#i also like how i worded it like an argument when it was just us saying shit out of our ass we dont even argue ever we dont care

[devsblurbs]

Sex Pollen — B . Blake

Summary – Reader and Bellamy have always hated each other, from the moment the ship landed they were constantly at each others throats. Clarke having had enough of it for the evening, sends them away to go cover some more ground outside of the camp. They come across a clearing of some flowers, but they aren’t normal flowers, and the pollen does something to them.

Warnings - 18+ MDNI , smut , unprotected sex , oral ( f received ) , degrading , use of praise , strong language , some angst , choking , biting

Word count - 5.6k

The chilled air of the evening hummed with tension, it hung in the air heavily, like a weight crushing everyone around down into the soil. Y/n and Bellamy stood in the center of their little camp, the campfire’s embers crackling in the background, a soft contrast to their raised voices

Everyone around knew not to get involved or get into the middle of it when they were fighting, it was futile. From the moment they had landed, those two had been at eachothers throats. They couldn’t be around one another for more than a few seconds without some kind of argument following.

She hated the way Bellamy thought he was better than everyone else, and even more so she hated that he was rash and always thought he was right. No one ever really questioned him, except for her. He hated how stubborn she was, how she could never just listen to what he had to say. She always had some sort of snarky remake to fire back, she simply could never leave anything he said alone.

Most of the time Y/n had a fair point, she was more strategic with her plans. She took the little details into consideration, while Bellamy didn’t, but god forbid she try to tell him he’s wrong.

“You think your way is always the right one, don’t you?” Y/n said to him, her fists clenched tightly to her sides.

They had been going for the past half an hour, back and forth about some plan Bellamy had thrown together, and when Y/n caught wind of it, and its recklessness she couldn’t stop herself from saying something to him.

“And you think your plans are any better?” He practically spat out her, his tone laced with annoyance.

She simply laughed, causing a confused expression to quickly flash across his features. probably wondering in his head what the hell she found so funny, as if reading his mind she was quick to answer that question.

“Not that you’d ever admit it, but do you realize how many times me interjecting has saved your ass, or saved the whole camp the trouble of your half assed plan going backwards. You never take the whole picture into consideration!”

God she sure knew how to push his buttons, how dare she stand her and yell at him like that. Right before he could fire back, Clarke, who had been watching silently with crossed arms, finally stepped forward clearly having enough of the two’s screaming match.

“Enough!” Clarke snapped, the two of them turned towards her slightly startled but both still blistering with rage.

“I’m sick and tired of listening to you two screaming at eachother,” She huffed out, “Go out there.” She gestured toward the dense forest beyond the camp, leaving the two to look at her like she was insane.

Y/n scoffed, glaring at Bellamy before returning her gaze to Clarke. “You’ve got to be out of your mind-” Before Y/n could continue, Clarke shut it down, interjecting, “Frankly, I don’t give a shit right now. Just go survey the area, or kill each other, I don’t care which. I’m done listening to your guys bickering for tonight.”

They both weren’t amused by this, but they also knew it wasn’t worth arguing. The faster they left, the faster they could come back and go their separate ways.

Both still simmering with frustration and anger, they grabbed guns and headed for the gates of their little camp, heading out. The silence was tense and eerie as the trees swallowed them whole, not bothering to spare each other a glance, let alone waste air talking.

Bellamy and Y/n trudged through the dense forest, their footsteps crunching against the fallen leaves and snapping twigs, guns slung over both of their shoulders, scowls resting on their faces clearly not amused with the task at hand.The tension between them lingered in the air like a storm cloud though neither had spoken since leaving the camp.

Branches reached out like skeletal fingers, brushing against their arms as the canopy above darkened, and the temperature steadily dropped. They swayed in the light breeze, moving back and forth as to come out and grab onto them. The forest grew quieter, save for the occasional rustle of unseen creatures.

Looking around cautiously, her foot tripped over a tree stump, she was quick to catch herself, mumbling under her breath about how this whole thing was stupid. As if she wasn’t already annoyed enough, he just had to speak up.

“Watch your step.” He muttered, much to her dismay breaking the silence that settled over them.

She scoffed but didn’t respond, she wasn’t in the mood for his bullshit, and now too focused on the uneven terrain, now determined not to trip again, she refused to give him another reason to criticize her.

After more trudging through the thick woods, they emerged from the dense eerie trees into a clearing, the sight causing both of them to freeze right in their tracks.

Under the pale glow of the moonlight, the clearing unfolded like something out of a dream– or a nightmare. Hundreds of flowers blanketed the ground, the petals shimmering faintly, glowing almost as the moonlight hit them. They ranged from light blues, to violets, and pinks, their colors shifting with each movement of air hitting them.

The silence was heavier, almost sacred. Even the crickets and birds seemed to have fallen silent, leaving only the soft whisper of the breeze.

“Y/n..” He finally spoke, his voice uncharacteristically soft, “What the hell is this place?”

It was clear he was feeling uneasy, nervous almost. A feeling settled into his gut, something telling him that they shouldn’t be there.

She stepped forward more towards the flowers, her boots brushing against the edge of them, “I don’t know.. I’ve never seen anything like this.”

He followed closely behind her, as they moved deeper into the clearing the hairs on the back of his neck stood up, a gut wrenching feeling creeping up his spine. Something wasn’t right, this wasn’t natural.

“This doesn’t feel right,” he muttered, the heavy air weighing down his chest.

She crouched down to touch one of the flowers, the petals silky and cold against her slender fingers, but there was something strange about them.

“They look like they’re glowing.” She whispered, staring deeply at them, she was almost mesmerized. She knew they weren't normal, but she wasn’t as skeptical of them as Bellamy was.

His Gaze darted around the clearing, his hand instinctively resting on the hilt of his knife, “We shouldn’t be here, this place.. It’s not natural.”

She straightened up, her eyes narrowing at him, of course he’d find a way to try to ruin something beautiful.

“You’re paranoid, they’re just flowers. Not everything is out to kill us, Bellamy.”

He simply scoffed, “Really? Because from the moment we’ve landed, a lot of strange shit has happened.”

She went to argue back, but shut her mouth, she couldn’t really argue with that. They’ve run into so many issues, and dangerous things from the moment their feet planted onto the soil. Silence overtook them again, her eyes scanning over the flowers, all shining in the faint glow of the moon casting down from the opening in the trees above them. Her skin raised with goosebumps as the cold air nipped at her.

“I don’t know, they’re strangely beautiful..” She spoke softly, a side of her Bellamy never got to hear, it was foreign to his ears.

The breeze picked up causing her to shiver a bit, the flowers swaying more and more. She watched them move, they almost danced to a silent melody as they moved, it was almost hypnotic. Her usual rough piercing gaze was replaced by one of awe, as she stared at them.

“Yeah, that doesn’t mean they aren’t dangerous though.” He said, his eyes still cautiously looking around. Before he could speak again, a gust of wind swept through the clearing, the flowers swayed violently, a stark contrast to the melodic moving they once did, as they moved a shimmering cloud of pollen filled the air around them. The golden particles sparkled in the moonlight, almost like tiny floating stars as it invaded their lungs.

“What the hell..” He was quick to cover his mouth and nose with his arm, in an attempt to not breathe in any more of the pollen.

She staggered backwards a bit, coughing as the pollen swirled around them, it seemed to cling to the air, invasive and inescapable, its presence unerringly warm in the cold of the night.

“Don’t.. breathe it in,” He said between coughs, though it was already far too late for that. The shimmering pollen seemed to settle over everything–the flowers, their clothes, their skin. It lingered in the air for a moment longer before finally disappearing.

She finally straightened up, running her fingers through her hair, and taking deep, but cautious breaths. “What the fuck was that..” She murmured trying to wrap her head around what the hell just transpired.

He doubled over, his hands on his knees, panting slightly, as he attempted to catch his breath, “I have no idea, but that wasn’t normal.”

His heart beat quickly, irregularly the world swaying a bit as he stayed there. When he finally caught his breath and stood up, his skin was covered with a dull sense of pins and needles, a slight bit of sweat dripping down his forehead despite the cold air, glistening in the dull light cast over by the moon.

She didn’t realize that she had been staring, until she looked away, her own body feeling uneasy. Her legs are almost weak, and her heart erratic.

“I feel weird..” She spoke, her voice slightly hoarse, a lump almost lodged in her throat. Bellamy only nodded, his gaze burning into her as she spoke.

Her voice sounded melodic to him, which was a contrast from the usual annoyance he got from it. But right in this moment, it was alluring and it was pulling him in.

His nerves in his body felt like they were igniting, a match catching them on fire, his breaths staggered, his body warm. Her eyes made their way back to his figure, focusing on the way his chest heaved, the way his skin glowed under the light. As much as she wanted to look away, something was stopping her.

“Bell..” She murmured, her lips parted slightly, wiping some of the sweat away from her forehead.

He almost growled at the sound of his name leaving her lips, it sounded so pretty to him, it made his heart race even more if that was possible. The world around him felt so distant, the glow of the flowers blurring into a soft, otherworldly light. The only thing either of them could focus on was the pull–an invisible force drawing them together, insistent, and undeniable.

He didn’t answer, his dark eyes locked onto hers as his chest moved with each ragged breath he took. The usual frustration and anger he held was replaced with something deeper, something almost primal. His body felt like it was no longer his own, every instinct screaming at him to get closer to her.

He took a step forward, and Y/n didn’t move away. Her body mirrored his, leaning closer even as her mind struggled to catch up. As he stood in front of her, and her eyes stared up into his, he snapped.

The tension between them too strong, his hands gripped her arms, his touch firm and desperate as he pulled her to him, chest to chest, his touch on her arms setting her mind into overdrive, her skin on fire with just the slightest touch. Before she could react any further, his lips crashed onto hers, capturing her into a rough and demanding kiss.

She gasped against his lips, her hands instinctively gripping his shirt as her body betrayed her. The heat in both of their veins intensified with every second, and she found herself desperately pressing into him, her own desperation matching his.

The kiss was fierce and unrelenting, a collision of all the bottled up emotions between them. All the anger, all the frustration being taken out with it. The world faded away, leaving only the two of them.

She finally pulled away, almost regretting it, her lips swollen and aching for his as soon as they left.

“Bellamy..” She whispered, her voice shaking slightly.

His forehead was pressed against hers, his breaths heavy and uneven. “I don’t know what's happening,” he admitted, his voice raw, “But I can’t–”

She silenced him by pulling him back down, her lips finding his again with just as much urgency. It was like the pollen from the flowers was messing with them, igniting all the nerves in their bodies and igniting something animalistic. As their lips battled against one another, his hands roamed up her back, until one settled onto the back of her neck pushing her more into him, deepening the kiss, while her hands roamed up his chest, one landing in his hair tugging at it.

He was the one that pulled away this time panting harshly, something dark behind his brown eyes. His eyes bore into hers, his hair disheveled, he was staring at her like she was his prey.

“Y/n..” He groaned out, his voice breaking almost.

His hand moved slowly from the back of her neck to her neck to her face, his eyes never leaving hers.

“Gotta stop.. I keep going, I won't be able to.” He said breathlessly, though he said that, his mind was silently pleading her to tell him to keep going.

Her own body felt the pull between them, it was a relentless force, everything in her yearned for more, screamed at her to pull him back in. She looked up at him with half lidded eyes, “Please don’t..” It came out meekly, like some sort of plea, differently from her usual firecracker persona.

Those words, the way she said them drove him up the wall. The way her lips were swollen, face flushed, how her voice trembled, her thighs pressed together needily. She made it clear that she didn’t want him to stop, so he wasn’t going too.

Bellamy moved his hand from her face to her neck, squeezing roughly, pulling a whine from her lips. He almost groaned at that, the way it sounded leaving her lips was like heaven. He pulled her back in, kissing her just as fiercely as before, this time with no intent of holding back and stopping. The kiss was needy, hungry, fed by the relentless desire that they both had settled into them.

When he finally pulled away, it was to pull her down onto the soft soil, the earth cool against her overheated skin. Before she could complain, his lips were all over her neck, sloppily kissing, and nipping all over. She panted softly, back arching off the ground, her hips brushing against his, bringing a groan past his lips and sending a vibration through her skin. He used one of his hands to push her hips down into the ground, firmly holding her in place. Everything in him screamed to just take her right then and there, but not yet, he wanted to have his fun with her first.

“Patience, love..” His voice was rough and low as he spoke into her ear, her thighs squeezing together in an attempt to feel something, anything. His touch was driving her up the wall, she was filled with need for him, and him alone.

His lips went back to her neck, brushing against all her sensitive spots, but when they hit a particular spot that caused her to squirm under him, he bit down. It sent a jolt of stinging pleasure through her body, causing her to gasp.

“Bell..” She whispered out, need lacing her voice.

He hummed against her skin as he worked his way down to her collar bone, leaving sloppy kisses and purple bruises as he continued down his path, his hands now messing with the hem of her shirt. It wasn’t long before he was sliding it off her body, tossing it somewhere next to them on the ground. He stared at her bare chest under the light of the moon in awe, taking her in.

“So fuckin’ pretty..” His voice barely above a whisper, his eyes scanning over her, her chest rising and falling harshly.

He leaned back down, kissing down her chest, his hands moving to cup her breasts, kneading them between his fingers softly, in almost a teasing manner.

“Bell, please..” She whined out, her hands running through his hair.

This brought a smirk to his lips, hearing her all desperate for him. His lips moved over, his tongue trailing against her nipple, as his fingers played with the other. He took it in his mouth, swirling his tongue around it, teeth grazing against the sensitive bud as she whimpered beneath him. He then pulled away rather abruptly, leaving her breathless and almost trembling beneath him. The sudden loss of his touch sent a wave of frustration through her, a soft needy whine escaping her lips, her body arching towards him instinctively.

Her cheeks burned, but the heat pooling in her stomach only grew as he took his time with her. His hands slowly moved down her sides, his calloused fingers grazing over her sensitive skin, sending shivers racing through her body. He looked at her, his eyes darkened with lust, as he hooked his fingers into the waistband of her pants, tugging them down, before throwing them off to the side. He once again stared in awe, looking at her fully exposed beneath him, his jeans tightening around him. Her hands lifted up, sliding under his shirt wanting to touch him too. He took the hint, sliding his shirt off, letting it join the growing pile of clothes. She bit her lip as her fingers traced over her his skin, his toned body glistening with sweat.

“Like what you see?” He grinned softly as she stared up at him like he was some sort of god.

She hummed, lost in a daze as her eyes trailed over him, too lost in taking him in to realize that he was now kneeling in between her thighs. Her breath hitched slightly as he leaned his face in, his lips brushing against the inner part of her thighs, his broad shoulders keeping her legs apart. His gaze swept over her, and the intensity in his eyes made her squirm beneath him. He kissed her thighs softly at first, peppering them all over, but as he went the kisses got sloppy, needy almost.

“Bellamy–” She started, her voice trembling, but whatever she was about to say was lost in a loud gasp as his teeth sunk into the soft flesh.

The bite wasn’t gentle, it was rough, leaving a sharp sting in its wake. Her hips jerked a sharp whimper escaping her lips as her hands moved to his hair tugging at his messy curls.

He chuckled darkly against her skin, his breath hot as he trailed kisses and bites along the inner part of her thighs, alternating between soft and harsh. Each scrape of his teeth sent a jolt of heat straight to her core, leaving her writhing and breathless. She couldn’t stop herself from squirming, her body reacting to every touch, everybite. Her legs trembled, but his hands kept her firmly in place, his grip strong and unyielding as he pushed her hips into the ground beneath them.

“Stay still.” He growled out, his voice thick with warning, and the sound sent another shiver racing through her.

Her head fell back against the ground, her breaths coming in shallow gasps as she tried to obey, but it was an impossible feat. The ache inside her was unbearable, her body desperate for him, wanting nothing but his touch.

“Please..” She whispered, the word slipping out before she could stop it.

He paused, his lips hovering just barely above her skin, his hot breath fanning over her. His eyes trailed up, and his gaze met hers through his messy curls. The smirk that spread across his lips was both infuriating and intoxicating to her.

“So desperate,” He teased, his tone laced with satisfaction, he did this to her, he was making her fall apart with his touch.

She bit her lip again, her cheeks flushing even deeper, sweat coating her forehead. She didn’t have the energy to argue, or to put up a fight, not with the way his touch was driving her up the wall with pleasure.

His lips hovered over her thighs, close enough to where she could feel the heat of his breath, but far enough to drive her crazy. Her body was trembling, every nerve ending screaming for more, her body on fire, craving him more and more with every touch, but he just smirked at her dragging out the moment.

“Bellamy, please,” She whimpered, her voice practically breaking with desperation. Her hips jerked up toward him, but his strong hands held her firmly in place.

“Not good enough,” He murmured, his voice dark and teasing, “Want me to make you feel good hm, Princess? Beg for me then.”

Her eyes were locked onto his, a mixture of frustration and yearning behind them, she clenched her fists, her nails digging into the soil beneath her, her body in overdrive, desperate for any kind of friction. He leaned into her, his lips brushing over the spot where she needed him most, but not quite giving her what she needed. That’s what broke her, her eyes pleading with him.

“Please, Bell,” She begged, her voice breaking with every word she spoke. “I need you, I–” She let out a shuddering breath, her head falling back onto the ground. “Please, just do something, I need you.” Her voice was filled with desperation, as her body ached for more.

His smirk widened, satisfaction glinting in his dark eyes. “That’s more like it,” He muttered,and without another word he gave in.

He lowered his head between her thighs, burying his face in between them, his mouth working against her with skill and intensity that had her crying out. The first touch of his tongue dragging up against her clit sent a jolt of electricity through her body, her back arching off the ground, as her hands tugged at his messy hair. He had barely started, but her body was on fire, her mind clouded over as he finally was giving her what she craved.

“Bell!” She gasped, her voice breaking into a cry as he pressed into her more, his tongue and lips moving in a perfectly deveasting rhythm.

Her nails dug into his scalp, but it only seemed to spur him on further. His grip on her thighs tightened, sure enough that there would be fresh bruises there the next day to accompany the purple marks his lips left everywhere earlier. As he gripped her his tongue swirled and flicked around in ways that made her see stars. The sounds she made were desperate, unrestrained, they only fueled him to push her closer to the edge.

“Taste so fuckin’ good.” He mumbled, as his mouth worked at her, sending the vibrations straight to her core.

Her world narrowed to the feeling of his mouth on her, the heat, the pressure, the overwhelming sensation that was pulling her apart piece by piece. Her cries grew louder, her breaths even more erratic than before as her body tightened and trembled against his every touch.

“Bellamy, I–I can’t–” She stammered, but he was relentless, it only drove him to go faster.

His tongue kept working against her, her cries like a melody to his ears. It wasn't until he slipped two fingers in, that she practically yelled out his name. His fingers working with his mouth in harmony, has her eyes rolling back, a wave of pleasure rolling over her. Her body shook, her fingers tugging at his hair roughly as she fell apart beneath him. The way she gasped his name, raw and unfiltered, sent a jolly of satisfaction through him. He didn’t stop, he didn’t let up, his mouth working relentlessly as he let her ride out her high.

Her vision was hazy as the pleasure overwhelmed her, she couldn’t think, couldn't breathe properly, she could only feel.

Finally, as her body calmed down, and her trembling slowed a bit, he slowed his movements. Pulling out his fingers slowly, pressing one last gentle kiss to her thigh. His face covered in her slick, he licked his fingers, cleaning them off, savoring every last bit of her taste.

He had wasted enough time, he was done holding back now. Satisfied with the way he had her falling apart from just his tongue and his fingers, he stood up for a second, making quick work of pulling his jeans off, throwing them to the side. She couldn’t help the way her eyes roamed over him, even as her body trembled from the aftermath of his mouth. His body glistening with sweat, his large cock out for her to see.

He was back on her in an instant, caging her beneath him, as his weight pressed her into the soft earth. His lips found her neck again, nipping and sucking as his hands roamed her body possessively, making sure to leave no inch untouched. The heat radiating between them was unbearable, the pull was impossible to resist.

“You want this?” He growled against her ear, his voice rough and laced with need. His teeth grazed her earlobe, sending another shivering rushing through her, “Hmm, say it.. Tell me how bad you want me to fuck you.”

She could barely form any words, her breath hitching as his body arched into his, “I do yes..” She managed to stammer out, her voice barely audible.

He clicked his tongue to the roof of his mouth, “I don’t think I’m very convinced.”

She groaned out, her hips desperately trying to rub against his, “Please, god, Bell.. I want you to fuck me, please I need you.”

The desperation and need in voice was enough for him, he didn’t bother demanding her try to convince him anymore, truth be told he couldn’t wait any longer. The flowers had them both too far gone, their minds clouded, their bodies screaming for more. He positioned himself, his hands gripping her hips tightly, and without warning, his hips snapped into hers with a force that knocked the air from her lungs.

A sharp cry escaped her lips, her nails digging into his shoulder as his hips slammed against hers in a rough, relentless rhythm. He set a punishing pace, every movement filled with raw, and unrestrained need.

“Fuck, princess.. Taking me so well, this pussy was made for me.” He groaned out, his pace never faltering as he rocked his hips into hers.

He cursed under his breath as he kept up his pace, his breath hot against her ear as his hands tightened on her hips pulling her closer with each harsh thrust. The sound of her moans and cries along with the sound of their bodies colliding echoed around them, mixing with the faint rustle of the flowers swaying in the breeze. The pollen still hung thick in the air, amplifying every sensation, every touch, they were both mad with lust.

She felt like she was on fire, her body hypersensitive to every thrust of his hips, every sound that drew from his lips, every glance.

His head fell into the crook of her neck, his lips brushing against her skin as he muttered things under his breath, his voice was raw and broken. His rhythm didn't falter, each thrust hitting deeper, harder than the last, as if he couldn’t get enough for her. His body claiming every inch of hers, trapping her beneath him as to say that she was his and his alone.

Her cries only grew louder, her hands grasping and scratching at him as she tried to ground herself. But she couldn’t, it felt too good, he had her screaming out his name in pleasure.

“What is it, pretty girl? Can’t handle me?” He chuckled darkly against her neck,but he didn’t slow his pace, he kept pounding into her like his life depended on it.

The flowers had stripped them of every barrier, every ounce of control, leaving nothing but a primal need. They were lost in eachother, consumed by the heat, the desperation, the overwhelming desire that neither of them could fight.

His soft growls filled her ears, rough and low, as she trembled beneath him, her moans spilling from her lips with no hesitation. Her nails raked along his sweat-slicked back as he drove into her roughly.

“So fuckin’ pretty like this,” He spoke into her ear softly, his voice thick with desire. His eyes flickered down to meet hers, and the way she looked at him– flushed, dazed, completely drunk off his cock alone only fueled the fire raging inside of him more.

“Such a mess for me.” His words dripping with satisfaction as one of his hands slipped up to her neck giving it a squeeze pulling a soft gasp from her lips.

His other hand snaked down, to rub circles on her clit as he kept his pace drilling into her, the added pleasure causing tears to stream down her cheeks, her hands gripping his shoulder even harder in an attempt to anchor herself.

“Bellamy!” She moaned out his name, her voice cracking as her body writhed under him, the mixture of his cock and fingers driving her insane.

He groaned against her neck, the sound vibrating through her, and his hips snapped against her even harder, his rhythm growing rougher, needier. “You like this huh?” He growled, his breath hot against her neck, “You like when I use you like this? Being a cock drunk slut for me?”

Her head fell back, her lips parted as she let out a strangled cry, the tension inside her building to a breaking point. Her body was on fire, every nerve alight, every sensation heightened. His grip on her neck tightened, his fingers still rubbing circles against her clit. His lips worked against her neck, biting and kissing sloppily, claiming every inch of her.

“You drive me crazy,” He muttered, his voice almost a snarl as he buried himself deeper, his movements becoming more erratic, more sloppy with each thrust, “You always have.”

She could barely process his words, her find too clouded by the overwhelming sensations coursing through her. Her body tightened around him, and she felt herself teetering on the edge, her cries growing louder, more desperate.

“Bell, fuck.. I’m–” She stammered, her hands clutching onto him as the wave built higher, threatening to crash over her at any moment.

“Hm, you wanna cum for me?” He murmured, his lips brushing against her ear, his voice softer now but still filled with just as much urgency, “Go on then, cum on my cock.”

That’s all it took for her to go over the edge, her body convulsing under him as her release ripped through her, leaving her gasping and trembling. He kept going, his fingers still drawing lazy circles, his thrusts getting more and more sloppy as she rode out her high. A few more thrusts and he was burying himself deep inside of her, spilling his seed, and painting her walls, claiming her insides as his. His growls turned into a deep groan as he buried his face in her neck, his body shaking just a bit before collapsing next to her on the ground.

They laid there for a moment, minds still clouded over, chests heaving as they tried to catch their breaths. Their bodies began to cool down, the heat that had consumed them moments ago ebbed away, leaving behind a strange clarity. Slowly, the effects of the pollen wore off, and with it came the crashing weight of reality.

Her eyes darted around, her chest still heaving as she tried to process what had just happened. Her skin felt cooler now, but it didn’t erase the marks of what just happened– the warmth of his hands, the scrape of his teeth, the way he had her coming undone on his cock.

“What the fuck just happend?” She yelped, her voice cracking as she sat up abruptly, clutching all her discarded clothes. She was quick to scramble to put them on, her hands shaking slightly as she tugged her shirt over her head. Her hair was a wild mess, her body covered in purple bruises, her lips swollen, and her face burned with disbelief and embarrassment of what just happened.

Bellamy, still lying beside her, blinked as if coming out of a fog. He propped himself up on his elbows, a mix of shock and confusion fainted his freckled face. His fair was a tangled mess, his chest and shoulders mocked with red scratches left in the wake of her nails. His lips bore the same swollen look, evident of their fevered kisses.

“I–” He started, his voice hoarse. He paused his brow furrowing as he glanced at Y/n who was furiously tying her boots up.

He was quick to follow, grabbing all his clothes and throwing them on, still just as confused.After they were just dressed, they came face to face.

“I don’t know what the fuck just happened, but we’re going to pretend it didn’t.” She spat out, glaring daggers into him. The lust was long gone, replaced by the familiar bitterness she felt for him.

Though he felt the same way, and hated her, he couldn’t shake the fact that he had her stubborn ass falling apart for him.

“I doubt you’ll forget the way I made you feel.” He smirked, slinging his gun over his shoulder.

She flipped him off, “I hate you, Blake.”

He rolled his eyes, “Feelings mutual firecracker.”

[idcbabyialreadylostmymind]

•Making Amends

MelJay x reader

Synopsis: You and Jayce just can’t seem to get along and Mel can’t have that.

CW- Jayce&Reader and Mel’s lovers, lowk cringe, alcohol, Mostly Jayce but does have Mel :), hella ooc Jayce, voyeur Mel, a small lil strip scene, sex, multiple positions, edging, masterbation, size kink? (Idk) mentioned like once, feels rushed to me but it was getting to long 😭

A/N- started ts last month and I know this gonna flop 😭

Jayce walked through the tall golden doors that lead to Mel’s room. He held a small prototype he and Viktor had been working on for a while and he wanted to be the first to show it to her. But to his surprise when he walks in there you are in front of Mel sitting pretty on her piano and even more Mel already had the prototype praising you for bringing it to her.

“Well hello Jayce,” Mel gets up patting your thigh before she moves to Jayce giving him a small peck on the cheek. “She was just showing me something you and Viktor have been working on.” She quirks a brow and smirks as she sees you watching them. “Yes, how did you get this?” Jayce asked you, eyeing you up and down as you smiled leaning back giving him a better view of your dress that showed more of your body than cover. “I have my ways.” He should have known Viktor has always had a soft spot for you. He sniffs as he shoves his prototype in his back pocket. “Of course.” He scoffs just before you can bite back at him Mel raises a hand silencing both of you. She walked to the steps that led to her bedroom sitting on them before addressing you two.

“Why is it you two must always bicker when I’m around or even when I’m not.”

Jayce and you both got choked up, glancing at each other before looking back at Mel. “Is it that you two don't like each other? Because we can’t have that”

Jayce raises his eyebrows in surprise, getting ready to answer before you just had to come in and save the day. “Oh no my lady,” you crouch to the ground, grabbing her hand gently. “Don’t you strain yourself with worry, me and Jayce just have a few disagreements he can’t seem to work on.” You clenched your words at the last bit, making Mel wonder. Jayce was infuriated, “You’re just going to act like you don’t start half of the arguments that come about.” Jayce began hounding in on you as you; however you glared at him envy was all that was found in your eyes and maybe a little something else. “How you always try to one up me in front of Mel—“

“That’s quite enough.” Mel put a pause on the explosive argument ahead.

Mel was quite shocked she didn’t even realize the tension that grew between her and her lovers as she was too busy being well, loved.

But when she looked up at both of you it was quite a shock, both of you looked at her in a way she never realized as if she were the sun and moon. And then she realized all those times Jayce presented something before you just for you to present something ten times greater; and so on and so on. Then it clicked that you two were in a competition; for her approval. Her cheeks heated up, she had never felt so wanted in her entire life, her body felt tingling seeing you two stand up in front of her waiting at her beck and call, seeming to do anything she says. “I think I found the best way to solve these disagreements you two have.”

╰─────╯

“You want us to do what?” Jayce was surprised at Mel’s request. “I want you two to make love in front of me. It’s the only thing that will settle this tension. For you to feel each other so intimately it would be out of this world. And also I just want to watch.” She was listing all the facts on why you and Jayce should have sex she looked over to you, quiet as a mouse.

She could practically feel the warmth your body gives off, how your thighs clench whenever she even mentions Jayce fucking you. It seems Jayce hadn’t noticed though, oblivious as always. “What do you think, y/n.” Mel cuts Jayces insistent questions off and all the attention goes to you. Your throat was so dry you didn’t even know if you could speak the syllables all caught up in your mouth, your tongue felt like jelly and an unwelcome heat burned between your thighs.

“Would it make you happy?” Out of everything that has happened today that was what shocked Jayce the most. Mel didn’t even answer you, only standing up and wasting up the steps waiting at the top for her two lovers.

╰─────╯

She held both of your hands as she led you through the candle lit room, following her like Eurydice followed Orpheus but she did not look back leaving her two lovers in an anxious condition. Jayce looked over towards you and saw a woman he’d never seen before. You looked so malleable, so obedient. He looked you up and down wetting his bottom lip before looking in front of him, at Mel.

You had made it to her room. You’d both been in it before just not with each other. You were nervous, stressed and worse of all horny.

You couldn’t believe you were going to let Jayce motherfucking Talis fuck you, the man of progress was about to fuck you. You began to breathe heavily, you concealed your nerves before looking at the other two who sat on a small white couch, Jayce sat up like a prude, legs together back straight, hands in his lap. It would have been funny if it weren’t for the predicament.

Mel handed the male a glass of wine but none for you. You puff at that, putting your arms across your chest. “Y/n doesn’t know how not to be a brat, but” Mel begins glancing at Jayce before looking at you before you could say anything she continues, “She makes up for it, in other ways.” Any words or retaliation you had dissipated as soon as those words left Mel’s mouth.

“Like how she looks when she undresses, Y/N give us a demonstration.” It wasn't you to look at her with wide eyes, it was Jayce. She took another sip looking down at Jayce’s untouched glass. “Drink up Jayce you're gonna need it with this one. She really has no sense of respect.” She laughs seeing you slip the all too tight dress off of your body that Jayce never did appreciate. Your breasts were shown first, nipples already hardened from the cold air and Jayce felt like he’d been sent to heaven, had you always had those?

“Doesn’t she look so pretty?” Mel asked, of course you did, you were more than pretty but saying that would give you an even bigger head so Jayce just sat back, spreading his legs with the top of his button shirt undid he took a sip of his wine only lifting the side of his mouth as his answer. Mel couldn’t help but smile at the little game you had still happened moments before you have intercourse. To connect in such an intimate manner well Mel just couldn’t wait.

You slide it down all the way showing off your bare skin, no underwear. Jayce’s grip got impossibly tight on the glass; he was surprised it didn’t break before he gulped all of its contents. You would wait as long as Mel wanted but you were starting to get bored. “So are we getting started this century. Or does the man of progress need time to y’know progress.” You pointed down before laughing. Mel couldn’t keep a little giggle and Jayce just smiles before getting up leaving his glass on the floor. “You’re right Mel, she really doesn’t have any respect.” Jayce laughed grabbing you by the side of your neck pulling you closer his eyebrows creased upward with a smile, “She’ll get some though.”

╰─────╯

Jayce fucked you hard, your eyes rolled to the back of your head in annoyance and pleasure, he bullied your sweet spot bruising it with such force. A sheer gleam of sweat shines on your skin in the humid room. He squeezes your waist as he drags you back, your smooth skin recoiling with every thrust he delivers. Jayce flicks his tongue, his abs flexing as he holds your back down making your arch higher with one hand and pushing your head down with the other.

Mel watched from across the room a devious smirk on her face as she watched the mean strokes Jayce gives you. How your bodies mold together as he fucks you, your hips rolling back every so often; you can peak up through the mattress looking up through wet lashes at the watching woman. She couldn’t lie and say this is the wettest she’s ever been her two lovers fucking as she gawks at them in the most intimate ways.

You reach out for Mel, crying out for her. “Mel, M–Mel,” you squeak with every thrust delivered to your pussy. The Medarda looked in wonder as you cried out for her whimpering and whining like a puppy that had just been kicked, how that made Jayce go even faster as if he was punishing you for even speaking. She’d never seen this version of either of you. Jayce always touched her as if she were delicate, soft just how she liked it with him. And you well you were like a hound dog when you got her in bed. Never had she seen you in such a mess, palming the bedsheets, clenching your jaws to keep the screams of ecstasy at bay in the back of your throat. Tears drenched your face, lips quivering as you still cried out for her. Your cries and whines were only drowned out by Jayce’s degrading words. “Always acting like a fucking bitch, your my bitch now aren’t you?”

She gets up from her seat setting her wine glass down the glass clicking against the table just as her heels clink against the floor as she drags her feet to be in front of you. She lifts your face, cradling your cheeks, wiping your drenched cheeks. “Why are you crying for me dear?” She asked in faux concern Jayce fucking you with so much force you swished back and forth. “I’m not the one fucking you.” She said watching you slip into a chaotic storm of ecstasy. Your eyes rolled to the back of your skull, you couldn’t hold the screams in anymore as desperate pleas for him to stop, go, harder, slower. You didn’t even know what you wanted.

Jayce slowed squishing you into the mattress with his body mass, calloused hands finding their way between your legs immediately latching to the little bud. Your legs buckle trying to move your hips but Jayce is too big. He could squish you to death and you both knew it which was what made it so much more hot. His breath fanned the back of your neck, worked up sweat dripped from both of your sticky skin stuck together as he played with your cunt. “Make up your mind, y/n” he spoke in a harsh tone as if he was scolding you. It made your pussy flex.

He stopped playing with you for a second, his pupils dilated, and got impossibly hard. You liked being told what to do, you like him telling you what to do. Getting up you gasped in full gasps of air just for them to be knocked out by Jayce’s full force thrust. You cried out in pleasure looking up at Mel who had watched the whole thing face flustered and legs intertwined. You smile as Jayce pulls you up on his cock, changing the angle of his cock in you it was so heavenly. He held you in place with his arm across your throat making sure you could breath before fucking you without remorse.

“Don’t cum until he tells you.” Mel whispers trying not to lose composure. You listen to her trying to hold the crashing waves of pleasure back as hard as you can. But it’s not easy with Jayce fucking you harder than anyone has every, and you love it. You looked over at Mel. She was disheveled as if she needed just a little push over the edge. You hold onto Jayce’s forearm as he bounces you on his cock his tip hitting your cervix every single time. “Mel,” you whined, the woman’s eyes caught yours full of lust, “Please touch yourself for us.” You say grabbing Jayce’s hand from your hip. “Please, Mel.” Jayce spoke softly looking through puppy dog eyes as if he wasn’t fucking you no mercy.

Mel couldn’t take it anymore she grabbed her dress , shoving it up just enough for her to touch her bare cunny. Her legs spread wide when she touched herself circling her clit in the same manner Jayce did yours. Simultaneously you both arch your back when she slips her fingers in pumping them in and out in and out just as Jayce fucks you. Taking the arms from around your knock Jayce grabs both of your hands pulling you closer to him. “Cum with her.” He whispers and you only nod fucking your hips back against his.

Mel quickened her movement. She was close you could tell by the way her legs contorted and she squirmed. You couldn’t hold it in much longer, you didn’t just want her to cum you needed her to. “Please Mel, please cum.” You spoke in a small voice. You sounded so desperate, so needy, she couldn’t help herself as she came around her fingers white cream surrounded her fingers as she rode her high out on her fingers drenching them in her essence. As soon as Mel came it was like a dam broke within you.

It all came crashing down on you like acid rain your skin burned when you came, wet hot liquid squirting out of you wetting yours and Jayce’s thighs. Jayce came with you as your pussy walls contracted against him, milking him for all his worth. He couldn’t keep the whimpers he held back during sex in while he came and it made you feel something you couldn’t expect.

Jayce fell on his back shocked at what had just transversed. “He didn’t think I would only last one round did he?” You asked Mel who only giggled caressing your cheeks. “Oh I don’t think he knows what he’s gotten himself into.” Mel says as she begins to strip down to her undergarments; her house colors. Jayce only now looks up as he watches you both crawl towards him like lions hunting their prey.

“Gods help me.”

[lascvitae]

for certain. mission accomplished



word count: 1.3k (this is written differently than usual (it’s also rushed don’t hate me 😔))



“y/n!!” the youngest exclaimed, squealing as she stood up from her position on the couch.

“hii, ningning!” y/n smiled widely, matching the younger girl’s enthusiam. she pulled her into a hug, elicting a quiet growl from their leader.

“just call me ning!” she chirped after pulling away, tongue sticking out at jimin.

“y’all actually didn’t bring food?…” minjeong frowned up, leaving the pink haired girl on the couch alone.

“that means we have to cook with y/n!” ning cheered, aeri joining in as their voices echoed throughout the dorm.

“i already told you idiots! i won’t make our guest cook.” jimin spoke sternly, arms crossed to assert her authority — even though no one seemed to care…

“it’s okay, jimin. i don’t mind it.” y/n looked up at jimin, who was slightly pouting now. how bad y/n wanted to kiss her pout away.

“we’ll help too!” ning clapped, and aeri had stopped all cheering now. instead, she looked horrified. “oh, no! i’ll help you, y/n!” aeri corrected, giving ning and minjeong a side eye.

some arguments later, minjeong & ningning were seated on the couch as aeri, jimin, & y/n worked away at the stove. they decided on broccoli and beef paired with rice, as they didn’t want to spend too much time on the food. jimin heavily insisted on some ramen noodles, but y/n wanted to make something from scratch.

jimin, who was working on the sauce, glanced over at y/n. her eyes trailed down to the beef sizzling in the pan before back up at the girl.

once she opened her mouth to speak, y/n had beat her to it.

“hey, aeri. you can probably take those out now.” the streamer pointed at the broccoli that was cooking in the pan, and aeri hummed in acknowledgment before transferring the broccoli to a bowl. “i knew that!”

“don’t worry, y/n! she knows all about broccoli.” the leader joked, turning off the eye and leaning against the counter parallel to the streamer. minjeong only snorted.

“jimin!” y/n scolded the red-haired girl, and she only giggled from her spot in the kitchen. “she ain’t wrong though.” aeri shrugged before glaring at jimin once she heard her laugh again. “okay… but it wasn’t that funny.”

“okay, the food’s ready.” y/n announced, and ningning practically bounced off the couch. “finally!”

“damn.” minjeong muttered, eyeing the food hungrily. “thanks, y/n.” she smiled slightly.

after everyone thanked the streamer for cooking, they all settled in the living room as y/n helped jimin clean everything up.

“that’s becuase the window seat is superior! you get the best pictures and the best view.” y/n argued, putting up the ingredients used to make the sauce.

“but you have to ask to be let out! that’s so lame.” jimin placed the dishes into the sink.

“it’s worth it. and it’s more comfy.”

“not true! the aisle gives more leg room.” she protested.

“okay, but you—“ y/n started, breath catching as jimin suddenly appeared behind her and finished putting up the last ingredient for her.

“you’re cheesy, yu jimin.” y/n tried to laugh it off, but the idol saw the heat rushing up to her cheeks.

jimin only shrugged. “so what? i like you.” it was the first time that she had said those words out loud.

“i like you too, you know.” y/n replied even though she felt not only butterflies in her stomach, but the whole zoo.

“then you shouldn’t care if i’m cheesy, right?” jimin spoke sweetly, trapping the streamer between her body and the counter.

“you’re pretty.” her voice was a whisper now, slim fingers coming up to fix y/n bangs. her fingers left light touches in their wake.

“especially when you’re cooking. you looked so focused. it was cute.” the corner of her lips curved into a smile as she recalled y/n’s expression.

the sound of their hearts beating could be heard as they both seemed to drown out the world and everything around them, forgetting that the others were even there.

“thank you for today, jimin.” the streamer started, eyes locking with jimin’s as she continued to speak.

“but you’re crazy. you can’t continue to spoil me like this.” she laughed quietly, teeth tugging onto her bottom lip to calm her rising nerves.

“let me, princess.” jimin leaned in closer, dizzying the other with the smell of her perfume.

“you’re so lucky you’re charming.” y/n laughed once more, a habit of hers whenever she felt nervous.

y/n took the hint as the idol’s gaze trailed down to her lips as they moved, tongue darting out to lick them. this made the older one’s breath hitch.

“can i kiss you, y/n? i wanna kiss you.” she breathed out, and y/n could only nod, breath caught in her throat from her nerves that were set on fire.

“bruh, we’re still here.” aeri called out from the couch with a mouthful of food, sandwiched between ning & minjeong.

y/n and jimin both jumped, pulling away from each other like two teenagers that had just got caught kissing.

y/n also caught the way that jimin pouted as they walked back to the couch, where their food and the rest of the members had waited for them.

“can we watch cruella now?” minjeong asked after they finished the first movie of the teen beach movie series.

“we won’t be able to finish the whole series tonight, so it doesn’t matter.” aeri shrugged. she was right. it was already almost ten pm, so y/n would have to come back over tomorrow after her and jimin have dinner together.

“yeah sure then.” jimin shrugged. “if y/n is okay with it.” she looked over at the streamer, who was sleeping soundly on the leader’s shoulder. her arms were wrapped around her middle, legs curled onto the couch.

jimin’s heart swelled with affection as she pulled the blanket over the streamer’s body to ensure that she was warm. “she’s asleep.” jimin responded quietly.

“ning is too.” minjeong pointed out, glancing at aeri. “i know.” the pink-haired girl turned off the television.

“should we wake her? y/n, i mean.” minjeong contemplated, returning her gaze to jimin and y/n’s sleeping form.

“i don’t think so.” jimin shifted so that y/n could sleep comfortably, not planning on moving anytime soon. “she’ll be fine if she stays the night, right?”

minjeong shrugged before standing up to wake up the youngest member. “i dunno. you’re her girlfriend, you should know.” ningning stirred awake after a few light pats from minjeong.

‘you’re her girlfriend.’ the words repeated in jimin’s head. “right. she’ll be fine.” she then nodded to herself, getting comfortable as aeri and minjeong cleaned up the living room for their leader.

ningning, who was still wrapped in a blanket as her eyes conveyed how much she craved sleep, handed jimin one of the pillows from her bedroom.

“thanks.” the other girls had left now, leaving only jimin, y/n, & ningning.

“you’re gonna stay there?” she asked, earning an unsure glance from her leader. “probably not. but i think i’ll sleep in here. can you tell minjeongie?” she drew idle circles on y/n’s shoulder.

ningning nodded, traversing back into the hallway where the rest of the members disappeared into. “goodnight, jimin!” she called out before the red-haired girl could hear a door close.

a sigh left her rosy pink lips, looking down at the girl that made her heart flutter like no one has in a long time.

“that was so unfair. i wanted to kiss you.” her bottom lip poked out, caressing y/n’s hair. after admiring the girl in her arms, she leaned down to press a gentle kiss to her forehead.

“goodnight, princess.” jimin smiled, resting the girl’s head onto the pillow and fixing the blankets.

as she settled onto the other couch that was in the living room, y/n smiled at the feeling of jimin’s soft peck lingering on her forehead.

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[idwl]

Milieugender: A Guide

[pt: Milieugender: A Guide /end pt]

An explanation on why being against BAF transfems and BAM transmascs is harmful, and why transness shouldnt be restricted to one's birth sex.

"Woah, Idwl! Those are a lot of words! What does this one mean?"

Milieugender

BAF

BAM

Exorsexism

Transmedicalism

Bioessentialism — “Bioessentialism, a shorthand for biological essentialism, is the idea that we are born with specific, immutable traits by virtue of our sex. To a bioessentialist, sex maketh man.” Sourced from here

Please read this post all the way through until making assumptions or coming to conclusions. I would appreciate if readers kept an open mind while reading.

Introduction

[pt: Introduction /end pt]

The trans community, like any other community, is often divided on multiple topics and viewpoints. That is the nature of community; everyone has differing opinions. One topic that's been plaguing trans spaces as of lately has been the existence of BAF transfem and BAM transmasc folk.

BAF transfem and BAM transmasc are identities often used by those who are intersex, nonbinary, or detrans, but there are a slew of other reasons to use this term, as well. But we're not here to discuss the term itself; there's plenty of other posts explaining why people identify this way. No, today I would like to dicuss the people who are against it, and how it's rooted in bigotry.

This post is long, because multiple types of bigotry play into arguments against this identity. I'm here to talk about them all. This post does not aim to spark discourse, but rather, I aim to spark polite discussion, and help others understand the implications of being against this deeply nuanced and complex identity.

Transmedicalist Rhetoric

[pt: Transmedicalist Rhetoric /end pt]

First off, I want to start with how transmed rhetoric plays into being anti milieugender. Simply put, being against these identities is deeply rooted in transmed rhetoric. What is transmed rhetoric, though? And what does this mean for folks against this identity?

Transmed— a shortening of transmedicalist— is a person who believes that dysphoria is required to be trans.

This is rhetoric that has often hurt the community rather than helped. Why exactly is transmed rhetoric harmful, though? It is because it has often been weaponized against nonbinary people, used to uphold the gender binary, and invalidate nondysphoric trans people. It has also been weaponized against the MOGAI community; those with neogenders and xenogenders have often especially been the target of transmeds.

But how does this tie into milieugender experiences? Well, arguments against milieugender folk often rely on the very same arguments that transmeds use towards non-dysphoric or nonbinary folk; arguments about validity, struggle, dysphoria, etc...

A huge part of transmedicalism is viewing transness as involving suffering— transness, to transmeds, is not a happy or prideful thing, or an identity, but a medical condition. Most transmedicalists also view medical transition as necessary to being trans.

What I really want to point out here is that tidbit about transness involving suffering. Most transmeds, as a product of viewing transness as requiring dysphoria, view suffering as necessary to the trans experience. This argument, no matter how you come to the conclusion, is harmful.

You can see this argument when BAF transfems are brought up; often, it is argued that BAF transfems cannot be transfem due to not understanding the experience of MTF folk. This experience? Transmisogyny. I have seen similar arguments for BAM transmascs. Isn't it a bit harmful to boil down transness to one's discrimination and hurt?

(As well, to act like milieugender folk do not experience discrimination is just plain wrong; as, again, these people are often nonbinary, intersex, detrans, multigender, etc.)

So, while not inherently transmedicalist, arguments against milieugender folk often rely on the same kind of arguments that transmeds use.

Intersexism

[pt: Intersexism /end pt]

(Due to me being perisex, I consulted intersex people for assistance in writing this section. Thank you to @the-astropaws for your assistance.)

Most people who are milieugender identify as such because they are intersex. While perisex people still use these labels, yes, a lot of intersex folk do, too. Due to this fact, being against these labels is rooted in intersexism. I would like to touch on this.

Most arguments against milieugender folk involve some sort of statement about how they can't transition to something they already are, or are seen as.

When you imply that BAF trans women are already seen as women, and thus don't need to pass or transition, you are making a lot of assumptions about these trans girls. Yes, even perisex folk. By reinforcing the fact that BAF = feminine, you are reinforcing bioessentialism, which directly hurts intersex people. You are also invalidating the experience of intersex people.

User @/the-astropaws explained very well how this argument is intersexist. I would like to quote what one member of The Alternates, Aoba, said on this topic. I cleaned it up a bit, but it should have roughly the same meaning.

"[Claiming] all afabs are default feminine or can't "transition to fem" [...] is just, not true at all for both perisex n intersex people. The idea that afab = grew up feminine is the same excuse literal terfs use against intersex people who say they're tfem regardless on if they say they're afab OR amab.. an agab does not mean anything about what people were raised or seen as. [Enforcing] that idea on perisex people is [by] default targeting intersex people like me that did not at all get a default based on agab?? [While the] perisex experience will never be the Exact Same as an intersex experience, [...] many have similarities and a lot of wording hurts both sides"

Exorsexism

[pt: Exorsexism /end pt]

Let's take a common argument, one I've heard multiple times: "BAF trans women are already women, and aren't trans. If you're BAF and a woman, you're cis."

Before I delve into this argument, what is exorsexism? It is linked above, but to put it plainly, it is the discrimination against nonbinary individuals, intersex individuals, and those with gender modalities other than cis and trans. Here, we will focus on it's definition as discrimination against nonbinary individuals.

Further defined, as quoted from the MOGAI miraheze wiki, "exorsexism is the belief that the only allowable genders are wholly and exclusively male and wholly and exclusively female, and one cannot identify as both male and female, or as neither male nor female. It also includes the belief that the only allowable gender modalities are wholly and exclusive cis and wholly and exclusively trans, and one cannot identify as both cis and trans or as neither cis nor trans."

So, I'm sure you can see how this argument is, quite plainly, relying on a lot of exorsexist rhetoric. Even if you're not comfortable with BAM nonbinary people calling themselves transmasc, or BAF nonbinary people calling themselves transfem, to imply they're cis is disrespectful. It is also heavily ignorant of other's gender experiences.

There are multiple reason someone may be a girl and BAF, or a boy and BAM yet not cis. Being bigender, for example. Being demigender. Being genderfluid. Being a forasgirl. These are all nonbinary experiences. To say all women who are BAF and all men who are BAM are cis or "basically cis" is simply incorrect. It also relies on exorsexist rhetoric, because you are implying that womanhood cannot exist outside of the binary; i.e, you are implying you can only be either wholly, solely female or wholly, solely male. It's also invalidating to multigender folk, who often do not identify as cis.

Transphobia

[pt: Transphobia /end pt]

There's another part about arguments against these identities, and that's the fact that they're also rooted in plain transphobia. This quite frustrates me; in an attempt to protect FTM and MTF trans folk, when arguing against milieugender identities, FTM/MTF identities are often invalidated.

I would like to bring back a point from the intersexism section; the fact that milieugender folk cant be trans because they're already perceived as their gender. e.g. BAF transfems are already (perceived as) feminine, and BAM transmascs are already (perceived as) masculine.

By saying that being BAF inherently means you are feminine, or perceived as such— even for perisex folk— you are implying (intentionally or not) that ftm trans men and transmascs are inherently (seen as) feminine. You are equating the female sex and femininity as going hand in hand. The same goes for if you make this argument for BAM transmascs and manhood.

Sex should be an inherently neutral thing,. To imply sex comes with certain characteristics, once again, reinforces bioessentialism, which hurts trans folk.

This argument, while not intended to hurt FTM or MTF folk, will inadvertently do so, in one way or another.

Hypocrisy

[pt: Hypocrisy /end pt]

Generally, I also think it's just quite hypocritical to be against identities such as these if you're for other good faith identities. Isn't the whole point of good faith identities to, you know, assume good faith? Sure, some labels may not make sense or seem weird, but really, what harm do milieugender folk bring to the community? They're not appropriating labels any more than a boy identifying as a lesbian, are they?

Ultimately, it harms nobody. One cannot help if a label is most euphoric for them, or makes them most comfortable. And while FTM/MTF folk deserve their own spaces, certainly, milieugender folk existing isn't harming those spaces. In fact, most milieugender folk are aware of the differences between themselves and FTM/MTF folk, and try their best to be respectful.

This isn't to say there aren't entitled or hurtful milieugender people, but you know what?

There are entitled and hurtful people everywhere.

The whole point of transness is that it's for everybody. Why are we denying it from anyone? Why are we denying people happiness? Have we learned nothing?

Queer exclusion will always hurt queer people, period.

Redefining trans girl, transfem, transmasc, and trans boy

[pt: Redefining trans girl, transfem, transmasc, and trans boy /end pt]

So, where does that lead us?

I think, as a queer community, we should redefine transness. Transness has always been a label of self-identification, one you had to opt-in to by your own choice.

Trans girls should just mean girls who are trans. Trans boys should just mean boys who are trans.

Transness, now, places a focus on the birth sex. Personally, as a trans man, I would feel a lot happier if trans man would come to mean a man who was trans. Because it makes him happy. And who are we to deny queer people happiness and their right to self-identify?

Not only that, but this is better for everybody. It will include intersex people, people who dont plan on physically or socially transitioning, nonbinary people— it will include all people who feel as though they are trans. It's also, ultimately, safer.

While you may still not agree with my identity, I hope you were at least able to get something out of reading this.

---

tagging for reach, ask to be removed; @radiomogai; @noxwithoutstars; @daybreakthing; @flutteringwings-coining; @rwuffles; @scr-ppup; @smilepilled; @floraeth; @the-astropaws; @somniabyte; @circulatoire; @cyberneticloverboy

[vigilante24ish]

A Thorn By Thy Side

Agatha Harkness x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 1998

Chapter 3:

You had partially expected Agatha to leave you in that basement/lair of hers until she had grown tired of you. So, it came to you as a surprise when she headed for the stairs leading up, and her magic kept you levitated, following after her.

So here you were, positioned on a chair, legs and hands bound in front of you with thin purple magic threads. Now that you were away from the lair and those runes, you could handle her attacks, but something told you that she was not a woman who had fallen for the same trick twice.

Your eyes followed her as she moved easily in this urban little house, masked outside by faking the image of a simple wooden cabin. It made you wonder whom Agatha could be running from to go to such extremes as hiding the true image of a house.

Then again, she might just wish not to be bothered by any passersby or hikers? Honestly, you could not tell for sure, but you knew it had a deeper meaning, and she let it be.

A mug of warm coffee was suddenly in your field of vision, putting a halt to any thoughts you had for the moment. Blinking, you looked up at the holder of the mug, and you were surprised to find Agatha.

Yet, you did not accept it right away.

Instead, you eyed the mug carefully and then her, silently showing her that you did not trust her or whatever she might have put in there.

She seemed to catch up with it, for she rolled her beautiful blue eyes at your drama.

“You don’t trust me?” she questioned, though the answer was pretty obvious to you.

You narrowed your eyes in defiance, not letting your bound position or the fact that you were a prisoner actually break you. “Should I?” you snapped back.

She pressed her tongue behind her teeth, leaving a quick ‘Tch’ sound, clearly unhappy with your drama. “If I wanted to kill you, I assure you I wouldn’t take the long way of actually poisoning you.”

You thought about her argument momentarily, and you realized that she had made a point. Of course, she could also poison you just enough to torture you, hoping if you were close to death, you would open your mouth and confess whatever the fuck she wanted to know.

Ultimately, your dry lips and the fact that you had no liquid for a while won over your internal conspiracies. Thanks to the magic binds, you opened your palms as much as you were allowed and let her hand you the mug, the coffee inside still warm.

It was unknown to you what time of the day was or how long you had been out. However, considering you had tried to capture her in the early afternoon, you figured it was past nightfall.

Unfortunately for you, the small living room you were currently in had blackout curtains drawn, making it impossible for you to see outside for any signs of daylight. There was no clock anywhere, and you wondered how she knew what time of the day it was.

You brought the mug to your lips and slowly took a sip, surprised by the sweetness in your coffee. You had a knack for sweet things, whether pastries, chocolates or just a lot of sugar in your morning coffee.

After you felt the hot liquid go down your throat, you lowered the mug and focused on Agatha, who got comfy on an armchair, positioned to look at you.

Agatha was studying you just as you studied her. A playful smirk on her lips drew your attention.

“Sweet enough for you?” she asked, and like the prideful peacock she was, she was ready to flash her fancy tale at the fact that she had figured you out.

You chose not to give her the satisfaction of knowing she was right. “How did you know?”

Her smirk remained. “What can I say? I am an excellent judge of character,” she answered, moving one hand to emphasize her flare.

Eventually, you would come to notice that she used her hands a lot, elegant long fingers dramatically joining her sharp comments as the faintest traces of magic could be seen by their blackened edges.

It was your turn to roll your eyes at her drama and merely suppress any unwelcome comments by drowning them with hot coffee.

“Why am I here?” you finally questioned after a full minute of just pure silence between the two of you.

“Would you prefer to go back to the lair? Because I can arrange that.”

If you were anyone else, you would have immediately reacted and argued against being sent back to the lair, back to the place that truly made you vulnerable. But you were not just anyone else.

Years of training in the Academy and multiple missions beneath your belt made you a veteran in such situations. Even your poker face had been worked on to the point that any mortal could not read your thoughts.

Now, as for magical beings went... that remained to be seen.

“You know what I meant,” you commented, showing her that she was not going to have the upper hand in this conversation.

Something sparkled within her blue eyes at your defiance, at your unbroken spirit. It was not every day that Agatha met someone like you, so stubborn and untamed. This was what made you interesting but also challenged her to find a way and get what she wanted from you, one way or another.

“Thought you would like to be treated a little more like a human being,” she pointed out the obvious, and yet your look did not change. “Fine. You have something within you, and I am interested in what it is. Now I can find a way and drag it out of you, or...” There it was, that sparkle again. “We can find ourselves on more common ground.”

You arched an eyebrow, clearly not believing her—at least not truly. She could be trying to present herself as a better person to gain your trust, and perhaps, had your first meeting been different, it would have worked.

But you were too sceptical, too careful with everything, to just drop your guard around her.

Suddenly, Agatha pressed two fingers against her temple. “My god, are you always so paranoid?” she asked, rubbing her temples as she felt a throbbing weak pain making an entrance.

You blinked, once, twice... then you frowned, trying to understand what she meant... and then it dawned on you. That sparkle you swore you saw in her eyes, the way she seemed to know how sweet you took your coffee...

“You have been reading my mind?” you asked, though it felt more like a statement than a question. “All this time?”

Agatha sighed. “Well, I have been trying. But you have so many inner monologues, I feel as if I am watching a boring biography turned into a documentary.”

“I am surprised you know what any of those things mean,” you scoffed before you could process what you just said.

To your surprise, Agatha smirked. “Clever. Perhaps the cleverest thing you had said in a while.”

You pressed your lips until they formed a thin line, clearly not liking her well-targeted comments that were meant to draw a reaction out of you. To battle it, you chose to change the topic and hope you could get something out of this as well.

“If you can read my mind, why not just take what you need? Why keep me here, playing all nice?”

“I told you, hon. You interest me. You have something more, and I am not planning to let that go so quickly.”

Her cryptic words started to irk you. “What the fuck do I have then? Except for those stupid symbols on my arms?”

Agatha took joy in hearing you snap slowly, the rising tone of your voice a personal success. That was the first step she needed from you. She needs you to react, speak before your mind can stop you, and expose what you subconsciously held under lock and key.

She could always force it out of you, use her magic, but where was the fun in that?

Slowly, the powerful witch showed up. Every move she made and every step she took radiated pure confidence, and you could not help but silently admire her for that. The way she held herself without fear, without a single care in the world.

She knew she held the power at the moment, and she made sure to remind you every second of it.

And surprisingly, a part of you actually liked it. You found a weak voice at the back of your head admiring her confidence and what a dominant figure she could be even in such a simple, silent room.

“Oh, but you see...” Agatha started slowly. “Those pesky little symbols on you, they do not work just on anyone. Imagine the world if any useless being tattooed a rune on them,” she scoffed, amused by such a crazy idea.

This caught your attention. “So, what makes me special to make those runes work?”

“Now we are on the same page,” Agatha said. “But you shouldn’t be asking me that question. It is you who have those answers.”

Once again, her cryptic answers irked you. This time, you could not hold back the sarcasm. “If you are so confident that I have the answers, why don’t you show me, huh? I mean, aren’t you supposed to be an all-powerful witch?”

The idea settled in Agatha’s mind faster than you expected, and it was too late to take back your words, as you were already regretting the idea.

“If you are so willing,” she smirked and headed towards you.

“No, no, no,” you repeated, trying to push yourself harder against the wooden back of the chair as if you could somehow magically phase through it and escape her.

“Relax, hon. I am not going to harm you.”

“Your words are not very reassuring.” You argued.

Agatha came to a halt in front of you, a hand on her waist. She looked down at you, dark curls framing her face to a perfect angle while her bright blue eyes locked on your form.

For a moment, you breathed in, muscles tensing in anticipation of what might come. Yet nothing did happen, and you were left staring back at her, trapped in that chair.

“Aren’t you a bit curious?” Agatha suddenly asked. “Don’t you want to know why you have those runes on you? Why do they work the way they do?”

You thought for a moment, and you dared to break the eye contact, for the shade of her blue eyes was not helping you think.

Truthfully, you were curious. You had them as long as you could remember their origin, a blurry memory that never made sense to you. Perhaps this might be the only way and the only chance you could have to find out.

In the end, you sighed in defeat. “Fine. Help me learn,” you said as you looked up at her. “But no mind tricks whatsoever.”

Agatha dramatically dragged a black-tipped finger across her heart, forming an invisible cross on her clothes. “Cross my heart.”

“And hope you die?” you continued for her, earning an eye-roll from her.

“Funny. Now, sit properly if we are to do things right.”

[ihfmseatsoch]

ok ok ok so if i may be so bold as to request something, ive been enamored wiht the idea of an older, controlling, borderline abuse boyfriend jimmy, like he and reader live together on earth, and reader goes to college, while jimmy works physical jobs trying to support them both. he's a SHITTY person though, so hes jealous of any man the reader talks to, reads through their phone, makes sinde comments about their weight and appearance, and (im totally not projecting here) eventually pressures them into dropping out, for like his perfect little live in partner/gf fantasy sjdhasd feel free to do whatever with this, but this specific scenario has not left my head for days

WHEEE this was fun to write ^w^ i rushed this a bit but i just didnt want you to have to wait any longer... :p

—

Jimmy Zare x fem!reader

reader uses fem terms (girl, girlfriend)

genre: how do i categorize this.... fic that makes you feel bad or horny depending on how you handle verbal abuse lol

word count: 1.8k

warnings/content: age gap, domestic abuse, manipulation, arguing, fat shaming, several references to the readers body/appearance, jimmy being the biggest asshole oh my god i hate him (i want him so bad it makes me look stupid)

(is it bad that writing about jimmy yelling at me turns me on... WOAHHH who said that .....😰 also dont kill me for the weight shaming part IM A FAT GIRL !!!!!! i like when evil men are mean to me !!!!!! RAAAH)

—

"He's a good guy, he can actually be really sweet!"

That's a sentence you find yourself saying out of complete muscle memory at this point whenever someone questions why your boyfriend–... well, they question an awful lot about your boyfriend.

For example, why he's over twenty years your senior whilst you're still going to class on the weekdays. Why he doesn't allow you to see your friends, wear certain clothes, leave your apartment without him, and why he takes up so much space in your brain, completely distracting you from your own life and goals.

You've missed at least four assignments this semester alone. It's stupid, really. You thought you'd be done with obsessing and crying over boys after you graduated highschool. It's completely immature for a so-called adult like yourself, but then again, you're hardly into adulthood at all.

Jimmy, on the other hand, has a lot more life experience, many of those experiences negative. That might be why you've taken some form of pity on him, going so far as to move into his apartment so you can take care of him when you're not busy. He needs someone to make sure he doesn't fall off the deep end.

The thing is, it's become hard to fit him in your schedule, but whenever you're unable to make time for him after he comes home from work, that familiar scowl on his face indicating it was another shitty day, he throws a fit.

He'll accuse you of everything under the sun; Infidelity being the primary thing.

"You don't love me. There's someone else, isn't there? It's that one kid that asked you to help him 'study' last week, isn't it? No? Give me your fucking phone, then."

This is what you come home to everyday, so it's nothing new. In fact, you're pretty used to it by now. Though today, Jimmy seems particularly pissed.

"Where have you been?" He crosses his arms and leans against the wall, eyeing you up and down like he always does when he's about to grill you on something.

"Sorry..." You mutter, way too tired to deal with one of his moods again. "Traffic." You answer simply, not having enough energy to overexplain yourself like you normally do.

"Uh huh. Traffic." He mimics you in a way that already tells you he's not buying it. Great.

"...It's the truth." You shrink into yourself at the way he's looking at you. Contemptuous as always. You're in for another argument, it seems. A million, desperate pleas run through your mind;

'Please don't give me another lecture about how you're my only financial support, and how grateful I should be. Please don't ask to see my phone. Please don't tell me to drop out.'

But, of course, you can't actually change the outcome of this. You're gonna get yelled at. Belittled. Degraded.

"You're two hours late, and you're gonna tell me you were just stuck in traffic?" He pushes himself off the wall and walks towards you.

"You're never home when you're supposed to be, and when you are home, you're all tired and upset.” He pokes a finger into your shoulder, hard. "What do you think that looks like from my point of view?"

"I'm sorry." You rub your face, exasperated. God, you wish he would shut up sometimes. Sure, he can be amicable, but lately... he's been a raging dick. Yet, you can't help but cling to the memory of his good moments. "I'll try to make it back on time tomorrow."

"Yeah? And how many times have I heard that before?" He sneers, "You're hiding something from me, aren't you?"

The way he accuses you so confidently, so sure of himself... it's insulting. Does he really think that little of you? "College has been kicking my ass, Jim. You know that. I'm not hiding anything from you, okay?"

"Yeah, yeah, college this, college that. Always complaining about fuckin' college," He scoffs, his eyes stay narrowed, still glaring. "How about what I'm going through? You think I'm having a great time every day at work, hm?"

"No, I–" You stammer, hating the way he's turning this around to make himself the victim. Oh, woe is him, having to provide for himself and his girlfriend. How tortured he is. "I know, alright? I'm sorry. I just– what else do you expect me to do?"

"Be here. Like you're supposed to be. And I expect you to stop acting like I'm the bad guy for asking you to be a decent girlfriend."

Jimmy's voice raises slightly as he takes a step closer, towering over your sheepish figure. He nudges your shoulder again, even rougher this time.

"I'm busting my ass every day to put food on the table, and you can't even have the decency to show up on time, let alone look happy to see me?"

"I– I am happy to see you! I am, I'm just– you don't get it. I want to be here, but... I'm not even halfway through this semester, and–" You stumble over your words as you attempt, in vain, to defend yourself. It's not like he'll ever feel sympathy for you. It's always about what he wants. What makes him happy.

Jimmy rolls his eyes at your attempt to reason with him. It's as if he doesn't even register a word you say. "But what? What's more important to you, huh? Some stupid classes, or the guy who keeps a fuckin' roof over your head and feeds you? Be grateful, goddamn it." He snaps, grabbing your arms and giving them a forceful shake.

You flinch from being handled like you're not even a human being, much less one with feelings. "Stop, please, I'm– I am grateful, I really am..." You're not lying, either. To be honest, his guilt tripping works wonders on you. Are you really acting unappreciative? He wouldn't be this upset if you were in the right...

He seems unfazed by your frightened demeanor and continues to hold a firm grip on your arms. He looks you up and down, not even having to say anything for you to know he's judging you, as a girlfriend and person in general.

"Oh, you're grateful? Then maybe you should act like it for once." Jimmy gives your arms another firm shake, a harsh reminder of who's in charge here.

"I'm not asking much of you. I just want you to be here, and you can't even do that. Do you think I'm just gonna sit back and accept that bullshit?"

"No..." You shake your head, looking down at the ground in shame. Were you really that awful? You didn't want to be a bad partner, it's the last thing you ever wanted. If you could make eye contact without feeling guilty, you'd see Jimmy's face light up with satisfaction as he finally notices you're not even bothering to put up a fight anymore.

There's a condescending lilt to his tone as he speaks, "No one will ever love you like I do. You know that?"

You nod, knowing there has to be some truth to his claim. He takes care of you, doesn't he? He keeps a roof over your head, gives you money for groceries, and he's not always that unpleasant to be around...

He's a good boyfriend. You're the problem. You always are.

"Exactly."

The grip on your arms eases, moving them to place a hand on each of your shoulders, contrastingly gentle compared to his behavior only moments ago.

"You oughta thank your lucky stars you have a man like me who puts up with all your bullshit. You get that, right? How lucky you are to be with me?"

You know he's right. You were blessed with someone who still loves you, despite your many shortcomings. You're too fat, the acne on your face and body is repulsive, the way you do your makeup is weird... all of this being things Jimmy has told you directly. At least you have an honest boyfriend, isn't that what every girl wants?

He gives your shoulder a pat, like he's treating you like a small, petulant child. "You realize I could have literally any girl I want, right? Pretty, skinny, smart ones, even. But I chose you. Because I care about you."

He pauses, letting that sink in.

"But it would help if you'd actually put the effort in to look decent." He adds as an afterthought.

You've internalized every single snide remark he's thrown your way, reminded of them every single time you look in the mirror. Yet he still loves someone like you. Someone so difficult and embarrassing to be with.

"Jim, I don't... I don't know how I'm even gonna be able to free my schedule at all with school and stuff..." You mumble guiltily. You know he wants you to drop out, he's suggested it more times than you can count.

"That right there, that's why I'm frustrated, goddamn it," He says with an exacerbated sigh. He moves one hand from your shoulder to pinch the bridge of his nose in annoyance. "Why don't you get it? Dropping out isn't the end of the world. Just quit and stay home. Done. Easy."

"It's not that easy... I want to get a good job and help out too, you know..."

It's true that you want to pull your weight around your shared home. With your combined income, it'd make everything easier. But... with how shitty college makes you feel, leaving you beaten down and tired by the end of the day...

You find yourself listening to Jimmy on this for once.

He can tell you're seriously contemplating it this time, which makes him feel... more in control. He's got you thinking and believing exactly what he wants you to. Soon, he'll be able to get you to obey him without another word from you.

The thought of having you as his subservient, stay at home girlfriend is more than appealing. It's his goal to mold you into what he wants you to be.

"Yeah, yeah, I get that, I know. But you're stressing yourself half to death, and for what? Some stupid degree? Listen to me, I'm not gonna ask you again. You're just creating problems that don't need to exist. Just quit. You'll have plenty of free time that you can spend with me."

You can't deny how tempting the idea is. Hesitantly, after several moments of pondering the hypotheticals and what-ifs, you speak up,

"...I guess... dropping out wouldn't hurt too much."

He perks up at that, barely being able to contain a delighted grin. You're actually putting him and his wants first, and acknowledging that he's right. You're doing as he says, without any of the usual arguing or excuses. He'll finally have his dream complaisant, docile girlfriend to come home to every night.

It only took a month or two to finally get you to cave. You'll be easier to control from now on. Hell, maybe you'll lose some weight with some free time on your hands, stop wearing that shitty makeup...

"Good girl," He says in a patronizing tone, like he's addressing a child, "That's what wanna hear."

God, you really hope this isn't a bad idea. Jimmy looks pleased for once, so...

This decision can't possibly ruin your future too badly, right?

—

[loredrinker]

The Role of Freedom and Choice in Solas's Fate

Thinking about choice in general and how the freedom of choice impacts a person's evolution and transformation.  And how each of the endings reflect that.

Veilguard spoilers below - and a long post.

The only ending that truly allows Solas the freedom to choose is the Atonement ending.  

Freedom and Choice are Important to Solas

Solas, a man who fought to free his people from slavery for hundreds of years, values freedom and choice. 

Solas hates ignorance and being mindless - because ignorance is not freedom.  There are a lot of great lines in one of his arguments with a low approval Inquisitor: 

He's also willing to kill if ignorance has destroyed something he values (All New Faded for Her).  

True freedom involves the ability to make informed choices.  

Wisdom flourishes in freedom - this allows for choices to be made that lead to transformation and change.   

Pride, in contrast, can be rigid, defensive, and resistant to change. When choice is removed, pride can fester because there is usually no space for reflection or growth.  

Take away the freedom to choose, and you start to strip away someone’s humanity.

Allowing choice and agency creates fertile ground for change and shifting perspectives. Which is strengthened through connection with others.

We saw this shift in Inquisition: 

Perspectives are shifting. 

In Trespasser, a high-approval Inquisitor can tell Solas they’ll prove he doesn’t need to destroy the world, to which Solas replies, “I would treasure the chance to be wrong once again, my friend.” He’s open to the possibility of another path, of a different choice. 

I see proof of this shift in Veilguard. 

In Trespasser, Solas tells the Inquisitor that saving his world will destroy theirs and sounds like he's talking absolute destruction. But in Veilguard, he tells Varric that he’s taken precautions to minimize damage and confesses to Rook that while thousands may die, he’s working to preserve as much life as possible.  

Personal opinion: Some people claim that Solas lies all the time - to himself, to others. Yes, he lies, but all the time? That feels like (to me) a simplistic and one-dimensional view of this character. I love Solas because he embodies duality. He tells the truth and he lies, but his lies are never straightforward. They’re strategic, carefully worded, lies of omission or half-truths.  Saying “he just lies about everything” is too easy. Solas invites us to discern for ourselves, to see him through the lens of the story we choose to believe about him. The game acknowledges this duality when (depending on dialogue choices), Solas tells Rook, “I am, after all, remembered as the god of lies, treachery and rebellion.” When Rook responds with, "Depending on the story.” Solas follows with, “And what story shall we tell now?”  I LOVE that line - it’s like he’s turning to us, the player and asking, What are you going to believe? We have a choice here. 

Back to the main point: is Solas lying about having spirits at the ready? Maybe. But we know Solas is friends with spirits (All New, Faded for Her), and he led spirits in battles against the Evenuris, he spoke with spirits trying to convince some to fight back. 

And Emmrich says to Solas: 

So why is it so hard to believe that he did ask spirits to stand by and help?  

Solas admits that while destruction is inevitable, he’s trying to minimize the damage. Yes, it's still morally questionable, but it shows a shift - a choice to preserve life where he can. 

Choices Shape Us 

The good, the bad, and the ugly - Solas’s choices define him. Prideful Solas makes destructive, terrible, morally grey decisions. He tries exerting force over Rook, manipulates, and attempts trickery. He tries to take away Rook’s own choices when it suits him. 

But we also see Wise Solas guiding and helping Rook. I love this ongoing dance between Wisdom and Pride throughout Veilguard. Which wolf will be fed? 

Freedom to choose is complemented by relationships - connections with others that encourage reflection. Just as Solas’s connections in Inquisition helped him reflect and shift, his connection with Rook - a new mirror for him - will also help him shift. The question is, will it be for the worse or the better? 

So We Get to the End... 

Elgar'nan has been defeated, Rook holds the dagger and now Rook has a choice...which will set the stage for which Solas enters the Fade – wisdom (spirit) or pride (demon).  

Trick Weekes mentioned on Bluesky in answer to a question about Solas's trauma being tied to the dagger. 

 (Here is the original Tumblr post which is a great read) 

With that in mind, let’s examine the endings - and Solas’s mental state - through the lens of freedom to choose. 

The "Normal" Ending 

In this ending, Rook has taken the time to help their companions, resolving their issues so they can make meaningful choices and become stronger versions of themselves. This collective strength allows Rook and the team to overpower Solas. However, Rook chooses not to offer a choice to Solas. Instead, they stab him, forcibly binding him to the Veil, against his will.

The image following this ending shows Solas in his Veilguard outfit, falling backward almost like in a spiral. To me this visual conveys a sense of being out of control - surrounded by darkness and a swirling storm. His mind is clearly not in a good place (he refers to himself a god now). Solas is trapped by force, and left in a dark, chaotic state.

The "Good" (Trick) Ending 

The Trick ending is intriguing. What’s interesting is that it’s called a "good" ending, and I think that’s because, in this ending, Solas still makes a choice. 

Rook and the team outwit Solas, forcefully binding him to the Veil once again. However, within this act of force, there’s a small glimmer of hope - Solas chooses to accept his defeat. He bitterly admits he was bested and calls himself a fool. While Pride may have the upper hand here, his Wisdom isn’t completely lost symbolized by the bright background in the final image. 

Though the image shows Solas falling again, he doesn’t appear to be struggling against it in this one. This tells me that, despite his defeat, Solas’s mindset might still have a chance to recover and evolve down the road. 

The "Bad" Ending 

The bad ending is fascinating to me on a few layers. It's described as the default because it requires the least effort. In this path, Rook neglects their companions’ personal quests, chooses not to help them resolve their issues (which would enable them to make meaningful choices so they can grow, so they can choose their paths going forward.)  Relationships are sidelined, and everyone dies. 

Solas’s state reflects this. He’s snarling, sneering, and fighting, stabs Rook, is consumed by anger, desperation and resistance. Rook chases after Solas as he tries to escape, grabs him from behind, preventing him from moving forward, pulls back on him slightly - then the Fade grabs them - pulling them both back to the Fade (as seen in this video).

He's being pulled - not enough of him to be him. He becomes what battered him, bruised his being.

And the image following this?  Just an image of a memorial.  No peek into Solas's mind, no commentary on it from Varric.  My interpretation? Wisdom (Solas) is gone. 

And Rook?  Not looking good.  The text following says that this "cost many lives, including Rook and the team". This implies Rook didn't make it. 

This ending triggered a visceral reaction in me. To me the message is clear. 

Rook’s decision not to support their companions means the team is unable to grow, leaving them unprepared to face challenges, weakening their collective strength. The absence of meaningful connection (which I highlighted earlier is a part of growth) results in a failure to create the unity needed to overcome Solas - and Rook and the team pay the price for this. For Solas, this lack of connection mirrors his descent into Pride.

Without the influence of reflection, compassion, or alternative perspectives from others, he remains trapped in his own rigid mindset. 

The "Best" Ending (Atonement) 

Despite Solas constantly trying to screw Rook over, Rook chooses to turn the other cheek – and offers him another chance.  Rook also holds Solas accountable, reminding him that by tearing down the Veil, he’s taking away everyone else's freedom to choose - because it’s what he wants. 

Solas is reflective here, mirroring the energy he’s met with. When confronted with ego, he responds with ego; when met with understanding, he opens himself to it. Rook’s willingness to forgive (this offering of another path is an act of forgiveness) and to challenge him, continues nurturing the chance for further change, allowing other voices, like the Inquisitor’s and Mythal’s, to influence him as well. 

But the choice is still Solas's.  

And when Solas CHOOSES to uphold the Veil: 

In both endings where Solas enters the Fade - whether alone or with a romanced Inquisitor - the Fade is bright. In the solo ending, Solas appears to be taking purposeful steps forward, looking like a wise sage. In the romanced ending, he holds the Inquisitor in an embrace, symbolizing connection. 

Both endings show a Solas looking like he was in Inquisition, a reminder of how his time with the Inquisition mattered. The relationships he formed shaped him, helping him build a foundation to move forward, to shift perspectives in order to make new choices. 

As Solas says to a friend Inquisitor and Rook, “Thanks to you, I see another way.” That realization came because Rook and the Inquisitor reflected that possibility back to him. 

And when Solas chooses atonement, he starts envisioning a better future - a world where the Blight is soothed and even the Titans might have a place. But being forced into the Fade? Who knows how long it might take for him to see that path (if at all), or if the resentment from being forced will taint his perspective. 

The Atonement ending reminds me that people can change, but real change requires freedom, open-mindedness, connections with others and the opportunity to choose. Solas’s transformation happens because he’s given the space to choose his own path - not because he’s forced into it. Along the way, the people who challenged and engaged his Wisdom guided him back to his core essence, allowing him to reclaim his purpose in the end. 

But again, this is just my interpretation (and still evolving).

[yoursonlucifer]

my favorite (sarcasm) thing about fandom media analysis is when someone presents a fact of the piece of media that is relatively clearly presented but assume that because they've removed it from the context of the media that it acts as analysis

example: jinx and silco have a close relationship because of how she felt abandoned by vander and vi [uses evidence from the show to prove this]

and it's like yeah. that's kind of central to... the whole thing; you don't need to prove it. you're right because the show already told us that and can't exist without that truth. there's never actually an arguable claim involved.

I was going to add to the example, "and he fills a gap in her relationship patterns that has to be filled by a parentified figure" which is true, but one can argue that he didn't actually fill that gap or that it doesn't have to be filled by a parentified figure, because the problems jinx had persisted in spite of the relationship. instead, one could argue that only isha could fill that gap by giving jinx a chance to show someone the love she needed--so there can be actionable analysis there. but it kind of only functions as actionable analysis because I pointed out that one could argue that it's not the case and opened up a different point of view to demonstrate why I'm not just sharing facts and explaining them without ever making a claim.

I developed this example off the top of my head, so you will also see that as I analyze this statement, I poke holes in it and change my claim.

please always keep in mind the ever important "which means..." part of the claim. it cannot just be "[this] and [this] happened, which demonstrates [thing central to the media]." it also has to include your own extrapolation, which obviously needs to be supported by the media in any sound analysis, but cannot be presenting something basically innately true. even the thing that I presented as an example of analysis can fall flat, but I can strengthen it by emphasizing that jinx's love for isha also represents a love for her younger self, giving outside evidence or personal anecdotes to strengthen my claim along with what the show says.

by this definition, "silco and jinx's relationship is strong because silco was a parental figure to jinx" is just facts

"silco and jinx's relationship is strong because of the abandonment jinx felt from vi and vander, leaving silco to occupy a parental space" is better but still really just presenting facts

"silco and jinx's relationship was strong but built on a sense of abandonment and unfilfilled parental relationships. in order for jinx to have a stronger and more healed relationship, she needed someone like isha to exist." I could go further by saying "the show could not have had a resolved ending without a character like isha." with that, I've said something that is actually a claim instead of a fact and said something defensible, which allows me to actually create analysis rather than just listing facts.

the last line of my argument is especially subjective because I could mean lots of different things by "resolved." therein lies a word choice that actually allows me to create a defensible claim

TLDR; analysis is only fruitful when it provides an alternative perspective to emphasize its strengths and must avoid being a compilation of facts. a good way to think about it can be: [event] and [event] came together to demonstrate [fact], which led to [theory].

[nettlebrand]

Proshippers are so weird because every argument they make is so easily debunked it's actually funny

First of all let's define a proshipper since everyone loves to argue over that. I will also acknowledge the history of the word

Proship in it's early years was defined as proship/anti harassment. It was a term used by people who believed people should not be harassed over what they ship.

But that's its term years ago, and the meaning of words change. Let's not be stupid when it comes to this argument. Proshipper is a term now often used by people who ship problematic things like incest, minor x adult, and abuser x victim.

THIS IS NOT A TERM USED BY PEOPLE WHO WRITE ABOUT THOSE RELATIONSHIPS AND PROTRAY THEM AS UNHEALTHY.

It's a term NOW USED by people who ENJOY and actively ship and romantize those relationships. You can write about a victim x abuser without romantizing it. Proshippers romantize it.

Now that we have defined it, we can tear apart every argument they try to use to justify doing it.

"It's my coping mechanism! My therapist said so!"

I'm going to state my credentials right off the bat. I have a degree in psychology and am currently getting my doctorate degree in it. While yes, many therapists say it can be used as a coping mechanism, it is a TEMPORARY coping mechanism. It is not a long-term mechanism that we recommend at all. On top of that, we certainly do not tell you to post it online for the public to see. No therapist would tell you to do that, and any therapist that says it's okay to do that does have you not have your best interest. We KNOW you will harassed and attacked on the internet if you post stuff like that online. It's why we specifically tell you that if you HAVE to use this TEMPORARY coping mechanism, to not do it publicly.

"Fiction doesn't effect reality! Grow up!"

I'm not defending the people doing the attacking either. IF YOU SEND DEATH THREATS OR HARASS PROSHIPPERS, YOU ARE BAD TOO! No one deserves death threats or to be doxxed because of fictional media even if it is not everyones taste. But therapist can not control what goes down on the internet, and neither can anyone else.

"Well it's fictional! It does effect reality but it's fiction that makes it okay!"

Fiction DOES effect reality it is why we enjoy fictional things so much in the first place. Saying fiction doesn't affect reality, which ignores so much human history and the basics of WHY people create fiction in the first place. Fiction DEFINITELY affects reality, and it affects the human mind greatly. It's why people can laugh cry and get angry at media in the first place. That argument makes no sense because if it didn't affect reality, it wouldn't be a coming mechanism, which is what a lot of proshippers say why they proship.

Romantizing a relationship other people have been through and trying to portray it as a good and well thing is frankly gross and disgusting. It hurts victims a lot and can make them question their own abuse they went through. It's not a good thing at all. If you honestly think on any speck of this planet that romantizing an abusive relationship, whether incest pedophilic or rape in any way is okay because it's fiction, you are honestly not much better than actual pedophiles and abusers. They get off to hurting people, and you also get off to the hurting aspect. Yes, even if you yourself are a victim. Being a victim doesn't mean you get a pass to do whatever you want, and I think a lot of people need to remember that. You do not get a pass to romantize abuse no matter what. It's not a good thing at all to romantize and it can make you worse and question your own abuse.

"Calling us just as bad as real abusers boo!"

I will. I will stand by that, too. Because that's how it starts. My abuser also started with "just writings" and "just drawings." Because that's how it always begins. In psychology, we can tell how far someone will go based on the things they consume and how they consume it. It gets to a point where the person consuming it will be a victim or be an abuser. It's why so many pedophiles when they are caught, have CP on their computers because "it was just images." I'm not saying all proshippers are going to turn out to be pedophiles or abusers because thats obviously not true. But the route you are going down is an addiction, and you eventually won't be able to stop even if you just stop at drawn images. It's why you crave to do it so much and can not stop. It's the rush you get of posting it online to the thrill of being caught. You enjoy every aspect of it. It's an addiction.

"You are dismissing/disrespecting real victims by comparing CP to drawn/written CP!"

I myself am a victim. A very severe one. There are pictures of me out on the deep web somewhere when I wasn't even in double digits. I am not disrespecting what happened to me or other kids. While I do agree with the argument that drawing a fictional child is not as bad as real pictures of children, it is still disgusting to be making at all. It's also disrespectful to victims to be romantizing stuff like that publicly, so you aren't allowed to use that argument as if you cared for every victim, you wouldn't be posting it publicly.

"You are limiting artistic creativity! This is conservative ideologies that wants to censor work!"

If censoring the romantization of abuse being portrayed as good is wrong, then I want to be wrong. Yes, everyone should have artistic freedom, but why in any way would you WANT to be known as the author or person who portrays pedophiles in a good way. Who portrays abuse as okay and romantic. Why is that something you want in your life. No one should want that, and if you do, I encourage you to seek a strong amount of help. Censoring the portrayal of abuse as good shouldn't be a controversial statement at all, but it somehow it. If you are writing pedophiles incest and abuse as a BAD THING and you MAKE SURE, it's portrayed as a bad thing that isn't proshipping. It's when you romantize it and try to treat it as a "cute fun silly >w<." Thing that I see MANY proshippers do that's bad. Yes, I want that censored. Especially when it's easily accessible to minors. Proshippers do not care if minors can access their work, and it's very obvious seeing it. Even if it isn't inherently, nsfw minors shouldn't be seeing and interacting with ANY FORM OF MEDIA that portrays abuse as good.

"What about NSFW artist!?? You don't want them censored!?"

I don't see this argument made as often, but it's still one I want to talk about. Most nsfw artists I see make... normal art that doesn't revolve around romantizing abuse in some way. While obviously there are exceptions, nsfw art is aimed towards adults, which makes censoring a lot easier, and theres an understanding between sex vs relationship. There's a difference between porn with bdsm aspects in it vs. a fanfic writing on two characters, and the abuse is romantical. Sex is different than a romantic relationship.

"Well my artwork is aimed towards adults! Adults can understand it better!"

Adults can still have an awful time with abusive and struggling relationships. Adults can also be uncomfortable and not want to see their abuse portrayed in a good light. While I agree that many adults can understand and differ fiction from reality, that doesn't change the fact that romantizing abuse in any way isn't okay. What a lot of proshippers tend to not understand is how its portrayed that's the problem.

I am a HUGE FAN of enemies to lovers. If they didn't try to kill each other once is it really love/j. But the major thing is it's the build-up and actual relationship that's different. If two characters are in love and one is on a lower power level, then another and just keep getting abused and beaten and mistreated even when they aren't enemies anymore. There's the romantizing abuse. A majority of the time, most don't even add warnings to this kind of content, which can heavily hurt past victims as well. Adults are allowed to not be okay! Adults are allowed to not be okay with seeing literal abuse be romantized! And that shouldn't be an excuse to do it just because your content is aimed for a more mature audience. Horror movies are aimed at adults and can portray murder as awful, proshippers shouldn't be an exception. Proshippers forget that antis tend to also get on people who use excessive gore without portraying it correctly as well. Urbanspook is a recent example who was HEAVILY flamed for his excessive gore without any real meaning or care behind the topic.

"Why do I have to demonize this! That doesn't mean I'm endorsing it!"

That's... what it means. If you do not portray a topic as serious as any form of abuse as bad then... why are you writing about it. I'm not saying it should be the main story because you can write about abuse and have it be a secondary plot point. Many stories do this, and it's don't correctly. But just writing about something just for the sake of having it in there without showing it as a bad awful thing, which is in the definition of abuse, is wrong and bad.

I'm not making this post to "change proshippers." Or "harass and bully them." I'm making this post because every argument they use is wrong and incorrect and hurts other victims, me included. I frankly don't care what proshippers do, but don't make mundane arguments about it. Just admit you want to do it just because you want to not for some anti conservative idea or because you believe it helps. There are better coping mechanisms, and posting yours online doesn't help your mindset. I hope all victims get the help and strength they need to heal from whatever they have been through, but posting romantic abuse online isn't going to help your mind or help anyone else. It's not some splatterpunk idea that slaps conservatives in the face and in fact pushes the idea to censor things more when kids come across it.

And honestly if any proshipper wants to have a debate about this I'm open to it as long as its cival. But frankly I don't see any reason to publicly be posting romantic abuse online.

[princessefemmelesbian]

Transandrophobia truthers are so damn racist and white oh my fucking god y'all actually piss me the fuck off every time you tokenize Black and brown men for your stupid as fuck "mra but make it trans-inclusive" ideology created by a creepy guy with a corrective rape fetish(something I'll never let up on for as long as I live, btw). If I ever see another one of y'all say "Black and brown men face discrimination because they're seen as overly masculine and that's why masculinity in men is oppressed in this society" I will literally kill myself. Stop using Black and brown men as brownie points for your bullshit arguments about misandry being real when you don't have the slightest idea how racialized oppression works. White boys are so annoying and dumb istfg.

@punkeropercyjackson @punknicodiangelo @pinkpinkstarlet

[swinging-stars-from-satellites]

with a few minutes' reflection and a second conversation with my parents I have realized that I may have overblown things and overreacted a bit and also in some ways they're correct even if I think they're also harsh about it

[bloomingsalma]

i think one of the most disappointing things is to see that your childhood friends have grown up to represent the kind of people you're disappointed in

[szaryherbatnik]

Tough day rambles

In a world with a different setting id be a prophet or a person with cool visions, id be a person worthy of protection and trust and friendship. Here im just paranoid and i worry about the wrong things. Somewhere else when i dance on my way to a shop everyone thinks im full of joy and whimsy and they dont think im drunk or childish. Somewhere else i can be around people for more than 5 hours before i shut down for the rest of the day. Somewhere else i dont remind everyone im stupid and dumb and i dont describe everything i do and feel as "slight" and "little" and "a bit", im able to love romantically and dream of tenderness and give it and recieve it. Idk i just hate myself a lot.

[brittlebutch]

it has come to me in a vision (Lila using phone AAC app to write her essays when she goes to college)

[lord-squiggletits]

Actually the funniest example of Megatron apologism (neutral) I've seen is when people call it biased and rigged for Optimus to be the judge for Megatron's trial, but have nothing to say about the fact that Optimus let Megatron on the Lost Light AS CO-CAPTAIN which is ALSO incredibly rigged and biased and no one wanted it and Optimus barely had the authority to even do that.

It just seems like a case where people will always take the angle/interpretation that favors Megatron as a victim of Autobot eeeevillll, so they harp on how unfair it was for Megatron to be put on trial, but completely skirt over exactly how and why Megatron even got to serve parole/not rot in prison in the first place. I guess because it would disrupt the ever-present fan wank about how actually Megatron is being victimized for being put on trial and those Autobots are "just as bad" (lmao).

[clownsnake]

one thing I really like about the no mercy route is the phrasing of some of the dialogue shaming you for… going out of your way to commit a tedious, inconvenient, and not even enjoyable mass murder. Specifically, what the characters call you. Because for obvious reasons, they’re not gonna say “you monster!!” But I think it also probably posed a unique writing challenge (or provided a blessing?) for Toby, especially considering the purpose of the no mercy route being so judgmental of you in the first place.

like. we all know that when certain phrases get used and re-used countless times across All of Media and also real life, it starts to lose its meaning right? So aside from the watsonian reasons for why the characters of undertale wouldn’t use ‘monster’ as a synonym for ‘needlessly cruel and evil person’, the doylist choice here is kind of fascinating to me. A little bit inspired imo

cause it just feels worse to have sans or whoever else say “you’re just a gross person, huh?” Or “you’re really a freak.” after an observation/remark of what you’ve done. and it feels like that because the characters in the game literally can’t use a certain phrase we’d normally glance over.

but it also feels like that, because their observations of you are more precise that way. Cause it directs your attention to what could be ignored through vague platitudes like “you really are a monster” or whatever; the ugly truth. To simply state the truth about your actions is what makes the route so uncomfortable. Because the truth is that you are the source of discomfort, which you can’t avoid recognizing, even for a second. You could just ditch this playthrough and start a pacifist run At Any Point In Time, but for some reason you’re dedicated to killing all your nice little cartoon friends. And that’s weird.

idk I just think its neat