#so the rule of thumb is: you see a call out post you block the person who wrote it

[clubsheartsspades]

Since I can't find the original post I wanted to reblog for this (thanks tumblr search function), I just wanted to hop on here really quickly to remind everyone that call out posts are harassment.

Every single call out post is harassment, they are intended to cause harm and those who say they are not are lying about their intentions. You write a call out post to purposefully harm and hurt the people you talk about. That's just it, there is no exception, there is no "but", call out posts accomplish exactly one thing and that is harass people.

[angelseraphines]

ೃ⁀➷ ultraviolence ˗ˏˋ꒰ 🦢 ꒱

╰┈➤ hwang in-ho x player!reader imagine

a/n: i would like to give a special thank you to @lumillsie for the layout of this post and for the filter used on the header! there is also a part one to this imagine, playing dangerous, and a part two, do you think you’d kill for me, one day? i hope you enjoy reading! 🤍

˚ ༘♡ choosing to take up arms and align yourself with player 456’s desperate plan was not so much a choice as it was an ultimatum. to do nothing, continue playing by their sadistic rules, meant walking the same path to inevitable death. but this? this rebellion, this gamble to strike at the heart of the operation. a blaze of defiance instead of the slow suffocation of compliance.

˚ ༘♡ the gunfire came fast and relentless, each crack like lightning splitting the air around you. the deafening staccato of bullets ricocheted off the metal structures, sharp and unforgiving. you pressed yourself hard against the crimson barrier, your heart a violent drumbeat in your chest. each near miss tore at your nerves, leaving behind the bitter taste of survival.

˚ ༘♡ the red structures were impractical shelter, offering only the facade of safety. around you, the others fought back with what little ammunition and courage they had. some fired blindly, their hands shaking, others aimed with accuracy, faces set with the resilience of people who knew they may never see another day.

˚ ༘♡ the air reeked of gunpowder and sweat, and your own breath came in short, uneven bursts as you tried to steady your hands. the ground beneath you was littered with shell casings and splintered debris, each piece a fragment of the chaos you had willingly stepped into. a thought crossed your mind, whether this was bravery or madness. but the thought vanished as quickly as it came, drowned out by the next thunderous racket of gunfire.

˚ ༘♡ you don’t have time to think, only to act. your fingers find the magazine release instinctively, pressing it hard. the spent magazine drops to the ground, clattering louder than you’d like. your other hand is already reaching for a fresh one, fumbling for a second before finding it.

˚ ༘♡ the cool metal feels heavy in your palm as you slot it into the magazine well. you shove it upward until it clicks into place, a sound that’s both satisfying and urgent. your hand moves to the slide, gripping the serrated edges. you pull it back sharply, feeling the resistance, and let it snap forward with a crisp, metallic clank.

˚ ༘♡ your heart is racing, but your hands are steady. you flick the safety off with your thumb without even thinking about it. the gun is ready again, its weight familiar in your grip. you take a breath that doesn’t seem deep enough, your focus narrowing as you lift the weapon and prepare to fire at the masked men who stand across in another block structure.

˚ ༘♡ player 001 had insisted you stay behind. his voice was grounded, almost gentle, as he took your hand, his rough fingers a stark contrast to the warmth in his tone. “this plan is reckless,” he said, his expression unreadable except for the glint of concern in his dark eyes. “we have enough people. you don’t need to put yourself in danger.” but his attempt at reassurance only fueled your resolve.

˚ ༘♡ “if you’re not staying behind, neither am i,” you replied, your voice firm, though your heart pounded like a war drum. his face darkened with vexation, but he didn’t argue further, young-il knew he could not change your mind.

˚ ༘♡ crouched behind the unforgiving cover of the red structure, your hands trembled as you clutched the empty weapon. “i’m out of ammo,” you called, your voice barely cutting through the raucous chaos around you.

˚ ༘♡ gi-hun and jung-bae had disappeared minutes ago, slipping into the chaos to infiltrate the control room. every second they were gone stretching unbearably thin. around you, the others were panicking. shouts rose above the gunfire, “almost out!” player 246 hollered, “running low!” player 120 yelled out, desperation laced every shout.

˚ ༘♡ young-il’s radio crackled to life, gi-hun’s strained voice breaking through. “we’re running out of ammo here. there are more magazines on the guards, someone has to get them. hurry!”

˚ ༘♡ the moment the line went dead, young-il turned to the group. unlike the others, he was calm, his face as still as stone, his composure a striking contrast to the pandemonium. his eyes swept over each of you, calculating, deliberate. “four of us will move to back them up,” he said, his voice even, “but someone has to retrieve the magazines from the guards.”

˚ ༘♡ you felt the weight of his gaze settle on you for a moment longer than the others. your stomach tightened. the bodies of the masked men were out there, sprawled in the open, exposed under relentless gunfire. retrieving the magazines meant running into certain danger.

˚ ༘♡ “i’ll go!” dae-ho shouted, his voice quivering. his hands shook as he clutched his weapon, his knuckles white against the grip. before anyone could argue, he pushed himself to his feet and sprinted into the open, his silhouette a vulnerable target in the chaos. bullets ricocheted off nearby walls, sparks flying like tiny explosions. player 120 darted after him, crouching low and firing in short bursts to cover his reckless charge.

˚ ༘♡ young-il, player 047, and player 015 began moving toward the exit. you didn’t hesitate to follow, the worn soles of your shoes crunching against the debris-strewn ground. before you could take more than a few steps, young-il stopped abruptly, turning to face you. his stern gaze locked onto yours, “stay here,” he said, his voice low.

˚ ༘♡ your chest tightened with frustration, and you met his command with a sharp glare. “i can’t stay out here,” you hissed, your voice barely louder than the chaos around you. “how can i stand by knowing you’ll be in danger while i sit here, doing nothing? i can help.”

˚ ༘♡ his expression darkened, his face hardening as his jaw tightened. the faint lines around his eyes deepened into sharp creases, the wear of age etched into his skin. you could see the conflict inside him, his instinct to protect you clashing with the knowledge that he couldn’t stop you. his shoulders sagged ever so slightly, a reluctant surrender.

˚ ༘♡ he didn’t argue further. instead, he turned sharply and continued toward the exit, his steps heavier than before. you followed close behind, the cold air biting at your face and your hands shaking.

˚ ༘♡ once inside, the oppressive silence of the corridors was shattered by the sharp crack of gunfire echoing through the narrow passageways. your boots slid against the blood-slick floors, the dark streaks smearing across the ground like grotesque markers guiding your way. shattered shell casings crunched underfoot, their metallic edges catching the dim light as you moved in tight formation behind the others.

˚ ༘♡ the sounds grew louder with every turn, each burst of gunfire sending a jolt through your chest. when you reached the source, your heart sank. gi-hun and jung-bae were pinned down behind a stack of crates, their weapons barking in quick bursts as masked men returned fire from the opposite end of the hall. “the control room is there!” gi-hun shouted, his voice strained as he gestured toward a guarded staircase. the veins in his neck stood out with the effort.

˚ ༘♡ young-il’s gaze darted between the staircase and gi-hun, his expression grim. “i’m nearly out of ammo,” he said, his voice undisturbed despite the chaos around him.

˚ ༘♡ gi-hun didn’t hesitate. he reached into his pocket, retrieving a magazine with shaky fingers. “here,” he said, extending it toward young-il. “it’s my last one.”

˚ ༘♡ young-il’s eyes flicked to the magazine, a flicker of hesitation crossing his face. “are you sure?” he asked, his tone measured, though the tension in his voice was unmistakable.

˚ ༘♡ gi-hun nodded. “dae-ho will be back with more. now go!”

˚ ༘♡ young-il looked as though he might argue, yet with a reluctant nod, he took the magazine. sliding it into his weapon, he jerked his head toward the opposite direction. “this way,” he commanded.

˚ ༘♡ you fell in step beside him, your shoulder brushing his as you moved. the air felt thick, you couldn’t help but glance at young-il, his face a mask of stable focus.

˚ ༘♡ arriving at another stairwell, the tension in the air felt suffocating, every step heavy with the weight of what might come next. player 047 and player 015 moved quickly, their rifles poised as they positioned themselves near the walls, peering toward the masked guards above.

˚ ༘♡ you and young-il lingered behind them. he reloaded his rifle with the magazine gi-hun had given him. your hands tightening around your weapon. the cold metal felt heavier than ever, slick with the sweat of your palms. you tried to calm your breathing, to ready yourself for the chaos that was certain to erupt. beside you, young-il raised his gun, his posture steady and unshaken. you followed his lead, preparing for the onslaught, waiting for the inevitable storm of bullets. the shots rang out, but they weren’t aimed at the guards.

˚ ༘♡ the first sharp crack reverberated through the stairwell, a deafening sound that seemed to shatter the air. player 047 jerked forward, his body crumpling to the ground like a discarded puppet. his rifle clattered away, the life drained from him in an instant.

˚ ༘♡ before the echo of the first shot faded, another followed, sharp and final. player 015 collapsed, his body writhing as blood began to trickle beneath him. he let out a guttural, choked gasp, his hands clawing weakly at the ground as he struggled to breathe. his voice, broken and trembling, was barely audible as he begged for mercy, his words dissolving into wet, rasping breaths.

˚ ༘♡ you stood paralyzed, the scene before you unspooling in a sickening blur. player 047’s body lay still, his eyes vacant, while player 015 twitched helplessly, his life draining away with each agonized second.

˚ ༘♡ your eyes went to young-il, who remained motionless, his gun still raised. his expression was cold, unreadable, as if the weight of what he had done didn’t touch him at all. there was no hesitation in his actions, no flicker of remorse in his eyes.

˚ ༘♡ the distant echoes of gunfire and screams drowned out by the discordant pounding of your own heartbeat. your mind raced, grasping for something, anything, to make sense of what was happening, but your body refused to move. your breath caught in your throat as young-il turned toward you, his weapon still raised, the barrel gleaming under the light.

˚ ༘♡ time seemed to stretch as the frigid metal pressed against your forehead, the faint scrape of the barrel against your skin sending a chill down your spine. his eyes, once a source of reassurance, now bore into you with an intensity that felt almost inhuman. they weren’t angry, but calculating. you opened your mouth to speak, to plead, to demand answers, but no sound came. the words were trapped, strangled by a fear that gripped your chest.

˚ ༘♡ for a vanishing moment, hope sparked when he lowered the gun. relief struck you so abruptly it nearly made your knees give out. that hope shattered as quickly as it came. he aimed the gun not at your chest, but lower. you barely registered what was happening before the deafening crack of the shot filled the air.

˚ ༘♡ the agony radiating from your shattered knee. it was as if every nerve in your body had been set ablaze, the pain so consuming it blurred your vision and stole the breath from your lungs. blood gushed from the wound, pooling rapidly beneath you.

˚ ༘♡ you clawed at the ground, desperate for anything to anchor you as your body convulsed with the shock of the injury. tears streamed down your face, hot and uncontrollable, as a strangled cry escaped your lips. the cold floor beneath you seemed to pull the heat from your body, leaving you trembling and vulnerable.

˚ ༘♡ through the haze of agony, you forced your gaze upward, meeting his cold, unflinching eyes. “why?” you rasped, your voice barely audible over the pounding in your ears. the word was a broken plea, filled with pain and betrayal, though deep down, you already knew no answer could justify what he had done.

˚ ༘♡ young-il stalked over to player 047’s lifeless body, his demeanor disturbingly composed despite the carnage surrounding you both. crouching beside the corpse, he grabbed the sleeve of the dead man’s jacket, his fingers curling around the fabric. with a deliberate pull, he tore a strip from the bloodied material.

˚ ༘♡ you writhed where you lay, the searing pain in your knee refusing to relent. blood continued to seep from the wound, its warmth pooling beneath you in thick, sticky smears. your breathing came in short, erratic gasps

˚ ༘♡ he returned to you, the strip of fabric clutched in his hand like a twisted tool of control. his presence loomed over you, suffocating in its quiet intensity. you flinched as he knelt beside you, the smell of blood and sweat clinging to him, a grotesque reminder of what he’d done.

˚ ༘♡ without warning, his hand shot out, his grip firm as he seized your chin. the sudden pressure forced your head off the cold, blood-slick floor, and you gasped, your lips trembling as you struggled to focus through the pain clouding your vision. his touch was rigid, his fingers digging into the tender flesh of your jaw.

˚ ༘♡ young-il worked methodically, winding the fabric around your mouth. you tried to jerk your head away, but his grip tightened, holding you in place as he secured the knot at the back of your head. the coarse material bit into the corners of your mouth, the taste of grime and death filling your senses as your cries were reduced to stifled, pitiful sounds.

˚ ༘♡ when he finally let go of your chin, your head hit the floor with a thud that seemed to echo inside your skull. the pain was sharp, but it paled in comparison to the turmoil raging within you. confusion clawed at your thoughts, tangled with disbelief so heavy it was suffocating. this was young-il, the man who had stood beside you, risked his life for you. you couldn’t reconcile the murderous figure before you with the person who had once seemed so kind, so loyal. why? the question screamed in your mind, louder than the agony in your leg or the blood pounding in your ears.

˚ ༘♡ he pulled the portable radio from his pocket, the cold efficiency of his actions cutting deeper than any bullet could. he walked over to where player 015 lay, choking on his own blood, the pitiful sound barely audible between gurgling gasps. kneeling down beside him, young-il’s voice changed, slipping into a grotesque mockery of grief and desperation.

˚ ༘♡ “i’m sorry, gi-hun,” he said, his voice uneven, laced with feigned exhaustion. “it’s over.”

˚ ༘♡ your eyes widened as the meaning of his words sank in. you thrashed against the bindings around your mouth, your muffled screams raw and desperate as you tried to drown out his lie. gi-hun needed to hear the truth, that young-il betrayed them, but the gag stifled every sound.

˚ ༘♡ young-il pressed the radio closer to player 015, holding it just inches from the man’s face. the wet, ragged gasps of the dying player filled the channel. you watched in horror as young-il’s hand rested on the radio. it was cruel, calculated, a performance designed to destroy any hope gi-hun might have left.

˚ ༘♡ with a flick of his finger, he silenced the radio. the stairwell was suddenly quiet except for your muted weeping and the faint rasp of player 015’s fading breaths. young-il stood over him, his gun raised once more. there was no hesitation, no emotion as he pulled the trigger. the crack of the shot was deafening, the sound of it reverberating off the concrete walls and leaving an emptiness in its wake.

˚ ༘♡ the silence that followed was unbearable. it pressed down on you, crushing your chest, as the weight of his betrayal settled fully in your mind. young-il turned, his face as calm as ever, and you felt your stomach twist. “i’m sorry,” young-il murmured. your heart sank as you convinced yourself this was it. he was going to kill you, finish what he started and tie up loose ends.

˚ ༘♡ instead, he turned and walked away, his footsteps unhurried. the sound of them faded into the distance. confusion churned in your chest, mingling with the pain that consumed your body. why leave you in such a pathetic state? surely, even he wouldn’t be so brutal as to condemn you to bleed out slowly, to suffer alone in agony until death finally claimed you.

˚ ༘♡ time became meaningless as you lay there. blood seeped from your shattered knee in hot, pulsing waves, the sticky warmth swarming beneath you, soaking into your clothes. the air grew colder, or maybe it was you, the life draining from your body, inch by inch. you couldn’t tell if a minute had passed or an hour.

˚ ༘♡ somewhere far away, gunshots cracked. a scream came, a piercing, gut-wrenching sound that sent a shiver crawling up your spine despite your weakening state, unmistakably gi-hun. you refused to consider what might have happened, it was far too devastating.

˚ ༘♡ and then, footsteps.

˚ ༘♡ as the figure emerged into view, a dreadful realization set in. it wasn’t anyone you recognized.

˚ ༘♡ tall and imposing, the stranger was clad in sleek black from head to toe. the fabric of their attire shimmered faintly under the dim light, perfectly fitted, without a single crease or flaw. their face was concealed by an angular black mask, its pristine surface reflecting nothing, revealing nothing, not even a hint of the eyes beneath.

˚ ༘♡ your mind, dulled by pain and blood loss, struggled to comprehend the sight. fear should have seized you, but your body was too weak, your thoughts too fractured to muster a response. when the figure crouched beside you, their movements swift and efficient, you didn’t resist as they ripped the gag from your mouth.

˚ ༘♡ “who… who are you?” you managed to slur, your voice barely audible.

˚ ༘♡ the figure didn’t answer. they didn’t hesitate. one gloved hand cradled the back of your head, tilting it upward with unsettling care, while the other hand brought a cloth to your face. the sharp, chemical scent hit you instantly, chloroform.

˚ ༘♡ panic flared, yet it was short-lived. the edges of your vision blurred, your body growing heavier, like you were sinking into a dark, bottomless pit. the last thing you saw was the smooth, featureless mask staring down at you, icy and unfeeling, before the world faded into black.

a/n: another hwang in-ho fanfiction! let me know your thoughts and if you have any requests! 🤍

[omgeto]

☆ WHEN YOU HAVE SEX WITH YOUR EX — GOJO, GETO, TOJI

summary: you have sex with your ex. thats it.

cw: afab!reader, smutty smut smut so mdni. unprotected sex with all of them (since I forget that condoms exist) you sit on geto face, kinda finger fucking & mild hate fucking with toji but its fun, and gojo is just lovely.

an: i was meant to post this last night but I fell asleep writing geto's part so slay. anyways I hope you enjoy lmk what you think!! not proofread so ignore any mistakes please.

☆ GOJO

“this doesn’t mean we’re back together y’know,” you remind gojo, panting as he thrusts into you.

“you’re really saying that with my dick deep in your cunt,” he taunts, admiring the deep arch of your back, the way your ass ripples every time his hips drive into you. “i’ve missed this.”

“f-fuck keep going,” you moan out, as his dick hits your spot – just how you like it.

“so you don’t miss me?” he pesters, and you roll your eyes, as although you couldn’t see him, you just knew he had a pout on his face. “you really don’t miss me?” he continues his thumb making way to your clit, swiftly flicking at it.

“i don’t miss you.”

gojo pulls out of you almost defiantly, pushing you down – turning you around your back. he stares at you with something you couldn’t quite place, and re enters you just as quickly. he smirks at the way your mouth gapes as his hands roughly grab at your tits, pinching and pulling on your nipples.

“s-someone’s mad,” you egg on, loving the way that his strokes become harder.

“y’know the reason i always loved fucking you this way when we were together?” he asks with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“what’s with the trip down memory lane?,” you complain, your arms come around his neck as you take him in deeper, “i called you to fuck me, not for whatever you’re tryna do here.”

“because i always got to see all the faces you make,” he continues, completely ignoring your comment, his tongue drags up the side of your jaw, before pressing a quick kiss just under your ear. “and the face your making right now, tells me, that you're lying.”

you scoff, but didn’t say anything because you knew he was right. you did miss the way he’d plough into you, the way he knew the ins and outs of your body – how to please you. “im gonna cum,” you whine out, “satoru please i need yo–”

“you can cum when you admit the truth babe,” he teases, his strokes purposefully shift speed, still keeping you writhing underneath him but just not quite enough to get you there. “just say you miss me.”

“fine,” you force out, exasperated, “i m-miss you i do.”

“see wasn’t so hard, was it?” he kisses you deeply, driving deep into you, and you cum with a cry, you did miss being this close with your ex boyfriend. gojo is quick to finish after you, filling you up with all his cum.

he eventually pulls out of you, collapsing down on the bed next to you pulling you into his hold. you, against your better judgement, relaxing into his arms – which goes against all the rules of sleeping with your ex. “this still doesn’t mean we’re back together,” you add, knowing there was very little truth to that.

“yeah, yeah, whatever you say babe,” he smirks, his lips coming down to your forehead, placing a soft kiss, “so what did you miss about me?”

☆ TOJI

“i thought you didn’t spin the block, princess,” toji asks with a shit-eating grin, as his fingers slip inside of you “what happened to, ‘once an ex always an ex huh?” 

“i’ve always hated that nickname,” you mumble, hissing at the contact of toji’s fingers toying with your pussy, “and there are some exceptions to my rule.”

“so you’re little boyfriends not hitting it right then,” toji grins, pleased at hearing that he was the ‘exception,’ “if you’re here, slutting yourself out on my fingers.” 

“no he’s hitting it greatly,” you smirk, not rising to toji’s comments since you know what he was trying to get at, “i just missed you, that's all.”

“oh so you really have a boyfriend then?” he snapped, his fingers curling up in you.

“no i don't,” a smug smile appears on your face as you see toji’s smirk drop, “but it’s cute that you care though. are you jealous, toji?”

“shut up,” he says moodily, swiftly removing his fingers out of you, pulling you onto his lap.

you straddle him, your face inches from his, “aww are you mad toji?” you taunt with a mock pout. you’ve always loved getting a rise out of toji, you know your ex boyfriend very well, the more pissed off he was, the harder he fucked.

“sit on it,” he commands, the ‘it’ in question being his hard dick that he was furiously stroking at the sight of you. there was something about you that got on toji’s nerves – hence why you didn’t last long as a couple – but that special something was good for times like this. where you could both unleash any pent up energy you have, on eachother.

you welcome his dick eagerly, practically jumping on it, the wetness of your pussy was inviting. his dick slotted in perfectly, making you both curse at the contact. “fuck, you always feel so good,” he praises, loving the feeling of you clenching around his dick whilst you ride him.

there was a forcefulness coming from the both of you, as you were fucking each other as if you had something to prove, as if there was some unspoken competition to see who could get the other to cum first.

“f-fuck,” you mutter, the feeling of toji’s dick pistoning into you becoming too much.

“whats that princess?” toji mocks, grinning seeing your eyes gloss over, he could tell that your dick-stuffed cunt was about to release all over him, “y’gonna cum for me?”

you ignore him, continuing your mission to get toji to fold first. you manoeuvre your lips to his neck, kissing and sucking on his exposed flesh, and he takes a sharp inhale – bingo. you knew toji’s body as well as he knew yours, and he was always was weak for the way you’d nibble and bite on his neck as he fucked you dumb.

“are you gonna cum for me?” you mock mirroring his question, his strokes was getting sloppier, you could tell he was close. but you were not far behind, squirming in his lap about to reach your climax.there were no words that needed to be spoken as you and toji both cum together, your cunt too overloaded with both of your cum, making it drip out all over his dick.

“we should do this again sometime princess,” toji suggests, as you eventually hop off his dick and start putting back on your clothes, “you always know to fuck me right.”

“i’ll think about it,” you conclude, knowing that you’ll probably be back in less than a week, “and stop calling me that fucking nick name,” you say as you leave the room, the only response you hear being toji’s howling laughter.

☆ GETO

if there was one thing that you couldn’t deny your ex boyfriend had, it was his head skills. everytime without fail, he could have you sprawled out on any surface as his tongue laps your pussy. 

“s-shit, you’ve always been way too good at this,” 

“only, to please you,” he hums, pressing a soft kiss to your thigh, before going back to sucking on your clit. your hands knot his hair, pulling and tugging as he works on your folds. he loves it when you play in his hair, showing that he’s getting what he’s aiming for – giving you pleasure. 

your moans only encourage him to toy with your pussy harder, nipping and biting as your thighs clench around his head. he’s been at this for ages, tonguing your cunt for as long as possible, as if to see how long he’d be able to go. 

“sugu ‘m gonna cum,” you cry, pressure building up inside of you, “please let me cum.”

but he doesn't. ignoring your request completely, geto removes his mouth off of you. his lips were practically shining, coated in all the juices from your pussy.  “you know there was one thing we never got to do when we were together,” he starts to say, eyeing with a mischievous smile,

“which is…” you prompt, slightly upset at the lack of stimulation you were getting at your, now throbbing, pussy.

“you never sat on my face,” he utters just above a whisper, licking his lips at the thought of it. 

“but what if I—“

“don’t worry about any of that,” he murmurs, pushing himself further back on the bed, his eyes still focused on you, “come sit.”

you slowly work your way up his body, the mischief in his eyes making you feel excited. you pause, straddling his chest, your hands rest on his shoulders, “are you sure about this?”

“girl if you don’t–” he starts to say, but the rest of his sentence is muffled as he pulls you onto his face, his mouth enveloping your pussy. your hands immediately grip onto the headboard in front of you, as his tongue gives long strokes to your wet pussy, lapping up all the juices spilling from you. 

you were riding his face, your hips moving back and forth against his mouth with his head sandwiched between your thighs. “f-fuck sugu, it’s too much,” you moan out, throwing your head back. 

he grins in response, his hands gripping your ass pushing you onto his mouth deeper. he couldn’t get enough of you, the way you taste, the sweet scent of your pussy that he practically inhales, burying his nose in it.

“s-shit,” you curse, as your cunt explodes onto your ex’s face. you pause, catching your breath, still feeling the pleasurable high he just gave you. he still had his mouth on your pussy, eating up all the cum that was dripping out of you.

“hey suguru, wanna go and–” you turn to see gojo burst into the room, “oh shit, yn? are you two back together?” you scramble off of geto’s face, giving gojo the hardest glare for interrupting. 

“satoru, can’t you see that im busy,” geto chuckles, his mouth still covered with your cum, “im eating here.”

“right…” gojo nods, “i’ll leave you two too it,” but just before he leaves the room you here him yell, “im gonna tell everyone you’re back together.” you both chuckle at your friends antics, and geto pulls you back into him.

“get back on,” he smirks, “who said i was done?”

AN: so there we go. I love geto's part so much but maybe im biased idk. but yeahhh hope you enjoy the thoughts that I had at like 7 am. DIVIDERS BY @/CAFEKITSUNE

[peridot-tears]

Hey MDZS fandom. I want you guys to be careful interacting with this person.

If you don't already know, Chinese people have had a long history with cultural erasure when it comes to taking on English-language names. It started with imperialism, and continues as a way to "assimilate" and avoid mockery of our language in western countries.

For Chinese diaspora like myself, it's another form of racism we face, to the point where some of us are reclaiming our names in everyday life. Here's an article about this movement happening across Asian diasporas in the United States -- just to name one instance out of many.

The responses to this post reflect that:

You can see that my comment assumed "good faith." However, OP deleted these comments and blocked me. (That didn't stop other people from calling it out as well, though I have to assume that if OP was so offended by my comment, the next few people will receive the same treatment.)

I honestly didn't like whipping up the diaspora statement -- that I wrote with multiple Chinese diaspora fans of MDZS, all of us hailing from multiple different countries and backgrounds, our ancestry coming from completely different regions of China -- because it meant that we were encountering another microaggression.

If you ever wonder why MDZS and danmei fandoms in general seem to be so bereft of Chinese diaspora voices, that's absolutely because of these microaggressions: Someone makes a joke, writes a story, writes some meta, that is culturally ignorant at best, offensive and harmful at worst, and when we gently correct them, explaining why it's racist, the person in question shuts us down, dismisses us, gets defensive, or worse.

Regardless of where you are -- fandom, social media, on the street, at work, at school -- as long as you are interacting with other people, your words matter and affect other people. That includes being racially offensive, even if you didn't intend to be. It's how you respond to the people you've insulted that reveals your character, how willing you are to be complicit in their mistreatment.

My rule of thumb has always been this -- if multiple people, including those of the culture you've just made a microaggressive joke about, find it unfunny, racist, or harmful, then you listen. Dismiss or ignore them, then yes -- you absolutely are racist.

[happysaddca]

The poll ended with 7 folks saying they're chill with me posting nsfw so I'm making it @wyervan's problem now. :P

This is called "Moon Bites" in the google doc, and the CW is as follows: choking (mostly the aftermath of), biting (ofc), suicidal ideation, a touch of dubious consent that gets cleared up later, grinding/dry humping, shirtlessness. It's not full penetrative sex but I'm trying to be fairly comprehensive in my notes here.

Moon watches Ellis after. They're surprisingly normal despite everything. A turtleneck hides the bruising on their throat, and they lie about being sick to explain away their voice and change in wardrobe. They're completely and utterly themself, except for where they avoid Moon. 

Sun is the first to bring that up. “What did you do to Nova?” he asks, dropping a box of napkins into Moon’s arms. “I told them they needed to help restock with you and they looked ready to smack me with their broom. Even volunteered to clean the play structure on their own.” 

Moon doesn't immediately answer, instead freeing one arm to open the box. The feeling of Ellis’s neck against his palm is a white hot memory, the temptation of more mere feet away in the other room. They probably aren't wearing a choker under the turtleneck either. It would be just lovely brown flesh and 

And their lips against his. He nearly drops the box, Sun stepping in to catch. “Moon, what on earth is wrong?” 

There is no way Sun reacts well to this. Moon takes the box and sets it on a table, grabbing a napkin dispenser to keep his hands busy. He can see Sun from the corner of his eye. “I tried to choke Nova out,” he says, and, predictably, Sun draws up. “And they kissed me.” 

“What?” The word is a violent exhalation. Moon isn't surprised when Sun thumps a closed fist against his shoulder, hard. “What is the matter with you? You tried to kill an employee? The one who lives here?” The words come out in an angry whisper, and Sun hits Moon once more. “Are you trying to get us caught?”

Moon doesn't fight or avoid Sun’s blows, filling the dispenser even as his shoulder began to ache. It was a welcome distraction from the tingling in his fingers. “They kissed me,” he said slowly. 

“We already know Nova’s got brain damage!” That got a sharp look from Moon. Sun is drawn up like a snake ready to strike, his always wild hair somehow twice as voluminous as normal. His face is different though. Something like grief and fear is mixed with that anger, and expression Moon’s only seen a few times. Usually when Moon pushed against rules that defined Sun’s entire universe. Sun finds himself caught and looks away. 

“Do you like them?” came the question. Expected, though the tone was far too soft for Sun. 

“Don't know.” Moon slowly moves to the next table, fiddling with the dispenser til it pops open. “Liked… touching them. Might like kissing them too but they hit me with their bat right after and I left.” 

Sun laughs at that, and Moon’s grip on the dispenser slips. He catches his thumb on the metal, drawing blood. It's popped into his mouth, making Sun shake his head, taking over. “Gross. We have first aid kits. Multiple. Get a bandaid.” 

“Minute.” Moon drops his head into Sun’s hair, ignoring the way Sun tenses before continuing. There's no other touch, just the warmth from his scalp and the deceptive coarseness of the curls making his vision into a sea of orange. 

He can still taste the blood when they kissed. 

Sun talks. He doesn't know how not to, and Moon is good at blocking most of it out. There's no heartbeat in his head blocking it all out. Just memories. Want. 

“If you kill them,” Sun says, breaking Moon out of his daydream. He lifts his head slightly before sighing and dropping back down. 

“I think… I don't know. Need to talk to them.” Which is hard when they have managed to avoid him the past few days. 

Sun sighs and twists in place, freeing himself from Moon’s hold. Hands grip Moon's face, Sun looking him in the eye. “They will only hurt you. Everyone does remember? We only have each other.” 

Moon remembers. He doesn't reply. Sun holds him, waiting, wondering why Icarus doesn't have his voice inherent in their head but I keep writing setup and not actual so skip and come back later. 

After work, Moon debates waiting in Sue, but he's done that once already and Ellis hadn't come in for hours. Either they had moved to sleeping inside or they knew he would be waiting. And he couldn't risk it happening again. So he waited instead for Ellis to step behind the prize counter in the arcade to clean and pull expired candy, following behind. 

The door clicks, but they don't turn around. Their hearing aids must be on low. He doesn't want to scare them and risk them fighting. Moon looks around, knocking on the glass counter. 

That gets their attention and they spin in place, holding a handful of erasers like that could protect them. When they see Moon, they only tense more, looking immediately to his hands. “What do you want?” they ask. 

“Talk. Check on you.” Moon’s hands are out slightly, palms up. He can feel the fear from Ellis. It's a good fear, a righteous fear. 

“Oh you mean after you choked me?” They give a little laugh, slightly manic, and Moon can't help but smile. Do they know how like Sun they sound right now? 

“Yes. Does it hurt?” 

Ellis looks… confused by the question. Their hands are still full of erasers, so they can only gesture minutely lest they risk losing the barnyard animals to the abyss. “Yeah it still hurts. My voice is still—why did you do that Moon? Moon. Wait, stop.” 

Moon ignores the edge of panic in their voice, blocking Ellis in the corner so he can peel the turtleneck down and finally see. They twitch when he touches them, but they seem stuck holding the cheap prizes and Moon isn't going to overthink it. Mostly because the bruising is beautiful, deep purplish-black in the middle but starting to yellow out along the edges. Healing, letting him see the stages of recovery his victims don't usually go through. Moon presses a finger against the largest of the bruises, listens to Ellis draw in a quick breath. 

“Don't,” they whisper, voice catching on the edges. Moon doesn't. The urge to choke isn't strong, a residual desire to mark the soft brown skin of their throat once more mostly sated on finally seeing his handiwork. But there is a new urge, and Ellis is holding so very nicely still. 

He kisses their throat, feeling them jerk back in surprise and grabbing their shoulder before they can hit their head on one of the lower shelves. His lips trace over the bruising until he's found the most tender spot, and he bites, hearing them gasp, sinking down. Falling? He braces them with his arms, feeling multiple somethings, the erasers, hit his shoe. 

“Moon,” Ellis whispers and groans when he bites again, sucking against the mark. A hand grabs at his beanie, tugging it down, then his hair, pulling to get his attention. When Moon looks up, Ellis is crying. “What're you doing?” they ask. 

The tears are no good, no good at all, and he kisses them away, gentle except for the brush of sharpened teeth against their cheek. They're warm and solid in his arms and they're not fighting him. They want this? The hand in his hair clings as he avoids their mouth, kissing down their jaw to bite again. 

This time there's a moan, proper and small and that hand pulls hard, forcing some space for Ellis to look at Moon. There's still tears, but they're looking at his face properly, at his mouth, and they finally kiss him and he thinks he can taste blood again. 

He pulls at their turtleneck, but pulling it off means separating and there's no way he can manage that, not with their mouth still mashed awkwardly against his. They clearly don't know how to kiss, but that's okay because he does and he can guide them, nipping at their mouth with his teeth. He pushes his hands up their shirt, feeling their stomach tense and relax under his hands. They're solid under a soft layer of fat, and he can squeeze, leaving more bruises. Less deadly bruises as he helps Ellis open their mouth to him. 

They are extremely bad at kissing. But they are trying, and that pushes Moon more, hands slipping around and behind, scooping them up to push against the wall. Ellis gasps, grabbing at his shoulders. “Put me down, Moon, n—oh.” Their throat is bite level again, and he does, mutilating their neck until there's no sign of the choking from days ago. Only then does Moon slow down enough that Ellis can push him away. They're breathing hard, and the hand on Moon's chest doesn't move. He watches, waiting, pleased at the fresh marks on their throat. 

“Wh-what was that?” they ask. One hand moves to touch against their artery. It comes away wet with saliva and blood. “Moon?” 

They're frightened again, he realizes, and there's a deliciousness to that too. He wants to take them, to the couch, to their bed, pull that turtleneck off to mark them all the way down but. But but but it's hard to remember the reasons why to stop when they're right there. 

They needed to talk. To decide. But he wants to touch, to kiss, to press his hands deep and pull Ellis apart. The hand on his chest curls into his shirt, keeping him at a distance. He could touch them if he wanted. His arms are longer. 

Ellis is still breathing hard, a soft wheeze with every exhale, but the moment Moon moves, body twitching towards them, they shove him against the counter. “Stop,” they order, and he stares, wondering briefly if it's better with them in control. Ellis closes their eyes and steadies themself, letting go of Moon slowly. “Pick up the erasers asshole and. Come to Sue when you're done. To talk.” They take a step back, fixing the collar of their turtleneck, hiding the new bruises. “I can't believe you drew blood. How sharp are your teeth?” 

Moon grins, slow and lazy, in response. “The better to bite you with.” The eye roll was worth it, though the prize counter feels too big and empty with Ellis gone. Moon decides to leave the erasers, kicking a pig under the counter as he walks away. Sun can yell at him later for it. 

He can barely lock up, wanting to skip ahead. Instead, he retreats to the bathroom, washing his face with cold water, checking that he smells and looks semi-decent. There's lettuce in his teeth. He could kill Sun for letting him walk around like that. 

For once, Moon knocks at the door instead of letting himself in. It's quiet inside, but he can see Ellis's shadow before they open the door. They'd changed. A tanktop, showing off the bruising around their neck. No collar, no chest compression. Moon steps inside and Ellis backpedals. Still scared. Of him? 

Of course of him. 

“Moon.” They sound nearly normal. The smell of tobacco is thick, swirled around by a cool breeze. Moon sees a lit cigarette and a couple butts balanced on an ash tray on the counter, the emergency exit on the roof cracked open. Ellis follows his gaze, picking up the lit cigarette to inhale deeply. Smoke leaves through their nostrils before they finally exhale. “We need to talk.” 

Moon takes the cigarette for a drag. The menthol bites back, but he hides his surprise at the taste. Ellis is frowning, so he smiles. “It's rude not to share.” 

“It's gross is what it is.” 

“My tongue was in your mouth twenty minutes ago.” Moon’s smile grows as Ellis turns the most delightful shade of red. “Think you can share.” 

“Fine well.” Ellis steps back again, a hand going up to their neck before they flinch. A scrap of concern flits through Moon’s mind before he closes it off. “Why… why did you choke me? No touching til you answer.” Moon sees them move for the all too familiar shape of their bat. Of course they would have it. 

Moon is slow to respond, pretending to savor the last of this cigarette. “You know what I am.” 

“Kind of.” Moon expects Ellis to tiptoe around the subject. “You… you killed Helen. You said to protect me.” Silence. They swallow, flinch, and continue. “I get the feeling she's not the only person you've killed.” More silence. Moon finds himself staring at the mole under their eye, not wanting to see what Ellis is feeling. They can be so easy to read. “Do you want to kill me?” 

“No.” It's almost entirely true. Their mouth opens and he puts down what's left of the cigarette. “I… do not want to kill you. But.” He finds himself staring at their neck. 

“But,” Ellis echoes. They touch their neck, more gently. “Do you like seeing me like this?” 

Moon is slow to answer. “Yes.” His voice is soft. Ellis's fingers curl, hiding the bruising.  “But I like seeing you too. Just you. Don't know what it means.” 

Ellis's chin drops. They're clearly thinking about something when they step forward. Moon is blocked again, though it's an easy break if he wanted to leave. Ellis takes his hands, bringing it back to their throat. 

It burns, the skin raw from injury, and when Moon’s hand closes, Ellis flinches again.  They look up to Moon, watching his face. He wonders what they see. The killer, their employer, the nuisance that constantly breaks into their home to nap? He gives a soft squeeze before reaching up, pulling their glasses off and setting them aside. 

“Would it be bad if I asked for you to kill me? Not Sun. If I'm to die… I would rather it be by your hands.” 

Moon tucks his hand against their cheek, watching them lean into it. Could he really kill them? Maybe. Did he want to? 

He couldn't answer that. 

“Why?” 

Ellis leans into his space pulling him down to close the distance. Another kiss, their third one if he was keeping count. They're still terrible at it, but they're trying to keep it soft, and he allows it, letting Ellis pull him back and to the bed. He's made to sit, Ellis staring at him. 

“Because if it's you… I don't know. I've thought about dying a lot and at least if you're the one to do it… I know something's come of me.” They're standing in front of him, between his legs, not looking him in the eye once again.  

It's not a very good reason; Moon can acknowledge that much. But why would he look too deeply when Ellis is offering themselves to him this way. He holds up a hand, and they take it, needing help to climb into his lap. They sit against his arousal and freeze again. 

“Moon,” they say in a very small voice. “I've never…” 

“Easy enough to guess.” He holds their hand with one of his, the other sliding up their back. He finds the back of their head, bringing them down so both their foreheads touch. “You are horrible at it.” 

“Rude!” They push him down, and Moon drags them with him, laughing as he traps them against his chest. Kissing their hair, down over their eyes and back to their mouth. Terrible, terrible kisser, but they are heavy against him and it's too easy to press a leg between theirs, breaking their concentration. “Moon.” Another little moan, with Ellis grabbing back, hands curling in his hair. “We aren't done.” 

“Aren't we?” Despite their grip, Moon is able to move his head down nuzzling into their jaw. “Don't want to kill you but… it'll be me.” 

“You?” He nods into their skin. Ellis sighs before squeaking in surprise when his hand goes down to squeeze their ass. “Moon, please.” 

“Want to touch,” he replies, but he moves his hands up slowly. Tucking them under their shirt instead and grinning when they shiver. “Better?” 

“Worse. Your hands are cold.” They move to kiss him again. A little better. Moon closes his eyes, feeling his way up their back even as they open up to him. They taste strongly of menthol and tobacco, and he can smell only their cigarettes and shampoo. When they pull back again, he rolls them over, pinning them to the bed. 

Ellis stares up with wide eyes, and Moon swears he can feel their quick pulse in their wrist against the palm of his hand. It's tempting, and their neck is so lovingly exposed, as is plenty of unmarked dark skin just past their collarbones. Moon leans down and they kiss again, but he overwhelms, biting at their lips until they feel raw, his leg pushing between theirs again. The physicality overwhelms Ellis, and they whimper into Moon’s mouth. He eats up the sound, releasing their wrists to grab the hem of their shirt and pull up. 

It's too quick, and Ellis fights back, pushing at his face and shoulders and trying to work their legs up to shove him back. Moon uses the tank top to block their arms, tugging it over their face and dropping his hips against theirs. He grinds against them, the sharp point of pleasure amplified as he presses another kiss against the hollow of their throat, feeling Ellis squirm and moan his name. They are slow to pull the shirt off, more watching him as he continues to kiss down their sternum. 

“Moon.” Their voice is small again, the wheeze just behind their words. They struggle to sit up and Moon finds himself buried in the warmth of their chest. Hands pull on the back of his shirt and it's Moon’s turn to hesitate, not given the chance before his shirt and beanie have been tossed to the side, leaving his hair wild. Three fingers push at one shoulder. “Sit up.” 

Moon obeys, curious as Ellis pulls their legs under themself and wraps an arm over their chest. Hiding. He reaches out, but they shove his hand away. “No, it's my turn,” they say, and Moon drops his hand into his lap. They're staring at his chest, biting the inside of their lip so hard it's drawing the flesh inside, and Moon waits. Ellis seems frozen in place though. 

Right, they've never done this before. It's cute, in a small frightened creature sort of way, how they freeze up. But Moon wants to touch, to be touched, so he slowly reaches out again. Ellis starts to protest, but he only takes their free hand and returns it to his shoulder. 

“You won't break me,” he promises, and Ellis squeezes, holding tight. He wonders if this is too fast, if they need to be prompted to move, but they relax their grip, tracing the pattern of body hair over his chest, circling a nipple before skipping down to the lean line of his stomach. Their other arm drops so they can scoot closer, and Moon expects a kiss. Ellis tucks their head against Moon’s neck and there's a bite instead. 

Their teeth can't cause much damage on their own, but the pressure is sharp, and Moon moans softly, dropping his head back as Ellis pushes into his space. There's a hand in his hair again, pinning him in place, open to their continued worrying over his skin. The other is holding their balance against his upper arm. Ellis gnaws at the point where light becomes dark, testing the flexibility of his Adam's apple, and Moon can only hold onto himself, unsure if he likes this or wants to pin Ellis down and take control again. 

The answer seems to be both, thinking of pinning them down like a collected butterfly, free to use at his discretion. Movement against him refocuses his attention and he finds Ellis in his arms, his hands temptingly close to the button of their jeans. 

“No.” Ellis grabs at his arm when he pulls at their zipper, squeezing tight when he doesn't immediately stop. “No Moon it's—no. Wait. Please.” 

It's frustrating to stop. Moon knows he can overpower them, knows it'll be a fight. But he lets them back away, fixing their jeans and breathing deeply, and he mimics them. Calming down. He can feel his heart racing where they'd bitten down. It's tempting to touch, but he focuses on their hands instead, watching them flutter up and down in their own rhythm. 

And Ellis is watching him again, wary, but Moon holds still, letting them relax. He wants nothing more than to push past their limits and lose himself in them but the idea of watching Ellis heal too is a curious one. To stay long enough in place. But they would have to stay too. 

“Can I hold you?” That is new. Ellis hasn't pulled their shirt back on, but they hold their arms out in offering. 

Moon slides into their arms, Ellis pulling them both into the bed. His head rests on their shoulder, and he shifts to get comfortable, closing his eyes. Their chest is warm, their skin soft against his nose. This is nice. When Ellis wraps their arms around him, a hand in his hair, he sighs. The bite mark on his throat throbs. He needs to call Sun, to take care of the pressure in his pants, to figure out what they're both doing with this. 

But not right now. Right now, he's tucked against their chest, and there's a new weight as Eos jumps up to investigate what they're doing. Everything else can wait, just a little longer. 

[missriggie]

Rook is a Freedom Spirit Part 2: Elgar'nan

This is going off the previous entry I did about a week or two ago and I wanted to explore it a bit further with more of the Evanuris Part 1-> If Inquisitor Lavellan is Hope, Elf!Rook is Freedom

I'm going to just spit-ball a bit here on what I think might have been his prime motivations leading up to and throughout Veilguard right up until we stab his blighted ass. It's going to come off as fanfiction-y but that's literally the reason this theory came into my head....

I've looked into different forums and reddit posts looking at the possible origin of Elgar'nan as a spirit, and it's been widely accepted that he to be a spirit of Command, corrupted this becomes Tyranny. (Elgar'nan simps, no judgement, use that as you will)

In Inquisition, we actually can meet a spirit of Command in the ruins of Old Crestwood. The wraith is frustrated that nothing in this material would is obeying them. It is pompous and unrelenting. It says things like "I am in control of my fate." "I am called to higher things." "I am more. I am Command."

If Elgar'nan were indeed a Spirit of Command, and this is along the lines of his thinking, I'll try to string together his motivation here up to the very end of Veilguard. There were some huge bombshells shared with us thanks to the memories in Regrets of the Dread Wolf. We know that because the elves created bodies for themselves from the blood of Titans sparked an all-out war. But it makes me wonder at who would be the first to float on in and craft themselves a body. Who would have the balls to do that? Who would later have the conviction and belief in themselves to rally the elves and lead them into a hopeless war, then stand foward as a god king to rule them thereafter? Probably Elgar'nan as Command. Here's how I think this went down...

Command lives in Fade but has no body - so do other spirits - each can extend the will upon the energies at play - Command not quite so in control as he wishes with so many cooks in the kitchen- sees humans and they can control their surroundings by *gasp* picking stuff up with this thing called 'a body' - Humans don't always follow each others orders though - sees the dwarves efficiently carry out the titan's every whim - jackpot - steals titan blood - makes body for himself - 'hey peeps, come check out my apposable thumbs! I can pick stuff up! Come try it!' - more spirits want a body - demand too high - titans go on strike - war begins - spirits stubbornly following purpose even in new bodies - Elgar'nan mobilises everyone together to a singular purpose - elven forces unified but keep getting crushed - Titans are severed from the dwarves - war won - doesn't want to go into chaos again - steps up as God King so everyone can do what he says. Elven Empire created. Great success!

But spirits be spirits and those that are not enslaved fight to free those that are. And we see this play out in blocks through Solas's regrets; Evanuris use the blight from the Titan's agony and rage, Mythal murdered, Fen'Harel rises as a revolutionary, I'm sure the Forgotten Ones are in there somewhere, Veil erected etc etc.

Elgar'nan is trapped with the blight, with only Lusacan a conduit to whisper to the Tevinter schmucks, his kin die one by one over the course of thousands of years, the world is surely in chaos now without his guiding hand. But with every Evanuris dropping like flies, so does the Veil.

Here we see Rook's penchant for Freedom and Chaos once again. He and Ghilan'nain are freed, thanks to them.

Fast forward to Blood of Arlathan >>> Something that sticks out and feels so intentional is the long stare that he and Rook share after the elves are freed. Playing an elf and applying this theory, could it be one of recognition?

Freedom? Freedom means Chaos, those that ought to listen and obey him should see his would undone by such a force. Freedom must be extinguished, Chaos, cut down before it bears fruit. Rook must be faced and made an example of.

And so Freedom fights against Tyranny, just as Command fights Chaos.

So yeah I think it's really cool to think of Rook in this way, at least based off what I've experienced from my playthrough of Veilguard.

[moonshynecybin]

Marc not being with Vale in Austin is fine because Vale crashed anyway and it's been a week since Argentina and Vale is still processing what Marc said (and it's not like they picked each other 100% of the time when things were fineTM, so, anyway)

Marc not picking Vale in Sachsenring, though? After the moment they had in Barcelona? Definitely feels wrong and Vale burns with jealousy (which was Marc's plan all along) (Vale goes out that night and picks up someone and it's the least satisfying one night stand he's had in forever) (and he's fully the one to blame for it)

I think it also shows Vale that Marc is not as desperate as he might have thought (and let's face it, there was obviously something satisfying thinking he had the upper hand there) and it fucks him up a little too

context on this post!! go read it...

see in my brain im thinking marc is enough of an all-or-nothing dichotomous little guy that he DOES choose vale every time he can... idk how that would work out with the rules of podiums but i have been tortured by enough gifsets (wait a minute you made some of those. find them here friends) of his 21 year old self wallpapering his room with valentino merch (and his own merch like he WAS doodling mr marc marquez rossi <3 in all of his notebooks rip king) that i think the first time he chooses anybody else is post ARGENTINAAAAAA 2018. down horrendous. down catastrophic. down so bad we might have to send him to the medical center so they can declare him medically fit to ride anyways. and thats not as fun for jealousy stuff anyways bc by then vale has realllllllly entrenched some narratives in his brain and would simply repress that <3

so!!! this au hath been set in the 2016 season where marc is half agony half hope.... one word from you would silence me forever.... so marc is um. winning a lot, and choosing valentino every time like. please talk to me. and as youve said initially its like i have nothing to say to you!! you betrayed me!! and then as it goes on a gradual thawing and they are having like. intense tender fraught winners room sex the ENTIRE time like insane people. marc fully lowkey like once he unblocks me the wedding is back on... and then as youve said in catalunya vale picks marc and blows his back out and theyre both soooo kind of. tired. of pretending that they dont like this so i think there IS a moment where marc tells a dumb joke and vale laughs (SEX LAUGHERS TILL I DIE) and then his eyes get all soft and marc leans in and its a very sweet kiss and a very sweet moment and they both think. maybe..... marc's breath caught in his chest vale's thumb on his cheek....

but this is rosquez the GOATs of motorsport divorce (no one tell me the brocedes lore shhh) so i think vale makes an offhanded comment in front of marc about picking up or something. maybe talks to uccio and blocks marc's number after he tries to call him afterwards... SOMETHING happens that pisses marc off idk what. and the next time he wins in germany hes like fine. okay. i wont choose valentino he clearly doesnt want me to. so he chooses dovi and they dont fuck but they do let everyone THINK they fucked (dovi is lowkey sad about this. cal crutchlow known marc fucker and p2 this race is despondent that he didnt get chosen.) and vale feels LITERALLY INSANE... sitting at home thinking about marc with dovi... cant get it out of his head....

[finemeal]

AO3 Etiquette

Alright, y’all, you already know what I’m about to say. But go ahead get some water, something to eat, take your meds, and whatever else you need to do as I go into this. Ready? Good.

I’ve seen far too many users on AO3 being rude and saying things that I’m not even sure they understand is rude.

If you’ve done these things, don’t sweat it too much. As long as you learn and do better, that’s what’s important. I don’t wanna make anyone feel bad, but I want to make y’all AWARE.

So let’s talk about some basic etiquette for interacting on AO3.

(Disclaimer: not every AO3 author is going to agree. Some are okay with some of these things, some aren’t. Let’s just play on the safe side yeah?)

Comment Etiquette

Listen, we’ve all left comments on fics we like. But here’s the thing, some of us don’t realize what comments are rude or not.

Comments that pass the vibe check:

Hearts

Something you liked about the story

Saying you enjoyed the story

Excited to see more from an author (not demanding an update, not asking for more, just genuine excitement for whatever the author has in store)

Anything that is genuinely nice

Theories on what you think will happen (not necessarily what you want or hope happens)

Comments that do not pass the vibe check:

DEMANDING an update

Treating fic authors like content pumps and not real people who do this in their free time

Critiquing the story

Saying how they should’ve written something different

Constructive criticism that the author did NOT ask for

Saying things that are purposefully antagonistic

Trolling

Anything that if someone said to you about something you worked hard on you would think was rude

Dogging on how a character was written

Comments that are WILDLY different from the tone of the story (i.e leaving a graphically violent comment on a story that does not feature graphic violence)

Any mention on how long it’s been since they’ve updated — you’re gonna make your wait longer

This one is more of a personal ick but any “want to see” comments, specifically on one-shots (I want you to enjoy what I’ve written, not talk about stories you hope I’ll write — unless author says that they specifically want those comments)

Honestly there’s so many comments that do not pass the vibe check I can’t even list them all. But I listed a BUNCH so, general rule of thumb is: If you’re not sure it’s rude, reach out to a friend and ask. Also, you can ask for people in the comment section to vibe check you if you’re unsure. And? If you know it’s rude and say it anyway, you’re an asshole.

ALSO: author’s will read your comments! They may not respond, but 9/10 author’s will read the comment so remember that you’re not posting into the void. And? People will call you out if you’re being rude. Don’t double down. Apologize, delete comment, move on.

Author’s talk, we will block you if you’re a raging asshole cuz we don’t need that kinda energy in our fics. And, sometimes we’ll turn off anon commenters cuz if you’re going to continue to be an asshole, and can’t even say it to our face, you din’t deserve to comment.

Bookmark Etiquette

This one is prolly gonna get a lot of people riled up and I simply don’t care. If you disagree, that’s fine, just know as an author and friends with other AO3 author’s we consider these sorts of things rude.

Bookmarks that pass the vibe check:

No comment

A nice comment with the bookmark

Private bookmarks (no matter what it’s tagged/commented with)

Nice/neutral tags

A note to self about where you left off

Bookmarks that do not pass the vibe check:

Anything rude for the comment/tag section of a bookmark — unsure what’s rude? See comment section above

Ranking the fic (see this way more often in bookmarks than anywhere else)

Unread bookmarks (not always a fail, it’s just weird? You can mark for later, why are you bookmarking my story without reading it?)

If your bookmark is private? It doesn’t matter how you tag/note it/whatever. But if it’s public? Author’s will sometimes go look at bookmarks because people will leave nice little comments that make us feel good. If you say something mean we can’t even delete it. But I can guarantee we’ll block you!

Yes, bookmarks are for the reader, but just because you didn’t intend for an author to see what you said doesn’t make it any less mean. If it’s public: shame on you. Make a bookmark that’s mean in private, then I won’t care.

Conclusion

Don’t be mean. If you don’t like a story, you don’t have to say anything. It takes more time to leave a nasty comment or bookmark something in a mean way than it does to just back out of the fic. I get it, you don’t like the fic. I don’t like every fic I read. You know what we do? We use the back button.

We’re all people, we all have lives and things going on. Just know 2024 is the year I’m no longer replying to nasty comments. I’m deleting them, blocking if I want to, and moving on.

If you have any questions, feel free to ask. Again, this post has a very aggressive tone because I’m sick of seeing mean comments on my friend’s fics. Will this stop those comments? No, but I hope it lessens them.

This truly is just about educating people. If you have any questions, anything you want to add. Feel free, pop off monarchs.

[jdorian]

why do you ride so hard for these problematic men? first ryan and his racist anti vax ass and now lou with his ableist trump supporting? you know you can like the characters they play without riding for these grown men right? lou wasn’t hacked. why would he delete that specific instagram post if he was? why would he like his most recent like if he was hacked? why wouldn’t he say he was? you guys just like making up excuses (even ones that make no sense) to give your favs a pass and it’s weird. just admit they are human and fallible and maybe not the best people and that’s okay. you don’t need to stan these men to enjoy their characters.

okay. i'm gonna try to be patient and assume that you're here in good faith, even though I know for a fact, that you're not.

I will also ignore the Ryan thing because what do you mean "first"? I haven't even been in the fandom when that whole thing went down, but I believe in calling out bad behaviour to help people learn to do better, otherwise what's the fucking point? moving on.

so first of all, do not tell me what I should say but especially do not tell me what I should say, when I already said it word for word here:

second of all, I do not ride hard for Lou, in fact I do not ride hard for any of them. what I care about is actors (and the crew and the showrunners cough cough) not being harassed and treated like crap for doing their jobs, which, let's be real fucking honest here, the fandom has a history with, especially when it comes to love interests — as Oliver himself has pointed it out.

do I know what happened? no. do I think there are a lot of suspicious beats around the incident? yes, very much so.

btw no one would even assume hacking, if certain people could just act right. just a few weeks ago, no one could've plausibly make the claim, now however... this is what bullying and harassing and making fake accounts and so on births, this is all on the fandom. if not for that shitty behaviour, this would be much more clean-cut.

if it was him; he deleted it immediately which tells me that he's at least aware of how it reflects on him, if not how and why posting something like that is not okay. we can't be responsible for other people's values, but can only hope for them to always try to do better. and that's just step one.

the thing is, if we as a fandom can collectively ignore other things that have been deleted by other cast members, then instead of making a spectacle out of this, we can all just hope that it's a beginning of a learning curve.

anyway. do not come into my inbox — on anonymous, no less — to try to police what I say on my own blog. I always choose my words very carefully and I never claimed to know exactly what happened and as a rule of thumb, I don't allow myself more than a certain amount of time a day to dwell on these type on things (that time for today is up with this ask, by the way), because I'm in the fandom for fun and when it's no longer fun, I just leave.

but it's my blog and I will post what I think and if you don't like that; no one is forcing you to see it. unfollow and block and have a nice day.

[mayakern]

Hi there, I’m a fellow fashion designer and illustrator and I’ve been really inspired by the clothes you’ve been posting lately. Would you be open to a short conversation where I might pick your brain for some of the things you wish you’d known going into the all-over sublimation fabric printing (also, I’d love to learn more abt how you went about finding a manufacturer)

when you find a manu, make a color test garment to test their color range. i did two versions of this for working with our new manu, a color block skirt and a skirt that was a mashup of a bunch of my designs that use different color palettes and drawing processes, so i could see how the printer handled crisp line work vs textural painting etc etc.

direct to garment printing and sublimation are different processes and your files will need to be different. dtg generally maxes out at 100dpi. sublimation can go to like 1400dpi and will look bad if your files are under 300dpi.

making clothing is expensive. to make a living off of it, you need a good profit margin* and enough inventory that the net sales make you a livable wage. unless you take out a loan (something i would not recommend doing unless you are extremely confident), building up the disposable income to afford that much inventory takes time. for me it took about 3-4 years, and even then it was Tight. it takes time to educate customers about your product and credibility and it takes time to build interest/recognition. everything snowballs. it’s slow as fuck at first grows exponentially.

* generally a good rule of thumb is retail cost should be 3x the manufacturing cost. that way you make enough money that one sale can pay for you to make two of the same type of garment. this is because your revenue needs to be able to cover the cost of ONE new garment + operating costs + taxes + the stuff you need to live like food etc etc, but all of that is too complicated to factor in so that’s why the shorthand is 3x.

as for finding a manu, that’s really not my field. i started off working with companies like artscow and vograce, which are much more approachable for new ppl. after that my wife took over contacting manufacturers and started interfacing with them over alibaba. now we contract a supply chain manager to help us find manufacturers, mostly not thru alibaba. her name is ash and you can contact her at Aaccstudios1@ gmail. com if you’d like to hire her.

this is the most useful information i can think of off the bat. if you have a more specific question, feel free to send an ask, and if you are absolutely set on having a more in depth conversation with me, we can schedule a call but i will charge a small consultation fee bc it would require an amount of preparation on my part that i don’t have a lot of time for.

[batteredrugosa]

WIP Wednesday Prompts

I STG this game is the only thing that gets me to actually sit down and write regularly. People asked me for words? Cant let them down! and then I have fun in spite of myself. This is a chunk of my short story Lion from my 2020 NaNo collection. It finished the month as a series of scenes with no transitions, so I have been making a story out of it.

posted for: @tamsinswriting, @asha10100101010, @somefishycat

Y'all got a long snippet; I got caught up in this one this morning.

When 9:30 came and went and the rest of the group had not returned, Emma, started to get mildly concerned. She hoped that they had not gotten lost; the caves were well marked and the side tunnels were blocked form wandering, but if someone decided it was a good idea to break the rules, there were all kinds of potential dangers. By 10:00, Emma was feeling frantic. She stashed her gear in Gillian’s tent and headed up the trail towards the cave entrance in the hopes of finding her friends just running a bit late.

The cave mouth quickly appeared before her, and she saw some foot prints in the dirt heading into the cavern, but nothing coming out again . She started to enter and realized she had forgotten to bring a flashlight with her. As she turned around she noticed a wet spot on the cave floor, just at the point where the light began to fade. She walked closer to take a look and saw it was a smear of dark red blood. Her mind began to race with worry and fear as she frantically patted pockets for her cell phone to call the ranger station. She found it in side pocket of her pants and as she thumbed it open everything went dark as a thick meaty hand slapped a cloth over her mouth and a strong arm wrapped around her waist. She took in a deep breath to scream and immediately felt light headed and muzzy. Her thoughts scattered into a jumble and she passed out as she was being dragged backwards into the dark.

*******

When Emma woke her head was pounding, She was slumped against the wall of a cave and the world around her was pitch black. She heard small sounds that let her know that she was not the only one bundled against the wall and when she tried to open her mouth to cry out, she realized that she had been gagged and that she was bound hands and feet. She heard purposeful movement from somewhere else in the cavern and two people talking in a language she did not understand. She craned her head trying to see something of what was going on, but the room remained too dark to see anything clearly. Whatever conversation was being had by the people that she imagined must be their captors came to an end and she heard footsteps approaching her. She closed her eyes and pretended to be passed out, hoping that they would assume she was more disoriented than she was. The rough hands she remembered from before wrapped around her arms and pulled her away from the wall and up to her feet, giving her a bone rattling shake. “Wag ough girlie. Ye hev been paid for.“ His accent was unusual with guttural vowels and a rolling r sound that made his English very hard to make out. Bought and paid for? She stumbled a little on her unsteady legs but quickly found her balance and stepped back from that meaty hand. She had to get away from here. If she was compliant maybe this new person would take her somewhere with light and she could orient herself. Was this some sort of human trafficking ring on Cooper Mountain? She sensed another presence close to her and another hand reached out to touch her arm. “Come girl. I will lead you until we are way from these and I can make a light for you to walk.” These hands were smooth and warm to the touch. Their owner quickly scooped her up as though she did not weigh a thing and she felt a breeze on her face. They were running fast and silent through total darkness. She wanted to struggle, but she feared falling and getting knocked out again so she held herself as still as she could, holding back a whimper of terror as her captor carried her through the unrelenting darkness.

[starblazes-a]

🔥 unpopular opinion meme - callouts/dni's

( let me air out my unpopular opinions / accepting !! )

disclaimer: i would like to note that this is a relatively recent change in opinion for me and that yes, i have participated in/condoned these in the past and probably still have some dnis on my blogs floating around but at present these are my thoughts.

i'll start with dnis as that is where most of the changes in my opinion lies. at the risk of being booed out of the community, i don't really think public dnis are necessary. im not talking about standard, universal dnis — such as 'minors dni' or 'dni if you condone x phobia/ism' - but the more specific ones. this is merely personal preference, but in the same vein of keeping my privacy and peace, i feel that publicly announcing the fandoms, urls, characters, and faceclaims you won't interact with is just kind of inviting people to ask about it, and talk off the dash, and potentially create tension across the board.

i'm too damn old and too damn tired to keep up with the personal drama of everyone i follow.

if there is someone or something i don't want on my dash, i'm perfectly capable of using my block button and filter settings to get rid of that content. i have my stuff set so that anything i don't want to see ( people, triggers, etc ) doesn't even give me a notification that its hidden. it's just not there. this relieves a lot of stress for me, personally, as it prevents me from getting curious if tumblr puts the "hey we blocked this post containing 'x' but would you like to view it anyway" notif on the dash and then getting upset at myself when i inevitably look at it and it's exactly what i didn't want to see lmao.

again, for me personally, i just don't think it's anyone's business who or what im uncomfortable with the same way i don't think it's anyone's business what my mental illnesses and traumas are. privacy and peace is so important and im trying to be better about cultivating that.

that being said, i do think there is a time and place for callouts. as a general rule of thumb, i don't reblog them unless i, in my understanding of reading the information given to me, feel that an individual ( or individuals ) is harmful either to themselves or the community. it's a very tricky line i think, because not only are many of us unreliable narrators in airing out the dirty laundry, but because on the surface level i think a lot of people brush off callouts as just "petty drama" and they would be right to some extent; but i also think there are cases — few and far between — where toxic behaviour being called out can affect more than just the parties presenting their case in a callout, perhaps even opening a discussion for other individuals who were too scared to speak up and say 'hey, they treated me like this too and that's not okay'.

where i draw the line with callouts is when it becomes an excuse to witch hunt and/or drive someone out of the community or off tumblr completely. no one has a moral high ground. i think everyone deserves at least one chance to turn things around and apologise. and even if they don't, unless they are actively harming someone directly, i really don't think it's right to continue to bully them until they leave. again, it's about curating your space. it's one thing if you don't want to see them on your dash or interact with them, and that's perfectly okay — protect yourself — but to go out of your way to make sure they know you think they're a bad person or to chase them off is both mean-spirited and ultimately more stress on yourself than necessary.

[niuniente]

How do you survive fandom for so long? I used to heavily be in fandoms, making fanart, fanfics, participating in zines, celebrating characters bdays, etc. But now I struggle to stay in a fandom. Maybe I'm just seeing to many bad sides of fandom these days. Like I recently got into SpyxFamily but when looking through fanart, discovered 18+ fanart involving the child Anya, while I know this is the internet and I can't escape seeing things that make me uncomfortable, I just haven't had the urge to try to join the fandom after it. I'm sure there's a wonderful side to it, but I just don't have the energy for it anymore. Idk I always feel like I have to keep up with the fandoms artists, writers and everything or else I'm not a part of it. Sorry if this sounded ranty, I've just been following for years and envy your ability to hop right back into a fandom you haven't touched in a while or into ones that are new.

Big fandoms are always difficult to be in. The more people, the more problems there are, and you'll encounter things you wish not to see. You have to then weight things; can I handle encountering something I don't want to see and immediately block the thing and the person posting these things I don't wish to see (and report it, if needed) or will they throw me out of the loop so much that it is better not to wander into there? You need to curate your own internet experience (as we all need to) but it is challenging when things aren't tagged. Then, you have to weight the pros and cons and decide what to do.

I'm not part of any big fandoms and I grew up in the so-called dark ages of the internet, when nothing was tagged, warned etc. so when you go to see or read things, it can be anything. Then you just go "Nope" and click away. Fandoms were smaller back then as internet wasn't a common thing in your pocket available 24/7 so chances of running into something you do not want to encounter all of the sudden have grown since those days.

How I handle ALL fandom things is that I mainly mind my own business and don't wander too far. A good rule of thumb is to find a small group of nice people (or just a few of them) and hang around with them. Follow just certain artists. Follow just certain fanfic authors. Hang only in certain Discords. Mute and block posts and people freely - you don't have to justify this to anyone. Black list in Tumblr words you don't wish to see (New Xkit is excellent for computers, mobile should have its own blocking system but I don't use phone to scroll anything unless necessary).

You can't control a fandom or other fans (not even the twisted ones) but you can try your best to control yourself - and if it means not wandering into certain fandoms & tags or not wanting to take a risk of seeing something you don't want to see (as it will be pretty inevitable in big fandoms no matter what safety measurements you take), then it is the best not to go there. As sad as it might be.

Also, the second worry; if you like a thing, congratulations, you are part of the fandom :3 It really is as simply as that. Fandoms aren't some social activity you have to perform to earn your fan badge. You like the things = you are a fan.

[caixxa]

hi caixa 🥰!! 7, 13, 16, 19, 28, and 35 for the weird questions ask please? 💗

Baby!! So many!

7. What is your deepest joy about writing?

Creating a thing out of thin air with nothing but my imagination and words.

13. What is a subject matter that is incredibly difficult for you write about? What is easy?

Violence is difficult. The action of fighting, physical injury, pain, and I know next to nothing about firearms either. I'm also not very confident in my ability to write sports as action. It takes time.

The romantic style of writing atmospheric descriptions of spaces and nature as a reflection of emotions and inner thoughts is something that comes easily.

16. What’s the weirdest thing you’ve ever used as a bookmark?

I don't think I've ever used anything particularly weird.

19. Tell me a story about your writing journey. When did you start? Why did you start? Were there bumps along the way? Where are you now and where are you going?

I suddenly remembered I had answered the question once and I'll copy my answer from a year ago here bc my thumbs sre going numb from typing.

I told myself bedtime stories in my head, those that I can remember, from about 7 or 8 years of age. Elaborate ensembles of characters, either completely of my own or characters from a book series. Never wrote them down.

I had a diary, I wrote little poems, my teacher liked my essays at school and the little plays I wrote for my classmates. It was fun.

From then on, I always had some kind of a story running in my mind. Sometimes, I wrote them down; usually not.

University taught me news prose and the value of readability, clarity, and accuracy. Work has taught me the value of good enough and done in time versus perfect.

Now? I gather building blocks called information and stack them together for easy but nutritious servings.

But I also tell myself bedtime stories in my head. Sometimes I type them down to give them a concrete form. I have posted some of them on Archive of our Own.

Where am I going? Where is anybody going? As you see, my friend, time is a flat circle. Maybe I’ll end up writing short sentences about how the day went and simple little poems in a small diary in wobbly handwriting.

28. Who is the most delightful character you’ve ever written? Why?

Answered, Hine in myporn AU sdfies (he'sa major character in two fics). Here's a snippet:

He was right, Roope got him something unmistakably fancy, the aroma of freshly ground coffee under a hint of vanilla and foaming steamed milk is rich and dark and he can basically feel the caffeine injected in his veins.

Roope sits on the other edge of the messy bed, pulls the blanket to straighten it over the sheet. He places a cardboard box down between them and opens the lid, revealing a small selection of fruit, a croissant, sliced avocado on two pieces of toast and a small plastic plate filled with thin green spinach omelet. Roope fishes a wooden fork from the bottom of the box and takes a bite of the omelet.

“Have something,” he gestures with an extended little finger, mumbling through a mouth full of egg. Sebastian pics a grape and puts it in his mouth, starts chewing slowly.

“Isn’t this stupidly expensive?” he can’t help asking.

Roope shrugs and takes another bite of the eggs.

“If I’m down to the last twenty on my debit card three days before pay day, I just can’t care. I’ll rather have something tasty because I’ll be broke anyway,” he says. 

35. What’s your favorite writing rule to smash into smithereens?

The "first drafts are meant to suck, just get it all out" doesn't work for everyone. Some writers work better when they try to get the text right and ready from the start and will rather think and edit as they go. If the only way you get anything written is this, go for it.

--

Thank you for the ask!

[glitzy-blitzy]

i'd like to bring this to the attention of hazbin hotel/helluva boss fans

TW for guns ~~~ hi! so, as some of us here know, there's multiple tumblr communities for fans of these two shows. now, for a moment, i'd like to talk about this one:

so, i was a member of this for about two or three months. not really doing a lot, since i never know what to say, but still a member nonetheless. now, one of the admins, heavenly-chainsaw (who i refuse to @), is very strict about what emojis you react with, for reasons they refuse to disclose, which is fine. but it also doesn't make a ton of sense. direct excerpt from the rules: ♡ No hand emojis, no disguised face, skull reacts, no grinning squinting , thumbs up or down reacts or in replies or dms. Heart reacts are prefered having rules like this usually wouldn't be a problem for me. but my concerns come in at the end of the pinned post, where the admin says: 🐲 ♡ [ Note: These rules are NOT a suggestion by the way.]🐉 that's fine too, but then they post this gif: https://64.media.tumblr.com/97a4eef46c1e23b60dad5c28577a0dc0/23700c6a926f4c32-d5/s400x600/e0609b7870e8e4431642c3de4c7355f11551eb53.gifv (i linked it because it wont let me copy-paste gifs) now, i dont know about the other members of that community, but this gif makes me (and a few anonymous others) feel sort of uncomfortable. enforcing rules is normal, but using a gif like this... isn't that sort of crossing a line? we tried ignoring it, because we didn't want anything to happen if we voiced our concerns about this. now, i cant find the post for this, but yesterday i ran into yet another post enforcing the reaction rules, with yet another gif of someone using a gun. still really uncomfortable, i finally decided to say something, because i was really starting to hate this.

so i voiced my legitimate concerns, concerns about my safety and others', and THIS is what i got:

yup, you read that right. i got removed from that community for calling out an admin for making people uncomfortable. and im guesing the person who removed me was the very same one that i was asking to stop. and guess what? they've actually blocked me. wow. so, in short, i do not recommend this community since people are kicked out for being made uncomfortable. the admins clearly don't respect the fact that other people are triggered by this sort of thing. this one in particular is being childish and insensitive, and the others are doing nothing about it. so, join if you want, but you'll never see me post there for a reason. thanks!! -phyz

[saintjosie]

k your bio says you’re a minor so i’m gonna take it easy on you.

1) my blog says 18+. get in the habit of checking bios cause normally i’d block you on sight because im old enough to be your mom but everything else im about to say is important for you to hear.

2) your bio says you are cis. as a general rule of thumb, don’t make commentary about oppression that does not affect you. in this particular case, not only are you egregiously wrong, but you are also minimizing the oppression that trans people face.

3) they DO simply hate us for being trans. that’s why it’s called transphobia. because i, as a trans person, am specifically targeted by laws that seek to limit my access to basic human rights and by actions that are intended to dehumanize me. not just because i am different but SPECIFICALLY because i am trans.

4) the position you are taking is the kind of language that white liberals and centrists use to excuse themselves for being complicit in genocide. trans people are currently in the EIGHTH stage of genocide. out of ten. we are just a stones throw away from being systematically targeted and exterminated by the US government. the eighth stage of genocide is when we are murdered, our property is taken away, and our rights are being taken away. read more on the stages of genocide here

5) and this is the most important one. NONE OF THIS IS UP FOR DEBATE. you, a cis person, had the audacity to tell me, a trans woman, that the reason i am personally facing oppression is because i am ���different” and not because i am trans. and i, as a trans person, am telling you that you are wrong. do not argue with me. i and every other trans person are facing this reality every fucking day. i don’t know a single trans person who doesn’t have this constantly in the back of our mind. i personally know trans people who have had to move away from their homes for their own safety. i personally know trans people who have been targeted by hate crimes. i personally have been sent so many death threats i can’t even count. every time i post a video, i spend hours deleting hate comments just so that the trans people who follow me have a brief reprieve from the constant barrage of transphobia that we see. you do not understand even a fraction of the bullshit that trans people have to deal with.

6) you are not a bad person, you just did a bad thing. after you read this, i hope you feel shitty because feeling bad about what you did is the first step towards improving. the second step is apologizing, admitting you are wrong, and asking for forgiveness. and the third step is forgiving yourself and moving forward doing your best to be better.

if you read this whole thing and want to apologize, i already forgive you. i just ask that moving forward, you educate yourself on oppression, especially the oppression that trans people face, so you do not make this mistake again.

and also i ask that you forgive yourself. it is human to make mistakes but holding on to guilt instead of moving forward not only hurt you but will continue to hurt every person you ever interact with in the future.

i say this with absolute sincerity, nothing but love to you and i wish you learn from this experience.

Being transfem really exposes just how completely full of shit society is about breasts, huh? Like apparently there was some nebulous point sometime after I started E where it stopped being okay to have my tits out in public because....... reasons i guess? Just an arbitrary event horizon of indecency

you don’t think i’m a woman? that’s fine i guess that means i can go topless everywhere now