#stop arguing with me about my own degree

[dismalrain]

Herbalism and Botany aren't the same

Vent

(also no hate for herbalist people, it's not at all my thing and this is a pet peeve of mine, not a personal issue with herbalists)

Background: I got my Bachelor's degree in botany. I was going to go into field botany studying parasitic and carnivorous plants before my illness got too severe to be a field worker and I pivoted to botanical illustrations as my way of honoring my passion for plants.

Vent: Someone I work with assumed I would love herbalism because 'Oh you're a botanist, you love plants, right?' to which I clarified, that I don't care about herbalism whatsoever. They were so flabbergasted that I, as a plant person, don't like herbalism, because herbalism is plants.

I tried to explain that botany is drastically different from herbalism. That botany is the scientific study of plants, not plant medicine at all. I got my degree and have a passion for plant functions, their evolution, and the way they survive, adapt, tolerate, and protect themselves on microscopic levels. And by plant function, I mean preventing water loss in hot environments, anchoring systems, and how they transport different things, not the possible functions they have for medical or health reasons. I don't have any interest in the medicinal properties of plants, that's herbalism, not botany. Herbalism might be called botanical medicine, but you don't go to school for botany for that, they're two separate things.

TLDR: Stop assuming that because someone likes a specific vein of plant stuff, they automatically love everything plant-related ever. Botanist does not equal herbalist and trust me, as a botanist, arguing with me won't convince me that I love herbalism because I worship plants as a botanist. Brain surgeons and pediatrists are both doctors, doesn't mean they love each other jobs.

[melaninfury]

Synastry Observation 🕯️

Please don't take this as astrological facts. These are more my experience and perspective. The whole chart and aspects must also be considered.

👥 As much as I love a good moon in the 11th, I do recall every person showing some sort of over interest in my longterm goals and who I am friends with. It kinds gives they feel some type of way about the friends you make or can get very personally offended by the way you go after your goals and even the community you’re in. Of course more with affliction and squares to your eighth.

👥 I always recommend if looking into synastry for families/generational curses/childhood trauma/familial bonds to look at their Lilith energy between each other. My family member who birthed me has their Lilith retrin my 12th house. I always think they are trying to have power over me subconsciously or questioning my mental health (12 house). Over all a hidden opp at times but very dedicated and nosey on what plans or how to crack your code.

👥 Saturn in the 8th house is oppressive in synastry in many ways if not balanced. I find these individuals are pocketwatchers to your debt towards them even when they give it comes with some resentment.

👥 Yes that mans venus is touching exactly on your mars, I think your attracted and may want to you know. Yes your venus is touching their mars … yes they want you or maybe they have thought about it. In context to most sexual and relationship area this aspect creates the right tension. It is not as direct as mars wanting you in the first house it is a take you out to dinner first kind of fuck you.

👥 Mars in the 1st house either wants to fuck you, compete with you or argue, fight with you or just all of the above. At some point 🤷🏾‍♀️ to some degree maybe so.

👥 Uranus in the 9th may feel estranged to your dreams/goals/ideologies. They may come from a different religion that may demonize or judge your beliefs. They feel your way of life is a revolution to their own. It either tears you down or feels welcomed by its difference.

👥 If your parent has their neptune in your 10th house of Career/Legacy/Who your parents want you to be/Your social status...I do feel for the way they project and want to control you. Very controlling of the narrative of who you want to be. They project their own failures and need to do what they never got to do. Then they hold you to a lot of standards to make sure you turn out the way they want. They want you to live the life they projected onto you at birth or really young. Weird effect of Neptune/Afflicted Neptune/Capricorn Neptune in Saturn’s House

👥 10th house synastry is superficial. If I were to say anything else. No matter the placement, they all manifest this differently but in the same energy. If someone is falling on top of your tenth house make sure your relationship isn't based on appearance or the "idea" of you and what you bring into their status (life).

👥 As much as that Moon/Mars is gonna draw you is as much as it’s gonna fuck you over....you will be annoyed by what drew you in 😬. With this synastry are you ready to be madly in love on the plight than the mars actions that disrupt or activate the hidden emotional world of the moon, make you think your not 😃. if you don’t really want to feel that feeling, tension and resistance even though this is someone you want I recommend taking that shit slow please.

👥 See my problem with 8th house energy is its attention. Your sexual partners mars or moon falling in your 8th can really make them want you in that way but it’s the house of debt and others peoples money it’s inherently shadow like and has a touch of mystery. Like stop making secret passes at that lady in the dark or giving the eyes. Stop taking someone out to eat and taking them back to your place. Stop not ignoring the urge to touch….and touch…and touch all the time. Being so goddamn intimate. Yes that shit can turn really ugly really quick. And your not gonna “die” per say from synastry like this in the house of death but when they leave or if they hurt you it’s gonna hurt just as much as it felt good in the moment. You might feel like a part if you is actually dying. But y’all stay safe out there 🙂.

👥 Jupiter in your 7th house you say…well I SAY you want that man to be your husband, that woman to be your wife, their soul to be your equal, you want that partner title with them because they fit into your world and they elevate in the way you dream. Maybe they are your dream but I think you like em a bit to much, Jupiter is an abundance is it not, for better or for worse.

©️ All rights reserved melaninfury

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Meet the Family 2

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Your boss needs a last-minute favour for the holidays.(petite!reader)

Characters: Lloyd Hansen

Note: I love writing toxic people.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Asking for more or putting ‘part 2?’ is not feedback.

Love you all. You are appreciated and your are worthy. Treat yourself with care. 💖

“Mr. Hansen--” You begin, choking on your error, “Lloyd, my flight--” 

“Christ, I told you, cancel it. I’ll add the difference to your next check,” he grits under his breath. 

You plant your feet, shifting despite your effort as he keeps his grip on your hand. He turns back with a grunt. 

“What’re you doing?” He asks. 

“No, what are you doing?” You throw back. “What the hell is going on?” 

“First, watch that sweet mouth of yours. Second, we’ve been through this, Pixie pie. You just need to play along,” he keeps his voice low and peeks over his shoulder. “Loosen up a bit.” He loosens his hold on you and runs his hand up your sleeve. “Hm, I guess I shoulda told you to dress up a bit.” 

“What?” You look down at your black cotton tea-length dress. You chose it for comfort but it’s not entirely frumpy. The ribbed stockings might not add much to the attire however. 

“Just...” He grabs your shoulders and nudges them back, “push the chest out a bit.” 

“Ugh,” you clasp onto his wrists, “stop. Okay. I’ll stay for dinner but I can’t miss my flight--” 

“You have to,” he argues. 

“You realise this is wildly inappropriate,” you say. 

“Do you really expect anything different?” He tweaks a brow. “You’re staying. I’m not doing this alone. I put it off for a decade already--” 

“Jesus--” 

“No blasphemy either,” he lets go of you and presses his finger to your lips. You growl and shove his hand away. 

“I want a bonus, a big bonus--” 

He hushes you and waves his hands. He leans back and once more looks over his shoulders. “Later. We’ll deal with numbers in private. Right now, you need to come meet your in-laws.” 

You squint at him. It’s an act, you remind yourself, but something about his commitment to it makes you uneasy. You know better than to believe a word that comes out of his mouth but there’s a degree of earnestness in him that’s unsettling. 

“Baby, please, don’t look at me like that,” he steps closer, “I need you to look at me like I’m the second coming, okay? We’re madly in love, you and I.” Your eyes widen and he sighs, “okay, you’re not scared of me.” 

You neutralise your expression and blow out a long breath. You shake away the tension and shrug. It’s as good as you can do. 

“Here,” he grabs your wrist and turns, guiding your arm through his, “just smile pretty for me.” 

He hooks your elbow with his and urges you onward. You steel yourself for the room of strangers as their voices drift through the archway.  

You enter the front room and quickly scan the space; there’s a large-mouthed hearth, lit and draped in evergreen and berries; a long cream sectional, a matching duo of armchairs, and a chaise in the same shade; a low glass coffee table with a golden perch and a console table in a similar style along the wall crowded with bottles and crystal; an area rug in a smooth white with patterns in dulcet beige and rich butterscotch; and the low din is cast by tea lights daintily set around the space in glass holders and candelabra. 

More pressing than the decor are the bodies that fill the room. You recognise Ransom as he speaks with an older woman with short white hair and thick-framed glasses. She wears a red pantsuit with a gold blouse. Very festive. 

You glance over at Lloyd and take him in fully. You hadn’t paid much attention for the whirlwind all around. He wears a pair of evergreen slacks and a sweater with a reindeer's face on the front. He wouldn’t even let you put tinsel on your desk but now he’s dressed like a kid in a holiday parade. 

“Looks like someone didn’t get the memo,” a tall blonde woman approaches with a glass of pale wine in hand. You try not to look with concern at her rounded middle; it sticks out starkly as her long limbs are thin and lithe. “A very grim Christmas indeed.” 

“Lillian,” Lloyd faces the woman about his own height. She has his eyes and his lips. You assume their relation before he declares it. “My sister, Pixie,” he gestures to her carelessly. 

“Older sister,” she preens and rests her hand on her swollen stomach. Your eyes flick away from the crystal in her hand. 

“By about thirty-one seconds,” Lloyd scoffs. 

“Oh, sweetie, it’s non-alcoholic,” she swirls the wine in her glass, “she’s so tiny and quiet.” 

“Ahem,” you clear your throat, “it’s nice to meet you.” 

She laughs, “oh, so polite. Entirely not his type.” 

You try not to react. You agree. You know the women that Lloyd really likes. You’ve screened their calls until they just give up on getting a second date. 

“Believe it or not, Lil, you’re not everyone’s type,” Lloyd retorts. “I think your ex-husband would agree. The second one too.” Lloyd lifts his chin and looks around, “is the third here or are we on number four?” 

“Lovely,” she spits. “Love you too, brother.” 

He shakes his head and draws you away from her. She raises her brows and her glass and sips. You let him take you away. You already despise most of these people. The room radiates with derision. Your family might have some grudges but there’s a general air of good will. 

“I need a drink,” he mutters. 

You gladly follow him to the table. He pours himself a tumbler from the boxy decanter. He sighs as he picks it up but stops himself from drinking. 

“Well, help yourself,” he says. 

You hesitate but not for long. You need something if you’re going to get through this. You pour yourself some chardonnay and sidle away from the table. You check your watch as you raise your glass. 

“Don’t fucking worry about your flight,” he hisses under his breath. “If I’m not getting out of this, you aren’t either.” 

“But why?” You ask behind the glass. 

“Not right now,” he warns and nods at another figure as they approach. “Uncle Benson.” 

“Junior,” the man returns. You drink your wine and don’t comment on the epithet. “Where’s the old man?” 

“Where he always is,” Lloyd replies. 

“Mm, and this is...” the older man looks at you pointedly, dipping his chin to do so. 

“Pixie. My fiancee,” Lloyd answers dully, almost deflating. 

“Benson,” the man offers his hand, “but a pretty girl like you can call me Benny.” 

“Benny,” Lloyd repeats to himself in confusion. 

You shake Benson’s hand, “um, thanks, nice to meet you.” 

“Mm, very nice to meet you,” he lifts your hand and smushes his lips to your knuckles. He clings to you, petting your hand. “You’re gorgeous, what’re you doing with this lump?” 

“Uncle,” Lloyd drones. 

“Adorable,” Benson inches closer, “my inheritance is bigger than his, among other things.” 

“Alright,” Lloyd snatches your hand away from him, “go have some water, Benson,” he growls, “think you’ve been into the brandy.” 

“I’d like to get into something else,” Benson snickers. 

You almost laugh, despite your disgust. You’ve heard that line before. Lloyd puts himself between you and the older man. “I think that’s why Carolyn filed the papers, huh.” 

“Oh, you little twat,” Benson snarls. “Fine, fine, I’ll leave you to disappoint her on your own.” 

Lloyd tuts and shakes his head as the man lumbers off. He turns around and drains his glass. It’s strange, seeing him in his natural habitat; he’s not so ‘alpha’ here. 

“Let’s get the rounds over with.” He grumbles. 

Your wine lasts you through the introductions. Two more uncles; Carter and Linus, along with their wives, Andrea and Angela. Then the full-blooded aunts; four of them, Raquel, Shanna, Beatrice, and Lana. All of them tall, blonde, and bold in their own way. Then a batch of cousins you can’t keep sorted; Ransom and his mother Linda, among them, with no explanation as to the rest of their tribe. 

Lloyd pours himself more whiskey. You abstain from a refill and stand near the wall, observing the wilderness of entitled trust-funders. It explains so much yet inspires so many more questions. You never expected Lloyd to be the dark horse. 

“Lonely?” The timbre startles you along with the twisting pinch on your ass.  

You yipe and snag the attention of several sets of eyes around the room, not least of all Benson, drooling over another snifter of dark alcohol. You swat Ransom’s hand away and face him amid the row of laughter. Despite the airs they put on, your audience is more amused than appalled. 

“Where’s your prince, huh?” Ransom asks. “All that whiskey and...” He holds up his index then lets it go limp, “don’t think it’ll be a very peppy after party, sweetheart.” 

You sniff and cross your arms. These people are at least consistent, grossly so. It makes you wonder why Lloyd was so insistent that you watch your mouth, especially when you’ve never stooped to his level before. 

“Is it much of a party if there’s only one attendee?” You counter. 

He narrows his eyes and tilts his head, “what?” 

“Nothing,” you shake our head. You don’t need to explain the joke. Besides, this is all fake. Don’t let it get to you. 

“So, how long did he wait to put that ugly thing on your finger?” Ransom asks. 

You shrug, “long enough.” 

“Did he do the whole schtick? Get down on one knee? Put the ring in your wine glass?” He prods. 

“I’ll let him tell the story,” you say. 

“Hm, never knew a woman so unexcited about a wedding,” he snorts. 

“Maybe I’m just unexcited by my company,” you back away as his hand jiggles at his side. You eye his fingers, wary of another pinch. 

“Fine, marriage is boring anyways. What’s his favourite position? I always figured he lets the ladies do all the work,” he snickers. 

You stare at him. Not quite as offended as annoyed. You could ask him which hand he uses but you are not letting Lloyd drag you that low. Why are you even letting him put your through this? 

“Hugh,” Lloyd appears and slides his arm over your shoulders. 

“Little L,” Ransom retorts dryly. 

“Shut up,” Lloyd sneers as you resist the urge to shrug him off of you. 

“Where were you then? Leaving your woman all on her lonesome,” Ransom rubs his fingers together subtly and you scowl at him. 

“Broke the seal,” Lloyd deflects. “What do you care? You wanna hold it next time? 

“Hands are too big,” Ransom cackles. 

“Speaking of,” you pipe up. “The bathroom, where would that be?” 

Lloyd clucks and looks down at you, “down the hall, opposite the kitchen.” 

“Thanks,” you carefully slip away from him, “I’ll be back.” 

“Wait,” Lloyd catches your arm and pulls you back. “Not without this.” 

He leans in before you can react. He bends to press his lips to yours and you can’t repress a surprised squeak. He purrs and the vibration makes your skin crawl. What on earth?! 

You part and ignore the stares you can feel all around. Not just from Ransom but the rest of the room. What is he doing? That’s so embarrassing. 

You force a smile, “uh, be back.” 

You spin and scurry away. That room, those people, are suffocating, and Lloyd, not least of all. You hide in the bathroom, locking the door, and you take the moment of stillness to think. Big mistake as it all starts to set in. 

You drove all the way here under false pretenses. It’s believable that Lloyd would forget to bring the gifts. That tracks but this? The whole pretending to be engaged? What is his game? Is he really trying to impress anyone or is he torturing you? Why? 

You can’t figure any of it out. You gave up trying to understand your boss ages ago, you suppose you should do the same with these people and just get through this. For all your trouble, the food better be fucking delicious. 

You let yourself out of the bathroom and flatten against the door as you nearly collide with another person. Lillian nearly stomps right over you as she holds her stomach and rushes down the hallway. She lets out a sigh. 

“Oh, are you done in there? I’m splitting at the seams,” she trills. 

“Um, yeah, all done,” you sidle away from the door. 

“Could I trouble you for some help?” She asks. “This thing,” she pats her stomach, “I can get down but I can’t get up.” 

“Hm?” You furrow your brow in confusion, “help?” 

“We’re both girls,” she giggles. “And we’ll be sisters soon enough, won’t we?” 

“Um.” 

“You know, a pregnancy at my age, I really can’t strain myself,” she explains. 

“Oh, er, I guess--” 

“Thanks, sweetie,” she nudges you back into the bathroom. You have no choice as she heard you through. 

You stare at the wall as she slams the door and hustles over to the toilet. She pulls up her white dress and turns to sit, her silhouette a blur in your peripheral. You flick your eyes to the ceiling and bounce on your heels. 

Her stream flows out and fills the tense silence. She sighs. 

“Thank the lord,” she groans. “I swear, the little twerp is right on my bladder right now.” 

“Mm,” you nod and glance at the door. 

“I knew we should’ve gone with a surrogate,” she sniffs. “A piece of advice, when he puts one in you, make him suffer.” 

“Puts one...” you blink. “Um, I don’t...” 

“I mean, he’ll have to start trying as soon as the wedding night,” she laughs. “He’s getting up there. His swimmers won’t be as fast, will they? And the way he drinks, they’ll be too groggy to know which way is which.” 

“Um, we’ll worry about the wedding first--” 

“Enjoy it. Once you’re tied down, it’s not very much fun,” she says as she tears of tissue. “Alright then, darling, I need you.” 

You do your best not to see all of her. She reaches for you and you get close. You pull her up to her feet and she squeezes past you to the sink. You look at the toilet and shut the lid, flushing it with a push of the button. She washes her hands with a hum. 

“You’ll be so adorable when you’re big. Like an overstuffed teddy bear,” she chimes. “He’ll love that. He always did hate feeling small.” She twists off the faucet and dries her hands. “You must make him feel like the man he wishes he was.” 

You just look at her. You have no true reason to defend Lloyd, but because she’s so smug it irks you. You look her in the face, even if you feel ridiculous having to look up. 

“Well, he can piss on his own, so I think he’s just fine,” you step around her and swing open the door. The silence that follows you is the only satisfying thing about that night. 

[gothamite-rambler]

Dick Grayson's Robin Having No Filter and Giving His Father a Migraine

Robin!Dick: Hi Ivy!

Poison Ivy: Hi... young child. Stand over there, away from the giant rose.

Robin!Dick stepped away from the rose while staring at it mesmerized.

Robin!Dick: Can I-

Batman: I will take you home.

Robin!Dick pouted and walked off grumbling.

Ivy: He's adorable, if I didn't hate people I'd keep him. Okay, so run it back, you want me to stop my mission to protect mother earth and you were like "that's wrong for you to do". Continue with being wrong.

Batman: I should not have to explain to you how your mission to save the earth doesn't benefit people. It's destructive.

Ivy: Why? Because some people might die? A few dead bodies are worth it for saving the planet.

Robin!Dick (shocked): What?! You're killing people to do this?

Ivy: Yes... A few dead bodies are worth- Why is his face sad?

Robin!Dick (trying not cry): That's so mean.

Batman (glaring at Ivy): Now you've upset him.

Ivy (indignant): All right last I checked, the earth is dying, I'm just being honest kid. What do you want me to say? I'm not destroying the Earth, big corporations pumping out microplastics, pouring random crap in the lakes, Nestle... JUST NESTLE! They're screwing this planet like she's a two dollar hooker! I stopped eating their chocolate bars after the founder said water shouldn't be given to everybody!

Robin!Dick (shocked): Did he actually say that?

Ivy (calm): Basically he implied water shouldn't have free access because Nestle is the biggest proprietor of bottled water and no amount of explaining will ever fix the fact he said that! So whatever you're about to say, Batman, I do not want to hear it! They’re destroying ecosystems, hunting endangered species, killing crops and-

Robin!Dick (interrupting): Hold up, that's all she's trying to fix?

Batman: She's not doing it in a logical way.

Robin!Dick turned to Batman.

Robin!Dick: She's a green woman who can control plants! Does she look like she wants to use our logic? No offense by the way, Ivy.

Ivy: You're fine, I love my body.

Robin!Dick (confused why they're fighting her): Why don't we help her, Batman? Has she asked for your help?

Batman (sheepish): Um... It's been brought up in the past.

Robin!Dick: Then why haven't you?

Ivy (mocking tone): Yeah, Batman, that so mean.

Batman: Because... She's a criminal and will let people die for the cause.

Robin!Dick: Well I mean if it's that nestle guy I don't... Don't necessarily blame her and I've seen you beat the ever loving shit out a lot of bad guys.

Batman: Language.

Robin!Dick (loud): The context needed the word. I love you Batman, I do, but let's be real you steal police information and beat up thugs. You have not paid the commissioner back for the fire hydrant incident. I'm sorry, but you break a lot of laws. You say you're doing it to save lives, so is she! Most are plant lives, but I get it. We would be arrested too, but we're lucky, she's not... it's not right.

Ivy (sincere): Thanks kid.

Robin!Dick: You're welcome and plus in any other city, we'd be going to prison. You'd be, I'd be tossed into an orphanage and that... That's not fun.

Ivy: A lot of kids in the system have been abused, he's got a point.

Batman (annoyed): Why are you arguing with me, Robin?

Robin!Dick: Because dang it, she might have a point! We can help her to a degree... In fact isn't the building we're in is the one being sued for what they did to a lake? All those ducks died.

Ivy (adding): Nothing can grow there for decades.

Robin!Dick: Yeah, the ecosystem is destroyed there.

Batman (yelling): Why are you ganging up on me?

Robin and Ivy: Because you know it's wrong!

Robin!Dick: You have told me you became Batman because the system is flawed and sometimes matters need to be taken into your own hands? How is she different?

Ivy: Okay... you're growing on me. Here, take a rose.

Ivy used her powers to hand the young hero a rose.

Robin (smiling and taking the rose): Aww, thank you.

Batman groaned then yanked Robin by the ear.

Batman: Excuse me, I have to talk to him in private!

Ivy: Aww, I'm starting to like the kid, go easy on him. He's smart, he knows what he's talking about.

Robin!Dick (being dragged out): Thank you, Ivy.

Ten minutes after the two argue, Batman comes to a compromise with his son and Ivy because he knows that Dick would absolutely not mind sabotaging factories or causing a fire with a supervillain to protect the planet. All he needs is a good reason.

Batman (driving them home in the batmobile): Could you not defend the actions of the bad guy in front of me next time?

Robin!Dick (eating McDonald's fries): Don't take me to one who has a point.

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

Batman searched for Robin after taking down Joker.

Batman: Robin? Where did he go?

Joker (laying on the ground as Batman presses his shoe on his back): One of my goons went after him.

Meanwhile Robin does flips, tricks and runs around the room while giggling as the goon chases after him.

Goon: Little boy, little boy stop running!

Robin ran, but when the goon tried to grab him, the young hero grabbed his hand and clamped down with his teeth making contact with the mans hand. The goon screamed in pain.

Batman: He's down the hall.

Joker: There's no... Guarantee he'll win.

Robin kicked the goon in the crotch and ran off.

Goon (weakly): Right in the kiwis.

Robin!Dick: Batman, I got the last one!

Batman: Good job, Robin.

Joker: I hate your child soldier.

Batman: Thank you, I raised him well.

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

Talia Al Ghul (to Batman): You-

Robin!Dick: You're out of his league.

Talia: What?

Robin!Dick: I'm just saying, it's obvious you have this stalker obsession with him, 'love' you like to call it, but Batman could do way better than you.

Batman chuckled covering his mouth.

Talia: Okay, I was telling him to stop his 'no-kill' rule and join the league, but also he wants me and some snot nosed brat won't have a say in any possible relationship!

Robin!Dick: Well, I'm 13 now and even I can see you shouldn't be together. Not even on a league level, but like come on, why would you get with a guy who doesn't want you or to be on your team? That's sad.

Talia (irate): You think I won't smack a teenager? I don't give a fuck!

Batman (disturbingly calm): Touch him and you'll wake up in the hospital.

Inspired by this post

[witchygod]

Thinking about Kenji Sato Flanderization

I think certain scene with Kenji certainly stood out out about Kenji for fans, particularly the "do my own thing" and "I know it's been a long year but you got me now" scenes and I've noticed a trend where Kenji is characterized as well honestly a bit of an asshole, sometimes to an unlikable degree so let's talk about it.

I also think these scenes have paid into some instances of flanderization of Kenji's character. Yes he's a bit arrogant and witty but he's not as egotistical as everyone thinks- he's certainly not as RUDE as everyone seems to perceive him though he does have a temper. It should be noted his temper only seems to come through when he's extremely stressed or on the field- in conflict. He's very graceful in how he handles Ami's questions as wel. He only gets snarky with his coach because his coach approached him first with abundant hostility which I'm gonna be real- not the kind of behavior that is ideal, one could argue he was trying to weigh Kenji's value but with the context of Kenji being a world series player in America this is value as an athlete that should be proven already, if he's concerned about Kenji's arrogance that'd be another thing and while that's certainly AN issue but he admits it plainly what it is 'this is Japanese baseball not American' and Kenji responding to that with a bit of disrespect is extremely fair- and coming from his coach it very much paints the tone of how he's gonna be interacting with his teammates.

A large part of Kenji's rudeness is a direct result of hostility or an active defense from either invasive questions perceived attacks on how 'japanese he is'. This is not a subtle sub theme of his character mind you- he straight up admits to Ami that the reason he 'doesnt give a shit' is because he had to learn to because he was always being judged for being Japanese in America.

Let's not get it wrong though- Kenji is arrogant and egotistical because seriously who gives out their autograph without being prompted. These are some traits, but he's not entirely up his own ass, and he's not rude (Mama Sato raised a very good boy... Ultradad helped too) . Aside from when he was pissy with her for asking some extremely personal questions off the back at a press event- Kenji is extremely respectful of Ami, he makes sure to remember the reporters by their names not publicist and while he's not humble he's very sociable. Hell he's even polite talking to the Kaiju- actively taking a gentler tone of voice with Gigantron despite his frustrations (and increasing panic over the fact the KDF is going to kill her and he can't figure out how to stop it)- he's snarky with Mina but even then he isn't entirely dismissive of her, honestly he treats an AI more like family than a servant which is a big difference in attitude than most egotistical superheroes with ai companions.

Kenji is not the sort to be a womanizer hell he doesn't even seem the sort to attend parties unless he's forced to, it's pretty clear he's a bit of a loner- this is evident as much as there is never a mention to him missing his teammates in America and the fact the only person he has to talk to in Japan aside from his father is an acquaintance he's not even certain won't publish his personal conversations with. (She won't because she's a fucking professional with ethics which is also the reason that she's not a love interest God bless I love you Ami💕) He's overwhelmed by relearning how to fit in to Japan, dealing with the xenophobia,adjusting to the new culture of baseball become Ultraman deal with his daddy issues and mourning the disappearance of his mother- all things that heavily influence his attitude and a lot of times seem to be overlooked by people.

We take away one or two of those stressors Kenji goes from snarky and arrogant to a whole lot more sociable and pleasant. He's at his core a sensitive and confident individual who's just really passionate about baseball. He's kind enjoys teaching others about his special interest and is charismatic and bold despite being prone to holding people at arms length. Which is fair because he has a lot of dangerous secrets.

In short Kenji Sato is just a Mama's boy girl(jk)

In short Kenji Sato is a pretty complex character who suffers from a decent amount of emotional constipation and just straight up having no friends. He's respectful and kind and a bit sensitive which can make him seem pretty temperamental and he's prone to pushing people away at the first sign of hostility or when they overstep his boundaries. He's extremely stressed throughout the movie and adjusting to a lot of NEW, and the KDF/Kaiju trying to get chunks out of him and the pretty blatant xenophobia from the baseball scene (ill justified by him playing badly :/) doesn't help.

I also didn't mention much of his reluctance to being a hero and his irresponsibility to the role initially I realized and I think that should be its own subject because what's going on there is less a personality thing and more.... Directly correspondent to his relationship with his father, and the fact he was GROSSLY unprepared for the role. But I do want to note that his sense of responsibility is a lot stronger than people think because it doesn't really take a lot to convince him to do the right thing after Nobiranga's death. If he was still prone to inaction after this event I'd chalk it up to a personality defect but no he's pretty quick to make more of an effort as Ultraman after this, he saw the consequences of his actions and while he's gonna whine about it he does what he has to.

I may also go on a Rant Rant later about his coach and how the next movie really needs to try to save his character because he's shit at his job....

[catnippackets]

disclaimer: as a sex-repulsed aroace person myself--

on one hand, there is definitely a bit of a double standard when it comes to handling canonically queer characters like, from what I've seen in the circles that I frequent (if you've had different experiences then great but I'm just telling it how I see it). for example, you're morally reprehensible if you ship a canon lesbian with a man or refer to a canon bi character as a lesbian. people will be so angry with you. and it's understandable, since there's so little queer rep in comparison to cishet rep that when there IS a rare actual queer character, the unofficial rule is "don't take that away from them when you add more headcanons to them". like, respect that this one is REAL and NOT just a headcanon. I think it makes perfect sense to feel upset when people take that away, even if it is just fiction and not even canon to the original source. and yet, whenever there exists a canon asexual character suddenly it's all "oh well asexual people can still have sex so it's fine if we headcanon THIS canon sexuality as something different". it makes me feel so genuinely heartache-y and depressed to see ppl ignoring that aspect of a character.

and by "canon" I'm also including characters that were never specifically referred to with a label but are very obviously coded as something, because those characters will still get the "even if it's not stated it's pretty obvious!!" treatment when it comes to showing attraction to the same gender, but not when they DON'T show attraction to any gender. like aro and/or ace coding just doesn't count. I understand that it's kind of hard to represent an absence of something, especially when you're only implying it and not even directly showing it, but it's not impossible. there's a lot of characters that you could argue are aroace coded the same way you could argue a character is gay coded. obviously to a degree every queer identity gets disrespected in fandom and it's something you just kinda have to deal with, but it's easier to notice when it's something you personally relate to. I don't think it would bother me as much if we didn't have that unofficial "respect the canon" rule and everyone just went wild with whatever, but the double standard does genuinely hurt me, especially when I see people I thought were cool about this stuff participating in it. so whenever I see someone fiercely defending an asexual character it really makes me feel good, like I'M being defended, not a random fictional character that I might not even recognize the name of. I feel safe, like that person will respect ME.

THAT BEING SAID,

AS a sex-repulsed aroace person who enjoys thinking about the entire spectrum of intimacy and where a character may fall exactly on that spectrum, ALSO as a person who is aware that "asexual" simply means "does not experience sexual attraction" and not necessarily "is violently repulsed by anything sexual", sometimes I DO want to play out scenarios for my own enjoyment. sometimes I DO want to think hm I wonder where this ace character's line is, compared to a different ace character. I wonder if there is anyone who would be an exception for them, and how they could go about dealing with that exception. I wonder if they're favourable, neutral, or repulsed. if those aspects of their character aren't explicitly stated then what's to stop me from playing around with them and working through my own issues in a controlled and non-canon environment? if they have the same identity as me, I am way more likely to want to play around with them like a doll and perhaps play out scenarios that I might have thought about before but don't actually want to do for real. I'm not taking away their identity, after all; I'm just, in this scenario, imagining this ace character as an ace that might have sex on at least one occasion for whatever reason. either just to try it, or because they do have someone they'd make an exception for, or if they got bored enough, whatever the reason. it isn't quite disrespecting their truth unless it's explicitly stated either in canon or by word of god that it's something they're uncomfortable with. and to be honest, if I see another asexual creator headcanoning a character as somewhere on the asexual spectrum and depicting them in sexual situations, it makes me almost happy, to know that they're still acknowledging that character's canon identity and accepting and exploring the nuance that could come with it, even if I personally believe that this specific character would be repulsed instead of neutral or favourable. there's this understanding of "I'm doing a character study exploration thing", and not "I don't care I just wanna sexualize this character"

but I literally feel GUILTY when I want to write what is essentially a thinkpiece disguised as a fanfiction or original story on asexuality and take an asexual character (canon or coded) and involve them in sexual situations to explore different avenues of the spectrum. I feel like I'm betraying everyone who's like me and is frustrated with how aroace characters are treated within fandom. I'm like "am I being just as bad as those other people who will disrespect a character's canon sexuality just because they think that character is hot and want to ship them with someone? do they do the same thing with other types of queer characters? how does this reflect that person's view of people, if they're explicitly told someone feels a certain way and decides to ignore it for their own amusement? or is it just because they're fictional and not real people and I'm being really sensitive and thinking way too much into it? am I not doing the exact same thing? do I have more credence to explore scenarios like this because I am aroace and sex-repulsed myself and therefore have a pass to do whatever I want and it won't come off as a little weird the way it might if someone who's allosexual did it?"

and these two opinions are at war in my mind constantly. like both of them can and do co-exist but I still struggle to accept that lol

[raticalshoez]

I just feel the need to get this out there because this has been sitting in my Google Docs brainrot document:

I will always believe that Scar is the saddest, most tragic Life Series character.

I'm unsure whether this is an unpopular opinion or not, but I feel like if I were to ask people who they think the most tragic member is they might say Grian, or Martyn, or Jimmy simply because of #lore implications, but when I'm bored I like to reflect on the Life Series characters and...like...

3rd Life had Grian indebted to Scar, creating a narrative based around loyalty that inevitably had to end in tragedy when they were the last two standing, neither one of them wanting to be to one to lead to the dekise of the other. Everyone knows the origin story of Desert Duo, come on now. I'd argue this is one of Scar's less tragic seasons though because throughout the entire thing, he had the unfaltering loyalty of a person, and that loyalty didn't waver on his end either. One might be tempted to bring up the Bdubs friendship pass, but that was all part of a plan Scar formulated, and Grian just never happened to see the secret message sent to him. All in all, a story of companionship that's only tragic towards the end.

Then, Last Life comes, and he is lonely. People are really quick to point to Joel for being lonely this season, but if anything, I'd describe Joel as manic over just lonely. This whole season, Scar tries to make friends after losing his only one to the curse of a red life. Time and time again he's seen trying to help people, he acts as a life dispenser, and at every turn he us either dismissed and never truly seen as an ally, or he faces death, whether by natural causes or by the hand of another player. In fact, instead of making friends, he seems to make a sworn enemy out of Team BEST. This season is really what kickstarts Scar's progression into being one of the staples of Lonely Characters ™️ of the Life Series, for even his final death is practically alone, with no happy reunions with allies, and no boos from any sworn enemies either.

I could argue this is another case of Scar being faced with lonliness because his once closely knit ally in Grian, has now shown scorn for their new fated bond. Scar is left behind as Grian goes to be with BigB, and out of them two, BigB has the guilt to tell Ren the whole secret soulmate ordeal, but Grian keeps his mouth shut. Scar finds out about the whole situation on his own, bitterly offering gifts for Grian to give, and hanging out with Pearl, the girl who is quite literally the commonly accepted poster child for all aspects of loneliness depicted in the Life Series. In this series, I think Scar gets some sort of closure in Grian and him working together again towards the end of the season, but even so, the two of them die apart, in a way symbolizing the disconnect they had all season long.

Limited Life is quite possibly Scar's happiest season, and therefore I don't really have anything to say about it. I think to some degree, everyone in the Life Series has the ability to be an asshole, and I think every single character is morally grey, and with all that being said I think the person Scar needed most was Cleo. Sure, they enable him to be as chaotic as possible, and yeah, being around Ckeo thus season quite possibly made Scar the snarkiest he's been, but the connection he had with her, and just the Clockers overall was so strong. Yes, there's the whole Etho dad thing, and you could argue that's another tally for Scar's abandonment board, but really, that whole bit has always been more comedic to me than it has been entirely dramatic or angsty.

And everyone knows Secret Life. Once again, Scar finds himself in the role of the lonely merchant, running a shop solo, and constantly trying to make friends, but there is always something stopping him from doing so because something in this world HATES him. Scar doesn't make friends, no, in fact, the Secret Keeper screws him over so much that by the end of this season he is literally embracing the role of a villain. He goes on a killing spree, more successful than he's ever done before, and he finds himself face to face with Pearl, who wants him to take her life. He calls it lame, and not fair because if Pearl's good at the game, she should own it and between me and you personally, I think Scar's just got a soft spot for a fair fight between the last two standing. I think the saddest part of Secret Life is the lack of closure Scar gets because he is the only winner that doesn't get to die and meet in this sort of afterlife where everyone reunites and talks like friends again, as if they all hadn't caused each others' demise. Scar doesn't get that, and is instead stuck in, at least in Martyn's interpretation, an endless loop of pressing that succeed button over and over as he goes mad.

This is a ridiculously long post, but I just NEEDED to get it out of my system. I feel like people could argue the curse of having allies is more tragic because you have to witness their deaths, or you can make the argument that maybe trying to fund the most tragic Life Series character is redundant because with how this game is, everyone is bound to be tragic either way, and to which I say true. I just feel like in a game where it's so natural for people to split up into groups of 3, 4, sometimes even 5, Scar's a character that has ended up alone so many times. It's honestly quite insane. I will always say that Pearl and Joel are the lonely dog girl and lonely dog boy of the series, but if there was ever just...the Lonliest, that title would probably go to Scar.

[spookieloverslittlemind]

How protective are they…

includes: Michael Myers, Pinhead, Brahms Heelshire, Art the Clown, Sun and Moon (fnaf), Marta (Outlast 2)

a/n: it’s grey and rainy outside yk what that means

Michael

Is this a joke. Michael will literally kill anyone who breathes your air if you ask him to. In fact, at the start of your relationship you had to set a boundary by telling him not to kill every person you encounter, unless you give him the clear (given those kills aren’t his own random kills, he allows you to set a rule of “don’t just kill everyone”). This stems from him walking out your front door, following the mail man one time. Michael is the epitome of the “me and my bitch don’t argue she tell me shut up and I do” trope when it comes to you except his version of shutting-up is putting down the knife. That said, you’ve got plenty of time to stop Michael because he’s only ever walking after someone, so there’s not much danger of him accidentally killing the wrong person. When, however, you do give him the green light to commit murder in the first degree…Michael’s all over it like a bad rash. You’ve never seen him walk with more purpose than when you’ve sighed and said “fine” to him killing someone. Once, you made the mistake of telling Michael he was allowed to threaten but not kill - you were very specific - man who’d been bothering you at work. At first, you thought the guy was just off sick for a couple of days out of pure fear from his encounter with Mike. Then you started seeing the missing person posters. You had one of them on the dining room table when Michael next came to visit and he just tilted his head with the closest expression he can pull to resemble 🥺👉🏻👈🏻 behind the black eye holes of his mask.

Pinhead

Is this a joke. Pinhead can and will summon a portal to any circle of Hell of his choosing to forcibly grab any mf that tries you in any capacity via chains and drag them to eternal suffering. He doesn’t even have to be there to witness the crime before he’s playing judge, jury and executioner that omniscient bastard. He’s very calm and collected about his protectiveness unless someone actually hurts you, in which case he personally handles their eternal torture. Pinhead doesn’t have much of a concept for politeness but the first time he felt the energy of a cashier being less than friendly to you he summoned a portal and you had to rush home to explain that any poor soul working in customer services suffers enough and should not be sent to Hell for being less than happy working in a different kind of Hell for minimum wage. Thankfully, Pinhead brought them back and erased their memory (and injuries) so that trauma never really happened and he learned a valuable lesson that day x

Brahms

Is this a joke. Brahms will not hesitate to kill anyone that sets foot in the house unless you give him a full briefing on, like, your sister coming to visit or something. He’s more lenient with women coming over because he likes watching you smile as you talk to them from where he resides behind the walls but men? Hahahaha. You’re funny. Real funny. You should try standup. ‘Cause you know who’s standing up whenever a man’s voice is heard. And you know who’s killing them with his bare hands. It’s rare anyone has the opportunity to upset you because you’re trapped in Brahms’ mansion, but he’s the kind to track down the exact piece of paper that gave you a paper cut and tear it to shreds. Burn it. Eat it. So it’s fair to say Brahms is very, very protective. It’s a good thing he’s not allowed out, really.

Art

Is this a joke. Like everything about him, Art’s protective nature is…unique, but he’s definitely got it. He’ll watch someone upset you until it makes you cry and then flay a man, type beat. If anyone physically hurts you then yeah, they’re dead, but apart from that he likes to test how far someone will go to upset you before he steps in to act their punishment. Surprisingly, Art’s a lot more laidback than others on this list when it comes to not wanting to kill every person you come in contact with; he’s more prone to jealousy, really, because if he sees someone else making you laugh anywhere close to the amount he makes you laugh, he will want to gut them. And he probably will when you’re out of the room. And he’ll dispose of the body before you get back and mime something about “oh 😱 they had to go ☹️👉🏻 suddenly 🤭” and then you never hear from that person again, for reasons Art pretends he doesn’t know.

Sun and Moon

Is this a joke. Sun is incapable of withholding Moon if you get even mildly disrespected in any given circumstance they’re so protective of you, just hearing about you being upset is enough to get Moon appearing. Sun’s the type to remind you that you are safe and he (and Moon) will never let anyone or anything hurt you. Moon’s the type to shout at and throw toys that have hurt you or tripped you up in the Daycare. Sun is very good at comforting you and cheering you up after the fact, but it’s Moon who handles the punishment. He’s been known to leave the Daycare out of working hours to hunt down “naughty” people, and because you’ll feel guilty about it he deliberately doesn’t tell you the things he does, except to say “they will not upset you again…🌚”

Is this a joke. This servant to God has dedicated her life to cleansing the world of heretics and you think she won’t disembowel every soul that blasphemes in the presence of God’s purest gift to her? She may not have a sense of humour but you, my friend, are hilarious. Marta doesn’t understand petty offences of someone being unkind to you, unless you explain it to her, but as soon as she comprehends the fact you are even remotely unsettled by someone’s presence…God has whispered that person’s fate in her ear, and she won’t hesitate to bring it forth. Marta is not someone you can reason with, so people very quickly accept that to harm you, your spirit or your purity in any conceivable way, is to sign their own death warrant. You can’t stop her, either, because unfortunately when you say “they hurt my feelings”, God sends her a telepathic message that’s the equivalent of “🫵🏻👁️👁️👉🏻🔪”

[transhawks]

Why does everyone treat Hawks having always been an assassin as canon? I know he was brought in as a replacement for Nagant but as far as I’m aware there’s no actual proof he killed anyone before twice

You're right! We've never been explicitly told he has a kill-count of anything but 1 (rip Jin). However (honestly you knew this would make me actually write, didn't you?)....

1. The HSPC has changed (somewhat)

It's spelled out to us that Madame Prez wasn't like her predecessor. Her methods weren't as brutal, she was way into a war of information. In some ways, crueler. Kaina wasn't executed - instead she had her hair shorn and was defamed, humiliated.

Nagant assumes Keigo has been used like her. Horikoshi says Madame Prez groomed Keigo from a much earlier age than the middle school-aged Kaina so he had way less ability to leave or question (additionally, he was so sheltered from society and marginalized that he simply would have been incapable until he was an adult).

This is what the story says outright. So, yes, you're right - everything else is speculation. But then the question is why people believe this is canon outside of the typical abysmal literacy found in this fandom?

2. But Hawks being Hawks doesn't Make It Easier

Truth be told, I'm on your side. I used to very much doubt he had much of a body/kill count. I still think it might be single digits if we consider actually murdering someone with his own hands/quirk, though I suspect he might be responsible for deaths in other ways. I would have completely accepted Jin being his first (and only at this point) murder.

So why did I change my mind about this? Simply; Keigo's a fucking freak. I say this with love.

Every so often Keigo says or does something in this manga that both confirms he's kind of insane and in a very different moral space than everyone else, and just off-handedly mentioning he went and, after being subjected to third degree burns and essentially losing limbs, immediately went to eliminate every last sample even after the battle (where he was carried off by Tokoyami mind you) as in....destroying Jin's body or ensuring no one can use it. He's offended when it's clear Dabi got the better of him with this.

Mind you, he's the world champion at repressing his feelings, duh, but the fascinating way he speaks about this (a minute after screaming they NEED TO KILL JIN AGAIN) speaks volumes. Keigo's completely undaunted about handling death and its aftermath. If he's never killed before, he's been certainly trained to in a way that he handles it professionally.

There's one more thing that makes me think Keigo did kill before Jin. We can argue over how much Keigo hesitated killing Jin, but I think it's a point in that he did in how much he ABSOLUTELY does not with All For One.

Like he does not hesitate. Immediately tries to put a feather-knife through his brain. Logically, I mean, I think anyone would try to one-shot AFO because the more time the man that has (until he rewound himself) the more time he has to fuck you up, but still. He tries to stab through his man's head as soon as he gets out of the portal.

Here's Keigo just admitting it, albeit saying he expected it wouldn't work, but really, he's more apologizing he can't immediately kill this man.

No hesitance.

My final piece of evidence is that Keigo is currently walking around Japan in a suit with a katana begging mfers to "try it bitch". Like being quirkless, not a hero, none of that is stopping him if he needs to defend himself. And it's not like he can pin someone away with his feathers. Nor does he have dozens of daggers at his disposal anymore, just one blade. He's the type to try and finish things quickly as the manga has shown time and time again. I really hope no one actually tries to assassinate him because there's an extreme likelihood he'll just decapitate them in the SPC boardroom.

3. Red, Red Hands

To recap, we know Keigo has been trained to kill, in a multitude of ways (and not only with his quirk), and has always seen killing as option/tool he can use. The HSPC might not be as eager to kill as Kaina's era was, but they raised Keigo with the intent to use him to be able to kill people and cover it up. While there's no proof of other murders, there's proof he's been given the training, tools, and expectation to kill. And his attitude towards killing isn't making it seem like he's not done it before. Of course, he's not agonizing over it like Kaina, which makes me think he was used sparingly to kill.

But the other thing to ask is - will Keigo continue to kill (and not like in personal defense) or lead to the deaths of others? He's already set on reforming the Public Safety Commission by allowing for the reform of Villains who cooperate, renaming the Commission to distance itself from solely heroism... We're still a few chapters away of seeing what this new president has in store for society and how he'll distinguish his methods from the people who created him, but we also have two hundred and fifty chapters of him expressing dislike of how he's used, so perhaps it's fair to say he's not continuing the cycle?

[qqueenofhades]

I don't know why I thought it was a good idea to argue with people about the worthlessness of voting third party. They just keep insisting that the influence is worth it, and that I was a coward for daring to suggest that we don't HAVE any other options than Democratic. I even cited how voting third party likely played a part in Al Gore losing ffs.

There's no "likely" about it, Ralph Nader DID directly cost Gore the election. He ran explicitly on the same "both parties are the same, so leftists/liberals should vote for me instead" rhetoric that we are still seeing among the Online Left, and it was successful: he got, for example, over 97,000 votes in Florida. Bush won Florida (and thus the presidency) by a miniscule 537 votes, after the fuckery of Bush v. Gore and SCOTUS ordering the recount stopped in Bush's favor. If the tiniest percentage of those Nader voters had gone for Gore, we would have had a president who was arguing in favor of tackling climate change in the year 2000. We would have been incredibly ahead of the curve. We would, in all likelihood, have a president who took the CIA's warnings of an impending al-Qaeda attack in the US seriously. We would not have had the disastrous Afghanistan and Iraq invasions and the "War on Terror," the rampant Islamophobia, "No Child Left Behind," the 2008 economic crash, and everything else that Dubya and his band of bloodthirsty neocons inflicted on us in the early aughties. Look, I try not to look back too much, but having Gore instead of Bush as president would have reshaped the entire timeline we're living in to such an unfathomably better degree that every moron thinking of voting third party For The Protest should be sat down and forced to learn this history intimately. Of course, they already saw it happen in real time in 2016, but they didn't care about that either.

The good news is: there are plenty of persuadable voters out there, and you can do work to reach them and convince them to vote for Democrats! They're just not online, because all the Online Leftists are terminally brain-poisoned against voting anyway and trying to argue with them is generally a waste of time. Instead, what you should do is take a gander at the following links:

This is the one-stop shop page for volunteering to get Democrats elected. You can do in-person and remote work, there are tons of different ways to get involved (i.e. you don't have to go directly out and knock doors if that's not something you're comfortable with), and your local Democratic party will welcome the volunteer help. There is also a page for finding your state party website:

I went there, clicked on my state, opened the webpage, and there was a "Volunteer" link right in the header, with an easy and quick form to fill out to register your interest and explain the kinds of work you would be interested in doing. You can canvass directly, you can manage data on the back end, you can phone bank, you can send texts and postcards to voters who may need an extra nudge, you can otherwise work with your state party in lots of ways, and it will be so much more productive and make you feel so much better than arguing with online idiots who will never, ever change their minds. What you can do is reach out to voters in your own community, in your own state, and have conversations with people who actually ARE willing to listen, but might need a little more educating on the facts, what's at stake, the truth about this election, and the danger that Trump poses. All of this will convert into critically important Democratic votes, and you can actually put your desire to make a difference into action. So yeah. I would 100% suggest you do it this way instead. Good luck.

[gatheringbones]

[“The fact that my body has become a source of at least as much misery as pleasure has paradoxically made it easier for me to stop calling myself a lesbian and use the term bisexual instead. I just don’t have the energy any more to hold up facades. Back in 1971, I initially told people I was bisexual, but discovered this meant that straight people saw me as a heterosexual who occasionally dabbled in not-very-serious sex with “other girls,” while gay people saw me as a dyke who hadn’t come all the way out of the closet yet. Nobody trusted me, and nobody would dance with me. In 1980, when Sapphistry was about to be published and my first article about lesbian S/M appeared in The Advocate, I said in that article that if I had a choice between being marooned on a desert island with a vanilla dyke or a leather boy, I would take the boy. I got an extremely irate phone call from Barbara Grier, owner of Naiad, the company that was going to publish Sapphistry, informing me that they did not publish books by bisexual women, and if that was what I was, she would yank the book. Already in the midst of a firestorm about being public as a sadomasochist, I acquiesced, and delayed this coming out by another twenty years. I became “a lesbian who sometimes has sex with men.”

I still think this is a valid category, and remain unconvinced that the most important thing you can know about someone’s sexuality is the preferred gender of their partner. But today I’d rather not argue about it. I need to keep things as simple as possible. Bisexual people are still being excluded from the gay community’s cultural and political life. And I find myself being personally affected by that exclusion. It hurts me and makes me angry in a way that it would not, I think, if I were not on some level affiliated with bisexuals. I would rather stand with a group of people who don’t expect me to turn myself into a pretzel to explain what makes my dick get hard. This doesn’t mean I think it’s wrong or passé to be a Kinsey 6. But I do think a quest for purity of any sort is almost always morally dangerous.

Being more open about having sex with men has brought my own gender dysphoria to the fore. When I put my body up against a male body, what I notice is how hard it is for me to feel connected to my own flesh. Even more important has been the experience of loving someone who is a female-to-male transsexual (FTM), my domestic partner, Matt Rice. I knew Matt before he transitioned, and it has been such a positive change for him. By taking testosterone and getting chest surgery, he not only allowed himself to become and live as a man, he became a much better person—kinder, more patient, happier, sexier, sweeter. (Although he still won’t suffer fools gladly.) The fact that Matt has managed his transition with this degree of success gives me hope that I might be able to find a less distressing place for myself. I expect, like any other coming out, this will have its shitty aspects. But I think it will also create a greater sense of freedom and comfort.”]

pat califa, from layers of the onion, spokes of the wheel, from a woman like that: lesbian and bisexual writers tell their coming out stories, 2000

[carmenberzattosgf]

It's 💙💙💙me again !I've Come to be annoying ! Lol . Okay so hear me out , it's cold as shit in Chicago during the winters and the reader just moved there and isn't used to it and her clothes arent warm enough and it makes carmen annoyed as hell BECAUSE ITS COLD AND WHAT ARE YOU DOING ?? So he's always giving you his coat and reader is always like "no no no , you're gonna be cold 🥺🥺🥺" while she's grabbing his biceps but at the same time she's like all "heheheeh" on the inside and giddy and he just gives her a stern look and spank on the ass for being irresponsible 🫣 but at the same time he loves her wearing his jacket and now she's only allowed to wear his jacket basically 💙

You could never annoy me friend!!

But yes I sooo agree with this. I’m thinking pre relationship you would show up to work after walking there when it was FREEZING. All you have to keep you warm is a flimsy little jacket. You suck it up and don’t complain.

Carmy notices though when the day is over and you’re about to head out back into the cold with your sad excuse for a jacket.

“Y/N. Did you forget your jacket in your locker or something? It’s freezing you need to go grab it.”

“This is all I’ve got! I haven’t had time to buy a proper winter jacket since moving here. I’ll be fine though. I made it this morning just fine.” The concerned look on Carmy’s face turns into one of complete shock.

“What the hell were you thinking? It’s like 20 degrees outside.” Carmy begins to unbutton his thick fleece-lined denim jacket and shrug it down his shoulders.

“Woah, woah, woah. What are you doing?” You grab at his arms to stop his movements. His biceps flex beneath your palms. You knew he was ripped, but to feel his muscles under your own hand is much different than just looking at them.

“I’m letting you wear my jacket.” You two argue back and forth before you finally give in. He stands behind you and helps you slip the jacket on. It’s soft and cozy, and the smell of Carmen overwhelms you. “There we go. That’s much better now, isn’t it?”

You couldn’t lie. He was right. “Thank you Carmy. I’ll get this back to you tomorrow. Promise.”

“No. Don’t worry about it. You said you didn’t have time to get a jacket, right? Consider it a ‘welcome to Chicago’ gift.”

“You don’t have to do that! This is a really nice jacket. I don’t want to take it from you.”

“Trust me. I have plenty just like it. Besides, it looks nice on you.”

Now once you two are in a relationship? Yeah you forget your (his) jacket on purpose just so you can wear whatever one he wore to work back home. The main reason behind this is so you can smell like him for however long the jacket retains his scent.

He’s come to expect this and actually keeps an extra jacket in his locker so he doesn’t freeze to death in Chicago winter.

But yes. Every single time it happens he will playfully scold you and slap you on the ass because he knows you love it.

He truly cannot get enough of you in his clothes. He would walk home in the blistering cold if it meant he got to see you wearing one of his jackets

[robo-writing]

One Year Later

Summary: You decide to surprise your boyfriend for your first year anniversary, needless to say he enjoys your gift very much.

Tw: Public sex, MDNI. Read on Ao3 Credits for dividers go to @cafekitsune

It’s been a year since you’ve met your boyfriend for the first time, the stars must have aligned in your favor because you’re still wondering how the hell you managed to catch his attention.

Not once did you ever think he was paying attention to you, the girl sat in the back with her nose buried in whatever novel is trending. Hell, the only reason you even noticed him is because it was impossible not to, he looked straight out of a romance novel, broad in all the right places with a jawline set in stone. But he also looked like he could kill you if he stared long enough.

He’d show up each week to order coffee, along with two equally large men in tow. Your attention only piqued after you noticed they kept returning, and after a couple weeks you overheard them bickering, the one with the scorpion tattoo referring to them as brothers. 

Honestly, even if you never had a chance to meet them before, they sure argued like it.

Just watching them was entertaining, even if you did feel a bit guilty about staring. You’d pretend like you weren’t of course—

“You know, if you want to say something you could just ask.”

—but you suppose you weren’t as subtle as you thought.

You nearly scream in shock, barely covering your voice as one of his brothers suddenly appears at your side. 

“Oh! I’m sorry about that,” he apologizes, holding his hands up in surprise. “I didn’t mean to scare you, I apologize.”

Whether or not he meant it didn’t stop your sudden rise in heart rate. “Nearly gave me a heart attack…“

He smiles sheepishly. “I suppose I deserve that. But really I’m here on behalf of my brother.”

The young man, who introduced himself as Tomas, sat next to you gleefully and mentioned that his brother had his eyes on you for a while. Apparently he was simply too shy to talk to you, a statement you heavily doubted.

“Shy? Him?” You ask, eyeing the scowling man from across the room. “You sure we’re talking about the same person?”

“I’m certain of it. He might look intimidating but he’s honestly not as bad as people think.”

You raise your eyebrow.

“...Okay, maybe he can be a bit intense at times, but I’m serious! I’ve grown up with him my whole life, he doesn’t have many interests but I’m telling you now: He likes you. The only reason he comes here anyway is to see you—“

“Tomas.”

It feels like the temperature drops a couple degrees. You’re not sure when the larger man started listening in to your conversation, but Tomas is quick to leave, meaning you’re now face to face with this very tall stranger for the first time. You want to greet him, but the frown on his face deters you.

“Pay him no mind, my fool of a brother is far too talkative for his own good,” he says, glaring at the young man's fleeting form. “Do not listen to him.”

Deciding that you might as well take your chances, you blurt out: “Is it true?”

He looks at you once, twice, trying to decipher your words. After a moment of thought, he speaks. 

“What if it was?”

Your heart flips. “Well, if it was, I would ask you to sit down? If you want to, that is.”

You nearly do a double take when he does. He introduces himself as Bi-Han, and once you pick your jaw from the floor you introduce yourself, trying to push your nerves to the side before you scare him away. Hell, you're still trying to register the fact that he’s actually here, talking to you.

If you paid attention, you’d see his brothers smiling from outside the store.

A conversation turned into two, then three. Neither of you notice his brothers leave the store, and the only indicator that time has passed is when the store manager kindly informs you that they’re going to close the shop soon. The sunlight slowly fades through the windows, and you both agree that you enjoyed each other’s company.

The next day you show up, and an hour later he did too, and so the cycle repeated until it was an unspoken rule that every week you’d show up and talk to your heart's content. Sometimes it would be about the most mundane things, other times you'd share bits and pieces about your lives. That’s how you learned about his lifestyle as a biker, how he inherited his fathers name and his gang, how he and his brothers are basically micro celebrities in the biker space, and out of pure curiosity you asked if he could take you riding one day.

Stoic as you’ve seen him, it’s the first time you actually see him smile, unburdened and unrestrained. “I can, should you wish for it.”

That same day was a first for the both of you; It was the first time Bi-Han let someone ride with him, the first time you’d ever gotten on a motorcycle, and the first time you found out what his lips felt like against your own. 

It’s been a year since and you two are happier than ever, so you decided that in honor of your first year a celebration was in order, an idea that Bi-Han was more than welcome to entertain.

What you didn’t tell him was the pretty little number you’d bought just for your date. One reservation later (all of which was paid with his card, of course) and you’re ready to surprise your boyfriend.

His arrival is announced by the roar of his engine, the familiar view of his sleek bike slowing down at the curb and coming to a full stop. One leg over the other he gets off, pulling his helmet to reveal his face, a hum of approval as he strides towards you.

"I see you went shopping."

A warmth fills your chest at his approval, heartbeat picking up speed when he comes closer. Hungry eyes linger on your chest, the sweetheart neckline doing little to hide your cleavage before moving further down, from the curve of your body to where the dress stops just short of your mid-thigh. He plays with the bow at the front between two fingers, approving of what he sees with a tilt of his head.

“Do you like it?” 

It’s a naive question in hindsight, but you ask anyway. He shakes his head, a smug little curve at the edge of his lips. 

“Don’t ask questions you know the answer to.”

You can't help the grin that spreads across your face. 

"I should hope so,” you whisper. “I bought it for you."

"For me?" he replies, leaning down to whisper in your ear. "I'm flattered."

His voice drops an octave, a sound nearly as rumbling as the engine of his motorcycle. His eyes still haven't left the hem of your dress.

He sighs and finally looks back at your face. You don’t think you’ve ever seen him this…distracted before.

“I suppose that I should repay your gift in kind.”

Bi-Han is not one for PDA, so it's a surprise when he pulls you in close. Even more shocking is when you can feel his desire against your thigh, and it only makes you excited for what lies in store. The anticipation sits heavy on your chest.

As he pulls you closer to the curb you think to yourself that this dress was more than worth the price.

"Bi-Han," You ask, stopping just short of the bike. "I thought we had a reservation—"

"Forget the date," he growls, picking up his helmet. "If you don't want me to take you right this second, get on."

You didn't need to be told twice. 

You don't miss how roughly he handles you onto the backseat, your arms instinctively wrapping around his torso as he gets on. The hard muscle underneath his black shirt is pulled taut at your touch, as if your very fingertips burn, growing tighter when those same fingers wander even further, just barely teasing at the line of his belt.

“Be careful where you place your hands dear.” he says.

“Is that a threat or a promise?” you reply.

You don’t see his face under his helmet, but you can hear his laughter, no, feel it as he presses the ignition.

“You’ll soon find out.”

A moment later and the engine roars to life. Your hands stay right where they are.

At the third red light your hand moves to his thigh and you hear him groan in response.

Minutes later Bi-Han pulls over. 

And now—

He grabs you with both hands and pulls you away to the nearest alleyway. Only minutes away from his house and he holds you against the stone wall, swallows your complaints between his lips and hisses between clenched teeth.

Couldn’t wait any longer.

Impulsive and impatient, two words he’s never associated himself with, but how else could he describe his current state? Making out in an alleyway, grinding against each other like a pair of hormonal teenagers, how you shiver under his touch and let him play with you to his heart's content. You make him feel like this, the pretty girl that caught his eye at a coffee shop of all places. You make him feel—

“Fuck,” he moans, pressing his erection against your thigh. “God—”

You swallow his noises greedily, fingers framing his chiseled face as his tongue slips past your teeth. Exploring, claiming, a kiss that leaves you boneless in his hold, grabbing at his shirt to keep steady.

“This—” Bi-Han grunts against the seam of your lips. “—is your fault.”

He’s not wrong.

You simply can’t help yourself, like a kid in a candy store. A curiosity that bleeds from you, raw and unchained. When you saw the garment hanging on the rack your first thought wasn’t how good it would look on you, but how Bi-Han would react when he saw you in it.

Your imagination does no justice to reality.

You couldn’t help yourself—from the moment he walked onto the curb you know you had him hooked. You even wore your nicest lipstick, the one that draws him closer to you, the one you know he loves to kiss you in because it tastes like cherries.

The same shade that’s currently smeared on both your lips.

Your lips curl into a smile, provocative. “I know.”

A wolf masquerading as a sheep. You think maybe he likes that about you.

He mumbles against your skin when he grinds his thigh between your own. “You did this on purpose, didn’t you?” He huffs, lips at the column of your neck. 

Your soft chuckle is answer enough. 

A noise escapes him as well, something between a moan and a laugh. “Just what am I to do with you?”

As cold as he may seem you know Bi-Han to be anything but. The care he puts forth towards you makes you feel safe, secure, a tenderness that is ever-present. He’ll hold you close, whisper sweet nothings before showing you just how much you mean to him.

This is not that. This is something else entirely.

Possessive in all aspects, his touch akin to a hunter who’s finally caught their prey. His desire morphs into a hunger, a craving that can only be satisfied by you. He chases your lips, biting lightly as his large hand squeezes at your neck, holding you in place. He explores the inside of your mouth, tongues dancing in sync, groaning when your lips part further and he’s allowed to indulge in your taste.

It’s so much different than his usual pace. Any other day he’d be content to pick at you piece by piece, watch you fall apart in his hands as he watches. Calculated, tactical even, but this is anything but. 

It’s sloppy, and you love every second of it. 

All spit and tongue, he holds your face with both hands and breathes you in until his lungs burn for air and even then he holds you close, barely a second apart before he dives back to taste your kiss-bruised lips.

“So beautiful,” he sighs, forcing you to look up at his lust-blown eyes. “and all mine.”

You nod shakily before his mouth descends on you once more.

He mouthes greedily at the skin your attire so graciously presents to him, teeth nibbling at the swell of your breasts until your skin is littered with his mark. Your fingers run through his silky black locks, hair falling to his shoulders as you guide his head closer and bite back the noises that threaten to spill from your lips.

Various shades of red bloom against your supple skin, some becoming a shade of purple you’ve come to associate with the stoic biker. Proud of his work, wandering hands move lower until they play with your hemline, reaching until they palm the inside of your thighs, possessive. Eventually he pulls away, staring you down with lust-blown eyes. They fall to your face, to your legs, and back again.

"Bend over,” He says urgently. “Let me see you.” 

You do so without a second thought, turning to face the wall behind you. Slowly you present yourself, raising your dress with a shake of your hips, letting the warm summer breeze graze over your exposed ass. For a moment you become worried; you're in public, anyone could see your current state of undress, the way your legs happily part for your boyfriend. 

Any doubts you have are soon quelled by Bi-Han's touch. The excitement far outweighs your anxiety.

His large hand reaches to caress your backside, playfully pulling and snapping your underwear against your skin. You gasp at the sting, only to sigh in content when his fingers prod at the wet spot that sticks to your sex, drinking in the sight of his fingers glistening with slick. 

You wish you could see Bi-Han, because the noise he lets out is filthy.

“This wet already, and I’ve barely touched you...” he says lowly. “Tell me, was this your plan all along? To tempt me?”

His fingers press a little harder and you gasp, rocking against him before his other hand reaches forward to still your hips. With a click of his tongue that same hand comes down hard against the soft skin beneath it, the sound echoing in the empty alleyway. You gasp in shock before he stills you once again.

“Behave. I want you to answer me first, how long were you waiting for me to fuck you?”

You whine at the lack of friction before answering. “All day..“

“I can tell,” he chuckles darkly. “You’re practically dripping—“

He taps his fingers against your exposed pussy once, twice, before he spreads your juices with his fingers. First his thumb, then his forefinger, your head bows with a sigh as he plays with your folds to his heart's content. You whine again, trying your best to chase his fingers but the hand at your hip is a weight, keeping you in place. He watches your futile attempt and laughs once more, this time letting the tip of his finger just barely press into your entrance as you huff in frustration.

He can’t help but let out a satisfied hum at your wanton display. “You should see yourself. How easily you open your legs for me.”

Your brain slowly turns to mush, the combination of his deep voice and teasing digits making you lose your sense of self. You rise to your toes, trying your best to entice him to do something, anything.

“Bi-Han,” you whimper, letting out a cry when he indulges you. One thick finger curls inside you knuckle-deep, back arching from the wall as he slowly rocks his hand against your pussy. His fingers are so much bigger than yours, so much more fulfilling that it sends you into a frenzy. 

“That’s it, look at you,” he draws out, pressing against the spot that has you moaning just that bit louder. “Feels good, doesn’t it?”

You sound so sweet, barely able to mumble out a response. “Yes, yes—“

You bite at your hand and still you can’t help the occasional sigh that forces itself from your body. A squeak of pleasure escapes you when he adds another finger, stroking your insides and enjoying the abundance of juices that drip against your thighs and leaves his hand a soaked mess. 

Truly you look your best when you’re below him. Spread out and wanting, a view he could spend the rest of his life looking at and never grow tired. Your pliant body sandwiched between him and the wall, the bulk of him pressed behind you so you can feel how much larger he is, how easily he overpowers you. A wall of muscle, unmoving as his fingers stretch you apart.

Your breath stutters, a high pitched sound erupting from your throat. “Bi-Han, ohmygod—“

It becomes harder and harder for you to keep quiet, your legs shaking from the speed of his fingers. The air is filled with the wet squelch of his digits working against your needy pussy, a sound that Bi-Han makes certain to taunt you with.

“You are lucky we are hidden well,” He says huskily, making sure to curl his fingers in just the right spot to have your back arch further, walls fluttering against his thick digits. “Just imagine if anyone else heard you.”

The idea of anyone else being privy to your noises stirs jealousy in his heart, fingers increasing their pace. “But then again you would like that wouldn’t you? Flaunting yourself in public like this, I bet you would enjoy being seen as the needy little thing you are.”

This is torture. You struggle for breath, a heat blooming in your chest and radiating into every fiber of your being. “N-No, I wouldn’t—“

“And why is that?” He says, biting at the shell of your ear.

“Because I only want you,” you moan. “just you.”

You sneak a glance towards Bi-Han’s face, his normally stoic expression replaced with one of debauchery. The difference is night and day, smirking at your disheveled form stretched out before him. His gaze is cruel as it passes over your body, taking in each shudder, every yelp as he plays with you until he’s satisfied.

His fingers brush against your g-spot and you nearly scream. The sounds that escape you are shameless, accompanied by the slick noises of your pussy. Your mind slowly becomes blank, only the thought of a slow-building pleasure at the forefront of your mind.

Your words are accented with lust, almost drooling. "Bi-Han, more, please—"

He shows no signs of stopping, mocking your whimpers in a cruel voice. “God, you’re so pathetic. I’ve barely given you my fingers and you’re already begging—”

The air is punched out of you when his fingers leave your drenched heat and play with your engorged clit, leaving you a limp mess. He’s forced to hold you steady as your legs wobble, shaking like a leaf as your breathing becomes heavier and heavier.

Closer, closer, faster, moremoremore—oh god.

Bi-Han thinks you’re enchanting, the sound of you coming undone a melody to his ears. He takes you as far as you can go, then even farther, tests your limits as he holds you firm

“Bi-Han, Bi-Han, Bi-Han—!”

You don’t need to say it, he already knows. He knows when you push back against his hand, and he knows when you arch your back so his large fingers can graze against that one spot that has you keening, begging for more, more. 

“So well behaved, are you going to come for me?” 

You shakily nod your head, biting at the soft flesh of your hand to stop yourself from letting the entire block know you’re being fucked stupid.

“Good,” he says. “don’t.”

Just when you’re about to lose yourself, he stops. His fingers still, leaving your pussy completely, empty and waiting.

“Nonono—“ You complain, whine for his touch and chase his ministrations. Your hips push back, desperate for more. “Come on, don’t tease me, please—“

His hand pulls your hair, your head forced back as he growls in your ear. “But it’s fair for you to do it to me, right?”

He bunches up the loose fabric in his hands, as if to prove a point. “You walk around like this knowing I would see you, knowing how I would react—I thought this is what you wanted? My reaction.”

His harsh tone makes you stop in your tracks, despite the thrum of a ruined orgasm that sits in the pit of your stomach. “I—I’m sorry Bi-Han—”

“It is far too late for apologies,” he says, fingers landing a harsh slap to your pussy. You wail, running away on instinct before being pulled back by your waist. “Don’t tell me you can’t handle the consequences?”

His hands return to your body, one at your breast and the other between your legs. One roughly pinches at your nipple while the other rubs harsh circles against your clit, the overstimulation bringing blissful tears to your eyes. 

“I can’t, I can’t—“ you hiss, reach down and grab at his wrist, an action that doesn’t phase him in the slightest. His pace doesn’t slow, not for a second. “Oh god, Bi-Han—“

Index and middle finger reach up to silence you, playing with your tongue as you’re silenced. “Be quiet. Begging will do you no favors.”

It’s times like this where you remember just how cruel he can be. You should’ve known better than to think he wouldn’t punish you, but at the same time the pleasure he gives is well worth the frustration.

You struggle to keep up, moaning around his long digits as the salt of his fingertips coat your tastebuds. There’s pressure that sinks further and further into your being with each touch of your clit. Sweat clings to the both of you, a cloud of desperation hanging over you as you’re forced into complete and utter submission.

“I’ll be good, I’ll be so good—” You gag around his fingers. “Jus’ need you, please Bi-Han.”

His fingers quickly leave your mouth. You hear his zipper being undone, followed by the tip of his cock just barely gliding against your folds. Just the thought of him inside you has you forgetting yourself, shaking against his length as it soaks in your juices.

“This is what you want, right?” He breathes, chest pressed to your back. Once, twice, he slots himself right against you, lets his tip push against your clit and send shockwaves through your body but never going further. “Then obey.”

You push back, desperate for more. “Mm, I will, I promise, just please fuck me.“

“Close, but not quite.”

Bi-Han feeds off your excitement, chuckling before fisting his length against your cunt. “I’m doing you a favor, giving this—“

His cockhead glides against you, so close but yet so far. The action alone takes your breath away.

“—aching pussy of yours any kind of relief. I believe thanks are in order, wouldn’t you say?”

He phrases it as a question when the words are anything but. Your tongue passes over your lips, before uttering a delicate, downright lecherous—

“Thank you Bi-Han.”

A subtle throb against your count, the shuddering sigh that leaves him as he hunches over your body. You can’t see his reaction, but you can feel it.

“God,” Bi-Han moans, lays his full body weight on top of you and speaks directly in your ear. “Always ready for me, aren’t you?”

You’re too far off to answer, completely at his mercy. He takes pity on your sex-addled brain, gives you a moment of respite as you slowly come back from your high and languidly moves into you. His lips glide against your skin, a gentle comfort to your frenzied mind, a contrast to the ever-growing heat that spreads across your body. The only relief you’re given before his patience runs thin.

He pulls out with a hiss, slams back into your pussy and waits for you to recover before doing it all over again. The noises that leave your mouth are pornographic, barely muffled into your arm. Despite the uncomfortable position you bear it because no matter how rough he may be, you love it all the same. 

He fucks you at a brutal pace his weight pinning you down into submission, all the while muttering to himself, uncharacteristically chatty as he mutters how good you feel, how pretty you look bent over, how well you take his cock—

“Hips up darling, your legs are shaking, don’t tell me you’re tired already?”

Tired, aching, and still so fucking needy.

“I’m gonna come, I’m gonna come—“

“No you’re not,” he says. Bi-Han’s movements go from erratic to calculated, an unrelenting tempo that makes you see stars. His fingers find your over-sensitive clit and rub, keeping you trapped in a cycle of pleasure below him. “You’re going to wait, say you understand.”

You let out a moan, only to be pulled by your hair.

“Use your words dear,” he whispers in your ear. “Say it out loud, or I’ll stop.”

You babble needily, trying to convince yourself more than Bi-Han. Tears flow freely from your eyes, sobbing through each word. “I—I’ll wait, I won’t come, I won’t come—“

“You had better not.” He gasps, before his hips return to their brutal rhythm. “I’m going to fill you up, leave you full of me—gonna leave a pretty stain on the ride home, won’t you? Then when we get home I'll take you again to make sure you feel me for days.”

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for getting tubal ligation, eloping with my two girlfriends, adopting a cat and moving out, all in two weeks and without telling my mother?

🏥💍🐈🏠

So, I (F, 21) have been planning for a long time to sort out my life. I live in a European country, I'm in college and work part-time. For years, I've been saving up money to get financially independent as fast as possible and move out of my parents' apartment. I also wanted to have enough to pay for tubal ligation procedure, because I don't ever want children and would feel much more at ease when I'm certain that I can't physically get pregnant. My mother from the beginning was very against that idea, telling me I'll change my mind later and not to do anything permanent.

Two years ago, I've met two wonderful women, A (26) and K (23) on a discord server dedicated to our shared hobby (writing fanfiction). We'd been talking and messaging for months, eventually creating our own server and sharing our irl names and faces. It naturally progressed to a point where we chose to call it a relationship (I'm on the aroace spectrum, we're all neurodivergent and have a weird relationships with gender so it's not a traditional romantic/sexual relationship by any means). We're all from the same country so we met up a few times before deciding to all move to one city and live together. K and I are finishing our bachelor's degrees and A works from home so there weren't any obstacles. We found a flat and A moved in, waiting for me and K.

My mother knew I was bisexual and dating A and K, but thought again that it was "just a phase" and that we were only friends pretending to date for some reason. I love my parents, they are great and supportive people but sometimes it can be so exhausting to convince them of something when they believe they're absolutely right. So, I just stopped talking to my mother about my relationship and plans for the future. I visited A (and K after she moved in) in our apartment without permanently staying there yet.

A, K and I got an idea to celebrate us finishing college and A getting a job promotion by going abroad for a week. K jokingly suggested that we could visit another country and get married (gay marriage is still illegal in our country). Obviously, polyamorous marriages are not legal anywhere in Europe, but A told us at the beginning of our relationship that she never wanted to get legally married for personal reasons (but a non-binding marriage ceremony was fine with her). So, all three of us could have a ceremony and K and me could get legally married (the marriage still wouldn't be legally recognized in our country though). Then I also realized that I could get a tubal ligation in the country which we wanted to travel to (tubal ligation procedure is also illegal in our country).

I knew my mother would be against both of those decisions and I didn't want to argue with her the entire time before I left abroad. So, I just told her I'm going on holidays with my two friends for a week and she accepted that. I've also been slowly moving a lot of my stuff from my room in my parents' apartment to our apartment and was ready to completely relocate.

Anyway, the wedding went great (the witnesses were six people we knew from the discord server where we first met, who lived close by and could get to the wedding site easily), my operation went great, the trip was great, and just as we returned a friend asked if we wanted a kitten, because their cat had recently had some. We agreed.

When I was sure everything was settled, I called my mother and told her about the wedding, the operation, the move and the kitten. She was shocked and angry, said she felt disappointed and betrayed I hadn't told her about any of my plans, didn't even invite her to the wedding and that I damaged my body and would regret having my tubes tied. I tried explaining that I didn't know how she would react, that based on our previous interactions I hadn't thought she'd be supportive and that I wanted make my decisions without also having endure her disapproval. She cried, told me I hurt her and to give her some time to deal with all the revelations.

I feel terrible for upsetting my mom, but honestly, I think I did the right thing and that informing her beforehand would've ruined my mood and I'd have had to argue with her on the phone constantly during the trip.

So, Tumblr, AITA?

[littlelambscandyland]

Let Her Be

CG!House x Little!Autistic!Fem!Reader

Notes- Made the gal autistic because I am and couldn't stop myself from writing this, leave me alone, lol. That being said I just got my laptop working again, so I'll be working on requests again soon!

Warnings- Skin Picking (around the nails), Arguing (Cuddy and House), Hyperventilating, Panic Attacks, Non-violent biting (mentioned),

(Fun Fact the word count is 2,012 which is the same year the show ended)

It'd been 20 minutes. 20 damn minutes and no one even knew what this conversation was even about anymore. Cuddy had come to talk to House about yet another one of the man's many neglected duties. Normally it’d be a quick in and out where he’d complain, moan, and insult but eventually do, somewhat, what she asked. However, when Cuddy entered his office she noticed one of their interns off to the side. You.

You had been hired a few months back. A part-time intern for the psychiatric department. Cuddy was initially hesitant to hire you on because of your own mental disorders. You were autistic, quite ironic that you went into psychiatry. Despite her initial fear you were proven very useful and hardworking. Sometimes she felt herself feeling bad for ever thinking so wrongly of you, thinking how she played into the stigmas wrongly, but other times she feels glad she pushed those aside to hire you on.

Then again, maybe it was a mistake. Not because of you, mostly. You experienced age regression in high stress situations or for reasons Cuddy wasn’t quite aware of, and House had taken some special interest in you. He made excuses for you to work more with his team. Eventually Cuddy gave in letting you help with their cases by, essentially, being the patients temporary therapists. She gave you a raise and promoted you from intern, though most people still thought of you that way as Cuddy basically made up a position for you, just to shut House up.

The problems only really came when Cuddy noticed House having you around, almost, all the time. Noticing that unless he sent you away you were glued to his side. She also noted that you seemed more childish whenever he was around. Eventually, she realized you were regressed during these times. Of course, by realizing it was actually Wilson telling her after ranting to him about her confusion.

Now the actual problem wasn’t all of this. No. The problem was with House keeping you around all the time you weren’t able to do your actual job. You seriously couldn’t do it while in the mindscape of a five year old. It was ridiculous, so with feeling like there was nothing else to do she changed your job again. This time she made you House’s personal intern. Your new job entitles keeping him on track and mentally stable. Tieing in his need for you to be around and your degree in psychology.

Back to the present. It’s the first time Cuddy had to come and remind House of his job. The man had even been doing his clinic hours with a little less complaints. Today, though, House hadn’t been out of his office all day. According to Forman, House quickly dismissed them of any and all cases, and you’d done nothing about it.

So, here Cuddy was trying to talk to two incredibly distracted people. You wrapped up in a chair at a desk House had added just for you, and House sat opposite from Cuddy. He sparred more looks toward you than at Cuddy. Despite the “serious” talk, House just couldn’t ignore you. Sending funny faces or glances when you weren’t looking. If anyone knew any better they’d say House’s eyes were filled with adoration more than fascination.

And if anyone knew any better they’d realize they were right.

House had no idea when or why you became so important. He remembers meeting you, how kind you were. He remembers how he’d made a rude comment and you immediately shot back. He remembers how he called you out only for you to do the same to him. House remembers how you took everything he threw at you in stride. How you were so sweet and funny. How you willingly showed yourself with little doubt. He saw how sweet you were. How smart you were. How honest you were.

It was just you. Everything about you. He felt protective and calm with you. House felt like he didn’t have to mask himself around you. You openly answered anything he asked you and you told the truth. He knew from the moment he saw you that you were an age regressor. House knew that you wouldn’t hide that part of yourself from him as long as he asked, so he did. House confronted you the way he does everyone, bluntly. You answered him with slight embarrassment, but openly you answered with kindness towards his curiosity. 

Ever since he confronted you on it you’ve been completely responsive to every push he’s given. House can’t explain why but when you willingly started regressing around him he’d gotten so happy that he couldn’t help but coddle you. Even he found it odd how you became so special. A simple fascination turned to admiration. He saw you as a new extension of himself. Not because of how physically young you were to him, but because of how mentally young you could be. Even out of regression you had a positive childish view on things, and House was begging to protect that. He knows how rare a girl like you is. He felt even more proud when you asked him to be your caretaker when you regress. He felt even more proud than that when Cuddy transferred you to a new position as his “personal intern”. He liked spending his days with you. He liked how you needed him.

Now he sat looking at you. Eyes filled with boredom that changes to love whenever he looks towards you. You sat at a colorful deskright across from him. Eyes interchanging between a screen, Dr.Cuddy, and House. Sweet distractions and an inability to hear whatever the two of you are being told. Thick irritation unable to crush your five year old wonder.

You remember asking House if he was alright with having you around so often. You knew how it could be being stuck with someone unwillingly. You remember him telling you to shut up and if he didn’t want you around you’d be gone by now. You remember making him smile genuinely, not a sarcastic cocky one. You remember him questioning everything about you like an intense interview. You remember the smile that he tried to hide in pride when you asked him to be your caretaker.

You moved as gracefully as you could with the new changes thrown at you. You acted with stability and a mask that could be unbreakable. Yet. Anytime you were with House, alone, you dropped the mask and he did too. Two people completely real with who they’re supposed to be, if only for a short time. He saw you in a way most people didn’t. He didn’t doubt you because of your disorder. House became, so quickly, such an important part of your life. Platonically, you loved him and he loved you. Neither of you would admit it, but even when you weren’t regressed you saw him as a father figure. Someone who is actually there, who actually cares about you.

So, here you sat at your desk. The mindset of a child as you did your best to do your damn job. Cuddy scolding you and House simultaneously. Her words work too quickly in a tone you didn’t enjoy so you took in kind the silly looks and glances from House. You “worked” on the small computer in front of you. An open document with random words or phrases you’ve typed out being the only “work” related thing open. All your tabs have games or silly videos on them. Despite your current age you did try to listen to Cuddy, it was just so hard.

Cuddy stopped her rant midway through a sentence. A look of annoyance played in her eyes. She looks over to House who is once again making faces at you, and she looks at you trying your best to suppress your giggles.

“Will you pay attention, damnit.” Cuddy exclaims in frustration.

The sudden exclamation made you stiffen. You immediately shot your eyes to your lap, afraid Cuddy would turn her glare to you.

“Hey!” House shouts out just as quickly. “Watch your tone in front of the kid.” He says with a bit of a tease.

Cuddy bit at her words for a moment. Gapping for only a few seconds while looking between you and House. Finding her words she finally speaks again. “She shouldn’t be a child right now!”

“Well, maybe we should be more accommodating.” House argues, playfully.

“House this is serious. I won't have a reason to keep her working here if she isn’t actually working.” Cuddy replies.

“She is working.” He shakes his head. “She keeps me on track.” He says matter-of-a-factly.

Cuddy narrows her eyes at him. “Not today she isn’t. Today she is the biggest distraction you’ve ever seemed to have. Today you haven’t even taken on a new case!”

Their conversation continues. A bickering background as your mind takes in the overall statement “I’m a burden”. Of course, that wasn’t what Cuddy was trying to say. That doesn't mean that wasn’t the message coming across to you.

Your hands shook as you started to pick at the skin around your nails. Your eyes blurred, not with tears, but because of your ragged breaths. You picked and tore at the flesh. The red didn’t really bother you as you continued to rip at your fingers.

Suddenly House was moving across his office.

“What are you doing?” Cuddy questions before her eyes land on you.

“Will you shut up for like five minutes?” House answers with a voice filled with indignation.

House is near you in seconds. He takes your shaking hands in his and holds them tightly. He tries to guide you. Keyword tries.

“Alright well this isn’t working.” He says to no one in particular.

He pulls you out of your chair and to the couch, sits you in between his legs, and wraps his arms around you. He holds you tightly and says something to Cuddy you can’t quite hear between your own heart beats. Something about not telling anyone something, something.

“Tell me what you need.” He commands.

You shake your head feverishly. You’re pulling his arms more and pushing your back against him.

“Alright, alright.” He says.

One hand goes to your head and his other goes to your legs. He repositions you until your face is shoved into his shoulder. A few more minutes of pushing and pulling, and a bit of biting from your side. Finally you're calm enough for him to get an answer from you.

“What happened?” He asks bluntly.

“burden…” You say, your voice lowly.

“You're not a burden..” House replies quickly.

“That’s what this was about?” Cuddy asked dumbfounded.

He rolls his eyes. “You’re still here?” House asks.

She huffs at him before beginning to walk out.

“Next time watch your mouth in front of the kid!” He calls out to her.

House turns his attention back to you. Your mouth latched onto the collar of his coat and you were lightly chewing on it. 

“What’re you a gerbil? Get that out of your mouth.” He says taking his collar from you. “You know how many germs may be on this thing?” He teases.

“sorry…” You whisper.

He snorts. “No you’re not.”

His response pulls a small giggle from you.

“Hey,” He nudges you. “You’re not a burden. You hear me?” House looks into your eyes.

You nod your head.

“Good. Because if that was your takeaway of the conversation we need to teach you more on reading a room.” He tells you condescendingly. “Because I,” He emphasizes. “Don’t think of you as anything other than my kid.”

The way your eyes lit up at his words made House’s heart swell. If humans were actually made of stardust, House could’ve sworn all of your stardust was in your eyes. A moment of peace after what felt so intense.

Thankfully House didn’t see Wilson standing outside his office watching as, what he called, “House makes progress”.

[marzipanandminutiae]

god I need to stop reading the notes on that "you don't owe anybody your downtime post that goes downhill in the notes

I got a bit hyperbolic in the tags but I still feel like my point was valid: you cannot just shoot down good-faith attempts at compromise between conflicting mental illness with "sorry I don't have the energy to do that :) :) :)" and then keep telling the person on the other side that they need to work on their issues. it cannot be all give on one side and all take on the other

for clarity, the original post said "people can't always respond right away and that's okay!" (which I agree with!). but then someone in the notes was like "could you maybe tell me if you don't feel up to talking when I reach out to you?" and OP and a few other people were like "so, no, because if I had the energy to do that, I'd have the energy to conduct a conversation. sorry! anyway work more on your own stuff thanks!"

and this pissed me off because like. people with mental issues that can make us annoying/clingy/insecure about people's love or friendship? we never seem to get grace. we are ALWAYS the ones being told that we need to be better- which we definitely do! I'm not arguing that! -amidst all the posts telling you that you don't owe your friends anything ever and if someone ever gets annoyed or concerned by a lack of a response, that's on them. nobody EVER seems to get told "well, maybe work on being able to say 'hey, not feeling up to it; talk later!'"

and obviously there are degrees of this. getting worried and spam texting after two hours with no reply to a non-time-sensitive message is an issue; getting annoyed when someone ignores you for months is understandable. not texting someone back immediately is fine; not texting them back ever and then expecting them to still be there for you is not. but I feel like both extremes are issues to be worked on, and only one gets negative attention here on Tumblr

seriously you don't want to know where I started with all this. it was Bad. passive-aggressive, "manipulating people without realizing I was doing anything wrong" Bad. I have worked on it and continue to work on it. I used to tie myself in knots when I saw that little green dot and they didn't message back right away, or if they hadn't messaged first in a while. and subsequently take that out on my loved ones, intentionally or not. it wasn't fun for me, it certainly wasn't fun for them, and I've struggled to get out of that place and not go back there

but. I and people with similar abandonment/insecurity issues can't do it all. it's not meeting halfway when only one side is expected to move

and to see a post being like "well some people are just never going to listen to reason and I have to ~let myself accept that~ UwU" when all I said was "we can't be the only ones trying, and it's not fair that we're often expected to be" is just. hnnnng

I need to go aggressively cut plastic bits off gold braid trim