#(and based on the term definition these are based on:)

[dianasaurthemelonlord]

Literally are two uses based on context; an overdramatic Literally that is more figurative and the normal usage. Think of how those stereotypical Valley or Surfer Girls will add Literally at the end or beginning of everything, and that’s basically the first one in movies or whatever.

Its a weird linguistic phenomenon related to a term’s proliferation leading to overuse, and then a diversification of usage and definitions based on the context the word is used. Kinda like Adaptive Radiation, but instead of living organisms its words; if that makes sense…

And yes, it still confuses me too.

But I mean, Transmen are LITERALLY self-made men.

What is more manly than living as a Woman and going “Nah, this blows” and literally “just being a man” (like I failed to do :3)? I can’t think of much else besides vague stoic platitudes that everyone needs to some degree like, knowing when to not bash Grug over the head for looking at your stash of Coconuts.

Credit to: user

[natalieironside]

genuine question, what’s your interpretation of what empathy is meant to mean? bc while i agree w u i also can’t pinpoint a definition myself so i was wondering if you had one in mind

Empathy as I (and the American Heritage Dictionary) understand the term means something like "The ability to identify with or understand the perspective, experiences, or motivations of another individual and to comprehend and share another individual's emotional state." That's all it's supposed to mean, like prescriptively I guess, as a piece of jargon. However! The word is so grossly overused and applied to so many different things in popular discourse that most people who are using it seem to mean either something like "being nice" or "a magical power that lets me read other people's minds based on the tone of their voice."

[moody-alcoholic]

Cross My Heart

Chapter 1 - Self Preservation

Summary: poly141 x reader. Enemies to lovers.

You're a smuggler working for whoever pays trying to survive in the war torn Urzikstan.

On what should have been a routine job for Konni you end up becoming entrapped by a mysterious SAS unit.

They need your help and maybe you need theirs too.

Original abridged version HERE

---

CW: Mention/description of injuries.

Masterlist coming soon™

AO3

Enjoy <3

It was late evening when Ivan called you for a meeting. You walked into what Ivan has started calling the ‘war room’ to see a group of older looking men lined up against a wall. They look different from anyone else you’ve seen, these must be the people he wants you to smuggle. 

Ivan is leaning over the table talking to whoever is on the other end of the call. You can hear a russian voice but you don’t recognise it. There is also another man sitting at the table who you don’t know as well. You lean against the opposite wall with your arms crossed, they’re going over the plan. As per usual you’re not listening to specifics. 

Your attention turns back to the three guys, they look older, the walking is going to be hard on them. From what you’ve gathered there’s not even a swap, just dropping them off at an Al-Qatala munitions place about 30 kilometers inland. You watch as Ivan walks around the table with his arms crossed. 

He looks better, gave himself a makeover by the looks of it, got a haircut, new suit and vest. He looks good for once-or at least better than his usual get up, it’s a shame he’s trying too hard to copy Makarov. The people you’re supposed to be smuggling look scared as shit, they’re not soldiers, they’re not POW’s, something else, all you were told is that they’re specialists.

“You fucking listening?” Ivan snaps at you. You stand up off the wall letting your hands drop and go over to the map on the table. 

“I’ll take the normal route, 30k shouldn't be too slow, get them there by tomorrow morning.” You say pointing at the map. 

“No. Farah’s moving north.” Ivan says, you sigh, raising an eyebrow at them.

“Alright, I’ll take the longer route, stop off at a safehouse if I need to.” You say.

“You should do it in one night. It’s risky stopping off at safehouses right now.” Ivan says, you know he’s not saying it for your sake. This is precious cargo, you look over at them standing against the wall. They’re not Russian, or at least they don’t speak Russian. They keep exchanging confused glances while they watch you. 

“Can your smuggler handle the ULF?” A voice through the phone asks. 

“I can handle myself.” You snap back, you don’t need strangers doubting you.

“Make it as far as you can before looking for shelter. If you’re lucky you will make it there by tomorrow morning.” Ivan says. You sigh, that was going to be the plan. But of course you can’t have all the glory, Ivan needs to earn his role so you let him think the plan is his. Besides, what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him. 

“Fine.” You say, nodding and standing up. You look down at the new markers on the map, it doesn't seem like much has changed since you were last out. This is your first big job in a while though. 

“Good.” The other random guy says, you don’t recognise him but he’s definitely Russian. Probably someone higher up in Konni, here to keep an eye on Ivan, it is his first time running a base for them. A big one too, on the Russian-Urzikstan border. You want to be proud of him but you really don’t care. 

You look out the window crossing your arms again. It’s early evening, you should leave when it’s dark it will give you the best cover. 

“What do you know about Farah? Why is she moving north?” You ask. 

“No idea, Al-Qatala are monitoring it. Besides, you’re friendly right?” He says. 

“Friendly’s a loose term. I don’t think she would be happy with me sneaking people to Al-Qatala.” You say. 

“You’ll be fine, you know what you’re doing.” Ivan says. You nod, sighing. 

“I’ll get what I need, leave as soon as it gets dark.” You say, turning to leave the room. 

…

You walk over to the prison wing, although it’s barely a prison. The whole base used to be a school or a college. Konni took it over a few years ago, the prison wing used to be the art department or something based on the plain concrete walls and floor. It’s the most secure building, there’s an old cold war bunker directly under it. 

You’re looking for Calab, you need a cigarette and a chat before you leave. It's the first proper job you’ve had in a while. Other than some simple intel runs for Konni, this is the first time you’ll be back in your home country in over a week. 

Not that you miss it, not like there's anything there for you.  

“Heading out already?” Calab calls over. You smile walking over to him and accepting the cigarette he’s already holding out for you. 

“Thought you'd be off duty already.” You smile, lighting it. You take a deep breath in letting it calm you and warm your lungs. 

“Too early for that, besides think I’d miss waving you off?” He chuckles. 

“Big package.” He says pointing over at the people you’re smuggling. 

“Konni to Al-Qatala.” 

“Look at you, big leagues.” He says, you can hear the sarcasm in his voice. 

“Big pay too. Maybe I'll take you out for dinner.” You smile nudging him. 

“How much is the split with Ivan?”

“60/40.” 

“He’s screwing you.” You laugh, blowing out a lung full of smoke. 

“In multiple ways.” You say sighing. One of the soldiers calls you over. 

“Got to go, should be back late tomorrow.” You say patting him on the shoulder. 

“Give me another?” You ask, holding your hand out for another cigarette. 

“You need to buy your own packs.” He chuckles, handing you two. 

“I don’t smoke.” You smile back at him, flicking the butt on the floor. 

“Hey!” He calls, you turn to look at him. “ULF’s heading North.” 

“Yeah, I know.” You say holding a thumbs up. You watch as the soldier shakes hands with one of the people you’re smuggling. You won’t bother learning their names, the less you know about them the better. 

“Long trek, need anyone to escort?” One of the soldiers says, you shake your head. You don't know who he is, you’ve only been using this base since Ivan got moved here. Easy to sneak people over the border when you’re literally on it. These people are a nice gift from Makarov, get them to Al-Qatala and then get back. 

“Do you speak Arabic?” One of them asks, you nod. They seem nervous, nothing like most of the people you smuggle. Your plan is to make it to a ULF safehouse you know will be empty, or at least you hope it will. If the ULF are moving north you have to hope they’ve not come this far north. 

“How long will it take?” One of them asks.

“Couple of hours, but we’ll be stopping off half way.” You reply, leading them over to the main gate.

“Are you sure that's a good idea?” He asks, you turn to look at him and raise an eyebrow. 

“I don’t really feel like walking 40 kilometers in one go.” You say, smiling at the soldier who’s standing at the main gate. You offer him one of your cigarettes. 

“Heard the ULF are moving north.” He says, you sigh, taking it away before he can accept it. He scoffs and goes to open the gate. 

“There’s a rumor marines landed a few hours away.” You smile offering the cigarette again. 

“Americans?” 

“No fucking idea.” He says. 

“Landed where?” You frown letting the others go through the gate before you. He puts the cigarette in his mouth. 

“Russia.” He says as he lights it. You nod and walk through the gates. 

“Did you at least fuck Ivan?” He asks, closing the gate behind you. 

“No.” You smile walking away. 

“Fuck, he’s going to be in a bad mood.” He says, loud enough for you to hear. 

“Not my problem.” You call back walking past the 3 people you’re smuggling and putting the cigarette in your mouth. 

“Do any of you smoke?” You ask, switching to Arabic and looking around them all. One of them nods, you smile, lighting the cigarette. “Good.”

_____

When you make it to the safehouse you can already see it's still empty. You pop the lock on the door and walk in. 

“Where are we?” The older one asks. He started complaining about his feet hurting a few kilometers into the walk. You thought you were going to have to stop even earlier, but you forced them to push through it. There’s no way the ULF are this far north and even if they were they wouldn't use this safehouse. 

When you get in you feel the ache in your legs, you could use a rest too besides on the way back you won’t be stopping off. You shouldn’t sleep but you’re already feeling the first 20 kilometers and you know the people you’re escorting are feeling it worse. 

“There’s MRE’s in the crate.” You say. “Don’t drink the water from the taps, there should be water jugs in the garage.” 

They’re still looking at you bewildered and confused. You sigh, rubbing your forehead. 

“It’s safe here, the ULF doesn’t come this far north. If Konni or Al-Qatala show up, call me.” 

“Where are you going?” One of them asks. 

“To get a few hours rest. You should too, one of you needs to stay up though, as a lookout.” You say. 

“You’re the one with the gun.” The one with the glasses points at your hip. 

“If the enemy comes knocking, my gun’s not going to do shit. So wake me before that happens.” You say sighing and walking up the stairs. You’ve never been caught short before, you’re not going to let it happen now. You still check all the upstairs rooms just to be safe, the place is clear. You pick one of the rooms, pulling your pistol off your hip and putting it on the bedside table. 

You take your jacket off but leave everything else and lay down on top of the sheets. You should get a few hours rest, or at least try. You could use another smoke but then you definitely won’t be able to sleep. You can get a few hours here and then still make it by the morning if you pick up the pace a little. 

You sigh and close your eyes, it doesn’t take long for sleep to pull you under. 

____

A light flicks on and your eyes snap open. 

Something’s wrong, you can feel it. You look round the room, your eyes immediately land on a man holding a pistol at you. He’s sat on a chair, decked out in full military gear. There’s a bigger weapon slung over his back. 

“Not a good idea to be sleepin’ when you’re alone.” He has an accent you can’t quite place. Not American though. You look at the patches on his vest, Union-Jack, O-Positive. SAS, fuck . 

“I had lookouts.” You say swallowing the nerves. 

“Yeah, ‘bout that.” He sighs, your heart is pumping rapidly in your chest. They’re most likely dead-innocent people, dead. 

“What do you want?” You ask, your eyes flick over to your pistol on your night stand. The man sees it, his eyes follow yours. 

You have to act now. 

You reach out for the weapon. The man is on his feet in an instant, the pistol in his hand comes down hard on your wrist. 

You yell out in pain, your weapon falling to the floor. The door to the room fly's open, there’s another man now. He makes you jump, training an AR at your head with a scary looking skull mask covering his face.

There’s no point in fighting.

The man next to you picks the weapon up off the floor, unloading it and throwing it to the side. You swing your legs out the bed.

“Don’t fuckin’ move!” He shouts. You hear the safety click off his gun, your breath catches in your throat. You hold your hands up, you’re unarmed, there’s nothing you can do. 

“What are you doing in a ULF safehouse?” The man in the doorway asks, you keep your eyes trained on the person holding the pistol to your head. The other man’s accent is different. 

“You’re injured?” There’s blood on his vest, it’s a long shot but better then nothing. “I’m a medic. I can help.” It’s a lie but all you can think about is getting out here alive.

The man looks to the doorway, you keep still. Even if you could tackle him to the ground his friend would finish you off. 

“We’ve got one injured, think you could help?” The man in the doorways asks. 

“What happened?” You ask, trying to hide your nerves. Your mum was a nurse, your dad a doctor before. Before the war, you could help, maybe that would buy you your freedom, or at the very least make sure they don’t shoot you right away. 

“GSW.” That’s all you’re given, that could mean anything. 

“You work with the ULF?” The man in front of you asks. You shake your head. 

“Al-Qatala?” You shake your head again. 

“Who?” The man in the doorway asks again. This time you turn to him. The mask on his face is splattered with blood. He’s bigger, taller and wider than the guy in front of you. He has the same patches though, Union-Jack, SAS.

“Does it matter, you said you had injured? You’re not going to find a hospital around here. It’s all Al-Qatala controlled territory.” You say. Self preservation at its finest. 

“Can you help then?” The man in front of you asks. You turn to look at him, your hands still in the air. 

“The longer we wait the less chance I have. Gunshot wounds can be unpredictable.” You say swallowing the nerves. Confidence is key, that's what you learnt once. The man in front of you puts down his weapon, grabbing your arm and pulling you to your feet. 

“Try anything and we fuckin’ kill ya.” He says through gritted teeth. 

You make it down to the ground floor as their hostage, it doesn’t take you long to see the blood stains on the floor. The uneaten MRE’s and open jug of water. The man with the mohawk is walking down first, the man with the mask is behind you, the barrel of his AR digging into your shoulder blades. 

You can see two other people, they’re dressed in similar gear. At least one of them is, the other is laid out on the couch. The man standing turns, he brings a pistol up pointing it at you. 

“Easy Gaz. She’s a medic.” 

“Doesn’t look like one.” The man-Gaz-says lowering his gun looking around at the people escorting you. They walk you over to the sofa, you step around the coffee table, you can see an open first aid kit, it’s one of the ones from the safehouse. It should have some things that could help you. The man on the sofa looks clammy, pale skin and sweat on his forehead, his top is soaked too, a mix of blood and sweat. 

You don’t know what you’re doing, you didn’t think you could make it this far. They’ve taken his vest, belt and boots off. It’s just his shirt and trousers, his shirt has been pulled up to his chest, they’ve been trying to stop the bleeding. You’ve seen wounds like this before, you’ve seen people die from wounds like this. 

You try to think about what you remember from your parents and spending countless summers and holidays in the hospital. 

“You said you could help him. What do you need?” The voice snaps you out of your head, you look over at him. He seems the most reserved, dark skinned brown eyes, he has a cap on, he’s stood on the other side of the sofa his hands still on the weapon slung over his chest. 

You have no idea what to do. 

“Clean water, and bandages. Sterile if possible.” You say, you can’t tell if that sounds professional or not but they exchange glances and the mohawk man moes from behind you into the kitchen. You take another step over to the sofa. You need to know if the bullet has gone through or not. 

“Not another step.” Gaz says, raising his weapon. You hold your hands up again, holding your ground.

“I can’t help him if you don’t let me check him.” You say, gritting your teeth.

“Stand down Gaz.” You hear the voice behind you say. Gaz shifts gripping the weapon in his hands tighter. 

“You won’t hurt him?” He asks.

“Cross my heart.” You say looking in his eyes, you keep your hands up until he lowers his weapon. You look down at the man on the sofa. There’s so many things you need to check, he could be bleeding internally, you can’t see any other wounds but there could be others. 

You remember the basics, seemingly pointless stuff like ten-second triage and CABC. You could name every organ and what it does. Maybe you could stitch him up, you’ve had enough practice in the labs with fake skin. You know how to do an ultrasound and an x-ray but it’s not like ULF keeps stuff like that in a safehouse. 

You lower your hands but take it slow, bending down by him. Your hand brushes over the bandages. They're thick and it hasn’t bled through. You want to pull them back, look at the wound but if it’s not bleeding he's stable. 

“I got water. Ghost, Gaz. Check your medkits for sterile bandages.” It’s the man with the accent, you turn to see him bringing over a bowl of water. 

Ghost. He must be the man with the mask. Gaz and Ghost.

He puts it down on the coffee table behind you. 

“What's his name?” You ask, swallowing the nerves you need them to think you can do this. Maybe you can do this, or maybe he’ll die and they have someone to blame. 

“Is that important?” Gaz asks. 

“No, I'm just used to asking.” You pull the bandages back slowly, blood pours out and you take a clean bandage mopping it up. You should clean the wound, asses the damage and get then fuck out of here. Or at least do enough for them to let you go. 

“What's his blood type?” You ask. 

“Oh-positive.” The Ghost says. 

“Do you think he needs blood?” They guy with the accent asks. You look up at Gaz putting the bandages back down. 

“I don’t know. How bad was the bleeding?” You ask. 

“Bad I guess, bled through a few bandages before we got it under control.” Gaz says.

“Can you help me roll him on his side? I need to know if there's an exit wound.” You ask, turning to the guy with the accent, you still don’t know his name but he seems the nicest out of all of them. 

“There’s no exit wound.” Gaz says, you believe him and the less you have to move him the better, especially if the bullet is still in there. You nod looking back at the bandages and gauze they’ve managed to collect.

You replace the bandages with gauze, homeostatic gaze, the good stuff you've only seen once or twice. The bleeding already seemed under control but you’re trying to buy time besides there's nothing you can do to make this worse, or at least you hope so.  

You try to remember things you’ve picked up from your parents. He’s breathing, responding to pain even though he's barely conscious. His pulse is as rapid as his breathing, again you don’t know if that's good or bad. 

In the medkit there’s a blood pressure machine and a thermometer. His blood pressure is elevated,  if he was bleeding out his BP would be low or at least that's what you assume. His temperature is normal, so no fever which means no infection right? 

You pick up one of the rags from the kit and dump it into the bowl of water. You ring it out and use it to mop up the sweat on his face, before resting it on his forehead. People do this in movies, maybe it will help, maybe it will get some kind of response from him. 

If he dies they’ll kill you. There is always someone behind you, you can hear them shuffle as they move their weapon from hand to hand. If you tried to make a run for it they would kill you. Your best chance is to save this man. Save the enemy. 

If he’s breathing, you’re safe. If he’s not bleeding out, you're safe. 

You continue to make yourself look busy. Patting his forehead, keeping pressure on his wounds. He doesn’t seem to have any other injuries, just a gunshot to the abdomen. There’s no swelling or rigidness in his bowel. You remember hearing from an ED doctor once that everything from nipple to the navel is no man's land. 

“When were you going to tell us huh!?” It’s Gaz, he's loud and angry. There’s a hand gripping your shoulder and you’re pulled away from the man on the sofa. You turn to see Gaz with his weapon in his hands, the barrel pressed to your head. 

“What’s going on?” Ghost asks even though he’s bought his own weapon aimed at you. 

“She’s Konni.” The man with the mohawk says. You look up at the man with the gun pressed to your head. You didn't even get a chance to get to your feet. 

This is it. This is how you die.

The barrel is cold on your skin, you’re holding your breath, his finger is on the trigger. 

“Explain yourself.” A deep voice asks. You swallow hard trying to keep as still as possible.

“I’m a smuggler. I work for whoever pays. The people you killed, I was supposed to get them to Al-Qatala. Konni pays me to smuggle people or weapons over the border. It’s easy to use ULF safehouses up here as a stop off point.” It’s desperate, you feel like you’re talking too fast. Maybe they won’t understand you with your accent. Maybe they won’t believe you. 

“You Russian?” The man with the mohawk asks. 

“Does it matter?” You almost spit back at him. 

“What about Al-Qatala or ULF you done jobs for them too?” 

“If they pay, yeah. You’d be surprised  how desperate people can get.” Adrenaline pulses through you, you’re not going to back down even if it is your final stand. 

“Gaz, stand down.” You see a hand land on his shoulder. You swallow again, looking up at him, his eyes are scrunched together, there’s real anger behind them. The gun moves from your head, you let out a sigh of relief, sitting back on your legs, you keep your hands up.

“What do Konni pay you to smuggle?” Ghost asks. 

“I don’t ask. The less I know the less I’m a liability. I’m good at what I do, that's all that matters.” The man with the mohawk scoffs. Gaz moves back to stand with him. 

“You don’t even get a little curious?” Gaz asks. 

“POW’s, chemicals. High ranking members of Al-Qatala, mostly for meetings with Konni, sometimes with Makarov himself.”

“What about the ULF?” Ghost asks. 

“General supplies, the odd civilians, favors for Farah. It’s harder to cross the other borders. Russia is easy.” 

“So you’re not a medic. Can you even help him?” Gaz asks. You turn to look at the man on the sofa, you can’t tell if colour has come back to his face or not. 

“My mother was a ED nurse, my father was a doctor. I was on track to go to med school too.” You say, you’re not sure what’s going to happen now. You probably know as much as they do, they’ve most likely have more medical training then you.

“Where are your parents now?” Gaz asks.

“Dead, killed in the conflict. Like almost everyone I know.” There’s sadness in your voice, you try to hide it. 

“You didn’t pick a side?” Ghost asks. 

“I did, in the beginning. Farah’s message was a popular one. It was the ULF who came to our aid when our town was attacked.” You pause looking round at them all. “It was the ULF who carpet bombed the hospital killing my father. A week later my mother was killed by Al-Qatala when they raided a ULF base.” 

“I’m sorry, about your parents.” The mohawk man says, Gaz tuts. 

“Why become a smuggler?” Ghost asks. “Put your hands down.” 

“It was by chance. I managed to gather enough money to flee, and pay someone to get me over the border. We got talking, he offered me a job instead.” You explain lowering your hands. 

“Where is he now?”

“Probably dead.” You say as a matter of fact. You haven’t seen him in over a year. In the beginning he was like your mentor, teaching you the best routes and how to use ULF and Al-Qatala safehouses. Who to mention to get people to leave you alone. He vouched for you, got you jobs then when you were ready then he just left. 

Or maybe he fucked up and he was killed. 

No one is saying anything. 

“Your friend’s gunshot is not a through and through, that means the bullet is still in there. Pulling it out could kill him, I don’t have the equipment to check where it is or if he has any other injured organs. He needs a hospital.” You say urgently. 

“CASEVAC?” Gaz asks.

“Not from here.” Ghost replies. There’s silence again. You squeeze your eyes closed, sighing.

“There’s an abandoned vets in the next town, east of here. It will have the supplies I need to sew him up at least. Make sure he’s stable enough to move.” They could think you’re lying. They’re exchanging glances, you can almost see them thinking. It seems like Ghost is the one incharge, he shifts on his feet. 

“Okay.” 

“What about Farah?” Gaz asks, your head snaps over to the mohawk man, you need to get his name at some point, and figure out where his accent is from, he doesn’t sound like the other two.

“Nothing but radio silence.” Ghost replies. 

“How did you end up here?” You ask before you can stop yourself. You’ve been honest with them, maybe they’ll be honest with you.

“That's classified.” Ghost snaps, you nod. You expected that. 

“I heard Farah’s forces are moving north. We’re close to the Russian border. Maybe it’s best you wait?” You say offering up the only info you have on ULF’s movements.

“How do you know that?” Ghost asks. 

“I was warned they were on the move when I picked up this job.” You say. 

“By Konni?” Gaz asks, you nod. You hear Ghost sigh then mutter under his breath. 

“In your opinion, how bad is he?” Ghost asks, taking another step towards you, you hold your ground. 

“I don’t know. Moving him is risky, but there is no way to tell if the bullet is already doing any damage internally.” You explain. “It’s 50/50 either way.” 

“And you know how to sew him up?” The mohawk guy asks, raising an eyebrow. 

“I’ve had plenty of practice.” You explain. It’s a long shot, but right now it's about keeping yourself alive. As long as you’re useful you’re safe.

There are collective sighs around the room, glaces and nods of heads. Ghost lowers his weapon taking another step towards you. He opens his mouth about to speak but a groan from behind you cuts him off. 

You turn to see the man on the couch trying to sit himself up. Gaz rushes past you and you move out the way getting to your feet to give him room. The guy with the mohawk grabs your arm pulling out the way. 

“Price, don’t move. You’re okay.” He says. Price, so that's the name of the man on the sofa. His eyes blink open and he looks around, you can feel the barrel of a weapon digging into your back. 

A gentle reminder they don’t trust you.

“Where are we?” Price slurs followed by a groan, you almost miss what he says.

“Urzikstan, ULF safehouse just across the border.” Gaz explains. They came from Russia, what were they doing in Russia? You remember what the guard told you, there were marines landing in Russia. Maybe this is them and he got it wrong. Or there are still people out there and you’re about to have marines and SAS to worry about. 

“Shit, what happened?” His voice is less slurred now. Gaz is keeping him pressed down, his hand stroking his arm. 

“Convoy was ambushed, we had no choice.” 

“Alex?” Price asks.

“MIA, we lost track of him when you got shot. I made the order to fall back.” Ghost says but you can hear the strain in his voice. 

“Shit.” Price says, dipping his head.

“It’s okay Cap, we’ll find him.” So there are more people with them. Someone called Alex, and they’re missing. They had a convoy, most likely for the ULF. 

“Who’s she?” Price asks his gaze landing on you. You smile at him, it’s mostly nerves but you don’t know what else to do. 

“Not sure.” Gaz says, Price looks over at Ghost. 

“Smuggler.” The mohawk guy says. 

“ULF?” Price asks, no one says anything for a few seconds. 

“Take her out to the hall.” Ghost says. 

“C’mon.” The man behind you says pulling you out of the room and to the entrance hall. The door is closed behind you and he lets your arm go leaning against the wall. You don’t say anything leaning against the opposite wall. 

You could take him, you wouldn’t have to do much just surprise him, give yourself enough time to run out the house. Maybe if you knock him hard enough you can grab his weapon. He’s not even holding a weapon at you, his arms are crossed. 

You’re quick, you don’t know if you’re quicker then him but his pistol is just sitting in his holster. 

It’s been at least 10 minutes you’d wager. They’re deciding your fate. It makes you restless, you pick at your nails while you hear their muffled voices on the other side of the door. You look over at the man in the room.

“See something you like?” He asks.

“Why join the army when your country is not at war?”

“Why not pick a side when yours is?” You scoff, shaking your head. Like he would understand what it’s like. Just like the Americans, there always has to be a good and a bad. 

“You’re not british?” You ask. 

“Scottish.” He replies. You didn't think you were going to get a sincere reply, you smile. He looks over at you and you look away, back to the door.

“Ever think about what’s going to happen when the war ends?” He asks. You laugh, you don’t really mean it, it just seems like such a stupid question. 

“I’ll be long gone before that happens.” You say crossing your arms and shifting your weight. You’ve dropped the idea of escaping it seems. Maybe you can get more info from them, useful info. A Lot of people would pay good money for SAS intel.  

“Really? Where would you go?” He asks like he’s interested all of a sudden.

“America, Russia. Somewhere with a fuck load of land.” 

“Why?” 

“Farming sounds like fun. Being self-sufficient, that kind of thing.” You say. He raises an eyebrow like he doesn’t believe you. 

“What about you? Got any dreams or are you planning on dying for your country?” You ask bitterly. What makes him think he’s any better than you? Because he took an oath? Fuck him. 

“Who knows, might do. What’s better though a quick fulfilled life or a long unfulfilled one?” He says. You frown at him. What the fuck does that mean?

“What? Were you a therapist in another life?” You ask, looking away. He chuckles, you ignore him. You both stand there in silence for what feels like ages. You can still hear mumbling, they’re still talking. They could be deciding to execute you. You’re the enemy, they don’t even need to make it look like an accident. Boom bullet in your head job done. 

You just hope it’ll be quick. Or maybe they’ll decide to torture you for intel, not that you know much. 

“What’s your name?” You turn to the man. 

“Soap.” 

“Soap? Like what you wash with?” You ask, raising an eyebrow. He nods, you scoff, shaking your head and looking away.

Soap, Ghost, Gaz and Price. What a fucking mess you’ve got yourself into.

The door swings open, it makes you jump. You both stand up but you wait for Soap to move first.

“He wants to talk to you.” Gaz says, he barely looks at you as he moves out the way of the door. You nod swallowing the fear rising in you. You walk back into the room. Price is sat up on the sofa now a hand pressed on the bandages on his stomach, there’s an electronic tablet by his side. That probably has a lot of expensive intel on it. 

Ghost’s stood behind the sofa with his arms crossed. You look at him quickly then to Price as you stop in front of him. He looks round you, he still looks clammy, at least there is some colour back in his face. That’s got to be good, at least whatever you did didn't kill him. 

“You said you could pull the bullet out?” He asks. You look round the room not quite believing what you’re hearing. 

“No, I said you needed a hospital.” You cross your arms. Price smiles leaning back on the sofa, his face winces in pain even though he tries to hide it. 

“I want you to pull it out.”

“Price!” You hear Gaz say. “That's not what we discussed.” 

“I’m sorry. Even if I could just pull it out, I don’t have any equipment. No sterile field, an x-ray.” You stop throwing your hands up. “I could kill you. I don’t exactly want the blood of a SAS soldier on my hands.”  

“I could die anyway?” 

“You’re still talking, moving, breathing.” You’re getting frustrated, there’s no way you’re going to do this. If you kill him they’ll blame you, it’s a death sentence. 

“Which means the bullet probably missed anything vital.” He says as a matter of fact. You look down at the wound, his hand still resting on the bandages. The bleeding is under control, he seems fine other than the hole in his stomach. 

“Maybe. I don’t know but I'm not doing what would essentially be surgery on you in a shitty safehouse.” You say squeezing the bridge of your nose. “Like I said I don’t even have the tools.” 

“The vets in the next town over, will it have what you need?” You stop pinching your nose. You don’t say anything. There is no way this is happening.  

“You’re crazy.” You scoff, throwing your hands up in the air in disbelief. You look round at everyone. No one is saying anything, Price has a smile on his lips you just want to slap off. 

“C’mere.” He says moving and gesturing for you to step closer. You just stand there gawking at him, no one is saying anything. You look up at Ghost, his eyes are digging into you. You swallow again, taking a step over to him. This time everyone does move, ever so slightly but enough for you to notice. Price’s hand reaches out to press on his side. 

“Feel that.” He says. You look up at him unsure what to do, he nods at you. You shake your head for a second letting out a sigh and press where he instructed. 

Holy shit, it’s hard just under his skin. It’s the bullet. You could pull that out no problem, then you could stitch up the rest of his wounds.

“Still don’t think you could get it out?” He asks as you stand back up. Your eyes flick back up to Ghost. You press your lips together thinking, you could do this.

“What’s in it for me?” You ask. Now it’s negotiation time. You hear Gaz scoff. 

“We let you walk out here alive.” Gaz says, there’s anger in his voice. You turn to look at him. He’s definitely the most reserved out of all them, he held a gun to your head. He would kill you, all he needs is an excuse. You look back down at Price. 

“Your life for mine.” He says. 

“Dramatic.” You scoff. You hear Soap chuckle behind you. 

“I want asylum, in the UK.” You say, crossing your arms. It's not America but it’s a start.  

“Fine.” Price says. You look at him shocked. 

“Just like that?” You ask frowning, it’s almost too good to be true. 

“Just like that. You need to get us into Russia though. Quietly, you said you’re a good smuggler, we’ll even pay you for it.” Price says. Now you really don’t believe him. It’s a challenge though, you can see it in his eyes. 

“I would need to go to the vets for the supplies.” You say.

“Ghost will go with you.” Price says. This is risky, they could be lying. They could kill you as soon as they’re done with you. If they want you to take them over the border you could hand them over to Konni. Makarov would probably pay you enough to retire if you handed him 4 SAS soldiers, fuck it he’d probably give you a mansion somewere in Russia. 

“How do I know I can trust you?” You ask.

“How do we know we can trust you?” Price says back, tipping his head. Touché. You smile. 

“Okay. I’ll help.” You hold your hand out, he shuffles uncomfortably but leans forward to shake your hand. 

You don’t trust them, but they don’t trust you. No way you’re going to let them betray you though. That’s your job.

Banners by plum98

[one-beer-is-not-enough]

First of all, I gotta say- I’m so in love with how you draw Lola and make vintage art of her, and your artstyle in general! I’m have seizures as my eyes are eating your work!😔

I wanna ask how your Oc Marcelo, how would he react towards Ruth, since her and Derby are minor rivals when it comes to Mock Trial, I can see Derby ranting about how annoyingly over achieving she is, but I can see Marcel being able breaking Ruth’s tough exterior too.

That’s so sweet, thank you! I love your drawings too, keeping the vintage art-styles alive :DD

This is like, more of a meme than anything since I used the ace attorney background lol. I couldn't help it cause of the lawyer thingy. Probably the only time other than prom that Marcel fixes his stupid hair + absolutely love Ruth's outfits, it took a while to decide which one to draw As for interactions + opinions:

I feel like Marcel and Ruth could understand each other on a psychological level so well, because their methods of getting what they want are so similar. Blackmail, threats, bribes, they could run the shadiest business ever together lmao. He initially tries to stay on her good side for the money-making opportunities, but over time he grows to genuinely like her as a person

(Disclaimer: Idk how mocks trials actually work, apologies if it’s off the mark) The trials are also interesting, since Marcel will likely go into law after he graduates. He'd even challenge Ruth to a ‘rematch’ to restore the honor of the preps… even though he’s way in over his head. She’d definitely win based on skill alone, meanwhile Marcel’s plan is to pull some Saul Goodman-worthy sleazy stunts to get the jury on his side 💀

Derby bitches about Ruth’s overachiever nature, but it's not enough to get Marcel to dislike her, since their interests align in so many other ways + he’s also a try-hard academically (he’s scared of what his father will do if his grades drop)

Besides, it'd only make the preps look like sore losers if he held a grudge over the trial losses. He’ll defend Derby if Ruth insults him, but will try to keep it kinda civil, unlike his usual aggressive outbursts. The one thing that he can’t stand is that Ruth calls him by his last name, even if it’s not personal… Because that’s how everyone addresses his father, never first name basis. Fair to say, he loathes the association and ‘politely’ insists to Ruth that she calls him by his first name

They both share tastes in music, and Ruth will soon find out about his favorite musicians, such as Sinatra and Dean Martin, since Marcel often keeps it on blast in the Harrington House

While he’s too obsessed with Derby to view anyone else romantically, he does have eyes. He sometimes stares at her too long, she really reminds him of the classy actresses from the old movies he watches. Not to mention, he’s a movie buff, so there’s a decent chance he’ll know who her mother is and notice the similarities. If Ruth calls him out for staring, he’ll feel so awkward trying to explain himself that he’ll literally just run away with some bullshit excuse lmao

Marcel probably finds out what Ruth did to Mandy from his sister Sofia, meaning he now has the unspoken duty of watching out for his sister if Ruth tries something against her. Sofia can be a huge bitch, and sometimes gets into fight with other girls. She could easily do something to incite Ruth’s vengeance

He occasionally hangs out in a group with Ruth, Pinky and Tad, since they’re mutual friends. It’s very likely he’ll run into her at the Aquaberry store when the preps are dragging him on a shopping trip

Marcel would try buying blackmail material in exchange for favors to Ruth, seeing as she's on such good terms with the prefects and teachers. I doubt any conflict they’d have ever bring them to this, but Marcel isn't scared that Ruth could get him expelled-- his father would just bribe the school faculty to get him off the hook. As usual.

Overall, I think it’d be a mostly chill dynamic, Marcel respects her efforts to diminish the bullying around the school (mostly because of his personal grudge against the bullies) and always tries to strike up deals with her like the greedy schmuck he is lol

[transformationsproject]

Today’s Legislative Updates May 27, 2025

Trans rights are still under attack in the United States. Please visit our website linked below to learn about your state and contact your reps. Here's a thread of today's updates:

Healthcare bills go against professional and scientific consensus that gender-affirming care saves lives. Denying access will cause harm.

Providers are faced with criminal charges, parents are threatened with child abuse charges, and intersex children are typically exempted.

Old Bills:

Texas’ governor signed bill SB1257 into law last Saturday. The bill goes into effect on September 1.

Texas passed an amended bill SB1188 through the House last Friday but failed to pass it through a final Senate check before the end of the Texas legislative session. The bill is now dead!

Montana bill SB164 died on the House floor last Friday.

New Hampshire passed an amended bill HB377 through the Senate last Friday and sent it back to the House for final approval.

Educational Censorship and Student Suppression bills force schools to misgender or deadname students, ban instruction on sexual orientation and gender identity, and make schools alert parents if they suspect a child is trans.

They remove life-saving affirmation and support for trans youth. 

Old Bills:

Texas passed an amended bill SB12 through the House last Friday but failed to pass it through a final Senate check before the end of the Texas legislative session. The bill is now dead!

Montana bill SB299 died in its House committee last Friday.

Trans Erasure bills create legal definitions of terms like “sex” designed to exclude or erase trans identity and insert them into various laws. This can have many different effects, depending on what laws are affected.

They can force a male or female designation based on sex assigned at birth.

Some target anti-discrimination statutes, legally empowering trans discrimination. 

Old Bills:

Texas placed bill HB229 on the Senate floor calendar yesterday but failed to finish with it before the end of the Texas legislative session. The bill is now dead!

New Hampshire passed bill HB148 last Thursday and sent it to the governor.

Digital Censorship Bills describe any legislation that potentially targets Queer and Trans media/material for removal. 

They typically do this by using vague and broad definitions of "Obscene" or "Harmful to Minors" and then banning such content from being accessible to minors, which often either removes the material entirely or requires age verification methods in order to view. 

This includes online censorship bills, library book bans, and other such legislation.

Old Bill:

Maine sent out the committee reports from both chambers on bill LD1395 last Thursday and sent the bill to both chamber floors.

Most sports bills force schools to designate teams by sex assigned at birth. 

They are often one-sided and ban trans girls from playing on teams consistent with their gender identity.

Some egregious bills even force invasive genital examinations on student athletes.

Old Bills:

Texas placed bill SB2920 on the House floor calendar yesterday but failed to finish with it before the end of the Texas legislative session. The bill is now dead!

Michigan passed bill HB4066 through the House last Thursday and sent it to the Senate.

These are other anti-trans bills that either fit multiple categories or stand on their own.

Old Bill:

Texas placed bill HB1106 on the Senate floor calendar yesterday but failed to finish with it before the end of the Texas legislative session. The bill is now dead!

It's not too late to stop these and other hateful anti-trans bills from passing into law. YOU can go to http://transformationsproject.org/ to learn more and contact your representatives!

[trans-axolotl]

nothing makes me more insane than the phrase "selling your body" btw. like was i not also selling my body at every other job i've had where i had to be on my feet all day, lifting boxes, working in a warehouse, etc. why is it that sex work is uniquely labeled as "selling your body" while every other job is sorted into another category, no matter how much that job might have a physical impact on your body. lmao.

[soundleer]

"one day, he will return... more powerful than ever..."

————————

something something sprunki feral AU nightmare scene thingy hyee :33

without subtitles:

tunner design and AU collab w/: @cilahax!!

[meanderingstream]

Eliot at peace with being Damned

One of the things that makes Eliot hard to write for in-character (but also such an interesting character to explore) is that he believes he is damned to Hell and he is at peace with that. He has a lot of guilt, oceans of guilt, but it's not so much the tortured, anguished catholic guilt à la Nate or like, Daredevil. 

He has done monstrous, unforgivable things. But, on his own, he came to a realization of what he had done, and pulled away from that world. On his own, he left the worst person he ever worked for, and stopped using guns, and stopped killing. On his own, he switched from wetwork to retrievals. This all occurs before we ever meet him, so while there are many hints and inferences, the specifics of how that happened, how he came to those decisions, are left up to the audience’s imagination. 

Eliot wants to make the world a better place, and he works everyday with the team to help people, and he genuinely enjoys helping people and the work he does on the job. But he does not believe that he can be redeemed. (Not my own personal belief about him, but it is what he thinks). When he dies, he will go to Hell for his sins, and there is nothing that can possibly be done to change that. He doesn't need to angst over it, because it’s just a fact. It is what it is. There is no point agonizing over whether his soul can be saved, because he knows it cannot. This is both a keystone of his character, and also something he doesn't spend a lot of time thinking about day-to-day, because it’s a settled matter. 

And as much as we love Eliot the character, he has a point that lives are not tradable for equivalent exchange. If he killed a specific family 25 years ago, that was snuffing out the light and potential and future of those particular parents and children. The surviving extended family lost those particular relatives. Saving a family now does not balance that ledger, because each person is a unique life and not interchangeable for another. While I may have different beliefs about Hell and redemption than Eliot, I still want to acknowledge that he has a point. That changing now doesn't necessarily help the people he hurt in the past, and unlike Harry, he can’t work down a list of making amends, because almost all of his victims are dead. There is no atonement to the dead. 

Eliot’s redemption is in seeing the light at the end of the tunnel, and helping others get to it. Particularly the team, and particularly the pair he’s going to protect until his dying day. He will stay down there in the dark forever (he believes), but getting the others out is his redemption. 

I do not believe that Eliot will actually go to Hell when he dies, but his belief that he is damned is fundamental to who he is as a character, and he is going to believe that for the rest of his life. It can be really challenging to balance that when writing his POV, particularly when delving into events that dredge this stuff up for him (which we writers love to do because it’s so delicious). Eliot doesn’t exactly have a low self-esteem. He knows he has many skills and is exceptional at them (cooking, fighting, grifting, guitar, sports, etc). He pretty much knows his teammates love him, and care about him, and want him to stay alive for them, and spend the rest of his life with them. He has professional pride, and he will argue when he wants something. He is certainly not a doormat. However, he also believes he is fundamentally and irrevocably a bad person. Balancing between him not being too self-deprecating in normal situations / about his usefulness to the team, with his inherent belief in his own moral depravity can be a thin blade to walk without falling to one side or another. But it is also one of the biggest aspects of his psyche that makes him such a fascinating and complex character to explore.

[mental-mouthful]

IN HONOR OF THIS WEEKS DAVECHELLA: MY JOHN IRVING PLAYLIST!!

its a little cheeky, its a lil sad, its got a hint of hodgving for flavor, it's got a little jirvsilence for my book friends, hey, it might even get a lil horny, but its allllllll god fearing! what more can ask for in a jirv mix?

[castleofravens]

“Fintan isn’t a twink” “calling fintan a twink reduces/degrades his character” im gonna hold your hand while i tell you this…

[serpentface]

Question about Couya! Since she is a bastard what are the reasons about her being brought into the main family by her father. Was it genuine care for his child or a way to save face politically/socially? Is her birth mother alive? Do you think she would have had a better life growing up anywhere else?

This is in large part due to how cultural perceptions and legal punishment of adultery varies between male and female citizens, looped into the very strictly patrilineal kinship system.

By legal definition, the word for 'adultery' applies only to situations where a man has an affair with a married woman, or a married woman has an affair with any man. Other forms of affairs (eg a married man having an affair with an unmarried woman) are wrapped into a broader set of sexual misdemeanors and aren't often charged or punished in practice, and the punishments are comparatively minor (if an unwed woman's father pursues charges, the man in the affair is likely to just pay a fine). On a social level, extramaritial affairs in general are certainly not Approved of and seen as lowly and dishonorable, but the average response is significantly less harsh/more willing to entertain Nuance with men than with women.

In this society there's differentiated shades of bastardry depending on the contexts of the child's birth, as well as a distinction for 'nameless bastards' (has not been claimed by their biological father or maternal grandfather, or claimed in adoption).

a) A child born to an unmarried woman via an unmarried man: non-issue for father, potentially serious social harm for the woman (especially if she has never been married and expected virginal, much less severe as a widow or divorcee). The child will not be notably disadvantaged in of themselves (their status will depend more on whether they are claimed and thus provided the social security of a family patriarch), the father will experience no hard disadvantages in claiming them.

b) A child born to an unmarried woman via a married man: mild sexual misdemeanor for the father carrying levels of social shame, even more serious social harm for the woman (often framed as not just loose but a manipulative Seductress of a married man). The child might experience minor to moderate social disadvantages, the consequences of the father claiming them are purely social and will not typically be severe. (Couya is this)

c) A child born to a married woman via an unmarried or married man: both man and woman have committed a crime and can be severely punished. The biological father can technically claim the child but will be disincentivized from doing so. This is the form of bastardry most comparable to the conventional definition, in that it is heavily stigmatized and has effects on concerns of kinship and inheritance.

In addendum to this, if the adulterous wife's legal husband claims the child, this may be punishable if determined to be active concealment of adultery (which is also a crime), and has EXTREME social consequences either way. (Either you're a cuckold too stupid to notice that your wife has been skipping out on you, or you're a MEGAcuckold adultery-accessory willingly rearing another man's child after being horribly shamed by him).

(This is separate from adoption- a man who marries a woman with an unclaimed child after the fact (whether it was a product of adultery or just a general out of wedlock birth) and claims the child is an adoptive father, he is not concealing adultery or being cuckolded.)

A child born in an affair can be considered an heir to their biological fathers (descent and kinship is fully patrilineal and on a Basic level it doesn't matter who the mother is), and can very smoothly and legally be claimed when the affair was not considered criminal adultery. The concern on that front is social perception rather than material legal consequences or kinship issues.

Couya's birth mother was an unwed servant working as a housekeeper for her father Saizen, so the Crime of adultery did not take place. It would be considered a minor sexual misdemeanor, and the woman's father was not about to pursue charges against a nobleman who could Ruin him (and had also formally expressed that he would claim the child, which meant he would not be saddled with a nameless bastard granddaughter). So the concerns here were entirely social.

The affair might have started beforehand but the pregnancy that produced Couya occurred after his wife's third viable pregnancy ended in the premature birth of a underdeveloped boy deemed necessary to euthanize (and tbr would Not have survived either way). This was after Livya Haidamane had a couple early term miscarriages, two viable but very difficult pregnancies wherein one child was very weak and sickly for the first several years of life, and struggled to conceive every time. A lot of people are going to be at least a little sympathetic to a married man having an affair and claiming a bastard in this context. It's definitely ideal and practical to have more than two children, and his wife (while not outright infertile) clearly could not reliably bear healthy children. (The average response is going to be "Well he shouldn't have done it but like, I get it")

Couya being claimed by her father was a mix of genuine care and saving face. Initially it was MUCH more the latter than the former. Saizen made attempts to hide the servant's pregnancy and to keep his own wife out of sight during the late term (to prevent the baby appearing after his wife had been seen Extremely not pregnant). But there's some levels of care involved, he could very easily have fired the pregnant servant and had nothing to do with his bastard and she would have no recompense whatsoever. The choice to keep and claim the baby and ensure its entrance into the world bore as little social scrutiny as possible is an act of care for his own progeny.

This was Not an act of care for Couya's birth mother (beyond the fact that concealing her pregnancy would benefit her in hiding that she is not only Not a virgin prior to marriage but had a child). She probably would have been about 17-19 at the time and was fired a few months after giving birth, and most likely never saw Couya again after this point (if she did, it would most likely be in the context of seeing her as an adult Odonii in public and noting her to look Scarily familiar). She has an Okayish chance at still being alive, she'd be around 50 (and a person who survives the high infant mortality and birth casualty rates stands a good chance of hitting their 60s), though she could very well be a casualty of the drought+famine.

Whether or not Couya's life would have been better is kind of a mixed bag. She had an awful fucking childhood in large part because her adoptive mother Livya Haidamane hated her. (Livya was ultimately a pretty horrible person but not just like. An Evil Bitch. She had A Lot going on and Couya was a living breathing insult to her and reminder of like, every one of her dashed hopes and dreams). Couya is also autistic and presented very intense symptoms as a child in a society that is Not equipped for a mass-understanding and support of cognitive differences. But she still did have an immensely privileged life with profound physical/economic levels of security inaccessible to the vast majority of people in this region, including her birth mother. Saizen also actually Liked her and cared about her, he just wasn't a routine physical presence in any of his children's lives.

Had she been left with her biological mother, she would be in a very disadvantaged situation as a nameless bastard to an unwed mother. Her biological grandfather may or may not have been willing to claim her, and her mother would have great difficulties in finding a husband (which is ultimately necessary for the security of women in this society). I think her mother was a relatively kind person but not like, a perfect angel. She would probably have complicated feelings about her bastard daughter, especially one whose very existence materially disadvantages her and was very, very difficult as a child. So this probably would not have been a good situation for Couya either.

If you broaden the question to ANY other family completely divorced from the circumstances of her birth, yeah it definitely could have been better. But in her case it's like either "Life of grotesque socioeconomic privilege but in an abusive household" or "Life of profound socioeconomic disadvantages in a household that Probably wouldn't have been this abusive but certainly wouldn't be healthy". There wasn't really a good option for her.

[strqyr]

actually, the more i think about it. . . if penny was always going die again no matter what, they really should have let the virus be the culprit. ironwood likely didn't know about the self-destruct—he was surprised to find penny not responding in amity—, so that was all watts' doing. and with penny being what became of pietro's project over his own, by ironwood nonetheless, well. . . there's watts' perfect little revenge right there.

then there's everything else stemming from it; ruby desperately trying to tell them what will happen to penny if she opens the vault; ironwood learning the hard way that trusting watts was a mistake; the questions winter and the ace-ops would have—did ironwood know? was this a secret he kept from them (echoing back to the conversation between winter & weiss in V7), or was he as out of the loop as the rest of them?

and as a result the audience isn't put through an emotional roller coaster where penny is saved through great effort with massive risks, just for her to die anyway five minutes later. like that was not very "hopepunk" of them.

[neopronouns]

flag id: two flags with 7 stripes. the left flag's stripes are light brown, very light brown, faded cream, dull light sky blue, faded cream, very light brown, and light brown. the right flag's stripes are light brown, very light brown, faded cream, dull light cool pink, faded cream, very light brown, and light brown. end id.

banner id: a 1600x200 teal banner with the words ‘please read my dni before interacting. those on my / dni may still use my terms, so do not recoin them.’ in large white text in the center. the text takes up two lines, split at the slash. end id.

teddybearboy | teddybeargirl

teddybearboy: a gender in which one's gender is like a stuffed animal and one loosely identifies with masculinity and/or being perceived as a boy/man

teddybeargirl: a gender in which one's gender is like a stuffed animal and one loosely identifies with femininity and/or being perceived as a girl/woman

[pt: teddybearboy: a gender in which one's gender is like a stuffed animal and one loosely identifies with masculinity and/or being perceived as a boy/man

teddybeargirl: a gender in which one's gender is like a stuffed animal and one loosely identifies with femininity and/or being perceived as a girl/woman. end pt]

teddybearboy and teddybeargirl flags for anon! the flags use colors i associate with stuffed animals and a shade of faded blue/pink to represent loose identification with masculinity/male terms/femininity/female terms.

tags: @radiomogai, @liom-archive, @macchiane, @genderstarbucks, @sugar-and-vice-mogai

tags cont: @prettypinknarc, @skrimbliest, @fem-mogai

dni link

[oceanicfem]

Alright… If woman just means female then what does female mean?

In her response, she said that a woman is an adult human female. The difference, in simple terms, is that animals can be female, but they cannot be women. You might call your dog a “good girl/boy”, but you’re probably not going to call them a woman or a man.

What traits define someone as female? How do we use those traits to differentiate if someone is male or female and thus a man or a woman in our day to day lives?

The traits that define someone as female are just… biology. While it’s true that sometimes you can’t tell if someone is a man or a woman, most of the time, you can; And if you’re not sure, you can always just ask.

What does appropriation mean in this context?

Unfortunately I can’t answer this one because, if I’m being honest, I don’t fully understand @celtyradicalfem ‘s response either.

How do you know if someone is female or if they’re “appropriating” femaleness?

You know based on biology. I could give you a full explanation on the differences between men and women, but I don’t think you really need one.

I don’t really get the point behind the period comment.

You asked for a definition of “woman” and “female”, so she mentioned periods, which is something that almost all women have at some point in their lives.

I don’t entirely disagree that Tumblr debates are often not very beneficial to either party, but I also think that they’re useful for understanding what viewpoints people have. Conversations like these can reduce the many misconceptions that TRAs often have about radfems, or even the other way around.

Hi there, I'm a trans woman who stumbled on some of your comments in another post about women's sports. normally id just block and move on cos i don't really believe debate, especially on tumblr of all places is really a constructive process. I'm in a good mood though and I'm always interested in trying to understand other people's viewpoints and see where they diverge from mine. If you'd like id be interested in hearing how you would define "woman" and "female" and if you'd define them as separate concepts. I don't think the concepts as I've seen them defined are especially useful for anything other than defining the broad shape of social and structural prejudice of a certain kind, I'd be happy to elaborate more on what i mean if you want to but It's all good either way. Hope you're having an ok day.

@ivythegun “If you'd like id be interested in hearing how you would define "woman" and "female" and if you'd define them as separate concepts.”

When you sent this message I was on the second day of my period

Woman means adult human female

Trans ideologues believe our existence is an abstraction to be appropriated

[thedrotter]

i just randomly felt like doing a render since i havent done those frequently at all this year www and who else would it be of if not yuu

[horizon-penblade-art]

has anyone done this yet

[image ID: drawings of gem versions of the hermitcraft recap team. pix is a dumortierite, sloy/zloy is an unakite, and lyarrah is an anyolite.]