#since we were all queer in some way

[neptunerunaway]

Shit my color/winter guard team has said with no context

Pop that penguin pussy

I'm guessing shitterbolgna is the lie

I claim listening to Duck Duck Goose by CupcakKe as a coping mechanism

Opening Minecraft as a kid is a gateway drug to pronouns

I make sex jokes because to me sex is a joke

He's a whorebo?

God gives his most homophobic soldiers his gayest tendencies

What I just witness was a declaration of war and boy howdy am I ready to be a war criminal

[our coach's name] collects queer kids like Pokemon cards

You almost pulled my tits out

Is lube like a facial cream?

Keep your knees together like classy ladies, not donkeys

I SUCK HORSE COCK AT THIS!!!

A drink shouldn't be fuzzy

THIS WILL FUCK ME TILL I BLEED!!!

You act like the cars are gonna clap your cheeks

If you don't like it, shit on it

I'm going to Miley Cyrus all over your healthy relationship

Flappys morning wood ain't the wood I'm trying to ride

Voice kink, activated

I'm gonna rizz myself off a cliff

What is BDSM?

Don't take no lives don't add no lives

Dick riding is not a form of transportation

I miss these bitches everyday. They made high school so much fun.

[sukibenders]

Not some CaitVi stans playing victim on Twitter, wondering why no one vibes with them anymore, even though they went on a spree of harassing black Arcane fans, calling them, Ekko's VA, and black Arcane characters racial slurs while pretending they [Reed and black fans] were homophobic for not liking how Cait was a cop and gassed Zaun, even going as far as to dox some fans for even daring to ship Vi with someone else (who is black). But, suddenly they feel unsafe in the fandom? Sure, Jan.

[anghraine]

My best friend and I moved in together with his closest friend from his MA program, and while I had met her before (the friend; my bff is a man), we hadn't spent much time together because I've never lived away from the West Coast (and only two years out of the PNW) and she's never lived outside of North Carolina and only briefly visited the PNW once, when she went to Portland last year.

It's been a delight to show her around the PNW and realize we need to explain things that are just sort of omnipresent in our lives. The bff and I were casually griping with each other about having to run an errand to Trader Joe's at an inconvenient hour, and were telling her, "it's okay, you can stay in the car and avoid the people if you want" and she was like "NO I MUST SEE IT, I'VE ONLY HEARD OF THEM" and nearly ascended to another plane when we showed her around the store.

The bff and I grew up in the same town in NW Washington (him for his first 18 years, me from 9 to 19) and he lived in Bellingham and Seattle for years before he went to NC for grad school (I went to the SF Bay Area for mine, a very different experience). Both of them are hardcore coffee aficionados, but he struggled with the different Coffee Ways of the South, so for the true PNW experience they want to tour various indie coffeeshops next.

Also, she adores Kaidan in Mass Effect and we were like, oh, is your passport up to date? We could take a trip sometime and show you your boyfriend's beloved English Bay. It's very beautiful :)

her: O_O

me: Actually, it's worth going to Vancouver BC for its own sake as well, it's truly spectacular. We used to go all the time as kids.

bff: And Victoria!

her: O_O

[girls-and-honey]

.

[mossy-covered-bones]

I openly use it/its alongside they/he in a queer org i help run irl. Since i figure if im open abt that other people will be less nervous abt asking people to use it/its or neopronouns and shit like that. And i wasnt really expecting people to use it for me, since lotsa people arent comfortable w that and i had other options. And let me tell ya how cool it is to see a newer member show up and just go ‘oh im like you, i use he/it!” And see one of my fellow exec, in a message where she had exactly one pronoun referring to me, use it. Its so fucking nice, let me tell you, i love being Vocally Queer :]

[cowboyhorsegirl]

Steve is most likely to end up in a lavender marriage and Tony's most likely to end up in a “married for tax/immigration/inheritance fraud” reasons.

They meet as married men and pine for each other hardcore and are also trying not to read too much into how their interest seems reciprocated and oh nooooo both Immigration/the IRS and the the Church/in-laws/DADT era army dudes or whatever are snooping around at the same time at each of their marriages and they have to be so good at being married at the people they are married to oh noooooo and they other guy doesn’t know why they are suddenly being iced out and maybe they were just imagining things? maybe it’s for the best with all these eyes around on them…

[good-beans]

Went to a queer wedding today and damn... everything's gonna be okay huh

[ravencromwell]

The last time I said goodbye I didn’t know we meant it. It was probably a Friday. I’m sorry, but I can’t remember. I bet your shirt hummed into the breeze with the pine-spice music that was your cologne, like it always did. I bet that shirt was blue, a cerulean flag that I mistakenly pledged to, not knowing you weren’t my country . . . but I didn’t know it was a real goodbye, so I can’t be sure. Sunsets fade into water, and memory-kept faces slowly and surely begin to lose shape. They dry up as time bakes the moisture out of both. But I know that once we sat on your bank, uncomfortable on the rigid and restless creek rocks; we felt the February water running away from itself across our feet, saw the remaining light stand with icy edges after the fall of the sun as it grasped at colors that slowly turned their backs and walked away. And the day was no more.

--Goodbye by Willie Edward Taylor Carver Jr. from Gay Poems For Red States

[nerdygaymormon]

The LGBTQ community has seen controversy regarding acceptance of different groups (bisexual and transgender individuals have sometimes been marginalized by the larger community), but the term LGBT has been a positive symbol of inclusion and reflects the embrace of different identities and that we’re stronger together and need each other. While there are differences, we all face many of the same challenges from broader society.

In the 1960′s, in wider society the meaning of the word gay transitioned from ‘happy’ or ‘carefree’ to predominantly mean ‘homosexual’ as they adopted the word as was used by homosexual men, except that society also used it as an umbrella term that meant anyone who wasn’t cisgender or heterosexual. The wider queer community embraced the word ‘gay’ as a mark of pride.

The modern fight for queer rights is considered to have begun with The Stonewall Riots in 1969 and was called the Gay Liberation Movement and the Gay Rights Movement.

The acronym GLB surfaced around this time to also include Lesbian and Bisexual people who felt “gay” wasn’t inclusive of their identities. 

Early in the gay rights movement, gay men were largely the ones running the show and there was a focus on men’s issues. Lesbians were unhappy that gay men dominated the leadership and ignored their needs and the feminist fight. As a result, lesbians tended to focus their attention on the Women’s Rights Movement which was happening at the same time. This dominance by gay men was seen as yet one more example of patriarchy and sexism. 

In the 1970′s, sexism and homophobia existed in more virulent forms and those biases against lesbians also made it hard for them to find their voices within women’s liberation movements. Betty Friedan, the founder of the National Organization for Women (NOW), commented that lesbians were a “lavender menace” that threatened the political efficacy of the organization and of feminism and many women felt including lesbians was a detriment.

In the 80s and 90s, a huge portion of gay men were suffering from AIDS while the lesbian community was largely unaffected. Lesbians helped gay men with medical care and were a massive part of the activism surrounding the gay community and AIDS. This willingness to support gay men in their time of need sparked a closer, more supportive relationship between both groups, and the gay community became more receptive to feminist ideals and goals. 

Approaching the 1990′s it was clear that GLB referred to sexual identity and wasn’t inclusive of gender identity and T should be added, especially since trans activist have long been at the forefront of the community’s fight for rights and acceptance, from Stonewall onward. Some argued that T should not be added, but many gay, lesbian and bisexual people pointed out that they also transgress established gender norms and therefore the GLB acronym should include gender identities and they pushed to include T in the acronym. 

GLBT became LGBT as a way to honor the tremendous work the lesbian community did during the AIDS crisis. 

Towards the end of the 1990s and into the 2000s, movements took place to add additional letters to the acronym to recognize Intersex, Asexual, Aromantic, Agender, and others. As the acronym grew to LGBTIQ, LGBTQIA, LGBTQIAA, many complained this was becoming unwieldy and started using a ‘+’ to show LGBT aren’t the only identities in the community and this became more common, whether as LGBT+ or LGBTQ+. 

In the 2010′s, the process of reclaiming the word “queer” that began in the 1980′s was largely accomplished. In the 2020′s the LGBTQ+ acronym is used less often as Queer is becoming the more common term to represent the community. 

[queenie-ofthe-void]

No one's really surprised to see famous rockstar Eddie Munson show up to the 2024 Paris Olympics. His close friendship with three-time medalist gymnast Chrissy Cunningham had the press working over time when the pair were first spotted six years ago leaving a fundraising event.

However, no one can seem to figure out why- in Chrissy's down time- the metal head is frequently spotted at the men's swimming events. Everyone knows Munson's queer, but he's not the type to show up just to oggle some poor, unsuspecting athletes (he is, but the press don't need to know he's a bit of a freak).

Prime time news coverage chock it up to Eddie supporting the best of the USA's Olympians, including Steve Harrington, who just broke the world record for men's fastest 100m freestyle. They'd pointed out it wasn't odd he was there, since he also made appearances at other events with up and coming stars, such as Lucas Sinclair for men's basketball and Nancy Wheeler for women's skeet shooting. When asked about it, he'd laughed it off, saying swimming was Chrissy's favorite sport to watch and he promised he'd fill her in on what she missed.

That didn't stop fans online from obsessing over small details, including Eddie's repeat appearances at the swimming events, where he only showed once for anything else that wasn't Chrissy's competitions. There was no way he could keep Chrissy filled in on what she missed when he only showed up to meets Harrington competed in, not all men's swimming events.

Fan edits of Eddie Munson clapping a little too hard, screaming a little too loud, and overall just a little bit more excited for Harrington's podium than Chrissy's gold medal spread across the internet like wildfire. One blurry shot caught Harrington briefly look in his direction when he won his silver, but it was hard to be certain.

Tucked into bed after another long day of interviews, Eddie pulls up a few of the best fan edits Jeff and Gareth sent him earlier. It's become a bit of a habit over the past few weeks to watch his favorite ones before he goes to sleep. He feels the bed dip next to him, a warm hand slide over his chest and a leg push between his own.

"Aww babe," Steve coos, "did we get new ones today?"

Eddie leans down, dropping little kisses on his husband's forehead. "Apparently Jeff says these ones are even more convincing than last week's."

Steve hums a content little sigh before nuzzling into the crook of Eddie's neck. They've been riskier about public appearances this time around compared to Tokyo, but they've agreed to publicly come out after this year's games are over. So, why not have a little fun with it?

They release a fan edit of their own later that year posted on the official Corroded Coffin profile. It's a reaction video of them watching all of their favorite tiktoks and fanart and Tumblr posts. They laugh, point out inaccuracies, answer fan questions, and post a few pictures of their own, including the two of them standing under an arch of flowers exchanging rings.

[washeduphazbin]

Lady Hell

(Lucifer x Fem!Reader x Lilith) NSFW THEMES AHEAD

Hi! Omg, I just saw/read the lucixreaderxlili story and wondered if you could write a story about Charlie and some others catching them "in the act" and just Charlie dying. Of course, Lucifer would accidentally permanently scar his daughter (and Alastor the ace) by turning around to go comfort his child, forgetting the situation for a "brief" (get it lol 😆) moment, and then trying to hide the three of them. Could you do the reactions of the others, either by hearing about it or walking in on it?

@legendarylearner18 I hope you enjoy it. I hope this is what you were looking for. I wanted to try to keep it somewhat canon, lol. So unfortunately we only get a little bit of Lilith.

For being cast to an eternity in hell, as a Sinner, you couldn't exactly complain about your current situation. You were found by Lilith, The Queen of Succubi and the subsequent Queen of Hell. While the Sinners around you looked like different creatures, you looked more human than a demon. Most likely due to the way you died, it wasn’t traumatic or horrific, so you kept most of your human features. The only difference was a pair of horns growing out of your head, and a devil-like tail.

Lilith was enthralled by your pure innocence; she picked you up from the street (literally) and brought you home. She allowed you into her palace and introduced you to her husband, her hands trailing and resting tenderly on your back. "What's your name, darling?" She hummed softly, brushing your hair from your face; you flushed, staring at the man before you, feeling the pressure of the much taller woman pressed against you. Your throat felt dry as you introduced yourself with a little bow; the man hummed,

"Is this a new Sinner, Lili?"

"Indeed. Lucifer, and I'd like to keep her." Your face burned hot as you whipped your head to the woman,

"Excuse me-" You sputtered,

"Oh, sorry. Are you queer?" She hummed, her nails brushing against your cheek, and you could only sputter out a yes of confirmation. She cooed sweetly, pressing your face directly into her tits; you squeaked, "Luci isn't she just the cutest Sinner you've just ever seen!"

"I think you're suffocating her," Lucifer mused, removing his hat and resting it against one of the many hat hooks. "Let me get a good look at her," Lilith released you, gently nudging you towards who you could only assume to be the King of Hell. You made a soft sound as he grabbed your waist; the way he analyzed you made you squirm nervously. "How would you like to stay with us? You have a choice of course.”

"Like here?"

Lilith laughed, grabbing your face and tilting your head to look her in the eyes; Lucifer took your hands and brushed his thumbs across your knuckles. "Yes, like here," she mused. You can say no. We aren't forcing you into a relationship if it makes you uncomfortable."

"You're new to Hell. We can keep you safe, but as soon as you want to leave, we won't stop you." Lucifer reassured, "But we'd like the chance to romance you if you'd let us."

You let out a little laugh, "Romance me?" Lilith giggled behind you as you watched the King Of Hell turn red and fluster. Sputtering out what exactly he meant trying to salvage the situation.

"Oh, you're going to be fun."

"And dangerous," Lucifer added, trying to recover from his embarrassment.

Your life since then has been pretty good. You fell hard and fast for Lilith and Lucifer and quickly became a part of their couple. They never made you feel less than for joining their marriage; you were equally as important as them in the relationship, and most importantly you were happy. When Lilith and Lucifer had Charlie, you were there beside them; helping Lilith through every moment especially when Lucifer was busy. Charolette, the little bundle of joy, only improved all three of your lives. You swore to yourself you would never force Charlie to see you as another parent if she didn't want to, but much to your surprise she did. You were a constant in her life, acting like a third parent to the girl most or the time, one who was constantly there and she loved every bit of you.

--

Charlie hummed, tapping her fingers together, "So that's why asking my other mom to convince my dad is probably our best shot at getting a meeting with Heaven!" Vaggie and Angel Dust glanced at one another,

"Hold on, you're telling me that the king of hell is getting double the pussy, and we're out here struggling ta get any?"

"You don't even like pussy Angel," Husk grunted,

"Not true. I like a certain pussy." He batted his eyelashes at Husk, who grunted, rolling his eyes while dramatically taking a swig from his whiskey bottle.

“I’m a feline or cat. Call me a pussy again, and I’ll shove this bottle up your ass.”

“Kinky I like it daddy.”

Husk promptly flipped him off.

"Not the point!" Charlie huffed cheeks, flushing. She didn’t even like thinking about her parents like that. "I've been scared enough with them to last me a lifetime!"

"Ohhoho?" Angel Dust leaned forward on his knees, "Sounds like you have stories."

"What? Stories? No way, not me." Charlie shook her head rather dramatically, yelping as Niffty ran up her leg, grabbing the collar of her shirt,

"You have stories! Dirty, nasty stories! I can smell them on you! TELL US!"

"You all realize you're asking her to talk about her parents having sex right." Vaggie grunted, "That's fucking weird."

"Don't care what's the most embarrassing thing you've ever walked in on!" Angel shouted, slamming his hands on the table, "I need to know!” Charlie chewed on her bottom lip, "You always say sharing is caring, Princess. Now that it's your turn. Are you gonna share your trauma? I've shared mine." He definitely hadn't but Charlie wondered if this was his first step into Angel actually caring about the group redemption activities.

"I...suppose you're right." She cringed outwardly as Angel grinned delightedly and turned to look at Husk. He rolled his eyes at Angel,

"I'll make you drinks; I have a feeling we'll be here for a while."

"After this story we're talking to your mom are you sure you wanna tell them then go see her directly? You don't have too." Vaggie placed her hands on Charlie's shoulders giving them a squeeze,

"It's okay Vaggie, I can do this! For the Hotel!"

—

Lilith hummed quietly, running a brush tenderly through your hair and detangling the locks. You stared at her gentle movements in the mirror, feeling her slender fingers pet your scalp. "You're staring, my beautiful lamb," You felt your cheeks burn as you looked down into your lap. You heard her soft laugh, pressing herself against your back, feeling her chest push against you.

Jesus, you were better than no man.

"Don't get all shy on me." Her fingers lifted your chin so you could turn to look at her. "There's my pretty girl." She purred, and you could melt. She leaned forward to press a tender kiss to your lips. Her other hand cupped the back of your neck possessively. "Do you wanna know something?" She murmured against your lips; she pulled away to look into your eyes as you nodded. "You're my personal Eden." She trailed the back of her hand down your cheek before pressing her thumb against your bottom lip, pulling it down. "I want to devour you; you'll let me, won't you?"

You let out a loud whine, nodding furiously at her, "Anything for you Lili." She raised a perfectly styled brow, "Mistress."

"That's my girl." She pet the top of your head, "I'm sad to mess up your hair after I just worked so hard on it. But, I think it's worth it, don't you?" Lilith's lashes fluttered, and you nodded like the lovesick puppy you were for her. The dynamic you had with the Morningstar's would be peculiar to anyone outside the bedroom; Lilith enjoyed taking the dominant role, Lucifer was a switch, and while you preferred to be more submissive, sometimes it was fun to be more dominant when messing with the devil himself. You shivered in delight at the thought of taking both of them as Lilith's mouth placed kisses against your neck. "Oh, little lamb, did you think you could hide your desire from the queen of succubi herself? You want me to gather Luci for us?"

"Would you be mad if I say yes?" You spoke softly, and she smiled sweetly, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

"Not at all, my sweet thing. Why don't you get yourself ready for our return," She vanished, seeping elegantly into her shadow. You grinned, jumping on the abnormally sizeable plush bed you shared with the couple. Usually, Lucifer enjoyed undressing you, but what Lilith said goes, so you unbuttoned your shirt and slid off your skirt, leaving you just in your underthings. "Your gift is in here, Lucifer," you heard Lilith on the otherside of the door. The man let out a small laugh.

"Whenever you get me a gift, it always puts me on edge." He said lightheartedly, opening the bedroom door. His gaze landed on you immediately, and his cheeks burned scarlet.

"Do you like your gift?" She purred, leaning down to peck his cheek in a sultry manner.

"I mean, who wouldn't? Hi, Ducking!" He stammered, waving goofily. You giggled, waving back cheekily,

"Hi Luci, Mistress." You bowed your head, sprawling out on the bed seductively, your eyes trained on the growing tent in the king of hell's pants. "What role would you like me to take?" Your eyes trailed over to Lilith, who was slowly sliding down her dress.

She hummed thoughtfully, "What do you feel? Also, do you remember the safe word?" You nodded,

"Dominate with you and dominate with Lucifer. Is that alright?"

"M-more than," Lucifer stammered as Lilith reached around to place her hands on his shoulders, nipping at his neck. He let out a shaky groan at the sensation and you hopped off the bed kneeling before the King and Queen of Hell.

“Good girl.~” Lilith praised continuing to nip and suck on Lucifer’s neck her fingers moving to unbutton his top. Meanwhile he whimpered looking down at you as you undid his belt with ease fluttering your lashes innocently. You looked as beautiful as the day you arrived in Hell and he still couldn’t fathom what you’d done to end up in a place like this.

“Your Majesty may I?” You motioned to his hard cock straining against the confines of his briefs. He ran his fingers through your hair and you leaned into the touch,

“You may.” He watched you lick your lips hungrily as you pulled down his underwear, cock springing free bouncing against his stomach. He let out a shaky breath, as your hands groped his aching dick, “Ducking come on.” He whined as you slowly pumped him with a sadistic grin adorning your lips. He felt Lilith laugh against his neck and he huffed, she clicked her tongue grabbing his chin and tilting it up so she could press a kiss to his lips, it was heated as their tongues clashed in a fiery dance. He groaned into it giving Lilith control as he felt your hot mouth wrap around his cock. You bobbed your head skillfully taking him fully, your nose brushed against his pubic hair. You were always proud you could fit him in your mouth entirely, his hands dug into your hair pulling you somehow closer. You gagged but never thought about pulling away, you hollowed your cheeks making sure to use your tongue to trace the prominent veins underneath his shaft. His hips bucked into your mouth, he fucked your mouth with fervor groaning and whining the entire time. “That’s it, so close baby gonna cum-“

You pulled off with a significant pop, drool and pre-cum glistening on your lips and dripping from your chin. He made a heartbroken face in your direction as you licked your lips seductively, “oh my good girl, come to mommy.” Lilith purred as you rose to your feet, her hands wrapped around your waist as she pulled you onto the bed. Her dress had long since been discarded and her perfect breasts hung freely over you. “I’m gonna ride your face like the throne I deserve and Lucifer’s going to fuck that tight little pussy of yours.” It wasn’t a question but a command, “I’m sure you’re wet enough. I know how much you love sucking my husband’s cock.” You could only nod eagerly,

“Can I touch you?”

“You may.”

Your hands immediately shot forward, cupping her breasts between your fingers. She let out a sigh, beautiful and airy as your fingers brushed over her nipples. "That's a good girl," She purred as you began to massage her chest eagerly. Your tail swished wrapping around her waist urging her forward towards your mouth, "How impatient. Lucifer darling?"

"Y-yeah!" He sputtered removing his hand from his cock as Lilith turned to look at him. His shirt was hanging off his shoulders, unbuttoned and his pants were still down around his ankles. Face flushed red standing awkwardly, watching his two loves make out. She tutted and he flushed harder, "Sorry..."

"You're luckily out little lamb here has me in a good mood." She groaned a little as you leaned up as far as you could to nip at her breast. "Oh darling...Lucifer get over here and fuck her."

"Yes ma'am!" Lucifer grinned wiggling his leg and kicking his pants into the corner of the room...well tried to he ended up falling directly onto his face. Lilith sighed rubbing the bridge of her nose while you burst into a fit of giggles. You tried to cover you mouth with your hands as you tilted your head backwards, he raised his head with a nervous smile. "My bad," His voice cracked a little as he fumbled his way over to the both of you.

"You're such a goofball," Lilith sighed now trying to hide her smile from her husband. "You still alright to continue?" She was looking at Lucifer but you knew the question was for the both of you. Embarrassed Lucifer nodded as you responded with a resounding

"Yes!"

"Good then let us continue." She mused clapping her hands together as the lights in the room dimmed and the candles flickered to life. She leaned forward connecting your lips together you moaned quietly against her, her hand coming up under your bra to squeeze your chest gently. "Ready?"

You felt Lucifer's nails trail your thighs and his lips pressing gentle kisses to the skin there. You shivered at the touch and felt him smile against your flesh, "Yes Mistress." You saw her smile, beautiful like the sky back on Earth. She moved with the grace of a queen as she moved to sit on your face, squeezing her thighs against your head. Lilith let out a loud intake of breath as your tongue prodded at her entrance. Your hands moved to dig your nails into her thighs as you ate her out like a woman starved. Meanwhile you felt Lucifer bite at your inner thighs causing you to moan against Lilith, she let out an elegant groan as her hips began to roll into against your mouth. You heard the devil snap his fingers as your bottom half got much breezier, he had snapped your underwear away, thank god they weren't your favorite pair.

He was making sure to mark you up before licking a stripe up your pussy his snake like tongue moving circles on your clit. Your thighs unconsciously clamped around your head and you felt him tut against you yanking your thighs away from his skull. You wined as Lilith ground down on her, filling your mouth with her wetness, nose brushing against her clit. You felt the dynamic switch as Lucifer leaned back thumb massaging your bud and fingers teasing your entrance mercilessly. You tried to get out a mumble out a please, but Lilith's body made your plea sound like nothing but a mumble, "You trying to beg Duckling? It's a shame you can't."

"Aw Luci don't be mean to the poor girl, she's working hard to please me-" She was cut off with a moan eyes fluttering, "I'm close. Don't be mean to her when she's doing such a good job. Unless she's somehow not wet enough but I doubt that."

"Oh she's dripping." Lucifer mused, "But if you allow it I'll fuck her immediately. After all, it's her turn to be throughly bred." You moaned hotly into her and her sweet sounds tangled with your own, her entire body pressed hard into you as she climaxed into your mouth. Her chest heaved as she slid off you, your mouth wet with her juices, as your tongue came to swipe at your lips.

"Lili!~" You moaned your hand reaching out towards her, she hushed you softly intertwining her hand within your own, she looked over at Lucifer, "Please."

She hummed turning to face Lucifer giving a nod, his entire face lit up like the stars, he leaned foward to kiss you tenderly. "I love you,"

"I love you too," You purred cupping his cheeks sweetly. "Don't make me beg,"

"I won't you've been plenty good." He pressed a kiss to your nose causing you to giggle. He gave himself a few pumps before sliding into you with relatively ease. Your eyes rolled back in your head fluttered with a sharp intake of breath. "Fuck...baby-" He moaned, "You're alway so tight around me." You didn't get a chance to respond before Lilith placed her lips onto yours and her hands under your bra; palming at your chest. Lucifer sucked in a needy breath at the sight and your hips began to buck up against him continuing to flutter around him. He took your hint and began to pump in and out of you, you broke away from Lilith spit still connecting the two of you as you let out a loud moan. "That's it...my good girl."

He always felt so big inside you, you swore he'd break you in half, as your toes curled once he hit the spongey spot inside of you. "More." You demanded as Lilith giggled, "Fill me up."

"As you wish, you wanna make me another Daddy-"

"Dad?"

"FUCK ME!" Lucifer yelped his wings suddenly sprouting out of his back in a panic, pulling out of you in a hurry. Your eyes widened into saucers clamping down on him in surprise which caused him to cum prematurely over your stomach. Lilith cursed under her breath, frantically looking around for a blanket.

"Lucifer!" He was snapped back to life by the sound of Lilith's voice his wings quickly shifted covering the both of you.

"Oh God!" Charlie shrieked once she fully processed what was going on, she covered her eyes. The teenager's cheeks were flushed, "What the fuck!"

"We're so sorry!" Lucifer sputtered, moving to get up to explain himself.

"DAD DON'T GET UP!"

"Lucifer!" Lilith hissed,

"SORRY!"

"I'm leaving!" Charlie squeaked out, "Sorry! Sorry! Oh god my eyes!" The door slammed shut with a bang as Lucifer's wings disappeared and buried his face in his hands.

—

It wasn't a surprise that she first came to you with her hotel idea to rehabilitate sinners instead of her father. You shuffled uncomfortably as she held out her drawing cards; she was pointing eagerly to her plans. By her side was her girlfriend Vaggie, the girlfriend Lucifer didn't know about.

She had you wrapped around her finger, and she knew it.

"Charlie, you know I love you and admire your ambition; I always have, but..." You trailed off as she frowned, lowering her papers. Your heart ached, "Shouldn't you be talking to your father about this- and don't say I'm your mother, you know what I mean." You held your finger up to stop her, “it's just. I don’t know how I can help you sweetheart.”

“Well I was…ya know thinking. That you could maybe possibly I don’t know, convince dad it’s a good plan. And well I don't know get me a meeting with Heaven.”

You winced, “Charlie…” she pouted giving you her saddest puppy dog face, “I only have so much power when he comes to controlling your father.”

“But we’re making SUCH good progress. Angel Dust is on the road to redemption as we speak!” She exclaimed, “right Vaggie?”

“Right.” She smiled reassuringly up at her girlfriend before turning to you, “just…try please. If it doesn’t work Charlie will call him and figure something else out. We aren’t asking for him to help,” Charlie opened her mouth to protest, “without seeing it himself first.” She corrected and her girlfriend nodded in approval.

“You two I swear.” You stood on your toes grabbing Charlie’s red cheeks kissing both as she flushed. “If your father kills me it’s your fault,”

“He’d never!” Charlie looked aghast, “he loves you like he loved Mom!”

“I know, Hon. Don’t worry, figure of speech.”

“Oh,” she frowned. “Well, try not to talk like that. Think positive!” Charlie grabbed your hands and opened her mouth,

"I love you, but please don't sing right now." You kissed her knuckles softly, "I need all my brainpower to talk to your dad."

"Understood!" She squealed, "I love you!"

"I love you too. Now shoo, your dad will call you later." She wrapped you in another hug, and Vaggie nodded her head in your direction with a little smile. Charlie pulled away and interlocked her hand with her girlfriend before scampering off. You rubbed your face tiredly; Lucifer and your relationship had been strained since Lilith left. You still loved one another dearly, but her leaving had taken a toll on both of you. While he retreated to isolate himself in his room, you coped in other ways, namely, running his kingdom for him to the best of your ability. The only things you didn't do were meetings and phone calls with the Seraphim or the Angels.

So, things between the both of you have been a little more than awkward and tense. Not knowing how Charlie would react, you both decided it was better to try to deal with your emotions privately instead of telling her outright that you were having relationship issues. You still slept in the same bed, but most of the time, it felt like he was barely there...reminding you that you were just a lover and not a wife.

Cursing inwardly at the thought, you loved Lilith; you missed her smile, her voice, and her kindness. But it was hard not to feel bitter at times; she left you and Lucifer...alone...for going on seven years.

It had not only devastated him, but Charlie, and you as well. Despite your wishes those bitter thoughts, were getting more and more common.

You let out a shaky sigh before you smoothed out any wrinkles in your dress as you approached his workshop. You knocked softly on the door. You heard frantic rustling and fumbling of what you could only assume was another rubber duck project before the door was hurriedly thrown open. His eyes squinted like he was trying to gather what you were doing here before he let out a panicked, nervous laugh.

"Duckling!" you could hear the nervous tremor in his voice, "What-ugh- what are you doing here?"

"I live here? We sleep in the same bed." You deadpanned,

"No, I mean! Er, my workshop,"

"Charlie stopped by-"

"She did?!" The panic in his voice was even more evident now that you mentioned the possibility that his daughter was here you watched as he ran his fingers through his hair. "Is she still here? You got her to leave right? Did she ask about me? I'm not prepared and-"

"Luci," Your tone softened, cupping his cheeks and running his thumb across the apples of them, "She's not here. She had a message she wanted me to relay to you."

"She...asked you and not me?" He murmured, and you chewed the inside of his cheek,

"It wasn't a long visit; you were very busy."

"Yes...I was busy."

You both stared at one another, tension seeping into your bones. Your tail flicked restlessly, and Lucifer's claws drummed nervously on the wood of the doorframe. "Welp!" He clapped his hands together, "If that's all." He moved to spin around back into his duck-filled workshop,

"I didn't even tell you what she wanted..." You spoke quietly, reaching out to touch his shoulder but he flinched away before you could make contact again.

"Fuck, I didn't mean to flinch. It's just Lilith and...and I know we haven't been intimate- It's just-" He rambled,

"No, please don't apologize." Your smile was strained, and your hands clutched the top of your dress. "I understand completely, Your Majesty."

He said your name, pained, "Don't do this-"

You held up your hand, silencing him, "It's fine." You doubled down on the earlier statement before sighing, shoulders slumping, your entire body felt heavy. "I love you but I don't know if I can keep doing this..."

"Please stop." He reached forward to grab your shoulders, in a frantic way to prove he wasn't afraid to touch you.

"Lucifer, I'm tired." You looked up at him and already felt the stinging behind your eyes, "I miss her so much it hurts...I miss you. I'm so lonely I feel like I could die again."

"Don't say that." He said seriously, hands moving from shoulders to your cheeks, "Never say that. If you died, I couldn't bear it."

"The great Lucifer Morningstar would live, I'm sure. Although he'd have to rule his own kingdom again." Your lips twitched in a sad smile,

"I don't think I would." He chose to ignore the second part of the statement, "I know." You watched his throat bob, "I haven't been fair to you. I've shut you out, and I shouldn't have, and it breaks my heart that I made you doubt my love for you." His fingers brushed against your cheek, wiping away tears that began to roll.

"Lilith is your wife, and I can't imagine what you're going through-"

"Out of everyone, I think you're the only one who can relate to what I'm going through." He laughed airily, "I'm a mess. I'm depressed, and what kind of man am I? My wife left, our daughter hates me, and you can't stand to be in the same room as me."

"But that's all I've wanted!" You shouted, not unkindly, "I want to be with you, I'm meant to be your rock, your support how can I do that if you shut me out."

"I never meant to!" He exclaimed, "I just- I hate myself all the time-"

"Join the club!"

"Fuck. We're both messes, aren't we?"

"More than," You laughed, rubbing your eyes. "Look, Luci..." He blushed a bit at the nickname, and it made you smile. "Can you promise me we'll work on it, work on everything, together? No more shutting one another out."

"Promise." He stood on his tip toes and leaned forward, hesitating slightly, "I don't want to pressure-" You grabbed his lapels and pulled him close, pressing a hot kiss to his lips. He groaned a bit into it, his arms wrapping around your waist, pulling you close. "I missed this, I missed you," He mumbled against your lips. "I'll be better. To both of you-"

"Oh." You snapped your fingers, pulling away from him, and he made an 'eh' like sound. "Speaking of Charlie wants you to get her a meeting with Heaven."

"WHAT!"

[olderthannetfic]

I always see people reminiscing about the Good Ole Days and about how antis are a new thing but. . .is that really true? Or am I just being autistic and taking things too literally, and they just mean it's way more of a common debate now than it used to be before, and that the landscape of shipwank has changed?

Idk, it's like I constantly hear about fandom wank and shipwars and censorship from decades ago, and yes I know "shipping/doxxing/censorship has always existed" can co exist with "antis are new" but I think there's still a bit of a comprehension gap on my end.

am i just dumb? What am I missing here? FWIW - I do feel like the context of "anti" has definitely changed. Back in early 2010s tumblr (I cannot speak of other website/platforms) I remember that tagging something as #Anti Donkey Kong didn't mean you think DK is an evil abusive monster and that everyone who likes him/mains him is also an evil abusive monster and that Nintendo is pushing the evil abusive monster agenda. #Anti Donkey Kong would just be character bashing, wank, letting out your grievances about how ugly DK is, etc, but it was really just a tag used for your own personal opinions (and for DK fans to filter out). Whereas now #Anti Donkey Kong would mean please go die and delete all your accounts if you support DK.

So I definitely know that "anti" has a way more intense definition now than it used to - but for some reason I find it a bit hard to grasp just how new this whole anti thing even is in the firstplace. It honestly makes me sad that I've never seen a pre-anti internet, assuming there really was a time before antis.

--

Antis are new. Specifically, the "Conservative Protestantism in a gay hat" thing that that one tumblr post pointed out is new.

We had doxxing in the past. We had masses of shipwank. We also had "How dare you write that m/m ship. It's bad!"

The key is that the "Your m/m ship is bad" crowd used to openly be conservative Christian homophobes who objected to homosexuality itself. Nowadays, they're queer 20-somethings who like m/m ships but object to gay sex.

It's the anti-kink, anti-fantasy brigade coming from "our side" instead of the outside, essentially. It's respectability politics about "Sempai will love me if I just sanitize The Community and kick out the icky weirdos". It's personal disgust masquerading as morality where once it would have been masquerading as intellectual superiority.

It's a product of queerness being more public and tolerated overall. In the past, a lot of spaces devoted to m/m shipping had to be aggressively in favor of contentious fiction because the existence of anything m/m was itself contentious. There was plenty of "Well, my gay best friend said ___ is unrealistic, and my slash is good, unlike that of you plebes!" There was much less "Fujoshi means fetishizer".

Of course, I'm comparing the 90s internet to now or the mid 00s Livejournal fandom to Tumblr of this past decade. It really depends on whether Ye Olden Times was five years ago or twenty five.

The modern use of the term 'anti' did indeed grow out of the old habit of tagging your hate. As the default cultural mode shifted from "My NOTP is dumb" to "My NOTP is problematic", the usage changed. At some point, antis started getting offended by their self-applied term and pretending that the other side inflicted it on them. This is revisionism. Fiction-is-not-reality had some writeups with citations in the past.

The big shifts were happening around 2012-2016. The long slide into puritywankers being everywhere has only continued since then, but that's where the tipping point seems to have been. TikTok exacerbates this nonsense, and there are clearly plenty of people who are anti-queer and only weaponizing clueless queer youth.

The big shift is that liking m/m used to weed out most of the worst people, and now it attracts lots of them who will not fucking go away because they like the same ship, just the hand-holdy, no dicks can touch ever version.

They spend their time bleating about how AO3 should have been built for them and how anti-censorship activism doesn't matter... because they've grown up in a fandom world dominated by AO3, which shelters them from the reality that the "Ewww, all m/m sucks!" crowd is everywhere on other sites to this day.

That's probably why the shift is when it is. Certain aspects of mainstream queer acceptance were on the rise just as AO3 was getting big. But at the same time, the world is shit and everyone has anxiety they self-medicate through rage and security theater around sniffing out The Bad People.

[racheldrawsthis]

Even if Dead plate wasn’t queerbaiting, it was DEFINITELY shipbaiting. The dialogue option about whether Rody is jealous of Vince’s possible gf, the hair drying scene, the way he stops correcting Rody about not calling him Vince… u guys r tumblr girlies, you knew damn well what you were doing LMAO. There’s nothing wrong w that lol - it makes for a fun dynamic - but don’t claim that queerbaiting never came into it pffft

My co-developer and composer who worked on the game are both men, calling us "tumblr girlies" is a bit condescending and disrespectful.

To queerbait or shipbait, it means we were taking advantage of possible queer characters and relationships as a means to appeal to queer audiences while maintaining ambiguity about the characters' sexualities. We don't believe the game was baiting anyone since again not only the sexualities of the characters aren't ambiguous as it was fully stated they were written as queer the moment they were designed way before the game was even developed, we've expressed multiple times that while the game does have themes of queerness and cannibalism the main plot and intention behind the source game was always intended to heavily focus on exploring the horror that comes from toxic and unhealthy obsessions and mindsets and how far one is willing to go for them (Rody's self-sacrificial and desperate love for Manon, Vince's selfish obsession for perfection, Rody and taste, etc). The game is about a waiter seeking out and realizing what happened to his ex-girlfriend, that's always been the main plot, Dead Plate is a game in the thriller/horror genre and there was not a single mention of the game having any possible romance in it nor the queer identities and interactions of the characters were used to promote the game in any of the official game pages or promotional material to draw in more audiences, so hearing that you're watering the game down just as some kind of shallow bait is a bit disheartening.

Sometimes characters just happen to be queer, and not all media with queer characters are strictly about romance. Their relationship is still up for audience interpretation and people can take them as whatever they like if they want to enjoy them like that as long as they aren't hurting anyone but we never meant to intentionally bait anyone into trying out the game using their queerness, and that as queer writers ourselves we've expressed time and time again how we wished people to check out the game for the overall narrative and message it has rather than for people to only focus and view the game as shipping material since we believe the game offers a lot more than that.

[permanentlyfemale]

⚠️ Feminization, Misgendering, Forced detrans kink ahead! ⚠️

Today is a scary day for you. As a trans man, finding the right therapist is far more difficult than it is for most people, especially as you weren’t looking for just a new therapist today. You also need someone to write you a top surgery letter. Although you’ve only been on T for 2 months, barely enough to notice anything besides an increased libido and clit growth, your breasts are by far your biggest source of dysphoria. You often wear two binders when you’re going anywhere, and even then, a sizable bump is visible on your chest. You’re hoping they may become easier to bind with hormones, but you already know that you’ll need surgery regardless.

“Milo Brown?” A masculine voice calls your name from across the room. Glancing up, you see a very attractive man, much taller than you, looking to be in good shape under his professional attire, but not overly muscular. His dark shoulder-length wavy hair and stubble complement his gentle, masculine face and warm brown eyes.

Surprised by the man’s beauty, you stumble on your words as you rise from your seat. “I- uh- I’m here.”

“Great! Let’s get back to my office.” He smiles warmly and gestures for you to follow him out of the waiting room and down a hallway, passing mostly empty offices on the way. This doesn’t seem too odd, as there was construction on the lower floor. Maybe some patients didn’t like the noise and cancelled? Or maybe you’re trying to distract yourself from thinking of the exceedingly attractive man that may soon be your therapist. You’ve considered yourself gay since coming out, but starting hormones has certainly made that attraction all the more apparent.

As he opens his office door, you’re surprised by how casual it is. There’s a long couch next to an armchair, with a clipboard set neatly on top. His desk is to the side, seemingly ignored while clients were present in favor of a more personal layout. Thinking of something to say as you sat on the couch, you spit out “I like your office.”

“Thank you Milo, I spent a lot of time thinking of the anatomy of the room and how to make my clients most at ease. I find this works best.” He smiles at you, his eyes gentle and enticing. “I’m Dr. Sterling, I specialize in support for LGBT and FTM clients. Nice to meet you! Tell me a but about yourself and what brings you here.”

“My name is Milo Brown, I’m 19 years old, and I just started testosterone. I’ve been out as trans for a while but finally got access to hormones and I’m hoping to get top surgery as well, but I need a letter for it. I also just need support with my dysphoria and depression.” You cross your arms over your large chest self-consciously.

“Well, that’s nothing I haven’t heard before. Can you tell me more about your dysphoria regarding your chest?”

Shifting uncomfortably in your chair, you hesitantly proceed. “Every day is awful! They’re the first thing I think about when I wake up and I go to sleep trying not to feel or think about them. They’re so big and heavy that I feel them whenever I move and it makes me so dysphoric. It’s also impossible to make myself flat, so I never pass. As a gay man, it’s so hard to find a man who would want a guy with a body like mine!”

“Oh, Milo, I think that’s very negative thinking. Plenty of men would find you attractive! I thought you were quite beautiful when I saw you myself.”

You’re surprised by his words! That sounded very flirtatious, but maybe he was just trying to boost your ego. Either way, it made the empty space between your legs tingle when he said it. You also didn’t know he was queer, but it definitely makes you more comfortable with him. “Well… that does make me feel better. I still don’t feel comfortable with my chest though.”

“Why don’t we try something? This is an exercise I’ve done with plenty of my transmasuline patients before, and it has always improved their lives and helped with dysphoria. While we do it, I can assess you for top surgery as well! How does that sound?” He smiled at you expectingly.

“Uhhh… yeah, that sounds good. What are we doing?”

“I’m just going to have you answer some questions about your body and dysphoria. This may get uncomfortable, but it’s all part of this process. I’m sure you can trust me, right?”

“Of course!” You answer instinctively.

“Right. First, I want you to take off your shirt and binder.” He instructs casually.

“What!? I thought we were just answering questions. Is that necessary?” You’re again surprised, he wasn’t a surgeon and you had never shown anyone your chest before. You didn’t want to look at it yourself, much less this beautiful man you’re expecting to see regularly!

“I understand this is surprising and uncomfortable, but I want to understand your perspective on your body, as well as assess the size and density for surgery. I need to know this for the letter, and I understand this is very important to you. I’m sorry for the discomfort, Milo.” He looked at you apologetically, his brown eyes sparkling, staring in to your soul and shooting down between your legs.

“I… okay.” What he was saying did make sense, and you would do most anything for this surgery. Resolving to just get this over with, you take off your oversized hoodie and throw it on the couch next to you. Grabbing both binders at once, you exert a herculean force squeezing yourself out, panting as your huge breasts fly out. You blush with embarrassment as a loud clap can be heard from them swinging together.

Dr. Sterling calmly walks closer to you. “Do you know your cup size?”

“Uh… no, sorry.”

“That’s alright, we can measure now.” He smiles warmly and pulls out some measuring tape. Without hesitation, he walks up to you and wraps it around your chest! He first measures your underbust before moving to measure your bust. His hands rest on your breasts as he does so. “Alright… looks like you have J cups.” His hand brushes your nipple as he backs away.

“Mmph!” Involuntarily, you let out a short, feminine moan. Both the dysphoria of knowing your overwhelming cup size and your accidental vocalization leave you embarrassed and blushing harder than ever.

“It doesn’t seem like you’ve experienced any vocal changes from testosterone.” He observes.

“Umm… not yet, no.”

“It also seems like you have quite sensitive nipples?”

“I guess…”

“Well, have you ever considered embracing your breasts?”

“Huh?” You were confused. They made you sad and dysphoric, how could you ever embrace them? He did say whatever he was doing worked for all of his other transmasc patients, but this seemed absurd.

“Your breast are way too big to bind properly. I’ve seen you wearing two binders in here, and that is not healthy. As your therapist, I can’t encourage you to damage your body in such a way, and especially without two binders, you wouldn’t be able to hide them at all anyways. And why go through the trouble of binding if everyone can tell? It might do you some good to just accept your body as it is. It’s not like whether you bind now will affect surgery.”

Unfortunately, everything he was saying made perfect sense. Even when binding, it was very obvious you had breasts. Why go through all the trouble, especially if it was hurting your body? You were dysphoric either way, might as well be more comfortable physically. “I guess… I guess you’re right.”

“Yes… unfortunately it’s also not very possible hormones could reduce them to a bindable size either.”

This devastated you. Even later on testosterone, you would have obvious breasts? How could you expect anyone to take you seriously as a man? You had hoped to begin passing in public soon, and finally begin living comfortably, but you weren’t so sure now. Would it even be safe to live as a non-passing trans man? Why were you going through so much for hormones if there was no hope of passing before surgery anyways? Maybe you should just wait until then for hormones- no one will gender you right as you are now. “Maybe… maybe I should pause testosterone until surgery then.”

“Yes, I can see why. That might be the safest option for you.” He nodded solemnly. “We can practice some exercises to reduce dysphoria until then, if you’d like.” His frown shifted in to a comforting smile.

Still upset, you nodded.

He moved closer and, before you could react, placed one hand on each perky, round breast, grabbing you by the boobs.

Surprised, you squeaked.

“This is just to get you used to your breasts. It often helps most when someone else does it, so you’re more comfortable with other people seeing them.” He gently squeezed and pulled, running his fingers along your supple breasts, warm palms pressing your hard nipples.

“Mmmmmm-! Oooh!” You let out a series of feminine wails as the doctor palms at your breasts. They were so sensitive and they felt so heavy- so wrong on your body- and yet they sent waves of pleasure throughout your curvy figure.

“Are you still going to go by Milo? I mean, you’re stopping T until surgery because you won’t be able to pass. It would be weird to only keep the name and pronouns, especially for strangers.” His hands shifted to thumb at your nipples.

Your thoughts were flooded with waves of pleasure shooting from your tits. The importance of this decision didn’t fully register, but what he was saying made sense to you. “You’re right.”

“Good girl.”

“Huhh…”

“People are going to refer to you by what you look like. You know you don’t pass. This is just exposure training, okay?”

“Okay…” You mindlessly agree as he moves his head close to your breast.

“See? You are a good girl.” He starts to suck on your nipple, causing you to throw your head back and wail in pleasure. You don’t know when his own clothes came off, but he’s getting on top of you and pulling your pants off, leaving you in just your boxers with his much larger biologically male body pinning you down, suddenly kissing your lips.

“What… what are you doing now, d-doctor…” he cuts you off as you pant your words out.

“The easiest way to adapt to and accept being seen as a woman is to have sex with a straight man, one who can use you as only male can use female. You need this, Amelia. It’s okay.”

Hearing your deadname makes you cringe with dysphoria. You’ve always felt an aversion towards it, despising the femininity it signaled. You struggle to reconcile your attraction to the doctor and trust in his methods to your current panic. This all felt good and sounded logical but it’s happening too fast to react, and these are all such big decisions, and suddenly he’s pulling your boxers off.

“Your pussy is so perfect. You make such a sexy woman.” He rubs the length of his cock along your clit and hole. The distinction between your pathetic nub and his masculine length is obvious. He gropes your massive jiggling breasts, squeezing them together and lowering his head to kiss and suck your nipples as his dick prods your entrance.

“Doctor Sterling…” You moan his name as his assault on your tits grows heavier. He sloppily makes out with your huge boobs, enjoying every second he can get drowning in your massive breasts.

He momentarily pulls his mouth from your tits. “Yes… fuck, Amelia!” He rams his hard cock all the way inside you, hitting your cervix as he moans your deadname, resuming his assault on your massive wobbling boobs all the while.

You scream and wail, unsure if it’s in pleasure or some mix of dysphoria and grief for your lost ambitions. Whatever male identity you insisted on was currently obstructed by your massive tits and the straight man enjoying them as he pounded in to your soft, tight vagina. Anyone who saw you two would know immediately that this was heterosexual sex- they would never stop to consider you could be anything but a curvy woman being held down and fucked by a handsome man. Suddenly, the doctor’s thrusts sped up. You forgot condoms, and you’re barely on T!

Right as you open your mouth, he interrupts. “I’m gonna cum, Amelia! I’m cumming inside you!” He holds himself against your cervix, comforting you as you begin to scream. “Shhh, good girl, it’s okay.”

You feel his hot cum flood in to your unprotected pussy, tears falling from your eyes. Feeling the sticky cum start to leak out, you manage to speak. “Do… do you have a towel?”

“Uhhh… here!” He grabs your binders and rips them both, turning them in to makeshift towels as he pulls out, along with a flood of cum.

You know you said you wouldn’t bind anymore, but having the option taken away made everything all the more real. You know it was for the best tho. He specializes in helping trans men, and he said this always works. You just have to trust him! As time runs out, you don’t even realize you forgot to finish your top surgery letter.

Still… you couldn’t wait to book your next session.

[giritina]

Lately I've been dipping my toe into the mess that is transandrophobia discourse, and in the process I've been presented with one question in many forms:

"Do trans men experience misogyny?"

My initial answer was "these terms are all theoretical frameworks for a vast range of human experiences, why would you choose to frame your pre-transition experiences as that of a woman?" This makes sense to me, but clearly isn't satisfactory to many of the people sending me anons. As much as I might want to use my own life as a case study, I can't very well tell these people in my asks box "no, you've never experienced something that could be categorized as misogyny." Still, the question bothers me.

I think that's because the question obfuscates the actual debate. It's clear to me the question we are debating is not one of "experience" but "authority." That is:

"Do (binary) trans men understand what it's like to be a woman?"

My answer? No.

How can I justify that when we have, since birth, been raised as women? Well, because we also have, since birth, been trans men. If we cast aside the idea of transness as a modern social construct or anything other than an innate and biological reality, this has to be true. Even before you ever came out to yourself, you were transgender. Transphobia has dictated every moment of your life. Your idea of what "womanhood" is is not at all the same as a woman's, be it cis or trans. Why? Because a woman does not react to "being a woman" with the dysphoria, dissociation, and profound sense of wrongness that you do. [If you do not experience these things, a cis or trans woman, at the very least, does not identify as a binary trans man.] A woman sincerely identifies as a woman, and identity plays a pivotal role in how we absorb societal messaging.

Let's take homophobia as an example. While any queer person has probably experienced targeted episodes of bigotry, the majority of bigotry we experience must necessarily be broad and social. Boys learn to fear becoming a faggot as a group, but the boy who is a faggot will internalize those messages in a completely different way to the boys who only need learn to assert the heterosexual identity already inherent in them through violence. All of them are suffering to some extent, but their experiences are not at all equivalent. This is despite the fact that they've all absorbed the same message, maybe even at the same moment, through the same events. Still, we don't say that a straight boy knows what it is like to be a gay boy. Similarly, cis women do not know what it is like to be a trans man despite being fed the same transphobic messaging in a superficially identical context. It isn't a stretch to say the same can apply to misogyny.

Because I can't speak for you, I'll use myself as an example for a moment. I'll give my bonafides: I am a gender-nonconforming, T4T queer, white, binary trans man. I am on T, and I have recently come out to my family. I do not pass. My career as a comic writer is tied to my identity as a trans man. I can confidently say I have never been impacted by misogyny the same way as my friends who actually identify as women. This manifested early on as finding it easy to shrug off the messaging that I needed to be X or Y way to be a woman. In fact, most gender roles slid off my back expressly because breaking them gave me euphoria. I was punished in many ways for this, but being this sort of cis woman did help me somewhat. It's easy to be "one of the guys" in a social climbing sense if you really do feel more comfortable as a man. It also helped me disregard misogyny aimed at me or others because it seemed like an shallow form of bigotry. It was something you could shrug off, but it was important for building "unity" among women. I thought this must be the case for all women, that we all viewed misogyny as a sort of "surface level" bigotry. However, for whatever conditional status I gained in this role, there was a clear message that if I did "become" a man, every non-conformist trait about me would just become a grotesque and parodic masculinity.

That was the threat that was crushing me, destroying my identity and self esteem. That was what I knew intimately through systemic, verbal, physical, and sexual abuse. I could express my nonconformity as a cis woman, but if I took it so far as to transition to male? I would be a pathetic traitor, a social outcast. I truly believe that throughout my life people were able to see that I was not just a failed woman, but an emasculated man.

I do partly feel that the sticking point for many is the idea that the sexual abuse suffered by trans men is inherent to womanhood, and therefore inexplicable if trans men are men from birth. While this disregards the long history of sexual abuse of young boys, especially minority boys, I do see the emotional core. I'll offer that the sexual abuse I suffered was intrinsically linked to my emmasculation, my boyishness, despite the fact that I was not out to myself or anyone else. I believe many trans men have suffered being the proxy for cis women's desire for retribution against cis men, or for cis men and women's desire for an eternally nubile young boy. I also believe they have suffered corrective assault that attempts to push them back into womanhood, which in itself is an experience unique to transness rather than actual womanhood.

I'll note quickly that many, many trans men cannot relate to the idea of feeling confident and above it all when it comes to womanhood. Many of you probably tried desperately to conform, working every moment to convince yourself you were a woman and to perfectly inhabit that identity. I definitely experienced this as well (though for me it was specifically attempting to conform to butchness) but I can concede many of you experienced it more than I did. I still believe that this desperate play-acting is also not equivalent to true womanhood. It is a uniquely transgender experience, one that shares much more in common with trans women desperately attempting to conform to manhood than with true womanhood.

One key theme running through the above paragraphs is the idea that "womanhood" is synonymous with "suffering." A trans man must know what it is like to be a woman because he suffers like one. It should be noted that actual womanhood is not a long stretch of suffering. It often involves joy, euphoria, sisterhood, a general love and happiness at being a woman. It wasn't until I admitted to myself I had never been a woman that I was able to see how the women in my life were not women out of obligation, but because they simply were. The idea that you are a woman because you suffer is more alligned with radfem theory than any reality of womanhood.

When I admitted my identity to myself I was truly faced with the ways that my ability to stand up to misogyny did not equate to being anti-misogynist. I was giddy to finally be able to admit to being a man, and suddenly all that messaging that "slid off my back" was a useful tool in my arsenal. Much like cis gay men feel compelled to assert their disgust for vaginas and women after a life of being compelled towards heterosexuality, I felt disgust and aversion to discussions of womanhood as an identity. I didn't even want to engage with female fictional characters. I viewed other people's sincere expressions of their own womanhood as a coded dismissal of my identity. Like many people before and after, I made women into the rhetorical device that had oppressed me. Not patriarchy, not transphobia, but womanhood and women broadly. It wasn't explicit bigotry, but the effects were the same. I had to unlearn this with the help of my bigender partner, who felt unsettled and hurt by the way I could so easily turn "woman" into nothing but a theoretical category which represented my personal suffering.

This brings me to another point: I sometimes receive messages from nonbinary trans mascs telling me that it's absurd to think they don't understand womanhood and identify with misogyny in a deeper way. I would agree that, if you sincerely identify in some capacity as a woman, you are surely impacted by misogyny in a way I am not. However, why are you coming to the defense of binary trans men like me? Less charitably, why are you projecting a female identity on us? Perhaps my experience frustrates you so deeply because we simply do not have the same experience at all. Perhaps we are not all that united by our agab, by our supposed female socialization.

So, no. I do not believe that binary trans men know what it's like to be women. I don't believe we are authorities on womanhood. I do not believe that when a trans woman endeavors to talk about transmisogyny, your counterargument about your own experiences of misogyny is useful. I ESPECIALLY do not believe that it is in any way valid to say that you are less misogynist, less prone to being misogynist, or-- god forbid-- INCAPABLE of misogyny because you were raised as a girl. I also don't believe your misogyny is equivalent to that of a woman's internalized misogyny in form or impact.

For as much as many in this movement downplay privilege as merely "conditional," those conditions do exist. They do place you firmly in the context of the rest of the world. Zoom out and look at the history of oppressed men, and you'll find the same reactionary movement repeated over and over. Attacking the women in your community for not being soft enough, nice enough, patient enough, rather than fighting the powers that be. Why do I believe your identity is more alligned with cis manhood than any form of womanhood? Because this song and dance has been done a hundred times before by men of every stripe. Transphobia is real, and your life experience has been uniquely defined by it since birth. This is a thing to rally around, to fight against, but you all have fallen for a (trans)misogynistic phantasm in your efforts at self-actualization. You are not the first, and you will not be the last. Get out of this pipeline before it's too late.

[therealslimshakespeare]

|| Radio ||

Requested plot points? ☑️

Circa: early February 1944

Immediate previous fic: Favorite Escape

Summary: when your hodge podge radio won’t work, who should ya call? Probably the flight engineer

Warnings: usual universe warnings apply, 18+ but nothing very alarming really happens in this one, references to others are made, some potential slut shaming in the beginning if ya squint? perhaps some queer baiting but it’s the Buckies rolling around on the flooor, they’re one massive queer bait lbr, it’s not me. Also. My shit Crystal Radio making descriptions- don’t come for me I haven’t made one and I spent five hours falling down a rabbit hole as to how the guys made them in the camps and at the end of the day I said: screw it! And went with one of the Brit’s scenarios 🍻

Edited only by my tired little eyes, full warning and have mercy 💋

Also, just a note I feel compelled to make- this fic centers around women in the army, in a war, which they’re spending under dire conditions in a POW camp. Yes there is love here, there is also hierarchy and discipline and the enforcement of that does not make one character or another necessarily callous or less loving. They are their ranks first and foremost as all signed up for.

“They’re forging papers, you know.” Maureen broached the topic to Egan one day, late February and when her cheeks were still bruised from Ida’s book.

Bucky paused his tracing of a map, sooty finger trailing along a river with the same incomprehensible name as its twin running parallel, he didn’t know anything about papers or anyone making them and she knew that. “Who?”

“Good ones. Identification, passports.” She enumerated.

“Who?”

“The Poles. The ones with the-“

“-the liquor.” he finished for her, remembrance and condemnation heavy in his wry tone. “The ones you stayed out all night with.”

“Stayed long enough for them to get drunk enough to show me.”she replied, without heat, which was surprising.

“Some grand plan of yours, huh?” He bit back a laugh, it was a fine way to cover her ass for being insubordinate. It was a way he’d likely try if he was in her place.

“No.” she swore instead. “Just luck, I happened to see them. They got careless. Maybe an answer to all Jack’s prayers.”

“Yeah. Anything to give that rosary a break.”

“Yeah.”

“You asked them?”

“What for?”

Bucky regarded her with thinning patience but something kept him from snapping, the feeling of a riddle still to be solved. “For some papers.” he clarified, measured and intent, she knew how much easier that would make their plans for Ida.

Maureen shook her head, glancing down at her twisting hands, “I didn’t want to-“ her mouth twisted too, “-I wanted to ask a superior first.”

Bucky considered that for a moment, slightly touched at her newfound wisdom, “Why not ask Buck?”

She shook her head again, auburn hair curling under her chin just so, even here in the stalag she had some traces of the old charm. “He’s got too much to worry about for me to be bringing in hypotheticals.” she was so upset by something she would not even meet John’s eye and he felt a slice of remorse for how he hadn’t even noticed the ground down change in her since she got here, his drinking buddy and the soft fleshed rival of merry old English days was a gruff and battered and sullen woman; being a red blooded American male, he regretted that dismal change. “And I'm worried about what to bargain with. What can I promise? We haven’t got much and I don’t have— there’s not much anyway, but what we’ve got I didn’t wanna promise. Not without-“ she still hadn’t met his eye, he tracked hers; a furious roving of pale blue back and forth across the floorboards and it made Bucky itch.

“Who signs these papers?” Bucky asked, thinking the logistics through, knowing she’d perk up if he brought them up.

“Haven’t a clue. Maybe they haven’t figured that part out yet. I don’t know. I just know they’ve got papers.”

“Good ones.”

“Yeah.”

“We haven’t got much.” he agreed, clicking his teeth in thought, “What’d you give them for the liquor?”

“They just invited me.”

“Didn’t have to lend a hand or nothin’?” he balked and Maureen threw him a glare that seemed more hurt than rage, and chastened by a voice inside that sounded much like his mama’s, he amended with sheepish humor, “Hell, feel like lending a hand myself these days, if it’d get me a whisky.”

Her gnarled fist curled white in her lap, she managed hoarsely, “They just wanted to talk about home. To someone who hadn’t heard about it a million times before.”

“They got cigarettes?” he asked.

“As most common payment for their booze -they’ve got enough to insulate their shack three deep.”

“Cigarettes won’t cut it then.”

“I’ve been thinking.”-

“Yeah?”

“The radio. I’m the only one who doesn’t think it’s worth the risk but, I know, it doesn’t matter, it’s happening. Gale’s going to keep trying. And if it works-“ she rubbed at her eyes, tired and unsure, “-that’s quite the bargaining chip.”

Bucky nodded slowly, eyes narrowing as his smile grew a touch broader, “News of the outside world.” he was half in agreement, “Buck asked for a week. Been four days.”

“He’s stumped.” Maureen retorted instantly. “And he’ll stay that way and he’ll go nuts and you’ll go die going over the fence and then he’ll have no reason left not to die too.”

Bucky whistled, low and chiding, “You’re full of rainbows today, Candy.”

“You know who he oughta ask.” she shook off the barb. “But he won’t. And I don’t want him risking it for this thing anymore than anyone else, but you all want it so bad, and they’ll shoot us for it if it works or not. I’m not asking her. But you would. Might as well get shot for it working, right? Isn't that what you said yesterday? You know who he should ask.”

Bucky’s keen eyes showed the moment it dawned on him, his eyebrows shot up and his mouth sagged and he ran a weathered hand over his face, “Awww shit, Candy.” came garbled behind his palm. “Ah shit.” he said again with conviction as he shoved the hand into his pocket, wretched acknowledgment of her point clear on his face.

“I didn’t want to suggest it, told Ida it’s a fucking dangerous thing and I’ll never forgive if— but you all—“

Bucky grounded aloud, “Nah, nah she’s -Lu would solve it.” he muttered, shushing her. “Demarco really pummeled you the other day, huh?” he added, and that got her to meet his eye, she looked spooked and a little incensed, “Saw him fuckin’ you up behind B compound but sheesh, s’like he hollowed you out worse than a jacolantern; yer shifty as hell.”

“He-“ Maureen still felt like blanching at the memory of Benny’s terribly correct opinions, his disappointed eyes and his fist full of her flight jacket asking her what in the living fuck was wrong with her besides a concussion, a sick childhood and an ever nauseating jealousy of Buck Cleven’s paternal time and effort, “-he had some admonitions. After…after the other night.”

Bucky hummed, shitty smirk taking up residence on his face, “How ‘bout that.”

“I’m gonna be better.” she muttered and Bucky felt for her, could almost taste the echo of his identical and hollow determination to climb the mountain of bad habits when weak from spuds and pneumonia. He told himself the same every morning and fell into bed condoning his failure every night, like a ritual.

“You’re gonna get us those papers.” he corrected, shoving off the wall to come near her, give her the full Major treatment and maybe a friendly hand, “And you can promise your drinkin’ buddies news from the radio.”

Maureen nodded in understanding, no joy or animation left in her green eyes. She used to enjoy a bit of subterfuge, now she only felt hollow misery at the thought that she'd dragged Lu into this, too. This risk she hated so much and yet no one cared. Lu would be glad to be dragged in, it’s true, she was itching at the chance to be useful and to make Gale proud, it’s how the girl was wired. It’s how most girls were wired, Maureen supposed, desperate to make Gale Cleven approve. Lu’s enthusiasm wouldn’t make the sight of her being made to kneel in the mud and have a bullet put in her head any easier, wouldn’t make Maureen feel any less responsible for it when her lifeless body thudded to the earth.

All that lovely goodness stamped out.

Over a radio.

Bucky’s hand felt too hard and too big on her shoulder. He had gone before the vision cleared, mud and wire and the freezing main square at Ravensbruck fading back to the musty bunk room. Maureen shook herself and stood up to make herself somehow appealing, reamniante some semblance of the cheerful rashness that had led her to the Polish combine in the first place: she found it hard to inspire. She’d like to count that a victory but she knew better, she wasn’t reformed she was just tired.

A washed face and a fake smile and the promise of news from outside would have to be enough to bank all their risks on, it would have to be.

“Crank,” she greeted the man in the hall, flashing him clean, water brushed teeth and her gentlest, freshly soot lined eyes, “I’ve been tasked by Major Egan with an errand, spare a minute to babysit me?”

__________________________________

Bucky finds Buck Cleven in his own bunkroom, Demarco outside on watch and that’s all Bucky needs to know to guess the radio is out and Buck’s working like a fiend yet again to make it work. Sure enough, he’s hunched over the table with it, mittened hands shaking from cold and exhaustion and a sheen of sweat on his forehead despite the paltry sweater he wears.

Bucky walks in and Gale gives him a soft, acknowledging glance before continuing to his work. Bucky takes up his usual place behind Buck’s left shoulder to watch and Buck, being used to it, goes on.

“My little Kriegie Marconi, huh?” Bucky allows the nagging impulse he has felt for weeks while standing in this position to finally exert itself, and his forefinger lifts and swirls in the curling gold strands of hair at the nape of Gale’s neck, his friend almost bolts away but then seems to choose a prey’s tactic and just stills, goes very still and Bucky scritches the scalp beneath his grab in assurance he don’t meant anything by it. He doesn’t think he does, at least.

Gale, wary and with a voice close to mechanized it’s so stilted, inquires with ever-present politeness, “You alright Bucky?”

It’s better than that whole ‘major’ business; getting called Major as if that meant shit anymore. “Yeah, ‘course I am.” Bucky rakes his fingers through the hairs there at the nape of that dainty neck, scritches the scalp with all four of his main ones, and uncovers a white long scar sliding round once he lifts the hairs there. “Why wouldn’t I be? Gonna be a father soon.”

Buck does jerk then, away from his touch and wheeling his chair around to glare at Bucky; it’s an impressively executed little pirouette and John misses the feel of his warm neck and oil soft hair. “Jesus John.” he reprimands.

“We’re gonna get outta here Buck.” John swears, he’s so sure of it because he cannot in all his thinking and predicting ever imagine a scenario where they don’t, and he chooses to think it’s not delusion but a good omen. “Ida’s gonna have that baby and when it’s safe we’ll all meet up.”

Gale is looking at him like he’s his own father again, Bucky knows that look, it always makes him equal parts ashamed and desperate, “Jus’ like that.” Gale mocks in a husky gust.

It’s devastating, and it’s intended to be, and Bucky could bear that with better humor if he could still touch Gale and his hair. “Just like that.”

Gale hums and it’s a mean sorta vocalization that makes Bucky’s heart thud and his skin prickle hot, it’s the kinda noise you kiss off a person, he thinks, but it’s Buck and so he doesn’t know what to do with it. “It’s gonna get you killed.” Buck is saying instead and Bucky lets him, “I know you all think she’s cracked up and maybe she has but it wouldn’t hurt to listen to Kendeigh sometimes when she’s tellin’ ya shit that a five year old could accurately guess, -goddamn it.”

His voice rose to a strong rage by the end and Bucky takes a chair opposite him, sick of standing there like a dumb dog waiting for his scolding to be over. “So what.” Bucky challenges him, “We just wait around and Brady pops out a child and the krauts let us keep it and it’s our new mascot and we all sing zippidy doo da, huh? Huh, Buck?”

Gale’s hands fell away from his face with a slam to the table, a shocking degree of anger showing for a split second and it gave Bucky an odd degree of gratification. “I jus’ want you to find a plan with better odds.”

Bucky sniffed and leaned forward, went in for the kill and Gale was looking at him like he expected it, like it was his turn to play daddy to everyone here and Gale for once was so beaten down he wouldn’t just allow the changing of the guard, he was close to angry at its lateness. It made Bucky’s heart thud.

“I’ve been listening to Kendeigh.” Bucky refuted briefly, “And we’ve got a plan.” Gale gave him a tired look of encouragement to go on, “How long’s it been since you slept? Huh, well, we got a plan. Practically perfect, or it will be, just need the radio.”

“Ain’t giving this away.” Gale said, “Not for anythin’, even useless.”

Bucky patted the table top in easy assurance, if he could have reached Buck’s thigh, he’d have patted that instead, “No, no, don’t need to give it away, just need it to work. So,” he softened his voice and his eyes tightened, “I’m callin’ Lu in.”

Oddly, Gale does not fight it. Not aloud, at least. There’s an anguished look of hate on his face and Bucky mirrors it. It’s for this place and the fucking awful choices they have to choose from every goddamn day.

“You run this by Ida?” is all he asks.

Bucky pops his flaking lips audibly, “What, need us both gangin’ up on you to agree? She’ll sign off. Smith’s an officer. Gotta remember that sometimes, Buck.”

The way his Buck swallows hard and dry contradicts his words, “I do remember that.”

“Really?” Bucky’s mouth gives a soft smile of doubtful incredulity and Gale’s mimics it, mournful but a smirk all the same, “Feel like she should answer to ‘Gale’s Baby’ these days. Lieutenant Smith who?”

Gale scoffs, “Careful now.”

“No really, she’s an officer and she wants to be treated like one. It’ll do her good to have work. Her kinda work.”

“Could get her killed.”

“Layin’ in her bunk could do that.”

Gale grunts, its sounds like an agreement.

“So I say Lieutenant Smith gets put on radio detail. Like her goddamn job description suggests. Huh, yeah?”

“Yeah.” Gale lets out a shaky agreement.

“Aaaaand,” Bucky draws it out as he rises again and saunters over to Buck who is ready for him and loose this time, “how bout I go back to bein’ the one you’re frettin’ ‘bout all the time. Got me almost jealous of the girl. How ‘bout I do. Huh?”

Gale’s scoff is fond as anything as he looks up at John with cheerful derision, “And you ‘bout to be a father? Make me an old man? Fuck no, ya looney.”

“Alright.” Bucky concedes with hands up in surrender before lurching forward and grasping Gale’s rickety chair back by its wobbly spokes and hefting it partially off the ground, beautiful and outraged prude of an occupant still seated in it, “Then I’ll play daddy and put you to bed, how ‘bout that.”

“John Egan for fucks sake-“ Gale’s fists pounded on the meat of his shoulders and his outraged protests wafted against Bucky’s neck and his jabbing knees collided with the meat of his thighs and Bucky hadn’t felt so close to him or so happy to be alive since England.

“Major sir, the hell is goin’ on?” Demarco’s tame inquiry from the safety of the doorway made them both lose their grapple and they collided together onto the floor, bunk bed barely missed by their heads and the hapless chair mixed up between their limbs.

Bucky grinned, hip sore from his fall and kidneys suffering from Buck’s trapped elbow there, “Puttin’ Goldilocks to bed.” he replied.

DeMarco processed that and the scene before him with grave sobriety before saluting lazily and turning to go, “Right on, sir.”

John did his best to rise up without further pinching Gale who was indeed trapped beside him and beneath him, chair legs wound between a lanky human leg in a puzzle that Bucky realized might take some caution to untangle without harm. Strangely, Buck wasn’t moving, he was just looking up at him like a cat would their clumsy master who has done somethin’ stupid which was a surprise to neither. It was so innocuous a look and so nostalgic, it winded Bucky with the realization he hadn’t seen it in ages, just as he hadn’t felt his boney ribs against his own and the feel of his elegant hands yanking him around in a fight. This miserable place really was stomping out the glow in the best people.

“Ya know Buck,” he ventured, clearing his throat for extra casualness, “I’ve missed you.” When Gale only kept looking up at him, perfect porcelain face with its unsettling scars and wary eyes without a lick of storm in them, John Egan grabbed his shovel and dug his own grave a little deeper, drug a finger down his cheek. “Missed all this.”

Bucky didn’t know what he meant by “this” but it felt safer and worse all at once, since he did miss Buck but he and Buck never used to hang out on floors with a chair as chaperone. Mercifully, Buck neither points that out nor moves away, acting very much like he needed to heaped on the floor with Bucky and a stray chair every bit as much as John did. Like it’s doing him good.

“And you couldn’t’ve jus’ said.” Gale murmurs with the softest eye roll of the century and Bucky feels like beaming and it must show in his face so strong and bright after a sunless winter that after a flash Gale’s cheeks flame from it and he averts his eyes.

“I dunno Buck, could I?” Egan asks one blushing cheek and Gale hasn’t got a good reply for that, so they just lay there on the floor.

“Go on now, get off me.” Gale doesn’t shove at him, he presses his hand to John’s forehead like he would a dog and John goes, obedient as one.

———————————————————————-

They found Lu with Murph and Benny and Brady, measuring out what seemed to be lot lines between Love Shack #9 and the next combine, boot scuffed perimeters already visible in the light snow and drawn in a decently tidy rectangle. There were guards loitering nearby, nosey as always with their cigarettes and their antsy dogs anytime someone did something out there besides piss or pace or stare at the fence.

“What’s all this?” Bucky inquired cheerfully, coming up to them with Gale, bundled and shivering behind him.

Benny looked up from tilling a furrow with his boot, right where Lu’s mittened finger pointed out. “It’s for the garden. S’posed to be spring before long.”

“A Chicago man oughta know better, Benny.” Egan snarked.

“Need us?”

Bucky sniffed, a casual set to his body that belied his quest, “Just the little one.”

Smith promptly looked startled, then eager. “All well Majors?”

“Need your advice on the color of my cufflinks with this suit.” Bucky extended his arm and beckoned her, “C’mon back in for a minute. One of you too, need a watch to go with the cufflinks.”

———————————————————————

With Benny on guard, Brady and Kendeigh having excavated the radio’s shell from the floorboard and table leg in which it resided, the Buckies stood over Smith’s small frame as she sat at the table and inspected the simplistic device with keen eyed appreciation for the construct.

“It’s really marvelous.” she assured Cleven, running her fingers over the carefully coiled wire and precarious pin.

Gale didn’t even crack a smile. “What’s wrong with it?” he asked instead.

She shook her head, a frown gathering. “Never made one-“ she cautioned.

“-but you get the idea.”

“Yes sir, I do.”

“So what’s wrong.”

Lu ran her fingers over the wire, again and again, the dusty metal not insulated, just bare copper, likely stripped from somewhere. It reminded her of early days as a cadet when they threw chicken wire mixed with hydraulic lines at herself and her fellow rookie engineers and told them to sort it, testing to see if they knew which was which. It had been so rudimentary she had wanted to laugh until she realized others were being flunked.

This was so basic she was stumped.

“Take your time, Lu.” Bucky spoke up after a burdened pause during which she could almost feel Major Cleven breathing down her neck.

“Candy, can I try with the headphone?” she asked at last, frustrated and out of her element, just a few months out of a plane and she had already lost her touch.

Maureen passed it over and Lu pressed it to her ear, not to discern what was quite obviously radio silence, but to imagine the whole process in reverse, track it down the cord all the way to the base, each possible breakdown of the conduction.

She fingered the ramshackle diode with burgeoning suspicion. “What’s your crystal?”

“That’s just…lead.” Cleven muttered.

“From?”

“Ground pencils.” Bucky supplied cheerfully.

Smith bit her lip, “We need sulfur added. Lead won’t conduct on its own.” She figured Cleven knew that, the grim and unmoving set of his mouth suggested so.

“Just- sulfur?” Maureen asked.

“If I had sulfur we could add it to the lead dust, ignite it and-“ Smith grinned at Kendeigh, knowing that she alone may have shared her enjoyment of a small conflagration from time to time, “burn it down and you’ve got something close enough to Galena. Just need a pinch of it should work.”

Bucky shoved his hands in his pockets and surveyed the mostly morose room. All except for the two girls grinning at each other over the hypothetical of a little chemistry experiment in a highly flammable wooden combine.

“We’ve got sandy soil.” Buck’s contemplative drawl spoke up, “Dunno if we could extract enough pure sulfur.”

Maureen stared back at Egan instead, “Other sectors have gotten portions of kits, chemistry kits, radio kits, they’ve been smuggled in with all sorts of stuff. Inside of a violin, oat bags. Nothing to fully build something. They might have sulfur. I could make inquiries and- well, Jack could pick it up next time the band goes over C compound to entertain the poor Aussie bastards.”

“How do you kno- nevermind, actually. Nevermind.” Bucky broke off, “Alright. Sure, why not. Ya sure that’s it?” he asked Lu once more.

She gave a helpless little shrug. “Gotta be. Or the wire’s dirty. Where’d it come from anyway?”

Gale gave Bucky a long suffering look as Bucky seemed to swell a couple inches and bounce back on his heels at the mention of his scrounging prowess. “The lamp.” he nodded above them all.

Jack Brady scoffed, short, clipped, betrayed, “That why it cuts out all the time? Strobed us so bad last night -thought the room was possessed.”

“Sacrifices Jack, sacrifices.”

———————————————————

Benny had hauled in enough water buckets to elicit some negative attention from the guards, and when the inspection came the inmates of the Love Shack insisted the drenched floors and table of the Majors’ barracks were due to sanitation post regurgitation. At night, with only one stolen torch light from Combine 15 to illuminate the endeavor, a basin of water beneath a smaller bowl in which lay their precious and recently procured ingredients, a science experiment began. The Majors and Ida gathered round, all looking as ghastly and spectral in the light of the flashlight as Brady’s fake ghost. It held the thrill of a bonfire night except for the stakes, which all in the room did their best not to dwell on.

“Zippo, Candy.” Lu gave the word and Maureen, with only the protection of Ida’s bent aviators to keep from a scorched cornea, flicked on her lighter and set the mixed powders ablaze.

It flamed up high and smelly, making Benny gag and mutter something about Meatball’s gas to a tittering Brady, and then died down to a yellow smoking ember.

“We should let it sit.” Lu surmised with a squeeze to Maureen’s only somewhat singed hand, her big dark eyes surveying the burnt bowl and their smoking experiment with glittery excitement at the possibility of success, “Let it cool, settle, maybe strain it. Can you get me a net? Oh Candy come now, get me a strainer?” she begged with a laugh as Maureen rolled her eyes at the idea of yet another trip to the Stalag Market for the most random items imaginable. If they hoped to not be suspicious, they’d need better lies or more money.

“How about cheesecloth?” Kendeigh tried not to grin indulgently- and failed- in the face of Lu and having recently been allowed to set something on fire

Lu kissed her cheek. “Cheesecloth would be perfect.”

In the end, cheesecloth did indeed prove perfect, and amongst the burnt dust of the combined minerals was a gritty little pinch full of the needed crystals. Or so Lu said, Gale agreed but the crease between his brows hadn’t lifted for two days; Bucky’s fingers had begun to twitch in antsy need to manually smooth them out. He imagined Maureen felt the same but she hadn’t said, uncharacteristically forbearant now she had some job to keep her sane. Even if it was playing fetch for Lu.

—————————————————————

“Well, this is it.” Gale muttered when the watch had been set once more, Murph and Hambone on the steps, Crank inside, Brady at the door, Benny at the window. Even Major Clark had joined them in the barracks for this final try and Lu’s cheeks were maroon from the attention even as her deft hands steadily pressed her concoction beneath its intended rod.

“Pass me the pliers, sir?” She asked and for a moment, the teacher became the apprentice and Gale fetched her the stalag forged tool, rudimentary like everything here yet the gripped and pulled and lifted same as the pliers back home. “You could check your look in this wire’s reflection.” She complimented Gale’s buffing of the copper wire.

He shrugged in turn. “Didn't wanna leave anythin’ to chance. That it?” he asked as her hands stalled and she surveyed her work.

Lu nodded solemnly. “Yes sir.”

Gale picked up the headphone from in front of him on the table like it was a gun he was about to bring to his head. “Here.” He extended it to her instead, “S’right, it was your job, you should be the first. Cmon.”

Despite her voiceless protest he pressed the headphones into her hands and Lu, never knowing how to disobey an officer, folded immediately.

For a good ten seconds everyone in the room held their breath as Smith pressed the headphone to her ear and gently wiggled the clothespin along the wire, searching and tuning, her face holding that old peaceful concentration they hadn’t seen since the last mission. She was at home with her mind tuned to another dimension. The pilots in the room knew that look, that was the look of someone at home with something that terrified them all the same, the gut swooping feeling of clearing the take off and sledding along the tops of the clouds. Wrong and strange and utterly incomparable to others, it was the closest to home one’s mind could be. Lu belonged somewhere on those electric currents and searching them out was like finding oneself again.

Then at last, Lu’s eyes sharpened out of their dreamy haze of concentration and she said, gentle as always, “It’s the BBC sir.”

💋 Hope you enjoyed! Feedback is a writer’s lifeblood, please feel free to scream in comments or the inbox, I love it and wanna hear it all. Trust me, nothing is “too dumb”. Your thoughts mean the world to me.

MOTA taglist, I only have one so ignore if this is not the universe you signed up for:

@stylespresleyhearted

@ab4eva

@earth-to-lottie

@suraemoon

@blurredcolour

@steph-speaks

@crazymadpassionatelove

@rubyfruitjungle

@taestrwbrry

@storysimp

@javden

@sexualparkour

@jointherebellion215

@sunny747

@ask-you-what-sir

@xxanaduwrites

@pretty4u

@yorkshirekiwi

@waitedforlove743

@elvismylove04

@blikebarbie92

@luminouslywriting

@justheretoreadthxxs

@bookotter01

@mads-weasley

@ka-ski

@darkestbeforethedawn16

@slowsweetlove

@richardslady121

@barbeygirl

@prfctplcsreads

@vaf24

@harrys-housewife

@claireelizabeth85

@pearlparty

@piastrinho

@sapienti0sat

@atrophyingaphrodite

@beingalive1

@vendylewin