#i also really dislike use of the f slur by people who have never been called it or any epithet targeted at that ''side'' of things.

[moonisneveralone]

I'm not trusting y'all again. I got my beef with Kendrick. He's a good artist, but he's still got some hotep tendencies that I can never really accept. HOWEVER. Y'all really had me believing Auntie Diaries was this embarassing no go, when it really wasn't.

I can totally accept that it's jarring. It is. It's like most black people are tired of seeing black people suffer on screen right? I distrust most of these movies, but once in a blue moon you will get a Moonlight or a Get Out. For people who staunchly dislike black suffering on screen (because of real life obviously) it will still be a jarring and uncomfortable watch, but both movies are amazing and well done. They nail their subject matter.

And so did Kendrick. Auntie Diaries is not a song for trans people in that sense. It is pro trans, but again it is not there to meet trans people where they are (ahead of us cis people). Which is why I'm not trying to speak over trans people or telling them they have to like it. It is about meeting cis people where they are. And arguably black religious cis people.

It is also about Kendricks own journey to understanding his family members who have transitioned and how his behaviour harmed his relationship with his family members. Yes he uses slurs, but critically towards the end of the song he stops doing that and censores the slur as "F-Bomb". Because the song is supposed to symbolize his learning curve. He also turns it around and says we can all use it together, but only if we say using the n-word is okay. Something that he has experienced himself. At one of his shows he asked a white fan to not use it and gave her the mic she then proceeded to censor it once and then say it thought the verse.

The end of the song is him saying he chose humanity over his religion. He wants to love his family and that he also wants to stop being a hypocrite.

My personal assesment of him is that he is a hypocrite. But humams contain multitudes right?

He just really isn't a hypocrite about this.

But I also just followed whatever the hell people on here were saying and never confirmed shit for myself so who am I to judge?

Again I'm not saying he deserves flowers for this. Even though I'm very sure this could have been and interesting conversation to have. I also think anti blackness and maybe just a valid general distrust of cis straight men (and to white people the fact that he's black) played into this incredibly uncharitable reading of this song.

And I guess today I'm extra mad about it, because I saw someone come for Megan the Stallion about her not actually being bisexual. How is openly dating a woman as a famous person the standard? How many lesbians who are famous only really go out with their partners when it's long term? How many famous white lesbians can you name that are out in town with women they aren't married to? Yeah, do you think that it might be because the scrutiny is draining and scary? Do they need to show up with a girl so you can tick it off in your little who's really gay box?

I really can't help but feel white LGBTQ+ people don't want us to be a part of the conversation at all. And if we are a part of it it has to be in a demure and simple way. There is no room for complexity or to bring up issues. Truely in a glitzy glam respectability era.

Also stop acting like y'all grew up super unproblematic. I know some of y'all were straight up acting like demons because y'all couldn't accept yourself. If we can hold space for that complicated journey why not for a man who struggled to understand and accept his family members, because of all the conflicting messaging he was getting, but then found his way to love them and put them above his religion?

[my-castles-crumbling]

hi cas!

just looking for a bit of advice here.

okay so for some background, i came out to my friend almost a year ago (kind of sort of, i just told her i liked girls as a girl myself) we’re both in school btw. she was completely supportive of me and even defended me against anything remotely homophobic. she was really sweet and understanding and i felt super safe with her. she’s been one of my best friends since middle school and she’s always stuck with me.

recently though, things have been changing. she’s always been a little back and forth with me and our other friends, always choosing who to be nice to in our group that day, it was never all of us. but now, she’s been more cold to just me consistently, ignoring me in big groups, looking me up and down, getting ‘mad’ at me for every reason she can find. it’s just not great. but then out of the blue some days, she acts like im her best friend and she loves me and is so so kind to me. those are the days i feel safe with her again.

but that’s not what’s bothering me the most about her behavior recently. what is, is that she’s been using the f slur a lot, not often directed at people (though i assume its at me when she says “i hate *f slurs* when i do something she doesn’t like) i’ll oftentimes just brush it off and act like she was just making a joke that was actually funny with a little remark back to her. i don’t know if she’s actually homophobic, because she’s really close with some of my gay friends and doesn’t do this to them, also because of her support when i came out.

and i really don’t know what to do about it because i love her friendship when she wants to give it to me, but what she’s doing is starting to really hurt me. i’ve talked to my best friend (who is amazingly kind and has also experienced this friend’s fake side) about some of this but i just don’t think she’d understand how deeply this hurts me

anyway, didn’t mean to dump on you this much but i just hope you can help me find what to do next. thank you <33

(also if i end up sending another ask, which is pretty unlikely, you can just call me eternal sunshine anon <3)

Hi love!

So what your friend is doing is NOT okay. Using the f-slur in that way is absolutely homophobic and could be considered a crime depending on your location. Now, I'm not saying you should call the police or anything. There's obviously nuance with the word- some queer people have chosen to reclaim it, and there is a huge amount of ignorance with people outside of the community. However, your friend is deeply in the wrong.

I think the first thing I would push you to do, though, is talk to your friend. I know it can be intimidating to address conflict like this head-on, but it seems like you do care for this friend, so I think you should at least try to tell her that these and other actions make you upset and make you feel unsafe. Right now, there's the very small chance that she's unaware, so we don't know if she's hurting you on purpose. Her reaction will be a huge indicator of whether or not it's worth it to stay friends. An ignorant but well-meaning person might say, "oh my god, I had NO idea, I'll really work to do better!" and then actually do so. But if she doubles down or tells you you're being too sensitive, I would urge you to reconsider that friendship. A 'friend' who is willing to intentionally do something that hurts you isn't really a friend.

Remember too that even if someone doesn't understand WHY something is hurtful, a person who cares will still make an effort to feel comfortable. So even if she doesn't fully understand why you dislike some of her actions, as long as your requests are reasonable, she should still try to do better. (Asking her to not use a hateful slur is EXTREMELY reasonable.)

You have the right to set boundaries and ask for respect and if people don't like that, they aren't worth your energy or friendship.

I hope this helps! <3 <3 <3

[kael-writ]

sooo, the biggest problem with this is the very beginning of it: ANYONE CAN BE AN ARTIST. To gatekeep who is an artist in the first place is messed up. That's not ok. Anyone should be allowed to join an art club and make art, actually. Certainly your friend who is having a good time there and not causing problems. Because THEY CAN BE AN ARTIST TOO. Literally anyone who wants to create art can be an artist! A 3 year old can be an artist. Art is for everyone.

And that's really the same way gender and sexuality labels work. Anyone can be a man, a woman, or non-binary because they're just labels.

labels for abstract and fluid social concepts.

Social concepts that were made up to assign characteristics to people based on their genitals that doesn't match real people ...and/or to assign them an internal romantic/sexual attraction that also doesn't match real people.... so people evolved ways to bend, break, reforge these labels, because labels are kinda bullshit but can be useful, and it's complicated and messy because humans are diverse individuals.... *gasps for air* yea yea that's a lot.

I get that it can be a lot for people to process, it was for me. That's how the heady experience of the diversity of individuals within society is, it's complex.

A second problem with this analogy is that, obviously, gender and sexuality isnt a club or an activity, it's literally just a personal label a person uses. It doesnt mean you have to do or refrain from any activities.

People *do* try to gatekeep labels based on things like who you are currently dating or if you are planning on getting a surgery, but uhhh that's actually total bullshit too. And a lot has been written about why and Im not going into this tangent this moment so anyway.

Also, people are not trying to join art clubs because they hate art, that isnt a real thing that happens that art clubs do have to gatekeep. The same applies to queerness. No one is faking it for like weird nefarious purposes, dude.

I live in a major city and am active in the community and Ive never heard of LGBTQIA+ centers that forbid hand holding or a kiss goodbye or anything like that. If that's actually truly happening somewhere, maybe we should look at the actual evidence, where and why exactly it happened, instead of blaming the existence in the world of whatever queer people we're trying to gatekeep today. Were these people - idk, a non-binary asexual person who uses the label lesbian let's say - actually the people running the center and making those rules? Probably not. It probably was just a regular cut and dried cis gay guy who does get past your gate. If this event even happened.

Do people in queer spaces use slurs like queer and the f-slur and the d-slur? Yea, always have. That's what reclaiming is. We get called that stuff, so we use it with our friends. Can people be more sensitive about who they say that in front of? Absolutely, can and should.

That isnt, again, the fault of, idk, - a trans masculine person who doesn't want surgery and hasnt chosen a label - or whoever we're gatekeeping this week. Again, regular old "passes the gatekeep" cis gay guys say "the f slur". That isnt gonna be helped with the gate.

If you truly want to have an actual clubhouse for only Gold Star Cis Lesbians you can do that. And you can put yourself through the un-fun task of scrutinizing members and kicking people out and shit if you really want. And you can accept the consequences of that, like a lot of people disliking you. You can do that.

You can have an art club at your house for only visual artists who use acrylics and graduated art school and take commissions on tumblr, you can narrow down your club, because that's your little small social gathering.

but you cant actually stop an artist with zero experience who never went to school from calling themselves an artist even if you think only experienced professionals who went to school should be called artists. Because they can do that. And they will. All you can do is be an asshole about it.

And there are consequences for being an asshole, like people not wanting to associate with you.

You can't stop people from using labels like lesbian, gay, bisexual, trans, non-binary, asexual, aromantic, and queer for themselves. You physically, practically can't stop them.

All you can do is be an asshole about it, or get over it.

PS: btw if you send me an anonymous shitty mean message about this, you're just making it more clear to me that Im right, so save your energy

why gatekeeping the LGBT community is a necessary evil:

say that you decide to start a club it's an art club. you like this club, because it's full of artists just like you, who understand the struggles you go through. they have resources and advice and empathy to share, as do you, because you're all artists. but then one day, your friend who is not an artist, asks if they can join.

and they're your friend!! you want them to have fun too! maybe they have an appreciation of drawing, so you think it’s okay. so even though your friend doesn’t draw, you say sure! and they join the club. and they sit with everyone else and chat and talk, and everything’s good, it’s nice, it’s fun.

but then your other friend hears about your first friend being allowed in. and you already said yes to the first friend—how can you tell this one no? so you let this friend in, too. but then that friend decides that they really like the club, even though they don’t necessarily like drawing, so they invite THEIR friends. and what are you supposed to do? say no? you already have two non-artists in the club. so you grit your teeth and allow those people in, too.

and the cycle repeats. friends invite friends, word spreads around. pretty soon, your art club becomes an art-and-movies-and-book club. and then it’s an art-and-movies-and-book-and-instrument-and-comics-and-gaming-and-knitting club. resources are dwindling and it’s hard for the artists to talk about their needs with everyone else chatting away and detailing the conversation, but you don’t kick anyone out because you don’t want people to feel bad. after all, you made this club so that people could feel supported and understood.

then the worst happens: some people join who don’t like art. sure they say that they support artists, but these are the kinds of people who would stiff an artist their commission price, who would look down their nose and critique, who would say they feel uncomfortable with the fact that maybe some artists prefer digital art over traditional pencil & paper on account of it not being “real art”, and they’re very vocal about it.

soon, those artists that you’ve had from the beginning start to leave. they don’t feel safe and supported anymore. they can’t find the resources and help that they need. they feel unsafe and uncomfortable with such a large group inside what was supposed to be their refuge talking bad about them, sometimes even directly insulting them. you’re helpless to watch them go, because you did this. you let everyone else in. you set the stage for this exact thing to be able to happen.

maybe one or two artists stick around. but now the non-artists have made rules about actively creating art within the club’s time. the club is not a safe place anymore. no more artists join your club.

you are alone again, just like you were before your club, because you wouldn’t tell people no.

sound familiar? this is literally what is happening with LGBT centers right now, in the real world. there are LGBT centers where displays of affection are prohibited, where there are people who actively use slurs and insults against LGBT members, but are still welcomed in because of the “+”. this is real, and it’s happening all over.

gatekeeping isn’t fun. gatekeeping sucks. it feels bad. but it is necessary. we have to gatekeep in order to keep our LGBT family safe. we have to gatekeep to allow our LGBT family to have a refuge from the world, where they can be who they are without fear.

the acronym is LGBT. no Q. no plus. LGBT, and that’s it. we deserve to have a place to be who we are, and not have it turned into a microcosm of the outside world just because a few people couldn’t say no.

inclusivity is harmful. inclusivity will lead to the destruction of LGBT safe spaces and resources. inclusivity does infinitely more harm than it does good. please stop being complicit in the hatred & discrimination the community faces from people who are supposed to be “on our side”.

we are hurting, and inclusivity needs to end.

[satanfemme]

Hi! May I ask why you dont identify with the term queer? I'm just kinda confused, sorry

why is this like the second ask I've gotten mentioning this subject within the past 24 hours. it's been months (at least) since the last time I've actually mentioned not id'ing with that word. like genuinely is there a callout about me getting passed around lgbt discourse tumblr rn, hello? I'm not intending this response to be standoffish towards you btw, just confused why people I don't even know are suddenly so interested in this personal detail about me, a real life gaytrans person, who you don't know? also maybe it's the paranoia speaking but I get the sense this is a bait ask. I'm giving you the benefit of the doubt rn, and assuming you've just genuinely never heard of anyone disliking the word before, but please understand why I don't really feel comfortable getting asked this by a complete stranger unprompted.

and to be frank it's no one's business why an lgbt person might prefer one word or dislike another. no one needs a moral reason to not identify as a label? you might as well start going up to binary trans people asking them why they don't id as agender. like, cause they aren't. lol. and I'm not queer.

but to answer your question, here's a quick history: "queer" was a word that historically (and still in the present!!!) means "weird", "strange", "eccentric", etc. basically "not quit right; a little off-putting". at one point (in the ~late 1800s) cishet people began using the word to describe feminine and gay men (who are, to them, very weird and wrong). it was used especially with reference to gay men's "sexual deviance", and alongside other 'fun' pejorative words like "fairy" and "faggot". it became a slur invented by cishet people, and used by cishet people, to describe gay people as something other, different, strange, not-like-us. as fucking WEIRD. said in the same breath as calling us faggots. and said in conjugation with homophobic harassment, oppression, hate crimes. over time, lgbt people began to reclaim and adapt it into our own slang, just like we have with similar words like fairy and faggot and etc. and in the ~1980s there was a notable movement of people reclaiming the word en masse -- because lgbt people needed power and there's a power to slur reclamation! "you think I'm fucked up and disgusting? ok, watch me!!!" is a political message with bite to it. "not gay as in happy, but queer as in FUCK YOU" was subversive and radical as hell. instead of assimilating to what pop culture wants from you, stand your ground and turn whatever terrible thing they see you as into something you're proud to be! when fighting oppressive institutions for rights and respect, why beg those oppressors to see you as a respectable "keep it in the bedroom, blend into normal crowds, never ever mention your perverse homosexuality in front of any impressionable children" kind of gay person, when you could instead DEMAND the respect you deserve not "in spite" of who you are but BECAUSE OF IT.

however the point of slur reclamation, such as described above, imho is that the slur has teeth to it. and despite modern liberal movements attempting to file down and smooth out and commercialize "queer", it was picked out for it's teeth and those teeth are still there. even if they've been shoved away under the rug for a lot of people. the slur never left cishet people's pejorative lexicons. so I get that in some areas, in lucky contexts, it genuinely does just mean "lgbt" in the most neutral sense possible. but outside these hyper-specific settings, it's still a slur. for a lot of people, it's still a slur they get called by homophobes/transphobes/etc. it's still used by cishet people, for irl harassment and irl hate crimes. and its history is still embedded into the word itself (you can't separate the word from "weird and strange" when dictionaries still define it as "weird and strange"!)

I'm not explaining to you why I, personally, as a real life femme homosexual with a job and bills to pay don't want to get called a queer by anyone.

but if you use your critical thinking skills, I'm sure you could take a fucking guess????! :)

also, on an ending note: "why don't you id with the word queer?" why would I. I have no reason to reclaim a slur that so many people want to ignore the history of, both past and present. there's hardly anything revolutionary about a word Target™'s trying to sell us on fast fashion t-shirts. if I'm gonna stab myself to prove a point, I'm not doing it while goddamn corporations cheer me on.

at least when I call myself a FAGGOT cishet people WINCE! but if I call myself a queer... they just nod their head and agree.

[thesightstoshowyou]

Thomas Hewitt x F Reader (NSFW)

Summary: Hoyt issues an ultimatum and Thomas is the perfect gentleman.

Warnings: Dubcon, “fuck or die,” blood, gore, swearing, fingering, creampie, manipulative reader

 ~~~

             The surface beneath you is cold and hard, like steel left to sit in a dark room. This is the first thing you notice when you wake. Next comes stronger sensation: Pounding headache, sweat sliding down your face, your chest, aching muscles, burning knees. Then comes sound. You hear talking, but it sounds as though your ears are stuffed with cotton or the speaker is three rooms over.

             Your fingers twitch. You can move them, at least. That’s a start.

             “And I can see why! Look at those legs!”

             The volume turns on all at once and you flinch. It’s a man speaking. He’s close, and loud. A heavy thwack follows his words.

             “I woulda kept a pretty thing like that too. Can’t blame ya for that, Tommy.” The man’s tone is condescending. He sounds as if he is speaking to a child. You don’t even know who he is but you already dislike him.

             Your forehead head feels wet and sticky. Sweat? No, its thicker than that.

             “Tell you what, Tommy. I’m feelin’ generous today, what with this bountiful harvest. I’ll let ya’ have a go at her, huh?”

             You swallow thickly. Is he talking about…you? Sloshing water, another noisy thwack. Blood pumps furiously in your ears.

             “You ever did that to a girl, Tommy? Huh?” Laughter. Thwack, THWACK.

             You’re beginning to feel pity for this ‘Tommy.’ It takes monumental effort to crack your eyes open. For a second, you panic. Your vision is halved. You can’t see out of your left eye. Then, you wipe your face across the back of your hand, clearing your eye of the blood caked into your eyelashes. That explains the sticky feeling. What happened?

             “Oh, look-y there! Here’s yer chance!”

             Your head feeling as though it weighs a thousand pounds, you lift it and glance around. The room spins. You snap your eyes closed once more, waiting for everything to right itself. When you open them again, it takes a moment for everything to come into focus.

             You’re in a poorly lit room, like a cellar. The dirt floor is flooded, a few inches of murky water covering most of the floor. Seated on a rickety wooden table directly in front of you is an ancient sewing machine. Along the cracked and chipped walls are dusty shelves filled with dingy bottles. The whole room smells musty, air thick with humidity and something rancid, like old meat. Glancing down, you find yourself on a rusty metal table stained with—

              Movement pulls your attention to a man standing near your feet, hands on his hips. He is dressed like a sheriff and he’s leering at you. Something is tugging at the back of your mind, a memory, something urgent. It’s about the sheriff, but try as you might, you can’t bring it to the surface.

             “What’dya think of that, girlie? Wanna give ol’ Tommy a try?” You flinch away when the sheriff squeezes your calf. There’s red splattered across the front of his uniform. You hope it’s paint but instinct tells you its not.

             “Where am I?” Your words are slurred, your dry tongue thick in your mouth.

             “Bonked yer noggin real good, didn’t I?” The sheriff says with a harsh laugh. You focus on his face, on his dark eyes and his cruel lips pulled back in a sneer over yellowed teeth.

              Another noisy thwack makes you crane your neck to look behind you. Instantly, you wish you hadn’t. There’s another man there, his back to you. Tommy. His shoulder length hair is dark and his shirt, wet with sweat, clings to his broad shoulders. He’s huge, menacing even when he’s not looking at you. He’s hacking away at a mangled body, suspended in the air by chains and missing several limbs.

              Chainsaw. Screaming. Shredded flesh. SMACK goes the shotgun butt to your head.

               Memory returns like a punch in the gut and you suck in air through your teeth. You recoil, clawing at the edge of the table to pull yourself away from the monster behind you. These murderers, these animals killed…oh god, your friends…oh god, Annie….

                The scream is out of your throat before you register it’s coming. You shriek and cry, scrambling across the table toward the stairs behind you, but you’ve forgotten about the sheriff. One of his hands finds your hair, the other gripping your jaw roughly to hold you in place.

                 You writhe in his grip, but freeze when Tommy finally turns around. He wears a leather mask over the bottom half of his face. His eyes are hidden under his brow, too hard to see in the poorly lit room. You whimper, sweaty hair sticking to your tear streaked cheeks, heart hammering against your ribs.

               “Honeymoon’s over, huh?” Another mean laugh and the sheriff wiggles your head playfully back and forth, “Who’ll it be, Tommy? You or me?”

                You sob, the real reason you were kept alive now out in the open. Panic rises and you grasp his wrists, attempting to wrench yourself free. The sheriff grunts, squeezing your jaw painfully in retaliation.

               “Ya’ like that, honey? Wanna give Sheriff Hoyt a taste?” His breath reeks of stale chewing tobacco when he breaths out across your face.

             The loud clang from across the room startles you both. Tommy has set his cleaver down hard on a nearby table. He’s facing away from you again, his shoulders rising and falling in heavy breaths.

             “Weh-hell, Thomas Brown Hewitt! If I didn’t know any better, I’d say yer jealous!”

             You blink. Panic subsides, replaced by rational thought. The gears in your head whirl at top speed. Maybe this isn’t the end for you, not just yet. A plan drops into place.

             If Hoyt—if that’s really his name—gets his way, he will fuck you, kill you, and that will be that. But Thomas…. You bet that mask he’s wearing is hiding something, maybe a deformity, maybe something else. You’ll also guess not many people have been kind to him throughout his life. People are cruel and if you don’t look normal, most are quick to point it out. Perhaps, if you can win Thomas over, you’ll have a chance at survival. Who would dare challenge a chainsaw-wielding behemoth?

             It’s a gamble, sure, but it’s a gamble you must make.

             “Alright boy, alright.” Hoyt relents, releasing your head and standing up straight. “I’ll give ya’ twenty minutes. If she’s still dressed by the time I get back, I’m putting my foot down.” He laughs, long and loud as he turns and stomps up the stairs. You’re glad to see him go, but now you’re alone with Thomas.

             He still isn’t looking at you. He hasn’t spoken a word this entire time either. Maybe he can’t. You might just have to do the talking for him.

             You close your eyes and inhale slowly, steeling yourself. You push down the revulsion and fear and grief, shoving them deep in your heart to be revisited later. You must be calm. This is your only option.

             “Um, Tommy?” You try, keeping your voice as level as you can. You swallow to lend moisture to your dry throat. “Is…is it okay if I call you Tommy?” Thomas half turns, glancing at you over his shoulder and giving a curt nod. You scoot to the edge of the table and let your legs dangle over the side, hiking your dress up as discreetly as you can.

             “Um. The…the sheriff…Hoyt…. He didn’t really give us much time. Um, if it’s…I mean, I know I’m not—not in charge here, but…if it was up to me, I would…I, um, would want it to be y-you.” You glance up at him under your eyelashes, dipping your shoulder so the strap of your dress slips down your arm.

             Thomas turns further toward you, staring. You wish you could see his eyes through the gloom or know what he’s thinking. Did you guess wrong? Is he going to pick up that cleaver and bury it in your skull for your trouble? Desperately, you will your racing heart to be calm.

             Finally, he looks away. Reaching behind him, he unties his gore-soaked apron, lifting it over his head and draping it on a shelf. He begins to move toward you but pauses, turning quickly and plunging his hands into a bucket of water near the corpse dangling from the ceiling like a macabre marionette. Hastily, he scrubs his palms and fingernails. Seemingly satisfied, he wipes them on a dirty rag before turning back to you.

             Cautiously he approaches, like you’ll spook and run if he moves too quickly. He might be right. When he’s close enough for you to reach out and touch him, he stops, hands moving to his pockets, then behind him, then in front of him again. He’s nervous. He’s never done this before, you realize. That thought is almost a relief. Almost.

             You meet his gaze. His eyes are dark blue, deep and expressive. You can see his hesitance in his eyes and his body language, in the way he’s almost half turned away, as though he might run instead.

             You bite your lip and reach for his hand. Your trembling fingers close around his and you pull him closer. He lets you tow him, helplessly, until he’s standing between your legs. This close, you can smell him; sweat, coppery like blood, and something pine scented, like cleaner or cheap soap.

You place his palm on your bare knee. Christ, his hands are enormous, palms and fingertips calloused and rough against your sweaty skin. You’re sure he could crush your knee like a soda can with just one firm grasp.

             He doesn’t move, simply staring at the hand on your leg like he can’t believe this is happening. A twinge of annoyance burns under the fear. You don’t have time for this. Hoyt could come back at any minute.

             You reach under your dress, hooking your fingers in your panties before dragging them down your legs. Thomas jerks his hand away like your skin has burned him, awkwardly clasping and unclasping his fingers as you set the garment on the table next to you. Again, you reach for his hand, pulling him back, scooting closer to him until you can feel the heat from his body between your spread legs.

             This time, you guide his palm up the expanse of your thigh, under your dress. He sucks in a breath when you press his fingers to your cunt. You meet his gaze again and find him searching your face. He’s looking for something, maybe fear, or disgust, something….

             “It’s—it’s okay, Tommy,” you whisper, voice quivering, “Touch me, please.”

             He does, slowly, gingerly. His thick fingers explore the skin at the apex of your thighs, then trace between your lips, learning you. You’re sure it’s unintentional when he teases your opening before moving higher. You can’t stop the shaky gasp that slips from your trembling lips when he brushes against your clit.

             Thomas, ever observant, does it again, then applies more pressure, circling the calloused pad of his thumb around the sensitive bud. Your eyelids flutter and, unbidden, your hips buck into his hand. All the while Thomas stares, hardly blinking, watching for your reactions.

             Heat curls through your gut, surprising you, at Tommy’s ministrations. He keeps a steady, maddening pace that soon has slick leaking from your neglected cunt. Half-whimpers climb up out of your throat, barely contained behind your teeth.

             Thomas eases up and you’re almost disappointed, but then his fingers slip down your slit to find your soaked entrance once more. Testing, searching, he pushes a finger past your folds, slipping into you. Another gasp tumbles from your mouth. Just his finger, thick as it is, is almost enough.

             You grasp his forearm, urging him to move his hand. He catches on quickly and soon he’s pumping his finger in and out of you. Pleasure blooms through your core and you grind your hips down into his hand.

             “Tommy, can—can you use another finger, please, I need—

             You choke on a moan when he wastes no time in obliging, slipping another finger in next to the first. This is ridiculous, you think deliriously. You’re not sure you’ve ever been this wet before. You can feel it dripping down your thighs to pool under your ass and into Tommy’s palm.

             The coil of lust within you tightens and you realize with shock that you’re going to cum. This huge, deranged murderer is going to make you cum on his fingers. And you’re not going to help him.

             You rock your hips once, twice and then stars explode behind your eyes, knees clamping shut around his arm. Thomas groans above you, his other hand wrapping around the back of your neck, keeping you seated on his fingers when you try to pull away.

             Are you sure he hasn’t done this before?

             You pant and shudder, finally peeling your eyes open to meet Thomas’ heated gaze. His own chest heaves, the hand on your neck shaking. You swallow, intimidated by him all over again. You think he might bore a hole through your head with his gaze alone. Does he look at all his victims like this?

             You shake your head, ridding yourself of your tumultuous thoughts. You have no idea how much time you have left. Hurry, you must hurry.

             Thomas must be thinking the same thing because he gently pulls his fingers from your heat. They drip, little droplets splashing into the water covering his boots. He releases your neck to adjust himself and your eyes fall to the sizeable bulge in his pants.

             It’s your turn to watch his face as you reach out and unbuckle his belt. Slowly, you pop the button, slide the zipper. He releases a shaky exhale when you run your thumb along the long length of the overheated cock hiding behind his briefs.

             “Oh fuck,” you whisper when you free him from his underwear. Of course, his cock is huge just like the rest of him; girthy, long, one massive vein running along the underside. You’re unsure if you can handle him.

             Thomas frowns at your words, but you’re quick to reassure him, “I’m sorry, I’m just…you’re, uh, really big so I was just, um….” Your words trail off into nervous laughter, “Will you go slow?” you plead, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes.

             Thomas nods earnestly, reaching out as if he is going to cup your face. He pauses, fingers inches from your cheek, and the hand withdraws, settling nervously next to your hip. You take another deep breath. No time, no time.

             You scoot forward, spreading your thighs wide to accommodate his hips. You grip him, hard and hot under your palm, and guide him to your slick entrance. Thomas tenses when you hook your leg around his hip, using it to ease him toward you.

             Sweat beads along your forehead as he inches forward, taking the lead once you release him and lean back on your palms to brace yourself. Thomas grips your hips with shaking hands, pulling you forward, stuffing you full with his cock.

             The uncomfortable stretch is there, certainly, quivering muscles straining around Tommy’s generous girth, but your slickness eases the passage and you feel warm pleasure winning out over pain. Before long, he’s fully seated within you, his haggard breaths washing over your sweaty forehead.

             Thomas moves and you gasp, one hand flying to grip the front of his shirt. The drag of his cock along your overstuffed walls is unreal. You sigh, biting your lip in a futile attempt to keep the embarrassing sounds safely in your mouth.

             A strained groan leaves Tommy and he jerks his hips forward, wrenching a surprised mewl from your own mouth. That noise, or the way you clench around him must destroy his resolve. The grip on your hips turns bruising and Thomas begins pounding into you with enthusiasm.

             All you can do is clap a hand over your mouth, your other hand white knuckled and braced against the table. Each harsh thrust sends a jolt of pleasure up through your gut, causing you to lose control of your words.

             “Please, please, pleasepleaseplease,” you chant, not even sure what you’re begging for, your mind hazy with desire. You can barely hear yourself over the noisy slap of skin against skin, the wet squelch of your battered cunt, and the creaking of the rusty table under you.

             Thomas trembles, his thighs tensing under yours. He grunts and you can tell from the sound that he’s gritting his teeth. He’s trying not to cum. How he’s lasted this long is beyond you, but he isn’t going to have to wait much longer.

             That tight coil has returned, burning hot pleasure zinging up your back and racing across your skin. Thomas moves one hand up your hip to dig his fingers into your waist. He’s so strong, so ruthless in the way he pulls you onto his cock. He could break your spine with little effort.

             The coil snaps and you cry out, your body tensing and arching. You grip Thomas’ shoulders for dear life, pleasure pulsing through you in powerful waves as tears spill down your cheeks. At the same moment, Thomas buries his cock as deep as he can, groaning and rutting against you as he fills you up. It sits warm in your belly before trickling down your ass to make an even bigger mess of the table beneath you.

             You pant together as though you’ve both just finished a marathon. You glance up to find Thomas studying you again, searching your eyes and face. This time, he does cup your cheek, rough thumb stroking your flushed skin. The action is so unexpectedly tender your breath hitches. The way he’s looking at you—

             The door at the top of the stairs bangs open and you nearly leap out of your skin. Thomas jerks away from you to quickly button up his slacks. You reach for your underwear but don’t have a chance to put them on before Thomas scoops you into his arms, cradling you protectively against his broad chest.

             “Well, well, well, what have you lovebirds been up to?”

             You don’t hear Hoyt’s antagonizing question. You don’t hear anything but the blood pumping in your ears and your own ragged breathing. The way Thomas is holding you, gripping your flesh like his life depends on it, your cunt dripping with his cum, you know.

             You know he’s never going to let you go.

[melancholyofinvisibleshores]

I really like the personal aspect of this one @bliss-bliss-bliss-bliss, but I think we are approaching this conversation from the wrong angle. You see, we both value respecting someone's identity and see new ways of expressing that as a way of language evolving to accommodate humanity's needs. To us, language is a tool capable of changing to work better and it does not confer validity to reality.

None of that applies to op, who seems convinced that reality has to fit in pre-made labels, regardless of how well they work to describe someone or not. In this worldview, labels are not just a matter of self-expression and communication, but they are ontological rules set presumably by the enlightened powers of the divine gay lords, and we have to abide by them because otherwise, some unspecified damage will occur. This also explains the "words that have been used as slurs can't be reclaimed" mindset: it is a result of giving ontological value to a term. Now, this is ridiculous of course: DON'T HAVE AN INTRINSIC ONTOLOGICAL VALUE AND THEIR MEANING CAN CHANGE. THAT IS WHAT THE POINT OF RECLAIMING IS: CHANGE THE MEANING TO EMPOWER YOURSELF AND WEAKEN THE ENEMIES.

Now, about this little thing. Ok first of all: not the meaning of narcissistic, or self-obsessive. You can feel cool about any aspect of yourself whenever you want; it just means that you are living your best life, not that you have a personality disorder, that's ableism. I also like the implication that sexuality is less important than personality... I don't even know the logic here, it just seems anti-sex prejudice bleeding into sexuality discourse and it's kind of insensitive towards people who reclaimed their sexuality and find it a defining aspect of their personhood (I heard a lot of victims of abuse talk about this but I think it applies to other experiences, as well).

Second, the fact that there is no reward is not and was never the reason behind the use of the queer label. I said it in response to the fact that you were trying to shame people into being normal, hence the comment. Let me rephrase: the "plz just be normal or you will look bad" game doesn't work on queer people, they never strived to be normal and never will, give up.

Third, queer people exist in ways that are not aligned with the canons of hetero/cisnormative society, which is already othering them or shaming (and threatening) them into submission. No one "others oneself", you find a way to love the things that made you different and "other" and destroy the shame. It's a middle finger to the pressure to conform that people make in the face of adversity, it will never be an act of passive self-flagellation. Furthermore, no one is going to think less of gays because some people call themselves queer; there are just more words to use (people can just say "I am an old school gay bear, ya know" & no one is going to kill them for it).

Fourth, I am really sorry to hear that people don't respect your identity and I find it really creepy and weird (I never met a single person that didn't stop calling someone queer when they said that they disliked it). However, this has nothing to do with the point you were making in the post (you know? the thing I was responding to?): it was specifically about other people not being normal and you dictating what other people should use as a label (& random hate on pansexual people). AND YOU PROVE MY POINT BY SAYING THAT BEING MISLABELED HURT YOU. LIKE. YOU UNDERSTAND THE PROBLEM ON AN EMOTIONAL LEVEL. NOW THINK: MAYBE QUEER PEOPLE FEEL THE SAME WAY WHEN YOU INSIST THAT THEY AREN'T WHAT THEY SAY THEY ARE. PANSEXUAL FEEL BAD WHEN YOU INSIST THAT THEY ARE BI. WHY ARE THEIR FEELINGS AND THEIR IDENTITY LESS VALUABLE THAN YOURS??? YOU STILL HAVE GIVEN NO REASON ASIDE FROM YOUR PERSONAL DISLIKE. PLEASE. THINK.

I was also going to address the reclaimed use of "bitch" and the f-slur in some context, but honestly I can't believe someone in 2023 still considers bitch primarily as a derogative against women. There are so many pop songs about being a bad bitch (in the cool sense) and so many memes about this sort of thing... Same thing about the f-slur being reclaimed in a lot of gay spaces... It just is, but whatever, I'm tired. Not gonna lose sleep knowing there is yet another anti-queer person around, y'all are the sad norm.

queer queer queer. SHUT THE FUCK UP. just say gay. just be normal and say gay i’m begging you.

[forthehpfanboys]

Bloody Knuckles and Sunshine

Pair: Harry Potter x Reader; he/him.

Summary: Harry loved his ball of sunshine and will do anything, including throwing hands at a dude a head taller than him, to protect it from harm.

Warnings: Mention of the f slur, Fighting, fluffy tho, also small homophobiaaaa

Notes: I loved this, dang-it. Hufflepuff reader!

~DO NOT REPOST ANYWHERE~

-

Harry put a finger to his lips, signaling to be quiet. He smirked when he saw your friend's eyes light up with mischief and silently agreed. He slowly inched forward, waiting until he was all but pressed against your back. He lunged forward, covering your eyes before whispering ‘guess who?��� in your ear.

He let out a laugh when you screamed successfully catching the attention of everyone in the dining hall. He pulled his hands away only to wrap them around your waist, watching how your face melted into a color to rival a strawberry. He laughed harder when you pulled your hood up to hide your blush. 

“Harry, you jerk!” You squeaked out while your friends snickered into their hands. “That wasn’t funny!”

“Aw, I’m sorry, love. You’re right, I’m a big meanie.” He said between chuckles, kissing your hood covered cheek. He laughed louder when you slapped his arm. “How is my favorite ray of sunshine doing this evening?” Harry took any opportunity he could to see you blush and it was quite easy to do, especially with such a soft nickname that fit you perfectly. Seriously, you’re smile lit up entire rooms and Harry levied for it. 

“Well, I was telling Cedric about this kneazle kit I found out by the bushes yesterday but now I wanna melt into the black lake and never come back.” You grumbled, slowly pulling your hood down when you were sure the attention and blush had faded. You smiled when Harry responded with a fake gasp of shock.

“And you didn’t tell me? After being your boyfriend for three months?”

“Three and a half-”

“That’s even worse!” Harry pouted at you, cheering internally when he managed to make you blush just the slightest. 

Truth be told, you’d been dating the wonder boy for 3.5 months and it all started because you’d bumped into him one random day. You’d apologized so quietly and swiftly, he nearly missed your American accent. He told you it was alright and you ran off before he could get a name. He ended up seeing you later that day, during dinner at the dining hall. They did a quick welcome ceremony for you before sorting you with the hat. Harry was practically leaping for joy when you were put in Hufflepuff. He was just grateful at the time to not have to deal with another Slytherin who’d judge people for something as simple as blood status. 

While you were quiet and shy and reserved and just overall the softest human Harry had ever met, he tried to talk to you whenever he could. He managed to break your shell a little bit each day, slowly spending more time with you and introducing you to his friends. 

You’d study with Hermione and help her tutor the other two dorks in the group. You’d play wizard's chess with Ron where most games end in a tie, but ever so often you would beat him, as would he. Long story short, his friends love you and at this point, Harry was loving you too, just a little differently. He wanted to hold you at night and fall asleep in your arms. He wanted to bake your favorite cookies just to see you smile. He wanted to see your bright eyes reflect the stars so badly.

So one day he did it. He asked you on a date in the middle of one of your chess games with Ron, leading to Ron winning because you were far too distracted by the males request. You did end up saying yes though, which rocked his hard harder than anything else. 

He took you to Hogsmeade, obviously. He showed you the shops, since this was the first time you’d been. He introduced you to the lovely world of Honeydukes and the Three Broomsticks. One date led to another, then another, then another, until it was literally a weekly thing. He saved Friday after school for you and only you. It was, actually, really cute. 

At every month milestone of you two being official boyfriends, he’d try to do something immensely special. In the first month, he took you out on the quidditch brooms for a night ride out. You gazed at the sky together, watched the sun set and returned to cuddle in his arms in the common room of Gryffindor tower. Second month, the two of you went adventuring in the Forbidden Forest, with Hagrid low-key third wheeling to make sure you were safe, then a cute picnic by the Black Lake. This month, he’d snuck you into the Shrieking Shack just so you’d get scared and confide in him. It was terrifying, but he made up for it with snuggles and treats swiped from the kitchen after hours. You were excited to see what month four had coming.

“Oh, stop. You’re acting like a big baby.” You giggled out, leaning over to kiss his shoulder. You waved your friends off when they faked a few gags. “What brings ya over here, anyway?”

“What? I can’t see my ball of sunshine? I’m hurt, (Y/n)! You wound me!” Harry scoffed, placing a hand over his chest as if his heart had shattered like a mirror. He looked around at your friends when they all grew quiet. “..What?”

“You usually only come over here to tease him or because someone specific and blonde was staring at him from across the room.” Cedric spoke up, his eyebrows cocked up while Harry’s furrowed in confusion.

“What? Do I?” Harry turned to you, his eyes shining with worry. You bit down on your lip before slowly nodding your head. You spoke up quickly when he let out a pain filled groan.

“But that’s ok because I get to see you in herbology, potions and astronomy!” You waved your hands, trying to show it really wasn’t a big deal. It really wasn’t! You got to see him a lot and understood he couldn’t be with you 24/7 and that his friends wanted his attention too, so it was fine. 

“I’ll do better.”

“What? Harry, no! Love, you’re fine!” You squeaked out, cupping his cheek gently. “Honestly, it’s ok.” You pulled your hand away when he swung one leg over the bench to straddle it next to you. 

“Are you sure?” Harry stared into your eyes, basically scanning your soul for lies like a bar code. You nodded your head again, planting a soft kiss on his nose. “Ok..” He smiled, pulling you to him before planting his own peck against your lips. 

He only pulled back when someone chose to shout a specific f slur across the room. The raven haired male didn’t hesitate to stand up. His eyes were scanning across the now quiet dining hall.

“Who said it?” Harry’s voice was not filled with sweetness. It was filled to the brim with venom and it only became more obvious when no one spoke up. “Oh, come on now! You weren’t scared to shout before! Don’t be shy now!” 

Neither you nor Harry batted an eye when McLaggen stood up. The blonde bimbo had been anything but pleasant toward you when you made your relationship public. 

“I’m just saying what we’re all thinking, Harry.” McLaggen’s cocky voice spoke up as he stuffed his hands in his pockets. Cormac’s cockiness faded when McGonagall began spouting about intolerable language in Hogwarts and how that word was one of the many students should know better than to say. While the Gryffindor headmaster was going off, Harry didn’t hesitate to walk around the table, despite your protests, and punch the bloke square in the jaw.

You jumped up from your seat just as Cormac’s behind hit the floor of the dining hall. Harry  followed the bloke to the ground, deciding to bruise his ego and pretty face further. Upon order of McGonagall, the twins and Lee jumped up, separating Harry and McLaggen. Fred held Harry back while George and Jordan carried the idiot out of the hall. 

Once Harry stropped squirming, Fred let go, allowing you to scurry over and grab his hands. You also dragged him out of the dining hall much to McGonagall’s disliking, but went in the opposite direction as the quidditch players. You took him to the courtyard, setting him down on a step before kneeling in front of him. 

“Harry.” You spoke up, looking down at his right hands knuckles, that were covered in blood. “Come on, babe.” You whispered out, your heart cracking at the sight of your love hurt.

“I know..” Harry grumbled, his eyes also staring at the red liquid coming from his knuckles. 

“So, why do you keep fighting? Words can sting just as much as a punch.” You spoke up, reaching into Harry’s robe and pulling his wand out of the pocket. You transfigured a handful of leaves into a roll of bandages before shoving the wand into Harry’s not bloody hand and started wrapping up his knuckles.

“Because you’re too soft on people.” Harry looked down at his knees, his hands coming to his sides to rest against the stone. He started drawing a pathetic portrait of the two of you sitting at some.. Beach? Maybe it was grass. Poor babe couldn’t draw that well.

“Hun, people have reasons behind the things they say and do..” You rested a hand against his shoulder. He looked up from his drawing in the dirt to gaze up at you, his eyes big and innocent even after a fight.

“I know..” He grumbled again. “But he deserved it this time, babe, you know he did. If it wasn’t me, it’d be Cedirc or Ron for Merlin’s sake.” 

“I know..” You sat down next to the raven haired male, pulling him to your side and letting him lean his head against your shoulder. “I’m not mad, ya know? It.. It was nice.” You bit your lip. Harry knows that hesitation. His eyes snapped up to yours, noting the soft blush across your cheeks.

“Oh, really, sunshine? You like it when I play knight?” He wiggled his eyebrows, smirking a little when your soft pink cheeks turned brighter in hue.

“May-.. No, I’m not giving you a reason to keep getting bloody knuckles.” You shook your head, gazing across the courtyard.

“Oooh, you do like it when I play knight!”

“Harry, no.”

“Harry yes!”

“Harry, no!” You shouted, your voice slightly sterner. Harry wasn’t used to you being so stern or loud, it was kinda scary. “Do not get into more fights just to fluster me.” Your shy demeanor came back ten fold, causing him to smirk wider.

“Of course not! Why would I do that, sunshine?” Harry snickered, his arms wrapping around your waist and kissing the base of your neck. He wasn’t going to bring up every year he managed to find himself in literal life or death situations or the fact that he was most likely going to be defending you again.

“Because your Harry Potter and ‘I-Fight-Homophobs’ really should be your middle name.” You smiled, praying he didn’t notice how hot your body had gotten from the heat. He let out a final laugh, his lips planting a big kiss to your cheek. “Harry, seriously, though. No more fights. It’s scary.”

“No, I know! Whatever you say.”

“I’m serious!”

“No, I know!”

“Then where are you going?”

“To finish what I started! Just five minutes, sunshine. Just five, I promise!”

“Harry, no!”

[bao3bei4]

i have basically covered the material in this post several times on my twitter. but this is, in my opinion, the only s*xy t*mes with w*ngxian take you need. 

(cw transphobia, transphobic slurs, antiblack racism, mentions of csa and bestiality in fiction)

edit 6/10/21: hi! i’m realizing people are still reading this! this was written in response to aja romano’s vox article on the fic that was published in late february of this year. i had been frustrated with how their article seemed to miss the point in many ways, because they never talked about the substance of the fic. which, i mean, fair. i wouldn’t want to read a 1million word fic either.

but i already had, so i thought i’d write about some things that i believed needed to be part of the conversation. namely, that its author wasn’t a harmless troll, but a person i genuinely disliked who i believed should be deplatformed.

i think virtual1979 is a bad person. 

i think a lot of people mainly know about sexy times the phenomenon more than they do sexy times the fic itself. i have the dubious honor of being one of the few people who has actually read large portions of the million word fic, and that’s why i wanted to write this meanspirited hit piece. 

the fic is down right now and the author’s notes and comments have both been deleted, which is why i cannot provide screenshots. however, these are all quotes i have saved from when the fic was online, and i’m happy to talk with anyone if you feel any of these quotes are mischaracterizations of the fic. 

i also want to be clear this is not a “callout post” and i’m not trying to “cancel” them or whatever. i am just explaining why i don’t like them, why i don’t feel bad they’re being harassed, and why i do not find them sympathetic at all, and perhaps why you should also adopt these stances. 

let’s start with transphobia. 

sexy times with wangxian is transphobic. this much is apparent from the tags. virtual1979 tagged the following: F*tanari, d*ckgirl, Sh*male. they use this language in the chapters that include a character with both a vagina and a penis. 

they refer to this character (wei wuxian) with the pronouns “he-she.” the following excerpt is a fair representation of how this wei wuxian is referred to in the chapters where wei wuxian has a vagina and a penis. 

[Lan Zhan] would never be turned on by a female, and he would actually be turned off by a drag queen - but this… this Wei Ying, it’s Wei Ying, and he-she looks [...]

i know these words are common in porn categories, but they are also slurs. virtual1979 also uses hermaphrodite to refer to this set of anatomy, which is not strictly a slur, but definitely a stigmatizing choice of language. 

they have repeatedly made clear they are not open to criticism. they have also since removed the comment section. making an intersex character for the express purpose of using transmisogynistic language towards them in your million word porn fic isn’t annoying the way their tags are, it’s actively fucked up. 

fanfiction has a transphobia problem, and if we’re talking about sexy times with wangxian in any capacity, we must be clear: sexy times with wangxian is part of that problem too. 

secondly, virtual1979 is also complicit in ao3’s racism problem.

i think the way they write about chinese characters and settings is annoying and racist, but they are a malaysian chinese person, so i do have some sympathy for them. i am committed to having some patience for people who are annoying if they themselves are working through the prejudice they have faced. 

they’ve commented as much: 

Not gonna lie, this fic has been a steep learning curve for me despite my roots being Chinese as well, but I have absolutely zero knowledge in some of these aspects!

and i’m happy on some level they can get in touch with their roots. who among us has not been cringe and diaspora. any criticisms i have of their portrayal of chinese people will stay private and be made to other people of color.

i’m going to be clear here i don’t think the actual comment they made makes them super evil or anything. but this essay IS clearly in response to That Article, which did mention racism in fandom. so.

i think we have all seen the infamous karen comment they made, in which they compared people who criticized their tagging with “Karens,” equating antiblack state violence to... mean comments on ao3? and “SJWs,” which, eye roll. no ageism but you’re 41 why the hell are you complaining about sjws

anyway. i am deeply frustrated by the co-option of the word karen. a stand-in for a particular type of racist violence white women specifically can and do inflict has become fused with that reddit-type mommy issue “can i speak to the manager” internecine white resentment. 

so their trivialization of antiblack racism is another reason i don’t like them. again i KNOW it’s petty to point this out here, but this to me shows that virtual is afflicted with the same kind of fandom brainrot that aja is, where everything comes back to that same sort of self-centered bullshit. 

sorry for that jab. julian told me that aja thought that cql was about callout culture and all i could think was “wow! just like virtual thinking that--” because i also have spent too much time on twitter this week. 

this is just like. part of this ongoing pattern i’ve noticed with virtual, where they’re aware enough of real problems to acknowledge they exist (police violence, accessibility issues caused by their tagging) but are determined to double down on their minor relative persecution as king, shittily drawing parallels between like... real problems and fandom problems. equating the two or allowing the second to take priority over the former is like... par for the course for this type of person! 

third, this is just another clarification on more parallels between ao3 discourse and sexy times that went completely unremarked on by That Article. 

i would rather DIE than get into discourse. but why did they write this sentence: 

Lan Zhan’s rational mind finally broke with a tsunami of pedophilic lusts [...]

by the way that is the start of a 430 word sentence. and yes this fic does contain hundreds of thousands of words of aged down wei wuxian. make of that what you will. 

also why would you make wei wuxian teach baby chickens how to sexually pleasure him. do you hate these characters. what’s going on. i think mxtx should be able to sue virtual for that one. 

there’s a very obvious connection between mainstream ao3 discourse and sexy times that went completely unremarked on in That Article. sexy times contains multitudes and some of those multitudes are bestiality and explicit childfucking. 

this is not unrelated to fannish culture, they are not unfamiliar with fannish norms, blah blah blah. this is just normal fandom. they’re not subverting shit, they’re just a normal fan who unlike 99% of fanfiction writers on twitter, spends more time writing than posting. this has taken their fannish tendencies to cartoonish heights. 

finally, they don’t care about mdzs or wangxian. they’re literally just horny and spiteful that’s it. this isn’t a question of like... “ohh they were a good faith participant in fandom until they went joker mode” and the REAL villain is society/ao3. like no they wanted to write shitty porn, and when they found out they were annoying people, they decided to double down because they could be the main character of the mdzs ao3 tag every time they found a spare hour to write. 

here are some select receipts on that topic:

they do not care about canon: 

MDZS has quite a complicated and expansive plot and history, and enough content that one can choose to tune out certain parts and still get to the end of the story in one piece. Also, because of its source, some fans may not fully realize the nuances, cultural aspects (ooh, cultural appropriation is another triggering topic) or the full breadth and depth of the source material, such as a person like me, who is half-baked in terms of knowing what the canon universe is all about. So I end up playing with characters and settings technically borrowed from the story, and make them do things that would otherwise run counter to the original source material - and that draws quite some flak from those opinionated people I mentioned just now. It's part of what makes the fandom toxic. It's like they're the self-appointed guardians of the source material and they act like they own the rights to question such questionble fanworks, and dare I say, try to take down those that cross certain lines too.

they are just horny: 

After that giddines of extra drunken Lan Wang Ji scenes at the beginning, I'm blessed with Lan Wang Ji (Wang Yibo's, actually) fuzzy nips! Bless Bless Bless, and Amen! muahs the nips on the screen

anyway they did get nuked over wishing covid on people. 

so yeah. i want to be really clear. this is my thesis: i do not feel bad for them. you should not either. i do not like them. you should not either. that’s ALL!!!! 

[ds-sparrow-manufacturing-co]

A Rebuttal

Ok so I really did not want to make this post. I would’ve loved to have left this whole thing behind because I’m aware I made some mistakes and would like to atone for them, but it seems I’m going to have to go over this one more time. For anyone seeing this post who somehow doesn’t know, I said some regrettable things about Aidan Gallagher here. I later made another post here summarising the entire situation that resulted, so I would suggest you read that first. 

I’m still getting people telling me what I said was fucked up, which is entirely justified. However, I have just now realised that the person who took it upon themselves to ‘correct’ me about my opinions of Aidan Gallagher (something that has not changed, I still strongly dislike him) later made several derogatory posts about me. I was not aware of this because after the first rude post they made about me, I blocked them to save myself the additional stress. 

I have done my best to deal with this whole thing as calmly and politely as possible. When this person was downright evil towards me, I didn’t bother to argue with them, I just made an admittedly-snarky post with a screenshot of what they said, and then blocked them because I had no desire to begin an argument. When I realised that what I had said about Aidan Gallagher had been fucked up, I apologised, accepted my mistake and did what I could to fix it. But I am out of patience. I don’t take kindly to being treated the way this person has treated me, I don’t think anyone does. So here I am, about to break down everything they said about me bit by bit to show you how much of a lying scumbag they have been towards me (as well as possibly others).

warning: this post is incredibly long

tw: su*c*de mentions

My first interaction with this person was when i got an anon ask who wanted to know what Aidan Gallagher had done to make me dislike him. I responded with a brief list, excluding most of my evidence because it was late at night and I didn’t have the energy to go down the rabbit hole of all this. The following day, the blog this post is about reblogged my post, attempting to disprove everything I said. I will not include screenshots here, because it was a long post, you can find it in my archive if you so wish. I read what they said, took everything into account, and responded with my proof for things I hadn’t previously included the proof for, as well as explanations for why certain things he’s said annoyed/upset me. I expected a polite response, as we had both been courteous so far. 

Instead,  I received the following:

Now, lets break down some of what they said.

‘stop saying things you can’t prove, because it’s fake’ - I provided my proof. I am not trying to lie to anyone, or perpetuate rumours. All I aimed to do was explain my point of view and why I personally dislike him.

‘some of your screenshots are fake’ - That’s just blatantly untrue, especially as they have at other points said things along the lines of ‘well yes but he apologised/he didn’t mean it like that’ for everything I have provided screenshots for. Make up your mind.

‘you’re so gullible’ - For... having an opinion? That I researched before forming? And which is based on something other than my blind faith in a 17 year old? Right.

This was when I blocked them.

I thought that was going to be the end of the situation. Then, I got some asks.

I saw this and, being a minor, was a little creeped out. I had assumed this person was a teenage fangirl because that’s who the majority of Aidan Gallgher’s fans are so this information was surprising.

This one scared me. I did what the anon suggested, created a backup (i won’t tag it here because I get the feeling some of the aforementioned ‘army’ are going to see this) and reported the other blog. Once again, I thought it was over.

It was at this point that people started telling me how fucked up what I said in my original post was, and I realised they were right. As mentioned at the start of this post, I apologised, and did everything I could to fix it. End of, right?

Until today, where I started thinking about what the above anons had said and decided to fact check, mainly out of curiosity. I unblocked the blog, only to discover they had made 3 posts about me that I hadn’t seen.

This was the first one, as you can see they began it with a screenshot of my original post. Let’s talk about this.

���but you wishing him dead is ok?” - I never wished him dead, to start with. Stabbing does not automatically equal death, but I know that’s nitpicky of me. I also did not wish he was stabbed. I said in that exact tag that I didn’t, because of TUA. However, I know that this ‘joke’ was really shitty of me, and I have already apologised multiple times.

“what kind of a low life do you have to be to have nothing better to do, but talk shit about a kid?” - Why don’t you tell me? As I’ve said multiple times, I am a minor. That doesn’t excuse what I said, but that does make it incredibly hypocritical of them to say that given everything.

This was the second post they made about me, beginning with the same screenshot as in the first post.

“they’re spreading false rumors” - I’ve already covered this one.

“they want a reason to be mean, even if it isn’t true” - I would never be mean to someone if they hadn’t done anything to deserve it. I’m a strong believer in the moral philosophy of respecting everyone until they give you a reason not to. Aidan Gallagher has given me more than enough reasons to lose respect for him. And, honestly? I still respect him as an actor, even if only that.

“you can’t say you’re a decent human being and wish someone dead. you can’t say you’re anti-bullying and want to prevent suicide and then bully someone” - That is some big talk from someone who claimed they were ok with what Aidan Gallagher said about mental health because they’ve had their own experiences with suicide, before immediately telling me to rot and burn in hell for disagreeing with them. And, wait a second, wasn’t Aidan Gallagher the one supporting women’s rights and feminism who then turned around and made gross comments towards a bunch of girls? Hmm. Also, wishing someone dead is too wide of a blanket statement to actually measure whether someone is a decent human being with. 

“i tried to be nice” - I didn’t know telling someone to rot in hell, calling them a stupid hoe, was being nice. I didn’t know lying, and telling people to report someone because they disagreed with you was being nice (notice how they never said anything about my stabbing comment until I disagreed with them.) I guess we have very different definitions of nice.

“if they really cared, they would kindly ask a fan if the rumors were true” - And that, ladies gentleman and variations thereupon, is a brilliant example of how not to perform unbiased research! I based my opinion on actual evidence, and neutral articles as well as arguments from both sides. Not on one fan who’s likely to deny everything.

“they said it themselves, they have no proof” - That is so incredibly cherrypicked. What I actually said was “supposedly used the f-slur although i can’t find proof“, one of the many points on my list of reasons I dislike Aidan Gallagher. You know why I said that? Because I found a screenshot of him supposedly having called someone that slur via Instagram but I gave him the benefit of the doubt and decided it was probably edited. I included the point on my list in the hopes of people doing their own research. And I certainly did not say I had no proof for anything, as you would know if you saw my original response to this blog, where I provided proof.

“threatening him and bullying him is wrong” - I am fully admitting of the fact my stabbing comment was in poor taste but it was very clearly not a threat and not even close to being bullying. Furthermore, I would say making four posts harassing and telling others to harass someone because they disagree with you is a lot closer to being bullying than anything I did was.

“defamation is a crime” - I live in the UK, so let’s use those defamation laws. A statement is not defamation unless it ‘ has caused or is likely to cause serious harm to the reputation of the claimant.’ Less than a hundred people are even aware my blog exists. Nowhere near enough people have seen anything I’ve said to count as defamatory. Not to mention that a statement is not defamatory if it is a statement of opinion.

“you’ll get karma for lying and playing the victim” -  Ohhh the irony. I have not lied once. I have provided all the necessary proof for everything and I have owned up to my mistakes. And yet, they, who have repeatedly lied about me, twisted my words and oddly enough, avoided including proof outside that one screenshot of my original post, are the one accusing me of playing the victim. Classy.

“hi to your little follower that you cry to” - This one’s just hilarious to me. I’m happy to have people on here who will let me know when people are, you know, harassing and bullying me. And, what the hell do they mean by ‘cry to’? Do they mean ‘mentioned that this situation was stressful once’? Wow.

“I promise you misery for the rest of your sad little life” - Honestly just re-read the other screenshots after seeing they said this. Jesus Christ. And, as someone who already struggles with depression and other mental health issues I’m interested to know what they’re intending to do that’s gonna be any worse.

“you’ll pay! that’s not a threat it’s a promise” - Are they planning on tracking me down? Or are they just going to keep sitting on their throne of yes men and echo chambers acting as if they’re actually affecting me? 

I would say this is the last post I plan to make about this situation but I’ve said that over and over again throughout the last 12 days and it’s never the last post. This whole situation has honestly been very emotionally taxing, and combined with some real life things, it’s been a bad week or so. Hopefully this post is enough to end this whole thing. 

[emo-potato-virgil]

Desert road

Daryl Dixon X Male Reader.

Angst fic, character death.

I wrote this years ago for a challenge and found it again recently, decided to throw it out there.

Summary: Y/n picks Daryl up from a bar in town, miles from their home. Shitfaced drunk, Daryl experiences the most traumatic event in his life.

Warnings: Drunk Daryl. Verbal fighting. Daryl being an asshole. Injuries. Death.

Setting: Right before season 1 of twd.

Enjoy!

It happened on a Saturday, late at night, or maybe early Sunday. Not that it mattered. It was a memory that haunted him every night, every single night. It didn't matter whether he was asleep or not, the dark sky, the side of an abandoned road at night, a walker with bloody flesh hanging off its dead mouth, it all reminded him of that one night. If only he had known what would happen, if only he had listened, he could've stopped it. But he didn't know at the time, couldn't have known. And he didn't listen, too absorbed in other things to even cast a glance to the side. And he couldn't stop it, because it had already happened before he had the chance to turn around. He beats himself up over it every night, every single night. 

~

"Daryl, c'mon, we gotta go home!" The voice calling for him was familiar, but Daryl's drunk mind couldn't process who it was or where it came from. When did the music get this loud? He turned his head to the left, and then to the right, searching the sweaty, dancing bodies around him, trying to find the person who the voice belonged to. A hand on his shoulder caught his attention, and he whirled around to see the face of his lovely boyfriend. He tried to smile at him, but it faltered as soon as he saw the glare directed at him.

"Y/n? We, we can stay here! It's f-fun!" His words were slightly slurred, but he sobered up just by looking into his boyfriend's angry eyes. Y/n was never angry at him, annoyed, sure, but never angry. It's like Y/n wasn't capable of being angry, always smiling, trying to cheer people up or solve a problem. Y/n hated arguing, and often didn't see the point in getting mad. But this was different.

"We are leaving, right now." His voice was a bit lower than usual, just a tad bit intimidating to get through to Daryl. Daryl's mind barely had time to process the hand grabbing at his sleeve, and he soon felt the cold air hit him outside the bar. When did he start walking? His boyfriend was talking, probably to him, but he was distracted by the bottle in his hand that he hadn't noticed before. When did he get this? He took a careful sniff at it, and once he knew what it was, he took a sip. The alcohol burned his throat, but it felt good. Life had been cruel to him for too long, the only good thing about it being Y/n, and he needed a break.

The walk to the car was long and awkward and cold, and Daryl disliked every second of it, but so did Y/n. This was the third time in a month that Daryl had gotten so drunk he could barely walk, and Y/n was getting sick of dragging him out of a random bar in town before he could start a fight. Daryl got drunk often, started fights in bars, and seemed to have little to no respect for Y/n while in this state, but he loved the man, and he won't let such a thing ruin them.

Y/n slowly guided them down the sidewalk, making sure Daryl didn't trip over his own feet, and unlocked the car once they got to it. He lowered Daryl into the passenger seat and got into the drivers seat himself, glad he didn't drink that night. It was then that he noticed the already half empty bottle in his boyfriend's hand, and sent him a questioning glance.

"Seriously? You're still going at it?" He started the car, not really expecting Daryl to answer, and drove out of the parking lot. They drove in silence for a long while, stuck between not knowing what to say and not wanting to say anything at all. The longer they drove, the more tense the air became, until Daryl had had enough of it. He leaned his head against the cool window, watching the scenery pass by as he blurted it out.

"Y'know, I don't need you to babysit me. I can take care of myself." If he had been sober, he would've slapped himself for saying that, but in that moment, he couldn't think.

"Oh, well, I'm sorry for wanting to look out for my boyfriend. And I also sincerely apologize for keeping you out of fights, and for taking care of you when you have a hangover, and for driving miles through a goddamn desert to come get you, and for driving miles through a desert again to take you home. Wow, yeah, I'm such an asshole, and so unreasonable, and oh my, I think you should just get out now and walk the rest of the way, or maybe back to the bar seeing as you can't get enough of that whiskey." His voice was even, calm, and nothing like the tone Daryl's past partners have used in an argument. That's a thing Daryl loves about Y/n, he never raises his voice unless absolutely necessary, and he always listens to Daryl no matter how unreasonable he's being.

Daryl is about to snap back at Y/n, to say something he doesn't mean and will regret later, but he doesn't get the chance. His boyfriend slams down on the brakes, causing the car to make a screeching sound and stop in its tracks. Y/n's arm shoots out to stop Daryl from smashing into the window, and he turns on the mist lights, dark, scared eyes scanning the empty road around them. Daryl takes a few long seconds to process the sudden halt, and his drunken mind tells him to be angry.

"What the hell was that?! You can't just do that!" His angry roar breaks the silence, and Y/n visibly flinches. Oh. He didn't mean to scare him, but he doesn't realize that now, his temper worsened by the high percentage of alcohol and his reason nowhere to be seen. Y/n doesn't answer him, doesn't even spare him a glance, as his eyes search the road and desert around them, for what, Daryl doesn't know.

"What the fuck are you looking for? Hey, Y/n! Why’d ya stop driving?" He couldn't stop himself from snapping again, his words landing like a blow to the face. Y/n curls in on himself, eyes going impossibly wider.

"I, I just.. There was, I think, and I saw-" He takes sharp, uneven breaths, and points a shaking hand at the road.

"There was someone, a, a person, I think." Daryl scoffs, shaking his head as he looks where Y/n is pointing.

"There's nothing there, you're just seeing things." He leans back against the seat, expecting Y/n to start the car again, which he does. The car rumbles for a few seconds before it starts, and they continue to drive down the road. After a few, silent minutes, Y/n takes a longer inhale and tightens his grip on the steering wheel.

"Yeah, you're right. I think I'm probably just seeing things."

Dead trees and bushes flash past them, illuminated by the bright lights of the car. Y/n still hadn't turned off the mist lights, too shaken up by the strange, stumbling figure he had seen about a mile back.

"What if it was someone in need of help? What if they got stranded in the desert, injured, alone and without food? Why didn't we get out of the car to look? To ask them?" Daryl sighed as he listened to his boyfriend's rambling, sitting up a bit and turning to him.

"Look, Y/n, I know that you tend to worry about others, but we ain’t going back. If they need help, another car will come by sooner or later. And what if it was someone on drugs? Or a serial killer waiting for their new victims? Just take us home and forget about it."

"What if I can't?" Daryl's eyes snapped open at that, and he glared fiercely at his boyfriend.

"Don't you fucking dare." His warning didn't do anything, as Y/n turned the wheel and changed the car's direction, driving back the way they came too fast.

"Y/n! Y/n stop! You're gonna cause an accident!" Daryl tightly grabbed at his seat, desperate for something to hold onto as the car sped down the dark road.

But no one was prepared for what happened next.

It happened in mere seconds, but both of them felt as though it lasted minutes. The car slipped, the brakes stopped working, the car slid over something on the road, it spun around, three, four, five times, before it came to a halt, lower to the ground than it was supposed to be. The airbags had shot out, softening the impact of Y/n's head hitting the steering wheel. Daryl had been somewhat lucky, his hands clamped so tightly to the seat and window that he hadn't crashed into anything.

"Daryl?" He took another sip of the whiskey, which had also survived the almost crash, before he looked to his left, seeing Y/n with a bloody nose and a forming bruise on his right cheekbone. He wanted to worry, to wipe away the blood and place a soft kiss over the bruise, but his rage won the battle, settling deep into his core as he realized what had happened, and who had caused it.

He stepped out of the car, rounded it, and noticed that the two front tires were flat. He cursed loudly, opening his boyfriend's door and almost yanking him out of the car, pointing at the damage.

"You fucking idiot! Are you kidding me? You ruined our car! How are we getting home now, huh? How are you gonna fix this?" His voice was like thunder, and Y/n flinched out of his grip.

“I’m sorry, I really am! But I swear, there was something on the road!” He wiped at the blood on his face, this was the first time he was truly afraid of Daryl. But his boyfriend would never hit him, he never had and he never would.

It was quiet then. They didn’t know what to say or what to do. What could they do? Their car was ruined, and Daryl was so drunk he could barely keep standing.

“I’ll call Merle to pick us up, he’s probably still in town anyway.” He turned away then, leaving Y/n to himself. He muttered something about Merle probably being drunk as well before turning to the car and looking at the reflection of the window.

“Fucking great, lovely, it’s not like I have a goddamn job interview in two days.. Nope, not at all.” He hissed as his fingers brushed over the bruise, quickly pulling away. Daryl had walked to the side of the road, sitting down on a fallen tree as he tried to reach his brother.

“What did we hit in the first place, anyway?” Y/n wondered as he took a few steps away from the car, rounding it and searching the road for anything that could’ve caused the car to crash. He took out his phone and used it to shine a light on the road, noticing some red, sticky substance.

“Okay, well, that’s unsettling. Look at me, talking to myself in the middle of the night, looking at blood, sounds like a goddamn horror movie!” He sighed heavily, running a hand through his hair as he inspected the blood. But a long, vicious groan cut his train of thought off. It came from under the car.

“Okay, what the actual fuck. Daryl?” His boyfriend was still on the phone, apparently now arguing with his older brother, and he didn’t look up at the mention of his name. Y/n was about to walk over, when another groan came from under the car. His gaze snapped to the source of it, and he kneeled down.

“Please don’t be a poor dying cat, please don’t be a poor dying ca- WHAT THE HECK?!” A hand shot out, but not a normal hand, it was rotten, with flesh loosely hanging around it while black blood coated its fingers. It grabbed a hold of Y/n’s wrist before he could pull away. Y/n screamed, a loud, distressed sound which had Daryl drop his phone and jump up immediately.

Then a head came from under the car, dead and rotting and the stench was unbearable. It released another groan before diving its teeth into Y/n’s arm, biting through the flesh and muscle. But it didn’t stop there, it tore off the skin, turning the arm into a bleeding mess.

Y/n screamed again. A long, agonizing sound ripped through the air as he yanked his arm back, cradling it against his chest and staining his shirt with blood. His breaths came out fast and short as he struggled to move away, the pain in his arm so overwhelming he could barely sense Daryl’s hands on his shoulders.

“Y/n! Y/n, look at me, it’s okay, you’re gonna be fine.” Daryl’s face came in his vision, the familiar warm eyes and worried expression soothing Y/n’s incredibly fast beating heart. Their eyes locked for a brief moment before Daryl’s attention was on the wound, his hands hovering over it as he tried to figure out what to do.

“Okay, it’s, it’s not that bad. Let me just, grab s-some spare bandages from the trunk, okay?” He made sure to place a reassuring kiss on Y/n’s forehead before standing up and heading to the car.

“Wait!” Y/n’s hand shot out, catching Daryl’s wrist.

“Please don’t go, I don’t feel so, so good.” A sweat broke out on his forehead and his cheeks flushed.

“What’s wrong, how can I help?” Daryl’s worried tone did little to no good as Y/n slumped backwards, too weak to sit up anymore. Daryl quickly fell to his knees beside him, putting his hand of Y/n’s forehead to check for a fever.

“You’re burning up!” His mind shot into panic, he didn’t know what to do. Things like this normally didn’t cause an instant fever. But normally, a not-so-dead corpse wouldn’t bite into someone’s arm..

“I’m so sorry, I’m sorry, Y/n I’m so incredibly sorry!” He cradled Y/n as he spoke, afraid that this would be it, that this would be the last time he could look into those beautiful eyes.

“For what?” Y/n’s weak voice hurt his heart, this is really it.

“For everything. For drinking so often, for yelling at you, for blaming you for everything. I love you, so so much, I never wanted to hurt you.” Tears streamed down his face as he cupped Y/n’s cheek, stroking it with his fingers.

“First of all, I forgive you. It’s okay, I stayed, didn’t I? And second, you act like I’m dying! C’mon Daryl, I’m fine!” He coughed then, long and hard. His vision blurred a little as he tried to sit up. What in the world was happening to him?

“Let me call an ambulance, please?” Daryl knew how stubborn Y/n could be, especially when it came to injuries, but he was just so worried. He could be dying for all he knows! Y/n sighed but nodded, watching as Daryl walked towards his phone.

His head hurt, his vision was blurred, he felt dizzy and the pain in his arm spread through his whole body, but he still smiled, because he had a reason to smile, he had Daryl. With that thought, his consciousness faded and his body slumped on the ground.

~

[micahscowgirl]

Bite Me ~ Chapter 4

Micah Bell x f!reader

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Cursing, Male Masturbation, Choking, Biting, Blood

Word Count: 3700

Sorry I haven’t uploaded in awhile! Been really busy and have had too many people around to just openly write fanfics.  I hope this chapter pleases all of my readers <3. I am open to suggestions for the story and am accepting asks as well now, too! I am going to try and open up to new things like headcannons and shorts. Let me know what you think! Asks and inbox are always opened! Love you guys!

Also, this was proofed very quick, if you see any mistakes, let me know and I’ll take care of them!

Micah carried you to the room; he didn't want to wake you. Once inside, he laid you on the bed and covered you up. As he started to turn, you made a whining noise and kicked off the covers. 

"Pants," you say, slurring the word. "No pants."

Micah shakes his head and smiles, "God, you're drunk." He obeys your command and slides your pants off. He was being nice for once. It was probably the alcohol and excitement from your little show you threw. After throwing your pants to the other side of the bed, he plops himself in a chair that stood in the corner of the room. He hated his insomnia. It made his nights dreadfully long. He would usually find a few sorry folks on the roads to rob, but he had to stay with you tonight. He didn't know why he felt that he needed to; you were such a smart ass towards him, he should want to avoid you. He would've said he almost hated you the day before when you embarrassed him in front of Charles. All he aimed for was to upset you. You deserved it after all. At the same time, there was that part of him that wanted to own you, have you falling at his feet. He hated that you were different. 

He watched you lying there. He had pulled the cover back after sliding off your pants. You were lying on your back, arms laying on either side of your head. Your chest was lifting and falling in a peaceful rhythm. After a while, you began to squirm, turning onto your belly. He thought it was funny how you could appear drunk even in your sleep. He pulled out one of his pistols and began to clean it. He had a long night ahead of him. 

He was stopped suddenly when you released a small, dreamy moan. You were caught up in your thoughts, so wound up in your fantasies that they were surfacing for him to hear. He looked up at you and started to think of your moans from earlier. As you were pleasured by the saloon girl, you had said his name. Moaned it, more like. You had been grinding on her, but looking deep in his eyes. He wished so bad that he was that girl. Except he wouldn't have been so gentle. He still needed to punish you for your actions.

Before he knew it, his pants were becoming much tighter. "Dammit, doll, what are you doing to me?" It had been so long since he had been with a woman, and especially long since he'd been with one he didn't pay for. He stands and leaves to the washroom. Thankfully, there was no one in the halls, so he didn't have to hide his growing erection. 

He closes the door and paces around the room. ‘What the fuck is wrong with you?’ he thinks to himself. ‘That damn woman. She needs to stop getting into your head. She knows what she's doing. You're foolish to think she actually wants you. She's just playing one of her sick games.’ There's a chest up against the wall that he sits down on. He grips his member through his pants, trying to get it to go away. His thoughts won't leave him alone. He feels himself throb harder under his palm. "Fuck." As much as he tries to fool himself, he really doesn't want it to leave.

He undoes his button and zipper and frees his throbbing cock. He squeezes, spits on it, and begins to stroke. He keeps thinking of you grinding, and then bouncing. In his thoughts, you’re on his lap, not hers. As he starts to pick up the pace, he thinks of your hands. His cock would look so good in them. And in your mouth... He grits his teeth, his breath is picking up. Your tight body, your wicked, evil smile. The tip of his dick begins to release the first of his juices. You're so hardheaded, would you hold back your screams to torture him, or would you let them all out? He thinks of how you whimpered when he cut you. He wanted to torture you, spank you, and make you whimper more. He would be in control and you would do as he says. 

He feels himself getting closer. He wanted to hear you scream as he pounded you from behind, the sound of skin slapping skin. He would reach up and grab your throat, continuing to push into you harder and harder. He wanted to choke you. You deserved it. You were going to get what you had coming for you. In his mind, he could hear you screaming his name while you tighten around him when you hit your climax.

That thought was the last before he spilled himself all over the floor. "Dear God, Y/N."

He sat there for a few minutes, trying to return to normal breathing, and then stood, sticking his soft member back into his pants. After finally composing himself, he returns to your room, leaving his mess on the floor.

When he enters the room, he sees that you have kicked the blankets down again. He walks over and pulls them back up, not wanting the sight of your body sending his thoughts venturing again. After pulling his jacket off, he sits back in the chair. You aren't making any more noise and you've stopped shifting around. He focuses on your breathing, the perfect, peaceful rhythm. Keeping his breathing at the same pace, he finally let his head fall, and, for the first time in weeks, he slept.

~~~~~~

You awoke the next morning, a throbbing headache already overwhelming you. "Dammit," you say as you sat up, a sharp pain in the side of your head causing you to wince. "What happened last night?" You throw your legs off the edge of the bed, rubbing your palms on your temples. "I ain't never felt this bad." You notice that your pants are lying on the floor, and your holster is hanging over a chair next to the bed. Parts of last night start to return to you. You had robbed a house with Micah; Dutch had sent the two of you together. ‘Wait, where's Micah, then?’ You think to yourself. 

You stand up and pull your pants on. As you're securing your holster on, you notice your jacket hanging on a coatrack next to the door. You pull it off and see that Micah's was underneath it. There was no sign of him at the saloon anymore, so he must have forgotten it. After sliding your coat on, you grab his and head out of the room. According to your pocket watch, it's almost noon. The saloon is almost empty, excluding two men at the bar and one speaking with the barber that had a shop in the back. 

You nod to the bartender on your way out. "Hey, girl." You approach your horse, patting her on the shoulder. You reach into your satchel to find some crackers for her when you gasp. Inside, there was a huge bundle of cash and a jewelry bag that's almost bursting. There's a note tucked in with the cash. You pull it out and read it. The writing was sloppy, but you could still make it out. 

Doubt you remember much from last night, you were hammered, but we made quite a fortune off that house Dutch told us to hit. You mentioned keeping almost all of it after about 3 beers last night. Not sure if you'd have the same opinion when you woke up, so I just gave you all of it to make that decision. I still want my share depending on what you do. I'll see you back at camp, Doll. I have some business to take care of. -M

You look back into your bag at the money again. You can't help but chuckling a little. Not just at the idea of how much money you now had on you, but also at the note he had left. It was too nice to be the Micah you knew. What happened last night? You don't remember much after returning to the saloon. Maybe he still had some alcohol in his blood when he wrote it. That must've been it.

~~~~~~

You dismounted your horse, leaving her next to Arthur's. Jack was sitting nearby, picking some flowers. "Whatcha doing there, bud." You say while approaching him. He looks up at you and smiles.

"Picking flowers. Mama's been sad today, so I want to give her flowers!" He says, holding them up for you to see. "I like the yellow ones best, but I only have four of them."

"Well, I think I might recall seeing some near Pearson's wagon. Might want to check there."

"Really?" He says, jumping to his feet. I'll go look!" He starts to hurry off. You smile at the sight of his run, missing the days when all that mattered was where to find the best flowers. 

You make your way over to Dutch's tent. He's sitting inside on his bed reading a book. Or, trying to read a book, that is. Miss O'Shea is fussing about who-knows-what. She always seems to be upset about something.

"Knock knock," You say as you walk in. Molly gives you a small snarl. Dutch looks up from his book at you.

"Great, give your attention to your little errand girl. I only must wonder what she's offering you for you to show so much interest in her. You probably know every bit of what's hiding under those clothes of hers." Before Dutch can say anything, she turns sharply and stomps off. 

Dutch stands, lying his book on the bed. "I'm sorry about her, she doesn't know how to hold her tongue."

"She's just stressed. She probably feels that it's her job to try to relieve you of all the stress that you carry." As much as you dislike, Miss O'Shea, you don't feel it's appropriate to express those opinions, especially to Dutch. He just shakes his head, opening a new box of cigars. You don't want to linger on the subject, so you continue. "Micah and I paid a visit to that house last night." You reach into your bag and pull out the jewelry bag, which you had emptied more than half of on your way back. You hand it to him, and then pull out $200, which was just a small portion of what you actually made away with. You hold it while he looks in the bag and then hand it to him when he's done. He doesn't say much while he counts it.

"Where's Micah?" He finally says.

The question caught you off-guard. "W-What? Oh, I-I'm not sure." He turns and places the take on his bed.

"Did he put you up to this?" 

"Pardon?"

He turns to look at you. "I may not have known you very long, but I can tell when you're lying." He walks up to you, only about a foot away, he seems to tower over you. "Micah set you up to this?"

You take a deep, quiet breath. You can remain calm in front of Micah, you can do the same to Dutch. "What are you accusing me of, boss?"

He starts to walk around you, taking a slow drag from his fresh cigar. "You know? I would've easily expected this from him, but never of you." He's facing you again. "Uncle told me exactly what the man said. The house you to robbed was sitting on a lot more than this."

You remain still, not showing him that he's right. "That's what he told us, too. But that's all we found. Must've had the rest of his fortune locked up tight somewhere. Micah and I looked as much as we could while they were asleep. We're doing our best without being shot or thrown in jail. Now, if you'll excuse me." You walk away from him, but are stopped quick when Dutch grabs your shoulder. This is the first time that Dutch has ever made you feel unsafe.

"Don't let him change you, Y/N. He's not a good influence, especially for someone as talented and special as you." He leans closer to you and whispers. "I let you come with us; join our family. Just remember that." He releases your shoulder and you walk out of his tent without saying anything else. You can't help but feel guilty.

~~~~~

Later that evening, you were sitting next to the fire. Javier was strumming at his guitar--not in any particular rhythm, but just playing with different chords. You were waiting for Micah to return. His share was still in your tent. You had removed it from your bag and hid it in your suitcase, tucked in with your undergarments. Hopefully, if anyone went snooping, they wouldn't find it. You hadn't seen any sight of him. Your thoughts kept falling back to Dutch. He had angered you and hurt you, even though you were guilty of what he was accusing you of.

Arthur and Charles were sitting nearby, talking about a hunting trip they were going to be taking the next day. After they were done, Arthur stood to walk away, when he spotted you. He walked over, and took a seat on the ground, leaning against the log you were sitting on. "Heard the house wasn't as good as Uncle led us to believe." You began to get hot. "Dutch was telling me about it."

You snap slightly, not getting loud enough to draw any attention. "What did he tell you?"

Surprised at your reaction, Arthur studders back, "I-I don't--nothing I don't guess." He looks down, you can tell he was genuinely shocked, meaning Dutch hadn't shared his thoughts.

"I'm sorry," you say, standing up quickly and hurrying away.

"Wait," He says. "Y/N, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to intrude." He gets up quickly and follows you to your tent. He pushes back the flap and sees you sitting on the cheap, ragged rug you have covering the dirt, leaning up against your cot. Your arms are propped on your knees and your head is leaning down towards the ground. He walks over and crouches down in front of you.

"I didn't mean to upset you, miss. You shouldn't blame yourself for a bad lead." You glance up at him.

You shake your head, "It's not that, it's just..." you pause, trying to find the best words. "I guess it's just been a weird day. Dutch just seemed upset with the take, he was expecting it to be much more as well," you lie, not wanting to admit how the conversation with Dutch had actually gone. "I just hate to let him down." You sigh.

"Now, Y/N, Dutch ain't one to hold things like that against you, you should know that. He's here to look out for us and he'll support us regardless." You can't help but think of Dutch's aggressiveness when he had grabbed your shoulder. Only you knew how much you had upset him. But that wasn't the only reason you were upset.

"Arthur?" you ask. He lifts his eyebrows in acknowledgment. "Did Micah mention any sort of 'business' he might have had to attend to? I haven't seen him since last night." You leave out the part that you couldn't even remember seeing him the night before, you're memory was still trying to find it's way back to you. "I still have his share from the job to give him." And also you wanted to give him a piece of your mind for convincing you to keep most of the take. There was no way that was actually your idea. 

"No, not really. I try my best to avoid the asshole." He chuckles. "You probably already know that though."

You smile. "Yeah, I guess so. Well, anyway, I guess I'm going to call it a night." He nods and stands up.

"I'm probably going to do the same."

You say your goodbyes and pull the flap of your tent closed. You sat down on the cot and pulled off your pants, keeping your shirt on, too exhausted to change it. You figured that you wouldn't sleep because of how worked up you had become, but once you laid down, you were out almost instantly.

~~~~~~

It was midnight when you were woken up. There were branches snapping behind your tent, almost directly next to your cot. Keeping still, you listen carefully. The steps don't belong to an animal. The steps move around your tent, coming closer to the entrance. You act fast, quietly pulling out from under the covers, you swing your feet off of the bed and hurry to grab your knife and crouch behind a chest you have placed next to the door. The steps come to a halt right outside and you hold your breath. Your tent is on the outskirts of the camp so you're easily the easiest target for wandering bandits. Or even worse, the O'Driscolls. After what felt like forever, the flap was pulled over and a man stepped in. He was wearing a leather coat you'd never seen anyone at camp wear. The collar was pulled up so you couldn't get a look at his face. He walked over to your bed and pulled the cover back. He reached down and picked up Micah's coat. 

"Anyone ever teach you that it's not okay to steal?" 

"Dammit, Micah! You need to quit scaring the shit out of me!" You say as he turns around to face you.

"You gonna answer my question?" He begins to move towards you. As you stand up he continues, "This ain't yours, dollface." He holds the coat up.

"Well you left--" He reaches forward and grabs the front of your shirt, startling you.

"You obviously don't know that if something don't belong to you, you don't take it." He pulls you forward, you're just inches from his face. "I gotta teach you a lesson; punish you for your actions."

He lets your shirt go and slides his hand up onto your neck. He's not grabbing tight, but it still takes your breath away. Your lips quiver and legs shake just slightly, but it's the reaction he was hoping for. The feelings of wanting him return instantly. You needed him.

"Now let's see," He starts, "Why don't you take that shirt of yours off, show me what you've been hiding under there."

"O-okay," you say and lift your hands, beginning the buttons from the top.

"Sir," He says.

"Huh?"

"Call me sir."

"Oh, y-yes, Sir." He nods, watching you undo the buttons on your shirt. You finish, and pull it off your shoulders and let it fall to the floor. You were wearing a worn corset underneath. He moves his hand from your neck.

"Turn," he says. You do as he says. You can still feel where his fingers were holding on your skin and you could almost beg to have them back. He undoes your corset, pulling it off and throwing it over to your bed. He runs his hands up your back, almost causing you to whimper. You have never wanted someone so bad in your life. He walks around you, standing back to get a full view of you, standing there, completely under his control. 

He steps forward, coming close to you once again. He doesn't grab you or feel you like you so badly want him to. He simply raises a hand and touches the fading bruise on your chest. "That's what you get for being so dirty, playing a little trick on me." He then moves his finger over to your other breast. There is another bruise there, a smaller, pinker one. Where did that come from?

"And that was caused by another little trick you played on me. I doubt you remember that, though. I can see the confusion on your face." He draws a line up to your neck. You gulp, and he smiles. "Tell me you're sorry and maybe I'll let you be."

You look up and him. You didn't want him to leave. You want to provoke him. "I'm not sorry, Sir. You had it coming for you."

Immediately, he grabs your jaw and pulls you closer. It hurts, but you want it. "What was that, dollface? 'Fraid I misheard you."

"You deserved everything I gave you."

"Wrong answer."

He moves your face away from him, giving him full access to your neck. He leans in and bites you. A shocked breath and whimper escape your throat. Your underwear felt drenched. You were craving him. He had broken skin and was sucking on the tender spot right above your collarbone. Your arms move up and grab onto his coat, trying to pull him closer to you. Your hips move on their own, trying to grind against him. "M-Micah," You say softly, in between gasps.

He pulls away from you and looks deep into your eyes. You notice a small bit of blood on his mustache. He reaches up, drawing a finger against his bite. It stings, but you don't notice. He has you in a trance. He pulls his finger away and licks the blood--your blood--off, smiling.

"What's the matter, doll?" He says in his deep, raspy voice. "You're trembling like crazy." He brushes his fingers up your arm.

"Micah..." you begin, except you don't know what you mean to say. Everything has caught you by surprise.

He leans in once more, whispering in your ear, "I hope you've learned your lesson." After pulling away, he turns and leaves, leaving you standing there, completely shocked and turned on. So many emotions pass through you in an instant; disappointment, happiness, sadness, and lust. But most of all, you knew that you were going to have to return the favor. Make him completely subjective to you, and then leave.

You eventually pull your shirt back on and lay down. The adrenaline begins to leave you, and you are asleep within minutes.

[honey-bird-04]

this is my first post

Hullo. This is my 3rd time rewriting this, because sumthin’ kept fucking up every time I tried to write it. But let’s hope this time goes smoothly cause I got a lot to say. I don’t have anywhere else to put this, so I decided, why not come to Tumblr and see what everyone else thinks. So, let’s get started. I have been a Gleek since I was in 6th grade. And as much as I know that the show is cringey and hard to watch, my sister and I genuinely enjoyed it (although now we mostly watch it ironically). And we always had a favoritism system going, our favorite characters were blatantly obvious, and we were fishing for least favorite characters when we could. So, our lists of favorite characters/ships looked a little something like this: Favorites: -Kurt Hummel -Finn Hudson -Rachel Berry -Santana Lopez -Brittany S Pierce -Blaine Anderson Least favorites: -Quinn Fabray -Noah Puckerman -Terry Schue -Sue Sylvester -Jessie St James -Sebastian Smythe Favorite ships: -Finchel -Klaine -Brittana -Wemma And even though that doesn’t seem like there’s anything wrong with that set up in particular, I’m going to explain to you why my views have changed. Especially on my least favorite characters. And disclaimer!! Any and all of these characters that I list on my least favorites have nothing to do with race, gender, disability, sexuality etc. They are solely based on personality and how their actions affected others. That’s it. That’s what I’m basing it off of. Same goes for my favorite characters as well. And believe me I will give a lengthy explanation for each and every one of them I promise. So I’m going to be listing the least favorites from LEAST bad/toxic to MOST bad/toxic. And don’t be upset if one of your favorites are on here. Just because I don’t like them doesn’t mean you can’t like them. Just make that clear. These are only things that I’ve picked up and I’ve noticed throughout the show and watching back important clips and such from the show. Coming in at #7: Mercedes Jones: I know what’s coming already. And I’m going to have to tell y’all this loud and clear. Mercedes is not a diva. She’s just a bitch. I’ve never liked Mercedes, and not because she was black, but just because she had an awful personality and she was awful to the people around her. I think the only time I really saw her being nice to someone was when she was dating Sam, or when she was dating that football player. And a few times when she was with Kurt. The main problem I have with her is in S1E3: Bust Your Windows, she busted Kurt’s front windshield all because he had a crush on someone else. And I can guarantee you guys this. If a guy did that to a girl, like if Kurt had done that to Mercedes instead, y’all would’ve been outraged. She had no reason to bust his window like that and then get all sassy to him when he got upset about it. Coming in at #6: Santana Lopez: And this is another character that y’all are so set on saying that she’s a diva. But no. Santana is a straight up bitch. And before you guys say “she was closeted/insecure/outed!” etc, Kurt was also insecure and closeted in the first season and he was never rude to anybody in the way Santana was. And secondly, Finn didn’t out her until S3E6: Mash Off, and I can tell you she had been acting like a huge bitch way before then. All I have to do is pull up all of the times she’s been anti-semetic to Rachel, fatphobic to Finn and Lauren, attacked people’s insecurities and was just being god awful. One of my least favorite scenes from her is when she went on that entire rant about why Blaine and Kurt didn’t work out, and she attacked Kurt’s teeth, his sexuality, his dancing, his s3xual appeal, and just about everything Kurt was insecure about. All because he said that he thought Santana and Brittany were too young to get married. And I honestly agreed with him, Britt and San were 19. Definitely too young to get married, and Kurt was just trying to relate his failure with Blaine to warn them that getting married this young wasn’t something that they wanted to do. But no. Santana didn’t listen to him trying to reason with her, she just told him basically “you suck, Blaine really hates you, get your crap together.” And I have always had a problem with it. Not to mention she called Quinn a slut. And no matter what situation you are in, I don’t believe it’s okay to call any girl a slut. Actually, I don’t think it’s okay to call anybody a slut. Because I’m bringing this back. If Finn had called Quinn a slut, you guys would be all over him and cancelling that character so fast, but as soon as Santana says it, it’s okay? That never sat right with me either. And again, the way she relentlessly bullies Rachel for everything she’s insecure about, especially her height and nose is not okay. It doesn’t matter how much you dislike someone. Making fun of her nose to the point where as soon as she breaks it, she’s immediately thinking of getting a nose job. That is not okay. And there’s a speculation that Santana was the one who pushed Rachel over the edge to try and fall into bulimia. And I don’t doubt it. Santana is not a nice person. And her internalised homophobia does not excuse anything that she’s said or done. Not to mention she has Britt wrapped around her finger and she knows that she’ll do anything she asks. Like when Santana was fantasizing about forcing Britt to break up with Artie if she became Prom Queen because it would be “the law of the land” that is absolutely inexcusable. Because we all know Britt is naive and has some sort of DD or autism, and the characters in the show take that and use it to their advantage. Especially Santana. Coming in at #5: Artie Abrams: Now before you come for my ass, let me tell you. I actually used to really like Artie. He was pretty high up on my ranking Glee characters lists that I used to make all the time. But now that I’ve rewatched and I’ve noticed more things, I just cant like him with a good conscience. Remember in season 1 when Tina told him that she doesn’t really have a stutter? Well, if you remember, he broke up with her after that. But if you were closely watching the show, you should’ve realised that Tina has some sort of social anxiety, (not that I’m excusing her faking a disability), but she has a reason for doing it. She (presumably) took up the stutter because she needed a way to avoid having to speak so much in public. Which is totally understandable! Artie didn’t have to break up with her. She confided in him to finally tell him what she had been hiding for so long and he just breaks up with her??? Are you kidding? That just goes to show that one of the only reasons he was dating her was because of her disability. If he broke up with her so fast for not actually having one. Even though she had an actual reason that she did it. Another thing about Artie that I hate is that he called Britt stupid. And that is a huge deal. Everyone in the school calls Britt stupid or something along those lines (even Santana) and as soon as she finds the one guy who doesn’t think that way of her, he breaks her trust. She technically did cheat on him, but as I said earlier, she bends to Santana’s every order and she has some sort of DD or autism and didn’t understand that it was cheating. She even told Artie she didn’t understand it. And instead of sitting her down and explaining to her and giving her a second chance to prove her new knowledge to good use, he just calls her stupid and makes her cry. And then this one is obvious. Artie didn’t fucking wear c0ndoms while he was having s3x with those two girls in New York and didn’t actually tell them he had chlamydia. Which just pissed me off so much it makes me angry just talking about it. Coming in at #4: Finn Hudson: Oh ho ho. Finn Hudson makes me so angry. Let me just start off with everything he did (and didn’t do) to/for Kurt. Starting with the infamous “faggy scene” after Kurt tried to make amends with Finn for all the arguing they had been doing by redecorating their room. As ugly as it looked (lmao), he did his best to try and appeal to what a straight guy would like without making it too masculine so he would feel comfortable sleeping in there too. He tried to appeal to Finn’s interests as well as his own and had to do it all on short notice. But as soon as Finn saw it, the first thing he said was “are you freaking insane?” and Kurt just deflated. If you watch the scene, you can see it. You can physically see Kurt’s hard work all go to waste because of that comment. But then Finn follows it up with saying “I can’t live here, I’m a dude.” That line for me is the one that really made me dislike Finn very very strongly, because he not only said Kurt wasn’t a man to his face, he also views Kurt as nothing but his sexuality. That is further proven when he describes how uncomfortable he is around Kurt just because Kurt has a crush on him. And yes, Kurt was creepy, but after then, when they started living together, he just tried his best to make Finn feel as welcome and as comfortable as he can make him feel. But then sees that everything has been pointless, because Finn makes it a point to tell him that he puts his underwear on in the shower before he comes out when Kurt’s around. And that’s just fucked up. And a lot of people say that Finn “didn’t mean it” when he said the f-slur, but let me tell you something. You don’t just accidentally say something twice out of anger. If you really didn’t mean it, you would apologise right when it left your mouth. But Finn’s lack of an apology only proves that he meant every word of what he said. Next is when Finn refused to help Kurt out with Karofsky. I can only talk briefly about this because it actually makes me so fucking mad I can’t explain it. So, Rachel asks him to help Kurt out and confront Karofsky, right? And Finn refuses. Because, and I quote: “We both know I can help him more if I stay on top.” And I think he even says “Kurt will be fine” too, completely ignoring the fact that Kurt is so terrified to go to school, he’s losing weight (there are speculations that he cuts), but Finn doesn’t care about that. He only cares about the fact that he needs to stay popular. Oh and the fact that Karofsky plays right guard and wont guard him during the football game is he’s pissed and they’ll lose. He picks FOOTBALL and POPULARITY over his soon-to-be stepbrother’s MENTAL/EMOTIONAL/PYSICAL H E A L T H. I cannot explain how angry that makes me. Not to mention, the amounts of times he’s played victim. Especially with Rachel. One time that really pisses me off is when he goes “have you ever thought about what I’m going to do in New York?” and Rachel starts stammering over herself and assuring him that she’ll find something that he fits into since he doesn’t know what he’s going to do with his future. And then he asks her about California and Puck’s pool business. Even though he knows Rachel has been set on New York and NYADA since she was a little girl. He knows that she has all of those ambitions and she has an entire plan in her life and she’s already trying to shift those plans to fit Finn in with her. And for him to tell her that he wants her to give all of that up to come with him and Puck to California is actually more selfish than Rachel is. Oh! And not to mention he outed Santana too. Let’s not forget that. In front of basically the whole damn school too. He also kissed Emma. And he also cheated on Rachel with Quinn. And then actually broke up with Rachel when she made out with Puck a bit because she wanted to get him back for cheating on her and sleeping with Santana (even though it doesn’t excuse what she did at all, I just think Finn was being a hypocrite.) And he also cheated on Quinn with Rachel in the first season, and he led Rachel on for the entire first season, Or most of it at least. Coming in at #3: Mr. Schue: I’m just gonna speed through this: -He was a creep/pedo with both the girls and the boys -He had a savior complex and tried to force Emma’s OCD away and fix it instead of help her -He encouraged Emma’s crush on him even while he was married -He twerked with a bunch of minors -Suspended a minor for not wearing a bra she was uncomfortable in -He dealt really badly with Rachel’s crush on him -Never listened to his students’ input -hallucinated children while he was sick -Was very awkwardly touchy with his students -His best friend was 19 -refused to stop twerking even when offered the exchange for a trans student to use a staff bathroom to avoid getting bullied -overreacted after finding out Terry wasn’t pregnant Now the moments you’ve all been waiting for. Coming in at #2: Noah Puckerman: Now I was stuck on Puck for a while, I didn’t think he really was that bad of a guy for a long time. But just one thing Quinn says was enough to sway me and put him this high on my list. In one of the earlier episodes, Puck starts teasing her and being a dick after finding out she’s pregnant. And so she says: “You got me drunk off of wine coolers and I was feeling fat that day...” Now if you break that sentence down, she literally says “you got me drunk.” implying that Puck himself wasn’t drunk when this all took place. Meaning, Noah Puckerman r@ped Quinn Fabray. She never cheated on Finn. Puck purposely got her drunk just so he could get what he wanted. Especially considering she never put out and she was president of the Celibacy Club. Now must I say anything else? No. I didn’t think so. And finally, coming in at #1: Blaine Anderson: I know Blaine is everyone’s smol bean gay bb boy. (*gag) but I have to tell you that he is not a good person whatsoever. I’ll give him credit though. In the 2nd season he was really sweet and I actually really liked him. But as the seasons progressed, he got worse. In S3E5, Blaine and Kurt go to a gay bar together, and Kurt helps Blaine out after he gets too drunk. Then as soon as he tries to get Blaine in the car, Blaine starts coming onto him and kissing his neck and trying to convince him to have s3x with him, even though Kurt keeps repetitively saying no. And then he plays the victim after Kurt blows up at him and says “well I’m sorry for trying to be spontaneous and fun!” and then proceeds to walk home, getting mad at Kurt for nothing. Then in another episode. I think it was later in season 3, Kurt meets Chandler. And Blaine had been ignoring him for a while before that, so Kurt starts talking to Chandler only because he makes him feel good about himself. And he obviously thought it was okay because Blaine did the same thing with Sebastian but called him all the time and flirted with him and dirty danced with him etc. So when Blaine goes through Kurt’s phone, he finds the messages and makes a huge deal out of it and accuses Kurt of cheating on him. Then publicly humiliates him in front of the Glee club with a song about cheating. And then proceeds to go and cheat on him anyway. And then as soon as they were going to NYADA together, Blaine didn’t like all the attention Kurt was getting after he started to get more fit and more attractive and he was extremely jealous of him and over protective, not letting Kurt have any other male attention. At all. And Blaine is just super stingy with Kurt and doesn’t let him live his life and then pays victim whenever he gets confronted by him. Oh and not to mention he dated the one person that made Kurt’s life a living hell for the longest time and decided to rub it in his face. So there we have it folks. My new least favorite Glee characters and all the reasons why. Thank you for coming to my TED Talk.

[beanfic]

Simple Mistake - Ch.1

Pairing: Tyler Joseph x reader

Word count: 2.1k

Warnings: drinking, throwing up, too much alcohol, josh dancing, and mmm i think that is it? 

Author’s note: here it is!! the first chapter (of 5!) i really hope you guys enjoy and feedback is appreciated! also Y/F/N means ‘your friend’s name’ (and is gender neutral)

Chapter 2

“You look nice!” Your mom smiled at you as you slowly stumbled down the stairs. “Going somewhere?”

“Just to the bars with some friends,” you mumbled. You’ve been 21 for a while now, but it still was an odd concept that you could go drink and come back home with your parents and they would be alright with it. 

“You’re not driving are you?” 

“No, Tyler ordered us an uber. I believe it’s picking him up first, then Josh, and then a few others before swinging by here.” 

“Be safe!” Your mom shuffled over to you and placed a soft kiss on your temple. 

“I will, Mom.” You waved to her as you headed outside to sit on your porch. It was around 8 pm and the sun was starting to set. That was your favorite part about it being May, are the late sunsets. You looked out towards the sky which was painted with deep red and orange strokes. 

It was silent outside. Tranquil. Your heart was fluttering as you received a text in the group message. 

Josh: almost to your place, Y/N

Tyler: be ready

You smiled to yourself as you quickly typed out a response.

Y/N: waiting outside. The sunset is pretty.

Josh: almost as pretty as Tyler

Tyler: awe, thanks dude

You locked your phone and took a deep breath as you gazed back up at the sky. There were two birds flying through the distance, and you wondered if they were in love. Birds could fall in love, right? 

Sometimes you wondered if you would ever have someone to fly around with, metaphorically of course. You’ve tried the dating apps, you’ve tried having your friends act like wingmen, and you have even tried meeting someone at the bars but it wasn’t your thing. You couldn’t find yourself having those feelings, the ones you felt for a certain someone. 

A certain someone that you knew did not share those same feelings as you. 

A certain someone that you had fallen for about two years ago. A certain someone who has had a girlfriend for the past eight months. A certain someone that you had to act like you were just best friends with. 

That certain someone just happened to be Tyler Joseph. 

“Y/N!” your name was shouted from a distance. As you turned your head to gaze down the street, you spotted the Uber coming out and could see Josh sticking his head out the window.

“Hey guys,” you hopped into the back seat putting yourself next to Tyler who was sitting in the middle. 

“Josh decided to take two shots back at the apartment before heading out, so he has been quite something tonight,” your friend giggled from the front seat. 

“Of course he did,” you shook your head and you buckled yourself in. Your hand softly grazed against Tyler’s as you were trying to snap the buckle.

“Sorry,” you both mumbled in unison. Your cheeks felt hot so you decided to open the window.

“The sunset is really something, huh?” the uber driver broke the silence in the car. 

“I would call it gorge babyyy,” Josh put an emphasis on the last syllable. 

“Where is Jen?” you turned to Tyler who was busy playing a game on his phone.

“She had to study for a test coming up.”

“Ah,” you bit your bottom lip trying to hide the smirk that was making its way to your face. It wasn’t that you disliked Jen, she just wasn’t your favorite person to be around. You weren’t sure if it was because you hated how optimistic she was all the time, or if it was because she was dating Tyler.

Your feelings for Tyler were only known by one other person, Y/F/N, who sat in the front seat and made eye contact with you in the rearview as they eavesdropped on the conversation. They always had pushed you to be honest with Tyler, especially since if you had been honest with him a year ago, then he would have never started dating Jen in the first place.

The issue was that you were certain Tyler did not share those same feelings that you did, despite the fact that Y/F/N and Josh has mentioned once or twice that Tyler did like you. 

Josh was busy explaining a story about how he sold three guitars at once during his last shift as the car pulled up to your favorite bar. It was usually filled with younger people, so you didn’t have to worry about older creeps. 

“Josh, no one cares about your story!” Tyler teased him as everyone piled out of the car. You quickly stood next to Y/F/N as you grabbed your ID out of your wallet, following the boys into the bar. 

“Who wants to start with shots?” the bartender greeted you all with a smile. 

“I’m down!” you raised your hand and Tyler nodded, handing the bartender his card.

“Drinks are all on me tonight, so start the tab!” he shouted over the loud music. You looked over at him with wide eyes.

“Tyler! It’s going to be so expensive!”

“Don’t worry,” he flashed a smile your way. 

“I love this song!” Josh shouted. Feels Like the First Time by Foreigner came pumping out of the speakers. The bartender handed each of you a shot glass filled with a ruby red liquid. 

“On 3!” Y/F/N held up their hands and slowly counted down and in unison, you all tilted your heads back as the liquid burned down your throat.

“Jesus,” you mumbled. Shots were not your forte. 

“What are you going to get to drink?” Tyler turned to you and you shrugged. 

“Probably a mai tai.”

“Yummy,” Tyler licked his lips and you swear you couldn’t peel your eyes away from them. 

“You?”

“Going with a beer.”

“That’s not very original, Joseph,” you teased.

“I don’t plan on getting wasted, especially when I know I will end up having to take care of mister smooth over here.” He pointed his thumb over his shoulder to Josh who was already making small talk with a group of girls. 

You chuckled, “He can be a handful.”

“Y/N! Come dance with me!” Y/F/N rushed over and grabbed your hand, pulling you swiftly towards the direction of the dance floor. You looked back at Tyler who seemed to be smirking as you were being dragged away. 

Single Ladies by Beyonce boomed over the speakers, and you followed Y/F/N’s footsteps as they flowed with the music. You kept on taking sips of your drink, knowing that only alcohol would be able to make you feel comfortable dancing. 

The lights were dim and there was a disco ball overhead that punctuated the dark club with streaks of chaotic light. You were having a good time. The more you moved, the more the shot you had taken earlier mixed with your bloodstream. 

The song was finishing up, and you excused yourself to get a refill on your drink. Y/F/N followed. 

“Where are the boys?” you asked, scanning the crowded bar.

“Josh is back there on the dance floor so we should go back and join him!” 

“I’m not drunk enough to dance with the Josh Dun,” you cackled. You spotted him twerking in the middle of a circle. 

“He’s wild,” Y/F/N sipped on their new drink. You grabbed yours from the bartender and took a long gulp, trying to ignore the burn. You never understood how people enjoyed that feeling.

“I still don’t see Tyler.” You frowned. 

“Oh, there he is! He’s on his phone!” You finally spotted him, sitting at the end of the bar with a beer in his left hand and the phone in his right. 

“Party pooper,” you huffed. You took another gulp of your drink and waltzed over to him. 

“I’m going to the dance floor with Josh!” Y/F/N called out and you shot them a thumbs up. 

“What do you think you’re doing, Joseph?” you leaned against the bar and he looked up at you. 

“Hm?” 

“We’re supposed to be having a good time and you look like mister frowny pants over here! Moping over your phone.”

“It’s just Jen is being difficult, I guess apparently when she said it’s fine that I came out tonight she didn’t mean it.”

“That seems toxic,” the words slipped out of your mouth without you realizing what you had said. “Sorry, that was mean.”

Tyler chuckled and took a swig from his beer, “Nah, you have a point. I shouldn’t worry about her and have a good time with my friends who care about me.”

“We do care about you!” you agreed. “Want to go dance? Josh is being a maniac as usual.”

“I need another shot, I think.” He motioned for the bartender.

“I’ll join you.” The last thing you needed right now was another shot, but you thought you would be able to let loose more. 

“On 3?” Tyler hands you the glass, this time filled with a clear liquid. 

“On 3,” you agreed. You both swished the liquid down, and you couldn’t help but cough. 

“I’m ready now,” Tyler spoke, chasing the shot with the rest of his beer. You two squeezed your way through the sweaty crowd until you caught a glimpse of Josh and Y/F/N.

“Tyler! Y/N!” Josh threw his hands up in the air and literally skipped over to you.

“How you feeling?” you asked him.

“Dude, spectacular!” he patted Tyler on the back and went back to the dance floor.

“Yes, this song!” you squealed as Livin’ On A Prayer came on. None of your friends had planned on getting this smashed, but you didn’t seem to care too much. You let yourself go and just flowed with the music. Your hips would sway to the beat and you closed your eyes as everyone sang the chorus together.

When you opened your eyes you were met with Tyler’s staring back at you. He came over to you and grabbed your hands and continued to playfully dance with you as if you were little kids dancing at a wiggles concert. 

“We’re halfway there!” you both shouted. “Living on a prayer!” You were laughing more than singing, as Tyler dramatically pretended he had an invisible microphone. 

The room was now spinning and it was difficult for you to keep your balance as you kept on stumbling over your two feet.

“Grab my shoulders!” Tyler shouted over the music and you did as he said as the music picked up. 

“I love this song!” you slurred. Your hand somehow got intertwined with Tyler’s and he was twirling you in a circle.

“Me too,” he giggled. 

“You’re giggly when you’re drunk,” you placed your hands back on Tyler’s shoulders so you wouldn’t fall over.

“You’re silly when you’re drunk,” he teased back. You stuck your tongue out at him and he rolled his eyes. 

“I like this shirt,” you mumbled. You didn’t even notice, but Tyler’s hands were now on your waist. Probably just trying to keep you up straight. 

“I like your shirt too,” he spoke softly. His vision became just as blurry as yours. 

“I like you,” you whispered with a smirk. You looked up at Tyler, expecting him to move away from you, but instead, you watched his brown eyes move from your eyes to gaze down at your lips. 

“Is that so?” his head moved closer towards you until your noses were practically touching. The heavy scent of alcohol burned your nostrils. Your heart was racing and felt like it was going to burst out of your chest. The alcohol was making it difficult for you to figure out what was reality. 

“Mhm.” You bit your bottom lip innocently. Tyler’s lips were so close to yours that you could feel his hot breath on yours. He smelled like beer.

“Kiss me,” he reached his hand up so it was cupping your cheek and guided your lips to his. They softly collided and you melted away in his arms. You had dreamt of this moment for the past two years. 

The background music dissolved in with the sounds of voices singing and the only thing you actually could hear was the sound of your own heart beating uncontrollably as you stood there, kissing your best friend. 

Tyler abruptly pulled his face away from his and you met with a look of shock. His eyes were wide and all you could hear was him mumble “shit” before slipping away from you, leaving you standing alone in the middle of the crowd.

What just happened?

♥️ ♥️ ♥️ ♥️ ♥️ ♥️ ♥️ ♥️ ♥️ ♥️ ♥️ ♥️ ♥️ ♥️ ♥️ ♥️ ♥️ ♥️ ♥️ ♥️ ♥️ ♥️ ♥️ ♥️ ♥️ ♥️ ♥️ ♥️ ♥️ ♥️ ♥️ ♥️ ♥️ ♥️ ♥️ ♥️ ♥️ ♥️

tag list: @nonsenseverses​ (if anyone else would like to be added, just let me know!

[kpopisthereasonihavenolife]

Breathe

BTS

Kim Taehyung/Reader [F]

Genre: Sea Prince Taehyung, Fluff, Implications of Sexy Times

Words: 3.2k

Part 3 of Hold Your Breath / Previous: Now Exhale

It had been two weeks since Taehyung fled with you under the ocean waves and hid you away in the underwater cave he’s known since he was a child.  After he had bitten you, you just remember feeling light headed as you passed out, only to wake up the next morning with Taehyung sleeping behind you.  Seeing the new markings on your shoulder, they spread even further than he thought they would.  Over the course of time, the more time you spent with him in the water to adjust to the trait changes of your body, the markings grew.

Now, as you stand with your feet in the ocean water that leaked into the cavern with your jellyfish inspired skirt with your bikini like top the markings were easily covering you.  The most obvious of them were of course on your shoulder where Taehyung’s teeth markings were still just barely visible.  However, the markings also wrapped around your back onto your hips and lined your ribs and rested on your chest.  Taehyung hadn’t seen them spread so much before.

However, he knew it wasn't necessarily a bad thing.  If anything, the fact they were so spread out was a good thing.  It was physical proof that you really meant it when you allowed him to bite you and you accept him and the ocean with all of your heart.  

As you let the ocean brush over your bare feet, you looked down at the minuscule scaled at your ankles.  You smiled as you felt the ones on your ribs as well.  It wasn’t the easiest process, practically seeing your humanity slip away from you day after day, but it didn’t matter to you anymore.  

Your hair had also started to shift in color.  The tips of your hair had started to fade out into the softest of blues, not nearly as bold as Tae’s, but just as beautiful.  Maybe it was the ocean blessing you, or maybe it was just more of Taehyung’s DNA taking effect.  

Now, there was a reason you were stood at the edge of your cavern.  Taehyung had left you, telling you he was going to return to him home and try and talk to his parents once more about bringing you back.  Now that you were bitten and nearly capable of living under the ocean just as he and his people, he was ready to fight as much as he could.  If he couldn’t, he was willingly ready to relinquish his title to the throne as the crown prince and live in this cavern with you until you both turn to sea foam.

You didn’t want him to make such a choice, so you hoped that he could get something to work from instead of giving up everything for you.  

A smile broke your face when you heard the ocean call to you, telling you that your lover wasn’t far and on his way back.  He was swimming back, and when your eyes caught sight of the glimmer of his scales, you dove into the ocean.  

Swimming out of the cavern, you saw him swimming towards you as he smiled, stopped swimming and allowed you to come the rest of the way towards him.  Wrapping your arms around his neck, the ocean moved you both in a whirlpool of bubbles as he laughed into your hair that floated around like seaweed.  

“How did you know I was coming?” He chuckled into the water.  Voice carrying like he was above land.  You moved away from him, keeping your hands on his shoulders as you kissed his forehead.  

“The ocean told me,” he rolled his eyes.

“Gossiping with the waves again, are you?  Careful, they have a knack of being tricky.  They may even lie one day,” he playfully warned as he swam back to the cavern, pulling you in tow.  

“I trust them.  Besides, if they lie, the fish never do.”  He pouted his lips as he nodded, not denying that.  He had yet to meet a fish in the ocean that had lied to him.  Though, he was a bit skeptical on Clown Fish, even if you said they were nothing but sweethearts.

The two of you resurfaced on the rocky land of the cavern, you whipping your hair out of your face as Taehyung stood up and pushed his hair away from his face, wiping the water off his forehead with his forearm. You remained seated, legs dipped in the water as you watched his back.  He was wearing only half of a tunic today.  Wearing the pants of royal blue and forgoing the shirt and boots.

Taehyung always found it easier to swim without a shirt and he hated any type of footwear to begin with.  It was rare to see him in them at all.

“How did the meeting with your parents go?” You asked a bit sheepishly. He dropped his hand as he made a noise in his throat.  It wasn’t a bad one, nor was it a good one.  The noise was mediocre at best, a sound of uncertainty- but not negativity.

“Iffy,” was his one-word response.  He sighed, “Y/n,” he started.  “Come here,” he spoke as he rose his hand out to the side, his back still turned.  You moved to get up, but squeaked when you felt the ocean wrap around your waist and carry you, your toes just barely brushing the rocky ground.  Moving you until you were at Taehyung’s side and his outstretched arm circled your waist as he pulled you to his chest.  

His eyes, that were closed, opened with a smile on his face as he looked down at your pouting up at him.  The ocean retracted it’s hold on you as it returned to the ocean.  Your eyes, that were just as beautiful and blue as his, shone.  He swore that you were the oceans prime definition of what a personified wave at sunrise, shining with foam and mist just right would be.  Breathtaking and pure.  

“When will you stop using the ocean to move me around?” He tottered his head around, bouncing thoughts in his head with a playful look in his eyes.  

“Hmm, how about never?”  You slapped lightly on his chest.

“Just because I can’t control the waves doesn’t mean you can all the time!” You whined as you pulled a laugh from Taehyung’s belly.  He finally let himself rest against you.  Pushing his lips to the crown of your head, he tightened his arm around your midsection and ran his other hand through your hair.  His fingers twined with your blue locks. It was like this when he found peace.  

He had told you that he would only abandon his duty as prince if his parents rejected you, a human born being, being his wife.  They couldn’t change what’s happened, and as much as they dislike it, you were bitten by him and thus they knew he wouldn’t leave you no matter what.  If they said no, they’d lose their son and their heir.  However, it was moments like this that made him second guess and almost abandon it altogether regardless.  He simply wished for this peace to continue with you in his arms.  

He sighed in content as he rocked back and forth, feeling warmth in his chest blossom as your hands rested at his back, hooked together as you embraced him back.  He smiled, kissing your head and staying like that for a little while longer.  He sighed once more as he pulled back a bit.  

“I have another errand to run tonight at the palace.  I’ll be gone likely until early morning.”  You nodded.  

“I understand.  You’re a busy prince, so take responsibility for it.” You teased.  “When do you leave?”  You asked with a tick of your head.  

“Not for a while yet, Koi.”  He had started calling you after the beautiful fish not too long ago.  It just started out of the blue, yet you hadn’t the heart to stop him.  At least he doesn’t call you after a cuttlefish.  

“Do you want to rest beforehand?  You’re always so tired when you come back?  Maybe you should stay there tonight and just wait to come and visit me.  I’m alright on my own, you know that.”  He watched as concern bled into your magnificent eyes and crinkled your brow.  He smiled, kissing your forehead.

“You can rest with me,” he softly slurred.  Guiding you both back against the wall, he sat with you at his front, arms refusing to release you as you leaned against his chest.  He almost laughed when you fell asleep even before he did.  He brushed your hair that had latched onto your eyelashes away and traced the outlines of your face gently.

With light touches, he traced your tattoos and markings.  From your shoulder to your hips and navel and back.  They were the symbols, the words that told him that you loved him.  Lovers of his kind had a few markings along the body, yet yours were relentless and part of him almost wanted them to spread even further.  He wanted to mark your body as you continued to love him.  

Taehyung only woke you once, slightly stirring you before he left.  It was dusk when he shook you awake before you sent him off with a kiss and a wave before he walked below the ocean surface and swam off with speed almost too impatient to return to you.

You don’t know what time he returned, but it was indeed very early.  You were sleeping easily on the best in which supported you.  Towards the back of the cavern lay your ‘room’.  Your best was sat on a slab of stone before a plush type a of material lined it.  It felt like laying on a real bed, and your not quite sure how Taehyung managed to even create or find such a material in the ocean, but you never asked questions.  

Your blankets were layers upon layers of the softest silks in the palace, according to the prince who snuck out a spare kept in the palace’s storage unit for you.  You did reprimand him a bit on that.

You slept in nothing but a soft, thin bikini top with thick, cloth straps that hooked rather than tied.  It was like a cheap, yet effective bra in a way.  Along with a pair of hip-resting bikini bottoms.  It was much easier to sleep like this than in a skirt. 

You felt Taehyung flop onto the bed before you heard him, a low, slurred singing leaving his mouth as his echo bounced off the cavern walls.  You groaned, slowly stirring before he weaved his arms around you from behind and pushed his nose into your neck, moving your hair aside.  He chuckled lowly as he breathed in your fresh sea scent.

“Koiii,” he slurred as you hummed, almost more awake now.  “I’m baack,” he added with a chuckle.  Squinting open your eyes you twisted around, facing him as he lay with his eyes closed.  He almost looked flushed?  He opened his eyes, and you could see a small amount of lavender laced in the brilliant cerulean in his eyes.  

“Taehyung, are you alright?” He giggled, moving to nose your ear.  His warm breath huffing around it sending a shiver up your spine and tightening to your chest.  

“They had a loooot of freshwater at the palace tonight.”  Oddly enough, what made his people drunk wasn’t anything alcoholic.  In fact, he once told you that he had tried human alcohol, and he described it as ‘sea dust that somehow liquified’.  Obviously, not a fan, you asked if he was able to get drunk.  He kept it a secret until once you offered him a hefty gulp of water from a bottle you drunk out of a lot on land and he was then significantly buzzed.

You gasped, “You drank freshwater!  You know you start feeling sick in the morning because it counteracts all the sea salt in your system.”  You scolded him lightly. Though it was harmless, Taehyung’s immunity to freshwater wasn’t as high as the rest of his kingdom’s.  He just brushed it all off with an air of overly confident nonchalance as he continued to hold you.

“I don’t care,” he sighed before he chuckled again. “It was good.  You should try it,” he mused before you move to brush your hand through his hair.

“I have.  Or did you forget I was human 2 weeks ago?”  He took a moment before he made a noise of ‘Oh, yeah!’ and laughed more before he started rambling on about how it was so nice for you to be like him now.  

You let him rant on and on about how the life at the palace was too strict and frankly unfair.  He complained about how they needed to be more open minded before he promptly declared he wouldn’t be going back until they said they’d let you into the palace too.  He whined, pouted and even kicked his feet like a child until he quieted down and somehow ended up laying on your chest with you facing the ceiling.  

His face was resting sideways over your heart as you pet his head.  His arms were raised on either side of your head as his eyes were lidded.  You assumed he had finally wore himself out when he lifted himself up, moving to brush his nose against yours.  The lavender that clouded his eyes was just barely there anymore, the drunken buzzed more than out of his system as he finally became coherent.  

“Do you want to go to sleep yet? My drunken prince,” you teased before he slipped his lips up.

“Y/n,” he called.  

“Yes?”

“I love you,” you laughed, caging his cheeks in your hands before you pushed your nose to his, scrunching them both.  

“I love you too,” you giddily told him back.  He quickly captured your lips with his as your hands slid from cheeks to the back of his head, slightly tugging on the blue locks that made him stand out. Pushing his knee between your legs and slightly pushing the blanket more and more off your body, you lay beneath him.

Keeping his lidded eyes on your as you gasped and moaned under his roaming hands and relentlessly kisses until he removed his lips from your own and moved to bit and nip at your jaw until he bit your ear. One of his hands moved to your back, teasing the strap of your breast cover, a grin on his face as he breathed a deep, breathy chuckle into your ear.

“Let’s see how much.”

The next time you woke up, you woke with a slight shiver followed by Taehyung rubbing his open palm over your arm. Legs intertwined and tucked into his chest, you slowly woke up to him peppering your face and neck in small kisses.  When your eyes finally opened, he smiled and pushed your hair out of your face, pushing his forehead to your own and nuzzling his nose against yours.  

“Good morning, Koi,” he happily greeted.  Keeping his hand on your naked waist and tracing your back with his finger, you smiled as you wanted to go back to sleep against him.  “Are you feeling alright this morning? Any soreness?”  He questioned softly, thumbing along your thigh.  You nodded slightly.

“A little bit, but that’s okay.” He chuckled.

“I’ll be easier next time,” he teased as he knew you grew red with how you shrunk into his chest.  Laughing he pushed himself out of bed, resulting you to whine when he dressed in his lower tunic and leaned back over the bed to kiss the side of your head.  “I brought something from the palace last night.  Come see it,” he softly spoke.  

With a groan and a few more pleas from him, you were up and stumbling around in a daze.  Seeing a small, black bag in the entryway to the cavern, you yawned as you rubbed the sleep out of your eyes.  He smiled as he grabbed it and walked it over to you.

“Why don’t you open it?” He ushered as you nodded and slowly opened the back before a soft rose color was presented in front of you.  A dress.

Looping around the neck to rest on a person before framing their chest and the skirt stopping in the front of the thighs and running in the back down to the ankles.  The skirt was ruffled in layers as the soft coral rose from the top deepened to a deep rose red by the bottom of the skirt.  Covered in the most gorgeous of seashells, your fingers lightly traced them.  

“It’s beautiful,” you breathed.  Taehyung smiled as you continued to marvel at the dress.

“It’s yours,” you looked up to him.

“What?” He pushed the dress into your arms, turning you around to go and change into it.  You didn’t fight too much, obviously very much wanting to wear the breathtaking piece.  Soon changed, you came back out to him to show it off as he smiled warmly.  

Quickly pulling you to his side, he linked his fingers together behind you as you stood in front of him.  

“You look wonderful my love,” he mused.  

“But, Tae, you said it was mine. I don’t understand. Why would you go through the trouble?” He smiled as he removed his hands to grab yours, pushing your knuckles to his lips. 

“There are two reasons if you would like to hear them.” More than eager, you nodded.  “First being, we never properly became wed,” you opened your mouth in an ‘oh’ fashion.  You had forgotten that the bite mark in your shoulder was significant to that of a proposal.  “Secondly, I figured you should have a perfect dress for when you enter the palace.”  You pushed on his chest, looking up at him with a ticked brow.

“Excuse me?  I thought you’ve been fighting with them for days now to let me in!”  

“Yes, that is partially true. Though they did agree to allow you passage through the gates I’d say, 4 days ago?”

You gasped, slapping his arm. “Taehyung! Why didn’t you tell me!”  

“Because the dress I had asked to be committed wasn’t finished.  I had to keep you here until then.  You can’t show up to a marriage ceremony in a two-piece, sorry sweetheart.” He teased.  Your cheeks warmed as you pinched his nipple, earning him a gasp and playfully offended look.

“Sure, and you can show up half nude. Not fair,” you pouted.  

“I have a closet of clothes back home.  You do not.”  The playful banter continued as he soon was leading you out of the cavern.  With promised to come back and visit, you felt a bit sad leaving your 2 week home behind.  Though soon you were swimming through the water, Taehyung guiding you until you were face to face with a coral reef that beyond the great colors was his home. A hidden world below the sea.  

You took a breath, knowing things would be different.  Taehyung squeezed your hand and kissed lightly at your cheek.  You breathed easy, knowing it would all be okay so long as Taehyung didn’t let go of your hand.

Taehyung just couldn’t wait to officially place the crown of his people on your head as his princess.  Finally.

[crazynekochan]

Okay but like... you’re not transphobic? At all? What kind of bs was that anon on asdhfjaf you’ve never been transphobic nor have you ever been hateful against anyone, so that anon is incorrect oops, pay no attention to pathetic people like that who can’t be brave enough to say that without hiding behind the anon icon

(I put them together since they are about the same topic)

I mean I went and tried to read on why some people found omegaverse and thus also mpreg (interestingly I never saw people complain about F|F ABO ships?) transphobic, homophobic and/or sexist and made sure to not integrate things that could be considered to be that way. But these were usually things I would never integrate into my worldbuilding anyway?

What I also find annoying is the insinuation that I (or other people) automatically stop having trans/nb/genderfluid HCs. Like I don’t go out of my way and stop using my HC of people being any form of transgender when I put them into a ABO AU. Character X that I HC to be transgender is just as much transgender in my ABO stories

Also I have to agree with the anon. I mean I personally of course can’t speak for anyone who is transgender and I won’t try to do that, but it really does sound quite bad to make trans men just to make them pregnant. Like people can happily do that, no problems there, but trans men aren’t breeding mares. I won’t go and throw a “trans stamp” on a male character just to make him pregnant and not because I actually HC him to be trans

I really hope that what I said made sense and doesn’t sound condescending in any way, because I’m seriously bad in articulating myself, so if this sounds wrong I am deeply sorry. I’m really not trying to hate on anyone, especially not the transgender community with my stories. I try my best to make things as respectful as I can, and I will always continue to read upon subjects and try to learn more about it all. However I do not stand for having people come into my inbox and throw slurs at me because they dislike a topic, instead of blocking one of the many tags that I use especially so that people can block them or just straight up block my blog if they hate it that much that they have to send out hate

[earwaxinggibbous]

Eminem - Worst to Best

So I was watching theneedledrop and thinking I could do this too. That’s all the prefacing you’re gonna get.

I know it’s hard to believe I can judge Eminem from an objective standpoint considering I’m such a big fan that I ranked Kamikaze as my favorite hit song of 2018 (my actual favorite song was probably When You Die by MGMT or Stop Smoking by Car Seat Headrest for the record) but I am able, physically, to have negative opinions even about the rap god himself.

My only rule is that this only includes his full-length studio albums. Infinite won’t be here due to my lack of knowledge regarding it, but everything else is fair game. This will be heavily opinion-based.

Let’s go and start from the worst!

9. Revival (2017)

Initially I was gonna put Encore below this one. After all, in my opinion, there’s nothing egregiously awful about Revival in my mind. It just sort of existed to me, like that dead roach that stayed in my high school’s gym for over a month before disappearing without a word about it. 

It wasn’t until I gave a few of the tracks a re-listen that I realized Revival has nothing going for it. This is Em’s sellout album, the one where he collabs with Beyonce, Ed Sheeran and goddamn X Ambassadors in the vague hopes that it’d get him a hit. Songs that don’t bother having clever writing because all they need to do is slap a semi-important pop singer on the hook.

It’s easily Em’s most ballsless album. In a universe where Kill You and Same Song & Dance exist, there is no need for Framed, Em’s almost saddening attempt to return to his Slim Shady roots even though, let’s be honest, the years of Shady are long behind us.

I’m not saying I need Em yelling slurs and talking about murder every five seconds, I just want him to be, for lack of a better word, the most authentic version of himself he can be. And this really isn’t it to me. No amount of politics or wordplay can hide that this is a sham of what an Eminem album should sound like. I don’t need diss tracks, or songs about serial killing, I just want him to say what he wants and not hold back.

Everything about the album is weak and tired. Every song melds into one another, without thought or purpose, only broken up by the celebrity hooks that define them. It’s the blackest mark on Em’s discography, and easily his worst album to date. Not even worth sneezing at.

8. Encore (2004)

I guess we shouldn’t let Em do whatever he wants...

Encore has the opposite problem that Revival does, and it’s a problem I empathize with. Encore is essentially word vomit in album form. It’s the musical equivalent of Jack Kerouac’s spontaneous prose, loud and incoherent and kind of gross. It’s what happens when ambition goes unchecked, and Em just leans a little too far into what the media says about him.

This was also deep in the throes of Em’s drug abuse problem, and it shows. This album feels like a bad drug trip, sludgy and gross and heavy, in a way that makes it hard to move your arms and legs. With these absolutely god-awful sung choruses on songs like My First Single, Eminem dares you to make less sense than him as he rambles like a crazy person through song after song, only taking breaks from his half-attempts at comedy on tracks like Mosh, Like Toy Soldiers and Mockingbird, which try to be serious. But it’s hard to be serious when you’re essentially getting choked in a soup of valium and regret.

I don’t hate Encore like I do Revival, because in some ways I can understand where it comes from. It’s trying to do the same sort of thing its predecessors did, with silly songs and serious ones. But the funny songs are so weird and frankly gross that it quashes any attempt of seriousness. It’s like Eminem thought the only way to make his songs better were to take what his detractors hated about him and turn it up to 11. Songs like My First Single are complete nonsense complete with gut-churning sound effects and a shitty beat, whereas Just Lose It, a song I’m ashamed to admit I enjoy, fills itself with baseless offensiveness and weird reference humor to function. And that was the big hit single off of this album.

Really I think Just Lose It was the best way to sell this album. What says Encore more than a song insisting that Eminem diddles little boys? FACK would’ve been in place on this album, which is not a compliment.

7. Recovery (2010)

Recovery shares a lot of problems with Revival, a lot of radio-bait songs featuring pop artists that have no business being within ten feet of Eminem. But I’ll admit its singles were far superior to that of Revival. No Love was far superior to anything Revival spat out.

I just kinda don’t care about this album. Other than how Love The Way You Lie was permanently ingrained in the cultural consciousness around 2010, I have very few thoughts about it. I remember hearing most of the singles when I was in elementary school, and they were all just kinda fine. Space Bound was okay (other than that coked up line about love being ‘evil’ spelt backwards) and Not Afraid was sincerely underwhelming considering what it was going for.

It’d been diminishing returns for Em for years, so I’m not shocked he needed some time to get back on his feet. But there’s just not much to say about Recovery. I feel like Em was a lot prouder of it than anyone else.

6. Kamikaze (2018)

At some level, I feel like Kamikaze set itself up to fail. And it did pretty well in spite of that.

The album’s main selling point was that it was dissing everyone. Shady’s gonna name names, I remember hearing, as this album dropped right the fuck out of nowhere in the late summer of 2018. Diss track drama has never really been for me, since oftentimes it pits artists I like against one another over petty bullshit. And hearing that Em slammed people simply for disliking Revival only made me more nervous about what Kamikaze’s outcome would look like.

I’m glad to say it was not nearly as bad as I was expecting.

I’m sort of on the fence about this album. While I think it is punchy, and pretty fun lyrics-wise, it definitely doesn’t hold a candle to any of his older stuff. It doesn’t even really hold up against MMLP2. It’s less that I enjoy this album, and more that I enjoy the possibility of Eminem managing to pick himself up after Revival and move into the new age while still being himself.

Easily the worst moment on this album is Eminem calling Tyler the Creator the f-slur and even implying he’s pretending to be gay, which he has since apologized for. However, the scariest thing to me that the line represents is the possibility that Eminem’s personality is too anachronistic. That in an era of young-adult trap rappers with very experimental homemade beats, there’s no longer room for a famous, albeit angry man in his 40′s being backed by a studio. It’s the years of Soundcloud, where anyone can be a rapper, and someone as old and frankly polarizing as Eminem may never truly have the limelight again.

Em’s style has simply fallen behind the times and he will never be content with updating himself, because that isn’t who he is. And while I love that about him, I think it might speak disaster for his career.

I like the songs though.

5. The Marshall Mathers LP 2 (2013)

Now we’re getting into the good shit. The Marshall Mathers LP 2 starts off with a bang, the first song being Bad Guy, a direct sequel to Stan and an incredibly powerful sequel at that. Eminem asks questions about his fame, his identity, and most notably, he fucking gets murdered at the beginning of this album.

MMLP2 strips off all but one skit. No Paul Rosenberg cameo on this one. This was him getting serious after the relative failure of Encore and Relapse. This was, frankly, what Recovery should’ve sound like. With Berzerk being a fun sort of party hit, Rap God is what really got him back on the map. The song asserts his lyrical dominance. It is a brag track, and it earns that right.

Despite it being of incredibly high quality, this is nowhere near Em’s best work, which speaks highly for his track record. The fact that something this well-made is comparatively mediocre when put next to the top four is incredible to me. This album is more of a revival than Revival was. It’s Eminem reaching out of the dirt after being buried and yelling “Hey, I’m not dead yet!” It’s the hearbeat running through a comatose body as they return to consciousness.

But when it comes down to it, I love what this album represents to me more than its content. Aside from Berzerk, Bad Guy and Rap God, none of the songs really stand out either way. It’s all good, of course, but none of it can match up to his older work. Regardless, this album means a lot to me on a spiritual level. Whenever I listen to this I feel like a proud parent, and Em is my son who just completely crushed his elementary school talent show.

It’s a good feeling.

4. Relapse (2009)

At this point it was sort of like picking my favorite child. My number one is obvious, but deciding how to order these three was trouble.

People will probably argue with me saying that Relapse is one of Em’s best, but fuck that. This album is severely underrated among the fanbase, and is an incredibly powerful listen. This album is an auditory representation of rock bottom, in the best way possible.

This is one of the only albums to really define a split between Marshall and Slim Shady, with Slim being a deep-voiced demon and Marshall being a fucked-up middle-aged man who just came staggering out of a rehab center. The way the characters play off of one another is beautiful, Slim trying to manipulate Marshall into his ways and wiles. This also easily has the most horrorcore-type sound and content out of any Eminem album, with Slim occasionally playing the role of a serial killer, such as on 3 am or one of the standout tracks, Same Song & Dance. Insane tells a story possibly regarding Slim’s father, or maybe representative of something else entirely.

One of my few issues with this album, aside from We Made You of all things being one of the singles, is that one of the best tracks is only on the deluxe edition. My Darling ties off the Slim and Marshall story in a nice little bow, plus Careful What You Wish For sweeping up all the themes and putting them in one place.

This album is beautiful, it’s cinematic in a way. It’s deep and powerful and incredibly, incredibly scary, with Em at his lowest point in his life and career. Sadly, it was not well-received critically, which I think is a shame. Clearly they weren’t seeing what I see.

3. The Eminem Show (2002)

Screw Revival, this is easily Em’s most politically powerful album yet. I listened to this whole thing on a boombox I got at Best Buy for 20 dollars and I felt like I had fucking transcended.

This album pulls out all the stops, immediately starting out on White America, a song so goddamn strong that every time little me heard it on the radio I immediately got down and lost my shit. I didn’t even understand what it was about, all I knew was that it was big and important. And it is.

While his first two big albums tried to be weird and threatening, The Eminem Show just wanted to be big, and talk about big things. Eminem fearlessly tears into heavily-charged concepts in White America, Say Goodbye Hollywood and Square Dance. Then on the flipside he aims the gun at himself on tracks like My Dad’s Gone Crazy, Cleanin’ Out My Closet and even Hailie’s Song. It’s a gut-punch of an album, this is where Eminem is truly fearless.

I’ll also say I feel this album is a little bit more accessible, weirdly enough, than Em’s earlier stuff. It’s much less crude and aggressive, but still carries his trademark style. It’s got the skits, he yells a lot still, but the topics are easier to swallow than his earlier albums. I’d say it’s a good entry-level Eminem album if you’re threatened by rape jokes and Em yelling the f-slur constantly. And unlike what Teens of Denial was for Car Seat Headrest, I feel like The Eminem Show manages to be that entry-level album without completely castrating Eminem’s lyrical content.

But even longtime fans can gain enjoyment from this album and how loud and proud it is, how fearless Eminem really is on this album. This one, more than anything, is the unfiltered Marshall Mathers experience. No filters, no jokes, just him and his daughter and Dr. Dre.

But easily the best part of this album is the DVD extras thing where you get a free episode of the Slim Shady Show. Fuck yeah.

2. The Slim Shady LP (1999)

The Slim Shady LP was Eminem’s first really successful work. It was also the first thing he ever put on a CD. Yeah, Infinite was on cassette only. And this album is fucking great. It’s a perfect debut for Eminem. It’s got his first big hit, My Name Is, and a myriad of other great tracks. It’s just good late 90′s rap, with fun beats and interesting lyrics. As much as I love SSLP, I don’t really like talking about it because... yeah, it’s good, I’m just never sure what else to say.

And that might make it sound like I like it less than The Eminem Show, but no, that’s not it. As much as I think political Em is great, I’ll forever prefer nasty rat boy Em any day. This is the Em that inspires me the most, the grody, crude one that reminds me of myself. Best tracks include 97 Bonnie and Clyde, Bad Meets Evil and of course My Name Is. This is also the only album where Ken Kaniff is played by Aristotle. There’s your fun fact for the day.

1. The Marshall Mathers LP (2000)

FUCK everyone else, I respect YOU!

The Marshall Mathers LP is a defining rap album. It’s lyrical perfection, the hooks are god-tier, and it is without contest the best Eminem album of all time. I doubt he’ll ever top this, and if he does it’ll probably break space-time. 

MMLP ticks all the boxes an Eminem album usually should. It’s quirky, it’s comedic, it’s dark, it’s angry, it’s violent, it’s everything I could want and more. But beyond that, it’s the thing that really proved what Eminem can do. He can tell stories, he can do lyrics, he can flow, he has good beats, he can murder his ex-girlfriend, he can get his own songs censored on the uncensored version of his album, he can do it all.

The songs on this just put me in a good mood. Even though they’re horrible, and I don’t mean they’re bad songs. The content is absolutely fucked, this album is not for the faint of heart. But it makes me feel represented, not for being gay, trans, mentally ill or short, but for being a fucked-up weirdo who lived a fucked-up life and just wants to scream and lose his shit. More than anything, this feels like an album that’s there for me, for better or for worse.

The standouts on this album in my opinion are the two “named” tracks, Kim and Stan. These tracks are incredibly disturbing, but they both mean a lot to me and are incredibly written and acted. The Real Slim Shady is still an amazing single with an awesome, hopping beat. I’m Back is incredibly solid, Criminal is cleverly contradictory, every track on this album is great without any misses. If there were enough words in the English language to describe how much I love this album, I’d probably use all of them.

This album couldn’t exist today. If this came out today, it’d probably be thrown to the wayside for a myriad of reasons. It’s too late 90′s, it’s too dark, it’s “problematic”, we have like 500 white rappers now, but for the record: Anyone who writes this kind of music today owes it to Eminem, ESPECIALLY all of the white rappers who insist they’re better than him. (Looking at you, MGK.) Even if he’s not doing that great now, even if you don’t like him, it’d be foolish to not acknowledge what MMLP did for rap. And not only was it influential, but it still holds up to this very day.

So there you have it. All of Eminem’s full albums (besides Infinite oopsies) listed from worst to best. Have any differing opinions? Leave a reply. Just be polite, you filthy animal.