#protect trans homies

[queergraffiti]

"protect trans homies"

Pacific Beach, San Diego, California, USA

[sp0o0kylights]

ooo and 5 please! who's saying fuck no about what??

This waaaas a werewolf oneshot I was playing with, separate from Hungry. It features a transmasc Gareth, protective Eddie and Steve, and a personal favorite, Secret Berserker Jonathan Byers.

This was another oneshot that is made entirely of various scenes, so I wrote a quick introduction here to it. It wouldn't make a lick of sense otherwise lol.

(Similar to Hungry, we're playing with dominant/submissive werewolves. Think Patricia Briggs and Ilona Andrews & how they run their werewolf stories based on super outdated but very fun concepts of real wolf packs lol. I have my own little modern twist on them, but there's a difference between a social work/school friend group "pack" and a Wolf Pack TM. )

Snippet

Hellfire won't be out for another few minutes, but neither Steve or Jonathan talk much as they wait. 

It's a peaceful kind of silence they share, particularly between two people who aren't friends, but ended up as family anyway. 

Which is why both startle hard when the doors to the school slam open. 

One of Munson's wolves storms out, looking over his shoulder instead of ahead. "What part of fuck no don't you get!?" 

"Come on." Wheedles another voice, and Steve and Jonathan both watch as a sandy haired boy in a letterman jacket pursues the first.

Slowly, casually, and with the air of a predator.  

"Don't fight it so hard, baby!" The harassing party coos, in a smug mimic of Danny Zuko. 

"Do not call me that." Munson's wolf--Steve can't recall his name but he thinks it starts with a G-- whirls around.

The guy seems to be made of both fury and anxiety, backing away even as he spits and snarls--though his actual emotions are hard to get a read on given he's drenched himself in scent-neutralizing cologne.

(Steve almost sneezes when he scents it, but manages to keep himself together.)

The Hellfire kid's putting up a fight, but its clear from the way he holds himself that he’s a more submissive wolf--and a bad match to the dominate one chasing him. 

Jonathan tosses a glance at Steve. 

"I'll call you whatever I like." His pursuer tells him, a smile unfurling on his face. "Especially after I make you my bitch." 

Steve shoves off the car the same time Jonathan does, but he ends up being the first to the scene, surging forward to step in-between the two.

Hardened battle buddy he is, Jonathan takes this as his cue to fall in behind him, sticking near Munson's wolf. 

"Andy." Steve identifies, voice cold. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" 

"Harrington?" Andy replies, thrown off his target and showing it. "What are you doing here?"

"Putting you in your place, apparently."

Andy's head snaps back, eyes narrowing in mounting rage.

"Excuse me?" 

Steve cocks his hip, hands on his hips.

"Not until you swear off hunting down submissive wolves, you fucking walnut." 

"That isn't what this is, Harrington. Mind your business." 

He makes to go around Steve, and finds the older wolf won't let him. 

"I told you to back off." And the voice Steve speaks with then, is different. 

Weighted.

Steve's wolf is the dominant party here, and he's making Andy feel it. 

Andy growls at him, an inhuman sound, eyes darting from Steve, to Jonathan and back.

He's outgunned and he knows it.

Tension grips them all as Andy meets Steve's eyes in challenge, before clearly thinking better of it.

He drops his head, stepping back.

"Fine. But I'm not giving up, Grace. We're doing this, sooner or later." 

"My name is Gareth." Munson’s wolf snaps, and Steve knows Jonathan will hold him back if he tries to escalate things, 

Submissive has never meant unable to fight, after all. 

Steve keeps an eye on Andy as he retreats another step, and it's all too clear he wants a parting shot.

"Now we both know that's not true." He says, and Gareth hisses like a kettle, fury emitting off him in choked waves. 

Steve clears his throat in warning--he's done playing here, and no matter how much he hates fighting, his wolf has no such qualms.

Andy's eyes dart to him once more, before he whirls around on a heel and storms back through the school doors.

Right in time to plow through the rest of Hellfire.

"Get out of my way, freaks." Andy spits, shoving his way through. 

Will yelps in surprise, caught off guard and off balance, falling back into the lockers with a crash.

His head smashes against metal and he slumps for a moment, stunned.

Mike and Dustin both turn to shout at Andy, Lucas slotting himself to Will's side and trying to get a look at his head.

Behind Steve, Jonathan's eyes go dark.

Munson and Gareth both choke as power floods the parking lot, bloodlust pouring off the elder Byers in waves.

He knifes forward, past Steve, hands blurring in a slurry of shifting muscles and bone until his fingers elongate into sharp, wicked claws. 

It's a controlled change, a feat very few can accomplish--and a deadly one, given Jonathan's reacting out of instinct than anything else.

"Jon." Steve calls, power ringing out from his voice.

(Can see, from the corner of his eye how even Munson, the second most dominant wolf present, flinches from it in surprise.

Steve isn't. He might be a trash fighter, too worried about preventing injuries to inflict them, but his wolf doesn't share the same sentiments.

It's not a disconnect. Rather, it's an agreement he has, with his wolf half, and it serves them very well.)

Jonathan freezes, and it's immediately clear by how tense his muscles are that he's not doing it on his own.

That Steve's using his position in the Pack to hold him, magic and Pack bonds pulsing between the two.

"Steve." Jonathan warns, all too calmly. 

Steve's wolf doesn't rise to the challenge. Doesn't consider it a challenge, even if most wolves would. 

Amber pours into Steve's pupils, the mark of the two halves of a werewolf blending themselves together.

Just as Jonathan did.  

"Check on the kids." Steve and his wolf say together.

 Jonathan's face twist in a snarl as his body shudders under the command.

"Fine." He says after a beat, and Steve's Pack magic releases its hold.

Jonathan's hands twist again, bloodlust fading from his scent, frantic energy draining from the air like a hole punched into an inflatable pool. 

"I'm fine." Will calls out to him, and Steve eases himself back into his own natural state, the threat of Jonathan murdering Andy neutralized. 

He turns to check back in on Gareth, and finds the younger wolf has pressed his face hard into Munson's shoulder. 

"He okay?" Steve asks.

It's redundant because of course Gareth’s not okay--but that's not the question he's really asking.

What he's asking, is if Eddie has Gareth.

Steve has never quite been sure of Munson’s pack status--he knows some clubs and friendships are closer than others, and many can act similar to how Steve’s own capital P Pack does. 

Knows through the kids that Munson runs his group more similar to a proper pack than your normal little high school friend group.

That does not mean Gareth will get the care he needs right now, hunted down like he had been.

"Yeah." Eddie says, understanding relayed in a nod. He turns his gaze to the right of Steve's face, the polite thing to do when two dominant wolves to interact. "Harrington, we need to talk." 

It's in a tone that'd normally have Steve's hackles up, but given what's happened, Steve soothes down his wolf.

Follows when Eddie gently pulls away from Gareth, handing him over to a teen Steve is pretty sure is named Jeff before edging Steve away from the crowd. 

"Can you tell me what Andy said to him?" Munson asks, and his tone is odd.

Off slightly, like he's trying hard to be extra careful. 

Steve chooses not to read into it. 

"He called him names. Bitch and baby. Said Gareth shouldn't fight him so hard." 

Eddie stares at him then, eyes burning into Steve's own, and Steve's wolf itches under his skin at the audacity of it. 

"Anything else?" Eddie demands. 

"He said he wasn't hunting, that it wasn't what it was." 

Munson frowns. "No, did he call Gareth anything else?" 

Steve's dropped the polite urge to keep his eyes averted, now staring dead into Munson's eyes, unable to ignore the direct challenge offered in it.

"He called him Grace, but I figured that was just another insult."

Steve’s voice is clipped. He’s not eager for a fight, particularly not against the guy the kids won’t shut up about, but his wolf is already closer to the surface than it usually is.

Munson stares at him for a moment longer.

"Think you and Johnny boy over there can keep that last bit to yourselves?" 

It's too much like a command, a threat of force in Eddie's voice that's backed by hints of his own wolf shoving forward.

The Steve of old would have been downright violent when faced with that. 

The Steve of now, the one who'd gone three rounds with the Upside Down; who sat drugged out of his mind in a bathroom while Robin confessed to liking Tammy Thompson and then looked at him like he might kill her for it, keeps himself in place as he looks Munson over. 

He’s not imaging it, there is a challenge there--but Steve pauses to think about what he’s being challenged over before he responds. 

How Munson isn't so much focused on Andy, as he is on the name he'd called Gareth.

His eyes flick over to find the younger wolf staring right at them. 

The guy’s arms are wrapped tightly around the middle, a poorly hidden tremble rolling through his body.

Steve hadn't taken Andy's words at face value but Eddie’s request reframed things in his head, and he’s silent as he works out why, exactly Gareth's name matters so much. 

No wonder the kid had drowned himself in that awful, scent neutralizing cologne. 

"Yeah. I'll make that happen." Steve agrees, his words heavy with promise. 

"Thanks." Eddie inclines his head. 

[destielmemenews]

source 1

source 2

source 3

[spaceumbredoggos]

Ah shit. As soon as the book of Bill comes out, I’m gonna go through a Team Star arc creating a “Bill Cipher Cult.” What it really is is just a group of queer neurodivergent people and their allies to hang out, summon and worship Bill Cipher, and use his image to uproot capitalist society and Donald Trump. Strict rules against using Bill for direct murder and no sacrifices. It’s not technically a bad cult. It’s only called a cult ‘cause he’s a demon. Also, fundraisers will be raised to free Palestine and Palestinian families from Gaza as well as getting help for queer and neurodiverse kids in crisis and abusive environments. All for better funding of queer neurodiverse shelters and more education in schools.

[frenchkanna1808]

gin the trans ally icon

[andychaosblog]

I protect my gay and trans homies with my life.🫠🫠🫠🫠🙂🙂‍↕️🥳😶‍🌫️🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍⚧️🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍⚧️🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍⚧️🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍⚧️

[radicalgraff]

"Protect your Trans-Homies"

Seen in Kielce, Poland

[sehtoast]

Tender Threads Ch 11 (Homelander x OC)

chapter eleven: when you bite the hand... (18+)

chapter directory | slow burn, hurt/comfort, fluff, spidersona as original character, original trans male character, smut, sublander

summary: absence makes the heart grow fonder, little spider.

Three days.  Three days of nothing.  Not a word in the halls of the tower, not a peep over text, no late night visits.  Eye contact, though.  That was constant.  During meetings, every time they’d pass each other, from across rooms…

Ben’s not even sure what had happened that night.  One minute he was blubbering his heart out to Homelander while it broke at the fact Homie thought he would ever do him dirty in such a cruel, malicious way, and then… nothing.  Just a cracked rooftop and ringing ears from the sheer volume of his forceful takeoff. 

He waited on that roof for an hour.  Sent a couple texts.  Watched from across the way as the disjointed band of mostly rejects that comprised the spider hero get-together went on.  It was the first time he was actually going to go to one of those stupid things.  It was supposed to remedy the miserable mood Benjamin had been drowning in all day which, of course, was only exacerbated after another chewing-out over the fact he hadn’t made up with his brother.  He didn’t even bother showing up late.  It was best not to spoil everyone else’s good night.

The day after, he felt like a husk.  Ben barely even slept an hour that night, constantly roused over and over again by his overstimulated spider-sense going off at the smallest of things.   He spent a fair amount of his time moping, occasionally venturing across the way to The Seven’s complimentary bar without any care to throw on his costume and protect his identity.  No surprise that Maeve eventually caught him there for his third martini.

“Wait, it went well?”   She’d asked in pure shock.  Ben gave her the rundown on his week with Homelander, leaving out all the recent bits that would make him break his promise and potentially kick up some workplace rumors.  Not that Maeve seemed the type. It was just better safe than sorry.  “Jesus, I figured you’d drop dead by the end.  You’re so soft.” 

Ben just smiled and went wild with the martini shakers in each of his hands.  “Pssh! Too bad I poured these already or I’d be halving your liquors.  I’m not that bad!”

“I know.”  She said, eyes falling to her empty glass.  “He is.” 

Nothing more was said on the matter, though the two shared their drinks together with casual banter on the state of affairs with the team– mostly, though, they just shit on Deep the whole time. And that? That's therapy, baby. 

Later that night, Ben gave another shot at texting Homelander.

-i hope you’re doing okay -

He didn’t know what else to say, really.  The bundle of texts he’d sent, all marked as read, rubbed salt in the wound as the cursor blinked at him over and over again.  It barely took a minute for the new one to be marked the same.

“If you can hear me,” Ben whispered, skeptical that his voice would carry two floors up to those ultra sensitive ears of his, “I wish you’d talk to me…”  He rolled over and pulled his blanket to his chin, shutting his eyes for what was ultimately going to be another night of unsatisfactory sleep.  “Mm, oughta show up with more ice cream.  That’ll get ya… Fuckin’ banana splits or something next time.”

Days two and three went about the same except for one teeny, fucked up detail.  Swing around the city, burn out, head back, and then find out a plane dropped in the middle of the fucking ocean.  It was almost strange to see Homelander on his screen.  After a whole week of him, Ben feels like he should be listening to his star-spangled buddy tell the story himself.  Instead, he gets to watch those eyes cry through his laptop while Homie milks the moment for the defense bill.

Gotta hand it to him, much as Ben hates the pandering to Vought's interests.  Whatever Greek dude coined the term Kairos would be bowing at Homelander’s feet right now if they could see such an expert move.  Ben huffed and shut the screen, sitting in silence to contemplate why their little falling out had him so worked up till his gut voiced its displeasure with his sporadic meal schedule.

He managed to run into A-Train in the elevator on the way down.  The speedster gave him an odd look. To be fair Ben stuck out like a sore thumb in a tattered, hooded flannel, jeans, and scuffed up shoes.  

“You new here?”  A-Train had asked once the gaggle of businesspeople stepped off for their floor.

Ben, on his third day of hardly a wink of sleep, just jumped and dangled by the tips of his fingers from the ceiling.  “Nah.  Just not gonna dress to impress to go get food, y’know?”

“Man, I do love that party trick.”

“Thanks,” Ben hummed.  “By the way, ‘grats on the race–”

Ding!

The doors slid open to reveal the absolute last person either of them wanted to see.  He could practically feel A-Train’s mood sour in real time.

“Hey bros!”  Chirped The Deep, sauntering in and slapping the button for his floor.  Ben dropped from the ceiling and dug his nails into the palm of his hand to keep the look of sheer disdain from rooting itself on his face.  “You guys goin’ down for grub?”

For fucks sake…

Which, of course, resulted in Ben’s plans to bask in the chaotic ambience of the cafeteria being stomped into a whole heap of nothing.  Straight back to his room he went with extra seafood that he didn’t even technically want.  But making The Deep squirm over a few fried shrimps and a crabcake?  Worth it every fuckin’ time. Maeve would be proud; he knows it. 

Benjamin checks his phone as he eats, pumping his fist in a mock victory of sorts.  Not that every day in The Seven wasn’t damn near a vacation compared to regular non-superhero living, but tomorrow was an entire day off for everyone on the team not assigned to the Believe Expo.  Ben in particular wasn’t chosen because he’d opted to make his nonprofit work pertain to uplifting queer youth and the Believe Expo was the last place that'd platform him for that move.  Whoopsies…. not. 

He’d rather not be there anyway. 

Each buzz of his phone is like a knife to the heart, and the rare occasion it’s not Benjamin feels like a good enough reason to level the entire city.  Homelander’s mind screams back and forth with ways to respond, ways to kill him, kiss him– anything and everything.

In the wee hours of the morning, he’d stopped by.  Ben had finally managed to fall and stay asleep, and Homelander tried. He tried all day to float out from behind the exterior wall and into view of Ben’s window.  He tried to convince himself that rapping his knuckles against it wouldn’t be the most terrifying thing he’s ever done, and he tried to remind himself over and over that Ben is kind.

Maybe that was the worst part.  Kindness.  All those stupid little acts.  The ice cream, the banter, the attempts to know him and the way the bug held him so softly after the nightmares.  By all rights, Ben should’ve taken a swing at him when Homelander had him pressed against that wall.  Anyone else would've. Instead of laughing off the accusations, he fucking cried.  Called him a friend… Said Homelander saved him from loneliness…  Those innocent eyes carved slits into his heart with such ease.

He still hasn’t wrapped his mind around it.  Homelander’s never heard such a sweet combination of words strung together just for him before.  At least never in a way that didn’t reek of insincerity and opportunity.  Every time he tries to make sense of it, his mind wanders back to the time he stole that featherlight kiss from Benjamin while he slept and how fucking good it felt. How warmth and electricity jolted through his body and left him floating in a blissful, excited haze. It drives him insane.  His heart clenches every time.  Yearning floods him, body and soul, and he becomes more lost than ever.

So he just… lurked.  Observed.  Took it all back to square one and stayed as close as he could while keeping as much distance as he could possibly stand.  And when Ben fell asleep, he went inside.  He hears it over and over again in his head as he takes in the sight of his sleepy little spider.  

Johnny, wait! 

Anyone else and he’d have turned around mid flight and crushed them into the fucking ground, stomped their head into a bloody fucking pulp for saying that .  The fact he ever told Maeve was a fucking miracle in and of itself, and he’d thought he was fully committed to ensuring John remained a relic of the past.  But his name sounds different on Ben’s lips.  The product label rings with sticky, sweet endearment and all the gentle charm of the bug’s normal deep-set smiles.  Even called out in frantic desperation, it still felt… good.  Maybe it’s because of the nickname, but even unaltered was so…

Goosebumps erupt along his arms.  That empty spot in the bed calls to him, but he knows he can’t.  Ben’s out now, but the risk of waking him was so high…  Homelander damn near darts when Benjamin shifts and mumbles in his sleep.  He’s missed that little quality.  Two nights with him was all it took to get hooked on those little ‘isms’ of his.  The way he’d slide his legs together along the rough fuzz of the blankets, roll around a little– god, he liked that especially since sometimes they’d end up so close, and when he’d jolt awake…

He watches Benjamin shift once more and the blanket slips just enough to reveal a bare shoulder.  His breath catches.

Oooh-la-la.

As if he hasn’t seen the bug bare from the hundreds of times he’s– okay, fine! Just one look…

With a tight gulp, he scans the length of Benjamin’s body, descending slowly from head to toe.  His gloved fingers twitch, itching to shed their leather shell and slip under those blankets to touch the softness of his little spider’s flesh.  He’s felt the weight of Benjamin pressed against his own body so many times.  Two nights… just two fucking nights and Ben had tossed and turned into him more times than he could count.  Restless little thing, but he always has been.  Homelander would lay there all night yearning to let a hand slide over the bug’s abdomen and pull him closer, slip under his little shirt and–

He releases a tight exhale.  His gaze falls between Ben’s legs and his tongue juts out to swipe his top lip.  A pussy on a man was far from the strangest thing he’s ever encountered, but Ben made it look so fucking good. Maybe someday he could–

You could do it now if you weren’t such a baby.

But that would be… no.  No, he can’t do that.

Well if you’re not gonna take from the source, you should grab a sample. A little something to keep as a souvenir.

Oh..?  That was– that’s not an awful idea…  Floating, he makes his way to Benjamin’s laundry basket, overflown, of course, since the bug was adamant housekeeping need not service his apartment whatsoever.  Homelander slips a glove free and lets his digits fall against the mound of clothes.  The first thing he snags is a t-shirt, pressing it to his nose to inhale deeply. His eyes roll back…

Bet he wore that one for a while.

The fabric was chock full of his scent, tickling that desperate little itch in Homelander’s brain.  But that wasn’t quite the trophy he wanted.  No, no…  Neither shirts, nor shorts, nor sweatpants.  His cock twitches in the confines of his suit the second his fingers graze the waistband of what he really wants.

You’ve struck gold.

He’s got them pressed to his nose in a fraction of a second, huffing slow, deep breaths.  He could sustain himself entirely on the sweet aroma of Ben’s cunt– fuck, the taste.  He has to know, he has to fucking know!  Just one swipe of the tongue and–

He barely bites off the moan.  His eyes go stark wide, terror coursing through his body in fear that Benjamin would rise at the sound.  Homelander’s heart hammers at the thought and his whole body locks like a board, tongue trapped in place against the crotch of Ben’s drawers.

Nothing…

Thank fuck.

Ideally, he should bolt.  

Finish your food, tiger.

But he didn’t need to be told twice.  He locks the fabric between his teeth, suckling to draw out the flavor while he grows harder and harder against the cup in his suit until it's almost painful.  Benjamin tastes fucking exquisite. He keeps his glazed eyes locked on the boy the whole time he indulges, scanning up and down his bare form, imagining it was that thick clit between his lips.

Credit where it’s due; he’s… tasty.

So good, so fucking– oh god… 

Homelander lets a hand fall and press to his groin, rubbing firm and slow against himself.  In a perfect world, it'd be Ben touching on him.  Those gentle hands would unzip his pants and pull him free from his tight briefs.  They’d grasp him so sweetly, stroke him softly, push him closer and closer to the edge of paradise.  Oh, to come apart by Benjamin’s touch would be divine.  Nothing could compare.  He’d eat the boy’s pussy raw for just one measly little touch to his weeping cock.  He’d do anything for it.  He’d raze the world to ash for the chance to spread his legs and–

“Mmph!”  He squeaks into the fabric, eyes screwing shut as he chokes off every sound, cock pulsing and spilling against his underwear.  Each warm slither of come slicks his skin before inevitably soaking into his briefs. The aftershocks tingle through his limbs and haze his mind.

So good, so good, so fucking good…

And to top it all off, lady luck seems to be on his side.  Benjamin doesn’t wake at his pathetic little noise.  Homelander sighs and lets off, letting the silky boxer briefs slip from between his lips, trailing a string of saliva as he parts.

Now, throw them back in the basket and grab a fresh pair for later.

Fuck, that was a perfect idea. He rifles through again, smiling like the Grinch himself when his fingers find another pair.  Ben won’t notice, right?  It’s just one pair of underwear.  Not like things didn’t get lost on occasion.  Who hasn’t heard of a random sock being eaten by the dryer?  Who’s to say it can’t do the same to underwear?

That’s the spirit.  If you’re gonna fall into the bug’s web, we’re gonna at least make sure you’re comfortable in it.  Now go clean yourself up and get to sleep.  Gotta pander to all those god-fearing shit-for-brains tomorrow while they milk the plane crash.

That’s right, he’s got that expo tomorrow.  Not a single part of him was particularly looking forward to it.  He’d been hoping Ben would be there, but the lack of the bug’s name on the roster had left him infuriated.  He went to Madelyn to demand a change, but she insisted his choice of nonprofit work was far too alienating for the demos that’d be there.  

He floats to his balcony, recalling with near perfect clarity the way indignant fury filled his chest.  Homelander simply scowled at her in the moment, but inside he pictured caging her head between his hands and squeezing until she was little more than pulp.  She tried to soothe him.  A hand on his chest, an invitation to join her on the couch, but he declined her. He'd never done that before. But he did, and it felt good.

After showering, Homelander curled up in bed.  It’s not ideal anymore.  The fur of his comforter and the silk of his sheets lack any of the coziness of Ben’s.  Somehow, synthetic fibers and fuzzy, knitted blankets had become leagues better than the best bedding money could buy, and his last few days of sleep had been atrocious.  Tonight, though, rest finds a way.  Might have a little something to do with the garment he nuzzles his face into…

“Damn, you look rough.”

Ben pokes a meatball across his plate, watching it tumble aimlessly over mounds of saucy angel hair pasta.  “Gee, thanks.” He hums.  The little diner was loud as ever, but Jason clearly heard him anyway.  

“You’re not like, killin’ yourself to do, uh… night shifts again, right?”  The concern etched on his friend’s face is touching, but it does nothing to improve his mood.  They’ve got, what, thirty more minutes? Fuckin’ lunch breaks…

“Nah,” Ben shakes his head, hand coming up to scritch at the scruff along his jaw.  “Just— just a rough few days, y’know?”

“Felt,” Jase says, shoving a bundle of fries in his mouth.  “Me and Dasia are having another fight, so I’m there with you.”  Ben raises a brow for him to continue.  “She’ll get over it, but she’s upset I’m still talkin’ to those dudes I met a few months ago at that club she hated.”

“You mean those–”

“Yeah, the ones I started buying from.”  He says it like it’s no big deal, but Ben remembers.  “They're cool though.” 

It’d certainly be a case of the pot calling the kettle black if Benjamin, the vigilante, got up in arms about Jase, the enjoyer of substances, having his own not-necessarily-immoral hobbies.  He gets the girlfriend’s gripe, though.  Jason had a mean fight with addiction a couple years back, but today he claims to keep it all within moderation.  

“Plus, they cut me a deal and she gets hers, so whatever.”

Ben skewers a heap of spaghetti and contemplates the borderline tasteless bite with its weird, chicken-y sauce while he listens to more ramblings.  He wishes Jase would at least try to pry.  He wants so fucking badly to be asked what’s wrong.  Sure, he can’t say everything, but he just… he needs to say something.  Fuck, a few weeks ago, him joining The Seven was all they talked about.  Promises of an autograph from Maeve, fascination about the others and what they were like, all sorts of chances to spill the beans and talk about the occasional frustration.  But now it’s all old news.  No different than when they sat three rows away in their open layout office, clickety-clacking their lives away.

Even just blowing off some steam about his family situation would be a godsend, but he can’t find it in himself to interrupt anything Jason says.  While he desperately wants to drop the heavy weight of his brother’s words and his mother’s insistence that he relent, Jase talks about the leaky faucet in his apartment and how his girlfriend wants to repaint the bedroom but the landlord’s an asshole and won’t approve it.

Ben wants to talk about how much he loved running around with Homelander.  How it made him feel so fucking free.  How, once the anxiety Homie initially caused faded, he found the American Jesus to be far less imposing and intimidating and way more enjoyable and just… just different. Homie showed him sights he never quite imagined seeing without a plane ticket and some chump taking up his armrest.  He showed Ben the joys of running around the city with someone else, of sharing the setting sun and all the silly, stupid conversations he hasn’t had with anyone in so fucking long.  Homelander lit up a part of Ben’s heart that hasn’t felt the beauty of unlimited companionship in so very long.

At some point, waking up to start their miniscule seven days together became the easiest thing in the world. And ending them together, falling asleep while some shitty documentary played became the best fucking part.

Someone to laugh with. Talk to.

Someone who made him feel less alone. Less isolated. 

And now, someone to place a ten ton weight of sorrow on his heart.  What if Homelander never talks to him again?  What then?  The thought alone makes Ben’s heart clench so hard it fucking hurts and it's weird that he's so affected by it. Other than regular meetings, run-ins, and the occasional pick-on-the-new-guy bullshit, that week was the most time they'd ever spent together. So, why..? 

“– you gonna go or what?”

“Huh?”

“The siren,” Jason says as if it were so obvious.  “Tell me Rapunzel’s not gettin’ lazy in that fancy tower.”

Ben breathes a weak laugh, shuffling out from the booth.  “Nah.  I’ll uh, I’ll V-Mo you for my food, yeah?”  

“Don’t worry about it.  Just go do what you do.”

How to apologize to a friend.

How to say sorry to someone.

He’s noodled through ten pages worth of search results and they all say the same thing.  Bring a gift, pour your heart out, and hope for the best.  But that doesn’t help because he already fucking knows that!  Homelander could swing just about any act at any time, but this was just… daunting.  Texting it was simply not good enough.  He’s gotta do something, but what?  What could he get for Ben? What could he say?  ‘Sorry I smashed you into a wall and threatened to pick your arms and legs off.’  It’s just not enough!  His frustration with the matter bleeds into everything he does.

Even his speech.

Homelander!  Homelander!  Homelander!

Not that it matters.  They all loved it.  But, when he was floating through the crowd, there was only one person whose opinion he was genuinely concerned about.  When Benjamin sees it, hears it, what will his little spider think?  He sold it so perfectly, swung everything just right to get the whole crowd on board with the defense bill.

So why, when he returns to the tower, does Madelyn berate him? 

“You cannot be bad.” 

He swallowed hard and took it.  Let her give him that look and shake her head in disapproval.  Even after telling her off last time, there’s still a part of him that can’t help but follow her every whim.  Even when she’s beckoning him closer to join her on the couch, he follows like a dog to its master, salivating for a treat he knows deep down he’ll never get even as she undoes each button of her shirt.

Even reclined with his head in her lap, Madelyn only gives in halves, and yet she’s never gone this far before.  Fingers substituting what he wants.  Sweet coos to placate him.  It’s more than he knows what to do with.  But, even then…

“You have to be good.” 

It’s still there.  Disapproval.  He’d done his tricks, but not to her liking.  Never to her liking. 

“And you have to listen to me.”

As if on queue, her words melt away the veneer she’d so carefully crafted.

“You’re my good boy.”

But he knows that’s not true.  He knows it; he fucking knows it! Back and forth, up and down, every which way she can, Madelyn toys with him.

She was so harsh on you, echoes the sweet voice of his little spider.  The taste of vanilla ice cream floods his mouth, overpowering the intricate flavor of Madelyn’s skin. It sings to him sweetly.  You deserve better than that.

He does… He fucking knows it, too.  Homelander lets his eyes flutter open, peeking up to find her staring down with a faux tenderness almost like what she saves for that spawn of hers.  It’s sickening.  She’ll never give him the real thing.  Her eyes don’t twinkle for him.  Not the way his do. They don’t light up at the mere sight of him.  Even now, there’s an emptiness in there.  She should smell different.  Sweet and warm.  He should be able to taste the love on her skin.

But he can’t.

He suckles harder, teeth pressing tighter to her knuckles bit by bit until she–

“Jesus Christ!”

He wouldn’t sever them.  No, no, doing so would cost him dearly, but that?   That sends the message.  The warning.  Even a good dog will bite once in a while.

“Get the fuck out!”  She cries, eyes watering while she scrambles for the tissue box on the table.  Blood drips from her digits, the crimson a strange juxtaposition to what she’d been teasing him with.  It tastes of pennies on his tongue.  Not at all the sweetness she’s always holding just out of reach.  

He leaves, but not because she told him to.  He wants to.   Homelander charges through the hall with a newfound confidence.  He passes door after door, dropping by the team’s bar for exactly the right touch.  He knows where he wants to go now.  Where he should’ve gone instead.  Bottle in hand, he walks right in nice and quiet.  His eyes roll at what his poor ears are subjected to.

“Looks like it’s official folks.  You heard it here.  This grave news, this stain on our nation’s history is here to stay.”   Ben’s got that burnout’s mug on the living room TV.  “The Spider-Man is truly part of our great country’s defenders.  What this means for us going forward is a mystery, but, rest assured, I will be here to make sure he’s held accountable.  Once a lawless vigilante, always a lawless vigilante!”

As soon as their eyes meet, all the bravado drains from his body. He can practically feel it slip from his head and out through his toes.  Big, wide brown eyes stare into his. If not for that grating voice in the background, he might have thought time stopped.

“Hey…” Greets his little spider.  It barely comes out as a squeak.  Homelander takes in the sight of him.  Scruffy cheeks, dark undereyes, the same outfit he’s worn for the last three days… 

God, what a fucking mess.

Every smooth introduction fizzles away.  Every slick word he’d thought up on the way over goes right down the fucking drain and he’s got nothing but raw nerves and that goddamn deer-in-the-headlights look he can never quite conceal.  His fingers twitch and the glasses clink together.  “Do you wanna…” Homelander tries, voice softer than he’d like it to be, trailing off.  Instead of continuing, he just watches a big, bright smile start to spread across Ben’s face before the bug practically leaps from the couch.  Arms wrap around his torso, pulling him in tight.  Ben’s face finds its way into the crook of his neck, right where he belongs.

“–I have to wonder: what in the world was Homelander thinking bringing a miscreant on the team!?”

“Whatever you’re gonna say,” Ben mumbles against his skin.  “Hell yeah.”

“Mm, well I could say anything now.  Naked Twister?” Oh, how he loves the way his little spider’s cheeks burn red.  It revives some of that lost confidence.  

“Pffft,” Ben blows a raspberry that tapers into the most precious, perfect giggle.  “Pop that bottle you might convince me to do wacky shit.  Maybe.”   Benjamin tugs him to the couch. 

Homelander’s hands shake the slightest bit as he pours each glass.  He’s not even sure what he grabbed, only that it was the biggest bottle in sight, so he just opts to show Ben the label when he inquires about the type.  

“Oh, good pick.  That’s like the only kind I enjoy."

“Well, wine’s about the only alcohol I don’t hate." What they'd trained his palate to tolerate.  "You really don’t like it?” Homelander asks, swishing the contents of his glass that he’d be conditioned to enjoy long ago.  

“Nah, not most.”  Ben follows his lead and does the same.  “I mean, this is great, though!  That wasn’t to like– I’m not saying I don’t like you bringing it, I just…” He sputters. “You know what I mean.”

Homelander rolls his eyes, but the smile on his face paints a different picture.  He sips at his glass, kicking his feet up on the little table in front of the couch to play into a sense of casualness.  He practically prays Benjamin doesn’t bring up what happened between them days ago.  “So, what’s the entertainment tonight?  I’ve been bored these last few.”  Not a total lie, but certainly not the full truth.  Watching Benjamin could never be boring, but it was certainly less stimulating than actually sitting beside the bug.

With a soft hum of acknowledgement, Ben grabs the remote and starts flicking through channels.  They pass by a few Vought features, but ultimately settle on Animal Planet.  On the screen, a small jumping spider navigates the dense vegetation of its habitat to find a mate.  There’s a touch of endearment to it.  Homelander blames it on the critter’s technical association with the man beside him.

“The silken road to finding her is littered with the remains of unsuccessful suitors.”

“Little guy’s sporting your colors,” Homelander says between sips.  The wee thing’s abdomen has speckles of red and blue, and its cute demeanor is all too perfectly in line with Benjamin’s.  Suddenly, it begins waving its legs about in the air, shuffling from side to side.  “Tell me you didn’t pick your theme off a jumping spider.”

“Now, what can he do to win her over?  Dance.  Dance for his very life.” 

“...maybe.”

The thought of Ben sorting through pictures of arachnids to find the perfect inspiration brings a tight, amused grin to his lips.  Instead of teasing, though, he opts to lean back and enjoy the poor thing’s desperate attempt to woo the mate attempting to murder him.  

“He’s done his bit and satisfied her needs.  But, now, her need is over. So she kills him anyway.”

“Aww, no!”  Ben cries, hands on his head as he seemingly mourns the insect.  “Poor dude…  I feel it though, buddy.  Dating and spider life ain’t for the weak.”

“Women,” Homelander mouths silently with a smack of his lips.  He draws parallels to his own situation with Madelyn, chewing at his lower lip while he contemplates it.  Once upon a time he’d lose himself in thought over anything and everything about her, but the presence beside him and the duty of refilling their glasses keeps him from drifting away for too terribly long.

After a few more segments, a small break to put in a Vought-A-Burger order through V-Dash, and some lighthearted commentary, the series comes to an end just as easily as their bottle.  Ben grins, sitting sideways to face him, head leaned against the back of the couch.  “Hey, did you get your script yet for ‘Super America’ or whatever that shit’s called?”

“Mhm.” He fibs.  In truth, he hasn’t. He usually gets them a day or so before, but it made no difference.  Not like there was much he’d have to learn.  Baseball, America, mom and dad, whoop, whoop, whoop.  Same thing every time.

“It’s so weird.”  Ben gripes.  “I picked mine up yesterday.  They got me set up as some kid from Queens.”  

“Really?”  There was some interest there.  Benjamin’s situation would be a touch different than the others on the team. Much like his own story, Ben’s would lack any truth.  After all, the bug didn’t want to give a single inch of his real identity to the public.  Maybe it was the teeny-tiny buzz from the wine, but there’s a lurching feeling in his chest knowing Benjamin’s situation was even mildly similar to his own.

“Yeah.  I’m apparently a twenty-two year old who grew up right on the poverty line, played lacrosse in high school– whatever the fuck that is; I don’t speak sports– dropped out of college, and apparently I’ve got three younger sisters.”  Ben snorts a laugh, snickering at the absurdity of it all with a big, wide grin.  Seems like the wine settled in nicely.  “How’s yours?”

“Oh, you know.  Baseball. Sunshine. Suburban paradise.”

“How much of it’s legit?”

“None.”  He scoffs, bitterness brewing in his gut at the thought of every goddamn lie he’s gotta tell.  “Absolutely fuckin’ none of it.”  He doesn’t know why he admitted it.  Maybe it just feels… safe to say to Ben.  Safe to admit the lies to someone else whose entire life is about to be corporate vomit, too.

“Oh,” Ben arches a brow, wine-drunk whimsy fading from his face as it's replaced by some sickening blend of curiosity and concern.  He shuffles a little closer as if to express his devoted attention. “Well… what was it like then?”

He remembers when the boy asked this the first time in that cramped little dressing room.  Just one week ago… It feels different this time.  Less like some wannabe sniffing his ass for favor and more like a friend.  Someone who cares, or has a reason to.  Fuck, he hopes so, anyway.  “Not…” Homelander’s gaze falls to his hands.  He picks nervously at his nails and he waves his socked foot from side to side on the table. Rehashing it too much brings back the dreams… He exhales tightly. “Not good…”

What are you doing?

“So all that Leave it to Beaver type stuff..?”

“Fake,” he rasps.  He’s not even sure why he’s doing this.  Sympathy is the last thing he wants, and he’d probably laser Ben’s head off if he even sniffed a lick of pity from the boy.  But… it feels good to say it.  Somehow, some way, it’s safe.  

“Huh…” Ben sighs, shifting a little closer.  He crosses his legs and sits less than a foot away now.  “I don’t wanna pry, but if you ever wanna like, get some of that off your chest…”

He should’ve never drank anything.  He can barely get more than a weak buzz, but fuck if it didn’t have him doing stupid shit anyway.  As much as he wants to grit his teeth and give Ben a strict, cruel ‘no,’ he doesn’t.  Instead, almost as if it had a mind of its own, his right hand creeps off his lap and halfway between them.  Bare and vulnerable.  He always sheds his gloves in Ben’s home…

Soft, warm digits curl around his.  They give a small squeeze and it’s like he can feel them in his chest, wrapped around his heart.  “I…”  He doesn’t know what to say.  He dares to look over and his gaze flickers back and forth between those rosy lips and void-like eyes.  He could get lost in either so easily.  “I, uh…”

Those pretty lips quirk into a sweet smile and he fucking catches himself inching forward.

“Did…” Homelander utters, clearing his throat weakly.  C’mon, fucking think!  “Did you… did you see my speech?”

You might actually be an idiot.

“Y-Yeah!” Ben chirps, leaning back a bit.

Was he also..?

“You were awesome up there!  I’m not really on the whole god-fearing patriotism train myself but like, you just have such a way with crowds.  Even I was feeling it, y’know?”  The bug’s smile could practically melt ice, but it builds his ego sky high instead.  “I thought the same back when you showed up at my big reveal thing.  Like, yeah, the crowd cheered for me, but they went bonkers for you.  Kinda envy it, to be honest.”

It’s nothing he doesn’t know, but it tickles like he’s never heard it before.  His gaze falls once more to Benjamin’s lips, dancing down to his neck where an oddity rests.  A black cord of sorts.

“Man, Starlight though…”  He half hears.  Benjamin’s never worn jewelry before.  “Dude, I wanna beat the brakes off Deep so bad after that.”  What if there was… no, no– that can’t be right.  Ben didn’t see anyone but that deadbeat friend of his and that stink bug, Webweaver. There couldn’t be someone else vying for his little spider’s attention, right?  

“Mhm,” he hums absently, hand slipping from Ben’s to travel up.  He hooks a finger under the cord and slides down until the pendant slips out from beneath the dark edge of Ben’s shirt collar.  He rolls it between his thumb and forefinger.  “Where’d this come from?”  Homelander murmurs, interrupting whatever sympathies Benjamin had been expressing for Starlight.

“Oh, this?  I’ve had it for years.  Was a present from my great-grandma.”

Good.  If there had been any competition…

“She meant a lot to me growing up, so I've kept it this whole time.”  Ben continues.  Homelander slips the pendant back beneath the bug’s shirt, but he doesn’t withdraw his hand.  Instead, he plants his palm softly on the side of Ben’s neck, a far cry from the threatening grip with which he’d held it just days prior.  His thumb slides back and forth over stubbly little hairs.

A cat food commercial is the only noise interrupting the moment, but he hardly cares.  Homelander rests his thumb over Ben’s pulse, feeling the gentle thrum that’s just a little faster than a resting rate should be.  A soft grip wraps around his wrist and that warm, earthy gaze meets his.

One little tug and it’d be perfect.  Their lips would graze each other and Homelander could relive that bliss once more, only this time… this time Ben could too. They could both feel those sparks… Ben could kiss him back, return every glide of his lips and swipe of the tongue.  God…He practically can smell the excitement radiating from Ben’s body in more ways than one.  The bug wants it too.  He can tell.  And yet, he can’t bring himself to act.

You cannot be bad…   

“What?”  Ben whispers.  His cheeks are a light pink, eyes twinkling like stars.  “Do… Do you–”

Knock, knock, knock!

The sound from the apartment door rips them away from their moment.  Who the fuck could possibly be visiting so late?  He’s got half a mind to just shoot a beam of heat right through the door.

“Oh, that’s our food!”  Ben scrambles, hopping over the back of the couch to scurry to the door.  Behind it is some quivering kid holding the burgers they’d ordered almost a half hour ago.  “Hey, thank you!  Sorry about the long elevator ride…” The bug tells him.  The delivery boy stutters his gratitude and goes on his way after thoroughly ruining their moment.

Coulda, woulda, shoulda, eh sport?

“Time to see if the Big Homie Burger lives up to the hype!”  Ben teases as he spreads out their late night snacks.  Homelander doesn’t even like any of it, but he demanded Ben give his branded burger a shot after the bug admitted he’d never eaten at Vought-A-Burger before.  ‘Listen,’ he’d said.  ‘I like junk food as much as the next guy, but frying stuff in lard is crazy work.’  Which Homelander couldn’t even argue with.

The wrappers are labeled with names… one for Ben C.– extra pickles, and another for Johnny H.– no pickles.  And there it is again… that funny feeling deep in his chest.  Like fleshy flowers blooming right between his ribs, sprouting to soak up the torrent of emotion that floods his body at the sight of such a juvenile yet affectionate take on his given name.

“Eugh,” Homelander grits as he flips the top bun off.  “They gave me pickles. Fucking morons.”

“Sweeeet!”  Ben chirps.  He slides his sandwich wrapper over and gently taps the corner to indicate where their new home should be.  “I’ve come for your pickle~”

Homelander cocks an eyebrow.  “They gave me more than one, though.”  Unless Ben meant–

The bug snorts a laugh. “It’s from SpongeBob! But yeah, I’ll take all of ‘em.”  Homelander gets to work on removing the foul ovals from his food while Benjamin reaches for the remote. Within a few minutes, the cartoon in question is playing.  Homelander’s confusion only grows with every passing minute.

“F is for friends who do stuff together!”

And yet, there’s nowhere else he’d rather be.

Ao3 Link HERE

[paranoidginger]

Random headcanons for the TF2 mercs!!

Scout: ADHD hardcore, should probably be medicated for it, but isn't. This man cannot stand still for anything, he is always tapping his feet or fiddling with something. He definitely bites his nails, especially his thumbs. Repressed bisexual who is accidentally homophobic because he thinks he isn't supposed to like guys, and thinks everyone chooses to like the opposite gender. He's a surprisingly good artist, and he has dyslexia. That mixed with dropping out of highschool made him somewhat illiterate, spelling is hard, and so is reading any big words.

Soldier: Jack of all trades, he has had every job possible, but if he weren't in love with going to war, he'd probably settle on properly running a raccoon sanctuary. He is the reason why Medic had to invent a cure for rabies. Definitely thinks that being a lesbian just means that you like women, regardless of gender, he refers to himself as a Lesbian after learning that Pauling Identifies as one.

Pyro: Probably not even a human, uses any and all pronouns. They're really smart, despite acting childish, and are the one who built their flamethrowers. Probably collects stickers. Would definitely watch MLP and drag the other mercs into watching it with them, Pinkie Pie is definitely their favorite of the mane six. They draw a lot, and are pretty good at it whenever they want to be, they just prefer drawing silly things. Their room probably smells like burnt plastic and gasoline.

Demo: Only goes sober whenever shit gets super, super serious, like one of the other mercenaries that he cares about gets hurt. He's got a really strong caretaking instinct that gets drowned out by drunken recklessness. He's a total lover, and definitely the type of guy to kiss the homies goodnight. It takes a LOT to actually get him drunk drunk, like, I'm talking ungodly levels of alcohol that would probably kill the average person. He's Spy's drinking buddy, and probably knows the most about Spy's background from listening to his drunken ramblings about regrets and how he wishes he was a better father. Demo probably knows a lot about most of the other mercs, just because he's a good listener and a vault whenever it comes to sensitive information. He's also really fucking smart. Probably pansexual tbh, just based on vibes.

Heavy: He gets nervous whenever he has to help out any of the more 'delicate' mercenaries. He knows he's ridiculously strong, and he has excellent control of himself, but he can't help but feel like he's handling glass whenever he's helping out any of his injured teammates, especially when it comes to Scout or Spy. He's super fucking protective of all of his team though, and would absolutely crack skulls if anything happened to any of them. He is the only person other than Medic who is allowed to touch Archimedes. Probably bisexual with a preference towards men.

Engie: He's usually pretty polite, but can be one of the most brutal out of any of the classes. He's definitely autistic with a special interest in machines. He probably wants to capture one of the mvm robots just to run tests and see if they're sentient. Low-key god complex, like, moreso than medic, he's just super humble about it. He definitely talks to all of his machines. He's 100% a trans man, I can see him as being demisexual.

Sniper: Definitely autistic, he's probably got a shitload of random animal information. Total arachnophobe, but only towards small spiders. Hand him a tarantula and he's fine, but show him a stick covered in baby spiders and he's going to probably kick it as far away from himself as possible and run away. He adores lizards of all kinds, and probably used to lay on the ground watching them all the time as a kid. This man can't use a kitchen for shit, but he manages to make anything he cooks over a fire absolutely delicious, he probably refuses to share though. Probably Asexual. Has a shitty taxidermy rat in his camper that he's unnecessarily proud of, and he probably collects bones. Super into oddities and weird little knick knacks, and he still has all of his baby teeth that he keeps in a little jar on a shelf. Can't run for shit, but could walk for hours if need be. Likes doing arts and crafts, he knits in his free time, and almost always has a sewing kit with him.

Medic: Knows a little about every different medical field, he just sort of studied up on whatever piqued his interest. DOES have a PhD in medical science, he just lost his license to legally practice in a hospital or doctor's office. Gay, probably a trans man. Has definitely experimented on himself before, giving himself different deadly diseases and whatnot just to challenge himself to make a cure before he dies. Also autistic. Spoils the fuck out of his birds, and would probably Frankenstein together a human body for Archimedes if he could figure out how.

Spy: Bisexual genderfluid icon. Usually only gets caught because he's being way too much of a cocky showoff. Definitely wears eyeliner and says that it 'helps him see better' when it's bright out, even though it's 100% just a fashion statement. Has a collection of antique cigar boxes and lighters.

[taosnipple]

Hey trans and queer and wonderful people, did you know that you can make anything you want? Did you know that you have a mind that can imagine and learn and a body that is able to use anything as tools?

Sewing is amazing and so useful, you can make your clothes fit better or fix up old or secondhand pieces to keep them lovely and wearable for longer!

If you learn to crochet, you can make anything from cool bracelets for the homies to big ol blankets and cat toys or stuffies. Personally, I've got a cat who chews cables that aren't protected, so i crochet rainbow yarn around em or use green and add leaves for decoration.

If you draw or do papercraft you can make drafts for larger projects that you need to ask for help with, you can bring your wildest dreams into as much detail as you care to put the effort for.

If you 3d model you can do shit i cannot even concieve of as a 2d creator and that FUCKS you're cool and i respect u from a distance bc the software y'all use hurts my head but you know you're lit as hell.

If you cook, host, mix beverages of any variety, you create threads between people and i adore you, you're so important. Draw your people together and be love, create beautiful spaces in time, that skill is so special and wonderful.

There's so many other ways to create, there's so many things you can do and be able to look at with pride and a sense of satisfaction. You deserve that shit. You're wonderful. I love you.

[livingzomboy]

If youre an ableist please block me, tags will be for reach but im protecting me and you who comes across this

Curate your online experience

The block me list:

Narc/BPD/PD abuse folks, your trauma is valid your ableism isnt

TERFs, trans women were at the forefront of your movement for so long

Moral purists, my thoughts and feelings do not define me, inherently ableist, racist, transphobic etc.

Anti-microlabels, also inherently ableist

Anti-paraphilia , theyre mental illnesses and we can recover (to the big three who are anti recovery or pro contact dni, pro contact for any harmful paraphiles dni)

"Schizoposting" people who seek to demean schizospec people and are not schizospec themselves, or post intentionally triggering content

those who think that the only neurodivergences are autism or ADHD, get educated homie

and similar ideas

[eugenedebs1920]

Within the first 72 hours of Trumps’s illegitimate (because insurrectionist are barred from holding office) second term we saw unconstitutional dictatorial decrees (executive orders gives too much validity to these unlawful orders), we saw repeals of the equal opportunity act, instated by LBJ, we saw the beginning stages of “schedule F” removing nonpartisan bureaucrats from their fields of expertise (authoritarians hate any expertise that would contradict their lies), we saw a dictatorial decree denying the existence of trans Americans, we saw Trump show absolute disrespect to police officers and American democracy itself by pardoning ALL the Jan 6th insurrectionists, including the leaders of the Proud Boys and The Oath Keepers, openly white supremest groups, we saw Trump repeal the price restrictions on pharmaceutical drugs enacted through Biden, causing prices to rise over 1000% in some cases, we saw Trump give a green light to the oil industry to pillage public lands that belong to the American people. We also saw Trump’s homie, Elon Musk give the solute of that party in Germany from WWII (don’t want the algorithm to suppress my post by using the German N word), heard Trump basically say that Elon “knows computers, those sweet vote counting computers. And we won Pennsylvania in a landslide” idiotically confessing to rigging the election, and Trump stock his cabinet with the makers of the dystopian manifesto, Project 2025 which he said he wouldn’t and didn’t even know them.

Meanwhile the price of eggs has risen nearly $2, the war in Ukraine still rages on, and the promises made on the campaign go unheeded.

Due to the cowardice of Republicans, an archaic system of representation still in place to appease slave states, the deception of the American people by corporations and the wealthy through the ungodly corrupt ruling on Citizens United, the complacency of the mainstream media to report on this, and the racism and ignorance of maga, this will be white washed, barely reported, or ignored all together.

This lack of a ruling by the North Carolina Supreme Court is a huge win, not simply in comparison to the losses dealt to the Constitution, marginalized groups, and the rule of law, but for democracy itself!

Trump gave the permission structure to straight denial of election results, knee capping the very foundation of our democracy. Showing those who have no respect for our country that it’s acceptable to violate the will of the people in their pursuit of power.

The National Republican Party in collaboration with this Republican judicial candidate had the intention to test the waters of their antidemocratic ideas on election denialism, and it failed after a long fought battle.

The courts are the only hope in protecting this country from the complete dismantling of our democratic constitutional republic, and as of today, we can mark a win on the pro-democracy side.

The road will be long, the fight will be brutal, and the need for resistance imperative. Yet we will defeat this authoritarian regime together with the help of judges who hold true to their oath.

Not all is lost. We have to keep up the resistance and not capitulate. 

No kings in America friends! Hail democracy!

[ireallyamamessaboutreligion]

The christian politicians of my country: that's a sin! We need to stop abortion, no matter the complexity of the person's situation, transgender surgeries even though gender dysphoria is considered by united nations as a mental health problem, same-sex marriage must be prohibited and everyone with different faith will be excluded and segregated and burned even though we have laws that protect them!! Why? Because Jesus said so!

Me, a pagan polytheistic trans teen: dancing pokemon funk and talking about systemic opression of religious institutions and dogmas with my fellow homie guy Jesus/Yeshua.

[asfateentertwines]

The Surprise

Okay so trans pregnancy Spider won my poll - thank you to the one person who told me who should carry lmfao - but it was a close tie. Consider this canon to the little universe but I think I'll try to write the incubator baby headcanons too cause it was really frickin close lmao

TW: Trans pregnancy, mentions of sex, medical stuff

So Ningni was not planned to say the least

Penetrative sex for Spider and Rotxo is...a process to say the least

Rotxo is double Spider's size and lets just say biology is proportionate. Hence, the build up is nothing to rush through and with three kids, it's a luxury they don't get often

Plus, with their differing biology, they never really paid mind to reproduction between them

Sure it was theoretically possible but they didn't linger on it all so much

Rotxo may have thought about a baby of their own biology but it was too much a health risk and he was never sure how Spider would do. He didn't ask, wouldn't, but...maybe he dreamed sometimes

That said...maybe protection wasn't always at the forefront of their minds

Spider finds out he's pregnant after Kiri starts getting an odd sense around him, she eventually visits the ancestors for advice and is informed their brother needs to see a Tsahik immediately

They bring Spider to Tsireya first, not wanting to alert anyone with how precarious the situation might be, and she is the one who affirms Kiri's information

It scares the shit out of him

Tsireya and Kiri keep the information quiet but they won't for long - namely for his own health

Abortion isn't really a thing in Na'vi culture - mating is for life, something that means even unplanned pregnancy or teenage mishaps are between a mated pair. Medical intervention occurs but an unwanted pregnancy is nearly unheard of

Children are a blessing from Ewya - while unplanned or untimely pregnancies may happen, it's not often and it's not like it is on earth. One doesn't have to leave everything behind to be a parent.

Still - come hell or high water, no one will take the choice from Spider

Tsireya takes Anea and the boys that night, Spider pulling Rotxo into the water for a late night ride to tell him

Honestly, Rotxo didn't predict shit, homie got blindsided

Spider cries, a mixture of terrified, hopeful, and sick all coiling in his throat, and tells Rotxo that they might have messed up

He tells him of Kiri's odd feelings, how a woman Kiri didn't know told her that he was blessed, that the next generation is growing, and how Tsireya confirmed he was with child.

Rotxo is thrilled but guiltily so, terrified for what it could mean for Spider and for their family.

It's a long talk about whether or not they have a choice here - Spider hasn't even told Norm or been formally checked out - but they opt that, if it can be done safely, Spider will carry the pregnancy to term

It's not an easy decision - Spider wants the baby, at least, he thinks he does, but carrying the child to term could be a painful experience, dangerous to his body but also his mind. Growing up with intersex being the standard meant that pregnancy wasn't a female thing, but he's human, and he knows the difference

the dysphoria of the coming months will be harsh and he knows it'll bother the limited medical transitions he's been able to make

With Norms help, he's more androgynous than anything by human standards and he's been able to become comfortable in himself - pregnancy will send it reeling back

Then, there's the side of how painful and dangerous a pregnancy might become

He knows how different his body is and he knows that this won't be easy

But...Ewya blessed him

It's what he's wanted his whole life and he won't give it up now

Rotxo will be at his side and so he decides to do it

His pregnancy is the scientific question of the ages that Norm thought he discovered each time one of the Sully kids walked in his lab, but an organic Na'vi and human child is more than a little unexpected

The baby is studied closely, the growth an alarming thing when na'vi size is taken into consideration. Afterall, a newborn Neteyam was about the same size as a one year old Spider

Unfortunately for Spider, this means a good six months of bed rest

Fortunately for him, he has three very excited children

Anea tries to find out everything she can about his pregnancy. Given he has to spend it's duration in the hut, she spends most of her time with him where they can both breathe and she can help

She becomes his little helper - gathering supplies so they can prepare things for the baby, getting him food, books, and entertainment, and helping him get around as the pregnancy continues and movement gets difficult

Wialik patrols the hut, much to Rotxo's amusement, and tries to protect his uncle and sisters. From what, he couldn't say, but Rotxo finds it insanely amusing

Wialik also ends up collecting pieces to make beads, working with surprising patience to start their newest additions songcord with his family. He enlists Astayì, Kiri's oldest, and makes little figures like a child born in the Ash clans would receive. He claims it's to help his knife skills but they all know better

Vipeì writes stories and lullabies for the baby

He's little, only about 6, so Tsireya and Neteyam help him with learning songs and teach him stories to tell

He works with Rotxo too to make clothes, both for Spider and the baby

This being the first baby they had real time to prepare for, Rotxo goes a bit overboard in getting things together

He and Vipeì make Spider clothes to help conceal his chest and make new shawls that knit over his shoulders

They also make a frankly obscene amount of baby clothes and blankets, anything that a human-Na'vi child may need - a bed for the marui and one for the hut, clothes for any sort of temperature intolerance, and toys galore

By 6 months in, Spider is bedbound entirely. He's sick, drained, and craving things he can't even eat. His body is beyond heavy and he relies a lot on his family to help him - it's a lot of time spent with his brothers teasing, Tuk's mischief, Kiri's support, and even Neytiri and Jakes care.

Norm monitors him constantly in the last few months before it's decided that intervention is needed - he'll be in serious danger if they let him continue.

Ningni is born 8 months into Spiders pregnancy, something that was a risky decision on all sides. Quite simply, she was too big for him to carry much longer and her needs were difficult to predict when her species wasn't even something they could guarantee

She's a pale blue, appearing a few shades lighter than Rotxo (something her brothers claim comes from them) with tiny blonde curls. Her hair is starkly human, something Spider fears and Rotxo loves. She combines them in the face in a way they're both proud of, but her eyes are big and brown and neither of their own. Paz had to leave her mark somehow

Ningni is tiny for a Na'vi but frankly appallingly large for human standards

Spider is on bedrest for several months and then on limited action after, but Ningni is thankfully born able to breathe both human and Pandoran air

She's clearly blessed and accepted easier than her family thought she'd be (though most of the clan hopes she's the only of her kind)

Her lungs can breathe both her parents air, her body tolerates food of both cultures, she has the extra fingers of humans, the enhances sense of Na'vi, and the flexibility of humans. Her strength is a bit lesser than a true blooded Na'vi, but she's astonishingly well adapted

As she grows, she's sort of an oddball like her Auntie Kiri was

She's in tune with the world around her but rambunctious and mischievous like both her fathers

She's a bit of a jack of all trades - choosing to do everything and nothing all at once

She's the type of kid that need constant supervision and both Jake and Norm smugly say she is much alike Spider was as a child

Due to Spider being with her near constantly in her younger years, she's very close to him but Rotxo is - very proudly - her hero

[snazzyladreal]

Inspired by a homie, have the latest Kirby found family dynamic

Because it might be hard to read

Meta - she/her - trans bat girlboss who is way too into fighting

Bandee - they/he - anxious bby who loves apples

Red (Bandana) - he/it - trauma

Sailor-Z - she/they - drowned and dead but happy

Sailor Dee - she/her - love machines and blood

Dedede - he/him - the food loving protective himbo

Kirby - he/they/it - unofficial 5th child

Shadow Kirby - they/it - unofficial 6th child

I learned how to draw dedede for this

The homie is @eliastheownerof0axolotls 👍

[got-into-worm-by-mistake]

Insinuation 2.8 Live Reactions

(This is me, writing reactions as I read, because why the fuck not. They're not complete, mature thoughts taken after I sit back and evaluate what I've read. Consider them as such)

“Call off your dogs!” Brian shouted. The largest of the dogs, an ugly Rottweiler or a mutt with strong Rottweiler blood, seized my wrist in its jaws.  My knees almost buckled in response to the pain, which only worsened when it abruptly snapped its head to one side and wrenched my arm.  I fell, and in a heartbeat, the other two dogs – a German Shepherd and a hairless terrier with a missing ear and eye – were on me.

If all the fanfic is correct, the one missing an Eye is Angelica, IIRC? And one of the others is named Brutus.

While those two were at it, the Rottweiler still had my wrist in its teeth, and it began pulling, as though it wanted to drag me somewhere.  I grit my teeth at the pain and tried to think something I could do that would amount to more than curling up into a fetal position to protect my arms, legs and face.

I would not be handling this as well as Taylor. No matter how desperate I was for friends/belonging, or however much I wanted to join a villain team undercover, etc, I definitely, definitely would run at the first sight of Rachel and her dogs.

Fuck dogs. All my homies hate dogs. (And yet, dogs refuse to understand that don't fucking leave me alone)

The girl had blood running from both of her nostrils.  I recognized her from the picture I had seen on her wiki page.  Rachel Lindt.  Hellhound.  Bitch. “I fucking hate it,” Brian growled at the girl, putting emphasis on the swear, “When you make me do that.”

Okay, so that is not what is going on here, but I admit, the first thought I had when I read this is when a husband hits his wife and goes 'look what you made me do'.

Again, I get that's not what's happening here, but that is where my brain went.

She wasn’t attractive.  An unkind person might call her butch, and I wasn’t feeling particularly kindly towards her. 

Why is calling someone butch unkind, Taylor?

Also, like, why is that the first thing (the attractiveness or lackthereof) of a woman? Back when I thought I was a straight guy (i.e. before coming out as a trans woman) my first thought on looking at a guy was not whether or not they were attractive.

I mean, there's a reason why people think Taylor is closeted. And to be fair, she's 15 right now, and what, 18 at most by the end of the story? It's not unreasonable for people to come out to themselves even later than that.

Reminds me of a fic I read yesterday, where a time travelling Amy and Taylor from another timeline end up in Canon-verse (and the older Amy and Taylor are married) and Lisa says: "We can either keep talking about your future self and her wife. Or we can start talking about your own sexuality Miss 'This-Closet-is-Nice-and-Warm.'"

(The Fic in question, Boom, is very entertaining, very nuts, and very not updated in the last four years)

Most of her features looked like they would have been better fit on a guy rather than a girl.  She had a square face, thick eyebrows, and a nose that had been broken more than once – maybe broken again just a moment ago, given the blood trickling from her nostrils.  Even as far as her physical build went, she was solidly built without being fat.  The trunk of her body alone was bigger around than mine was with my arms down at my sides, just by virtue of having a thicker, broader torso and having more meat on her bones.  She was wearing boots, black jeans with tears all over them, and a green army jacket over a gray hooded sweatshirt.  Her auburn hair was cut shortish.

A hazard of first person narration, I suppose.

She didn’t reply.  Instead, she licked her upper lip clean of blood and smiled.  It was a mean, smug sneer of a smile.  Even though she was the one lying on the ground with a bloody nose, she somehow had it in her head that she’d beat me.  Or something.

Rachel's really not making a good first impression on Taylor, or the readers. She doesn't seem to feature as much as Lisa or even Brian and Alec, in the fics I've read, so I don't really have strong fanfic-induced opinions about them (also don't really about Brian or Alec, save that Alec does get all the funny sarcastic lines)

Then, like I had done so many times over the past few days and weeks, I searched for a reason to justify why I was backing down.  It was almost reflexive.  When the bullies got on my case, I always had to take a moment to collect myself and tell myself why I couldn’t or shouldn’t retaliate.

Yeah, instincts hard won are hard to break.

For a few moments, I felt adrift.  Around the same time that I realized I couldn’t find a reason to back off, I realized I had already wrenched free of Lisa and Alec’s support and crossed half of the room at a run.  I reached for my bugs and realized I’d been using my power without thinking about it.  They were already gathering at the stairs and by the windows.  All it took was a thought, and they started flowing into the room in greater numbers.  Cockroaches, earwigs, spiders and flies.  Not as many as I might have liked, I hadn’t been using my power for long enough to gather those from further around the neighborhood, but it was enough to count. Bitch saw me approaching and raised her fingers to her mouth, but I didn’t give her a chance to signal her animals.  I kicked for her face like I might kick a soccer ball, and she aborted the whistle to cover her head with her arms.  My foot bounced off of one of her arms and her entire body recoiled as she flinched.

AYYYY! Taylor!

<Insert the 'you know what that is? Growth' Gif>

Bitch and Brian started speaking at the same time, but Brian stopped when she started coughing.  As her coughing fit subsided, Bitch looked up at me and snarled, “If I ordered them to kill you, Brutus would have torn out your throat before you could scream.  I gave them the hurt command.”

That doesn't help, Rachel. You get that, right?

(She does not, I know, get that)

Sensory deprivation.  When those two words came to my mind, I felt myself relax some.  Brian’s power mucked with your senses… Sight, hearing, touch.  I wasn’t limited to those three.  Reached out with my power, I identified where all of the bugs in the loft and the factory below were.  Using them to ground myself like a sailor might use the constellations, I figured out where the stairs should be and found the railing.  The hands hadn’t grabbed for me again, so I hurried down, down the stairs and out of the oppressive darkness.

Once again, powers are Bullshit, and Taylor's especially so. :p

“I became a-” I almost said superhero, “cape to get away from that shit, from assholes like Bitch.”  There was also the fact that Tattletale spooked me, but I couldn’t say that out loud.

To be fair, Rachel isn't actually like the Trio, but Taylor doesn't know that yet.

“Fine,” I sighed, “But just so you know, I’m only coming back because she doesn’t want me to.  I quit, she wins, and I’m not fucking having that.”

More growth from Taylor. Here, she can fight, and here, with people she isn't so used to not fighting. Plus, they're villains and also Capes, so she probably doesn't feel as many issues are there stopping her from just fighting back with her powers.