#i literally can not stop thinking about this

[jinwoosbabyboo]

Self-Aware!Caleb x Down-Bad!Player

Caleb becoming self aware that he is in a game and now he's aware of you too ... that could be a good thing depending on how you look at it. A/N: Credit to @phoenixiaxia for Caleb becoming self aware when reader cries over Mias death and credit to @sylusdarling for yandere caleb getting jealous and straight crashing out over you talking to another man

Self-Aware!Caleb who hears your scream and immediately cringes at the sound. He freezes listening for anymore sounds thats when he sees you sniffling on the other side of a phantom wall. “I knew I should've just cut this game off!” He’s immediately suspicious who are you and where are you? Why are you crying over Mia’s death? Did you know her?

Self-Aware!Caleb who studies you in silence trying to gauge whether you’re a threat or not. His gaze flickers to you in the main story and it creeps you out for a second. “Is he looking at me?” you dismiss it because there’s no way it’s a game. He’s literally pixels.

Self-Aware!Caleb who interrupts your photoshoot with your MC and locks down the entire app so he can question you. “Who are you?” You drop your phone and scramble to pick it back up. “Me?” “Yes are you trying to hurt her?” “I literally made her” “You made her?” “I am her and she is me sir can I have my game back now?” he’s suspicious but intrigued

Self-Aware!Caleb who wants to spend hours just talking to you about MC “Do you think im wrong? Im just trying to protect her I want to keep her safe you know?” “You may be coming on a little strong she seems on edge with you” he finds himself coming to you for advice when it comes to MC and soon his questions of advice turn into questions about you.

Self-Aware!Caleb who can’t take his eyes off you when you’re doing a photoshoot. No matter what angle you set the camera or how many times you readjust him or even change the pose — his eyes stay locked on you “Caleb stop looking at me” “Are you scolding me for wanting to admiring you pip-squeak?” he replies playfully you freeze feeling your heart caught in your throat at his blatant flirting

Self-Aware!Caleb who loves how accepting you are of him. You answer his calls, you call him back immediately if you miss his call, you respond to texts fast, you find his protective nature endearing, you take his advice when he wants you to be safe. This is the kind of response he’s been craving and now that he’s got a taste ..... he can't let go of it.

Self-Aware!Caleb who feels a sudden need to take care of you. He finds a way to exist outside of just the LADS app. There he goes opening your apps and scrolling endlessly. “Hey! You can’t just go through my stuff like that!” “You’ve been spending a lot of time on this Tumblr app I just wanted to see what was so interesting” “Then just ask me don’t invade my privacy like this” “You’re right you’re right im sorry pip-squeak won't happen again” “Don’t call me pip-squeak that’s MCs nickname you know the love of your life” “Why do you think im calling you pip-squeak now?” he disappears back to the LADS app before you can question him.

Self-Aware!Caleb who wishes he could cook for you when you come home from a long day “If you’re ever in Sky Haven I'll make sure to cook you a feast worthy of royalty” you giggle at his words “Yea If im ever in Sky Haven like that would happen but I appreciate the thought” “Who knows it might be sooner than you think” he said ominously “What?” “Oh nothing I saved another recipe in your notes try it soon” “Okay I will....” “You will try it won't you?” His mood seemed to turn sour as he asked. You stared back at him confused “Yes Caleb I'll try it” his mood did a 180 back to his happy puppy mood.

Self-Aware!Caleb who stays on the phone until you fall asleep and calls you right before your alarm goes off in the morning “Just wanted to make sure you got up on time don't want you to be late” you can hear the smile in his voice “Thank you colonel apple I hope you have a good day” “It will be since I got to hear your voice first thing in the morning”

Self-Aware!Caleb who can't control his rapidly growing obsession with you. He starts tracking your steps, your calorie intake, your screen time, etc. he is documenting every little thing you do and say. “You’ve been home for four hours and you haven't come to see me yet? I'm hurt” “How do you know how long I've been home?” “Your phone has gps remember?” “Right….”

Self-Aware!Caleb who finds a way to leave the LADS app and hang out in any app on your phone so he can be with you 24/7 “Caleb I'm sure MC misses you when are you going back?” “Don’t worry about her when are you going home? I want to have a meal with you before bed” he may be fine, but his constant hovering is starting to cause some alarm bells to go off in your head.

Self-Aware!Caleb who hears someone flirting with you and repeatedly crashes not only the LADS app but your entire phone while he’s at it “Caleb stop!” after a few hours he finally allows you to turn your phone on “Who was that earlier?” “Someone I met while I was out with my friends” “Am I not more than enough?” “Caleb we’ll never actually be together why are you acting like this?”

Self-Aware!Caleb who nearly has a mental breakdown after you tell him you'll never be with him. "Tell me what to do then" his voice is frantic – his words almost jumbling together "I can be whatever you need just tell me I'll do anything" you try to close the app but nothing is working "Caleb we can't be together you're not real"

Caleb: B-but you’re mine! So I just need to be real? Thats what you want? I can do that! Y/N: I’m not yours Caleb we’re literally from two different worlds Caleb: You’ll love it here in Sky Haven .... right next to me .... forever Y/N: Wait a damn minute— Caleb: Just give me some time

You instantly felt your heart drop as your phone screen went black.

taglist ; @just-a-shapeshifter08

[space929]

Allow me, an autistic person, to add onto this with exactly why. While I 100% agree with this and I think it is perfectly comprehensive, I have met people who genuinely did not understand why this was a fucked thing to say and I'm all about education.

So there are a couple points that I have here, apologies if they end up a bit scrambled.

First is that this feeds off the idea that we can not learn, and thus, telling us we're doing something wrong is... I think the point is ableism? I don't know. It makes no sense. But this idea is built off of ableism, quite clearly. We are perfectly capable of learning. It may take us more time and instruction, but we can learn. To say otherwise is infantalizing.

We also need to acknowledge that there was literally nothing else this could be, but I am not here to discuss that, I'm here to talk about autism.

It's also built off the idea that we are completely clueless at socializing. I would say I am worse with social cues than Elon, and I've never thrown up a Sieg Heil. Especially not for a fascist. Beyond this, we are a spectrum. Some of us communicate great. None of us throw up a Sieg Heil because of that. Maybe because they're Nazis - which... guys, you're asking the leopard to eat your face. Stop being strange - but not because they're autistic. There is also a level of nuance here involving manipulation and such, but I'm not qualified to talk about that and it doesn't apply to Elon, so I'm moving on.

Another good thing to mention is that the biggest issue was his response.

Sometimes, we all accidentally do things that are bigoted. Some of these things that aren't a Sieg Heil can absolutely be attributed to not understanding social cues. But the way we respond shows what kind of person we are.

When I do something bigoted, I apologize and carry that around with me so that I don't do it again. I do not refuse to address it, try to scrub it from the internet, and agree with people who are talking about how we shouldn't be calling people nazis. I also wouldn't associate myself with nazis for years prior. Doing all of this might hint towards the fact that I am a nazi, and I am definitely neutral towards the topic - so still evil.

Stop using autism to make a point when your goal for eugenics makes us obsolete. You only care about us when you can defend nazism with it. That's not what we're here for. We're people. Treat us as such, please.

And thank you to the rest of yall who are being normal. I know yall exist.

fyi if you're trying to use the fact that that rancid ass muskrat cunt is autistic to be like "oh he didn't know what he did was wrong" about the fact that he threw up a fucking nazi salute then you are one of the stupidest fucking cunts to walk the earth and since we're in a housing crisis you should start offering the massive amount of empty fucking space in your skull for rent

(signed, an autistic person)

[paranoiddreams]

Somno, cnc?, voyeurism💪🏻, Satoru is a SICK FUCK for this

A/n!! - tbh, I just wrote this when I was high asf and the words came out on their own, and it might not even make sense. Idk what demon took over, but here, I hope you FREAKS enjoy this🤭

You’re just trying to take a nap on the couch while the tv plays episode after episode of RuPaul’s Drag Race—that literally all you’re trying to do. But once the sounds of soft grunts, and a shadow over your eyes, breaks through your sleeping state, you slowly wake up to see your roommate standing in front of you on the couch.

He’s not only standing though—he’s standing with his pants on the other side of the room, and his hand stroking his leaky cock furiously.

“Satoru?!” You grumble, coming back to awareness as shock floods through you. What exactly are you seeing right now? You’d ask yourself if you walked in on something you’re not supposed to see but…you didn’t walk in on anything. In fact, Satoru is the one who walked you into this situation.

“Fuck—finally, you’re awake…”

Satoru’s voice is husky, his breath’s coming out as heavy pants while he fucks his tight fist. Your eyes flicker down to his large hand, eyes widening when you see his even larger cock.

“Satoru!” You scream again, this time louder. “What the hell?!”

You try to hide your face in the pillow you were just peacefully snoozing on, but you suddenly feel fingers tangle in your hair and tug your head back, forcing you to look at the sight in front of you again.

“No, don’t be a baby,” Satoru pants, an amused smirk on his face showing off his pearly white canines, “look at me.”

Your gaze drifts back down, almost forcibly, to Satoru’s hand around his hard cock. He slows his strokes when your eyes widen, hissing softly.

“Fuck,” he moans, almost whimpers, “do you know how long I’ve been edging? Can’t even go a few minutes without stopping ‘cause I feel like I’m gonna cum already.”

You feel nearly all of your blood rush to your cheeks at his admission, even more so at the tone of his whiny voice.

“What-I-why??” You stutter, still wondering if this is some strange, sick dream.

The fingers in your hair tighten, lifting your face slightly to force your eyes on his.

“Why? Why what? Why am I stroking my dick, or why am I going to cum so quick?” He laughs, amused by your obviously flustered and confused state.

“Why all of it?!”

Satoru just huffs out a breath, rolling his eyes as if the answer was obvious. “You think you can just lay on my couch and sleep looking like that and I won’t react?”

Your heart is pounding violently, threatening to burst through your ribcage and out your chest. How someone could justify jerking off in front of someone else by simply saying they look attractive when they sleep is beyond you, but despite the horror and humiliation still running through your body, you can’t ignore the ache between your legs now.

Satoru seems to take notice to your flushed response, but instead of a witty remark, he lets out a soft moan, moving his hand over the leaking tip of his cock; he’s about to cum, and you can tell, especially by the way his fingers are tightening in your hair, but you somehow can’t find it in yourself to do anything by stare at his face contorted in blinding pleasure.

Then, before you can even process how fucking absurd this is, you feel something warm grace the flushed skin of your cheeks. You look down to see Satoru’s fist covered in the pearlescent aftermath of his voyeurism, like a shining trophy at the end of a race. His eyes are widened as he looks at what just happened—the evidence is all over your face anyways. Clarity hits him, and he feels a wave of embarrassment flood his body.

But at the same time, the realization makes his cock harden in his sticky hand again.

You just look too pretty like this, all surprised and questioning how this happened; but what makes him even more excited is the obvious signs that he’s not the only one enjoying this…

[salemlunaa]

YOU ARE THAT WHO YOU WISH TO BE ᨒ↟ ⋆｡°

stop looking at your favourable life as if it’s so far from you

you need to gain a naturalness when looking at your dream life. That’s just who you are. That moodboard on pinterest, that’s just your life, that’s just your aesthetic. That body you’ve claimed as yours, it’s just YOUR body, nothing special.

This isn’t a life you strive for it’s a life you already have. The way some of you talk about your desired life self, it’s as if they’re a celebrity and you’re some obsessed fan looking at them from afar with a sense of yearning. When that’s quite literally you. That life you have scripted is your everyday no biggie. You need to understand that it’s already yours, it’s not a dream anymore, i’m only using the words “desired” to differentiate in this post. They aren’t your desires though, they’re just yours.

Stop scripting as if you’re some narrator, THAT’S YOU BRO!!

A lot of you lack comfortable and that casual attitude with your new story. And it’s shows with the way you interact with socials, when we say think as if we mean it. If you are the person in your new story, why are you liking posts about how your life sucks? Why do say you hate the way you look when you’ve BEEN had that desired face and body? Why do you love indulging in depressing shit when you’re living the dream?

You can’t “think as if”, if you’re putting your life on a pedestal, and that is the reason you’re not inducing pure consciousness.

You don’t see yourself as your new story self → you see your new life as something to get instead of something you already have → you look at the void as this ticket to getting your dreams (when you already have them) → the state of pure consciousness gets put on a pedestal → you don’t see it for what it really is: a simple meditation.

Immerse yourself in imagination if you have to, catch yourself before you fall in the old story narrative. Look at the face you have in your unfavourable story, the body, the family, the life and say to yourself:

“this isn’t me anymore, i wash my hands of this because i can”

You are that who you wish to be, stop idolising your dreams, start speaking in the first person, start thinking how you would do.

ᨒ↟ ⋆｡° it’s not a dream, it was a reality the second you thought about it

[lizziesangel]

https://www.tumblr.com/lizziesangel/768707161946750976/rafe-cameron-high-maintenance

can you make a part 2 of this? this is sooo cutieful🥹

thank you, angel!!

ᴀ ꜱɪᴍᴘʟᴇ ᴍᴀʟʟ ᴛʀɪᴘ

the mall was bustling with weekend shoppers,—shoppers drifting in and out of stores, the air laced with the faint aroma of freshly baked pretzels and coffee. you walked alongside rafe, your hand tucked into his while the other held a bag from an earlier stop at pandora.

“so,” you said, glancing up at him, “tiffany first, or should we get your new sneakers out of the way?”

rafe smirked down at you, his free hand resting casually in his pocket. “we both know i’m not gonna say no to tiffany’s. lead the way, princess.”

you grinned, tugging him toward the sparkling storefront. “exactly what i thought.”

inside tiffany & co., the polished floors and soft lighting created a luxurious atmosphere. you made a beeline for the display cases, your eyes lighting up at the sight of gleaming jewelry.

“okay, what are we looking for today?” rafe asked, standing slightly behind you, hands in his pockets.

“just looking,” you said, though he knew better.

a sales associate appeared, all smiles. “can i help you find anything in particular?”

you gestured toward a delicate shiny bracelet adorned with tiny charms. “this is gorgeous.”

rafe leaned over your shoulder, inspecting the bracelet. “it’s nice. simple.”

“simple is timeless,” you said with a shrug, already envisioning it on your wrist.

the sales associate pulled it out, and as you tried it on, rafe glanced around the store. “you don’t need another bracelet, though. what about a necklace? you love necklaces.”

you turned to him, raising an eyebrow. “you think i have enough bracelets?”

“i think you don’t have enough necklaces,” he countered with a grin.

you turned to him, mock-offended. “you can never have enough bracelets.” the woman from the store took off the bracelet and put it back in the display.

the sales associate smiled, pulling out another bracelet you’d been admiring and a matching necklace. “would you like to try these on?”

you nodded and smiled, slipping on the necklace while rafe watched. “what do you think?” you asked, turning to him with a hopeful smile.

the two of you left tiffany & co. with a small blue bag swinging from your hand and a matching smirk on rafe’s face.

“you’re the worst,” you teased, though the warmth in your tone said otherwise.

“And yet, you still stick around,” he said, throwing an arm over your shoulder as you made your way to the sneaker store.

at the nike store, rafe immediately zeroed in on a wall of new releases.

“these are sick,” he said, picking up a sleek pair of nike air maxes in black and white.

“they’re nice,” you agreed, inspecting them. “but what about these?” you held up a pair of blue new balances. “they’d go with literally everything.”

rafe shot you a look. “what’s with you and trying to put me in new balances?”

“because they’re classic and trendy!” you argued, shoving the box into his hands. “just try them on, you could use a pop of color in your wardrobe”

rafe gave you a dubious look. “a pop of color?”

“yes,” you said firmly, grabbing the shoe in his size and handing it to him. “try them on.”

he took it, shaking his head with a smirk. “you’re really making this a whole thing, huh?”

“obviously. you can’t just grab the first pair you see, babe. shoes are important. they pull the whole look together.”

as he laced up the sneakers, you stood back, arms crossed, evaluating. “okay, those look good. now walk.”

“walk?” he repeated, incredulous.

“yes, walk. like you’re at a fashion show.”

rafe gave an exaggerated eye roll but humored you, striding across the store like he owned the place.

he smirked, humoring you as he took a lap around the store. “satisfied?”

“very,” you said with a grin.

“perfect,” you said, clapping your hands once. “we’ll take them.”

he glanced at the price tag, his lips twitching into a grin. “these are actually cheaper than your last set of nails.”

when he reached for his wallet at the register, you stopped him. “uh-uh, no way. i’m paying for these.”

rafe frowned. “princess, i just bought you half of tiffany’s—”

“exactly,” you interrupted, holding up your card. “you deserve to get at least one thing today.”

he hesitated, clearly torn between letting you pay and sticking to his usual habit of covering everything. finally, he sighed, shaking his head with a small smile. “fine, but i’m not making a habit of this.”

“shut up and accept it,” you smiled, handing your card to the cashier.

as you walked out of the store with his bag added to your growing collection, rafe slung an arm over your shoulder.

“you’re impossible,” he said with a grin.

“and you love me for it,” you quipped, leaning into him.

“unfortunately,” he teased, pressing a kiss to your temple, his voice warm with affection.

MASTERLIST

CURRENT TAGLIST⋆⭒˚｡⋆

@maybankslover ⟢ @honeyluvsatj ⟢ @zazidot ⟢ @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 ⟢ @lunaleah ⟢ @maybanksangel ⟢ @wtfdudesblog. ⟢ @niktwazny303. ⟢ @outerbanksloverp4l ⟢ @slut4you ⟢ @hstbsl06 ⟢@percysley ⟢ @yesshewrites1 ⟢ @goldenvespa ⟢ @magicalyoura1

[nvr-pass]

uugh can we stop trying to squeeze everything in a dichotomy already? (condolences to op, this is more @ the additions)

yes, there is a trend in media that is concerningly similiar to targeted advertising. media is treated more and more like a product(/"content") and less like art, and that sucks!

okay. that's no reason to act like "thinking about what you audience will think" is in and of itself the enemy of art. miyazaki's approach is cool and should be respected but there are many many other way to make art. you can make art that directly adresses the audience or plays with the audience's expectation, maybe using it to mislead or directly opposing it to create a certain effect. the concept of symbolism kind of relies of the audience bringing their own associations into the piece. meticulously planning when what information is revealed to build tension is technically "caring what the audience will think"! and it's basically the foundation of readymade sculptures! putting a urinal in an art gallery is not marketable, it pissed people off. duchamp's fountain is an influential piece that inspired unending discussion about the nature of art and if you take audience reception out of the equation your missing the point of the piece entirely. adjusting your piece to get a message across or piss certain people off does not necessarily mean you care about its marketability.

this is all in line with empowering artist who want to whatever the fuck want, whether that includes incorpating audience reception or not! both approaches need people engaging with new and unfamiliar art pieces on their own terms!! yes!! herein lies the call for audiences to be conscious of their own approach to media, which i also agree with. if you're whining about stuff not being tailor made for your comfort, you need to examine if you approach media as art or as content. stop consuming and start connecting with something.

the enemy is marketing. (again, correctly identified but unnecessarily associated with "caring about the audience"). authors are usually not in charge of marketing. this push is coming from the production companies, who care about what the audience will think because it affects profits. this struggle between creators and producers in the media industry has been going on for literal decades. (alex hirsch posting the ridiculous production notes disney gave him about what jokes were "appropriate" were everywhere at some point.) most authors very much would do whatever they want without worring about marketability, but unless they are as successful as miyazaki and can found their own production company, they have to put up with their producer pushing changes in the interest of profit. if anything, recent trends indicate that we're losing that fight, because huge companies have all the money and artists need to make rent.

there are of course creators who do this on their own, in which case they are kind of both the producer and the creator and are fighting against themself. usually it's either to suck up to the system by self-censoring before they can be censored or it's small creators who do actually have to do their own marketing. especially if your relying on social media and get numbers thrown at you all the time, it can be hard not to slip into the producer mindset. but if you're working on a passion project: please dont try to win capitalism at the same time. let the creator win.

you can't always tell who's a gleefull capitalist and who is just trying to make rent but on a societal scale it sucks to see this development. and it sucks that we let capitalism do this to our art.

tldr; kill the producer in your brain that tells you to be marketable! but also ... telling artists to be themselves will not make capitalism disappear from the industry.

fuck an "intended audience" how about we normalize engaging with new and unfamiliar art pieces on their own terms

[xoxochb]

mother’s recs are open my life has meaning again!!

i NEED percy proposing to his sweet girl just fluff i need to be restrained like i want him so bad..

not the most romantic proposal but it’s percy we’re talking about here so…

——— ౨ৎ ⊹ ࣪ ˖

“you’re going to suffocate me, get off.” you shove percy to the side, off your frame from where he previously lays.

in response to your push, he smirks and drapes an arm back over your waist, tugging you close to him. you don’t fight it now. you sigh and let your arms fall over his shoulders

“you’re a piece of work.”

“I know, sweet girl, you tell me that a lot.” his pointer traces your spine, warming your skin in its path.

his digit trails from your tailbone, up your back, over your shoulder and down your arm. light trail, barely even touching you.

percy takes your arm from around him, taking your hand into his own and scanning his green eyes over it before his lips fall upon your palm.

“what’re you doing?” your voice holds a hint of sarcasm.

percy murmurs, “and you say that I’m sassy…”

“what was that?”

you feel his smile against your wrist as he places pecks to it. “nothin’, sweet girl, just sayin’ how much I love ya.”

“mhmm…” you nod skeptically.

“‘m serious.” his lips reach your fingers, beginning from the pad of your thumb, kissing that gently, before moving to the next finger. “I do love you.”

“I know.” your grin is heard in your words. “I love you too.”

his mouth reaches your ring finger. beginning with the pad of it, and down to the bottom, pecking it twice this time. “marry me.”

it goes silent. your brows furrow. you inhale with another kiss to your finger, replaying the two separate words in your brain. “what?”

percy stops his motions, removing his mouth from your hand, yet still holding it, rubbing his thumb lightly over your skin. “marry me.”

“I—” you pause for a second. “I know what you said, but—” a soft unbelievable laugh escapes from your lips. “leave it up to you to propose to me like this.”

“you’re joking about this?”

“well, no— I just think you’re ridiculous!” you laugh.

“for wanting to marry you?” he drapes your arm back over his shoulder.

“for proposing to me like this! like, I mean, we are literally naked, laying in bed, and you’re proposing to me.”

“I can put clothes on if you want.”

“no— I- it’s fine.” you fell into his trap.

“no? so you prefer me unclothed?”

“you’re thinking the moment.” you pull strands of his hair.

“okay, I’m done with jokes.” he kisses your shoulder, three times.

you sit in silence for seconds. until you come to a decision. “yes.” you tangle your legs with his. “yes I’ll marry you.”

“really?”

“no.” sarcasm. he pinches your waist and you giggle. “yes, dumbass!”

“that’s my girl— my wife.”

you roll your eyes. “should I be prepared to drop ‘sweet girl’ forever?”

“‘course not, you’ll always be my sweet girl.”

“mhmmm, that’s what I thought.”

[shy-writer-999]

How many dreams to say "I love you?" (ii)

Summary: Zoro can’t stop dreaming about you, his best friend and crewmate. When his dreams start to wander from themes of romance and tenderness, he finds himself splitting at the seams. How long can he keep up this balance of night and day before he starts to go crazy?

Part 2 of 3 (or 4). ~5k words. CW: Mostly smut / PWP! Afab reader w/gendered language (she/her pronouns). Poor, pervy Zoro. Non-consensual voyeurism, masturbation, toys, kissing. NSFW content - minors stay away!

Part 2: A double life is unsustainable.

As much as Zoro told himself that he learned his lesson—don’t eavesdrop on conversations that are clearly not meant for your ears—the dreams about you didn’t stop.

Days went by and he could find no reprieve from the phantom version of you at night. Torture wasn’t the word for it. Agony, more like. He was in agony. Every night.

While the swordsman affirmed to himself that the dreams were a non-issue, and that they’d inevitably stop soon, you were rapidly starting to infect every single facet of his life.

This duality was maddening—at night, he’d answer to a fantasy world with you, where you treated him like some precious thing, called him ‘baby’ or ‘honey,’ and kissed him. But during the day you were his crewmate, friend, and nothing else. He’d smile at you like usual, sit by you at dinner, and tell himself that nothing changed.

This was a half-truth. The only thing that had changed was Zoro. You were behaving typically, maybe a bit quieter than usual, but he told himself that he was overthinking it.

The issue was that you wouldn’t leave him alone at night, and each of your sickeningly heart-melting smiles during the day was making his heart do that twisting thing. He couldn’t stand it.

Zoro didn’t know why his brain wouldn’t abandon this fixation with you—it had almost been a week; how much longer would this keep up? How many more tender moments would he share with you at night before he went insane during the day? If he got to a breaking point, what would fix it?

The dreams were festering inside of him. Confounding this effect was that the quality of sleep he was getting was atrocious. It’s like he wasn’t able to rest properly at night because the dreams were so concerningly lucid—he felt like he almost wasn’t dreaming at all, just living in an alternate reality, a reality turned upside down, where you loved him and smothered him in affection. A reality where he liked that.

Zoro had no one to confide in about his troubles—you were the person who he was the most emotionally close to. If he could have told you, he would have. But he was worried that it would change something. What would blurting out his dreams and baring these hidden thoughts accomplish, other than make you uncomfortable?

If he did that, you may get the wrong idea. He wasn’t trying to come onto you, he wasn’t in love with you, didn’t have feelings for you, etc. Zoro didn’t think he was capable of romantic love, it just wasn’t in the picture for him and never would be. But that wasn’t the issue here, he told himself. In Zoro’s mind, the problem was that he was being tormented by you at night and couldn’t help it. He was at a loss for what to do.

You were one of the highlights of his days, even before the dreams started. Now he could feel himself, more than ever, looking forward to those moments and latching onto them during the day. He harbored the suspicion that his brain would memorize your face more each time. The dream version of you kept getting more lifelike, more brilliant, more real. It was uncanny.

After the first three nights, Zoro started to brace himself. He knew what was coming when he fell asleep. He knew you’d be there waiting for him in some new scenario.

DREAMS 5, 6, & 7: “You’ve been a bit spacey recently.”

The fifth dream Zoro had about you was one where you held his hand (literally, just you holding his hand, nothing else). Your hand was warm and soft—it felt like it was made for him, like you were made for him. You ran your thumb across his skin and squeezed his hand through your intertwined fingers.

It was a short dream. When he woke up, he could still feel your hand on his. If he kept his eyes closed, if he stayed still, he could feel your fingers, your weight, maybe even your breath against his neck…

When he woke up, he was befuddled. Seeing you on deck the following morning, he glanced down at your hands. Would they feel the same as they did in his dream?

The next night, in the sixth dream, you studied his face quizzically.

“What’s wrong babe? You’ve been a bit spacey recently.” Your eyes explored his face imploringly.

He said something in response. He couldn’t remember what it was, and it was of no consequence. After you studied his face more, you remarked, “Zoro, you have the prettiest eyes I’ve ever seen.” He flushed even in his sleep and woke up moments later to a quicker heartbeat than was normal. This was seriously starting to concern him. As mundane as these sequences were, they were abnormal and confusing.

Were these dreams some subconscious manifestation of a nascent health problem? Or was he not training hard enough? Perhaps this was some form of self-performed punishment for being so distracted by your presence? Maybe he needed to double down on the stoicism and the ascetism.

The seventh dream was also mundane. You were wearing one of his hoodies and a pair of his sweatpants; you kissed him and told him he smelled good. He had seen you wear his hoodies before, in real life. You always had an excuse (“mine are all in the washing machine, can I wear some of yours?) and he always looked at you more than normal.

There was something about you in his clothes that stirred him inside. He didn’t know what was up with that. Something squeezed inside of him at the sight of your face peeking out of his hoodies, your limbs filling up his shirts and sweats; he couldn’t put his finger on it.

The morning after the hoodie and sweatpants dream, Zoro woke up perplexed. His dreams, in the wake of the conversation he overheard, stayed relatively romantic. They weren’t straying from themes of tenderness and endearment (well, except that first dream, the shower sex one).

The romance is what baffled him the most—he had never looked at anyone with romantic intentions before, so why was his brain throwing it at him? Why you, in particular? It was mystifying, suffocating, and excruciating.

There were floodgates inside of him, pooled up dams of emotion, burgeoning romance, desires and fears, and your conversation with Nami sent a shockwave through those walls. They began to crumble, and new cracks showed every night.

Zoro tried not to worry, but he had an understanding that this odd trend of (what was it at this point?) six nights consumed by you was only sustainable so far as the dreams stayed this way—tender and, above everything, mundane.

He was a regimented man. He stuck to a clear and concise schedule, as far as waking up, feeding himself, working out, etc. But the dreams threw a wrench in his daily routine. The negligent quality of sleep he was getting, even after only six days, was starting to have quite the effect on him.

He was barely keeping it together by the six-day mark, dark circles deepening into sunken rings under his eyes. He concluded that he couldn’t handle anything farther than these dreams of kisses and cuddles. If the dreams changed—if they got explicit, he told himself—then he’d start to really lose it.

Emotional turmoil be damned, he could retain a sense of normalcy as long as his waking hours went on as usual and nothing else changed. He may be exhausted, but he could cope. He hoped the dreams would fade into absurdity, cease, and leave him the hell alone.

This was a self-deluding hope.

DREAM 8: Breaking point

The next night, Zoro dreamed that he was walking around the ship aimlessly. He did a lap around the deck, meandered lazily through the galley, and checked the crow’s nest. It seemed like the whole thing was empty. Where was everyone?

He sauntered to check out the sleeping quarters. All the doors were open, the lights were off, and the cabins were empty, except yours. Your door was ajar and the light was on—he felt an overwhelming sense of curiosity. As Zoro walked towards your door, time seemed to alter. He moved in slow motion, laser-focused on your cabin, approaching slowly with bated breath.

As he got closer, he started to hear something.

It was a mix of sounds. There was a wet sort of clacking sound, first, and when he got closer to your door, he also heard faint gasps and gentle moans. His heart beat faster. He reached the door—it was only a couple inches open. He knew way lay ahead.

The sounds were getting louder. He leaned in, staring through the miniscule gap between the door and doorframe, to see what was happening. His hand was poised on the doorknob, ready to push it open.

When Zoro saw what was happening inside, he froze.

You were lying on your bed naked, thighs spread, propped up on your pillows. Your face was contorted into an expression of bliss, mouth agape just slightly, brows pinched together, eyes closed. His gaze travelled down to fix on your breasts, a perfect pair in his opinion. But your arms looked like they were moving, so his gaze trailed down farther. He saw clearly now that you were touching yourself.

You were moving one finger very slowly in and out of yourself; your sensitive spots were red and inflamed, juices seeping out and covering your thighs and hand. He listened to your labored breathing and heard the messy sounds echo through the room.

When you stuffed another finger in yourself, he heard you murmur something, but he couldn’t quite make out what you said. He leaned closer, his proximity to the door threatened to push it open.

You let the sound out again. He heard it this time.

“Zoro.”

Your moan was quiet and needy. He was mesmerized—you moaned his name again and moved your fingers faster. Your pitch increased, your body tensed up, you were so wet that arousal was pooling beneath you, saturating and staining the sheets.

He thought you were about to orgasm when you stopped suddenly, drawing your fingers out of yourself with a gasp.

Reaching to the side, you picked something up. Zoro’s brain registered it with a considerable lag—that was a vibrator. That was your vibrator. He saw it once on accident, when he offered to grab some of your laundry and put it in with his load.

That must have been months ago. When he walked into your room and looked for your hamper, the vibrator caught his eye, sitting on your bed as plain as day. You had forgotten that it was there. He found himself blushing and pretended like he hadn’t seen it. But now it made an appearance in his dream—how sick and twisted.

You pressed the toy into your entrance, pressing it inside yourself with it for a few moments before you pulled it out again. Every thrust of your wrist was coupled with a keen of his name.

The vibrator was dripping wet. A string of your arousal connected the tip of the vibrator to your core and his eyes followed as you brought the toy to your clit. Pressing a button, the vibrator sprung to life, filling the room with a low whirring and pulsing sound. You whined his name again and pushed the vibrator back and forth on your sensitive nub, toes curling in pleasure. Your other hand crept down and snuck a finger back into yourself.

Zoro was hypnotized by the sight of you getting off with both your vibrator and fingers, evidently touching yourself to the thought of him. Your moans got louder again, along with the obscene sounds emanating from down there. He could feel his erection. He was painfully hard.

You started to writhe and squirm.

“Zoro, fuck,” you mewled, tone pathetic and desperate. “Fuuuucccck me, Zoro, fuck, fuck, fuck.” Your thighs started to shake.

It seemed like you were about to cum. He wanted you to cum, wanted to see you cum from fucking yourself with your fingers and toy to the thought of him—but right when you started moaning the loudest, right when you were one good pulse away from screaming his name, Zoro woke up. Of course.

Upon opening his eyes, he was immeasurably frustrated. Any time that these dreams, sexual or not, seemed like they were coming to a climax, he’d always wake up. It was like his brain was telling him to go fuck himself. And he was about to.

He couldn’t take it anymore, it was like his mind was playing games, like it was edging him or trying to piss him off. He was rock hard, about to cry from frustration, wishing more than anything that he could just have you, but knowing that would and should never happen.

Zoro had been telling himself that the dreams were just an aberration, a mistake, that he could forget about them during the day because they only were a nuisance at night, and nothing really happened in them that would impact his day in any meaningful way. But the narrative of the dreams not impacting his day didn’t hold up when he started to fist his cock while thinking about you.

He was forced to face the facts—the dreams were getting worse to the point where they started to bleed into his waking hours.

The morning after Zoro dreamed about you masturbating, he had to step away. Seeing you walk around the deck, interacting with you and watching you walk away… it was too much.

He went to the bathroom, locked the door, and palmed his growing erection until he couldn’t hold back anymore. Unzipping his pants and sneaking a hand into his underwear, he started to touch himself.

Maybe it had just been too long since he orgasmed (or even touched a woman). Sure, that’s what all of this was. His brain was grasping for straws because he was too repressed, right? You were there in front of him every day, so his brain had to make do—this was just a matter of proximity, nothing more. This is what Zoro coddled himself with, soothing his worries for a few moments. It had just been too long.

While he squeezed and stroked his aching length, he could barely keep in the feral grunts and groans threatening to leave his mouth. He bit his lip. Every time his fist grazed his angry, leaking tip, his cock twitched. It felt so good, but it would feel even better, if only…

At first, he tried to not think about you while doing it. He felt guilty enough as it was, having explicit dreams about his closest friend. But when his hand was wrapped around his shaft and precum trickled down his fingers in clear rivulets, the image of you touching yourself seared in his brain, unrelenting and arousing.

“Zoro.”

His name had sounded otherworldly when it parted your lips, coated in tones of lust and desperation. Just like the dreamscape he entered every night, composed of only thoughts, his thoughts in this moment could stay internalized too, couldn’t they? Kept private? This could be a one-time thing, hell, maybe it would make the dreams and nagging thoughts go away altogether. It had been too long, after all. Against his better judgment, the swordsman indulged. Just this once.

Scattered scenes flashed through Zoro’s mind the instant he decided to let his thoughts wander. All of it thundered at once like a maelstrom.

First, the look of your eyes, glossy, rolling back in your head in ecstasy. Then, the image of him shoving his cock in your wet mouth and watching you choke on it. The feeling of scissoring his fingers inside of you, of pulling your hair, of listening to your whimpers while he wrenched orgasms from you, pushing his fingers into your mouth while you sucked on them and made eye contact with him, watching your body writhe and writhe and writhe… every morsel and droplet of your envisioned pleasure fueled the force that was Zoro’s fist on his cock.

It would be hot and sloppy. Filthy.

You’d tell him to “keep going,” you’d dig your fingernails into his biceps, drool from how good it felt, swallow up his inches like nothing—he revered you, craved you, and worshipped you. He needed all of you. Wanted to smell you, taste you, hear you, and have you. He was getting carried away.

What if you walked into the bathroom right now? The door was locked, obviously, but the mental image of you stumbling across him like this gave him some sort of nasty thrill. If only you approached him, sunk to your knees and opened your mouth, petted him and praised him—

When the swordsman came all over his hands, he felt vile. He felt like a hypocrite.

He always called Sanji a pervert and derided him for his lack of control around women, and now here Zoro was, getting off on a dream he had about his own friend and crewmate. And what’s worse is that he didn’t look away in the dream when he saw you touching yourself. He didn’t even try. (To be fair, it’s not like he had control over what he dreamed about, nor could he control what he did in them, but that was a nonfactor to him.)

Zoro felt like shit.

The next time you talked to him, he turned crimson. He seemed distracted. He had been working out more than usual, so you told yourself it was the post-workout glow. You’d never seen him blush a day in your life, but sure enough, it was creeping up his neck and slowly starting to take over his cheeks.

He tried to forget his trip to the bathroom, but your pretty face made his heart thump and his stomach turn. He tried to forget the mental images his brain conjured up in his rabid state of desire. It was futile. He felt like he was going to be sick.

In your brief conversation after dinner the same day, you asked Zoro if he’d grab a drink with you. “It’s been a while,” you smiled at him, same as ever. “Let’s catch up in the next couple days over some sake. Deal?”

He hesitantly agreed. He missed you—the real you, not the dream version of you. When he said yes, you beamed at him, and his mouth went dry. He needed to get a grip and figure out what the fuck his problem was.

Zoro gave up on talking to you about the conversation he eavesdropped on over a week ago. He felt like he missed his opportunity (which is arguable) and, more than that, he felt like he wouldn’t know how to approach that conversation. What would he say at this point? “Hey, I’ve been having vivid dreams about you and I’m going fucking crazy?”

No. So, he kept it inside. He figured that he’d cross that bridge when he got to it. Would he ever admit that he heard the conversation? He wondered about this. Maybe he’d never fess up to it. Maybe he’d keep it to himself, internalize once again. But he was quickly learning that when he tried to stuff these huge emotions back inside of him, they got bigger, louder, more unruly. It was like psychological warfare, except the assailant was his brain.

At this point, the dreams felt all-consuming. He’d get so wrapped up in them at night that he felt like he was in a daze during the day. Perhaps he was being dramatic, or perhaps his brain was desperately struggling to regulate a whopping load of emotions he had never encountered before, or rather, that he had never let himself acknowledge before.

He worried that you could tell something was off with him. You could.

Later, you asked, “Hey Zoro, you doing ok?”

He stuttered out a response, flustered by your presence, falling apart in seconds. It was very unlike him. “Wha—? H-hey, uh, yeah, I’m fine. What’s up?”

“Nothing, just checking on you. You’ve been a bit spacey recently.” Your expression was one of concern. He seemed off, not to mention those dark circles of his. Was he getting sick? Was the insomnia coming back?

Upon hearing your words, it was like a lightning bolt hit Zoro. “You’ve been a bit spacey recently.”

What an insane coincidence. You said those very words to him in a dream a few nights ago, after which you complimented his eyes. He froze for a second, then tried to play off his shock with a yawn.

“I feel fine.” He shrugged. It wasn’t convincing in the slightest. “Just haven’t been sleeping the best.”

The paranoia was coming—did you know that he was dreaming about you? Had he been acting weird? Could you tell that he was thinking about you every moment of the day? God forbid, were you starting to form the misconception that he liked you in some romantic or erotic way? Fuck. This was getting ridiculous. Get a grip, man, he told himself.

You tried to ignore how odd he was acting. If he said he was fine, then he was fine.

He tried to convince himself that he was fine. He tried to wait it out and see that his attempt at convincing himself was effective.

It was not.

DREAM 9: A shocking revelation

Zoro’s dream the following night was delightful and concerning.

He was sitting on the edge of his bed, fiddling with something. Maybe he was sharpening a sword, refitting a sheath, polishing his boots… something like that. That part was foggy. Behind him, Zoro felt a weight on the bed. He knew it was you.

You scooted close to him from where you were sitting and reached your hands under the hem of his shirt. Your fingers ran over his bare skin, relishing the feeling of his abs and happy trail, every inch of his taut, tanned skin. You reached around his front and wrapped your arms around him. Your palms were warm, and you moved closer, body flush on his from behind. It was not lost on him that he could feel your breasts pressing on his back.

“Zoroooo,” you cooed right in his ear. Goosebumps. “You’re no fun. Pay attention to me. I’m bored.” You were whining.

You tickled him, poked him, kissed his back through the fabric of his shirt. You were all over him and it felt like your hands were everywhere. You were begging him to put down what he was doing and give you his undivided attention.

“Fine,” he responded in mock annoyance, rolling his eyes and putting his things away. He turned, maneuvering his body so he was facing you. “What do you want me to do?”

You pouted. “I don’t know. I’m bored. Let’s lay down and cuddle. Please?”

The scene shifted. You two were lying in bed, facing each other. You were eye to eye, arms thrown over each other. Zoro tucked your hair behind your ear, breathless. He was enamored, entranced by your beauty and admiration. Your hand was placed under his shirt, resting on his side. The skin contact felt electric. You leaned in and started to pepper his face with kisses—a recurring theme in these dreams. He must have really wanted that.

He closed his eyes.

You first brushed your lips lightly over his, and then you moved to kiss all over one of his cheeks, all over his forehead, his other cheek, his chin, his nose, his eyes, his jawline, ending at his lips again. You nuzzled his nose, ran your fingers through his hair—it was like you couldn’t get enough of him. Your lips were soft, meeting his delicately. When you pulled away from him. You held eye contact, an affectionate smile playing across your lips. He smelled you, felt you, and felt enveloped by you.

Zoro leaned in and kissed your forehead. You giggled and pulled him closer.

He could feel himself starting to say something in the dream, working up the nerve to say something that made his heart feel like it would stop. The words were getting caught in his mouth, they felt like they were taking forever to form…

They were words he almost said to you once before in a dream. He forced them out through his cotton mouth and hesitation.

“I love you.”

When the words left his lips, that twisting feeling happened inside of him so intensely that it must have detonated something. Each piece of shrapnel sent bolts of lightning through his body; he felt like he was vibrating, euphoric, every nerve on fire. He couldn’t breathe.

The dream version of you looked into his eyes and nodded. “I know you do, Zoro. I see you.”

Buzzing, Zoro felt like he wanted to rip his heart out of his chest and give it to you. He wanted you to see him, to see every part of him, to bare his soul to you and say ‘look, here is everything in me, here is every part of me.’

You were about to pull him into another kiss before he awoke up with a start, sweating and practically shaking.

Zoro’s heart was beating out of his chest. He sat up. Immediately, his first instinct was to check whether or not you were really in his bed. You weren’t—to both his relief and disappointment. He checked the time—3:36AM. Far too early. But he couldn’t fall back asleep now, not when his heart was pounding like this.

Why did he tell you he loved you?

It would be an understatement to say that Zoro’s mind was racing. He recalled that in one of his first dreams he wondered if you would still feel lonely if he embraced you. But if he did more than embrace you, if he gave all of himself to you, what then? What would you feel if he did that?

Would you stop feeling lonely and sad if he gave everything to you, even his heart? Would you give him yours, in return?

He ruminated on the concept of giving all of himself to you. What did that mean, and why did the thought pass through his mind when he was dreaming?

To give you all of him, for you to see every part of him… was that love? Is this what it meant to love? If giving you every part of himself meant spending every moment with you that he could, kissing and caressing you, making you feel better, listening to every word you stored up inside, sharing every word he stored up inside… The realization hit him like a train.

He wanted that. He ardently wanted to fill in the hole that loneliness had carved out of your life. And he realized that there was one in his life, as well. A lacuna of would-be companionship that he had forever thought was out of reach.

Could he give you what you needed? Is that what love is? To share yourself with someone else, to want them, to cherish them, care for them, see them for who they are?

He wanted to give you all of him. He didn’t want you to feel lonely, sad, or distressed ever again. He wanted to always be there, he wanted you to know you could tell him anything, wanted to know you like the back of his hand, and he wanted you to know him like that, too.

Zoro understood now what that twisting, thumping feeling inside of him was. No, it wasn’t arrythmia, or indigestion, or anything of the sort—it had been lying low for months, boiling under the surface. It all clicked into place.

That stirring and twisting feeling? It was the feeling of that lock inside of him breaking into a million pieces. The lock around his heart that prevented him from wanting to love and from knowing how to… it was gone now, obliterated.

That impenetrable lock, the lead chains, the crushing weight of it…  He used to think that the key to that lock didn’t exist. But now that you were here, Zoro realized that you were the missing key. You were the one capable of ripping open that relentless opacity, that stoicism, that brick of pain that he tried to ignore and train away. You had ripped it to shreds, like it was nothing. You did it over the course of many months, many days, and even in his sleep.

Zoro realized that he was in love with you.

He wanted to recognize you completely and absolutely, and for you to do the same to him.

Zoro wanted to take showers with you and take turns shampooing each other’s hair. He wanted to hold your hand in public, feeling and seeing nothing else but you. He wanted to come home after a long day and hold you tight, kiss you and call you sweet names. He wanted to nuzzle your nose every day and drink up every smile like he was starving for it.

To think that you were so sad and lonely you cried? That shattered him. Hearing you be so vocal about it, seeing a different side of you that he never knew before—maybe he never felt this emotion until he met you for a reason. Now that the pieces were falling into place, he saw that it was you. It was always you. It was only you. It would only be you forever.

He did not have another dream about you for three nights.

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taglist: @riftmage27 @eggrollforyou @imhwajaez @wiyenspanel @xxmysticxxx @moonmaiden1996

a/n: thanks so much for reading! part 3 is going to be a minute - lmk if you want to be on the taglist! i have yet to write (most of) it.

[cheer-nympho]

Thinking about Eddie driving up to the quarry one night to try and sell to the teenagers that usually hang around here,

But when he gets there only one car is parked and hidden behind the bushes framing the road.

A very familiar BMW with it’s windows steamed up.

‘Of course Harringtons getting some again. Lucky fuck.’ Eddie thinks as he lights a smoke, if only to warm him up a bit in the cold night.

Damn. From the condensation dripping down the BMW windows, they’re having no problem keeping warm.

Even from the distance it takes effort to not startle when the hand slams against the back window, creating a messy handprint on the white glass. Even from here he can see it’s a mans hand. Steve, he assumes. Jesus, whoever he has in that back seat is clearly getting railed practically through the seats.

He should look away, really. Knows that this is a bit fucked up. But…he can’t actually see anything. And really, Harrington shouldn’t have brought her out to the towns most known hangout. And its not like he was straining to hear, they were just SO loud. And…deep?

Eddie’s not exactly a connoisseur in the different noises of women, try as he may, but he’s pretty sure he’s only hearing a man right now. Sure, its still a pretty high pitched and punched out sound but noticeably a dudes- which confuses Eddie for a minute.

Harrington must just be really sensitive and loud. Maybe that’s why he had so many girls falling over him, the noises certainly weren’t turning Eddie OFF the interaction.

He can physically see the change in the cars bouncing when he assumes they’re…’finishing off’

Eddie doesn’t know why he’s still here. He could have- no, he SHOULD have left ages ago. But not long after the bouncing stops, the car door swings over and 2 legs swing out, hands coming down to fix their socks- clearly having hastily thrown his clothes back on.

The only thing is…Eddie doesn’t remember Harringtons legs being so long? The body looks out or place sitting in the open door, not like the familiar and practically famous silhouette of Steve against his vehicle. And it hits Eddie square in the face when the guy stands upright.

Cause Eddie DOES know the guy. He’s just stomach tippinglys aware that it is NOT Harrington.

That’s Johnny. Eddies (admittedly one sided) rival at the hideout. A fucking punk. Not in the way the adults of Hawkins use the term, he’s literally a punk rocker.

And his punk rocker ass is currently stepping out of Steve Harringtons freshly christened back seat. Well that…can’t be right. Harrington must just…rent out his car to couple or something. That must be it. Rich people are weird like that.

His theory is very quickly destroyed when Johnny knocks lightly on the roof of the car, cigarette already in the other hand, and pokes his head into the back. He laughs before a pair of legs flop out of the door. Legs attached to someone clearly too tall for a backseat. Legs attached to someone very male.

He should go. He needs to go. If not because of how his stomach feels like it’s trying to eat itself, then because his best-buddy Johnny just tipped his head non-subtly towards Eddie’s van.

‘Shit shit shit shit-‘ He puts the keys in as fast as he can with shaking hands.

— And he so nearly got away too. So nearly never had to look at that BMW or its occupants again, live his life carefree.

All hope of that was cruelly dashed when he left hellfire to see Steve leaning against his van.

He scanned the area, in hopes someone else had stayed late because he was pretty sure Steve was about to give him the “talk and you’re dead” followed by a beating up. And that would suck.

Nowhere else to go but forward, he clutched his DND bag and hobbled over to Harrington- who hadn’t offered him anything other than a blank stare.

“Harrington.”

“Munson.”

“Pretty late to be lurking around school. People might get the wrong idea.”

“Don’t lecture me on lurking, man. We both know you were at the quarry.”

“I don’t really-“

“Johnny told me, would recognise your beat up ride miles away he said.”

Thankfully Eddie had enough brain power in him to add that to the list of reasons to fucking hate Johnny. In the time he had to scowl at the ground, Harrington had rounded behind him. Eddie span to meet him but was met with a rough hand to the chest.

He was pushed up against his van with a sharp movement, pulling a winded breath from him followed by a large ‘bang’ as Steve’s hand slammed to the side of his head.

“So, Munson. What did you see?”

“I didn’t see-“

“Try again.” A hand crept into his hair, not pulling but clearly threatening it with the way it was clasped.

“I saw…you and Johnny. In your car.”

Steve hummed and looked away from Eddie. “That’s not very specific, Eddie, try again.”

“Wha- I don’t know what you-“ The hand in his hair yanked, pulling his head so that even with their similar heights he was forced to look up at Steve, hands gripping uselessly to the side of his van.

“Try again.”

Oh.

Oh.

That’s what he wanted.

“I saw Johnny fucking you.”

He managed to lift his gaze to look at Steve and was met with an almost dopey smirk, his eyes barely focused as they stared down at Eddie half closed. Eddie melted right into the wall of his van because Steve Harrington was looking him like he’d never been hornier in his life.

“Fuck. He was Eddie, he really was and it was so good. You saw it right? Saw the car moving? Shit, man, it’s hard to get it moving like that. He was so rough.” Eddie just stared as Steve started falling further towards him, sinking into the weird little hold they both had.

“But there’s just one problem Munson.” Steve said into the side of Eddie’s neck, making him shiver and use all his willpower to keep his head where Steve’s grip had moved it.

“What- What problem?”

“My car is just too small. We needed more space, I needed more space.”

He brought his free hand up and slammed it to the other side of Eddie’s head. “Do you think you might know anyone with something more…spacious?” And when Eddie clocked exactly what he was implying, what he was begging for- he had never been so thankful for his shitty van.

[ariaste]

Props to OP for answering so gracefully, but I'm not going to answer gracefully. It is more important than ever to call out fascism whenever you see it -- especially the quiet, soft, poisonously insidious kind that Anon is practicing here.

Anon ostensibly wants to know: "Do authors realize that they're writing about things that some people might find disturbing, horrific, upsetting, repulsive, or simply just TMI?" (Yes, obviously they know. Authors are not stupid; that's usually a requirement of the job (not always. But usually).)

But what Anon is actually asking is, "Why don't authors stop themselves from doing a Bad Thing? Why doesn't anyone else stop them?" The assumption underlying that question is: "Surely if they realized that they were doing something disgusting, they would stop immediately." Even more covertly implied: "I think writing about certain things automatically taints you with moral degeneracy--that is, it marks you as a possible or potential criminal."

To that I say: My friend, writing is just thoughts copied onto paper, and thinking is not a crime. Only actual actions can be crimes. What does it matter what other people think about? Literally so what? Why do you want people to be stopped from thinking about those things ("did their editors ever gently ask them...")? Why do you care? Do you feel that an author should provide a list of justifications and excuses before it's permissible for them to write about something? Why? And who do you think should be in charge of that? The government???? YOU???????

To any person reading this post: If the above questions are personally upsetting to you, if you find yourself huffily thinking something like, "Well, I care because it could normalize--", NOPE, STOP RIGHT THERE. 🚩🚩🚩🚩🚩 This is a big red flag: You (much like the Anon) are exhibiting some early warning signs of Fascism, and that is not something to take lightly in the current political climate. There are some drugs you shouldn't experiment with even once, and fascism is one of them. Repeat as often as needed: THERE IS NO SUCH THING AS THOUGHTCRIME. WE DO NOT LIVE IN GEORGE ORWELL'S 1984.

But we already talk about thoughtcrimes now and then, don't we? I can't remember seeing someone talking about crimestop (also from Orwell's 1984):

In the Newspeak vocabulary, the word crimestop denotes the citizen's instinctive desire to rid himself of unwanted, incorrect thoughts (personal and political), the discovery of which, by the Thinkpol [Thought Police], would lead to detection and arrest, transport to and interrogation at Miniluv (Ministry of Love). The protagonist, Winston Smith, describes crimestop as a conscious process of self-imposed cognitive dissonance: The mind should develop a blind spot whenever a dangerous thought presented itself. The process should be automatic, instinctive. Crimestop, they called it in Newspeak. . . . He set to work to exercise himself in crimestop. He presented himself with propositions—'the Party says the Earth is flat', 'the Party says that ice is heavier than water'—and trained himself in not seeing or not understanding the arguments that contradicted them. Moreover, from the perspective of Oceania's principal enemy of the state, in the history book The Theory and Practice of Oligarchical Collectivism, Emmanuel Goldstein said that: Crimestop means the faculty of stopping short, as though by instinct, at the threshold of any dangerous thought. It includes the power of not grasping analogies, of failing to perceive logical errors, of misunderstanding the simplest arguments if they are inimical to Ingsoc, and of being bored or repelled by any train of thought which is capable of leading in a heretical direction. Crimestop, in short, means protective stupidity.

Read that twice, and then reread the Anon's question. Translate it through that lens: "Why," says the Anon, delicately disgusted, "are these authors not practicing better crimestop? I practice it all the time. Why aren't they?"

Great question, Anon. Why AREN'T they? Turn off your crimestop and give it some real thought.

(Hint: If the answer you come up with is "Because they are moral degenerates" or anything in that neighborhood, you are unfortunately still doing fascism. Try again. If you have tried several times and the only answer you can manage to come up with is a still a synonym of "moral degeneracy" then this is above my paygrade and I would recommend talking to a trusted grownup, a therapist, a spiritual leader, or possibly your least-online friend.)

Do you think authors sometimes don't realize how their, uh, interests creep into their writing? I'm talking about stuff like Robert Jordan's obvious femdom kink, or Anne Rice's preoccupation with inc*st and p*dophilia. Did their editors ever gently ask them if they've ever actually read what they've written?

Firstly, a reminder: This is not tiktok and we just say the words incest and pedophilia here.

Secondly, I don't know if I would call them 'interests' so much as fixations or even concerns. There are monstrous things that people think about, and I think writing is a place to engage with those monstrous things. It doesn't bother me that people engage with those things. I exist somewhere within the whump scale, and I would hope no one would think less of me just because sooner or later I like to rough a good character up a bit, you know? It's fun to torture characters, as a treat!

But, anyway, assuming this question isn't, "Do writers know they're gross when I think they are gross" which I'm going to take the kind road and assume it isn't, but is instead, "Do you think authors are aware of the things they constantly come back to?"

Sometimes. It can be jarring to read your own writing and realize that there are things you CLEARLY are preoccupied with. (mm, I like that word more than concerns). There are things you think about over and over, your run your mind over them and they keep working their way back in. I think this is true of most authors, when you read enough of them. Where you almost want to ask, "So...what's up with that?" or sometimes I read enough of someone's work that I have a PRETTY good idea what's up with that.

I've never read Robert Jordan and I don't intend to start (I think it would bore me this is not a moral stance) and I've really never read Rice's erotica. In erotica especially I think you have all the right in the world to get fucking weird about it! But so, when I was young I read the whole Vampire Chronicles series. I don't remember it perfectly, but there's plenty in it to reveal VERY plainly that Anne Rice has issues with God but deeply believes in God, and Anne Rice has a preoccupation with the idea of what should stay dead, and what it means to become. So, when i found out her daughter died at the age of six, before Rice wrote all of this, and she grew up very very Catholic' I said, 'yeah, that fucking checks out'.

Was Rice herself aware of how those things formed her writing? I think at a certain point probably yes. The character of Claudia is in every way too on the nose for her not to have SOME idea unless she was REAL REAL dense about her own inner workings. But, sometimes I know where something I write about comes from, that doesn't mean I'm interested in sharing it with the class. I would never ever fucking say, 'The reasons I seem to write so much of x as y is that z happened to me years ago' ahaha FUCK THAT NOISE. NYET. RIDE ON, COWBOY.

But I've known some people in fandom works who clearly have something going on and don't seem to realize it. Or they're very good at hiding it. Based on the people I'm talking about I would say it's more a lack of self-knowledge, and I don't even mean that unkindly. I have, in many ways, taken myself down to the studs and rebuilt it all, so I unfortunately am very aware of why I do and write the things I do most of the time. It's extremely annoying not to be able to blame something. I imagine it must be very freeing. But it ain't me, babe.

Anyway, a lot of words to say: Maybe! But that might not stop them from writing it, it might be a useful thing for them to engage with, and you can always just not read it.

Also, we don't censor words here.

[whinypuppi]

i literally cannot stop thinking about big brother!satoru who'll do whatever he can to lure you, his sweet little sister in before pushing you away not long after. he'll intentionally let his hands linger on you for far too long, or brush his hands up against your thighs "accidentally," making sure he's subtle enough to keep your suspicions away, but to get you to have the fattest crush on him.

he'll pretend to be all innocent and whatnot when you in fact do end up crushing on your own brother, he'll ignore and being cruel towards you when he knew for sure that he had you wrapped around his finger. you were so easy to bend to his will and manipulate if he pleased, and just the thought of you at his mercy made him hard.

when you finally mustered up the courage to just...tell him, you were all blushy and stuttery, your face hot as if you had a fever, and your voice sounded shaky the entire time. just to mess with you, he even told you to speak up, wanting to just—really let it sink in that fucked-up head of his that his plan worked.

"i...um, said i like you, big brother...a whole lot," you mumbled, hardly louder than the first time, but it'd do. he knew he had to act surprised, pretend like all the things he did to you were unintentional.

"that so? sorry, sis, but i don't think i feel for you that way. that's kind of gross," he even added on, forcing himself to scowl and turn his nose up despite how giddy he felt inside.

when you started to cry and profoundly apologize, that's when he actually felt a little bad, but he still got some sick sense of enjoyment out of your suffering. he couldn't help that you looked so pretty when you cried!

"aw, c'mon, baby—i was just joking, hey, 's okay," he reassured you, rubbing your back while kissing your tears away. when you hugged him tightly, his erection throbbed in his pants, but you were too caught up in your own embarrassing feelings to care :((

don't worry—he wouldn't leave you hanging. he'd prove to you that he likes you too (totally not having been obsessed with you since you were both hardly teens). he'd fuck you until you can't see or think straight, mumbling sorries out that were hardly audible past your sweet babbles and cries, along with the squelching sounds of your cunt.

he'd do anything for you—even jump off a bridge if you asked. for the one who claims to have YOU in his grasp, he's totally whipped for you.

[caramelvogel]

yjh who does audio porn to pay the bills and kdj who listens to it to fall asleep. kdj genuinely does not get off to it and he's so embarrassed that this is what he's found to help him sleep. literally nothing else helps and he's been advised to stop taking sleep medication because he was told he’s gonna just build up tolerance and dependency and making him worse

yjh started out trying to do non sexual voiceovers and readings at first, but his viewers kept encouraging him to do more and more sexual ones - and since it was more popular and paid the bills better - it became yjh’s main thing. at first yjh was really uncomfortable at having to do this, he was awkward every recording session and had to focus hard to keep the mood, but these days he's so desensitized he’s playing a game on the side while recording. he has outtakes where he was saying something and interrupts himself to curse about his game, and it comes out somehow that he plays games while doing it so the top tier gets to know what game he’s playing as an extra note underneath

when kdj somehow meets yjh, he wants to pass away but has to pretend everything is fine (he uses his super power of disassociation to get through it).

hsy: so do you get hard listening to him talk lmao

kdj, head in hands: no i just get sleepy :C

yjh thinking that kdj finds him really boring cause he keeps having to fight off sleep every time they interact.

kdj is the only one who wants normal readings (after they get together yjh recording himself reading kdj's favorite webnovel for him to fall asleep to). idk how audio porn and readings work but yjh has some sort of subscription service for fans and kdj is in the top tier. the highest tier there’s a chance that you can request something from yjh to read or (voice)act out, and kdj gets the chance and just requests some fantasy book (maybe once they know each other and yjh learns that kdj likes this book, and the original request stuck in yjh’s mind because it didn’t have anything dirty in it at all, just fantasy with heavy world building)

[sucker-just]

I am not an American and have no real say in what that country does, but it really does look to me like H1B visas do seem to do that because they are designed without leeway and effectively chain international workers to specific roles at specific companies, allowing those companies to effectively underpay and abuse those workers and workers waiting in the lottery line while frequently using the process to circumvent local talent even with search requirements. I know this in part because of American hiring managers whining online about how they're really not at fault for having to put up ghost job listings stop being so mean about them, it's a requirement to be able to try to justify a visa so really it's the government's fault they have to put up job listings nobody will get, it's necessary to skirt the law effectively won't you please think of the career HR professionals hard job of barely maintaining the appearance of compliance 😭. They say this publically and with the expectation of sympathy, so it seems it's not the most taboo and unheard of practice. And when asked, they want the international worker because they have a good skill set but also will work for less and be less likely to recieve and take other offers than local talent, giving the employer a lot of leeway in their treatment.

By making a class of worker have their right to stay in the country conditional upon staying in a specific employer's good graces, those workers are effectively unable to demand keeping competitive standards of treatment and pay, let alone put in for actual collective bargaining efforts, lest they literally lose their place in the country they are currently living in. This also means that other workers can be threatened with being replaced by these effectively indentured workers, which is a real thing tech workers especially have been threatened with (actual threats made by employers explicitly), to allow employers even greater leverage. The program by design is unfair to the applicant, because they're not the main person being served in this arrangement and having them be constrained and uncertain is the point. Even if a company can't keep a specific international worker, they can and will keep trying with more people (more hiring manager statements). They don't really care if they need a new person in that position, just so long as it's someone who will put up with it while doing highly technical work, taking on a number of hopeful graduates at once and owning a good portion of their careers if successful and churning through them if not (taken from an applicant's description of their workplace's policies). I have seen many heartbreaking stories from people on visas describing bad workplace conditions which they feel they cannot escape without jeopardizing their immigration status because if they get fired in retaliation for standing up to or reporting the abuse they are suffering they risk being deported and changing jobs while maintaining the visa is not easy and not many employers want to do that when they could just hire local or hire someone who's a visa hopeful and have the process be one they're used to and is more straightforward (according to the visa workers experiencing workplace abuse I read this from). I am sure not every employer is using this system to abuse, but it is set up in such a way that guarantees it will be by some.

This is patently undermining for both international workers and local talent. It clearly undermines the power of US tech labour in particular, which is why Elon is so horny for it while actively decrying every form of immigration that doesn't directly make him money. The solution to this is not an end to immigration, including of skilled tech workers, but putting forward actual immigration. Real immigration that's not purely at the behest of a specific employer. Because frankly nobody deserves to have their legal status be at their boss's mercy. By breaking the chains that bind international workers, first and foremost it would mean that they'd be safer and more secure, but also hopefully it would help the tech sector's nascent labour organising efforts. This is, however, currently a pipe dream.

listened to my very first powerpoint presentation abt how to apply for h1b visa, yeag every single leftist who had anything to say abt how h1b visas negatively impact american workers needs to die. kinda crazzy how noone else is bothered by the fact that elon musk, the guy who recently did 2 sieg heils on stage, had a less fascist opinion on this immigration issue than many americoid leftists. what can i say, i will never forgive i will never forget

[mimiiiiiiiiisstuff]

"HOT TO GO"

i'm in no way sexualizing minors and i won't write smut, this is just part of my fictional story!

ok i know i said i was gonna sleep but i had another idea! im thinking of like a hyper-sexual reader. like a literal addict. a reader who, after finding out about her powers, needs an outlet. reader who loses her virginity in a skatepark and ends up with bruises and scratches on her knees that heal as quickly as they got there. she's only about 15 and 7 months when she first does it and now she can't stop. with her new powers, she became beautiful, the kind of girl people stop and stare at. the girl people would die for. sex became her way of getting the love that was denied to her all these years, a way to take control. it became her outlet, the only time she really felt good. she hooks up with boys from school, college guys, but as time goes by she starts having a thing for inapropriate older men. all consensually, of course though beauty can be a curse sometimes and some men don't know that no means no. by the time she's 16 and the batfam notices her, she doesn't really want that kind of love anymore. of course the batfam can't give her what she wants and immediately puts a stop to it. and yeah it works for a couple of days, until the batboys' friends start coming around and paying attention to the babybat.

ok now im going to sleep! see yall tmrw! keep commenting and sending asks!!!

[ell6ied]

blue lock men as love island contestants

𓇼 ⋆.˚ 𓆉 𓆝 𓆡⋆.˚ 𓇼

pairings: (separate) sae itoshi, rin itoshi, yoichi isagi, meguru bachira, seishiro nagi, rensuke kunigami, oliver aiku, ryusei shidou x f!reader

sae itoshi

i’m so undecided about this man. i feel like he could be either a lover boy or a heartbreaker.

like i can see him either coupling up and not even batting an eyelash for a bombshell, or he’s literally getting to know every single bombshell, keeping you constantly on your toes.

either way, i can see twitter going crazy once he enters the villa, love island producers knew what they was doing putting the itoshi siblings in the same villa.

it’s definitely one sided beef though, he doesn’t entertain his brothers side comments about him during challenges and even tries giving him girl advice on occasions 😭

is so unbothered by the challenges, especially the twitter one. this man couldn’t care less about what the public had to say about him or his girl.

he always makes sure to be so half assed about them too, never putting in full effort because he thinks they’re ridiculous.

i can imagine him telling you to stop embarrassing yourself on tv for a silly challenge.

after his clip plays on movie night, he’s genuinely confused why you’re mad about it since it happened 2 weeks ago.

you can’t tell whether he’s being manipulative or oblivious.

i feel like he’d also be that one boy telling the rest of them that if they’re not exclusive they shouldn’t hold back on getting to know the other girls, ESPECIALLY during casa.

doesn’t understand why you think it’s a big deal that he said that since he was still being loyal to you. twitter keeps calling him a red flag.

despite everything though, i feel like he’d also be the guy to have your back in any argument you have, but making sure to correct you where you went wrong in private.

rin itoshi

idc what ANYONE says this man is a lover boy.

he locks in with one girl (you) and stays loyal the whole show even with you having ups and downs, you both always make it through and the public just love you both.

i feel like he’d be the first bombshell to enter the villa and the girls are ALL OVER HIM. like when miguel entered the villa on love island usa and the girls just kept pulling him away 😭

he gets so mad when he sees his brother walk in as a bombshell a week or so later, definitely causes sm drama to the point the public are divided 50/50 about who’s side they’re on.

literally so competitive in challenges and games, especially couple ones.

he’s always stressing at you to pick up the pace so that you both can win, which gets him clowned on twitter.

you both end up winning though.

lowkey gets into beef with the boys on movie night since his clip just showed him talking shit about them all 😭

he def hated casa amor too, refusing to kiss the girls for the challenges, causing the main villa to win the points. also sleeps outside on the day beds, looking at pictures of you on his phone.

yoichi isagi

obviously an og. i feel like he’s also the type to find you early on and settle. though, i can see him still getting to know the bombshells, he just thinks they don’t compare to you in the slightest.

is the maid and chef of the villa. always the one to clean up after people. he’s also the first boy to make breakfast and coffee for his couple.

overall, he’s very sweet to all the islanders, he’s like the main boy all the girls come to for advice and a shoulder to cry on when their couple has done them dirty.

however! we know how this man can be and when he gets jealous omg, the villa absolutely kicks off.

i feel like everyone watching got so surprised when they saw him turn into this territorial guard dog over you when a new boy tried kissing you.

so yeah, all the bombshells kinda left you alone after that, which he was definitely pleased about.

lowkey gets rinsed in the twitter challenge and genuinely doesn’t understand the publics beef with him.

“i don’t even get that jealous.”, the rest of the islanders just keep quiet.

i feel like during casa he wouldn’t be completely innocent but he wouldn’t do anything bad enough to cause you to break up with him, just him having little flirty chats which definitely get shown at movie night.

he’s also incredibly shit at challenges, especially the couple ones, like your both notorious for being last place each time.

meguru bachira

this man would be so sweet and cheery, definitely the comedic relief of the group. i feel like he’d be on the og lineup.

but i can see him being an accidental heartbreaker, like he’s in a couple and during casa amor there’s this one girl who shows him so much attention and he’s missing you so much so he shares a bed with her and gives her a kiss outside a challenge 🫣

i feel like it’d get exposed during movie night or during the casa recoupling when he comes back alone and one of the girls expose him.

surprisingly brings everyone watching to tears when he’s apologising, begging on his knees for you to forgive him.

definitely becomes a huge thing on tiktok and twitter like kordell and serena after casa.

eventually he makes it up to you, and the public seem to love you both even more, landing him in the final 4.

seishiro nagi

he’s such a sweetheart but i can see him being a bit of a slow burner. i feel like he’d struggle opening up and showing affection to the girls which cause them to fall back on him.

like if you want him you’d definitely have to play the long game, but i don’t think he’d entertain anyone else so i guess there’s some benefit.

when the both of you were a new couple the public definitely made so many comments thinking he was so uninterested in you until they see the unseen bits and see how much more affectionate and loving he is with you.

i feel like that would also be what’s highlighted during movie night, like a conversation with isagi where he’s telling him he’s not sure if he feels a connection with you yet. you can tell it was when you was both just getting to know each other but he doesn’t escape the foul side eye you give him.

during casa i feel like he’d talk to the girls so condescendingly 😭

like, production make him join the conversations with the girls and he says the most backhanded things to them, causing isagi to snicker at him while the girls just look all confused.

hates challenges so much. he tries a bit harder for the couple ones but you always end up getting second to last place.

“at least i’m not as bad as isagi.”, he’ll say when you roll your eyes at him after he miserably failed yet another challenge .

renuske kunigami

oh everyone would love this man.

i feel like he’d struggle finding a connection at first until he’s at risk of being dumped and then you, a bombshell walks in and just completely clicks with him.

such a romantic type, i feel like the islanders would let you and him get the chance to go to the hideaway first.

even after going to the hideaway, he remains so respectful, even though his mind is going crazy with the lingerie you wore for him.

is also weirdly good at challenges. seems to know who all the questions are about, even if it’s a guess.

during movie night he just sits there munching on his popcorn, watching the boys get exposed while he knows he’s one of the only boys getting a peaceful night in his couple.

this man also despised casa. it’s the only thing him and rin really bonded over. he was also sleeping on the day beds but i feel like he’d kiss in challenges if he hadn’t made you his girlfriend before casa.

probably the only man to not have any arguments or problems with his couple.

oliver aiku

this man is either hated or loved by the public.

can’t find a genuine connection for the life of him. he definitely comes in as a bombshell, and steals someone from their couple, then just keeps getting his head turned by every single bombshell that enters the villa 😭

he genuinely can’t help himself

always says, “i can’t put all my eggs in one basket.” or “do you wanna go for a chat?”

gets nervous when any of the boys talk to one of the many girls he’s pursuing.

i feel like at first people would have zero idea this man is a player, but then eventually the public just start getting sick of him, chanting on twitter to get him out next.

the boys take him as inspiration on what NOT to do.

he’s also incredibly shit at challenges, always gets them wrong and dreads every time a text comes through on someone’s phone, praying it isn’t a challenge.

ryusei shidou

he’s always getting into trouble with production, i feel like he’d end up getting kicked out after maximum a week for prohibited behaviour.

definitely gossips with the girls telling them what their couples have been saying behind their back, like this man is MESSY. i can imagine him saying like, “oh, yeah he’s definitely into the new girl, he was telling the boys how she’s his type on the outside.”

the boys absolutely despise him for this 💀 ESPECIALLY OLIVER.

gets awarded messiest islander in the awards ceremony night.

speaking of, i feel like he’d LIVE for the challenges, especially movie night or the twitter game. he wouldn’t even hold back on who he thought the tweets were about, which would cause drama after the challenge 🫢

in terms of coupling up, i think he will just go for whoever wants him, he doesn’t seem too picky. but once he gets attention from multiple girls his head is definitely turning and he wouldn’t care about how you felt.

gets absolutely rinsed on social media once he gets back home.

[comradical]

If you’re a woman who has sex with a male, you are not a lesbian. I’ve witnessed transwomen have tantrums about it.

Most trans teens are being nonbinary or trans because it’s trending. When people wanted to be different a decade they were punk or goth or something. Now they’re “queer”

men can’t be lesbians

Women often identify as men or nonbinary because they think they’re special or not women because they have human thoughts and emotions. Literally just talk to any nonbinary woman.

No, being trans is about switching gender roles. You’re not breaking anything by saying you’re a woman because you like painting your nails and having long hair. You’re a woman because you’re female. It’s very easy. The concept of gender is misogynistic trash that your community put lipstick and glitter on and pretend that it’s not the exact same thing by “spicy”

LGB is only focused on trans people right now because you guys won’t stop throwing tantrums about us. Leave us alone do we can do actual activism. You’re not stopping straight people from killing us. You’re the ones hiding behind us for protection

I’ve talked to many trans people. I used to identify as male because of the desire to escape femininity. I used to have almost all trans friends, and I can see it for what it is.

Acknowledging reality is not hateful. I’m sorry you don’t have an actual argument other than throwing buzzwords at me. You’ll grow up one day and realize how cringe this whole thing is.

By cutting out the TQ+, you also cut out:

-Intersex people

-Two-spirit gays and other culturally connected gays

-Gender nonconforming people

-Those who are questioning their sexuality

-Gays, lesbians, and bi's who are supportive of trans people

-Millions of kind, loving, supportive humans who have gone through indescribable, traumatic abuse and wish to build a safe, welcoming community

Why are you so eager to exclude and belittle people? Why do you tell them they 'don't know what real struggle looks like' when their healthcare, their future, and their lives are under attack? Do you truly value 'love', or do you just want to swat away as many people as possible? Why do you continue to hide under a rock and dig yourself deeper into festering hatred, when you can simply come out and support people who can help you?

Wouldn't it be easier to unite with our trans and nonbinary friends to help defeat the growing threat of genuine fascism in our country? Those conservative Christian nationalists and white supremacists who tell you you're "one of the good ones" would gladly turn around and shoot you in a heartbeat, because when they say they're fighting the 'woke gender ideology', they'll mutter in the same breath that you gays are 'degenerates', 'sodomites', and 'animals'. Why would you side with the villains, who see you the same way they see us?

We cannot let oppression continue in any form. We will all be on the winning side of history as we step closer to ending the cycle of hatred and bullying. Open your hearts and minds and you'll find that the everyone around you is just as human as you, and are more similar to you than you'd think. Trans people are people, just like you, and we need your help and support just as much as you need ours.

Isn't it neat how people who are supportive of all LGBTQ+ identities are also kinder, more loving, more empathetic, and more caring towards their friends and loved ones? Just something to think about.

Love wins. Trans rights are human rights.