#this is not exclusively ‟how a man should treat a woman‟

[thoughts-of-the-unheard]

the very least you can do as a partner is treat your s/o like derek morgan treats penelope garcia

[spacerockfloater]

Being a female viewer and hating Criston Cole is deranged.

I have to get this off my chest. The blind hatred that Criston is receiving from women is insane and I’m going to explain why.

For context, I am talking about Show Criston, not Book Criston. Comparing two standalone versions of a story is silly.

I cannot wrap my head around the fact that so many women, who are the primary victims of utilitarian relationships, would ever come together and shit on Criston for enduring such a situation.

I’m sorry, but how many of you have been used by men? How many of you have been reduced to one night stands, situationships and placeholder wives? How many of you have been deemed “not good enough” to be an exclusive partner? I log into tiktok and I see NOTHING but stories of broken women who are just used for sex, money, care and whatnot by men, and then they are tossed away like worthless trash while said men continue their pursuit of the ideal woman. Being used by men just for sex and being denied the status of girlfriend, let alone wife, is probably one of the worst plagues women are experiencing in the western world because the MOMENT we were emancipated, men understood that they don’t owe us shit anymore and instead of treating us with respect, they decided to grab whatever they can and give nothing back. Do not tell me that there are women out there that are fine with this arrangement because the multiple “GWM while I tell you about the guy that was with me for 12 years and then married someone else” tell a different story, one of multiple women’s dignities being trampled by hungry men. My heart breaks for every woman (EVERY woman, cis, trans, EVERY woman) who has been called by a man she loves just for sex, for every woman whose man never wanted to be seen in public with her, for every woman who had to hear that her man is not ready for a relationship only to witness him getting engaged to another woman 2 weeks after. I hope you overcome this and become stronger and I am glad that we are finally supporting one another.

How can we then, the women who are helping other female victims rise up and speak out against this kind of abuse, push Criston down and tell him to suck it up and accept being Rhaenyra’s plaything? Have we no mercy? Are we so hungry for revenge against men that we’d want them to endure the same humiliation that we did, as if one fictional man’s suffering would bring us justice? Are we so jealous that Criston didn’t sit down and just take it like the rest of us, but instead spoke up and removed himself from that situation? Or are we so gullible that we accept what the screenwriters shove down our throats and unknowingly support the patriarchic view that if you’re being used by someone you should just accept it?

I can hear some of you arguing that “Oh, this is different because Rhaenyra is royalty!” as if being used and tossed by a powerful person somehow makes the situation any better? Would it be okay if a rich person wanted to constantly use you for sex while he keeps looking for a better woman to be by his side, just because he values his wealth and status more? Rhaenyra straight up sneered at the idea of a simple life with him. She straight up told him that HE is not worth as much as her crown. OUCH. Even though I can’t even begin to imagine the pain of being told you are not enough by your loved one, it was Rhaenyra’s right to choose what her priorities are, but WHY would he have to accept being her sidepiece? “These were different times”: does this make it any less devastating for the victim? And he was a victim because Rhaenyra still used Criston and misled him by constantly complaining about how she HATES her duties for YEARS and then luring him to break his oath. Do you think he would have still slept with her if he was aware that moments ago, Rhaenyra was begging on her knees to be fucked by Daemon and only turned to Criston because her first option was no longer available? Like, the man was contemplating having sex with her and resisted her for a good fucking while, so imagine how quickly he would have turned around and walked out that door if he had that information beforehand. You know why? Because he loved her. He loved her to the point that he broke his oath for her, the oath of a station he FOUGHT FOR IN A WAR. He shed blood and sweat and risked his life for the mere opportunity to gain that position. This was ALL he had, he came from NOTHING and he was still willing to toss it all away for Rhaenyra not once, but twice. It wasn’t just sex he wanted because we never see him have sex again after that. He became vulnerable and gave up everything that he was to be with Rhaenyra. He was willing to abandon his whole identity for her sake. Is this not what the ideal partner is? Ready to abandon everything for your shake? Everything he fought for, tooth and nail? Was he unreasonable in thinking that Rhaenyra was willing to do the same for him? Was he crazy to think that because he was ready to put everything he FOUGHT for aside for her shake, Rhaenyra would also put aside a duty she was handed and actively seem to hate for him too? Fuck no! After hearing her constant talk about how she hates her father, her duties, her refusal to wed other men, how she is trapped as a princess, how people have no idea how much it SUCKS being her, why would he not assume that she’d be willing to give it all up for him, as he’d do for her We never see Rhaenyra even TRY to be a ruler, just complain about it. Of course it would be a fucking shock to him hearing her say “Lol dude, I actually do kinda want this”.

Criston was actually the only person in the series that wanted Rhaenyra for her, not her money or crown. I’m not saying she had to follow him, it was her right to refuse him, but his willingness to lead a simple life with just her has got to mean something. And don’t give me that “he only wanted to redeem his honour by marrying her” crap, because first of all Criston nutted up and admitted everything to Alicent and was ready to face death without EVER blaming Rhaenyra for anything, and second of all, oh no, how dare a human being have ethical values and desire to live with dignity in society’s broad light rather than move in the shadows as the princess’s secret boytoy! Bad, bad Criston for feeling you have to atone for your sins. Maybe we as people have become so corrupt that we envy those who wish to walk a virtuous path in life. Or maybe y’all have become so fond of the unhinged unapologetic character trope because it feels “original” (even if it’s ridiculously overused nowadays) that you’ve actually forgotten what characters with good morals are. Like, picking your fave war criminal and rolling with them because you enjoy good drama, especially in a show that’s meant to provide entertainment, is one thing, but passionately stating that Criston had to submit to that humiliation is something else entirely.

Finally, let’s ditch the Criston being a misogynist bullshit because he had NO issue obeying Rhaenyra before their affair or Alicent. And he is ALWAYS true to himself and his values, because even after everything he endured, he did not use Alicent’s anger as an excuse to take revenge on Rhaenyra and harm her children. Criston never betrayed her, Rhaenyra used him and he walked away and he went towards the only person who seemed to spare him some sympathy and understand him and not condemn him for his crimes even if he hated himself, which is typical victim mentality. And don’t get me started on the Joffrey incident because y’all tore Cole to SHREDS for it. Joffrey had it fucking coming. You don’t go up to people’s faces, especially ones you don’t know, threaten them by telling them you know their secret, a secret that SHAMES them and burdens them to the point they’re ready to commit suicide, and all but directly call them a whore. What the fuck did he think was going to happen? They’d shake hands? Piss off. Let this be a lesson to anyone that doesn’t know how to keep their mouths shut and their noses out of other people’s business. Also, mocking his suicide attempt makes my stomach turn. Just take a moment to consider all the young women who just like him, reluctantly surrendered their virginities to men only to find out they were nothing but sex dolls in their eyes, all these girls whose trust led to their secret being spread and them getting ridiculed and slut shamed for it: how many girls have taken their own lives because they found living with such a burden unbearable?

For the love of everything you hold sacred, please wake up. The narrative that you can be used by someone powerful and you have to accept it because that’s the way things are is a man’s construct. Do not let them fool you.

[prickly-paprikash]

Something cool about Blue Eye Samurai is how sex is juxtaposed with the end-goals.

I really love how our three protagonists are all obsessed. And that obsession defines them, torments them, and are subsequently reborn through their obsessions.

Mizu, of course, is obsessed with the concept of revenge. It's not even about getting even or getting justice as some might use to justify the bloody road taken—it is simply about seeking satisfaction for Mizu. She cuts a bloody swathe across Japan because of what the Four White Devils did to her mother and herself. She does not concern herself with the ramifications of her wrath but merely charges forward, leaving behind a trail of viscera and gore behind her.

Like I said before, her vengeance and obsession with satisfaction is not painted by the show as wrong. It is how she allows it to affect others along the path. It's why the episode with Madame Kaji is so enlightening; Mizu should not tackle this quest as a vengeful revenant; an onryō. She has let the world define her as a monstrosity and so she embraced it, when Swordfather and Madame Kaji knew what the correct path was to satiate her need for vengeance. Treat her sword as the Artisan's tool it truly is. Treat her body the way an Artist would treat their canvas.

Madame Kaji and Swordfather are both outcasts, for being a woman and a blind man. Yet they found strength in their exclusion, becoming single-minded in their fields of art. Because sex is art and swordsmithing is art. It's what makes Mizu's body writing scene so fucking good.

Artistic vision becomes stagnant when one pulls from only one source. They become rigid and unbending when Mizu, like her namesake, must be fluid. She has shown fluidity in her use of her gender and her morals, but cannot apply that same flexibility towards her goal. Throughout season one, she was becoming an uninspired artist, merely painting the world in hues of scarlet. In a world that forces Women to be either Wives or Whores, Mizu chose to be a Warrior—but a warrior fights for a cause, whether it be just or otherwise. A soldier fights in an army. Mizu is neither of these things. She is an Artist first and foremost, and her medium is Death. Sex, something Mizu was at first hesitant before her failed marriage, and something she actively avoided afterwards, is what gives her a new perspective. Like an Illustrator studying life to better draw their intended worlds, taking inspiration from wherever one can find it.

Taigen and Akemi are also equally affected by the artistry of sex, as befitting of Mizu's fellow protagonists.

Akemi is quite obviously Mizu's narrative foil. Mizu chases after revenge like a bloodhound whereas Akemi longs for freedom like a bird in a cage. Both are fierce women who are unsatisfied with their lot in life, with their sex and gender being used against them in their lives. Literally, the episode "The Tale of the Ronin and the Bride" is a fucking triple entendre:

Mizu is the Ronin as well as the Bride.

The play showcases the tale of the Ronin and the Bride.

It is also Mizu as the Ronin and Akemi as the Bride.

And when Mizu finds her center as she melts down her blade and engages in body writing, this scene of enlightenment is juxtaposed with Akemi laying with her new husband Takayoshi. Both, in this moment, are taking control of their lives through sex. They are both taking control of their futures through the ways Madame Kaji taught them. Mizu and Akemi are both rebels against this oppressive society, and are both talented artists with their body. Whether that be sex, politicking, or ass-kicking.

Taigen, like the two women before, finds freedom through it but in a more subtle manner.

Where Mizu and Akemi are narrative foils, both using sex as a form of art and escape, Taigen finds liberation through his awakening.

Like the closeted bisexual man he is, he begins his journey of self-realization when he first encounters Mizu at the Dojo.

Every single battle these two have is purposefully rife with sexual tension. All his life, Taigen has been taught that a man must live with honor. That he must take control of his life and his identity, or he will have failed and that he is better off dead than to live with such shame.

Taigen is just as much a victim of the Patriarchal society around him. Mizu rails against it violently. Akemi seeks to run away from it all. And Taigen, with the privilege given to him by his manhood, chooses to become a perpetrator, enabling the vicious wheel of society to keep moving forward.

His obsession with honor leads him to hunting down and even protecting Mizu. Mizu is no doubt the better warrior, but even she knows she owes so much to Taigen. The blockhead not only did everything to protect her in the valley, but also sealed his lips shut even under the duress of torture. His obsession with honor becomes an obsession with Mizu.

His regrets over tormenting her over her looks and ethnicity as a child. His shame in having lost so decisively in his own dojo. Taigen was a man born with nothing and climbed up to the top with every advantage he could muster, and suddenly it's all ripped away by this one vengeful spirit passing by.

Taigen learns to surrender control around Mizu. He begins to discover his own sexuality and purpose around Mizu, redefining what honor really means to him now that he, as a man, has a budding attraction towards the man who beat him.

Mizu's Vengeance. Akemi's Freedom. Taigen's Honor. In all three, Sex becomes a catalyst in redefining what each of these concepts truly mean to them all. It's not just sex of course, but it is undeniable how the writers keep juxtaposing sexual acts and thoughts with massive character moments.

It changes how Mizu chases after her Vengeance. It recontextualizes how Akemi can be Free. It showcases the absurdity of the Honor forced upon Taigen.

It's so fucking refreshing seeing Sex not used as fanservice or shoe-horned in just to further a stale, poorly written cis-heterosexual romance; but used as a plot point that cannot be ignored. An impetus that fuels the narrative.

Moving forward, I'm curious as to how sex will be used.

The next few ideas aren't as sound or organized because I'm neither Asexual nor Genderfluid, so please if anyone reads this who understands it better, feel free to point it out.

I think it'd be cool if Mizu met the inverse of Madame Kaji. A person who is apathetic to sex. Sure, Swordfather has shades of this, but I'm tired of the person with disabilities also being on the Asexual spectrum. And I'm not saying that Ace or Graysexual people with disabilities don't exist! But they always tend to be written as having some form of disability (Varys from ASOIAF) or a Robot.

Just as artists need a variety of sources to pull inspiration from, I hope in the next seasons we get to see different perspectives on sex and gender. In London, it feels like Mizu finding the other half of herself, and with that having a better way of tackling her own identity. Whether it be gender, sex, combat, etc.

Basically what this inane rambling amounts to is that Blue Eye Samurai tackles sex and violence and revenge and obsession in ways that most media has yet to truly do. So that was pretty cool.

[peachsayshi]

peach u should absolutely 100% share that nanami thought

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ sugar daddy!nanami x babysitter!fem reader ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ minors/ageless/blank blogs dni (this blog is 20+ of follows)

➳ tags: single dad nanami; porn with little plot; nipple play; pussy drunk nanamin; oral (female receiving); overstimulation; squirting; mentions of cum; dirty talk ➳ n: don't ask about my mental state when I wrote this.

nanami hasn't been intimate with a woman in two and half years. so, of course, he can’t help but be in a constant state of heat when he’s around you in such close quarters. his last relationship was serious enough for him to invest in an engagement ring, but a surprise pregnancy ultimately turned his life upside down. one minute he was ready to start a family, and the next he found himself abandoned by his partner who left him to raise his son all by himself.

nanami didn't have time to process the devastation of that experience with a toddler to worry about. instead, he buried himself in his work and channeled all his focus on raising yuji. he absolutely adored being a father to his bubbly little boy, but he knew that he couldn't keep relying on his parents to take on the extra pressure as he juggled between his very successful career and fatherhood.

you were a part time babysitter, but a godsend to nanami.

hiring you proved to be the best kind of luxury he could afford, and the man was finally able to acknowledge that he was spreading himself far too thin. with you around, he managed to catch his breath for the first time in two years and the cherry on top was that yuji absolutely adored you.

of course, the arrangement worked out both ways.

you were strapped for cash after paying off your loans, and with the cost of living skyrocketing in the last couple of years, you knew you needed to take on a second job just to make ends meet. not only was nanami the sweetest employer, but he offered you a very generous salary.

the man isn't shy to admit that you brought a little light back into his life, as well as some peace and much needed quiet.

he found himself having more alone time during the weekends, especially on saturdays when yuji would stay by his grandparents and you were off from work.

that's when it dawned on him just how lonely he'd been all these years. he shouldn’t have been surprised that his dormant sexual appetite emerged once you came into the picture, and that he regularly began touching himself with the thought of fucking you in every position imaginable.

after one of his solo sessions, when your name escaped him in a broken grunt as he came all over his palm, a bold proposition crossed his mind…

…you've been doing such an amazing job with yuji, why not help fulfill his needs to?

he knew how much this could backfire if things turned sour, but nanami was also aware of your financial circumstances and decided that the risk was worth taking.

he treated the conversation professionally; along with a monthly salary, he offered to cover any and all of your expenses in exchange for you quitting your job and working exclusively for him.

he had "new terms" in regards to your position. you would continue taking care of yuji as usual, but every saturday would be dedicated to having scheduled "dates" with nanami. he was expecting a companionship, preferably one that was physical, but he wasn’t going to force you with anything you were uncomfortable with. you were to join him on any work or family trips, but he reassured you that you were allowed to take any personal breaks and holidays as you saw fit. he would be flexible with you just as long as you stick to the demands of the contract he drafted.

“can I think about it?” you asked him a little breathlessly, your cheeks scorching hot as you clenched your thighs tightly together in your seat.

“take whatever time you need,” he politely replied. “I want you to think it through”

- ♡ -

this pretty cupless corset top with the matching lace thong is the most expensive present you’ve ever received. the detail on the set itself is stunning, molding around your body like a piece of art. your skin is the canvas beneath the see through material, showing off the printed panels and lacy embroidered detailing.

nanami handed you the present just the night before as he walked you out the door.

“wear this tomorrow,” he whispered in your ear, smirking with amusement and anticipation.

you feel so exposed with your tits exposed out like this, hard nipples poking against the air as you watch your employer wrap his mouth over one of the tender buds.

you hiss as he swipes his tongue along the peak, nipping at the tip with his teeth before sucking gently. your thighs were still trembling from the orgasm he just delivered from this act alone, and you can feel your arousal stick to your inner thighs as it soaked through your underwear.

“ah-ah!” you whine, your lashes fluttering close as you arch your hips lightly against his pelvis. “nanami-san…”

it’s strange hearing yourself call out his name this way, the tone unfamiliar and foreign to your ears.

those strong, beautiful hands leave your waist and travel to your breasts. nanami squeezes your tits and drags his thumbs over the taut peaks as he places a kiss along the boning of your corset.

“I'd rather be inside you, but I haven’t tasted pussy in ages…” he admits shyly against your ribs, his mouth traveling further down to the space between your legs.

your thighs nearly snap close, but he sternly pinches your nipples to keep them spread.

“Such a pretty thing, I bet you taste like heaven ...” he contemplates, nuzzling his nose into your clothed crotch and breathing in the scent of your arousal. he swipes his tongue over the soaked material, his brown eyes turning hazy as he glances up at you from between your legs, "mmm, you really fucking do..."

your spine quivers from the vibration of his deep voice, and his vulgar choice of words. nanami releases his hands from your chest and proceeds to tug your underwear to the side while keeping one thigh nice and open for him.

he licks his lips at the dewy wet mess and groans.

"fuck, I could cum just looking you."

he places featherlight kisses over your clit, one after the other, until you sigh dreamily as your head fall backs against the pillow. he keeps you spread while his tongue massages over the sensitive button and parts your folds. he slurps, nips, and kisses to his heart's content - the tension knitting the front of his brows together from how your pussy intoxicates him.

he draws out another orgasm, his hand kneading your shaking thigh as your essence coats the lower have of his face. he can feel himself leaking through his boxers, so he ruts against the mattress to give himself some relief.

he moves to focus on just your clit, making noises as he lewdly sucks on the bud. his other hand finds your dripping hole, and he manages to slip two fingers inside with ease. he brushes his digits upward, the pads stroking over your gummy walls and turning your sensual moans into desperate little whimpers.

the pressure is unbearable; the tight coil around abandon an ache that you can't even stand. your hand threads between his golden strands, your manicured nails digging into his scalp which eggs him on even further. your eyes roll to the back of your head, your jaw goes slack when he touches just the right spot that has tears of relief falling down your cheeks.

your body spasms when your third orgasm trickles through you in an eruption, a gush squirting from between your legs and painting nanami's hand, forearm and neck.

"good girl," he grunts as he peppers kisses over your pubis and along your hip.

you're trembling as you readjust your position to sit up again. nanami finally shifts his body to sit upright, his knees on either side of your thighs. he pulls his dick out of his boxers and starts stroking his thick, veiny cock. you're panting to catch your breath, mouth slightly dry at the sight of the bulbous head.

"s-shit, I can't h-hold off any longer," he admits with a shaky voice, his heavy eyes locking on yours as he continues jacking off. "gonna have to cum on those beautiful tits, darling..."

you sheepishly reach one hand to tweak at your nipple to provoke him, "do whatever you want with me, I'm yours."

your sensual delivery tips him over the edge and with just a couple more strokes, he finally reaches his climax and shoots white ropes all over your chest.

you crawl up his body as he comes down from his high, wrapping your arms around his neck and pressing your tainted chest against his own strong torso. you brush your finger over his undercut, leaving a kiss along his jaw before murmuring against his lip: "was that good for you, nanami san?"

he grins as he reaches to grip the flesh of your rear, his lips closing the gap of space where he steals a messy, open mouthed kiss. "better than I expected, " he reassures as he nips at your bottom lip, careful not to confess that he's pined for this moment night after night.

[shadowystan]

YANDERE! husband x f!reader– marriage can't be that bad, right? (wrong)

YANDERE!husband who's the epitome of wealth and fame. He can give you the world, yes, but why would he?

YANDERE!husband who treats you like the dirt beneath his feet from the very get go. Misogynistic and conservative to a fault, he believes women should really just sit back and let their men do the work.

(While they, of course, rot off in kitchens and behind sewing machines.)

YANDERE!husband who was sure he was going to get a pretty slave of a wife. Now, pray tell, why does his woman refuse to even touch him on the first night of their wedding?

"I won't sleep with you."

Headstrong and stern, you don't seem like a docile little thing. Far from it actually. Your brows are furrowed and there's a certain determination behind your eyes.

It's infuriating. 

YANDERE!husband who may as well be a cliche high school bully with his jabs and manhandling. He isn't abusive. But that's only because you're tied down to him, anyway. Why must he get physical when you don't have anywhere to go or money to call your own?

Or. Well. Do you?

YANDERE!husband who frowns deeply when you tell him you're going for a job interview. Surely, you must be joking?

Ah, that's right.

YANDERE!husband who smiles big and chokes out a hearty laugh. "That's a good one! You're funny, wife."

You were, in fact, not joking.

YANDERE!husband who's appalled, eyes blown wide and lips slightly parted when you wake up at 6 in the morning the next day with a snugly wrapped pant set around your body, looking like the embodiment of a classy business woman.

"I got the job," You dryly inform him.

YANDERE!husband who's a pissbaby. Complaining to his parents how you aren't obedient or submissive. Blaming his old man for not 'giving' him a feminine, exclusively child bearing wife.

YANDERE!husband who tries restricting you. He's richer and more influential than you. Why can't he stop you?

He fails to understand you have legs. And a healthy, working mind.

YANDERE!husband who after putting you on house arrest comes home to you working from home on your laptop. YANDERE!husband who's beaming and shining when he confiscates your electronics the next day, thinking you'll stop being so stubborn only to find out you sent the kitchen staff home out of spite.

YANDERE!husband who, after a while, realises that letting you just work is better than coming home to a starving stomach.

YANDERE!husband who's not really, well, a yandere yet. Or.. is he?

YANDERE!husband who just needed one action from you to turn completely obsessed. A curt nod of approval here, an amused eyebrow raise there and he's putty in your hands.

But does that make him kind? God, no.

YANDERE!husband who shows just how terrifying he could be after finally falling for you. The childish, humorously masculine man you knew is gone now.

You're a strong person but YANDERE!husband is scary to say the least.

"Don't wear this."

"Dress modest, wife."

"Behave."

It's not fine anymore. He makes you feel unsafe. He is unsafe.

YANDERE!husband who fires every single one of his maids and servants. 

"You'll be the one cooking now, dear wife."

Has he always been this tall?

YANDERE!husband who flashes you a calm smile, suffocating you in his presence when you refuse to cook or clean.

YANDERE!husband who simply says:

"It's better to learn now, dear," He takes a step forward, figure towering over you. A hand reaches out. You don't flinch.

His smile widens at that, large hand gently patting you on the head, calloused palm smoothing out your hair.

"Really," He continues. "It's every housewife's duty to do so."

Your eyes widened and dread filled your stomach.

"I'm not a-"

"Plus," He cuts you off. Has his smile always looked so vicious? "A mother should be ideal. If we have a girl, – God, I hope not – you'd have to know a few things to pass on to her, yeah?"

A chill runs down your spine. You gulp, lips trembling as you voice out your next word.

"D-daughter?"

He grins, looking awfully boyish for someone who has just indirectly told you that you won't be going to your job anymore.

"Heh, you'd prefer a boy too, right? They're superior."

You let out a shaky breath.

"I.. We won't be having a child."

He paused. Your heart stopped.

"Ah, of course," He threw a soft smile your way, as if understanding your situation. "Of course, of course; we'll have to teach you how to become a perfect wife first, yes?"

Fuck.

[nothorses]

#idk i have thoughts about the 'binar v. nonbinary' distinction. i think there is a reason#that trans people get degendered when they use binary pronouns#AND wrongly gendered when they use use gender neutral pronouns#for example

i'm intrigued by these thoughts would you like to share more about these thoughts

I think I'd boil it down to like... specifically the idea of "binary trans" people as a class.

I very firmly believe that the oppression of nonbinary people ("exorsexism") exists and is a real form of oppression, and I believe that experiences with it- and the ideological foundation it rests on- are unique and worth discussing. I think nonbinary people have unique experiences with oppression that are necessary to listen to and understand, and that it is to everyone's benefit to include in those perspectives in larger conversations around trans justice.

I specifically take issue with the idea that there is a group of people that can easily & universally be differentiated as "binary trans" in anything but how those people personally identify.

I think that, socio-politically speaking, the only people that are truly classed as "binary" are 100% gender-conforming dyadic cis people. When we're talking about transphobia as a concept, we're talking about a system of oppression meant to punish people who stray from the gender binary. Historically, anyone punished under this system was included under the "trans" umbrella: gender-non conforming cis people, drag kings and queens, nonbinary people, intersex people, you name it. We are all gender outlaws; we all exist outside traditional understandings of gender, and we are all punished for doing so.

Now, we can narrow the scope quite a bit; I do still have the ability to "pass" as my gender, which is not an option to a lot of nonbinary folks. I can get a gender marker that accurately reflects my gender, and I can go "stealth" in a way that doesn't cause me a lot of dysphoria. I absolutely acknowledge that there are experiences I do not have, and oppression I do not face, and I should take care to listen to the people who do face them.

The problem for me here is that like, none of those things are exclusively "binary trans" experiences either. Plenty of nonbinary people are not strictly outside of every binary gender, or outside of comfort with a binary gender presentation. Such is the enormous multitude of nonbinary identities, and the unknowable vastness of human experience.

The other, perhaps larger problem for me is that I also do not strictly have a "binary trans male" experience. I mean, least of all because I have still at this point spent more of my life identifying as nonbinary than I have as a trans man- but also because I'm still trans. In a lot of ways, I'm not actually viewed as "binary"; I am clock-able enough that I'm pretty regularly degendered by even incredibly well-intentioned cis people, for example. My grandma is confused about my gay relationship; she very much does not think it is gay or straight. Anyone who knows I'm a trans man does not think of me as a woman or a man; they think of me as something entirely outside of the binary, and they treat me accordingly.

To go back to the tag you're quoting: I think binary trans people using binary pronouns are degendered for the exact same reason that nonbinary using gender-neutral pronouns are misgendered. People don't want to recognize us as the genders we are. They don't want to validate an experience of gender that lies outside their tidy little gender binary.

Again: this doesn't mean that exorsexism isn't real, or even that "there is no such thing as a binary trans woman/man". That's not what I'm saying. I want to keep having discussions about the unique experiences nonbinary people have, and the unique ways in which transphobic society treats and targets them, and the unique oppression they suffer, and why, and how we can fight that.

I also don't think I'm the first person by far to point out that maybe the idea of The Binary Trans Experience should be problematized a little bit, and I think there's something to be said for the funky space that "binary trans people" occupy on the good-little-gender-conforming-cis-person to nonbinary continuum.

[mare-sanguis]

The queercoding in Sangcheol's and Jeongwoo's relationship

Let me preface this by saying: everyone is still allowed to see them as whatever they want (a work related relationship, best friends, close friends, soulmates, lovers, and and and) but I think most (if not all at least here on tumblr) can agree it would be ignorant if we completely overshadow just how much queerness there is.

This analysis is brough to you by this thread (why JW is snow white and why SC is the prince) and @thedevildeer latest post. Its not structured and really just a ramble so excuse me if it might sound a little confusing at some points.

Let's start by looking at it through a heteronormative kdrama lense below the cut 

How often do most kdrama fans watch a drama, see the lead man and the lead woman and think "woah, they would look so hot as a couple" even when the drama isn't a romance? Quite often, that's right. That's because most M/F leads are designed to be shipped even outside of the stereotypical romance genre. If it's a crime drama, thriller, mystery etc. Where the focus should solely lie on the plot they will still most likely try to create an M/F duo so most kdrama fans will have something to latch into. It has happened so many times that people dropped a non romance drama because it had no M/F couple, but people apparently want it so badly because how else can they enjoy a non romance drama, right? And kdrama directors/writers know this- they see and read the reviews and work with them; That's why in kdrama land M/F ships are still the norm, still seen as the most canon- even if there is a 2nd ML who has insane chemistry with the 1st ML (perhaps even more than the FL, cuz let's also face it in a lot of kdramas women are written flat)

When the ML is near the FL, everyone immediately interprets all kinds of thoughts into it, even worse when they go as far as to look at each other and hold eye contact, when they worry about each other, support each other, visit each other or are just having a work related conversation. They dont need to confess their love or kiss for the viewer to know they are in love*

Those are all valid points for shipping, that's obivously not the issue- The issue starts when they genuinely can't see the FL as her own character, when they can't seem to understand that men and women can be platonic friends, the issue continues when the 2nd ML appears whos got way more chemistry with the 1st ML or even takes the place of where the FL should be. Its then where the issue peaks- their relationship will automatically treated differently (2nd ML get potentially hated by the M/F shippers even) and it creates rift within the fandom, its shipping and arguments about queerness as a whole (discrediting that queerness is a large spectrum) by cishet fans

Suddenly, if it's M/M those actions I mentioned earlier dont seem romantic anymore, suddenly it's just a simple bromance (and while the term per se isnt homophobic, in these circumstances it sure sounds like it which is why I personally dont like it and rarely use it), best friends caring about each other because homies are homies. ("why can't men stay friends?" we all know that argument) *if they don't confess to each other outright, don't kiss each other, then they aren't i love (last part especially is targeted towards specific BL fans who only think a relationship is valed if they kiss and maje out)

So, this out the way let take a look at SC, JW, HS and BO approach (intentionally or not) on queercoding and the importance of a strong man-woman friendship.

First, let's look at tropes commonly (but not exclusively) found in queer media or media that tries to imply queerness and the similarities they share with SCJW:

Found family (the most common trope in queer media, especially the media that emphasises on realness, as found family serves as a safe space for queer characters when they arent accepted at home)

A strong opposite gender friendship or a friendship that defies traditional views

Color coding (mostly a warm and a cold colour, often times its blue and red)

Language coding (do the characters say they are queer, do they use specific terms, do they confess or declare their love for each other through something deeper; just what are they saying?)

The character design (this is not just about how they look but the desgin as a whole: background story, family, friendships, career, driving force, are they representing something (like a specific color, a flower); what was the creators thought process while creating them)

How do they express love around the person they ador (for example, men express love with touches while women often times use words and actions)

Broken friendships (because old friends dont accept)

Then of course we have common tropes found in all media highlighting love

Clothes sharing

Intense eye contact

Personal space

Lingering

Caring

Hurt/Comfort

Touches

And what do we have here? That's right. Black out s well as SC, JW and HS fit right into the common tropes and the queercoding tropes and yet we see some totally discrediting its validity to exist within the universe because god forbid both JW and SC are queer or viewed as such cuz they both were with women prior and they can't possibly be one of them queers... right?

HS is a really well written female character who's got nuances, a great backstory with a fair share of suffering and the additional nosiness which makes her so special. She is sweet and caring to everyone who seems nice in her eyes. She cares about JW's mother (prior to knowng he's JW's mother so thers no point in saying she does it cuz of JW), cares about Suoh and is genuinely interested in his hobbies. Her character takes care of everyone because she's a med student (you can take a med's job away, but you can never take the job out of a med). This is what her character is about- taking care, worrying. Her purpose in Mucheon was (as we know by ep.13) to find what shes looking for, to find her way back. She is by no means not connected to eithe JW and SC but her story is canonically detached from both JW's and SC's- it takes part in a different pace, in a different setting and through a different lense and most of it happens off screen or throug her observig the people. We rarely get any of her POV's, unless it's either around Suoh or Geonoh. The other times when we do get a POV of her is when SC and JW and in the same frame. Then she is postitioned as the onlooker, the one who observes. When she is alone with JW she gets almost no POV, even less that focuses on her feelings towards him. But the most important thing I said already: her story is detached from SCJW. She grows alone unlike SCJW who grow together. She is that friendship JW needed to show him a part of humanity that got lost with his fake friends. She is to represent and tell that you do not need a large group of friends to feel at home. 

Then there is JW. Beautifully written full of nuances, a tragic yet amazing written backstory- easily to read as a story of someone being queer. A big group of friends, a beautiful home with loving parents and then you got the catalysator which sets the whole plot moving. While for JW it's murder, abuse, gaslighting by friends and people he thought were family, prison and finding new hope in humanity through one person- how can one not look at this and think "yeah it's somewhat reminiscent of someone coming out in a conservative country with traditional family values"? Family and friends ditching before the person can even stand up for themselves, people spreading venomous lies, all the guilt trips, that person shutting themselfs off retreating into their own little world. JW was obviously never meant to be read as such and some even might find this part weird, but it's undeniable he has those classic queercoding tropes. He finds true meaning in humanity again through HS and SC at the same time, yes, but it is SC alone who stands by his side the whole time- every single day. JW feels the safest around SC, falls asleep in his home (therefore also in his presence) and gives in to being taken care of only when SC is around, he also laughs at his dumbs jokes and makes sure to catch his reactions when he is sassy (handing out flyers scene or the scene at the scrapyard). JW is meant to not grow alone but together with someone else- and that someone is SC. who he shares the exact same pain with. He sees the good in people- he sees the good in SC so he keeps on pursuing him even when he would reject him. Because he can see himself in him. Because he feels he's different- just like him. (And isnt it like: Queer people know someone is queer when they see one?). We cannot forget him being a metaphor for Snow White which imo solidifies the queercoding in him even more and how he steps in to save SC and then again to support him by beating up those debt collectors. (Also, just a random little side note: I think it's funny how he's either loved or hated, there was no inbetween. BM and MS hated him, they were eaten up by jealousy; BY, NG, DE and the twins loved him (also again, random side note to me any anyone who cares: it's so easy to read the feelings GO felt towards JW prior and post time skip as more than just friendship tbh which again, adds to the queerness layer))

And then there is SC, just as complex and full of nuances like JW. Having an almost identical tragic backstory to hm even- losing the love of his life. While hes story is way more difficult to decipher as queercoding, his character is most definitely not. He is portrayed as rude and rough towards any criminal and at the beginning of the story we genuienly dont know where we stand with him with this ever fluxuating personality. He is hurt, struggles, doesn't even seem to know himself very well, has seen a lot and he also doesnt trust anyone (as seen when he immediately clocks BM as suspicious when the review the CCTV footage) except JW. How come he trusts him more, even after he had accused him of the hit and run accident, but is side eying everyone the moment the incident with the mother happens? When he should have more trust in his own people then defending and caring for a guy whos accused him of causing the car accident. Even when he finds out JW apparently killed the girls, his actions towards him are differet than the actions we see him taking against the guy he chases after in the beginning. We see him falter and struggle even more in the manhole when he's threatening to shoot JW, we see it again when they are at the shed and JW is reinacting the murder scene- he is reluctant. Even when using violence against JW. Because, just like him, SC feels they are the same. And it doesn't even take much time for him to switch side- we can see him questioning everything onwards from from episode 4 during their first team dinner. And when he switches side he suddenly becomes so soft and caring- completely taking on the role of a possible love interest in both drama, romance and fairytale. Because he has seen the good in JW, saw the same suffering, this unfair treatment. He is a character not meant to grow alone but together and this togethes is only JW. JW still has HS by his side but in SC's world there was only JW who shows him all aspects of what it means to be a good human being. It's through him he grows. 

Their shared journey:

To quote Leo Buscaglia again "Too often we underestimate the power of a touch, a smile, a kind word, a listening ear, an honest compliment, or the smallest act of caring, all of which have the potential to turn a life around."

And isn't this what SC's and JW's shared bond is about? How they grow with and around each other- thanks to each other.

The little things SC does to make JW more comfortable, to show him love still exists? He takes him home without thinking twice because he's worried he might get sick when he could've taken him back to his house. He dresses him up in his clothes, let him sleep on his couch, in his blankets, gives him something warm to eat and drink (the glass of milk will never stop making me sob), showers him in touches and shows him warmth through them, always reaching after him because he's afraid something might happen to him, watches out for him, observes his reactions and waits for him. The little things JW does to SC- giving him a reality check that not everything is as it seems, graduately bringing back his old personality, stays by his side.

It's how SC brings JW's smile back and how JW brings SC's smile back. Its how SC not once but twice declares his worries, adoration and love towards JW: once when he's so worried sick JW might get hurt so he installs that app on his phone and the second time when they say their "goodbyes"- those words are so easy to read, so full of love. The "if you move" highlighting just how much he wants and hopes JW to stay in his life a little longer. It's longing and we can clearly hear it in his voice when he says "I'm sure you can" right after the monologue and then tilts his head. It's how JW doesn't know how to approach him after this, contemplating what to do and then goes on for the hug first. This is JW's way of showing his love. 

And yet, despite it all there are still people who only see it as a bromance. Those who think JW and HS will end up together because they are at the same uni, study the same. And are a man and a woman. If either SC or JW would be a woman, no one would even bat an eye to think they aren't in love- no one would even come up with the idea to even ship JW and HS. If one of them was a woman, every little gesture would be seen as romantic, betting on it the drama would perhaps even be a lot more popular as well as the ship. It's so disheartening to see how many deny an obvious queercoding between them just because they are men and for the sake of a straight, not well manouvred, ship because again apparenlty many kdrama fans don't dare to ship queer.

We know Black Out/Snow white must die is a fairytale because it very much is just one of many iterations of a snow white and exactly because is one of many nothing is impossible and queerness is allowed to exist within it.

[sexhaver]

i think the most frustrating thing about this whole "exclusive fwb" discourse are the amount of people getting it wrong who don't even realize that there is an objectively correct answer that they're missing. they treat it like it's that blue/orange dress or the "laurel/yanni" thing, where some people just see the situation one way and other people see it a completely different way and both interpretations are equally valid. that is not the case here.

if you look at that screenshot (yes, even without the added context of the last blue text) and come to any conclusion other than "gray text is a straight man who wants regular and exclusive sex with a woman without any of the commitment or emotional responsibility that come with a labeled relationship", you are just wrong and need to get more life experience. and there's no shame in that, any more than there's shame in getting a question on a test wrong. but there is shame in getting any other answer and then arguing that you're right because actually the guy could be aromantic and at least he's communicating his (shitty) boundaries clearly. that's like getting a math question wrong and arguing with the professor that 2+2=3 instead of just taking the L.

setting aside the people who are just outright wrong, i am a bit concerned about how many people arrived at the correct conclusion only after seeing the additional context (where blue text mentions that they had told gray text specifically that they didn't want to be fwb). obviously that context makes the correct answer clearer, but you should still be able to arrive at that conclusion with just the info from the cropped screenshot. if you can't, that doesn't mean the way gray text was talking in the first screenshot would have been fine in a vacuum; it means you need to train and/or recalibrate your spidey senses that tip you off to this kind of stuff.

[spiders-hth-is-an-outlier]

So many people have spoken so cromulently about the brouhaha in Olympics women's boxing, and I share the frustration and anger over the shit way Imane Kelif is being treated for the crime of being an insufficiently feminine woman. I can't add any more to that.

But I haven't seen anyone talking much about the other fighter in the match, and -- look, I don't want to drag her, because I have never lost at the Olympics, and I've never been punched in the face, so who knows how I'd react to either. But there's something so repellent and gross to me about the prurient way media coverage has dwelled on Angela Carini's *weeping* and how she said it *hurt so much* and now she's so *unhappy* because her *dreams are dead.*

Like -- this woman is supposed to be an elite, world-class boxer! The pity and protectiveness we're being pressed to feel for her because she got in the ring and got hit real hard is just like -- what is happening here? They hit as hard as they can at the Olympics, that's like, the whole thing! Idk how weight classes work in women's boxing, maybe there should be more finely tuned categories, if it's so shocking to see a bigger person punch a smaller one, but this is like, *fucking boxing,* a sport where traditionally there was a non-zero risk of getting hit so hard you *died.*

It's just really off-putting to me to see all these self-proclaimed champions of female athletes talking about Carini using exclusively the language appropriate to domestic violence victims, rather than giving her any sort of dignity as a competitor.

Again, I'm trying really hard not to hang anything on Carini herself, because I get that "there's no crying in baseball!!!" is supposed to be the Incorrect Take and there's nothing inherently wrong with crying from pain or disappointment, but like. It's so gross and weird, and it's so not how any reporting would treat a man who lost a match. It's so obviously a matter of immediately divorcing her from her context as *an Olympic athlete* and *a boxer* in order to recast her as *a sad injured lady.* Really drives home the point about how weakness and vulnerability are load-bearing components of how these "radical feminists" perceive the nature of womanhood.

[thetravelerwrites]

Margaret and Rourke (Part 1)

Rating: Mature  Relationships: Female Human/Male Orc  Additional Tags: Exophilia, Monster Lovers, Interspecies Romance, Orcs, Older Man/Younger Woman Content Warnings: Mentions of Sexual Assault, Mentions of Physical Violence, Mentions of Torture, References to Sexual Assault Resulting in Pregnancy  Series:  Part 18 of Shelter Forest: The Towns  Words: 4,238

The reader's mother from Akjan's fic and her orc hubby get their own fic! After her daughter is taken away from her to be married to an orc chieftain she's never met, Margaret worries she'll never see her again. An orc arrives with news of her daughter and promises to help them reunite. Please leave feedback!

Your daughter had been gone for two months already. The count had ripped her from your arms in an instant on the day of her eighteenth birthday and gave you little to no time to say goodbye. You could only hope that she was well and being treated properly wherever she was, but you had no way to know for sure. You were anxious constantly, unaware if she was healthy or fed properly or even alive, but the idea that she could be somewhere out there, safe and happy, was the only comfort you found in your day to day life.

You were in a lot of pain at the moment. Moving around was difficult, and you struggled to complete your normal tasks. The madam had whipped you mercilessly just the day before for the unspeakable crime of passing in front of her when she was in a bad mood. She’d always been unkind to you, but since she discovered that your daughter, Catherine, was indeed the child of the Count, she had become the human embodiment of cruelty, turning the typical punishments she doled out onto you into nothing short of torture. You had no friends to turn to, since everyone in the manor knew you were the Countess’s favorite punching bag, so they would earn themselves no favors by being kind to you. Without Catherine there to lean on anymore, it was becoming harder to endure the beatings. 

As you were working, you saw David, a butler that had been hired recently. His face fell in sympathy as soon as he saw you, likely due to the bruising on your face and the split lip you were sporting. He was one of the few that treated you kindly. 

“Margaret, I’m glad I caught you,” He said. “I need your help.” 

“My help?” You asked. “I’ll do my best. What can I help with?” 

“The master has given me a task in town, but I don’t know my way around quite yet. Could you help me find the…” He consulted a piece of paper in his hand. “The Periwinkle Florist? The master is having guests later this evening and wants new flowers for the foyer and receiving room. Do you know where it is?” 

“Oh, yes, I do,” You told him. “It’s quite far, though. I’m surprised Master wants us to go so far out of the way for fresh flowers.”

“You know how the master is,” David said, rolling his eyes. “He wants what he wants.” 

Margaret laughed nervously. “Yes. Should we go now? It’ll take us at least an hour to get there and an hour back.” 

“That would be best, if we want to return before nightfall,” David agreed. “Are you ready to go as you are?” 

“Oh, I just need to grab my shawl and we can go,” You replied, taking a step toward the servants’ quarters. 

“Best be quick,” He said. “I’ll wait by the rear door.”

Nodding, you quick-stepped back to your tiny closet and grabbed your crocheted shawl, old and repaired many times. Something felt off about the room, like something was missing, but you figured it was just because Catherine was no longer there, so it felt terribly empty. 

You met David, who was carrying a large produce bag, by the back door that led out to the back of the estate, where there were the stables on one side and the tool sheds on the other. Between them was a road used exclusively by the servants into and out of the estate. The two of you set off down it, heading toward the middle ring of the city, where most of the shops were located. 

David was pleasant company, engaging you in light small talk to pass the time. He asked about your daughter, which you were only too happy to talk about, and told you about his wife and son, to whom he was sending all of his money. Hearing him fondly describe his son as a “tiny terror” made you smile. 

Finally, you arrived, but instead of entering the shop, David directed you to the back of the building. Confused, you followed him. Standing there was an orc whittling a small block of wood. He had long, single-braided dark hair and bright eyes, dressed in a simple tunic and trousers, and a rucksack was set against the wall next to him. He was more slender than most orcs you’d ever seen, though he was tall and had tight, strappy muscles on his arms. He looked up as you approached, though he paused momentarily when he saw you, staring and slack-jawed. His eyebrows drew down into a small frown briefly, gone instantly, though you weren’t sure what that was about. The sight of a man you’d never met before, a physically powerful one at that, filled you with no small amount of terror. Being alone with two men who could easily overpower you made you even less comfortable.

“Who…?” You asked, turning to David.

“Don’t be afraid, Ms. Margaret. This is an associate of mine, Rourke,” David said.

“I… I don’t… What are we doing here, David?” You asked him, becoming very worried and starting to back away.

The orc named Rourke approached the two of you slowly as if approaching a skittish animal. 

“Are you Ms. Margaret? Miss Catherine’s mother?” He asked you, and your heart jumped into your throat. Forgetting your fear momentarily, you reached out desperately to clutch his arm.

“Is she alright? Is she safe? Where is she?”  

“She’s fine,” Rourke said reassuringly. “She’s married to the chief of the Willowshield Stronghold and being given the respect she’s due as the chieftain’s wife, so you have no reason to worry. We’re here to take you to her.” 

“Take me… I…” You hesitated and looked backward in the general direction of the Count’s manor, though it wasn’t in view. “We’re leaving now?” 

“Yes, ma’am,” Rourke said. “We have to move quickly. If we don’t leave now, we may not have another chance to leave without the Count knowing. I’m sure he’ll realize it sooner rather than later, but we can get a head start if we leave now.” 

Anxiety welled up in you, present at all times, but vastly more intense at the moment than normal. You’d never been outside of the city before and had no idea what to expect from the outside world, and you didn’t know these men at all nor have any reason to believe or trust them, but… your baby girl was out there. If there was any chance of seeing her again, you would have to place your trust in strangers.

“I didn’t bring my things,” You replied weakly. 

David reached into the large bag he’d brought with him and wrestled out a second smaller bag, which you recognized as your own carpet bag, where you kept your meager treasures. You had bought it ages ago when you first tried to leave the manor, but finding out you were with child had stopped you. As bad as the manor was, even though you were paid pennies, you were still paid. You were fed. There was a bed underneath you and a roof overhead. And… you didn’t know where else you could have gone, anyway. You had been there all your life.

Now… you had that chance. The chance to run. 

Looking up at the two men, tears of both fear and hope filling your eyes, and you nodded. 

“Alright.” 

The three of you managed to get out of the city wall before nightfall, but were forced to camp outside mere feet from it. The two men had set up a small but charming tent for you to use, though they themselves would be sleeping outside. As they went about setting up the camp, building the fire, and cooking an evening meal, you sat there for the first time with nothing in your hands, unsure of what to do. 

“Can I help with something?” You asked them. 

Rourke smiled at you kindly. “No, Ms. Margaret, we’ve got it well in hand. You rest your bones for a little while. We’ll take care of this.” 

Sitting still felt unnatural, but you sat and watched them bustle around. As David stirred the pot over the fire, Rourke retrieved a jar from his bags and came close. You resisted the urge to back away. 

“May I sit with you, Ms. Margaret?” He asked. When you nodded, he sat on an upturned log next to you. “This is an ointment our stronghold’s medicine woman made. It’s magic on bruises. Would you mind if I applied a little? That black eye looks nasty.”

“Oh,” You said, looking down to hide behind your hair a little. “Yes, alright.” 

“Look up for me, Ms. Margaret,” He said gently. 

Carefully, he pulled your hair away from your face and tucked it behind your ears. You looked up, surprised by how close he was. This close, you could see he had the prettiest deep brown eyes, glittering like stars in the flickering firelight. They were the same color as clean tilled earth, or savory soup that nourishes the body and soul, or a warm blanket of wool that keeps out the winter chill. They reminded you of every comforting thing you’d ever experienced in your lifetime. You found yourself blushing as those thoughts filled your head, trying to put them out of mind.

“I’m surprised you have a grown child, Ms. Margaret,” Rourke said. You assumed he was attempting to make small talk. 

“Why’s that?” 

“You look far too young. How old are you, if I might ask?” 

“Don’t you know it’s rude to ask a woman her age?”

“Is it?” He asked, tilting his head. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize. That’s not something orc women care about. In fact, orc women like to brag about their age. Each year they live is a year they beat death. As much as we cherish the idea of dying honorably in battle, we also really like bragging.” 

You laughed. “I’m thirty-three.” 

“So young!” He said. “You were still just a girl when Mis Catherine was born, eh?” 

Your smile faded. “Fifteen, yes.” 

He clicked his tongue. “Far too young. I’m amazed you were able to raise a babe when you were hardly more than a babe yourself.” 

“Why, how old are you?” 

“Fifty-two.” 

You pulled back to look at his face. “You're one to talk about not looking one’s age! You barely look out of your thirties! I can’t believe you’re almost twenty years older than I am.” 

He laughed. “Well, thank you for the compliment. My daughter complains that we look much more like siblings than parent and child, but I don’t know if that’s a compliment for me or self-deprecation for her.” 

“You have a daughter?” 

“Oh, yes,” Rourke said. “Just about the same age as Miss Catherine, in fact. She’s my pride and joy. Lost her mother when she was young, so it’s just been me and her ever since then.” 

“I’m sorry to hear that.” 

“It’s alright, Ms. Margaret. It was long ago now.” 

“Still. You have my sincerest sympathies.” 

“I appreciate it. This is pretty bad, by the way,” Rourke said, wincing in sympathy as he applied the ointment to your eye. “What happened?” 

“Oh, I…” You looked down and away, careful not to tilt your head out of his reach. “I… it… just happened.” 

He paused momentarily before continuing, regarding you soberly. 

“Does it ‘just happen’ often?” He asked softly.

“I… I’m a poor worker,” You said quietly. “I’m too slow and lazy, so… I require more… correction than the others do.”

He spread a little of the ointment on the split in your lip, his touch feather soft, before he sat back and gazed at you.

“I can’t claim you know you or your work ethic, Ms. Margaret,” He said. “But no one deserves this kind of punishment. That I do know.” 

You looked down and didn’t respond. 

Rourke sighed. “Do you know how to ride a horse?” 

You looked back up at him. “No.” 

“I thought so. We brought two horses with us, two of the fastest in the stronghold, but it seems like you’ll have to ride with one of us. Is that alright?” 

You nodded. “That’s fine. I just want to get back to my baby.” 

“She’s a lucky lady, to have a mother like you,” Rourke said with a smile. “She’ll be happy to see you. It’ll be a nice surprise.” 

“She doesn’t know I’m coming?” You asked. 

Rourke shook his head, his long ears waggling. “The Count tried to make Chief Akjan believe that Miss Catherine was a legitimate daughter of his, but Chief Akjan had a feeling there was more to the story than he was told, so he had us do some investigating.” He motioned at David. “David realized the true story from listening to the manor’s gossip. After observing you and sending word back, Akjan sent me to retrieve David and see if you were willing to make the journey with us. Although…” He glanced at your face again and sighed. “Seeing how bad things are, I shouldn’t have delayed so long. I should have been here sooner. I apologize for that.” Rourke took a bowl from David and handed it to you. “Here. David’s not a great cook, but it’ll be better than twigs, certainly.” 

“I cook better than you, you lout!” David said indignantly.

You couldn’t help but laugh. “I’m sure it’s fine.” 

Well, he hadn’t been lying: the meal was a little rough, basically just jerky boiled in water, but it was filling enough and made you feel warm inside. 

“We should sleep early,” Rourke said, holding his hand out to help you stand. “We’ll be getting up before dawn to go pick up the horses and start toward the stronghold.” 

“You didn’t have to put up a tent for me, I can sleep on the ground,” You told him, looking inside. It was just a bedroll on top of a riding blanket, but it looked charming and comfortable. 

“Nonsense!” Rourke said. “I’d never made a lady sleep on the cold, hard ground! No, no, you get in there and get comfy, I’ll be right outside keeping watch. Get yourself some rest, Ms. Margaret. Goodnight.” 

Ducking into the tent, you laid your tired body down on the bed and covered yourself, the aches in your body intensifying as you tried to relax. Once he saw that you were in the bed and down for the night, Rourke stationed himself at the mouth of the tent, his back to you, having a muted conversation with David that you couldn’t make sense of. Despite being outside of the city walls for the first time in your life and headed toward an uncertain future, seeing Rourke’s back blocking out the dangers of the world made you feel a strange sense of security. Almost immediately, you fell asleep. 

They managed to make a trip that would normally take two weeks in a mere five days. They rode pretty hard for the first few days, though Margaret needed several breaks throughout the days in order to recover, since horse riding when you weren’t used to it could be quite punishing on the body. She was eternally grateful for that bruise ointment, which Rourke had gifted her.

Margaret rode with Rourke for most of the trip, since his horse was larger, but being in close proximity with men made her wildly uncomfortable. She simply had to swallow down her discomfort to make it to the end. 

For Catherine, She kept telling herself. I can do it for Catherine.

They eventually arrived in a town bustling with activity. It wasn’t anywhere close to being as busy as the city, but it was more lively and less noisy. Riding straight up the middle lane, they reached a tall wall made of wooden pikes and a large gate with sentries patrolling the top. 

“Here we are,” Rouke said. “Welcome to the Willowshield stronghold.” 

“Catherine is inside?” You asked.

“Yes, ma’am,” Rourke replied. “She’s just inside.” 

Hope and expectation welled up in your chest. “She’s just inside,” You repeated softly. 

Rourke chuckled a little, his breath stirring your hair. “Not long now.”

The doors of the gate opened slowly, and the interior of the stronghold revealed itself. There were cottages dotting the landscape, with two long bunkhouses to the left and right, a large building at the top of the hill, and in the very center right beyond the gates, a longhouse that seemed to serve as a town hall. The stronghold was just as bustling as the town outside, and despite being a closed community, it was far more inviting than any place you’d been yet. 

“We must report in to Chief Akjan,” Rourke said as he jumped down from the horse. He reached up to help you down, and then handed off the reins of the horse to a waiting horseboy. You were surprised that orcs had horseboys. “But you’ll be able to see your little girl right after.” 

You nodded and allowed Rourke to lead you into the longhouse. There, a large orc sat in the chair in the center of the room at the end of the fire trench. He wore a leather kilt, furs on his shoulders, and various leather straps. He was talking to David, who walked right up to an orc woman with a baby on her hip and gave her a long, deep kiss. You blushed.  

“Chief Akjan,” Rourke said. “She’s here.” 

“Ah, good,” Chief Akjan said, standing up and towering over you. Where Rourke was tall and lean as a whip, Chief Akjan was broad and massively muscled. “Are you Margaret?” 

You tried to answer, but your voice came out as a squeak. Clearing your throat, you replied, “Yes, I am.” 

Chief Akjan nodded. “Good. I’m glad you’re here. Catherine will be happy to see you.” 

“If you’ll pardon me, Sir,” You asked him shyly. “You’re the one married to Catherine, aren’t you?” 

Chief Akjan shrugged. “Yes and no,” He replied. “We have a contract, but it can be revoked at any moment. She’s under no obligation to stay with me, nor am I beholden to her. We may part ways as friends whenever we wish.” 

Your head rocked back in surprise; you’d never heard of an arrangement like that before. 

“Is she well?” 

“Better than she was at the Count’s estate, I’d wager,” He said, snorting, but upon seeing your anxious face, he answered more seriously. “She’s just fine, ma’am. We’ve been taking good care of her, I swear to you. Shall I fetch her for you?” 

“Oh, please do,” You begged. “I’m so anxious to see her.” 

“I’ll return shortly, then. Wait here.” 

Chief Akjan turned and exited through a side door, and you rung your hands in anticipation, resisting the urge to bounce on your heels like a child. 

“Excited?” Rourke asked, smiling. 

“I just want to be sure she’s alright,” You said. “I can endure anything if my child is happy.” 

Rourke’s smile widened in a fond way. “You’re a good mama.” 

You blushed and looked away. 

“Hopefully, you won’t have to endure anything from now on,” Rourke said, pointing. “Look alive.” 

“Mother!” 

You spun on your heel, elated. Catherine was standing there, looking healthier and brighter than you had ever seen her, wearing simple but well-made clothing, and every ounce of anxiety in your body evaporated. 

“My baby!” You exclaimed, running forward to throw your arms around her. “Oh, my darling, I’m so sorry!” 

She clutched you, quietly crying into your hair. Oh, you had missed her so.

“It’s alright, Mother. Are you alright?” She asked, pulling back to look at the fading bruises on your face. They were almost gone, but the presence of them surely made Catherine feel worried. You could see it on her face.

“I’m fine, honey, I’m just fine,” You insisted. “David and Rourke have been taking good care of me.”

She released you and looked at the men you had pointed to. “They have? What do you mean? How did you get here?”

“I sent them to collect her,” Akjan said, stepping forward. “I had a feeling there was more to the story that you and the Count hadn't told me, so I sent David to do some reconnaissance. It didn’t take long for the full story to reveal itself, so I sent Rourke to retrieve her. Problem solved.”

Catherine’s face showed worry, relief, and a little bit of disappointment. “Thank you, Akjan. I will be in your debt for as long as I live. Are you going to send us to Willowridge?”

He shook his head grimly, crossing his arms. “No. We know that the Count must be aware that your mother has disappeared by now and may have guessed the stronghold’s involvement. Our intelligence suggests he’s gathering soldiers to march on Willowshield to either get his horse deal or take you and your mother back. It’ll be safer for you and your mother to stay within the walls of the stronghold.”

Catherine’s hand went to her mouth in shock. “Oh, god. I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize the Count would cause this much trouble for you.”

Akjan shrugged, as though an invasion by a noble was no cause for concern.

“We’ve been attacked for far less. Don’t worry, it won’t be an issue.” He addressed you directly. “Welcome to Willowshield, madam.”

You bowed your head and nodded shyly. “Thank you very much, Chief Akjan.”

"Rourke, have the girls show Ms. Margaret to the bunkhouse."

Rourke nodded. “This way, Ms. Margaret. Miss Catherine will join you shortly. She and the Chief need to have a heart to heart.” He began guiding you toward the back door and outside.

“Is she in trouble?” You asked fretfully, allowing yourself to be led.

“Not at all! Just some husband and wife business, that’s all. Never you worry.” 

You weren’t sure about that, but you had no choice but to believe him. Rourke had been positively enthusiastic since the moment you met him, upfront and honest and the picture of gentlemanly chivalry. His open and friendly nature had gotten past your inner defenses, and you’d go so far as to consider him something of a friend. David was good natured and friendly as well, but you’d never felt as close to him as you ended up feeling to Rourke. There was just something about Rourke that wouldn’t allow you to ignore him.

Rourke led you to a communal pavilion where there were several women doing fiber arts, weaving and spinning and knitting. One of them, a tall woman in trousers, stood up and came close. 

“Ms. Margaret, this is Erin, Chief Akjan’s sister-in-law,” He said. “She’ll take care of you until Miss Catherine finishes up with the chief.” 

“Ah, you’re Miss Catherine’s mama!” Erin said, holding out her hand. “So good to meet you! We’ve been waiting for you.” 

You took her hand and shook it. “Nice to meet you, Ms. Erin.” 

“Oh, she’s just like Miss Catherine,” Erin said. “Shy and sweet. They’ll love you around here.” 

“Hey!” Rourke said in a warning tone. Erin raised an eyebrow at him but didn’t respond. Clearing his throat, Rourke turned to you. “I have to give a debrief to the chief and report to my superior now. If you should ever need me for anything, my normal job is as a gate guard, so if you go down to the gate and ask for me, I’ll be at your disposal. Any time. Alright?” 

You nodded. “Alright.” 

He seemed reluctant to leave, but he started walking backwards. 

“Until then.” 

You smiled. “Until then.” 

With a bright parting grin, he turned and trotted off, his long braid swinging back and forth. 

“My goodness,” Erin said. “You and Miss Catherine certainly have a way about you, don’t you?” 

You tilted your head in confusion. “I’m sorry, I don’t understand.” 

Erin shook her head and laughed. “It’s nothing. Let’s get you set up with a bunk. Things are about to get… busy soon.” 

The way she phrased that made you feel a little tense, but she pulled you forward to meet the other women in the group, all of whom were welcoming and kind. Erin took you up to the bunkhouse, where you claimed two beds, one for you and one for Catherine. Erin informed you that, now that you had arrived and the Count had nothing to hold over her, Chief Akjan and Catherine no longer needed to keep up appearances and the marriage would be dissolved. Worried, you asked if that meant that she’d be kicked out, but Erin assured you that wasn’t the case. 

“The chief wouldn’t do that,” Erin said. She leaned in and whispered, “Between you and me, Akjan likes her too much to send her away. My prediction is that they won’t be apart for long.” 

“Oh,” You said, surprised. 

Erin laughed. “Come on, she’d be done with the chief now, let’s collect her and catch up. I’m sure she’s dying to tell you everything.” 

Allowing yourself to be dragged back to the pavilion, you saw Catherine standing there, looking around for you, and smiled. For the first time in your life, you felt like you were right where you were meant to be.

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My Masterlist

The Exophilia Creator’s Masterlist

[pokegyns]

Something I think radfems often get wrong is exaggerating the extent to which gendies believe things like "woman is when feminine and man is when masculine". If you ask for their explicit conscious-level beliefs, you will get something like "gender identity is separate from gender roles and gender expression! respect gender identity, break gender roles!"

Of course you have to seriously doubt how much they believe this subconsciously, and calling out this cognitive dissonance between words/actions is worth it, but since they certainly believe they believe it, when we say stuff like "gender is just clothes" it's easy to say "uuhm I'm a transmasc femboy/i'm a butch transfem. terfs are so reductive and have no idea what we believe"

Radfems should understand that gendies treat genders as categories, heavy with associations and context, that supersede sex as the relevant category to which one belongs. This is why "hah, what is a woman?" is not actually a very good question. Radfems expect circular reasoning from this and often receive it because most people (especially teenagers who are in ideological bubbles where their premises are already taken for granted, and thus have never had to articulate this) aren't good at explaining themselves. Here would be my answer, if I channel my old gendie beliefs: "a woman is whoever identifies as a woman, yes." "But what is someone who identifies as a woman identifying AS (checkmate)" "Gender is a categorisation system that was formerly treated as exclusive to one's sex. The conceptual category exists still, but now is not dependent on the body one was born with. Some people are born with a strong internal sense that their bodies should have developed as the opposite sex, and the categories have been expanded to accomodate these people"

The specifics of that last sentence also depend on the particular flavour of gendie. There is a serious lack of understanding among radfems of the diversity of opinion within the gender movement itself.

[geralts-yenn]

Fakin' it

summary: To win back your ex-boyfriend, you decide to fake date your best friend. What could go wrong? 

warnings: vaginal fingering, oral (F/M, M/F ), protected vaginal sex, immature behavior by idiots in love

word count: 5,5k

A/N: Okay, this is silly and immature, but it's fun. Or maybe I have just watched too much of "The summer I turned pretty"...

Inspo board

“Hey sweetcheeks, what happened?” You hadn’t noticed Mike getting up to your retreat in the old tree house in the backyard of your home.

“Go away, Mike!” you told him, hastily brushing your tears off your cheeks. You really didn’t need him around you right now. Mike would try everything that he could to make you laugh. Like he always did. But you wanted to be miserable.

Your boyfriend just told you that he is seeing someone else. That it’s getting serious, so it would be only fair to tell you. Like, maybe it would have been better to tell you right from the start that you weren’t exclusive? You were making plans to build a life with this guy, and he was making plans of how to screw other girls without you noticing, it seems.

“Hey, someone there?” Mikey waved his hand in front of your eyes. Apparently, he had been talking to you while you drifted back to the moment where your life got shattered.

“Sorry,” you said, another sniffle following. “Dave told me that he has a new girlfriend. And he’s serious with her, so he doesn’t want to see me anymore.” New tears rolled down your cheeks.

Mike dropped to the floor next to you. “Wait, back to the start because my mind is playing tricks on me. Dave told you he has a girlfriend? Like another one, not you?”  Mike’s jaw was practically on the floor as he stared at you incredulously.

It almost made you laugh because he looked just so silly. Damn, that man really always made you feel better. But right now, you hated him for this.

“Can you just leave me alone and let me drown in my misery, Mike?” you asked him, but he didn’t move. 

“Not happening, princess!” He shook his head with a frown that should have made him look serious, but it didn’t work. Mike doesn’t do seriousness. In fact, he looked incredibly cute like this.

You accepted your fate and started talking about your night with Dave. Mike was surprisingly calm and just listened to your ramblings. After you finished with how you got home and ended up crying your soul out in the tree house, Mike wrapped an arm around you and pulled you close. 

“How do you want me to kill him, sweetcheeks? Slowly and cruel? Or fast and gorey?” This time he actually managed to look serious but yet, it made you snort. 

“I actually would prefer getting him back.” you admitted, feeling totally stupid while doing so because you knew it was, in fact, totally stupid. But it was the truth. You were still in love with Dave. Even when you knew that he had treated you awfully.

Mike looked at you with an odd look on his face. “You really want that, do you?” he asked and you nodded. You felt ashamed, but you wouldn’t ever lie to your best friend. “Yes, I love him.”

Mike nudged your shoulder. “Then, we’ll get him back for you,” he told you determinedly. You must have looked at him like an idiot because he couldn’t hold back a chuckle.

“We’ll make him so incredibly jealous that he won’t be able to think of anything else as how to get you back, sweetcheeks.”

“How would we get him jealous? It’s not like he didn’t know what he’d lose…” But Mike interrupted your sermon. 

“You’ll be dating a hot guy and making out with him whenever Dave is near you. He’ll be regretting every second that he didn’t make you feel like the only woman in the world.” A smug smirk that was so typical of Mike appeared on his face. But you could not comprehend what he was talking about. 

“Who the hell should I be dating? It's not like there’s a queue of hot guys waiting for me.” This idea was just stupid and for the first time in your life, Mike actually managed to make you feel worse than before.

But Mike didn’t let go of his idea. “Well, first of all, I am pretty certain that I would find some hot guys who’d love to participate in this. However, as we don’t want you to really be dating someone, I volunteer to take that part.”

Now that was too much. You burst out laughing. This silly idiot almost had you believe…. Then you looked into his face. He sat there, his eyebrows raised, a crooked smile, giving you his best version of puppy eyes. He was serious!

“No!” You shook your head insistently. Mike sank his chin on his chest, blinking at you through his lashes. “No, Mike! I'm not making out with you. That's gross!”

He grabbed his heart, pretending to be hurt. “So you don't think I'm hot?” he asked which you answered with an eye roll. 

“Mike, I have known you as long as I can think of. That would be just awkward. And let's be real, nobody would believe we would ever actually date.”

Mike pouted at you, and you weren't sure anymore if it was just play-pretend, or if he maybe really was hurt a little. 

“I am pretty sure half of our friends ask themselves why the hell we're NOT dating, sweetcheeks,” he pointed out. And he was probably right. Which didn't make it any less odd.

“I don't know, Mike. I don't want to risk our friendship with that. And we don't even know if it will work.” But Mike insisted that it was the best chance for you to win back Dave.

“And we're not risking anything, sweetcheeks. I've hugged and kissed you before. It's not that much different. Our friendship is strong enough to endure some making out sessions.”

You ran out of counterarguments, and so you ended that bizarre night by making plans for dates with your childhood friend.

The next few days you met Mike in your old tree house, making a battle plan for your fake relationship. 

You started with photos for social media. That was actually hilarious, and you ended up laughing so much that you even forgot the reason why you were making pictures of Mike and yourself sucking each other's faces. Mike was goofing around constantly, making faces between kisses and tickling you. 

“Ouch. Mike! Did you just bite into my cheek?” You rubbed your stinging face, trying your best to look at Mike as if you were about to murder him. “I call you sweetcheeks for a reason. You taste good. Couldn’t resist. You should be glad I was heading for your face.” He looked at you through his lashes and you couldn’t be mad at him for real. Instead, you swore to get revenge.

The next day you started a pretend Netflix and chill and in the end you had a great night, cuddling with Mike on your couch and watching your favorite horror movies. Mike started to throw popcorn at you until you finally had enough and you wrestled him down. You straddled him and gripped his wrists, making him punch himself in his face. When Mike tried to get free, both of you crashed down on the floor, the bowl of popcorn following you, and you ended up crying in laughter.

But then there was the first real challenge. Your friend's group wanted to spend the night at the beach. And you and Mike were supposed to have your first outing as a couple. You were nervous as hell. But at last, it wasn't that bad at all.

Mike was always very physical in showing affection, even as a friend. And so, it didn't feel too awkward to spend the evening in his lap, his arms wrapped tight around you. Even the small pecks he pressed on your cheek and temple felt good. 

And it worked, every time you checked on Dave you noticed him turning his eyes away from you. 

When it was getting late, Mike whispered in your ear: “We need to step it up a notch, Sweetcheeks.” Without any further explanation, he pulled your leg over his thighs, making you straddle him. He cupped your face with both of his hands and gave you a kiss like you had never experienced before. You noticed how your body reacted to Mike's ministrations, and you couldn't decide whether you wanted to make him stop it or just enjoy the tingling feeling. When he finally pulled away, you gasped.

“I never thought you'd be such a good kisser!” you said, and Mike proudly beamed at you.

For the rest of the evening you kept your position with your legs wrapped around Mike's waist and from time to time Mike acted in his best boyfriend manner, kissing you senseless, running his fingers up and down your skin or maybe even groping your butt. 

You didn't miss the look Dave gave you when Mike helped you to get up, and he walked you home, his arm wrapped tight around your waist. Even when you had brought enough distance between your friends at the beach and you, Mike didn't stop holding you tight and pressing some pecks on your cheek from time to time. He was so happy about how successful his show was and talked to you about it the whole way back to your homes. 

When you arrived at your porch, Mike pulled you close one last time and gave you another kiss that made your legs tremble.

“Mike, we're alone, you can stop pretending.” you scolded him, although you weren't able to suppress a giggle.

Mike let out a soft chuckle himself. “I'm method acting!” he told you, giving you one of his awkward winks before he turned to his own door. 

That night you didn’t get to sleep a lot. Your mind kept coming back to your evening. And you realized that you didn’t think of Dave even once. All you cared for was Mikey. How it had felt to be so close to him. How his kisses were messing with you. How your body reacted to him. That you wanted more of this.

It was time to start panicking! You were not supposed to feel this way! You should have known that this whole fake dating idea was stupid. But now it was too late. You were lying in your bed and dreamt about your best friend kissing you. 

You managed to spend three days without seeing Mike and it helped to get your head clear again. By now, you were sure it was just the drinks and the romantic bonfire setting that had tricked you into that stupid idea of having feelings for Mike. And then Mike’s head appeared in the door of the treehouse where you were reading. And you felt your heart skip a beat.

“Kimberly is celebrating her birthday in her dad's beach house this weekend,” Mike started as he dropped next to you. There was an odd expression on his face. Something was on his mind, and you had the feeling that you wouldn't like it.

“That's cool!” you said, suspiciously eyeing him. His smile widened and you knew you were right.

“What's the matter? You are planning something.” You attempted to look stern at him, though you were sure you failed at it. 

“Not planning anything, sweetcheeks. But Kimberly was making plans on where everyone was going to sleep. And as we're dating…”

Your heart was racing in your chest. You couldn’t freak out now. But you did. “No, Michael, we're not spending the night in one bed!” You pointed your finger at him. “You're going to call Kim and tell her we'll be needing separate rooms!” You couldn't be sleeping next to Mike. All these staged touches and kisses already messed up your feelings. That wasn’t going to end well.

Mike just frowned at you. “Sweetcheeks, everyone saw photos of us sharing the same bed. What do you want to tell them? That you're suddenly converted to some Christian purity cult?” He chuckled at the thought of it. “Aside from that, we've been sleeping in the same bed before.”

You rolled your eyes. “That was when we were twelve, Mike! Totally different circumstances…”

“Nothing changed. You were my best friend then and you are my best friend now. Sweetcheeks, why are you freaking out?”

You wanted to scream at him that everything had changed. Mike’s body had changed, your body had changed. Your feelings had changed, for fuck's sake. How could you not freak out? But saying all this wasn’t an option. Not now and not ever.  

“I won’t go then,” you decided, leading Mike to snap his eyes wide open and watch you in disbelief. 

“No! You can’t do that. We can’t miss that opportunity. Just think about it. All we have to do is sleep and Dave will be fuming.” He wasn’t wrong. 

A thousand thoughts were running through your brain: There was no way of getting out of this without making Mike suspicious anyway. And if you were careful enough, you could do this. You could spend the night with Mike in one bed. And then Dave would be running back to you, and you’d be with him and everything would be back to normal. 

“Promise me that you keep away from me,” you demanded. For Mike it must have appeared like you were furious and totally out of your mind. When in fact you were scared – and out of your mind.

“I won’t touch you, I swear!” Mike shook his head as he looked at you, a disappointed expression on his face. 

You didn’t talk much with Mike after that until the weekend was finally there and you packed your stuff for Kim’s party. Mike was standing in the door frame watching you as you stuffed everything in your backpack. 

“Swimsuit?” he reminded you, but you shook your head. “I won’t need one.”

“Sweetcheeks, there’s a pool, you’ll need one. Show Dave what he’s missing out. That gorgeous boobies need to be on full display.” 

‘It wasn’t unusual for Mike to talk like that. It’s just how he is. But this time you froze as he mentioned your chest. Deciding that it was better to just ignore it, you took your bikini out of your drawer and put it into the backpack. “Let’s go” you told Mike and pushed him to the side, so you could run down the stairs and escape his gaze.

When you arrived, Kim showed you your room so you could drop your bags. You stared at the twin size bed standing at the window and wanted to run. How were you supposed to fit in there with Mike? He was lean but he was also tall. He had wide shoulders, and a some nice butt. Damn! 

“Sorry, I know it’s small,” Kimberly said. “But I thought since you’re still so newly in love you wouldn’t mind…” 

Mike wrapped his arm around your waist and kissed your temple. “Thanks, Kim. It’s perfect,” he answered. You wanted to smack him. Perfect? You were going to die tonight. Or maybe you’d kill him, that would solve the problem, too.

Dave wasn’t there yet, so at least you could enjoy the party while avoiding Mike as often as possible. You were chatting with your friends, watching the boys play beer pong, when Dave arrived, his new girl hugging his arm as if she were afraid to get lost. 

The next moment, Mike’s hands touched your waist and ran over your belly until you were in a tight hug. Mike whispered in your ear: “Here we go, showtime!” You held your breath, counted to ten and hoped that Mike didn’t notice the goosebumps that covered your whole body. 

From then on, there was no chance of avoiding Mike. He was constantly by your side. Touches, kisses. He was dancing with you. He even convinced you to change into your swimsuit and get into the pool. That’s where you were now. Your back pressed to the edge, you were caged between Mike’s thighs and arms. His face inches from yours. 

“It’s working, sweetcheeks. Did you see? Dave is staring all the time. And his girl isn’t amused.” Your heart was pounding and it had absolute nothing to do with Dave. All you could think of was how good it felt to be trapped by Mike, to feel his lips brush over yours. You needed to get away from this.

Determinedly, you pushed Mike’s arm to the side and climbed the ladder to get out of the pool. You were about to storm off somewhere where you were alone, so you could break down and cry. But then there was this girl in front of you.

“You can have him. I’m not dating this idiot just to watch him stare at your ass.” With that, she turned and ran down the stairs. You couldn’t do anything else than blink and stand there, frozen. You saw Dave getting up, for a moment he was looking at you as if was about to say something, but then he ran after his girlfriend.

Mike appeared by your side, pressing a kiss on your cheek. “Perfect timing, sweetcheeks. Looks as if you’d get what you wanted.” He smiled at you, but his eyes didn’t meet the expression. Instead, he looked as if he lost a game. And Mike was a sore loser.

You were still completely lost what was happening and what you should do. So you grabbed a bottle of cheap wine and finally ran off to the beach. You hadn’t even gotten to the first half of the bottle when Mike had found you. 

“What are you doing, sweetcheeks? Why are you acting like that? It’s been working out great, hasn’t it?” You sniffled into his chest.

“I don’t know, Mike. I feel like a bad person. Lying to everyone.” To be true, you hated that you were lying to him. The one person you could always tell anything. But you couldn’t tell him that. Which made you feel worse. What a great clusterfuck!

“You are wonderful! It’s a shame that it needs all these tricks to make others see it. But I know that you are. You’re as far away as it goes from being a bad person.” He pulled you up on your feet, hugging you one armed while taking the bottle from you with his other hand.

“Let’s get you back to the party. Maybe Dave is already waiting. I can improvise making a scene, so you can be with him.” Your stomach turned just by thinking about Mike splitting up with you. What the hell? You weren’t dating for real! That’s what you wanted. But you couldn’t stop thinking how much you’d hate to lose those moments with Mike.

He had left you in the garden and told you to wait while he was getting you some water. You looked around, trying to find something or someone to distract you from your thoughts.

And Kimberly was there to safe you. She stopped next to you with a grin.

“What a drama, hu? As if it is your fault that Dave is gawking at your ass. But at least that idiot was smart enough to run after his shrew. As if he could stand a chance against Mike. Everybody sees how perfect you are together. It was about time.” So much for getting distracted. You must have looked puzzled because Kim was pointing over to the pool. There was Dave sitting on a lounger, his girlfriend back in his lap. You started to laugh hysterically. 

Mike appeared next to and followed your eyes. He shook his head, biting back the comment that shouldn’t slip him as long as Kimberly was standing next to you. Instead, he took you in his arms and kissed your cheek. He walked you closer to the pool until you were standing right at the back of Dave.

“Hey, sweetcheeks. What do you think, Should we go to bed?” He nuzzled his nose into your neck and nipped at your ear. It felt so good, you weren’t able to form a word. So you just hummed in approval. Mike let go of you just to take your hand and guide you back to the house. He was watching Dave’s reaction as you passed him, but you couldn’t care less about Dave. You didn’t know what got into you, but there was only one thing in the world that you wanted and that was to be alone with Mike in that ridiculously small bed.

Mike was heading for the small en-suite first, then it was your turn. When you got back, he was standing in the middle of the room, wearing an old shirt and sweatpants. You looked down on yourself, your tank top and shorts a lot more revealing. 

Apparently, you had a totally wrong idea of how that night would end. And you couldn’t blame Mike. You had made him swear to leave you alone. And he was still absolutely clueless about what you felt for him. He was expecting an awkward night with his best friend, trying not to touch you without falling off the bed. And thinking about it, what in the hell had made you think that he’d want to spend the night with you in that way. For him this thought probably was as ridiculous and gross as it was for you - before you had started this whole mess. 

Mike’s eyes were staring at the carpet as you passed him to get into the bed. When you were settled in the corner, he followed you, trying his best to keep his distance, which was impossible. His shoulder rubbed at your arm and his knee was brushing over your calf. 

With a sigh, he turned to his side, looking at you with wide eyes. “You were right, it’s totally odd.” Both of you laughed, easing the tension that had built between you as soon as you had entered the room. 

And then it happened. You had no idea who started it, but suddenly Mike’s mouth was on yours. The touch of your tongues shot electric shocks through your body. You grabbed Mikes side and pulled him closer, grinding your hips against his. He moaned into your mouth as your soft chest pressed against his. The hands of you both were searching for skin, yours tugging on Mike’s shirt while his ran along the back of your thighs. Hastily you undressed each other. Relishing the feeling of his warm skin on yours, you found the courage to go for the last step. With hitched breaths, you reached out to touch his dick. Mike’s moan reverberated through the room and you were surprised he was this loud. But damn, it did things to you. You pressed his shoulder down, so he was on his back, and you made your way down his chest, along the soft tuft of hair until he was right in front of you. You wrapped your hand around his cock again and your tongue darted out to lick over his tip. Mike pressed another groan through his gritted teeth. 

“Damn, sweetcheeks, what are you doing?” You didn’t have any plans on answering him even if you hadn’t just put his dick in your mouth. Instead, you started bobbing your head up and down his shaft. You paid attention to every breath and every sound of Mike, trying to find all the little things that he liked. But soon you couldn’t focus anymore on him because his fingers had found its way between your legs and what he did there was making every thought of you blur. Now it was you moaning desperately around his cock, as he carefully tested what made you clench around his fingers. 

He pumped them in and out, curled to reach that spot that made you go insane. You felt your climax approaching so fast and then it washed over you. Your limbs giving in, you collapsed on the bed. But after caching your breath you got up again. You had noticed the condoms, casually placed on the nightstand. Kimberly surely was a great friend. You reached for one of them and opened the unruly foil package with your teeth. 

A look at Mike’s face told you that he wanted this as much as you did. So you rolled the condom over his cock and let yourself fall onto the mattress next to him. You guided him to lay between your widespread legs and Mike positioned himself at your entrance. Then Mike pushed forward and you felt him inside of you. The kiss he pressed onto your lips showed the desperation that he tried to hide in the slow and steady moves of his hips. But it didn’t take long until he couldn’t hold back any longer and his thrusts got harder and faster. You felt another climax built up in your core and begged him not to stop. And he didn’t. He pulled your legs over his shoulders, slamming his hips into your ass relentlessly until he felt you come undone around his cock. Only seconds after he found his own release, jerking as he spilled his seed into the sheath.

Mike planted a kiss on your forehead before getting up and going to the bathroom. He wasn’t away too long but when he got back he found you already asleep, completely exhausted by the overwhelming flood of emotions. 

So you didn’t notice how Mike lay awake for hours just watching you, thinking about everything that happened, everything he had felt for such a long time. You didn’t catch him brushing hair out of your face before he placed a soft kiss on your lips. You didn’t watch him as he peered at the incoming text on your phone. You didn’t see him leaving the room when the sun was rising and bathed your face in warm orange light.

When you woke up you knew that something was not the way it should have been. It took you a second to realize it was Mike who wasn’t by your side. For a moment, you wondered if you had drunken too much and just imagined the whole night. But moving your hips you felt the soreness that was proof enough that this wasn’t a dream. 

You got up, gathered your stuff and put on whatever clothes you found in your backpack. A bunch of eyes landed upon you as you rushed down the stairs. Kim and some more friends were already sitting at the kitchen island with oats and coffee. 

“Hey, are you okay? Where’s Mikey?” Kimberly asked, but you just shook your head and ran to the entrance, hoping that they hadn’t noticed the tears gathering in the corner of your eyes.

As you stood in the driveway, you saw that Mike’s car was still standing there. First you thought that maybe he was just at the beach. But then you saw the note on the windshield. 

“Hey, Sweetcheeks! I’m sorry! That’s not how it should have been. Keys are in your backpack!”

The whole drive back to your home tears were falling freely. How could you just fuck up the relationship with the one man you always trusted, the one that you loved? He was your best friend, and he should have been that forever. But now you had lost him.

You were standing on Mike’s porch, but then you turned. If he had wanted to talk he would have stayed. Without thinking, you walked around the house and climbed up to your hideout. 

If you had been thinking, you would have guessed that Mike was there. The old treehouse wasn’t only your shelter, it was his equally. 

But what you would have never guessed was how you found him. Mike was curled up into a ball on the bed. He didn’t move when you got closer. You noticed the old photo album lying next to him. The open page showed pictures of you two, the last summer before you went to college. You remembered how much time the both of you spent together that year. It was probably the best time of your life. New tears fell down your cheeks.

As you sniffled, Mike finally noticed you and sat up. His head was still hanging low, but you saw that his cheeks were red and his eyes puffy and bloodshot. 

“You shouldn’t be here, sweetcheeks,” he muttered. “Go and get your man.” He closed his eyes again and wrapped his arms around his knees, forming a ball once more. 

You put the album on the floor to make room for you and sat beside him. 

“That’s what I’m trying, silly.” Your hand brushed over his curls. Mike raised his head again. His eyes found yours and you could see his pain in them. 

“Didn’t you see Dave’s message? He wants you back. We made it.” His voice broke and he turned to look out of the small window, avoiding your gaze.

“Mike! Do you really think that this night didn’t mean anything to me? Don’t you see what I feel? What I want?” Your fingers hooked under his chin and you turned him to look at you.

“When I woke up this morning I thought I had lost you. That you didn’t want me. But now I see that we both want the same. You do want this, don’t you?” 

Mike’s eyes were big as saucers as he looked at you, but there was a spark in it that wasn’t there moments ago. “Sweetcheeks, I have wanted this since we were eighteen.”

And then you were in his arms and your mouth on his. Knowing this was real, this was what you both wanted, this kiss tasted so much sweeter, Mike’s skin was so much softer. Your heart was going to explode.

When everything you did last night was rushed and full of lust, this time you both savored every moment. Fingers were slowly brushing over skin. Soft kisses were placed on every inch of your bodies. Carefully you striped down your clothes, piece for piece. When Mike opened your bra, he hummed contently before he dipped his head right into your chest. He nipped at your skin, making his way to your hardened bud. His tongue circled around it before he started to suck. To pay attention to the other one, he rolled it between his fingers. You moaned into his mouth, his ministrations leading you to clench your thighs together.

This didn’t go unnoticed by Mike. He knelt down on the floor, rolling down your panties. Then he hooked both his arms under your thighs, holding your legs wide open and sank his head into your exposed pussy. The sensation of whatever he did with his mouth made you whimper and cry out his name. As you came undone you threw your head back with a cry. When you opened your eyes again, you saw Mike still kneeling between your legs, biting his lower lip with a proud smile playing at the corner of his mouth.

You pulled him up to the bed again and as soon as he sat down, you straddled his thighs. Running your hands up and down his chest, you sighed. “I wish I could fuck you right here and now.” 

Mike grinned as he bent down to kiss you hard. His tongue was eagerly exploring your mouth. And when he pulled back, he told you: “We could arrange that.”

You just loved the way he looked at you. But you shook your head. “We need a condom, Mike!” He raised an eyebrow, his look asking you silently if you really thought that was a problem. 

He searched through the little box next to the bed, not letting you go from your place in his lap. And it didn’t take long until he held a condom up for you to see.

“I told you I wanted this to happen for a long time.” That little shit really didn’t want to miss a chance. You loved that. Warily you glanced at the date printed on the foil packaging. But of course, he thought of that, too.

You watched as Mike sheathed himself. There was this moment that seemed to last forever where both of you didn’t move, just staring in each other's eyes. And then you lifted yourself from his thighs just to sink down inch for inch on his cock. You couldn’t explain, but everything felt even better as the night before. It was intense, it felt as if you were about to burst, although you were hardly moving. You wrapped your legs around his waist and rolled your hips.

“I love you, Mikey” you whispered. Mike stared deep into your eyes. He moaned as you slowly rocked your body on his cock. “I love you, too, sweetcheeks.”

[butts-bouncing-on-the-beltway]

When my wife and I first started fucking dating, we had a shorthand phrase we would exchange when someone was being...some kind of way about gender and sex and sexuality...to sort of indicate to each other what we thought was happening.

"I see we've decided to round to the nearest dick."

See, wifey and I are both trans and bisexual in REALLY similar ways, but with different AGABs right? And we noticed with time that interesting trends showed up. For me, people, even those who know I'm bisexual, treat me like they would treat me as a straight person in their life. Wifey often gets treated like loved ones treat exclusively gay people. Then with gender it's similar! People assume I *don't* have a dick and so they treat me like they would treat [failed] women in their lives. They assume Wifey DOES have a dick and treat her like they would treat a [failed] man in their life. Even beyond that, when wifey and I are TOGETHER, we are automatically defaulted into the "straight" category or the "gay" category depending on which of us (how many of us) they are assuming has a dick, and then defers authority in the relationship to whoever they think has the dick.

It's all gender essentialism all the way down, and interrelated essentialism across the whole spectrum, butit shows up in different ways depending on how people perceive our relationship to our genetalia

And it IS about our genetalia because it almost always gets explicit about it at some point.

I think what I've always found the most interesting is how other queer and trans folks interact with the concept of rounding to the nearest dick, including how we as a community wield it against each other laterally. The experience of being called "basically a woman" by lesbian partners in order to reconcile their discomfort with my gender (as distinct from lesbian partners whose reconciliation of my gender with their sexuality involved calling THEMSELVES "basically alesbian" or some similar iteration that emphasized the importance/meaning of THEIR identity WITHOUT commenting on my own) while Wifey gets treated like "basically a man" because of how race, gender, and sexuality intersect for her. The experience of being told I am excempt from certain realities not based on ACTUAL lack of the experience but based on a feeling of ownership people believe they have over how those experiences may manifest in the world, like when someone says "well trans men aren't oppressed anymore" so I shouldn't take up space in women's communities, men's communities, OR trans-general communities. Or like when someone told wifey that gay men haven't been oppressed since same sex marriage.

Like A) you're simply fucking wrong, and B) even if you were RIGHT, I'm NOT a trans man and my wife ISN'T a gay man. So why would that mean anything about us?

Part of what we both noticed is that the function of "rounding to the nearest dick" is usually about silencing or side-lining someone. WHO exactly is relational and context dependent, but essentially it boils down to "I need one of us to be explicitly less empowered than the other of us to feel safe navigating our interaction"

Sometimes it's preferrable to BE the disempowered (e.g. justification of horizontal hostility) and others to be the disempowerING (e.g. gatekeeping access to socio-economic resources) but in either case, we explicitly see gender wielded asymmetrically and selectively to create and redirect power. Not as something intrinsic to a person or within their control. And I think it's interesting as a trans person to experience gender explicitly as power even when, for me, that's never what it's been. It's interesting to see how people engage with that power when THEY don't usually experience it that way.

Anyway, rounding to the nearest dick is something I think we should all avoid, in part because maybe we should stop focusing in so much on people's gender and sexuality having ANYTHING intrinsic/inherent to them, as opposed to a layer of context within the wholeness of their lives

[feminismisstillahatemovement]

I always find this chickflick/chicklit cover template very puzzling: I must have seen it hundreds - possibly thousands - of times in my life, but it always throws up many thoughts, and questions I don't have any definitive answers to.

In each of them, a tall, handsome and implicitly wealthy man gazes with desire and adoration at a woman who, instead of looking back with the same longing, looks away, at the camera, at us. The audience for this genre is close to 100% female, so she is specifically looking at other women, rather than the man she apparently loves.

Why should that be? What does that imply about her - and by extension, other women's - values and priorities?

In each of them, the look she gives the camera is always ambiguous, as though she is at once somewhat smugly showing off - or even guarding - her trophy, but also intimate and welcoming, as if to say "wait until I finish up here, dear stranger, and then I will meet you in the kitchen to gossip to you of my good fortune as though you were my closest friend".

Of course, the third interpretation that comes to mind is that she is simply acting as a blank cipher; a stand-in, a shop window dummy for the woman looking on to use as an avatar to vicariously experience the feelings of accumulated wealth, success and contentment she represents.

For this approach to have been repeatedly used so very many times over the decades cannot be an accident, and must have been exhaustively market-researched by a variety of people in white coats holding clipboards to be accepted as the approach that will sell the most books and DVDs to the female of the species, so clearly this speaks to, and appeals to, women across nations on a very primal level. It raises questions for me as to how evolution has formed women's desires and how they perceive men, and on what terms they will value men: how they will commonly fetishize them as success objects the way men often fixate purely upon women's sex and beauty, to the exclusion of all else.

I suppose it most makes me wonder whether and how the word 'love' may differ in meaning to both sexes: whether it means to them the willingness to lay down one's life for the other, whose wants, happiness and safety they now place even above their own, and will do so until death, or whether it is just a label for a pleasant treat to show off to others, whose opinions you value higher than the person you have chosen to be with.

All I know is, the distance between two people's deepest minds is greater than that between stars, and always has been.

[thelostgirl21]

I wish there was a way to clearly say:

I'm personally comfortable being called a "woman", only because I have the sexual dimorphism typically associated with a female of the human species, and that's how other people see me as when they look at my physical appearance; nothing more.

While making 100% sure not to accidentally bring any harm to the trans community, or making it sound like one's gender identity should always match their physical appearance, when that's far from being the case.

Because, until very recently, I'd always been calling myself "a girl", or "a woman" exclusively based on how I physically look.

To me, defining myself as "a woman", has always been the equivalent of describing an external characteristic of my body that others are able to see.

- I'm a woman.

- I'm 5'7''.

- I have brown eyes.

- etc.

It's always been exactly the same to me. It's what you can physically see, not who I am.

Somehow, it's like I completely forgot to develop a sense of personal identity tied to "being a woman" while I was growing up.

I could wake up tomorrow with a body that has the sexual dimorphism of a male of my species instead, have everyone call me a man and suddenly have to live my life as one, and I'd have only ONE problem with it.

Just the one.

My partner is a heterosexual man, so that would be a challenge.

But otherwise, I think I'd just be really curious to explore the physiological differences between my prior body and my new body, and then move on with my life without changing a single thing to the things I like, my behavior in general, personal interests, probably the way I like to dress, too, etc.

I'd just be "looking more masculine" while doing it.

It would be like having blonde short hair instead of my current brown long hair.

The rest of the world would treat me differently as a man, sure! But that wouldn't reflect how I identify or feel inside about who I am.

Just how others now see me as and choose to socially treat me.

My gender, to me, is something that's always existed outside of myself.

I have no personal use for it, nor is it a part of my personality.

I guess I've often been gender-non-conforming, too, not because I was attempting to rebel against my own gender, felt a need to distance myself from the binary, or anything... But just because I've never seen the point of it.

I've had boyfriends telling me that it was like I wanted to be the "man in the relationship", and being upset that I wasn't letting them play their role at times (that hasn't really been an issue with women, oddly enough); and I broke up with them without looking back, because what the fuck was that even supposed to mean?

I wasn't trying to behave like a man or a woman, I was just being myself, and adopting the social roles and behaviors I'm comfortable with. If you can't love me as I am, then what am I supposed to do?

Younger, I've had little boys back at school telling me that "it was weird for a girl to like certain things or express herself a certain way", and my response has always pretty much been to shrug, go "guess I'm a weird girl then", and then continue doing things my way.

(Yes, I'm aware that I've been very privileged to live in a world where I've merely been occasionally bullied or suffered verbal micro-agressions for ignoring the social standards set for "little girls"... Then again, I've probably embraced some of them!

I loved playing with my "He-Man and the Masters of the Universe set", or walking around with a lightsaber pretending to be Luke Skywalker... But I was cool with "My Little Poney" (the originals) and "Rainbow Bright", too!

Like I said, I wasn't trying to be "non-conforming", I just liked whatever I liked!

I was also lucky enough that my parents fully allowed me to go for what I enjoyed in terms of toys, games, activities, playmates, etc., regardless of gender.

And my physical appearance as a child occasionally had people mistaking me for a boy. So, perhaps, the other adults that saw me behave as one in public assumed I was one, and thus put less pressure on me to behave in a way that would have been deemed more "feminine" than "masculine".

By the point I really started looking more "feminine" (like I do now), I guess I'd moved past caring about it, and/or had reached a point where it made no sense to me that it would suddenly have been upsetting that I occasionally behaved "as a boy" or enjoyed "boy things" now when, until then, it had always been perfectly fine and well accepted that I did!

I guess there's something to be said about the influence of early socialisation, and how adults in the social environment of a child respond to a young child's gender, in the level of importance they might instinctively give to it later on.)

Like, I'm pretty sure that, if I were to ask you to determine my gender based on my looks alone (while fully giving you permission to do it), especially when I'm performing on stage wearing makeup, you'd go "you're a woman!" with a fair level of confidence!

But that's just it! To me that's just the way I look. A stylistic choice based on the way my body chose to develop, if you will.

What drives me nuts, though, is that I have zero problem empathizing with the trans community and their need to express their own gender identity, because I know what it feels like to need to be seen and respected as one's authentic self!

You tell me you identify as a woman, a man, agender, genderfae, etc., and/or feel a need to express it? Be yourself, and rock that gender! It is who you are, and it is your right to own it!

The fact that I feel like I don't have any particular use or need for gender doesn't mean that it can't be important for others, and that they don't have a use or need for it themselves.

Just because I don't intimately understand it, doesn't mean it doesn't exist or doesn't matter. It doesn't mean that I can't support, and actively advocate for proper gender recognition and respect in schools and other public places.

I "get it" without "getting it", if you will.

The problem, however, is that I am extremely uncomfortable with the idea that, if I identify as a "woman", people will assume that it means more to me than "I physically look female".

That it will be assumed that I emotionally and psychologically connect with my gender, and feel a need to express it, or a sense of attachment and belonging to the woman gender.

After having called the way my physical body "looks" to others on the outside "being a woman" for decades, it's hard for me to suddenly go "being a woman is not the same as passing for a woman, it's about the gender you identify with inside..." and stop calling myself a woman, because I feel like I've no gender identity inside of myself.

But "agender" doesn't quite feel right to me, either, because I'd never had any problem with the idea of being a woman, until I learned that I was supposed to give a damn about being a woman, and personally connect with my gender, that is.

And "gender non-conforming" doesn't sound quite right, either, because I'm not trying to avoid conforming to the woman gender, or expressing a different gender than the one that was assigned to me at birth.

They basically gave me a gender based on my genitalia when I was born, and I went "Yeah, sure! I guess I can look the part... Why not?"; while ignoring the whole social instructions booklet and guidelines that went with it.

So lately, every time someone has asked me what my gender is, or what gender I identify with, I've had a tendency to freeze, panic, and mentally go:

Like the idea of my having a gender makes no internal sense to me. It's not something I can relate to, "vibe with", or identify with.

Is there a way to respectfully say "I'm calling myself a woman for convenience's sake, because that's the gender traditionally associated with the way I look, and I'm okay with having grown into a feminine appearance by default? But please, don't assume it means anything to me beyond that, or expect me to behave, dress, or do anything according to the woman gender."

I've been using "gender apathetic" in an attempt to convey it, but is that really what it means, and how most people understand it?

Basically, I feel like my answers to these questions would be:

- What physical look do you most resemble? Woman / feminine / female.

- What gender do you identify with? None.

- Do you feel comfortable being called a woman, and her / she pronouns, based on the way you look? Yes.

How do you freaking call or define that?

Non-internalized cisgenderism?

[tirfpikachu]

i think so many wrongly trans-identified people - which obvs isn't all trans folks, just ppl like me as a detrans dyke - are just gender criminals. they're made to think that means they need to separate themselves from their agab entirely instead of just seeing themselves as a post-gender sexed creature, like a female rabbit or male dog, just a neutral body type while messing around with gender roles.

i fought all the gender off my body like it was a plague taking over me from my sexist misogynistic upbringing and Society tm. you can be cis/non-trans and still be post-gender. you can be gnc as hell and not be trans or dysphoric about your sex, or disassociating from your sex category, and instead just be anti-gender. you don't need to be trans or nonbinary to be post-gender and gnc. it can even be a political thing, a protest against the patriarchy. you just can't assume that every cis person has stereotypical cis privilege. you just can't assume that anyone who isn't trans-identified or nonbinary-identified doesn't face gncphobia that can be just as horrific as transphobia, or be uncomfortable with the gender roles forced on them. anyone visibly gnc or transitioned, or both, faces bigotry in society. this should be a better indicator of oppression than simple label terms. it should be about real, tangible experiences of gncphobia, misogyny, sexism etc.

this is why nonbinary used to not be a trans-exclusive term, btw. some people truly were like "i'm cis, i'm not trans, but i'm agender." but then people jumped in and yelled that no, that couldn't be true, they must all be trans and they must all be dysphoric, even when the person was straight up openly like no, i'm not trans, i'm fine with my sex, i just think gender roles are dumb and i think being nonconforming is cool. but that's not the case anymore; you say anything about gender being stupid, hating gender roles, hating how you're treated for being female or being male and feminine, and boom! people say you're a repressed trans person and you need to accept your "true self" away from the category of your birth sex, instead of expanding what it means to be a man/woman. you can't say you're male/female and just fooling around with presentation. unless you're a gay male drag queen of course, but even then many get pressured nowadays to identify one way or another. this helps nobody. literally nobody. just like telling a bi person they're a repressed lesbian, or telling someone straight that they "look gay" is shitty and unhelpful, and honestly often gncphobic, sexist & biphobic/homophobic... you can't simply say that someone is looking or acting trans. the feeling of not belonging to your sex category to an extreme extent, of being dysphoric, is not something you can tell from the person's appearance or behavior, right? that's not just gncphobic but also lowkey transphobic to say that you can always "just tell" unless they straight up visibly transitioned (and aren't detrans). it's shitty rhetoric. you can't get all creepily giddy at the thought of someone you know being trans too, just like it's gross when straight girls fetishize their male friend coming out as gay bc they have the classic gay bestie fantasy stuck in their head. with dysphoria there's also an ableist fetishization aspect to it as well, bc it's a disorder but its suffering and treatment is often romanticized even outside the trans community and seen as a fun little glowup. we cannot keep enabling this kind of behavior. it's simply unhealthy and actually reinforces gender roles. we should ALL be post-gender. we should ALL throw away stupid gender roles and instead be ourselves and do what we want, no matter what the patriarchy wants us to do.

it's okay to use the trans label, or to be dysphoric. it's okay to be nonbinary. but it's also okay to not be trans, yet still feel post-gender. this goes doubly for people affected by misogyny and homophobia!