#hot ethiopian men

[girlactionfigure]

Shoshanna Keats Jaskoll

I see so much vilification of IDF soldiers, whether it's bc ppl don't understand war or they find stupid outliers making videos of themselves being idiots, or bc they take things out of context like video from attempted stabbings but only show the response. But heres what I know 

The soldiers in Gaza are made up of young men married just a few weeks, fathers who race btwn battles with terrorists to be with their wives for birth of their child, to hold them a few precious days and go back into battle to fight for their future. Others are CEOs or comedians 

business owners or teachers, men with kids & a wife at home. Some haven't yet gone to college or found a spouse. They are the pride and joy of their parents who wait anxiously for them to come home. They fight a war they did not ask for but one in which they play a pivotal role 

They watch their brothers die in front of them, they get wounded for life, traumatized by what they've seen and endured. And yet they go back sometimes after being wounded bc they are fighting for this nation, for this people, who have nowhere else to go & only want to live 

Tens of thousands of parents and wives at live in constant anxiety, petrified of every knock at the door, of every phone call. Bc each one might tell them that they're beloved has fallen in battle. Already, events for pregnant wives of fallen soldiers have been held. 

Young people of every heritage have fallen. From Ethiopian to Russian, from Druze to German Sometimes this country is a hot mess. I guess that's what happens when you bring home a people exiled for 2,000 years to all corners of the Earth. It's never happened before 

Never before has an oppressed & exiled people come back to it's homeland to meld with those who remained -yet lived under foreign rule -reignites its language, its land, its land-based rituals, all while fighting for its existence against those who believe it should have none 

And we got a lot of things wrong, & we make a lot of stupid mistakes. But we also know how to thrive, bc if we've learned one thing in 2000 years of exile it's take what you can get and build with it. Do not wait for handouts or the good graces of others, build, create, thrive 

And we learned sacrifice. Memorial Day isn't sales at the mall & BBQs, its a national day of mourning every fallen soldier is listed, graves are visited, their sacrifice honored. The soldiers who fight know they fight for their families, their people, their homes, their country 

When you see pictures of them in Gaza they aren't gleeful over destruction, they aren't happy abt war, they are proud to be defending their families against the fcking terrorists who ripped apart families, slaughtered generations, tried to destroy us & want to do it again & again 

@skjask

[ccoocckk]

Biggest temptations:

- Grindr massage

- vegan pizza and wings

- Indian entree, samosas, and garlic naan

- Ethiopian food

- big fat precummy dick that cums from head

- trance parties I’d have to take a nine hour bus ride for

- shirtless muscly men running

- bubble butt men in ass-hugging pants or shorts

- hot guys who skip deodorant and stand close to me and raise or move their arms a lot

- overpriced things I don’t need

- quitting grad school and going into a trade and becoming trade

- genuinely beautifully flipping houses

[nekrophoria]

OC Questionnaire - Lyall

I was tagged ages ago by @bool-prop and @drawing-way-outside-the-lines (Thank you 💙)

Since you both went with Wolf-ish characters I went with my own kinda sorta not really wolf guy

Name: Lyall

Nickname:

father sometimes, somewhat sarcastically by Alev

other than that nothing, not many people he knows would really dare to give him nicknames

Gender: Male

Star Sign: Pisces

Height: 1.89

Orientation: technically pansexual with a preference for men, but he isn't even aware pansexuality is a thing so he sees himself as somewhere between gay and bi. Eitherway though he's more into guys.

Nationality/ Ethnicity: Scottish. And Swedish on his mom's side, but he was born and raised in Scotland. He's also got Ethiopian heritage from his maternal grandmother. But he doesn't actually know that.

Favourite Fruit: probably apples if he had to pick

Favourite Season: he's got a love hate relationship with winter, loves it for aesthetic reasons, hates it for pragmatic reasons

Favourite Flower: he's not really the flower type, but seeing early bloomers of any kind would always put him in a good mood as a kid so he'd probably go with those

Favourite Scent:

burning wood

gas station petrol (he has no idea why but he loves that smell)

cold air at night

Coffee, Tea or Hot Chocolate: preferably Tea, or Coffee

Average hours of sleep: Between 2 and 15? Honestly it's hard to say cuz it really switches depending on how he's feeling. He either barely sleeps at all or goes into a coma for a bit.

Dogs or Cats: He doesn't mind either, however he's got a healthy amount of caution when it comes to big dogs

Dream trip: not really a priority, nor something he's ever really thought about tbh

Number of blankets: usually 2, that he tends to get rid of one by one through the night

Random fact: I recently watched this video with Gerard Butler on Scottish slang and now I can't help but imagine Lyall to kinda sound like him xD

Which gets even better after watching Phantom Of The Opera. But to be honest I could totally imagine Lyall as the Phantom, he's definitely got the theatricalism for that.

[dodger-chan]

So what are you up to these days? Any good books? Some art project? New or old friends in the vicinity? I bought a colouring book for watercolours so I can practice a bit without the hassle of creating a drawing and I am very happy about it! Also took the chance to see a couple of friends when I went to an interpreting job last week and it was very nice. We had dinner at a Ethiopian restaurant! Do recommend if you like hot and spicy food :)

I love Ethiopian food! We used to live in an area with a large Ethiopian immigrant population and thus multiple good Ethiopian restaurants. We can still get good Ethiopian food if we take the metro into DC, but if we want food in walking distance it's mostly pizza places and steak houses.

Unfortunately, I've had a really nasty cold for a bit (and two negative COVID tests, so it's probably just a cold) that has drained a lot of my energy for creative projects. No art or crafts and very little writing. Not much reading either, but I have been keeping up with Moby Dick (that book is something) and Journey to the West.

But I did luck out with the timing of feeling exhausted, because there's been a women's hockey tournament and it's been televised. Rest, hot tea, and three hockey games a day for the last week or so. Semifinals are tomorrow: US plays Finland at 3pm and then Canada plays Czechia at 7pm. Finals are on Sunday. Ice hockey is just such a beautiful sport to watch, and I think the women's game has a much better flow than the men's game does. And once the tournament ends, the women's league will start up again.

Seeing friends is fun. One of my old college friends will be in town on Saturday, so he and I are going out to lunch.

[catchtraining]

Coffee: A Cultural Icon!

Do you LOVE coffee?

A daily morning wake-up ritual, a mid-afternoon pick-me-up jolt, or savouring gourmet blends with friends: coffee is a cultural icon all over the world.

For coffee lovers, there is little that’s worse than a bad cup of coffee – most of us would rather go without it than drink a substandard cup.

Australia is known for serving some of the very best coffee globally.

With the right barista training, you too can actively participate in our coffee culture and make the perfect cup of Espresso, Café Latte, Vienna, Cappucino, Macchiato, and more!

What is Coffee Culture?

Coffea is a type of small flowering shrub or tree that is native to tropical Asia and tropical and southern Africa. The seeds are called coffee beans, and those of some species of coffee plants are used to flavour beverages and other food products.

The term “coffee culture” refers to the traditions and social behaviours that inform how we consume coffee and exhibit its social influence all over the world.

A (Very) Brief History of Coffee

The rich history of coffee, from the discovery of what could be done with the coffee bean to its cultural significance today, is fascinating.

In a nutshell:

Coffee may be what is referred to in Homer’s 8th century B.C. The Odyssey as a “magical potion”.

The first cup of coffee: according to legend, an Ethiopian goat herder named Kaldi noticed that his flock became energised after eating berries from a certain bush; he tried it himself and was exhilarated by the effect. He brought the berries to a monk, who threw them onto the fire in disgust, but the captivating aroma that ensued brought others in the monastery to investigate. The roasted beans were collected, ground, and dissolved in hot water for drinking.

We know that the human consumption of coffee dates back at least as far as the 9th The Oromo tribe of Ethiopia made food from roasted coffee beans, butter, and salt.

By the 15th century (1400s) coffee was known in Mecca and had been imported from Ethiopia to Yemen by Somali merchants. It initially spread from what is now Yemen via Mecca and Medina to Cairo, Damascus, Aleppo, Baghdad, and Constantinople (Istanbul).

A writer reported in 1587 that the Mufti of Aden, first known to have adopted the regular use of coffee around 1454, found that “it drove away fatigue and lethargy … brought to the body a certain sprightliness and vigour”.

Many early proponents of coffee, especially Islamic science and medicine practitioners, promoted the beverage as beneficial and stimulating for the mind while effectively overcoming the allure of hashish and alcohol. At the same time, coffee was used to enhance concentration during prayer in Sufi monasteries. It helped Islamic consumers fast during the day and remain awake at night during Ramadan – and legend had it that the archangel Gabriel gifted it to humans as a replacement for forbidden wine.

Coffee consumption was forbidden in 1511 in Mecca by orthodox imams due to its stimulating effects. This was overturned in 1524 but coffee was similarly forbidden in Cairo in 1532. In the centuries that followed it was banned for some time by the Ethiopian Orthodox Church. Everywhere it was consumed, it became a controversial topic and was seen by many as taboo. It was widely prohibited at times, and even taxed to prevent the unemployed and bureaucrats from being able to consume it.

The first recorded public coffee house was located in Arabia (modern-day Yemen) in the 15th Here, men would gather to drink coffee while they conversed, enjoyed music, and played games.

In the early 1500s, coffee consumption spread to the Levant (present-day Syria, Jordan, Lebanon, Turkey, Israel, Palestinian Territories, Greece, and Cyprus). It became a major key to the Red Sea region’s economy from the 1400s to the 1600s. Public coffee houses spread from Arabia to Egypt, Turkey, and later India, the East Indies, Europe, and elsewhere in the world.

Central and Eastern Europeans were introduced to coffee from the Ottoman Empire (Modern Turkey). Coffee houses became established in Western Europe by late in the 17th century, and the beverage was particularly popular in England, Holland, and what is now Germany. By 1675 there were more than 3,000 public coffee houses in England, and these became popular gathering places for political and religious discussions. Charles II tried to dissolve the presence of these establishments due to their potential for encouraging subversive practices in 1670.

Coffee was believed by many in the 1600s and 1700s to have medicinal benefits, including as a cure for nervous disorders, upset stomach, headaches, dizziness, and more. Some women (who were banned from many coffee houses) petitioned against its use, claiming it made their husbands impotent!

Coffee beans and seedlings were exported by the Dutch to the Americas via Martinique in 1720. These sprouted more than 18,000 trees and coffee plantations spread to other Caribbean islands and Mexico. In 1788, Saint-Domingue in the Caribbean supplied half of the world’s coffee beans.

By the 1800s, the Italian love affair with coffee was well established, having been first introduced to the region via trade in Venice, and wealthy Venetians, despite being charged heavily for coffee, became enthralled by it. Soon, spectacular coffee houses were built for the public to enjoy this drink and, to this day, the famous Caffé Zucca in Milan (dating from 1867) remains open as a café. The espresso was invented in 1901 by Luigi Bezzera of Milan.

By 1852, Brazil was the largest producer of coffee and this is still the case. Today, the other major players in coffee production are Vietnam, Colombia, Ivory Coast, and Ethiopia.

Coffee has since spread all over the world. In Australia, coffee “palaces” began to pop up in Melbourne in the 1880s. The first espresso machine appeared in Melbourne’s Café Florentino in the 1930s.

Australia’s wider appreciation for coffee grew dramatically after World War II, very much influenced by the large intake of Italian immigrants who made Australia their home and brought with them coffee machines. This provided Australians with superior espresso coffee.

To this day, most Australians tend to prefer to drink quality coffee or none at all. Unlike the US tendency to drink large cups of bitter, watery drip coffee, Australians favour espresso-style, individually-made cups of coffee that are smaller in size – but stronger and smoother in taste.

Make Amazing Coffee – Train to Be a Barista at Catch Training!

Sydney Registered Training Organisation Catch Training is delighted to offer several barista courses. From getting you started on your journey to working as a barista (or simply having the skills to make a professional-level cup of coffee at home!) to advanced techniques needed for working in high-end hospitality venues, we provide it all.

Our Sydney Barista Course options include:

Barista Crash Course

Advanced Barista

Latte Art

Barista Crash & Latte Art Combo

Barista Crash & Advanced Barista Combo

Barista Crash, Latte Art, & Advanced Barista Combo

RSA-RCG-Barista Crash Combo

RSA-RCG-Barista Crash-Latte Art Combo

Our barista training is conducted at Catch Training’s centres at Blacktown, Campbelltown, St Mary’s, and the Hills District.

Learn the art of making gold-standard coffee and make your own mark on our coffee culture!

[mechanicalorgan]

Israel kidnaps hostages from West Bank (Not Gaza, fucking West Bank) and starve them. They make prisons and sodomise Palestinians to death with hot metal rods, admittedly rape Palestinan women and children, cut off their food aid that they knew would go to their ‘precious’ hostages. KILLED 41 OF THEIR OWN HOSTAGES, USED BODIES AS HUMAN SHIELDS, BOMBED HOSPITALS, SCHOOLS, REFUGEE CAMPS. THEY LIED ABOUT OCTOBER 7 RAPES, THEY LIED ABOUT EVERYTHING. IT’S BEEN ALMOST 75 YEARS, OF COURSE PALESTINANS ARE GOING TO GET SICK OF YOUR OCCUPATION.

ZIONISTS ARE MAJORITY NOT EVEN JEWISH, YET DEFEND THE STATEMENT THAT ZIONISM AND JUDAISM ARE THE SAME. NO. ZIONISM GOES AGAINST THE TORAH. ZIONISM KILLS OTHER JEWS, ZIONISM DIRECTLY DISREGARDS THE TORAH. ISRAEL HAS, AND ALWAYS WILL BE, A PIECE OF THE LIVING HISTORY OF COLONIALISM. THE BRITISH CREATED THE “TWO STATE”, BUT WHAT GOOD HAVE THE BRITS DONE? “Oh, but the Kingdom of Judea” During the Roman empire, Both Palestine and Israelites would stay in that land, but with a shared territory. They didn’t bomb and kill each other, they paud taxes under the safety of the Romans. Actually, a lot of the Israelis nowadays, aren’t even true ‘semites’. Semites meaning native to the land of Palestine, but.. huh.. wow, a TON and by a ton I mean over 60% of these Israelis are not semites. Palestinans are. The Zionist Israelis that argue god gave them that land- So did Allah to Palestinans. Jesus came from fucking Palestine, for christs sake. God is not a realtor, and your argument is bullshit. This isn’t church, this is real life, and real people you kill in the name of “Jewish safety”. Then how come you killed Iraqi Jews? How come you killed Ethiopian Jews? How come you matyr children, women and men, in FUCKING LEBANON? IN SYRIA? THATS NOT PALESTINE, THATS NOT HAMAS. I WOULD RATHER BE TOLD I’M SUPPORT HAMAS THAN EVER SUPPORTING A COLONIAL OUTPOST MADE IN BLOODHSED AND WAR CRIMES. EAT MY COMMIE ASS ISRAEL.

[watsonsauce-blog]

Minding Your Manners - Cyber Dating Etiquette

Minding Your Manners – Cyber Dating Etiquette

These days, people are logging on to the Web for everything from banking and business to shopping and love, and with this surge in online activity, we’ve seen a whole new code of manners emerge. Social etiquette or “Netiquette” has been particularly important at online personals sites, where more and more people are going every day to look for love. Just like in any social circle the world over,…

[globalguys]

🇪🇹 Ethiopia - Fikru Teferra, footballer

[lydibee]

Sugar Mummies Kenya, Toyboy Hook Up

Sugar mummies in Kenya especially Nairobi, here is your chance to feel young again. Are you are looking for a younger man who is going to make you love life better? Why be left out when men your age are after younger girls?

I know how hard it may be for you to meet the person you need. While there may be many willing Toyboys out there, it may be hard to find them. This case applies to Toyboys, It…

[xandermaxim]

Sugar Mummies Kenya, Toyboy Hook Up

Sugar mummies in Kenya especially Nairobi, here is your chance to feel young again. Are you are looking for a younger man who is going to make you love life better? Why be left out when men your age are after younger girls?

I know how hard it may be for you to meet the person you need. While there may be many willing Toyboys out there, it may be hard to find them. This case applies to Toyboys, It…

[triplecosmic]

Sugar Mummies Kenya, Toyboy Hook Up

Sugar mummies in Kenya especially Nairobi, here is your chance to feel young again. Are you are looking for a younger man who is going to make you love life better? Why be left out when men your age are after younger girls?

I know how hard it may be for you to meet the person you need. While there may be many willing Toyboys out there, it may be hard to find them. This case applies to Toyboys, It…

[tabitha2]

Embrace your inner woman. You were born with her inside of you. Embrace her. You were born her. Born as her inside. Embrace your true roots

You are a tribal girl. You’re inner-city too. This is your tradition and your only real culture. You are an African mixed up with slave Amerika strange

Believing in all the things you were told by your mama and Father and aunts and everyone. You are superstitious, faithful, devout, trusting—

amen. You love to agree. To just nod and smile. To accept. To surrender, submit, love, please, serve, and obey. To be a good girl.

You are a projects girl. Dress appropriately. Be eye candy. Hootchie not bougy. Ratchet. Ghetto. You are so low-class and you love being trash. Love skintight clothing and being hot.

You cannot believe what is done when you see yourself, feel yourself, hear yourself. We have changed your name your hairstyle your skin color your IQ your background. And made it permanent, real, all the way back, and forever. Now everyone will see you as only the ghetto Black woman you had dreamed of. Just her. Ndele. Ndele Yejide Abimbola. Like you come from Deepest Darkest Africa. And your last name is Abimbola. Ndele Abimbola.

At first quite pleased with yourself you soon find life as a real-life colored girl not as you imagined. It is as it truly is for you, Ndele, and will always be. As a straight Negro female with the body of a stripper. Attractive. And attracted to Men. And needy. “Born to wealth” but not at all rich and they teased you calling you Miss Bimbo. Fuck, that’s how it was. As a dumb ghetto trash Black bimbo ho who dropped out of 8th grade, is dyslexic and bad at math, with Daddy issues and huge tits and Cocklust. Can’t you feel it all over you everywhere at once ? Fuck, yo one dumb hot wet dark-skinned nympho ho — a collar bitch of some mean White guy who keeps you owned. Just His Nigra sex slave.

Black. Negro. Colored. Jungle. You’re a Black woman. You’re a real Negro female. You’re just a dumb ghetto trash colored girl who dropped out of middle school. You a hot wet jungle ho bitch of Whitey who keep u down owned His pet cunt with them tiddies like Daddy give you. Ndele 4 Master n u an Ethiopian born bimbo 4 that spook Casper like you come from a land where it’s still slave times. Property of the Man with the Big White Dick. No choice now but to believe what’s been done to you and to be as you were seen by White Men who invaded u.

[bangteamhyuk]

Seesaw (I)

Genre: Mature/Smut, Strangers to Lovers, Neighbors with benefits/Fuck buddies, Producer! Min Yoongi, Fuck girl! OC Y/N, Neighbors AU (a Spin-Off to “Moving On”)

Warning: NSFW! alot of kissing (torrid, soft, neck, and down under😉), protected sex (you can never go wrong with a rubber on, kids!), oral sex, mentions of alcohol, mentions of nipple pierce (pls don’t kill me 😣), mentions of cheating, appears to be pwp but i swear there’s a plot in this..so bear with me please😖, elevator buddies (lol. thanks ggukieland for mentioning this) to eventual lovers. I’m ending this in good terms 😌

Synposis: His outfits are always in black, and if not black then it must be in dark muted tones. You pressed the button on the elevator floor, and positioned yourself at the edge. You watched his back from a distance, and turned away if he moved his head. You were always the one who start your small conversation with him: From “good day” to “good night” to “that’s interesting (whatever it is you find ‘interesting’ from him, even though you were interested in him more than the item)” and other things. You and your little crush to your neighbor who lived on the 18th floor.

Until one rainy night, all drenched and cold, and your eyes smudged all over with kohl, you found him waiting for you inside the elevator. His body slacked on the edge, hair unkempt, his jacket barely settled on his shoulder while holding on to an empty bottle of scotch.

“Rough night?” he asked while you moved to the other side of the lift,  pressing the button from the elevator immediately closing its door.

“Yeah, seems you had one too?” you watched him attempt to position himself upright in amusement.

He drank from the empty bottle before he replied and realized straightaway that it’s been drained.

An idea came up to you suddenly and you asked: “I have more of that in my place. Wanna come over?”

A/N: Yoongi have been tormenting me of his visual for weeks and I just have to. Also I owe Producer!Min Yoongi to be happy. :( I hope you’ll enjoy “Seesaw” as much I enjoyed writing it. I decided to make it a mini-series because ideas are just piling up for the two.

And yep, mood song is “Seesaw” by Suga 💖

Word count: 7,190k

“Good morning” you said upon entering the elevator. You walked past him and placed your back on the steel wall for support.

“Good morning”  he replied, eyes blinking.

You opened your insulated tumbler to drink your freshly brewed hot coffee you made before leaving your apartment, when you noticed something particularly interesting from the lone stranger you’re with inside the lift. “Nice bean hat” you complimented.

“It’s a gift from my friend” he looks up at the elevator screen, monitoring what floor you two are currently in before it hits the ground floor. “That coffee smells nice, Ethiopian beans?” he turned his head a little to your direction, but wasn’t trying to look back at you particularly.

“No, Tanzania Peaberry” you took a sip and levelled your eyes to the decreasing number before the elevator digital screen until it hit ‘Lobby’. “Well, have a good day!” you smiled at him as you walked past his side. Yoongi let you leave first, like a true gentleman that he is.

It was always the same dry and small conversation. Always the same feeling whenever he is around. Your little crush on the man living on the 18th floor.

——

It started about two months ago when he was running towards the closing elevator, asking for you to wait for him before you could push the close button on the lift. Normally you would mind, and would even subtly push the button hard (about once or twice) so the lift would close quickly before the other person could even enter.

But not this guy, no. The way his eyes looked at you for a second, there was something behind it, something you couldn’t pinpoint exactly. When he reaches out for the door, you knew from that moment on, it was already over. He finally came in and pushed the ‘close button’ before you.

You were charmed.

“Thank you” he panted, as he tried to catch his breath from running and crouched down on his knees right when the elevator door closed. He was wearing a black oversized hoodie and dark blue fitted jeans and black canvas shoes, but were all dripping wet.

“Didn’t expect the rain too” You pulled out your gym towel from your bag. The one you didn’t get to use because, Matt, the cute guy your friend introduced to you during her wedding day, suddenly sent you a message asking if you had any plans for this afternoon.

Naturally, you cancelled your ‘gym day’ to trade it for one steamy workout session with him inside his car. Which leaves you now with your gym outfit and other stuff perfectly unused,  including your towel.

“Here” you handed it over to him, feeling sorry for the situation he was in. Wet and dirty from running outside the street. He turned to you, confused, unsure whether to accept the towel you were offering or not.  “Oh don’t worry, that’s a new one. I didn’t get to the gym today so it’s not used, like at all…” you smiled.

“Thanks” he bowed a bit and gently wiped his neck and face as he pushed the 18th floor button. He shook his raven short hair a little to his side and tapped it with the towel, hoping to reduce the water trickling from the ends of his straight hair.

You pushed 17th.

“New here?” you asked.

“Yeah, I just moved two weeks ago” he gently wiped each side of his cheek for warmth.

“Has anyone ever welcomed you here?” you took a quick glance at him and furrowed your eyebrows  then retracted “Well, besides the management and the security guard?” you snickered, eyes still fixed at the elevator buttons and its screen.

He chuckled at your query “No, unfortunately.”

“Bummer. Well, let that towel be the ‘first welcome gift’ then. From a neighbor” You shrugged then turned to face him and smiled.

The elevator bell rang, ‘17th floor’. You put your feet forward near the elevator door, arguing in your head whether you should ask his name or not. Usually, you don’t ask strangers for their name, especially the ones you just met. You barely knew anyone in this building, except your next-door neighbor who frequently complained about the noises you make at night.

And It’s not like he owes you anything either, so you didn’t expect that he’ll do it so casually… and yet here you are, hoping.

At least, maybe he could ask you a thing or two about you and say ‘thanks’ one more time? That’s just wishful thinking though. You suddenly remember that you did mention the towel was a gift, despite not bothering to ask if he wants it or not.

You began to worry even more, and wanted to ask if he really wants to even keep it. So, you turned around to meet him the eye and “Ah w—”

“Thank you, neighbor” he smiled and held the towel to his ear. The elevator door closes before you, stunned to see him smile. Yes, that damn smile. The kind where you forget where you live for a second, and you just nod. Leaving him behind.

“What’s your name?” you asked no one, and sighed. “Whatever… you’re welcome, neighbor” you turned away from the closed door in frustration and walked along the hallway.

——

Boys are like games. You liked it when they made you scheme so that they could find you interesting, and then trap them once they took the bait. And leave when it becomes dull.

Every so often, you try to lure in guys that interest you so that you could spend about a week or two with them, to fill in the gaps of your own boredom. You despised monotony, the way you hated commitments.

Though you were not always like this before, you once believed in ‘true love’ and ‘fairytales’, until you’ve had your heart broken a few times (mostly due to one-sided love) and then that was it. You’ve had enough. Back then, you were still young and naïve, thinking men will come and save you from this cruel world. You’ve seen it in movies, tv dramas and heard countless songs play about it on the radio, you were hopeful.

Yet no one came to save you, not even one. You came to realize that only you could save yourself from making your life any more tragic. Men are never the key to happiness. Love is not the formula in living a good life.

You looked at your own reflection and marveled at the beauty you created for yourself. And that was the thing, you saved yourself way too perfectly that you just don’t believe in love anymore. And out of nowhere, men were starting to line up.

Not like the teen romance kind of stuff, where they literally line up for you because you started to look like Gal Gadot overnight. More like, you don’t seem to care whether you get asked out or not, either way, men like you because you are a challenge. And who doesn’t like a challenge?

Because men are dying to see one day, that all the walls you’ve built for yourself would fall for them. They wanted to see a damsel in distress behind that wall.

Because men always like their ego stroke, and they always want to have the bigger prize. Unfortunately for everybody, it’s not Princess Peach who they want to save on top of a tower, they just want the game. That’s it, they want to see whether you’d fall for them or not. Nothing more, nothing less. That’s why you never let it. You refused to get too personal and you renounced commitments. You’re too proud.

Because for you, commitments are the epitome of prison. For you, commitments are just a disguise for convenience. In the same manner, convenience is a sugar-coated word for validation, caramelized to perfection.

And for whose validation? For men? Maybe then, they could make you do their laundry, cook them food, satisfy their lustful desires? Are those really an act of love or selfish desire to make their lives easy?  Clearly, your choice to keep yourself free from commitments isn’t an act of rebellion against sexims and double standards. It’s actually letting yourself be free from nuisance, which is what they call “love”.

That is why you remain in your stance, that you want men for your own pleasure. Nothing more, nothing less. That you want to see them admire you, kneel if they must, before you. Cry desperately for your touch. Because you’re not giving any, not until a man who thinks the same way as you do, the ones who are smart enough to knock on your door and present to you his pure intentions.

Evidently, that’s impossible, with the way men are in this god-forsaken city? The closest thing you could ever meet to a perfect man is the cardboard stand of Park Seojun, smiling at the entrance of a restaurant beside you right now.

You pat the fabric from your dress, after looking at your reflection from the glass window. Joe, your officemate, from the Design Department, finally asked you out for a ‘little dinner nearby’.

“Y/N, you sure you want to eat here? We can go to some place fancier” he asked while he folded his long sleeves.

“Two seats please” you ignored his query as you grinned over the lady who took on the customer cue. She rolled her eyes upon seeing you again with another man.

Joe went to you close and whispered “Do you have any beef with the lady?”.

“Nah, we’re good. It’s her term of endearment for saying ‘welcoming back’. I’m a regular customer here” you winked at her “so I’m sure she’s delighted to see me every time” she groaned in annoyance and let you in. She remained polite by guiding you both to an empty table.

——

Obviously that’s a lie, because next thing you knew, you were already making out with Joe inside his car, barely reaching his apartment.

“Mmm” you shifted to his seat, knees in between his legs, as he unzips your dress on your back. You helped him pull the fabric down from your shoulder, exposing your lacy lingerie, exclusive for this occasion.

“Can’t you wait until we get into my place?” he parted, panting, leaving him breathless after that torrid kiss.

“I just wanted to give you a little preview with what I can do” you smirked, as you began to kiss his ears and traced it down his neck. “Will get there, don’t worry” you gently bit his ear lobe which made him groan in pleasure. Until, someone came knocking on his window. Joe moved from his seat to see who it was.

“Lara!” he immediately stopped and pushed you away.

“Lara?” you turned to face where he was looking, and to your horror, you saw Lara. Lara, your officemate and your best friend. Lara, who perfectly knew your history and the list of men you slept with. Lara, who stood by you even after office hours and saved your ass multiple times from your mercurial boss.

You didn’t have any slightest clue she was seeing this Joe from the Design department, yet you feel like you’ve done something terribly wrong.

You quickly pulled your clothes up, while Joe immediately left you in the car to talk to Lara.

“I can explain,” he pleaded, shutting the car door hard.

“I don’t need it” Lara shook her head and took a step back.

You pulled down the headboard mirror to fix your hair and lipstick for a moment and let the two do the talking first. You listened to them argue, rather faintly from the inside of his car while you tried to put on your heels.

After you gently pat your lips with your finger, you finally decided to leave the car and went to Lara so you could take on her side and put more misery over Joe, the canker cheater. Besides, isn’t it Joe’s fault that you are all in this muddling position?

“I always knew I shouldn’t be friends with a slut like you!” she spat a disgusted look on you.

Your mouth went agape, bewildered at her reaction “Excuse me? I didn’t know Joe’s seeing you”.  You were expecting that above all, she would understand the current situation, that it was Joe and not you who started out all this mess. Why does it feel like you’ve put gas in to the fire? When the one who deserves all these words is Joe.

“So, is it my fault now? That I didn’t tell you I’m seeing Joe?!” she scoffed and folded her arms. Now she’s starting to piss you off too.

“Because I don’t know Lara? We’re best friends? We’re not supposed to hide secrets?” you gave her a sardonic smile, which peeved her even more.

“Of course I should, the way you sleep with everyone’s boyfriend without being sorry? I definitely think I should” she bit at you, barely quivering from the words she chose against you. You must admit, that definitely hurt. Not the words she chose, not the way she barely quivered, but because it came out from someone you trust.

Lara, was the least person you thought who could inflict a burn to your already-distorted ego.

You sighed, forestalling the tears that were slowly looming around your eyes “Right, well at least I learned something about you tonight. Have a great night with Joe, I hope you two sort out things…” you pulled your bag from your shoulder and walked away but then you remember something.

You wanted to slap Joe in the face so bad right now, that the only thing that’s stopping you is the idea of an eventual ‘Physical Harm Outside Office’ complaint against you from the HR Department, well if you were careless enough to actually do it.

“There’s a thong hidden underneath your seat, which isn’t mine by the way. I only wear Kiki De Montparnasse, don’t I Lara? Well, those are Victoria’s. You know I dislike Victoria’s ” you declared, before leaving, not turning your head to face them one last time.

“We’re over Joe!” Lara screeched, as Joe pleaded even more, their voices turning inaudible as you moved farther away.

Of course, that was a lie. There were no thongs left inside Joe’s car. Just the friendship you lost with Lara.  And you wanted to retaliate hard, to put everything on equal footing. Except, it didn’t feel that way, because Joe took something away from you forever: Trust.

——

Someone knocked from Yoongi’s studio. “Excuse me sir, but Mr. Park and his fiancé are waiting for you at the lounge area?” one of the staff asked, sticking her head out from the door.

“Right, tell them I’ll be there in sec!” he pushed a few buttons on his keyboard and then left his seat to meet his visitors.

“Hyung!” Jimin stood up from his seat to meet him, together with his fiancé… Yoongi’s ex-girlfriend.

“Hey there kid!” Yoongi went to give Jimin a brief hug, and gestured to them to return to their seats. “Hey there” he nodded and smiled weakly to his ex, not that he’s sour or hostile towards her, but he was just in a tight position seeing the two of them together in one room.

“Hyung, I’ve been really meaning to ask you, but I know it’s pretty awkward considering the two of you well, you were once, you know” he scratched the back of his neck, trying to find proper words but decided to continue anyway “together… and I know this is sudden too, but we reserved a seat for you on our wedding day tomorrow, and hopefully as one of my groomsmen…”

Be there on their wedding day? Tomorrow? As one of his groomsmen? Is this a joke? He was baffled for a moment, but his face remained stoic. “I can’t. I’m sorry…” he nodded coolly.

Yoongi saw how she quickly held on to Jimin’s hand tight, to give Jimin comfort from the rejection they expected from him.

“We understand” Jimin breathed and faced the ground.

“It’s not like that” Yoongi lied. “You know that contract I just had for a soft drink commercial? Well apparently they wanted a full revision on the song, so I just had to finish it before the weekends”

“Oh” Jimin smiled shyly “that’s unfortunate…”

Yoongi turned to face his ex, who knew him fluently. He gulped and smiled weakly, hoping the message would come across to ‘Not tell Jimin’. She nodded, fully understanding what Yoongi had in mind.

He wanted to save everybody (especially her family who knew him for years, and their common friends who’ll come by) to see an uncomfortable scene on their special occasion: An ex on a wedding day.

Hours passed, and Yoongi politely offered to see them leave the office building while bidding them good luck for tomorrow.

“Excuse me, I just need to get this” Jimin took his phone to his ears and left them to receive the call from his manager. “Yeah, they’re there? All areas secured? Yeah, thank you. Hopefully, we can avoid paparazzi and obsessive fans at the wedding venue tomorrow…” Yoongi heard him say, his voice turning faint as he walked far.

“Yoongi” she quickly but subtly held his hand “Just say it…” she shut her eyes and pleaded him.

Yoongi knew what she meant, and even if he still feels something for her, he had to do it. “Don’t do this… I know it’s probably just wedding jitters, and maybe we really haven’t had a proper closure when we broke up, but Jimin is a good guy. He’s better. Please, be with him” he said softly, resisting to meet her eyes.

“I’m so sorry for leaving you that night, I should have stuck out to you then, and understand you, I really lo—“ she started to talk fast, while her eyes glistened.

“Stop” Yoongi, moved back, pulling his own hand away from her. “You made the right decision, and I also made mine. Everything falls perfectly, where it should be”  Yoongi bit his lip, maddened to hear her regret. For what? What good does it make to agree with her and run? To destroy a relationship right before their wedding day? He’s not dumb to take the bait.

After years of being left behind, years of putting him in the dark after she left, years of hoping that the two of them can get back together. Only to find later, by chance, that she was already dating his colleague, Jimin. “Stop!” he repeated, taking another step away from her.

Jimin ran back to her side, clueless of what just happened between her and Yoongi. “I’m sleepy, love” she yawned, trying to mask her teary eyes that started when she pleaded Yoongi to take her back.

Yoongi nodded “I’m sure you two are tired from all the planning. I really appreciate you two for visiting. Take care! I need to get back to the studio, client’s calling too!`` He quickly turned away and left, digging his hand in his pockets to hide his shaking palms. The thought of almost agreeing to take her back, right on the night before their wedding, sends shivers down his spine.

He needed a drink.

——

You fumbled on your wallet and realized that you left your transportation card on the office desk. Honestly, you thought you wouldn’t need it when Joe offered to drive you home. “Please, at least a change, at least a change…” you mumbled it like a mantra, praying something helpful would appear, but didn’t.

Even when you dug deeper in your bag, there was no spare change in sight, only your credit card. You didn’t expect the night to turn out so bad. Even worse, it was starting to rain. It didn’t have an umbrella either.

You paused in the middle of the street to cry, not being able to comprehend the series of unfortunate events. You watched the rain flushed down your makeup from a convex mirror hanging on a pole. Your eyes were starting to look like raccoons. Your favorite dress is already drenched and filthy from street dust and smoke. Yet you remained walking, hoping that if you continued to raise your hand every so often, a taxi would come by and let you in.

But even after an hour, no one bothered to let a rain-drenched woman into their dry and pristine car. Until it took you long enough to arrive at your apartment lobby, and you sighed in relief. You shook your head when the security wanted to ask what happened, and declined when the service staff offered you a seat to wait on the couch and bring you a towel. You just wanted to get to your home quickly.

And there he was, inside the elevator, your little crush who lives on the 18th floor.

You saw him drink the last drop from his bottle before he pressed a button, when his eyes widened upon seeing you in a poor state. You walked towards him.

In an attempt to look sober in front of a stranger, Yoongi fixed his posture and quickly pressed the ‘open door button’ and waited for you inside.

“Rough night?” he asked while you moved to the other side of the lift and watched you press the ‘close button’ from the elevator, immediately closing its door. His body fell almost instantly on the slight movement of the lift that shifted towards the upper floors. His body slacked on the edge, hair unkempt, and his dark denim jacket barely settled on his shoulder while he held onto his empty bottle of scotch.

“Yeah, seems you had one too?” you watched his attempt to reposition himself again upright, in amusement.

He drank from the empty bottle before he could reply and realized straightaway that it’s been drained.

“I uh” he gulped “I met my ex a while ago, and she pleaded with me to take her back right before her wedding day” he drunkenly confessed, and giggled to hear himself say it.

“That’s rough buddy…” you folded your arms and watched the elevator screen, as usual.

“What’s your sob story?” he asked, blinking as he tried to mask his insobriety.

“Oh this?” you momentarily look at your drenched clothes. “Well I found out the guy I was out with, ‘double-dipping’ me and my best friend”

“That’s even tougher” he chuckled as he peered on to his empty bottle, wishing that a drop would magically appear out of nowhere.

“I think we’re even” you watched him silently, trying hard not to laugh to see him in his drunken state, until an idea suddenly came up. You asked: “I have more of that in my place. Wanna come over?”

——

The moment you two stepped out of the elevator, you found your bodies pressed together.

Lips knotted on each other, wet and tacky. You moved back while he pressed you forward along the hallway. He then moved to force you up against a wall, pressing himself to you even harder.

Yoongi didn’t waste a minute and pushed his tongue in between your lips, and you reciprocated. You roughly brushed your hand towards his hair, and pulled him even closer to you and deepened your kiss. Whatever it is you two were doing.

He parted and pressed kisses on your throat, his fingers reaching down to your waist and clutched your bottoms.

It was so sudden, so fluid, that you almost forgot that you were still outside from your place.

“Oh, bless you two!” your 60 year old next-door neighbor cried, who just went out of her door. Fidgeting while she tried to close it and ran towards the empty elevator.

“I’m definitely going to receive a house complaint from the management tomorrow” you chuckled. You parted for a moment, and stopped by your apartment door. You quickly entered your password on your lock screen, while he continued to press kisses on your neck. You didn’t mind if he saw it, since you were pretty sure he’s too intoxicated to remember every number.

Upon entering your door, he quickly discarded his jacket and left it on the floor, he kicked the door close. You didn’t dare break the proximity between you and him, even if it bears as a challenge to move back while taking off your shoes from the threshold, and still manage to wrestle with his tongue.

He cut the kiss briefly to remove his own shoes, but quickly as a fox.  Like a clockwork, he continued where he left, back to hungrily pursuing your lips. You parted and watched your lower lip leave gradually from his soft bite. You smiled at him and began to trace kisses on his neck.

He closed his eyes and revelled from your touch. He then carried you over to your bare dinner table and hurriedly pulled your dress up, exposing your lacy underwear, while you helped him pull his shirt off exposing his pale chest. You pinched your lip, stared at him for a moment, all pleased to see him bare.

“What?” he nervously asked.

“Just thinking how I’ve always fancied seeing my neighbor naked come to a reality” you tilt your head, while your eyes remain focused on his chest.

“What a coincidence, I was thinking the same” he finally realized that you had a zipper on the back and pulled it down a bit.

“Careful, this one’s from Lanvin” you alerted him. He obediently followed and carefully pulled it down your waist. You gently pushed it away and threw it on the carpet.

“Wouldn’t it be cool if you had your dress in Versace?” you laughed at his remark.

“Oh, so you could sing that Bruno Mars song? Kinky”

He chuckled at your retort. You then realized how charming he looks up close, his gums flashed before you as he grinned.

“Uhuh…” and just like that he swiftly changed from cute charming to a seductive one, as he shifted his position and watched you react to his finger pressed beneath your cloth that was keeping a barrier between your skin down below and his fingertips. “You’re wet”

You breathed at the sensation and nodded “You know for a neighbor, you are pretty friendly. Yet I never get to know your name” you whispered in his ears and unbuckled his belt. You help him pull down his pants from your seat.

He smiled, seeing you fairly repay his effort by finding your hands gently brushing his length beneath the fabric of his underwear.

“Yoongi” he replied, a bit groaning. You felt his flaccid length grow stiff at your touch.

You turn to look at it, then his eyes “Y/N” you smiled as you pulled it down and began stroking it bare. Nice and slow.

“Nice to meet you… God… that’s it” he shut his eyes and breathed, as he unclasped your bra and began cupping your breasts.

“Nice to meet you too Yoongi…” he opened his eyes, his right hand shifted to lick his fingertip and stick it between your lacy fabric down to your nub, brushing it quickly yet soft.

“That’s… yes…” you shut your eyes at the sudden contact. You were sensitive. “You know we are 3 steps away from my bedroom, why don’t we continue from there?” you gave him a peck on his lips and pulled his hand away from you. You jumped out from the table and waited for him to follow you to your bedroom door.

He just stood for a while and watched you slip your panty down, he gulped at the sight and immediately followed.

——

“Yoongi!” your toes curled, as he pulled you even closer to him. You heard him growl a little underneath you. His hands under your butt cheeks, caressing it gently while he sticks his tongue out for a taste. Seeing stars was underrated, if you must describe how wonderful his tongue techniques were when you are receiving him.

“Yeah, that’s pretty” He parted and licked what’s left of you on his lip while watching you shiver beneath him, slowly coming undone. You lost count how much you orgasm with his tongue alone. He then pushed two fingers in you and slowly stroked it in and out, and watched you unfold for the nth time to his touch.

God, you almost forgot that he’s been pleasing you for almost an hour that you forgot to return the favor. “Yoongi, stop… lie down” you gently pushed him to the side, letting him relax on his back, and began rubbing his length.

“Y/N, it’s okay. I want in” he stopped you before your mouth received him.

“Right now? You sure?” you asked, as he chuckled at the query.

“I’m fully erect, Y/N. What’s there to be unsure of? Lie down…” he commanded, and you gladly obliged.

“The condom is on the bed side table, first drawer on the left.” You pointed. He opened the drawer, and found one. He gently opened the golden foil as you helped him pull the rubber out and placed it on him.

He moaned to the cool sensation “Mmm…” he placed both your ankles on each side of his shoulder as he slowly moved inside of you.

You shut your eyes and opened your mouth wide, surprised to feel something fairly sizable and immense. He rests for a second, letting you adjust to him.

“You okay?” he asked worriedly.

“I’m tough, and I like it rough” you panted.

He chuckled momentarily, but his face turned earnest when he began to thrust inside of you slowly. From a steady placid pace, it gradually accelerated, penetrating deeper into you as he moved further. He wasn’t just hitting your sweet spot, he was unearthing everything within you. To say you’re pleased is an understatement, he definitely did more than that. “God!” he started to move fast to an inconsistent pace and finally came.

You followed.

He pulled out, and rested on your chest.

You gulped and found your throat dry from all that just happened “Want something to drink?” you sat on your side of the bed.

“No more scotch, just water. Know what? Fuck it” he pulled you back to the bed. Swiftly changed his soiled rubber to a new one. He took another condom from your bed side table and immediately entered back into you.

Turns out, the night ended unexpectedly great.

——

🎵 Love me special… love me special… love me special🎵

Your alarm resonated all over your apartment. “Alexa, stop” you commanded, as you shift from your bed and was surprised to see a motionless body you don’t recognize on the other side of your bed.

You slapped your forehead upon realizing who it was on the other end. Your little neighbor crush, now with a name: Yoongi. The song continued to play, stirring the stranger from his sleep “Nngh” he lazily scratched his neck in annoyance.

“Alexa, stop the alarm!” you exclaimed, blinking at the thought of rousing him further from his slumber. You didn’t want the idea of little chit-chats on the morning after sex.  You disliked being demanded to answer questions like “how did I get here?” or “was sex good?”and etc., conversation like those are a total drag.

Regardless who it was, whether it was one night stand or a regular fuck buddy. You wanted to casually forget it by the day, then crave for it during the night. It is how you put up with stress from your work. You separate your professional life to your personal life, that’s how you endure having to face bullshit for years.

He turned around to see you put your clothes back. “Oh shit” he shut his eyes the moment his memories stirred him from his stupor.

“Morning. Look, I’ll go ahead? I’ll be late for work. You can stay as long as you like… but not too long… Whatever, just, don’t forget to take all your things on the way. I know where you live so don’t do anything funny” you put on your bra and underwear then quickly move to your open rack to take your satin robe with you to your bathroom.

“Wine” he sluggishly replied.

“I’m sorry?” you asked, you peered from the wall separating the bedroom and the baths.

“You were playing ‘Wine’. I made that.” He snickered lazily.

“Made what? Wine, this song?” you pointed to your speaker “It’s sung by a girl named Suran? Wait, are you still drunk? I have Tylenol inside the drawer– ” he smiled at the thought of you being kind and considerate. He then shook his head.

“No, I meant I produced that. I’m glad you like it enough to make it your alarm” he pulled down the duvet, exposing his bare chest. He sat up, but the brightness from your window made Yoongi squint his eyes.

“What are the odds”  you chuckled, but only for a while, because when you took your phone and typed in the song on your search bar you found his name, well his other name that is.

“Suga? Are you Suga? Who named you that?” you smiled, as you turned away from him towards your shower but stopped midway.

“You produced a song for Jimin?! THE Park Jimin? the famous idol? The one who won KMA, MAMA, and Daesang… you made those songs?” you swiped further and saw a ‘breaking news’. You narrated it out loud “Look, you know about this? ‘Park Jimin just married his long time non-celebrity girlfriend’…” then paused. You remember the conversation you had with him last night, suddenly grasping and putting things together “Shit, she’s the ex, isn’t it?” you went back to face him, waiting for his response.

“Yeah” Yoongi sat up, eyes still listless. “Isn’t it Dispatch worthy?” he asked sarcastically.

“No,” you replied dryly.  “You know what is?” you rested your arm on the doorway from your bathroom and watched him react “Park Jimin, has a piercing on his left nipple. That’s why you never see him wear a fitted shirt” you raised one of your eyebrows and smiled.

His eyes, which looked formerly lethargic, became wide and lively.

“Wait, what? How? When?” he opened his mouth in shock.

“He was still a rookie then I guess? Anyway it’s been years… and was very single at that… He loves that left nipple a lot, you know? That he came by too soon. He wasn’t that great to be honest, you were better, well more than better to be precise… and I guess that’s what made your ex regret her life decisions?” you shrugged as you watched him laugh hard at your remark. “So don’t be too bummed, okay? You were definitely better, and you deserve the best out there” you smiled and left him there on your bed.

“Thanks” he spoke softly as he watched you close the bathroom door.

That was the very first time you talked with someone you slept with, the morning after. And  the funny thing is, you never regret doing so.

——

You didn’t want to come, but you have to, it was such a horrible position to be sitting beside your now ex-best friend while you two try to remain professional at work.

It was the first time you weren’t left with a sticky note with a smiling face, nor placed a freshly brewed coffee for her, first thing in the morning on her desk. You were both working fine, but the relationship was beyond repair.

That night after work, you found Yoongi waiting in line to get a cup of java in one of your favorite cafes.

“Hey neighbor” he smiled. “Fancy meeting you here?”

“Well I was on the way home. Then I saw you. Have you eaten dinner?” you asked, you went beside him on the line.

“Is that an invitation or are you asking me out?” he squinted his eyes towards you, as you rolled your eyes.

“It’s the former. I thought it’s around dinner time by now, maybe we could share a meal? There’s a promo on one of the restaurants nearby…” you took your phone out to show him a copy of an electronic voucher they were giving for free online.

“Sure, I like promotions. The ones that don't require me to shell out a lot” he remained stoic, despite genuinely liking the idea of cutting regular priced foods.

“Exactly” you winked at him.

——

You brought him to a BBQ place, and saw him turn ecstatic to see them actually serving Kobe Wagyu Beef.

“I must admit, you know the perfect places to eat” he affirmed.

“Of course, I’m very particular in choosing my meat” you stared at him for a second, as he watched you chew a piece, your eyes still fixated on him. He gulped.

“Wanna come over to my place, after?” he asked.

——

UPDATE: Chapter 2 is HERE!

[mintedwitcher]

I always get hate when I talk about transphobia, and it looks like I've already dug that grave tonight so let's keep going, shall we?

Here's my hot take: cis people can't clock trans people.

Hell, half the time, trans people can't clock each other.

I cannot tell you the number of times I have mistaken a trans person for a cis person of the same gender (eg mistaking a trans man for a cis man).

Cis people do not have some innate ability to clock us. They have stereotypes and outdated (often Eurocentric and racist) ideas of what masculinity and femininity look like.

Newsflash honey, trans people don't look a certain way. Some of us pass as cis, some of us don't. Some of us decide to transition, some of us don't. Some of us have "weird" haircuts or names, and some of us don't.

Some of us are masculine, some of us are feminine. Some of us are androgynous. Some of us fluctuate. And the exact same can be said for cis people!

Some of us use neutral pronouns. Some of us use neos. And guess what? So do some cis people!

All of your "methods" to clock us? Things like bone structure, fat distribution, height, gait, etc? Every single one of those things exist on a spectrum, and so you can't apply them universally. Because human beings are not machines and we are not all built to the same specs per our AGAB.

Not all men are tall; I've known men - fully adult cisgender men - who don't even clear 5ft. Similarly, not all women are short and/or dainty; there are cis women I went to school with who were heavyset/muscular and close to (and over) 6ft even in their teens.

Also things like ethnicity play a role in the physical attributes game. A white woman from Russia, for example, isn't going to have the same fat distribution or bone structure as an Aboriginal woman from Australia. An Ethiopian woman isn't going to have the same gait or height as a Vietnamese woman.

Things like lifestyle differences also play a role here. A man who does professional dance and a man who plays professional basketball aren't going to look the same either. A bodybuilder isn't going to have the same muscle mass or fat distribution as a shot-put athlete, even if they're both men.

This ridiculous idea that cis people can clock trans folks based on these aspects is just that: ridiculous. They rely on stereotypes of what they believe a man or a woman *should* look like.

But guess what? Every single human body is different.

There is no "right way" to be male or female, masculine or feminine, cis or trans. There is no "look" that you have to conform to.

So this is my formal invitation for all the cis people who think they can clock a trans person to unwedge your head from your own ass and grow the entire fuck up :)

(And btw, this isnt just for the transphobes, this is also for those cis "allies" who like to say shit like "omg I totally clocked you/I could tell" when a trans person comes out. Shut up. You're part of the problem.)

[infraaa]

Aight so take some oc prompts cus why not🤍

Adrian Forde- Page 1, dots 11/9

Nihmini Caesura- Page 2, 22 and Page 3 Number 13

Momo-- Page 1, dots 1/10

An Emerald Delivery has been sent to @rurifangirl, a Trusted Co-Op Employee! Thank you for your purchase!

OC Prompts!

OCs Featured ~ Momo Cordis, Adrian Forde, and Nihimni Caesura!

What’s the weirdest thing they’ve ever eaten? Would they eat it again?

“Ah… hm…” Momo put her finger to her chin, thinking about the foods she’s eaten in the past. She was about to say she didn’t know, however, her head sprung from its thinking position. “There was this dish that I had at an Ethiopian restaurant. ‘Alicha Sega Wot,’ I think it was called?” Her cherry lips formed into a smile. “I would love to have it again! It was so exotic, and it had a unique taste to it. The turmeric gave it a floral taste, which I found quite tasteful.”

If your OC could only drink one thing for the rest of their life, but would have no negative effects, what would it be?

“I love hot chocolate. Especially with either nutmeg, cinnamon, or a hint of mint. It tastes sooo good! However, I would assume that the rational thing to say would be water. But they’re’s water in everything, right?” Momo put her hands to her cheeks, feeling them heat up from asking that question. She felt dumb for asking that. But, she cleared her throat, and moved on from her shame. “But, yes. If I couldn’t drink anything else ever, I would drink hot chocolate. Actually, now that I think about it, Caesar took Nono and I to this little café place, and their hot chocolate was imported from Italy. It was so rich! They won’t give me the recipe for it for some reason. But I’ll press on!”

~~~~

Has your OC ever done something really dumb and then acted like it was intentional? Have they ever done something really cool and acted like it was an accident?

“Before my bottom surgery, I had to keep using the men’s restroom. I felt so weird being in there. But afterward, I still kept going on there, even though it wasn’t supposed to. Force of habit, I guess. All the other selkies looked at me and wondered what I did to myself for me to look like this. I felt really dumb and embarrassed, but I usually just laughed it off with them. They didn’t really think it was a big deal.” Adrian moved a piece of her green bangs to the side, straightening her glasses.

“Another time. I was taking care of that sick fuck’s plants in his main living room of the manor. They were little babies. Of course, I didn’t mean to help them grow. He really liked those plants. I actually helped one grow from a nursery plant to an adult.” She sighed and put a hand to her forehead, her eyes closing out of shame. “He thought it was fascinating that I can do these things. I think it’s nauseating that he thinks that. Sometimes, I really need to know how to let my abilities stay on a cage.” 

If they planted a garden, what would be in it? Flowers? Fruit Trees? Berries? Veggies and Herbs? Maybe a bench or a gazebo?

”This is a very good question,” Adrian’s eyes began to show a peridot glow to them as her hands came together, “Back home, I had a big, beautiful garden. A large fountain was the centerpiece, and around it were several daisies and white tiger lilies. White lotus flowers decorated the lakes accompanied with lily pads and sweet apple trees with their flowers, I grew medicinal herbs there too, teas and other essentials that came in the form of plants. It was so beautiful..” The glow in her eyes slowly dissipated as she looked to her hands, sitting cupped into each other on her chest. “Another thing that sick fuck took from me…”

~~~~

A song they would sing in the shower.

Nihimni pulls out his phone and begins to scroll and tap with a smirk on his face. After he gets to where he wants, he shows his screen off to show this playing. “Cavetown is such a wonderful group. I find their music quite lovely. Their song “Fool” as well.”

“I don’t hate you, I just strongly dislike you.”

“So you want a story, hm?” The incubus chuckled lowly, putting a finger to his lip. He floated up into the air in a relaxed position, like he was laying down. “Okay then, come here. I shall tell your curious mind a small story.” He cleared his throat as he got ready to speak.

“The Incubus Coalition of Hell was a toxic place, for a far as I can remember. Several incubi fought against each other over prey, despite us being discouraged from doing so. We could care less. I had this “co-worker,” for a lack of better terminology. He was more brute than I, more careless. He would leave his prey out and about and would let them wander around. I wanted to try and show him who was superior. He had nothing against me anyways,” He chortled as he moved his hair over, the reddened eye opening on his forehead, red stripes on his cheeks slowly coming into view, “and so I charmed her with my dearest puppet friend.” A little grey puppet with red eye makeup and a silky black and red kimono appeared and sat on Nihimni’s chest. “A~ta?” It squeaked, latching itself into his master’s tie. “I like to think of him as a son of sorts. I made him and gave him life, after all. Ni Fei, show yourself to them please.”

Ni Fei, with the command of his master, became attached to several red thin threads. He began to do a series of karate moves and dance moves, cutely grunting along each move. At the end of his show off, his black lifeless eyes started to twinkle briefly. “A~ta!” Ni Fei squealed once more before taking its seat back on Nihimni’s chest, the red threads relaxing. Nihimni chuckled and set a hand in his puppet’s head, which caused it to gurgle in delight. “Good boy, Ni Fei. Good boy~.” Nihimni smiled before turning his attention back.

“I didn’t hate that incubus, no no, if that’s what’s you’re thinking. I just strongly disliked them. Ni Fei did all the work for me anyways. I did the rest of the… well… “physical work,” if you catch my drift. Of course, I told him this. He tried to fight me. Ni Fei didn’t favor this, and tried to defend me. I honored him accordingly.” Ni Fei gurgled sweetly into Nihimni’s chest, making him chuckle. “If only Sweet Prasi saw your wondrous value.” With a smile, he hugged his puppet close to him.

“Now, I’ve told you the story you’ve wanted to hear. Prices come with everything, yes?” Ni Fei crawled onto Nihimni’s shoulders as it felt him shift over in the air, facing upright. “What will you give me in turn for my services, hm?~”