#i dont even know how i managed to do this

[homosexualmorelikehomiesexual]

i was homeschooled by a neo nazi. the sheer amount of damage it did to my psyche as a queer child in that environment is something im still grappling with to this day. and thats to say nothing about having my education, health, and emotional wellbeing neglected. i had to fucking laugh in 2020 when people were crying about not leaving the house for a single month, when i had been kept housebound since i was 6 years old. i cant describe the indignity of watching people finally recognize what id been saying for years, which is that remote learning was not only useless as an education method but fundamentally damaging to the students mental health, and then not ONCE think to check up on kids who'd already been homeschooled. not once.

because nobody gives a flying shit about the actual voices of homeschooled kids, least of all the parents that subject them to it. and thats not to say those parents dont care, or arent attached - quite the opposite. remember, we're talking about the kind of abuse that seeks to keep the victims closer, not further away. its just that the pressure to cover for that abuse is placed directly on these childrens shoulders. i know, because i lived it. we are expected to present ourselves to the public as prodigies, partly to sell people on the idea of homeschooling but mainly to ward off social services. and if we fail to do that, which we largely do, we are kept out of the public eye our entire childhoods.

and thats assuming it ends with the onset of adulthood. if we're lucky enough to have parents willing to let us go at all, that isolation and lack of worldly experience leaves us with no resources, no networks, no support systems, no basic survival skills. do you know the difference between debit and credit? what health insurance is, who pays for it, how to find a provider? who taught you to drive? do you know what the dmv is? what social security is, or where to find your birth certificate? do you know how to use a crosswalk? if you arent homeschooled, you do not realize how much knowledge you have that you take for granted. the level of dependance it creates on the abuser is terrifying. im 21, i didnt move out till 6 months ago. most people assume i took an extended gap year. the truth is i was psychotic from isolation trauma, rapidly developing stockholm syndrome, and had no resources to leave after i turned 18 even though i desparately wanted to. if i hadnt been lucky enough to have other family members to rescue me, i would probably not be alive today.

and despite how damning the evidence is that this is a terrible byproduct of multiple systems that long since shouldve been fixed, despite all the hubub about protecting children in this stupid, stupid fucking country, there is ZERO public interest in acknowledgeing our existence outside of using us as a talking point to snub rural america. a talking point, and nothing more. nobody actually cares to change those red states, they just want someone to blame. so when we do speak up, we get tuned out. because it turns out nobody actually wants to hear about the medical neglect, or the cults, or the grooming, or the domestic violence, let alone do anything about it. (besides vaguely gesturing to things like...calling CPS on our own parents, once again placing the pressure on the victims to rescue ourselves, when weve often been taught to fear those institutions since the onset of our abuse.)

if you think im exaggerating, go read through r/homeschoolrecovery. thats just the kids whove managed to get internet, most of whom profess terror at facing further abuse if their parents find out. look at your phone. look at your computer. every single device you own has the ability to set parental controls. i dont know the exact numbers of the silent majority of homeschooled children without access to the internet, but considering the main demographic who chooses homeschooling is white supremacist christian fundie cults, who really fucking love having numbers of white babies that exceed the double digits, id be confident in wagering its a lot. so you wanna know why over half the states in the country are red? fucking start there.

because theres a *reason* isolation is a cult tactic. its why im such an advocate for libraries, unpaywalled and un age restricted internet, and actually putting money into rural infrastructure - ESPECIALLY internet networks and public transit. because while the american public education system remains the stinking garbage fire it is, people are gonna keep choosing to take matters into their own hands. and under this presidency, it is going to get worse. there is no point bashing the parents for it, because it just convinces them further that the left has an agenda to systemically brainwash their kids or whatever. so please, for the love of god, make sure that even in the worst case scenarios where they have complete control over their children, those kids arent completely cut off from the world.

Anyway enough lame gifted kid discourse we are in our 20s. Let's talk about how homeschooling in america should be fucking illegal it's insane lol

[mercurycft]

𝐑𝐔𝐈𝐍𝐄𝐑 — 𝐀𝐖𝐅𝐂

## reader x awfc !!

hi all!! finally releasing this, which is in honour of jonas finally pissing off away from our girls and our team! i hope you enjoy! love always, RGx

warnings: angsty team x management arguments, mentions of mental health!

3.6k words.

“i’m sure the team will be buzzing with joy this evening after tonight’s win, but how are the girls and yourself taking the recent and surprising departure of a lifelong gunner?”

“yeah, as you said we’re all pleased with the result tonight - it was a great match with a good side and i think the score reflects the determination we took onto the pitch with us.” you watch as beth pauses, like she is searching for words that will do her feelings justice. “she was the best of us, not just the team but the best of us and our friends. i think she was and is destined for great things, but life and people unfortunately happened to get in the way. but i’m happy, we’re all, happy for her.”

you've known beth long enough to know when she is lying and it pains you to realise how the tone of her voice drops at the mention of you. it stings momentarily, but you shake it off and allow pride to take over you as the camera pans to the rest of the team taking their victory lap.

you find yourself smiling absentmindedly at your phone, having sat through the entire match with your eyes glued to your phone - watching your girls on the pitch from your home, instead of beside them for the first time in years. your stomach filled with a cocktail of emotions that you can’t seem to process at this very moment. a toxic mixture of sadness and despair, twisted and twined with anger and hatred for what the situation had become.

its been two weeks since your statement went out, three since you made the decision and four since the argument. in an ideal world, it wouldn’t have gone this way - you would’ve stomached your feelings for longer and swallowed your bubbling anger, bit your tongue and carried on as usual. but for some reason, you just couldn’t.

------

1 month ago.

a 3-0 win should be celebrated. it should fill you with joy and overwhelming excitement - but it doesn't. instead, it fills you with nothing but anger and resentment for the club you once loved, you used to love. in place of congratulations and pats on the back, is a lecture. a plethora of critiques and corrections despite the effort and conviction everyone had shown.

you and the rest of the girls stand huddled in a group in the locker room, stood in an agonising silence. your hair is still wet, from the sickly british rain that decided to visit, your face still tinted red and your chest still heaving.

you tune out to jonas' voice, watching absentmindedly as he paces ahead of the group - volume above his usual decibel as he tears into the group, pushing further and further. you don't listen, allowing your mind to wander. no one dares talk back, instead choosing to take his words. you, however, fail to be as nonchalant as them - swallowing the bubble of anger in your throat and biting your tongue to the best of your ability.

your mind is brought back into the tiled room at the snap of your name from the front of the group. you look up to be met with jonas' eyes on you - his eyebrows raised and seemingly awaiting an answer. "what?" you mumble through gritted teeth, eyes locked on his.

"do you care to fill the rest of us in on what is so important besides my feedback right now?"

you shake your head, matched with a sarcastic looking, sickly-sweet smile and lift your hand top gesture towards him. "oh please, carry on."

"i dont appreciate your attitude," he quips back, screwing his facial features together, feining disgust.

"whatever," you scoff, rolling your eyes and peeling yourself away from the bodies beside you - now overly aware of their eyes on you.

"i'm out." pause. "i'm going to leave, and have a glass of wine and celebrate a fucking win." you turn away from them, too busy to take off your kit and instead scrunching your clothes and belongings into your kit bag. "which by the way, is what we should all be doing! instead of standing here taking shit because he didn't like how we were moving on the pitch!"

there was a shift from him, and a deep red tint crept up his neck as he shot daggers at you from across the tiles. “i do everything for this team! maybe once in a while, it would be nice for you to do the same if you think you know better! please, do tell us, what makes you think you have done anything of significance for this team? for arsenal!”

it changed, then. the small shred of sympathy you had, the small shred of guilt - gone. ripped from inside you and splattered across the walls of your home stadium locker room. the girls around you seemed shocked at his words, confused and unsure of what to expect next.

you paused. taking a deep breath and halting your shoving of clothes and shoes into your bag, and turning to face him directly through the sea of red and white kits in front of you.

“what do i do, for this team?” the question sounded almost broken, like you couldn’t actually believe he was playing this card. you searched for the answer deep within yourself for a few seconds, allowing the hurt to build in your throat and fuel the fire burning deep behind your eyes and in the pit of your stomach. your eyes flicked over each of the faces now looking at you and a small smile teased at the corners of your lips as you looked at their concerned expressions.

after a few more moments of silence, you inhaled deeply and began. “i’ve given my life, to this club. to this team. i put in the work, i trained day and night in the academy, until i was enough for the senior team. and when i made it here, i made a difference. i stepped up when kim was out, when leah was out. when laura first moved here, i took her in.” you paused, taking another shaky breath, cautious of the tears held back by nothing more than your water line. “i don’t expect you to give a shit. but whilst you were too busy tearing this team down. katie for her aggression, kim for her captaining style, leah for her rehabilitation, viv for her performance, beth for her drive, lia for training hours and every other fucking player in this building. i was building them back up, i was trying to make this right.”

silence fell over the room, and you shook your head. “im done.” you all but whispered, slinging your bag over your shoulder and moving towards the large doors leading away from the locker room. “i can’t do this anymore, this club is my home - and i will not watch you tear it down.” you shoved the door, a single teare slipping down your cheek the second you heard the door swing back on its latch and close again. you didn't stop to say goodbye to the familiar faces in the building, instead, with your head down and focused on the floor beneath you - you walked straight into the carpark, got into your car and drove home.

as you drove away, the weight of your decision settled in your chest. you couldn't believe it had come to this, that you had walked away from the team you had poured your heart and soul into. all the emotions you had been burying for weeks and weeks on end were now uncontrollable, tears streaming as you contemplated your actions but you knew you couldn't bear to stay in an environment where your efforts were belittled and unappreciated.

after a 40 minute drive, you found solace and refuge in the familiar walls of your apartment. the silence enveloped you as you sank onto the sofa, reaching for your phone. you hestitated in pulling it out of your bag, unsure of what may be waiting for you when you unlock it.

but still, you did, heaving a deep breath when your screen lit up with a message from beth. her words expressing concern and confusion about what had transpired in the locker room. as you read beth's message, a mix of emotions washed over you - relief that someone cared enough to reach out, but also a pang of guilt for leaving without saying a proper goodbye. to her, to any of the girls in the room. you quickly typed out a response, skipping over the details of your motives - instead opting for a light hearted message, apologising for your abrupt exit and apologising for not controlling your temper.

minutes turned into hours as you sat there, staring at your phone, the weight of your actions heavy on your shoulders. you hadn’t moved, still sat in your jacket and kit, boots still tied to your feet. the sound of a familiar notification pinged through the room - like it had been doing on repeat since that first message from beth, and you saw more messages popping up from your now ex-teammates.

------

1 week later - 3 weeks ago.

the days blurred into a week as you settled into a routine without the training sessions, team meetings, and the constant thoughts of upcoming matches that used to consume your time. you found freedom in the quiet moments alone, the weight of expectation now lifted off your shoulders, a sense of liberation starting to bloom within you. you finally felt like a person, not just a player.

you had been speaking to the girls everyday, each of them keeping you up to date on life behind the scenes of the club. the drama and tension seemed to have escalated in your absence, with rumors swirling about disputes between jonas and some of the other players. your decision to leave had sent shockwaves through the team, but it also seemed to have sparked a newfound sense of unity among everyone.

it was a miserable london evening when you got your first unexpected visit, darkness just creeping across the clouds when a knock at the door interrupted your law and order binge.

to your surprise, standing on your doorstep was leah, with a hesitant smile on her face.

a flood of questions and uncertainties raced through your mind as you stood frozen in the doorway, unsure of what to say or how to react to her unexpected visit.

"hey," leah began, her voice soft yet laced with underlying tension. "uh, can I come in?"

you hesitated for a moment, the inner turmoil evident on your face as you considered whether to welcome her inside. finally, you stepped back, wordlessly opening the door wider to allow her entry. leah entered cautiously, taking in the familiar surroundings of your apartment with a mix of nostalgia and apprehension.

there was a palpable tension in the air as you both stood in the living room, the silence stretching between you like a taut wire. you shared the quiet for a second or two before leah spoke up, her words carefully measured. "i know things have been rough lately... for all of us, you especially, i wanted to come here and talk, clear the air maybe?”

you studied her face, searching for any hint of insincerity, but all you found was genuine concern etched in the furrow of her brow. with a sigh, you nodded, gesturing towards the couch for her to sit. as she settled on the edge of the cushion, you perched on the arm beside her, like you used to.

"i just... i wanted to say that i'm sorry. sorry for not speaking up before, for not standing by you when things blew up. i let my own fears and doubts cloud my judgment, and i should have been there for you, we all should have been there for you."

her words hung heavy in the air, mingling with the unspoken tension that had plagued your relationship for months. you could sense the sincerity in her voice, the raw vulnerability that she rarely showed to anyone.

“i appreciate it, but it wasn’t your fight, le.”

“your fights are our fights, you’re one of us, you always have been. you always will be”

you gave her a half smile in response, and moved closer to her on the sofa - opening your arms to her. she mirrored your smile, allowing your arms to wrap around her and hers around you.

after a few moments, you pulled away, looking at her directly. “thank you, for coming round. and for looking after me for all these years. but i think,” you paused, sniffling and turning your attention to the fabric of the sofa below you. “i think its time,”

she nodded along with you, taking a deep breath before smiling at you. “if that’s what you want to do, then do it, and we will support you. i promise.”

“i don’t know how to tell the girls, i haven’t seen any of them since i left. i don’t want them to find out through social media,” you rambled.

“we’re all meeting at mine tomorrow, why dont you come along? i know they want to see you, and i think you deserve a night to relax with us - gunner style.” you share a laugh at her comment, agreeing to see the girls. a small shred of anxiety tore through the depths of your stomach, but you shook it off; determined to do the right thing.

the next day seemed to fly by, seeming to disappear from you as you spent the hours doing odd jobs - attempting to distract yourself from the uneasiness gnawing at your insides.

now, you find yourself outside leah’s flat. she said 7, but you underestimated the traffic at this time in this part of the city - so you’re late, as per usual, and composing of yourself on the door step. after a deep breath, you raise your hand to knock.

once, twice, then the door flies open. a smiley young aussie waiting to greet you, her arms immediately around you and pulling you tight to her frame. “jesus, i missed you,” she whispers into your shoulder. “i missed you too, k.” you pull apart and she grabs your hand, pulling you from the now closed door and into the living area. it’s littered with everyone you know and love.

they greet you like nothing has changed, arms wrapped around you and whispers, comments and remarks of support. you slip into the group like you never left.

after you’ve eaten, and have returned to the living area, you stand up - allowing everyone’s eyes to fall on you. you take a deep breath, smiling at them then looking down at your thumbs. you twiddle them and enterlock your hands as you search for the best way to say it.

“i wanted you to hear it from me, that next week, a statement will be released. a statement explaining my temporary contract termination from arsenal. i love you all, like my family. i don’t want any of you to feel like any of this is your fault, but i just feel like i’m at a different point in my life right now - a point where my views, and the clubs managment’s views no longer align. i can’t jeopardise my mental health, for people who can’t seem to put me, or my friends, first.”

you say it in one, your mouth and words moving faster than your brain can comprehend. you finish with a shallow breath, looking up to the group. they take it well, a few of them shedding tears at the offical loss of their friend and teammate, others hugging you and sharing comforting smiles. you know it needs to happen, but this is the part that kills you. leaving behind your family, your people.

the night draws to an end and you begin saying your goodbyes, promising to keep in touch and arranging plans to meet up soon. as you start making your way out of the room and towards the door, kim pulls you aside. you can’t read her expression, a sickening mixture of sadness and happiness for you.

“i’ll miss you,” she says softly, reaching out to squeeze your hand. “but I know you’re doing what’s best for you. just don’t be a stranger, okay?”

you nod, feeling a lump form in your throat as you hug her tightly one last time before heading out the door.

------

1 week later - 2 weeks ago.

3pm. your phone dings with a notification from the arsenal woman’s football club instagram and app, giving you and thousands of others the news of a new and important post. you hover your finger over the notification, hestitating.

you open it eventually, propping your phone up as the video loads onto the screen. you cringe at the sight of you, expectant of whats to come.

“hi gooners, it’s so nice to sit down and speak to you. this year marks my 15th year at arsenal, if we’re taking it all the way back to my first academy scouting when i was 8. i have nothing my fondness and admiration for this club, these people and this community. to be apart of this team and to watch the growth of woman’s football has been an honour and a pleasure i will forever be grateful for. when i think back on my years here, i have nothing but happy memories. memories of friends, of wins and of losses, of meeting fans and selling out stadiums. some of these things we never believed would be possible, but you, every last one of you, have made it possible. after 15 years of my life dedicated to the game, i think it’s time to take a break. temporarily and indefinitely, i will be taking a step back from the club. thank you all for your unwaivering support, it means the world to me. this is a special club, which remains my home. but my health and wellbeing needs to be my number one priority. thank you.”

you watch as the video comes to an end, and the messages, comments and likes begin. you switch off your phone after a few minutes, tucking it under a cushion on your sofa and resuming your show - tuning out the constant buzzing.

------

present day.

you watch until the live recording of the match ends, you watch all of the post-match interviews, with nothing other than a smile on your face. when the stream finally does end, you feel like you can breathe again, switching to your messages app and drafting a text into the groupchat to congratulate the girls on their win. you press send, then abandon your phone beside you somewhere on the sofa. paying it no mind and you lean back into the comfort of the cushions and pillows surrounding you.

as you sink deeper into the softness, you let out a content sigh, feeling a sense of peace wash over you. you close your eyes and let the sounds of the television fade into the background, relishing in the quiet of your own thoughts.

you dozed off, allowing the safety of sleep to engulf you for a few hours. you lay peacefully until the doorbell rings, jolting you awake. you groan in annoyance, wondering who could possibly be bothering you at this hour. you reach for your phone as you stand, 9pm. reluctantly, you shuffle away from the sofa and make your way to the door, rubbing the sleep from your eyes.

as you swing open the door, you are met with a pair of familiar faces that brings an instant smile to your lips. beth and viv, stand on your doorstep with a mischievous glint in her eyes.

"surprise!" beth exclaims, holding up a bottle of wine and a bunch of flowers. "we come bearing gifts. can we come in?"

you step aside, allowing them to enter, still slightly taken aback by their unexpected visit. they both breeze past the threshold, only stopping for a moment to give you a hug before making themselves at home on your sofa.

“i didn’t know you were back in london, viv!” you exclaim, watching her set the flowers on the counter. “and shouldn’t you be out celebrating?” you ask beth with a laugh, shutting the door and joining them on the sofa.

“there’s no where we would rather be, mijn liefje.”

its the later end of midnight when you all start to tire, spread across the sofa and floor with eyes barely open and focusing on the movie playing.

“do you guys want to just stay here tonight? i don’t wan’t you driving home tired.” you say through a yawn, stretching your back out and turning to look at the both of them cuddled up beside you. both of their eyes closed and chests rising peacefully. you smile to yourself, moving to grab a blanket from the basket beside you and cover them both up. you switch off the tv, turn off the big light and make your way to your bedroom.

it isn’t long before you’re asleep too.

------

the next morning you wake to a persistant buzzing sound, your phone rattling on your bedside table. notifications from twitter and instagram flood your lockscreen, along with messages from the arsenal groupchat and from distant friends.

your eyes are just barely open when you reach for it, giving your eyes a moment to adjust before looking at the screen. you swing yourself off the bed, feet finding the cold of the floor as you pad through the flat until you find beth and viv.

they’re awake, both sharing the same expression as they look at you in the doorway between the two rooms.

you begin to read from your phone. “we can confirm that jonas eidevall has resigned from his position as head coach of our women’s first team and leaves us with immediate effect.”

[velvetvexations]

you’ll see a trans boy be like “i dont personally have the power to oppress you” and then later the same day 3 of their little trans boy friends will start calling you out for making the first trans boy cry so hard he almost died (by disagreeing with him) and then all the cis women in the space will instantly side with the fragile little boys against the scary big [t-slur] who uses intimidating words like “transmisogyny” and thats how the whisper network against you starts, leading to far reaching professional and social consequences that never leave you

This didn’t happen.

Not this way, at least. All marginalized people are at all times at risk of being canceled unfairly. Their marginalization tends to play a major part in that, obviously. Trans women get hit with it a lot and that fucking sucks, and some transmascs are in TERF-y circles and can theoretically use that against transfems should they feel the need to.

This that I’m quoting, however, is a fantasy. It’s a page from a dream journal. People are giddily imagining things like this happening because they live in a world where trans women are feared and have their reputations ruined by lies, and they want to exploit that for their own benefit. The best way of doing this is putting themselves above other trans people, because cis people don’t give enough of a fuck to care or get involved with these bullshit arguments, but if you whine about other marganalized people they will actually be affected by it and forced into the conversation you created out of thin air. It’s not so much a victimization complex as it is a death cult fascination with the misery of transfemininity identical to the TERF obsession with fymyl suffering, defining ‘trans woman’ as 'the thing that feels pain always and forever.’

It’s disgusting and I can’t imagine identifying with such a sniveling and pathetic vision of what being a trans woman is like. It’s so undignified it makes my skin crawl. It’s embarrassing. There’s nothing in this crying little effigy covered in pins and needles I can relate to. I can’t tell if these people need more self-esteem or less. I’m so fucking tired of this wounded gazelle shit.

But for the TRF, transfemininity is all about the abuse. Just look at the beyond absurd assertion, made over and over again, that trans women are maliciously called the t-slur by other trans people. That’s just. No? No. But in claiming that the t-slur can only ever refer to trans women, and that transfeminine suffering takes priority above all else because everyone forever at all times hates trans women more than anyone else, it again becomes necessary to construct this false vision of intercommunity dynamics where “scary big t-slur” is a stereotype that exists within the community in the first place, and which trans men are constantly using against trans women.

It’s just so blatantly selfish for one to act like a transfeminist when all one does every single day is bitch about other trans people. We’re all about to get fucked harder than ever and there are people who profess to sincerely believe they’re fighting the revolution by making up lies about their siblings. I’m easily triggered by transphobia outside of the community and yet even I manage to engage with actual transphobes and make them considerably less transphobic, yet people who don’t even know enough about what TERFs believe to understand they hate men too will fritter the day away on how they could theoretically be canceled if they did something bad ,and wouldn’t that be the worst thing ever? Oh, what if I broke up with someone and our mutual friends believed I was the jerk, because that’s a situation that exclusively happens to poor helpwess twans women and the mere suggestion I could possibly be a jerk in the first place is unthinkable? Hate to keep saying this, but trans women are being actually murdered and this obsessive fixation on “social murder” within the trans community exists purely to spice things up with a feeling of danger because the spaces we’ve managed to carve out for ourselves are otherwise a little too safe and it feels more authentic to the Laura Palmer Ultimate Victim narrative. Massively popular transfems with over ten thousand followers will happily sic them on people for the most upsettingly asinine reasons and then cry-type about how they’re the underdogs in every possible social situation.

But most obnoxious of all is the implication here that, because this can only happen to trans women, gossip and slander does not happen to other trans people, or other marginalized people in general.

That’s fucked, considering how much this discourse has attacked specific targets. It’s most maddening to see that “the coiner of the word transandrophobia has dykebreaking+detransitioning-of-transfems kink” has evolved to “most people who believe in transandrophobia have those kinks” because I constantly see TERFs making huge compilations of transfem blogs engaging in cis dykebreaking kink from the dom perspective. Just transfem dom blog after transfem dom blog enthusiastically into cis dykebreaking, which TERFs use to paint us in a way that fits their narrative.

Literally the only example they can ever give of a transandrophobia-connected person* being a dom for dykebreaking with transfem subs is someone who was being paid by a transfem. Detrans kink is overwhelmingly non-transfems, but almost exclusively as subs to either transfems or cis men, and those transfems aren’t getting paid for it, they actually are just in it for the love of the game. There’s nothing wrong with that, but people want to act like there is when it’s anyone else, and that’s not only weird but also setting up a bear trap to step in later.

Which gets to the point that, hey, wow, I’ve noticed a lot of cis women in particular who self-identify as TME are super into anti-shipping. You cannot possibly imagine you’re safe for trans women if your big issue with trans men articulating their oppression is “they masturbate evilly.” Popular transfem blogs will talk at length about how you shouldn’t judge transfems for their kinks but cis women are so eager to kinkshame transmascs that they not only make shit up out of thin air, but specifically copy and paste kinks almost entirely made up of transfems onto transmascs. Someday very soon a TERF is going to show them it’s much more convenient to be a general transphobe and not make special exceptions for the ones that use the same pronouns as you. They’re going to show your anti-ship cis lesbian friend one of those transfem dykebreaking blog compilations and she’ll take Trans Rights Are Human Rights out of her bio within the hour.

Like, even if you didn’t care about being monstrously inhumane to others, all of this is so against transfem self-interests in the long run, but people who consider themselves the most transfeminist transfeminists there are, of a radical nature, one might say, care more about notes than helping anyone, least of all the transfems they’re feeding into a grinder of paranoia and isolation. Especially the isolation.

It’s a little hard to take it seriously when I get accused of calling all trans women groomers for thinking it’s bad when people talk about “curing” other trans women’s “comphet,” how “TMEs” are obligated to bottom for them to compensate for transmisogyny, and writing long treatises on why it’s one’s moral responsibility to throw forcefem kink at random men because they may like it. Like, am I saying trans women are groomers, or am I saying some people use being members of a marginalized community to be kinna gross? People somehow find it in them to be angry at gay men who cross boundaries in spite of the messaging that they’re all sex abusers for the past two hundred years. Especially since 90% of the concern is for other trans women.Like, sorry, but I care enough about trans women that I’m going to say something if I think you’re putting them in a bad situation, and someone being a trans woman doesn’t make them immune to that. But oh, it does if you assume that this is all just common sense transfeminism, and I am in fact making this accusation of most trans women instead of an extremely niche group.

Never mind that in the screencap people use to accuse me of calling trans women “rapists” I was saying something a self-identified TME said was coercive, and whose identity as a Not a Trans Woman I explicitly noted.** Never mind that I’m the not the one telling people to name their blogs after the original transbian separatist group that famously fell apart after resulting in heavy sexual abuse. Never mind that I have said over and over again that TRFs act no more entitled to people’s bodies than lesbian TERFs who treat people they perceive as women the same way.

But I’m supposed to believe that those cis anti-shippers who post things like “every time someone says kinks are fine they’re just protecting predators in the LGBT community” is a great ally and I’m a traitor because they hate men and I don’t?

Sorry, no, not a traitor. A “pickme begging to be beaten to death with hammers.” Who’s probably not even actually a trans woman. Great transfeminism, yall. You’re really fighting transmisogyny.

It’s especially galling now that TRFs have taken to calling transandrophobia “reactionary,” the most bullshit possible way to call a group that includes a huge number of PoC, who they constantly accuse of tokenization, a pack of Nazis. What is transandrophobia reacting to? Bigotry? Golly gee, I guess so! Or maybe it’s “reacting” to transmisogyny as part of the completely absurd idea that trasnmascs steal everything from transfems. Like, yeah, sure girliepop, and we stole misogyny from cis women, right? Sorry you failed to not sound exactly like a TERF yet again but maybe try again tomorrow and you’ll finally earn not being called a radfem.

But isn’t it sooooo mean of me to compare a small amount of trans women to radfems? Like their oppressors? Well, first of all, they regularly refer to Jewish people as Nazis, discourse aside that they do that is simply a true fact which shows they indeed think it’s possible to justify comparisons like that, although in their case it’s just because it feels like getting off a sick burn and rhetorical W to go “ah, but what if this Jewish person…was a Nazi? Checkmate, Zionists.”

Secondly, for as much as TRFs want to claim TERFs only hate them, that’s simply not true and I have conclusively proven this��with basic use of Tumblr’s search function and the tag “radblr.” Twice. If you believe they love transmascs and only want what’s best for them, congratulations dipshit, you fell for their propaganda so hard I’m surprised they haven’t managed to convince you you’re not a woman. Or is it only an obvious lie when it’s about you?

Most annoyingly, just on a personal level, is the way TRFs get pissed off at non-transfem feminine AMAB people for daring to exist. The idea that femboy is a slur for trans women would be laughable if it weren’t grotesque in it’s ignorance. The things I’ve read people say about how transmisogynistic it is for an anime character to be a crossdressing man instead of a trans woman are just infuriatingly racist. Not everything is about you and it’s not actually a big deal if people talk about others once in blue moon.

The constant posts about how non-transfems are evil for not making more transfem headcanons, or for headcanoning the TRF’s favorite canonically male character wrong, are particularly childish. I can’t even go into MY favorite blorbo’s tag without seeing people call transmasc headcanons of him inferior literary analysis completely without irony, and every single time they shit like this, they do it while making up the most convoluted and nonsensical explanations for why the character can only be transfem instead, as though the hostility is defensiveness born out of their particular blorbo requiring a lot of creativity to headcanon that way, necessitating going to war to prove they can’t really be a man to assert it as The One Truth. Then they’ll complain until the fucking heat death of the universe about how everyone loves transmasc headcanons because of transmisogyny.

It’s the same unbearable on-sight hostility as when a TERF sees a child on the subway and goes home to type up a novel of a post on how he had the eyes of a future wife-beater, and it’s so irritating to see it spread from one corner to another. Literally, TRFs say that trans men will always turn on trans women and eventually detransition to wield their wymbnly power against us, and I’m expected to not see that as having severe hang-ups about people born into what they want to transition into and have denied to them by society’s transphobia?

What about the fact that they constantly mock AFAB trans people in ways specifically targeting that trait, calling non-binary people “theyfabs,” joking it’s easy to misgender trans men when they have large breasts, and reduce transmasc stereotypes to feminine “soft bois?” Like, yeah, okay, you’re not projecting any gaping insecurities you may have about assigned sex and gender roles when you say transmasc music is ukuleles and transfem music is heavy metal, next tell me about how transmascs all enjoy tea parties and transfems all go to football games.

But it’s not even mostly trans women who keep this shit alive in the first place. A higher percentage of total trans women on this site are into this framework, but the total number of non-transfem trans people and cis women so outweighs them in the first place that it cancels that out. Like, if x is higher than y, and x% of trans women on Tumblr agree but only y% of “TME” people do, that’s still a movement mostly consisting of “TME” people. The full separatist angle would very quickly reveal how little air it has to burn if trans women truly only had themselves to watch out for each other. Unfortunately, self-identified TMEs are much more likely to get TERFier rather than simply less TRF-y when the spell breaks and they realize how fucked up this shit is, while the people who’ve been batted at continue to exercise the patience of a saint and continue to fight for trans women anyway.

And that! Is what hurts! The most! The fact that people do not care about transmascs and in particular the ones who believe in transandrophobia are constantly tripping over themselves to defend and help trans women as much as they possibly can. I wish people saw that. I wish that mattered. It’s like watching a black hole suck up an endless font of goodwill and love. And then going “lol reactionary transandrobros hate trans women.”

That’s it, though, the great irony of it all is that if it were true, it’d never have become popular in the first place. It’s kept aloft by self-identified TMEs who are well-meaning if not especially good at critical thinking, except for the the contingent that are convinced trans men are all misogynistic because they personally are, or even outright seem to get gender euphoria from the idea they have male privilege. But for whatever reason, if “TME” folks didn’t care? The people making up elaborate tales of their potential (social) murder would have to find some other way to get attention.

I suggest throwing on a big red nose and joining a circus.

*and I specify “transandrophobia-connected” but you’d have a hard time rustling up transmasc doms in general from those scenes

**also, despite it being something I saw with my own eyes, I notably did not even feel it hit the level of needing to directly name someone as being who I was basing my assessment of sexual coercive behavior on as being sexually coercive, because I think it's much more a prevalent attitude of pressure in sexual contexts than individual behavior

[br0kendummy]

Did something a little degenerate today...

I haven't used the bathroom since i woke up this morning, and ive been holding desperately for the past 3 hours. it took all my willpower not to rock my hips and grind into my chair. i must have looked so suspicious blushing like that the whole time but i just couldn't make myself stop even with the watching eyes.

i just got back from campus and i want to pee so bad but i can't bring myself to do it at the same time. my pussy feels so good. there's so much pressure in my bladder. not enough to make me lose control. just enough to make me desperate. i held off drinking since lunch so its been manageable even though it feels really intense. nearly wet on the way home from a speed bump but i just barely managed to keep it in. maybe i leaked just a drop. not nearly enough to soak through though so that's okay.

so im holding more even though my body is begging to let it out, and im drinking another coffee instead. i feel so dirty drinking it because i know how much more desperate its going to make me. i could seriously burst at any moment but i can't help myself. im addicted to this feeling. i dont know if i can bring myself to really wet myself fully in my bed but part of me wants to do it so bad. i would feel so pathetic.

[greengoblinswifey]

i need more fratboy Nicholas! Something with his ex girlfriend and the reader get jealous? I dont know, i just love youuuu ❤️

warnings— slight angst, jealous!reader, possessiveness, oral(f), bondage, praise kink, overstimulation, hair pulling, degrading kink, unprotected sex, creampie, fluff, L bombs.

a/n— lyt xx creating this fratboy!nicholas au was the best decision i made, requests are so open for it <33

Nicholas had always been the easygoing guy who somehow managed to calm you down and make you feel safe. But right now, he was inches away from losing that place with you. When you had left the library, you hadn’t expected that run-in with his ex—Amber, of all people. The way she had looked at you, sizing you up, then moved right in on your spot next to him, laughing too loud and touching his arm, was enough to make your blood boil. But you kept it together, stormed off, and left Nicholas to figure things out on his own.

Later that evening, you were still fuming. When Nicholas missed your first call, the pit in your stomach grew deeper. He never missed your calls. And then he finally picked up the second call, sounding cheerful—until you went straight to the point.

“Why didn’t you answer the first time?” you asked, your tone sharp.

“I was in the bathroom,” he said, sounding caught off guard. “I- I left my phone with Amber.”

Your heart sank, but your voice stayed steady. “Amber? As in, the girl I saw today?”

He hesitated, confirming your suspicion. “Yeah, she’s my ex, but it’s really nothing.”

You didn’t bother responding—you just hung up, leaving him in dead silence.

Not even five minutes later, there was frantic pounding on your door. When you opened it, there stood Nicholas, breathing hard, looking both apologetic and scared. He tried to take your hand, but you crossed your arms, blocking the doorway.

“Please hear me out, I’m sorry,” he started, his words tumbling over each other. “I didn’t want her there, okay? She- She just showed up, and I didn’t know how to get her to leave. I swear, I was only focused on studying—she was the one doing all the talking.”

You gave him a hard stare. “So, what if something happened to me, Nicholas? What if I needed you and you were off letting your fucking ex hold onto your phone?”

He looked down, guilt written across his face. “There’s no excuse,” he said, his voice soft. “I’m so sorry. It won’t happen again, I promise. I’ll never talk to her again, I didn’t even want her there. She’s just very persistent.”

The look in his eyes told you he was genuinely worried. He knew he’d messed up, and he was desperate to make it right. But that didn’t mean you were just going to let it slide. You narrowed your eyes at him, sizing him up as he stood in front of you, looking almost as if he was expecting you to throw him out.

Then, without saying a word, you grabbed him by the belt, pulling him inside and pushing him onto the bed. He looked up at you, startled, the hint of a smirk creeping onto his face as he realized where this was going.

You leaned over him, still glaring, your voice firm. “You’re mine, Nicholas. Remember that. And next time, you won’t even think about letting anyone else close to you. Got it?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he replied, his voice barely a whisper, eyes wide and sincere. “I swear. I just—I only want you.”

You finally let a smile break through as you leaned down and captured his lips, letting him know you were still his—at least for now. The thought of Amber seeing his lock screen, a picture of Nicholas kissing your neck, your arms around each other made the anger in you settle, just a bit.

Your smile widened even more seeing him hard already when all you did was kiss him.

“Hard already huh?” you began, “is it for me or that white bitch?”

“You, I’m always hard for you and you only,” he said, looking up at you with pleading eyes, “please, can I touch you?”

You thought for a moment. “You don’t deserve to touch me, but I need your mouth on me.”

He stared up at you in desperation as you pulled out a small rope from under your bed. “Give me your hands.” He complied and though you wanted to punish him, you decided to tie his arms in front of him to make it a bit easier for him to pleasure you. “Good boy, now you can get to eat me out without touching me.”

Slowly, you stripped yourself of your clothing and he watched in awe, wishing he had his hands all over you. He wished he could squeeze your ass, grope your tits and trace his hands over your curves. Why did he have to fuck up so bad.

You pulled him up by his tied wrists and took his place on the bed, spreading your legs as he went on his knees, his mouth immediately on your pussy.

“Y-you taste amazing, but it’s so- so hard to make you feel good with my hands tied,” he whined.

“I’m doing fine and I’m feeling good, shut up and keep going.” You rolled your eyes and pushed his head back into your pussy.

His soft little whines made you throb as you clenched around his tongue, already feeling the impending orgasm.

“You’re close aren’t you baby? Mm— please cum on my tongue,” he said, struggling to keep himself up as he ate you out like you were his last meal.

You grabbed his hair roughly making him wince and began grinding your pussy on his face.

“Don’t let a drop go to waste,” you moaned.

Ever so obedient, Nicholas slurped and swallowed your juices as you squirted on his face. He loved how wet you got when you were turned on. How everything flowed from you so beautifully.

“Did I do good?” he asked, his lips pouty and his cheeks red.

“Hm, maybe, maybe not,” you answered, pulling him up by his hair.

He gasped as you shoved him onto the bed, pulling off his clothes with great force.

“You’re kinda scaring me baby,” he laughed nervously.

“Well, you should’ve thought about that before hanging with your ex.”

He pouted but watched intently as you straddled him, your tits he loved so much but couldn’t touch recoiling in his face.

“I’m really really sorry I— oh.” His desperate apology was cut off by a deep whimper as you sank down onto his thick cock waiting you.

“That’s right, shut the fuck up,” you smirked. You began bouncing and moving your hips, grinding on him using the move that drove him absolutely insane. His head was spinning, his breath was caught in his throat and he wasn’t sure he’d be able to hold back from just bursting the rope and having his hands all over you.

But he resisted. He wanted nothing more than to be your good boy, taking whatever you gave him.

“That’s my good boy,” you moaned. Exactly the words he wanted to hear. Your movements slowed, allowing him to feel every pulse of your pussy. He could feel your juices slide down his shaft making his head all foggy.

“Please,” he whimpered, tears pricking his eyes, “I really need to cum.”

Your fingers dug into his shoulders as you held on to him, leaning forward to keep your rhythm steady and relentless. His breathing turned ragged, eyes squeezed shut, and he barely held on as you bounced, picking up the pace just as he began to tremble beneath you.

“Please… I can’t—” he gasped, voice low and shaky, a hint of desperation cutting through.

But you just smirked, ignoring his pleas as you moved faster, chasing your own release. His hands gripped your waist, fingers flexing as he tried to keep himself grounded.

“You’re fine,” you whispered against his ear, letting your lips brush his skin. “Just a little longer.”

He whimpered at that, his hands tightening, but he didn’t dare stop you, too captivated and too close to deny you anything. The sensation built until you finally tensed, gasping his name softly as your own release washed over you.

Nicholas was close, barely holding on as he whispered, “Please… please… can I—”

“Go ahead,” you murmured, stilling just enough to give him that last bit of control, and he let go, his eyes closing as he got lost into his own release inside you just as you did, his relief echoing in his voice as he whispered your name.

Nicholas’ voice was barely a whisper, his words pouring out between heavy breaths. “Thank you baby, thank you,” he said frantically, as if he couldn’t say it enough. His wrists, now free from the restraints, flexed as he looked up at you with a mixture of awe and relief.

“Can I, um, can I touch you now?” he asked softly, almost hesitant. You tilted your head, pretending to consider, then gave a small nod.

“I guess you’ve earned it,” you teased, a hint of a smile tugging at your lips.

Without another word, his hands cupped your cheeks, rough and warm, pulling you close as he kissed you, slow and full of gratitude. His fingers brushed along your skin like he couldn’t get enough, like he needed you to know how much he meant every word he was about to say.

“I’m sorry about—everything with my ex today. I’ll make sure it never happens again,” he murmured, pressing his forehead against yours. He took a shaky breath. “You’re the only woman I’ve ever loved, you know that?”

The weight of his confession hung between you, and you felt your heart skip, unable to hide the surprise in your eyes. For a second, all you could do was look at him, his gaze so open, so vulnerable. Finally, you reached up, your hands resting over his.

“I love you too,” you whispered, the words coming easily, like they’d always been there. His face softened, and he pulled you closer, wrapping his arms around you as if he’d never let go.

You lay there together, tangled up in each other, his hands trailing gentle patterns along your back as your fingers combed through his hair. The quiet was warm, comforting, filled with a new closeness as you held each other, both savoring the rare, unguarded moment.

[hobo-copp]

TW: ATTEMPTED SUICIDE!

In a Kineema somewhere in martinase sits a man, smaller than most. He's tired. He's spent most of the day transporting the body him and Harry had finally managed to get down to his precinct. He stinks like death.

He pulls into the side of the road outside the Whirling-in-Rags, the place him and his temporary partner had been staying. They had some good leads. Ruby was their final suspect. All they had to do now was find her. Harry seemed to have an idea where she was, but he refused to say anything more about it. Kim regretted how long it took to get the body down but he was glad it was over. Though the worst was yet to come. He turned off the engine and carefully climbed out of the machine.

As he entered the building the cafeteria manager, Garte, looked at him. The place was dark. Most people had left by now. He seemed to be cleaning up. "Ah! Officer. Your uh...partner left this for you." He handed Kim a small envelope. What possible shenanigan could this be related to? "Thank you, Mr. Garte." Kim nodded and silently started walking up the stairs. All he wanted was to bathe and go to sleep.

"I uh...dont know what it's about, but he seemed kind of out of it. You might want to check on him." Garte yelled up to him, frowning slightly. It was odd for him to be worried about the man he disliked. Though he'd grown to forgive him slightly throughout the few days Kim had joined Harry. Maybe even enjoyed his company. Just a little.

Kim walked to his room, glancing over at Harry's. There was no light underneath the door. Kim assumed he was most likely asleep. Kim unlocked the door to his room and walked in. The envelope in his hands felt strangely heavy. He was starting to get a bad feeling. Kim closed the door and sat at his desk. He carefully opened the envelope and pulled out a small piece of paper. Kim recognized it as one of the sheets from Harry's clipboard. The small stains on the pages made that obvious.

The handwriting was messy but still neat, like it was written in a hurry. The paper was slightly damp in small dots. Tear stains.

"𝙺𝚒𝚖, 𝙸'𝚖 𝚜𝚘𝚛𝚛𝚢 𝚢𝚘𝚞'𝚟𝚎 𝚑𝚊𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚙𝚞𝚝 𝚞𝚙 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚖𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚙𝚊𝚜𝚝 𝚠𝚎𝚎𝚔. 𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚍𝚘𝚗'𝚝 𝚍𝚎𝚜𝚎𝚛𝚟𝚎 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚘 𝚋𝚎 𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚗𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚖𝚎, 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚓𝚘𝚔𝚎 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚌𝚒𝚗𝚌𝚝 𝟺𝟷. 𝙸 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚔 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚑𝚎𝚕𝚙𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚖𝚎, 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚙𝚞𝚝𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚞𝚙 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚖𝚢 𝚋𝚞𝚕𝚕𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚝. 𝙸 𝚑𝚊𝚍 𝚏𝚞𝚗 𝚝𝚊𝚕𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚢𝚘𝚞, 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚢𝚘𝚞. 𝚈𝚘𝚞'𝚛𝚎 𝚊 𝚐𝚘𝚘𝚍 𝚌𝚘𝚙.

𝙸 𝚋𝚎𝚕𝚒𝚎𝚟𝚎 𝙸 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚜𝚞𝚙𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚍𝚒𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚗𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝. 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚗𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚋𝚎𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚐𝚘𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎, 𝚋𝚎𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚎 *𝙸* 𝚎𝚡𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚍. 𝙰𝚗𝚍 𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝙸 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚠𝚑𝚢. 𝙸 𝚊𝚖 𝚊 𝚋𝚊𝚍 𝚖𝚊𝚗. 𝚃𝚑𝚊𝚝'𝚜 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝙸 𝚊𝚖 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝙸'𝚕𝚕 𝚋𝚎 𝚌𝚊𝚙𝚊𝚋𝚕𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚋𝚎𝚒𝚗𝚐. 𝙼𝚢 𝚠𝚑𝚘𝚕𝚎 𝚓𝚘𝚋 𝚒𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚋𝚊𝚍 𝚖��𝚗 𝚊𝚠𝚊𝚢 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚜𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚢'𝚍 𝚑𝚞𝚛𝚝. 𝚈𝚎𝚝 𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝙸 𝚊𝚖, 𝚋𝚎𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚎𝚡𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚕𝚢 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝙸'𝚖 𝚜𝚞𝚙𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚙. 𝙽𝚘 𝚖𝚊𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚑𝚘𝚠 𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚍 𝙸 𝚝𝚛𝚢 𝙸 𝚌𝚊𝚗'𝚝 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚞𝚙 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚝 𝙸'𝚟𝚎 𝚍𝚘𝚗𝚎. 𝙸'𝚕𝚕 𝚗𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚋𝚎 𝚌𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚗. 𝙸'𝚕𝚕 𝚗𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚋𝚎 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚝𝚑𝚢 𝚘𝚏 𝚑𝚎𝚛. 𝙽𝚘𝚛 𝚘𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞.

𝙿𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎 𝚍𝚘𝚗'𝚝 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚖𝚢 𝚛𝚘𝚘𝚖. 𝙸'𝚍 𝚛𝚊𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚒𝚝 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚋𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚠𝚑𝚘 𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚍𝚜 𝚖𝚎. 𝙲𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔𝚞𝚙, 𝚝𝚎𝚕𝚕 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚖 𝚝𝚘 𝚐𝚎𝚝 𝚖𝚎. 𝚁𝚞𝚋𝚢 𝚒𝚜 𝚑𝚒𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚞𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚍𝚘𝚌𝚔𝚜, 𝚞𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚋𝚞𝚒𝚕𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚠𝚎 𝚝𝚊𝚕𝚔𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚃𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚝 𝚊𝚝. 𝙳𝚘𝚗'𝚝 𝚐𝚘 𝚊𝚕𝚘𝚗𝚎.

𝙸 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞.

𝙶𝚘𝚘𝚍𝚋𝚢𝚎. 𝙸𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚊 𝚙𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚞𝚛𝚎 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚢𝚘𝚞.

𝚈𝚘𝚞𝚛𝚜, 𝙷𝚊𝚛𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚛 𝙳𝚞 𝙱𝚘𝚒𝚜."

Kim froze, his body becoming ridged and stiff. His heart had dropped to his feet. Over time Harry did seem to get less... Hopeful about who he was. As he figured out just how horrible he'd been his smile seemed to fade more and more. Kim kicked himself mentally for not seeing it. The letter was still wet. It couldn't be that old. He shot up and made his way to their shares bathroom. The door was unlocked. He opened the door and immediately made his way to Harry's room.

It was dark and quiet. The moon outside shined inside, giving him just enough light to make out Harry's figure on the sofa. Kim's throat felt tight. He couldn't speak. He quickly went to turn the light on, fumbling with the pull switch. As the light turned on he could get a better look at the room. It was clean, at least as much as it could be without a *deep* clean. There was a small blanket over the broken window, held up with tape.

Harry laid on the sofa, motionless. Multiple pill bottles lay next to him. Including the bottle of speed they'd confiscated from Cuno. He'd taken it all. It was more than enough to kill him. Kim ran to his side, taking off his glove and placing his hand against his chest. He was still warm. *Still alive*. "Harry. Harry wake up." Kim's voice came out louder than he expected. He could feel tears stinging his eyes.

Kim had grown to love being around Harry. Even with all his weirdness he was a good cop. A good man. They'd saved people Kim would've never even thought about without him. He'd shown him a completely different way of doing things. It made him believe in his job again. That he could be *good*. "I won't ever fucking forgive you if you die like this, Harrier. I won't fucking *let* you." Kim hissed, sliding his hands under Harry's legs and the crook of his back. He slowly picked him up, heaving him into the bathroom. It wasn't too late. He could *save* him. He just had to be fast enough.

He sat Harry next to the toilet, leaning him over it as he started sticking his fingers down his throat. He was trying to force Harry to vomit. "God, please." His voice broke, tears finally escaping his eyes and marking his glasses as he slammed his other hand against Harry's back. After a second Harry's body reacted, vomiting all the contents in his stomach into the toilet bowl. Kim kept hitting his back, holding him up.

Harry's eyes opened as he coughed up the last bit of vomit. Kim could see a few of the pills in the disgusting sludge. It filled him with relief.

"Mngh... What- no- why...why did you-?!" Harry spoke up, his voice horse and weak. Kim cut him off, slapping him hard across the face with his gloved hand. "You *fucking* idiot! That was the most *selfish* thing you could've done." Kim sobbed, unable to keep his composer as his head hung low. He was shaking.

Kim had believed he'd lose yet another partner. His body couldn't handle the pressure. Kim suddenly felt arms around him as Harry held him. "I'm... I'm sorry. I won't do it again. Thank you, Kim. I'm sorry." Harry was crying too. His body was still weak, but he'd live. Kim had made sure of that.

The two sat there on the broken tiled floor and cried against each other until the sun shined through the window.

𝙰 𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢 𝚜𝚖𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚛𝚢 𝙸 𝚠𝚛𝚘𝚝𝚎 𝚒𝚗𝚜𝚙𝚒𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝚋𝚢 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚘𝚗𝚐 𝚋𝚎𝚕𝚘𝚠 :𝟹

𝙸 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚠𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍'𝚟𝚎 𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚎𝚗𝚎𝚍 𝚒𝚏 𝙸𝚗𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚊𝚍 𝚘𝚏 𝚐𝚎𝚝𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚋𝚎𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚛, 𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚛𝚢 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚍𝚒𝚜𝚙𝚒𝚜𝚎 𝚑𝚒𝚖𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚎 𝚑𝚎 𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚎𝚍 𝚠𝚑𝚘 𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚜, 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚙𝚘𝚒𝚗𝚝 𝚑𝚎'𝚍 𝚛𝚊𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚋𝚎 𝚍𝚎𝚊𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚎𝚡𝚒𝚜𝚝 𝚊𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚖𝚊𝚗.

𝙸 𝚎𝚗𝚓𝚘𝚢 𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚜𝚝 :-)

[squiddy-god]

Lmao last time I asked for Avenpaz but this is x reader so what about Aventurine x reader? Hehe thank you :3 (Desperate for some Aventurine stuff 🥰)

Yes you may, i'm going to do general hcs for this because thats what im feeling right now teehee- on a side note, aventurine but its the scene with hua cheng and xie lian with the dice rolling- there was just,,,so much tension in that scene please  

♡requests open♡

Cw : gn!reader, mentions of trauma and spoilers for his story and a bit of penacony, fluff. Both established and un established relationship hcs, a little bit of angst 

Ok so pre relationship i think that aventurine is actually quick to catch feelings but slow to realize them

Like off the bat he can tell how he feels in about someone, like or dislike, trust or not trust 

What is slow to build is how deep that runs, both his romantic feelings and his trust are gained slowly but eventually snowball and that is when he finally either realizes or admits it.

Something i never got in general is when people talk about like how {character} wouldn't trust you until xxx into relationship etc

But the thing is like, are y'all dating people you dont trust? Because especially as someone who is depressed/traumatized, I fully would have to trust someone to get into a relationship, and that trust does not reset to 0 because we got together like??- i promise i will tie this in trust me 

The other slight problem with aventurine pre relationship is that after he realizes/admits his feelings to himself he is taking that to his grave. He will casually flirt or maybe drop little hints, but he is content to never speak these feelings out loud to you, 

Half of this is a fear of forming intimate connections that he knows he's ultimately powerless to protect, he fears rejection and loss when it truly matters and this prevents him from ever really bringing himself to pursue you. The other half is a subconscious self sabotaging hatred. Despite his fronting he is an insecure and traumatized man who's become jaded by the cosmos. While he at this point would trust you implicitly he cant help the feeling that you won't, dont, and couldn't possibly like him and return his feelings. 

Reasonably he knows that he is an attractive man, a man with both wealth,power, and status, and yet he feels that you won't possibly want him. His self loathing even in his subconscious holds him back, giving a false sense of apathy towards your relationship status that outweighs the jealousy he feels. In truth the jealousy only serves to prove his point on how you don't return his feelings

There are scenarios that I think he would confess first if you don't beat him to the punch. 

The first is said jokingly, and yet there is not that sharp witted teasing edge or bite to his words, unexpectedly raw and genuine when he poses a simple “what if” question 

The second involves many different factors, maybe you catch him on a good day, maybe he sees the way you seem to look at him and in your eyes is the reflection of his own affections. Maybe you catch him on a bad day, and in his pit of despair he decides that it is at least worth the risk to gamble.

These are the moments he confesses to you, bated breath waiting for the other shoe to drop and for you to lash out with laughter or anger but he is delighted when you return his feelings

Ok ok enough angst-

This man is a shameless flirt, he is romantic long before you every begin a relationship- you just take it as a joke, a bit that's silly between close friends 

After you manage to pry that confession out of him or you make the first move, he is shockingly quick to put a label on it, you are his romantic partner! His love, hes your lucky charm

Ok ok like i said before i really don't thing that aventurine is the type to be in an actual relationship with someone he A)doesn’t trust, or B) doesn’t love

So by the time you get in a relationship there is already a strong foundation of real trust, but he has already realized he is hopelessly in love. 

I will die on the hill that aventurine is a stage 100 clinger 

This is a clingy man to his core, he is sending you 50 messages a day

Good morning, good night, have you eaten? I love you, miss you, literally anything because he truly dose miss you 

Have you eaten? Yes? Good have a little treat +500 credits 

No? Wait there he's taking you to lunch- or +5000 credits 

I know everyone says it but he really does spoil you. Now the way he sees it genuinely isn't as like a bribe but both something that genuinely makes him happy and also he likes to make your life easier 

Seeing you happy, being able to spoil you with gifts and treats and money brings him genuine joy, and knowing that he is able to provide some relief from the harsh reality of life makes his a very merry man

As I said, clingy- he loves your time, being able to spend time with you and relax in your presence is truly heaven. 

Most of his missions aren't dangerous, just business so he enjoys taking you with him so that he can spend more time with you

He is touch starved for positive physical contact and affection 

Sit in his lap, let him sit in yours- honestly he isn't very picky as long as he gets to touch you 

If you thought his playful bestie flirting was bad you are gonna die, because he gets so much worse, now that he knows exactly what to say so that he can fluster you he grows ever bolder in his pursuit

No matter what he says his actions always follow his words, he shows he loves you with the way he sees you and treats you, in the way he seems to crave you like a thirsty man craves water or how a plant craves the warm sun, to breathe you in like air and love you tenderly 

Even if he is clumsy at love and intimacy he still puts in a profound sense of effort. 

The definition of if he wanted to he would. And he definitely wants to

[dystopia-incognito]

"So.. Is he watching?"

"He most certainly is."

Valentino had gotten his hands on another couple of Velvette's models again, and since it was the evening of her fashion show and the debut of her new line "Under Satin", she got Vera and Lila to model it for her. Mainly as revenge for Vox not keeping his Boy Toy in check. But the girls were happy to help and make the Flat-Faced Prince sweat a little more...

I finally coloured it, @timeslugarts ! <3

Lineart here.

[lunni-e]

has anyone elses discord forced them to do that 2fa log in thing bc....i do not know my code LOL

[stars-n-kites]

really an inexplicable train of thought but i feel like taako is the kind of person who in a modren era au would just decide to go to a shooting range and learn how to shoot a pistol for funsies, but would consider learning to spin the pistol all cool like they do in cowboy movies to be his first and foremost priority. like hes already bought a holster and the moment he is given a gun he immediately starts trying to twirl it. the instructor has to tell him to stop or theyll take the gun away from him. he keeps trying to lead the conversation back to it anyway because he really feels like theyre putting the cart before the horse here if hes learning how to shoot the gun before even knowing how to dramatically reholster it if he were to get in some sort of cowboy duel. hes actually really good at the shooting part but he gets kicked out of the class after his eighth guntwirling attempt in which he accidentally flicks the safety off mid twirl and shoots one of their light fixtures

[shaadowmilkcookie]

One of Shadow Milk’s many prop replicas of himself, left behind. Even though the eyes are forever staring straight into the distance… Oddly enough, you still feel like you’re being watched.

But surely, though, it won’t hurt to take it home and touch up the colours, right? :)

[delicatepointofview]

gonna have to deal with people missing the point of louis singing 1d songs in festivals... don't get me started on the other covers

[rriverrunning]

lately i've been really interested in the portrayal of sansa & her ability to lie:

acok sansa i

acok sansa ii

acok sansa iii

also acok sansa iii

this early in the book, it seems like it's general consensus that sansa is a bad liar. it's something she and everyone around her are very aware of, yet she still manages to get herself out of these dangerous situations (joffrey's anger at his tourney, being caught sneaking back from the godswood, & being trapped in the hand's apartments where she'd be unable to sneak out, respectively) not despite, but because of this fact. because she's often telling these obvious, bald-faced lies, people easily project their own assumptions of sansa's thoughts onto her, though these assumptions are often wrong. being so obviously 'stupid' to those around her, few can seem to fathom that she could be planning anything else, or bother to seriously interrogate what she might be thinking but not speaking aloud.

like it's pretty obvious that sansa is not going to be able to escape king's landing with ser dontos any time soon, but it is her first foray into really making her own plans for her future. however it ends up failing, it is significant as a little piece of defiance that previously seemed impossible to her. it's also proof that no matter how bad at lying or naive she may be, those around her are also unwise for how they underestimate her. we're watching her slowly learn when and how to lie, right under her captors' noses.

in other words, this is a theme i'm definitely going to be tracking for sansa! it's the fallout of her storyline in agot, and feels soooo important bc of how vital these perceptions of her are to her survival.

[courfee]

James who is a successful author and Regulus who is an expert in some very niche field and James' newest book happens to make references to said niche field. Only James got it wrong and Regulus absolutely drags him on social media for it, founds some kind of James Potter hate club and insists the entire book is bad because what kind of author doesn't even do proper research

[abirddogmoment]

today's hot take for dog people: management is not the same thing as training.

[3-aem]

im bored of animal crossing will be drawing gj again will be mental illness-ing once more.