#man who is a girl woman who is a boy person who wants to be gendered confusingly

[bokutosbabe]

જ⁀♡⊹｡° sniper, sniper, sniper ♡ wifey, wifey, wifey

( bllk boys showing you off )

♡ a/n — i just love the tiktok trend so :) ( was going to attach a link to a tiktok showing what i was talking abt but it wouldn't work. just look up sniper sniper sniper wifey wifey marines and you'll see what i meant :) )

♡ content — all characters are 18+ !!, mentions of tiktok & instagram, slight cursing, tbh bad writing, nicknames like 'love' , 'wifey' , and 'my girl' used, probably ooc characters

♡ synopsis — blue lock boys showing off their girlfriend :)

⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆ ' oh that's your wifey ? ' ⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ the...tiktok maker

if there was anyone you would really and truly call chronically online, it would be him. every day he'd come to you with some new word he learned from tiktok, or a meme that would plague your house for weeks until it went away.

so when he pulled out his phone to show you a video, you weren't expecting it to be a couples trend.

" please, please, pleaseee, love? you'd look so cute in my arms like that ! " and he had just won a big game...how could you say no to him?

so here you were, being carried like a bride in your lovely boyfriend's arms. if it were anyone else, you'd be too worried about how long they could hold you, but since it was him you didn't worry.

it took a few tries, each of you messing up a part at least once and you accidentally dropping the phone a few times, but after you figured it out, the video was practically perfect.

they posted it to their public tiktok account with the caption

' not my wifey yet, but soon ;) '

and to say all the notifications were making his phone glitch would be an understatement.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ BACHIRA MEGURU, hiori yo, SHIDOU RYUSEI, chigiri hyoma, OTOYA EITA, isagi yoichi

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ the...instagram poster

maybe, just maybe it was wrong of him.

wrong of him to want to post these pictures the two of you had taken on your date to the aquarium?

if he were any other, normal, person this wouldn't have seemed like a big deal, but since he had at least a million followers and some were a bit more obsessed than others, it was.

you'd told him multiple times that you were okay with him posting you, really if he was happy, you were happy. maybe it was the egoist in him, but he wanted to keep you to himself.

fuck it.

if you wanted to be posted, he was going to post you. who cared what anyone else thought? their opinions didn't mean anything to him.

he selected a few of the pictures the two of you had taken at the aquarium, sneaking one of a lipstick stain on his neck in the middle of the slides.

if he was going to announce his relationship to the public, why not let the world know how utterly whipped he was for you?

the caption was a simple

' gotta love my girl ♡ '

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ YUKIMIYA KENYU, karasu tobito, REO MIKAGE, alexis ness, RANZE KURONA, gin gagamaru

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ the...national television?!

the ever illusive pro soccer player. that's what every press agency called your boyfriend.

his ability to somehow dodge any paparazzi and answer very short questions during press conferences made every view into his personal life shine like gold.

based on an instagram story ( that was taken down in less than 10 minutes ) where a picture of him with his arms around a woman in a bathroom mirror, the media could assume he was in a relationship. in that photo, however, the woman's face was not visible, so the questioned still remained...

what woman could capture this mans heart?

he hadn't cared, not really. a photo was nothing to him, but you were everything. he tried really hard to keep your identity private, he didn't want you to be absorbed into a world of cameras always in your face.

but after he made the game winning goal of a very important game...all he wanted to do was see you.

maybe it was the way he could see you in the section you'd always sat, or maybe it was his ego wanting to tell everyone "yeah i'm the best soccer player, and yeah i have the best girl, what about it?"

as all of the adoring fans rushed the field, including you, he just wanted to see you. he knew, realistically, he should just go back to the locker room and come meet you afterwards like he usually did, but not today.

he shrugged off ever reporter and fan that wanted to talk to him, which was nothing new, but instead of leaving to the locker room, they watched as he walked over to you

he knew all eyes were on him, the world still watching...but he couldn't find it in himself to care. he wrapped his arms around your waist

" made that goal for you, ya know? "

you were a little surprised at his appearance, but if he didn't care neither than you.

" i know. "

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ NAGI SEISHIRO, rensuke kunigami, RIN ITOSHI, shidou ryusei, ZANTETSU TSURUGI, sae itoshi

⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆ ' i think i like her . ' ⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆

this was a midnight brain dump so it's pretty bad, but i hope yall liked it :)

likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated!!

[dcxdpdabbles]

DCXDP fanfic idea: You ARE the Father.

Clark Kent gets a call from his old high school situationship. Really, he liked her well enough, but both had agreed they did not want to stay stuck in Smallville forever.

Clark wanted to go to the big city for journalism, and Maddie wanted to go into the sciences - she was unsure if she wanted to do organic chemistry or engineering. His parents supported his dream, Maddie's....not so much.

While she did come from a family of intelligent women, the Paynes believed they should stay on the family farm to support the family. They could not understand why Maddie wanted to be strong and independent woman if all that would bring her was dying alone.

According to them, no man wanted a disobent wife. She argued too much with men and often wouldn't back down from her stance.

Apparently, that made her "unlady" like.

Clark never saw it. Personally, he thought women with backbone, who wouldn't take anyone shit, was insanely attractive. That's why he had approached her at the local science fair where she was steaming by her impressive solar energy powered homemade phone.

Her mother had just finished reminding her that her first place in a small high school fair was nothing to be proud of. It was, after all, only Smallville, and really, there wasn't much competition anyway.

Clark told her that she was likely the smartest person in their entire state and he was in awe by her. Maddie kissed him behind the gym the science fair was being held.

Her family forbade her from dating, which made the kiss somehow more exciting.

They met up regularly to sneak kisses or lend a sympathetic ear. Around their last year of high school, they went a little further then kisses, and really the Kent Barn is not the most comfortable place but it was hidden well enough her family wouldn't know what she was up to and Ma wouldn't question him spending the night there.

All the years of sleeping near the cows to keep them company, since he worried they were lonely, as a child paid off. Despite the numerous times they put Kent barn to work, both knew it was nothing serious.

Maddie needed a break from her family. Clark was more than happy to be her stress relief. He did worry a aweful lot about his powers and the fact he was an alien, so he needed some stress relieving of his own around those years too.

Maddie applied secretly to a big college on the Wayne Scholarship states away, and Clark planned on going to Metropolis as soon as possible for the open intership at the Daily Planet.

They were friends with benefits, but the day graduation came around, they never spoke to each other again. Neither were bitter. They had both known what would be the ending long before it arrived. It would have never worked between them.

Clark wasn't sure what Maddie had wanted after all these years, but being presented a teenage girl- the splitting image of Maddie at that age- who was flouting five feet off the ground was not one of them.

"Jazz, meet Clark Kent, you biological father" Maddie Fenton, for she was married now to the man who had raised Jazz like his own. "Clark, this is Jasmine Fenton...you're daughter"

The man of Steel felt like he's was going to faint.

Or.......

Maddie met Jack in her first semester of college. They get alone really well, and she finds herself with a pregnancy scare before she knows what happened. Sometime between the protrype portal and Jack treating her like an equal, she had found her walls coming down long enough to have a little fun.

The worst part is she is unsure of who the father is, the loveable goof she can see herself spending her life with or the kind gentle famer boy she left behind. It's only two months apart, but it was close enough it could go either way.

She tells Jack the truth, who declares that he doesn't care and gets down on one knee right there and then. Maddie agrees to marry him over the choked tears, blooming happiness and love so strong she feels dizzy from it.

A few months later, she gives birth to her Jazz, and two years later, she has Danny. The Fentons finish school, set up Fenton Works, and raise their family. She never considers telling Clark or getting Jazz tested.

She's Jack Fenton's daughter. That's all there is to it.

Until Jazz one day starts showing signs that Jack is not her father. How does Maddie know? Simple, she recognized the man flying around calling himself Superman, and after hearing of his home planet, and all the little things Clark had been too clumsy to properly cover up back in the day, it clicks.

Her daughter is half Kryptonian and her powers were awakening. Did all Kryptonians unlock thier abilities at the teenage age? Was it a puberty thing for thier kind?

Maddie didn't know, but she couldn't afford to let her daighter go in blind. Metas had tough lives. Who knows what being part alien could do. So she picked up the phone and dialed the man who may have the answers.

Meanwhile, Danny and Jazz are desperately trying to hide the fact that Jazz may have gotten some ghost abilities due to exposure from Phantom's Ghostly Wail and have no idea it's being confused for Kryptonian blood. They were careless in training, and now, similar to that whole fiasco with Spetra and her hospital, Jazz was unable to control her temporary abilities.

Jack is just happy to be there and is unaware of any of his family members' delimas.

[communistkenobi]

it’s funny what gets counted as “female erasure” by terfs. Like if we want to use our big policy brains for a moment, turning things like birth, pregnancy, menstruation etc into gender neutral medical events in a person’s life does more to de-stigmatise them because they are no longer viewed as these mystical experiences that only women can ever go through, they’re just things that can happen to people. Like this is where inclusive language helps to de-legitimise patriarchy, because on a policy level the state doesn’t distinguish who can have periods (so menstrual products are widely available in all public bathrooms), who can become pregnant (sex education about these things is universal instead of having separate sex ed streams for girls and boys in school - which was standard practice when I was growing up), who can give birth (medical insurance and care is not administrated based on assumptions of everyone giving birth being a cis woman in a heterosexual marriage to a cis man - important if, say, giving birth while out of wedlock or being gay or being a man is stigmatised at all), and overall just not constantly speaking about and framing women on a policy level exclusively in terms of their gestational capacity. These are not nominally feminist policy moves under the guise of Big SJW, they are explicitly feminist ones

[gibsongirlsundaymorning]

After all this time… (Night One.)

A/N: At the time of posting this, most people had voted that this be released in parts, and I’m impatient, so I’ll be releasing these in a few parts separated by the days of the story! As always, please drop any suggestions in the replies or my asks if there’s anything you’d like to see 😊

Synopsis: You come home with your childhood best friends, Billy and Tommy during your break at college, and instead of going to your own house, you stay at theirs with them and their mother… who you’ve had a huge crush on since before you can remember. As the visit goes on, you find it more and more torturous with your forced proximity and how she only seems to get more beautiful as the years pass.

Warnings: Nothing crazy this chapter, allusions to masturbation, drinking, pet names, legal age gap, strict!wanda.

Pairing: Mom!Wanda x Student!Reader (fem)

…………………………………………………………………………

As the holiday break approached, you felt a surge of excitement and a slight nervousness. You had been looking forward to this moment for months- after a long semester at college, you were finally heading home. Well, you weren’t going back to your own house. Your parents were spending their holidays traveling out of the country and exploring, so instead, you were going to stay with her childhood best friends, Billy and Tommy, at their home just five minutes away from the house you grew up in.

The twins' mom, Wanda Maximoff, had always been like a second mother to you. Growing up, she spent countless afternoons in their cozy home, playing games, doing homework, and watching sitcoms with the three of you. She was especially kind to you out of all the boys’ friends, and you suspected she’d always wanted a few more girls in her life, which was crowded by the masculine energies of Vision, Billy, and Tommy. She’d stay up with you after the boys went to bed, tired from their hours of roughhousing, and would spend those extra hours teaching you how to braid your hair by doing yours and then allowing you to try on her long, shiny red hair. Their home became your second house, their door always open to you.

Now, though, you were anxious on your train ride home to the woman and your childhood best friends. You’d stayed friends with the older woman on socials once you were allowed to get them in high school, keeping tabs on the woman who was aging impossibly beautifully as you approached your senior year of college. You constantly traded reels that reminded you of each other, and sometimes you couldn’t help but wonder if she picked up on the undertones of a few of the complimentary posts the two of you often exchanged.

There was no denying the crush you’d developed on the older woman, but you felt ridiculous even questioning if she’d maybe felt the same. You let yourself imagine it on occasion, though, especially in the past two years because of her separation from her ex-husband and the boys’ father, Vision. None of the 3 of them really kept in touch with the man due to the nature of their separation- he had somehow decided to cheat on the woman you now had a major crush on, a fact that confused you to no end, given her absolute beauty, intelligence, and kindness.

Your heart raced now as you spotted the twins waiting for you at the train station. They greeted you with wide smiles and tight hugs, their familiar laughter echoing through the crisp winter air. As they drove back to the Maximoff house, you couldn't help but feel a sense of belonging and anticipation for the festive days ahead.

Despite the excitement, you couldn't shake off the nerves fluttering in her stomach. It had been years since you last saw Ms. Maximoff in person, and you worried about how much things might have changed. Would she still have that soft spot for you beyond your messages now that you were all grown up? Would you even be able to face her with this crushing admiration you’d developed as she grew more gorgeous with time? As they pulled into the driveway, you took a deep breath to steady yourself and clear your mind of the swirling questions.

The twins seemed to sense her anxiety. "Don't worry, Y/N," Billy said with a reassuring smile. "Mom's been looking forward to seeing you. She talks about you all the time."

Tommy chimed in, "Yeah, it's like you never left. She's got your favorite cookies baking right now." Their words helped, but your heart still pounded as they walked up to the door. When Ms. Maximoff opened it, her warm smile and open arms melted away half of your fears. In that moment, it felt like no time had passed at all.

Her arms wrapped tightly around your waist as your cheek pressed into her chest and your front against her own relieve you of the question of if her admiration for you had faded over the years. But this doesn’t shake the anxiety coursing through your veins. If anything, it feeds it, making you almost certain that this crush you had on her would be crippling over the week you’d be spending in her home.

As she pulled away, moving her tight grip to wrap around your elbows and hold you out to examine your matured face, her scent enveloped you, sending you flying straight into an almost drunken state.

Her fawn-like eyes meet your own as she lets out a deep sigh, speaking to you aloud for the first time in nearly three years. “Y/N, honey, you’ve grown up so much! Even prettier than the last time I saw you, too.” You’re searching desperately for a response to force out in our wavering voice when one of the boys speaks from behind you.

“Hey mom, nice to see you too!” One of the twins speaks from behind you- but from the sarcasm the comment is laced with, you’re sure it’s Billy. “Watch your tone, little man, I’m not against sending you to sit on the steps like before. I see you boys constantly, I miss my girl!” Wanda responds quickly, knowing just how to get the boy to remember his childlike fear of his mother’s discipline. You duck your head down in an attempt to cover up your deep blush at the title giggle at the antics and Wanda invites you to come into the house.

As you step into the Maximoff home, the familiar scent of freshly baked cookies filled the air, instantly bringing back a flood of childhood memories. The warm, cozy atmosphere makes you feel a bit more at ease, and Wanda couldn't help but smile at the relaxation that graces your face.

The twins, eager to catch up, quickly grabbed their bags and headed upstairs to put their stuff away. This left you alone with Ms. Maximoff, who enveloped her in another heartfelt hug. "It's so good to see you, hon," she said, her voice filled with genuine warmth. "���Ive missed having you around here." She wraps one hand ever-so-gently around the bottom of your chin to caress your jaw, and you naturally lean into her touch. When you finally remember to respond, you say “I’ve missed it here so much, Ms. Maximoff. Thank you so much again for having me, it means more than you could know that you’re still so welcoming. This really does feel like a second home to me.” Wanda slightly tilts her head and allows her eyes to linger on you one last second before bringing her hand away and grabbing your bags out of your hand.

It was then that you looked out into the living room you’d spent so many hours in with the red-haired woman, quietly bonding in your senior year of high school while the boys slept before their big games when you slept over in preparation. “I like what you’ve done with the place. Much more you now.” You note aloud as you notice the changes to furniture and decor she’s made, assumingly since her divorce, but more importantly noticing the stools you two used to sit on while she taught you all sorts of crafts and skills, and how they seemed to be the only remaining parts of the original room that kept their place in the center of the house.

You feel your nerves finally start to dissipate as the boys came down and they all moved to the kitchen once Ms. Maximoff dropped your bags in the guest room next to her own. You help the boys’ mom set out the cookies and make some tea while you all chat about everything from your college experiences to fond memories of your shared childhood adventures. Ms. Maximoff’s kind eyes and attentive listening made you feel more at home than ever before.

As the evening wound down, the boys headed upstairs to their childhood rooms, eager to pick out a few cherished items to bring back to school. They rummaged through old clothes and coats for the upcoming winter season, laughing and reminiscing about their younger days.

Meanwhile, you stayed downstairs with their mom to help clean up. You worked side by side in the kitchen, tidying up the remnants of dinner. The familiar routine brought a comforting sense of normalcy, something you could almost see yourself doing every night with the woman. You remind yourself to snap right the fuck out of that quickly. As you washed dishes and put away leftovers, you began to catch up, just like you used to.

You talked about everything—college life, future plans, and the little things that made up your daily lives. Your conversation was filled with warmth and intense attentiveness from the older woman, a testament to the bond you had always shared. While you were sure now that she hadn’t grown to be less fond of you in the couple of years you’d spent apart, there was certainly something different about the way she looked at you now. Her gaze seemed more heavy now, lingering longer and often wandering a bit, the ventures so slight you thought you were imagining them.

“Remind me again how old you are now, honey?” Wanda speaks out as she dries her hands and grabs a wine glass for herself. “I’m 22 now, Ms. Maximoff.” She grabs another glass at the end of your sentence. “Well then, call me Wanda, sweetheart! You’re a big girl now, yeah?” she insists as she turns around to face you again with two bottles of wine in her hand, chewing lightly on her bottom lip. “Which one?” She straightens her elbows out for you to read the labels, and you’re grateful for the distraction from your reddened cheeks she provides you with.

“Um…… this one, on the left.” You point to a sauvignon blanc randomly, not too knowledgeable about wine. “Good choice.” She winks and brings the glasses, a corkscrew, and the bottle and you two make your way to the family room. The room was slightly dark now, lit only by a few warm-toned decorative lamps sprinkled throughout the room.

You take a seat on one of the remaining stools from your fond childhood memories with the woman, adjacent from the cushion Wanda takes her seat on, her legs curled with her heels under herself while she rests on the armrest of the sofa and leans her side into it. Her sweater falls off of her shoulder, exposing her collarbone as she lets her hair down from the clip it was in.

You watch in awe as the long scarlet waves cascade down in such a fluid movement around her shoulders, bringing your hand to your mouth to bite down on your index fingernail to keep from letting out the sigh that was now crawling up your throat at the sight.

However, it becomes so much more impossible to restrain yourself when the older woman leans forward and grips your wrist harshly, bringing your hand back down to your lap, and then swiping the proof of your former actions off of your bottom lip with the pad of her thumb.

“You really shouldn’t mess up your nails like that, honey. Nasty habit.” Her voice came out lower and with a bit more of a rasp than usual, the late hour of the night affecting her tone. “Sorry, Ms. Maximoff.” You try to chuckle it off, dumbfounded by her simple gestures. “Hey, what did I say? Call me Wanda.” She gives you a stern look, similar to the one she gave Billy when he quipped at her in the doorway of the home upon your arrival.

“Right. I’m sorry, Wanda.” You draw out the delivery of her name, and the way the green of her eyes is overcome by her growing pupils sends goosebumps all through your skin and a shiver down your spine. “Good girl.” Before either of you could react to what she’d just said, she followed her praise up with a simple question, “Well, we can’t let this go to waste can we?” Gesturing to the bottle of wine, you giggle and shake your head.

You watch a bit too closely as she uncorks and pours out two glasses of the wine, your eyes tracing each movement of her slender fingers as if you were trying to save them in your mind in perfect detail. She hands you a glass and goes back to her reclined pose before swirling the liquid in her own glass and taking a sip. You again pay intense attention to the way her defined jaw appears impossibly sharper than usual as she drinks, the way her eyes close in bliss at the taste.

“Oh, you always were my smart girl, Y/N. You picked out a great one. Drink up, hon.” With that, she grabs the tv remote and turns it on. “What would you like to watch? I know you used to love the classics, but I’m sure you’ve developed a more evolved taste recently.”

You ponder on the question for a moment and stare back in your own distorted reflection in the wine that rests in your hand below you. “Well, it’s been out for a while, but I have been loving Orange is the New Black. If you’ve already seen it, that’s alright, you can pick!”

“Oh, I’ve seen it, but I love it. Let’s pick a good one.” She clicks through seasons and episodes before picking one she likes. You sip your drink and can’t help but hum in appreciation of the taste. Wanda’s head snaps towards the direction of your own at the sound, swiping her tongue over her teeth before practically sighing out, “You like that?” You stammer out an affirmative answer, flustered at just the sound of her voice.

You both return your attention to the tv screen, hoping for some relief from your blushing state. You find no help from the show, turning towards it to find the two main characters in an intense argument stop what they’re saying and pull each other into an intense, rough kiss… and it only leads to more. You turn slowly away from the screen and towards Wanda, desperate to see how she was reacting to the scene unfolding in front of you, but you’re met with her gaze already on you. She doesn’t look away. If anything, she analyzes you more closely, getting a feel for all of your tells, every way you’re reacting to the girls on the screen, the desperation in your pleading eyes that say everything you’re too shy to say yourself.

It’s her who finally breaks her gaze, looking back up to the screen. You take this opportunity to continue looking at her, hypnotized by her beauty, which was now illuminated by the glow of the television. She lets it happen for 5 seconds longer before snapping back to you.

“It’s rude to stare, yknow?” Dumbfounded, you reply, “Then why is it ok when you do it?” You regret it as quickly as it comes out of your mouth. She rises to her feet and places her now empty glass down on the table with such force you thought it might shatter. She takes the few steps it takes to be standing close enough to feel the heat radiating off of your skin and grabs your jaw harshly.

“Watch your mouth.” And then she’s walking off to her bedroom. You’re truly shocked as you down the rest of your glass, clear both of them as they’re now empty, and turn off the tv. You sit out in the room for a bit longer, just gathering the courage to walk down the hallway to enter your room that shared a wall with Wanda’s. You finally do, your steps not making a sound as you approach the room because of how slowly you’re going. You finally take a seat on your bed and scroll through varying socials when you start to hear… buzzing?

After being frozen in your tracks, you walk up to the wall that you share with Wanda… and that’s definitely buzzing. And moaning. You know you should walk away from the wall and respect Wanda’s privacy, she probably didn’t even know you were in the room yet because of how quietly you entered it, but you seemed to be magnetically pulled towards it. You were about to snap out of your trance when you heard something awfully familiar. Was she saying your name?

You press your ear to the wall. You hear her let out a noise a bit more broken and higher pitched than the rest of the string of moans you’d heard her emit before… and then nothing. You were left to wonder what it really was that you’d heard her say just moments before, sounding so similar to your name. But you must’ve been imagining that.

You get in bed, replaying the short sounds you’d heard minutes before in your head and wishing you’d cleaned up and made your way to the room just a bit more quickly, but almost simultaneously glad you didn’t- you didn’t need that kind of delusion fuel. You drift off to the memory of the older woman’s blissful sounds.

………………………………………………………………………… Thats all for part/night 1 of this new story! Please let me know if you like where it’s headed so far and if there’s anything you’d like to see in the following parts :)

tags: @ahintofchaos @bees-for-brains @scxrlett-wid0w

[respectthepetty]

The Loyal Pin - Finale

I've waited two weeks for this finale, so I'm jumping straight in because I need three things out of it: a happy ending, Anin wearing pink, and Patricia apologizing to Pin, WHICH IT THE FIRST THING TO HAPPEN!

Pat, who finally gets her name back, is wearing Pink Person Pin's color and giving the best apologizing to Pin who still doesn't fully have her color back.

And now Anin's mom is pawning off the jewelry in case the girls have to go to England, and I have never appreciated fictional color-coded women more in my life.

OUR ALLY! OUR KING! OUR BEST BOY!

As much as Pin was upsetting me with that marriage business, she always shows up for her girl, and no man would EVER get on the floor and beg for mercy like this! THIS IS THE MOMENT!

One thing about Anin is she is always going to be a Blue Beauty regardless of what is happening.

WHAT THE FUCK IS HAPPENING?! NO!!!! WE AIN'T GOING OUT LIKE THIS! PIN FINALLY GOT HER COLOR BACK AND HER AUNT/MOM/WHATEVS IS ON HER SIDE NOW! NOOOO!

Wait, a damn minute! What the hell is this all about?

What did this Blue Bitc--Beauty do? Annette, ANSWER ME?!

It's a prank?! What in the MTV's Jackass is this bullshit about?!

AND EVERYONE WAS IN ON IT?!

Anan, on God, you are the only royal I respect in this house because you have been PFLAG's Ally of the Year, and I appreciate you trying to convince your father, but what in the Sam Hill was your sister thinking?!

Pin, beat her! At least slap Annette once. She hasn't worn pink yet, and now this?! I know she is a princess, but if this was French Revolution, Annette would be on thin ice. I'm not saying kill her, but she needs to be scared the same way she keeps scaring you BY KIDNAPPING YOU!

Or give her a ring for her birthday because you love her special brand of crazy. Sure! That works too!

And the whole group is in blue for the Blue Beauty with some pops of pink. Everyone supports her special brand of crazy. Got it!

This feels like a baby shower, so it being a rich lesbian's birthday is making this so pleasurable!

Now, Pat! You just got your name back, and now I want to snatch it away again! What is this, mama? Desserts are your specialty, not decorations. Stick to your strengths, girl, cause this ain't it! AND WHY IS ANIN IN GREEN?! This green has haunted me the entire second half of the show! And now the green AND that little figurine will haunt me forever.

I know I should be happy homegirl is pregnant, but since Anan dropped the fact that he didn't get to marry who he loved, I feel bad for both of them.

They will make this work, but as Anin's mom would say, I'm being really western about this marriage of conventionality.

Alin, were you the Green Girl I was waiting for all along to take this darn color that has haunted me?!

Everyone's cute and in their colors. Alin looks more like Anin and Pin's daughter, and I love that for us.

Pat, I'm still salty toward you, but I'm glad I don't want to fight you anymore because you look so good in your color, and I hate being attracted to people who piss me off. I was never not attracted to you, but it's nice to know I actually like you again too.

Annette, just because you have incorporated more florals and dots into your outfits as a sign that you love Pin doesn't mean you are off the hook for not wearing pink, but I'm going to ignore it right now because MY BABYGIRL IS FREE!!! She can live her life as the bright and beautiful Yellow Yal she was meant to be without a man tying her down! I actually hope Aon is well too.

I don't know how Kuea's wife made the same mistake twice, but more power to that woman for giving that triflin' man two kids.

They are adorable wives, and Pin giving Anin lunch in a pink gingham checkered cloth is adorable, BUT WHERE IS YOUR PINK, ANNETTE?!

Prik, you and Pia were the real ones putting up with these lesbians over DECADES ACROSS CONTINENTS! I hope Annette taught you how to play tennis and drive, so you can run her errands in style.

SHE IS WEARING PINK! ANNETTE IS WEARING PINK! IT'S HAPPENING AND I'M SCREAMING!!!!!

Leave it up to Idol Factory to wait until the last possible minute, literally, to give me the color exchange! Congratulations, everyone got their name back this episode. Good job, Anin!

Pushing the horrible prank aside, the finale was worth the wait and the hour and half runtime. I enjoyed every single episode, and the colors were coloring until the very end (damn you, Idol Factory!), so I do hope it gets the credit it deserves for being the most each episode and doing most of it amazingly well.

Everyone got the ended they needed including our color-coded girls in love.

And I love that.

[traumagenic-positivity]

i'm not sure if this is the right place but i'm nervous to post this anywhere and wanted to share an experience and some growth i was proud of

as a young, unaware system, i changed my gender expression & identity & preferred name and pronouns rather frequently. frequently enough that one of my friends told me it was "like i had multiple personalities," a comment they both [didn't realise was rather inappropriate] and have since apologised for, and [didn't know was extremely accurate] to the point that i now find it rather comedic. but i really detested the idea of labelling myself as genderfluid the entire time.

when i identified as a girl i /was a girl./ i was not going to stop being a girl. i didn't feel that i had ever been a boy, and i didn't think i would be a boy in the future — i was a girl, plain and simple. the same was true for when i identified as a boy, or as nonbinary, and i honestly did not understand why it kept changing, considering this. i would identify as a girl and never have any concept of how i could have identified as anything else. i would 'come out' and 'go back into the closet' and have no clue why i had done one or the other. in retrospect, this is because i have DID — there is an alter who sees herself as a woman, and an alter who sees himself as a man, and an alter that sees themself as neither, and so on, and whichever alter is in front, their identity is clear to them. i detested the idea of identifying as genderfluid because my gender, as i received it, /wasn't/ fluid. the genders of my alters just varied from mine.

now that i'm diagnosed and have been in the process of treatment, i actually feel comfortable identifying as genderfluid, and have the flag hanging in my room. something i couldn't have really dreamed of as a teen. since i have names for my experiences, i'm comfortable both identifying with my own gender, as an alter, and also identifying as a whole /system/ as being genderfluid. it's the label that fits us best collectively, if you look at us as a singlet, or as one entity built up of many moving parts. it's nice to feel assured in that now. i'm proud of us.

i hope any systems struggling with collective or singular identity can reach a peace with it. it's not perfect and dysphoria is a complex thing for us, since we have many different desires, but we're so much more comfortable than we've been in the past. hopefully we can all make it somewhere serene, yeah? 🍂🦌

we've had a very similar experience!! our host could never quite put a gender on us, and we found genderfluid works as well!! for both a collective term, and a singular term for our host!!!

I'm glad you guys have become more comfortable <33

[nightlark100]

Consequences (Pt 10)

Me: Time for some Steph!

Steph: Noooo please don't drag me into this

--------------

Stephanie was making breakfast when the doorbell rang. She frowned. After the initial flurry of activity when her dad was declared missing (if she never had to see their lawyer again it would be too soon), she'd mostly been left alone. The only person who came to the house regularly was Peter and he had a key.

She eyed her plate longingly, trying to decide if she could ignore the visitor. When they rang again, she sighed and brushed her hands off on her flannel before heading to investigate.

She opened the front door and leaned against the frame. Outside were two people who looked far too perky for the time of day, a man and a woman both clad in bright t-shirts bearing the slogan 'Virginity Rocks'.

"Can I help you?"

"Miss Lauter?"

"That's me."

"Hi! It's great to meet you. I'm Jerry, and this is Jeri. We're youth ministers at the local church and we run the abstinence summer camp."

"Sorry, all my charitable donations are reserved for animal welfare charities."

Steph saw something flicker across Jerry's face for a moment but he quickly smoothed it out and carried on speaking.

"Oh we're not here for money. A member of our church asked us to come. We were hoping to speak with Grace?"

"Her parents sent you."

"Her mother. She's very concerned about Grace's wellbeing and we've always been close, she comes to our camp every year," Jeri explained.

"I can see your teachings really worked," Steph said snidely. A little unfair to Grace, yes she knew, but she couldn't resist the dig. Once again Jerry's expression faltered.

"You've got a bit of an attitude problem."

"I've been told. Although not usually by people who want to come in my house."

Jerry opened his mouth to say something but girl Jeri grabbed hold of his wrist, silencing him.

"Please, we just want to know Grace is okay. Her mother is worried and so are we."

Steph bit her lip. The woman at least seemed sincere.

"You can come in. I'll see if she's up for visitors. And if she's not, you go. I won't have you stressing her out."

"We understand."

Steph eyed them warily, before stepping aside and letting them inside.

"If you can just wait here for a minute," she told them before disappearing up the stairs to Grace's room. She didn't particularly want to leave them alone in her house but given how erratic Grace's moods had been lately (for good reason), it was best she check on her first.

She knocked and heard Grace's cheery voice from inside. Ahh, a good day then.

"Hey Grace. How you feeling today?"

"Pretty good! I didn't throw up this morning,"

"That's great. Think you can stomach some pancakes?"

"That sounds lovely Stephie!"

"We also have... visitors. To see you. Said they're called Jerry and Jeri?"

"Oh!" Grace paled. "Wh... why are they here?"

"Your mom asked them to come. I can send them away if you want?"

"No... I... Jeri is really sweet but... Jerry... boy Jerry can be... a lot."

"How about I send girl Jeri up to see you on her own?"

"Thank you," Grace gave her a grateful smile and started tidying herself up. Steph patted her shoulder and headed back downstairs. The two Jerries were lurking in the entrance hall, standing very close to one another. Like... weirdly close.

Steph cleared her throat, drawing their attention and sending them skittering apart. It was honestly kind of amusing.

"She said she'll see you," she told Jeri. Both of them made for the stairs but she intercepted boy Jerry. "Sorry, I don't think it's appropriate for a man to be in her bedroom. You can wait down here."

Boy Jerry looked more than a little annoyed but allowed her to lead him into the kitchen where she resumed making breakfast, moving silently as he watched her intently.

He looked poised to say something when the sound of the front door opening diverted his attention.

"I have returned from my quest!" called Peter. "Bearing the jam that my fair lady has requested!"

He entered and presented her with a jar of fancy jam in a dramatic fashion.

"No more fantasy TV shows for you," Steph told him as he gave her a kiss on the cheek.

"I thought it was just Grace and yourself living here?" Boy Jerry's voice was icy and Peter stiffened, half turning.

"Jerry."

"Peter."

"What's he doing here?"

"They stopped by to see Grace."

"They? Oh... right."

"I can see that Mrs Chasity was right to be concerned about her daughter's wellbeing if you're... cohabiting."

"What, you think I'm going to get her more pregnant?" Peter asked, raising an eyebrow. "Besides, we're not 'cohabiting'. I just have a key. And... wait, why am I justifying myself to you? This isn't camp."

"You actually went to their camp?"

"Yeah. Ted made me."

"Doesn't seem to be the kind of thing Ted would be in favour of."

"He's not but he had to go when he was a teenager and he thinks if he has to suffer, I should too. They confiscate my emergency chocolate and I always end up finishing the summer with a serious hand cramp."

"Peter!" Steph laughed. Peter flushed, realising what he'd accidentally implied.

"From making wallets!"

"Well it looks like you could use a little bit more wallet making Spankoffski, it doesn't seem like you've taken our lessons to heart."

Pete made a face and slumped into a seat next to Steph, resting his head against her shoulder. She smoothed down the side of his hair, drawing a sleepy smile.

"You not sleep well?"

"Bad dreams."

"That's your guilt for your sinful ways manifesting," Jerry said snidely. Peter narrowed his eyes.

"Well at least my sins only manifest as dreams and not as eight foot tall hatchet wielding woodsmen or piles of dead bodies."

"Huh?" Steph asked. Boy Jerry had gone pale and his expression was flicking back and forth between the pleasant neutral mask he put on and barely supressed rage.

"We're leaving. I'm going to inform Mrs Chasity that she should retrieve Grace at once."

"Grace is eighteen. She can't be 'retrieved' like a package," Steph said. Jerry scowled and went into the entrance hall, calling up the stairs for girl Jeri who appeared quickly. Her face was creased, clearly distressed by his shouting, and she seemed to be on the verge of tears when he forcefully steered her out of the house.

"You know the lords said about Grace killing 'dirty dudes'?" Steph said after silence had once again fallen on the house. "I vote him."

Peter laughed softly, before pausing and sniffing.

"Steph, I think your pancakes are burning."

-------------

Boy Jerry is hard to write :(

Consequences (pt1)

In which the Lords in Black aren't fully satisfied with Grace's sacrifice (or, the pitfalls of an abstinence only sex education)

---------------------------------

She hadn't wanted to kill them, Grace thought numbly as she stared down at her dirt streaked hands, unable to shake the image of her latest victims from her mind. Yes, she believed that the behaviour she'd witnessed from the young couple, drunk and making out in the park, was dirty and perverse but she didn't want to kill them. And yet when she had gotten near, it was as though she was seized by a terrible hunger and she just couldn't stop herself.

She slipped to the ground, resting her head against the side of her bed and felt tears burning her eyes. It had been a few months since everything with Max... since she had given in to the primal temptations and sacrificed her chastity to send him to hell. She should feel... something. Relief? But her insides felt like they were rotting. She'd done so many terrible things and she didn't even have her unwavering faith to fall back on anymore, not after what she'd seen in the school gym. She didn't know if the colourful figures had been demons or if they truly were gods but it felt like jagged claws had slashed apart the fabric of her soul, leaving jagged doubts behind. Doubts and hunger.

At first she'd been able to ignore it but it had gotten stronger. It would rise in waves, crescendoing down onto her when they peaked and leaving her scrabbling for purchase as her mind crumbled.

Even the brief moments of peace she usually got between the waves had been lost to her now as she found herself battling daily with nausea, sometimes barely making it from her bed to the bathroom in time. She had tried to hide it as best she could but she knew her parents were concerned, had heard them whispering while she lingered in doorways. If it continued much longer they'd want to take her to the doctor, but she knew medicine couldn't help her. Her soul was sick, that was the cause. She would just have to pray harder. Maybe she could ask Stephie and Petey for help? Surely her friends would agree to pray with her when they saw how bad things had gotten.

Struggling to her feet, feeling her stomach twist painfully as she did so, she retrieved her phone from her bedside and sent Steph a text asking to meet up.

Her friends would help. They had to.

[yay-depression]

hello! quick reminder that as all the media surrounding demi lovato’s interview where she said she was “tired” of using they/them pronouns show misleading headlines about how demi was “exhausted from using they/them” what actually happened is that demi lovato said it was exhausting having to constantly explain themselves and constantly educate people on they/them pronouns.

[scamoosh]

this is gonna sound whiny but nonbinary ppl can immediately tell when u just see them as their agab jsyk👍 its just frustrating 2 b surrounded by other queer ppl and even in those communities without fail if i make any comment abt period cramps or having worked in childcare or shit like that theres an Immediate shift to like oh okay ur actually a Girl got it . like . there was anothr nonbinary person i used 2 kno who had zero problem using the right pronouns for me until they heard how high my voice was on a call once ☠️

[bumblingbabooshka]

Amanda Grayson with her Hubby and Stepson

[eggy-tea]

anyone who wants to should be allowed to trans their gender any way they want, any time they want. i will never understand why some people care so much about making sure 1) everyone has exactly one gender, and 2) that gender never, ever changes... detransitioning should be just another option, not a "gotcha," you fucking goobers.

[silverselfshippingchaos]

man.. shipping with characters from movies is so hard..

[arthrobug]

Am I one of the only people who thinks that writers and artists who make Killer, Ink, or whoever the mom when there's a shipkid involved or even just a simple relationship really odd?

They just make one of them the mom and sometimes have them act completely different (I mean WAY different) from canon- I CAN'T BE THE ONLY ONE WHO THINKS THAT'S STRANGE, RIGHT??

If it's because they have the headcanon or in the story it's canon that, for example, Nightmare is a trans woman, or the character has clearly stated they prefer to be called mother beforehand, than valid! But if they are both regarded as dudes, prefer masculine pronouns and identification, but then they're the mother simply because they 'are the more submissive/nicer one' (sometimes it's just because that individual character carried the child if it's mpreg), THAT'S REALLY UNCOMFORTABLE, MAN.

It's a relationship between two men, there is no automatic woman role. It is a child with two men as their parents, there is no automatic mother role.

If I used weird English or something seems confusing, please don't yell at me, just reblog or comment with a question about it and I'll reword what I meant 👍

Too long;Didn't Read: I'm weirded out that some creators basically unconsciously or consciously enforce heteronormative roles on fictional skeletons in relationships of all kinds.

[crimeronan]

ashdfdgsfaffsdsfs KITKAT STOP I LOVE YOUR CHARACTERS SO MUCH. my jaw is dropped. holy shit i have so much gender envy rn

:D thank u. they give me gender envy too. i love me some good power fantasies

[starpros-sunshine]

I think the reason I'm so uncomfortable in conversation with cis men is because in my life the image I've grown up with is that from the American movies and while there's so much to be said about how women in those are basically objects or exclusively love interests or just Really Really forgettable I feel like there's also something to be mentioned about how most of these men are all the same pseudo-tough-guy character that's cool and suave and sexy and the only emotion he's capable of is nonchalant banter (it feels worth mentioning that the American movies I'm referring to are all from the last century I have no idea if that's changed in these last years but a gut feeling tells me no) and I also barely talk to the guys from my grade so the result of kind of growing up with that is that I just genuinely can not imagine real cis men with a complex inner emotional landscape. Maybe this is also an empathy thing but I genuinely can not imagine most cishet guys doing normal people things in their free time that aren't gaming or going to the gym or...idk. making music too I suppose. It's quite comical really but I just can not imagine cishet men with interests or doing stuff like having crushes and it's so strange because I know for a fact I am generally speaking not a sexist person but this little tidbit of apparently just not being able to view cishet men as normal people? Can't get that to go away even if I logically know it's silly. There's a point in this post about how toxic masculinity is a huge issue and affects even those not affected by it and runs really really deep or whatever but I'm too tired to coherently put it together. On the positive side now I get really happy when I see men online talk about how much they love their wives and all that because it's like "wow! Crazy you really are just a normal dude and not some James Bond knock-off like I thought every cishet man was supposed to be! Thank god!"

[imperiuswrecked]

I'm never forgetting the Palestinian babies that were left to starve to death then rot in their beds by the IOF.

I'm never forgetting the Palestinian doctors surrounded by bodies of dead children begging the world to stop the slaughter.

I'm never forgetting the Palestinian children who held a press conference in English to beg the world to stop murdering them because they want to live.

I'm never forgetting the Palestinian Priest who said "We will not accept your apology after the genocide" to the world.

I'm never forgetting the Palestinian Imam who used the speakers of the Mosque, not to call people to prayer but to call out to God while the world around them was burning from American supplied Israeli bombs.

I'm never forgetting the grandfather who held his dead grandchild in his arms. Or the father carrying the remains of his two children in plastic shopping bags. Or the mother holding her dead child in a shroud. Or the father sitting among the rubble after he lost his whole family. Or the girl trapped under a broken building begging for people to save her family first. Or the boy who cried when he saw his brother alive. Or the girl who asked if she was still alive after being pulled from the rubble. Or the boy who carried the remains of his brother in his backpack. Or the old man the IOF used for a photoshoot before they shot him dead after getting pictures. Or the little boy wearing plastic gloves to pick up the remains of his family. Or the graves desecrated. Or the body of that small baby girl left alone in a tent because no one knew who she was or if her family was alive, small and alone and not one person who knew her name to bury her. Or the young boy who was shot in the street while his sister watched from the window. Or the men and boys who were stripped naked in winter. Or those tortured. Or those made to stand in open graves. Or the people who were raped by IOF soldiers. Or Palestinian workers kidnapped by the IOF and then labeled with wristbands, each one reduced to a number, then made to walk back to Gaza to be killed in the world's largest open air concentration camp. Or the people of Gaza starving because Israeli Zionists are blocking aid trucks. Or the Israelis dancing and celebrating the death of Palestinians. Or the lies spread by Zionists and their supporters. Or the people profiting off the oppression and deaths of Palestinians. Or the people of the West Bank being killed or kidnapped by the IOF. Or old woman who was older than the creation of the terror state of "Israel" who was shot by snipers for saying that. Or the Israelis dressed up as Palestinians to enter a hospital and kill three Palestinians in their beds. Or every single Palestinian currently kept in an Israeli prison. Or the journalists, doctors, poets, men, women, children, and the unborn all massacred. Or the fact that WCNSF exists now. Or the woman who refused to wash the blood from her hands. Or the dead, unburied and unmourned.

I'm never forgetting those who chose silence in the face of a genocide.

I may not know all their names but I will not forget the over 30,000 Palestinians dead. Or the over 60, 000 people hurt. Or the unknown number of people missing, still lost under the rubble. Or the 12,000 children slaughtered. An entire generation crippled or murdered.

I will never forget these things when Palestine is free.