#no shame to people who are into that but it’s not for me and yet there’s so many

[beatlblog]

#cool art students from germany that only really liked george and john and found paul kinda annoying or smth#astrid + klaus ilyyy <33 (unfortunately dont know much about jurgen yet) (via @jarsfullofstars)

ok but the one who liked paul is of course Hans-Walter Braun aka icke who recorded the hamburg tape where macca IS ON RECORD DEDICATING the till there was you performance TO HIM

#also the eccentric younger brother who was whisked away to Paris by the young Guiness heir#the same who would give Paul his first trip and a motorbike ride in the moonlight and his alluring facial scarring#mike mccartney#tara browne#the beatles side characters pt ♾️ (via @crepesuzette2023)

#and Thee Side Character of all time - the mother of the drummer-who-was-sacked-to-make-room-for-Ringo who had a child by Neil Aspinall#mona best#the beatles#also the poet who made the beatles doubt their heterosexuality#also Bob Fraser. nough said lmao (via @me-fish)

#MLH dating gloria vanderbilt and mary tyler moore also makes me crazy#what a life….he queened out (via @planetaire)

#i didn't know michael lindsay-hogg was the illegitimate son of orson welles but deep down i feel like i always knew#they have the same energy (via @harmonicabisexuals)

#i read that one of linda's journalist ex friends who spread slut shaming rumours about her when she married paul was germaine greer?#i ​cannot for the life of me remember where i read it so i can't provide a source (via @spinnach)

#those were the days lol#neil aspinall/mona best and john riley the dentist i still can't believe that happened#also riley's wife or girlfriend worked for or had some connection with playboy#she worked for the playboy club i think (via @nikidontsurf)

#ofc hes the illegitimate son of orson welles.that makes sense for him. (via @hathahill)

#also the fact that like ????????? the Manson murders were using their music to justify their race war ideology and murder cult like ???????? (via @bugsssssssssssss)

#lmaooo i forgot about how mlh is 100% orson welles son (via @asurrogateblog)

#the evil manager who ended up being one of the big causes the band broke up#the club owner mother of their original drummer who had a child with one of their friends#the strict but well meaning aunt who always did her best to look out for john even though their personalities clashed#and also charles manson is there indirectly (via @the-electric-monk)

#it's so good#the beatles (via @thedoubteriswise)

#the beatles#side characters better than mains#but i dont support women calling men 'pussy'#mine has endured a lot - she is very brave#probably tmi (via @meledol84)

#mona best having a kid with her sons best friend and then her son being kicked out of the band (via @spiritinflight)

she deserved so much more she provided them their VENUE

#wheres bailey's post about magic alex. it's so good (via @tweeterwilbury)

#the beatles cinematic universe is wild (via @cherubina)

#when the side characters are more interesting than the actual characters (via @bbbrianjones)

not hard! when the sides deserve to be the mains

#everyone in the tags finding out abt the orson welles thing lolol (vi @elena-ferrante)

#they literally lived in a monty python sketch (via @wronglennon)

#evil LSD dentist caused the 2nd worse song on Revolver but it’s still great (via @sivavakkiyar)

#maybe it’s just my fault/being too online but sometimes certain things like this will just feel like common knowledge#but you absolutely cannot mention it to the average person™️ or you sound crazy#I’m thinking specifically of the time I explained the meatles to my friends and they were horrified#^^even that I think was maybe more well known bc of the press since it’s a wild thing to admit in an interview#but there’s obviously people who don’t give a shit about the band so ofc they wouldn’t know (via @philharmonica)

#dont forget joe orton#bludgeoned to death the morning he was suppose to meet richard lester for the third beatles film#what would i not give to have seen ortonesque beatles#rip (via @beatlestshirt)

!!!! oh a side who deserved to be a main for sure shit's crazy bro

#Tara Brown#The Guinness heir himself who died tragically young and inspired what is considered to be the Lennon/Mccartney masterpiece#Also got Paul to try lsd when even his mates couldn't (via @camibispace)

#y’all we can’t leave out jimmy and jemima#also#tru prev#it’s kinda funny watching the fascination and/or horror dawn on someone’s face when i tell them deep beatles lore#everyone take a peak at the tags and notes for this post#beatles lore is insane fr#beatles “common knowledge” (via @lilywolfgray)

#can't forget their hot bassist who was so bad at doing stuff besides being hot they made him face the wall (via @sockpuppetdynasty)

crying what why isn't this in any of the photos

#why was john so easy to manipulate he attracted the oddest people around (via @belatedbeatlemaniabesetee)

#Neil Aspinall Mona Best affair knocked me over. and then basically picking the Beatles over Pete? Boy.. (via @harddaysnite)

here's Stu Sutcliffe blair witching it

I think Paul tells the story in Anthology that they were having promotional photos taken but he and John were so paranoid that a music professional would notice Stu's bass was tuned incorrectly/his hands were badly positioned for the key he was tuned in that they had him hide it#i don't know enough about how guitars work to explain or better remember what Paul said lol#it was cool though john and paul were very dedicated to their craft#stu. wasn't. and they kind edged him out (via @thisbird)

seen plenty of stuart photos but not this one yet thank you

Beatles lore has the best side characters. There's the snobby 28-year-old film director (illegitimate son of Orson Welles no less) who's WAY too interested in mclennon and desperately wants to put all the Beatles in a desert. There's the aspiring author who hated Paul sooooooo bad but still dated him so she could write a book where he cries a bunch and she calls him a pussy. There's an evil LSD dentist. There's Magic Alex. I could go on.

[luvfae]

CLEAN, PT 2

summary: after rehab, you reunite with thanos, sharing love, passion, and a fresh start together.

parings: thanos/choi su-bong x f!reader

warnings: mention of addiction, swearing, smut, oral (both receiving), fingering, handjob, unprotected sex (don’t be an idiot), p in v.

part 1

Three months ago, Thanos had dragged you—kicking, screaming, and cursing his name—into the same rehab facility where he had gotten clean.

Today, you were walking out.

With no family to pick you up (Thanos didn’t even know if you had any who cared), he was the one waiting.

Three excruciating months apart. He spent every day wondering if you hated him, if you were okay. But no calls from the facility meant you weren’t doing too bad. Meanwhile, you had spent those months drowning in withdrawal, fighting everyone who tried to help, refusing therapy—until eventually, you gave in. And for the first time in years, you felt normal. You started to remember the girl you used to be before the drugs took her away.

Then came the shame. The time lost. You should’ve graduated from art school by now, but instead, addiction had dictated your life. You regretted cutting off your family, pushing away friends until you had none left. You regretted how you had treated Thanos when all he ever did was try to save you.

And now, standing at the door, your hands trembled. Would anyone even be waiting for you?

Then—

“Y/N.”

You blinked.

Thanos.

You didn’t think. You just ran.

Throwing yourself at him, you hugged him so tightly it knocked the wind out of him. He didn’t hesitate to wrap his arms around you.

“Thank you,” you whispered, voice shaking. You pulled back slightly to look at him. “Thank you so much.”

“Don’t thank me,” he murmured, brushing away your tears.

“I didn’t deserve your help,” you admitted, pulling away completely. He caught your hands, grounding you. “I was so awful to you. I’m so, so sorry.”

“I know what it’s like to be an addict,” he replied. “Everyone deserves help.”

Sniffing, you wiped your eyes as he led you to his car.

It was strange. You had known Thanos for nine months, lived with him, had sex with him, and yet… you didn’t really know him. Your brain had been so fried on drugs you barely retained any information.

And Thanos was the same. He had taken care of you, paid for your rehab, seen you at your lowest, and yet he didn’t know who you were.

Maybe it was time to change that.

The car ride was quiet at first. You were still getting used to the feeling of sobriety, of being aware. But as the city passed by through the windows, you glanced at Thanos.

“I used to paint,” you blurted out.

He looked at you. “Yeah?”

You nodded. “Before everything… I loved painting. I was good at it, too. I was supposed to graduate art school a few years ago. Art was my dream.”

Silence settled for a moment before you continued. “I had a good life. A good family. My parents weren’t perfect, but they cared. I had a future. And then I got caught up with the wrong people.” You swallowed. “I let it ruin me.”

Thanos tightened his grip on the wheel. “It’s not too late.”

You let out a small, breathy laugh. “You sound like my therapist.”

“Well, your therapist is right,” he said, glancing at you. “You’re clean now. You can start again.”

You didn’t reply, just watched the city blur past.

“What about you?” you asked. “How did you get into rapping?”

Thanos smirked slightly. “It was either rap or go to jail.”

Your brows furrowed, but you stayed quiet, waiting for him to explain.

“I was a street kid,” he said. “Grew up bouncing between different family members. No real home. I got into some bad shit—gangs, drugs, fights. Ended up locked up a few times as a teenager. But music…” He sighed, tapping his fingers against the wheel. “Music was my way out. I started writing lyrics in juvie. Got out, kept at it, got lucky. Somehow, I made it big.”

You stared at him, realizing this was the first real conversation you’d ever had. “Do you love it?”

Thanos was quiet for a beat. “Yeah. I do.”

You smiled softly. “I’d like to hear your songs sometime. Really hear them. Not just in the background while I’m high out of my mind.”

His lips quirked up. “I’d like that too.”

And for the first time in a long time, you both felt like you were finally getting to know each other.

Thanos had loved you before—loved you in your worst moments, through the chaos, the anger, the addiction. But this version of you? The version that was bright-eyed, passionate, full of life again? He loved this version even more.

As he stole glances at you in the passenger seat, he really saw you for the first time. Your cheeks had filled out, your skin looked healthier, your eyes were wide and alert instead of hazy and half-lidded. And that smile—soft, genuine, real.

You were beautiful.

He pulled into the driveway, and you blinked, tilting your head.

“This isn’t the place I remember,” you said, glancing up at the massive mansion in front of you.

Thanos shrugged. “Bought a new house while you were gone.” He put the car in park and looked over at you. “Wanted to leave the bad memories behind and make good ones here instead.”

You let out a small laugh. “House? More like a mansion.”

Thanos smirked, pushing open his door. “Being rich and famous has its perks.”

You stepped out after him, following him inside. The space was opulent—high ceilings, sleek furniture, stunning artwork lining the walls. You turned in slow circles, taking it all in.

“I’ll donate them to charity,” Thanos said.

You glanced at him, confused. “What?”

“The paintings,” he clarified. “I’d rather have your art on my walls.”

Your cheeks burned, and you ducked your head, kicking at the floor. “I haven’t picked up a paintbrush in years,” you admitted. “Not sure I even can anymore.”

Thanos smiled. “I bet you can.”

Before you could argue, he took your hand and led you up the grand staircase, past a few closed doors, before stopping in front of one. He pushed it open, revealing a bedroom with floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the entire city.

“This is your room,” he said simply.

You stepped inside, breath catching. It was beautiful. Warm-toned, cozy, welcoming. He walked over to the closet and pulled open the doors, revealing racks of neatly hung designer clothes, tags still on them.

“I even got you a new wardrobe,” he added.

You stared at the clothes, shaking your head. “Thanos, this is too much,” you whispered. “After everything I put you through… You shouldn’t have to take care of me anymore.”

He turned to you, gaze steady. “I want to.”

His words sat heavy between you. No hesitation, no doubt.

For the first time in a long time, you felt happy.

Real, genuine happiness. The kind that made your stomach flip and your heart race.

Or maybe it wasn’t just happiness. Maybe it was something deeper, something terrifying in its intensity.

You stared at him, eyes brimming with tears. “Thank you.” Your voice was barely a whisper, afraid that if you spoke any louder, the moment would shatter.

Thanos met your gaze, unwavering. “You’re welcome.”

You stepped forward hesitantly. “I don’t remember a lot from when I was using,” you admitted. “But I remember you.”

His brows lifted slightly. “What do you remember?”

You swallowed hard. “I remember you force-feeding me when I refused to eat. Flushing my stash down the toilet. I remember screaming in your face, kicking holes in your walls.” A tear slipped down your cheek, but you kept going. “I remember sleeping with strangers, with your friends—right after you told me you loved me.” Your voice cracked. “I was horrible to you. But that wasn’t the real me. I swear.”

Thanos nodded, watching you carefully. “I know,” he said simply. “But there were good times too, right? You remember those?”

You did.

You remembered the way he’d tuck you in at night, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. The way he’d run a bath for you after you got sick all over yourself, holding you steady as he cleaned you up. The way he kissed you like he was willing to set the world on fire for you. The way he touched you, loved you, even when you were too far gone to truly feel it.

“I remember how you made me feel,” you whispered, stepping closer.

His lips parted, his breath hitching as your fingers traced up his chest.

“I remember your hands,” you murmured, voice turning sultry. “Your mouth. Your tongue. Your fingers.” Your hand slid lower, brushing over the hardening bulge in his jeans. “Your cock inside me.”

Thanos inhaled sharply as you pushed your palms against his chest.

You had spent weeks thinking about this—about fucking him sober. About feeling everything for the first time.

“You made me feel so good,” you purred. “So fucking good, Thanos.”

A muscle in his jaw twitched. “My real name is Su-bong,” he muttered, his voice hoarse.

You smirked. “Well—Su-bong…” Your eyes darkened with intent. “Let me make it up to you. Let me show you how good I can be.”

That was all it took.

His lips crashed against yours, hungry and demanding, his hands gripping your waist as he backed you toward the bed. You gasped as the backs of your knees hit the mattress, and he wasted no time pushing you onto your back, peeling his shirt off in one swift motion and tossing it to the floor.

You sat up slightly, dragging your fingertips down his toned abdomen, your mouth practically watering at the sight of him.

He was already hard for you.

And this time, you were completely, devastatingly sober.

You dragged your nails down his chest, feeling the way his muscles tensed beneath your touch. His skin was warm, firm—real. For the first time, you were feeling him, not just through a hazy drug-fueled blur, but with a clarity that sent a shiver down your spine.

Thanos—Su-bong—looked down at you with dark, hooded eyes, his lips parted slightly as he took you in. “You’re teasing me,” he murmured, voice thick with desire.

You smirked, trailing your fingers lower, letting them ghost over the waistband of his jeans. “Maybe,” you mused. “I owe you, don’t I?”

His hands slid up your sides, rough palms skimming the soft fabric of the shirt he had given you months ago—the same one you had walked out of rehab in. Slowly, he peeled it up and over your head, letting it drop to the floor.

His gaze roamed over you, drinking in every inch of exposed skin, every little mark and scar. You weren’t the frail, hollow version of yourself anymore. You were whole.

“You’re beautiful,” he muttered, his fingers trailing over your ribs, then up to cup your breasts, thumbs brushing over your nipples. You let out a soft gasp, arching into his touch.

His mouth found your throat, lips pressing firm, open-mouthed kisses along the column of your neck. He sucked lightly at your pulse, dragging his teeth over the sensitive skin, making you shudder.

“Su-bong,” you breathed, threading your fingers through his hair.

He groaned at the way you said his name, his hands sliding down your body, squeezing at your waist, your hips, like he was memorizing the shape of you.

You tugged at the waistband of his jeans, undoing the button and pulling the zipper down, your fingers slipping inside to brush against the hard length beneath his boxers. He let out a sharp exhale, hips jerking forward slightly at your touch.

“Fuck,” he hissed, his forehead dropping against yours. “You really want this?”

You wrapped your fingers around him, squeezing just enough to make him curse under his breath. “More than anything,” you whispered.

His lips crashed against yours again, hungrier this time, his hands gripping your thighs as he pushed you back onto the bed, positioning himself between your legs. You gasped as he kissed his way down your body, his mouth hot and insistent against your skin.

When he reached the waistband of your jeans, he hooked his fingers into them, glancing up at you for permission.

You lifted your hips in response, breath hitching as he dragged them down, taking your panties with them, exposing you completely to him.

His eyes darkened, his tongue swiping over his bottom lip. “Fuck, baby,” he muttered, his voice thick with lust.

Then, without hesitation, he leaned down and devoured you.

His tongue flicked against your clit, slow and teasing, sending a jolt of pleasure through your core. Your fingers twisted into his hair, hips jerking instinctively, but he pinned you down with a firm grip on your thighs.

“You’re so fucking wet,” he groaned against you, his breath hot, his voice thick with hunger. “Missed this pussy so much.”

A whimper slipped from your lips as he flattened his tongue and licked a long, slow stripe up your slit before sucking your clit into his mouth. Your back arched, thighs trembling, but just as the pleasure built, just as you felt yourself spiraling, you pushed at his shoulders.

Thanos pulled back, his mouth glistening, brows furrowing in confusion. “What?”

You took a shaky breath, trying to clear the haze of pleasure from your mind. “This is about you, not me,” you murmured, pushing yourself up on your elbows. “I’m paying you back.”

A slow, wicked grin spread across his face. “If it’s about me, then I should get to do what I want,” he countered, voice low, dangerous. “And what I want to do is fucking taste you.”

“Jesus Christ,” you breathed, heat surging through your body.

Before you could protest further, he dove back in, his tongue circling your clit while two fingers slid inside you, curling just right. A strangled moan tore from your throat, your hips bucking as he worked you open, relentless and precise.

It didn’t take long—he knew exactly how to unravel you, exactly how to have you gripping his hair and gasping his name. Your orgasm hit fast and hard, your body shaking as he held you down, licking you through every wave until you were panting, overstimulated.

Only then did he pull away, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, looking so fucking smug.

“Fuck,” you muttered, still catching your breath. “I forgot how good you were at that. Feels even better sober.”

His smirk widened. “Unforgettable, baby.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t fight the smile tugging at your lips. Pushing him onto his back, you straddled his hips, hands sliding up his chest, fingers teasing over his nipples before raking down his abs.

“My turn,” you whispered.

You kissed down his body, taking your time, nipping at his collarbones, sucking marks into his skin just to watch him tense beneath you. When you reached the waistband of his jeans, you tugged them down, freeing his cock, your mouth practically watering at the sight of him—thick, hard, already leaking.

You wrapped your fingers around him, stroking slow, teasing. His breath hitched, his head tipping back against the pillows.

“Fuck,” he groaned, his fingers curling into the sheets. “You gonna take care of me, baby?”

You leaned down, pressing a kiss to his tip, then dragged your tongue along his length, watching the way his stomach tensed beneath you.

“Of course,” you murmured, voice dripping with promise.

And then you took him into your mouth, hollowing your cheeks as he let out a deep, guttural moan, his hands flying to your hair.

Your tongue worked him slowly, dragging along every inch of his length, teasing just to hear him groan. You hollowed your cheeks, taking him deeper, letting him hit the back of your throat, moaning around him just to feel the way he twitched in your mouth.

“Shit, baby,” Thanos growled, his fingers tightening in your hair. “Missed your mouth—so perfect, so fucking good for me.”

The praise only made you more eager. You bobbed your head, stroking the rest of him with your hand, slick and messy, making sure to keep your eyes on him. His chest rose and fell rapidly, his jaw clenched, his muscles tense as he fought to keep control.

But you didn’t want him to be in control.

You pulled off him with a lewd pop, kissing up his abs as you moved to straddle his waist. His cock was hard, flushed, throbbing against your soaked folds as you rubbed against him, teasing both of you.

“Hey,” he hissed, gripping your hips. “Quit teasing.”

You smirked, leaning down to kiss him, slow and deep, your fingers threading into his hair. “You always take care of me,” you whispered against his lips. “Let me take care of you now.”

Without breaking eye contact, you reached down, guiding him to your entrance before sinking down onto him in one slow, delicious slide. Both of you gasped at the sensation, your walls stretching around him, molding to him perfectly like you were made for this.

“Jesus,” Thanos groaned, his head tipping back, fingers digging into your hips as he tried not to lose himself completely.

“You feel so good,” you breathed, placing your hands on his chest, rolling your hips slowly, savoring the way he filled you so perfectly. “So fucking good, Su-bong.”

His eyes snapped open at the sound of his real name on your lips, dark and wild with lust. He sat up suddenly, wrapping an arm around your waist, his mouth latching onto your neck, sucking bruises into your skin as you continued moving, grinding against him, taking him deeper.

You moaned, clinging to his shoulders, kissing him desperately, your tongues tangling, the pleasure building between you like a fire. “Thank you,” you whispered against his lips, rocking faster, harder. “Thank you for saving me. For never giving up on me.”

A low growl rumbled in his chest as he flipped you onto your back, keeping you pinned beneath him, his hips snapping against yours, hitting deeper, harder.

“You’re mine,” he muttered between kisses, his voice rough, possessive. “Always fucking mine.”

“Yours,” you gasped, nails raking down his back, legs wrapping around him to pull him even closer. “Only yours.”

His pace turned desperate, his thrusts brutal yet somehow still so full of love, his forehead pressing against yours, his hand slipping between you to rub your clit, determined to drag you over the edge with him.

And when you came—hard, clenching around him, gasping his name like a prayer—he followed right after, burying himself deep, groaning into your mouth as he filled you, his entire body shuddering against yours.

For a long moment, neither of you moved, tangled together in the aftermath, your breathing heavy, your hearts racing in sync.

Then Thanos kissed you again, softer this time, lingering. “I still love you,” he murmured against your lips. “I always have.”

You smiled, brushing your fingers through his damp hair. “I think I love you too.”

And when he pulled you into his arms, holding you close like he never wanted to let go, you knew—you meant it.

You lay there for a while, tangled up in each other, your skin slick with sweat, his breath warm against your neck. The weight of him felt comforting, grounding, like you never wanted him to move.

But eventually, you stirred, pressing a soft kiss to his temple before slipping out of his arms.

“Where are you going?” Thanos mumbled, his voice thick with exhaustion.

You giggled, running a hand through his messy hair. “Relax, I’m just grabbing a towel.”

You padded to the bathroom, your legs still wobbly, but you didn’t care. You cleaned yourself up before wetting a towel, you returned to the bed, settling beside him as you began to clean him up, running the cloth over his stomach, down between his legs, gentle and careful.

Thanos watched you, his expression soft, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on your thigh. “You don’t have to do that,” he murmured.

“I want to,” you replied, pressing a kiss to his shoulder. “Let me take care of you for once.”

He huffed out a small laugh, letting you do as you pleased, though his hands never stopped touching you—gliding over your arm, your waist, like he needed the reassurance that you were still here.

When you were done, you tossed the towel aside, crawling back into his embrace, peppering kisses along his jaw, his cheek, the corner of his mouth.

Thanos smirked. “You’re in a good mood.”

“I think you fucked the happiness into me,” you teased, making him chuckle before he suddenly rolled you onto your back, hovering over you, nuzzling into your neck.

You giggled, your hands slipping into his hair, tugging him up so you could kiss him properly. Slow, lazy, sweet.

After a while, you pulled back just enough to look at him, brushing his damp hair from his face. “Thank you for the room,” you said softly. “But… I think I’d rather share a bed with you, if that’s okay?”

He pressed a lingering kiss to your lips, his thumb stroking your cheek. “That’s more than okay,” he murmured. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

You smiled, burying your face in his chest, and for the first time in years, you felt home.

You still had a long road ahead—staying clean, rebuilding bridges with your family, reenrolling in art school. But those were worries for another day.

For now, you stayed wrapped in Thanos’ arms, making up for lost time, showering him with the love you should have given him all along.

[yenyu1s]

midnight fiction.. shy!loser!kang no-eul x sweetheart!popular girl!reader

written by @yenyu1s ( ˶˘ ³˘(⋆❛ ہ ❛⋆)

pairing(s) : kang no-eul x f!reader

contents : high school au! fluff/comfort, black cat x orange cat, no-eul & reader being unfathomably inlove with each other! maybe ooc since this is an au?

synopsis : in a world where you effortlessly blend into the crowd—finding comfort in your friends circling you with laughter, whispered secrets, and the hum of fleeting trends—your gaze always drifts toward her.

kang no-eul.

she was quiet, reserved, a storm hidden beneath still waters. she moves through life untouched, yet something about her pulls you in, an invisible thread weaving your fate with hers.

you never thought she noticed you. never realized she felt the same—until the day you uncovered the truth buried between the pages of her junk journal.

wc : 2.69k taglist : @vigilxntesht @sunshinefever @knfthxv @wiltingconquest @amorisi

(a/n) NOT PROOFREAD YET GUYS <3 i love kang no-eul sm someone hold me down

the morning sun kissed your skin, tracing the curves and contours of your form with golden light. you were seated in your usual spot beside your dearest friends, talking about nothing and everything at the same time.

you had always been the center of attention.

your eyes would flitter around the small crowd that formed around you, lashes fluttering as you drank in the latest whispers of gossip, covering your face and snickering at the joke one of the guys had pulled.

yet, despite the adoration everybody had towards you, despite the countless amount of praise you get, your mind would always wander off, your brain gets fuzzy, your friends chatter around you blurred into white noise.

your eyes would always find her.

kang no-eul.

no-eul was nothing short of the quiet, reserved kid. the girl who lived in the awkward spaces between conversations, she kept to her self, but she still managed to be kind to everybody— even though her kindness wasn't really repaid, all the while keeping her guard up.

your friends weren't too fond of her. they were nicer than most people no-eul had encounter but they'd glare at you then narrow their gaze to no-eul every time you greeted her in the morning. —

"morning, no-eul!" you beamed, your eyes crinkled with amusement at the sight of the disheveled, tired girl frozen in the doorway.

no-eul stood there, stunned. as if she couldn’t quite believe that greeting was meant for her. the tips of her ears flushed a deep crimson, she croaked a weak 'hi' at you, before shuffling to her seat.

"since when were you close to kang no-eul?" one of your friends pressed, curiosity gleaming in their eyes. you just shot her a knowing smile and shrugged.

your friend wasn’t satisfied. they leaned in, lowering their voice as if sharing some great secret. "i don’t know… she’s odd." —

you never hesitated to scold your friends when they were unkind to others, but the girls outside your friend group were a whole different story.

no-eul would pass by you in the hallways, her eyes glued to the ground in shame whenever she saw them trailing behind you.

in class, those said girls would answer the teacher’s questions before no-eul could even part her lips.

one day, during passing period, you finally witnessed firsthand just how cruel those girls could be. —

you stepped into the bathroom just as the group of girls swept out, their laughter still echoing against the tiles. you beelined to the only stall in the bathroom that was occupied.

the last bathroom booth door swung open. she flinched at the looming shadow cast over her. but when she lifted her eyes, she found no cruelty there—only worry, raw and unguarded.

"no-eul!" your voice cracked as you dropped to your knees right in front of her, the feeling of your kneecaps hitting the cold tiles sent a jolt throughout your body.

your hands fumbled or the nearest roll of toilet paper. "who did this to you..?"

your fingers worked in frantic desperation, dabbing at her soaked uniform, her cold cheeks, as if wiping away the water could erase the hurt. but her silence, her downcast eyes, told you everything.

no-eul just sat there, perched atop the closed toilet lid without a word, head hung low in shame, her hands curled into fists on her lap. —

there was always something about her that drew you in, you've always asked yourself why.

was it because you both were total polar opposites?

was it the way her soft, raven hair that barely kissed the nape of her neck, dancing in the cold breeze of the morning air made your heart leap?

maybe it's how her pretty chapped lips pursed in concentration and her gaze half-lidded as she lost herself in thought?

the way she would wear a lopsided smirk, showing off her toothy grin whenever your history teacher made a dumb joke?

she'd always sit exactly right behind you, her presence a quiet shadow, her best friend gyeong-seok right next to her. but he was more intrigued by the pages in between his sketchbook rather than his desperate, lovesick friend. —

the school bell rang, signaling that it was time for lunch break. no-eul practically stumbled out of her desk, her grip firm on gyeong-seok as she practically dragged the artist to the school's rooftop.

that’s where she told him.

"you're in love with who..?"

she confessed in fragments, recounting everything she felt towards you—how she's felt this feeling deep down ever since high-school started, how she caught herself staring too long, how her pulse raced whenever she was assigned to work with you, how she found herself doing things she would never do for anyone else.

she basically moped all day after venting to the artist, complaining how you were 'too out of her league' and 'wouldn't notice someone like her'.

boy, was she wrong.

no-eul was nothing like you. even though she had always stayed true to her feelings, she was physically and emotionally unable to express them—the words always caught in her throat, weighed down by hesitation.

so instead, she expressed them in quieter ways—subtle, almost imperceptible. a lingering glance. a touch that lasted a second too long. a presence that was always near, even if she never said why. —

the first semester of junior year had been hard on you, you felt like your mind was going in circles with all of the schoolwork you had piled up, frustration clawing at the edges of your patience.

no-eul noticed your harsh scowl, you tried to make sense of the question on the physics paper, your pen skated through the parchment in desperate, nonsensical attempts at answers. your brows knit together, as the gears in your head try to turn.

a thought brewed in no-eul's mind. she wasn’t one to offer help freely—usually. she’d toss her notes to whoever asked, letting them fend for themselves.. but something urged her to actually teach you.

you were deep in thought, your hands gripped the strands of your hair when a sharp screech of metal against tile jolted you from your trance, no-eul's chair dragged right next to you.

your eyes slowly turned to the tall figure standing next to you, her desk chair was still held close to her, "no-eul?"

"i- uh.. sorry, i should've asked first.. do you need any help?" she stuttered, setting her chair right beside you, its impact made a loud scraping noise that made her squeeze her eyes in grimace.

your heart swelled at her pathetic attempt on trying to assist you. you nodded eagerly with a smile at the offer, from then on, whenever you're struggling with any subjects, no-eul would be there to help.

you'd purposely get some questions wrong, ask questions you already know the answer to, just to feel her fingertips accidentally brush against yours as she guided you toward the right answer. —

unlike no-eul, the moment you realized your feelings—when the pieces clicked into place and the weight of your affection settled in your chest—you didn’t shy away. you didn’t overthink or hesitate. instead, you showed your interest by acting on it.

"no-eul-ah! the school's anniversary festival is coming up soon, do you want to spend the day together?" you asked, hope gleamed in your eyes as you gripped the edge of her desk, leaning towards her.

safe to say, no-eul short circuited at the question, her brain stalled, staring at you for what seems like eternity in disbelief. how could you.. always oh so effortlessly charming, a beacon of warmth in a wave of ordinary—asked her, of all people?

the classroom fell into silence. your friend group, along with a few curious classmates, had already turned their full attention to the unfolding scene, watching with barely concealed interest.

no-eul's stomach twisted. was this okay? was this safe? would this—whatever this was—somehow taint your untouchable reputation?

you batted your lashes in anticipation, when it took her a second longer to respond, you started chewing on your lip. maybe you had just embarrass yourself..

"oh, um, it's okay.. i'll let you think about it..!" you smiled weakly, fidgeting with the edge of your manicured nails, your eyes glued to the floor tiles as you turned on your heel, retreating back to your seat.

no-eul grasped your forearm, pulling you back. firm yet hesitant. afraid that the opportunity to get to know you better would slip away.

"wait." her voice was low and breathy. enough to make your heart stutter. "i want to go to the festival with you."

"i would.. love to go to the festival with you." —

no-eul had only ever dreamed of being so close to you.

you, ever the social butterfly, were always surrounded by friends, laughter, and effortless conversation. no-eul never had the chance to truly talk to you—not in a way that mattered. not in a way where it was just the two of you, without the noise, without the watching eyes.

so when the festival finally came, you were hand in hand with a very nervous kang no-eul, strolling through the vibrant bazaar.

the air buzzed with laughter and excitement, the stalls adorned with patterned tarps, fluttering banners, and balloons swaying gently in the breeze.

as you both enjoyed each others company, you were reminded that you are well-known among the other classes aswell, and lingering stares followed you both. whispers of curiosity hung in the air, no doubt intrigued by the unexpected sight of such an unlikely pair.

no-eul was definitely self-conscious about herself, constantly checking in on you, asking if you were alright—if you were comfortable. it was in her nature to worry, to overthink, especially in unfamiliar environments like this. she would usually either stay back at home at free days like this or visit the local library with gyeong-seok, but she couldn't pass up the opportunity to go on a cute date with her painfully cliché high-school crush!

you opted for cute snacks the sophomores were selling as a way to fund their upcoming field-trip. you gushed to no-eul how much you missed doing fundraisers like that last year, reminiscing about the chaos of baking sales and last-minute poster-making as you both share a cookie bomb sundae.

no-eul was more of a listener rather than a talker, she loved how excited you get talking about the things you adored. conversation ran smoothly between you two the initial awkwardness melting away like the last remnants of your shared sundae now that the ice is slowly breaking. —

"no-eul, look! carnival games!" you squealed, excitement bubbling over as you rushed over the lively, red-and-white circus tent that the seniors were running.

it was a shooting game—aim at the center of the moving rubber ducky four times, and you win a giant plushie.

you gawked at the periwinkle-purple bunny that hung high above the stand, its oversized, glittery eyes practically begging you to take it home.

"i'll try!" you smiled at the attendee. determination settling in.

"what?" no-eul blinked, watching you slap a wad of money on the counter.

a basketful of paintball ammo was slid towards you, 8 chances.

you gulped at the sight of the paintball gun, suddenly feeling the weight of reality settle on your shoulders. you had never handled one before.

"gosh, i'm going to embarrass myself!" you whined, fumbling while filling in the gun with ammo.

no-eul stayed silent, her expression unreadable— before she gave you a reassuring smile before tucking a strand of your hair that covered your vision back.

"stay focused, yeah?"

your breath hitched, your cheeks were tinted with the softest shade of pink, your heart felt warm at the sudden touch. you nodded at her, your eyes still bore onto her espresso-brown ones before turning your gaze back at the rapidly moving ducks.

1.. missed.

2.. missed again.

3.. another one?

4.. okay you were bad at this.

you turned back to no-eul with an awkward, shy smile. ready for her to laugh at you like your friends would usually do when you mess up these silly little games.

but no.

"may i?" no-eul’s voice was gentle, yet firm. she gently removed the paintball gun from your hands without a word, letting herself handle it and get into position.

4 paintballs left.

1.. hit

2.. another hit.

3.. bullseye.

4..

..you walked off the stand, grinning from ear to ear at your new periwinkle bunny best friend clutched tightly to your chest.

as you both wandered through the festival, your excitement was impossible to contain. no-eul could feel your gaze on her, the way you kept glancing up at her with starry eyes, your voice bubbling over with giddy little' thank you''s to her, satisfied with your prize.

"yeah, yeah, you're cute. just stop smiling at me like that." she teased, a weak, dumb smirk plastered across her face.

"where did you learn to shoot like that?" you queried her innocently, only squeezing her arm tighter.

"..that's a story for another day." no-eul glanced at you, her smirk widening ever so slightly, a flicker of pride in her eyes—pleased that she was the reason behind your bright smile.

you both ended the day in front of the outdoor stage, the sun melting into the horizon, painting the sky in hues of gold and indigo. principal young-il announced today's successful fundraiser, where the sophomore kids had raised enough money to fund their long-awaited school field-trip. ending the day with celebratory fireworks.

"i.. really liked spending time with you today." no-eul admitted, the tip of her freckled nose twitch in the cold air. a small, playful smile played on her lips.

your heart swole at the confession. this might've been the most fun you've had since forever. "you did?" you asked, your voice soft, almost hesitant—like you didn’t want to startle the moment away.

no-eul just smiled at you, her eyes half-lidded. a raw, pure emotion hid underneath her tired eyes. "i just wish we could.. spend time with each other more, like this."

"hmm." you hummed in agreement, relishing the warmth of the night despite the cool breeze, "well.. why don't we?"

the first firework bloomed in a burst of gold. the glow illuminated her features—her sharp yet delicate eyes, the faint dusting of freckles across her nose, the barely-there flush creeping up her cheeks.

"would you like.. to?.." the short-haired girl asked shyly, earning an airy giggle from you.

"of course, no-eul." you cooed, turning your body to face her. "i would love to spend time with you and get to know you."

no-eul mimicked your movements, turning her full body towards you. her eyebrows furrowed, her lips curled into a familiar frown— worry plastered across her face.

you gently took her hands in yours, fingertips grazing against her palm in a quiet reassurance. "i know what you're thinking.. i don't care what my friends think, what other people think. what i think.. is that if they got to know you better.. they'll understand while i like you."

a second firework erupted, however it was not the one that lit up the evening sky, it was one close to no-eul's heart. she adored how you could understand her so quickly, how you could make all her worries disappear in a second.

no-eul brought up your intertwined hands to her face, soothing herself with your touch before planting a sweet kiss on top of your knuckles.

"thank you.. for understanding me."

you hummed in response, a small exhale escaping your lips. you tilted your head up to the sky, the fireworks reflected in your eyes, shimmering like tiny nebulas, and no-eul couldn’t help but stare.

the noise of the festival seemed distant now, fading into a blur of laughter and chatter. here, in this fleeting moment, it was just the two of you.

you felt something unspoken between the two of you, words teetering in the tip of your tongue that needed to be put out, but you both decided to let the silence speak for itself.

because no-eul was here, with you.

and that's all you needed.

[genderqueerdykes]

I saw a recent ask saying that both cis and queer places are alienating and it’s so accurate, I am a trans man who passes as cis and it’s incredibly lonely. I’m stealth and I seem like a classically masculine cishet dude, but I am inherently queer, even if I’m attracted to women, I’m queer, even if I’m masculine, I’m queer, I’ll always be queer and I always have been, but there’s just no real space for me in the queer places I go.

I have experienced misogyny based on the fact I was an unfeminine and masculine teenager, in-fact I pass so well because I have a masculine face and body shape, both things that were used against me as a teen, I was called a false girl, I was labelled both a prude and a slut, the teenage boys in my school would make sexually degrading comments towards me, about my body and my sexuality, mocking my masculinity and my failed femininity. There’s a specific kind of cruelty that you face as an AFAB child and teen who fails at femininity or dips too hard into unacceptable masculinity, and no one really speaks about it, I can’t talk about this with any cishet people because they cannot relate.

Both my femininity and masculinity were used as interchangeable blades to cut me, I could perform neither to a satisfactory level and everyone could see it, simultaneously both too feminine and too masculine and yet not enough, it felt like being put through a meat grinder to try and erase me because they couldn’t stand the fact I existed. Now in queer spaces my masculinity and sexuality are derided and disliked and it doesn’t feel any different than it did as a teen being mocked for it by cis people, the only thing that’s changed is some of the reasoning and language.

My fellow transhet men say they’re “unfortunately straight” or try and apologise for being masculine or even being men and I’m tired. My masculinity and heterosexuality are seen as deviant, they ARE queer, any version of me that isn’t a cishet feminine submissive woman is deviant, I have been deviant since birth and I will not lie about society accepting me for being masculine or straight because they don’t and they never have. If I have to hide my identity to not be oppressed or attacked then it’s not acceptance or tolerance, it’s silence and erasure. I did not sit through years of being called a not real girl tranny dyke prude slut bitch for me to go into queer spaces and be told my masculinity and sexuality are shameful, I’ve already heard that a thousand times from cishet people and I don’t care.

that sucks so bad you have nowhere to go because of how hostile people can be for no reason. for as good as people can be they can be that bad. some people are just hostile and it sucks. i hate that you have to feel that way. i don't get why. you're just trying to exist and care about yourself and other people and you're just being turned away. i wish you the best of luck. i support you.

[sintwistir]

My TED talk:

I know that people don't come to a sissy caption Blog for a lecture, but here we are... Feel free to skip this post, or block me if this somehow offends you.

I couldn't care less. 🥰

Typing this on my phone, which is awkward for geriatrics, so forgive me if the format/syntax is less than elegant.

It saddens me that there still exists so much disinformation and misinformation about being trans, especially among the younger generation.

I just had a really disappointing dm conversation with a 25 year old supposed trans girl (she wasn't sure yet). The sheer confidence that they had in their ignorance was astounding. The gist of their opinion was if you were AMAB and attracted to girls, you couldn't be trans, you just had a fetish . Basically, "if you're not trans like ME, for precisely the same reasons and with the same feelings as ME, you're not "really" trans, you're confused/mistaken. "Those people " don't usually transition, because it's just a kink.".

For those who haven't paid attention in the past forty or fifty years, let's recap:

Sexual preference and gender identity are NOT linked. If an AFAB person can and does feel a certain way, it's valid for a transfem to feel that same way. If an AMAB person can and does feel a certain way, it's valid for a transmasc to feel the same way. Basically, the very existence of lesbians validates the existence of trans lesbians.

It's that central disconnect that confuses and confounds many trans people. "If I want to feel feminine, but I also am still attracted to girls, it must just be a kink... I'm obviously not trans..'

It's why the sissy to trans pipeline is a real thing.

Just because you enjoy feminine things, sissy things, it doesn't mean that you're definitely/necessarily trans . But as someone who has been making sissy/forced femme captions for 20+ years, I will tell you anecdotally that the link between sissy and eventual trans "discovery" is so common it's pretty much become a meme at this point .

I resisted identifying as trans for YEARS due to this stigma. I KNEW what I was, a pervert that wanted to wear women's clothes. I was drawn to "forced femme" because I felt I SHOULD be ashamed of how I felt, that I DESERVED to be humiliated for feeling that way.

My friends in the online trans and caption communities knew years before I did that I was trans. My captions made it obvious. In the VAST majority, the main character deeply wants to be a girl, and ends up much happier when someone else "makes' them into one (a girl), absolving them of the responsibility (and the guilt). They normally react with absolute JOY when finally able to live as a girl.

I wallowed in my shame and guilt over my girly feelings for literally decades.

The fact that there are people still struggling with and/or arguing about this in 2025 due to misunderstanding and gatekeeping is seriously disheartening. I struggled with this in 1975, and 1985, and 1995... I had really hoped your generation was already past this.

I made captions back then for me, to help me express my feminine feelings and desires. I make them now for you.

I hope that for at least some "sissies" reading my work, it lets them know that they are not alone.

If you're 'just" a sissy with a feminization/humiliation kink, you are welcome here. And so are trans people . 🥰

Here endeth the lesson.

P.S. These days, I am a bisexual transwoman. Either as a side effect of HRT, or just coming to terms with being trans, I am now attracted to men also, something unthinkable to my prior self. Go figure.

[nemesis-is-my-middle-name]

john malevolent doe but he's doing the tma fears thing

(aka arthur lester fears list: the squeakquel)

@if-loki-was-a-fox and @princessbadassofbadassia were talking about it in the comments of this post and it got me thinking and well. ive already done one of these for arthur. so it felt appropriate to do john too. there's a lot of crossover here so i might skip over some things that got mentioned in that list and happened to them both. for the sake of time

in the interest of symmetry i'm just gonna run down the whole list again. up top tho, one thing that i think is Really Neat, and maybe this is just the way i've decided to read things, but arthur's list contained a lot of him being acted on by the fears, whereas john seems to just as, if not more often be the actor. which fits the way tma fears work, with john being more eldritch spooky thing and arthur just being A Guy. ok anyway let's get to it

the eye

...he's eyes. girl he's eyes.

is the Designated Witness for everything that happens to them. is not allowed to look away. the eye is often associated with a fear of being watched but it often positions people in the role of watcher as well, even ppl who aren't necessarily avatars (see: that dude who animorphed into a security system) and there is also. like. the avatars. sooo

per discussion of the dark world, he's unable to break down mentally and so makes for a perfect eternal observer to horror and violence. a ceaseless watcher, if you will

faust. faust faust witness this over and over and you cannot stop it you cannot escape you can't look away you can't even blink if you want to live you have to watch again and again and-

the spiral

not to do the same bit twice in a row but. girl he's madness. he was a madness god.

the distortion is also more specifically associated with deception, manipulating someone's perception of reality, making them trust you over their own senses, which john, much to his own shame and regret, happens to be very predisposed to

season 1 "i'm a friend arthur. also you murdered parker that was all you and i have no idea why you did that haha why did you do that arthur"

and also season 4's lying about anything and everything up to and including shit that was directly in front of their face. the distortion is in his nonexistent fuckin' blood, baby

the end

hm. i'm tempted to count the dark world here, but i'm not sure if that qualifies since while he obviously associates it with death it's not really death in the traditional sense as the end implies it? like it's not an End. it's just different. and worse.

it is Removal From The World though so maybe it counts i am not sure. and like, the dark world is apparently the terminus of all realities, which. makes it feel pretty end aligned?

regardless it does make him very very afraid of the notion of dying, or rather of arthur dying, on account of that means he has to go Back. so.

the stranger

is not human. wants to be human. is trying very hard to be human. sometimes fucking it up. yeah.

using parts of arthur's body as a meat puppet even tho the guy who owns the place is still in there. i still think this is a stranger aligned feature and you can't talk me out of it

him vs the KIY also feels very like a very the stranger conflict to me. "you and i are similar and yet so different as to be almost incomparable, in a way that feels almost paradoxical. and you desire to unmake me and remake me into something Like You, thereby making me unrecognizable to myself. i know you, i do not know you."

edit: apparently the KIY was also literally referred to as "the stranger" for part of the play?? that's fun ty luci

the lonely

isolated from basically all all human connection outside of arthur. that's some lonely shit

on the other side of the coin, tries to intentionally isolate arthur as a response to the above fear, meaning he both gives and receives the lonely in some sense

former isolation in the dark world, too!! yay!!

the month long coma where he just had to sit there, perceiving others but unable to communicate with them in any way. again, an acutely The Lonely experience

the desolation

idk man, hate to sound like a broken record but the dark world seems pretty Desolate

this one's tough with what we have in canon on account of john is both fairly insulated from being harmed, and unable to harm or destroy others directly, while he's with arthur. so.

actually what probably DOES fit here is how he tried to deal with oscar. knowingly trying to destroy something important and meaningful to his friend. yeah.

cauterized his finger too i guess

edit: ALSO the constant threats on arthur's life. the looming fear that he'll lose his friend, the most important person in his world, and be utterly powerless to stop it. and on the flipside, the fact that he's effectively burned arthur's life down once already, just by meeting him (ty loki)

the slaughter

the dark world. again. this time as an endless wheel of indifferent violence that demands submitting to the cycle in order to survive

also killed emily and an unspecified number of others who picked up his book for no real reason

then he escaped and killed parker. also for no reason.

the vast

"As the King In Yellow, I was not hostile towards your kind – I was indifferent. I did not hate or despise you, no more than you despise an ant. You are meaningless." (from part 13)

it's about the intimate understanding of how small a single life appears from the perspective of the gods they face, pressing up against the equal understanding that now he is one of those ants. i think he probably grasps a fear of the Vast more clearly than possibly any human could, because he's seen it from both sides.

has some awareness of timelines even pre-kayne so he's gotta deal with knowing That too as like, a fun bonus

edit: possibly also the dark world AGAIN lmao, considering its nature as something able to contain the refuse of so many realities and as something all-consuming and virtually inesapable (ty luci)

the buried

...actually i don't really have anything for this one

this is his version of arthur's buddying up with the vast i guess

is being confined to small parts of another body claustrophobic? i feel like it might be

he's been through a lot of shit while underground obv but he doesn't really seem specifically bothered by the undergroundness of it in the same way arthur is. he's accepted their lot in life. they're just gonna be underground going through horrible things, apparently. c'est la vie.

edit: ty luci and loki for reminding me about the metaphorical angle here!! you've also got the crushing weight of his past mistakes, the burden of the lies and secrets, the metaphorical mud in his lungs and throat choking him with the equal tension of wanting and not wanting to confess, to be truthful...

the dark

this is the thing that kicked off this whole analysis so i feel like i can just sort of gesture vaguely at it. you get it.

the dark world Is Dark and he is Scared Of The Dark because he Does Not Like Remembering It. before almost anything else, he fears the dark. he knows what it can herald.

also all he can DO is observe. so when he suddenly Can't Observe that is like, extra terrifying for that reason too

the corruption

he's living in his bff's body stealing pieces of it from him destroying his life hurting him and the things he cares about being constantly argued with and belittled and for some reason they love each other regardless. corruption ass relationship

he had to Watch the witch do her thing so, also that,

the web

the web and the KIY are both very associated with plays, puppets, stages, etc. and the idea of pulling another to dance on their strings, maybe even letting the victim believe they're in control while they do

and actually that's another thing he personally does to arthur in s1/s4!

and then kayne is playing him right back 👍

very similar to the Lonely, arthur can more or less revoke his agency whenever he wants and then john is just stuck going along with whatever bullshit he's decided to pull today. which feels web aligned though i may be miscategorizing it i'm not sure

the flesh

oh yeah it's FAUST TIME AGAIN, BABY

also arthur bit his finger off and now one of his fingers is a fucking tree. this too is the flesh

the hunt

he and arthur get to share in the constant terror of being a target for much larger, more dangerous things that want very badly to kill them. they sure do get Hunted an awful lot

aw hey the dark world's back too did you miss it. yeah i imagine this involved a lot of being both the predator and the prey

the extinction

wait i have something for this one this time actually. the dark world is canonically composed at least partially of dead realities right. he's personally witnessed the end of everything. he's been personally privy to extinction. yippee

CONCLUSION: lord almighty this guy is just fears all the way down huh

i know i said this up top but now that i've actually gone thru the whole thing. again. it does feel really fitting, given his nature, that john is often both the recipient of the fears and the vector through which they act on others. like yeah, he's a god turned mortal. of course they can't seem to decide what to do with him. that's fun we love to see it

[bisexualbrainrots]

Tonight, We Are Young.

so this idea ended up turning into an actual fic, as it should be, full fic under the cut and a tag list I made for those who showed interest.

Synopsis

Tommy puffs his cig and looks at his watch: 11:45. Great, another year that goes by and once again, he has no one to kiss for the countdown. He thinks it’s pathetic, it’s not like he doesn’t have any choices, it's just… he doesn’t know if he’s ready for them, if he can dive in and allow himself to kiss— The screech of the door opening takes him out of his thoughts. He looks over from his spot on the wall and smiles at the person he sees come out. “There you are! I’ve been looking everywhere for you.” OR, that one time in 2012 where Chimney and Tommy kissed.

Full fic:

“Tonight we are young, so let’s set the world on fire! We can burn brighter than the sun!”

Even from the back of the bar, Tommy can hear the loud crowd of drunks chanting the song, probably tripping over their own feet and spilling their cheap drinks onto the floor as they hold each other. Tommy thinks they’re dumb, and endearing.

Tommy puffs his cig and looks at his watch: 11:45.

Great, another year that goes by and once again, he has no one to kiss for the countdown. He thinks it’s pathetic, it’s not like he doesn’t have any choices, it's just… he doesn’t know if he’s ready for them, if he can dive in and allow himself to kiss—

The screech of the door opening takes him out of his thoughts. He looks over from his spot on the wall and smiles at the person he sees come out.

“There you are! I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

Howie’s probably just as drunk as he is, given the way he moves. He’s surprised he isn't sprawled on their booth given how much he usually drinks. Tommy’s never gotten used to drinking with Howard Han.

“Just having a smoke. What’s the life of the party doing here though?”

Howie’s one of those people that just attracts everyone, at least according to Tommy. Once he has you in his sight you are forced to become his friend. And you’ll do it gladly because… It's Howie after all.

He sees him get closer and stand beside him, leaning against the brick wall “Same thing as you apparently. C’mon give me a hit.”

Tommy smirks and reaches into his pocket, pulling out the box with their usual brand. It’s not a habit either of them are proud of, constantly being scolded by Hen and Karen when they visit and even Sal has called them out on it more than once. But what can you do, their line of work pretty much lays the foundation for substance abuse.

They will quit. One day. 

But tonight’s not going to be when that happens.

Howie grabs the box, grinning with all his pearly teeth showing. The bastard’s smile is perfect, with no proof of his smoking habits. “You are a saint, you know that?” He pulls out one of the cigarettes and puts it in his mouth, raising his eyebrows to let Tommy know he’s ready.

Tommy sighs and pulls the lighter, and is forced to put his own cig in his mouth because of the breeze that threatens the flame to extinct. Carefully covering the fire, he lights Howie’s cigarette and goes back to smoking his, putting the box and lighter back in his pocket.

Howie takes one drag and moans at the feeling, looking satisfied with the smoke reaching the confines of his lungs “God this is good. Shame we’ll probably die from this.”

“Don’t tell me, lung cancer, right?”

Howie giggles “Well, not yet, thank goodness,” they both laugh softly at the reference. Superman , 1978.

Hen likes to tease them about it, calls them cinephiles as if it’s a bad thing. So what if they love movies? So what if they know their favorites by heart? That only proves they have a liking for something. Although it is true that they may spend a little too much time watching films than the average person.

But it’s their thing, and that’s what matters.

After a few more smokes Howie looks at him “So, how are we doing tonight?”

Tommy arches an eyebrow “Apart from the fact we didn’t die last week?” Howie’s push on his shoulder makes him laugh, raising his hands as a peace offering, “Relax, I’m just teasing.”

“Not funny Kinard, not funny. And it wasn’t a bad theory!”

“I told you the basis was all wrong! How can you believe the end of the Mayan calendar is the actual end of the world?” Howie rolls his eyes at the question and takes another hit, showing his middle finger at him. Tommy just chuckles and takes a drag.

“You think Hen and Karen are already asleep?”

Howie blinks at him “Why, you wanna try and call them for new years?”

“I was thinking more like crashing on their couch,” Howie laughs at him and reminds him that they probably wouldn’t like to be bothered by a couple of drunks, especially not on New Years’ Eve. He wiggles his eyebrows at the last sentence, the alcohol letting his inhibitions down.

Tommy isn’t going to admit this out loud, but he’s sort of jealous of Hen. He’s always looked up to her on a personal level, ever since she bravely told everyone at the station off and showed how proud she’s of herself. He wants nothing more than to have even a grain of her confidence. 

He wants to know what is like to love yourself enough to go after what you want.

He takes another hit and looks at the moon, shining over them and serving as the only source of light besides a few neon signs. It's oddly terrifying, to see something that's so far away it seems foreign to you but it actually rules your life, needing it to survive. He feels as if the moon would know all of his secrets if he stood here long enough for her to get deep into his veins. 

He looks back at Howie, changing the topic “So, what are your resolutions this year?”

“Not quitting, that's for sure.”

Tommy chuckles “Amen to that,” and both men clink their cigarettes together, their own version of what they call a nicotine toast.

Howie looks at the night sky for a moment, pensive. “I think I want to find love this year,” he looks at Tommy, a sad expression on his face “Do you think that’s cheesy?”

Tommy smiles warmly and holds his shoulder for a little while. He really hopes for Howie to find someone, he deserves it. Howie has a good heart, and an even better soul.

Sometimes he thinks he doesn’t deserve Howie as a friend, especially not after the way he treated him his first months as a probie. His heart is filled with shame and regret at the memory, at the way he pushed him away just so that he couldn’t be known and found out. Nowadays he could not imagine ever letting him go, he’s been wrapped around Howard Han’s finger. And he isn’t ready to be unfolded.

“Not for one second Howie. After all, which one of us has a romcom as their favorite movie?”

Love, Actually . That’s his favorite movie, and very few people know about it. Howie was one of them.

The corners of Howie’s mouth twitch upwards, a silent nod that expresses everything words can’t “So, what are your resolutions, Mr June?” Tommy snorted a laugh, shaking his head. Howie has been teasing him about being selected as Mr June for 2013’s calendar ever since it was announced, but he doesn’t mind.

It’s actually kind of fun.

He finishes the cigarette and stomps on it before leaning back against the wall “Well… I think I’d like to take more risks this year, and obviously to amp up to 150 in the gym if I can.” Okay he is definitely trying to make it less serious, and based on Howie’s reaction it did not work.

“Tommy…” his tutting makes him roll his eyes, “That’s a good resolution, you shouldn’t try to make it more… digestible. I mean, at least yours is more doable.”

Tommy frowned, a little confused, “And why wouldn’t yours be doable?”

He didn’t think finding love in a year could be that hard, at least not for a guy like Howie. He had so much to offer, so much devotion and care that it would be crazy to think nobody would accept it. Plus, Howie's like super hot.

When a guy looked like Howie; soft raven hair, nice smile, dark eyes and crazy abs; it was hard not admire him.

Howie scoffs and gives one last drag to his cigarette before tossing it on the ground and stomping his foot on it “I can’t even get a new years kiss Tommy. I don’t think finding love would be realistic.”

Tommy blinks at him “Realistic? C’mon Howie. You,” he points his finger at him “You out of anyone here could get a kiss. Like, you could just go back in there and find any girl, easily.”

And he means it. He’s seen the way some women look at his friend, they want to talk to him, to get to know him. It’s odd to him how Howie just doesn't try to be himself around them sometimes, when he could charm them easily that way.

Howie rolls his eyes, but the rest of his demeanor shows sadness “Says the man who looks like a Greek god.”

Tommy could be taken aback, but he isn’t. Howie could be an ass whenever he was irritated or angry about something, which is why he lets this slide. He gives him that look, that ‘stop that now’ look, and ducks his head, kicking his feet against the dirty alleyway floor.

He notices Howie looks for him, leans closer to make him look at him in the eye “Hey, sorry dude I didn’t… I didn’t mean to sound that shallow. Are you okay?”

He bites his lip and raises his head, “It’s fine Howie, it’s just… you’re not the only one who isn’t kissing anybody tonight.”

Howie’s eyes widen, he looks genuinely taken back by his statement “But… W-why? How?”

Tommy hadn’t kissed anyone in so long, it was making him insane. And it wasn’t like he couldn’t just go to a club and find himself anybody, it’s just… he wanted to kiss someone who actually liked him back. Someone who would look at him as something more than just a pretty face or a good time. He yearns for that.

And it kills him inside.

He laughs bitterly “Look, Howie… I haven’t had a New Years’ kiss in like over three years. Even when I’ve dated it never lasts up to this,” he closes his eyes for a few seconds and opens them to find Howie’s eyebrows pulled together in a concerned expression “I don’t want to bother if it isn’t with someone who likes me, or that I like back.”

Howie’s lips form a soft smile, and he titles his head “There’s no one right now?”

Don’t—

“It’s not like they know I exist,” his lips tight into a fine line, preventing himself from saying too much.

Howie puts his hands in his jean pockets, his thumbs curl around the belt hoops, “Didn’t you say you wanted to take more risks this year?”

And fuck, that’s Howie poking right where it’ll hit the most. The worst is that he knows he’s right. He knows it’s cowardly to sit around and mope about what you can’t have when you could try for it. When you have the chance for it. When you could actually make a move for it.

He sighs “The year hasn’t even started yet. And it’s not like I want to kiss a stranger tonight.”

“Well that’s unfortunate, ‘cause I saw a pretty blonde out there who looked at you all night. Maybe you could try with her.”

Tommy laughs from his belly and shakes his head, if only he knew .

“Okay you don’t want a stranger, go try with someone from the B shift then, or the 133! We know some of them” And that’s the clearest sign that Howie’s drunk, because it was one of the most ridiculous ideas he’s ever had.

“I don’t think I should be kissing a coworker, Howie.”

Howie rolls his eyes “Listen man, it’s not going to be the end of the world to kiss someone tonight, regardless if they like you or not” he gets a little closer and pats him on the shoulder “You just have to enjoy it, Tommy.”

Ten, nine, eight! The countdown has started.

He takes a deep breath and closes his eyes, feels like a lifetime has gone by and his hazy eyes meet Howie’s. He moves closer, shifting his body so that he’s in front of him.

Seven, six, five! 

He bites his lip as he sees the world in them. Sees that person that showed him he didn’t have to close himself off to new people and possibilities. And he sees the moonlight shower his face. There’s a softness that’s not easy to find in men like them, in men whose image has always been associated with roughness, where being soft means that you love.

And that made you weak.

Four, three, two!

He stays looking at those eyes. Those eyes that care for him, that love him in a way he has never been loved, that want the best for him. Those are the eyes of his dearest friend, one of the few people he thinks he’ll ever be able to trust. Those are the eyes of Howard Han.

And that… that was his mouth.

“Howie…”

‘One!’ he hears.

Fuck it , he thinks. And dives in.

He holds his jaw with one hand, curling the fingertips on his neck. It’s soft, it’s tender, it’s lips on lips that don’t kiss back. He doesn’t want to open his eyes just yet, because if he does… he fears Howie’s wouldn’t even be closed.

But then he feels movement. He feels his friend, practically his best friend , kiss him back. And that’s what truly scares him. So he pulls back.

He doesn’t know if it’s the alcohol that makes him feel like Howie was kissing back, but he can’t take it back, not now. Not when his eyes flutter open and he sees that darkness locked in on him. He’s embarrassed, so fucking embarrassed he doesn’t even think he can look at Howie.

“I-I… Howie, I’m so—” and it’s like his brain is short-circuiting.

Because Howard Han takes him by the neck and pulls him back to him, crashing their lips together. And he can’t believe it, not even when Howie’s going at it headstrong: their noses are smashing, his hand is traveling to his hair pulling it and he’s pretty much sucking his upper lip.

It’s kind of ironic that this happens with fireworks as background noise.

Tommy can’t help it but kiss him back with the same force, and one of his hands looks for stability in the wall  while the other looks for grounding in Howie’s waist. Howie’s free hand travels to his hip, keeping him there. As if Tommy was ever going to pull away from this.

He never thought his lips would feel like this, soft even when he’s trying to devour him with them. And speaking of devouring, a moan escapes him when Howie bites his lip and deepens the kiss, feeling their tongues meet sloppily for the first time. The taste of alcohol intoxicates him more than the one that courses through his veins.

Their bodies flush together, neither of them wanting to stay away for even a second. Howie’s back meets the brick wall and he groans, both from the sudden hit and the fact that their hips were closer than ever, grinding against each other.

This is something Tommy had never expected. He never thought he’d ever get to know how Howie’s dick felt like, even through his jeans. And the worst (or best?) is that it wasn’t bad.

It was glorious.

But nothing good lasts. And their stupid lungs need stupid air to breathe so they pull away, very much reluctantly if you ask them. It's in that moment where both men realize their necks hurt like a bitch, but that's not the most important thing. 

It's how they look.

Tommy's lips are crimson red and there's tiny bite marks in his cupid's bow. His cheeks have a blush that's not far off from the tone of his lips. You can't even see the blue in his eyes thanks to the way his pupils have dilated. And his hair is a mess, all ruffled and electric spikes jumping all over the place. It was going to be impossible to make himself look presentable.

Howie's not much better. Just like Tommy his lips are a burning shade of red, all plump and angry in a way that itches. There’s another, bigger kind of darkness in his eyes, the dark brown of his eyes overpowered by the black. The skin of his chin is raw thanks to Tommy’s stubble, and will probably become a problem for him in the next hours. All the signs of kissing were laid out on his face.

They were wrecked. A mess. Absolutely ruined by that kiss.

Their eyes meet, completely dazed from what just happened. It takes a while for both of them to process what they’ve done, but when it does they start laughing.

More like, burst out laughing.

Tommy hides his face in the crook of Howie’s neck, his shoulders shaking as the cackle turns into a wave of giggles. His hands hold Howie’s biceps and the other man holds his back, caressing it softly. “Holy shit, Howie.”

He can’t believe this even happened, even when he still has the lingering feeling of Howie’s lips on his. Even when his jeans feel so tight it’s a little painful. Even when he still has his body plastered against Howie’s. He still can’t believe they kissed.

And he can’t believe it doesn’t even feel weird.

Howie chuckles “That… wasn’t so bad. Not at all.” Tommy lifts his head to ask if he’s sure and that he shouldn’t lie if it wasn’t good. Howie simply arches his eyebrow and looks down at… his boner. Tommy gave Howie a boner. And that makes him laugh softly.

“Well, he also thought it was good,” it should make Tommy feel embarrassed to talk about his dick in third person, but all the shame seems to have been thrown out of the window. 

Especially since Howie also laughs about it, making the air feel much lighter.

“Did you… I mean, was it really okay? Because I was afraid you were gonna punch me or something,” it makes him wince to hear himself say that. He knows Howie would never do that and it is a wild assumption to make, but that kind of fear was always lingering inside of him. And he feels like Howie catches on to it, based on the way his face softens and the hug he receives over it, arms wrapped around him for a little longer than he was used to.

“I don’t regret this Tommy, and I hope you don’t either. I also hope you don’t become a stranger any time soon over this, I like having you in my life,” the hug ends and Howie holds him by the shoulders “Besides, now you can take some pointers from me if you want to kiss someone.”

“Hey! I’m not that bad you little shit.”

And they’re laughing.

And it’s fine.

Howie sighs “Just… promise me that you’ll take a risk every once in a while. Make a move, it won’t kill you.”

Tommy smiles at him. A genuine smile. “I will, Howie. In the meantime, I think we should get going, don't you? Traffic’s already a nightmare and I’m definitely crashing at your place tonight.”

Howie laughs and shakes his head “Fine. But not before we get a few shots, let’s celebrate a little!”

And Tommy nods, and they go back to the bar and get so drunk they can’t remember anything about that night for the next week. But that’s okay. Because Tommy’s always going to agree with any of Howie’s plans, no matter how crazy they can get.

He just hopes his liver can survive them.

Taglist! @cjlouwho @rubydaiquiri

[chocochococoffee]

p5r posting but also p5 posting

the overture to haru's dungeon is so bad. atlus really tried to "not force it" by giving morgana and ryuji stupid beef for the whole game till that moment and i call it stupid because it wasnt even comic relief it was just painful horseshit. i can believe ryuji basking too much in the sun of being popular, but its *clear* that morgana liked the spotlight too. so that whole "wow ryuji you are a glutton for attention" thing that led to him going away from the group felt like a "what the fuck". "what's gotten to you" was more or less what the mc said to him and oh boy i couldn't help but be like "yeah morgana what the fuck" but also a big fuck you to that fucking cat who causes stupid problems within the team - putting himself on the same level with an idiotic puberty boy PLUS being a simp for a girl who had ever looked at him - while calling himself the experienced one.

meanwhile, we got ryuji and his whole puberty boy shtick that people adored while hated (or tried to hate because his whole homophobic problem) on yosuke from persona 4. i am glad ann is such an accepting and easygoing girl by harus dungeon because when ryuji did the whole upwards lolly stick and grabby hands she laughed at him while i in her position woulrve beaten him which is probably what chie wouldve done. god the more i replay the game the less i like ryuji as a whole. but in harus dungeon! he tried - notice the tried because he saw how the rest was like *hmm this is not natural* and he was like "huh maybe???????? but i still like the fame???? hmmm" - to be fucking displeased at the whole sudden love for the PT and morgana berated him for it!? i cant even understand.

... as a whole, now that i think of it, harus dungeon feel even more stupid to me because the fucking PT decided to wnter the dungeon IN THE VERY ENTRY OF THE BUILDING!? and akechi was just passing there???? imagine that they did it outside of his scope, for a big building there's many places you can fucking enter. its a fucking big edification, i am sure that passing by in a nearby building would be enough! but also, imagine that other passerbys had gotten sucked? its the same shit they berated ryuji for in futabas dungeon yet everyone did here because they were too worried about fucking morgana

hawaii + harus dungeon clash too fucking badly with the game. shame haru and her waking up moment are so great in comparison.

[ruporas]

invisible scars (referenced previous talk here)

[ID: A colourless, digital Trigun comic of Vash and Wolfwood talking about Wolfwood's scars. They're both laying in bed and topless. Vash lays on top of Wolfwood, playing with the rosary around his neck. Then, Vash kisses a spot on Wolfwood's chest. Wolfwood asks, "What are you doing?" Vash smiles sadly, "You got shot here. In the last town we visited. You didn't even bother moving."

Vash props himself up over Wolfwood, who frowns slightly. Wolfwood is quiet for a moment before he says, "You remember that, huh?" Vash grabs Wolfwood's left wrist and brings it to his face. "And here." He kisses another spot there. "When you helped free the hostages from that robber..." Wolfwood dismissively says, looking away, "Was a lucky shot." Vash huffs, “Don’t brag. Jeez.”

Half of Wolfwood's expression is shown, eyes returning to Vash who is now sitting up, continuing to say, "And..." Vash goes on and kiss Wolfwood's right palm. "You got cut here, even though that girl was aiming at me." A moment from the past flashes, of Wolfwood grabbing a knife aimed at Vash, his hand bleeding.

At present, Vash moves down and puts another kiss on Wolfwood's right shoulder. "And here, from watching my back." Another memory flashes of Wolfwood and Vash back to back. Vash looks back as Wolfwood grins while holding Punisher, bleeding from multiple gunshots in his shoulder.

"And," Vash combs up Wolfwood's hair to reveal his forehead, "Here." A final memory shows Wolfwood with a regeneration vial in his mouth while getting shot on his temple. The next panel is framed in blood with Vash at the center, eyes wide and stunned in horror. The next panel is a closed up shot of Wolfwood's eye, locked on Vash's face.

Back to present, Vash’s head is bowed down as Wolfwood raises a hand to his nape and says, “Spikey.”

Wolfwood looks serious and frowns as he says, "We talked about this. Those were my decisions. They're not there anymore. Forget about them." Vash looks very sad before he smiles ruefully and says, "I still see them. All the time." He leans down so they touch foreheads. Wolfwood’s sorrowful expression can be seen as Vash says, "You protect so much. I could never forget what you've done to me. And many others..."

In the last image, they're drawn more cartoonishly. Wolfwood sweats and asks, "You don't actually remember every wound, right?" Vash points at a spot on his chest. "Kuroneko left a scratch here 7 times." Wolfwood, startled, says, "Why the hell are you keeping count—" End ID]

Credits for ID here and here

[eggcats]

I know it's common for, in radiostatic fics that get rid of Valentino, to get rid of the pornography empire they have, and I GET why, but in my own personal opinion I don't think it's always the best move

In my Housewife Vox AU, I've kept that part of the media empire Vox owns and simply changed ownership of being the overlord in charge of that to be Angel Dust (owned by Alastor) - (in the original deal, Val and Vox's agreement was a lot more equal, but to exert control, prevent a power grab, and make sure Angel can't do anything to hurt Vox or his empire, Alastor took Angel's soul)

(I also hate Val, so I did have him killed in the 80/90s and Angel taking over THEN, but even still, in my AU, Vox did decide to partner with Valentino to add control over hell's pornography into his empire because it'd be foolish not to, considering the power that would add)

Because, like, IMO the issue with that section of visual media was because of HOW Valentino was doing it (abusing his staff, using his venom to coerce people into it, creating the date rape drugs, etc) - but if you take that part out, it makes more sense for a media mogul who owns as much of the media and technology in the Pride Ring he can TO also have a monopoly on the pornography available - it's not like simply not owning it would mean it doesn't exist, so you might as well be the one to do it, do it right, and get the money from it, yeah?

I do think, though, that once Angel took over, he and Vox DID go over all of Val's previous contracts to make sure their employees still wanted the job they had signed their souls over for - the ones who didn't want to do pornography anymore were simply moved to other jobs; and Angel doesn't have issues signing new people on (even/especially without the drugging) because the contracts are relatively fair and the staff treatment at the studio is fine, so for many freshly fallen it's a good way to not be begging on the streets and to have a steady income

ALSO, because Alastor would go ballistic if any of Angel's employees hit on Vox or tried to get him to sleep with them, ALASTOR is usually the one visiting Angel at the studio when the need arises (he's not particularly bothered by sex work, he just has no interest in partaking in any part of it and generally doesn't want to think about it)

Alastor is aware of himself enough to know that if Vox came home smelling like the sinners and sex of the studio, he wouldn't be able to control the rampage he'd go on and would unintentionally clear out half of Angel's employees - which would be bad for Vox

Angel agrees, because no matter HOW many times he warns his employees not to, some will inevitably still hit on Alastor - who just ignores it and doesn't see it as anything relevant (so Vox never finds out to be the one murdering them) - but if Alastor saw/heard/smelled even a hint of them flirting with Vox it'd be a bloodbath worse than when he killed Val

Also, ironically, Angel can flirt with them both with no repercussions because somehow neither of them see him as a threat, and other than very close to his rut, Alastor considers Angel's scent on Vox not something to be alarmed about - like he's fine with Rosie and Niffty's scents as well

(Angel will never admit even under threat of death, but if Alastor and Vox ever did seriously take up his offer to be their third in the bedroom he's jumping at the chance - but he knows the only reason he's alive is because they think it's a joke. It's not. He knows it'll almost definitely never happen, but if the offer ever comes up, he's saying yes, immediately, lol).

[some-pers0n]

Feeling. normal! 😁

[fisherrprince]

oh so alisaie’s exaggerated bully behavior is 80% fanon. saying this she casually picks up a large rock

[sunshine-in-a-bottle]

Do you have any headcanons that are true for most/all of your fanworks even if it’s not always noticeable?

fuck. I have to remember my own writing now one second.

Dream is always a sex-positive ace. He isn't sexually attracted to other people but he likes sex and he likes people. Most of the time.

Sam always has a little crush on Dream as a kid because Dream was So Cool and Strong.

I feel like I rant about this way too much but. Dream has adhd, Sam has OCD/OCPD, and Punz has autism. They Are The Neurodivergent Triangle. This Is Always Correct.

Wilbur always has a crush/is way too attached to Michael McChill in any timeline they meet, and McChill simply has to live with this.

DreamXD is a Dream apologist. Every Time.

If Punz is a hybrid, they don't openly show it or draw attention to themselves. They're not keeping it a secret so much as they're really used to people being judgemental bastards in their line of work.

Lasercorn (Maricraft) was the original Blood God/person to have a covenant with the Blood God, and is one of the voices in Techno's chat. He is always the first person to call for violence.

Full-Memory Ranboo is always on Dream's side and is like. Thumbs up. Also when Tubbo finds out they get a divorce, there's no saving that trainwreck of a revelation.

In the minecraft universe, being poly is the norm, and monogamy is typically considered a lot less common. When you live in a world where you can hop server to server with ease, where you don't die of old age and breeding isn't Required for new players to spawn (sometimes servers just decide to spawn some little guys) there was never any pressure for monogamy. People still get married, and communication is still important, but no ones going to bat an eye to find out you're dating a lot of people or in a large relationship.

Puppycat Sam

[seraphim-soulmate]

when my roommates put things back in the kitchen incorrectly it makes me frustrated and angry. apparently, did you know, this is not a thing all or most humans experience ? some people don't have an intense emotional reaction to things not being stacked in the optimal way, or pans not being put back in their "usual" spot. did you know this. did you.

[knifearo]

i say it all the time but being aromantic fucking rocks actually. loneliness is one thing but being aro + romance averse had me confront the amatonormative expectation of romantic partnering and you know what i'm NOT worried about now? having a partner. sharing a bed with someone. kissing someone. being held by someone. cause all those physical + emotional needs can be fulfilled by all the people i hold dear in my life and it is no loss of mine to not have a partner. and it's so radical and empowering to say that i don't care and i don't fucking want one! i like being by myself! I HOPE I DIE ALONE ‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️

[rpfofficial]

all r-dfem blogs on here are always posting 3 things: a) most vitriolic disgusting display of shaming people for how they look which almost always implicitly or explicitly aligns with some kind of eugenics or racism, b) how everyone who isnt them or disagrees with them is stupid or misguided or has no hope left for them, and c) how lonely and isolated they feel all the time . I wonder when they will join the dots