#i will simply not exist for the rest of the day

[conflictedbird-blog]

Wild seeing this because it’s exactly what I’ve been thinking about lately. It is a hierarchy, with man/maleness at the top, and woman/femaleness at the bottom.

If you are a female who transitions to pursue that maleness (or starts to identify as nonbinary), perhaps to escape the sexualization/objectification of the body you were born with (which I understand is suffocating at times), you have ultimately done nothing except help yourself individually by ascending the social hierarchy.

You have done nothing feminist. Nothing has been accomplished for the liberation of females as a class from the shackles of patriarchy, misogyny, and restrictive gender roles. At the end of the day your individual symptom has been addressed, but not the systemic cause. Sex-based oppression still stunts the progress of the rest of the female/woman population, and the original social ladder is still in place— you alone have simply climbed it.

And to be clear this isn’t an attack on anybody; simply an analysis. I can understand the drive behind transitioning. It will be alluring, after all, to want to identify as a man when society sees man as human, and woman as object.

But gender ideology is not the solution. Like I said, it only addresses the symptom, but the poisonous cause itself is still deeply rooted into the fabric of our society: the cause being the sex-based stereotypes that have been the cause of women’s discrimination, oppression, and limitation of freedom & expression. We must never stop the fight to uproot this poison.

The solution is not women transitioning into manhood or some genderless nonbinary identity to be afforded respect and dignity and freedom and a non-objectified life— the solution is demanding that as a female, as a woman, you ALREADY deserve the respect, dignity, freedom, and non-objectified life which are all in fact your birthrights.

Because being female IS being fully human. It IS full, multifaceted, unique personhood. It IS the ability to wear anything, enjoy any hobby, embody any personality, pursue any field, accomplish any feat, and house brilliant intellect. Make them see it, no matter how long it takes. Because we deserve it, while still remaining in the body we have, without changing.

TLDR;

don’t affirm the ladder’s existence by trying to climb it.

Destroy the ladder.

i love that quote that’s like “gender isn’t a binary, it’s a hierarchy” because it fundamentally changed the way that i approach issues of gender and socialization. men and women are not treated as two opposite-but-equal ends of a spectrum; women are not given some forms of power that men cannot access and vice versa. female socialization is not an arbitrary process that ‘accidentally’ makes women weaker, it has a goal to make women easier to control. which also means that male socialization seeks to empower men in all of the ways that it disenfranchises women.

so how can i ever see gender identity as something…equal or neutral

[alltimefail]

Why doesn't Edwin call Charles, "Charlie?"

I shared the isolated audio of Charles' death scene where his "friends" taunted him as they killed him, and in that video, they called him "Charlie." This confirmed what many people in fandom already believed: Charles, a sporty teenage boy in the 80s, would not have gone by his proper first name and likely went by a nickname/shortened version of his name instead.

Now that we know that to be true, it does beg the question: why does Edwin call him Charles? I told you all not to get me started on this in the tags, but you stinkers want me to yap, so let's get into it! 😜

This is a very uninteresting answer, but I think Edwin does not call Charles "Charlie" simply because Charles did not introduce himself as such. Had he introduced himself as Charlie, I don't think Edwin would call him anything else.

This actually brings us to the "meat" of this analysis, and the more important question we need to ask: why would Charles choose not to introduce himself as "Charlie" if that's what people seemed to call him?

I have a couple of theories:

The first one: when Charles meets Edwin he's in a fragile state. A boy he's never seen in all his time at school approaches him, seeming to come out of thin air, just to bring him a lantern without any strings attached (even though Charles cannot give him anything in return). Charles has never experienced that kind of unconditional kindness in his life, and I'm sure that alone was enough to be a bit earth-shaking, mind-scrambling, and intimidating.

But it doesn't end there! The boy who brings the lantern is also claiming to be dead. Delerium/hallucinations are a common symptom of hypothermia so Charles could have though that Edwin was not real or was maybe even some kind of angel-like figure coming to keep him company in his final moments. I mean, the boy's wearing a dated school uniform, enters in a halo glow of golden light, and can walk through walls...it's not the wildest conclusion to jump to.

I think either of thos things individually or a combination of having your guard up, being a bit frazzled from the whole "dying" thing, and believing you're in the presence of an ethereal deity (combined with the fact that you're a people pleaser at your core) is enough to feel compelled to introduce yourself not in formal manner. Not to mention if Edwin introduced himself first, hand outstretched in a formal matter and proper posh accent on full display (something I can totally see him doing), Charles might have felt a bit silly calling himself by such a casual title.

While I think all of this can be varying degrees of true, however, my biggest personal headcanon is that Charles might not have introduced himself as Charlie because who's to say he LIKED that nickname? My circumstances were similar to Charles' growing up, I also had many nicknames from friends and family that I didn't ask for but was given anyway against my will... and I always hated it. Still cringe at some of them to this day, actually! So I think it's possible that Charlie Rowland met Edwin Payne, with all his formal stature and proper professional-sounding name, and took the opportunity to choose what he'd like to go by, without the influence of family or friends. In that way, his chosen identity that would kick off the rest of his existence moving forward (unknown to him at the moment, but true from a narrative standpoint nonetheless) serves as a "Taking your power back" moment for Charles who literally just heard the name "Charlie" being hurled at him as he begged for mercy from people who were supposed to be his friends. Even if he tolerated the nickname "Charlie" before, it certainly wouldn't have fond associations following the event that ended his life (if it had any positive associations to begin with).

Again, speaking from experience, Charlie also sounds like the kind of nickname that could be sugar-sweet on some tongues, innocent even, (his mother cooing over a young Charles), but terrifying from an abusive figure... a scathing kind of mockery. I've always imagined that Charles' dad more than likely called him Charlie, for example, and not in a fond, loving way (in the same way his so-called "friends" were not doing so in a loving way).

So yeah, why would Charles WANT to go by Charlie?

Now that we've established that, we can go back to Edwin...what you came here for!

All that in mind, I still don't see Edwin as the nickname type at all. From a romance standpoint I could maybe see him using a few dated, sappy endearments, but we don't ever hear him use a casual name toward anyone. In his lifetime Charlie would have been a perfectly normal name, but the kind of "fond" nicknaming practices and casual male friendships that happened in 1989 were not common practices in 1916, the Edwardian era. Even with his infinite fondness of Charles, I could never see Edwin uttering "Charlie." It doesn't feel right.

Plus, let's be honest: Edwin says Charles' name with enough love and reverence that he doesn't need to use an endearment. His tone says it all (lol).

Beyond that though, like I said above, I can't see Edwin feeling to impulse to call him "Charlie" because that's not how Charles introduced himself. Edwin strikes me as the kind of person that would be like, "If he wanted to be called Charlie, he surely would have said as much" and left it at that. But a name like Charlie also conveys a sort of youthfulness, and while he and Charles are 16 forever, technically, they have been detached from their lives for a long time and they're MUCH older than 16 in experience and in their professional life.

The only question I was left with, and one I've seen several people ponder, is why Charles would suggest they call The Night Nurse Charlie, (like from Charlie's Angels), as it seems a bit strange if his own name is Charlie/he went by Charlie. My answer/interpretation isn't that exciting, but it's one I feel makes the most sense: I honestly think this can easily be explained away by the fact that Charles is so far removed from that identity and so dissociated from his life that he no longer associates the name "Charlie" with himself in any way. Like it literally didn't even occur to him, in that moment, that Charlie/Charles are so similar because he has built a barrier in his mind between himself and that nickname; they're two entirely different identifiers to him. Whether that be a coping mechanism, or simply just something he wasn't thinking so deeply about (it has been 30 years since anyone called him that, except for Brad and Hunter in Port Townsend), we can't say for sure. However, it's clear Charles does not want to go by Charlie, and at least now we can safely assume why.

Let me know your thoughts! Do you agree with my interpretation? Do you have your own opinion that I didn't cover? Feel free to share with me!

Keep streaming Dead Boy Detectives & screaming about it ! Hugs to each and every one of you! 💜

[sourprada]

୨ৎ─ 𝗧𝗵𝗲 𝗱𝗶𝗻𝗲𝗿.

Prompt:⤷ Wanda comes home to find something, or someone, more appealing than the meal she had planned.

Warnings: ⤷ (18+), dom wanda x sub reader, established relationship, fingering, spanking, wanda being a simp, strap on, dirty talk, praise, detailed description of sex.

Word count:⤷ 1.4k

Wanda had just gotten home a from stressful day at work, eyes heavy and head full. As she entered the apartment, she smiled at the sight of her wife cooking in the kitchen. The fragrance of spices and cocked meat filled the air, making Wanda’s mouth water.

You glanced over at the sound of keys jiggling and greeted her with a smile “just in time, baby. Dinner will be ready in a few” — Wanda stepped closer chuckling softly, her arm tightened around he wife’s waist. “Dinner can wait, my love” she murmured, nuzzling her nose into your hair. The older woman pulled you closer, hand coming up to stroke through your soft locks. “You should help your wife relax, sweetheart” Wanda whispered, pressing a kiss to your temple. “And let her take care of you”

Wanda simply held you close, drinking in the warmth of your body, the sweet scent of your shampoo as she listened to the steady rhythm of your breathing. — In moments like these, the rest of the world falls away. The chaos, the danger the ever present threat of discovery… none of it mattered. All that existed is Wanda and you wrapped up in each other, lost in a cocoon of love. — “already craving the desert before the dinner, wands?” You murmured, voice turning sweet. Wanda laughed, low and breathy, her fingers dancing along your spine. She tilted you chin up capturing your lips in a searing kiss. It’s slow and deep, a thorough exploration of her spouse’s mouth. Her tongue delved past your teeth, stroking along the roof of your mouth and trancing the seam of your lips.

When they finally broke apart, both of them were panting, their faces flushed with desire. Wanda’s hand slid down your back, cupping the curve of your ass. She squeezed gently, pulling you flush against her — “This little housewife look suits you so well, my love” Wanda murmured, nipping at your earlobe “is it wrong to keep you all to myself just so I can fill you up whenever I feel like it?” Wanda breathed, her lips brushing against your jaw punctuating her words by rocking her hips forward, grinding the strap on she had packed all day against your ass. The friction sending sparks of pleasure racing through you. — Her hand slipped beneath the hem of your shirt, skimming over the soft skin of your stomach. Long fingers trailing lower, teasing along the waistband of your shorts. “Because I swear, if you keep like this… I won’t be able to stop myself from bending you over on every surface of this house and fuck you till you scream” she bit down your pulse point, sucking hard enough to leave marks

Wanda's eyes flashed with hunger, her pupils blown wide with desire. She surged forward, capturing your lips in a bruising kiss. It's all teeth and tongue, a clash of passion and need. “Fuck, sweetheart," Wanda rasps, tearing her mouth away from you. "The things you do to me..." Her hands were everywhere, skimming over your curves, mapping the dips and planes of your body. Wanda's touch is electric, igniting sparks of pleasure wherever she goes. — She hooked her fingers in the waistband of your shorts, yanking them down along with your panties. Ass bared to her, plush and perfect, just begging to be touched. “Look at you," Wanda growled, palming the globes of your ass. "So fucking gorgeous. I can't believe you're mine.” “I’m gonna wreck you, my love.” She promised, her voice low and rough with desire tickling your ear. The older woman pushed you forward, bending your body over the counter, standing between your thighs. — “why don’t you tell me how bad do you want me to fill you up, huh?” Her other hand snaked around, fingers delving between your folds. Wanda groaned at the slick heat she finds there, at the way your body welcomes her touch.

“Want to feel you inside me, Wanda. Please!” You looked back over your shoulder, eyes dark with desire. You bit your lip, a coy smile playing on your lips. Wanda’s gaze roamed you hungrily as you arched your back, presenting yourself to your wife like a cat in heat. Hips wiggling invitingly, silently begging for more. The sight of her lover presented so wantonly, so eagerly, is almost too much to bear. She reached out, palming your ass, kneading the soft globes. Wanda's fingers dip between your cheeks, teasing the entrance. — "So wet for me already," Wanda marvels, circling your clit with the pad of her thumb. "Such a good girl, so desperate for my touch." The woman leans down, pressing a trail of open-mouthed kisses along your spine. Her tongue darting out, laving at the dimples at the base of your back. She reached for the button of her jeans, popping it open and shoving them down her thighs, kicking them off, leaving her in nothing but a girthy strap on. She stepped forward, nestling the thick length of the faux cock against your slick folds. The older woman rolled her hips, grinding against your ass. The head catching on your entrance with every pass.

“Please, Wanda. Don’t tease.” Wanda's heart raced, her breath coming in ragged pants. The plea falling from your lips is her undoing, the final push she needed to give in to the all-consuming desire burning through her veins. “Gonna give you exactly what you want, sweetheart.” Wanda groans, her hips snapping forward. She sinked into your heat, inch by thick inch, until she's buried to the hilt. Your head falling forward, eyes rolling back, mouth falling open in a silent scream as Wanda’s cock stretched your cunt wider. The burn is exquisite, bordering on painful but you crave it. Crave the fullness, the way she’s splitting you open and calming you as hers. Wanda quickly started to move, setting a brutal pace. Her thrusts were hard and deep, hitting that spot inside you that made you see stars. — "Take it, sweetheart." Wanda growled, punctuating each word with a sharp snap of her hips. Your keening cries filled the room, music to Wanda's ears. The sounds of skin slapping against skin, of Wanda's grunts of pleasure, of the wet squelch of her cock plunging into your dripping cunt. — your nails scrabbled at the counter, desperate for purchase as Wanda pounded into you with abandon. Each thrust rocked you forward, forcing the air from your lungs in harsh pants. Toes curling and back arching as you tried to take her deeper, to feel her everywhere. “So fucking big.” You gasp, voice breaking on a sob. You could feel every ridge and vein of her fake cock dragging along your walls and stroking places you didn't even know existed. It was too much, too intense, but stopping wasn’t an option.

Wanda's hand came down on your ass, a sharp smack that echoed in the kitchen. The sting bloomed into pleasure, sending shockwaves through your body. The sight of her wife coming undone beneath her, lost to the pleasure only Wanda can give her, was intoxicating. Wanda's hips pistoling faster, harder, driven by the desperate need to claim you. — “Fuck, look at you," Wanda panted, her voice strained with exertion. "Taking my cock so well, like you were made for it." She leaned over you, blanketing your form with her own. One hand finding your clit. Wanda rubbed tight circles over the sensitive nub, matching the rhythm of her thrusts. Her thrusts grew erratic, your climax approaching rapidly. The coil of tension in your lower belly winding tighter and tighter, threatening to snap at any moment. “Come for me, my love," Wanda demanded, her fingers pinching your clit. "Come on my cock like a good little housewife." With a final, brutal thrust, Wanda buried herself to the hilt as the intense waves of pleasure crashed over you, your juices dripping down your thighs. Your walls clenched around her, coming undone beneath her touch. You can't help but whimper and moan, voice echoing off the walls as Wanda pounds into you relentlessly, drawing out every last drop of release. The scent of sex permeates the room, mixing with the sounds of your heavy breathing and the slick slide of skin against skin.

“That's it, sweetheart," Wanda murmured, pressing soft kisses to your sweat-slicked skin. With a coy smile, Wanda tugged your panties back up, the fabric still damp with your release. “Now that’s better. Spending the rest of the meal with your cum soaked panties.” Wanda demanded with her lips curling into a wicked grin. — “Shall we eat?.”

[talon-dragonbeast]

Anglocentrism in alterhuman communities: ramblings of a Spanish-speaking dragon and a cat

[original in spanish here, though i have no doubt that this version will be disseminated more widely] • [original en español aquí, aunque tengo la certeza de que esta versión se difundirá más ampliamente]

this post was originally written as part of The Sol System's Alterhuman Writing Challenge. written by @talon-dragonbeast, with the help of my sibling @watcherwingedcat. we hope you like it!

word count: 2422

This writing, which is more of a rant with myself than a proper essay, is one I've been meaning to write for a long time; ever since I first joined an online community, to be more precise. Anglocentrism, according to Wikipedia (and yes, the irony of the article not being available in Spanish is not lost to me), is "the practice of viewing the world primarily through the lens of English or Anglo-American culture, language, and values, often marginalizing or disparaging non-English-speaking or non-Anglo perspectives."

If you are monolingual and your native language is English, chances are you have never stopped to think about the advantage this gives you over those of us who are not so fortunate as to be born with the lingua franca on our lips. Yes, you may have had to study some Spanish in school, but let's be honest, very few people remember what they learn in elementary school. As an English speaker, the whole world is built for you, and it's the rest of us who have to fit your mold. Culture, scientific articles, movies, books, video games, the internet, online communities, technical language, educational videos: even in the most international spaces, everything revolves around English. Which brings me to the subject of this writing: The Alterhuman community.

My name (as I am known on the internet, at least) is Talon. I've been a member of the alterhuman community, and more specifically, the otherkin community, for a little over a year now. Otherkin (a word that comes from other, in Spanish otros; and kin, shortened form of kind, in Spanish tipo) are people who identify as nonhuman in some way. For example, I identify as a dragon (among other things), and that's what I am, even if I look human on the outside and am perceived as such. There are many reasons why someone might believe they are not human, but I'm not here to discuss that, so let's get back to the topic at hand.

Since I've been in this community, I haven't written a single post in Spanish. And not for lack of desire, nor because I am intimidated to share something as personal as my mother tongue. No, the reason is simple: The community does not exist in any language other than English. By this I don't mean that there are no non-humans outside of England or the United States, because of course there are (even if they are on other platforms like TikTok or Instagram), and I'll talk about those later. But simply put, the reason you don't see many alterhuman communities in other languages is because all the resources, the introductions, the chronologies of the (English) alterhuman community, the definitions of the terms, the terms themselves, everything is in English.

I have always been bilingual. Well, trilingual actually, although my third language is not too relevant in my day to day life and I only use it in classes or when someone starts a conversation in the language. It's hard to explain how your brain works when you speak multiple languages fluently, but basically it's like running two parallel systems at the same time, but with thoughts. I don't usually think with words, but when I do it usually happens that some of my thoughts are in Spanish, and others in English, roughly in a 50/50 ratio. Or it can also happen that I start the thought in one language, but finish it in another. Or I may try to use a specific word in English that does not have an exact translation into Spanish, so that when translated literally the sentence does not make sense. Basically, everything I write or say out loud I have to run it through several filters first, one to remove the words from the other language, one to find the words to replace them with, and one to make the sentence make sense. Sounds exhausting, doesn't it? It is. Now imagine if in order to express yourself as you really are, in order to participate in a community with beings who understand and accept you like no other, you had to basically suppress half of who you are, all the time.

The problem is not only not being able to use my native language to express myself. As I have demonstrated in the last year and a half that I have been in this community, I am fluent enough in English not only to be understood when I speak, but also to express such complicated concepts as the self, human nature, the psychology of being, and all that comes with existing as nonhuman. The real problem comes when I try to express relatively common alterhuman concepts in my native language. I'm not just talking about labels like otherkin or therianthrope, which can be adapted to Spanish with relative ease. It's the little things, the simplest things.

For example, the term shift. The word itself is already difficult to translate; during my searches, I found a glossary of terms on the Otherkin Hispano website in which they call them "desplazamientos", which... is an accurate translation, I guess, but impossible to use comfortably in everyday life. There are also terms whose definitions use expressions that simply cannot be translated into other languages. For example, otherkin and otherhearted. In English, the difference between these two terms is that otherkin means "[to] identify as" while otherhearted is "[to] identify with". But this is a purely English expression. In other languages, the distinction does not exist, or it makes no sense to use it; therefore, these terms are totally inaccessible to any international user. Or compound words like "catkin", which are difficult to express in other languages. According to Otherkin Hispano, in Spanish it would be said as is without translation, Soy catkin. But that... is not grammatically correct, since it would be mixing two languages in the same sentence. The most appropriate would be to say Soy gatokin, which sounds wrong and doesn't make sense anyway, because kin is still an English word. Or "hearttype", which in Spanish could be roughly translated as "tipo del corazón" (kind of [the] heart). When saying that you have a specific hearttype, for example "corvidhearted", one way of expressing it could be a simple Soy corvidhearted, which carries the same problems as catkin. Or you could, as Wikipedia advises, say Soy corazón de córvido ("I am heart of corvid"). I don't dislike it, to be honest, but some might find it too metaphorical or poetic.

Finally, and before reaching the conclusion, I want to dedicate a few paragraphs to talk about the alterhuman community that exists in other languages. I mentioned before these communities; that although they do exist, they are very scattered through platforms such as TikTok or Instagram, with which I am not so familiar. But since I can't talk about Anglocentrism without at least talking about the Spanish-speaking alterhuman community, I asked my sibling Watcher @watcherwingedcat what it thought about the topic. This is what they wrote:

Hi guys, I'm Watcher, and I'm here to talk a bit about the Spanish-speaking therian community, which I think is the pristine example of the hate we receive both from people outside the community and from those inside, both Spanish and South American. While this post focused more on the language barriers, I want to focus on the real consequences of this barrier, how it divides us in the way we interact with each other: The social part of this whole thing (as I already said some other time or another and some of my followers know, I am studying Social Education, so from my point of view the social part is very relevant for everything we do). As my sister already said (hi Talon!), the English community is the majority in alterhuman spaces, but, what is the Spanish-speaking community really like?

Not very large, is the answer. The term itself is not very widespread, and the community is quite small. However, after a while of searching, I found it in a little corner of the internet. When I found a community in my own language, I was excited, but my curiosity and joy were soon extinguished... When I saw the reactions to their videos and posts on tiktok mainly. They were packed with hate messages. Packed. If you think hate in the English community is bad, you are not prepared for the hate received in other communities, especially the Spanish one. This is more a matter of culture, a little bit also due to the closed mindedness in countries like Spain, Argentina, or Colombia.

In general, the non-humans of the Spanish-speaking community mostly post about quadrobics and masks. At least, I haven't seen much beyond that, and the community is mostly in tiktok. And the reception of their expression of way of being? Disgusting. To give an example of how bad the hate is, in one of the videos I found (I think it was a therian making a mask or something), humans and non-humans were insulting the therian posting the video, discussions about how we are crazy and sick in the head and should be in mental institutions... It was horrible. The worst were the death threats, even, wishing the therian to die, or hang themselves, or worse (I've even seen rape threats). Comments that said things like, "If my sister told me she was a dog I would take her clothes off and force her to sleep outside and eat animal food, if she wants to be a dog I will treat her like one." Threats of abuse, both physical and sexual... Absolutely disgusting. And the worst thing is that the tiktok platform did not remove these hate accounts, the copy and paste messages of insults, the threats....

I am proud of the Hispanic community for being so open about their identity, don't get me wrong, but there are times when it is safer to just not share that part of who we are with others, especially if you are a minor and vulnerable. That's another issue that concerns me, as I've seen people coming out to parents, siblings, friends, and them just belittling them. That, coupled with misinformation, is a recipe for disaster.

I couldn't help but notice the deep root of misinformation in the non-human community itself. They confuse definitions, the different terms, which leads them to spread even more misinformation. This I don't think is entirely their fault, or that they are so young for the most part, as I have not seen Hispanic therians over the age of 18. I think this is largely due (as Talon already mentioned) to the language difference, and the lack of translation of certain terms. In general, when talking to friends with whom I am open about my non-humanity, I use English terms. It is a little weird to use those words in English while speaking in Spanish, but I am bilingual and for now there is no solution to that. I think the Spanish community would benefit from spreading correct information, and having a platform to express themselves with their own, like tumblr is for the English community. Something my sister expands on in dreir post. As for me here I finish my little comment, I'll leave you with Talon now. Watcher out.

As a conclusion, I would like to talk about the consequences that Anglocentrism might have on non-English speaking alterhumans, and then propose some ideas on how we might begin to address (or at least mitigate) it as a community.

First of all it is the obvious; the vast majority of non-English speaking alterhumans simply never realize that they are alterhumans in the first place, on account of the language barrier. All of the resources for beings who are questioning their humanity or lack thereof are in English, so they are not accessible to people who don't understand the language; therefore, a non-English speaker would have a much harder time accessing them. Another consequence is not being able to express your alterhumanity fully, both internally and externally. Remember when I mentioned that my thoughts are evenly distributed between English and Spanish, always keeping a 50/50 ratio? Well, recently, I have noticed that when reflecting on my identity as a dragon, all my thoughts are automatically generated in English. I find this deeply shocking, as I feel that a fundamental part of my identity is being eroded. It is devastating to feel that you can only express half of who you are, suppressing what could otherwise be a complex and multifaceted identity. Not being able to express myself in my other language limits my ability to explore that part of myself.

Anglocentrism is a cycle that never ends; since all the resources are in English, no members in other languages can join, and since there are no members in other languages, all the resources that are created are in English. And while I wish I could say that I have a solution to end this Anglocentrism once and for all, unfortunately, I do not. I am only one person (dragon), and this is a problem that I alone cannot solve. True, there have been some commendable attempts by the international community (translations of writings, alterhuman blogs in languages other than English, the Eurokin server on Discord are some examples); however, these initiatives often don't often get very far because of the very nature of the community. As I have already said, most of the alterhumans are North American or English, therefore any attempt to globalize the community would be restricted by the fact that there are not many members who would be interested in this in the first place. So what can we do to change this? The answer lies in you, reader. If you have a second language, encourage yourself to create writings in it from time to time. If you come from a culture other than the mainstream, talk about how that affects your identity. If you have traditions specific to your country that you believe are alterhuman in nature, share them. And if you are part of the English-speaking majority, I invite you to contribute in a positive way through simple actions, such as listening to us when we express ourselves in other languages, recognizing that we do not all share the same culture, and keeping an open mind when discussing topics that may be unfamiliar to you. Our strength as a community lies in the diversity of our members; let's embrace it.

[thrashkink-coven]

Okay. Lots to unpack here. I’m gonna hit them all one by one because I’ve already explained most of this.

1. Abortion as a concept is different than murder as it is regarded in the law. To say “God didn’t HAVE to address it” is ridiculous because abortion was incredibly common place. God specifically outlines laws for kidnapping, but he already has laws about “treat others how you would like to be treated” doesn’t that automatically imply no kidnapping? Yes, but…. it was significant enough of a thing for God to make specific laws about it. God doesn’t say “thow shall not drown your kids or shoot them in the head”, but a living breathing independent child is established as a person, and so to kill them would be murder. A fetus is not a person independent of its mother. If the mother dies, the fetus dies. Murder is applied to individual people, not parasites, cancer cells, sperm cells, eggs, or fetuses. A murder is the unlawful killing of a person, fetuses have not even begun to be people.

2. “Before you were formed in the womb, before you were born, I sanctified you”

God also knew the sons of Egypt before they were formed in the womb. God knows every single soul before they are even conceived, this doesn’t speak anything to whether or not a fetus is a person. God is simply saying he knows all things and all people before people were even a thing. God knew every stillborn baby and every person who was never born. This literally proves nothing and speaks nothing about reproductive rights. It’s a reference to a special plan for one man rather than a general approach to biology and reproduction, a reference to the vision of God and the importance of Jeremiah and his mission. It’s also biblical hyperbole, written in a language that constantly uses rhetoric and poetry to make a particular point. You yourself say “just because it’s said in one context doesn’t mean it’s true for all people”. Take your own advice. Again, twisting the text. Bearing false witness

in Psalm 139. “For it was you who formed my inward parts; you knit me together in my mother’s womb. I praise you, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made. Wonderful are your works; that I know very well. My frame was not hidden from you, when I was being made in secret, intricately woven in the depths of the earth. Your eyes beheld my unformed substance. In your book were written all the days that were formed for me, when none of them as yet existed.”

Again, what is being said? This passage is surely about God’s power, but it doesn’t say anything that is at all specific or exclusive to the fetus. The Christian belief is that God knows all, knows us, knows who and what we are.

When it describes movement in the womb of Elizabeth, this is a reference to people who are not ordinary, not usual, not as the rest of us. This is a poetic illustration of the link between Jesus and John, a scriptural ballad telling of what is of the eternal, the humanizing of salvation. It’s not a guide to female reproduction.

3. God makes the distinction between people, completed humans, and fetus’ when he says that the punishment for causing a woman to miscarry is a fine. That’s also something you blatantly misrepresented. “Further harm” was in reference to the woman, the mother who is a person. An eye for an eye, a life for a life, if the mother suffers harm, if the woman is to miscarry the punishment is a fine. This is stated very clearly and yet you’ve somehow found a way to twist it around lmao. If a woman is hurt in a struggle and then has a miscarriage, the penalty is a fine, a mere financial payment. But, if there is further harm, likely meaning the woman has long-term and serious injuries or even dies, then the culprit could be killed. In other words, the life and well-being of the woman, the mother, is of much greater significance than those of her unborn child.

“Here is Exodus 21:22-24 from the New JPS Tanakh:

22When men fight, and one of them pushes a pregnant woman and a miscarriage results, but no other damage ensues, the one responsible shall be fined according as the woman's husband may exact from him, the payment to be based on reckoning. 23 But if other damage ensues, the penalty shall be life for life, 24 eye for eye, tooth for tooth, hand for hand, foot for foot...

And here is Jeffrey H. Tigay's annotation in The Jewish Study Bible:

22: Other damage to the woman. Based on reckoning: perhaps reckoning the age of the fetus, but both this translation and the alternative "as the judges determine" are questionable. Halakhic exegesis infers that, since the punishment is monetary rather than execution, the unborn fetus is not considered a living person and feticide is not murder (d. 12-14 n.); hence, abortion is permitted when necessary to save the mother (Rashi and Yad Ramah to b. Sanh. 72b; see also Gen. 9.5--6 n.).

Also, please note that laws in Deuteronomy (Deuteronomy 4:41-43,19:1-7) allowed for "cities of refuge" to which someone who committed an accidental killing could flee to escape an "avenger of blood" seeking revenge for a death. No such allowance is made for accidentally causing a miscarriage, which is further evidence that a fetus was not considered a person.

The LXX of Exodus gives a different translation, which centers solely on the fetus:

22 Now if two men fight and strike a pregnant woman and her child comes forth not fully formed, he shall be punished with a fine. According as the husband of the woman might impose, he shall pay with judicial assessment. 23 But if it is fully formed, he shall pay life for life, 24 eye for eye, tooth for tooth, hand for hand, foot for foot...

The LXX seems to recognize that a fetus that is not "fully formed" is not a person, but one that is "fully formed," i.e. at a stage of development such that the fetus looks like a baby, should have its death adjudicated as if it were a living person. However, even the LXX's interpretation is incompatible with the common fundamentalist view that a fertilized egg is a person.

And this makes sense. Obviously these laws cannot and do not apply to every situation. Abortion is a nuanced topic that is vastly different for different people. Late term abortions are unethical in some situations. We cannot use a couple lines of text written and translated thousands of years ago to dictate the lives of every vagina having person on the planet. It doesn’t make sense.

4. “even if you were correct about what the passage says it would be a stretch to infer that means God's just across the board ok with abortion in cases of infidelity. Those instructions were given at that specific time to those specific people. They were not intended to be used by all people forever. The happenings in the New Testament make those practices no longer necessary.”

😃

you’re so close. You’re so close to getting it. The irony is killing me.

5. I agree that the bible does not outwardly support abortion. But it also NEVER at any point condemns it. There were many opportunities to do so, the women of Egypt and Canaan were regularly practicing abortion, Hebrew women themselves were practicing abortion. It’s not mentioned or condemned likely because it was considered a necessary medical procedure at the time in certain contexts. It simply would not make sense to draw a firm line either way.

Tldr: Even with all these examples we’ve spoken of, the bible never directly addresses abortion in general. Talks a ton about literally all other aspects of pregnancy, menstruation, sex and marriage, never anything about the ethics of fetal life. If you think abortion is murder, cool, you do not understand the basic definition of murder, and would be condemning all women who lose their fetuses through medically necessary procedures. You’re super free to have that opinion. But that is only your opinion, not a law sent by God or Jesus Christ.

most frustrating thing I’ve learned recently as i continue to read the bible

yeah so the bible literally never, at any point condemns abortion. Jesus never condemned abortion. In fact :) the bible actually provides instructions on how to properly have one. seriously. Look into it. Christianity takes its ethical base from Judaism, and Judaism says that you're not a person with a soul until you draw your first breath.

so :)

hahaha :) there’s literally no reason :) why Christians want to deny women and afab people healthcare :) besides the obvious, to control our bodies.

like :) there’s literally no reason :))

guys 🙏 absolutely NO scripture. :) condemning abortion even once. :)))))))

i’m about to lose my fucking MIND.

[blackenedsnow]

hi! i love your writing :)

i head canon that shadow volunteers for mental health organizations where they help people because he’s been there himself and wants to help people.

can you do a platonic shadow x reader one shot on that? reader is an extremely mentally ill person that shadow finds at the place he volunteers?

a quiet kind of hope

WARNING: Themes of severe depression, intrusive thoughts, implied self-isolation.

PAIRING: Shadow the Hedgehog & Reader

NOTE: Hi!! Oh my gosh, thank you for this sweet request. Shadow volunteering for mental health organizations is such a perfect headcanon—I love the idea of him channeling his past struggles into helping others. Thank you for trusting me with something so tender. Please take care of yourself. Sending love your way <333

SUMMARY: At a community mental health center where Shadow volunteers, he finds himself drawn to you—a quiet, lost soul in need of someone who understands.

The fluorescent lights of the community center hummed faintly above as you sat tucked into a corner, knees drawn to your chest. People came and went, their footsteps echoing against the scuffed linoleum floor, but no one seemed to notice you—or if they did, they didn’t stop.

You weren’t sure why you’d come here. Maybe it was the promise of a warm drink, or the idea that someone might listen without judgment. Maybe it was just somewhere to go when the walls of your apartment felt too heavy to bear.

Shadow walked past with his usual quiet purpose. He didn’t hover or pry, but his presence was impossible to ignore. He was there enough to seem imposing, yet somehow still approachable—his crimson eyes catching the light like embers as he glanced around the room.

It wasn’t until his third lap near your corner that he finally paused.

“You’re not here for the coffee,” he said, his voice low but not unkind.

Startled, you looked up at him. Shadow didn’t sit; he crouched down instead, resting one arm on his knee to meet you at eye level.

“Are you waiting for someone?” he asked.

You shook your head. Words felt too heavy to form.

Shadow tilted his head, studying you. There was no pity in his gaze—only patience. He knew better than to push for answers you weren’t ready to give.

“I’m Shadow,” he said after a moment. “I volunteer here. If you need anything—or if you just want to sit quietly—that’s fine.”

His presence was steady, like an anchor. You nodded hesitantly, unsure if he would leave or stay. To your surprise, he moved to sit on the floor nearby, keeping enough distance to give you space but staying close enough to show he wasn’t going anywhere.

For a long while, neither of you spoke.

It became a pattern over the next few weeks. Shadow never forced you to talk, never asked for more than you were willing to share. Sometimes, you’d sit in silence while he worked on paperwork or handed out supplies to other visitors. Other times, he’d offer simple observations—a comment about the weather, or a quiet remark about how the coffee was even worse than usual today.

He made it easy to exist without expectations.

One day, when the room was emptier than usual, you finally found the courage to speak.

“Why do you do this?” you asked, your voice barely louder than a whisper.

Shadow glanced up from his clipboard. For a moment, he looked almost surprised.

“I’ve been where you are,” he said simply. “I know what it’s like to feel… stuck. Like there’s no way out. I had help when I needed it. This is my way of paying it forward.”

His honesty was disarming. You stared at your hands, picking at a loose thread on your sleeve.

“It doesn’t feel like it’ll get better,” you admitted.

“It doesn’t, at first,” Shadow said. “But it can. Slowly. The first step is the hardest—you took it when you walked in here.”

His words settled over you like a blanket—not an instant cure, but a quiet reassurance. For the first time in weeks, the weight on your chest felt just a little lighter.

Over time, your conversations grew longer. Shadow never pushed you to share more than you were comfortable with, but he listened intently to everything you said. He remembered the little details—your favorite tea, the book you were slowly working through, the things that scared you most on bad days.

In his own way, he showed you that it was okay to take up space in the world.

You didn’t realize how much you’d come to rely on his presence until one evening, when the community center was unusually quiet. You’d been lost in thought, staring at the fading light outside, when Shadow appeared beside you with two steaming cups of tea.

“For you,” he said, setting one down carefully.

You blinked up at him. “Thank you. For everything.”

Shadow’s expression softened, just enough for you to notice.

“You don’t have to thank me,” he said. “You’re doing the hard part. I’m just here to remind you that you’re not alone.”

But one day…

The space you usually occupied in the corner of the center was empty.

Shadow’s sharp gaze swept across the room again, as if expecting you to appear any moment, but the hours ticked by, and the door remained closed.

It wasn’t unusual for people to miss a day here or there—life had a way of pulling people in unpredictable directions—but this wasn’t like you. You came to the center every time it was open, like clockwork, even on the days when you barely said a word.

Shadow couldn’t ignore the heavy feeling settling in his chest.

“You looking for someone?” one of the other volunteers asked as she packed up for the night.

Shadow nodded, his arms crossed tightly over his chest. “Yes. A regular.”

She smiled sympathetically. “Maybe they just needed a break. Sometimes it’s overwhelming for folks.”

“Maybe,” Shadow replied, but the doubt in his voice was evident.

He stayed a little longer than usual, tidying up stray cups and chairs as an excuse to linger. When it became clear you weren’t coming, he left, stepping out into the cold night air.

The thought of you walking home alone—head down, shoulders hunched—stuck in his mind.

The next day, you still didn’t show.

Shadow’s unease grew, twisting into something sharper. He tried to focus on his tasks, but his mind kept circling back to the hollow ache in his chest. He hated how familiar it felt.

When the center closed that evening, he made a decision. He wasn’t the type to sit around waiting for answers.

He remembered fragments of things you’d shared in passing—your neighborhood, the street you lived on. Shadow wasn’t one to pry, but he had a way of listening closely, piecing together the little details others might miss.

The streets were quiet as he walked, the night heavy with the kind of stillness that pressed against his ears. He found your building easily enough: a squat, aging structure with peeling paint and a flickering light by the entrance.

He climbed the stairs quickly, his footsteps echoing faintly.

When Shadow knocked, there was no answer.

He tried again, harder this time. “It’s me,” he called. “Shadow.”

For a long moment, there was only silence. Then, faintly, he heard movement inside.

“Go away,” came your voice, muffled and small.

Shadow’s ears twitched. You sounded exhausted—hollow in a way he hadn’t heard before.

“I’m sorry, Y/N.” he said, his tone firm but not harsh. “But I need to know you’re okay.”

Another long pause. Eventually, the door creaked open just a crack.

You didn’t meet his eyes. Your face was tired, your shoulders hunched as if the weight of the world was pressing down on you.

“I’m fine,” you muttered, but the words were unconvincing even to yourself.

Shadow’s gaze softened. “You’re not.”

The door opened a little wider, and he could see the state of your apartment—the cluttered surfaces, the curtains drawn tight against the light. It was clear you hadn’t been taking care of yourself, and the sight of it made something tighten in his chest.

“I didn’t want to go today,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “I didn’t want to do… anything.”

Shadow stepped inside carefully, closing the door behind him. He didn’t speak right away, giving you time to retreat to the edge of your bed. You sat with your head in your hands, your breaths uneven.

“I know how that feels,” he said quietly, moving to sit on the floor near you. “Sometimes the world feels too big. Like you can’t face it.”

Your fingers curled tighter into your hair. “It’s not just that,” you said, your voice cracking. “It’s… everything. It’s all wrong, and I can’t fix it. I’m just—” You stopped, choking back a sob.

“You’re overwhelmed,” Shadow finished for you, his voice steady. “That doesn’t make you weak.”

Your breathing hitched.

Shadow leaned forward, resting his arms on his knees. “You’ve survived this long. That means you’re stronger than you think.”

His words weren’t flowery or overly comforting—they were simple, grounded in truth.

“Why do you care so much?” you asked, your voice raw.

“I told you before. I’ve been there,” he said without hesitation. “I know how lonely it feels. I’m not going to let somebody drown in it.”

Shadow stayed with you that night. He didn’t push you to talk, but he also didn’t leave. He tidied the room quietly, opened the curtains to let in the moonlight, and made sure you drank a glass of water before you finally lay down.

As you drifted off, his words lingered in your mind: You’re not alone.

For the first time in days, it felt like you weren’t.

[shywithapurpose]

Nanami x Reader

Soft words, gentle touches

You hear the front door creak open, followed by the familiar shuffle of Nanami’s tired footsteps as he steps into the hallway. The sound alone tells you it’s been a long day for him—slow, heavy, the kind of exhaustion that runs deep into the bones. Even before he speaks, you can hear the weariness in his sighs. A frown tugs at your lips, because you know exactly how he’s feeling. You've seen this before: the way the workday drains him, leaving him hollow but somehow still standing. But it’s different when he’s home. That’s when the weight of the day begins to lift, even if just a little.

You’re waiting for him, in the quiet warmth of the living room, bathed in the soft, golden glow of the lamp. Shadows dance across the walls like old friends, familiar and comforting. You rise when you hear him step into the room, a small, instinctive movement. Your heart gives a little swell, always glad to see him home, even when he’s worn thin by the world outside.

"Hey, love," you say softly.

Nanami looks up at you, his eyes meeting yours with a silent gratitude that makes the fatigue in his face soften just a bit. His lips form a faint, weary smile as he drops his suitcase by the door, shoulders sagging. He steps toward you, every movement heavy, slow, as though his body is asking for permission to rest.

"I’m so tired," he mutters, his voice rough from hours of constant effort.

You don’t need him to explain. You’ve seen him push through the exhaustion, how he carries the weight of everything on his shoulders—his job, his responsibilities, the world’s expectations—like it’s all his burden to bear. You reach up without thinking, brushing your fingers gently across his cheek, a soft, quiet promise that no matter how tough his day has been, he’s not alone.

“Come here,” you murmur, guiding him toward the couch.

He follows you willingly, the weariness in his posture making it almost impossible for him to resist the pull of the comfort you're offering. He sinks into the cushions with a soft grunt, and you kneel beside him, your hands already moving to his shoulders. Your fingers press into the knots, working them loose with careful, practiced motions. The tension in his body starts to melt under your touch, and he exhales a long, relieved breath. He tilts his head back slightly, eyes closed, letting himself fall into the rhythm of your hands. There’s a heaviness to him that goes beyond physical exhaustion—emotional, too, you know. And yet, here, in this moment, he allows himself to let it go.

“Thank you,” he whispers, a simple acknowledgment, but it's enough.

You smile softly, leaning in to kiss the crown of his head before returning to your task, fingers moving to his neck, pressing with just the right amount of pressure. He hums in contentment, and you can feel his body slowly unwinding, the sharp edges of his stress dulling with every movement.

"You’re always so tense," you murmur, half-teasing, but there’s affection in the words.

Nanami sighs again, this time less from weariness and more from the comfort of your presence. His hands find yours, fingers curling around them, and he gives them a soft, grateful kiss. “I don’t know how you do it," he says, voice tinged with wonder, as if he still can’t quite understand how you manage to calm him after a day like today. You smile, brushing your lips against the corner of his mouth. "I do it because I love you," you reply simply. His lips curl upward again, this time with a little more warmth, a little more affection. He leans into you, resting his head on your shoulder, eyes fluttering closed.

“Come here,” he murmurs, his voice a little rougher now, but with a softness that only you get to hear. He pulls you gently into his arms, and you let yourself fall into the embrace, your body fitting against his like it was always meant to. For a moment, the world outside doesn’t exist. There’s only the two of you, your breaths matching, the slow, steady rhythm of each other’s hearts. In his arms, you feel his warmth seep into your bones. And then, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, he kisses you. Slow and sweet, like he’s savoring the peace he’s found in your presence. You kiss him back, and the world outside, the noise, the pressure, the stress—none of it matters. All that matters is this—this soft, tender moment where everything is right. When he pulls back, his forehead resting against yours, his voice is a whisper. “I love you.”

Your thumb traces the line of his jaw, a small smile tugging at your lips. “Is that right?” you tease lightly, but the affection is evident in your eyes. “I love you too,” you say, and for the briefest second, time seems to stand still.

[yaut-jaknowit]

So assuming that the reader is AMAB what if…Gawtin got prego with his pup 0^0

-🥤

A Family

Character: Gawtin (Female Yautja) X AMAB!Reader

Warnings: SMUT, breeding, dirty thoughts and words, praise, dom!reader, sub!Gawtin (For the most part), creampie, size difference, fluff.

Word Count: 4221

Summary: Qui'oky has grown up and passed his chiva with flying colors. This means, the once young child has become a full fledged hunter and goes off on his own. The house is now empty. Qui'oky was never your blood but you raised him like your child. Now... you are having thoughts of another child in the house.

Author Note: Okay, I might have gone off a little in a different direction. I guess my brain at the time really wanted smut. I might have to write a part two with the Gawtin actually pregnant and reader taking care of her. Oooooo, yesss!

Masterlist

Ao3

Gawtin’s youngest child, Qui’oky has finally left the nest to face the world. The dwelling for once has become quiet and calm all over again. A cycle that continued to happen over and over with each child born and brought into this world. Unlike this time, Gawtin has waited a lot long this time to even toy with the idea of having another child. It’s all because of her mate. Someone who wasn’t Yautja. A hybrid would be created.

In her clan, hybrids were severely frowned upon. Same with oomans. But, here were you. A little ooman surviving their way through a species that hunts for a living. And oomans weren’t off of the menu. You have made it this far though. Surpassing many that have speculated death would come to you quickly.

An artist? You wield pencils? Not even a knife to protect yourself? Many thought you as crazy. But when an outside male came to visit someone within and saw you. He had come up to you and tried to simply speak with you, a towering, lumbering female was behind him in an instant. Nothing shall harm her ooman, her mate. He may have meant no harm but Gawtin wasn’t going to take a single chance. She understood the fragility of oomans. Seen how easy they break under her hands from past experiences.

No one will ever harm you.

From that day on, everyone understood how you’ve survived so far. With a Yautja who’s protective of what’s hers. Everyone kept a wide berth from you, knowing if the offended you or the female, they could end up as a wall decorative. Not that you didn’t have your friends within the small clan of about fifty. But Gawtin kept you safe.

The quietness in the home was… haunting. No sharpening of blades, the constant chittering coming from Oky as he prepares for his chiva. He was nervous and excited at the same time. He would go on and on about all the scars he hopes to get. Or the trophies he wants to earn after he becomes an adult.

Now, with him gone off into the world, paving his own path… the house was still of life. You lounged in Gawtin’s lap on the couch. Besides her, there was no one else here. You were honestly sad about it. Heartbroken to see him leave. You were beyond proud for his win. He made it pass a challenging point in his life. Not the last one but still, he made it.

Gawtin rested with her eyes closed, softly napping away the daylight. The pencil and paper in your hand are forgotten about temporarily. She has one of her hands on your thigh. Said hand was nearly taking up the entirety of your skin. You tilted your head back to look at her resting form. She looked so peaceful like this.

Maybe after so long with a child in the house, she was enjoying the peace and quiet for once. The constant mothering can wear someone down. Gawtin deserves this rest.

But… what if there was another child running around?

Something ran down the length of your spine after the thought. Another little one to take care of. You missed helping and teaching Qui’oky. Now, with your ability to live longer thanks to Gawtin, you needed something else to fill the void in your heart.

What would Gawtin think? Her mother is strongly against you and your existence in her clan. How would that fare if a hybrid between a human and Yautja lived near her. You feared the repercussions and the unknowns of what Ma’tan-aih would do to the child. It’s not like you could even match her strength or intelligence if a fight occurred. But, you made Gawtin happy. That’s all that matters to you in the end. Not her mother’s approval or acknowledgment.

The pencil in your hand was slipped behind your ear. You pursed your lips and looked up at Gawtin’s lightly napping form. Those dirty thoughts wouldn’t leave your mind. To see her round with your child. Fuck, that did something to you that you didn’t even know was possible. You wanted to be there every moment to help her. You wanted to help her, soothe her aches, feed her, learn to hunt her favorite foods.

When you finally slipped out of your drowning thoughts, you notices a purple gaze on you. You gasped and darted your gaze to your forgotten sketch. Your hand empty of a pencil. As if you had taken a moment break and got caught.

Gawtin’s green hand reached up and tugged the pencil behind your ear free. The pencil was offered to your empty hand. “Forgetting something?” she rumbled with a slight, alien smirk to her features. You pressed your lips together. Caught red handed.

A nervous giggle fell from your lips. You bowed your head and shyly plucked the tool from her pinched fingers. “Oh… yeah, thanks.” Out of all the time you’ve been with her, you should’ve been able to even sense what she was about to do before she did it. Yet, you’ve grown accustomed to her movements and didn’t feel a need to be on high alert.

That same green hand pinched at your chin and turned your head to face her fully. “Care to explain what thoughts distract you, little one?” she questioned with a soft, gentle tone. Her voice slightly airy from her sleep addled brain. A well-deserved nap that is.

Heat brushed against your cheeks. You cleared your throat and tried to turn away. But, the hunk of muscle didn’t allow for that to happen. She made you face her and the embarrassment of airing your thoughts out.

Even when you tried to cast your gaze down to your lap, she jerk your head and grabbed your attention fully.

“Well… I had been just thinking. Just some wild thoughts. Like-like the ones that come out of nowhere. Just couldn’t help myself think of them, you know?” you blabbered to hopefully please the Yautja and move on. A shaky smile flashed your teeth at her.

She tilted her head towards you and gave you a look. A groan passed your lips. You threw your head back with a huff. “God, you know me too well, love. Fine, fine. You got me. I was just thinking…” you trailed off for a moment to collect your thoughts. “It’s been lonely, empty without Qui’oky in the house now. And, I don’t know about you, but I kind of wanna make it not so empty.” You pushed your shoulders up towards your ears while looking at her.

“You want to have a child with me?” Gawtin asked for clarification from you. Coming out like that made it seem dirty or wrong. Like that was just the sole purpose of being with her.

At first, you sputtered and stumbled over yourself. “What?! No, I just thought it would be nice. To have another little one running around.” She kept staring at you with those beautiful purple eyes that made you melt even after all the years with her. You sighed. “Yeah, I do. I can’t help it. I don’t know if being on this planet has final affected or whatnot. But I feel strong about seeing you pregnant. I-I’m sorry.” You felt wrong for these emotions. A dirty thought that should’ve stayed hidden in the depths of your mind till the day you died.

Her fingers tightened on your chin and tugged you a little closer to your face. “Why are you sorry for such a feeling? It is natural. Yautja or ooman,” she explained in a firm voice. Your cheeks heated more. Of course she would agree. This is normal in her culture, her society. Maybe that’ll explain these feelings.

The whole… breeding thing was one thing that separated the two societies completely. It’s part of their lifestyle. You go up to a woman you know somewhat and say that to her. Don’t be surprised if you get punched and pepper sprayed. For good reason.

And, yeah. You’ve been with Gawtin for many years now. You felt wrong for demeaning her in such a way. To only see her as a breeding machine. Gawtin was way more that. That thought never crossed your mind in all the time you’ve been with her. Maybe the simple idea of having a child with her but never such a need about… breeding her. You gnawed on your bottom lip and forced yourself to look away. Gawtin grunted and jerked your chin to force you to find her gaze all over again.

“Answer my question, little one,” she demanded and leaned in an inch closer. Her lumbering frame easily towered over your lax form. You felt yourself tense up a little with a minute whimper. But it’s not that you feared her. Far from it. She could never truly scare her. Your heart was held in her hands and you completely trusted her every step of the way.

A sigh escaped you. “I know it’s natural. At least for you guys. But for us, we don’t think that way outwardly. Yes, I would get questions from my parents when I would have children. This…” you trailed off and closed your eyes for only a moment. “These thoughts about -em, breeding you, isn’t normal for me. Not these strong thoughts about-“ you cut yourself off before anything fell from your lose lips.

Gawtin leaned even closer in, upper mandibles twitching. A gem-studded brow was raised. “Go on,” Gawtin urged and pinched your chin slightly tighter. You pushed your own brows together and looked at her. “Say it.”

Shit. She really wants you to admit your darkest secrets to her. Yet, you saw the dark flash in her eyes. That gave a small boost of confidence.

“I have strong thoughts about, about breeding you, love. I know you’re much bigger than me. I know I’m not as big as male Yautjas but fuck. I just want to be between those gorgeous legs of yours and leave every ounce of my cum inside of you.” The images were flashing between your eyelids with each blink. “I wanna see when it takes. I wanna see your belly grow, breasts fill with milk. All because of me.”

Once the first word fell from your lips, it came out like a waterfall. All you could do was imagine the way she looked underneath you. One of her legs hoisted on your shoulder, using it like an anchor point with each thrust into her. You bite hard at your lip and squirmed your hips when you felt your cock twitch. The thoughts turning your blood hot with fire and need.

A need for your mate to be heavy with your child.

Is this how male Yautjas feel? Has being on this planet for so long turned your brain into mush? You thought more like a Yautja rather than a human that you are.

It was impossible to deny the growing bulge of your loin cloth. Your blood flowing south.

The purple of Gawtin’s eyes darkened completely. Her hand swiftly switched to your throat and gripped it tightly, fingers touching at your spine. “Is that so?” she rasped out, mandibles twitching wildly. She could feel the way your throat bobbed with a swallow. Her grasp tightened a fraction, but you felt it.

“Yes.”

That came from the heart she holds in her hands. Your heartbeat started to increase. Your jaw slackened to take quicker breaths. She made you react like this. Years together and nothing has changed. You still will ravage her stunning, drop-dead gorgeous body like the first time you saw it. Actually, you probably are harder, rougher on her than the first time. Because, you know what she can take; you know what she likes, what she craves.

Growls from deep within her broad chest vibrated along your skin. Your breath stuttered. The bulge only growing more noticeable. Shit, the things she does to you.

But you wanted to be in control. Let her bask in the pleasure you give her as you breed her.

So, you grasp her wrist and pressed a pressure point on the inside of her wrist. A spot she taught you for protection. Her fingers slip off of your throat. You keep the pressure and use it to pin her arm to the back of the couch.

“And I’m going to do while you take what I give. I’ll do all the hard work. I’ll take care of you.” You were only getting harder, painfully behind the loin cloth that did nothing to hide your arousal. “Rub your ankles, your feet. Draw baths at anytime. I’ll learn to hunt. I’ll learn to be the best mate you could ever ask for. I want to take care of you. You just sit or lie there. I’ll do the rest.” Yet, you didn’t want to do it on the couch. You wanted to worship her body for the temple she is. “Will you let me?”

That there is the final question. If your mate will give up the control she loves so much. The reins she doesn’t mind holding onto, that she really enjoys having.

Now, you looked directly at her, eye level, while straddling her lap. The wrist you held onto twitched but otherwise, she let you have the limb. Even if you weren’t pressing down on the certain spot anymore.

Gawtin continued to look you in the eyes.

Then, she nodded.

Relief flooded you. Alongside lust. “Good.” The hold on her wrist was released onto the grasp her tress and tug on the sensitive organ. “Come. I want to make this moment memorable. I want to know our child was created in the comfort of our bed.”

She had all the power to take control, to push you off, to rip your hand off of her tress. Yet, Gawtin allowed for you to pull her along and follow your eager form into the bedroom. You led her to the bed and gave a small tug on the tress. Gawtin got onto the bed and laid down, legs spread.

Before you climbed on after her, you stopped to admired the sight you cherished every time. She may not be naked, but she was beautiful, nevertheless. You loved her more than she would ever know. That it hurts your heart that much.

You gingerly followed her and knelt between her open, inviting legs. “Look at you, my dear.” Both of your hands went to the inside of her knees and ran down the softer scales on the inside. “I fucking love you so much, love.” Until you reached close to the apex of her thighs. Where she needed you most. Where you needed to be the most. “I can’t wait to see you pregnant with our child. I’ll take such good care of you.”

“There won’t be a thing you’ll want. You’ll have everything.” You skipped over her groin and ran your palms up her stomach until you reached about her midriff. The farthest you could reach without tipping over. One arm was planted at her side while the other continued the path up towards her chest coverings. “I promise with everything I’m made up of.”

The tie on the front was easily undone. Her breasts spilled out from the confines. For Yautjas, their breasts weren’t large unless they were breastfeeding. But fuck, she filled your hands more than enough.

With two fingers, you tweak a nipple. The rise of her chest sputtered. The Yautja’s eyes fluttered lightly and looked at you from under hooded eyes. You leaned down all while making eye contact the whole way and sucked the other nipple into your awaiting mouth.

Soft pressure and licks over the bud had it grow to a peak. Her mandibles tightened over her features. You realized it with a pop and dragged your bottom teeth over the ridge. A gasp tore from her throat that turned into a low whine. Your face scrunched together as you fought off your baser instincts to just ravage her.

That is the one thing that splits you from her species. You will always do foreplay, no matter how horny or pent up either of you are. Her comfort is at the peak of your concerns.

“And the noises you make, my dear.” You switched to the other nipple and gave it the same treatment. Never did your eyes leave hers. “They drive me absolutely crazy. That I know I do those things to you. I drive you wild with my touches. Now with the knowledge of what my intent is.” Your bottom teeth crazed over the bud as well.

Both tips were wettened. You puckered your lips and lightly blew cool air over each one. Gawtin’s claws dug into the sheets. Her thighs clenched around your waist and trapped you to her. You had sat up on your knees and used all of your strength to open up her legs.

“Nuh-uh. You don’t get to hide away from me.” The tips of your nails ran down from the underside of her breast until her hips. The loose piece of fabric that hangs on the front was brushed away. You leaned down, unfortunately breaking eye contact.

Only one piece of clothing blocked you from seeing her fully. The fabric was damp. Her arousal was thick in the air, being this close to her. It made you dizzy with need. You were swift to pull the clothing off of her and tossing it somewhere in the room. Then, you slowed back down when you finally reach the prize.

Moss green blending into pink folds slickened with arousal. You couldn’t help you reaching down and adjusting yourself in your pants. The ache was growing to a point of pain. You had to distract yourself before the line made you different from Yautjas blurred.

One of her hands slipped down to rest at the edge of her belly. Her fingers twitched towards you, desperate for control. You lifted up your head and gave a stern look at her. The Yautja whined with a huff and let her hand slip back down onto the bed. “Good girl,” you praised then lowered yourself back down to the prize at hand.

You forced yourself to got at a slow approach and tentatively lick a stripe along her three clitorises’. They formed triangle at the apex of her sex. All of them could grow nearly four inches long. Once you reached the top one, you wrapped your mouth around it and sucked.

Gawtin’s back rises off of the bed with a keen that pierced the air. Your arms hooked around her thighs and pulled yourself as close as possible to her. The smell, the taste of her had you dazed, feeling only a need for her. She was going to be the mother of your child. The two of you. You couldn’t help you grinding your hips down on a fur blanket. The friction could be felt along your leaking, clothed shaft.

“I know, baby. I know. I’m gonna make you feel so good,” you cooed to her after pulling off. The nub hardening and growing longer. You licked a stripe between her ribbed folds, trying to hit all the small lumps. Bumps that all gave her pleasure. “Fuck, you taste so good.” You pressed your face hard into her sex and dug your tongue as deep as possible.

The taste of her exploded on your tongue with each lick. You whined when no more greeted your tastebuds. You were forced to peel off of her and sit up.

A heat of passion throbbed in your groin. Your hands scrambled to take off the cloth, nearly ripping the fabric off. “I-I can’t take it. I need you, love. Fuck, I’m only human. I can’t fucking take it!” You had broken. It was impossible to resist her. You could never say no to her. Not when she tastes so good, feels like heaven, and sounds like a siren’s call.

When your pants were removed, you cock slapped against your stomach. The tip flushed with blood and dribbling pre-cum. You shuffled on your knees as close as possible to her and lined it up. One look into her eyes was all you needs. The entire length was thrusted into her. Your hips slapping against her hips with an obscene noise.

Pants quickened your breath. Your hands instantly went to her hips and gripped the flesh tightly. “Fuck me. Goddamnit. You… god, you feel so good.” A second was barely given to the green Yautja as you pulled your hips back and thrusted forward again. “I’m going to breed you, love. I’m gonna fill you up with my seed over and over again. I don’t care how long it takes. I want you fucking pregnant!”

Thoughts you’ve been holding onto for so long exploded to the surface. These ideas long buried and hidden. But today, today was the day they were exposed for her ears to hear.

Your hips jackhammered into her, angling them just at the right point for your tip strike a spot deep in her. “You’re mine, Gawtin. Mine only. I-I’ll show everyone. I’ll show your asshole mom you’re my mate!” Everything about her you wanted to have. You had her heart the same way she has yours. You would kill anyone for trying to take her away from you. She’s yours.

The way she squeezed you, the tightness of her muscles made you see stars. Both of your hands stayed on her hips, needing purchase for how forceful your thrusts were. Your eyes were clenched shut, deep in focus. All the thoughts were running wild, claws to the surface. Each one pouring from your lips as if you were drunken.

Maybe you were. Drunken on the feel of how tight she throbbed around you. Drunken on the juices that coated your tastebuds. Drunken on the noises she makes for you when you are pounding away at her. A feeling you’ve never have nor will get used to.

Underneath you, Gawtin keened but never took her eyes off of you. They were heavily hooded over, the purple of them made them look black. You gritted your teeth. One of your hands leaves her hip to find the three clits at the apex of her sex. Your thumb finds the biggest of them and starts to rub over him. She responded by arching her back off of the bed and gripped the sheets.

“Good, good girl. I love my good girl,” you growled and made your thrusts even harder, trying to get as deep as possible in her. Dull nails dug into her hip, using it as an anchor point for yourself. “Shit, baby. You… I’m going to fill you. Okay? You want that?”

The warmth in the pit of your stomach was growing more and more. It drove you wild. Any cognitive thought was thrown out of the window. You leaned down further, curling your spine.

Gawtin rapidly nodded her head, eyes finding yours in the heat of the moment. “Good.” Your thumb pressed down hard and alit a sharp cry from the beautiful woman. Her walls clamped down hard around your throbbing length moving in and out of her. You gasped sharply, eyes flying open. Both hands were on her hips now as you shoved yourself as deep as possible.

The band in you snapped. Spurt after spurt of thick cum painting her insides. You growled, hips jerking after each new pulse of her muscles. “Mine. My woman. My mate.” You filled her as humanly possible, marking her all over again, hoping for the seed to take this time. Just the thought of her pregnant again had you shuddering in.

You unstick your nails from her hips and placed them on either side of her. Gawtin’s eyes gazed at you softly from underneath her hooded eyelids. You couldn’t help the smile that followed afterwards. “I’ve said it before, but I’ll say it again: I love you, Gawtin. So much.”

She growled deep from her chest. In a flash, the two of switch positions, faster than you could’ve realized. You yelped and stared wide-eyed up at her, jaw slightly slackened. When you attempted to squirm from underneath her, she placed a massive palm on your chest. Only a fraction of her weight was needed to keep you in place. Your cock had slipped out of her, coated in both of your combined essences.

Then, the giant leaned down and nuzzled into the crook of your neck. That same place where she marked you all those years ago.

“And I will always give you my heart, bare my soul, and protect you with everything I have, little one.” Despite your softening cock, blood swarmed south in your body all over again. There was something about her that drove you absolutely wild.

You grinned up at her. “Then, let’s make sure my seed takes, love.” Her gaze darkened all over again. She grasped your hardening cock and lined it up. Without breaking eye contact, the moss green Yautja sunk all the way down to the hilt.

Human or not, you gave it your all to fulfill both of your wishes.

[gatitties]

Hello. This is my first time making a request, so pardon me for any mistakes I might make, english is also not my first language, lol. May I request a teen! AFAB male reader (trans FtM) x Kid pirates (platonic)?

The reader is the user of the Itai-Itai No Mi, a fruit with the power to control pain sensitivity. The reader is chronically ill, born with Classic Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome, so you could see how the fruit comes in extremely handy. He can control his own pain levels and transfer pain between himself and others, outside of battle, he often uses his powers to overextend himself, and during a fight, he can debilitate enemies by accentuating the pain from his own wounds and then transferring it to a target. Since he's physically weak, he keeps a distance, using a bow and arrow. He's really passionate about chemistry, so he usually laces the arrows with nervous agents, urticants, or other chemical weapons.

However, the powers from his fruit are nothing but a mere illusion. He can go on with his daily life, using his powers as analgesics and pretending he's not sick in the first place, but even though he's not feeling pain, he's still getting hurt.

If that wasn't enough, the reader is alexythimic, so he's constantly thrill-seeking in an attempt to alleviate the boredom that comes with his dulled-out emotions. This gets to the point where the reader just completely neglects his health because, well, he's not in pain. It also gets to the point where his body simply starts falling apart, being too unstable to keep him going. He hides this to the crew and pretends that nothing is happening, though the bruises and huge atrophic scars that appear from the slightest injuries are kind of a give-away.

Anxiety and anger are the only two emotions that the reader can easily identify, the rest being vague, confusing, or apparently non-existent. As he sits on the edge of his bed, feeling like a burden to the crew, those two emotions overtake him. The reader already has dysphoria and uneasiness regarding his body, a thing which he rarely talks about; despite dressing boyish he definitely doesn't pass as both his voice and body don't match his mind. And now, if that wasn't enough, his body fails him once more. "Why do I have to deal with the burden of something that doesn't even belong to me?" He asks himself.

As he gets sicker and sicker, his mind has him trapped in this endless cycle of boredom, fear, rage and indifference. At this point, everything, from his body to his head, feels like he's been sentenced to life in prison.

One day the reader simply collapsed, and the crew has to sit there, puzzled, as they figure out why the usually full-of-energy reader now has faceplanted the floor. I'll leave the rest to you (?) sorry if this is too long, lol. I've been feeling crappy about my physical and mental health, so reading something like this would be nice.

─Kid pirates x Teen!AFAB male reader (FtM) (platonic)

─Summary: Your world is slowly collapsing in the face of your illness, your powers don't seem to help and you are becoming more and more physically and mentally devastated.

─Warnings: a little angst, dissatisfaction with body, small panic attack

Naah, you did absolutely fine, I'm sorry this took so long and I hope you're really okay now love, I wish you all the love in the world and lots of hugs <3

You lost count of how many days you've been feeling this way, a sensation that tingles your body and persists until you fade it with your powers, the sensitization control worked well, however you had the reminder of the scars and the touch of your own skin, remembering that no matter how hard you try, you were still a helpless and insecure teenager with a chronic health problem.

The moments when all the discomfort was left behind was due to the lack of understanding when it came to deciphering feelings, the crew didn't help much with that issue, after all, they, for the most part, weren't the happiest people or those who spread nice or self-care messages, definitely the Kid Pirates weren't the most suitable to fully develop your lack of interpretation of emotions.

Even though you had never had any problems before, something inside your mind was eating away at your conscience little by little, devouring every little corner, you don't know when it started, but you felt trapped in a cycle, repetitive days seeing your face, your body, you didn't look like yourself, you weren't the person you imagined in your confused mind, you didn't like yourself, and even changing your physical aspects in a certain ways, there was always some minimal detail as a reminder, the tone of your voice, the shape of your body… it seemed like a constant fight against yourself, a tug-of-war in which your thoughts brought you down morally.

"Hey kiddo, don't just stand there, we have to go now, don't forget your things."

Heat gave you a little push on the shoulder, taking you out of your train of thought, as if the world had returned to its normal speed, you nodded, leaving to pick up your bow, arrows and those new poisons that you had been making in your little laboratory inside Kid's workshop.

Wire, who came right after you left, narrowed his eyes, watching as your hunched figure faded through the dining room door, sharing a look with his companion as if they read each other's thoughts. They were both the first to notice how you seemed more subdued and distant every day, as they found themselves spending more time with you, although at first they attributed it to you simply being tired, something told them it was something deeper than simple tiredness.

"Do you think something's wrong with the boy? He's been avoiding spending time on the deck lately."

Heat nodded at his friend's question, knowing that you seemed to be avoiding everyone lately, making a mental note to ask you about it, both of them split up to get their weapons as well, they were going to rob a small town in about ten minutes.

Your gaze was lost, focused on your bow, lips in a thin line, you clenched your fist around the weapon, startling when you felt a huge, cold hand against your head, Kid had a habit of giving you caresses on the head a little roughly before a battle, a strange feeling stirred inside you, something that you supposed was good since it was not the same feeling you had when you experienced anger.

"Be careful and all that, but above all, crush them."

Kid was certainly not the most encouraging person, but taking a few minutes with you before each battle made you feel good, a small, shaky smile decorated your face for a few seconds, unknowingly, your captain's words had added more weight to your shoulders, of course, not intentionally, but you would feel like a complete useless if you did not do your job well.

The moments before and during battle always become a blur of images, as if you have no control over your own body, leaving it on autopilot, just shooting from a distance, only physically intervening if some idiot dares to get too close to your position.

You didn't have to make much physical effort most of the time, you conserved a lot of energy by having a more defensive position, leaving the action and enjoyment to your bloodthirsty comrades, but your enemies were not in front at the moment, your own immune system was the one who decided to give you a rear stab, like a traitor. Your senses began to fail and immediately fear settled in the pit of your stomach, a strange and unexpected sensation, your body began to tremble even when you insensitized it with your skill, your hands, your legs began to not respond, the tingling at the tip of your fingers intensified and it seemed as if your skin was cracked and dry.

The failure in your system made you fall from the tree you were in, with your senses completely disoriented you began to feel pain like small needles sticking into every corner of your body, your chest rose and fell rapidly, your pharynx seemed to close like a snake taking your breath away in a deadly strangulation.

Killer, who was the closest to your position, was the one who heard the smack of your body against the ground, as well as your weak moans, giving you a sidelong glance, his body went cold in a second as he saw how you struggled to stay conscious, forgetting about his main task, although it was practically finished, he immediately went to you.

"Hey, hey, are you okay? Damn, have you been attacked? Please listen to me, try to be with me just a little longer and don't lose consciousness... kiddo? kiddo!"

He shook your body carefully, trying not to touch the parts of your skin exposed and full of scars, Killer despaired when you began to close your eyes, taking you in his arms quickly, returning to the safety of the Victoria Punk, completely confused by your sudden fainting, yes, he knew that sometimes you left your own skin at work, in battles, but you always seemed to be full of energy, ready for another assault, what happened this time? There were no enemies around.

It was the day after that event, you met up with the group of four, Heat, Wire, Kid and Killer looked at you expectantly, making you shrink in your own place, you didn't know how to start talking, you felt pressured, caged at that moment, there were so many things you wanted to say and yet so few words with which to explain yourself. You didn't speak that day, or the next, or the following week, which got on the crew's nerves, although they weren't the friendliest or funniest pirates, they were still like a family and despite not showing it to the outside, they all had a deep concern for your state, so broken and fragile being a simple teenager.

Wire had to stop his captain from exploding at you because of this whole strange atmosphere of uncertainty, and if it weren't for Killer, who decided to take matters into his own hands, Kid would surely have taken out his problems with an argument, luckily, his best friend and co-captain was much gentler, perhaps, one of the only people on board who could make you understand in a less complex way the feelings of duality you were going through.

Of course, you released some emotional weight after a long talk with Killer, it didn't make all your worries go away, the chronic illness will haunt you until the end of your days, it was something you had to bear and accept, and they would take care of keeping your mind away from bad thoughts.

They don't know how they'll do it either, solving such complicated, emotional and personal problems wasn't something they had much experience with, but they'll go through this process together, they promised that you'd never have to feel that way again, that you'd never go through that again, but it'll still take you some time, the most pessimistic thoughts are the ones that take root the most in the mind and destroy it, but at least, they already have somewhere to start.

[relaxxattack]

old ass homestuck here (been reading since 2013, read with it all the way until the end of act 7 but i consider that the true end and never plan to read the epilogues) but i gotta agree i didn’t care for the squared sprites when they first appeared late in act 6 and i really don’t like them much more years later. i found davepeta slightly interesting but at the end of the day they’re the only one who even stood out enough to even pay attention to and unfortunately looking at them was visually very unpleasant due to the constant color flashing.

random disclaimerrrr this is really just my personal feelings, i'm not trying to make a statement about what is "true" or moral or whatever. i want to stress that i'm not against people making meaningful interpretations of davepeta... i understand the appeal of a trans/plural character. it's just hard to feel like any of that was intentional?

power to hussie for making jokes; but it's kind of confusing sometimes to frequently see davepeta - what felt like a really obvious joke made at the expense of the audience - touted like they're the most genius, intentional, meaningful, well-thought-out character ending or trans representation

especially with nepeta in particular... i guess it's left pretty up to the viewer to decide whether or not she was really done dirty at the end, but. personally i still think she was done fucking dirty. the death -> fefeta -> davepeta pipeline was not very rewarding in my opinion. she also never had a choice in any of these? it was not a consensual fate. she wasnt allowed to explore her own identity or choose this, her identity was simply shafted once again after a long pattern of it being shafted and mocked

davesprite is a suicidal character who gets made to end himself. and i guess thats empowering as a metaphor for some trans people but for me it was like ??? physically absorbing another person and then ceasing to exist didn't relate to me heavily but maybe it does for others! i've heard some talk about it being plural too, which i can also see, but they don't act like that's at all intentional in the story. i've heard a lot of "dave struggles with not being the alpha dave so he gets to stop being dave! :)" but why does he have to? he was dave first and longer, shouldn't the meteor dave change his name? 'dave gets to finally stop being a boy and embrace being a trans girl' does she do that? or is her individualism taken from her and regifted to a catgirlboy that is not actually trans at all but textually stated to be identifying as half of one cis girl and half of one cis boy?

guh i am trying so hard to not sound invalidating to how other people feel empowered by this character. while also explaining how its Not for me. once again disclaimer i LIKE what people have done with davepeta it just feels like, strangely un-empowering to me for these two characters to have their agency taken away in such a manner.

rose's dead corpse who literally just watched the love of her life die in front of her face gets dug out of her final resting place and immediately starts throwing herself at every women in the vicinity

arquius in particular is one i see get completely nostalgia goggled too because every moment they were on screen was painful dialogue-wise; but these days arquius is thought of like a vehicle for hal and equius gender thoughts. which is a concept with merit because of course both hal and equius have stuff going on gender wise and it makes sense to combine those but like. the character wasn't like that in canon and it never felt like they were meant to be like that. most of the time they were.. jokes. insulting jokes.

i get WHY its read a trans or plural narrative. just as a trans and plural person i did not read it that way or think that was what the author intended... and i find it a little uncomfortable in that regard

[soleillunne]

I AM FREE RAAAA

[wildbasil]

everyone say hello to creiddylad! 🥰👋🥳🥳🥳🥳

[robinmage]

no kind of relationship will ever be as impactful as the slightly toxic slightly homoromantic hyperdependent bestfriendship you had with someone when you were like 12

[arolesbianism]

Guys why is rain world so good (<- rewatched some scenes and teared up on all of them)

[sovonight]

i haven't even read about the other strongholds but i'm already convinced that the thief stronghold is the worst one in the game

[imeminemp3]

nearly 12pm,no intentions of getting out of bed ✌️