a good look around your apartment.

You tried not to look at him, choosing to focus on your TV screen as he surveyed your one-bedroom apartment.

As he slowly stepped, you decided to chance one look at him.

Your eyes shifted toward his tall figure, he was oddly focused on your window, set near the small dining table.

It was a last-minute decision after you realized the format of your living room and kitchen. You liked watching the outside as you ate.

“Welcome to my home. Sorry for the mess, I didn’t get the chance to clean up after you took my sprite hostage.” You leaned your head on your hand, resting yourself on the coffee table as you watched Jason.

“Don’t worry about it, also you should lock your window.” Jason spoke.

You glanced toward the object in question, the latch was undone when you opened it earlier that day. You must’ve forgotten. It was a similar bad habit as never locking your balcony door.

Who would climb through that? Well, besides Batman, you don’t expect any visitors.

“Oh, sometimes I forget. But let’s eat first.” You shrugged.

Jason set the food down next to you, you felt the warmth radiating from the bag.

“I got it, your food should be the one on top.” Jason eyed the window, walking to it, snapping the lock into place.

You gasped.

“You ordered the other meal I wanted to try!” You smiled in excitement.

Jason turned back to sit down next to you. Lazily leaning against the foot of the couch.

He raised an eyebrow at the sparkle in your eyes, a silent question obvious on your face.

“Wanna try a piece?” Jason asked, giving in to the longing look.

“Aw, thanks Mr. Todd.” You dug into the two meals in front of you.

Jason moved to sit closer to you. Your excitement over the food distracting you, delaying your nervousness and your earlier debate with yourself.

As you took a bite, happy with the combination, you clicked on a movie. Letting it play as you and Jason ate.

“I thought you were kidding when you asked me if I liked the movie Cars.” Jason said in disbelief as he watched.

“It was for the interview…and I was genuinely curious.” You kept your eyes on the screen.

“Sweetheart, I don’t race in NASCAR. You know that.” Jason looked at you, astonished.

“I know, I think it’s hilarious.” You flatly said, focused on the movie in front of you. “You give off Lightning McQueen vibes.”

Jason nearly choked on his food.

“I feel like I should be offended.” Jason, stunned, looked at you.

You ignored him, letting him fret about your words as you finished your meal.

After Jason gave in and continued to watch the movie with you, you had cleaned up and the two of you moved onto the actual couch.

The soft cushions letting you sink in, sinking toward Jason who also dipped the couch. Letting a blanket droop over your legs.

He had taken his hoodie off, throwing it over a dining chair. Jason was clearly comfy for the night, in sweatpants and a t-shirt that hugged him nicely.

You were content letting your body relax. Watching animated cars as Jason, the fastest formula 1 driver, sat near you in your apartment.

With a full stomach and in pajamas.

Crazy how things worked out.

You smiled at your realization.

Your eyes felt heavy, the couch warm next to Jason.

Jason mindlessly watched the movie, pouting a little that he couldn’t believe that you thought of him like the red car.

Then he felt your weight on his shoulder.

He glanced to his side, seeing the top of your head. His heart raced. You had fallen asleep, a nice weight to his shoulder.

He saw your eyelashes, beautifully laid flat onto your cheeks as you gave into your sleepiness.

Call him a bad man, but he leaned his head on top of yours. Nuzzling into you.

You were probably going to wake up flustered, but he enjoyed making you nervous.

Seeing your ears going perfectly red.

Jason didn’t know what color he liked, he ended up with many things, falling into the rhythm of going with the flow. His racing career, his instincts to ask his manager to set up an interview with the talkative reporter, continuing to get lunch with you.

Now he was here, feeding you, sitting on your couch.

Getting more infatuated with the lil’ reporter he’s growing close to.

He learned something new today.

He realized his favorite color was the shade of your flustered ears.

——

You were stirring awake, your eyes slowly blinking into the faint light from the floor lamp. Majority of the darkness still around you.

You must have fallen asleep.

But how could you resist? It was warm around you.

As your consciousness entered your mind, you realized a weight around you. Fitted loosely around your waist, a soft fabric touching your face, slow even breaths slightly moving the hairs on your head.

Your eyes widened.

Jason was curled around you. At some point in between your nap, you and Jason had laid on the couch. Fully extending your bodies, falling into each other to fit perfectly into the soft cushions.

Oh no. You stiffened.

Jason started to stir awake, instinctually feeling the heightened panic from you next to him.

He slightly stretched his body, taking a deep inhale before releasing it, then slowly opening his eyes to look down at you. Your big eyes meeting his.

He sleepily smiled, pulling his arm around you closer to him. Somehow managing to get you even closer to him.

You felt his heartbeat through his shirt.

A lovely feeling.

“Jason.” You spoke into his t-shirt.

“Hm?” Jason grumbled, trying to wake up, but refusing.

“I think you accidentally fell asleep.” You moved your head, so your words weren’t mumbled into his body.

“I was going to leave.” Jason yawned. “You fell asleep and I laid you down on the couch, but you grabbed my shirt.” He smirked, eyes closed.

You moved your head, raising your chin toward Jason’s head above yours.

Your faces more parallel.

“What do you mean?” You quietly asked him, clearly surprised by the current situation, but still mindful of the sleepy man.

“You wouldn’t let go of me, so I tried sitting on the edge of the couch, but your grip never loosened. Then you kept tugging, so I finally laid down.” Jason continued to explain with his eyes closed, trying to keep his fatigue. “You have a deadly drip by the way.”

“I’m sorry.” You sighed.

“Why do you always do that?” He asked confused.

“Do what?”

“You always back away every time I get closer.” Jason’s eyebrows lowered, slight frustration in his tone. He was very expressive despite his eyes still closed.

“I don’t do that.”

“You were about to.” Jason pouted.

“I’m still laying next to you, I’m not backing away.” You retorted.

“You know that’s not what I meant. I can feel your negativity surrounding you.”

“Come on…I just,” You hesitated. “I just don’t want to bother you, to possibly cause a misunderstanding.”

Jason’s eyes opened, full seriousness in his gaze.

“What if I want you to bother me.” He directly told you, eyes never leaving yours.

Your faces nearly touching, the tips of your ears reddening. Curse your blood flow.

“I don’t understand.” You stammered, scared to peak into the direction this was going.

“I want to bother your life and I want you to bother mine. You make me feel alive because I want to talk to you, even when you don’t want to talk, I still want your time.” Jason directly told you.

You didn’t know what to say. Your heart racing as he continued to hold you, your faces close to one another, legs intertwined. His voice admitting what you’ve been scared to say.

It was out in the open. Clear as day.

Maybe it was meant to be this simple.

You were just too anxious and stubborn to call it what it was.

You kept Jason’s stare, his determination never faltering.

You pulled your hand from in between your bodies, releasing it from the depths of the blanket. You caressed his face, smoothing out the lines in between his eyebrows, softening his expression.

You smiled at your ability to control this man.

Maybe to the public he was rowdy, uncontrollable. But when you faced him, he was ready to come running when you held out a hand, waiting to rest his face in it.

He waited for your touch, your words, your quick glances.

You were the same. Ready to touch him, sing his name, memorize his smile.

You could barely contain yourself.

You leaned forward, kissing the man you longed for.

Your very first initiation towards him. No longer backing away.

You gently pressed into him. Both of your eyes closed, focusing on blurred touches of skin.

You want to touch him. You want more.

You rubbed where the back of his head met his neck, feeling the prick of his hair on your fingers. Your thumb rubbing behind his ear.

Jason matched you, letting feeling take over him.

He gripped your jaw, stretching your neck, adding another layer of desperation to your kiss.

Jason selfishly took your shared breaths.

When he wasn’t satisfied with that he moved to lean himself over you, but you put a hand to his chest.

Stopping him.

In his confusion, eyes glossed over, he only looked at you, his mind trying to catch up.

You ended up rolling him over, your body laid on top of his, Jason laid flat on his back. He reached up to cup his hands to your face.

You leaned down, deepening the kiss.

You had no reason to hold back. If it was this simple to be with Jason, you wanted to waste no more time on what ifs.

You were comfortable, letting your body fall onto Jason’s solid body. You wanted to feel more of him.

You readjusted yourself, straddling his waist near the waist band of his sweatpants. Jason panting, his breaths haggard.

You sat up fully, taking in the full image of him. It was beautiful.

“You’re gorgeous.” Jason breathed, in awe.

He gripped the sides of your waist, rubbing through your shirt.

Despite never removing any clothes, you were just as worked up.

You panted.

You internally thanked your unconscious self for keeping a death grip on this man.

You leaned down, nipping at Jason’s neck.

A sweet melody filled with Jason’s voice gasping. You felt every breath and vibration as you focused on his neck.

Letting yourself mark him just above his collarbone.

You looked down, hazily rating your work.

Jason reached up and rubbed your cheek. His soft touch contrasting your desperation.

The rising sun, letting in a soft glow through the large window near your dining table.

What a great way to start your morning.

You didn’t wake up this early, but to do this with Jason, you might have to start changing your routine.

Jason laid you back down to lean on top of him, He breathed into your neck as he held you close to him.

His large hands holding the back of your head, rubbing small circles.

“I told you I’m not backing away.” You smiled into Jason’s hair.

“I believe you now.” Jason chuckled, content in the comforting weight of you.

——

After another quick nap, you and Jason woke up, both of your hairs in a mess.

You were groggy, trying to help yourself to a cup of anything this morning, tea or coffee.

You watched Jason from your kitchen counter, he was learning where everything was. Memorizing the cabinets and drawers.

His broad back, a great view in your kitchen.

Your poor dining table window falling to second place.

You were in a daze watching his shoulders flex through the fabric of his shirt. It was like a switch flipped in you.

You shook your head, focusing back on the contents of your cup.

Jason made a cup of coffee, finally facing you. Leaning on the opposite counter.

Your eyes lowered to his stretched-out t-shirt around his neck.

You found what you were looking for, a purple blemish on his collarbone.

What a great morning.

Jason caught wind of your stare. Setting his cup down, caving you in-between his arms as he leaned on your counter.

It’s like you were made to be in his arms.

You giggled, trying to continue sipping on your cup. Letting Jason kiss around any opening of your face that wasn’t on the cup.

He was enjoying the moment, taking his time until you wanted to let him break.

When you had enough of the tickling sensation, you lifted your chin, letting Jason fully take your mouth.

The taste of coffee flooding you.

After your morning shenanigans in the kitchen, you spent the rest of the morning lounging, stealing kisses, possibly adding another blemish to match the other one.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

aita for dedicating a trashy smut fic to a guest commenter who was gatekeeping a fandom?

so i have been working on my pet project crossover fic for about 3 months, and i got the courage to post the first chapter about a week ago. The very first comment was from this guest, accusing me on not knowing the lore of one of the fandoms. I was really disheartened and offended, so I responded telling him to chill out because it was chapter one of a crossover. He proceeds to tell me that he "has to tell them to get the f out of the fandom" when he finds a fic that doesnt have correct lore. I called him a gatekeeping bully and then proceeded to dedicate a crappy, very lore inaccurate, smut fic to him bc he was being a gatekeeping asshole. he has now been leaving comments on that one telling me that i should take my fics down and leave the fandom, calling me a pedo and a "lazy bum" because I was defending both my and everyone else's rights to write crappy fanfic

am i the asshole here?

What are these acronyms?

[shiftingdiariesofophelia]

i spend so much energy trying to make/find fun creative things to add to my scripts and i’m not gonna gatekeep, so here’s some of the funniest/weirdest/lowkey best things i’ve added to any of my scripts (that I haven’t talked much about before):

-I can always find things I need.

-Santa is real

-People just??? trust me??? I could genuinely tell someone that world war two was between the australians and canadians and they’d just be like yeah that checks out

-I don’t have allergies bc i hate sneezing

-Every pair of shoes I own are comfy as hell

-My hair can’t get knotted/tangled

-no periods because f that for real

-I always win/I’m naturally good at card and board games.

-Babies/Animals like me and will stop crying/whining/etc. when i’m around.

-cigarettes taste good and aren’t bad for you. i wanna be lana del rey coded so bad i guess

-i will literally never be in a situation where i have to kill someone. (useful for more dangerous drs!!!)

-random beef with the funniest character imaginable. hp dr? me and susan bones are arch enemies. fame dr? me and pete davidson indirect tweet each other all the time complaining. avengers dr? me and the ancient one are fist fighting in the mirror dimension idc

-indestructible things. i am clumsy and stupid i need this in every dr.

-pages don’t rip out of notebooks on accident (this has been the bane of my existence since 9 years old)

-I always have a hair tie when i need one. because you think you won’t need one, and then the second you don’t have it, you need it.

-people don’t smell. lifesaver.

-*random character* knows i shifted but can’t do a goddamn thing about it/doesn’t care and just goes with it. my favorite examples are Shane Dawson (fame dr) and Professor Trelawny (HP dr)

-i can’t get hurt in stupid ways (stubbing toe, tripping, etc.)

-if someone tries to shoot me the gun will literally fly out of their hand lmao (again, useful for dangerous drs)

-i know everyone’s phone passwords

-infinite toilet paper (for dystopia/woods/etc. drs, but could just be useful every day tbh.)

-i’ve always got some kind of out of pocket one liner for when the situation is too awkward

-tattoos don’t hurt (i am a pussy)

-adding random side characters/completely new mfers to my scripts because if i’m constantly around these fine ass bitches i know everything about i might actually have a heart attack

-when someone’s mean to me they get some form of karma in the next 24 hours directly related to how mean they were. call me stupid? enjoy tripping up the stairs. push me over? i hope you enjoy biting into a sandwich only to find the bread is moldy.

there’s probably more but this is just a short list of the first ones i could think of

[narizaki]

remember summer days   tsukishima kei x reader

―   tags   fluff,  established relationship,   pre-timeskip & timeskip kei,   gn reader

―   notes   i thought of this randomly,   forgive any grammar mistakes & ooc characters, wc is around 900, i am only capable of writing fluff, there's like one cuss word, ik remember summer days is from the 80s don't mind

it was on a warm summer day when you found out tsukishima kei — the love of your life, resident intimidating giant with a terrible resting bitch face — listened to 90’s japanese city pop.

out of anything that could be playing in those white sony headphones of his, you think anri and miki matsubara were probably at the bottom of the list. and, boy, did you have a field day when you found out.

“aww, kei! that’s so cute! i would’ve never thought you’d listened to this kind of music,” you cooed, scrolling through his extensive playlist. you recognized various artists, all well-known for their songs in the city pop genre, in addition to a plethora of other titles. beside you, kei was fuming. the tips of his ears were burning a red so bright that he couldn’t even blame it on the heat. he’d given up his attempts to retrieve his phone long ago, ultimately deciding to deal with the embarrassment and allow you to thumb through his music account. 

had it not been for the sheer amount of boredom you were experiencing that day, you’d never would have found out about kei’s taste in music. having left his unlocked phone on his desk while he ventured downstairs to find something cold for the two of you to eat, you couldn’t deny your curiosity about his music taste. more often than not, kei would have his headphones plugged into his phone — even when you’d first met him, he had them on. when you asked why he always had them on, he bluntly responded that they drowned out any bothersome noises with something more tolerable. 

however, whenever you asked what he was listening to, he’d brush you off. if you were to count on both hands and feet the number of times he’d simply scoffed at your questioning, telling you that it wasn’t any of your business, you think you’d run out before you even got halfway through. the curiosity was killing you, which is why you took the first opportunity you had to figure out what was so special about his music. there had to be something to it that made him inclined to practically gatekeep it from his own partner.

and to find out it was because he was embarrassed by it? you thought you were on cloud 9.

“shut up,” he grumbled, “it’s not that interesting.” 

your only response was to giggle, clicking on one of the songs you knew — remember summer days by anri. the smooth introduction of the song reverberated throughout kei’s room, and you gently tossed his phone off to the side of his bed. you stood from your seated position on your boyfriend’s bed, nudging his knees apart with your own to stand between them. while quietly humming the song, you took kei’s face into your hands, thumbs running over the apples of his cheeks.

“i know,” you replied, smiling down at his flushed face. it was a rarity he ever got close to being embarrassed, so you made sure to savor his expression. “just thought it was funny that you were hiding this from me for so long.”

“i wasn’t hiding anything from you.” he mumbled. he wasn’t making eye contact with you, but his hands came to rest on your hips anyway. he gave them an unconscious squeeze, pulling you closer to him. you could only laugh as the song continued, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“sure.”

“hey, (name),” hinata calls out. you turn to the orange-haired opposite hitter, prompting him to continue. “did you ever figure out what stingy-shima over here listens to? he always had his headphones in during highschool, but never, ever, told us what was playing in them!”

the sudden question causes you to burst out laughing, and a glance around the room tells you that everyone else is as interested. who knew those mysterious headphones of his racked up this much attention? even kageyama was watching intently!

you feel kei tense up from beside you, a harsh squeeze to your hand serving as a silent warning. don’t say anything. he’s glaring daggers at you, and you don’t doubt that he’s planning out hinata’s demise in his mind.

you almost feel bad. you consider waving off hinata’s question, brushing it off with another laugh. maybe saying something along the lines of oh, just podcasts, or whatever’s on the radio. 

but, you decide you don’t feel bad enough, so despite the burning sensation at the back of your head, a teasing grin breaks out on your face.

“well, hinata, if you really wanted to know, kei likes to listen to —”

“ah, would you look at that,” kei cuts you off mid-sentence. “it's getting pretty late, i think it’s time for us to go now. thank you all for tonight, we'll see you guys around.” he finishes, speaking uncharacteristically fast. there’s a nervous lilt to his voice that makes you cackle, shoulders shaking and tears threatening to pool in your eyes. he’s tossing a few yen onto the table to pay for your shares of food, before tugging on your arm and pulling you out of the restaurant.

once the two of you are walking back to his car, he’s grumbling about how much he hates that dumbass hinata and how he’ll definitely be paying for asking that. you take advantage of his distracted and irritated state to sneak the professional volleyball player a text while you enter kei's car.

to hinata: he likes listening to 90s city pop. think stay with me by miki matsubara.

from hinata: NO WAY

to hinata: yes way. 

to hinata: btw, if he kills me, it’s ur fault.

from hinata: WHAT NO

you snicker from the passenger seat, prompting your fiancé to side-eye you. in response, you entwine your hands, the sound of anri’s remember summer days filling your ears. 

[kaeyacollection]

Who's ready for my Master Gaslight Gatekeep Girlboss Crepus Theory!!

I originally posted this over at Hoyolab and people there seemed to really like my favorite joke theory that Crepus just tries to gaslight the whole of Mondstadt right after obtaining Kaeya

Majority of this will be the same but with little tweaks for the wonderful tumblr audience

This joke stems from Kaeya's introduction:

and the use of the word "rumored"

Cause it's not like it said beyond Teyvat or the seven nations just Mondstadt

And I mean like c'mon how many families are living off the grid in Mondstadt

(Actually... Don't answer that I forgot Glory's boyfriend is just

Out there in the bush with Razor...)

Initially I had the idea of Crepus walking around the markets one day carrying Kaeya with Diluc beside him running into Varka who asks:

"Who's the boy?"

"You mean my son?"

"Not Diluc the boy you're carrying"

"I have two sons? You know this??"

But then the Caribert quest came out mentioning Kaeya ran away from home near immediately and was dragged home by Crepus just as fast and it became even funnier

Cause imagine you're by the docks one day and richest man in town gets off the boat with no cargo but instead a tiny child you may not have seen before that Crepus seems to be very cross with at the moment and threatening to turn him into a leash kid if he runs off again

In a small town that loves gossip do you know how fast that information is spreading? Cause I do and Varka's knocking on Crepus's door 30 minutes later like:

"Is this what we're doing? We're just taking kids now?"

Both paths lead to Varka asking where Kaeya comes from and getting hit with a

"I think you're a bit too old to still be confused about the birds and the bees Varka"

Varka getting frustrated to the point he just starts demanding Kaeya tell him what's up

Love to see him following in his fathers footsteps of stressing Varka the fuck out

And upon hearing how his birth father left for juice and didn't return Varka went

"Good! That was ALL I needed to know!!"

Follow ups on if his father intended to abandon him or got lost in the storm and needed a search party?

Don't care!! You weren't kidnapped!!

Welcome to the knights! 🤝

Which bringing it back to it only being a rumor

In a town of alcoholics, who's gonna call out the one guy with the winery?

Here's some add ons that got sparked from the comment section 😘

Bonus panels would have included Varka showing up with Rosaria one day mimicking Crepus about "wHaT you ForGot I haD a Kid" sparking a trend within the community of just adopting random children to the point posters are made saying "In Barbatos name: See a child Take a child"

Alice seeing it and pulling a "when in rome" tucking both Albedo and Diluc(who is yelling he is an adult) under her arms and telling Klee if she ever sees someone in need of a mom let her know she'll send over the paperwork right away

And then the last bonus: Venti wakes up, walks in through the gate while playing a tune, and stops when he sees the poster, not sure if he needs to start yet another revolution, or if this one is fine actually

I imagine the posters had to be taken down because visitors were losing their kids left and right and the solution of parents pinning a note saying "not dead & still want custody" to their kids shirt didn't catch on but the saying still lives strong in the hearts of Mondstadt's citizens I mean look Bennett and his 27 dads Mondstadt may have a lot of orphans but the demand is even higher

Comment on original post:

"I have a headcanon where Kaeya fooled first Crepus, then the rest of Mondstadt but.this is too funny!! I want to see this happening!"

Which prompted one of my new favorite lines at the end:

"Wait by fool Crepus first do you mean like Crepus finding him out in the storm bringing him inside to ask him where he lives and Kaeya's just

"? I live here? You adopted me? Are you feeling okay?"

Cause I'm absolutely cry laughing over this that's so good but that also means when Kaeya runs away Crepus is just

"hey no no l'm not misplacing you a second time come home" "