#i ask questions about what we are doing and what i need to do and what needs to be done and sometimes i need specific instructions

[batmanisagatewaydrug]

Hi sex witch! I’m a cis woman in my early 20s and I recently got into a relationship with my boyfriend who is a cis man around the same age. Neither of us really had any experience before we got together and we haven’t had sex yet but we do both want to. How much pain can I realistically expect from the first time? I feel like I need to be prepared but I’m struggling to find information that isn’t either overly romanticized or extremely anxiety-inducing. I hope that’s an OK question to ask, I really just don’t know who to go to with it. Thanks!

hi anon,

so, assuming you're referring to penetrative penis-in-vagina sex, the answer is "I have no idea and it varies enormously from person to person." some people find it unbearably painful and some people find it slides right in no problem; the most common experience is somewhere between those two points.

having said that, people who have some practice tend to have an easier time - people who use tampons, people who have already been masturbating by putting fingers or toys inside of their vagina. I often compare penetrative sex to running marathons or other forms of exercise, and you will find that people who have some prior experience running do tend to fare better when it comes to marathons.

my point being, if you're worried about painful penetration with a partner then it's time to start fingering yourself asap, if you're not already. teaches your body about the sensation of being penetrated, shows you what you like, and helps you find your boundaries - there's no downsides!

[sturniolosblanket]

texts w/ brothers bsf!matt + drabble

pt. 6

your blood was boiling. your weren’t exactly expecting to be greeted with matt making out with someone else the moment you walk into the party. it was like something in you snapped. you felt used, betrayed, pissed. you knew you and matt could never become something, but your feelings for him were so strong that it swallowed the fact that he’s your brothers best friend. it took you a long time to realize your feelings for matt, but when you came to the realization that you might be in love with him. it scared you more than the man himself.

you searched for matt’s car and himself in the huge line of cars covering the sidewalk. you finally end up spotting matt leaning against the passenger side door looking directly at you.

“what do you want?” you ask rolling your eyes trying to avoid eye contact.

“please don’t give me attitude baby.” he said frowning and tilting his head

“are you gonna cry about it??” you take a step back from him

“no,” he paused “maybe.” he said smiling at you

“are you gonna keep joking around or talk?” you said crossing your arms

“y/n, im so sorry you had to see me with that girl, i promise i don’t want her, she threw herself at me and i stupidly didn’t stop her.” Matt said taking a step toward you.

“good for you?”

“y/n it feels so wrong touching other girls, your literally the only person i want to touch”

“okay.” you responded flatly shrugging

“your a pain in the ass you know that?” he said shaking his head

“your not exactly the delight either, matt.” the silence after you said that was thick. both of you clearly frustrated, but your mind goes back to your messages.

“how do you feel?” you asked straight up

“what?”

“you said i can’t see how you obviously feel. so, how do you feel?” you repeat your question

matt sighs shaking his head moving back to lean against his car. “your my best friends little sister.” he spoke

“so i noticed.”

“Nathan would kill me if he knew I was fucking you, and yet I don’t stop. Why?”

“because your a horny fuck?” you replied chuckling to yourself

“Everyday for the past 4 months I risk losing my best friend to see his little sister.”

“matt stop fucking narrating your daily actions just answer the fucking question god damn.”

“I am obviously in love with you, y/n” he said looking dead in your eyes.

your stomach completely flipped. shocked, happy, excited, nervous. various emotions flowing through your body, searching for a response, but when you couldn’t find words. you and matt stare at each other in silence both still soaking up the words and meaning of his confession. you feel so relieved, relieved he feels the same, relieved you don’t have to hide your feelings from him or yourself anymore.

when you don’t respond to him right away he goes into a state of panic, thinking he needed to explain himself further, and words just start spilling out.

“princess, when i slept with someone else, it was to try and stop my feelings for you because the truth is, i’ve never ever felt this way for anyone else before, ever, and it’s scary as fuck. your the only person i think about, look for, want to talk to, and im just so scared of getting hurt that i hurt you in the process, and im so sorry for that. ill literally do anything or block anyone to gain your trust back.”

your face turns red at his confessions, and you feel your cheeks turning a shade of pink. you feel a rush of happiness flow through you as you jump up into his arms, and all matt can do is sigh in relief and hug you back. you hug him as tightly as you can. you never knew a hug could be so emotion filled, but somehow, it confesses a lot more than your words could.

“i love you too, matt” you said into his chest. “but, nate..” you said looking up at him.

“i know, princess” he said looking down at you “we can always just be together, and just not tell him.” matt said smirking

“that feels so wrong” you said putting your forehead against his chest

“i know, but not being around you feels worse.” matt said, his fingers snaking up into your hair

“can’t we just keep sneaking around and having sex, but not put a label on it?”

“of course we can, but would we eventually end up being together?” he asked

“yes.” you said stepping onto your tippy toes to give him a quick peck, “ of course.” you smiled up at him, “once you prove yourself trustworthy again.”

“yes ma’am.” matt said, his other hand snaking around your waist to pulling you into another kiss.

“i know it’s going to take a lot for you to trust me again, but i promise i’ll make it up to you.” he said after pulling away, looking into your eyes. you can tell he’s being genuine, that he’s not lying. so all you can do is smile at him and pull him into another kiss.

“i told you.” you said pulling away and looking at him with a big smile on your face

“told me what?” he said furrowing his eyebrows

“you went soft on me.” you said grin widening. a smile slowly forms on his face, he shakes his head slightly in disbelief as he presses his lips to yours.

a/n: SURPRISE!! i finished my work and felt a little devious. also yall, this ain’t the end, i want them to get caught by nate at some point so stay tuned reinassss!! comment ‘❄️’ to be added to taglist!🩵

taglist: @matteatmeout @littlefreak-liz @mattsplaything @kayla-hearts4sturniolo @isasflorals @harls-sturn @h3arts4harry @rcklessheavn @chrissysturnzz @rafesapprentice @mattysketchup @imobsessedwithtaylorswift @emely9274 @trvqvoiisee @heartsforsturniolo567 @rafecameronsbitch @annsx03 @slutmattout @trevorsturniolo @h3arts4nat @beersangel @sturniolosluttt @sturnzpro @slutmattout @rainebow333 @bigcoke69420 @nmegamett20 @ivysturnss @quirklessliap @rain-likes-purple @shadowthesim @julisturn @chrissturniolossidebitch @slut4chris888 @edwardscoldhands @freshsturniolo346 @nervoussagittarius @sturniolosfr3shl0v3 @ilovechrissturniolooooo @starstrucktyrantinfluencer @secret-sturniolo @viktorssugardaddy @ikyoudreamofme @not-sinai @alyssa-sturn @ribread03 @bellassturniolo @bambisribbon @mrs-riddlexo

dividers by: @bernardsbendystraws

[cinnamanz]

# ONLY ON CAMERA — chapter forty-six!

when katseye's main dancer daniela avanzini accidentally throws shade at chart-topping singer y/n l/n on an interview, the internet erupts in chaos. with y/n already in hot waters with the press over her latest scandal, both their pr teams scramble for damage control. the solution? a 'picture-perfect' fake relationship to turn the headlines in their favor.

wc: 774

CASUAL

Y/N DIDN’T WANT TO BEAT AROUND THE BUSH THIS TIME, so as soon as daniela had let herself in the house with the spare keys y/n had given her, her voice cut through the air, sharp. “what are we, daniela?”

the question froze her mid-step. when she’d agreed to coming over y/n’s and talking about god knows what, this wasn’t what she had in mind. she looked up, meeting y/n’s eyes—wide, uncertain, and brimming with something that made her chest tighten.

“what do you mean?” daniela asked, her voice quieter, cautious.

“don’t play dumb,” y/n said, crossing her arms as she stood in the middle of the room. “you come here, you stay, you kiss me like i’m the only person in the world, and then… you leave, like it’s nothing. so, tell me. what are we? ‘cause i’m- i’m done with whatever this is.”

daniela sighed, running a hand over her face. “y/n, i don’t know. we’re… friends.”

y/n blinked, the words hitting her like a punch to the chest. “friends?” she repeated, her tone laced with disbelief.

daniela’s shoulders tensed. “i don’t want anything exclusive right now. i just—i just got out of that mess with him. i can’t handle another relationship.” her brows furrowed as she shifted in her spot, pacing around the living room. “i thought we were on the same page.”

“the same page?” y/n’s voice broke slightly, her frustration bubbling to the surface. “daniela, this doesn’t feel like ‘just friends.’ i’ve been here, letting you into my life, my heart, and you—” she cut herself off, swallowing the lump in her throat. “you’ve been here, too. don’t tell me this doesn’t mean something to you.”

daniela stopped pacing, turning to face y/n with a sharpness that caught her off guard. “of course it means something. but i can’t—i won’t—jump into something serious again. not after him. i just wanted this to be casual, to feel… free for once.”

“you’re here every time, daniela. every time you need comfort, every time you want to forget. is this really what this is to you? something casual? a distraction? something to pass the time while you figure yourself out?” y/n shot back, her voice rising. 

daniela’s jaw clenched, her eyes flashing. “that’s not fair.”

“isn’t it?” y/n took a step closer, her chest heaving. “because that’s exactly what it feels like. like i’m just here to fill the gap he left, like i’m not enough for you to want more.”

“don’t do this,” daniela muttered, looking anywhere but at y/n.

“no,” y/n said, her voice rising, the anger bubbling to the surface now. “then give me the truth!” y/n’s voice broke on the last word, frustration toppling over. “because i can’t keep doing this—letting you in, letting myself fall, just for you to pull back the second it gets too real. you don’t get to make me feel like this, and then just brush it off like it’s nothing.”

daniela’s head snapped up, her own frustration boiling over. “you think this is easy for me?” she snapped, her voice shaking. “you think I don’t care? i do! but i told you—i can’t do this right now. i can’t be what you want me to be.”

“then why are you still here?” y/n whispered, the pain in her voice cutting through daniela like a knife.

“because i don’t know how to let you go,” daniela admitted, her voice cracking. the words fell heavy between them, her own vulnerability raw and exposed.

“that’s not enough,” y/n said, shaking her head, jaw set in a tight clench as she inhaled sharply, running a hand through her hair as she screwed her eyes shut, unwilling to look at the other woman. 

daniela stared at her, the words lodging in her throat, suffocating her. “y/n, i—”

“just go,” y/n interrupted, her voice low and trembling, a finality in her tone that made daniela’s chest ache.

“please, don’t—”

“go,” y/n said again, louder this time, though strained as if it hurt her to utter the words. it did, in a way.

daniela hesitated, her own emotions clawing at her throat, but she didn’t know how to fix this. didn’t know if she could. so turned around with clenched fists, movements stiff and hurried, and stormed out the door, leaving y/n standing in the middle of the living room.

y/n didn’t chase after her, didn’t call out. she just sank onto the couch, a deep, exasperated sigh leaving her parted lips as she turned on her phone.

masterlist 🎸⋆⭒˚.⋆ next

well well well

taglist : @meganskiendielsbtc @rosiehrs @artrizzler19 @goofymickeyr @sunshinez4 @urmom2314 @meizinisnumberone @yeetaberry127 @xochitlisbest @ssamlovr @saysirhc @nyssalvr @ninguitar @kristalag @1luvkarina @idleyuri @kathleenmikaelson @sed7ction @hazel-tanthamore22 @yazzyminny @vrtualstar @meiphobic @cassiespoiler @yjiminswallet @gtfoiydlyj @taikabui @cceanvvaves @c-yerim @waitsobs @firstclassjaylee @bowforgodjihyo @thepurin @chaepu @bandaidss320 @manonsmartini @haerinkisser @esccecvp @blushmimi TAGLIST CLOSED!

[lonelyroommp3]

originally put this in the tags and realised it made a massive unreadable block of text sooo putting it in the body instead

i also think it is very very helpful - especially with things like denser political/economic/scientific articles - to see if you are able to neutrally paraphrase the content into your own words (your OWN words!! not feeding it into chatgpt etc!! the work of doing this is the entire point). you want to check if you are able to answer basic questions based entirely on facts provided within the body of what you are reading, with minimal inference/filling in gaps/jumping to worst (or best) case scenarios.

the best questions to ask deal with those fundamental question words we all deal with in primary/elementary school

what: what is happening? what has been discovered or proven?

when: when was the article published? (<- arguably the most important question; check you're not reposting content from, for example, the previous trump presidency as if it's current news). when did the events being described happen, or when are they planned to happen?

where: where is it happening? (in particular, check that you are not falling victim to phenomena like us-centricism here. e.g. it's wild that i have to say this but seeing as it's a real mix up that's happened on here, if an article mentions "georgia", are they talking about the country or the state?)

who: who is making it happen? who are they working with? who are they working against? who are these people in a broader context (e.g. if a government official is mentioned, can you identify what branch of government they work for? if a scientist, economist, businessperson, etc, is mentioned, do you know what company/institution they're affiliated with and what their specialty or industry is?)

why: why is a politician (in their own words) enacting a specific policy? why is this economic phenomenon happening?

how: how is this policy going to be enforced? how did scientists make this discovery?

and some bonus what questions: (in the case of e.g. government policy) what barriers might they face towards enacting this? what are some potential (realistic/tangible/short or medium term - this is not the place for long term catastrophising) consequences if it does/does not come to pass?

if you are unable to answer these questions (or you just can't be arsed - happens to us all sometimes) you have two options: don't repost the content at all, or repeat the process finding additional sources that fill in the gaps you were unable to answer the first time round. because either you don't understand key fundamental factual aspects of what the original was trying to say, OR the source itself is too vague/biased/unreliable/uninformative to be used as a worthwhile source of news in its own right.

it should go without saying that this goes hand in hand with op's original points about checking for bias, credibility, etc - you may be able to answer all of these questions based on a single article but the "facts" presented to you therein could still very well be total bullshit. but i see so many examples on here of people reposting articles where it's very clear they have skimmed it and filled in what they think it is saying, so i think it's very important to not just check how reliable & trustworthy your news is, but also to make sure you actually understand it before you share it any further.

it's completely okay to not understand things on your own, but sharing - and unquestioningly believing - things you don't fully comprehend based on what you kind of think is going on (especially if you append some sort of fear-mongering summary based on the worst case scenario you could possibly glean from the headline or a brief skim or an explainer from your favourite generative AI model) is a very common way not only for misinformation and panic to permeate, but also for propaganda to sink its teeth into you.

(p.s. you don't need to actually write down and paraphrase every single news article you read - just asking the questions in your head can be enough and it becomes a pretty much automatic process once you've had enough practice at it - but if you're really struggling with a particular article writing it down like it's a proper school worksheet can be helpful. yes, it's extra work, but combating the spread of misinformation is worth that work.)

Not perfect and not always right but basically:

Is it a screen shot?

Is there a link?

Did you click/read the link?

Was it a real source (AP wire, local news, the original online post - not Fox, not the Sun, not NY Post, etc)?

Did you find any confirmation?

Did it strongly confirm a bias or suspicion?

Did it make you feel angry, smug, disgusted, superior, and/or helpless?

Is it important enough to you that you think it needs to be shared?

Do you have the energy, time, ability to research, confirm, and provide sources, links, and some additional clarifying details?

Generally I have this in mind, not necessarily always and not always observed, and I forget and blah blah. But it's a pretty simple guide to remember, and honestly items 1 and 9 cover me most of the time.

[cherrysolo]

I knew it, I know you.

yall have asked for a longer fic of this request, so here you go <3 instances where the reader comforts lu because of his back pain.

warnings: a wee bit of smut maybe angst too

you had been dating luigi for a couple of years now, you knew him better than anyone else. you knew all of his behaviours, every time he was frustrated and had a pout on his face, or when he would use his hands to talk during arguments. you could read him like a book, which was handy when he didn’t want to communicate. especially after having a rough time with back pain and surgery complications, you wanted to be the best partner you could be.

for instance, you guys were hiking together in hawaii, and halfway through the hike you could tell the mood completely changed. every couple of steps, lu would kind of stretch his back, or even let out a groan. it was obvious he was struggling, “baby is everything okay?” you questioned quietly, not sure how to approach this. “all good,” giving you a shy smile. you could tell he was in pain, but trying to pull through. you guys have been wanting to do this trail for months but never found time, until today. “why don’t we just go home and rest, it’s getting kind of hot out here anyways,” you suggest trying not to pry. you were already breaking a sweat and luigi was shirtless, so maybe this was a good excuse to leave. you wanted to take care of him but not baby him either. “but we made it this far, why give up now?” he snaps back. “yeah, but you’re in pain, let’s go, if we don’t stop now you’ll regret it later,” you snap right back because you want him to take care of himself, and sometimes that includes rest. “I’ll be fine,” you give him a look, raising your eyebrows. “fine, let’s go, it won’t change anything though,” he sighs grabbing your hand to walk back to the car. “I know you’re pissed at me lu, but you need to take care of yourself. I worry about you,” pleading with him to understand your side. he squeezes your hand, knowing that he does care what you say. “thank you, baby, I know you care, sometimes I do push myself too much,” he leans over to kiss your forehead. you two end up cuddling on the couch for the rest of the evening, sometimes rest is not a bad thing.

another time is when you two are intimate, it can complicate how a night can play out. communication is everything to you guys when you’re together. sometimes you could tell instantly from the way luigi moves or his face twitches that his back is starting to bother him. you always motion for him to lay back and you take charge. straddling him and grinding your hips onto him. “hmmm why don’t I take care of you lu?” you smirk down to him. lowering yourself onto him, he groans out as if it’s a sense of relief. his hands immediately fall onto your hips, gripping onto you as you bounce up and down. “you’re such a good girl, taking care of me like this,” he’d moan out. attacking your neck with kisses, pleasure taking over the room. as you guys both reach your peak, a sense of gratitude fills luigi’s heart. even though you’re showing love (literally) switching up positions or doing things for lu’s comfort makes his heart swell.

the most common thing is showing small gestures of pda. if it’s small back rubs in public, lingering kisses of comfort, or just simple whispers of “are you okay?”. you’d hug lu from behind, and ask him how his back is feeling, if he needed any ibuprofen, or wanted to go home. you were scared of overbearing him, but your affection and worry made him feel loved. he loved the way you always looked out for him even in simple situations. after a long night out, or a workout that didn’t help, you’d give him a massage or cuddle with him to relax. it was just the little gestures that meant the most. you just wanted him to be happy and healthy, without the worry of his back pain.

[sayangrafayel]

Friend I am in need and am going to make a request. I need to get a cavity filled tomorrow so if you ever have time could you write the LaDS men reaction to a reader with needle/dental phobia (mostly needle I guess). Anything like which of them would hold your hand through it and which ones would make fun (if any cause i can'timagine they would which is why i could use the support haha). Currently freaking the fuck out 🙃

Sorry if you're not taking asks rn! And no worries if you don't want to do it 💙

Ask and you shall receive! Reader is afraid of needles (and you can see it as a dental work too even though I use arm)!

How would they react if you have a needle phobia?

Who's gonna hold your hand or maybe try to distract you? Or maybe joke around with you just so you wouldn't think about the process?

Sylus, Xavier, Rafayel, Zayne, Caleb.

Sylus

This man hates seeing you in any kind of pain.

Oh you think he would distract you alone? Wrong. He's bringing in your twins and Mephie to help him. He knows how much you love them.

This scene from Brooklyn 99 where Captain Holt and Terry dance to distract Amy? That's them. He would personally sing the song too. You'd be so confused seeing him like that, you wouldn't even notice the needle.

Xavier

He will hold your hand without any questions.

He wonders though, you are such a badass hunter but why is it you're afraid of needles.. but he understands how phobia works, so he doesn't mind at all.

Distracts you by putting on a little light show for you, making you your favorite kind of animal with his evol and makes it jump around his head and your other arm so you'd focus on that.

Rafayel

At first, he thought you were joking when you told him you're scared of the doctor appointment because of needles.

He'll realize you were in fact not joking when you were holding his hand so tightly his fingers felt numb. "Ouchie! My hand! Okay oka-"

He'd bring one of your favorite plushies that you caught together. To distract you, he'd say "Hey, remember how hard it was for us to get this little guy? We should go again after this, the other version of this plush is out today!"

Zayne

As a doctor, he knows how serious it is for you. No matter how many times you went through this process, he will always take your phobia seriously.

"Let me do it, Nurse." and then you'd ease up because he'd done it many times without barely any pain. You trust him so much, you just stare at his features and adore how seriously he's taking this.

If he can't do it himself, he'll distract you by making little snowballs seals with his evol. Or making the flower you love, again, with his evol. The coldness of his evol would distract you from the pain in your other arm.

Caleb

This big puppy. You'd think HE'S the one with a needle phobia.

He wished he could take your place instead because he'd love to take any kind of pain if it means you don't have to feel any.

"You can do this, love!" Of course he would hold your hand close to his face and stare at you with his puppy eyes. "After this, I'll cook one of your favorites! Or we can go out and get ice cream, yeah? It will be over soon, I promise." And what else can you do other than trusting your beloved?

[celestialgalaxyglow]

Batfam and Danny, Part 9

At the Justice League Watchtower.

Diana: Good morning everyone and thank you for coming to this pronto meeting. I known we all have busy schedules so I'll make this quick. Bruce, Clark, and I have been investigating an operation by Lex Luthor. He has been moving round large amounts of radioactive material to a secret lab in the Sahara Desert, we currently do not know what he is planning but last night the radioactivity around the base spiked. We believe that there was some leak of the radioactive materials and we need a plan to contain it.

J'ohn: Are there any civilians in the region?

Clark: No, the lab is far out into the desert. The closest town is a small village with a population of about 1000 people an hour and a half away.

Hal: I could but up a temporary shield around the lab and try to contain the radiation as much as possible.

Bruce: That would be a good start.

Arthur: This is concerning, how can I help?

Diana: There is another shipment currently on a Lexcorp boat heading towards a port in Algiers we need you to stop it.

Bruce: Oliver, you will help Arthur take control of the ship.

Oliver: Got it.

Diana: Barry, while we believe the town and its residents will be safe, we'd like to keep you on stand by just in case.

Barry: Yes ma'am!

Diana: That's all from us. Now that we are together we should start making a solid plan, we start this operation 10pm, local time in Algeria. That gives us 8 hours to prepare. Any questions?

Oliver: Just one question, who's Bruce's new kid?

Everyone turned to look at Danny.

Danny: Hi!

Bruce: This is Danny, alias Phantom, he's Jason's kid... and my grandson.

Barry (laughing): Congratulations Bruce, you're a thirty-one-year-old grandfather.

Arthur: Is he helping us with the operation?

Diana: Yes, Danny is half-ghost and immune to radiation, he'll be helpful if the radiation levels are higher than we expect.

J'onn: You have a quite mind young one.

Danny: If I let you read my thoughts there's a fifty-fifty chance your brain may get scrambled.

J'onn: I see...

Billy: I'm here! Sorry I'm late, just had to finish something before I could leave- Billy looked around the room till he saw Danny. He jumped back and covered his ears.

Clark: You ok there Billy?

Billy: Who is that kid?

Danny: I'm Bruce's grandson.

Billy: ...

Clark: Why?

J'ohn: The gods in Billy's mind all just screamed bloody murder and told him that under no circumstances, should he make Danny mad.

Everyone looked at Danny but before anyone could ask question Constantine walked in.

Constantine: You known if you're going to call a random meeting at least give us more than 3 hours to get ready- Constantine froze when he saw Danny. Shit...

Danny (grinning): Constantine!

Bruce: You two know each other?

Danny: Yes, he's the fool that sold his sold his soul to a hundred separate demons who are all now petition me to decide who actually owns his soul.

Constantine: ...

Hal: Why would they petition you?

Danny: I'm their king.

JL: What!?

Danny: And another thing Constantine, come over here. A green light encircled Constantine throwing him across the room, placing down in a chair next to Danny. You didn't pay your taxes for the last tax season.

Constantine: I- your majesty, I'm not a citizen of the Infinite Realms.

Danny: Actually you are! Danny summoned a scroll. According to section 8, subsection 45, clause B of the Infinite Realms Citizenship and Nationality Status Governing Deaths, Resurrections, and All Other Avoidances of Death Act, also known as the IRCNSGDRAOADA, due to your soul being more than 80% owned by citizens of the Infinite Realms, you too are a citizen of the Infinite Realms, and thus have to pay taxes.

Constantine: I-

Danny: You owe the Crown, aka me, $25,000.

Constantine (nervous): Would your majesty be so kind as to wave my taxes for this year, given I did not know I had to pay?

Danny: I'll give you... 120 days to come up with the money, if not I'll send the tax collectors after you.

Constantine (terrified): You- you're too kind your majesty. Constantine picked up a folder from the table. I'll just read the report... I- got to go. Constantine left the room.

Bruce (tired): Danny...

Danny: I was joking, I'll wave the his missing taxes.

Hal: Why is he so scared of tax collectors?

Danny: The tax collectors in the Infinite Realms are not just nerds with suitcases, they are nerds with suitcases that also carry paintball guns.

J'onn: Paintball guns?

Danny: The paint will never come off till you pay your taxes.

Berry: That sounds so fun!

Arthur: I'm happy to have another king on the team. Finally I have some to talk to about the duties of ruling.

Danny: Tell me about it, for some reason, people can't just do as their told.

Arthur (crying): You understand me my pain.

Clark: Where does your family find these children?

Bruce: We don't find them, they find us!

Diana: As fun as this whole conversation is we do need to prepare for the mission. Let's get to work.

JL: Yes ma'am!

(Master Post)

[bee-whistler]

I submit as evidence my oldest daughter. Now, all my kids are good, but Doodle always had an extra affinity for kindness. She was so affable that my shy self would have her ask questions for me sometimes. She has Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome and MCAS which limit what she can do currently as we look for better treatment options, and she’s got a smart mouth sometimes (lol), but she’s still wonderful.

When she was little, all I had to do at the playground was whisper, “That kid doesn’t have anyone to play with,” and her natural, untrained and unprompted response was to charge straight over and get the kid to play with her and any kids she’d already gathered. Seriously, I didn’t teach her that. I just didn’t fight it. And we’d bring enough sand toys for all of them. We sometimes had to tell parents we had brought enough to share, all they had to do was ask, because they’d stop their kids from “taking” her toys.

She was bullied in middle school but still managed in high school to gather a group of characters and misfits who are friends to this day (she’s 27). She’s ace but has been mistaken for lesbian because she hugs everyone she loves and jokingly calls the girls in her friend group her wives. And she’s the “mom��� friend, scolding them if they don’t take their meds, coming to me if any needs a ride somewhere or to get out of a tense family situation for a while, or has been sleeping on a folding cot instead of a mattress.

She thanks every cashier and server because she knows they work hard. She once comforted a Dollar Tree cashier after someone bawled her out for no reason.

The first time we took our little cat to the vet, there was an older lady there with a big dog. The staff came out and painstakingly took the dog back… accent on the pain. It had been attacked by unleashed neighbor dogs and there was blood where it had been laying! Once the dog was getting treatment, we heard the woman softly crying. My daughter couldn’t take it anymore and proceeded to talk to her until she got word that the dog was going to make it.

So yeah, Doodle is my proof that people are naturally inclined to be good. Even with the negatives in her life, she has managed to still be the person she was from the time she was small. We just have to try not to crush that beauty in a kid and it will bloom wherever you let it.

Also I recommend this:

Her channel is about positive stories entirely. A lot are animal stories.

“People are inherently terrible” no!!! Have you ever seen a child wait for their friend while they tie their shoelaces? Have you ever known someone who would bring hurt squirrels and rabbits and mice to the nearest vet just so it doesn’t suffer? Have you seen someone grieve? Have you ever read something that hit your heart like a freight train? Have you looked at the stars and felt an unexplainable joy? Have you ever baked bread? Have you shared a meal with a friend? Have you not seen it? All the love? All the good? I know it’s hard to see sometimes, I know there’s pain everywhere. But look, there’s a child helping another up after a hard fall. Look, there’s someone giving their umbrella to a stranger. Look, there’s someone admiring the spring flowers. Look, there’s good, there’s good, there’s good. Look!!!!

[trippinsorrows]

trials of love + one

authors note: how does that saying go? we listen, and we don't judge? well, let's apply that to ari, please. 😭😭😭

one of two maybe? probably. hopefully.

this is a beauty and the beast retelling hands down.

warnings: a tiny bit of fluff, tiny bit of smut, and a hell of a lot of angst

words: 3.5k

song inspo: evermore by josh groban

gif belongs to the wonderfully talented @dejameflorecer

Solana is anxiously chewing down on her bottom lip the moment she hears the front door open and guards greet the man she’s been waiting on all day. Longer than that, but for this particular thing, it’s been just the past few hours. 

Hours she’s spent slaving over the stove, preparing various dishes, doing her absolute best to make sure they’re up to par for Roman’s standards. Wanting, needing to make sure everything is just right, because there’s a small part of her hoping they can actually sit down and have dinner together. Something that’s yet to happen since they wed. 

And, it’s less about sharing a meal together, and more about just talking. They’ve barely done as such since that night, and she has so many questions, and remains just so confused regarding just what happened that night. What changed so drastically between the moment she fell asleep, his arms around her, her head on his chest, and when she awoke the following morning to an empty bed and a voicemail message from Roman’s chief advisor, Paul Heyman, simply stating: “The Tribal Chief has business out of town to attend to. He shall return in a few days.”

Just thinking back on it has her clearing her throat, needing a distraction to avoid trickling back into that dark space.

Looking over her outfit once more, an outfit she took an hour to settle on, she uses one of the pots to check her reflection. She’s never really been that great with makeup—that was always Isabella's thing—but she tried. 

A common theme for her lately.

Trying.

It’s all she really has at this point. She turns the knob on all the burners, allowing the food to simmer versus continuing to heat up when the footsteps become louder. Louder and closer, and then finally, he’s here.

Solana finds herself momentarily distracted. 

Roman is easily one of the most beautiful men she’s ever come across. Tall, broad shouldered, body sculpted by Zeus himself, piercing brown eyes that feel like they’re peeking into her soul, and beautiful, silky black hair he seems to prefer pulled back and out of the way. A true masterpiece of a man. 

If only that beauty extended beyond appearance.

She clears her throat and holds her hands behind her back. “H–hi.” Roman’s gaze is neutral, borderline uninterested. Somehow, it doesn’t deter her. “I—I made dinner.”

To be fair, she’s made dinner every night since the day they said “I do.” And most nights, the food has gone cold given Roman’s return time varies from day to day. When he does return home, that is.

His expression is unchanging. “Okay.” To say she’s disappointed by his indifferent response is an understatement, even if she shouldn’t be. She shouldn’t, because this man has been everything but existed or uninterested from the moment they met only two months ago. Outside of that night. “Not hungry.”

Her shoulders drop at the same moment her throat starts to feel heavy. “But, I—I made all this—” Solana gestures around the kitchen to the various meals she’s prepared and slaved over since early this morning. “I did all this for—”

“Did I ask you to?’ Is his harsh reply, the cruelty of his tone crushing to her prior hope. Hope that maybe, somehow, tonight would be different. That he wouldn’t be so….him.

A foolish thing, clearly.

Roman turns to leave, and she should let him. Should take some satisfaction in watching him walk away, providing a deprivation from the heaviness he seems to always leave her with in their interactions.

Well, not all of them.

For a brief moment, she’s taken back to their wedding night, to the insane and unfamiliar pleasure he brought her. A night she was so nervous about but ended up thoroughly enjoying, only to wake up alone and confused, not seeing or hearing from her husband again for three days. Three days that ended with his return as an almost completely different person than the man who was so kind and patient with her for her first time, for their first time.

“Roman….” Her nails dig into his back, her hips lifting to meet him thrust for thrust, a hunger on both ends that can’t seem to find relief nor release. The depth of him inside her is almost too much yet oh-so addictive. That sinful, partially painful, mostly pleasurable feeling of him driving in and out of her. 

And then he stops, Solana frowning, dislike and confusion abundant.

Pulling out of her, Roman shifts their positions, moving so that he’s on his knees as he pulls her on top of him, effectively entering her again.

“Oh my—” Solana gasps at the sudden re-entry. Her fingers move to his scalp, tugging at his locs, forcing his head back as he guides her on top of him. She forces her mouth shut, trying her best to remain calm, quiet almost. The wrong thing, clearly.

“Naw….” Roman presses his lips against the slick skin of her shoulder. “Let me hear you. I wanna hear how good it feels.”

Good seems like a poor adjective compared to what she’s experiencing. “Mmmm.”

His deep baritone voice chuckles underneath her, those big, strong hands squeezing her ass. “Words, sweetheart. I like words.”

He may like them, but she can’t really speak them. Not right now, at least. “Pl—please.” She whines as he alters his pace, cruelly dragging her across his length, angling his hips so he’s hitting a certain spot inside of her, a critically sensitive spot, that has her eyes watering.

Roman’s lips pepper along her temple, “that’s it….” He continues this awful, wonderful thing, clearly enamored by the sight of her unraveling before him. Roman says something in a language she doesn’t understand. But, his next word is in English unmistakable, affirming, and every bit possessive. “Mine.”

But, that man is gone. Or, maybe he never really existed, and it was all a cruel ruse.

She’s not quite sure which would be worse, at this point.

“What—what did I do?” A soft, vulnerable question. One that makes him stop in his tracks. It’s the perfect opportunity to retreat, to leave it at that and let him leave, but she doesn’t. She can’t. “What—what did I do to make you hate me so much?” Because that’s exactly what it feels like. It’s what she feels. 

Like he hates her.

“I—I—” Her voice catches, Solana helplessly shrugging as he turns around, countenance unchanged despite the emotional crumbling before him. “I—I cook for you, I clean, I—I don’t—I don’t ask you for anything, and yet, it’s—it’s never enough.” And since she’s already on this one way street. “And you brought—you brought that woman here the other night.” For the first time, Roman gives some indication of a reaction as he lifts his chin. “Who—who was she?”

His eyes narrow, his voice even. “You don’t get to question me.”

An unsurprising response, but one she can’t seem to sit with. “I’m your wife.”

Not that that seems to mean anything to him. 

“In name only,” he gruffly replies. “It doesn’t mean anything.”

The sharpness of his words is a deep cut into the sensitivity of her soul. A sensitivity she feels dying out every day that passes living in this house, a kindness about her being swallowed by an unfamiliar feeling.

Hate.

“Roman…..” She shakes her head, eyes closing, a battle between hurt and anger. “I am in this country by myself. I don’t have anyone else but—but you—”

And that’s what does it for him. Makes him, requires him to silence her, to get off this conversation.

“Look,” he cuts into her, both literally and figuratively. “I don’t know what the fuck you think this is, what your expectations are of this, of me, but shit is clearly off base.” He steps forward, and Solana finds herself moving back. “This is an arrangement. I only married you so that I can have an heir. I didn’t want a wife, and I still don’t.” It’s confirmation of what she was already suspecting, but God, does it hurt. “We’ll fuck when we have to and talk when we need to.” It takes a tremendous amount of restraint for her to hold back the tears that are beating at the door of release. “It’s obvious your parents failed to teach you what an arranged marriage means, and that’s on them, so let me teach you now.” Again, he steps forward, his voice dangerously calm as he lays down the unchanging law. “I do what and who I want. You can do the same. I don’t care, so long as you’re safe and don’t embarrass me.” Something flashes too quickly in his eyes for her to process. “Understood?”

She doesn’t say anything, can’t say anything. Not without breaking down before him. Thankfully, by some miracle or maybe some long-awaited mercy from God, she doesn’t have to worry about that. 

Because he turns to walk away, leaving her alone.

Only then does she break down, crying in her hands, uncaring any more of, anything, really.

—----------

Roman hisses when he hits the bag one too many times, feeling a sharp pain in his wrist. He curses quietly, inspecting it, already knowing he doesn’t require any medical attention. Just rest. If only that was something he was capable of. 

If it was something he could have right now, but he can’t. Not with so many thoughts racing throughout his head, not entirely unfamiliar given who he is and what he does.

But, it’s different this time given the content matter.

Solana

His wife. 

The woman whose devastated countenance is something he can’t scrub away from his memory. The gutted look on her face as he so cruelly laid out the reality of their marriage, a reality she was obviously unaware of. A reality that, any woman, would be crushed by.

He tries his best to remind himself that it’s not his fault her family didn’t teach her what an arranged marriage in the crime world constitutes. That it’s nothing but a business arrangement. No feelings or love involved. Just fucking and contracts. Everyone knows that.

Well, not everyone.

Roman sighs, shutting his eyes. He shouldn’t be so surprised. The woman who now shares his last name was a quiet, reserved, passive thing from the day he met her. It annoyed him then, but for some idiotic reason, he figured he could deal with it. Figured she’d be seen and not heard. And she has in many ways, mostly because he continues to go out of his way to avoid her.

Bit, it’s when he can’t that he’s hit with all of it. The kindness. The niceness. All of this unfamiliar shit he doesn’t know what to do with.

The same way he still doesn't know what to do and make of what he felt on their wedding night, a large contributing factor  as to why he continues to avoid her like the plague. Has not allowed himself to touch her, having to settle for the women on his roster, all of them having nothing compared to what filled him as he filled up his wife that night.

There’s something strangely calm and comforting about having her body right next to his, tucked under him, her hand on his stomach and head on his chest.

Roman traces absent patterns against the back of her arm when she asks, almost nervously, “is it….normal to be….so tired after….you know?”

A small smile falls on his handsome face. Her innocence is also unfamiliar but almost intriguing. “With me, yes.”

Her exhaustion after one round, albeit a thorough round, might be something to work on. A natural thing that will improve, her stamina that is, as their sex life grows. And truth be told, given this was her first time, Roman can say he’s slightly impressed by how well she matched him. Her hunger for him. A hunger he most definitely reciprocated.

“Hmmm.” She buries herself further into his chest, and his smile drops. There’s a postcoital warmth about this, about them laying in bed together on their wedding night, him having taken her virginity, and consummated their marriage that feels…..different.

Rarely, if ever, does he engage in pillow talk, so a part of him wonders if that’s it. Not to mention the fact in all of his sexual escapades, never has he fucked anyone raw. Too risky, especially with his extensive list of sexual partners. 

But this, tonight, with her, his now wife, there was no protection. An expected, normal thing given the whole purpose of the marriage.

So maybe it was that.

But, even with that possibility, there’s this small part of him in the foreground, that feels, almost knows, it’s something else.

Something he’s never felt before with a woman. 

Ever. 

“What does your middle name mean?”

It’s the last question he expected her to ask, especially given how exhausted she clearly is, but it’s appreciated, nonetheless.

“Chief,” he answers, partially curious what brought about such a random thing. “Why do you ask?”

She peers up at him, Roman briefly taken back by her beauty. She’s easily the most stunning woman he’s ever come across. “My abuela always says you can say a lot about a person by their name.” The corner of her lips lift into a small, almost playful grin. “I guess yours is fitting.”

He chuckles. “I guess so.” Cursorily dwelling, he asks, “what does yours mean?” And then it hits him, while the priest used his full name during the ceremony, he’s almost certain only her first and last name were used. “What is it anyway?”

Her smile falters, her cheeks tinged with a redness. “I—I don’t really like telling people.” The redness deepens. “It’s….it’s kind of embarrassing.”

Now, he’s even more curious. “How?” She doesn’t say anything, looking down. Roman reminds, more from an informative place than anything. “You know I can find out anything I want, right?” A true statement. He’s not sure if there’s anything in this world he can’t find out if he tries hard enough, and finding out his wife’s middle name is pretty high up there on the list of ease.

It’s an effective reminder, Solana answering in a small voice. “It’s Esmeralda.” The smile on his face is inescapable as she groans quietly, forehead against his chest hiding her pretty face. “I told you.”

“Isn’t that that girl from that kids movie?” He asks, having to dig deep into his limited recollection of movies. “The one with that ugly fucker?"

“Hunchback of Notre Dame.”

“Sure.”

He’s certain he can feel her smiling against him. She then lifts her head, explaining, “it’s actually a Spanish name. Means Emerald.”

Roman says nothing, watching the twinkle of the moonlight in her light brown eyes. 

He moves his hand to her face, thumb brushing against the apple of her cheek. “Fitting….”

Roman closes his eyes. 

He’s tried to push it away. Fuck it away. But imagining her, pretending it’s her body under him doesn’t do shit to satiate his need. A need that starkly contrasts the equally strong desire to stay away from her.

Roman can’t afford to be in that space.  A space where nothing exists except her. It’s too addictive, too captivating, too dangerous.

She is dangerous for him, which is why, until he figures out how to compartmentalize shit, he’s gotta keep his distance.

No matter the gnawing guilt that chews at him for being so cold with her. 

It’s…..it’s for the best. 

Roman calls it the end of his workout and grabs the towel, moving it around his neck to absorb the sweat he’d built up. Phone in one hand, he walks out his home gym, not bothering to open up the unread texts from Sam, Sasha, Bianca or Jade, his finger navigating to his inbox.

He’s halfway down the hall when he hears it. Hears faint voices. Keenly tuned in, Roman redirects his focus from his phone in hand to following the source of the voices, a journey that leads him outside of the door of one of the random, unused bedrooms in the house.

“Oh, mija, we miss you so much. Maybe we can come visit you soon.” Somehow, Roman instantly recognizes the voice. Alma. Solana’s mother. 

“I’d like that,” is Solana’s soft reply. “I—I miss you guys, too.”

Roman frowns. Solana missing her family seems like an understatement. They all seemed so close, Xavier holding his daughter for a good five minutes at the end of the wedding when it was time for them to leave. It’s obvious how connected they all are.

Someone, a woman, a different voice, says something in Spanish, prompted by Solana speaking again, “mommy, can I talk to Isabella alone?” 

More Spanish from all three women and some distorted noise on the other end and then a firm, “okay, she’s gone. Now tell me right now,  Sola, what’s really going on?”

Roman waits for a response, knowing it’s wrong to eavesdrop but also not caring. 

And then he hears it.

A quiet little sniffle that quickly and easily morphs into something tremendously bigger and heavier.

Crying.

Solana is crying.

“I wanna come home, Isabella,” she whimpers. Roman’s eyes shut, his jaw clenching for reasons unknown. “I—I hate it here.” Something that shouldn’t shock him but still fills him with something unidentifiable. “I hate him.”

To overhear someone say they hate him is a tale as old as time for Roman. He’s like by few and hated by more than many. Par the course. But, there’s something about hearing it come from her that doesn’t settle right with him.

That feels….wrong. 

“Solana….” Isabella, Solana’s sister, is every bit empathetic and sympathetic. “I’m so sorry. I would give anything to come take you from there. Has he….has he hurt you?”

“N—no.” Roman can practically picture the way Solana must be rubbing at her eyes, trying to discard away any evidence of the heaviness that weighs her down. “N–not physically anyway.” He’s far too interested and invested, waiting on the edge of his mental seat for her to finish. To know just what she thinks of him, even if he knows damn well in no universe could it be anything remotely good.

Not when she just said she hates him.

And, he right.

“He’s so mean to me, Isa. He—he won’t talk to me, he barely looks at me, and—he’s sleeping with other women.”

Isabella gasps. “What?”

“He had one of them here the other night,” is her quiet, almost embarrassed response. Roman leans back against the door, unaware of why he doesn’t just walk away and deprive himself of hearing all of this. Of feeling all of this.

“That son of a bitch,” Isabella curses. “Hermana, I’d do anything to come take you from that place. You don’t deserve that.”

Silence

And then the tears.

Hearing Solana cry so heavily, feeling almost the weight of her hurt and pain is a newfound experience for Roman, stirring up an emotion he rarely, if ever, feels.

Guilt.

He feels guilty.

“I’m so lonely,” Solana sniffles. “I have no friends. No one to talk to. No job. I’m so far away from you all. I barely ever leave the house. I just—” She’s stopped, silenced by the sound of a dog barking and then whimpering. “Dulce.” There’s such a heavy sorrow in that single word, one that anchors down his frown even deeper. “I miss you so much, baby.”

The dog cries even harder, Isabella saying on the other end, “we’re gonna figure this out, Sola. Okay? I promise.”

Solana doesn’t say anything, and he’s grateful. Grateful for the brief moment of silence that allows him the almost permission he needs to walk away. To at least grant her some privacy given there’s not much else he’s given her.

Nothing good, at least.

Roman ends up upstairs, in his master bathroom, shower running as he leans against the counter, unable to shove away the sound of Solana crying and the image of her looking so devastated in that kitchen.

Because of him.

All because of him.

And while there’s so much from that one overheard conversation to sit on, Roman, for whatever reason, can’t get over how much harder Solana cried seeing the dog. The way the dog cried with her. It has him wondering something he needs answered.

Pulling out his phone, he hits dial and listens to it ring three times before the other person picks up.

“Hello, My Triba—”

“Does Solana have a pet back home?” Roman doesn’t have time for introductions and shit.

His Wise Man answers almost immediately. “She did, but I made sure to inform her family that the Tribal Chief doesn’t like pets, so—”

“Why the fuck would you do that?” Roman snaps. Paul isn’t entirely wrong. Roman has never been big on animals, but to separate Solana from her dog seems….cruel. “You should have fucking asked me.”

Paul stammers on the other end. “I—I apologize, sir. I—”

“I want her dog here by the end of the week.” Roman announces only to think about it, to think about how broken she seems. “By the end of tomorrow.”

“But, sir—”

“Make it fucking happen,” is Roman’s final directive before hanging up the phone and tossing it on the counter. Head thrown back, he closes his eyes.

This marriage shit is about to be a lot harder than he realized.

[ssa-danhotchner]

Crawling back to you | Aaron Hotchner x reader

summary: Aaron Hotchner finds himself unable to stop thinking about the connection he let slip through his fingers.

cw: fem!reader, use of y/n, past situationship

wc: 934

note: this is my first time writing here please be kind, english isn't my first language

The clock ticked past midnight, and Aaron Hotchner sat alone in his dimly lit study, the amber glow of a desk lamp casting long shadows across the room. A half-empty glass of whiskey rested by his hand, untouched for the past fifteen minutes. His gaze wasn’t on the paperwork scattered in front of him, nor on the book he’d meant to start reading an hour ago. Instead, it was fixed on his phone, his thumb hovering over a name that made his chest tighten.

[Y/N]

It had been years since he’d spoken to you. Not since you left the BAU. Not since he made the call to end whatever it was that had been building between you two—before it became something neither of you could control.

It had been years, but Aaron could still recall the way your laughter echoed in the bullpen during quiet moments between cases. The sound had been a rare gift in his otherwise chaotic world. You brought a lightness he didn’t know he needed—a reprieve from the endless weight of profiling killers and navigating his fractured personal life.

He thought of the nights you stayed late, pouring over case files with him in companionable silence. You didn’t ask questions about why he couldn’t leave, didn’t push when he kept his walls up, but your presence had a way of eroding his defenses. You didn’t demand anything from him, and that was the problem. You deserved someone who could give you everything, and Aaron knew he was not that man.

Still, there were moments when his resolve faltered. The way your hand brushed his when you handed him a file. The soft, concerned look in your eyes after a particularly grueling case. The lingering touch of your fingers on his shoulder as you said goodnight. He told himself it didn’t mean anything, but he knew better.

Aaron swallowed hard and leaned back in his chair, exhaling a shaky breath. The memory of your last conversation played in his mind like a song on repeat, the words still as sharp as they were the day they were spoken.

You stood in his office, arms crossed tightly over your chest, the tension between you palpable. The door was closed, the blinds drawn, but it felt like the whole world could see the cracks forming between you.

“You’re really doing this?” Your voice was quiet, but the hurt beneath it cut through Aaron like a knife. “You’re going to pretend like we don’t mean anything?”

“It’s not that simple,” Aaron replied, his tone measured, but the tremor in his voice betrayed him.

“It is that simple,” you snapped. “You either want this—want me—or you don’t. But don’t stand there and tell me it’s for my own good, like I can’t decide that for myself.”

He looked away, his jaw tightening as he fought to keep his emotions in check. “I’m doing this because I care about you,” he said finally. “Because I can’t give you what you need. I can’t be what you need.”

You stared at him, your eyes shining with unshed tears. “You don’t get to decide that for me, Aaron. You don’t get to push me away and call it love.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “But this—us—it’s a distraction. And distractions get people killed.”

The words hung in the air like a death knell. You took a step back, shaking your head as if trying to make sense of what he’d just said. “You’re scared,” you said, your voice trembling. “You’re scared to feel something real because it might actually make you happy. And God forbid you let yourself have that.”

Aaron didn’t reply. He couldn’t. He stood there, watching as you turned and walked out of his office, the sound of the door closing behind you echoing in his ears.

Aaron glanced at the phone again, your name glowing on the screen like a challenge. Are you awake? The words he’d sent seemed too small for everything he felt, but they were all he could manage. He hated how easily he could picture your face—your tired but curious smile, the tilt of your head when you thought he was being ridiculous. Would you even want to see him? Or had he burned that bridge too thoroughly?

The truth was, Aaron wasn’t sure what he wanted. Did he want closure? Forgiveness? Or something more dangerous—something he wasn’t sure he deserved?

Aaron hit send before he could stop himself. The phone felt heavy in his hand as he set it down, the seconds ticking by agonizingly slow. He told himself not to expect a reply—it was late, after all—but when his phone buzzed a moment later, his breath caught.

I wasn’t. I am now.

He stared at the words, a thousand emotions flooding through him at once. Relief. Nervousness. A flicker of hope. His fingers hovered over the keyboard, unsure of how to follow up, but he forced himself to type the truth.

I’ve been thinking about you.

The reply came quickly.

Funny. I’ve been trying not to think about you.

Aaron winced, though he supposed he deserved that. Still, you hadn’t ended the conversation, and that was something.

Would you meet me? he typed. I know it’s late, but I need to see you.

There was a longer pause this time, and Aaron held his breath, waiting for your answer. Finally, his phone buzzed again.

Same café as always?

Aaron grabbed his coat before he could think better of it.

The only thing he knew is that this time he wouldn't let you go.

[thefrontmanscockwarmer]

Ink Master

Player 001 x reader [SMUT]

Masterlist <- Comment on this post to be added to the tag list

Note: pretend you have tattoos, sick ones, whatever your heart desires. I’m heavily tattoos and wanna give love to my tattooed and wanting to be tattooed girlies. In this, i am describing a few of the tattoos I have, yes each one has a real meaning behind it. If so desired, I can explain the meaning behind each one.

You sat down with your friends eating dinner, laughing, and talking. The day seemed to have never happened, even Gi Hun and Young il were laughing so hard they were crying. You got a sudden heat flash. You ruled out the possibility of a cold as you had immediately. You stood to take your jacket off. Pulling the sleeves down one by one revealing tattoo filled arms. Young il looked you up and down before looking away quickly. A smile crept onto his face as butterflies erupted from his stomach.

“Wow, (y/n)” Dae ho exclaimed. “Your tattoos look so cool! I love that on your arm. Oh oh, and that steers head.”

“Thank you!” You beamed looking at the artwork that covered your skin. “I’ve been getting tattooed since i was 15 I’m 24 now, so about 9 years of work” you laugh, feeling the nostalgia of the tattoos.

“Do you have more?” Young il asks politely.

“I have a lot more, my back is done, rib cage, all the way up to my collar bone” you pulled your shirt collar down slightly to reveal bats that lined your collarbone, a betta fish on the left side.

“Wow, did they hurt?” Young il asks. “I mean, obviously they hurt, but you know, which one hurt the most?” he asks hating himself for how stupid he sounded.

“The one i have above my uhh lady part.” You giggled awkwardly. “That one was not comfortable at all, and i have both nipples pierced.” You admitted.

“You heard the signal for bed time. You retreated to your bed smiling at Young il as he lays in his bed next to yours. He wanted to see all of them, maybe hear a story or two, find out what they mean. Each and every one of them, no matter how bad the story may be.

He lays awake, he turned to you as he heard you rise up from your bed.

“(Y/n)? Are you okay?” He asked.

“Yeah, i just have to pee really bad.”

“Yeah, so do I, mind if we walk together?” He asked, hoping it wouldn’t be too weird.

“Yeah of course, maybe if there are two of us they’ll let us in” you smile gently, taking his hand in yours, pulling you towards the door. You knocked softly the pink guy opened the window. “I need to use the restroom, and so does he.” You moved aside so they could see Young il, he smiled bashfully. The door opened immediately, allowing the two of you to leave the room. You walked towards the ladies room before you soon felt yourself get pulled into the men’s.

“Young il? What’re you doing?”

“I know this sounds really stupid, but can i see the rest of your tattoos?” He asked. You nodded and pulled him into a stall. He gently pulled your shirt up, then your sports bra, revealing tattoos all down your sternum and stomach, right rib cage covered with sharks, left side presented numerous scriptures.

You felt Young il's hands grasping your waist, pulling you closer to him as you stood in the bathroom stall, the need to get back to the room before other noticed you were gone for too long creating a sense of urgency. His eyes were fixed on your skin, ignoring everything, roaming over the intricate tattoos that covered your body. You could sense his obsession, his fascination with the artwork that adorned your body.

"You're so beautiful," he whispered, his breath hot against your ear. "These tattoos... they're a part of you, aren't they?" His voice was laced with an unspoken question, as if he was trying to understand the story behind each design.

You nodded, feeling his fingers tracing the lines of a snake coiled around your right arm. "Each one has a story," you replied, your voice barely above a whisper. "A piece of me, etched into my skin forever." He turned you again, this time facing away from him. His hands roamed over the Japanese waves on your back and hips before moving lower to grip your ass cheeks firmly but gently.

Young il's lips brushed against the cherry blossom tree on your shoulder. He kissed each petal gently, reverently, as if worshiping the art itself. His hands slid down your back, following the curve of a dragon's tail that wrapped around your spine. Every touch sent shivers down your spine. He touched the angel on your right shoulder blade, following the angels hand as it reached for a skeleton that stood by the open mouth of the dragon, begging to be saved silently. He stared in awe at the scene before him.

"I want to explore every inch of you," he panted, turning you back around, his mouth moving to yours in a fierce kiss. You felt him harden against you, his desire fueled by his fixation on your tattoos.

As you broke apart for air, Young il gazed at the animal on your chest. "Tell me about this one," he asked, tracing the lions head with his finger. Before pulling your pants down to your ankles.

You smiled mischievously. "That one's for protection," you replied. "A fierce protector against those who would try to hurt me."

Young il's eyes flashed with intensity. "You don't need protection from me," he growled. "I'll never hurt you.”

His words ignited a fire within you, seemingly healing all the broken ends of you. You wrapped your arms around his his neck, drawing him closer as you as he moved to position you better on the stall door.. Young il continued to map out your tattoos with his fingers and lips.

Every touch was like a spark to dry kindling – it set you ablaze. The way he held onto them indicated how much control and trust had grown between the both of you in just moments.

As one hand still gripped, he entered slowly then harder deepening himself, stroking all areas sending moans escaping past your parted lips

"You feel so good," you gasped quietly in his ear.

"Your tattoos are driving me crazy," Young il replied hoarsely . He thrust deeper, trying feel you all over his body. He wished he could explain this feeling you were giving him. He was so clouded by lust, he was pretty sure he was in love with you.

Suddenly, as your muscles clenched wrapping tightly around him, it triggered something fierce within young il's thrust became faster pushing the both of you toward intense explosive peak which shredded apart any lingering rational thought leaving primal instinct only.

In that moment, all there existed were two people trying desperately not be left behind when the other reaches their climax first .

"Cum on me" you begged . No answer - only labored breathing intensifying into frantic almost sobbing sighs pushing desperately your shared goal, your final release.

And then youngil mouth came crashing onto the nape of your neck begging:

"Cum… cum on my cock please, let me drain you until you’re empty so you can do the same to me, please, (y/n)" he pleaded breathlessly.

His begging for your release was what made any remaining composure disintegrate, sending a shattering explosion through both of you, immense pleasure flowing through your veins as your body nearly crumbled from your orgasm.

His lingering moans and your whimpers as you both came from your highs.

“Young il, if i knew all i had to do was show you my tattoos to get you like this, id have done it way sooner.” You give a dry laugh.

“No, this was bound to happen anyways, you just gave me a reason to do it sooner.” He responded. He began to clean you up, then himself. He picked your shirt off of the floor along with your sports bra. You pulled up your pants, accepting the shirt and bra once you were upright.

“Let’s do this again sometime?” You ask.

“Oh definitely. Your pussy is to die for, literally. I’d die over it.” He said.

“I’d die for you” you counter romantically. “Sorry, i dont know wh-“

“(Y/n), if only you knew the things id do for you that are far worse than death itself.” He said before kissing you. When you got back into the room you got into your bed. Young il coming in behind you.

“Young il, what are you doing?” You ask, confused as to why he was in your bed.

“I wouldn’t be a gentleman if I didn’t cuddle you after sex” he said pulling you into him. You smile softly, suddenly falling asleep. “good night, (y/n)” he kissed your lips softly. He was now sure he might genuinely love you, but he still wasn’t sure if lust was still clouding his sight that made him feel that way. He felt something inside him, but it was yet to be discovered. It was yet to be assessed, maybe as he slept, maybe during the next day, maybe if you were walking down the aisle to marry him, maybe when you were pregnant and birthing your children. Would they want to be tattooed like their mother? He didn’t mind that, he’d be proud of them, the same way he’s proud of you. He loved you.

[lananiscorner]

Perhaps I was not clear enough in my original reblog, but I think you may have misunderstood several points of my post.

I was not trying to invalidate anything about the OP or miss its point--I was adding onto it, because for some adults who enjoy media for children, nostalgia is part of the appeal. I am sorry that the nature of your childhood meant that this could not be the case for you, but that doesn't change the fact that it is a factor for some, including for me. Your experiences are not universal, and neither are mine.

Personally, I occasionally rewatch cartoons from my childhood because they take me back to "simpler times". I occasionally watch shows or movies like them, designed for kids, even today as a grown adult long out of childhood, because there is something comforting for me in enjoying a well-made show/movie that focuses on the core messages we try to instill in future generations in terms that nobody can miss: be brave, be understanding, be kind, make friends.

The reason why I went into the second topic of my post (the stigma around adults consuming media for kids being puritanical panic around the potential of adults corrupting or hurting kids if they engage with the fandom) is because this is precisely the reasoning I see flung around most often by other people as criticism of adults who are in fandoms for child media or who enjoy media for children.

Gonna repeat that again: BY OTHER PEOPLE. I do not agree with that take.

I cannot count the many times I have either received asks myself, or have had mutuals receive asks, saying we should not be in fandoms X, Y, Z, because a grown adult enjoying stuff for children is creepy.

I was pushing back on said argument, to state why it is, in fact, beneficial to have people of multiple age ranges enjoying the same thing, precisely because it is the argument I most frequently had people try to wield against me and my mutuals.

I WISH I had no need to bring it up. I WISH that sentiment (that all adults who enjoy stuff for kids or are hanging out in fandoms for said media are creeps) did not exist, but it does, and so I decided to address it, before anybody tries to jump into my ask box and go "hurgh, hurgh, that post you reblogged about how we shouldn't shame adults for enjoying media for kids--do you not realize what massive creeps you are?"

You also grossly misinterpreted what I meant by "not every". "Not every" does not automatically mean "a good chunk" or "most". It means "not 100%". At no point, did I make any statement about how many percent of adults who enjoy kids media or enjoy hanging out in fandoms about kids media may be abusers, but I did acknowledge that they exist, because they do. They do exist in kids media fandoms, as they do in any sphere of life where kids may be present. So let me state this clearly for the record: In my experience, it is an incredibly small number, but it is not 0%. It is also not 100% though, which is what some other people like to assume.

There are plenty of people who are into children's media or part of those fandoms for entirely normal, healthy reasons:

They enjoy the simplicity of it.

They enjoy the quality of the writing/animation/music/various other parts of the work.

It helps them work through trauma or tough times.

It gives them nostalgic comfort.

They have loved ones or friends who enjoy it and want to be able to connect with them about it.

[Insert probably around half a dozen reasons here that I cannot think of at the moment.]

I do not judge anybody who likes media for kids for liking media for kids. As long as you are not harming anybody, you do you. Have fun, live your best life, enjoy the things you enjoy.

And regarding your question "How do you think about people who WORK in animation??" - In general, I think most of them are incredibly talented people. Whether they are decent people in a moral sense is something I cannot judge, unless:

A) I get to know them personally (highly unlikely).

B) They use their amazing talent to create something bigoted/hateful.

C) They publicly interact with others in a bigoted/hateful/abusive manner, or records of them interacting in such manner in private become public.

And if B or C ever happen (e.g. Rowling), I simply block them, stop interacting with their material, and move on with my life.

I like to think of people as innocent until proven guilty. I do my best to treat strangers with respect, understanding and kindness, and I say "do my best" because nobody's perfect--we all mess up sometimes and there have definitely been days when I have been physically or emotionally drained enough to be a sad ball of rage lashing out at anyone who interacted with me, and also because I am well aware that I have certain culturally-ingrained biases that I am actively doing my best to unlearn. But my default is always "assume decent person, until proven otherwise".

I will conclude by saying this: I wish you the best and I hope I made my point clearer this time.

Quick edit to add: I will also mute this post now, in the interest of not getting into any further arguments and derail OPs post even further. My initial reblog was meant to be a simple addition in further support of letting people enjoy what they enjoy.

I really have no patience for posts talking about "adults who only watch kids' cartoons," because, like...people accuse me of "only watching kids' cartoons," despite all evidence to the contrary. It doesn't matter how much I talk about other adult media I like, if I post too many things in a row about Steven Universe or The Dragon Prince or The Owl House, people come out of the goddamn woodwork to accuse me of "only watching kids' shows."

So I really can't take people seriously when they start talking about the supposed "problem" of "adults who only watch kids' shows." Are the "adults who only watch kids' cartoons" in the room with us right now, or are you basing your entire opinion of people solely on their fandom blog? Like, come on.

It makes me think of the couple years I spent volunteering in a school library. The librarian talked a lot about how it's hurtful to enforce "reading at grade-level" on every student with no nuance. Teachers would try to force their students to check out books "at proper grade-level," instead of letting students pick out whatever they wanted (even if it was "too easy"), and it resulted in a lot of students deciding books were boring, too hard, and only good for making them feel stupid. They started to hate reading entirely, because people constantly shut them down and told them they were stupid for not reading the right things. This was especially brutal on disabled students.

I personally apply the same philosophy to adults. You don't know what someone might struggle with, you don't know what someone's history is. You might think a piece of media is "too simple," but that's your experience and your opinion. People learn and grow and experience the world at different paces, and what seems to you like a "simplistic" piece of media may be the most complex, illuminating piece of media someone else has ever had the opportunity to experience. It doesn't make them "stupid" or "childish," and believing that it does is cruel and counterproductive. You cannot wield shame as a fucking cudgel if your goal is education, support, and helping people expand their horizons.

I don't think a culture of shame is helpful. I don't think a culture of "if you like 'childish' things, it means you're too stupid for anything else" is helpful. I don't think constantly making fun of children's media does anything other than demean people--and not just the people who enjoy it, but the people who make it, too.

[andhumanslovedstories]

you think often of how nurses should speak and relate to patients, and i highly appreciate knowing you put this kind of thought in and share it with other nurses. but as someone who often occupies the patient position, i'm curious if you have any thoughts on ways for patients to interact with nurses, when we are in decent enough control of our faculties to make choices about that. i would like this knowledge from both an altruistic perspective in recognizing nursing is difficult and not wanting to voluntarily make it difficulter, and a wholly self interested position of knowing nurses who like interacting with me give better care. what helps as a professional and as a person?

I'm surprised how much I had to think about this question. What do I want patients to do? I don't know. A lot of it is basic human decency, some of it is specific to my nursing workflow, but overall I find it complicated saying what patients "should" do. I cut out about 500 words of navel gazing from this post explaining why. Here are answers I've come up, in no order and not of equal importance.

--a lot of it is basic "polite interaction with another person in a professional setting." If you're asking this question, you probably care about treating people well in general. If you wouldn't say it to a barista, would you say it to your nursing tech?

--don't do joke answers to basic orientation questions like "what's your name" and "where are you right now", because it's annoying to have to clarify if you're actually confused or if you're fucking with me. I know they're annoying. Just answer correctly so we can move on.

--have some flexibility and patience. Hospitals have a lot of moving parts, and each person interacting with you has other patients that also need care. My hospital and state has mandated nursing ratios. The maximum amount of patients I've had in one assignment is five. Other hospitals have far less protection, and nurses may have six, eight, twelve other patients. Our respiratory therapists each cover multiple units. One CNA might cover the entire floor. I know if melatonin is the difference between you sleeping or not sleeping, it is very frustrating for someone to bring it late. I just ask you keep in mind that there's dozens of reasons that might happen besides someone ignoring you.

--help us help you. If you can lift your arm up for me to put a blood pressure cuff on, why are you holding your arm completely limp so it's like putting pants on a toddler than doesn't want to get dressed? If you can help roll yourself in bed, help us roll you. If your IV is beeping, hit the call light so someone can come turn it off. If you don't have urgency issues and you can tell you're going to need to go to the bathroom soon, call before it's an emergency. If your IV hurts when I give you medication at 8 pm, tell me then, not when I'm trying to give you your midnight antibiotic and all the evening staff have already gone home.

--if you don't understand how something works in the hospital (what happens when you hit the call light, how often are people going to take your vital signs, why can't I get up and walk around the room), just ask. It's really easy for people who work in a hospital every day to forget other people aren't familiar with it.

--don't treat doctors noticeably better than you treat everyone else.

--pet peeve number one: if I give you pills in a med cup, you can just use the med cup to get the pills to your mouth. You don't need to pour the pills into the palm of your hand and then pop them into your mouth. You're gonna drop the pills, and I'm gonna end up on the floor looking for a tiny tablet of dilaudid.

--bundle requests, especially low-importance ones. If you ask for crackers and you know crackers make you thirsty, just request your drink at the same time. Don't make me walk to your room, the nutrition room, and your room again ten minutes later.

--I don't expect people in the hospital to be pleasant all the time, and I don't take snappiness personally, but I always really appreciate the patients who apologize or even just acknowledge their behavior.

--I love patients who acknowledge my work. I don't need effusive praise or a thousand thank yous. It means a lot for someone to just be like "hey, thanks for your help tonight."

--have patience with repeating yourself. If you've got something important and complicated to convey, practice a quick understandable blurb that takes no brain power from you. There may be something that you've told the staff a dozen times, and it may be documented in your chart, but in the hospital you see many people who have never worked with you before and for whatever reason didn't read that info in your chart. For example, I'm a float pool nurse which means I almost never see the same patients twice. I can get sent to a different unit and a different patient load at literally any time. I can't familiarize myself with complicated documentation or read every nursing note. Especially not for patients I know I will only have for four hours. I know repeating yourself is annoying, I know it sucks to have to explain your bathroom routine or your preferred pain med or when you like to get pills or whatever every shift. And it's great when people make that information very easy to find! But if you just accept the reality you'll be repeating yourself a lot anyway, it makes doing so less frustrating.

--pet peeve number two: don't exaggerate to make a point. This is such a human thing to do, and god knows I catch myself doing it all the time, but you can raise objections in a way that's factually true. I've got a lot of concrete data that people are very often wrong when they say they're been "waiting for hours" after hitting a call light. The computer has a time stamp of the last time I was in your room. I know it was 45 minutes ago. There's a timer by the call light. I know you called twenty minutes ago. And I know it feels much longer when you are waiting for basic cares or pain control or anything pressing. Things can be unacceptable without needing to be exaggerated. When the exaggeration is the base of your complaint, it undercuts your credibility. Honestly I find it really irritating when I spend a disproportionate amount of my shift with one patient only for that patient to tell another staff member that I've been neglecting them. Just say I did a bad job, don't pretend I wasn't there at all.

--don't ask me to pull my mask down so you can see my face. like cmon dude.

--I'm not saying you have to send all your visitors out of the room when I'm there, I'm just saying have some sympathy for how nerve-wracking it can be to do your job while being intensely watched by five other deeply invested people with limited context for your actions.

--this is a nebulous and difficult one. You might have a lot of emotion that you don't know what to do with. What you shouldn't do with it is channel it into every interaction you have with a healthcare worker. If you feel guilty about how you haven't visited your mother in a while and now she's in the hospital, you gotta find ways to deal that don't involve getting extremely passive aggressive at your mother's night nurse.

[uncle-fruity]

I appreciate everything OP said here, and so much of it rings true. And while we're on this topic, I wanna bring up something I've been mulling over that I think is related.

We have got to stop thinking of marginalized people as a monolith -- even when that homogenized version in our heads is mostly positive. What I mean is that not every trans person is a good person. Just like not every cis person is a bad person. There will be trans people who are uninformed, willfully ignorant, rude, mean, abusive, manipulative, misogynistic, hypocritical, and honestly pretty bad allies to anyone who they don't understand or don't like or who challenges their worldview. There will be cis people who are extremely well-read on the issues, understanding, supportive, encouraging, open-minded, willing to listen & learn, kind, respectful, dedicated transfeminists, and honestly some of the best allies you'll ever have.

There is this sort of underlying assumption that trans people will always understand each other better than anyone else, that we are safer with our own, but that's not always the case. It is fair to assume that trans people are more likely to connect with and understand each other, but it is (clearly, as demonstrated) not guaranteed.

That's because we are humans! Humans are messy, complex, often hypocritical, nuanced beings. We all have different experiences, surroundings, relationships, beliefs, and priorities that make us who we are. Gender is just one facet of the many many things that come together to make us wholly human. Being trans doesn't make you a good person; it makes you trans. And while being trans may give you valuable insight on gender dynamics and trans oppression via direct exposure, it does not automatically make you a scholar or expert on all trans experiences or the historical context that feminism & transfeminism is built on. That kind of information must be actively pursued if you want a fuller picture.

This is why I've been going off about critical thinking so much -- because if you aren't being critical about this, it gets very very easy to fall into a reactive and/or bigoted and/or narrow mindset, and that can be genuinely harmful to yourself and others if you're not careful. Especially on Tumblr, where someone could very easily misrepresent their identity to stir up shit and push transphobic rhetoric behind the mask of an assumed ally. Thinking critically is a vital tool to help us avoid being manipulated by a false or disingenuous narrative.

When we say, "Listen to trans people," we mean that you need to pay attention to a wide variety of trans people and what we're talking about -- because we will and do agree AND disagree with each other on a number of issues all the time. But the more of us you listen to and consider, the more likely you are to see patterns of oppression and common trans experiences that will broaden your worldview and help you make a better informed decision about what to believe or what to look further into or how to spot common anti-trans sentiments/dogwhistles. "Listen to trans people" is not followed by the secret phrase, "and thoughtlessly accept everything they say about trans issues." Anyone who demands that you agree with them without room for question or comment or criticism is trying to control the narrative. Even if there is good reason to believe someone knows their shit, it never hurts to dig deeper into the worldview someone is trying to get you to internalize before you do so.

So, with that in mind, I encourage everyone to really take stock of their priorities & values within activism and judge people on their actual behaviors & impact & quality of information they present, NOT just their stated identities. If something a fellow activist said feels uncomfortable or rubs up against your values, it's okay to examine that feeling and ask questions to figure out what's at the root of it. The trans women who act the way OP described are not representative of all trans women, nor are they necessarily our allies. The same goes for misogynistic & transmisogynistic trans men. Or trans people of any sort who subscribe to any flavor of gender/bioessentalist ideology. That isn't to say that we don't fight for their rights or support them when they fall victim to systemic violence or ignore their issues or give up on trying to educate & elevate where we can -- we are still fighting the patriarchy for everyone's benefit. But, critically, we also don't have to accept hateful rhetoric into our communities and theories just because the fuckos spouting it off are trans.

honestly, as a trans woman who's running a fairly 'popular' or whatever queer blog, i've noticed so much shit in the past 2 years and i'm just gonna lay it out for y'all. it's a new year. it's 2025. i do NOT wanna carry any more of this bullshit forward. i'm calling everything for what it is. if this pisses you off, unfollow or block and move on.

as someone else put it in the tags on one of my other posts:

i am sick and tired of not talking about extremely important queer conversation topics for the sake of "keeping the peace".

this is not giving trans women and transfemmes a better quality of life to attack literally every every and all trans men for being trans men. it's making people fucking scared shitless of us. i hope people realize this isn't helping improve the opinion other people have on trans women and transfemmes. it's making people absolutely fucking terrified to even exist around us, because we've gotten to the point where we're attacking literally everyone and anyone who says something we don't like. people are fucking terrified of talking around transfemmes and trans women and it's time we broke the silence on that.

other transfemmes and trans women: do you seriously, really want other trans people to be scared to death of you? do you really want other trans people to be absolutely fucking terrified to speak around you because they're scared of getting fucking yelled at? do you really want other trans people to be utterly terrified to speak up about their own trans issues for fear of being told they hate you? do you really want other people around you to feel utterly terrified to talk about anything queer related at all for fear of being corrected, looked down upon, or verbally harassed?

i am just completely done with this environment we've fostered where basically everyone is on pins and goddamn needles holding themselves back from having real, genuine, impactful, substantial conversations about gender because they're absolutely scared shitless of being called transmisogynistic and publicly cancelled and harassed at all times for saying something as simple as "trans men don't have it easy" or talking about how AFAB people can also be trans. it really does not take much at all to set people off on this website and start accusing people of being transmisogynists left right and center.

i'm not participating in this weird mind game anymore. i do not like how this is being used to control the narrative on transness and trans experiences.

i am done with having to walk on eggshells in every. single. conversation. we have about gender.

i am done with acting like talking about transmasculinity and transmanhood is somehow magically attacking and silencing trans women and transfemmes.

i am done with people having to tack on massive disclaimers saying that they're not attacking trans women and transfemmes just for talking about their experiences on just about every post people write about gender.

i feel like every conversation about gender on here has to be so fucking sterile and calculated and meticulously planned out and stripped of most of its contents in order to not immediately get slammed with a "oh so you hate trans women" or a "oh so you're transmisogynstic." it's fine to point out genuine transmisogyny, i'm not gonna say you have to put up with it when it's real, but can we acknowledge that people are leveraging the fear other people have of being called transmisogynistic to shut people up?

at this point it's being used as a scare tactic and i'm so over it. i loathe how accusing people of being transmisogynistic is a default insult. trans men can't make a post about transmasculinity without someone getting pissed off and calling them transmisogynistic. trans men can't talk about a goddamn thing without being told to shut up, for some reason? why is this happening? like literally why are you doing this? trans men can't talk about ANYTHING at this point. like they needed to be able to coin words for the specific types of oppression they face so they could talk about it, and instead they just get fucking yelled at and told they're being copycats and that the violence they faced wasn't real? what the actual hell is this accomplishing?

why are we acting like we own oppression and no one else can even come close to understanding what its like? come on now, we don't own the goddamn concept of oppression. we also don't own transness. i am sick to death of this idea that transfemininity and trans womanhood are the only "real" ways to be trans. we do not own the concept of transness. it's not just about us. "trans rights" applies to more than just us. it can't be about us all the time. WE are the ones being self centered right now. WE are the ones who are forcing the conversation to be about us in situations where it's completely and totally inappropriate.

we need to say it for what it is: we're fostering an environment where, at this point, only trans women and transfemmes are allowed to talk about anything queer related at this point. like can we call it for what it is? for some reason, trans men and transmascs aren't allowed to talk about trans manhood or transmasculinity at all. ever. they're not allowed to say a fucking peep. they have to shut up and listen to a trans woman explain it to them, because for some reason, the trans woman knows trans manhood better than the trans man. this is out of fucking control, we should not have trans women explaining trans manhood to other people unless they are also a trans man. this is just unacceptable. transfems attack transmascs who speak for transfems, and yet this is seen as good and the norm?

you are not cool if you hate trans men and misgender them on purpose. this isn't feminist. this isn't progressive. you're not getting back at the patriarchy- most trans men do not benefit from patriarchy and never will- you would understand this if you listened to them. instead of talking over and for trans men, and listening to people who talk over and for trans men, if you listened to trans men, the source, you'd understand that no, transmasculine lives are NOT easy and no, trans men do not instantly benefit from patriarchal society if at all, ever. if you listened you'd understand that T doesn't make people aggressive and hostile and evil. if you listened you'd understand that there are a lot of wonderful, loving trans men out there are who are not transmisogynistic just by virtue of existing.

nobody is saying that we want to you prioritize men over trans women when we talk about trans men's rights. we're not saying that we need to talk about men all the time and never talk about women, and that men are the only ones allowed to talk, now. we really have to let multiple people participate in conversations. we can't keep doing this thing where One Gender Has To Be Superior Over another. that's gender essentialism. why must you keep yourself trapped inside the binary like that? why are you so desperate to stay stuck inside of the machine that's trying to destroy you?

challenging someone else's transphobia is not being transphobic. challenging someone else's behavior is not hating them or their gender. criticism is not an attack on trans womanhood and transfemininity. transfemmes are trans women are not immune to criticism and we need to stop acting like we are. we're not. we've created an echo chamber where only trans women and transfemmes are allowed to talk right now and it's not transmisogynistic to point that out, because it's literally happening before our eyes.

if we're demanding that other people treat us better, why are we treating other people like shit in the process to get it?

stop silencing other people talking about other trans experiences. transfemininity and trans womanhood are not the only ways to be trans. stop forcing yourself into conversations you don't belong in. if you don't want trans men do that, don't do it as a trans woman. don't barge into conversations you have literally 0 stock in just to be rude and mean and make the conversation about trans women instead. let other people talk. this has gone on for way too long.

let. other. trans. people. talk. we shouldn't have let it get this bad. but i'm not letting it stay this bad. if you want to accuse people having genuine conversations about transness of being transmisogynistic just because they're not a trans woman, then feel free, i'm not gonna stop you, but i'm not listening to you. i don't care anymore. i'm sick to death of not being able to have REAL conversations on here because some people don't like being reminded that they are not the only people who suffer under cisheteronormative patriarchy. if you can't accept that you are not the only one who suffers under patriarchy and that men need to be liberated from patriarchy as well, then i'm not interested in having a conversation with you to begin with.

seriously, if any of this bothers you, please just block me. i'm not participating in these dumb ass little mind games anymore. i do not give a singular shit about offending people who think this behavior is okay. i spent way too long being afraid to speak up about real world issues because of shitty internet trolls. i don't give a fuck if someone you don't like speaking about their experiences hurts your feelings- you are the problem here.

this is affecting real people in real time and i care about that. i care about people, not stupid ideologies and fighting over who is or isn't "really trans". i care about people, not fighting over labels. open your mind and understand that is is about real ass people, and not just ideologies. trans men and mascs are real ass people. they're not antagonists made specifically to attack and piss off transfemmes and trans women. enough of this.

[fryday]

Can i be sappy here?  It’s really cute and endearing when they show us how Dan accommodates bossy Phil and how Phil spoils needy Dan. However, this year's wdapteo is less gay, but it's so much more domestic and intimate. Most of their texts feels like the glass on head heart eyes Howell pic that they shared with us during Dan's birthday livestream all over again. I know we all got hung up on the "do you want some comfies" as it is heart-archingly sweet along with all the checking up on Phil's text... but the whole part where Phil was asking Dan how he feels about the dullet at the hair salon was SO much more devastating. We always see how Dan takes care and spoils Phil, but we don’t usually get to see how Phil expresses his love and care as openly. However, this video just shows us exactly how Phil loves Dan. He is always making sure Dan’s voice is being heard and his needs are being met. And Dan who doesn’t always convey his feeling well always feel comfortable to share his feelings to Phil. He really is his comfort person who he can always rely on. 

can you be sappy here? what a question to ask! (always)

this is all really true, anon, and really beautiful. very good comparison made between the vibes of these exchanges and the glass on the head picture - so much love conveyed through what was supposed to be a silly thing.

it's such a beautiful thing, now that you've pointed it out, how dan's love is so clear in how he dotes on and gives in to phil's every want and need, but phil's love is in *getting* dan to express his own wants and needs, to reinforce the fact that his wants and needs *matter*. similarly when dan does express something and it goes unheard, phil draws others' attention to it - *your thoughts matter*.

that's something phil does so beautifully - listen to dan when he talks. it's especially clear in videos when dan is going on a genuine monologue about his thoughts on smth and he's not trying to be funny. the way phil *looks* at dan in those moments. dan has his undivided attention.

anyway that was a lot of I suppose rehashing what you already said anon but you're so right and I'm just really thoughtful about this now. thank you for bringing it up <3

[hyunjins-orange-slice-too]

a kiss between clothes

pairing: daddy!chan x princess reader

genre: fluff?

warnings: daddy / princess dynamics, soo many kisses, pet names, reader is called baby- princess- little one, reader is pretty “baby” in this one. this is your warning! if you don’t like this content, if you don’t like reader being babied, or acting like a baby, then pls just skip! i don’t need your negativity.

an: tomorrow is my birthday and ive had this idea in my drafts for a while. i’m having some pretty big feelings when it comes to my birthday this year, and i’m scared to post this but.. let’s be brave.

masterlist

“i know baby..” he frowned. “i don’t want to go but i have to. this is a really important schedule and i can’t miss it.”

you sat on the edge of the bed, arms crossed, bottom lip jutting out, staring at the floor.

“are you mad at daddy?” he asked, opening the closet door. he had just finished with his shower. he was wrapped in a towel, his hair freshly washed and dried, but he left it natural, which you liked.

“your hair is fluffy.” you giggled. the tips of his ears went hot.

“uh.. yeah.” he smiled, running his fingers through his curls. “they’re gonna do stuff to it at the shoot anyways.”

he grabbed a hanger and pulled it out, holding it up for your approval. it was a black hoodie with a teddy bear on the front. you smiled and nodded. “i like that one.”

he walked over and laid the hoodie on the bed next to you. “i thought you might.” he smiled, before walking back to the closet to grab some pants. some plain black jeans would do, though you knew he preferred sweats. he grabbed a black t shirt, some boxers, and some socks from one of his drawers and brought everything over to the bed, tossing it down next to you.

“you never answered my question.” he said, reaching for the boxers.

you still had your arms crossed, still pouting. you looked up at him, trying your hardest to put on your best angry face. but he just thought you were cute.

“are you mad at daddy?” he dropped his towel around his ankles. “for leaving you alone today?” he gracefully stepped into his boxers and pulled them up, but your face was already flushed. he leaned down, chuckling, and pressed a gentle kiss to your lips.

“it’s just..” you started, trying to find the words. “today is special..” you frowned again, feeling truly sad that he was leaving you today. but you understood why. he had important schedules. the group was important. you never wanted to stand in the way of that.

he grabbed his jeans, stepping into them and pulling them up, buttoning them and securing the zipper. “i know baby..” he sounded sad. “i wish it was on any other day. but i have no control over it.” he leaned down again, placing another gentle kiss on your pouty lips. you knew what he was doing. he always did this when you were upset about him leaving. he would shower you with love, kissing you between each piece of clothing until he was fully dressed. he really hated leaving you alone.

“but it shouldn’t take all day.” he said, reaching for his shirt. “daddy will only be gone for a few hours.”

you looked at him, you knew he was lying.

he chuckled. “okay.. maybe like 5 or 6 hours.”

you made a noise of disappointment, going back to pouting.

“i know it’s your special day, princess. today is all about you and im sorry i have to leave.” you watched his muscles flex as he pulled his shirt over his head.

he looked down at you, smiling a sad smile. “you’re so pretty baby.” he brought his plush lips to yours. “daddy’s sorry.” he mumbled against them.

“i’m not mad..” you said, finally answering his question. “i know it’s important that you go. i’m just.. sad i guess.”

he pulled the teddy bear hoodie over his head, straightening it at his hips. “my poor baby..” he cooed, crouching down in front of you. he cupped your face in his palms. “i promise, when i get home, we will celebrate your birthday. okay, little one?” he quickly kissed your lips. “we’ll cuddle..” he quickly kissed your left cheek. “we’ll watch a movie..” he kissed your right cheek. “i was thinking.. despicable me. but we can watch whatever you want, princess.” he kissed the tip of your nose.

“can we watch Howl’s?” you asked, hopeful.

“of course we can.” he squished your cheeks in his hands, causing your face to scrunch up. “i’ll even do my Calcifer impression.” you giggled, grabbing at his hands to pull them away from your face.

he smiled up at you from his place on the floor, his dimple poking out, his eyes practically sparkling. “does that sound okay, princess?” he gently rubbed his thumb across your knee.

you nodded. “yeah. that sounds good, daddy.”

“thank you, baby.” he kissed your lips again. “daddy will make it up to you, i promise.” and with one more kiss to you lips, he stood.

he grabbed his socks and his favorite black beanie and headed for the door. you padded behind him in your slippered feet. he pulled his socks and shoes on and then reached for the door handle.

“i love you, baby.” he said. “i’ll be home before you know it, okay?”

you nodded, sadly. and he opened the door and then he was gone.

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♡ pls reblog if you liked it! it truly helps a lot and makes me smile :) ♡

©hyunjins-orange-slice-too i do not give permission for this work or any of my work to be translated, copied, or reposted.