#there are people who feel uncomfortable to hear me call myself a woman

[trannydykepuppybot]

Tops in their pinned posts will really be like, "I'm a tough, skilked top, unapologetically queer, accepting, also I'm critical of he/him lesbians and people with 'unusual' sexualities and I think if you like BDSM you need therapy." And then bottoms will be like, "all identities are valid! Fuck me within an inch of my life uwu."

(Wow, I started typing the tags and shit got out of hand. Love each other.)

The tags are out of order! Aaahhha.

[widevibratobitch]

.

[inkskinned]

what is with men being mad any time a woman raises her voice where did that even come from. someone posted a video of a small electrical explosion, and the top comment was of course the woman screams. the second comment is women try not to scream challenge, level impossible. i had to go back and watch the video again. there is, somewhat fainty, a little gasp emitted off-camera, more of a yelp than a scream. it is mostly lost in the crack of the explosion. afterwards, you hear her voice, shaken, say, are you okay?

i am helping one of my friends train her voice pitch lower, because she wants to be taken seriously at work. she and i do each other's nails and talk about gender roles; and how - due to our appearance - neither of us have ever been able to be "hysterical" in public. we both appear young and sweet and feminine. she is cisgender, and cannot use her natural voice in her profession because people keep saying she appears to be "vapid". we both try to figure out if our purposeful voice lowering is technically sexist. is it promoting something when you are a victim to it?

a storm almost sends a pole through a car window. in the dashcam, you can hear the woman passenger say her partner's name twice, crying out in alarm. she sounds terrified. in the comments, she is lambasted for her lack of calm. how is that even fucking helping?

in high school, i taught myself to have a lower voice. i had been recorded when i was genuinely (and righteously) upset; and i hated how my voice sounded on the phone speakers when it was played back. i was defending my mom, and my voice cracked with emotion. it meant i was no longer winning the argument: i was just shrieking about it.

girls meet each other after a long summer and let out a little joyful scream. this usually stops around 12-14, because people will not tolerate this display of affection (as it has the effect of being passingly annoying). something about the fact that little girls can't ever even be annoying. we are trained to examine each part of our lives (even joy) for anything that could make us upsetting and disgusting. they act like teenage girls are breaking into houses and shrieking you awake at 3 in the morning. speaking as a public school educator: trust me, it's not that bad, you can just roll your eyes and move on. it does not compare to the ways boys end up being annoying: slurs in graffiti, purposefully mocking your body, following you after you said no. you know, just boy things.

there's another video of a man who is not allowed to yell in the house, so he snaps his fingers when he's excited about soccer. the comments are full of angry men, talking about how their brother is unfairly caged. let him express himself and this is terrible to do to someone. eventually the couple has to address it in a second video: they are married with a newborn baby. he was trying not to wake the infant up. there is no comment on the fact women are not allowed to yell indoors. or the fact that it could have been really alarming or triggering for his wife. sometimes i wonder if straight men even like women, if they even enjoy being in relationships with them.

for the longest time, i hated roller coasters because it always felt inappropriate and uncomfortable for me to scream. one of my friends called me on it, said it was unusual i'm so unwilling. i had to go to my therapist about it. i don't like to scream because i was not raised in a safe situation, and raising my voice would have brought unsafe attention towards me. even when i am supposed to scream, it feels shameful, guilty. i was not treated kindly, so i lack a basic form of self-protection. this is not a natural response. it is not good that in a situation of high adrenaline - i shut up about it.

something very bad is happening, i think. in between all the beauty standards and the stuff i've already discussed - this one feels new and cruel in a way i can't quite express. yes, it's scary and silencing. but there's something about how direct it is - that so many men agree with the sentiment that women should never yell, even in an emergency - it feels different.

is the word shriek gendered automatically? how about shrill or screech? in self defense class, one of the first things they tell you is to yell, as loud and as shrilly as you can. they say it will feel rude. most women will not do this. you need to practice overcoming the social pressure and just scream.

most women do not cry out, even when it's bad. we do not report it. we walk faster. we do not make a scene. what would be the point of doing anything else? no matter what we do, we don't get taken seriously. it is a joke to them. an instagram caption punchline. we have to present ourselves as silent, beautiful, captivating - "valuable."

a woman is outside watching her kids when someone throws a firecracker at them. she screams and runs towards her children. in the comments, grown men flock together in the thousands: god. women are so annoying.

[batmanisagatewaydrug]

I think you mentioned you're cis, right? Many of my friends and acquaintances right now are cis women, some not even part of the lgbtq+ community. I'm a trans girl, and I'm very bad at standing up for myself. How should I talk about language they use that makes me uncomfortable? I don't know if I'm able to explain why "biological women" is a term I'm wary of because it's so often a dog whistle, or when they talk very sweepingly about the effects of male/female socialization, or espousing very cisnormative beliefs in general. I don't wanna be misunderstood and I don't think the words they are using are necessarily wrong or bad or hateful, I've just seen them so often in that context and am a bit shaken hearing them. I also don't think they want to hurt me or are cognizant of my discomfort. I'd love your input on this.

Thank you for reading this, mx batman.

hi anon,

I am so grateful that you trust me with this question and I am so sorry if you're looking for a way to do this gently. possibly you wee hoping that I would have some insights into how to gently call out cis women without upsetting them but the gag is that almost all my friends are trans and I'm an insane bitch who will unhinge my jaw and devour people at the first whiff of transphobia.

all you need to say is something to the effect of "you may not mean any harm by it, but the terms you're using spread transphobic ideas and hurt women like me and make me feel unsafe. please find other ways to express the thing you're trying to talk about." and that has to be sufficient for these people, or they aren't your friends.

listen to me right now. you Do Not need to justify why those things make you uncomfortable. you are not required to provide a dissertation to prove that your feelings deserve to be respected. if these women are your friends they are required to give a shit about your feelings, and that includes not requiring you to provide an entire powerpoint when you ask them to stop using terms that are transphobic. when a friend says "you're hurting me," you're supposed to just stop fucking hurting them.

if they want to educate themselves, which I strongly recommend the do, there are plenty of people who are writing books and articles and video essays and podcasts that will hold the hands of cis allies trying to learn Don't Be A Transphobe 101. you ARE NOT obligated to be that person for every person in your life, and they do not have the right to demand that of you.

recently I was listening to an episode of the podcast Vibe Check, which is excellent, and one of the hosts (I believe it was poet Saeed Jones, but don't quote me on that) offered some advice to the effect of "if you tell someone that they're hurting you and you tell them what they need to do to stop, and they do it again, they've told you everything they need to tell you." live that learn that love that. being fiercely protective of your needs and boundaries is an act of protection and self-preservation and it's what you deserve; cut a bitch OFF if she won't listen to you and be a better friend.

also hey as a cis woman. and specifically as a white cis woman. do NOT let them come at you with the cis lady tears, especially the white cis lady tears. anyone who starts whining and crying and acting like you're attacking them for just asking them not to say things that hurt your feelings, run. run so fast. those women do not love you.

[candycandy00]

Once Upon a Time - A Sukuna x Reader Fanfic Part 2

Retold fairytales featuring the JJK men! This is Sleeping Beauty featuring Sukuna! After your parents are killed, leaving you as the young queen, you hire the mysterious and violent Sukuna to be your Captain of the Guard to protect you from an evil fairy’s curse. You’re in love with him, but he just keeps refusing you! 

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Read Gojo x Cinderella Here!

Smut. 18+. Fem Reader. AU. Reader as Sleeping Beauty, Sukuna as her Captain of the Guard. Somnophilia (sort of). Paralysis (sort of). Rough sex.

Any feedback is adored! Dividers by @animatedglittergraphics-n-more and @benkeibear.

It’s a very strange sensation, falling into your supposed “deep sleep”. You can still hear everything going on around you, Sukuna yelling your name almost angrily, as if he can intimidate you into waking up. You can still feel everything too, his arms holding you, then lowering you to the floor. It feels like he’s cradling you in his lap, but that would be ridiculous. You suspect that if your eyes were open, you could see everything too. 

It’s not so much a deep sleep as paralysis. You can’t move, can’t speak, can’t even open your eyes. But you’re very much aware of everything. 

You feel Sukuna’s palm tapping your face in a light slap. “Wake up!” he shouts, then grunts as if frustrated, then calls for more guards. You listen as he commands one of them to fetch a doctor and another to inform your advisers. 

“Is the assassin still in the castle?” one of the guards asks. 

“It was the fucking cat!” Sukuna yells. Then he says, “There it is! Grab it and snap its neck!”

No! Briar did nothing wrong! He didn’t understand!

You want to scream the words but you can’t. 

You hear a sigh next to you. “Wait, she likes the damn thing. Just find the needle in its fur and let it go,” Sukuna says. 

You feel immense relief. You’re sick of things dying because of you and your curse.

“I’ll put her in her bed,” he tells the others, and you feel yourself being lifted and then carried. A few seconds later, you feel the softeness of your bed beneath your back. You miss the warmth of Sukuna’s arms though. 

Over the next hour, multiple doctors and advisers visit your chambers, some trying to help, others just curious to see the curse in action. 

Sukuna stays in the room, occasionally speaking even though he rarely talked to these people before. Is he… doing this on purpose? To let you know he’s still here, watching over you? No, he doesn’t know you can hear him. 

At some point one of the advisers asks another, “Should we try waking her? The former king and queen told us about that method.”

A hush falls over the room, then Sukuna says, “So you know how?”

The other adviser says, in an uneasy voice, “Her parents were told a specific method, and they told us, in case something happened after they died. It’s a bit of a sensitive topic.”

You listen intently. You knew there was some secret method of waking you in this situation, but no one would tell you what it is. Instead, your parents and later the advisers had looked extremely uncomfortable as they told you not to worry about it. 

The first adviser who broached the topic clears his throat. “To awaken the queen, a man must… lay with her… intimately.”

What?! 

You hear Sukuna’s voice again. “So someone needs to fuck her?”

“Er… yes, Captain. That is correct. We find it uncomfortable to discuss, as you can imagine. She is unconscious after all, and cannot give her consent.”

A third adviser, a woman, speaks up then. “Remember what she told us before? I believe her exact words were, ‘I don’t care if the method involves letting every person in town piss on my face, do whatever it takes to wake me’. I think we should honor her wishes, regardless of how distasteful we find it.”

Yes! That’s the choice I would make for myself! 

One of the male advisers asks, “Who will do the deed?”

If you were able to, you would be holding your breath. There’s a pause, then Sukuna speaks again. “I will.”

!!!

“You?!” one of the advisers asks incredulously. “We can’t allow a violent barbarian we know nothing about to-“

“Wait,” the lady adviser says, cutting him off. “This ‘barbarian’ has saved our queen’s life more times than we can count these past three months. And everyone in the kingdom can see that she has a certain… affection for him. I believe she would choose him herself if possible.”

Yes! Yes! Please don’t let anyone else touch me! It has to be Sukuna!

After some more discussion, the advisers finally all agree to let Sukuna try to wake you. You hear their shuffling steps as they leave your chambers. 

************************

Sukuna looks down at his sleeping princess. Laid out on her bed, dress spread around her, she looks more lovely than ever, more innocent. 

“Hey, you’re not really asleep, are you?” he asks, standing over her bed. 

She gives no response. Of course she doesn’t. 

He leans over her, placing his knee on the bed beside her and his hand on her calf, slowly sliding her dress up. Her cheeks redden, and Sukuna laughs. 

“I knew it. I don’t know if it’s because I’ve been with you too much lately, or if it’s a side effect of the curse, but your thoughts are coming through to me. Maybe not in words, but I’m feeling the gist of it. Like earlier with the cat. I felt that you didn’t want anyone to kill it.”

His hand moves further up, dragging the hem of her dress up high enough to reveal the fresh set of frilly panties she’s wearing. “I also felt it when you got all excited about me waking you up, how it has to be me.”

Her skin feels hot. He can feel her sense of embarrassment. “Oh? Getting bashful now?” he asks, untying the laces of her corset. “If you prefer, we can let someone else do it. Or we can just let you sleep for a while…”

The word “no!” flashes through his brain, radiating from her. He grins. “So I’m good enough to wake the princess? I’m not gonna lie, having you so helpless, unable to move or speak, is turning me on.”

He rips open the corset and pulls it off her body, then pulls the dress over her head, moving her limp body as he needs to fully strip her. Once she’s completely naked, he stands back to look. 

She’s more beautiful than he imagined in those nights when he jacked off in his bed, picturing her whimpering beneath him. The night he saw her pleasuring herself, the room had been dark enough to conceal much of her form. But now, with every lantern in the room lit, he could see her in all her glory.  

“Don’t tell me not to stare,” he says, sensing her thoughts again. “I’ve been waiting to get a good look at this soft body, bare and spread out for me. My eyes are feasting.”

Her whole body is flushing. She looks so delectable. How did he resist for this long? When he heard the method for waking her, he knew it had to be him. Despite his reluctance to bed her, the thought of any other man touching his adorable princess, seeing her in such a vulnerable state, made him want to stab the nearest living creature. 

And he knew what she wanted. Even without her thoughts somehow flowing into his mind, he knew she would rather die than let anyone else see her being weak and helpless. 

He strokes one hand over her face, wishing he could see that defiant look in her eyes again. He leans his face down close to hers, remembering how she looked earlier when she thought he was going to kiss her. That look of anticipation, of longing… it had almost made him crack. He can feel her emotions now, flooding his own thoughts. She wants this more than anything. 

He kisses her lips, pressing his tongue into her mouth to lick every inch of it, savoring the sweet taste of her. While still locked in the kiss, he slides his hand up and gently pulls one of her eyelids open. 

****************************

The light almost hurts your eye, but you adjust quickly. As you guessed, you can see when your eyes are held open, and right now you see Sukuna’s face hovering right over yours as he kisses you, his own eyes looking straight into your one open one. 

He grins into the kiss, then pulls away. “Your pupil just dilated. So you can see too.”

You wish he hadn’t broken the kiss. You’ve been craving it for so long. But then he releases your eyelid, letting it close before you feel him climb onto the lower end of the bed. His hands appear on your legs, spreading them apart. Ah! It’s embarrassing to be opened up so lewdly before him, even if you’ve wanted him for months. 

“I bet your sense of touch is much stronger with your eyes shut, huh? Every sensation that much more intense…”

His voice is like velvet as you feel his thumb rubbing up and down your slit. “You’re dripping, princess. This pretty little pussy is drooling for me.”

Your heart is racing, your breaths coming quicker. 

“It’s just too bad I can’t hear that sweet voice of yours moaning while I do this,” he says, then his fingers part your folds, and you feel his hot, wet tongue glide over your open pussy. 

If you could move, you would be arching your back, bucking your hips from the electrifying pleasure that shoots through you. His tongue circles your swollen, defenseless clit teasingly, one of his fingers sliding inside you. Your rapid breaths are getting louder, your body desperate for his tongue to hit the right spot. When he laughs, you feel the vibration of it, and you think this must be some form of torture he’s devised. 

“Getting impatient, princess? This poor little clit feeling neglected?” 

If you could, you would be begging him to get on with it, to just lick your clit already. But you can’t, and his tongue continues to move all around it. Finally, his tongue withdraws, and a second later, you feel his teeth graze over the tender little bud. 

Your body sucks in a sharp breath, the pleasure almost too much to bear. Then his lips close over it, suckling it as his tongue runs over the tiny tip. All the while, his finger is plunging in and out of your tight hole. 

You cum right then, your helpless body twitching beneath him as pleasure washes over you in waves. Oh, how you wish you could cry out his name. 

Sukuna withdraws his finger and moves off the bed. You hear fabric rustling, and picture him undressing. It’s not fair! You’ve wanted to see him naked this whole time! 

He laughs again, and you remember that he can sense what you’re thinking. “You want to see me that badly? Maybe I’ll be nice and show you.”

His fingers are at your eye again, peeling back the lid to let you see him standing over you. Only his bare torso is visible, but it’s enough to get you heated again. He’s absolutely gorgeous, with a perfectly toned, muscular body and those tantalizing tattoos running along his whole torso. 

“There’s something else you need to see,” he says, and his voice seems to drop the teasing, almost playful tone for a moment. “There’s a reason I kept turning you down. I didn’t want to wreck you. But now we’re in this situation, and there’s no avoiding it.”

He lets your eye close for a moment, and when he opens it again, he says, “Have a good look, Princess. Still think you can handle me?”

It takes you a moment to process what you’re looking at. He’s holding something in his hand, something that should not be that big. Something the size of his arm. It’s an absolute monster of a cock, hard as stone and pointing upwards, clear fluid leaking from the fat tip. 

Oh god, forget wrecking you, that thing could kill you! 

As he lets your eye close once again, you feel him climb back onto the bed. He must sense your fear, because he pushes your legs up and apart and says, “I’ll try not to hurt you. Too badly.”

This position is too obscene! He holds your legs back, your knees nearly touching your shoulders, leaving you more vulnerable than ever. You feel the tip of his enormous cock prodding at your slick little hole, and you shudder. 

Then, he begins pushing the massive organ into your warm, soft, pliable body. 

Ahhh, it’s too big!

You feel one of his hands on your face. “What happened to all that bravado from before?” he asks. “You were so desperate for me to fuck you, so sure you could take me. Now you’re getting what you wanted.”

There’s a softness to his voice that doesn’t match his taunting words, and despite it all he’s moving slowly, slipping into you inch by inch instead of plunging in all at once like you imagined. 

Even so, the stretch is painful, and a whimper escapes your lips. 

“Giving up already, princess? I thought you were tougher than this.”

I’m not giving up! I want you even deeper!

He opens both your eyes this time, his thumbs sliding your eyelids up. 

“You sure about that?” he asks you, red eyes looking as wild as the day you met him. 

Yes!

He grins. “There’s my brave little princess.”

I’m a queen, not a pri-

He suddenly shoves in, still holding your eyes open, still staring into them, as his cock fully sheaths itself inside you. Your body jerks, your breath catches in your throat. If you could scream, the whole castle would hear it. 

“Your pupils are really dilating now!” he says. 

It hurts, but at the same time, the feeling of being so full of him excites you. He lets your eyes close again, and for a few moments he remains still. Then, he begins moving, slow and easy at first, but giving way to deeper, harder thrusts. 

He groans above you. “You’re tight as fuck! I knew I wouldn’t be able to hold back if ever stuck my dick in this little virgin pussy!”

He hits a spot that has your body spasming around him and tears leaking from your closed eyes. 

“There it is… I found your weak spot,” he says. “You like it really deep, don’t you?”

Oh god… it feels so good! 

Your mind is going blank, pleasure and pain mixing so deliciously as he does whatever he pleases with your body. 

**************************

Sukuna can’t stop himself now. The feeling of her unbelievably tight cunt clenching him everytime he plunges in is overriding all his willpower. 

“Fuck… never had a virgin… take me this deep before…” he grunts out, intentionally hitting the spot that has her limp body shaking. 

Her thoughts are spilling out, broken and choppy, barely comprehensible: “want more… want you… love you… hurts… feels so good… go deeper… cum inside me…”

He reaches up to caress her face again, leaning in to run his tongue across her lips. “I will, princess. I’ll fill you up so good.”

She cums again, her pussy clenching him in a vice grip, her mouth gasping for air, and it’s the most lovely sight in the world. 

“It’s time for you to wake up,” he says, his voice going uncharacteristically soft. “Your kingdom is waiting for you. I’m waiting for you, my queen.”

He thrusts in so deep, it feels like he’s become a part of her, before releasing his seed, shooting his thick cum into her quivering pussy. 

Her eyes snap open, she breathes in deeply, staring at him in wonder. Then her arms wrap tightly around his neck as she leans up to kiss him. When she pulls away, she gives him that haughty look he’s come to enjoy. 

“Took you long enough,” she says. 

He grins. “You’re acting awfully high and mighty for someone who just came on my cock with tears running down her face.”

She flushes and averts her eyes, and he realizes he can’t feel her thoughts anymore. Ah well, not like he needs that to know how she feels. 

He slowly pulls out and sits up, looking down at her exhausted body. She’s still shaking slightly, breathing hard. It makes him want to take her again. But he has other pressing matters to take care of. 

“I’m going into the woods to find the old fairy,” he tells her. “And I’m gonna chop her fucking head off. She’ll be sending regular assassins now that the curse didn’t work. She’ll never leave you be until you’re dead.”

His queen sits up in bed, grasping his arm. “Take me with you!”

“Of course. I don’t trust these weaklings to protect what’s mine. Let’s go on the offensive!”

[goldenhourwriter]

•✮🕷️𝐧𝐞𝐰 𝐤𝐢𝐝🕷️✮•

part one (you are here) • part two •

⋆pairing: miguel o’hara x wife!reader

⋆warning(s): i guess just fighting and some cursing. and threatening to bite someone lol. also i got translations from spanish dict, if i did something wrong, please correct me. i tried to use the right definitions/context to use those definitions in! also pregnancy.

⋆a/n: this was so fun to write! requests are open, and i am new to this blog, so hang on while i get this all figured out. requests are open, and this will be a mini series i am continuing!!

It’s not usually this quiet at the Spider Society.

It’s nice.

I walk around, humming softly to myself as I munch on a banana, a craving I usually get. I let my hand rest on my slightly swollen belly, my suit especially made to let it stretch and give the baby some room.

Yeah, ever heard of a pregnant Spider-Woman?

It happened a couple of months ago, as married couples tend to let happen. It’s twins, actually. One boy and one girl, but, my husband doesn’t know yet. Doesn’t want to know. I called the doctor anyways, and even though he threw a hissy fit that could rival a toddler, he relented and said it was fine.

And, it was kind of nice being alone. A lot of the spider-people tend to do things for me, think I’m incapable of doing things now because I’m pregnant. Even the ridiculous Spider-Man T-Rex gave me a ride through the halls. I snort at the thought, gaining some weird looks.

Obviously, I didn’t refuse. Who would pass up a ride on a freaking dinosaur?

My few 30 minutes of bliss, however, was interrupted by the beeping on my watch. I tap on it and smile when I see Lyla. She gives a wave.

“Hey, big wifey,” she teases, pushing up her pink, heart-shaped glasses. I roll my eyes. Everyone knows I hate that name. It doesn’t make me feel fat, it just makes me very aware of the two babies living inside of me, and how very uncomfortable life can really get.

“Hey, algorithm girl, what’s up?” I shoot back with sarcasm. I am met with satisfaction as she gives me a dead-pan look.

“Haha, very funny, love that,” she says sarcastically. “Your husband is struggling with an anomaly. Earth-65, some kind of Renaissance bird-man.”

I giggle at the thought. I can imagine his annoyance. “Gotcha, and did he actually call for back up?” I ask, but i already know the answer. I take another bite of my banana, shifting my weight onto my right leg. I can never stand still for too long, luckily, being a super hero can keep me moving. Keeps the babies satisfied.

She snorts at me, like i was making some hilarious, un-heard of joke. I relent, sighing and preparing my bracelet to go to the universe she said he was in.

“Alright, alright. How long do you think until he actually asks?”

“I’d give you about two minutes. He’s getting really thrown around with this one. And there’s another spider person, trying to ask him too many questions.”

My eyes perk back up to the hologram when she mentions this. “I haven’t heard of a recruit from Earth-65, is she new?” I ponder out loud. I cock my head to the side, adjusting my mask. Well, half mask. It really only covers my eyes. Lyla nods. “Yup, she’s a new one. She’s a nice kid, too.”

I smile.

“I’ll be there in a minute.”

Lyla logs off and I sigh, patting my baby bump. “Alright, you guys,” I whisper to my belly. I stick out my hand and the portal opens, and I jump in. I shout with joy, flying through the portal, and as I practically fall to the other end, my hair whips around.

I fall on the other end, and I groan as my hair blocks my vision. I hear grunting, crushing, wings flapping, and snappy remarks being thrown about, but I can’t see anything. I flip my hair over my head, shaking it out.

“I need a hair tie on these things,” I mumble to myself.

I look over, and I see a feminine-looking spider-hero staring at me. I give her a small wave. Her eyes are wide, I can tell. I examine her suit, which seems like it holds up pretty well. It has hood, which is new to me, and she’s wearing…are those ballet flats? I smile

“Hey, babes! You look cute!” I compliment to the get up.

She waves back again, and she looks down at my stomach. “Are you….?” She trails off. I look down, and put a hand on my hip. “Yep, I am. It’s twins, but don’t tell my husband the sexes yet. He wants to wait.” She nods, but seems to remember that she doesn’t know just who my husband is. She takes a step towards me.

“Who are you married to? Are there even more people like us?” I nod.

“My husband’s right….” I don’t even flinch as he gets thrown into the wall right in front of me, and I smile. “There.”

He groans as he slips to get up, his mask eyes squinting at me. I squint my eyes right back.

“Don’t give me that look. I’m carrying your children,” I scold. He gestured to the giant creature that hurls towards us. “I need help here!” He shouts at me. Lyla puts up on my shoulder, and we both cross our arms. He sighs, looking down.

“Please, Y/N? Sabes que no me gusta mendigar,(You know I don’t enjoy begging),“ He pleads quietly.

Vulture screeches at us. “Love truly makes me sick,” he narrates out loud, and he reaches his talons out for me. I stuck out my wrists and web up one wing, so he goes sideways, just barely missing me. He breaks free, but I web up behind him again.

“Your attitude makes me sick!” I shout at him. “You seem like the Beethoven of your area, jerky, cold, and not the greatest people-person!” I struggle to speak as I try to web him up again, but it doesn’t work. He barrels towards me, and grabs me in his talons. I hear Miguel growl and leap off the ground, landing on his back. He tugs on the man’s feathers, making him spin around to try and find him. I take the opportunity to web myself away from his grasp, kicking him away as I do so.

“Is this guy made of paper?” I ask, rubbing my hands together as I take a moment to actually register what just happened. Miguel grunts, and yells as he speaks to me from the bottom of the building. “Honey, I love your voice, but I really need you to use your actions right now!”

I spot a few witnesses trapped behind some rubble, so I shoot off the side of the wall to swoop them up. They scream, clutching onto me, and I drop them off right by a big police officer. He gawks at me, and I give him salute as Miguel webs me up again. I twist up, getting wrapped in his webbing, and I break free using a kick, hitting Vulture square in the jaw with my foot. He grunts in pain, squeezing his eyes shut, and Miguel uses this moment to try and guide him down, so he won’t escape.

I land right next to, what’s her name? I’ll learn it soon enough. I land right next to the teen as she stares at me. I smirk at her.

“What, never seen two married spiders?”

She swallows. “Can you adopt me?”

“What?”

“What? Nothing! Nothing!”

Miguel groans, and I can tell he’s growing tired. “¡Por Dios! ¿Puedes dejar de hablar por un momento? (Oh, my God. Can you stop talking for a moment?)” He calls out to me. I let out a heavy sigh, putting my hands on my knees. “I’m sorry, but your babies are making it hard to move right now!” I shout at him. Gwen webs away from me, and Miguel lands right next to me again. “Last time I checked, it took two people to make those two babies,” he grumbles. We take a moment and watch as Gwen tries to take down Vulture by herself.

I look at Miguel, and raise my eyebrows. “Did she call ya ‘Dark Garfield?’” I ask. He groans, and I can tell hair eyes shut as his head falls forward. “Yes.”

I giggle. “I like her. Maybe we can recruit-“ “No. No, we can’t, and you know why.” My somewhat playful attitude disappears with a frown, and I nod in compliance. He grabs my waist and he swings us up, and then we fall onto the Vulture back again. I scream through gritted teeth as I try to hold him down on the ground, but he flings me off, a sudden, new found strength in him.

“What the hell?” I curse. “Not cool, man!”

“This ends now,” he says to me, and he springs upward. I curse under my breath again, but it seems Miguel is on top of it. Literally.

“If he gets out, this whole universe will collapse!” He shouts, mainly at Gwen. I know the risks involved, having to save almost every universe from them every day. I shoot my wrist out, but I groan. I hit my web shooters, but nothing comes out. “Fuck-Miguel! I’m out!” I try to jump from floor to floor, but I quickly get nauseous while doing that. I look down at my stomach again, poking it. “So web slinging is fine but jumping is what doesn’t please you guys?” I ask the unborn babies. I get a mere kick in return. “I know that was the girl. That was way too sassy,” I grumble to myself.

Spider-Girl lands right beside me, and she looks at my husband and he battles Vulture. They both crash right through the glass ceiling, and we shield ourselves from the shards that could possibly cut us. She looks at me.

“What is he gonna do?” She asks. Miguel takes the Vulture’s face in his hands, and opens his mouth, wide, baring his fangs and giving a loud roar. “Oh snap,” whispers under his breath. But, he’s cut short, when a helicopter shines a light on him. He yells at the helicopter, his mask coming up again to cover his face.

“I’m a good guy! I’m here to help!” He desperately explains. My spider senses then go off, and I scream up to Miguel.

“Miguel! Watch-!“

I’m too late. Vulture throws two weapons at the helicopter, and then the helicopter starts to spin, going down, and fast.

“Shit.” All three of us say in unison.

I look to the kid, and she’s already looking at me. I nod towards her, and she returns the gesture, and we both know what that means. She launches off the floor, and she begins to web a net. I take a deep breath. “Alright, babies, don’t make me throw up,” I say sternly to my unborn babies.

I leap off the ground, and I fly through the middle of the helicopter, grabbing the two pilots and landing on the fourth floor of the building. I grunt as I roll on the ground with them, and we writhe in pain.

I turn to the both of them, checking on them, and I run to the edge, well, the mess that made the edge. I look down, and the teenage girl is flying through the air, webbing up a net. And just as the helicopter is about to crash, she flies right underneath it, just barely getting nipped by the chopper.

She lands, breathing heavily.

“Wow,” I whisper. Miguel hops a bit in front of me, landing on some rubble.

“I was gonna do that,” he says quietly to himself. I can tell he’s thinking her, thinking about her hard. Miguel and I share a glance at her, and she nods. She turns and hops down from the huge rock, and goes back towards the wall, out of sight. I turn and see the two pilots staring at me. I smile.

“Yeah, I know, there’s lots of freaky spider people, that was my reaction too. Cmon, let’s get you two a medic.” I reach down and offer my hand to them, which they take, one at a time. I help them to the big opening in the building where the door used to be, and I hand them over to some officers.

I sigh, turning around to find my husband surveying the area.

I walk up to him, putting a hand on his back, feeling his tense and rigid muscles, alert and still in attack mode. He seems to relax a little at my touch, and he lets his mask down. I grin, amusement

“Your hair is all messed up.” “Can you and I have one good moment after a battle where you don’t make fun of my hair?” “Absolutely not.”

He lets out a low growl, rolling his eyes. I walk a little in front of him, and stare at the place where the teen escaped to, hearing some grunting from there. No doubt she’s recovering on her own. My hand comes to rest on my stomach, my thumb running over the bump. I turn back to Miguel, my mouth open to speak, but he beats me to it.

“I said no,” he rejects me as he leans down to pick up some broken machinery. He scoffs at some poor excuse for art. “I’m starting to think Vulture did everyone a favor by destroying this place, this art sucks-“

“Miguel O'Hara, no cambies de tema,” I say sternly. He lets out a sigh. Spanish isn’t even my main language, so when I speak it, he knows I’m not messing around. He spins around, holding a figurine of a balloon dog in his hand. I would find it comedic, a big guy like him holding a small thing like that, but not when he’s trying to avoid my questions.

“You know we can use her. I’ve never seen anything like her, and she even beat you to one of your moves. You have to agree with me on this!” I gesture out in front of me, as if the conversation is laid out in front of us. Miguel sighs, walking up to me with his hands on his hips. His expression is hard, but his eyes give it away. He’s considering it, it helps if I’ve spent about a couple years with him now.

He brings his hand to my waist and another to my hair, leaning down to press a kiss to my forehead.

“Te amo demasiado a veces,” he mumbles into my hair.

Okay, that gives me absolutely nothing.

His hand travel down to my stomach, and his two very large hands splay over my tummy. His lips quirk up a bit as one of them kicks against my skin. “Did you do okay today?” He asks quietly, referring to my very pregnant self. I nod, but it doesn’t seem to reassure him.

Vulture struggles next to us, but we just give him an annoyed look. “I’m done with your attitude!” Miguel tells him, pointing at him. He sighs, turning back to me, grabbing my waist and pulling me impossibly closer, so we’re basically sharing the same breathe. My stomach flutters. Even after marrying him, he really can have the same affect on me from when I was a new recruit.

“You know you can always opt out whenever, I can call for other backup,” he says quietly. He’s trying to spare my feelings, not letting others hear so I won’t get embarrassed. I’m never embarrassed, it’s life, I got pregnant, but I appreciate the sentiment. I lean up and kiss his nose.

“I know, thank you, but really, I’m fine.” I stick a hand up as he begins to protest. “At 7 months, I will take maternity leave. I’ll rest and just be the desk person, okay?” I ask. He debates it for a moment, and lets out a grunt and nods. We stay in our somewhat embrace for a bit, when we hear a gun shot. My head whips to where Spider-Woman went and hid, and I look at Miguel.

His mask forms again, and he kicks Vulture, telling him to be still as he picks him up. Miguel picks me up with his other arm and swings to the opening as we fall in.

“Dad, please!” She begs the cop standing across from her. Miguel shoots a containment pod at him, and she runs towards him. I grab her by the shoulders, trying to use my softest voice.

“Hey, hey, kid. Hey, it’s okay, we’re here, we got you,” I say quietly to her. She’s crying as she clutches onto my arm, staring at her dad. Miguel opens a portal, and I give the kid one more pat and walk over to him.

“What are we gonna do?” I whisper to him. He looks at me. “What do you mean?”

I roll my eyes.

“We can’t just leave her here!” I get a bit louder, but he shushes me, putting a finger up. My jaw drops.

“You did not just shush me,” I growl.

“Oh, I think I did.”

“Oh, I know you didn’t-!”

Miguel and I bicker back and forth, and at some point, Vulture voluntarily hops into the portal, all tied up, not wishing to stick around. I stick my finger up as I try to argue with him, my hand coming to my hip, and he towers over me, but that never took away my edge.

Then, some sniffling gets us to shut up.

The kid looks at us, her eyes watery and wide. She looks like what she is…a teenager who’s lost and alone. She opens her mouth to speak. “I-I don’t know what to do.”

I look slowly at Miguel, and he lets his head hang forward.

“Yeah, well….”

I raise my eyebrows at him.

“Join the club.”

🕷️ 💍

[thebreakerofchains]

Lights Down Low

A/N: So, I was listening to this song, and I was hit with the thought of Nesta and well...Less than decent thoughts. So, I mused to myself "why not?" and wrote this self indulgent one-shot. Keeping in mind that while I am a pro at reading smut, I am all but a novice writer of it, at best.

Nesta Archeron x Fem!IllyrianReader

Warnings: SPICY!! DNI if you are a minor.

Cassian had woken you up that morning frantically spewing about how he wouldn’t be able to go to training – you were barely awake let alone properly hearing what he threw at you full speed at those ungodly morning hours – all you got was that it had something to do with the Illyrian camp and Devlon and that he really would appreciate if you could cover for him seeing that leaving the females with Azriel being the only instructor was as dangerous as lighting a match near gasoline. And, if you knew something about Nesta, Gwyn and Emerie it’s that do they burn and blow easily. 

So, you decided you were in a generous mood today while you dressed up in your fighting leathers and headed towards the training area at the House of Wind. He also owes you one, naturally, and you had almost the perfect idea as to what favor you’d call in for that, you think to yourself with a wicked grin. 

“Good morning, ladies.” You say with a smile to your face at their already sweaty state, considering they have been here for forty minutes at most.  

Azriel gives you a once over from where he is standing and an inquisitive look, “I didn’t know you were joining us today.” 

“Nice to see you too, Az.” You feign an expression of hurt, “Glad to know you have missed me.” You had been on a diplomatic trip with Morrigan to Vallahan for a few weeks and had only recently got back as of two nights ago, and the only people you got the chance to see were Rhysand and Feyre for the report, and Cassian this morning as he groveled at the end of your bed for you to cover him for training. 

“I am glad you two are having a great time chatting away, definitely don’t mind us.” Nesta said from where she stood in a stretching position that looked about as painful as it probably was. “Should I ask the House to bring you some biscuits and tea so you can get properly acquainted?” 

You bite the insides of your cheeks in an attempt to control your grin from growing any wider. How you missed those snide comments. Not that Mor wasn’t stimulating company during that rather boring trip, but no one could entertain you so effortlessly like Nesta Archeron. 

Rhysand says you are a different brand of masochist for enjoying the blue-gray-eyed woman as much as you do. Well, you and Cassian, who also never shied from a mostly healthy banter with her – without dramatic repercussions, at least. 

“If you gave the same attention that you do us to your stretching you would see more effective results, Archeron.” I wink at her and she eyes me with a look I do not know how to describe other than ‘I will make you eat those words’; I shiver inwardly. 

I am distracted, or rather saved, by Emerie to my side as she groans out, “This is insanity.” She moves out of position with a deep intake of breath, and I see my opening. 

“Here, let me help.” I move to her sitting on the ground, silently asking for permission as I move my hands to her arms. She nods slowly in recognition and I start adjusting her sitting stance spreading her limbs wider apart and then holding her upper members up from behind her. My chest is pressed on her back, and I move my head to the side of her ear before asking, “How does it feel?” 

“Fine.” She breathes out low and quick. 

I hum, slightly puzzled with her reaction wondering if I am somehow making her uncomfortable. I look above her shoulder and see Gwyneth’s teal eyes gazing at us, cheeks red adorning a mischievous smirk. I clear my throat and get up from my position behind Emerie, “Now, you only have to keep it up exactly like that, and you will see that as nagging as it is, it won’t be quite an unbearable pain as before.” 

I circle around the field correcting the priestesses here and there, mostly giving them verbal instructions on how to improve their stances and the whole time I could feel a much familiar fire burning on my back. I was being watched. 

The training ended on a positive note, and much to Azriel’s dismay, the priestesses all left with a thankful and hopeful murmur that I should lead the sessions more often to which I just smile shyly at. As soon as they left, I start tiding up until I hear the swish of a small blade, looking back to see who my companion is, I meet the face of Nesta and her intense eyes as she plays with a dagger. 

“Can I help you with something?” I ask, mentally cursing myself from being that affected at the sight of her in training leathers. 

“So, this is how I find out you are back home?” She runs the blade on the wooden table where the other weapons laid, slowly approaching me, closing me in a lot like a predator hunting its prey. 

“I didn’t-” I start and she pauses me raising the blade to my lips, the sharp end meeting my skin with a blazing cold touch much like Nesta’s own. 

“I don’t care.” She eyes me in a silent dare to try and explain myself again. 

I for one, get so completely lost in her eyes and the smell of her that all I do is take one of my hands up to her face where a strand of her golden-brown hair slipped from her updo and remove it from where it laid on her sweaty forehead. Nesta sharply intakes air and I lose mine altogether, as if she sucked in my very breath to her lungs, her full breasts touching my own, her nose brushing on mine. 

“Did you miss me?” She husks. 

I nod gradually. 

“Hm.” She hums out, “Is that why you were feeling up Emerie at practice earlier?” 

My eyes widen at the implication, “I would never!” 

She merely grins wickedly to me, her leg moving between my own and I feel her leather covered core press down on my thigh. I let out a gasp, and she strokes my hair gently, “I wonder if you didn’t look for me because you were too busy with Morrigan. You did spend two full months with her at Vallahan – so eager to help, volunteering yourself like that – and we both know you don’t last long being on your own, don’t we, baby?” 

She blows soft air to my face, as if it would help me cool down. “That is absurd, Nes. Morrigan doesn’t see me that way, or any other female, that we know of.” I muse out. “Well, maybe Emerie if we are being honest, but I know better than to raise the question to her.” 

She presses herself further into me in a way I didn’t even know that was possible, I see stars and my hands find her hips in a possessive grip, “Nesta...” I mean to sound warning but it comes out a tad too desperate to be anything else other than pleading.  

“Yes?” She drawls out sensually, hips moving away and right before I answer she pulls them back down deliciously deliberate and steady. A growl leaves my lips and I switch our positions, her back now touching the stone-cold rock walls. “I thought you could help me out with my stretching exercises, unless that special attention is reserved for Illyrian females only.” She draws out and I swear I hear a hint of jealousy to her tone. 

“I can always make an exception for you.” I decide to tease her back, “If I am not too busy. You high fae do bend different.” 

“Oh?” She lifts one of her perfect eyebrows at me. “Care to elaborate, professor?” 

“For example, you are much more sensitive here,” I say as I slid a hand down her ass touching her inner thigh from the back, “than most Illyrian females I taught before.” I drag my hands upwards again, purposefully grabbing her ass and she lets out a small squeal. “Or maybe, that is just you.” 

She moans out, “You are right, just me.” Enunciating the last two words roughly with intent as she pulls me for a mind-numbing kiss. My grip to her back tightens and my other hand finds its way to the mess of tangled hair that was once her braid, deepening the kiss, she gasps in surprise and I take my opportunity to slowly enter my tongue in her mouth giving her lower lip a teasing lick before sucking on her own. At this point, we are both frantically panting, all I can see, sense and smell is Nesta as her nails scratch my back until I can feel blood coming out. I draw back from the kiss and she glares at me in her dizzy state, I give her a mirthful look and she seems to understand exactly where my thoughts went to just as I rip her top apart and am met with her creamy perky breasts waiting to receive my undivided attention. 

Wasting no time, I take my mouth to her left breast as my hand that was in her head seconds ago playfully twists and teases the other one, her hips still moving, relentlessly searching for any kind of relief and contact they can find. 

“I reckon you missed me as well, Nes.” I breathe out between my ministrations as I move to the right side and suck hard on her hardened nipple. She moans out my name, “Ah, Y/N!” 

“I want to hear you say it, Nes.” 

She looks down to me, and it’s like something snaps between us. I have fucked Nesta thoroughly and often for a while now, in many occasions – and positions – but never have I felt such a feeling like the one engulfing me right now. It’s like the time we spent apart left the thing desperate, as desperate as I was when I thought of her, especially in the night when my hands drifted between my legs and I would come time and time again at the memory of her. 

I move my head to her neck and with a bite I order, “Say. It!” 

She screams in pleasure and I pull back to look at her dazed eyes while she says, “I missed you.”  

I waste no time as I take her into my arms, and fly to my room, the House apparently ever attuned to Nesta had the whole ambient ready for us. From the corner of my eyes, I could see red candles were lit all over the place. The curtains were now closed and there was a dizzying smell, but that was no one else’s credit but Nesta’s as her deep arousal hit my nostrils. 

Her hands that laid with a tight grip on my back move up to plant a feather-like touch to my wings and I shiver out a moan, “Illyrians and their wings.” She breathes out teasingly. 

With a snarl I rip her leather pants off her finding her glistening exposed sex so fucking ready for me. I ghost touch it and she arches her back trying to draw my hand closer to her center, “How long do you plan on making me wait?” She lets out petulantly. “Weren’t two months of touching myself at the thought of you enough punishment?” 

I raise my eyebrows at her, smiling wolfishly like a starved madwoman, which I am sure is the exact definition of what I am right now. I lower myself, kissing her inner thigh leisurely, and she grips my head her nails scratching on my scalp. “Y/N, please, I need you.” 

“That was fast, maybe I should go away more often, it seems you finally gained some manners while I was gone.” I say before planting a teasing kiss to her clit. 

“Baby!” She screams. 

I decide to put both of us out of our misery and draw my tongue from bottom to top before closing in my mouth on the bundle of sensitive nerves, I hungrily move up and down, circling and sucking in different points and directions before moving one finger close to her entrance. 

I look up to what is one of my favorite sights in the world, her golden-brown locks sprawled on my pillow, body glistening with sweat, her forehead creased in pleasure as she bites on her lower lip punishing the plump part before locking her gaze with mine and saying, “I need to feel you inside of me, love.” 

I suck at her clit before speaking, “Only ever me?” 

“Yes, yes, only ever you. I don’t want anybody else. Just you!” 

I groan on her pussy, a low guttural sound that has never come out of me before as I insert one finger inside her soaking wet pussy. “You are mine, Nesta Archeron.” 

“Yes, I am yours, all yours.” 

I put another finger inside her, mouth working mercilessly on her sensitive bundles as she screams chants of pleasure, and I can feel she is getting close and I am not far myself, she takes one of her hands to my wings and strokes a particularly soft spot and I moan loudly on her pussy. 

“Cum with me, baby.” She lets out breathy, mind close to succumbing. I move my fingers faster, harder and she continues stroking the spot on my wings, my climax borderline here until I feel the knot on my lower belly tighten impossibly and in a blinding flash of life I come just as her juices flow out of her and I divert my mouth lapping as much of it as I can. Licking her clean, fingers now moving slower and softer to help her ride out her high. 

I let go of her, a string of saliva between me and her intimate area, she pushes my head upwards and I meet her with a searing kiss. Her legs engulf my torso pushing me closer before she bites down on my lips strong enough to draw blood, and as the metallic tinge of it fills my tastebuds Nesta says lowly: 

“If you ever leave me for that long again, I will hunt you down, and I will kill you with my bare hands.” Her blue-gray eyes locked on mine, daring me to protest in any way. 

“I wouldn’t dream of it.” I give her a slow kiss. 

She gives me a smile that bore nothing good, and I knew I would be in for one long, long night. 

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

WIBTA if I changed my name because people are overusing the nickname privilege?

2 years ago, I (29, transmasculine) changed my name. For the sake of this ask, since I don't want to use my real name, a decent equivalent is James, so I'll be using that instead.

I originally told my mom and my roommate/close friend (Alex, 29, agender) I was okay with the nickname Jamie, but I'd prefer to mostly be called James, especially when it comes to people I don't know well.

I tried to set this boundary because the nickname feels a little feminine, even if it's technically gender neutral. I don't pass very often, so it makes me uncomfortable to think people who don't know me might misunderstand, and think I am simply a woman with a gender neutral nickname. So I envisioned Jamie being reserved for the people closest to me because of that.

Both my mom and Alex opted to call me Jamie immediately. They introduced me to friends, family members, and even strangers as Jamie, put my name in their phone as Jamie. My mom sends me packages addressed to "Jamie [lastname]". Just the other day, Alex's grandma sent us chocolates in the mail and the note inside said "Merry Christmas Alex and Jamie!" and I am not close to her by any means, I am positive Alex must have told her that's my name. Just tons and tons of little things like that.

It took me a while to catch on - at first I thought people simply decided to call me Jamie on their own, or heard Alex or my mom talk to me and figured it was okay. I'm autistic, so it takes a while to figure out the best way to approach a problem involving social skills. I didn't want to immediately jump in and say "hey, don't call me that, you don't know me well enough," because I think that's a bit callous. And I thought I was dealing with just a few acquaintances - not literally everyone Alex or my mom talks to.

I confronted both of them about a year ago, when I finally put it together. They said they're not intentionally disregarding my feelings, but "Jamie suits you so much more" so they forget and it just slips out.

(I could be wrong, but I think this is probably because Jamie can be a girl's name and I still look like a girl. So, yeah, of course they'd feel that way.)

I begged them to stop and call me James if they're talking to people about me. My mom promptly "forgot" again. Alex has gotten better about it, but still slips up. Even if they were perfect, I feel like the damage is done after 2 years of this.

To further complicate things, Alex actively avoids using pronouns to refer to people in speech. They will say things like "I've been told that the flight was canceled" instead of "he said he canceled the flight". This is due to anxiety because they're not great at remembering pronouns & doesn't want to accidentally misgender anyone. So there is a lot of general confusion about my pronouns amongst the groups that are connected to Alex. (I don't really use social media, so informing people of my pronouns is more complicated than just putting them in my bio and calling it a day. I've asked Alex to please just say he/him, but they're so resistant and weird about it because of their irrational fears, which...honestly just feels transphobic now).

Now I've started to ask them to drop the nickname entirely, even privately. Call me James and nothing else forever. Jamie has been thoroughly ruined for me, I just feel nauseous when I see or hear it. But at this point, since I lost my job & most of my social network is through Alex, everyone calls me Jamie, and it's exhausting to correct them over and over when it's such a small, seemingly pedantic thing. I don't mind a little confrontation or advocating for myself, but this...this is beyond what I can handle without getting severely stressed out.

So I've been considering changing my name to something else that doesn't have such a common gender neutral/feminine nickname. Just start over. Reset.

But this would be the third time I've changed my name. The first time was like 6 years ago, and it only lasted a few months before I decided it didn't fit, and went back to using my deadname while I figured myself out. My family remembers this well, and 2 years ago when I told them I go by James now, expressed their frustration because I "keep changing things and it's confusing". I'm worried that if I change my name again, nobody will bother to take it seriously, they'll just assume I'll change it again, so why bother using the correct name at all.

Plus I do see how it could be considered petty or immature. It took years to settle on the name I have now. I put a ton of thought into it. I used to love it. I might be TA for letting something as unimportant as an overused nickname sway me to the point where I feel like I need to throw the whole name away.

I mean, I understand why younger trans people might do that, since they have less of their life established and are figuring out who they are, but I'm nearly 30, so I feel like I am getting too old for this. It's just tiring.

Idk, I probably won't make any decisions based on the results of this, but the feedback would be helpful to consider. WIBTA?

What are these acronyms?

[inu-jiru]

Jazz's "Apology Tour" ramble

Episode was trash, let's go.

First off, the whole "Fuck Blitzo" party is so stupid to me, like you're telling me this 30-something year old man had intimate relationships with ALL these demons and HE was the sole thing that ruined ALL of them?

And how did Verosika even find out about Stolas? Like I know Ozzie's happened, but how'd she hear about their "breakup" (they weren't together but whatever, show)?

Why the FUCK does Verosika care about Stolas being an uwu sad victim of mean old Blitzo aside from everyone being written to want to huff Stolas' sad boi farts?

Why is no one trying to kill Stolas like in Loo Loo Land, like suddenly we're just cool with the oppressive racist now (who am I kidding, the rank system doesn't exist anymore unless the "meanie supremacist" characters bring it up I guess)?

Don't think I'm trying to be "Blitzo's#1Bitch69" or anything, but Season 2 is just so gross in how they've written him. Either he's the big bully meanie for hating his abuser, or they've had him commit the most out of pocket atrocities (like possibly SAing Stolas since he was technically drunk or the circus incident or the shit he pulled with Verosika because what the fuck kinda trauma makes you steal someone credit card for horse riding lessons???) that they just gloss over because fuck having Blitzo actually progress normally or Stolas taking actual responsibility for his own actions, let's just speed through everything so it's back to Stolitz City, don't think about the implications. I just can't stand itttt, I still like and pity Blitz to an extent but his writing is killing meeee

Stolas, stop whimpering about being wanted YOU HAVE A KID WHO HAS STILL NOT APPEARED SINCE SEEING STARS WHERE IS SHE?

Am I really hearing that people are hating the dude flirting with Stolas like come on yall STOLITZ IS NOT OFFICIAL YET CHILL

I've honestly started skipping through episodes, like I can't fucking listen to "WAHHHHH BLITZO I WANT YOU TO WANT ME" for the millionth time, I wish this episode could've just been Blitzo and Verosika facing their issues or something I just don't wanna see this owl loser act like a victim anymoreeee

Man really said "when have I ever been condescending?" SEASON ONE???? How about every time you grab his face and call him out of his name and watch him be shot at while demanding he come over one a month? Oh, but when Blitz starts doing it back it's "Oh I'm uncomfortable ooOoOoo stop it Blitz hnnghhh I don't like it :C :C :C", like whatever man.

The Striker comment was dumb and wrong but that's because Stolas is dumb and wrong

Honestly I feel like I'm repeating the same points I and others have made in the past so all imma say is, I hope Octavia and Stella are enjoying their off-screen and better written adventures together. I'm gonna draw some AU stuff now to give my eyes something better to look at.

OH I forgot to talk about Verosika, uh, she was there? I honestly think she should just get over herself at this point, idk when she and Blitz broke up but what the fuck is it about this clown that she was so enamored over where she's this hurt? I can get being mad about her credit card and Blitz being a lazy partner but if that's the case, I fail to see how they got to a point where she got his name tatted on her arm. Idk it's weird

The Mayweather shit or whatever her name is was pointless and made no sense, like "I want you to kill this woman who made me attempt to kill her and myself but now we're dating" like? Hey Vivzie if yall can callback to that why can't yall call back to Stolas being a creep huh?

EDIT: They really made that fuckass "it's hell" excuse canon, huh? Like, it doesn't even make sense in the context of Blitz saying that, like people say "it's hell" because Biblically speaking, it's where those who truly oppose God in order to live a life of wickedness go as just punishment. Blitz the equivalent of a regular guy in Hell unlike the Hazbin characters, he shouldn't understand that there's a better alternative to Hell because he's not human and never had any opportunity to learn about Heaven or God (unless it's just in their DNA or something idk who knows with this show)

[beansprean]

Waiting on Mr. Right

My Exchangeapalooza gift for @jay-auris !! See it HERE on A03 and check out all the other fabulous entries HERE!

(ID in alt and under cut)

ID page 1: 1. Interior of a bar, romantically lit, and covered in heart balloons, heart and cupid decorations, heart shaped light strings, and various small round tables with two chairs each. The tables are occupied with male/female couples in mid conversation. A waitress dressed in black jeans, black button up, and a white apron around her waist walks through with a tray. In the foreground is the corner of the bar counter, which has a small sign advertising 'Valentine's Day Speed Dating' On February 13 between 7pm and 10pm. A little cupid cartoon is pictured on the sign saying 'Every time a bell rings, ladies move on to your next date!' At the bottom, it says 'Find your Valentine! (before it's too late)'. 2a. Close up of Nandor on a salmon background lighter at the top and darker at the bottom, dressed up in his finest red and gold fur trimmed coat, sitting at one of the small tables, hands folded in front of him. He stares expectantly forward and says, 'I am glad to hear your parents are dead; I never liked any of my previous 37 wives' parents. 2b. Reverse shot of a middle aged black woman in a red turtleneck sitting across from him, arms crossed with an uncomfortable expression as she stares back at him with no response. 2c. A brown hand in a dark beige suit sleeve rings a small golden bell. 3a. Close up of Nandor, leaning over the table with his fingers pressed together, presenting his date with a lascivious smile. He says, 'How many times a day do you expect cunnilingus?' 3b. Reverse shot of a white middle aged redhead across from him, dressed in a mauve v neck sweater and nervously avoiding eye contact while gulping a glass of white wine. 3c. A brown hand in a dark beige suit sleeve rings a small golden bell. 4a. Close up of Nandor, smiling sweetly with his hands folded in his lap as he says 'Without a word spoken between us, I find myself falling deeply in love. Do you feel this also?' 4b. Reverse shot of a middle aged southeastern Asian woman with a bob and large glasses. She still has her coat in her arms and hasn't even slipped her bag off her shoulder, and there is an untouched menu in front of her. With an expression of vague disgust, she replies'...No.' 4c. Reverse shot as the woman gets up to leave, Nandor planting his fists on the table and calling out 'Hey, the bell has not rung yet!' 5. Close up of Nandor as he crosses his arms and clicks his tongue, mumbling angrily to himself 'Clearly she has no idea how dating works.' A waiter reaches into frame to grab the abandoned menu and snorts in response. 6. Zoom out as Nandor jerks his head around to whine, affronted, at the waiter, 'Ayy, what, waiter-man? Where is the joke?' The waiter, who appears to be Guillermo wearing a black button down, black pants and a white apron around his waist, holds the menu up with both hands to shield his face, replying 'Sorry, sorry! Nothing!' /end page 1

ID page 2: 1. As Guillermo hides behind the menu, Nandor holds his hand up in a useless hypnosis gesture and barks 'I am Nandor the Relentless and I command you to tell me!' 2. Close up of Guillermo as he peeks cautiously over the top of the menu. Offscreen, Nandor continues, 'You are seeing so many people here have success...' 3. Close up of Nandor looking pleadingly upward as he says 'What am I doing wrong?' 4. Guillermo fully lowers the menu with a cautious smile, replying 'I mean...I guess you come on a little strong?' 5. Wide shot of them both. Nandor makes an affronted expression and curls one arm up to show off his bicep, gesturing to it with his other hand. He says, 'I am strong! I am very strong! Do modern women no longer admire strength?' Guillermo, holding the menu under one arm, holds up both hands in a soothing gesture and responds frantically 'Nonono, for sure! I just meant that you're acting really intense right off the bat!' 6. Close up on Nandor with a thoughtful hand on his chin as Guillermo continues offscreen: 'Talking love and marriage...it's too soon for a first date.' Nandor: 'Ahh... This is more third date talk?' There is a small reaction shot of Guillermo looking exasperated but resigned as he reluctantly agrees: '...Sure.' 7. Close up on Guillermo as Nandor asks offscreen: 'So what is first date talk?' Guillermo replies, counting off on his fingers, 'Well, it depends on the person, but generally... Get-to-know-you questions? Like where did you grow up, how many siblings do you have, that kind of stuff.' 8. Close up on Nandor as he turns his face away to glare into the middle distance, a sudden shadow melting half his face into darkness as he says 'I grew up in the faraway kingdom of Al Qolnidar, which no longer exists, and I had seven siblings, all of whom are now dead.' There is a small reaction shot of Guillermo looking shocked and cornered, unsure how to respond to all that. 9. Wide shot from Nandor's other side as he raises his eyebrows guilelessly and gestures to Guillermo with a hand, prompting, 'And then you answer?' Guillermo jolts in place, surprised to be placed in the date's role, and replies 'Oh, yeah, uh. Your date would answer, too. Um. I grew up here in the Bronx and I'm an only child.' 10. Repeat. Nandor and Guillermo both stare expectantly at the other. 11. Repeat. Nandor drops his gaze with a frown, eyes hooding, and grunts 'Hm. This is very boring, waiter-man.' Guillermo, flustered and irritated, throws his arms out in a helpless gesture and snaps 'Well, you have to actually engage in the conversation! Ask follow-up questions! And it's Guillermo!' Nandor says, uninterested, 'What is.' /end page 2

ID page 3: 1a. Close up on Guillermo on a bubbly pink background as he points a finger sternly and states 'My name! It's Guillermo.' 1b. Reverse shot of Nandor looking up at him, almost dazed, cheeks flushed a bit purple as he echoes 'Guillermo...' 1c. Reverse shot of Guillermo as he withdraws his hand to curl it protectively against his chest. He looks a bit taken aback by the reaction, cheeks gone a ruddy pink. 2. Wide shot of them both on a red-violet background crisscrossed with multicolored lights. Guillermo looks away from Nandor nervously, blushing and sweaty, patting his free hand anxiously on the menu held under his arm. He stutters out, 'I, uh. Anyway, I gotta-' Nandor, leaning his head on his hand and gazing at Guillermo with a besotted expression, interrupts, saying 'You are very wise in the ways of dating, Guillermo.' He puts extra emphasis on the name. 3. Close up on Guillermo as Nandor continues: 'You have been on many dates?' Guillermo fidgets, still looking away, and mumbles back 'Not, not like a lot, no. Not like a large amount. Like a normal amount, probably.' 4. Wide shot as Nandor lifts his head and leans closer with a small smile, asking 'And how do your suitors woo you? If they are asking you on a second date?' Guillermo is startled into making eye contact and goes red, clutching the menu to his chest with both hands as he sweats nervously. 5. Repeat. Nandor leans even closer, smile widening into something more flirtatious as Guillermo stiffens and looks away again, somehow getting even redder as his shaky mouth pulls into an uncertain grin. Guillermo stutters out, 'I mean...assuming the first date went well...um...' 6. Close up on Guillermo, smiling nervously even as he avoids eye contact. He says, 'I guess he might...get me flowers?' 7. Close up on Nandor on a bubbly peach background from Guillermo's POV, looking up patiently as he listens. Guillermo continues offscreen: 'He'd...tell me how much he enjoys my company, or...pay me a genuine compliment.' 8. Close up on Guillermo on a bubbly peach background from Nandor's POV, his smile softened and eyes far away as he continues: 'And...whisk me off somewhere fun. Somewhere new. Somewhere we could...stumble in to an adventure together. Away from everything else. And we'd stay up all night because we just...didn't want it to end.' /end page 3

ID page 4: 1. Close up on Guillermo's hand, crossed over his opposite arm, as Nandor nudges his fingers underneath to free his grip. Nandor starts softly, 'And...' 2. Wide shot on a bubbly pink background. Nandor has taken Guillermo's hand and is holding it like a knight would a lady, gazing down at it softly as if readying to kiss it. He continues, '...how many of your suitors have done this for you?' Guillermo, dazed, gazes down at their hands and replies '...I... I don't think anyone would...' 3. The plain green background wall slams back into view as a bell rings offscreen. Wide-eyed and red-faced, Guillermo snatches his hand away from Nandor and flings it upward as if tossing the moment over his shoulder. Nandor is left frozen, hand in the air, eyes wide in shock. 4. Repeat. Guillermo begins to back away from the table, tossed arm coming around to rub at the back of his neck. He looks up and away, sweating , red, and awkward as he chokes out a loud forced laugh and says 'Well, that definitely counts as coming on too strong. Terrible advice, don't do that.' Nandor leans after him, hand hovering in midair, squeaking out 'A-' 5. Repeat. Without letting Nandor finish, Guillermo disappears out of frame with a hasty 'Ok bye good luck!', leaving Nandor saying nothing but question marks, hand still frozen in the air as if reaching out after him. In the foreground, a woman with long brown hair and a dark pink sweater steps into view to take the seat in front of Nandor. 6. Slight zoom, the background returning to the light and dark salmon as Nandor settles back into his seat. The woman across from him, out of focus in shadow, says 'Hi, I'm Kjersten! Um...that's a really interesting outfit...' Nandor doesn't appear to be listening and is staring after Guillermo thoughtfully, a Mona Lisa curl to his lips. /end page 4

ID page 5: 1. Low angle of an alleyway, fenced at the rear and surrounded by tall buildings in multiple vague colors with some spray painted areas. Snow is piled up on either side of the center path against the sidewalk. In the foreground, there is a dumpster. A pink text box at the top reads February 14, 12:07 am. Halfway down the alley, a door opens and Guillermo steps halfway out, missing his apron but having added a coat, carrying a full garbage bag. A voice from inside calls, 'Guillermo, you can head out when you're done, okay?' Guillermo's breath steams into the air as he turns back to the door to respond: 'You sure? The dishes are-' The voice interrupts him with 'Sí, es El Día Dr Amor y Amistad! (In English: Yes, it's Valentines Day) Go sow your oats! You're too young to be working so much.' Guillermo replies without enthusiasm, 'Ha...yeah. Thanks, Teresa, have a good night.' 2. View from behind as Guillermo pulls the lid of the dumpster up with one hand and throws the bag in with the other. He sighs and mutters to himself, 'My oats are just gonna go home and watch Buffy...' 3. There is a clatter in the alley behind him and Guillermo spins around to face the viewer, startled and tense. 4. Extreme close up on Guillermo jerking back in shock as a wad of dandelions are suddenly thrust into his face. A voice offscreen calls 'Guillermo!' happily. 4. Zoom out as Nandor, now with a black and gold cloak dusted with snow over his finery, kneels down in front of Guillermo, arm outstretched to keep the dandelions pushing at his chin. Guillermo, pink and flustered and very confused, takes a step back and splutters 'Nandor?! The- the relentless?' Nandor ignores his reaction and announces, 'Here are some flowers!' 5a. Close up on Nandor as he looks up at Guillermo, dandelions thrust into the foreground and his hair and shoulders dotted with snow as if he had been waiting for some time. He proceeds, clearly rehearsed, 'I very much enjoyed your company tonight as well as the sight of your charming boyish face and plump behind!' His voice is demanding but his expression, eyes shining upwards and cheeks flushed purple, betrays his nerves despite the confident set to his brow. 5b. Reverse shot of Guillermo, staring down at him slack-jawed with wide shiny eyes and pink cheeks, the dandelions still hovering up by his face. Offscreen, Nandor asks 'Have you ever been to Staten Island?' Guillermo responds 'No...' on autopilot. Nandor concludes, 'Then that is where I will be whisking you for our date!' 6. Full body shot, the alleyway back in focus and showing an empty snow-lined street on the other side, a single window just above Guillermo's head lit up from within. Nandor finally stands up and rubs at his chin with a worried expression, dandelions clutched in the other. He says, 'I've heard tales of an all-night bowling alley, but my housemates never want to go with me.' Meanwhile Guillermo, frozen beside him with his hands hovering in mid-air, lets his brain catch up with what's happening. He stares into the middle distance as equations float around his head and his breath fogs into the air. Above, it begins to gently snow. 7. Close up of Guillermo, knocked out of his trace by a gentle prompting from Nandor offscreen: 'So...?' An EKG line skips a beat in the background as he startles and looks up, eyes shining and lips pressed together in a frown. 8. Reverse shot of Nandor, looking very nervous now as he stares back hopefully, holding out the bouquet of dirty dandelions one more time. /end page 5

ID page 6: 1. Close up of Guillermo on a bubbly pink background. He smiles genuinely, red-cheeked, and reaches out to take the dandelions from Nandor's hand. He says, 'Okay...' 2. Medium shot of the two in profile. Nandor, still holding the flowers as Guillermo tucks his hand inside his grip to take them, looks down at Guillermo in shock and echoes 'Okay?!' Guillermo looks up at him with a shy smile and clarifies, 'Yeah. Yes.' 3. Nandor drops his hand and straightens up, a giant silly ecstatic grin taking over his face. Guillermo turns back toward the building and points behind him with his free hand, the other now clutching the dandelions. He says, 'Just let me clock out an-' 4. A close up of Guillermo, blurred diagonally with sudden motion. The only thing clearly visible are his wife eyes, frozen grin, and a little white question mark. 5. Knees up of Nandor, now holding a startled Guillermo in a bridal carry, on a red background lined with glowing neon pink hearts. Grinning wildly down at his date, Nandor announces, 'Prepare to be whisked, Guillermo!!' Guillermo sits there wide-eyed, clutching his little wad of flowers to his chest and somehow finding his other arm looped around Nandor's neck. He stutters frantically, 'Wai- wait, Nandor, you don't have to-' 6. The background warps upward as Nandor shoots them both upward into the sky, flying them both right out of the panel. Guillermo's last word is stretched out in a startled 'OOOOOO??!' as they take off, a single dandelion escaping his grip and drifting back toward the ground. 7. Wide shot of the night sky, dark purple with bursts of white clouds and speedily increasing snowfall, lit by a clear full moon. Nandor and Guillermo fly through, Nandor smiling in a pleased way and clutching Guillermo tightly as he watches their ascent. Guillermo, both arms now around Nandor's neck and more flowers slipping from his grip into the night, stares up at him with awe. He thinks to himself, 'This is the best night of my life...' Behind them, the words 'the end' are carved into the moon. /End ID

[velvetvexations]

Baffling that that person truly cant understand what the socialization post is saying- the whole point is that male/female socialization is something that other people inflict upon you, absolutely nothing to do with your actual identity or internal experience. It's very clear that her only problem with it is exactly the problem the post brings up, that it hurts her feelings and makes her feel dysphoric to think about the world thinking of her as a man at any point, and therefore she not only doesn't want to hear about it, but also everyone else should structure their conversations and analyses of gender and society around her personal discomfort. Some things are uncomfortable to say, and uncomfortable to hear, and that doesn't make them not worth saying/hearing, or strip away their very real value.

Simply, someone who did not grow up with the expectations of male socialization from their peers, family, and society, would not have had any of the struggles she is describing due to the fact that that person is actually a woman. If the world around her were not trying to socialize her as a man -which is what "male socialization" is- she would not have struggled in expressing herself as a woman in the way that she very much did. The concept of socialization is not against her or her experiences, it is a valuable tool for explaining why those things happened to her and why she felt the way she did.

It's baffling the way that people's personal discomfort will prevent them from using tools and concepts that are directly beneficial to them because those tools and concepts use one word that feels hurtful to apply to oneself.

I don't feel good calling myself socialized as my agab either! I don't like associating myself with my agab ever! It's deeply uncomfortable! But it is undeniable and a foundational aspect of my oppression that the world sees and saw me that way and formed expectations and rules for me based on that. It is imperative to acknowledge that greater society sees me as my agab, not my gender, and that is why they mistreat me, because that is the reality of the situation. I am still my gender, I am still me outside of those expectations and mistreatments, I am still valid. Those things still happened anyway.

You haven’t even fully answered the ask yet but man, having you say I put anything really well in it is such an ego boost fr

It's a great fucking ask, anon. I don't really have anything to add, it's a work of art, except that it fit better prior to my being fully convinced she was intentionally playing dumb. Ah, well, it's still a crucial lesson for others.

[crueltyserpent]

When she introduces us, she’s either my girlfriend or my mom. She’s neither of course, she killed my mom and my girlfriend so long ago at this point. Sometimes I think she chooses whichever she thinks will make me more uncomfortable; it’s not like whoever she introduces us to will live long enough for their thoughts on it to matter. If I were to choose a name for what I am, I would probably go with captive. Victim also comes to mind, but it’s hard to feel like I’m the most victimized person in the room when she’s cutting off the fingers of a naked woman one by one.  At least she’s not making me eat them this time. The “here comes the airplane” bit with raw human flesh isn’t nearly as funny as she thinks it is.

If I guess why she keeps me around, why I’m not dead in a ditch somewhere like every other poor bitch who get’s her attention, I’d guess it’s because simply torturing attractive women to death every other day doesn’t fully sate her appetite for cruelty. Sure, her ability to wring physical pain out of a stranger is staggering, but there’s a special type of satisfaction she gets from the form of psychological torture that is only possible to inflict on someone she keeps close for an extended period of time. I don’t know if she chose me because something about me was uniquely appealing to hurt or she just liked how my dick felt inside her, but at this point I’m fairly confident she’s sunk too much work into messing with my head to casually replace me.

The woman bleeding out on the floor is the owner of the Air BNB we’re staying at, a chipper blonde thirtysomething who was now karmically paying for the fact that nothing in her life had ever gone wrong before. I used to vomit seeing a girl taken apart like this. Now it’s boring enough that I can sit on the bed reading a romance novel while barley acknowledging the poor cunt’s slowly decreasing number of body parts. This is an easy one, relatively speaking. I don’t really have enough emotional energy left to feel bad for well to do women a decade older than me who’d never give me so much as a smile if I weren’t a customer.

I call myself a captive, but it’s not like I couldn’t walk out of the room if I wanted to, physically speaking. She wouldn’t stop me, she’d continue her ruthless execution and not even remark on me leaving. I was never bound (except for sex), never locked in a room, always free to go where I wanted. It had just been incredibly clear to me that if I ever made an attempt to do something she disapproved of, she could make my life so much worse than it already was as her unwilling partner in crime. One time she had left me alone for three months, letting me think I was free, only to return and kill every single person I had met and liked to any degree. I was trapped with her because she had created a situation where helping her murder people every few days was the decision I could make with the lowest innocent body count. And it meant that sometimes women like this died instead of the cute queer girls my age who used to blow me in alleys. Seeing someone I might have been friends with in a different life die was a whole different story to something like this.

I turn the page, working my way through a particularly arbitrary love triangle as I hear the death rattle. I don’t remark on it, but I’m not at all surprised when my bloodstained captor sits at the foot of the bed, looking at me with those hungry eyes. Don’t get me wrong, this woman is evil, the worst person I could even imagine who I would do anything to be free of.

She’s also probably the hottest person I’ve ever met. She was the first woman ever to be hot enough to make me cheat on my girlfriend, in what was either the greatest mistake of my life or the sole decision that kept me alive, depending on what would have happened if I turned her down. Her nude body sprayed with fresh blood is a powerful sight, and her toothed smile makes me shiver as blood rushes between my legs.

“Anything spicy happening in your book, honey?” She asked in a soft, motherly tone, her hands moving to undo my belt buckle. I hate how much her sexy mom routine works on me. It’s humiliatingly effective. I should be anywhere else right now, doing anything else, doing anyone else, but as she rides me, her other victims blood dripping off her chest over my face, I can’t do anything but whimper in enjoyment.

[drdemonprince]

Any chance you'd expand on the hank hill trans guy post? (Sorry, best indicator I could come up with.) The concept interests me as I decidedly know my maleness, yet don't feel impeded by for the most part, any male gendered norms/boxes. I am fairly masculine, though I rarely use those kinds terms to describe myself. I have found I often do stray outside of what society pushed for me when I transitioned, yet I again do not feel it has taken from my right to maleness whatsoever. I am just me, who happens to be male. I have had friends try and suggest I am NB adjacent but I do not feel this way whatsoever. I feel more people are outliers to gender expectation than we care to admit and it's disappointing the way cis-people deny that. Hope this wasn't too long winded, I value your writing and perspective, and wanted to hear more of your thoughts on this.

Yeah, well so many things all get conflated by gender labels, and it's all so personal, you know? Masculinity does not have to mean maleness, and a person's gender identity might be a reflection of some innate quality they experience themselves as having, or a general summary of their tendencies, or their desired presentation, or their sense of affinity with other people, or an interpersonal tool, or something they just go along with because it was given to them by society, or any other number of things.

I think my recent substack piece on detransition goes into this pretty well, and I have an upcoming piece of what @pastimperfection calls "bilateral dysphoria" that comes out next week that delves into it too.

I think I mostly saw taking on a male identity as a means to an end more than any kind of innate reflection of who I was, though I did feel an affinity with effeminate men for a lot of reasons. I think I also discounted how much I have in common with my fellow nonbinary people of all stripes, because that identity became so strongly associated with being an annoying type of queer person that everybody else just wrote off as ultimately being their assigned gender at birth anyway no matter how much they protested. it doesn't help that 'nonbinary' is a catchall term for literally thousands if not millions of very distinct experiences and desires.

transitioning gave me control over how i was perceived, finally, but hormones are a throttle that only go in one very specific direction, and you don't really have all that much control over which changes kick in at which times and what people will make of you once you do start registering to them as some identity other than what you were first saddled with. it's an incredible gift to be able to toggle that throttle. but it's limited, not because medical transition isn't incredible and needed for so many, but because there is no escaping the goddamned binary cissexist logic that influences everything about how people treat you, how you navigate institutions, who finds you desirable and what they want out of you, and so much else.

if you're able to cast a lot of the external societal bullshit aside and feel strong in your maleness, maybe you're stronger than me or maybe our orientation to these things is just different, i don't know. i was never all that sensitive to feedback that i was doing the whole being-a-woman-thing all that wrong. i reveled in violating those rules to an extent. succeeding at being a woman despite my best attempts was what felt super dysphoric. and now i guess im succeeding at being a man, insofar as im always read as one, and it feels just as uncomfortable and objectifying and false. i thought that with manhood i could probably just grit my teeth and deal with it, but i'm finding that i can't.

ive always been very open that for me, gender is a thing I Do, and i guess to those who know me well it wouldnt be surprising to hear that i have gotten tired of Doing Being a Man and dont feel like playing that particular gendered game anymore. I tend to get bored of things! and find the flaws in things. and find my comfort in being fault-finding and contrarian and not being a joiner. and thats okay. i learned a lot along the way. not having to try any more is a huge relief. i can just do whatever. and know actively that people will more often than not be wrong in what they make of me.

maybe it was natural feeling for you to decidely 'know' your maleness without a care for masculine standards because that is the right identity for you! and maybe i only feel secure in the "not knowing" realm and in letting go of what people think of me or finding any kind of tidy categorization for it because that's the right spot for me. for now. until i find a new interesting way to be unhappy and striving for more and different again. :) that's just part of being alive, for me.

[chroniclesofbts]

Call Me Home Part 3

Idol hybrid BTS x hybrid foreigner reader

Warnings: implied sexual themes, smut, angst, fluff, polyamorous relationship

If you’re not 18+ please, do not interact.

As always, my works do not represent BTS in any way, this is purely a work of fiction.

*short chapter, I cut this part in half because it was so long*

Y/N's POV

Coming to, I can hear voices around me and an annoying beeping. Listening intently I hear the words, "not heat", "too risky", "trauma", and "management". The monitor attached to my heart gave away that I was waking up, the beeping increasing. My eyes flutter open, the light blinding me initially.

"Hey, welcome back. You really scared me there" Jin said softly, sitting on the edge of the hospital bed. "I thought my face was just too handsome for you" he joked to lighten the mood.

"How are you feeling Miss... ?" A woman in scrubs asked

"Fine, head is a little heavy, I'm a little sore too. What happened?" I questioned

"You passed out in the shower with Jin. You didn't hit your head or anything, he managed to hold you up and call Jungkook for help." I flushed at the thought of Jungkook seeing me naked. "Can I ask you some personal questions?" The doctor asked gently, "Your pack can stay here or leave if you feel uncomfortable at any time"

"Um, s-sure" I stuttered

"Do you have any nightmares?"

"Oh, uh yeah, most people do though" I joke

"How many a week?" She says writing things down on a clipboard.

"Uh it depends, maybe like 5?" Jin's hand finds mine, and holds it in a comforting manor.

"Do you ever feel numb?" She continues

"Yeah, I guess if I get too overwhelmed I do." I answer honestly

"Do you feel like you startle easily? Have trouble concentrating?"

"Sometimes" I answer, starting to close in on myself.

"Last question, where do you see yourself in the future?"

"I mean, how far out? I see myself with the pack, for as long as I have left" I answer, feeling Jimin lean his head on my shoulder from the right side where he was sitting.

"I see, thank you for answering my questions, I will talk to your packs leader and you should be able to go back to their dorms in the next few hours." She smiled, motioning to Namjoon to follow her.

"How long was I asleep?" I ask Jimin

"3 days, you must have been tired and your body was recovering from the shock to your system with the pills you took." Jimin explained.

"Why was she asking all of those questions?" I ask him nervously, "Did I do something wrong, are you going to replace me?" I whimper

"No! No, baby, never" Jin said, squeezing my hand. "We just want to make sure we can help you, make sure we can be enough for you"

"Oh, why?" I mumble confused as I feel myself blush.

"Because you deserve the perfect pack" Jimin said, pushing his nose further into my scent gland.

"Wait, I thought I was in heat" I look at Jin, who looks away bashfully.

"Your body has never had a heat, it wasn't ready for a heat, your body was fighting the medicine, it caused you to get sick. Right before you passed out I could smell the shift in your hormones, I just didn't figure it out until you passed out. I, o-overwhelmed your b-body. I c-caused it, I am so sorry" He cried, "we don't deserve to be your pack, we couldn't even take care of you as soon as we got you"

"Jin, I don't blame you. It's not your fault, how could anyone have known? You caught me, right? I didn't get a concussion. It's okay"

Before he could respond, Namjoon came in the door followed by a man I had never met before.

"This is Sejin, one of our managers. After talking with the medical staff, we think it's best to start you on a month of medicine to encourage a natural heat cycle. This will also give your body time to adjust to being in a pack, as well as let your mind work through everything that has happened recently. With the rush of moving and education, now this, your body and mind are overwhelmed. We want to make sure you're completely healthy and ready." Namjoon explained as the nurses started to detach me from all of the medical equipment.

"Take it easy for the first week, bed rest for the first 5 days at least. Your body is recovering and we don't want anything to delay the process." The nurse explained.

"Here, we brought you some clothes, its ours, but we will get you your own soon" Jungkook said, handing me some clothes that smell like all of them. He helped me up with a blush and led me to the connected bathroom to change. I quickly changed into the sweatpants and shirt, pulling the drawstrings so they fit move comfortably. I opened the door and found him waiting outside, eyes widening, pupils dilating, at me in their clothes. He extended his hand to me and started to walk me over the the wheelchair.

"I don't need that" I said, trying to pull out of his grip.

"Okay" Jungkook smirked, sweeping me off my feet, "but you can't walk, doctors orders. I prefer this way too" he winked.

"W-wait, actually, the chair l-looks fine" I stuttered through my embarrassment.

"Sorry, cutie, I like this way" He smiled, staring at me with a fondness I haven't seen yet. He carries me through the lobby and outside to the waiting car. Jimin's mouth dropped open as he whined about how unfair it was that he got to carry me, causing a few others to grumble too. He hands me to Namjoon, who pulls me close in his lap, shoving his face into my neck and relaxing. The drive was filled with lots of joking and flirting, I swear my face was always flushed. Jin steals me away from Namjoon to carry me inside and up the stairs to their room. It has a large bed where they obviously sleep all together, lots of pillows and blankets resembling a den. Jin gently lowered me into their den, showing through actions that he could care for me. I immediately relaxed, realizing that even being surrounded by predators, I was safe. I let my eyes flutter closed, my body pulling me under with exhaustion. The last thing I register is a body laying down gently next to me, in their animal form, their purring lulling me deeper into dreamland.

Taglist open (please let me know if I missed you): @dachshunddame @minjianhyung @minhanbyeol

[dreamteammemes]

Extremely self-indulgent "Shit People Have Said" meme: warning for language and explicit content

"Photosynthesize on the haters."

"I miss ten seconds ago when I didn't see that."

"Why does Freddy Fazbear want you so bad?"

"I don't want to make you uncomfortable, but if you want to make out, let's make out!"

"I went to the museum in Animal Crossing and everyone there knew you."

"The only thing that should be going into your lungs is air????"

"I'm going to name my kids Slim Shady and Draculara."

"Sometimes you just have to do ketamine with a horse."

"What? You're not coming to my tea party? (Name), I made biscuits!"

"72 virgins? Doesn't that seem like a trap to you?"

"You look like you're forlornly reminiscing about a lost lover."

"I pity you fishless fool."

"I just became conscious in the middle of saying this sentence."

"I ordered 37 Baja Blasts to impress the girl at the counter."

"(Name) is a bitch. They're a bitch on wheels."

"Who needs sleep? I've been up for eight days!"

"All birds are ducks but not all shrimp are brownies."

"You may be able to rotate my tires but can you satisfy a woman?"

"I'm married to myself. Why? I'm hot."

"I've created a situation."

"Please, call me by your name."

"I'm two much for these bitches and three much for these hoes."

"Look, the sign says I can refuse service to anyone that violates our policies, and frankly... I just really hate your vibes."

"This isn't a comedy bar; this is a Starbucks. Get your shit and leave."

"I’ve done nice things like not murder you even when I really wanted to, and this is how you repay me?"

"My hobbies include showing up in people's dreams and being dead."

"I may be a dumb bitch but I ain’t fucking stupid."

"I'm alive for two reasons. One, I was born, and two, I haven't died yet."

"No human language can describe the disappointment I’m feeling right now."

"(Name), if you remember, I hit you with my Gucci car and I'm sorry."

"I was possessed by the devil when I said that."

"You are going to die because I'm going to kill you."

"You're nothing but a dip ass shit."

"You blacked out after laughing at your own joke."

"Sometimes you just have to let go of the steering wheel of life and drift for a while."

"My neighbors like this song so much they threw a brick through my window so they could hear it better."

"Ask your doctor if these hands are right for you."

"I'm hiding my penis because people are out of control!"

"Sure, blame the guy who's a huge idiot who causes a lot of problems again."

"You’re a liar, wow I’m getting tired of this!”

"One day I'm going to say "fight me!" and someone's just going to fucking deck me"

[brothermoth]

on trans men

I think there's a huge uptick in transphobia (I shan't use the no no word because this isn't about that, but I will use the tag for traction) towards trans men. It is NOT from any one group in particular, but I think the queer community especially needs to reckon with this alongside discussions of transfeminism and the overall social reckoning with trans people as a whole. We're a hot topic right now and facing so much fucking nonsense.

I think y'all need to hear from a person. We're all people, I think we forget sometimes.

I'm 5'1, I've got uncomfortably big tits. I look like a 13 year old closeted gay boy if you squint your eyes a bit. I do not pass, except maybe to old people once in a while who think I'm a child. In my personal life I do not discuss my gender identity. I'm not out to a single family member and I pushed my mom far enough by getting my hair cut short and buying men's clothes—so I will not be pushing further until I'm out of the house. I wouldn't necessarily be unsafe, but it would ruin every single (already deeply awkward) relationship with every person in my family. I think the stress would finally do me in, and I literally just stopped being suicidal like eight months ago when I started college.

I don't feel like a person, just someone in a state of waiting like I've been in a cocoon my whole life with no end in sight. Starting college was a chance for me to peek out a bit and start to explore something I really couldn't before. For the first time I could actually start to say I'm transmasc.

Hearing someone who I already felt disliked me say "ugh I hate men" spiked my anxiety through the damn roof. I need y'all to understand what that feels like to a trans man, especially one just starting to step out of the closet. I have C-PTSD and severe trust issues to boot, and now I have to decide whether we just don't click as people or if she (a queer woman) just doesn't like me because I'm masc. I've had it happen, it's not an unfounded anxiety spiral.

It's not actively oppressing me for her to say that, but it still hurts. You don't THINK about who you are hurting. It's not Kyle with his MAGA hat and Ford F-150. It's the closeted trans guy who is now deeply wary of you and also overanalyzing everything he does to avoid making you uncomfortable.

I might be taking this discourse a bit personally. I'm aware, despite my brain being a soup of mental illness. It's just strangers on the internet after all, but it does bleed into my own personal life and it's fucking heartbreaking. It really is.

I think some of you forgot that trans men are people. I think some of you have stripped us of our humanity and our lives and the things that we struggle with every day. I'll call it what it is: it's fucking transphobia.

You do not get to enable or enact transphobia on trans men in the name of feminism. We're your fucking allies. Abortion bans and transphobic legislature and abuse in relationships and ostracisation from society and family. We're not a monolithic group of bearded Abercrombie models (not to shame those who are, y'all are great), in fact I think it's fair to say that most trans men are seen as women. A lot of us don't correct people when they assume. To everyone but myself I'm a smartass autistic girl. I have more in common with the incredible Jennifer Coates in her article "I am a trans woman. I am in the closet. I am not coming out" than I do with a cis man.

And I'm sorry but there's very few trans men with ANY social privilege to oppress anyone. To pretend otherwise is to be ignorant of our lives, our history, and us as people who are often in the same situations as trans women. We're seen as women who are "trying to be men" trying to achieve something that even cis men can't get right. We're "dykes" we're "trannies" we're sex perverts and sex workers and faggots and failed daughters who will never do anything right. Budget lesbians, little girls. Cis womanhood and masculinity are things that no trans person can ever achieve. Don't be foolish enough to pretend otherwise.

Trans women you are my allies. My transfem friends are in the same situation as me. Afraid to come out, stuck being yourself only in certain places and struggling with our own cages of oppression.

Lesbians you are my allies. Especially you, butch lesbians. Never good enough, never perfect enough, never what your parents wanted and always questioned about the way you dress or do your hair.

We're not as different as we often think.

Building community and solidarity means listening and understanding sharing experiences that are often so similar.

Communism=community I don't know why SO MANY Marx stans refuse to understand that his views rely on understanding and cooperation between working class people (which is also why I think communism is deeply flawed....i think daddy Karl had a bit too much faith in humanity, but that's another issue)

Separatism is death. I am not kidding. You know what emperor penguins do when Arctic winters get to sub zero temperatures? They huddle together and take turns bearing the brunt of the wind.

Don't fucking buy into separatist bullshit. Find fucking common ground with your allies, talk it through like adults instead of resorting to name calling and hatred.

Any activism worth it's salt must come from a place of love rather than hate. Vitriol solves nothing and y'all are tearing us all apart.