#these are from days ago i just faggot 2 post

[giddlygoat]

super mario sunshine i heart you

[oldguardleatherdog]

For Father's Day:

"The One Decent Thing I Ever Did"

This is a monograph from 2015, previously posted here some time ago, a tale of my maternal grandmother, a below-zero winter night, the New York City subway West Side express during post-9/11, that mentions my father only in passing... and it's about my father.

THE ONE DECENT THING I EVER DID.

I.

A long time ago, during a time of struggle, I did one decent thing:

I'd just gotten on the subway in Midtown Manhattan on a brutal winter night, the No. 2 uptown express, when a couple with a small child boarded the car I was riding.

They were having a very loud conversation with their child (about four years old, I think) who was crying or somehow behaving in a way that was "bad". The mother took the belt from her jeans and raised her arm to strike her child with it.

Don’t ask me why I did this, but I rose from my seat, grabbed the mother’s arm mid-swing, and said, “As long as I am on this train, you will not hit that child with that belt.” She and the child’s father were stunned into silence for a moment as I made my way back to my seat.

Immediately after I sat down, the mother and father began leveling all kinds of vitriol my way, calling me every name in the book, including all the variations of “faggot” in use at the time. I just sat there, smiled wide, laughed loud, and shined ‘em on:

“You can call me ‘faggot.’ You can call me anything you like. Because every minute you focus on me, you are not beating that child with that belt.”

The crowded train car fell silent.

II.

Yuletide, 1982. I was in the service in Germany and took leave to see my grandmother in Florida. My grandfather had passed away the previous March, and something told me to seize the chance to see Grandma while she was still with us. I was only 20, born late in life to my parents, and never got to know my grandparents in the way my older brothers did.

We were in my Grandma's airy, air-conditioned Fort Lauderdale kitchen having coffee one morning when the rest of the family had gone out for breakfast. “Would you like a little pick-me-up in your cup, dear?” I laughed. “No thanks, Gramma, it's a little early for me.” The joys of Florida.

I'd had a rough upbringing by any measure - my father was first-gen shanty Irish born in the early 1920's with a mean spirit and a violent edge, mother not Irish but still violent - but at age 20 I hadn't yet realized just how rough it had been.

“You know,” I said to Grandma, “Harold and Evelyn did the best they could. I mean, I turned out all right, right?”

Grandma leaned back in her chair, took a nice drag off one of her unfiltered Camels, and said in her declarative New England way the words that always meant Listen up, you're about to hear gospel truth:

“Well, I'll tell ya, Joe.” I was all ears.

She took another hit off of her cigarette. “I held my tongue. More than once, I held my tongue.

“But one day, your mother and father were in the front yard with your grandfather and me, and I walked up to your father and said, “Harold, I just want to tell you something. It takes a real man to beat a child with a belt.”

...Wow.

I only wish she hadn’t held her tongue!

I sipped my coffee, looked for palmetto bugs on the lanai. “Grandma,” I said, “I'm all right.”

She looked away, and I saw the colors of the rainbow in the prism of her pendant.

III.

What was I doing on the 2 train heading uptown in the bitter blistering freezing cold New York winter?

Heading “home” – that is, to one of the many rundown firetrap SRO hotels paid by the City of New York to house homeless people with HIV. The City's AIDS regulations set the policy: if you showed up at the HIV center at 30th and 8th before 7 PM on a given day, New York City was obliged to find you housing for the same night and for the next 30 days in a row at the very least.

Strange - in those days, New York would house you but not feed you, and San Francisco would feed you but not house you. Come to think of it, that's the way it is these days.

My dank, filthy, crawling with roaches and vermin crack-house "shelter" was way uptown, near 96th and Broadway. (I had always dreamed about making it to Broadway, ha ha.)

96th Street and Broadway stop was next. The train car was still silent as the parents sat sullenly and the child - Jesus, he can't be older than 3 or 4 years old, I thought - was staring at me, no expression on his little face, but eyes wide as saucers.

The train screeched to a stop. I got up and headed to the door, passing the couple with the small child and the loose belt. They were silent and did not regard me as I passed; the child, I think, might have glanced at me, but I’m not sure. I knew that after I got off the train, or after they got off the train, that poor kid was probably going to get beaten. Severely.

Out the door and onto the bone-chilling platform at 96th Street. A young woman who had witnessed the mother wield that belt came up to me and said, “I’m so glad you did that, I wanted to say something, but I was too…” Her voice trailed off as the pained look on her face finished her thought.

“I understand,” I said to her as our eyes met in that New York way of speaking the unspeakable, then made my way up the stairs into the below-zero winter breezes of the Upper West Side of Manhattan.

What the hell, I thought as I made my way out of the station, I had nothing to lose. Those were dark times, desperate days. I'm no angel. But just once, on that long-ago Number 2 train, I was granted the grace to do one decent thing.

Animal J. Smith San Francisco, California July 22, 2015 and June 18, 2023 v2.0

My maternal grandparents, Ed and Ethel (Schirmer) Olson, Fort Lauderdale, Florida, c. 1980

[titlemewickedwonderland]

Got Your Back (Mountain x NB!Reader)

Summary: After they spilled their guts to Mountain, their best friend about what was going on with their life and the trouble they've gotten thanks to the siblings of the clergy not accepting them; things gets bad to worse and Y/N has no other choice but to turn to Mountain for help.

Pairings: Platonic!Mountain x Non-binary reader

AN: I posted a poll a few days ago to see who wanted to see a part 2 oneshot of the offered works and 'I'll Take Care of You' won the vote! So here you guys go! Reader is non-binary and uses they/them pronouns.

Workshop

Prompt List Requests Open

~

They should have known the problems wouldn't disappear overnight. They should have known better; even if they had talked to Mountain it didn't mean the trouble would end there. And that's how they got right where they were. Humiliated and damn near in tears.

The eyes of the other clergy were staring at them. Burning holes into their head they could do nothing but stand there. Some were laughing, others stood shocked at the display. But did anyone come to help or stop this display of humiliation? No. Zero, nada, no one. Not a single siblings; even those who They were considered polite or friendly with. No one stepped up to save them the social embarrassment.

The last remnant of Their hair rested at their feet. Lying in frayed piles by their boots; hair that they had grown out longer than they usually kept it, just because in a previous encounter Mountain had said he'd liked their hair and here it lay ruined. That which did not get chopped off was in odd different lengths making them look wild and unkempt. It took everything in them not to cry even when the burn in their eyes and nose made it almost unbearable to hold in.

"Now you can look like the faggot that you are. Since you don't want to pick a side of whether you wanna be a man or a woman." the culprit laughed in their face.

"Why the long face? You wanted to be what was it? Non-binary right? I was just helping you with that." the young man grinned devilishly despite the sickening sweetness of mockery tainting his words.

Y/n said nothing. Could do nothing. But the worst of their humiliation wasn't over it. Before they knew it something cold and thick got poured over their heads causing them to gasp in shock as the coldness ran down from the top of their head; ruining whatever mess was of their hair and down their face; dripping onto their uniform and down to the floor to mix with the chopped off hair.

A smoothie. A goddamned smoothie just got dumped over their heads. Right there in the middle of the hallway. Y/n tried to stay strong. Tried not to cry as the seconds ticked by. They wouldn't give these bullies a reaction. But god was it hard. Why wouldn't the issues just stop? What was so wrong with wanting to be something? Wasn't the Clergy supposed to be open-minded for things like this?! And then the straw that broke the camel's back. A figure came walking down the hallways in his usual pope robes like the king himself.

"What is the meaning of this? What is going on here?" Papa demanded looking at the gathering of his clergy.

His eyes widened when his mismatched orbs met those of Y/n's over the heads of the siblings and Y/n felt the first tremble of their lip. Papa quickly shooed everyone away as he neared with urgent steps toward the distressed clergy member and draped an arm around them; allowing the long length of his sleeve to act as a blanket to hide as much of their body as he could; not like it would have done much more then dirty his robes.

"Back to work, all of you!" his voice raised before his gaze landed on the culprit with a stern glare. "And you, meet me in my office in 20 minutes!" he demanded harshly before he was turning; leading Y/n away from the group that still lingered and toward his office.

Once inside the office Papa set the sibling into a chair and went to grab a towel to help clean them off. "Oh mio caro bambino." he murmured as he knelt beside them and gently began trying to wipe the smoothie from their skin.

"Why didn't you come to me when this happened?" he asked softly and Y/n shook their head avoiding his eyes.

"This has happened before? It's been going on for quite some time, hasn't it?" he guessed as he watched the younger's lip tremble even more and the first salty tear running to mix with the sugar of the smoothie on their face.

"Oh tesero..." the man pulled the other into him; gently petting their hair, not minding the smoothie that now coated his gloves. "You should never be afraid to come to me when trouble arises." he said softly; his heart aching when the other wrapped themselves around him; hugging so fiercely he feared he'd crack a rib under their grip.

"I'm sorry Papa. I didn't think it'd get this bad. I didn't want to bother you." they cried against his shoulder and he could do nothing but rub their back trying to calm them down.

"Don't worry, I'll fix this. They'll get a good talking to." he reassured and suspension if he had any say in the matter. Hell he had half a mind to kick them straight onto their asses out of the Abbey's Gates.

"No! I-if you say anything it'll only be worse!" Y/n protested but Papa only pulled away to give a stern look.

"This has gone on for too long, bambino." he told them while wagging a finger in their direction. "No one deserves to be treated as such; especially not over something as silly as pronouns. It is ridiculous. You go by whatever pronouns you want, you dress the way you want, you can change your name for all I care; it will not make me love you any less. The Abbey is a home for people much like yourself and no one should make another feel so insignificant for just living their lives the way they wish." he told them sternly before his expression softened.

"What can I do to make this better?" he asked searching their face.

"Mountain." Y/n wiped their nose. "I want Mountain."

"Consider it done. Come, I'll walk you to him. He's back in his quarters with the others." he told them as he helped them rise to their feet.

"Papa your robes." Y/n's expression seemed almost devastated as they saw the mess on his sleeve. He chuckled a bit and shook his head.

"They can be washed, no need to fret. Come come. Let's get you to your ghoul." Papa led the way to the ghoul's wing and knocked on the door.

Dewdrop answered and it took him a second to realize who was standing there. His brows scrunching up in confusion before his brows shot up at the sight of Y/n.

"For the love of Satan, what the hell happened to you pipsqueak?" he demanded.

"Bullies. Where's Mountain?" Papa asked pushing his way through the doorway while looking around.

"He's in his room." Dewdrop muttered scanning Y/n body with a critical eye. "Damn, they did a number on you didn't they?" he sighed as he guided them to the couch where Rain sat playing a video game with Swiss.

"Holy Hell!" Swiss gawked over at them when they caught sight of the mess Y/n was in.

"None of that now Swiss. They are upset enough as it is." Papa chided lightly before walking down the hall towards Mountain's room.

"Wait here, honey." Rain murmured resting a hand against Y/n's shoulder before standing and heading for the kitchenette. The sound of rushing water from the sink was the only sound echoing in the room for a minute before the water ghoul returned with a bowl and a kitchen towel.

He sat down beside them again and dipped the cloth into the warm water in the bowl before beginning to wipe at their skin with a concentrated look of furrowed brows. Papa returned moments later with Mountain who looked sleepy; must have been taking a nap that Papa woke him up from. He looked around the room before he tensed seeing Y/n.

"What...Happened?" his rumbling voice demanded as he narrowed his eyes and rounded the corner of the couch to sit on the armrest.

"They cut my hair...and poured smoothie over me." Y/n muttered looking down at their hands in their lap that shook slightly.

"Damnit." Mountain sighed. "Come on little one. Rain follow us. We'll give them a bath to wash all that sticky off and see if we can't fix the hair." he offered which the water ghoul nodded to and rose readily to help.

Y/n took Mountain's offered hand and followed the ghouls back to the Earth Ghoul's room before going straight to the bathroom. The tallest paused in the threshold and looked down at his human friend.

"Would you like for Rain to go get some more of his bath products?" he offered but Y/n shook their head.

"No...I just...I just want to get cleaned up. No pampering this time." they sounded so tired; just from sleep deprivation but tired of all the hate they seemed to get simply by breathing.

Mountain nodded before scratching one of his horns. "Err...my bathtub is kind of broken; I don't have the drain plug anymore so it'll have to be a shower. Do you want Rain to help you while I go get some items to help after?" he offered and after a moment of hesitation and a glance over at the water ghoul who waited patiently nearby; Y/n gave a nod.

At this point, Y/n had no issue with being naked in front of the ghouls even if they were not Mountain; the humiliation or the embarrassment spent in full with no returns it seemed. So they undressed and stepped into the spray of shower water. Rain was thoughtful enough to keep his boxers on at least. While Mountain went to grab some stuff to help clean up the messy chops of hair left Rain dutifully helped wash the smoothie from the other's hair and body with a gentle uninvasive touch being respectful as he did so.

"Mountain told us about what we going on. We didn't know you had it rough Y/n/n." Rain murmured as he scrubbed shampoo into their hair.

Y/n shrugged tilting their head down to not get shampoo in their eyes. "I thought if I ignored it it would just blow over and disappear. But when I'm a walking talking target I guess it's not that easy."

"You're not a target; they are never meant to hurt their own no matter what gender or pronouns they use. It's not right." the water ghoul touched Y/n's shoulder. "I'm sorry, kiddo."

A small smile tugged at Y/n's mouth. "Yeah...that's what Papa said too." they sighed. "I just want it to be over...I'm so tired of feeling unloved just for existing."

Mountain stepped back into the room and pulled the shower's glass door open a bit to peer inside. "You're not unloved, little one. At least not by the people that matter to you. Fuck whatever anyone else says." he piped up and hearing that profanity coming from the usual gentle giant made Y/n start laughing under her breath as Rain rinsed off the suds.

Once the pair were done and Y/n cleaned, the ghouls helped dry them off. Dressing them in comfortable clothes. A pair of boxers from Dewdrop, some sweatpants from Phantom, and a shirt from Mountain that hung damn near to their knees but at least they were clean and mostly dry; comforted by the different scents of spice and cologne of the other ghouls that wafted from the clothes they wore.

Y/n was placed onto a stool in front of the mirror and Mountain's tall frame came into view behind them. "Are you ready?" he asked tilting his head down to look at the little human who nodded with resignation.

"Yep...Can't walk around looking like Chucky." the smile was a little forced but at least they were trying to stay positive despite what happened earlier.

"I'll go make you something to eat okay?" Rain touched their shoulder in farewell before slipping from the bathroom after throwing on some clothes Mountain brought in for him.

The room was filled with quiet snipping sounds as Mountain took one chunky lock and began carefully cutting; trying to even the pieces out. It sort of made Y/n feel like one of the Earth's precious plants he was trimming down to perfection. Despite his large height and even larger hands, he was gentle and very careful as he measured each strip of hair between his fingers before cutting.

"Papa's going to make an announcement soon; a reminder about policy in regard to the bullying." Mountain broke the silence as he worked.

"Oh? On my behalf?" Y/n mumbled staring at themselves in the mirror. "Won't that make me a target all over again?"

"Of course not. Papa doesn't play when it comes to bullying. Bullying ends lives if taken too far and that's the last thing he wants. He cares about you little one. We all do. Some siblings may be too scared to come forward but they won't target you anymore and if I know Papa he'll have already expelled the bullies from the Abbey and kicked them on their butts." Mountain smirked slightly and even though Y/n shouldn't feel any satisfaction about it; they did.

"Alright...what do you think? Do you want to go shorter or does this look good enough?" Mountain finally put down the scissors and Y/n lifted their gaze to study their hair in the mirror.

It was so much shorter than it had been before; like a mixture of a pixie haircut and a boyish haircut. It was different to see their own hair in that style but it also somehow made their face transform. How funny that hair could do that to a person. They reached up to touch their hair before nodding slowly.

"I...like it. Actually," they confessed with a small smile. "Thank you, Mountain..." they murmured.

The earth ghoul nodded and allowed the little human to reach behind them to grab his arms; pulling his long limbs around them like a blanket and he rested his chin on their head with a small smile; a rumbling purr emitting from his chest as he allowed the hug.

"If it makes you feel better, this new look suits you. Take this new experience and new look to start fresh. Keep your chin up and don't let anyone bring you down; okay? You are worth more than just what you look like."

Y/n laughed a bit and nodded slowly. "Yeah...maybe I just needed a haircut to give me a boost." they said playfully and Mountain smiled back at their reflections; happy to see the usual spunk returning to his human.

"If you want I can ask the girls to help you with a new wardrobe if it helps too." he commented making Y/n eyes light up a bit.

"Really?"

"Why not? Might as well. New change new you." Mountain let go of Y/n and dusted off the stray hairs from their shoulders. "Come on, let's go check in with the others. We can watch a movie and get something to eat. Okay?" he offered his hand and Y/n readily grasped it; hopping off the stool.

"You know. I kinda love you." Y/n stated with fondness as they bumped against his arm with affection causing the Earth ghoul to rumble out a chuckle and look down at them.

"I kinda love you too, little one." he replied before ushering them back to the living room.

Rain had indeed gathered them a meal and the others were gathered in the living area with a movie playing as they waited for the last pair to return. Y/n had gotten lots of compliments from their friends and each one helped boost their confidence level. They lay against Mountain's side munching on whatever Rain had made for them feeling content and loved; a feeling they hadn't felt in a long time since joining. With the promise of new clothes and the new haircut made them feel seen for once and as they looked around the room they realized an important lesson or two.

One was that no one had the power to dictate who they were; to decide or to make them feel unworthy of love or acceptance simply by being themselves and that self-love was a powerful thing.

Secondly, while they had been so desperate to fit in with the members of the Clergy; they had done it all wrong. Because quality meant more than quantity and as Y/n looked all around the room at the unmasked ghouls lounging around them they would rather have these ghoulish creatures and Papa over the dozens of those residing in the Abbey. And that realization brought a smile to their face as they buckled down and turned to watch the movie; knowing that no matter what lay down the road - they had the new confidence to walk it because they did love themselves, accepted themselves for who they were, and they had a bunch of weirdos who accepted them as well wholeheartedly.

[stayinpadded247]

So my ex wife who knew of my love of diapers despised me for it, would call me names like faggot, loser, constantly put me down saying I’m not a man… anytime we got in a fight she’d threaten to tell everyone or post it online, show people pictures of me wearing them. Over the years she did just that, told my parents who already knew for years after catching me with them at home(whole other story with what my mom did🙄) but then she told her parents and a couple of my closest friends and some of hers.. never forgave her for it and we eventually split. I had one girlfriend afterwards I ended up telling every aspect of my kinks and she was more than supportive of them all, she tried them all and ended up loving diapers too! It was amazing! She even pushed me to do things I never would’ve done.. unfortunately that didn’t work out though😕.Fast forward 4 years I’ve now been with my current girlfriend for 2 and have hidden it from her for obvious reason we all know about.. well one day after an argument with the ex she decided to contact my girlfriend and let her know all about my fetish and love for diapers.. I lost it and was so mad she said she’ll tell her she was lying and made it up, that was about 6 months ago. My girlfriend only mentioned it that night and I denied it and quickly changed the subject and she hasn’t mentioned it since, until about 2 weeks ago it seems to come up more and more in conversations. She’ll throw little jabs about wearing diapers and why do I like it. Laughing not being mean at all, asking a few questions but I of course am always reluctant to answer or respond fearing how she’ll react, but at the same time now wanting to tell her or have her find out in hopes she’d accept it, but that’s usually not the case and I definitely don’t think she will(very vanilla) I don’t know what to do😭😭 don’t wanna ruin our relationship but now thoughts of her being ok with it flood my mind. I love wearing them 24/7 but I have to take them off when I’m around her obviously.. it would be great not to have to. It sucks to have to feel this way or hide it but that’s the way the world is unfortunately.. it doesn’t make me any less of a man or a bad person but it always feels like it does.. maybe it’s from all the verbal abuse and shit I dealt with in the past.. has anyone else had a similar experience or any suggestions on what to do?? Wanna share stories? Message me.. I need some real like minded people to chat with.

[molsno]

I posted 9,787 times in 2022

That's 1,338 more posts than 2021!

670 posts created (7%)

9,117 posts reblogged (93%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@mossheartlesbian

@rapturebones

@vivi266

@bloodbornekart

I tagged 4,900 of my posts in 2022

Only 50% of my posts had no tags

#game queuebe - 2,163 posts

#txt - 333 posts

#otherside picnic - 163 posts

#video - 149 posts

#lycoris recoil - 131 posts

#me - 124 posts

#pokemon - 105 posts

#shokei shoujo - 102 posts

#gender envy - 99 posts

#homestuck - 65 posts

Longest Tag: 139 characters

#society doesnt want to view me as a woman or even a man so asserting that i am a woman no matter what people think is very radical actually

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

I think one of the more painful aspects of transmisogyny is thinking about how much of it is perpetuated in children's media. finding out about some male character in a kids show that wears a dress and makeup for comedic effect will never stop hurting, because you just know all the little trans girls watching that will internalize the idea that anyone with broad shoulders and a deep voice who partakes in femininity deserves to be an object of ridicule. you know that because the same thing happened to you 20 years ago, and you still find yourself worried when you go out in public that someone will scream at you for being a man in a dress and a danger to children. and it just makes you wonder if anything will ever really change

1,466 notes - Posted October 2, 2022

#4

I think that the most annoying thing about the term "male socialization" being applied to transfems is that for most of us, we weren't actually socialized male. if any of us have "male traits", it's because we developed those as a survival mechanism.

I certainly would have liked to be a lot more feminine growing up, but when you're born with a penis, you're expected to be a perfect, shining beacon of masculinity every moment of your life. if you deviate from this standard by expressing any behaviors that are deemed even a little feminine, you will be severely punished. if you cross your legs with one knee over the other, or you sit down to pee, or you check your nails by straightening your fingers instead of curling them, or you watch disney channel at the age of 10, or you just simply exist, you're a pussy, you're a faggot. maybe your sister will mock you for being too girly, or maybe the guy at school who would one day become a cop threatens to rape you and settles for giving you a black eye instead.

like, are you surprised that some of us try to live up to masculinity in the years before coming out? it's either that, or continue facing an endless onslaught of transmisogyny until you can't take it anymore and either transition or kill yourself.

I wasn't socialized as male, I was socialized as a tranny. it's fucking insulting to have my "male upbringing" weaponized against me to dismiss my womanhood because I never had one. and guess what! the vast majority of the masculine behaviors I picked up as a survival mechanism evaporated almost immediately after I came out as trans and realized I no longer needed to make use of them for my own safety.

stop falling for the myth of male socialization.

1,526 notes - Posted November 24, 2022

#3

if I learn that a transfem person has a kink that I'm not into, even if I think it's gross or uncomfortable, I'm just gonna mind my own business and assume they only want to engage in that kink with fellow consenting adults. rip everyone else but I would simply not cast baseless sexual menace on a transfem

3,038 notes - Posted July 3, 2022

#2

What I believe is happening in the case of coming across a public expression of sexuality, or a trans woman in a dress, or someone wearing a BDSM collar, or a woman in a short skirt is that these things will strike some people as inherently "sexual" in ways that other things (such as topless men and wedding rings) do not. And things that strike us as "sexual" may evoke sexual stigma in our minds. And this experience of sexual stigma - which can act indirectly and from a distance, as we've all seen with fears of "contagiousness" - can make us feel as if we are being "nonconsensually" implicated in a "sexual" activity, even though no boundaries have actually been breached, and the supposed act may not even be sexual for the other party. Such overreaches are worrisome, not only because they further marginalize those who are already unfairly "marked by sex" in our culture, but also because they can dilute or weaken legitimate claims of nonconsent in cases where actual sexual violence has been perpetrated.

- Julia Serano, Sexed Up: How Society Sexualizes Us, and How We Can Fight Back

11,020 notes - Posted October 5, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

logging on to www.girldick.cum

12,143 notes - Posted September 14, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[musashi]

alcoholic dyke here and i think a lot of nuance has been lost in this conversation.

i've been here for all of it (i don't know if you have, OP, so forgive me if this sounds condescending at all) and i pretty much watched it happen and was annoyed and upset the whole time, 'cause you are fundamentally correct--being marginalized is a hell all its own, that is the root of why we have higher death and addiction and suicide and mental illness rates. i don't think anyone was ever insinuating otherwise, at least not anywhere i've seen it.

but from what i saw on this website & other online spaces vaguely adjacent, it went like this:

this post was made:

2. young queerfolk, alcoholics, disabled queers (with both physical & sensory sensitivities), and many other groups that fell in agreement with this for their own personal reasons added onto the sentiment. at the time (over a decade ago, give or take?) it was not the norm to have many other options besides 1. bar/nightclub or 2. GSA, if you were lucky enough to have one at your school/university.

3. of these groups that showed support for this sentiment were sex-repulsed asexual people who felt uncomfortable with the sexual nature & unspoken pressure to 'hook up' at gay bars & night clubs.

4. around 2014, exclusionists on this website decided that it was trendy to violently abuse asexuals & aromantics for clout. every single thing the aroace community did on tumblr was met with meangirl backlash at best and relentless vitriol at worst. this more or less destroyed the aroace community and it has still not recovered to this day.

5. one of the most potent forms of propaganda leveled at the ace community was malicious reframing of sex-repulsion as a concept. the sex-repulsed ace is, obviously, just minding their own business and living their truth--but exclusionists intentionally framed them as virulent, homophobic prudes who went around telling the ~real~ queers where they were and were not allowed to have their Gross Faggot Sex, etc etc.

6. one of the most effective ways they propagandized this was by out-of-context circulation of posts like the one i posted above.

(and, occasionally, actual psy-ops where users would pretend to be asexuals and intentionally post cringey, anti-sex, anti-kink, homophobic nonsense and of course the 'no internet skepticism skills' website believed it)

7. posts like this stopped being read in good faith. seeing a post like the above, tumblr users before the ace discourse instilled brainrot in half this website would see it and think "yeah! it would be awesome if we had more options." after the ace discourse, the reaction a lot of those same people would have would be more like "i cannot believe the cringey aces on this website are still acting like gay bars and night clubs are depraved sex dens full of rambunctious horny dykes. they don't even know how homophobic they are."

8. miraculously, eventually, the ace discourse freaks all either 1. moved onto bi/pan lesbians (and so far are doing a pretty shit job) or 2. were run off the site/out of communities because people unpacked shit and realized they were on the wrong side of things.

9. arguments in defense of the original point came back out of the woodwork. "now that the ace discourse has died down, can we please fucking get back to rallying for more queer spaces other than bars and clubs? the autistics, the mobility aid users, the children and teenagers, the sex-repulsed asexuals, and the alcoholics deserve options for community too."

10. presumably, these posts are circulating now, because they make good points.

i don't think any queer alcoholic is going to genuinely say that gay bars are the reason we have a higher alcoholism rate. we have that because society wants us dead and you have to find a way to survive knowing that. but 1. the alcohol companies know that and intentionally prey on us, see them setting up their rainbow floats at pride every year and 2. the lack of sober queer spaces makes it hard, often nigh impossible to stay clean and sober. it's hard enough to stay clean and sober as a cishet, alcoholics bleed friends like fucking crazy when we make the choice to stay sober or even just cut back. 12 step programs are largely bunk, but repeated studies have shown that the reason they work on accident is because they are a social space where addicts can find community without the pressure to use.

so if cishets struggle that hard, we struggle much harder. and, yes, the lack of sober queer spaces is a huge part of that. back in 2014, we addicts on tumblr were largely laughed out of every room we entered, every point of discourse we tried to spur on. i got a multitude of pretty violent threats on here back then for talking openly about intoxication culture and how addiction was a disability. and that was before the ace discourse ramped up.

so i think probably what's happening is queer addicts are finally feeling emboldened again to discuss this and perhaps some nuance is being lost in the many, MANY layers of telephone over the years. perhaps some of them are remembering the shitty discourse and how they were swept under the rug and persecuted as homophobes/apologists because they, for their own reasons, dared to share similar opinions with asexuals in 2014.

no, going to a gay bar doesn't turn queers into alkies, but it sure as shit is a lot easier to not die of alcohol poisoning at age 27 when you have the choice to walk into a social club or a cafe instead of a bar.

alcoholism is a problem in the lgbt community yes but there's something weird and mentally disconnecting about trying to say that's because there's too many gay nightclubs or whatever instead of the reality that being lgbt is just genuinely oppressive and will push people to maladaptive coping mechanisms. like did we forget that people become alcoholics for a multitude of more reasons than because they went to a club once

[bellwitchfaggot]

Trying 2 determine what all abt my life currently I feel comfortable actually talking about on tumblr these days n the answer is like. Well I think of updates 2 post n then I'm like well I thought that already, articulated the thought to the self no need 2 post now n I might regret it later. And now no one online knows anything about me maybe. I'm tipsy for what is not the first time in a while but I drink socially standardly these days n due to social burnout + did I do not rly cognisize those moments while alone. So I'm tipsy while mostly alone for the first time in a while specifically and I try to refrain from posting personal shit moreso when I'm not sober. A problem I realize here recent I have been having w posting to socials as in the past like year and a half or so I've re unmasked my eidetic flashbacks again is that I seem to have a booming social life and I script future tumblr posts while hanging out w ppl and now that I know that at all times it's like. Oh I already said all this shit just in conversation w a group of ppl like a month ago so its cringe genuinely to post it online now. Tumblr is for faggots w no friends once more, a demographic of which I am not in

[brianbrianbrain]

ID. Screenshot of text from original post by @dober butts: My rule is and remains "I don't care what you call yourself because your actions and who you are as a person is more valuable to me." End ID.

ID. Screenshot of text from same post: and "as long as everyone in the situation is an adult and is giving enthusiastic consent I genuinely do not give a fuck what you do." End ID.

ID. Screenshot of text from same post: and "words are stupid and people are complicated so it doesn't matter if The Words Are Wrong as long as it makes you happy." End ID.

ID. Screenshot of reblog by @femmes sias 2 from sex is disgusting on Jan 23, 2024: original post by @acrylic fem on Aug 25, 2018: intersectional feminism is and was created by/for black women not men in dresses pass it on

#the misuse of the concept of intersectionality is driving me nuts #feminism #misogynoir. End ID.

ID. Screenshot of Tumblr thread:

Quote: be prohibitive given enough time. By three months on testosterone, clients were beginning to suggest I was a trans woman who'd had a genital surgery, and were much more violent with me. This kind of violence rooted in transmisogyny won't be everyone's experience, but it happens. End quote.

Also, for those interested, check out Jack Parker's Transmasculine Guide to Sex Work (hyperlink).

Reblog by @canadian wheat pirates on Jan 25, 2023: Trans men in Aotearoa New Zealand have sex work rates of up to 7%, with the most common types of work being: sex work advertised online, indoor sex work without a manager, and informal sex work through word of mouth. We have full descriminalisation so these statistics are likely to be different to countries where sex work is criminalised.

(Source (hyperlink): these stats are the same for tarns men as for trans people of other gender, the report writers would have noted a significant different if there was one).

Reblog by @femmes sias 2 6h ago: interesting how transwomen don't hide they are trans in prostitution but transmen do. interesting how most people in prostitution are either female, pretending to be female or gay men.

#this is an informative and important post but something makes me feel like y'all are pro sex work nonetheless #even though marginalised people like transmen are being systematically exploited by misogynists... well #anti prostitution. End ID.

ID. Screenshot of Tumblr post by @femmes sias 2 8h ago: bio saying he/him faggot with a blog full of yaoi and fandom shit like shipping heterosexual characters from superwholuck or that pirate show

bio saying she/her lesbian with a blog full of hentai and anime girls in sexual memes or big tiddy furry fetish art

Attached is an image of the white dog i know what you are meme with second line of text: not in all caps.

#shit talking #this meme will come in handy at some point i just know it. End ID.

ID. Tumblr reblog by @femmes sias 2 from @le zombie (but the o is a 0) on Oct 15, 2023:

Tumblr post from @guava mandering on Oct 15, 2023: now that I'm older now i get really annoyed inside when ever feminism described/mistaken as egalitarianism. no mf this shit is not for everybody. this ain't an after school arts n crafts club. we're tlaking about a political movement made for the sole purpose of female liberation!!!!

#feminism #same. End ID.

this was the first thing on my dash today. can't say i enjoy seeing a terf but i can say that i always enjoy seeing terfs get dunked and blocked (which i will do when i have the braincells to process this thread past the first post without screaming. but also the optimal situation is that people are simply. not terfs.).

was doing the ID today (2/24) and I'm so glad that fuck used purple text, because that meant I could read the screenshots and not have to see their response because of the way I was angling my screen. hooray! today is not a day to even think about that shit. (i still had to read their shit for the other posts.)

"Well are you a [controversial identity] supporter???"

My friend I do not know what to tell you here. My rule is and remains "I don't care what you call yourself because your actions and who you are as a person is more valuable to me" and "as long as everyone in the situation is an adult and is giving enthusiastic consent I genuinely do not give a fuck what you do" and "words are stupid and people are complicated so it doesn't matter if The Words Are Wrong as long as it makes you happy"

I'm a longer tables not higher walls kind of guy. Have a seat. Break bread with me. Tell me a story over dinner. I think that'll be better for the both of us.

[aurorawest]

⭐️ ooooh! can you please give a "director's commentary" on chapter 2 from "Foundations" where Loki and Thor are in a pub and get confronted by these two awful guys??

Yeah! Gosh it feels like a long time ago that I wrote Foundations!

Some general commentary about this fic - one of my struggles with writing Loki was how to get into his head and make sense of the fact that in Thor 1, we have that deleted scene where he tells Thor that he loves him, and to never doubt it. Obviously that scene was cut, but Loki’s entire arc really does bear out that he loves Thor, so I really needed to find a way to reconcile, “Never doubt that I love you,” with Loki’s douchebaggery in Thor 1. So that really was the impetus for this fic - what are some things that have happened between them that could lead to Loki’s love for Thor never wavering, but would also convince him that keeping Thor from the throne was a good thing, so good that he should resort to fairly extreme measures to achieve it? I wrote this fic a bit out of order—chapter 3 came first, then 1, 2, and I wrote 4 and 5 more or less simultaneously.

The men watching him didn’t seem like a concern anymore, either. They were the princes of Asgard. Who would dare attack them?

“Drinking by yourselves, princelings?” a voice said from above them suddenly.

So in chapter 2, I wanted to show Thor’s hot-headedness, and I wanted it to involve Loki, because I wanted to show a conflict between Loki loving Thor for looking out for him...but also hating Thor for looking out for him.

Spoken too soon. Loki’s head snapped around much faster than Thor’s did. It was the two men who had been watching him. Surprise.

With a smile that he hoped was charming, rather than sloppy, Loki said, “Well, I wouldn’t say we’re alone.” Wait, was that supposed to be clever? The drink was getting to him. The drink had gotten to him.

Thor scooted his chair over and slung an arm around Loki’s shoulders. “Only because we haven’t found company yet!” he thundered. Loki tried to slither out from under his arm but Thor’s fingers clamped around his shoulder, so he resigned himself to his brother’s drunken clutches. “Join us, friends. And well met on this beautiful evening!”

I tried to mimic the dialogue patterns of Thor 1 and TDW for this fic much more than I typically do. Since most of my fic takes place post-Ragnarok, and I really love the tone of Ragnarok, I draw a lot of my style and tone from that. But I wanted to give this fic a feeling of being set in the past, long before Loki and Thor encounter 21st century humans.

[...] The men looked at each other and Loki felt another twist of uneasiness. One of them, his hair a fiery ginger that Loki couldn’t help letting his eyes linger on, 

This is a very subtle (like so subtle that I’m sure literally everyone missed it) reference to Theo Bell in the novel Loki: Where Mischief Lies, who’s a redhead. I have a head canon that Loki has a thing for redheads.

elbowed the other, who was brawnier and uglier, with a nose that looked like it had been flattened by someone else’s fists on more than one occasion.

Could I have just said his nose had been broken? Probably. I still kind of like the way I worded this.

“Perhaps if it was just you here, Your Highness,” the uglier one said. Loki stiffened, but Thor didn’t react. Either he didn’t get it or didn’t care. But Loki wasn’t so far gone in drink that he didn’t understand, nor did he miss the way the redhead’s eyes narrowed at him. It sparked a flash of irritation in him—he was the prince, they had no right to look at him that way. But he looked down at the table, a habit honed in court, where it was easier to bow his head and dig his nails into his palms rather than argue with Father.

Loki digging his nails into his palms hard enough to draw blood has become one of his tics, the more I’ve written of him. This...may have been the first time I referenced it?

With a chuckle, Thor said, “It is just us here.”

The man laughed too. It was much less nice than Thor’s dumb, likable laugh. “Aye, Prince. You and your greasy brother.”

Head canon: Loki’s hair looks greasy because he hates its natural curl and he dumps product on it. He would rather it looked bad in any other way than be curly.

The smile fell off Thor’s face and he removed his arm from Loki’s shoulders. “What?” he said, suddenly sounding far less drunk.

“It’s not the grease we mind,” the redhead piped up.

Loki raised his head, sensing danger. It was best not to be looking at your lap when you knew it was coming. His daggers were a comforting weight on his forearms, but Thor hadn’t brought a weapon tonight. Why would he? Loki went out into the city by himself all the time, and he never had any trouble. And if one of them was going to have trouble, it would certainly be Loki—less trusted, less loved. Too pale, too quiet. Unnatural.

Loki is definitely an unreliable narrator here. He sees hatred and distrust everywhere he looks. There’s obviously an element of truth to that (as we’re about to see), but on the other hand, he’s been drinking at this pub for ages with no trouble. He knows the bartender. Loki’s mind really prioritizes negative experiences (I guess most people do but Loki, anxiety and depression ridden Loki, really does).

“No, not at all,” the man said. “Who hasn’t skipped a bath now and then? No, the thing is, we don’t drink with faggots.”

I remember after I posted this fic, I went back a few days later and added the tag ‘period typical homophobia’ because of this line.

The room didn’t actually fall silent, but it might as well have. There was a loud ringing, and it took Loki a second to realize it was in his own ears. His chest felt like something heavy, like the hammer Mjølnir that was kept in the weapons vault, was compressing it to nothing, and he was fairly sure that his heart had stopped beating.

Thor hasn’t been given Mjolnir yet.

The man’s grin was practically ghoulish. “Probably thinks no one sees him going into that whorehouse, the one where they keep the lads—”

I purposefully left it vague whether this is true. But since this is the director’s commentary, I can tell you - it’s true! Loki does frequent a brothel with male employees. He actually has sort of a long term relationship with one. The guy is in love with Loki. Loki is...not. There comes a point where the guy confesses his feelings to Loki. Loki never comes back after that. Later, on The Statesman after Ragnarok, Loki finds out the guy was killed in Hela’s purge. He feels pretty awful.

The scrape of Thor’s chair on the wood floor was deafening. [...] “That,” he said in a dangerous voice, “was not a very nice thing to say.”

Kind of an understatement, Thor.

The redhead took a step back. The ugly one, who’d just aired Loki’s—dirty laundry? Skeletons?—didn’t. He was mixing metaphors. This was something he’d preferred to think of as simply a thing that he just didn’t talk about, but now that it had been announced to a roomful of people, it seemed like something he should have been much more ashamed of. Surely people didn’t stare like that otherwise.

Loki is...not exactly uncomfortable with the fact that he’s attracted to men. He knows, or thinks, that it’s outside the norm, but he doesn’t think that he’s doing something wrong. I have a reference in some fic...somewhere...I can’t remember which one, about how Asgardians live such a long time that most of them will try having sex with someone of the same-sex, even if they don’t really think they’re attracted to people of the same sex. It might be in one of my fics for the Loki Rarepair Bang? Anyway, later, Loki will come to understand that. At this point, he’s still kind of like...I don’t know anyone else who likes this. I was really trying to walk a line between him being ashamed and him knowing, deep down, there was nothing wrong with him.

Then again, they may have been staring because of the look on Thor’s face. “Apologize to my brother,” Thor said.

The man looked at Loki and grinned. Loki folded his wrists inwards and fingered the hilts of his daggers, but he said in a low tone, “Thor, it’s fine.”

[...] “Best listen to your brother,” the man said with a leer. “Or maybe I should say ‘sister.’”

Personally, Loki didn’t find this insulting, 

Probably because it’s a terrible insult.

but Thor clearly did. 

Loki isn’t entirely comfortable with this fact. Thor sends mixed signals. He doesn’t have a problem with anything about Loki, and yet, he still gets mad about an insult like this. Obviously, it’s meant as an insult, which is why Thor gets angry - it’s not the content so much as the fact that these assholes are attacking Loki.

[...] Loki knew that a normal Asgardian should be offended by all of this. The disrespect, if not the accusation itself. [...]

But all Loki could see were repercussions spidering out from this moment, repercussions from getting angry, from standing up for himself, for fighting back. An Asgardian was supposed to fight back. But Loki knew that he couldn’t win either way. If he fought back, his father would say he should have calmed the situation. If he didn’t, everyone would think he was weak. And in any case, the fact that there’d been a confrontation in the first place would be blamed on him.

At the heart of a lot of Loki’s issues is this idea that he can’t do anything right. He knows what he would naturally do, but knows it’s not acceptable. He knows what he “should” do, but he also doesn’t think that’s acceptable. He feels caught in this impossible place where it’s literally impossible to win the approval of his father...which is the one thing he wants.

[...] In a blur, Thor’s fist swung out, connecting with the man’s face with a wet crack of bone and cartilage. The man dropped like a stone, but when he hit the ground he tried to roll away. His red-headed friend stepped forward, bringing a fist up.

I remember really, really not wanting to write a fight scene here, haha.

In a second, Loki was on his feet, holding out a hand that was suddenly grasping a dagger. The redhead jolted to a stop as Loki extended it so the point rested inches from the tip of the other man’s nose. With an icy smile, Loki said, “I wouldn’t.”

I very much love writing Loki wielding his knives.

The redhead’s face twisted in a snarl, but he lowered his hands to his sides. There was that taken care of, at least.

Thor kicked the other man out from the table he was trying to crawl underneath, grabbing him by one of the pauldrons on his shoulders and hauling him to his feet. The man took a wild swing at Thor and missed. In return, Thor head-butted him, smashing his already ruined nose to an unrecognizable, bloody pulp. Then he slammed the man down on the table, one hand around his neck. The tabletop splintered and bowed with the force of the blow. Their ales splattered everywhere.

“Thor,” Loki said warningly. “That’s enough. He’s an idiot—let him go.” But Thor was too far gone. The rage of battle, he liked to call it. Loki preferred to think of it as dumb, animal bloodlust. The man’s face was turning red while he wheezed, and his attempts to hit Thor were growing weaker.

“Thor.” Loki took a chance, lowered his dagger, and stepped forward. He wrapped a hand around his brother’s shoulder and pulled him back, though of course his strength was no match for Thor’s. If Thor wanted to kill this man, he could, and Loki would be powerless to stop him with mere strength. Sorcery, yes. But that was what had gotten them into this in the first place. And besides, Loki didn’t think Thor would thank him for magicking him. “Stop. It’s not worth it.” Thor bared his teeth and squeezed his fist tighter around the man’s neck. The man’s eyes popped and his wheezing became a thin whistle, then the absence of anything in his gaping mouth as Thor cut off his air supply.

For a moment, Loki studied the man. He’d thought—he’d assumed—that he would feel a bolt of horror, of a desperate need to stop this so a life could be spared. But as he looked down and searched for that feeling, he just found a cold emptiness. What did he care if this man died?

I believe that Loki is a deeply sensitive person, who cares and loves with absolute abandon...if you make it to the very inner reaches of his heart. Otherwise, he probably doesn’t give a shit about you. I want to show that here, that Loki has this very cold-blooded side. It’s not that he likes killing people or inflicting pain, but it doesn’t bother him.

What he cared about was not causing more trouble than had already been caused. About making sure Thor didn’t do something rash and stupid. And about not getting the blame himself for something that he hadn’t started, because for his whole life, people had been ready to believe the worst of him.

Here’s some set-up for Loki’s eventual scheme to prevent Thor from taking the throne. Loki knows Thor acts without thinking. Here, he wants to stop it. Later, he’ll use it against Thor. Here, Loki is very much fighting against people’s perception of him. He wants to be loved. This flips for him later, where he embraces what (he thinks) people think of him and really tries to become the villain. It’s not a natural fit on him.

“Brother, please,” Loki hissed. “Stop. Think.”

This is an intentional echo of Loki’s dialogue to Thor on Jotunheim in Thor 1.

And why should this work now, when it rarely did? But Loki felt the tenseness go out of Thor’s shoulder, and after a second, he released his hold on the man, pushing him away. The force of the push slid the man across the table and headfirst onto the floor, but he was moaning, so clearly he wasn’t dead.

For the first time, Loki glanced around the alehouse. If there hadn’t been silence before, there certainly was now. Everyone in the place was staring, and not in a friendly way. The look in Birger’s eyes was unmistakable. 

I used the name Birger for the bartender because I figured I wouldn’t want to use it for a more important character.

[...] He [...] smiled as though nothing was wrong, met Thor’s eyes, and walked to the door. Spine straight, shoulders back, the half-smile on his face that he wore when he didn’t want anyone to know how much he was breaking inside.

Loki is a practiced actor. There’s far more going on inside his head than he’ll ever let on.

He didn’t even know why this, of all things, should crack one more piece of him. Certainly, it wasn’t the idea of gossip about him. There was already gossip about the fact that he liked men as well as women. Mother already knew, anyway. She’d sat him down one day, several months after she’d noticed his eyes following not just some of the attractive serving girls, but also boys, and had the excruciatingly awful Talk with him that he was sure Thor had gotten from their father, not from her. “You know to take precautions to prevent disease, not just pregnancy?” she’d asked, and he’d managed to stammer, his face bright red and burning, “Yes, Mother, of course.” Honestly he hadn’t thought much about it, but the only thing that could have made that moment worse was admitting ignorance.

“Will you be my fester-man?” has Loki remembering talking about his attraction to men with Odin, and how absolutely mortifying it was. Odin’s side of this talk is telling Loki that whoever he wants to sleep with is fine, but he needs to marry a woman and produce an heir.

But Thor was here to witness this, and maybe that was what made it seem so awful. Thor, who meant the world to him, but whom he worried saw him as lesser. Lesser than his friends, the Warriors Three and the Lady Sif, lesser than every other Asgardian. Lesser than Thor himself. Why wouldn’t he see Loki as lesser, when Thor was going to be king? When despite this display tonight, he’d receive no more punishment than a stern talking-to from Father?

Loki had kept his cool, Loki had defused the situation—they were walking away from this with everyone alive because of him. And yet he was the one who everyone would see as the one who hadn’t done things quite right, while Thor, who’d nearly killed a man out of anger, would have his actions waved away. Loki’s circumspection was a flaw, while Thor’s hot-headedness was a virtue. Loki would never hold the throne because he wasn’t Asgardian enough, and Thor was too Asgardian for his own good.

Really the core of this section and Loki’s bitterness—Loki can do nothing right, and Thor can do no wrong. Loki sees his outsider status as both a flaw, but also as an advantage. He does feel he did the right thing in this situation, but he knows no one else will feel that way. Thor’s reaction was maybe not good, but it’s what everyone would expect.

It wasn’t that Loki didn’t appreciate that his brother had almost killed a man to protect him. It was just, he didn’t need to be protected, and he could see the outcome of this writ large as though it was scrawled across the front of the palace. It made him want to scream. It made him hate Thor with such a scalding fierceness that it scared him. He couldn’t hate Thor. But nothing was fair, and Thor never did anything about it.

He hates Thor. He loves Thor. One thing this fic really taught me about Loki was how he lives with cognitive dissonance every moment of every day. He holds these massive contradictory feelings inside him and they just sit next to each other, totally irreconcilable. 

The two of them walked the dark streets of Asgard in silence, Thor’s heavy breathing quieting the farther they got from the alehouse. [...] “I suppose you want to know if what they said is true,” he said, staring straight ahead into the dark. His eyes found the palace, shining golden in the distance.

Thor made a noise. In his periphery, Loki saw his brother look towards him. “I know it’s true,” Thor said. “I mean, maybe not the part about the…um, establishment, but you liking men, I already knew that.”

Swallowing, Loki said, “And?”

“And what?”

Loki stopped walking and it took Thor a couple steps to realize it. As Thor turned back to him, Loki asked, “And… [...] Do you care?”

[...] “Why would I care?” Thor asked. And then, “Did you think I would care?”

“I…” Loki hugged his arms over his chest until he realized it looked childish, like he had something to hide, something to be ashamed of. Dropping his arms to his side, he said, “They cared in there.”

Thor snorted and shook his head. “They were fools. I’ve never known you to put any stock in the opinions of fools, brother.”

“So you don’t,” Loki pressed. It seemed of the utmost importance that Thor actually say these words. Loki needed him to prove it, not with his fists, but on Loki’s territory, by saying it. Out loud. Unequivocally. Plainly.

Loki needs to be told things verbally. He needs people to tell him, straight up, ‘I love you.’ ‘You’re worthy.’ Etc. Which I think is why Odin’s ‘No, Loki,’ is so devastating to Loki. Loki places so much important on words and doesn’t really look at people’s actions (Thor, incidentally, is the opposite).

Shaking his head, still looking befuddled, Thor said, “No. There’s nothing to care about.” Then he paused and took a step closer. Reaching out to put a hand to the back of Loki’s neck, he said, “Loki. Even if there was, you’re my brother. And I still wouldn’t care.”

I remember really wanting to get this right. I think when I first wrote this line, I had Thor say, “You’re my brother; of course I don’t care.” But I wanted Thor to just...not care. It doesn’t really have anything to do with Loki, Thor just isn’t a bigot. But I also wanted the sense of like, even if he did care, the fact that it’s Loki would make him rethink this.

Loki wanted to hug him. But that vein of resentment was still there and it stopped him. Instead, he swallowed hard and just stood there for a moment, Thor’s hand cupping the back of his head while he felt something inside him splintering.

And for the first time, he identified it. It was the feeling of his jealousy and love butting up against each other, two immovable forces that wouldn’t yield to the other. With a flash of insight that felt more like seeing into the future, like a faint hint of his mother’s witchcraft (none of which had been passed down to him), he realized this battle was going to shape his life.

He’s right.

And right then, he wasn’t sure love would win.

Nooooo Loki, it will!

“Loki?” Thor said, sounding unsure.

He forced himself to smile, and as he met Thor’s eyes, the resentment receded. Reaching up, he wrapped a hand around Thor’s forearm and said, “Thank you.” There was more to say, but it was beyond him. It was too much.

“Nothing to thank me for,” Thor said, sounding relieved. Then, he ruffled Loki’s hair, which he knew Loki hated. But this old, familiar argument was safe, and they retreated to it as they continued their walk back to the palace. Loki smoothed his hair down and wished he could do the same with the cracks in his life. Something felt changed, and it was frightening, and he felt in his bones that there was no going back to safety, no matter how much he might try.

Safety is an incredibly important feeling to Loki. I return again and again to it in my fics. There are certain people that make him feel safe, and these are the people he loves above all others. You can count them on one hand: Thor. Frigga. Stephen Strange. There’s an element of physical safety to this, but mostly it’s emotional safety. There are people who will let him be who he is, and he’ll do anything for them because of it.

Thank you so much for asking!! It was really fun to return to this fic.

Fanfic Writers: Director’s Cut

[midnightphoenixdream]

Just Like You

Hey everyone! fallenangelofhades/midnightphoenix dream here! So my original blog got terminated for whatever reason. I’m reposting all my prompts I had received from my fluff prompt post. I believe this one was from an anonymous user. 

Summary: Prompt fic. Aizawa and All might in high school, and Aizawa is getting teased for being gay, Toshinori tries to cheer him up with cuddles Author's Note: Another prompt fill from tumblr! Alright so the title of this fic is the song title Just Like You by Louis Tomlinson. Louis is literally my favorite singer ever and I've been watching him since his X Factor days with One Direction. I tend to use his song titles in a lot of what I write. This song just seemed fitting for this scenario. Warnings: Bullying, Homophobic slurs, talks of suicide but not by Shouta, language, a pissed off Toshinori, Enji is suddenly... niceish?

Faggot. Queer. Homo. You're disgusting. You deserve to die. Just do everyone a favor and kill yourself. Every single word constantly rang through Shouta's head as he walked the halls of U.A. Recently, he had accidentally came out to his class when they were talking about one of the pro heroes who had recently come out. It had slipped out before he could even catch himself. Ever since then, it seemed like the entire school knew of his sexuality. Now every step he took was followed closely behind by verbal abuse of so called heroes to be. Even members of other classes had gotten involved. Support, General, Business. Apparently it didn't matter. He was only in his first year. He had three more years of this torment. He was still the same Shouta that they knew before he had came out but now it was a complete one eighty. He had been isolated. He was already close to being an outcast for his quirk but now he was an outcast. Only five people remained by his side. His fellow classmates and friends, Oboro Shirakumo and Hizashi Yamada and his friend from Class 2-B, Nemuri Kayama. Lastly, his own boyfriend Toshinori Yagi from Class 3-A. The only people who knew of his relationship with Toshinori were his friends. Toshinori wasn't technically out of the closest but he didn't really care. Toshinori didn't care about who he was in a relationship with as long as if he loved them. Toshinori was the sun of Shouta's life. His smile couldn't lighten up a room. His laugh was contageous to those around him. Some day, Toshinori was going to be the Number One hero. Shouta knew it in his gut. Shouta just hoped that he would still be by Toshinori's side by then. He hasn't exactly told Toshinori about him being a target of the constant teasing and bullying. Hizashi and Oboro did their best within Class 1-A to keep them down at bay but some of them still managed to sneak by. Nemuri had been trying everything to keep Class 2-B off of his back but it also failed ninety percent of the time. Thank god, it was lunch time. No one ever messed with him during lunch because Toshinori sat with them along with Enji Todoroki. Cause for some god forsaken their rivalry in class came out in lunch too. Oddly enough, Enji knew of Shouta's sexuality but didn't say anything. All the Hellflame user said was who cares. His reaction had shocked him the most. Enji Todoroki should have been at the head of the teasing but instead he just sat with them and glared at others who even sent a wrong look in Shouta's direction. It was strangely comforting. Enji happened to be very intimating. He was broader than Toshinori is but Toshinori had height on him. Shouta should of known his luck was running out. Toshinori, Hizashi, and Oboro were deep in conversation about god knows what three sunshine people talk about. Enji occassionally threw in a comment while Nemuri ate in silence while scrolling through social media. Shouta held his book in front of his tray as he also ate in silence. A noise escaped him as his book was ripped from his hands. He turned to look at the culprit but a gasp left him as he felt a liquid cover splash over his head and down his body. He quickly identified it as soda from the stickiness it left behind. The other occupants of the table jumped up from their spots but froze as the boy from Class 3-B, Hiroto Terasaka, leaned down until he was eye level with Shouta. "Fags don't belong in hero society. They would never accept you. Why don't you drop out and go sell yourself on the corner like the whore you are." One the boy stopped talking, he turned his tray upside down and onto Shouta's head. Shouta held out his hands in front of him as he looked down at his lap in shock. Tears prickled his eyes as the older boy's words tore through him. The lunch room broke out into laughter as the teen chackled at his work. A loud crash caused Shouta to look back up. Toshinori now stood in front of him and the now empty tray that belonged to Terasaka was in the floor. Shouta couldn't see the blonde's face but just by Toshinori's body language he could tell the elder was livid. The laughter in the cafeteria fell to a dead silence. Shock and disbelief came to the faces of the other students as they looked at Toshinori and Terasaka. Terasaka sank underneath the piercing gaze from the blonde. "What the fuck did you just say?" Toshinori growled. Tersaka smirked. "I told the stupid little fag to go to the job that would fit him best, of course. He is a little slut after all." The teen said. Shouta watched in awe as Toshinori grabbed the other third year by the front of his uniform and jerked him forward. "You disgust me. You're supposed to be becoming a hero and you are tearing him down. For what? Being gay?" Every word was laced in venom as Toshinori spoke. Tersaka physically shook in Toshinori's hold as he tried to wiggle away from Toshinori's grip. "He's a little faggot. He doesn't deserve to be a hero." Toshinori chuckled and released Tersaka. The other teen falling to his bottom on the floor and his eyes locked onto Toshinori. Shouta held his breath as Toshinori gazed over his shoulder to the Erasure quirk user. "Shouta, how long as this been going on. By the look on your face. This isn't the first time." Shouta swallowed the lump in his throat. The normally soft blue eyes were now cold as ice. A frown covering his face that normally held the smile that would make Shouta's heart skip a beat. "Since Frostbite came out. My classmates were arguing over a gay man being a hero and I accidentally came out too." Shouta whispered, his voice shaking. The anger on Toshinori's face only grew deeper. "That was two months ago, Shouta. Who has been doing this to you?" Toshinori's voice was deep, almost coming out as a growl. Shouta shook his head. At this point, he didn't even know who it was. There was at least three people from each class. "It's almost every class in each year, Yagi-senpai." Hizashi said, the Voice user knowing that Shouta wasn't going to talk. "We've managed to keep our class off for the most part, but they still find a way." Oboro added, his voice laced in regret. Toshinori looked away from Shouta, his glare settling on the other occupants of the room. "You should be ashamed of yourselves." Toshinori stated, his voice raising as he looked out at the other students. "You are making fun of, teasing, bullying, assaulting a fifteen year old because he just so happens to like the same sex?!" Toshinori scoffed. "Within this school is over a hundred students that hope to be heroes one day. From what I just got told, even the hero course is involved in this villainous act." The blonde shook his head, climbing up onto the table that he had been formerly sitting at. "You want to be heroes?! How can you even call yourself a hero in training if you are acting like a villain?" Shouta looked out at the other students, watching the remorse and guilt cover most of their faces. He looked up at his boyfriend and whispered, "Toshi, please. Just leave it alone." The blonde looked down on him. "Absolutely not." He said, looking back out to the others. "Shouta Aizawa will be a hero and he will do it whether you like it or not. He was born to be a hero. I watch him work his ass off every single day after school. He has so much heart in him that he didn't even tell me about this." A smile came to the blonde's face, his gaze softening. "If you want to tease someone for being gay, well you better start coming after me too." Murmurs filled the cafeteria as Toshinori spoke. "I've been dating Shouta Aizawa for six months now. I met him before he started at U.A. and from the moment I saw him... I knew he is the person I'm going to be spending the rest of my life with. So if you want to act like a villain, do it to me. I will have absolutely no problem putting you in your place." Shouta's eyes widened as he watched Enji completely stand up, climbing up onto the table next to Toshinori. "I'm not gay but Yagi's right. This isn't right. Aizawa did absolutely nothing to any of you. As far as I'm concerned, you are nothing but villains. I want to be a hero, and Shouta is Yagi's boyfriend. I will protect him the same way I strive to beat Yagi for the Number One spot." Enji stated, his voice booming through the room. Hizashi, Oboro, and Nemuri all stood up and taking a spot in front of the two third years. "You'll have to go through us too. I'm not going to play nice anymore." Oboro hissed. "Be a villain. You won't last long here." Nemuri said, her normal sweet voice coming out harsh. Hizashi added, "I can't believe this is what U.A. has come too." Toshinori looked to the others with a smile. "You see, we belong to U.A. High, a pretigous school for heroics. If you want to be a hero, stop acting like someone who is different from you is beneath you. That's not who a hero is. At this moment, I'm disgusted that I even know some of you people." Toshinori said, hopping down from the table and standing in front of Shouta. "C'mon, let's go get you cleaned up." The blonde muttered, holding out his hand. Shouta smiled softly as he reached out and placed his hand in Toshinori's. He allowed the blonde to guide him out of the cafeteria and to the men's locker rooms. Neither of them said a word as Toshinori helped Shouta get out of his soaked uniform. The blonde hummed softly as he turned on one of the showers and scrubbed the food and soda out of the ebony locks. Toshinori didn't care as the water splashed onto his uniform as he continued to rub soothing circles into Shouta's scalp. "Why didn't you tell me, Shouta?" Toshinori questioned softly. Shouta shrugged with a sniffle. "I guess I was scared too. I don't know why. I thought I could handle it. I never meant for you to come out when you didn't want too." Shouta whispered, his voice shaking. Toshinori sighed, placing his thumb underneath Shouta's chin and forcing him to look up at him. "Shou, I don't care if anyone knows I'm gay. I'm still the same person I was before. If they want to treat me different than that's on them. I would shout it to the world that I'm stupidly in love with you." Toshinori said, using his other thumb to wipe off a stray tear that found it's way down Shouta's cheek. "I can't yell like Yamada-kun can but I would do it any day. You mean the world to me." Shouta gave a watery smile and leaned forward, placing his head against Toshinori's shoulder. "Thank you." Toshinori smiled, reaching over and shutting off the tap before pulling away from Shouta to hand him a gym uniform. "Now, put that normal scowl on your face and let's get back out there." Shouta nodded with a new found confidence. "Okay." x School was out for the day and Shouta laid in his bed with Toshinori next to him. The older teen held Shouta close to him, drawing random shapes into his back as Shouta cuddled closer. The ebony haired teen felt tears come to his eyes as the words from the bullies came back to his mind. Would it change now that the number one student in U.A. came out as gay. The same student that everyone was rooting for to be the Number One Hero. Toshinori just pulled him closer. "Don't let them get to you, Shou. They are nothing compared to you." The blonde muttered, placing a soft kiss into Shouta's hair. Shouta sighed. "It still hurts." Toshinori rubbed his hands over Shouta's back. "I know, Shou. For now, let's just lay here and forget the world. Even for a moment." Shouta smiled as he cuddled further into Toshinori. He craned his neck so he could see Toshinori's face. "I love you, Toshi." "I love you too, Shouta." Toshinori smiled, leaning forward and kissing Shouta deeply. The warmth of Toshinori's body against his, the feel of his arms wrapped around him, maybe just being held. It made him feel better, knowing that he had Toshinori by his side. Just Toshinori's smile told him that everything was going to be okay.

[queenofbraves]

"Do you experience suicidal ideation?" Daily, I am constantly thinking about how much easier it would be to just die. I cried about it a few minutes before making this post. This also happens for one reason or another almost every day.

"Do you want to kill yourself?" No, there are a lot of people who care about me, to various degrees, and for various reasons. I do not want any of them to go through anything like that (again for some of them)

"Do you think it is worthwhile to be in a union?" Yes, unionizing and presenting your demands collectively is the only way to leverage power in a meaningful way against capitalists who would otherwise pay you almost nothing with no benefits.

"Do you enjoy being in a union?" No, I fucking hate almost everyone I've met during this. ALL of them, UNIVERSALLY, are extremely homophobic. There are exactly 2 people I've met and worked with I haven't heard call someone a faggot because they hate them. 2 more of the dudes I would otherwise regard as alright occasionally use it as their last resort for things they absolutely hate more than any other. This is without even touching upon the absolutely insane nationalism, and the absolutely sickening thought process of "well this company gave you a job, they pay for everything so you need to give them everything, all of your life." even within the union. Both are rampant.

"Does being transgender make you happy?" Yes, I love being a trans woman, I love other trans women, I can't wait to undergo further medical transition and hopefully one day feel pretty, and comfortable.

"Are you out?" Only online. Nobody knows about me irl. I get made fun of regularly for being fat and having boobs, saying that I should wear a sports bra. I dread the day I actually have to or otherwise change to the point it becomes unmistakeable because of how violent and cruel all the people I have met through school and work are. There is a transgender woman that works for a company that will be coming to our jobsite soon. The things that the workers and foremen have said about her make me sick. They refer to her as either "it" or "he" and they either react like she's a zoo animal, or target practice. I'm petrified to put myself out there to meet people who could be actual friends, and I don't even know how I would even fucking DO that, or a romantic partner because all I ever hear is about why freaks and faggots like me are ruining things for everyone else and should be killed, jailed, confined to a mental institution, or inflicted on other people as a punishment.

"What's your biggest issue, right now?" Well I think mentally, I'm just alone. I have no one I can trust or talk to in real life, as should be clear from my last couple of answers. I desperately want a friend, at least, and a place other than my jobsite or apartment i can go to. Physically, even with this union job, I am barely making enough to survive. I cannot afford new boots or tools. I had to ask my parents, who don't know anything about me, and have never EVER made me feel like I could trust them or be loved, for help a few weeks ago so i could make the insurance payment on my car. My engine is apparently leaking oil in like 3 places and I need to buy replacement parts. I have to pay for books for school as well, and while I'm trying to do it in parts on a credit card, I have no idea when I'll be able to pay it off. I feel like I'm drowning.

"Is there anything you like to do for fun?" Lots, I love games, I love anime, I keep discovering new ones I want to experience and recently a lot of them have been really good so it makes me really thankful. I usually spend one day of my weekend hanging out with a close friend and just watching movies or OVAs or something recently, and it's easily the brightest point in my life right now.

"Well how much do you do on your own?" Almost nothing, for a month now I've wanted to keep going on my first Dragon Quest game and finish it out. I feel like I got kind of close but I keep spiraling and spiraling and for like a week or two now I can barely manage to play phone games with a video on in the background. I haven't watched any anime on my own in a year because I want to watch Cutie Honey F, but the only way I can is from a download on my computer because the subs are all messed up everywhere. Reading is even harder than a game, and I haven't read a book since last year.

"Have you had any luck talking to people here?" Yes and no, earlier this year I started talking to a bunch of new people out of nowhere on here and most of them liked me one way or another. However that number has kept dwindling and dwindling and now only a few text me and none want to sext or anything anymore. One or two just had their fun with me once and vanished but most were talking for a week or two and then just gradually faded away. It makes me feel like I'm just, hard to enjoy talking to or be around, and while I can be kind of hot or interesting or whatever its more luck than anything. On top of that, one of the people who was still talking to me got targeted by a transphobe and got axed by tumblr like 4 times in a row. I think they might have IP banned it. I miss it. For various reasons, it's made me feel ugly, annoying, broken, pathetic, and boring in equal measures over the course of the last 3 months. I'm haunted by 2 comments specifically, one of which was that I'm too nice to be a domme haha. I have no experience so they might be right and that kills me.

This is really long post and I'm kind of sorry for subjecting you to it but also I'm suffering so much and I need t o let it out. if you ever want to talk about games or anime or you think we might have a little chemistry please reach out. I do sometimes as well but its usually when I'm kinda at the peak of my confidence and right now im at at the crater so I dunno how long it'll be until that happens again.

My life is honestly so fucking stupid

[drkoestersmithrpg]

AUG DONE YAY!!!  I’ll Post Tuesday Probably

“Don’t worry about it kid. Just ignore him.  He’ll get over you and we can all get back to normal.”

War Machine’s advice was not in the least bit helpful for the youngest Avenger on the compound who had become, and rightly so, more than a little alarmed by Mr. Stark’s behavior.

It seemed like ever since the Avengers had encountered real aliens from space, the so-called Guardians of the Galaxy, and learned about various planets, each with their own threats, and the threat of some Over-Alien that was setting out on a mission to massacre half of the universe, well, Tony had gotten weird.  

(Or maybe Tony had always been weird and Peter had never noticed before?)

No, actually, many Avengers had noticed it too.  Tony’s inappropriate humor had always been a feature, not a bug, but recently it had been dialed up to 11.  11? Try 69.   It wasn’t just that he was calling Peter “Underoos” again.  It was more.  Innuendos when people asked for facts.  Dirty jokes when people asked for opinions.  Double-entendres about the must mundane topics, to the point where no one could even ask ‘where are we going for dinner?’  

And all of them, every single one of them, seemed to be of the homosexual variety.

To the point that Peter was beginning to fear that his hero, his idol and his fantasy-mentor (and his real life mentor for years now) was actually a homophobe.

“A homophobe?  THE Tony Stark??  Nah kid, Tony is an unabashed Trisexual.  He’ll try anything….and he never made any bones about it….”

Both of them winced, both of them turned to look even though they knew Tony wasn’t in the room.  You couldn’t say the word ‘bones’ around Tony anymore, or any vaguely sexual word, including the word ‘it.’  That’s how bad it had gotten.

“Wait…..wait……are you saying….Tony is Bi?”  Peter asked, trying to look surprised.  Trying not to look overeager.  Trying not to look like a kid who had actually recently gotten some information and was desperate to confirm it.  Trying not to look like he had cornered Rhodey in an empty conference room just to ask this question.

“No,” said Rhodey.

Peter’s shoulders sagged.

“He’s a hedonist. Don’t worry about it kid.  Just ignore him.  He’ll get over you and we can all get back to normal,” Rhodey said dismissively, walking away, leaving Peter red-faced and gaping.

“Over me?”

“Over me??”

“When was I under him?”

    * * * *

 There were many theories about Tony’s new behavior, but Peter couldn’t find any that agreed with Rhodey….that it had something to do with him.

Fury blamed the Avengers state-of-readiness for over a year that resulted in absolutely nothing, no visit from the Ultimate Badguy bent on destroying half of Earth.  Stress made people cranky, seemed to be his theory, and Tony’s new tourette syndrome was just a symptom of that stress.

Bruce (not a common feature around the compound for the last year but very good for information when he was around) pointed out that Tony didn’t like crowds unless they were cheering for him.  “He doesn’t actually work well with others, he forces himself to work with others, thus all the grants and outsourcing, but it’s a lot of effort.  If he can’t got for 3 minutes without making a dirty joke, maybe he just needs to go back into hiding for a while.  We’re all hermits, after a fashion.”  Peter hoped desperately that wasn’t true (he didn’t WANT Tony to go into hiding) but he certainly took Bruce’s perspective seriously. He knew a lot about Tony.  And a lot about hermits.  

Black Widow would probably have the best explanation for Tony’s odd behavior.  Analyzing human behavior was her job.  But Nat wasn’t talking.

So Peter soldiered on. He was the only Avenger who went to training and attended meetings in full costume, mask on at all times.  The story was it was to protect his secret identity.  The truth was, the mask covered all facial expressions.  Tony’s obscenities, no matter how constant, still took him by surprise.  Under the mask, no one could see him blush.

Because truth be told, so many of those inappropriate jokes seemed to be aimed at him.

Most Avengers seemed to agree that the new Rated R version of Tony Stark corresponded with the visit from the storied Guardians of the Galaxy.

But in Peter’s mind, it also seemed to start the same day he turned 20 years old, and bragged, in Tony’s hearing, that he had celebrated with a special party in Boystown.

He had done it very much on purpose – it had been part of his plan.  

Only the results were not….good.  Almost overnight Tony was x y and z. [every bad guy needed a good fucking, every x ato to they y, every complaint from Peter indicated he needed to get laid.  Tony had always joked about everything, but now the jokes were not only gay-related, they were downright hostile. Peter had never heard the word ‘faggot’ on the Avenger’s compound before (the entire compound, Avengers and military alike, knew Caps’ “Language” rule) and he heard it out of Tony’s mouth that very night.  It was Peter’s birthday dinner in one of the compound’s dining rooms where Tony had asked for a ‘real drink for me, not some faggoty ass waterdawon drink.  We’ll save that for Pete.”  

(That was the day Peter realized his life would be better if he just kept the mask on at all times.)

Finally, after a great deal of soul-searching about his Get Tony Stark Into Bed plan and weather or not he even to be in the same room with that man, he cornered Nat and Rhodey (the two people he considered the best informed) and demanded answers.

“Kid…you’re smart. Don’t  let him rile you up.”  That was Rhodey, who seemed a little hostile himself.  He clearly did not want to be having this conversation.  

“But that’s what I don’t get….why is this about me?”

Rhodey and Nat exchanged a look.

Then Nat looked at him, and seemed to make a decision.

“Parker, you announced you were gay, sexually active and legally of age all in the same sentence.”

Peter wished, for a moment, he still had his mask on.  Apparently he hadn’t been as subtle that night as he had thought.

“So….wait…..are you saying this is him….flirting with …..me?”

Nat shrugged.  “Little girls get their ponytails pulled by boys who have crushes on them every day.  They learned to live with it.”

“No they don’t” Peter countered.  “My friend MJ had her hair pulled by a boy in 3rd grade who said he like liked her and he got sent to counseling.”

Rhodey rolled his eyes and said murmured something about Millennials.

“Gen Z,” Peter pointed out, raising a hand.

“Exactly – Gen X jokes are going to sound wrong to Gen Z ears…..”

“Wrong?  Half of what comes out of his mouth could be considered sexual harassment in 50 states!”

“Parker!”  That was Rhodey again.  “I’ve seen these hyperfixations before.  They go away.  Aren’t you supposed to be intelligent?  Be intelligent.  DON’T fall for him, DON’T let him talk you into bed.  Just wait for it to pass over.”

“Let him….talk me into……”

“Kid, don’t do it.”  That was Nat.  “If Pepper Potts couldn’t tame that mess no one can.”

Nat gave a nod to Rhodey, who took it as a cue to exit, leaving the two of them alone together.

“Look,” she said gently. “No one will tell you to your face, but we’re all looking forward to when you leave for school again.  Tony will tone it down after you leave.  And if you stay away long enough, he’ll just get over you.  

“I can see what you’re thinking, Peter, and you don’t want to do this.  Tony has always been a comedian.  This is just a new routine.  You think if you let him talk you into bed, this will get any easier for you? You’re Gen Z, you talk about your feelings.  Tony just talks in one-liners.  

“It’s hard work dating a comedian, kid.

“It can’t end well.”

  * * * *

Tired of walking around with a mask on daily, and lonely for his friends (who knew the difference between flirting and Hostile Work Environment) Peter took Nat’s advice and left early. Back in New York he spent his weeks before the semester began researching the psychology of humor, and the sociological limitations of being gay in the 80’s.  It was eye-opening.  Also appalling.  

But the psychology of humor was very interesting – Peter read that when a group, any group, laughed together, the individuals would indistinctly glance at the person they felt connected with. The article suggested reading room to ‘learn who is secretly sleeping together’ but in general the article dealt with office culture and social hierarchies.  Still, the tidbit was confusing.  

Every time the group laughed together, Tony always seemed to be glancing at him.

But the longer he spent away from Tony the more the offensive jokes faded in his memory and the more he remembered just how bad his crush on the man had become (and exactly how far he was into his detailed plan to get into Tony’s pants.)  

He wasn’t expecting to actually run into the actual man in New York any time soon, but within a week he did.   The Avenger Parties at Stark Tower seemed to becoming more frequent, it seemed to Peter.  At least this was the 2nd one in 2 months. Peter wondered vaguely if it was a ploy to make him hang with the Avengers with his face showing – he was invited to attended these things in suit as “Mr. Stark’s intern.”  

Walking into the party he felt, very suddenly, unarmed (more specifically, unarmored.)  He had relied so much on his mask to hide his face whenever Tony was inappropriate.

That’s why he silently determined to just avoid Tony altogether.

 Chapter 2

  Tony stiffed at the sight of Peter holding a glass of wine.  It didn’t matter how many times he reminded himself (or Peter) that Peter was now of age.  It still struck him as wrong.

But not as wrong as Bruce’s arm around Peter’s shoulders.

He had already passed them once, talking a mile-a-minute with Bruce and Dr. Cho about the tech behind the cradle.   He couldn’t begrudge Bruce and Peter their shop talk (although the double twinges of jealousy took him by complete surprise.  He and Bruce had been so long ago, it seems.)  

Mostly, he was just irritated that the kid seemed to be avoiding him.

But now – oh this definitely was not right.  

He couldn’t be caught staring, so he made his rounds, taking in furtive glances at the two across the room. He must have been mistaken about the arm, Peter and Bruce and some other tech guys were just talking now, and it looked perfectly normal.

Then he lost sight of them.

Then he caught them again, standing by the window alone.  

They weren’t talking shop, that was certain.  Bruce had his arm on Peter’s back, was leaning over, was speaking directly into his ear.  Acceptable in a crowded room, but they were far away enough from the crowd to make Tony see red.

Especially when Peter grinned, ducked his head, then turned and said something into Bruce’s ear.

What Bruce said next made Peter laugh and cover his face, and that’s when Nat appeared in front of him and said “Don’t be jealous.  

“They’re talking about you.”

She turned her head to ignore his gape.  She pretended to scan the room as she spoke.  “Not that I care, Tony, but if you really want to hook up with a Gen Z you are going to have to clean up your act.  Reinstate Steve’s “language” rule.  Poor kid thinks you’re a homophobe.

“What…..me?”

He respected Nat’s intelligence, so when she looked at him that way, he took it seriously.

“New generation, Tony. They don’t care what you DID 20 years ago, all they care about is what you’re doing now, and what you’re doing now is recycling gay jokes from the 80’s.  He honestly thought you were mad at him.

“Just…go…flirt with him like a normal person.  Take him on date.  He’s into you – he’s quizzed everyone who knows you about your sex life.”

   * * * * *

 Peter left the party grinning from ear to ear.

Even though he never actually spoke to Tony that night.  The man disappeared from his own party, but no one thought that was particularly unusual. Nat, at least, seemed to think that way. She gave him a warning look when he asked after the man, but when she spoke, she was gentle.

“Consider the perils of dating a comedian, Peter.”

“Yeah you told me that.”

“The Millennials way is to exchange facts about emotions.  Comedians just exchange one-liners.”

“I’ll take that under advisement,” Peter said, but he couldn’t help but smile.

He went downstairs to the car Tony had waiting for him, smiling all the way.

He had found out a LOT from Bruce that night, information he needed, information he intended to use.

But that wasn’t the best part.

“Consider the perils of dating a comedian” he said to himself as he raced down the stairwell to the garage.

The litany of inappropriate humor wasn’t an attack or a slight, it was a sign of interest.  He could identify the intent, while simply ignoring the actual language.  He didn’t have to speak Tony’s language, he just had to understand it.

“Consider the perils of dating a comedian” he whispered to himself when Tony’s driver took him home.

“Consider the perils of dating a comedian” he murmured to himself as he lay on his bed in his dormroom that night.

He went to bed with a smile on his face.

Because all he could think was…

………… “I’ve got a chance to date Tony Stark.”

[hufflepoof-badger167]

Coming Out Experiences

So I recently started talking about my coming out experiences with one of my mates and I thought I might put them on here too for the hell of it, I guess it’s to share the reality of what being queer and nonbinary is because from experience it’s not something most people know much about.

I came out to my sister as a lesbian first, she’s a year younger than me and we share a room, and she said “me too” but we didn’t tell anyone else for a while

I came out to my brother and parents not long after, and my sister came out at the same time. My brother threatened to punch anyone who gave us any trouble, and my parents said they didn’t have a problem with it as long as any relationships we had were safe and healthy

I came out to my closest friends a while later and all but one of them turned on me. The next year was hell but Ashleigh always stuck by me and didn’t let anyone talk shit about me to my face or behind my back. She’s straight but was alienated by association with me, but she never held it against me

Ashleigh was the first person I told when I realised I wasn’t female, she helped me experiment with different names and pronouns until I found the right ones (Lou and he/him)

When I came out to my mum as nb she helped research forums and support groups and how to legally change my name/gender and was incredibly supportive

Coming out to my dad was harder because he didn’t understand how I used to be female and am generally rather feline but now identify as nonbinary male and use male pronouns, but he tried and it took a while but he eventually understood

My brother is the only person who uses nonbinary pronouns with me, as he understands that I’d rather use they/them but it can be confusing. He helped my parents understand how nonbinaryness works when the conversations made me uncomfortable and has always been on my side

I eventually cut my (knee length) hair into a typically male style and that’s how I came out to my school and community. This was at the end of year 9 when I was about to turn 14 and I wasn’t prepared for the amount of negative backlash I then received

After my 14th birthday I went to Newcastle Pride, my first ever Pride event, with some people from my school’s LGBT+ club, I dyed my hair rainbow and got a black eye on my way home from the hairdresser, and had it at Pride which really put a dampener on the day

That summer I came out to my grandparents who I already knew were racist, homophobic, transphobic and generally massive dicks. I didn’t intend to come out to them but Gran said something about a future boyfriend and I corrected her (at that point I was only attracted to girls) they said to my face that it was fine but I overheard them saying later on that I was “wired up wrong” and that my mum, their daughter, had done s bad job raising me. I was staying with them on my own, 350 miles away from my parents and my friends and I had a week left of my visit so I was terrified. They were nice to my face but I knew what they really thought

When I came out to them as nb almost a year later they thought I was joking and kept trying to get me to see that I was wrong. I was on my own again, I don’t know why I went back alone but whatever, and I only came out to them because it was really damaging for my mental health to be misgendered so frequently. I didn’t feel safe and I had several panick attacks that night that Ashleigh had to talk me through over the phone. Grampa put me on the next train home the following day, but I haven’t told my parents why I came home early because I don’t want them to fall out with gran and grampa

When I was 14 I came out to my teachers and asked them to use my preferred name and pronouns and I was mortified every time I had to correct them, and all the stares I got

Around the same time, I started going over to Ash’s house. No one in her family knew that I’m nb and I didn’t yet feel comfortable outing myself to strangers, and I think Ash didn’t want to out me either. Her little brother who was 6 called me he at first but corrected to she pretty quickly and I felt terrible

I had to come out to my aunts and uncles and cousins then, I didn’t know how to do it so my dad phoned them before we were due to visit, they didn’t get it and constantly used my dead name and it was a nightmare

I told Ash’s parents that I was queer and nb when I was 15, and her mum, Sue, gave me the biggest hug of my life and took us all out for ice cream. She’s like a second mum to me and she treats me the way she treats Ash. She let me stay with them for half a week after my first breakup, she took me to buy my first pair of heels, she convinced me to go to prom in a suit and heels when I was too afraid, she always remembers my birthday and she helped me come out to her 7yr old and 2.5yr old sons and explain to them what nb is.

Coming out to those 2 kids is definitely an experience I’ll never forget, Alex, the eldest, asked me if it meant I’d be his husband instead of his wife when we’re grownups, and if he should call me his boyfriend or girlfriend or borlfriend/goylfriend(?). Sam, the younger one, told me that I was his “favourite big brother in the whole wide world!” and calls me “Enby” as a nickname (from nb meaning nonbinary) I love those kids so much and I honestly consider them my brothers despite only meeting them about 2 years ago. That was definitely my favourite coming out experience

At the beginning of yr11, when I was 15, I was put on the male register at school and the boys found out in PE and decided that they’d turn basketball into dodgeball/boxing and I left that lesson with a concussion, a spinal injury and bruised ribs. Then one of the boys claimed “that tranny faggot touched my dick” and everyone believed him. That was without a doubt the worst.

I’ve now legally changed my name and I’m in the process of changing my details in every system where they’re wrong. Now the nhs won’t invite me for cervical smears or breast screenings despite my binder and hormone therapy giving me a higher risk of breast cancer. I’m currently being tested/treated for early stage benign breast cancer and having a male title is screwing everything up results-wise

Also, how is it so difficult for schools, banks, hospitals etc to have a nonbinary or even custom gender option? So often I have to choose male or ‘mr’ instead of ‘mx’ and I don’t get why

Since then it’s mainly just having to come out to strangers and remind people who already know. It’s getting easier but it’s a constant struggle every day. I don’t really know why I’m posting this but what the hell right? It’s a lot longer than I meant it to be but never mind

[one-grimm-bitch]

Need Nothin’ But You - Snowbaz

fic for @urahnia!! happy birthday bean!! love you lots <##

tw: homophobic language/violence

(for reference: Baz’s POV refers to Ebb as Ms.Petty, Simon refers to her as Ebb)

***

Baz watched as Snow chewed his lip in concentration, brows knitting together before he continued to scribble numbers on his page. Baz suppressed a chuckle as Snow gritted his teeth- turning the pencil upside down to erase another mistake from his page. He raised his hand silently, urging their teacher over, and displaying his own work expectedly.

“I think this should be right,” Baz said quietly- yet apparently loud enough for Snow to hear- as he turned around in his seat to glare at Baz. Ms.Petty checked the problem and his answer before giving him a nod.

“Nice work, Basilton,” she sent him a small smile and then made on her way back to her desk. Baz gave Snow- who was still glaring at him, the imp- a smug grin. Snow rolled his eyes and turned harshly in his seat back to his own page.

***

Simon hated the way Baz Pitch could get under his skin so easily. He gripped his pencil harder, tongue poked out in concentration as his mind relayed the steps to properly find zeros of the function. How Baz had managed to complete the first problem in two minutes was beyond him- and the words Penny had told him in the beginning of the year reverberated in his mind. Just because he can do something great doesn’t mean that you’re not doing good as well, don’t let him stop you from doing your best, Simon. And so Simon attempted to push all thoughts of the long-haired git from his mind, focussing solely on the headache-inducing number of x’s on his page to solve for.

By the time he completed the series of problems they were given the bell was about to ring, and most students had already gathered their things into their bags. Simon’s head popped up when the screeching of Baz’s chair disrupted him from his thoughts. He watched in curiosity as the boy left the room a minute early, not even giving Ebb a glance as he strode out of the room seemingly without a thought. Simon gaped at Ebb, silently asking for an explanation, she smiled and shrugged.

“It’s not my place to tell you, Simon,” was all she gave him before the bell truly did ring, and Simon was rushing to get everything in his pack and racing out the door.

***

Baz walked quickly in the few minutes he had before all of the students would be let from their classes to go to their next ones. He was thankful to Ms.Petty, who had understood his situation and offered a solution that had certainly saved him one or two times. For Baz, walking through the halls of his school to his next class took more strength than it really should. Ever since it was revealed that he was gay, he’d occasionally gotten shoved unceremoniously and had unkind words whispered and taunted in his ear. Leaving early allowed him to avoid it all, and Ms.Petty was one of the only teachers he had who let him do so.

He greeted Niall as he sat down at their lunch table, grinning as his friend launched into a story about how his modern government teacher had gotten drunk the previous night and made hilarious posts to their school’s website. Baz shook his head as he laughed, and was too caught up in his conversation that he didn’t notice the now silent lunchroom, or the football player standing behind him.

*** Simon felt uneasiness churn in his gut as Higgins approached Baz, and most of the room seemed to notice it too, a spell of silence overtaking everyone. For a reason he couldn’t place, Simon wished for the smile and laughter that was just there to reappear on Baz’s face. Baz was now realizing that everyone was staring at him, and looked behind himself briefly before Higgins grabbed him by the color and lifted him like he was nothing.

Simon gasped as Baz struggled under his grip, a kick to Higgin’s groin eventually getting him to let go.

“Niall’s one of our best players, we don’t want a queer like you messing him up,” Higgins snarled, and Simon felt anger scorch through him. Baz stood up from where he had been dropped to the ground and brushed off his pants casually before he chuckled.

“I didn’t realize having a gay friend affects one’s football skills,” Baz replied.

“Back the fuck off,” Niall gritted his teeth at Higgins.

“What, defending your boyfriend now?” Higgins first approaching Baz was shocking in itself, but nothing could’ve prepared Simon to watch Baz reel back his arm and hit Higgins right on the nose. Higgins stumbled back a few steps, clutching his bleeding nose with his fist. “You’re gonna pay for that, faggot,” Higgins snarled. Simon jumped up from his seat, and ignoring Penny’s protests, he ran forward and punched Higgins in the gut as he stepped forward to harm Baz.

“Stay the fuck away from him!” Simon shouted, Higgins glared at him, and was about to stand back up to retaliate before a teacher stepped between them, ending the fight.

***

“I’m glad they let us off the hook,” Snow said. He had his elbows on his knees and hands clasped like he was going to pray. Baz eyed Snow suspiciously.They were sitting outside of the principal’s office, the three highest officials in their school currently berating a bleeding and bruised Higgins for approaching Baz. A curl fell right over Snow’s eye, and Baz resisted the urge to tuck it back for him.

“You call one month’s detention ‘off the hook’?” Baz asked, Simon shrugged.

“Could’ve been expelled,” He replied, he was chewing his lip in concentration again.

“This is your fault, you know-” Baz started, but he was cut off.

“What? It was your ass who punched him first, I was just trying to stop him from killing you- which- no offense- but he totally could,” Simon rambled.

“I didn’t need you to protect me, as much as it hurts your ego for me to say it”

“Oh, my ego-” Simon was cut off as the door beside them squeaked open, a grim looking Natasha Pitch eyeing them both.

“Come back inside, please,” She said, her tone was clipped, and Baz hated it when she spoke to him in her “teacher voice”.

“Higgins has something he would like to say to you both, and I believe you two have something to say to him as well,” She gestured to Higgins, who was red in the face.

“I’m sorry I called you inappropriate things, that is not the conduct we have at Watford,” He mumbled robotically, looking all the part like he did very much not mean the words he had just said.

“And I’m sorry I punched you in the face as a response,” Baz replied, tone just as cool as his mother’s.

“Yeah, er- me too, for punching you in the stomach and all,” Simon muttered quickly.

“You all know your punishments, dismissed,” his mother stated. Baz knew he would get a mouthful at home, but was thankful that she didn’t call him in her office right away.

***

“Baz!” Simon called, with a nod from Ebb, he followed the Pitch out of the classroom and into the empty hallways. “Wait up!” They hadn’t spoken since the “fight” (though one couldn’t really call it one)- two days ago.

“What do you want, Snow?” Baz asked, not stopping his brisk pace. Simon had to quicken his stride to keep up with the taller boy.

“Er- could you help me in maths?” “Could I do what?” Baz asked incredulously.

“I’m falling behind and you’re the best in class- also I think punching the same guy we both hate makes us closer than algebra 2 rivals, yeah?” Baz stopped walking to turn and raise a brow at Simon.

“Algebra 2 rivals?”

“Well- yeah, but now I need your help- and I helped you against Higgins- whether you wanted me to or not,” Simon replied. Baz groaned out a fine through gritted teeth and Simon pumped his fist in the air with a victorous “Yes!”

“You’re a bloody mess, you know that, Snow?” Baz had chuckled, and in that moment Simon couldn’t understand why that made his heart beat a bit faster in his chest.

***

“You never did tell me why you helped me that day,” Baz told him randomly. They were sat in the library, peering over the study guide Ebb had given them for the test tomorrow.

“I dunno, felt like the right thing to do, I guess,” Simon answered with a shrug, he circled his answer on the page and sighed when Baz shook his head.

“I’m not a damsel in distress, Snow,” Baz replied, “Look at the divisor,” He nodded to the page and Simon gasped in realization before he began to solve the question again.

“Well duh, but that doesn’t mean I can’t bash Higgins in the gut if I want to.” Simon was smiling as he glanced back up at Baz, and his eyes widened as Baz grinned back.

“What?” Baz asked inquisitively.

“Nothing- er- just think I’ve mucked up the division again,” Simon answered quickly. Baz looked at his work.

“Yeah, you did”

***

“Snow?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you care?”

“Care about what?” Simon turned to look at Baz. They were lying on Simon’s messy bed after completing a study session, Simon not wishing to admit the heat that had flooded his cheeks when Baz had sat- somehow gracefully- onto his bed, wrinkling his nose slightly at the crumpled sheets and proceeding to  tie his hair up into a bun.

“That I’m gay,” Baz stated simply, and Simon froze.

“No? I mean- I wouldn’t ask you to tutor me if I had a problem with it,” Simon answered. Baz was giving him a strange look.

“Ok,” He was smiling now, “I’m glad,” Baz said, and Simon felt a well of happiness go up through his chest. It was the way that Baz’s eyes gleamed and crinkled as he smiled, so truly beautiful that Simon couldn’t stop the revelation that poured from his mouth.

“IthinkImightbegaytoo,” He said too quickly.

“You- what?” Baz stuttered, he was looking at Simon like he was a madman.

“I- I think I’m gay,” Simon whispered. He didn’t know why he was telling Baz of all people first. Maybe it was because he knew that Baz wouldn’t be homophobic- for obvious reasons- but also that he felt like he could trust the boy.

“Have you told anyone else?” Baz asked. And Simon flushed, turning away.

“No,” He mumbled.

“Then why me?” Baz asked.

“‘Cause,” Simon said, focussing his attention on his hands that sat on his lap.

“Cause I’m the only other out person you know?”

“No- cause- cause you’re you,” Simon said desperately.

“I’m- what are you saying?” Baz questioned and Simon huffed in annoyance.

“You’re you,” was all Simon mumbled again before he was looking back up and grabbing Baz’s shoulder, tugging him into an awkward and chaste kiss. At first Baz didn’t react, and Simon froze in fear, before plush lips were moving tentatively against his own. Simon sighed happily into Baz’s mouth, before he pulled back a few seconds later.

“I-” Baz stuttered. “Who knew you’d be gay for me, Snow,” He smirked, and with his cheeks and ears blushing a bright red and his mind gooey, Simon laughed.

[foxghost]

鎮魂 Guardian [Zhen Hun] extra 2 full translation

Warning(s): single use of a slur, lots of Buddhism, novel ending spoilers / explanation [TN: the other extras are here, you may want to check out #4 for notes on names.] Original Chinese character count: 3068 English Translation word count: 3058 Much thanks to @lady-eden for the final once-over.

A comparatively serious demon-raising incident affecting a certain city in the southern part of the country needed the attention of Chu Shuzhi. He takes Guo Changcheng with him. They spend nearly a whole month there before the incident can be considered perfectly resolved, and the two return to 4 Bright Road.

Guo Changcheng is still as unskilled as he ever was. There are times when everyone feels that Guo Changcheng and their office’s newest member, Xiao Mi, cannot be any more alike.

Oh right, forgot to mention: Xiao Mi is a one year and some old Samoyed dog with an outsized appetite and an undersized intelligence.

It started with a lost dog delivered to the neighbourhood police station, living there for over a month. Though the owner never came back to claim him, it did manage to eat everyone poor. After a few more twists and turns, Zhao Yunlan manages to gain possession of the dog and to keep it at 4 Bright Road in an attempt to divert Daqing’s gloominess on seeing Lao Li.

The whole day through Xiao Mi eats when it should eat, drinks when it should drink, doesn’t ever take anything to heart. Before Chu Shizhi left for the assignment, he spent more than a month with much effort teaching this dog the two tricks of ‘sit’ and ‘shake,’ only to discover it had discarded the only two skills it possessed on Java Island by the time he gets back. Other than to stare blankly with two giant innocent eyes and run around humping legs, its brain seems entirely empty and devoid of dog tricks.

[TN: “Java Island” is a way to say “not even on the map anymore” or “gone”]

In the way that so many skills seem unteachable to the both of them, it does look very much like Guo Changcheng and Xiao Mi belonged to the same family eight hundred years ago.

[TN: There’s a saying that people with the same last names are “五百年前是一家” / belonged to the same family 500 years ago. The number varies.]

But none of it takes away from how he’s in possession of a holy artefact.

The catastrophic rupturing of chaos decimated Difu, and Shen Wei near single-handedly sets up the new order. The sheep skin he wears covers him quite well and he rarely makes an appearance, nor does he meddle in the new administration’s affairs, but the new Difu, given a new lease on life by the wolf that is Shen Wei, dares not treat him with less than the respect he’s due. The Zhanhun-shi that all three realms yielded to now yields more power than ever, so naturally his habit of collecting the remnants of lone souls and wild ghosts passes without the merest notice, all to the advantage of Guo Changcheng’s little stun baton.

If one takes some time and considers that Guo Chancheng tends to turn into a trembling bald chicken whenever he runs into danger, how he always manages to turn fear into sheer power feels rather miraculous.

When Chu Shizhi returns to the office, he ignores all of his paperwork in favour of watching the stock market and studying the candlestick chart while wearing a grave expression, leaving Guo Changcheng to patiently post invoices and fill in expense reports. He goes to find Zhao Yunlan so he can sign the paperwork, but unexpectedly finds the opposite office door locked — Zhao Yunlan isn’t here.

Guo Changcheng scratches his head. He asks innocently, “Zhao Chu isn’t here?”

Zhu Hong doesn’t bother looking up from her computer. “Officially, our new office lease is finalized today and he’s gone to do final inspection and put his signature on things. He thought he may as well move today too — dammit, why is everything so slow? I sincerely hope the net is faster where we’re moving.”

Poor Xiao Mi’s being chased by a little cat all over the room, but Daqing brakes to a stop from his bullying when he hears this. The black cat raises his head to speak, “What about unofficially?”

With an odd tone carrying both longing and a distant ache, Zhu Hong says, “His man fucked him so hard he can’t get out of bed obviously.”

Not about to disappoint, Guo Changcheng is so shocked by these words he ends up sitting down crookedly, and the chair rolls away from beneath him, leaving him to crash solidly onto the floor.

Zhu Hong glances dismissively at Guo Changcheng, telegraphing what a fuss about nothing, and sucks her teeth at him. “Our leader is a faggot, what are you so surprised about — ai, is everyone’s net slow? This is so infuriating."

Chu Shuzhi comments, “It’s pretty slow.”

The one taking up all the bandwidth playing an online game is Lin Jing, and he keeps quiet through all of this pretending to be invisible. He doesn’t stay invisible for long though, and as quickly as he’s discovered, Zhu Hong beats him up.

As punishment, they disconnect Lin Jing’s computer from the network and he’s left to waste his time away by playing an offline game called Plant vs. Zombies.

… and that’s why it’s Chu Shuzhi’s turn to beat him up now.

[TN. a reminder: Chu is a Chinese zombie, which I suppose is like both a zombie and a vampire, by western standards.]

Head in his arms, Lin Jing drapes himself over his desk, tearily saying, “These days are so hard to get through.”

Chu Shuzhi orders, “I see you’re so devoid of work you have dan teng. Xiao Guo, don’t bother writing that report. Give it to someone who has nothing to do.”

[TN. 蛋疼 / dan teng, literally ‘egg pain’ is something like a headache, but it’s closer to the saying, ‘that makes my testicles hurt.’ You can use it in place of the word headache about things/people/situations that gives you a headache, BUT the word differs from a headache in that it is also used for boredom. So bored your testicles hurt. I have no idea where this came from but you don’t need to have testicles to say it. It’s also used in sentences like “that has dan teng to do with me” in which case it’s just a mildly crass way of saying ‘nothing.’]

Guo Ghangcheng looks over at Lin Jing, and finds him tearfully taking a selfie to capture his ‘as rain on pear blossoms’ look, and laughs, not unkindly. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll write it.”

Lin Jing, pooled on his desk, steals a glimpse of Guo Changcheng, and after a while, does it again.

Guo Changcheng is sitting there typing quietly, slow and meticulous the way he does everything, not a hair out of place. Lin Jing, watching him, finally can’t suppress his curiosity any longer, and with lightning speed he stands just to pluck a hair off Guo Changcheng’s head over his desk.

Guo Changcheng cries out in pain, looks bewilderingly up at him.

Lin Jin gives off a mischievous laugh. “It’s nothing. Just some research.”

“It’ll just give off the smell of burnt protein if you set it on fire,” Chu Shuzhi scoffs, not bothering to look up. “Hair is just a part of the mortal shell. Every reincarnation one gets a new shell. How could it have anything special to it? Your research is skin-deep.”

Lin Jing asks after a pregnant pause, “How did you know what it’d smell like if you set it on fire? Did you already try to burn it?”

Chu Shuzhi ignores him.

“What I still don’t understand,” Lin Jing says, playing with that one strand of Guo Changcheng’s hair, the humour vanishing from his face . “How could such a perfectly normal looking young man be … ai, Xiao Guo, do you think there is anything special about you? Something that’s different from other people?”

They’re not sure how, but everyone’s come to a tacit agreement to not mention anything regarding the Zhenhun Lamp in front of Guo Changcheng. Guo Changcheng stares back at Lin Jing blankly and doesn’t get what he’s saying at all. He shakes his head. “Oh, maybe I’m a bit dumber?”

Lin Jing says ,“But …” and pauses, his voice stopping suddenly.

Kunlun Jun has confirmed that Guo Changcheng is the Zhenhun Lamp’s wick. He’s lived a hundred lifetimes and underwent a hundred calamities and none of it altered his first intentions. The merit accumulated on his soul is a match to Nuwa who created humans, and yet heaven’s given him no blessings and no favours. He has no luck nor fortune; he toils in obscurity ignorant of what he is. Lin Jing’s words fade to silence as he realises he doesn’t want to tell Guo Changcheng about this at all, even if this young man, who lit the last Zhenhun Lamp, who can be said to have finally ended the war between chaos and order, is so extraordinary.

[TN. Merit = positive karma. Good, virtuous actions; every time you choose not to do harm, you gain merit.]

Without a third eye, yet he can always see the truth.

Great Merit, heaven-sent, and yet he remains a nobody.

“But what?” Guo Changcheng asks, puzzled.

“Nothing … I was just wondering how come the sceptre handed down by Kunlun Jun is called ‘Zhenhun-Ling,’” Lin Jing mutters, and he doesn’t wait for Guo Changcheng to figure out what he’s said before he asks, “Oh yeah, what do you do after work?”

[TN. 鎮魂令 zhen / subdue, hun / soul, ling / command]

Guo Changcheng lists off, “Oh, I have to make a delivery to Nana Li’s house, and the Southern Tibet Educational Support Group is working on their summer plans so I’m going there afterwards. I work on things like posters and brochures for them in the evenings.”

Lin Jing’s fingers count unconsciously through his prayer beads. “Hinayama the Lesser Vehicle said that the only person who can help you cross the great river is yourself, but after, Mahayana the Greater Vehicle spoke of ferrying all living things across to reach the shores of enlightenment — come to think of it, I’ve wondered this whole time: Xiao Guo, you’re so busy running around everyday. What do you do it all for?”

[TN. 度 / du literally means “to cross (a river)” and in Buddhism it means to “cross the river to the shores of enlightenment.” It carries the meaning of ‘saving’ or ‘salvation,’ and leads to an ‘escape’ from the Wheel of Reincarnation. What Lin Jing paraphrased is from the Lotus Sutra. 佛自住大乘，如其所得法，定慧力莊嚴，以此度眾生。]

Guo Changcheng says, “I don’t … don’t do it for anything. It’s not like I have anything else to do.”

“Then how do you decide for yourself what to do, and what not to do?” Zhu Hong cuts into the conversation.

Guo Changchen swallows, stretching out his neck like a goose freshly plucked out of the water; he has no idea why everyone suddenly seems interested in him. Maybe he’s seen too many dramas: being the centre of attention always makes Guo Changcheng feel as though he’s acquired a terminal illness, giving him the misconception that he’s not long for the world.

Subconsciously he begins to stammer.

“I, I just don’t do bad things, and occasionally, if there’s something I can help with then I help out. I don’t know anything about anything.” Guo Changcheng’s voice gets smaller and smaller as he speaks, until it naturally becomes as high and quiet as a mosquito.

“I’m suddenly reminded of a saying,” Chu Shuzhi, who’s kept quiet all this time, cuts in. “I saw it on a mural of an old tomb. Impossible to say which era it’s from, now. It said, ‘Men’s hearts harbour corruption, often suffer from worry, hold grudges from anger, commit countless crimes they ought not. Only the three words ‘do no harm’ is the greatest virtue under heaven, and of those who can benefit mankind and subdue souls, there is none other.’”

[TN. priest made this part up, it’s not in any sutras, The word here for 濟 / benefit also means “ferry,” which ties into the sutra Lin Jing quoted above.]

“Of those who can benefit mankind and subdue souls, there is none other…” These words seem to float halfway across Dragon City, from the elder Zhao … no, from Shennong-bo’s mouth. “Recently, I have been harbouring doubts.”

Zhao Yunlan sits lazily reclining by the window, crossing an ankle over one knee, looking outside. Dragon City University’s head office is within view; he has no idea if it’s because exams are near, but Shen Wei is surrounded by students asking him questions as soon as he’s finished class. Zhao Yunlan follows him with eyes carrying a hint of a smile, and spares very little attention he has left to ask, “Hmm, like what?”

“The divine wood plaque Shansheng left behind — why is it called the Zhenhun-Ling?”

[TN. Shennong-bo always uses the more polite form of ‘you’ when addressing Kunlun. 您/nin instead of 你/ni. He also refers to Kunlun as 山聖/Shansheng, which in this configuration means ‘sacred mountain,’ btw, this is not a real world title, no god is referred to by it, priest made it up afaik. From Shennong-bo’s mouth, it’s just another way to say ‘you.’ I’ll use the pinyin when it’s a name/title, and a translation when it’s a common noun.]

Zhao Yunlan sweeps over a glance. “What do you think?”

Shennong-bo stops to think, then carefully choosing his words, says, “I have heard that there are only two kinds of people who are unafraid of death. One who is carrying out the true wish of his heart, blames on one, has no regrets. The other, one who knows exactly what is on the other side of death. In these five thousand years, the Zhenhun Lamp continued to burn. All of this happening now: the shattering of the Lesser Wheel of Reincarnation, the creation of the Greater Wheel of Reincarnation using the Ghost King’s soul as a medium and borrowing Great Merit from the Zhenhun Lamp to join them together — is it all just a gambit by the Old Gods?”

The corner of Zhao Yunlan’s mouth rises, revealing a dimple on his cheek. “If we’re so clever, then how come we all died off one by one? Shennong asked you to keep an eye on Zhanhun-shi. Did five thousand years of watching him turn you into a conspiracy theorist?”

Shennong-bo just looks more and more suspicious. “Then why did Shansheng leave behind the Zhenhun Lamp and the Zhenhun-Ling? Why did my founding teacher just happen to let out your memories and powers at that exact, crucial moment?”

���When Shen Wei decided to wipe my memories, he’d already fulfilled everything he agreed to in his contract,” Zhao Yunlan pours himself a cup of tea, “The contract is concluded, and the influence Shennong had on both of us dissipated entirely, and that’s why I was able to ‘wake up.’”

Shennong-bo says, “Then you’re saying … it’s a coincidence?”

“That’s not it, either,” Zhao Yunlan murmurs after a little thinking.

Shennong-Bo is even more confused.

Zhao Yunlan looks at him, but not in the way a son looks up at his father. His gaze passes through their two mortal shells, falling onto the medicine pot itself.

At this moment, he seems to have become an elder.

“Wait some more,” he says. “Maybe give it another thousand, another two thousand years, you’ll get it. Some things must be learned through your own experience; it won’t do you any good for someone else to just tell you. When you want to sacrifice your life for a just cause, you’ll be able to grasp truths that no one else could understand. Whether it’s about the Zhenhun Lamp or Shennong’s contract, when we made those decisions at the time, we were only able to grasp a shadow of the future. It could move in a good direction, or maybe …”

Shennong-bo asks, “And if it didn’t move in a good direction?”

“The world will naturally gain new gods after we die. They’ll learn from our mistakes. It’s not in vain.” Zhao Yunlan hears Shen Wei’s familiar footsteps coming upstairs, and he gets up, takes the windbreaker he’s hung on the back of his chair and throws it over an arm. He turns his head to Shennong-bo, “Aren’t you one of the ‘new’ gods?”

Shen Wei arrives as Shennong-bo is still mulling over that, and with an indifferent air gives him a courteous, perfunctory nod. When his gaze lands on Zhao Yunlan, it softens in an instant. He asks, “Are you leaving now? Have you finished with your conversation?”

Zhao Yunlan makes a sound of agreement, and says to Shennong-bo, “Drive carefully on the way back, don’t let my dad notice anything. Take good care of his body.”

Shennong-bo stands, saying deferentially, “I must thank Shansheng for the guidance. In truth, I came today to beg my leave. It can be said that I have accomplished my task and it would be unseemly to hang onto a mortal’s body any longer.”

Zhao Yunlan seems taken aback, but only for a second. “When are you leaving?”

“Today,” Shennong-bo says, “I’ll return elder Zhao home right away.”

[TN. 趙先生 could be translated to Mr. Zhao, but Shennong-bo is old and formal, so I went with what 先生 would have been translated to according to Mencius. 先生，父兄也。And older man in a family, a father or an older brother.]

“That’s good.” Zhao Yunlan thinks for a second, and without a care, waves his goodbyes. “Take care. Don’t hesitate to come to me if you need anything.”

The couple leaves for downstairs together. Shennong-bo stands silently by the window, and watches the two of them move unhurriedly toward a residential neighbourhood across from campus full of European style houses with gardens, walking at an leisurely speed like they’re taking an afternoon walk. He’s reminded of what Zhao Yunlan said, that he’s been waiting for Shen Wei so they can move house together.

Farther ahead, from the neighbourhood greenbelt to the immense balconies of the buildings, clusters of flowers of every colour blossom soundlessly where they pass. Only now does Shennong-bo realises that spring is already in the air.

[TN. 春意 means both ‘the start of spring’ and ‘thoughts of love.’]

[lacrimosathedark]

Help, please

I know I have 2 posts like this but I just need to elaborate why I need monetary assistance and why I keep asking. I feel you have the right to know, to some limited extent, what you’re paying for. I also kind of need the vent...

I have major depressive disorder, multiple overlapping anxiety disorders including generalized, social, and PTSD, body/gender dysphoria, and an attention deficit and/or autism spectrum disorder. I may have more or my official diagnosis may have shifted so I may edit this part, but last I talked to my therapist about it that was my diagnosis.

I’m going through medications that don’t work. Or they don’t seem to. I also can’t keep taking them at a consistent schedule because my sleep schedule is incredibly out of whack, I’m incredibly forgetful, and even when I have a decent schedule, I get thrown off when my body starts “bloodletting”, because I try to sleep through it, stay in bed as long as possible so I don’t have to think about blood leaking because gravity, and then for at least the first day I’m curled up in pain desperately trying to sleep through it.

I currently don’t have the mental or emotional capacity for a full-time job and am not on assistance so I have no income. I want to do commissions, but I’m not certain I’m capable of doing anything or completing big projects. I can’t even complete my own projects.

Despite this, I pay for my own phone every month which is about $40, and with no income that’s terrifying because I end up begging for work or a loan from a family member.

I owe my father just short of a thousand dollars (he bought my laptop, which is faulty out of the box and I’ve been too anxious to return it and I was gonna pay for it with my financial aid that never came in) and I owe my mother over two thousand (for rent). And because I owe my father, I can’t bitch at him to replace the window he broke in my room. 

I have no means of transportation. I have been trying to be taught to drive for 5+ years and I am still without a licence cuz no one has taught me. The person who usually helps me get places is now too busy to do so and will be having surgery soon so she won’t be able to drive at all. I’ll hopefully be in a program soon to learn to drive, but I haven’t heard back yet. I also don’t have access to a car.

I have no friends so I have no reason to leave the house, and nowhere to go should I be able to leave. My therapist is not happy with me staying at home all the time and neither am I.

Last year I put in an application for group housing/assisted housing. Find out this past week my application had never been processed. That’s fixed but the waitlist is long and I don’t know when I’ll be able to get out of here.

A month or so ago I put in an application for food stamps/SNAP. Last week I got a call saying they didn’t have an application for me. My case manager still doesn’t know what’s going on.

My brother is abusive. He constantly makes an annoyance of himself. He stays up late and watches TV even when he knows I have a hearing sensitivity and sound outside of my room at night makes my skin crawl and I can’t sleep. He gripes on the fact that I’m an adult and I do less chores than him (I’m disabled as previously stated and he thinks he’s neurotypical, and he doesn’t even do the chores he’s assigned), that I can’t drive (no one will teach me I try so hard), and that I’m living at home (even though that’s not unusual anymore). He bitches about me living at home constantly. He calls me stupid, dumbass, retarded, idiot, slow, dumb, and many other things when I say something he finds odd or annoying. He has also called me bitch, whore, and cunt, amongst other things (whore doesn’t even make sense, he’s aware I’m not sexually active) (he has also jokingly called me a faggot in the past). He never leaves me alone even when I’m having a full meltdown and screaming. He laughs at me when I cry. He brushes me off whenever I try to explain things to him. He repeatedly tells me he doesn’t care. If I get bitchy enough and upset him beyond laughing at me, he will physically hurt me. I’ve had red marks and bruises. He’s ripped buttons off my clothes, that’s why I haven’t worn my cat hoodie in months. My bedroom doesn’t have a lock, so he can come into my room whenever, I can’t feel safe there, in my own space. He has and does openly mock my gender identity, recently he commented on my chest which is where I experience dysphoria most. He has no respect for anyone else’s things and I get in trouble when he eats mom’s food.

My mother is overworked. She works all day and most nights and she barely makes enough for us to get by. Because she’s so stressed, if I ever ask for anything, help, food, anything, she gets bitchy. I try to make helpful suggestions for the household and she turns it around like I’m the problem. She’s never around to do anything about her son and she gets mad when I call or text her at work for help because he’s upsetting or even scaring me. She tries to respect my gender identity but she gets frustrated when she realizes she messes up and she gets angry when I correct her and looks at me like I’m a bug on her shoe when I try to make suggestions to make it easier. When she’s extremely mad, she’ll use my issues against me, ex. yelling when I can’t look at her or when I glance away at a sudden movement, or screaming in my face despite my sensitive hearing. This is her at her worst, but her best is very rare because she’s under far too much pressure.

I haven’t bought clothes in months, maybe years. I don’t have anything that really matches my fashion sense, or anything I could wear for something like a job interview. Most of my clothes are hand-me-downs, and/or I’ve had since middle school.

I need to save up for surgery for a double mastectomy, or at the very least a reduction, both for my dysphoria and my health, because my chest is too large for my frame and it hurts my back and posture and I often have trouble breathing.

I’m having an increasing number of health problems and no understanding of how insurance works and with this political climate I should know this stuff, if something is really wrong I can’t afford to fix it.

I don’t want to be alone when I move out, I’d like to take one of the dogs or cats with me when I move out if I’m allowed, so I need to be able to support them too. I can’t be alone. It’d also be great to get them trained to help with anxiety/panic attacks, but that’s so hella expensive.

Sometimes to soothe my depression/anxiety I like to buy small treats or presents for myself, like candy or ice cream or coffee or soda (recently I’ve been buying raspberry Crofter’s), and I can’t afford to do that. I also like to bake when I’m stressed, and it makes me feel good to share what I make and have others enjoy it, but I can’t afford ingredients to make anything. 

This isn’t even listing things I want. This is all needs. If I started listing wants this would be much longer. But as you can see, I need a lot of help. Some people have already been ridiculously generous (I’ve gotten donations of $30 how??? and thank you!!!!) , but I feel like you should know why.